I told my therapist yesterday that I was tired of explaining myself to people all of the time.
“Good. Remember, the word “no” is a complete sentence. This week, I want you to practice not explaining.”
I nodded my head enthusiastically. (Although I do that here on the blog often enough, but I don’t think that counts.)
Defending myself to the point where I get angry does me no good. I am the only person who knows what my body is capable of. I am the only person who knows what is worth using my limited supply of spoons for.
I am the only person who knows that I am trying the best that I can each and every day.
Unsolicited advice can be stopped with a “back off.”
At this point in time, fibromyalgia has no cure, so I live with that reality. I will continue to hope for a decent treatment or cure.
Yet, I found myself explaining myself again last night while I was in Akron for The Rubber City Beatlesfest, but I stopped as soon as I noticed. I reminded myself that being dropped off and picked up in front of the venue is much easier than walking a large city block and through a parking garage.
So, I shut my trap and just enjoyed the music.
I can advocate for myself without yammering on.
As the old song goes, silence is golden.