Do I exaggerate? That’s a rhetorical question for most of you. My family (who might or might not be reading) are welcome to try to answer that question but you must be kind. Very kind. Your purpose in attempting to answer must be purely to educate me and not to, in any way, attack me or get back at me for some random, unrelated misdemeanor. The question is really one for myself if I am completely truthful. It won’t be the first time I try to answer, and it certainly won’t be the last.
I just have got the impression over the years that those people close to me have the impression that yes, I do exaggerate. Personally I don’t think I do. I think that I feel things strongly and that I notice a lot of what is happening around me. Perhaps more than others. But when I express it, it’s not exaggeration but simply what I am seeing and/or experiencing.
This past week I have been through a lot, and for some of the people around me, they have been through even more. It has been really hard. Emotional, soul-searching and stressful. And no, that’s not an exaggeration. It has been hard on us, and it’s not over yet. Actually in some ways I suspect it is only just beginning. For some of us, it has been something that we always knew might happen, going even as far back as childhood.
It comes down to what I did, and didn’t want. Clear as mud, I know!
It’s always important to me that just because I am a blogger, that doesn’t mean those around me must have their lives printed here too. As such, there are no details. If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you will know that is how I sometimes write in order to protect the privacy of those people.
For what seems like a long time, I have been very concerned about something that others around me seemed to not see. Of course, we see not only what is apparent but also what we are open and willing to see. In addition, we can only see what is there. If it comes and goes, if at times it gets hidden, it is pretty hard for others to see.
No one has said it out loud but I got the impression that they thought I was exaggerating. Maybe they thought that was because of my mental illness. I don’t know. No one has ever said. Maybe they thought I was simply too emotional and reacting too strongly to what I could see. Again, I don’t know. No one has ever said.
This week finally, some other people told me that they could see what I could see. Wow! That was such a relief (in some ways!). As I watched them, watch what was going on, I was quietly terrified that they would say they couldn’t see it. They didn’t. They could see it clear as day.
It’s hard because I wanted them to see, but at the same time I wanted to be wrong. I know that will make little sense, but I guess it’s just human nature. I wanted to be right, but I also didn’t want to be right.
I was right, and actually those other people assessing what was happening, were even more concerned than I was. I didn’t know how to feel then. I wasn’t quite ready for the depth of their concern, even though I was glad they could see and were concerned.
What had been sometimes unspoken, and sometimes barely whispered, had now come amongst us. I had really hoped it never would. Others around me had hoped it never would. Even those who had passed on hoped it never would. But now, here it was, and there was no denying it… for any of us. I got what I wanted. I wanted others to see. But now I really didn’t want what I had got.
I can’t wind back the clock, and that is painful. I want the clock set on today when everyone concerned can see what I see, but I so don’t want it. It’s totally thrown me off-balance, even though I wanted this, I also knew that what I wanted was the last thing I would ever want.
If you’re confused, then I apologise, but just imagine how I might be feeling with all this in my head.
I think I need a rest.
“Because that’s life, you know? Good and bad. You can’t have one without the other. The bad brings out the good in us, and the good can be corrupted by the bad. It’s always a struggle—to fight for the good, so it tips the scale. – Jet Phoenix”
― Rachael Wade, Repossession