My amazing little 3-year-old is currently in the “WHY?” stage. Everything is why this? Why that? “Why is milk white?” “Why is that man wearing a blue shirt?” WHY?
Some things I have an answer for. Others? Not even close, but I fake it til I make it, or at least satisfy a portion of his curiosity. Some days it’s exhausting fielding the abundance of questions, but I always try to do my best to offer him some sort of answer, even if I’m reaaalllly stretching it. You try answering burning questions like do monster trucks like pudding? It’s not easy. Hahaha.
But as we all know, this IS our reality and we don’t necessarily get the luxury of just pretending this piece of our life doesn’t exist.
Today, though, I realized that I am also in a questionable and “why” stage of life. I am, by nature, an overthinker. A speculator. If overanalyzing was an Olympic sport, I’d be holding up that gold medal with zero competition. After being diagnosed I really find myself in spare moments asking myself questions or musing about certain aspects of this disease and life in general.
Questions. Concerns. Fears. Hopes. So many thoughts pinballing around my head for my healthcare providers…my family….and most of all, myself. Logistics. Doctors. Medication. Expectations. Fears. Side effects. Travel. Normalcy. Mobility. Money. Time. Insurance. Relationships. Faith. Test results. Oh my goodness. The list goes on and on and on.
Some days I wish I could shut my brain off and pretend this is all a temporary thing or something that will all clear up with the vegan/yoga/stressfree lifestyle I keep getting encouraged to pursue. 🙂 But as we all know, this IS our reality and we don’t necessarily get the luxury of just pretending this piece of our life doesn’t exist.
So I remind myself on the days that my little man has reached close to his one-millionth question that he is just trying to make sense of his world and how he fits in it. You know what, little buddy? I am too.
As for voicing your concerns about your health, I believe asking all the questions possible is a totally necessary thing. Initially I would feel nervous or uneducated or like I was taking up too much of the doctor’s time. Now I ask. Don’t mind me as I go down my handwritten list. Why yes! There is a second page. Why? How? When? Because? What does this mean in connection to….? How often…?
In school, I was usually the one that sat quietly and listened, taking notes. I rarely raised my hand and asked questions because it felt embarrassing and I don’t like to draw attention to myself. However, now, when it comes to my health and being the best version of me, I ask. I am sure we can collectively agree all doctors have different bedside manners. But I’ve taught myself regardless of this, ASK. In the same manner, I need to grant myself the permission to ask MYSELF certain things. Mentally, physically, emotionally…how am I doing? Don’t neglect yourself and your own mental health. Question YOURSELF.
So I remind myself on the days that my little man has reached close to his one-millionth question that he is just trying to make sense of his world and how he fits in it. You know what, little buddy? I am too.
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