No one Cares what you Know until they Know that you Care


One of the biggest problems I have had forever is this.

“I am here, standing right in front of you.  You have hugged me.  You can see me, hear me, dude, on a really bad day you can even smell me…………  You KNOW I am real and right here in front of you.”

Yet, nothing I would say was believed, or of any legitimate value.

The same person I’d be talking to would tell me to pray to God.  They believed that God could solve everything and anything.  They believed in a Being that they have never seen, never heard, not physically touched… they believed in a book and in words of others they had never met!  They did not believe me… and I was right there!

I was relaying the same message, same everything… and they refused to believe in even a small part of what truth I had in me.

It is hypocritical, to say the least, and we all do it.

I love the ones in my life who have compassion and patience in their dealings with me.  They are thoughtful and considerate.  I do not believe that everyone is ‘out to get’ me.  I am grateful for the time I do get to speak freely of things that matter so much to me and things that matter so much to them.  Having said that, however, does not negate the other emotions that I also carry about each transaction.  A body can maintain gratitude and heart break at the same time.  I can be glad that you helped me out and upset at the situation simultaneously.  The act may be great, and could be the best that you could do!  I fall short all the freakin’ time!  God makes up the differences I believe.  My emphatic words do not have to help nor hurt anyone.  They can and sometimes they do.  I don’t say anything that I have not thought though and I don’t want to wound anyone.  My want in this case is not always equal to the outcome.  Natural consequences will follow and I am willing to pay that price, if not for anyone else, for myself.

I am grateful that a Pastor did come to the little goodbye thing I had.  Still, he spoke to my flat mate, and my therapist about it.  He would not talk to me.  He asked them if it was true.  He asked them if it was important.  He asked them if he should participate even though he didn’t think my experience was actually valid.  To which they both replied – it does not matter if it is true, it is still important. He is a good man.  He is kind and careful.

He came and spoke well.  He was gracious and detached.  I get it!  I am a freak!  So…while I am glad he came… it was still insulting in a way.  He is a Pastor!  Come talk to me!  I was the one who the ceremony was for!  I was the one who asked him to come in the first place. I did not do it for show – And yet, it doesn’t matter anyways – does it?

I believe this cliché saying is more true than cliché … it goes Nobody cares how much you know UNTIL they know how much you care! 

I saw my ‘T’ on Friday.  I took an arsenal to therapy with me that day.  I showed him the Reactive Polychondritis information. I showed him a lot of it, but I read to him the symptoms list.  nearly EVERY SINGLE PHYSICAL SYMPTOM I have had …. especially the ones that I have talked to him about are explained through this condition.  I felt emphatic.  I was passionate.  For me it was intense.  He has been telling me for years now that Somatic symptoms are just that, somatic.  In my head.  Conversion disorder types…. bla bla bla…  He has been kind about it.  He was never cruel or put me down in a mean way.  Instead of calling me out right crazy, he would say that I have been under an intense “mind-fuck” – his words.

I wasn’t insane, my experience was.

He told me repeatedly I could not determine the flash backs from real life.  That was true some of the time.  In the same manner that sometimes it is hard to tell the difference between reality and a dream.  But it was not the truth all the time – and I am convinced that he and others thought/think it to be.  After 2+ years I finally gave in and agreed.  Why?  I had no proof.  I do not bruise easily.  I had no medical backing to support my claims.  I was lumped in with the ones who were “fat book” clients, indeed the ones who had similar diagnosis as my own.  Since the world “needs” this type of proof to go by anything, I gave in.  I know my life is not ‘normal!’  I am very aware of how scary and harsh the ‘world’ can be.  If I wanted attention in that fashion there are much easier ways of getting it.  I don’t want it.  That isn’t attention anyhow, it is pity.  I do not understand why anyone would I want that?

My ‘t’ has always been kind.  He is a very gentle person who is compassionate beyond measure.  He is knowledgeable and with all the barrage of shit that I bring with me, he has done exactly what he was trained to do AND THEN SOME.  I do trust him.  I try and see me through his perspective and I quite respect where he is coming from.  Understanding things like this, and my respect for him still does not take away the sting of being told I am a liar – especially when using different words.  Instead of saying I was psychotic, he would say that my experience was.  It was clear to me from that statement that clarity needed to me made again.  I am not tired of clearing the air.  I am pretty dern sure that it is a life long process.  But he said “was.”  Not just once did he say that either.  What is to be done?  I cannot correct every single detail of life.  I don’t have the energy for that.  My current situation IS still the definition of psychotic.  A normal person given a psychotic experience might respond in such a way as I have.  If no one in ‘society’ is aware of the experience does that make the person crazy to them?  Why is it easier to believe that an individual is nuts than it is to believe that something has caused a reaction in the individual?  I am not crazy, but my experience is.  The ‘mind-fuck’ he referred to is my current and past struggles with people who would and have inflicted me with agony, a preference they had to death.  Threats that have never been empty before, to me were scary promises.  This same bit to him was just empty words.  I get that he didn’t have the experience I did.  This ‘mind-fuck’ statement, though not intended to be this way, hurt me more than the threat – and all of the fulfilling of that threat since it was made – has hurt me.  He did NOT use any of the terms listed in the following paragraph.  This is just what I interpreted the whole ‘mind-fuck’ statement and conversation to mean.

You are not nuts for believing something that I don’t believe.  You do not have the brain power that I have. You do not have the same ideas nor the same ability to see to whole picture like I do.  You are not crazy, you are broken and those are two different things.  Your experience seems scary but honestly it isn’t scary anymore. They want you to believe them and to be afraid. Don’t believe them and don’t be afraid.  Just because they have hurt you in the past, and are “still hurting” you does not mean that they will follow through with their empty threat.  They, who never said to believe them, have lied to you your whole life.  They have hurt you but God, who has never protected your body from physical danger before, might if you trust in Him as I do.  No, I do not believe that what you feel, think, see, hear, and understand are real.  Instead, I believe that you really think they are true.  Not the same thing.  God knows it all and we just go with the flow.  The truth is elusive here and so we must act as if whatever it is that is so distressing to us just simply isn’t so.

I am not a fan of being patronized.  I do appreciate being spoken to with respect and still being talked to in a kind tone with words that are ‘refined’ does not take the sting out of someone telling you that you are delusional.

I wanted kindness, and truth.  Something I thought was way too big to demand, though it is the most I have ever wanted!

Yes I do trust my ‘t’ and I hope that this will not be ill-received.  Because I do trust him, I will go back.  No one is perfect and I get that. I am no where near perfect, and I don’t ever intend to be perfect either.  If there are things that we can fix, lets fix them!  If not, we move on or at least we try.

My ‘t’ is not the first to dismiss my words.  He was not the first to tell me that the stuff in my head was too far from the norm to be believed.  Though, he was the first to understand.  HE was the first to stick it out as much as he could.  He was the first to trust me enough to let me call upon him when an emergency was pressing upon me.  He cared more than so many others!  He still cares more.  He talked with me in the wee morning hours because my struggle was so great.  He was not angry with me, and did not speak in harsh or rude tones.  He could have!  He had every right to be frustrated and put out.  I would have accepted it, taken it, and tried to bury it.  Though he did not live in my experience as I did/do he has been willing to walk with me along the path as much as I would let him, and he could handle himself.  Because of his great concern and care I have not been hospitalized even 10% as much as I used to be.  He is a miracle worker, and I am ooooooober grateful that he is toughing it out with me as his acutely headstrong and problematic client.   If he didn’t believe me about my experience, for the time being that was okay.  I have wanted to keep him as my ‘t’ because whether or not he believed me, I always knew and know now that he believes IN me.  I am very contented in that.  I have made many mistakes too.  I will make many many more.  You know what?  I believe in him too.  Not many people admit willingly that they were wrong.  He has.  Not many are willing to talk about things are are gross and icky.  He does.  Not a lot of dudes can speak of emotions in a way that I can understand them. He can.  No one has listened to me for as many hours and has paid as close attention as he has. It is his job, but it is also his ‘calling from the Lord.’  He does it well.  He is professional and personal. He is very careful not to blur the lines between friendship and the therapeutic alliance. He does all this with all his heart.  He is there on purpose.  All of that is of infinite value to me.

This last bout of self-harm and being suicidal was about that.  I either had to submit to the world that I was indeed the one who was psycho (even though I don’t lie and have not changed one damn experience) OR I had to find the strength to fight.

I have decided to fight.

  • Not because the world needs to change – it does!
  • Not because the ones who victimize others need to be helped out majorly – they do!
  • Not even for the others like me who do not have the strength to fight and need someone to fight for them – they do as well!

First and foremost, I am doing this for me.   

fuck the world! – If I am of no worth, then I can do nothing.

But, feelings are not facts!  Just because I feel bad, does not mean I am worthless.  A person telling me that I am useless does not make it so.

Being raped, lied to, lied about, not believed in, mutilated, beaten, drugged, water boarded, tortured, broken hearted,  physically ill, deaf or blind, HELL, Having my own children ripped from my body DOES NOT have any determination upon my individual worth, nor can it create in me a desire to join those threat inducing creatures of darkness.

Happiness is ONLY a choice when you are able to make the distinction between the darkness and the light.  Trauma can make us blind to both.  People who do not deal with being blind in this manner mockingly will say ‘just choose!’  What they do not know is there is no way of telling the difference sometimes.

I am grateful for you – you who are offended by reading this and you who are not.  I am grateful for your open mind.  I am grateful for your choices to be a part of difficult times and good times.  I am grateful for your encouragement and your prayers.  I value you highly and I hope that you know that you are in my prayers as well.

I know we cannot live forever.  I am very happy about that for this life.  I know that my dreamed of quality of life for myself is not probable anymore.  My body is older than my time.  I do not like it but I would rather know the truth than live in a lie.

While I live and while I can I will be as compassionate, honest, and strive to make some kind of difference.  I know I am not alone in my struggle.  I know there are too many out there just like me.   I wish that I could help you all.  I promise I will do what I physically am able to do and then I will leave the rest to you and God.

There is a song from Evita that I am very fond of.  It is Eva’s Lament.  I am going to reword some of it and this is how I will end this post.

The choice was mine and mine completely

To endure and hope for things that I admired

I could burn with the splendor of the brightest fire

Or else – or else I could choose time.

Remember, I was very young then

And a year was forever and a day

So no matter what has happened to me in my past

I saw the lights and I was on my way

Oh how I lived!  How they shone!

But how soon the lights were gone!


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