Becoming A Burden

Thursday, June 01, 2023

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I’m making more active choices to push through the dark patches. They aren’t as difficult as they have been recently. It’s getting easier for me to stop and see the option to say yes to joy, or even just satisfaction. Happiness is, maybe, a habit that I need to actively cultivate.

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I continue to think about these ideas of self image. Who do I see myself as? What are my unspoken expectations for myself, the ones so deeply programmed into me that I usually don’t even know they exist.

I have the image of who I want to be. Stoic, capable, strong. Able to express myself clearly and accurately. Able to weather hardships without cracking under outside or internal forces.

I have the image of who I am. An intelligent man who nonetheless has little to show for decades of struggle. A person who has lost much of their physical and mental resilience. A type one diabetic who carries on, day to day, with the very real specter of potential catastrophe hovering on the other side of one incorrect meal or injection. I am a person who has let the struggle with my own mental health erode who I am and what I am capable of.

The other day I came home from work in a bad mood. Sometimes this happens every day. Sometimes only once a week, or month. But I know enough to see that when I get home I won’t be able to enjoy the companionship of my partner or my friends.

But I have expectations of myself. And my inability to engage meaningfully with those around me ran up against those things that I and others thought I needed to be able to do. Things I think I should be able to do consistently. And when I can’t, that subtle cognitive dissonance hits me, lost in all the noise I’m already dealing with in my negative headspace. And there are the external expectations placed on me, as well, causing similar discomfort every time I fail to live up to the needs and wants of those who count on me.

I think that’s that hardest part, the idea that I CAN’T be counted on. For the longest time I did my best to be reliable, dependable. It was part of how I saw myself. And now I hear people say they can’t rely on me to be there when they need it.

I’ve identified the problem. I’m doing what I can to increase my reliability, and that itself improves my disposition. It’s not perfect, and I’m terrified that one catastrophe, one medical emergency, will send me spiraling again.

And a loose thought that I don’t know if I’m ready to tackle is the fact that I am okay with OTHER people being a burden. I take it on gladly. I see it as a privilege to be with them. Why, then, do I refuse to give myself permission to be a burden to others? Why won’t I let them take care of me when I’m broken?

Still working on that one.

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What are my qualifications? None, except for my own experience and a desire to help. Going back to Doctor Who, “I am an idiot … passing through, helping out.” I hope my own struggle with my darkness can help you with yours, or understand the struggle of someone you love.

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Life before death

Strength before weakness

Journey before destination