don’t worry

Don’t worry, my arse…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves

I worry. Quite a lot actually. I stress over things great, small & possibly non existent. I probably worry much more than is either necessary or prudent. That’s the nature of worrying, though.

So, I while I confess to sometimes wishing I could turn off the worrying I find it incredibly frustrating when people suggest that is possible. There are of course strategies to deal with disquieting situations, merely deciding not to worry about it is not one of them.

I keep seeing this sort of thing offered as some kind of wisdom. This isn’t wise, it isn’t even sensible. It just displays an inability to understand what worry is. If it were possible for a person to decide no to worry, worry wouldn’t be a thing.

Obviously this is abelist. Anxiety is not always rational. Many people struggling with mental illness have spiralling worries. Ranging from the practical (money, employment, relationships) to the irrational & far reaching concerns that mental illness can bring. When you tell someone they can choose to stop, you’re kind of saying their anguish is their own fault. Advising a person to just stop worrying is as pointless as telling them to just not be ill.

Setting aside the ableism it’s still infuriatingly useless advice. Let me break it down,

Do you have a problem?

If I didn’t consider the issue a problem, I wouldn’t be concerned about it. So, yes, regardless of what an outsider might think, I clearly think it’s a problem.

Can you do something about it?

If I can, the solution must still be troubling or uncertain otherwise I wouldn’t be worrying.

If there is nothing I can do ignoring or pretending the issue doesn’t exist will not help me. Plus, lets me face it, if you are facing a problem that you cannot solve it’s unlikely that you can just magically forget it.

Saying this to someone in distress is unkind. It basically translates to I don’t care. Telling someone not to worry is not a suggestion of self care. It’s dismissive. Instead, perhaps try listening. Sometimes just saying it out loud can be helpful. If you can offer practical help, do. If you don’t know what someone needs, ask. A simple ‘what can I do’ can be so valuable. A little bit of time goes a long way.

In every life you have some trouble…

~ somethinginthewayshemoves ~ 4 Comments

  
The first thing I saw when I checked Facebook today was this delightful message. A friend had liked it, which hit a sore spot. Of course I have seen this sort of thing before. The rise of ‘inspiration porn’ is oft discussed amongst disabled & chronically ill folk. We find this trend of objectification disturbing & frustrating & rage inducing & a million other things, none of them positive. We are told in patronising tones that we are amazing for simply existing with a disability whilst simultaneously being bombarded with the message that we must be stoic. Through our pain & struggle we must remain uncomplaining. Take it all with a smile, so healthy, able bodied folk can pat us on the back & declare us inspirational. 

So, yes i’ve seen this crap before. Tried to educate people, been offended & grown just plain tired of it. I think it was such a kick in balls today as I was waking up in a hospital bed. Within the space of a few hours I went from a cinema trip with my sister to emergency surgery in the middle of the night. That is the truth of chronic illness; never knowing what will attack next. 

  
Understandably when I see healthy people declaring the only disability to be a bad attitude I don’t feel good. In a matter of weeks I’ve endured a chest infection & accompanying hacking cough, vomiting, cramping, panic attacks, a weekend of so much pain I barely got out of bed & finally for extra fun an inuigal hernia. That’s without even mentioning the constant chronic symptoms I live with day in, day out. 

I live alone, meaning there is no one to run after me. Sure, I have loved ones to help out with some heavy lifting, but the daily grind of running a house & a life is my responsibility. Cast your mind back to the last time you were really sick. Now imagine feeling that way & having to carry on regardless. Add to that not knowing when the illness will stop or if it may suddenly get worse. Factor in having to carefully calculate how much you can do each day, get it wrong & you could end up passed out in the street. That’s my life and believe me when I say there are times when I feel really quite disabled. 

I’m not writing this for pity or admiration. I merely want acknowledgement. I want it accepted that disabilities are real & varied. I want society to allow those of us dealing with impairments to be pissed off. Our lives can get pretty fucking hard & it’s not always possible deal with that in good grace.

I’m not your poster girl. I’m not your uplifting story. I’m not brave or noble or a motivational tool. I’m just a person playing the game with the hand I’ve been dealt. Stop stealing my bloody aces.