I would like to tell you I had an emotional week. I wanted to get mad at everyone, due to my forgetting to schedule wheelchair transportation for an appointment Wednesday morning. I assumed they were picking me up at 10:15, for an 11:00 appointment.
At 10:00, I started questioning whether I had scheduled the transportation, and finally called to see if they had me on the schedule that day. They did not. First, I wanted to blow up at them (Really??). Then, I called my therapist to cancel the appointment, why, and asked that she called me back. I wanted to keep calling her, until she answered the phone and I could vent my anger and frustration (Why??).
When she finally called me back, I explained what happened and she asked if I would like to reschedule (Ya think??). We made another appointment, and then I wanted to vent at her again, because the appointment was not for another two weeks (??).
After hanging up the phone, I sat here and I realized that the person I was really angry at was myself. I had screwed up, forgot to schedule transportation, and I missed my appointment. Did I really expect her to rearrange her entire schedule, to get me in earlier? No.
I have MS. I have mild cognitive impairment and some memory loss. I know this, and I know that if I don’t put extra reminders in place, I may very well forget something.
I wanted to blame my aide, as every time she arrives, she usually takes out my planner, checks for any appointments that she hasn’t already written on the (very) large, dry erase calendar, that hangs on the wall above my wheelchair desk. She asks if I have transportation. I call and make arrangements. Once I’ve done that, I put a check mark next to the appointment in my planner. But not this week. I don’t think I gave a single thought to that appointment, and usually I never forget that particular appointment.
But who should I be mad at about it? No one. Not even myself. Everyone makes mistakes, and I can’t be mad because I made a mistake.
So I played Sudoku and then watched more episodes of “The Fosters.” Really like this show. Whatever did I watch before Netflix??
Being ignored as a child, I wasn’t taught anything that I was supposed to have been. Instead I learned how to lie to cover my butt and save myself a beating. As I grew a little older, it just became ingrained. I would make up things to explain why something was broken, or missing, or just not satisfactory to my mother.
I do believe that she never had one good thing to say about any of my accomplishments. I wasn’t real at times like this. I used to perform music at school concerts. Band, choir, duets, solos, even playing the piano, which she didn’t know I could do. She was always there because she had to take me there. But she never said a word about it at any time after.
I felt I didn’t do it well enough. I wasn’t good enough, and that’s why she didn’t like me. I learned that at a very young age, but just existed in a world where all these people around me (only in school) didn’t like me either. I was smart and they didn’t like that.
But one thing that really stands out today, is how I was never allowed to be sick. She had to admit that I was sick when I came home from Kindergarten with Chicken Pox. So I missed some school due to that. Once I was well again, I never stayed at home, no matter how sick I felt. I had a running total of perfect attendance at school, right up until my Senior year, when my parents and I got stranded in a blizzard and no one was allowed to be on the roads for any reason.
The police took us to the Salvation Army, who took us to this rickety, old hotel, where people actually lived. There was one room for the three of us. We spent 4 or 5 days there, I can’t remember for sure, but for me it was pure hell. But that broke my perfect attendance record.
Now she’s gone and I can go out if I want to, or I can stay home if I want to. I still feel guilty, though, if I don’t go somewhere that I was supposed to go. I have to make up a story as to why I wasn’t going. My reasons were never good enough. Sometimes I went anyway, because of the guilt I was feeling. But I’m still never good enough. And just saying “no” is never enough…