Introductions Again? Yikes!

There’s a new blog carnival in town, hosted by Jolene at Graceful Agony, and the topic of the first edition is, “Let Me Introduce Myself.” This is my least favorite topic in the entire world, since I am NOT good at telling people who I am.

I think a big part of the problem is simply that there’s just so much to say, and the connections aren’t very logical. (I’m a Pisces, logic just isn’t part of my makeup. Intuition, emotion, passion: yes; history: I’ve got tons; logic: not so much.)

I’m a mass of contradictions, a mess of chronic illnesses, a pile of insecurities; and very much a product of my past. I’ve spent the majority of my life “surviving” things like years of childhood physical and sexual abuse, a first marriage full of verbal and emotional abuse, medical and mental health problems, and total financial collapse (and that’s just the major stuff.)

I’ve been reading Sue Ingbretson’s “FibroWHYalgia,” and there’s a place where she talks about how sometimes our illnesses become “who we are.” That was a very familiar concept for me, because I spent years being a “sick person” rather than a “person who happens to have an illness.” I think a lot of that is because of the way doctors present our diagnoses (“you ARE bipolar” rather than “you HAVE bipolar disorder.”) We also tend to think of our illnesses in that way. I’ve been telling people that, “I am a bipolar fibromite,” for years.

That became my identity. I wasn’t “Wendy,” a person who happened to have a unique constellation of diseases, I was a bipolar fibromite who happened to write and have a degree in computer science. A big part of that is based on the words I used to express my illness, “I AM” instead of “I HAVE,” and most of that came from how others expressed these things to me. Nobody ever said, “you have hypoglycemia,” or “you have bipolar disorder.” Every doctor I saw, every nurse I spoke to said, “you are hypoglycemic,” or “you are bipolar.” When that’s all you hear, you internalize it, and the more you say, “I am” the more you identify with the disease.

Words have power – more power than we realize, and the words we use define our reality. Over the last couple of years, I’ve been trying to “reframe” my reality, trying to change the way I think of my illnesses. When I catch myself saying “I am,” I remind myself that I am not my illness, and restate it as “I have.” It’s slow going, but it seems to be working, and I’m beginning to see myself as more than just the illness.

I’m a writer, a poet, and a wife; I’m interested in all kinds of new age things like astrology, numerology, and palmistry; I love reading, like to cook and clean on my good days, and spend tons of time online researching all kinds of odd stuff. I’m politically active (off and on) and feel very strongly that we need LESS government control, and more self-determination. I’m spiritual, but not religious, and hate bigotry, intolerance, and discrimination. I’m also a feminist who would love to be able to be a more traditional “housewife” (I mentioned contradictions, didn’t I?)

I can build a website, crochet, or refinish furniture with equal ease and pleasure; and I love helping other people. I’m very patient, but I’m also easily frustrated; and although I communicate well “on paper,” I tend to be less adept at “face-to-face” communication.

So who am I? I’m not sure yet. Like most of us, I’m a work in progress. Who I am now bears very little resemblance to who I was 20 years ago, and I’m not really certain who I want to be when I grow up.