I’ve never been much good at asking for help or admitting when I’m unable to do things. I like being independent. I like being strong. I like being capable.
The thing is, having lupus means not being able to always be strong, independent and capable. You just never know exactly when things will be taken away from you or for how long.
You’d think I would have learned to ask for help. You would think, given the number of years lupus has been my sidekick that I would be better at coping with this. I’m not.
I fight it each and every flare. This has led to food on the floor, dropped jars, piles of laundry left where ever and friends stood up or even worse, having to cope with me dragging myself around.
So I have lupus, but like to pretend I don’t. Which has led to so pretty odd adventures. Sch as rolling on the floor like an armadillo because it was all I could do. It has meant being almost glow in the dark red from sun, or swollen feet that look like balloons. It has meant appearing clumsy or perhaps a bit intoxicated to people who don’t understand.
It has meant being rude, thoughtless, cruel at times when the pain, illness and what have you is too much and there just isn’t one more drop of energy in my body.
It means shutting myself away, pushing people away and yes sometimes hiding because it’s just easier for all involved.
It also means that friends and loved ones show me grace and love as they pull me they. It means learning that once again no one thinks less of me for needing help. It means understanding that people are willing to help me out if I ask for it. It also means they are tired of stepping in when ive run myself right into the ground because I’m selfish and don’t listen to their pleas to slow down. It means another chance to learn a lesson I guess.