Why do people typically fall ill? Most often, it’s due to nerves. Nerves frayed in various situations, gnawing away at them from within. That’s the first step, which once taken, leads to another stage of illness: internalization. That solitude of thoughts, which has lately become increasingly social.
Looking back, I have the answer, the magic key to this internalization. Many of us are born with a greater or lesser need for solitude, accentuated by the experiences that shape us.
We don’t have parents who stand by us through thick and thin. Typically, some of them are there for us only during the tough times. If they are. Good times are often experienced in solitude. Because parents are focused on raising and educating us rather than enjoying life with us.
We grow up, ostensibly responsible. In return, we seek support from outside, understanding, communication, empathy, and support. Where? In those parents (if we still have them) who are completely out of touch with the times we live in, in life partners whom we choose based on the educational criteria in which we were raised. That is, if we’re “lucky” enough to find others like us in this world. In reality, we are just larger children, with strong emotional needs, unable to find echoes of ourselves anywhere outside. And so, we retreat even further into ourselves. Mute screams, deafening only to the inner self.
Yet, we demand recognition from the outside world with the bravery of a wounded hero in battle, but still standing, because that’s how we learned to stand tall. We betray kneeling, seen as weakness beyond measure. We sacrifice time, tears, and years seeking recognition, appreciation, advice, support, or affection from someone. Most of the time… we tire of searching.
But in the evening, before preparing for a completely different state of consciousness, no matter how tightly someone holds us in their arms, we are still alone. We, with our thoughts, in a universe full of social norms, far too many labels from the truth, fears too little justified, and conventions we struggle to adhere to as if they were the law.
Yet, loneliness of thoughts is, beyond all this, where it belongs. Inside us, we know exactly who we are. We know exactly with whom we share all our fears, all our questions, all our unanswered questions. Just with ourselves. In front of the mirror, all social norms and masks we wear for society and socializing fall away one by one.
Illness occurs when, out of too much conviction, we try to adhere to all these conventions in which we were educated, even beyond ourselves. We construct mental schemes to match them, even in the face of our own conscience. And we live with the false impression that a strong woman is one who does not display either her pains or weaknesses but rather an impenetrable mask of a man accustomed to overcoming all difficulties, remaining, beyond the front line, still standing. We often deceive ourselves into believing that this is what we want. We convince ourselves that this is what we desire. Until everyone around us perceives us as such. Let us not be surprised then, lamenting to the core of our being that those around us do not understand our sufferings. Because, in fact, we have created a much too impenetrable image of ourselves.
But… how often have we expressed ourselves? How often have we explained, exactly as we felt, both pains and needs, dissatisfactions, and desires? How many generations have passed over us with the idea that it is normal to suffer, it is normal to hurt, it is normal to silently bear the condition of being a woman?
Well, now it’s normal for the world not to understand us. It’s normal for them not to believe us as long as, for decades, maybe even centuries, we remained silent. But it’s even more normal to learn not to hide anymore, to educate the social factor (from loved ones to colleagues, friends, doctors) in another belief. But this depends only on us. On how we accept ourselves, first and foremost, as women. On the courage we have to look in the mirror and see ourselves as we are: without masks, without social prejudices, without outdated educations. We are brave, and this courage, an affliction like endometriosis brings it out with every surgery, with every painful flare-up, with every night when that solitude of sleepless thoughts increasingly reveals our hidden desires.
For some, illness deepens their loneliness. For others, on the contrary, it raises them. But both have one thing in common: the desire to be understood, the need for compassion, and the silent hope of breaking free from their own loneliness.
The difference between the two categories, however, is only one: the degree of courage with which each looks, honestly, in the mirror. Sometimes, all it takes is a second of such honesty. Other times, a life lived in the shadow of beliefs and prejudices will not be enough. But it depends on each of us how much we choose to prolong our suffering.
Loneliness has never been a weapon against illness. It would be beneficial to understand this before a chronic condition dictates and writes our sentence to a solitary existence, filled only with the voice of our tireless thoughts.
Photo source: i.huffpost.com
Este un articol profund si sincer, care atinge o tema sensibila si universala – cum si de ce oamenii se imbolnavesc. Stresul si lipsa de sustinere emotionala din copilarie se adancesc in noi si ne fac sa ne inchidem in noi insine, in loc sa cautam sprijin si intelegere in exterior. Suntem in cautarea unui suport care, adesea, nu exista sau nu ne este oferit de persoanele indreptatite sa ne ingrijeasca. Iar cand reusim sa gasim macar o ascultare, seara, inainte de culcare, ramanem totusi singuri cu gandurile noastre. In aceasta lupta grea cu conventiile sociale si propriile noastre convingeri, o parte din noi se pierde si percepem boala ca pe o reactie naturala a intregului proces. Multumesc pentru acest articol profund si sincer, care isi indeamna cititorii sa se cunoasca si sa se accepte asa cum sunt, in ciuda presiunilor si asteptarilor sociale.