Talking in Normal

My husband and I are moving from the house in which our girls, now ages 19 and 22 years, were born and raised.  Recently a friend videotaped their memories of living here.   I was struck that neither mentioned anything  about their mother when she was unable to lift herself from bed, pick them up from school or she spent hours in a bathroom.  (Although they did remember that I wouldn’t let them lie on the window seat antique pillows or run in the dining room!)

When I asked them if they’d consciously avoided the subject of Mom’s illnesses, they were surprised.  No.  It’s just that Mom’s illnesses doesn’t stand out for them in any particular way.  As EmmaRose said,  “…it’s just been like the wallpaper – part of our lives.”

Living with a chronic illness can easily be a drain and burden on your relationships.  Or, it can be a matter of fact,  which is how I tried to treat it with our daughters.  When the oldest, Lucy, was two, I was bedridden for months, unable to walk.  I decided then that only thing that I could control was how I presented this situation to her. I desperately wanted her to regard this as “no big deal” and that to do this, I needed to talk to her with a tone of voice and words that communicated normal.

That became the model that I used from then on, even when symptoms became much more difficult. I wanted to help shape my daughters response to my health with my tone and message so they could do the best they could with what came up.  In doing so, I learned an important lesson about what and how to communicate my health challenges to the world around me.

I could adjust what I said to people based on the response I most wanted.  It didn’t always work but it gave me more control over the uncontrollable.  It was a valuable lesson, especially for the workplace where being positive and matter of fact meant whether I could keep a job or not.

It worked for our daughters.  I’m grateful for that.
Rosalind