Do Unto Others

For the past week, I've been trying to get back into the habit of paying better attention to what I am doing for others.  I've been Very Migraine-y, and as a result, have been mired in Myself -- physically and mentally, and I was hoping that by looking outside of myself, I would feel better.

I made an extra effort to make sure that my Mom's birthday had gifts she would like and multiple texts and bits of communications here and there -- I know that all festivities both large and small are very different for her now, without Daddy, and it is more important than ever that we make her feel special, without him here to do so.  

I ordered some small gifts for coworkers who are moving on from the office soon. I don't actually work directly with either of them, but we interact on occasion and have been employed at the same place for quite some time now. They should know that they have been an important part of the collective team, and that they will be missed. 

I sent additional birthday wishes to people whom I don't see in person any more (it is apparently a popular week for birthdays), but of whom I am fond and to whom I don't reach out nearly often enough. This was part of my new/ongoing effort to make sure people know that they are important: even when they might feel as if they are out-of-sight, they are not out-of-mind. And I sent a messenger message to an artist Facebook friend, to thank her once more for the piece of art I have of hers in my office at work, for the same reason. 

It helped a bit. I felt a little less isolated and mired in my own literal/metaphorical pain of the moment. The truth is, I know a lot of lovely people. The part I struggle with the most is, reaching out. And, unfortunately, so do the people I know. I should be very empathetic. 

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One of the hardest parts of chronic pain such as migraine, is how isolating it is. My ability to be social, to reach out, to be cheerful, is so constrained. I have so few spoons. And it's also exhausting -- embarrassing even -- to tell the people near to me that I'm unwell, yet again. Nobody likes to be seen as weak in any way. So I don't mention it much any more. 

And when I do, I have apparently reached the point where those closest to me don't even react a lot of the time. They are so used to me plowing through as best I can despite everything, that it no longer even occurs to them to do anything other than perhaps say, that's too bad. Sometimes it requires prompting to get that sentence.  And if I don't prompt, sometimes they don't even say that any more -- I told someone close to me yesterday that I was on day three of Migraine, and there was not even a "that sounds painful".  At least the conversation continued, though. I'm not fully abandoned. 

When there is so little acknowledgment of what I am experiencing, I quickly become embarrassed that I've even mentioned it. I so easily devolve into a little ball of ouch and self-consciousness, horrified that there is that part of me that wants someone to say, well, that sounds terrible, to acknowledge my pain. It takes all my strength not to go down the path of, what would it be like if someone tried to help -- to ask if they should bring any meds, or a snack or some water, should I go lie down, what would work to make things better, they will take care of X or Y or Z so I do not have to do it, don't worry about a thing. 

I have to remind myself: it is up to me to take care of me. Or to ask for what I want. (And ask with the full knowledge that asking may still not yield what I want.) 

I have to bootstrap myself to do the former, if I cannot bring myself to do the latter. 

One day at a time.