I worry about a lot of people in my life.
I worry about my dad. His health is fairly good right now, but he lives on his own, and I worry about him getting lonely, or falling and hurting himself.
I worry about my sister and my brother-in-law and if they're doing okay as new parents. I worry about whether they have everything they need, and if they're adjusting okay to what I'm sure what must be a lot of new challenges (they appear to be doing very well, but I'm sure that with a new baby, a dog, and a cat, they have their "moments".) I changed my first diaper by myself over the week-end. Although it was less difficult with one hand than I thought it would be (fortunately for me, my niece loves being on the change table and didn't see to mind me tugging the clean diaper around underneath her to get it properly placed) I have no idea how especially single parents deal with everything involved in taking care of a baby.
I worry about friends that I know have a lot going on in their in their lives. Some live close, some live very far away. Most of the time there's not a lot I can do for either group of friends but be a listening ear (which makes me feel very helpless, and I've never liked feeling that way...it frustrates me).
After living on my own for so long, I've learned to deal with most of my health stuff by myself - my seizures (when I was having them), my migraines, my rare dizzy spells from Dilantin toxicity, the very rare time when I get sick and throw up. Lately, for some reason (I'm thinking a combination of chronic stress and perhaps a recent medication change), I've not been feeling as well as I'd like. And I've realized that it's difficult to admit to people that I don't feel well. I've had so much invested in so long in being "okay", so that people don't associate any "not okay" with my disability and treat me differently, that I have literally forgotten how alarming it can sound to people when I say, "I had a little double vision today, so I took a nap," or "I was dizzy today, so I took a day off from writing,"
I don't like it when people worry about me. But sometimes, just like everyone else, I need a little TLC when I'm not feeling well. I'm learning that it's okay to ask people for that. I'm learning that it's okay to call my Dad and ask him to bring me some ginger ale when I'm not feeling well, just the way that I would gladly do for him if our situations were reversed. Because he worries when I'm sick, and he wants to help.
I think what brought this all up was that when I went to see my sister and her family this weekend, she'd bought me a bag of groceries. There had been a major sale on at the grocery store at which she shops, apparently, and she'd filled a bag for me of things that she not only knew that I use every day (peanut butter, Lysol wipes for when the cats jump on the counters and tables) but also stuff that she knows I like but don't buy right now because they're just too expensive: Nutrigrain bars, my favourite crackers, cookies that I like, SnackPaks...
And it made me almost cry, because it made me realize that my sister worries too, and wants to help how she can.
And there was a message on the answering machine that night from a friend that I know worries, and called to find out if I was okay if I was okay after my day.
I worry about a lot of people. A lot of people worry about me, because they care. And I'm very grateful for all of them.