Selective honesty.

Honesty should be used wherever possible, but knowing where to withhold information is a skill that takes a while to master. People are pretty much all worriers, and worrying is not an enjoyable pass-time, so we often try to spare others worry by omitting details. We tell slightly different stories to different people. We avoid certain questions, and we change subjects. We don’t give the entire truth, and we don’t expect it from others. You’d probably be a bit annoyed if you asked someone what they had been up to that day and they started reeling off everything from waking up to the shower being a bit too hot to what they ate for breakfast. 

I withhold too much. I don’t often lie (mainly because I am completely terrible at it) but I do manipulate the truth and alter the bits people hear. I’m not ashamed of my brain, but I don’t shout about it. There are about 4 people out in the real world I talk to about my brain, and all but one are aware of this blog – the fourth is not as I am trying to spare them worry – and I like that. They get to know what’s up and they don’t have to keep asking how I am doing. I like it this way because I do not like to talk about brain things in person; once I start I don’t stop and it normally ends in tears, so I prefer not to start.

My carefully-worded honesty about how I am today is something along the lines of feeling like I’ve been on a boat for a few days. Longer version is that I feel cold, weak, fuzzy and unsteady, there’s a lot of nausea going on, and some other things I’m not going into with the whole world. The night was comprised of deep sleep and being wide awake in about equal proportions, and I haven’t been able to face food more than a bit of toast since about 2pm yesterday. Introduction of medication has beaten up my insides a bit and is currently holding me hostage, but it could have been a lot worse so I’m okay with that for now.

We are moving house tomorrow, I started these at a pretty bad time as now I am feeling a bit useless and am more a hindrance to the packing/organising movement. Not that I’d be any better without the pills as there’s quite a strong chance I’d be horizontal on the sofa staring into the white abyss of the ceiling with eyes glazed over, but being aware that I’m being a useless lump is I think somehow even less desirable.

Oh well, it’s bad timing but it’s all hopefully going to be worth it. It’s not like there’s a shortage of house-moves in my life, this is about to be the ninth in four years, so I will be able to make it up soon enough. 

And because I’ve neglected it for a few days, some happy things:
1. The ever-exciting tales of my grandma’s everyday life
2. Being on a hill!
3. Enormous fluffy blankets

8 Comments (+add yours?)

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