It’s been a funny old day facilitated by a lot of painkillers. It’s been a bloody long one too. A total of 13 hours from leaving for work to returning home. That might not be much to some, but 13 solid hours in the wheelchair with no chance to transfer, or stretch out, or in fact have a nap after a tosh nights sleep was all a bit much.
I was greeted by a colleague today who goes out of his way to help me navigate the doors at work each morning. Not out of pity, but because he gets that it’s just hard opening doors and he misses the sense of community from his home country that is lacking in the UK. I enjoy our morning chats and I find his very honest love for people infectious. I’m a grumpy arsehole in the morning, but he brightens my day by leaping out of his classroom to hold open a few doors just for me.
This morning he asked me how I stay so cheerful and positive. He really meant it. I did a presentation at the start of the year to the whole school faculty and apparently I was genuinely passionate. I do smile. I do ask how people are. I do laugh off the crappy days. It worried me that I seem so genuinely positive. Have I really got that good at faking it?
Of course I’m not going to tell you I’m in agony and my pelvis is burning. Instead put on a big smile and say “I’m fine! How are you?” Or make some stupid quip about having all 4 limbs.
Of course I won’t tell you about spending 20 minutes this morning layering on special concealer, foundation, and powder to hide the eye bags. I do appreciate you saying how well I look though as it validates my make up skills.
Of course I’m going to shrug and say it could be worse, or there’s nothing I can do so why worry? These lines are so well versed that even if believe them some days. And actually only a couple of people get away with the following up of “and how are you actually doing?”. Mrs G, Mr Geek & Mr Gypsytree get honest answers. They are the glue that holds the bits of my mind together. Mrs Gypsytree aka Sherlock gets a special version where I don’t have to say much.*
How do I stay so positive? Easy. I fake it. And apparently I deserve a bloody Oscar.
The reality is that I got home today after a 12 hour stint at school + an hour of travelling in so much pain I found it hard to speak. I hit tired at lunchtime and pushed through tired into manic, then into plain weird where I got cross with Mr Geek for chewing to loudly near me, then finally rock bottom where I just cried buckets because I typed the Gypsytrees’ collective names. Just to help, I now can’t sleep as my legs are restless and ALL the painkillers aren’t helping my extremities or the headache that’s creeping up the back of my neck.
A huge part of that reality is being scared that if I rage about being in pain and physically useless all the time I’ll get boring and that stuck record will get old and eventually be left alone. So instead I smile as if my life depends on it. Because to a certain extent it does.
On a much funnier note, a student at school went joy…err..hopping on my emergency crutches that I keep in my 1st floor classroom today. In his defense, he hadn’t considered why they are there, nor what would happen if there was a fire and my chair failed. Equally in his defense, with hindsight it’s quite funny watching someone describe a TWOC offense (taking without consent – which is usually reserved for vehicles) when referring to crutches. How far did he think he would get? We’re they going somewhere? Why would you do that? Is there a crutch black market? The teenage boy brain baffles me. The hardest part : keeping a straight face.
* Note to self: It’s OK to miss them. It’s not ok to get runny mascara over the Marvel Duvet cover. Captain America now looks like he’s been down the mines.