Holding high standards

DH and I had a pretty good conversation last night. While I think some could have taken it personally, it remained productive and was a good starter point for other topics to come up.

Part of the reason I completely left a group I used to be a part of is because of feeling let down. As I discussed here awhile back, the majority of people do not realize that while they go about their daily lives of working, PTA meetings, school activities and kiddie soccer games, their is an entire population of those of us who are quite literally stuck at home, concentrating on breathing through pain and unable to get even 10 minutes of relief so we can do as much as check our mailbox.

Eight months should not go by without hearing from any of them. Ok, I'll be more realistic. I have not heard from 99% of them.

Over the last 3 1/2 years of disease, we have learned to let go of people. Sometimes it's family. Other times it's people we wrongly thought were true friends. We learned though they could not handle illness and were a constant source of stress and strain. We learned to let go and our lives became much more peaceful without them. That isn't to say it did not hurt, because it did. It still does, but we know it's for the best and we're ok with that.

DH says it is not really fair to them to feel let down because of their lack of action. It is true I hold high standards, and deep down I know it's not fair. It's hard though to accept that people are not all of the activist nature. I always have been.

See an issue that ticks me off? Off goes an email to my local representative and both Senators.

New graffiti show up on a utility box or a block wall? Fill out the city department's instant notification system on the Internet.

Someone have surgery or really sick? Make something, even as small as a snack if that's all I can do at the moment, call them and ask if they will be there for 5 minutes for you to drop it off.

I have never been one to sit and see an issue that ticks me off, see something that needed fixed, or sit back and know someone is hurt, and just have a discussion about it.

Karen was the same way. I still cry at a moment's notice over her death. Karen and I knew better than to ask if we needed anything because we knew the answer would be "I'm fine." When we both felt better, we made something for the other once a week. We had a great baking challenge, always trying to outdo one another. When things got worse, it slowed down but we still did it. We didn't ask, we acted on it.

That doesn't mean anyone is better or worse. We are all just different.

And so, I think I am going to go back. I need it. The kids need it. I expect there will be the usual niceties, the obligatory "How are you?" questions but if comes from any of the 99%, I can't see that I will give any other answer than the expected "Fine" and let us both move on. I know that may not be the best, they may need to hear the truth, but I don't know that I can handle letting any of them in closer than that, only to be hurt again by their apathy and lack of compassion. I can't take that right now.

There is a gap though, this hole, that I need to fill and I know what it is. I'll learn to deal with the others as they come.