Who Gives AF?

I hurt myself at work yesterday. I fell over an open desk drawer and felt the bottom part of my leg go numb. Everyone in the leasing office came rushing to my aid. I was shocked to see so much concern in their expressions. I was trying to keep the business part of things moving. Throbbing and bleeding, I looked up at my assistant manager and asked her “Can you grab the keys for 3108? That’s what I was doing..” After a brief pause, she exclaims “Girl DAMN that apartment! We trying to make sure you’re okay!”

The fall didn’t hurt my ego, but rather helped me to realize an ugly truth: I don’t care about myself.

I did some self reflection last night while icing and elevating my injury. Every time something happens to me, my mind’s immediate response is to delete it and proceed. It’s trained to power through the occasional glitch and deliver more standard programming. Always focus on the task at hand. I don’t matter. It’s about the customer, reaching the destination on time, getting the job done. Where there’s emotion, there is weakness- so I always plow through.

I took a hot bath to soothe the open sores and swelling. I started to recall memories from the first time I fractured my ankle. That was the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced, so I was able to rule out bone injury. Still, the throbbing pain continued the longer I stood to dry myself. I couldn’t fake it any longer. I wanted to cry. I needed to break down the wall between past and present in order to meet my needs in that moment. So, I willfully let the memories roll.

When I was 12, I fell off my bike and it caused a pretty bad bone fracture. I sat on the sidewalk, pouring my eyes out. Through watery lenses, I lifted my head to meet the eyes of a male neighbor, who looked down at me while passing on his bike. I tried my best to gather myself, and convince myself that my ankle didn’t really hurt. “Okay.. hooooooo…you good. Just stand up on it”. MAN. All that bravery went out the window immediately as I collapsed back onto the driveway- defeated. My family was inside getting ready to eat dinner, and no one could hear me. I decided to scoot to the top of the stairs and knock on the screen door. I heard my stepmom ask if someone was at the door. My sister peeks around the corner, and says it was me. But she didn’t come back. No one came. So I kept knocking. In a huff, someone scoots their chair away from the table. Around the corner comes my dad, who takes note of my snotty nose and wet cheeks- and ROLLS. HIS. EYES. My stepmom joins him, and starts asking me questions about why I’m on the ground. I tell them I fell off my bike, and I can’t stand up. After some deliberation and coercing, my dad decides to help me inside. After all that. A damn shame.

When the memory reel finished, it clicked. I wasn’t shown genuine consideration and care. The years of emotional neglect developed a neglectful response to personal stressors. Just act like it’s not happening. Act like you’re not affected. That way, no one can neglect you. You won’t need the care.

When I was laying on the leasing office floor, surrounded by genuine concern, I was confusion. Nobody had anything better to do? Why didn’t the hating bitch who always gives me problems just yell “You okay?” from her office chair? WHY did the client themselves get on the floor with me?? HUH? I couldn’t compute. I stayed on the floor until the feeling came back in my foot. Then, they told me to walk around a little and see how it feels. When someone pointed out that I was bleeding, I didn’t even want to take a band-aid! Ridiculous, I know. I just tried to keep it moving. The one person who acted like she didn’t want me around every day was going above and beyond with the aftercare. She ran to grab the First Aid kit, and was flabbergasted there were no alcohol pads left. I stopped her before she walked away to find some. It was not that serious, I said. I’m good, I said. I still took the client to view an apartment, and maybe it was out of guilt, but she  leased the same day. I still got the job done.

But now I’m sitting at home. My cousin stayed the night and took excellent care of me. I did my best to let him care for me. Meanwhile, I pondered the deeper meaning behind my self neglect. I am wholly unconcerned with anything outside of survival. I’ve been in survival mode since childhood. This is how I am. Always pushing forward. No stops to feel or think or breathe. Since I’m wearing down my emotional walls, I have to know. How do I give AF about me?