Taking a Risk

Today I’m joining in with Five Minute Friday (FMF). The prompt this week is “Risk”.

Last month, like I shared in passing on this blog, I finally opened up to a behavior specialist at my care facility about my struggles. I was really putting myself out there. In my mind, I took a huge risk, because I felt that if I was open about what I really needed, I’d be kicked out of the care facility. I wasn’t.

Then two weeks ago, as I discussed my issues with my community psychiatric nurse (CPN), she started to suggest I live in an apartment building for autistic people. That didn’t sit well with me. I mean, I don’t care who my fellow clients are as long as I get the support I need and I won’t get that in an apartment building. I mean, of course I do somewhat care about my fellow clients, but not in the sense that I need to be able to get along well with them. They aren’t my friends, after all.

I still feel I’m taking an immense risk by opening up about my feelings. I did so again last week, when I asked the staff at my facility to ask the physician for a script for some tranquilizer. The reason is that I’m due to have an old filling repaired at the dentist’s next week. The area surrounding the tooth is already inflamed and I experience considerable pain from it, so I know it’s going to be hard going in and having it fixed, despite the option of getting a topical anesthetic.

So I put myself out there again and asked for something to calm my nerves. Initially, the doctor told me to take 0.5mg lorazepam. Well, that’s not going to work. So I felt off again, like I was being a drug seeker and a burden. I’m used to being seen as a burden, after all.

Being genuinely open about my feelings, my needs and even my wishes is a huge accomplishment for me. I’m totally used to being judged. After all, if people really see me, aren’t they going to discover how wicked I really am? Apparently not.