warning: I’m worn out and pissed off.
how not to help
- ask if there is anything you can do, and then do nothing.
- ask if there is anything you can do, and not mean it a word of it.
- ask if there is anything you can do, and then gossip.
- ask if there is anything you can do while wearing a fake smile and (literally) walking away (body language – it’s not always subtle) – yes, this has happened, a few times.
- hang up on me after you asked what was going on – loved this.
- hang up on me, and then send multiple 6 word emails asking for information – love this even more.
- drop me as a friend.
- tell me “I did something right” because my girls are doing well. Was I ‘doing right’ 66.6% of the time? or perhaps, just maybe this ‘doing right’ is crap, and I got lucky 2 out of 3 times, and if your child is doing well, you’re pretty damn lucky too
- give up on us – thanks mom, (and others) you’re the best.
- talk about your ‘problems’ figuring out the right college, or what car to buy, or which European country you’ll vacation in this year – I’m sure these things are important to you, but maybe you could find someone else to tell about it?
- look at me with pity. your pity doesn’t help anyone.
how to help
- talk to me like someone who has a very ill family member, because that’s exactly what is going on. I have an ill son, who could die from his illness. If you think this isn’t an illness then I have nothing to say to you. Ever.
- be kind to my girls.
thanks Deb, I hate it too, but … it has made me a better person, something I wouldn’t have managed without it. maybe will do the same with Graham? maybe.
Shit Ruth. I hate this fucking disease. I hate it hate it hate it. And I love you and all of your kids. I can’t imagine how you are feeling, the powerlessness must be overwhelming. I’m sending energy your way. Hoping the bottom comes now and is soft, so the healing can start.