This past week has been a challenging one for me. Matt is still healing, he is still experiencing lots of pain and still unable to do the things I previously took advantage of. Trust me when I say, I will never complain that he doesn’t “do” enough again. Prior to the accident, I didn’t realize just how much he did!
Even now, I will catch him attempting to help out because he knows how much pain I am also in. Not “crushed by a dump truck axel” pain, but the chronic pain that worsens when you are doing too much and unable to rest kind of pain. The naggingly present kind of pain that makes walking and standing difficult, and 3am meltdowns an embarrassingly real thing.
I fretted and worried early the other morning about the garbage. How would I get it out? On a good day, I can scarcely carry one bag of garbage out. Let alone a full pail and several bags. I asked for help, but considering my previous asks have been all but ignored, I wasn’t optimistic. I fretted to Matt about this, and he said “look outside”. I did, and the garbage was already out. He’d foolishly gotten it to the curb last night when I was sleeping because he knew the likelihood of help happening was slim, and he didn’t want me to worry about it. I scolded him, but it was too late – he’d done it. Now, he’s paying for it. And he’s out of pain killers. He has an appointment to get more, but he’s been 24 hours without them.
I’m also going to need something to help me get through the days. Tylenol doesn’t work for me, and laying as still as possible hasn’t been helpful. Partly because, well, I can’t lie still as possible with two little ones to take care of. Laying still doesn’t really get rid of the pain either.
A few days ago, I had someone rather harshly call me out on my “negativity”. I had posted a Facebook rant about how difficult parenting is, because it is, and about how I wanted to punch the “douches that tell me being a stay-at-home-mom is easy”. I was stressed out, in a lot of pain, and crappy situation after crappy situation kept popping up for me to deal with, and I was tired. I am tired. Apparently, as a childless “doucebag”, she took that offensively. She responded with something along the lines of “this was the life I chose and to deal with it”.
I promptly told her that I had every right to occasionally feel bad about circumstances and post a ranty Facebook post, regardless of whether or not I “chose this lifestyle”, just as every mother has that right. After all, I see many of my friends and peers complaining about their jobs or lives, and I don’t say “ah well, you chose that lifestyle. So. Deal”.
Then I thought, you know what? No. You don’t talk to me for 5+ years, and when you do you belittle me and make me feel even worse than I already do, then you can step off my Facebook. I deleted her. I don’t need people who will quickly try and kick me when I’m down with their superiority. I don’t need someone who claims to try and change my perspective, whilst failing at articulating this in a polite, constructive and encouraging manner. Not to mention, my perspective is pretty good, generally speaking. Yes, I’ve been a bit negative lately. My plate has been overflowing with not so awesome circumstances and I will admit, I’m having a hard time dealing with them all while also suffering from chronic pain that’s even worse than usual. Something that most people cannot understand or fathom. I’ve been told I’m lazy when I’ve asked for help. If there’s one thing that stings a sufferer of chronic pain, it’s being called lazy when you finally break down and ask for help. Walk your own dog, you lazy ass! I know the person who said that didn’t mean it, nor do they truly understand the pain I’m in on a day to day basis and why just walking my dog myself can’t happen right now.
Plus…what is with the generalized assumption that mothers should not ever shake their fists at the sky and complain about their “jobs”? Why can’t mothers complain about late nights and teething babies, spilled milk and potty training regression, the same way accountants complain about tax season and late filing? My “job” is extremely demanding. I’m not bitching that I hate my coworkers and bosses (on the contrary! I love them), but sure I’ll bitch about the shitty things that go wrong, like sleeves of milk being dumped all over my couches. I’ll bitch about the absurdity of being told I have it “easy” by people who really have no clue. Those people are douchebags, and quite often, they are childless. Sometimes, they’re just straight up douchebags though.
Mothers get it. Fathers get it. Anyone raising a kid gets it, and my friends who are close to me but don’t have their own kids get it. Basically, everyone without their head up their asses gets it.
There is one thing that I never do, and that’s kick someone when they are down. When someone posts something ranty and negative on Facebook about their lives, I don’t comment with “well it could be worse!” or “suck it up!” Their Facebook and twitter accounts are theirs to use at their will. If they want to complain and moan about how it sucks, okay. Cool. Plus, who knows how many shitty things occurred in this persons life before “the straw that broke the camels back”?
I vote for being encouraging and understanding in my replies. The simple “I know how this feels, it sucks. You are allowed to feel crappy about it. Hugs,” goes a very long way.
And I’m slowly taking off all those who add on to the negativity, those who like to make snide comments in the light of another persons suffering. I feel much better for doing it. I know the places where I vent are now filled with supporters, uplifting people who are understanding and compassionate.