Too Much Excitement

The last few days have had more than enough excitement, I think - and apparently of the variety I always have which therefore inspires apathy.

Two Sundays ago, Elkhorn-Valley Community Theater had auditions for "Scrooge: The Musical."  I will be playing Mrs. Cratchit (that would be Tiny Tim's mom, for those of you who are less familiar with the story).  It's completely different from the part I had last time.  We had our first rehearsal this last Sunday.  So far, the only people who seem the least bit interested or excited about this are those of us actually in the show.  The enthusiasm from friends and family has been all but zero.

Saturday I played with Samson in the backyard...for about five minutes.  He was a bit over-enthusiastic and managed to run into my legs, taking my feet right out from under me.  I 100% hit the ground - hard.  Scraped both palms.  One arm went out.  The other I managed to half fall on and knocked the wind out of myself.  Seem to have twisted some on the way down, too.  My mid- and lower-back, left shoulder and neck are suffering the most, but really there's nary a part of my body that doesn't hurt (more than usual).  Last night I was having bad muscle spasms in my back.  The spasms haven't happened as much today, but the general pain and discomfort have been more than distracting at work and at home.  Acetaminophen just doesn't seem to cut it. Ointments aren't really helping either.  I have an appointment with a new chiropractor tomorrow at 5:00.  I think it must be a God thing because I called the office at about 5:00 yesterday and here I am getting into a new doctor within just two days at a time that actually works with my work schedule...things just don't happen that way in the usual course.

So I'm in a lot of pain - which is normal and warrants no comment, right?  I don't go around broadcasting that pain (I can only think of about four people to whom I've mentioned it).  Some people do with theirs because they need to be the center of attention.  (Yeah, yeah.  Poor you.  I hurt, too, all day, every day.  Get over yourself.)  I don't want pity and don't require sympathy; I just get annoyed with apathy.  I was taught to care and the Bible says you should put others before yourself.  So I do what I need to do, help other people where I can and even when some would think I shouldn't.  I politely listen while others vent or just tell their stories.  I am honestly glad when things are going well for the people about whom I care, and do truly want to help, pray, and wish the best for them when things aren't going well.  But it occurred to me last night that I don't often hear or see the reverse happening.  Who is listening to me?  To whom do I vent?  Let me think.  Mom.  Okay.  Anyone else?  Hmm...no one's really coming to mind.  Now that to me is rather distressing.  Good grief!  What would I do without my mom?!  Good God!  Poor Samson is just no help when I'm dealing with pain (except for instinctively going into cute and snuggly mode).  He has no advice about things at work.  He doesn't understand what theater is, let alone why it's worth talking about.
Full disclosure, I don't go around talking about myself, sharing my grief all over the place at everyone and etc, etc, etc, and I certainly don't ask for help.  I have my Northeast-Nebraska, German-Lutheran, farm upbringing to thank for that.  I also make a concerted effort to not whine and complain (thanks to someone pointing out in the past how much I was doing that, and the introduction in recent months of a great amount of perspective).  So, I suppose part of why I don't hear "So sorry you're hurting!  Anything I can do to help?" is that I'm not saying I'm in pain and need help.
...But should I have to?  "How are you?"  I might skip my response and go straight to asking that person how they are.  Sometimes I think I lie and say I'm fine when I'm not.  Today I told a couple people I was "managing" and then asked how they were.  And there, I had deflected another potential moment when I might (heaven forbid) have had to share.  But here's my point: who besides my mother is close enough to me to be able to tell when there's something up without my just blurting it out?  Anyone?  Anyone?  ("Bueller?  Bueller?")  Easy answer: no, there isn't...well, maybe there's one other person.  But I know there are several out there who think, "well, I would know!"  Um...right.  If anyone truly did, I probably wouldn't be writing this.

Now I've come this far in my rant and have to think about deleting the whole thing because I can imagine how some people will react.  (That is, of course, assuming anyone will read this.)  I'll be mocked by one or two.  Mom will either ignore it or call me to make sure I'm okay.  (*rolls eyes*  Some people's mothers!)  Some may even take it personally and get offended.  Others might feel the need to make some sort of concerted effort as if they came up with it on their own.  (Don't.  Because I'll know.)  And about the time anyone gangs up on me...do you really want to see me annoyed?

I'm a private person.  I don't need 500 friends on Facebook only 17 of whom I've ever even met.  Even of those 17, I don't need them all to know everything about me.  It is my choice that the number of people in my life who "truly know" me is very, very, very small.  The number of folks who know in general what's going on in my life is higher.  I'm good with it being this way...as long as those who only think they know don't pretend they do and those who should know don't chose apathy.

That brings this rant to a close.  Chalk it up to my being tired, cold, and in a great deal of pain, but whatever it was, it has all been far too much excitement.