primum non nocere
“so i can either suffer or suffer?”
These are the actual options.
This is an actual conversation.
suf·fer /ˈsəfər/ verb 1. experience or be subjected to (something bad or unpleasant). "he'd suffered intense pain" synonyms: hurt, ache, be in pain, feel pain, be racked with pain, endure agony, agonize, be distressed, be in distress, experience hardship, be upset, be miserable, be wretched More 2. ARCHAIC tolerate. "France will no longer suffer the existing government" synonyms: tolerate, put up with, bear, brook, stand, abide, endure, support, accept, weather
The following is an actual day in the life:
Daughter is stable with her 7th (8th?) medication adjustment, umpteenth 9-1-1 visit to the apartment, and thousandth consultation with an expert handling her medication management. This morning started off as a good one with the only problem being running out of half-and-half before my 6th the cup of coffee...
Sometimes I start a blog and wonder to myself if I'll publish it. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. Either way they're always written in a stream of consciousness and today is so fucked up - as it's only 2:19 pm as I write this in a parking lot of a therapy center - I've already cried, yelled, raged, needed a hug, vented and sent a very sincere and polite email to the Dean of Students at my youngest child's private school. Dude.
In an effort to acknowledge the power of energy and the law of attraction I'm deciding in this very moment not to share the details of this fucked up day but to count on you to trust me.
Two little glimpses I will share is that I blocked my mother-in-law on Facebook this morning and unfriended my former business partner. So there's that.
So today, I will expand on suffering and whether we should do it. My daughter has to suffer from side effects with the goal to become functional, aka better. I choose emotional detachment as often as possible - and I'm getting pretty damn good at it - to feel better. If I'm mad at you, you're exhausting my already limited energy resources. If I can't find anything useful about your existence on this earth, that's cool - you be you, I'll be me peace love whatever - go about your life away from mine. But when you fuck with my children's peace, safety and tranquility, suddenly I'm emotionally attached to you and a whole lot of suffering takes place. I do not like feeling angry. I do not enjoy experiencing disappointment. I do not like reading, hearing or seeing the depths others will delve to be right in their denial. I don't WANT to fucking care.
I have to care about my family.
I have to care about my own health.
I do not want to feel happy/sad/angry or so much as roll my eyes at you.
Go away. So yeah, I did what any boundary driven, exhausted, fucked up priorities outside of my moral compass’ control: I blocked ya. Now you can write a blog on suffering.
My daughter, on sooo many meds, as such a compliant and cooperative patient, needs me to drive her to her weekly therapy and her comprehensive physical and accompanying invasive tests and exam to figure out why she's fainting. Reason 16 of why she requires 24/7 supervision and support, as if “do not operate machinery or moving vehicles,” wasn't enough of a reason or the side effect of “may cause thoughts of suicide” weren't enough.
I'm busy. She's busy.
Do not text her “hope you feel better soon” or “I hope your struggles end soon.” SHE HAS A FUCKING ILLNESS (and is under the care of medical professionals who are trying to help her feel better). We don't care about what she borrowed that you need returned, G******. I'll send you a check so you can replace it. Sorry you have to “suffer” in the meantime.
Do not write me after being instructed to communicate through legal advisers to prove how victimized you are by all the years I paid for your services. The deer in the headlights look ain't attractive. You do you, I'll do me. Maybe someday you'll see the blaring obvious denial you live within. I have no ill feelings toward you but kindly fuck off.
The worst part of today - or best maybe - is that the nightmare that unraveled this morning is a fixable issue. That this situation did not occur in the small town that I never planned to live in (for 16 years now) because it's been made extremely loud and clear in these parts that people are guilty until social media has its last say and is rarely if ever apologetic for jumping to the worst conclusions. I'm so very grateful my son will not suffer for being an irresponsible teenager. I'm grateful for privacy remaining private. God knows this day could have been a thousand times worse.
To suffer or to suffer? Choose, as much as you possibly can within your personal tool-kits, how you choose to suffer. I choose detachment. I choose my bubble of private peace of mind. I choose to love those who have earned my trust and loyalty unconditionally. The rest of you had better get out of my and my children's bubbles.
I suffer from anger today not because of others’ actions. I suffer from feelings of anger because I'm attached to my beliefs. I don't want to be angry; suffering is a choice. Detachment is my solution.
If you are suffering from my actions, that's your problem. If I've harmed you in any way, that's my integrity on the line and, trust me, I'll apologize when/if I find a reason to, while I'm not holding my breathe for mine. Now I am feeling righteous. Which makes me feel like an asshole. It's all good.