Today, in rush hour traffic, I trekked uptown for a medical appointment. As an anxious and easily overwhelmed person, with a poor sense of direction, I avoid driving busy and unfamiliar areas. To say that this day was a challenge, would be an understatement.
I arrived at the medical center, later than I anticipated. With hospital and parking renovations, accessing the designated parking structure was onerous. I had to ask for help. TWICE. I did cry from stress of being late and lost-ish and then- the overwhelming goodness of each person with whom I interacted was equally overwhelming,
Finally – checking in, 2 hours after having left home, panicked from being 15 minutes behind schedule, I was informed that I was a day early. I nodded understanding and my tears could not be stopped. The team seemed to effortlessly and gladly accommodated me, a day ahead of schedule.
When the nurse injected the radioactive dye, she was so gentle I barely felt it. I kidded that it was like a massage and to please do again. With 2-3 hours between the injection and the scans, I asked if there was a part of the hospital which offered cozy seating and was led to a vacant room, with a recliner! After settling in with my computer, I was offered a drink, snacks, a warm blanket and dimming of the lights. I am deeply grateful and humbled by the care I recieved.
Lying flat on my back is excruciatingly painful, and what the scan called for. I knew I would not lie perfectly still for 20 minutes at a time, unable to resist the urge to shift after about 24 seconds. Shame, Fear. Anxiety…immediate and boundless. Because – after all that had been done for me – couldn’t I JUST, for once, do a good job? My trauma insists that “If I were grateful, good, worthwhile, of any value at all, and less selfish, I would suck it the fuck up and lie still, without burdening others with my pain.” Blessed again– a calm and dedicated technician gladly adjusted the table and arranged pillows until we found a position which worked.
Horrifying, I know. To be so uncomfortable and needing—and not even decent or capable enough to hide that.
My emotions overwhelm me. All the time. I am only now learning to self soothe and regulate. Good feelings can overpower me as much as pain. I don’t love feeling all things, all of the time. It is debilitating. I would do (nearly) anything for a dimmer switch, or at least the ability to arrange my face as if.
The trauma around my sensitivity is incapacitating. I cry (easily and frequently) and then feel so fucking ashamed of myself. Secondary feelings are the real ass-kickers.
What a blessed day, though. In my state of (what some would call unreasonable) despair, confusion, discomfort, I also felt safe and worthy of comfort & gentleness- as only the benevolent can bestow. The generous and caring treatment I recieved was a reflection only of good-natured people. Unsure if I was breaking down or breaking through, I sobbed all the way home, considering this: If the grace and mercy of others is reflective of their character – and not my worthiness, then, same must also be true of harshness, dishonesty, and cruelty.
Note to self: The opposite of sensitivity is not strength, but insenstitvity.
