When I am sick...
When I am sick, you are probably the first and only person I tell that day. Because what can most people do to help? Not much. And that's a lonely thing.
But you, when I am sick, I want to be able to tell you. To trust you that you can be unwavering in your support of me, your care for me. To trust that you won’t let it scare you, or make you uncomfortable.
Because, when I am sick, I need you to ask me how I am feeling. I need you to want to listen to my explanation so that you can learn and understand why this is so hard for me, to open your mind away from the preconceptions and towards an intimate knowledge of what I am going through, to ask me questions about it so you can find out more and piece together the puzzle.
I need you to hear how much of a challenge this gives me. I need you to understand and acknowledge how alone I feel, in this quiet empty house, all by myself, humiliated that I am too sick to take care of myself properly. I need you to understand that I will often feel even more alone if I am given just a cursory bit of time, a standard cliché that is supposed to make me feel better; it won’t. It tells me you are too afraid or uncomfortable to talk about this, that you’d rather not, and don't have time - and I'll wish I hadn’t mentioned it at all. And then I feel more alone than ever.
But if I have told you, it means I need someone to hear me. If I have told you, I am at my most vulnerable. So go gentle – and that’s not the same as pussyfooting it. I’m not coming to you for an answer. I just need to be heard in the crushing silence of this illness.
Don’t feel guilty for being able to live your life – just please don’t leave me behind. I need to hear you talk to me about your day, to transport me away from mine from a little while, to enrich my empty day with the details of yours. I need to feel your interest in engaging me in your life, that I am still genuinely wanted, despite temporarily not being able to engage myself. When I have lost my sense of being, I need to know that I still exist as a bright light for you, that I am still connected to you.
When I am sick, find the gentleness in your heart that allows you to take the time to slow down and walk side by side with me, to let me lean on you for a while, until I get back on my own two feet again. It’s not an easy thing to ask for, but if I do, even if it’s very quietly, please hear me say it.
What would it feel and sound like to be heard?
I wrote the above for my family, my friends, my new lover. I wrote it after conversations did in fact leave me feeling more empty and alone than before, and I wondered why I was having such an emotional response to feeling like I was not being heard. I wrote this because I really need my closest to understand my world, because feeling as alone as we do when sick is an awful thing, and we need people by our side so we can get through it more quickly, with humour and in less solitary pain. I wrote this because I have, so far, failed to explain these needs adequately in any other way.
But you, when I am sick, I want to be able to tell you. To trust you that you can be unwavering in your support of me, your care for me. To trust that you won’t let it scare you, or make you uncomfortable.
Because, when I am sick, I need you to ask me how I am feeling. I need you to want to listen to my explanation so that you can learn and understand why this is so hard for me, to open your mind away from the preconceptions and towards an intimate knowledge of what I am going through, to ask me questions about it so you can find out more and piece together the puzzle.
I need you to hear how much of a challenge this gives me. I need you to understand and acknowledge how alone I feel, in this quiet empty house, all by myself, humiliated that I am too sick to take care of myself properly. I need you to understand that I will often feel even more alone if I am given just a cursory bit of time, a standard cliché that is supposed to make me feel better; it won’t. It tells me you are too afraid or uncomfortable to talk about this, that you’d rather not, and don't have time - and I'll wish I hadn’t mentioned it at all. And then I feel more alone than ever.
But if I have told you, it means I need someone to hear me. If I have told you, I am at my most vulnerable. So go gentle – and that’s not the same as pussyfooting it. I’m not coming to you for an answer. I just need to be heard in the crushing silence of this illness.
Don’t feel guilty for being able to live your life – just please don’t leave me behind. I need to hear you talk to me about your day, to transport me away from mine from a little while, to enrich my empty day with the details of yours. I need to feel your interest in engaging me in your life, that I am still genuinely wanted, despite temporarily not being able to engage myself. When I have lost my sense of being, I need to know that I still exist as a bright light for you, that I am still connected to you.
When I am sick, find the gentleness in your heart that allows you to take the time to slow down and walk side by side with me, to let me lean on you for a while, until I get back on my own two feet again. It’s not an easy thing to ask for, but if I do, even if it’s very quietly, please hear me say it.
*******************
What would it feel and sound like to be heard?
I wrote the above for my family, my friends, my new lover. I wrote it after conversations did in fact leave me feeling more empty and alone than before, and I wondered why I was having such an emotional response to feeling like I was not being heard. I wrote this because I really need my closest to understand my world, because feeling as alone as we do when sick is an awful thing, and we need people by our side so we can get through it more quickly, with humour and in less solitary pain. I wrote this because I have, so far, failed to explain these needs adequately in any other way.
Comments
Post a Comment