{"id":244,"date":"2010-02-06T18:05:27","date_gmt":"2010-02-06T18:05:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.beliefnet.com\/flirtingwithfaith\/2010\/02\/got-home-from-the-hospital.html"},"modified":"2010-02-06T18:05:27","modified_gmt":"2010-02-06T18:05:27","slug":"got-home-from-the-hospital","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.beliefnet.com\/columnists\/flirtingwithfaith\/2010\/02\/got-home-from-the-hospital.html","title":{"rendered":"True Confessions: (Finally) Coming Clean on My Dirty Little Secret…"},"content":{"rendered":"

Got home from the hospital last night following an unexpected three day stay that included lots of tests and a few odd physical episodes of unknown origin that quacked like seizures but didn’t quite walk like them. I will spare you the details of prodding, poking and monitoring. Suffice it to say that I feel a little beat up, have as many questions as answers and will know more as results come in and further tests are conducted in the coming weeks.<\/p>\n

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But that’s not what this post is about…<\/div>\n
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This post is about a sneaky bit of arrogance that masks itself as humility and results in an arms-length distance between me and the folks I interact with on this blog and in my day to day life. <\/div>\n
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I should have seen it sooner. The hints were there in my writing–or should I say my lack of writing–in the weeks since this started on the day after Thanksgiving<\/a>. “I’m just procrastinating<\/i>,” I’d tell myself, as I wrote a sentence or two and saved them, half convincing myself I would actually return to them later. “I’m blocked<\/i>,” I justified as I unintentionally, one day at a time, just stopped writing.<\/div>\n
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It wasn’t until it became obvious that this little health challenge appears to be lingering that I began to see that I was neither blocked nor procrastinating. I just didn’t want to admit to anyone out there that there was something wrong with me…<\/div>\n
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My first thought? The illusion of perfection thing I thought I’d kicked to the curb years ago was rearing its ugly head. But a little reflection (and the fact that I have a book hitting shelves in May<\/a> that makes excruciatingly clear just how flawed I am) told me that my old bravado was not the problem. Instead, something new occurred to me. By admitting that my health is in question, I open myself up to the well wishes, caring and encouragement of others. <\/div>\n
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And for some reason, that makes me incredibly uncomfortable…<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Too tired to unpack this one at the moment, but thought I’d start by getting it out there. For now I’m just wondering: anyone else have trouble when it comes to accepting love, help and support from others?<\/div>\n
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<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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