I haven’t written anything on this blog in quite a while. I have been in counseling, for grief, my hoarding, and some other things, and instead of pouring my soul on paper for the world to see, I have been pouring my soul into my counselor’s ears.
But something happened to me tonight. Something that is puzzling to me.
Here is my story.
A couple of weeks ago, I was put on bed rest by my Dr. I have circulation problems in my leg, and it was swelling quite a bit. I also had injured my knee earlier this summer, and have not recovered from it.
So, there were some things that needed to be done, and I hired a family member to come do them for me. I didn’t have much money to give her, but I gave her what I had, she came over, spent an hour or so doing the immediate tasks that I needed done, and left. When she left, she told me that if I needed her again, to let her know.
Well, I did need her again. My van is persnickety, and the hatchback is currently not opening from the outside. There is a rope attached to the latch, but you can only pull it straight up, so you have to get into the van and close to the back to open it. I had pulled out as much from the back as I could, through the side door, but I had things that I needed to get out, and put in.
I wasn’t sure, between my leg, my knee, and the pain that I have also been having in my lower back, if I could crawl into the back and open the door. But I knew this family member could do so. So I called. And texted. She asked me what I needed, I told her, she told me she wasn’t at home but would come by when she got back. So I waited. and waited. And she never came by.
A few days later, I asked again. I had a school program that I needed to unpack my van, and pack for. No response.
Today was the last day that I had available to do this. I contacted her once more. She responded enough to tell me she was at home – which is just down the road from my house – in fact, her family are my next door neighbors – country next door neighbors, but less than half a mile. I told her what I truly needed – my van to get opened, and that I had more work that I would pay her to do, if she wanted. Opening my van would take her less than five minutes. I was in town, but would be home in about 15 minutes. I got home. And sat in my car. And waited. And waited. I actually dozed a little bit – in between texting her. And calling her. With no response.
I finally texted her brother – no response from him, either.
By now, it was getting dusky, I have to leave tomorrow. I knew it would hurt for me to crawl in and open that door. But I had no choice. So I crawled in. It hurt. It hurt a lot. I cried. And cried.
I finally got the door open. And then I sat in the back of the van and sobbed.
And while I was crying, I was asking myself why? Why was I crying. Part of was physical pain. Part of it was emotional pain.
I had accomplished something that I truly wasn’t sure I would be able to do by myself. But I did it.
I DID IT!
With pain. But with grit and determination, I did it.
And yet, I was crying my eyes out. I felt so alone. So lost. A person whom I love, who had said they would help me – just give a call – had ignored me. Had left me to my own devices.
I had accomplished something that was difficult. Yet instead of feeling triumphant, I felt desolate.
But why should this be so? And while I sobbed, and cried, I wondered about that – why would I feel so sad when I had just successfully done something that I had both dreaded and that I knew would be hard.
I cried even harder. I realized that I was feeling so bad for two main reasons – first, the fact that I ended up being the person to do this difficult and painful task was evidence that I was alone in life. I had asked for help. Even begged. And the person who had said they would help me if I needed it ignored my plea. I felt a loss of relationship with my own family – it is always hard for me to ask for help, and when I did, my pleas had gone unanswered – not once, not twice, but three times.
But the second reason that I was crying so hard was this – I had no one to celebrate my success with. I had no partner to rejoice with me, to cheer me on, to tell me I could do it.
I felt totally abandoned, and totally alone, and those feelings overwhelmed my success.
And while I thought about that, I realized some things. Often – I discount my successes. I have often allowed things that I have accomplished on my own to bring me down – if for no other reason, it reminds me of how alone I often feel.
And my feelings of abandonment, of loss, might not even be legitimate.
This person that I had hoped would help me – well, she is young. A teenager. Her phone might be turned off, on a charger. She might never have gotten my messages, she might be doing something with her parents – there are all kinds of legitimate reasons why she might not have responded to my plea for help. I truly hope that is what it was, rather than that she was unwilling to take five minutes from her day to do something that was so difficult for me, but would have been so much easier for her.
I’m not crying anymore, and even tho the light was gone, I was able to get some of the things done that I had to do. Despite my feelings of loss, of abandonment – I am learning more about myself, and how I react to things. Hopefully, next time this happens, I will be more aware, more able to rejoice in my success, and not feel so alone. I need to learn to allow my successes to lift me up, not bring me down.
It is Okay to celebrate my successes. I can let success build me up, not tear me down.