So now what do you think of me

I thought I would share a fact about me that you may not know about.

I have no sympathy.

I should probably expound on that, huh?

I think perhaps it has to do with my background.  More about my life in greater detail can be found around the blog.  It’s my journal after all.  But the short part is…  abandoned as a child, abuse, rape, homelessness, drug abuse, recovery, miscarriage…

So.  When various horrific things have happened to me in life, I’ve had to deal with it.  Everyone does.  In the case of pretty much all of the really bad stuff – other than my miscarriage – I had to deal with it by myself.  Alone.  No help and no support.  Two examples for you:  When my mom started taking care of me after Jeannette left, she requested I call her “mommy”.  About two weeks after Jeannette left.  Obviously there wasn’t a lot of understanding there about how I might be feeling about everything.  I believe my response was, “but you’re not.”  But I knew I couldn’t go to her about missing my mommy.  Another example.  When I decided to quit drugs, I was alone.  Knew no one at the dorm I was living in.  Didn’t even know that there might be substance abuse programs available to me there.  Shoot – I didn’t even know how to find the grocery store (I was living in a new city.)  So.  I went through methamphetamine detox (heard of the “D.T.’s”?) alone in my dorm room.  Who was I going to tell, or ask for help?

Another portion of my background was that mom and my grandma were both ill, and were in and out of the hospital for my entire life.  So, living with illness was a daily thing.  Period.  There is no choice but to move on with life.

Here I am.  I’ve gotten through it all.  I have a family.  I love them.  I’m kind, in that I’m generous, courteous, and think of others.  I’m very blunt, and tell you how it is – I’m tactful, but very realistic.

But I’m terribly unsympathetic.   It actually helps in a lot of situations.  My father will come over all verklempt because my mother is sick (again.)  My response is:  Did you do this?  That?  The other thing?  And she’s reacting how?  Ok, better go to the hospital.  Or if this happens call me right away.    There is no sympathy.  You just get stuff done.  My callousness came in rather handy when Dad couldn’t get mom to come around when she seemed unconcious.  So I went in and smacked her around.  No, really.  He couldn’t do it so I did.  I smacked her around, and that made her conscious enough to tell me a little about what was going on.  Bottom line?  I needed to know if I needed to get her oxygen, heart meds, or if it was something else.  In that case I determined she needed to be in the hospital, that she didn’t need oxygen, and that it wasn’t her heart.  I was right.  She was drifting into a diabetic coma – she’d never been diagnosed as diabetic.

But getting through the hard stuff, and getting other people through the hard stuff has made me hard.    Get up, dust off, and plow through.  Guess what?  Life sucks.  Trust me when I say that I know.

But I love.  I certainly love.  And I caretake.  And oh!  Oh how I care!

But I do not coddle.  I will not hand hold.  I cannot do the work for you.

So if you call in your grief, I will probably say that I’m sorry – and then ask you if you’ve filed the death certificate yet, and did you call Aunt Edna, and have you picked a grave site?  If you call, and you’re sick, I’ll say I’m sorry, and then ask why you’re calling me when you should be in bed.  If you wet the bed, you’ll be told it’s not your fault, I love you, accidents happen, now move so I can change your bed.   If you’ve lost your baby, I’ll tell you I’m sorry, and I love you.  And then I’ll make sure there’s enough food in the house, the laundry’s done, and the physical ramifications are taken care of, ’cause really, who wants to buy pads at a time like that?  I make things happen.

I’ve been known to say, “Do you just need me to listen, or do you want me to solve this?”  Because I know that sometimes you just need to have someone listen.  And sometimes you simply need help.  And sometimes you need both.

I lost my programming to discern the difference at four years of age.  I need to ask to know what’s needed of me.  Otherwise, your house will be damn clean, your legal work will be audit ready, and you’ll be fed for a year.  But the burden on your heart might not be relieved.

So, I’ve been told I’m cold.  I’m heartless.  I’m cruel.  I’ve told myself that.  I don’t know how to fix that.  I’ve fixed everything else.  But I can’t seem to fix that.  I don’t think you can learn how to be sympathetic when it’s been taken away from you.