SICK DAYS AND SAYING SAD GOODBYES ...

To the daughter mentioned in the below post:

I don't know how you do it, but I am intensely grateful that you do. Here's what's been in my head today. Please understand that I don't necessarily think you're perfect (if I thought that, I would have to resent you) but you're by god getting there. And yeah I know that I ought to feel the same way about the others (see below) but you've constructed a two-way road where they have not - and I don't know how to go about building that kind of a road :( 

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SICK DAYS

 

I am putting this into my SNARK book because I have no idea where else it might go. It's got good stuff in it, but the Snark is in there too.

There are times I wish the people I know and love who are sick would give me a heads up about stuff, you know? Like my daughter usually does. If she’s having a sick day she lets me know.

On the other hand, most of the time I can’t tell if a couple of other people who also have sick days are sick or if they’re just being bitches and later blaming the sickness to excuse their behavior.

I have to say that my daughter fights extremely hard against both her sick days and the general bitchiness that hits all of us on occasion. As a general rule she’s pretty successful.

I know it takes a toll on her, though, and that she keeps on fighting says a lot about her. 

She fights not only for herself, you know. 

Her battle is for me as well. 

It is for her husband. 

It is for her son. 

It is for her sisters. 

It is for the people she works so very hard to help to heal as they fight their own battles. 

I would take her battle from her if I could, in a heartbeat I would. 

That I cannot is a wound that will not close. 

All I can do is root for her, and cheer like crazy when I see that she is winning.

So why is it that I can’t find the same perspective when it comes to the others who have sick days?

I think maybe it’s because I’ve known all three of these people for a very long time. 

My daughter doesn’t have a naturally bitchy bone in her body and I know it. The others do. Many of their bones are bitchy. They have mean streaks that I recognize because I’ve got one of my own. My daughter does not, which makes it a lot easier for me to tell if she’s having a sick day (aside from her own struggle to let me know that she knows she’s having one, shielding me).

At any rate, I am never ever hesitant to spend time with my daughter regardless of what kind of a day she’s having. I know she can’t and won’t ever do harm to another – she doesn’t have it in her to do any such thing.

However, I am most reluctant to spend time with the others. 

A good day can turn sick in no time flat, in the blink of an eye, for no apparent reason, and the next thing you know I’m trying to pick myself up from off the ground after being poleaxed from behind, or running for my very life as fast as I can in any direction that’s ‘away’ from them. Figuratively speaking, of course, at least so far.

And what’s the difference?

I’m not altogether sure. 

I think it may well be that I’ve been deliberately set up to be hurt too many times, had the excuses thrown at me too many times, been expected to just keep on keeping on taking whatever they choose to spew at me, and never ever ever hold them accountable for any of it. They can and do claim innocence; they ‘remember’ things differently; they don’t remember at all; nothing is their fault because they’re sick you know, so it must be all my fault somehow.

The kicker is, and this I don’t quite get because my daughter has a good handle on what’s going on, that I never know when that flash of fire is going to come at me. 

And, just lately, I’ve seen it turn against someone else as a retaliation against me. 

That’s not pretty. That’s petty and mean. 

And so I’m stuck in a position where I’m constantly on guard, never relaxed, never just being easy in my thoughts, my words, my movements. It makes for an unpleasant sensation, being in the presence of those whose turnarounds have hurt me too many times.

Another difference that I don’t get is that my daughter will come right out and tell me, both ahead of time and after the fact, that she knows it’s likely I’ll get burned along the way (which ironically takes the burn right out of it) as she does battle. 

She tells me that she loves me and I know she means it – all the time, not just on her good days – which she makes so clear to me that my heart almost bursts with pride and admiration for this so-valiant daughter. She apologizes and I accept that she feels it necessary although I do not find it necessary. Simple acknowledgement, by both of us, that there will be times I and others will be caught in the crossfire of her battle is well more than sufficient.

I never feel as though I am personally under fire, not when it comes to my daughter. She and I both know better.

Such is definitely not the case with the others.

I don’t have to wonder if my daughter wants to hurt me. 

I know that she does not.

Such is definitely not the case with the others. I know that they do want to hurt me, or to hurt someone and if I happen to be the most handy I’m the one who’s going to get it both barrels. Why this should be so I’m not sure, but the effect is to make me very leery. I go into avoidance mode out of sheer self-preservation.

And that kind of stinks because the two of them are actually very very good, like the little girl with the curl – when they’re good. It’s when they’re bad that the HORRID part kicks in. That’s the part I want to avoid at any/all cost.

The cost is that I lose out on the good. 

In the process I’m the one who gets labeled bitch because I’m not good enough to keep turning the other cheek.

I’m sorry but I’m fresh out of cheeks.

We only have four cheeks, you know – two on our faces and two on our backsides.

And I can’t all by myself continue to try to heal my own hurting cheeks, time after time, year after year, decade after decade.

Because my daughter brings healing into what hurts, doesn’t expect sainthood from me (or from herself), and is the most actively powerful warrior woman I have ever met or even heard of, I am not afraid of her. I trust her, with good cause – she is trustworthy.

The others fight their own battles, every day. 

I know this. 

I also know that they have the same weapons at their disposal that my daughter uses so very effectively – on her own behalf certainly, but (from my perspective just as important) also on behalf of those she loves. 

She not only arms herself but provides me and those other so-very-loved ones both weapons and shields.

The warrior woman I love and admire understands that, while yes she has to fight her battle alone for the most part, we are her allies. We too have a bit of a battle to wage, in support of her and on our own behalf. 

When I am confused and frustrated, she sees and feels it before I can identify what it is that baffles me – and in the midst of her own battle she throws me a sword of my own, so to speak, with which to fight as best I can.

Putting aside the ‘battle scene’ for a moment, here’s more clearly what I mean.

A goodly part of what is most helpful is simple information. 

My daughter can and does tell me, because she cares about me and about the impact her sick days can have on me, what’s going on. She doesn’t have to necessarily sit me down and have a deep long technical or emotional conversation about things – lots of times it’s an article that sheds light on the topic, or a few words in a text message that just says I love you. Again, when she acknowledges her own struggles and tops that off with acknowledging the struggles of others (including me) she is offering the help we need.

See, that’s part of what makes me almost want to bow in the presence of this young woman. 

I know how hard she fights – yet she somehow manages to give me and others the tools we need to do our own parts. 

That, my friend, takes both strength and courage.

And it may well be that she is creating her own support in the process.

How so?

Think about it.

A difficult (to understate) situation, something that has to be done essentially alone within your own self, can’t possibly be made any easier if your sick days make those who love you not want to be around you, not trust you, not believe in you.

I can’t fight my daughter’s battle for her, but she’s given to me what I need to be sure she knows that I love her always not matter what, am not afraid to be around her, trust in her love no matter what, and I by golly believe in her.

How can I not? 

She’s found inside her own depths what it takes to not only get her through her sick days but is making sure that the ones she loves get through them too.

How can such strength be found in such a bit of a girl? 

She’s got more compassion and understanding in her little finger than most of us are able to find in a lifetime. 

She’s proven herself time and time again. 

I do not doubt her. 

Ever. 

If I happen to be ‘wounded in battle’, so be it. 

With her help I have the means with which to heal. 

And it is not my daughter who has wounded me, this I know in the very heart of me. I know it because I know her; I also know it because she has made sure that I know that she loves me no matter what. She has never once given me reason to doubt that but has instead gone above and beyond to make sure that I am sure of it.

That too is a big part of the difference. I know the others as well as I know my daughter.

My daughter will not ‘goat’ me, as the saying goes. 

She will not allow me to feel as though I am a sacrifice on the altar of her sick days, that it is my duty to put up with whatever happens to come my way on those days, that I am supposed to just pretend the bad days have never existed, that it is my fault, that I’m in the wrong for having been ‘wounded in battle’.

As a consequence, I do not feel that way. She will not allow it.

As a consequence, I in my turn will not allow her to take on blame that does not belong to her. 

Nobody who finds a way to care for those she loves even while fighting for her own life is going to shoulder blame for what is not her fault, not if I have anything to say about it. She may have been tempted to think that she herself has inflicted wounds (hence the apologies) but it is not she who wounds – she’s the one who promotes healing.

On the other side of that coin are the ones who will ‘goat’ a person. Go back up a couple of paragraphs and read them again – only this time turn it around a little in your head as you read. It’s a fair representation of the feeling evoked in the ‘goats’ by the ones who do ‘goat’ others.

Imagine, if you can, what that feels like.

Now imagine, if you can, being cast as the villain of the piece because you feel that way. You are the guilty party because you are not having a sick day. Having a sick day excuses all – according to some.

If you can’t handle it, if you walk away from it, there’s something wrong with you. You aren’t being compassionate enough. You aren’t being caring enough. You aren’t being supportive enough.

See, there’s another difference. Because my daughter recognizes the fact that there are times another person needs to just walk away, the walking away part isn’t likely to happen as often nor is the staying away part likely to last very long at all.

Just sayin’.

Even though I know what’s going on with the others, and respect it, there’s a big difference in the way I am able to deal with it all.

My daughter will not allow me to feel like a victim; rather she has taught me, given me tools and weapons, and shown me what a warrior woman can do, against incredible odds. She is no victim, either. What she will not allow in me, I will not allow in her, and nor will she.

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One of the most painful and difficult lessons I've ever had to learn in the entirety of my life is that saying goodbye hurts. 

A lot.

My daughters get me through what I have to get through, and my friends, and some of my family members. For that I am so grateful that tears well.