WATERMARK

a poet’s notebook


Established 02004

Invalid

dancers

@ Wiktionary:

invalid [adjective]

  1. not valid; not true, correct, acceptable or appropriate

invalid (plural invalids) [noun]

  1. One who is confined to home or bed due to illness, disability or injury
  2. Any person with disability, e.g. invalid carriage

Usage notes

It’s been a tough few months; I am feeling invalid: not correct, acceptable, or appropriate; confined to home…

As I confront yet another decline, further in/abilities — or, try to confront them. Try to accept, adapt, cope anew…

It’s been over a decade now, that I’ve been ill — sometimes better, sometimes worse; sometimes coping well; sometimes not. But managing, more or less, on my own.

But not lately. And, perhaps, not in future — at least, not in the immediate future. This — needing help just to manage day-to-day — is another whole level of humiliation. I hate it.

Hate hate hate.

It pushes all the worthiness buttons. Sirens and alarms throughout my psyche.

At this point, I can live a sad, dreary, uncomfortable life — with my companion animals neglected, and myself as well — or I can face this, and apply for the help offered to the helpless. Medicaid. Aging Services — though I’m not yet (quite) sixty. Help with shopping and cooking, household help —

But if I have that, perhaps I can walk the dogs again. Perhaps I can write more than briefly; perhaps I will pick up the camera again.

Just typing this, I am crying. And I don’t cry.

Don’t cry. Don’t ask for help.

Messages that have been useful for me, in some things. Practices that have helped me push through this far, keeping my independence —

Now, possibly, counter-productive.

Do I deserve a good life? Even if I can’t work for it? Even if I don’t earn it?

How do people — the saintly, the patient, the cheerful people — how do they cope with this?

3 responses to “Invalid”

  1. Me, I just know that what I do (or don’t do!) is not who I am. I’ve known that for quite some time (though I occasionally forget), and it has come in very handy since getting sick. I know there is a “me” that has nothing to do with what I do or who my parents are or what my body is like or anything external. I would still be me if I got a knock on the head and became a vegetable. It’s just an intuitive knowledge I have, rather than something I believe intellectually. I think it’s the reality of being human and I don’t know why others don’t feel the same way.

  2. So dismayed to see you feeling so lost and sad. I think everyone with one of these damned conditions like M.E. knows exactly what you are talking about: that blasted chip, chip ,chipping away at your sense fo self, dignity, independence BUT there is no shame in crying when there’s good cause, no shame in asking for help.
    I bet there’s many a time when you’ve helped other people. You help them now through this blog. You’ve helped me: no shame in asking for some help for you.
    You are resilient and creative.
    You’ll get through this.
    Take care

  3. u made me feel less alone and validated my experience which i don’t even attempt to describe.

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