Don't overdo it

I talked to my mother on Friday (27.02.26). I wanted her to hear my voice and confirm that when I tell her (by text) that I'm doing well (under the circumstances), I mean it. She knows me well enough to sense in my voice if I were trying to deceive her. Which I haven't. 

I withheld the details of my 'reaction' to the treatment. But I told her that I had a reaction. I have also told her about the joint pain and tingling sensation in the first few days after the treatment.

There is a balance to be had between unfiltered honesty and the consequences of such candour.

Here I am free to convey the experience with all the detail and unbridled (even schadenfreudian) transparency. When talking/texting with my mother, I have to consider that she is far away, unable to see what is happening, relying only on bits of information and her imagination. And, as the unforgettable Kant said, the human imagination can run quite wild. I am paraphrasing, of course.

I also know her well. I see from what she chooses to text me and how she changed some of her routines, how she is coping. She is staying strong for me. And she is sending me inspirational texts to help me stay strong.

She comes from a long line of stoic women. She has told me a few times about a particular moment with my grandmother (her mother). She (my grandmother) had five children who lived to be adults. Three (all girls) did not. Two died before my mother was born, but one died when she was a tender child, but old enough to remember the moment. It was a day on which mourners had gathered in the house.

"Children were not allowed into the house with the mourners. But at one point, we (she and her sister) were taken to mãezinha (mummy). She was lying on the bed. I noticed a single teardrop drying on her gown".

This is verbatim how she always tells me what she recalls. Always the detail of the drying teardrop, presumably against a face that did not allow my grandmother to show any pain to her daughters, even after just having lost another.

This stoicism extends to my mother's understanding of if and how one should reach out for help. This stoicism is probably why, despite my many criticisms and snarky comments about the Norwegian Lutheran self-reliance, I am quite familiar with its inner workings. And, hence, why I can call it out so clearly. 

This stoicism is why, when I told her that on that day I had asked my sister in law, who works at the hospital, to pick up a couple of medicines that the doctors has advised against a growing rash, and my niece (her daughter) had dropped them off on her way to the gym, my mother's instant response was: 'don't overdo it!'

By that she meant that I should not overdo my overeliance on solidarity. Also, I should not make people feel that I am taking advantage of them.

I won't. I would never.

But at the same time, we need to know when to ask for help. Many people (not just women) refrain from doing it when they really ought to. Often, when they finally do, it's too late. Or a better outcome would have happened if they just reached out sooner.

I told her that I am an excellent logistician. I know how to redistribute the requests. And I know that people around me genuinely want to feel like they can do something. Ideally, see me cured, but while that doesn't happen, just something... It's a way of regaining some semblance of control, of not feeling powerless. 

I shouldn't have needed to tell her that. I shouldn't feel shame in reaching out to my network of love. She shouldn't feel like the resources within this network are that scarce. I think she underestimates the power of networks of solidarity. We are not made to suffer needlessly alone; if with help, we would do better.

People forget, humans are a gregarious species. We are supposed to go it at life together.

I would have been irresponsible if, while with a weakened immune system, fighting an allergic reaction, I had ventured onto public transport to autonomously get the medicine.

I am choosing to break the chains of stoicism (the developmentalists call it resilience, especially when referring to women). I will not cry or complain without reason. But I will call out on each member of the network, as needed. And if I ever overdo it, I am counting on them to be candid enough to tell me to cut the crap or drama. That is why they are in this network.

Golda Rosheuvel (Charlotte) behind the scenes of Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story (from Shondaland; Creative Commons license)

Source: Two Actors. One Role. All Regal