Life · Uncategorized

If you matter, you’ll know

I came across this picture last night while doing the good old Facebook scroll. While I’m not assuming it was directed at me, it did make me think.

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At first I was like meh, alright, I get it.

I think by the time we hit adolescence we’ve all been hurt at least once or twice by someone who broke a promise, wasn’t there when we needed them or didn’t show us they cared when we were at difficult time in our life. I do get that and I’m guessing that is the perspective this quote is coming from.

Then I stopped for a second and thought about it. Is this what crosses peoples mind when I cancel our plans, forget to text back or have to break a promise out of necessity?

Is there really no valid excuse? No excusable reason for people being busy, not having more time or having to back out of plans and even break promises?

I wonder if when I canceled on a girls night out if you considered that I spent the whole night hugging porcelain or if you just thought I was being flaky or lazy.

I wonder if when I had to miss out on your first baby’s shower for a doctors appointment if you thought I had lied and made up some ‘bullshit’ to not feel obligated to show up.

I wonder if you just think Mommy is being mean when I break a promise to go tobogganing with them or I forget that TODAY was the day that Mommy said she’d bake brownies.

Do you think I don’t care? Do you think you don’t really matter to me?

Maybe this way of thinking has more hold in the “healthy” persons world, but for someone who has a loved one with a chronic illness there just isn’t enough room for compassion there.

I think those of us suffering have to show our love and caring in different ways sometimes and that those little examples of care and attention sometimes get overlooked between the missed events, forgotten texts and the mounding excuses.

Maybe I have a little extra perspective having grown up with a parent suffering from a chronic illness. My mothers arthritis and mental illness hit a peak during my adolescence and our family had to work around schedule changes, broken promises and a lot of legitimate bullshit ( I say this because, yea it was bullshit that my mom was sick, I hated it, I hated seeing her in pain, but that was bullshit caused by illness not bullshit caused by my mom).

Maybe this made me a little more compassionate for when people cancel, don’t respond or miss out on things. Maybe it has helped me grow up seeing the little signs people care, even if they cannot be there.

While I understand that my illness definitely plays a roll in losing friends and making me seem distant. I don’t ever want it to come off uncaring.

If I have to care from a distance, I wan’t them to know I WOULD rather be there drinking the night away while playing pool, or celebrating the life of their newest family member or bounding down a hill at top speed.

A text because something I saw made me think of you.

A comment on a picture from an event I was supposed to be at, hoping it went well and you had a great time.

A funny MEME because even though I forgot it was your anniversary two weeks ago, I somehow remember that today is your dogs birthday.

A baby shower gift card in the mail. Sure it’s a little late, the post office is a long walk I wasn’t able to make for a week but you’re going to be buying diapers for another 2 years, better late than never.

Brownies on a random Thursday night because Mommy’s hands work today, and extra big slices because you helped Mommy clean up so good and you forgave Mommy for Saturdays disappointment so sweetly….

The little expressions of love may pale in comparison to the big events but I do still think they can be enough, when they are noticed. Sometimes there just isn’t that TIME to put in and it’s not by choice.

IF I had a choice I would be healthy, I would have energy and I would have all the time in the world to show you how much you mean to me.

I don’t have a choice, so I have to hope that the small ways I have to show I care are enough.

You DO matter and I hope you know….

 

 

 

 

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