#It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to, cry if I want to, cry if I want to. You would cry too if it happened to you!#
Ok, so it’s a bit of a pity party here at the moment, and I might be the only person partaking (not counting the bottle of wine I invited), but what the hell. This is a different sort/tone of post to my usual, I may not even publish it, but it’s still in the vein of figuring myself out and learning, and it’s definitely helping to get it out. I also wanted to try writing whilst I was feeling something, rather than just writing from my logical head.
I’ve experienced a lot of sadness and loss in the last eight years. I don’t know if it’s more or less than average, but I do know that it’s taking me to the point where I’m not sure I can cope. I seem to deal with stuff backwards, in more ways than one. I’ve already written about my complicated relationship with my own emotions in an earlier post – that I have to work back from my behaviour to figure out my feelings. Something else I struggle with as a result is not emotionally dealing with things when they happen, but instead wrestling with the fall-out a long time afterwards, when those feelings finally make their way into conscious awareness. At the time things actually happen, when people expect me to be falling apart, I’m being all fine and practical and rational, weighing things up and being very articulate. Then, when everyone thinks I should have moved on and be over it by now, *that’s* the time my brain decides to unravel.
About 4.5 years ago I went through something which, to the benefit of those around me, I handled really well at the time. But now and then, silently and without warning, it takes savage chunks out of me, as if it all happened yesterday. It’s not something I feel I can talk to anybody about because it was so long ago, I took it all in my stride, and they would be surprised at the disjointed grieving process I am going through now. The feelings have taken so long to filter through, that they jar with the cognitive progress I have achieved. Worse, they make me doubt the choices I made without the full (albeit irrational) facts.
Not feeling things in the moment puts me in the unfortunate position of living in the past by default. The expression ‘you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone’ could have been coined for me – I can’t evaluate how I feel about something (or someone) until they are not there and I slowly, progressively, begin to feel sadder and sadder. I’m not heartless, but my poor heart is being dragged along behind me, years in the past, getting broken with no say in what happens to it.
I don’t regret getting my diagnosis, and I don’t regret only getting it in adulthood. I do wish I’d known sooner that I didn’t work like everybody else, that I couldn’t use the same reasoning to make decisions, that the same rules didn’t apply. And, I wish other people allowed me to get the kind of closure I need – gradual and participatory, not instant and alone. Certainly not through Facebook and by being ignored. If we’re not supposed to speak, then tell me why. Tell me full stop. Ask for my cooperation, give me a date when we can review the situation. It may sound strange, but it would make the world of difference to me, a lonely person in a unknown situation, who’s lost her best friend.
© Catastraspie, 2012.