There’s a common wisdom that illness can be overcome through hard work. Work is definitely involved, but effort isn’t the only factor. I know this, just as I know I’m not lazy or faking it. I also know I work really hard to improve my health. Still there’s a nagging thought: I must not be getting better because I’m not dedicated enough.
To reassure myself, I looked at the review of my 2007 treatments and treatments I planned for 2008. The lists are so long I tire remembering all appointments I’ve been to. This should be proof that I’m trying to get better. Too bad my inner perfectionist tells me I should be able to do more, no matter what the project.
During my (mild) meltdown last night, Hart asked how he could help. I asked him to tell me that I do work hard at getting better. He looked so pained when he told me I work as hard as I possibly can. Having him say that was so reassuring. If he thinks I’m trying hard enough, I must be.
I wish I didn’t need outside confirmation for things like this. Ha! That sentence makes me laugh. Of course I’m too stubborn and independent to ask for help. Of course I want to do it all on my own. I simply can’t — none of us can. Maybe I’ll remember that for a few days at least.
And maybe I’ll remember I’m working my butt off to get better.