Posted in Addiction, adventure, faith, friendship, happiness, Learning, Life, Musings, People, random, recovery

Leaving Here a Different Person

I moved into this house in February of 2015, at the end of a short but incredibly destructive relapse. I believe it lasted about four or five months, that last little run. It felt like a million years. I didn’t know it was the end, of course. How I was able to sweet talk my way into this place, I still don’t know- I had horrible credit and was in the midst of bankruptcy, strung out and about to be homeless. I pulled up in front of this place in my little beat up Santa Fe, and I knew this was the house I wanted. When the landlady was hesitant, I wrote her a letter assuring her that I would always make my rent my top priority, that I would take care of the place. Whatever I said worked, and though at the time I was just saying whatever I could to get my foot in the door, it turns out I kept my word.

In mid-March of that same year, I finally reached my breaking point. Of course, it was awful. I had a terrible screaming match with my sister and my daughter one night, followed by a sleepless night and then a breakdown at work…and that was it for me. That was all she wrote. March 16th, 2015 was my first day clean.

From that moment forward, I began to change in ways both visible and not. To be honest with you, I feel like I have almost nothing in common with the girl who walked through that front door for the first time almost six years ago. And yes, I was a 39 year old “woman”, but let me assure you, I was really just a girl. Lost and scared, angry and sick. I had really begun to lose all hope that I would ever, ever break free of my addiction.

And when I did, it was so…uneventful. I mean, after all that fighting and panic, the despair and the fear, it was just easy. That life had become so fucking exhausting, it was a relief to let it go.

Listen, I don’t want to constantly harp on that part of my life at all. As far as I’m concerned, it’s in the past and I’d like to leave it there. But there is no way to celebrate where I am now without mentioning where I was then. Five years and eight months ago, I was as far from okay as I could possibly be. Today…well, today things are light years away.

Tomorrow, I will walk out this front door for the very last time. My landlord is sad to see me go. My neighbors have stopped by to tell me they’ll miss me, that I’ve been a good neighbor. I was a good tenant, a good neighbor.

I’m going to tell you something about myself that I probably imply sometimes, but I don’t think I’ve ever really said it outright- I harbor a stubborn belief that I am actually a terrible person. That if people really knew me, the REAL me, they would be horrified. This is such a deeply rooted belief that it is hard for me to even accept evidence that proves otherwise. I’m sure there are many reasons why, but most of them are because I really did behave terribly for many, many years. I was mean, and loud, and I hurt a lot of people. I wasn’t a good friend, a good mother, or a good girlfriend. I certainly wasn’t a good neighbor or tenant.

But you know what? You know what never occurred to me until like a week ago and I am not even kidding? That person was not me. That person was a version of me with a chemically altered brain. Druggy me is NOT WHO I AM. Those behaviors I exhibited do not represent the person I have always been on a core level. Can you imagine that I never understood that until almost six years after getting clean? That I have still been walking around thinking I am just a giant piece of shit because of the life I lived in my addiction? I am far enough from it all now to feel…just so, so sad for that girl who existed in such misery for so long. I am far enough now to wish I could help her. Which, of course, I did. I saved her life, actually.

So, here’s the thing- I am going to leave this place a different person than I was when I left. When my landlord says I have been a good tenant, it’s not because I fooled her- it’s because I paid my rent on time and never gave her any trouble. When my neighbors say they’ll miss me, it’s not because I fooled them, it’s because they like me. When my friends come by to help me wash blinds and scrub walls, it’s not because they think I’m someone I’m not- most of them have known me for twenty or thirty years! They KNOW me. And they love me, even so.

I am moving all the way across the country, leaving behind a lot of things- my safe haven, my comfortable routine, friends that are family to me, the town where I grew up in more ways than one. But the best thing I am leaving behind is the idea that I am not a good person. I will never be perfect, but I am good. I am good enough. I am strong and smart and loving. I am driven and funny and unique. The good things that happen in my life are not a mistake, I am not pulling off some kind of cosmic, karmic heist. It’s all a result of my choices and effort and maybe a little luck. And I am pretty proud of myself today.

Anyway, I’m off on this adventure. I’ll catch up with you when I get where I’m going. Wish me luck!

Posted in adventure, family, fun, kids, Life, motherhood, Musings, People, random, women

So Many Breakdowns, So Little Time

The range of emotions I have been grappling with over the past several days has been pretty astonishing. On Saturday, I had a yard sale- maybe the third one I’ve ever had? I remembered that morning, as I was making my ten billionth trip from the back yard to the front, exactly why I had only had two others before. Because they SUCK. I don’t like sitting around, waiting for people to show up. I don’t like haggling single dollar amounts over my belongings. I don’t like feeling judged when people slow down in their cars, look at my stuff, and then drive off. And it’s boring. And it was HOT. And my back hurt. Yep, on Saturday, I was a full-on whiner.

On Sunday, I let people come over and pick through the remains for free. I put up a post on Facebook marketplace, in several groups I’m in, and said “It’s all free, don’t message me about specific items, don’t make a mess, and just let me know you are on your way over please.” Guess how many messages I got about specific items? Like thirty. And people are so RUDE. Messages that just said “Address?”- no hello, no good morning, nothing. Honestly, I would rather drive my crap to a donation station than give it to a rude person. So, I ignored those ones and only replied to the polite people. On Sunday, I was petty.

Yesterday though…yesterday was special. In the morning, I had a panicked fit because my ex, who has been my literal savior throughout this whole moving process, had the audacity to choose employment over helping me for free. I know, what a jerk, right?! Hahaha! I kept stopping mid-breakdown, as I shrieked the list of all the things I needed to do but wasn’t going to be able to accomplish without help, to announce that I wasn’t actually mad at him, I was just freaking the fuck out. But I could tell he felt guilty anyway, because, you know…I’m his assigned human in distress. Poor Devon. If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you know we’ve had a rocky, hard relationship. When we fight, which is not unusual, they are big fights. We put up with a lot from each other, but we help each other a lot, too. So, Monday morning, I was ridiculous.

Later Monday morning, I realized that when I’d rented the AWD car to drive cross country, I’d forgotten to specify the cross-country part. Which is why it was such a reasonable price. I had to fix that, obviously, and found myself about fifteen hundred dollars lighter as a result. Five minutes later, the guy at Uhaul told me my trailer hitch hadn’t arrived and they had no ETA on it, either. So that’s bad. Later Monday morning, I was a lunatic.

Monday afternoon, I flooded the laundry room. It has happened two other times since I’ve lived here, but never to me- a point I’d taken great pride in. I was smart enough to never leave anything in the sink the washer drains into. Well, until yesterday, that is. On the plus side, the floors underneath the washer and dryer are super clean now. On the down side, the litter box was basically poop soup. I still haven’t dealt with that. On Monday afternoon, I was defeated.

Monday evening, I realized that both of my children were ungrateful sociopaths, and that it was probably my fault because I am a terrible mother. On Monday evening, I was resentful. And hurt.

And those are just the highlights, my friends. I didn’t even mention the guilt I felt while looking at my cats who are clueless about what next week holds for them. Or the part where I was laying in bed, wondering if it would be weird to change my mind…or if I even could at this point! I mean, I signed a lease. I forked over the cash. It’s too late…right? Or even the part where I imagined my future self lonely and full of regret, comforting my sobbing child as she begs to go home to California. There’s more, I’m sure, but I’ll spare you. I think you have a pretty clear idea of my mental state by now.

You know what’s missing, though? Gratitude. Excitement. Joy, elation, the awesome sense of adventure that fueled this fire in me to begin with. I will give myself a pass at the moment, simply because…a move of this magnitude is hard. And doing it in this short of a time is really hard. But I will get it done, just like I get everything done- maybe not perfectly, but well enough.

In a little more than a week, I will set off for Maine, yowling cats and all, and this chapter will be done as another begins. I’m going to do the best I can to enjoy the journey through the country while keeping my expectations low. As long as we get there alive and in one piece, I’ll be happy. In the meantime, I’m hoping today won’t hold too many surprises…or if it does, let them be happy ones.

Posted in adventure, fun, Goals, humor, Life, Musings, People, random

Crazy Busy Ostrich

It is 6:45 on a Friday morning. I have 12 days left before I leave this house- 11 before I need to be completely packed, stored, cleaned out and polished. Yesterday, I mailed off the check for my new place. I drove it to the post office and put it in the big blue box myself, just to be on the safe side. Not that I don’t trust my mailman, I do. I’ll miss that guy. But…I just wanted to see it off myself, I guess.

I start work in 15 minutes- thirteen now, so I guess this will be quick. I am…well, I’m just gonna be honest here, I guess; I am WAY behind. Aside from three absent bookshelves, my living room looks the same as it always does, only messier. I haven’t packed dishes or cleaned out the fridge. I haven’t packed clothes or…much of anything really. We took one small load of stuff to storage so far, and that’s it.

I know I have so much to do. What I don’t know is why the hell I haven’t been doing it! Like seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?!

I mean, for sure, I like my comforts at all times. I refuse to be without my TV or my coffeemaker, all that good stuff. I won’t do it for more than a night. But for the love of God, I could at least sort through the piles of paperwork, do some filing, make some phone calls.

I’m having a yard sale tomorrow- already a horrible idea in the middle of a pandemic, but kind of necessary considering the mountains of shit I own that is too nice to give away but not nice enough to sell online- and do I have those things organized, or even have a vague idea of what I want to do to set it up? Of course not. I suppose I’ll just wing it? That sounds awesome, right?

Thankfully, my little daughter is going out of town with her dad this weekend, so I can be free and clear to work on things. And I won’t have to work my normal job on the weekend, either, so that helps. But I swear to all that is holy, if I catch myself resting on my laurels, pretending that I’ve earned yet another break, I’m gonna kick my own ass. I don’t know how that is physically possible, but I will find a way.

You know, I talk a lot about the good stuff here, and all of the things I am pretty decent at. But I have talents I never mention, too. Bad talents. Things I am amazing at, except they are terrible things. No one talks about their dark side skillset. One of mine is avoidance. Writing this blog while I have mountains of crap to deal with is a pretty good example, actually. Waiting until the last second and then freaking out because I chose to pretend like I had things totally under control all along.

Laziness is way up there, too. I’ve found work-arounds for that one along the way, as one does in life. But in this case, there is no shortcut, really. I’m not rich, and moving across the country is expensive! If there is stuff I can do, I have to do it. Otherwise, I would have just hired a moving company and been done with it. But that wasn’t in the cards this time, and that’s okay.

Or, it will be. As long as this crazy busy ostrich pulls her head out of the sand pretty quick and gets some stuff done.

I swear, I’m gonna whip this place into shape this weekend. I mean it.

Oh God. Help.

Posted in adventure, faith, Goals, Life, manifestation, Musings, People, random

Rollercoaster

My life is an awful lot like a trip to an amusement park right now. And no, I don’t mean crowded, expensive, chaotic and filled with terrible, overpriced food.

Well, actually…never mind. That is also accurate. But the angle I was going for was more the rollercoaster thing. You wait in line for eons, inching forward a few steps at a time. Bored, but trying to make the best of it. You get closer and closer, but you aren’t sure how close you are to your turn because the way the line is set up, you can only see so far ahead. Next thing you know, you’re being waved through, rushed into your seat, the bar slams down across your chest, and…suddenly you aren’t so sure you want to do this anymore. But before you can say a word, off you go, shooting forward, then up, up, up! Way too fast, and way scarier than you expected, but there’s nothing you can do except hold on and hope for the best.

Yep, that’s how my life has felt the past two weeks. Except it’s a daily event and I am on this ride alone, and no one is manning the controls. The me that hoped and planned and prayed so desperately for all of the things I was handed seems to have wandered off into the ether somewhere, leaving in her place the version of me who keeps asking questions like “What the fuck?” and “Why are you doing this to me?” (and yes, that is me asking myself, in the most accusatory voice possible, why I am doing this to me. I’m not making this up, this actually took place inside my head.)

It’s like I lost the thread. The one that connected me to my reason for wanting this, and wanting this badly. Suddenly it seems like this is too much, it’s too far, and there are too many unknowns. I am worried about being lonely, getting sick, dying alone, and not knowing how to get to the grocery store in the snow. In my current mindset, these things all seem equally likely and equally horrible.

Lucky for me, I know that this is nothing more than my fear taking control of the wheel. Although I didn’t anticipate it, I should have. After all, my anxiety loves nothing more than taking an adventure and trying to turn it into a horror show.

To be fair, this is more of an undertaking than I had expected. The logistics alone of moving two cats, a dog, and two people 2700 miles away are…kind of nightmarish. If I had unlimited time and money, it would be a totally different story, but I don’t. I have a cap on both, and a lot of stuff to deal with in a short time frame even before we start the actual move. I could also really use a truck right about now. Of my own, so I don’t have to ask for help constantly. Right now, I have 21 days to button things up here. I also have a LOT of anguish.

You know what else I have? Faith that it’s all going to work out. And that’s the truth. I’m not just blowing happy smoke up your backside. At the center of it all, I still believe that this will be an incredible thing, an adventure that enriches our lives. I believe it is absolutely meant to be. Something wonderful will come of this, mark my words. I don’t know what it is, but I know what I feel.

I can know that, and still be afraid. Still have moments of doubt and hesitation, still cry my eyes out for the safe little life I am leaving behind. I have room for all of those things.

I just cannot allow them to hold me back or keep me stuck. They can be here, but they can’t get in my way.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go clean out the cupboards. I only have 21 days left!

Posted in Dreams, family, Goals, happiness, kids, Life, love, motherhood, Musings, parenting, People, relationships, women

Telling On Myself

I wrote a post yesterday. Ever since I posted it, I’ve been annoyed about it. You want to know why? Good, ’cause I’m gonna tell you- I’m annoyed because, though there were a few grains of truth in there, it was really a fictional account of how I want to feel; it had nothing to do with how I actually felt right then.

Do you want to know how I actually feel? Good, ’cause I’m gonna tell you that, too. I am scared. Scared half to death. And also, in case you were uncertain, I want you to know that I have absolutely no idea what I am doing. Like, I mean, I guess I kind of know, but what I mean is…I’m not really sure I should be the one in charge of making big decisions around here. I’m not nearly as confident as I probably seem. I often feel like a very young woman in a middle-aged woman’s body, baffled by life. I frequently wonder if I deserve the good things that happen in my life, and then I feel guilty, which is weird.

I want very much to be positive, but there’s a fine line between positivity and being disingenuous. Yesterday, I was having a really hard day and in an attempt to bolster myself, I wrote a post that was utter bullshit. I’m telling you this because honesty is so important- now more than ever, in my opinion. When I tell the truth here, when I am really open about my feelings and struggles, I know that someone will read my words and feel less alone. I know, because it’s happened time after time. I put my real feelings into words, and someone says “Oh my God, I thought it was just me, thank you for saying that.”

We don’t tell the truth about human stuff, and then we suffocate on shame. As they say in recovery, we compare our insides to other peoples outsides. And that’s not a fair comparison. Social media makes it so much easier to do that, because we post the best pictures, and the funny moments, and we leave out the personal stuff that makes us real people. Well, guess what? I’m a real person. Flawed as can be.

Yesterday, I had a terrible realization. I realized that I have made the last ten years about my kids (that isn’t the terrible part, stay with me), and the past five I doubled-maybe tripled- down as a parent. But I did it wrong, I think. I gave these girls the impression that I lived only for them, to serve them and save them and give to them, even if that meant overlooking myself. And now, when I have this amazing thing happening for me, I am being met with open resentment. I am selfish, I have ALWAYS been selfish, I don’t deserve help, I don’t deserve appreciation…UNLESS I am doing what they want me to do. It occurred to me yesterday that I kinda have no one who is really in my corner. And man, that makes me sad. Like, really, really sad.

Do they love me? Oh, without a doubt. That’s not it at all. It’s the lack of boundaries with them, the path I laid out that is the problem. I gave as much as I could in some areas to make up for what I perceived as shortfalls in other areas. And now I find myself in a lonely place because I devoted myself to people who are ultimately supposed to grow up and go off to their own lives. Obviously, my nine year old is still dependent on me, but she’s spoiled, too. And that is my fault. But my eldest is PISSED, and cannot see beyond her own needs right now. Needs that are, I might add, not mine to meet. At all. She’s 23.

Yesterday, it hit me that I need to take care of myself and show up for myself, especially if I’m the only one doing it. So all this family resistance I am hitting is actually only driving home the point that I have got to do what makes me happy. Because making other people happy is great, but it isn’t getting MY needs met. My kids will be fine. I will always be there for them, but I will also be there for me. As I should have been all along.

So yesterday, I painted a pretty picture that didn’t tell the real story. Today, I am telling the truth. Because you deserve to hear it, and I need to lay it out, too. Life is hard, being a grown up is hard, parenting is hard. For everyone. Most of the time. You are not alone, and I know I’m not either. One thing I wrote yesterday is true, though. Things really do have a way of working out. I’m counting on it.

Posted in faith, happiness, inner peace, Life, manifestation, mindfulness, Musings, People, random

No Complaints Here

When I first moved into this house over five and a half years ago, one of the first things I noticed was the birds. Because I get up so much earlier than most people, I am privy to the quietest parts of the day, when all of the birds are in charge of the world. I am not a bird watcher in the technical sense. I don’t know much about them at all, really, though I can tell the difference between a crow, a gull, and a hummingbird- those are the ones that hang out with me the most. I was just sitting outside, listening to the crows cawing and watching my hummingbirds at the feeder, thinking…I will miss this part. My porch and the birds, and the view from right here.

But it’s time. If everything continues to go smoothly (as smoothly as a move of this magnitude can go, anyway) and I do, indeed, find myself sitting on another porch, overlooking another view, a month from today…then I am at peace with that. And you know what? If everything falls through (though I truly hope it doesn’t) and for some reason I am sitting on the same porch, looking at the same view, a month from today…well, I will be at peace with that, too. Okay, that feels like a lie a little bit, but the point is- my life is really blessed, any way you crack it.

I’ve wasted my time on two long posts that were nothing but stories about stress and worry and complaints, and…you’ll never see them. You know why? None of that shit even matters. All the things I am worried about will fall into place. All of my stress will be for nothing. Complaining doesn’t help at all.

Everything is going to be okay. And when I get caught up in worries, stress, and complaining, I cut myself off from my intuition. Self-doubt garbles the message and makes me second guess myself. I’m not going to do that. I’m going to keep going, step by step, and have faith in myself and faith in the universe.

Things have a way of working out, this much I do know.

I really will miss my hummingbirds, though. Maybe I’ll send the new tenants a feeder and ask them to please look after them. I think I will do that.

Posted in adventure, faith, family, Goals, happiness, inner peace, Life, magic, manifestation, Mental Health, Musings, People, random, travel

Where Do I Even Begin…?

You can’t see me, I know, but after I wrote the title, I sat here wide-eyed with my hands out, palms up, in the classic “WTF?” pose. For two days, I have been ignoring my desperate need to get this all out, commit it to the screen and perhaps untangle even a small corner of the mess that is spreading into every corner of my brain. Even my sleep isn’t safe anymore, my dreams just one more running commentary (albeit, a very abstract commentary) of the chaos within and around me.

But where do I start? Should I dive right in? The last time I posted was like July, I’m pretty sure, on a day where I felt peaceful and was yammering on about acceptance. Then I went quiet for a while. Stuck in the weird global pandemic time-warp where every day blends into the next and you’re just treading water, waiting for something to change. The only thing that changed was things looked like they were going to get better for a minute, so I went into the office for the first time since March a total of two times, and then…the shit hit the fan in a big way here in California, and they told us to stay home again. Thank God. Then the entire west coast caught on fire for months- pretty sure there’s a bunch of it still on fire, though I’ve honestly stopped keeping track- and the pervasive feeling of doom just crept closer.

In August, during the two minutes when things appeared to be returning to a more normal routine, I had booked a flight and Airbnb in Maine. By the time my trip rolled around, I wasn’t sure if I should go or not. And maybe it was selfish and stupid of me to follow through with it, but my mental state demanded that I feed it some type of happiness before it fell into a pit of despair, so…off I went for a Covid swab and a plane ride across the country.

There were 72 people on our flight, including the crew. Rows of empty seats following the fastest TSA check in line I’ve ever experienced- and that includes me having to go back through the detector thingy three times AND get patted down (Still no idea what the hell was setting the thing off). Everyone wore masks and gave each other as much space as they could. Mostly, I tried not to think about it.

Maine, once again, exceeded my expectations. I was in Mid-coast Maine this time, in Bristol, near Pemaquid Point. Trust me when I tell you, if you are looking for a socially distant vacation, this is the place to be. The cottage looked directly out onto the water- I could throw a rock and hit the inlet if I’d wanted to. But mostly, I just wanted to look at it, the old Atlantic ocean…it really does feel older to me than the Pacific, for some reason. Older, more serious, more magical. At night, you can see the milky way with your eyes, and more stars than you even believe can exist. There is no light pollution, no sound to interrupt the wind in the trees and the rhythmic pulse of the water on the shore. For the first time in months, I could breathe again. The worries of the world- the pandemic, politics, distance learning, tragedy and mayhem…they faded into the background, where they belong.

And while I was there, something pretty incredible happened…but I’m out of time, so dammit! You’ll have to wait until tomorrow to hear the rest of the story. My apologies, I really want to tell this the right way!

Posted in Dreams, Goals, happiness, inner peace, Life, Mental Health, mindfulness, Musings, People, random

Acceptance

So, I have been writing on this blog since 2012- that’s eight whole years. In that time, I have written close to 600 posts. That’s a lot! That’s so many posts that, even when I don’t write for a very long time, I get visitors to this site every single day. I don’t really pay attention to which posts they are viewing. About once a week, someone new will discover this place and go crazy, reading thirty or forty posts in a row. I like it when that happens, I’m not gonna lie. There’s some validating feelings that emerge when I see that go down.

But I have changed a lot in that time. So much, in fact, that sometimes I think about going back and getting rid of some of my older posts. Although I can’t recall everything I’ve written here, I know some of it would be embarrassing to me now. I know I have overshared and said things that no longer represent the woman I am today. But…you know, I’m not gonna do that. If you read through my posts from start to finish, I think…I hope, anyway, that you would see the slow evolution of a human being who is trying to find her way. I think you would see a lot of growth, even if it was painful and awkward sometimes. Even if there were lots of “one step forward, two steps back” situations. Slowly and steadily, I have progressed.

I believe, when I started all of this, that there was some part of my subconscious mind that thought I would eventually “arrive” at a place where I would be complete. I would know it when I got there, right? It would be a place where I was generally happy and joyful, my relationships would be easy and healthy, I would be mature and confident, and all of my laundry would be done. My mismatched sock basket would be empty, my bathroom counters would be wiped down at all times. I would know what we were having for dinner for the entire week ahead. Basically, I thought I would be perfect.

Not only was that vague idea incredibly far off the mark, but…it was harmful. Harmful because I didn’t realize I was reaching for perfection, a thing that doesn’t exist, and trying to get there was making me feel like a failure. I have been in so much pain because I couldn’t manifest perfection. I have resented my beautiful life because it didn’t match up to my idealistic daydream.

The chaos and tumult of the world since the beginning of this pandemic has thrown me headfirst into the chasm where my shadow dwells. Already halfway submerged when all of this started, I found myself very quickly sucked under. For a good while, I was afraid that I would drown. I didn’t know what that would look like, exactly, but I won’t pretend I wasn’t afraid. “I shouldn’t be feeling this way!” I kept telling myself, “Look how good I have it, I should be- (enter whatever shiny adjective caught my eye at the moment)” As my old sponsor would say, I was “shoulding all over myself”.

A few things transpired in the past few days that have opened my eyes. One was the word “acceptance” which kept popping into my head. I am not sure, but I’d be willing to guess, that I’ve written on this topic before. Smart as I am, it takes me a while to understand things, though. Sometimes I think I get it, and I will keep thinking that until I REALLY get it. Sometimes your understanding just deepens over time.

Here’s the thing- I’ve been wanting to do all this stuff! Move across the country, maybe for a year, maybe forever. Buy a house- maybe in Maine, but also maybe somewhere closer, for just a while, until I can work out how to get to Maine. But I also want to keep my job, and finish a book, and make money from that, while I work on my mental health, my spiritual life, getting my house together. I was flopping around like a fish on a line. Then the pandemic hit. All my tentative “plans” got blown away, who knows how far. No travel, no freedom, no reprieve, even, from my beloved daughter. Just her and I, this house and work, day in and day out, at this computer. My need to bolt became frantic, the shedding of tears became a daily event, and every single one of my worst qualities came raging to the forefront.

That’s when “acceptance” showed up. Not the act, the word, in my head, over and over, until I decided to examine it. Here is what I discovered: My desire to be different than I was, to have a life I couldn’t have right now, to be someone I am not, was the root of the problem. This is who I am. This is where I am. This is how it is. Be here, embody it, feel it, accept it.

Yesterday, Camryn and I walked the whole length of a long beach at low tide early in the morning. There was only us and a few surfers, a couple, and a dog or two running around. Camryn didn’t want to be there, but she had no choice. By the time we made it to the tide pools, she was the happiest she’d been in weeks. We saw starfish and countless sea anemones, pelicans, sandpipers and one very excited sparrow. Camryn, in that moment, was a perfect example of acceptance. She rode the figurative wave, and, after a moment of resistance, she stopped fighting what she couldn’t control, and guess what? She enjoyed the moment. So did I, a reminder that no one is forcing me to stay inside my house. There are still things I can do, places I can go to escape and to breathe. It’s not really my life that is giving me trouble, it’s my attitude about my life. It’s my fear and my grasping.

And finally, sometimes…there’s this weird thing that happens. Someone will ask a question and when you answer it, you realize it was an answer you’d been trying to come up with for yourself. A truth you didn’t know you knew. Someone asked why she used to be so happy in her twenties, but now, in her thirties, she just didn’t feel so joyful all the time. I explained to her that as you get older and wiser, you view life through different eyes. The rose colored glasses come off, and you see more truth and nuance, more depth. Fighting to return to a place in time that is gone, and a person who has evolved, is futile and painful. That’s what I told her. And then it hit me. That also applied to me! I can’t go back. I can’t jump ahead. All I can do is be here, where I am.

Acceptance does not mean I am giving up my dreams. It just means I can stop trying to force a change that isn’t ready to occur. I can relax and quit flopping around at the end of the line I am caught on, wearing myself out. I can stop pulling so hard at the hook in my cheek, stop making the pain so much worse. I can rest. I can gather my thoughts and my strength, so that when the time is right, I will be ready to set myself free. Today, right now, is not the time for me to move forward.

That is acceptance. That’s my take on it, anyway. This time around. Stay tuned, who knows what my take on it will be next time. Hahaha! Happy Sunday. Stay well.

Posted in Life, living, Musings, People, random

Burnout

You ever just get sick of yourself?

C’mon, you can tell me. I promise I won’t tell anyone.

Guys, I am SICK of myself. I need a break from me. I honestly can’t take another moment of being cooped up in this damn house with my unpredictable mood swings. I’ve had it.

Which is why I am going to go see my daughter today. If anyone is the queen of socially isolating, it’s her- she was doing it way before it was asked of us- and I just need a change of scenery. Badly.

Oh, and also my water has been shut off since Friday evening, because the main water line exploded, so…no showers, limited flushing, no laundry, no dish washing. This is not the best. Especially right now when I know how badly we need to be washing our hands. Ugh. I would ask if things could get any worse, but…we all know they could.

I am so ready for life to return to some semblance of normal. And not the “we’re gonna pretend it’s normal because we want it to be normal” thing we just did last month, either. We all saw how great that worked out. No, I want real solutions and a REAL return to normal. I want farmer’s market and dinner out with friends. I want to run to the store without it being a big deal. I want to be able to make plans for the future again.

I want to feel safe in the world.

I just needed to let that out. Thanks for listening.

Posted in anxiety, escape, family, friendship, happiness, health, Life, Mental Health, Musings, People, random

Interesting Times

Hi! Since the last time I showed my face around here, I have: turned 45, tried and fell very short when helping my child with distance learning, lost both my bras for weeks at a time. I’ve- stopped shaving completely, then really regretted that when I made myself start again; resumed some weird, nervous habits that I thought were related only to my drug use, but I guess not. I have wondered daily if I were completely going off the deep end, or if…you know, my feelings were warranted, based on the information I had.

I have vacillated almost comically between wanting to make the best of things, and wanting to just throw the freaking towel in completely. Sometimes several times within the same day. Things are hard. They are weird. They are scary.

It doesn’t matter that I’m one of the luckier ones whose life hasn’t even changed all that drastically, really. I still work from home. Cam would have been off school anyway, it just happened a little sooner. It’s the way it feels. I can’t just go do whatever, whenever I want to- well, I can, I guess, but not safely. Even when the restaurants here were open for a few weeks, there was no way in hell I was going out. I knew that it was too soon, and I knew exactly what would happen. It gives me no pleasure to find I was right. Now everything is shutting down again, and this virus is worse than it has ever been here.

It feels like I am in limbo, because I am. Everything is uncertain and on hold. I catch myself holding my breath. A lot. Nothing about this feels good to me, I don’t like it, and…there’s not a single thing I can do about it. Other than keep soldiering on, trying to do my best.

Some days my best looks really great! I get a lot done and go to bed at night thinking “This isn’t so bad!”. Other days, the best I can do is peel myself off the couch and away from whatever I’m binge watching on Hulu long enough to make my kid a grilled cheese sandwich.

All this to say…whatever you are going through, wherever you fall on the spectrum, you are well within your right to be there. I don’t know a single person, not one, who is not struggling in some way. This is the weirdest event most of us have ever, and hopefully will ever, live through. It won’t go on forever. I don’t know what that means right now, but I do know that things will change, because that is simply what things do. They change.

One of the reasons I took a break from all of this was because I was so overwhelmed by the clamoring voices all around me, spouting out their opinions as if they were facts. It got to be too much, and I didn’t want to contribute to that, in case I was making things confusing for other people. I didn’t want to be part of it.

But I do want to check in and tell you all…hang in there. Do your best, whatever that looks like today. One way or another, this will all be behind us eventually.

Until then, I can’t recommend highly enough watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer from start to finish on Hulu. Now that’s what I call a great escape! 🙂