letting my true neurotic freak flag fly

Generally, I get a kick out of having a small handful of folks following this blog, but now I'm worried that people feel obligated to read it. I would hate that. I'm noticing through this whole cancer thing that I live with an exquisitely delicate balance of social obligation, social exchange. I monitor that balance very carefully. When the balance is lost, even briefly, I move quickly to reestablish it by writing thank you notes, returning a favor, immediately answering a kind email, trying to ensure that I am not in anyone's debt. This is impossible when one is ill. It is the most difficult part of the whole thing for me.

And as an introvert, it is really hard for me to authentically right the balance, once I feel indebted. Extroverts have a broader range of authentic responses. I can write to someone. It's not much. It does not feel like enough, for sure.

When we got home from the doctor's office last Tuesday, there was a huge basket of gifts from Laura's colleagues -- socks and CDs and paintings and fresh applesauce and books and so much. True confession? I burst into tears not because I felt so grateful, but because I felt so burdened by my need to thank each person, and inability to adequately do so -- and I was immensely tired. It was absolutely the wrong response to have. It meant I couldn't enjoy the beautiful basket of gifts in the way I was supposed to. The more wonderful or thoughtful the gift, the more indebted I felt, and it was really uncomfortable. I sobbed to Laura, totally letting my neurotic freak flag fly: "I try to live my life in a way such that I am not obligated to people! I can't handle all this obligation!" I am really embarrassed to admit that.

I don't think this is a particularly healthy aspect of my personality, but it's very real. It's not just about avoiding indebtedness -- it has something to do with my fear of being a burden on other people. Staying too long where I might not be welcome, for example, would be misery for me.

Here's the really neurotic kicker: I am not in enough pain to feel like I deserve the loving, helpful things I am receiving. The meals, the soups, the unbelievably generous Whole Foods card that 30 of Laura's colleagues went in on. Were I to lose my hair to chemo, say, I wouldn't mind people feeling sorry for me. I would or will feel sorry for me, too. But I don't know what to do with simply having had a double mastectomy and being tired. I feel sad about my breasts, and I'm anxious about the cancer, but I don't feel sorry for myself. I just did what I had to do. It doesn't feel like enough to merit all the kindness coming my way, and my debt to others chafes me, badly.

Not an entertaining post tonight; sorry about that, for anyone who has made it to the end of this heavy piece. I'm really talking to myself, and, like tickling oneself, something shorts out and the result isn't funny. Much obliged.