For information, and just so you know, this post was started, and written in response to how I was feeling, on Saturday, 3rd April, 2021.
the background to the blog post …
On the same day as deciding that I must write about ‘the real me’ this is what I also wrote on my Instagram account.
I’m so fucking mad
my attitude is bad and I’m pissed that I’m so poorly
and that people wish they got
to stay home and do nothing
fuck fuck fuck YOU
and fuck this illness too
I’ve so had enough …
why because I sat up
I’ve well and truly had more than I can take
a n d b r e a t h e . . .
and breathe …
You can read about this in full on my ‘and breathe …’ blog post. At the same time as feeling really unhappy about the illness and the comments of others it dawned on me that deep inside the real me still exists.
I know. A weird revelation to have while feeling ranty and moany (two new words that the dictionary doesn’t recognise, but that I’m keeping as mine LoL). Hey, why not!
At the time I knew that this revelation needed exploring more deeply because recently I’ve been feeling quite sad and like I had lost myself to this illness.
the real me …
The idea that you can loose yourself to an illness is unthinkable, yet it happens. You can, and do, get taken over by the illness and become defined by it too. I covered aspects of this in my ‘does ME define me …’ blog post where I admit to feeling this way and go on to discuss why I often feel like the illness has taken over me.
this blog post …
However, in this blog post I want to look at the subject matter, the real me, the part that is me, my identity.
Let’s start by defining identity:
the fact of being who or what a person or thing is / the distinguishing character or personality of an individual : individuality. b : the relation established by psychological identification.
my personal definition : identity:
my identity is who I am … it encompasses all aspects (mind*body*soul) of who I think I am and must include who ’you’ think I am too …
Given those definitions then I feel I must describe myself to you.
I would describe myself as:
a woman who still feels like a girl who loves all things pastel and dusky but especially pinks and greens and big loose dresses and pastel and bright dungarees
I am a mother and a grandmother at heart
I am a free spirit and maybe even a little rebellious
You will always find me supporting the underdog, the one being picked on, or left out, if you’re suffering I am there
I hate injustice and unfairness
I am alive and vibrant, always dancing and moving around
I can be witty and sort of funny, but not in a general sense of funny, my funny is very unique to me
I am an empath
I am an educator
I am easily missed amongst a crowds (I like to stay in the background)
I’m not a leader but I am a great supporter and will always pull more than my weight
I hate to be the centre of attention
I have often been used, abused, and taken for granted
I hate rules and regulations and the way the whole worldly system is run does not suit me
I do not believe or accept that the right to live and be alive ought to be earned – it is a right
money is the worse thing ever invented but I don’t have any ideas except
l o v e
that could help us run the world better
the lost me …
All of the above details about me are important and there is so much more that I could add too. Yet, since being poorly with ME the me I identify with in the above list has faded into the background. Some parts of me are now barely existent.
In fact, I grieve me dearly.
Even so, I also feel that somewhere deep inside I am still there.
I can feel me when I am able to allow the stillness to takeover.
That said, I have lost the ability to actually be me. So much so that there are times I feel lost and like I am nothing.
Being this sick and feeling like you’ve lost the ability to be you can be really confusing.
One minute you think you’ve got it and the next you’re in a confused jumbled mess again.
You can see that I too am affected this way by noting the mixed details of the preceding sections,
I am me, I am not me …
I know who I am, I am lost …
And that’s the point here. Some day’s you will feel able to find the old you and other days she or he will be so faded that you barely know who you are.
And that is ok, it really is …
it’s all ok …
I am here to tell you emphatically that it’s ok.
It’s ok if you’re still who you were / are,
it’s ok if you’re not,
and it’s ok if you are grieving the loss of any part of you too,
it’s also ok if you feel unchanged by your illness,
and it’s ok if you are feeling changed by it too.
It’s all ok …
Every little bit of it is ok …
Even when you find you are bits of all of the above and when you find you are none of these too … even this is ok …
acceptance of me …
One of the key aspects I have to conclude from this is that it is extremely important for me to find the ability to be ok with whatever I am feeling at any given point in time.
Acceptance is another subject matter I have discussed before in my ‘how to accept the unacceptable …’ blog post.
moving on …
… it’s okay …
… all of it & any of it …
… it really is OK …
in summary & in conclusion …
The jumbled mess of me and being me and not being me is all playing out, every single day.
I’ve got this, all of this …
I haven’t got this, none of this …
I am lost, I am found …
All of it. The whole jumbled mess. It’s ok …