More than misfortune

It's been almost 2 years since I last blogged about my feelings. That is essentially what this blog is about.  A journal of sorts.  I write about my feelings in the hopes of finding a way to manage them, the hopes of someone else relating so I don't feel so alone, the hopes of finding some clarity once I 'get it out of my system'.  People that love you, when they recognize that you are struggling, emotionally, will often tell you that you will feel better if you talk about it.  I don't disagree.  But sometimes it's really, really hard. It's hard to talk about it, and it's hard to feel better.

I have not been shy about sharing my trauma.  I'm a believer in not bottling things up.  That doesn't mean I don't still think about the things that have traumatized me. It doesn't mean that just talking about it has removed any of the scars. They are all still there.  Every single one of them.  The painful truth is that the more trauma, the harder it is to carry.  While I feel empowered by the fact that I've survived a lot of difficult things, I also still feel every ounce of pain that came along with them. I suppose I've just learned how to 'live with it'. After all, I can't change any of it, I can only learn how to deal with it and move forward.  

As hard as I try to do that, why does it often feel like I'm not moving forward? Why does it feel like I'm so stuck with this pain? 

Recently, something happened that brought a lot of emotions to the surface for me.  It wasn't something that affected me physically. It wasn't a life changing event. It wasn't even something I could really categorize as 'trauma'.  But it was enough. Enough to strike me in the heart, mind, and soul. Drama has always been my forte and I'm well aware of how I sound at times.  For me, when something is powerful enough to provoke a dramatic reaction from me, it counts as a traumatic event. Maybe it doesn't have to be all that powerful and I'm just a little sensitive.  Nevertheless, here I am. Trying to process the emotions, trying to find a way to manage them, hoping someone can relate, and hoping to find some clarity so I can put some of these emotions to rest. 

Two days ago my wallet was stolen. I am going to tell my story, not just to 'get it out of my system', but to have a record of the details to revisit, to possibly help someone else, and to help close a door so that I can continue to 'move forward'.

I went to Walmart, alone, to look for picture frames for some paintings that I was hoping to sell in a local boutique.  I took the paintings with me so that I could be sure they would fit before I wasted my money. I wasn't able to find the frames but did some other light shopping and checked out.  At the checkout, the cashier asked me about the paintings, thinking they were items I needed to pay for.  I explained that I brought them there and why. I paid for my items and was telling her how I painted them myself, picking them up to show her the details of how you could add a 4x6 photo to them.  Have to practice those marketing skills somewhere, somehow, right? This is the moment when I believe my wallet fell to the floor. A moment that in my mind now feels like a giant sign from above that I shouldn't pursue the whole 'selling my crafts thing'. Irrational as that sounds, it's true. It's just a pink change purse with a zipper, not really a wallet. I didn't hear it fall.  I thought that I had put it in my pocket.  As I reached my truck and put my bags down, I immediately realized I didn't have my wallet. I ran back into the store.  The cart I returned was gone. I went to the greeter and asked if anyone had turned in a pink wallet, no luck. I then yelled so loud I'm sure the majority of the store heard me, "has anyone seen a pink wallet that may have been dropped on the floor?" If it was picked up by someone, I hoped yelling would get everyone's attention and deter a would-be thief. A man in line at the same checkout I used spoke up and said the lady in front of him that just left had picked up a pink wallet off the floor and walked out the door with it.  Dramatics ensued and I got loud once again, and I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was something along the lines of "well that was MY wallet that she just stole".  The witness said, "maybe she didn't steal it and she'll return it".  I whipped around, looking him in the eye and said, very loudly, "She made a choice. She picked something up that didn't belong to her and she walked out the door with it. That would be stealing." At that moment, the fire in me was absolutely real and tangible. I was about to explode.  Naturally, I got tears in my eyes.  I can't be the only person that cries when they are mad. The witness and the security guy walked out the door with me and we quickly scanned the area for someone matching the description that the witness gave.  No one in sight. I briefly walked back in, thinking I would leave my information, just in case the witness was right and there was an ounce of goodness in this woman. My skepticism was so thick it was choking me, but I maintained most of my sanity as the people around me showed me that not all of humanity was an utter disappointment. I left because I knew I needed to quickly protect my money and my identity, and I was going to need a little help to get through that process. I don't remember the drive home, but I do know that I had my husband on the phone the whole way.  Without sounding like a hypochondriac, I'm pretty sure I could easily be diagnosed with some form of ADD, OCD, or something similar. My thoughts were so scattered, rapid firing through my brain, unfinished and mostly nonsensical. I was angry with myself more than anything. What an idiot! I always try to pay attention to my surroundings, my belongings, and my words, especially when I am alone. I trust no one and I'm always 'on alert' for something odd or 'off'. Not this day.  I never looked at the person standing behind me in line. I didn't notice that I dropped my wallet or that I didn't have it on me for a good 3-5 minutes. I was very unfiltered, yelling in the store like some uncivilized moron. I left without leaving my information with the security guard. I drove home shaking, angry, and ready to fight. This is not how I would normally act. When I walked in my door, almost all of the anger was instantly gone and I could feel the tears coming, once again. Nausea set in and my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest.  In hindsight, I'm asking myself if this 'reaction' is justified by the 'action' that took place.  I know it sounds very dramatic, but this is me being honest. This is how my mind and body react when situations arise that are out of my control. Dropping the wallet was totally in my control. I think I'm a fairly intelligent person.  I know that I have a big heart and often wear it on my sleeve.  And I believe that part of the reason I was so angry has to do with that big heart.  This person, callus as they seem, is someone's daughter. According to the witness, she was 'older'.  Therefore, she's been around long enough to know better. I can't believe that in all her years SOMEONE didn't try to teach her right from wrong. Maybe they tried. Some people never learn. She made a choice that day, and so did I.  She chose to violate my sanctity. She chose to do the wrong thing. I chose to do what was right and do my due diligence to make sure justice is served. I was able to cancel all my credit cards. I was able to order a new driver's license. I was able to put a freeze on my credit. I'll never recover the gift cards and certificates that I had in my wallet from Christmas, some of which were gifts to my son. I don't believe my money is at risk because of our quick thinking and response time.  I don't think there was enough information for someone to steal my identity. I'm out the gift cards, I'm out $25 for a new license, and I'm a little shorter on faith in humanity. But I'm still a good person who cares about others. I called to make a police report after canceling all my cards. PSA: when calling the police, I was told it's only a 'recorded call' if you call 911. You can tell them it's a non-emergency. I was informed that she couldn't do the report but that an officer would call me back in 3-7 days or I could go down in person to the local station. In that moment, I wasn't driving.  I told her to have them call me.  I then called the store to ask if anyone came back to turn it in. Of course they didn't. And the security guard remembered me.  He said he was pulling the footage based on the information I gave him off my receipt, time, checkout lane I went through, etc.. Normally I would fold my receipt and put it in my wallet for safe keeping.  This time I didn't, thank God. He let me know he couldn't release the footage to me but that he would have it ready when the police requested it. When I got off the phone, my husband drove me to the station. I didn't want to wait for them to call. I wanted them to get that footage. The station is a few minutes from our house and not only had a packed waiting room, but it smelled awful. The deputy in charge said it was at least an hour wait.  We left, because I didn't want to stand there and wait all shook up and angry.  I was expecting their call, anyway. At home, my husband and I talked quite a bit about everything that happened. As usual, he was able to calm me down and help me count all my many blessings and get a clearer head, moving forward.  I didn't sleep very well that night. I woke up so many times, heart racing, feeling all the feelings all over again, unable to turn it off. After I took my son to school, I gathered my thoughts and drove back to the station to do the report. I was informed that because my credit cards were in the wallet, it's considered a felony offense, and a detective would be contacting me to investigate. I received that call Tuesday morning. It was brief, but I informed him that the store had the video footage available. I'm still waiting to get a follow up call. As you can imagine, my nerves are shot, my patience is thin, my stomach is in knots, and all that anger....yep.  It's all there, festering. 

This woman chose to take from another person, for personal gain, without remorse, without empathy, without a single thought of how it was affecting anyone else. And that makes angry, but it also makes me feel really bad for her. To live the life she has lived, as long as she has lived it, and not having felt the love that she clearly needed, or having the support she clearly didn't. I wish it was that easy to explain why people do what they do. She is grown. She made a choice. A selfish, uneducated, and dangerous choice. I chose to go home and jump into action to protect myself, my family, my money. I chose to pursue justice, because even though my heart goes out to her in some way, she should still be held accountable for her actions. We still have choices to make, her and I.  I will see this thing through to whatever end it reaches, and at that time, I hope I am able to forgive her because I just don't want to hold on to any of this garbage. Right now, today, I am choosing to stay the path, even if it makes me cry, makes me angry, makes me look crazy or 'dramatic'.   The authorities will do their part, though maybe not quite as relentlessly as I do mine. If they can identify her, they have to find her. If they find her, they have to make sure she complies. If she has no priors, there's a good chance she won't get much of a punishment.  And this is where my dramatics will serve me well, I hope.  I have every intention of writing this woman a letter that more than likely will be read to her by a judge or other legal authority. Not that I think it will change what she thinks, I will tell her the repercussions her choices had on me, and on the people who witnessed the aftermath of the ordeal. I will admit to my own mistakes. I will tell her how my son learned a giant lesson or two from this situation. I will tell her about the silver linings from my point of view, like the fact that all of my auto-withdraws came out the day before all this happened, the paintings that led me to that store are sitting on a shelf in a boutique, waiting for their new owners, and I have a new sense of self-awareness. This may only serve to make me feel better, not so much to change anyone else.  And that's ok.  No matter how big or small this situation may seem to her or anyone else, it was big to me.  I can only hope that justice is served, but if we never identify her or find her, I hope somehow, she has enough guilt that she'll at least think twice before doing it again.

I will never understand why people do what they do. None of us are perfect, I certainly know that I am not. My grandmother, among many others in my life, always encouraged me to have faith, especially when hardships happen. It kind of goes along with the saying, "Only the strong survive." "What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger?" Am I to believe that all the hardships put upon me were done so because I am believed to be strong enough to handle it? I don't feel all that strong.  I feel like every time something happens to 'challenge my strength', it is in fact making me weaker. My drama, my emotional reaction to this situation has been an eye-opening experience on it's own.  I think maybe it's time to sit down and talk to someone about the things that I've been through. While my life has been riddled with unfortunate events and challenges (as well as many, many more blessings), I think I know a pivotal point in my life when everything changed. When I say everything, I mean me.  I changed. I don't know why but part of me just...stopped fighting. I could no longer 'be strong'. I was broken. My heart was damaged beyond repair.  Have you ever felt that way? Like no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you are loved and supported, no matter how loud the angels sing to lift you up, something else is in control.  Like the choice is no longer yours.

When I realized that my wallet was stolen, that is how I felt. Like something else was in control.

I would like to believe that my feelings and lack of strength are just human nature, a reaction. Bad things happen to good people. Right? If all I was dealing with was being upset that I was irresponsible for dropping my wallet and angry that some selfish person capitalized on that, it might be easier to deal with and get over.  But when it happened, that's not all I was dealing with.  The weight I'm carrying in my heart could sink ships. 

If you see me and you sense that something is off, it is.  It isn't any one thing, like my wallet getting stolen. I'm not unhappy with my life or the people in it. I'm not wallowing in self-pity or dwelling on my own mistakes. I am at war within myself, trying to keep my head above water, trying to 'be strong' for those around me that need me the most, trying to survive.  But I'm fighting.  I'll keep fighting.  And hopefully, I'll win. 

It's not just a bad day

Today, I'm looking up.  I have so many things to be grateful for in my life.  I don't have room for anything but blessings.  I'm a strong, spirited, loved, faithful, driven, and BLESSED woman. 

That is what I keep telling myself.  It's what pulled me out of bed. It's what allowed me to get up, move, speak, get dressed, drive my son to daycare so I could start my work day, and drink this coffee.  And now here I sit, feeling like the world is closing in all around me, my happiness stolen by my fears and anxiety and my heart struggling to hold the weight of it all. 

Every word that comes out of my mouth lately is doom and gloom.  Everything I see prompts some type of sorrow or negativity.  I feel helpless, out of control, and defeated. I can't see the light of hope any more. I've searched my heart and soul trying to figure out why I'm feeling this way and why I can't seem to change it.  There doesn't seem to be any one thing that I can change, one thing that happened to break me like this, one thing to try to conquer.  I can say that the stress of the new job, stress I created and allowed to manifest is likely a big part of it.  A big, big part of it.  But I allowed this to happen.  I'm an intelligent person.  I knew this would be challenging, leaving everything I knew in the work world to start something brand new at 47 years old.  I knew I would be on my own a lot. On my own all day, every day, actually.  i knew there would be a lot of moments where I felt lost, trying to find my way. And ironically, every good moment I have, thinking it'll be ok and I'll figure it out, every time I feel like I did something useful or beneficial, I think I'm turning a corner and things are starting to look up.  And then I fall, again. This feeling, a feeling of failure, has me obsessing about every decision I've ever made in my entire life. I'm questioning everything.  I'm wondering who I really am.  If God only gives me what I can handle, why do I feel so overwhelmed and unable to move? Why do I feel like people look at me and see someone who doesn't really exist? All these years, all the things I've survived and made it through and I've never felt so weak in my life. I just want to breathe. I just want to look in the mirror and smile.  I want my children to look up to me, not worry about me. I want to know where I disappeared to.  Where is the strength, the confidence, the faith, the perseverance, the zest for life I used to possess? I don't want to move. I don't want to talk. I don't want to go anywhere or do anything.  I just can't. Everything hurts, mentally and physically,  

Every day I wake up hurting, in my heart, in my mind, in my back and shoulders.  But I get up and go.  I put a smile on my face to appease and silence the questions that will undoubtedly send me off on some tear filled rant that without a doubt will get me absolutely no where. I do what is necessary because anything more will tip the scales just enough that I fear the consequences. It's no one's fault but my own that I am feeling this way so I don't want to involve them. Paranoia sets in and I start to wonder if they are doing the same.  Pretending to be ok because they don't want to upset me. If they are upset and they need me, what good am I to them, like this? I can't even help myself. All I do is worry from the time I get out of bed until I fall back to sleep.  Then I dream about all the things I wish I could change and have nightmares about the things that I can't.

Will I ever be happy again? Will I ever be able to stop pretending and find the strength to get past this and just live? Maybe this new job isn't helping with this depression or whatever I'm feeling but it didn't start there.  So many things have built up to this in my life and I feel like I'm drowning. This is my problem, no one else's. And I don't know what to do about it. I'm so lost. I'm so hurt. I'm so mad at myself. I feel sick. I feel worthless, helpless, and needy. I need help. And I don't know how to get it. I don't know how or where or when to ask for help. I've always just powered through everything that's come my way in life. I've always found a way to get through it and somehow feel a little stronger because of it. But this weight is no longer one that I can carry. 

So today, I'm looking up. With my heart, my mind, and my arms open wide. I'm looking up.

This was me three days ago.  I wrote this, but I couldn't post it.  Part of me wanted to share it because I knew there was no way I could be the only person going through something like this.  Part of me wanted to post it because it was easier than making a phone call and bothering someone just because I was having a bad day.  I didn't post it.  I read it at least a dozen times.  I sobbed the entire time.  I felt guilty just reading it. I felt selfish, and childish.  I kept telling myself to grow up and act like an adult, to stop whining, to suck it up.  I closed my laptop and went back to 'work', sobbing through what was left of the day.  The next day, I put on my big girl panties and went down to my office.  I figured working from home that day would only prompt more of the same and it was less likely I would start crying in public. About an hour in, I called my Dr., who I haven't seen in 2 years to schedule an appointment.  It was long overdue and I had to refocus because every single fiber of my being was fighting at that moment and I knew I couldn't continue like that.  I worried about driving myself home. I worried about other people in the building asking me if I was ok and being unable to speak without breaking down and making a fool of myself. I was physically sick, my heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest and it hurt, my right arm was hurting, I felt light headed, the lightning bolts in my chest were terrifying and my vision was blurry.  I was shaking so bad and thought for sure I was going to vomit everywhere.  I thought I was having a heart attack. Then I thought I was just crazy.

I headed home around 1130 a.m. once I felt like I could walk through the lobby without losing composure. All the way home, I cried.  I beat myself mentally for the lack of self control, the weakness, the embarrassment, the nonsense of what I was doing. When I got home, I set up shop and went back to 'work', hoping to occupy my overreacting, obviously crazy mind.  About 20 minutes in, I gave up.  I laid on the couch and cried for a while and started to doze off.  It was the strangest feeling.  I was afraid to tell my husband because I didn't want him to worry about me.  I mean, I was clearly being a big baby and just needed some rest or something. I didn't want to put more stress on him than he's already dealing with. I didn't want my kids to see me like that and worry.  But the longer I laid there, the more negative my thoughts got.  The chest pains persisted, the arm pain persisted, I still felt nauseous, my head was pounding, my vision was still blurred, I was still shaking, and I could feel the world caving in on me.  I wanted to run, but where would I go? I wanted it to stop all of it but I couldn't stop it.  This storm brewing inside me was eating me alive.  

My son, who is in the process of moving out of my house came into the room, getting things ready to load into his car and talking about his new place.  I know he knew something was off but he didn't say anything.  Eventually I told him I was having a rough day but that I was going to see the Dr. in the morning.  I tried  SO hard to pretend I was ok.  I even offered to help him.  I let him pack my truck up with things to follow him over to the new place thinking that would get my mind in a better place, or at least off all the negativity.  I texted my husband to tell him what I was doing.  Never mind that there was a monsoon happening outside, I needed this. After that trip, and about 2 hours of clenched teeth and fake smiles we came home and I sat on the couch where I stayed for the rest of the night. I was so mentally and physically exhausted that just breathing felt like a chore. The nightmares and the physical aches and pains woke me at least 5 times so I was up for good around 4am.  I made it through the routine stuff and headed to my Dr., by myself. I can't even begin to tell you how difficult that was.  The chest pains alone had me terrified, driving by myself.  I was convinced my Dr. was going to scold me and send me to the ER for what would inevitably be a heart attack or stroke. 

About 6 minutes into my appointment she told me to contact my husband to come get me and take me to the ER.  

Reluctantly, I called him. Why did I feel so reluctant? She just confirmed what I feared. She agreed I should've gone the night before.  And she was adamant about me not driving myself.  I was not only kicking myself for not going to the ER but also because I knew how much it would cost.  I knew that what I was feeling was likely stress induced. I knew I had reached a new low with this worry and fear.  But I also knew I needed to be sure it wasn't something involving my heart.  Because that would be an even bigger problem.  

All the way to the hospital I was riddled with guilt. Guilt for having my husband leave work. Guilt for having to rack up another Dr. bill. Guilt for allowing myself to get this low and not having the strength to make it better on my own. Guilt for not being stronger. Guilt for putting more worry and stress on my husband and my children.  My heart started beating faster and harder and I felt like I was going to throw up all over the truck.  I don't even want to go into detail about all the thoughts that went through my head for 3 solid days because it's embarrassing...and it scares me to death.

The EKG looked good.  The blood work looked good. My vitals looked pretty normal.  My BP was elevated but not 'high'. My X-rays were clear. My strep, flu and COVID tests were all negative.  I was fine.

Part of me was so confused.  Why was my body doing all these things if there was nothing wrong with me? What was I doing in the ER?

This was not just a bad day. This was not just me being a little overwhelmed. This was not just a sign that I need a break or a vacation.  This is a big deal. This is what stress can do to  your mind and your body.  I literally thought I was having a heart attack. I've been strong through a lot of things in my life that should've destroyed me but apparently I was saving it all up for another day.  Yesterday. I sat in that ER room for a couple hours talking with my husband while I waited for all the results of all the tests.  He made me realize a few things.  I'm human.  I've been under a tremendous amount of stress because of my work situation and a ton of other unresolved things that likely resurfaced because of how stressed I've been for the last month or so. It's a lot for anyone, not just me.  But it won't stay like this.  I can do things to make it better.  And I will be ok.

This morning I woke up with a new perspective.  I still have chest pain.  My arm still hurts, I still feel like I could puke. My eyes are still blurry. I still have a killer headache.  I still have the weight of the world on my shoulders.  The stress is still there, living in my head, my heart, my muscles and bones. And I still feel guilty for not recognizing this sooner, worrying my husband so badly, and having to go to the ER to realize that I'm just that stressed. The only way I am going to be able to get through this is by recognizing it and making changes in my life.  I'll still worry, I'm sure.  It's what I do best. But if I don't find a way to deal with things in a more productive way, this disease, this death grip, will destroy me.  I'll be no good to myself or my family.  What started off as a decision to better myself and provide more for my family manifested into this monster of an anxiety attack. And I NEVER want to go through this again. 

If you are feeling stressed or overwhelmed with emotions because of the weight that life puts on you, address it. Talk to someone. Make changes. Take care of yourself the way you would if it was someone you love going through it.  Don't put it off until you have time or just expect it to go away.  Don't say things like, "I'll be fine" and then walk around suffering in silence. Stress is a killer.  It kills you slowly.  It will rob you of all of your happiness, your confidence, your life. It's not just a bad day if it happens every day or even for more than ONE day.  I will not be silent about it because it's not something I can deal with alone and I know this now.  The next time it could be a heart attack. And while I will ALWAYS be looking up, I'll also be looking inward because no one can fix it if I'm not willing to help. <3

It's a duty not a task; a letter to all of us

 Royal loves and dependents:

We are a household. This is a space where we can live, grow, laugh, love, and learn, as a family.  I feared doing this because you will all think I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.  The truth is, I did a poor job over all these years of instilling certain values, committing to rules, showing consistency in my own choices and explaining how ‘life’ actually works.  Part of loving your children is teaching them responsibility and lately, we are all lacking that. Join me in doing hard things and not only taking responsibility but also helping others and being the change that this entire household needs.  Or chose to stand on the other side of reason and suffer my wrath.

Before we begin, let me offer you the ability to experience this in real time.  If you are one who has trouble with reading, honey-do lists, saying you’re sorry, sharing, reading between the lines, understanding without the ability to hear one’s sentiment or owning up, this may be easier for you to hear in person.  Just stop here and reach out to the old crow and I’ll walk your happy ass through it, one step at a time. 

This is OUR house, not my house.  This is our home, not our burden or our problem. This house is a disaster. So I’m making some new resolutions and involving ALL of you.  I’m not pointing fingers or making accusations, no matter what you think.  This is intended to create a new way to maintain OUR home.  What we’ve been doing just isn’t working.  You all have a choice here.  I’m not dictating or telling you what to do.  What I’m telling you is that I no longer want to be the only one who maintains this home.  We all live in it.  

My motivation: Sanity.

I am the one who cleans up everyone’s messes. You all may occasionally clean up your own messes but you don’t care to help clean up others. The majority of the time you are either too busy or just don’t care.  I am the one that ‘harps and nags’ about things when it’s in disarray.  I am the one that stresses over it.  Most of the time I just do all the things without saying a word because I don’t want to be the mom/wife that is constantly complaining.  This is not only selfish and unfair, it’s rude. Maybe cleanliness isn’t as important to you neanderthals as it is to me. Or maybe you just don’t think about it as often as I clearly do. Do you see me sitting on the couch in the evenings doing next to nothing? Let me tell you what that means.  It doesn’t just mean I’m being lazy and choosing not to tend to the messes all around me.  It doesn’t just mean that I’m neglecting my responsibilities. And it doesn’t just mean I refuse to be the only one always cleaning up.  It also means that the stress of worrying about it has become so burdensome to me that I am choosing to use my only free time during the day to sit on my couch, next to my husband and waste a little time doing nothing else for that day. I get up Monday through Friday at the ass crack of dawn, make sure coffee is made, laundry is going, dad’s eggs are cracked and clothes are ready for me, dad and Tanner.  I do this because it makes my morning flow more smoothly. I get myself ready, make sure Tanner is dressed and ready for school, make sure the dog goes out, make sure everything is turned off and locked up, take Tanner to school, work for 8 hours (lately I’ve been fortunate enough to do some of that from home but I promise you there is no less stress), run any errands that need run whether it’s groceries or any little necessity we may want or need, make dinner, clean up after dinner, and try to keep the stress and worry at bay as I rehash all the things that put me on edge all day from work to personal issues. Dad and I both stress over work stuff and frankly it’s kind of unavoidable.  (Hence our suggestion to get a better job while you are young and make better choices!) I stress about Grandma Bev, Grandma Deni, not spending enough time with either of them, not having better credit so we can move and dad can get much deserved new/better vehicle, having so many obligations that I either can’t afford to tend to or just simply don’t know where to start, not having a mom and dad of my own to call and ask for advice or cry to when it’s warranted, Caleb, being so far away from the other kids/grandkids, feeling like I’ve failed because of a lot of what I mentioned before this, not eating right or knowing how to change those habits, getting old and being reminded of it constantly, gaining the weight I’ve gained and not knowing how to start the change, feeling as if I’ve disappointed the people I love the most on a daily basis (for reasons that are mostly unreasonable and change by the second), my teeth, my brittle/thinning hair, the constant state of disrepair our home seems to be in regularly, and at least a million other irrational things. So sitting on the couch for a while before I fall asleep in the evenings is more of a time to unwind and decompress than an act of laziness.  I rarely say anything to anyone about helping around the house.  And I’m aware that when I do it sounds like nagging and bitching.  That’s my own fault for letting it build up to that.  So this is my attempt at asking for help.  (I am going to try to add some sarcasm and wit so I don’t sound so bitchy.  Your attempt to perceive this in a positive way will also help.)

Gabe and Kiara: Don’t get mad and shell up on me and then talk about me behind my back after this, please. I really do love the shit out of you both. Understand that I mean well and just want to do what it takes to maintain this home and my sanity, along with a loving, trusting, respectful relationship with you guys. I’m not criticizing, I’m just trying to teach you.  One day you will be living on your own and no one will be there to ‘guide’ you.  I’ll always be a phone call away, you know this.  And I love you both to the moon.  The hard to swallow truth is that you will not always live here, you are not being respectful or responsible, and I’m not being the best parent, either.  Let’s work together to create a better home and a brighter future, okay? <3

Barry, turn off your defensive personality before reading this paragraph, please. If you spent more time doing things that make you feel accomplished and less time not doing things, I know your overall sense of self and happiness would vastly improve. You say I talk too much but you do too, it’s just all in your head. That’s dangerous to you and everyone around you. A mind is a terrible thing to waste and yours is absolutely amazing! But you overwhelm it with worry and let it consume you. Stop isolating and trying to deal with all the things in your head all the time.  Just live. Do stuff. Stop giving yourself the time to worry so much and occupy your mind more efficiently. That’s my 2 cents.  I want you to be happier and I want to see you living life.  I confess, I too am a worry wart.  And I worry about my worries, your worries, and all the worries you could ever imagine to worry about on the daily! Worry is a monster. It is unfair for both of us to do this to ourselves, to each other, and to the ones we love so dearly that are not only watching us worry but inadvertently taking on some of that worry in the process. Making a choice to fix and clean up this house (I think) will help us both in a lot of ways.  It will give us something to do, it will give us a sense of accomplishment, it will help us teach our peeps, it will up the value of our home, it will give us much needed time together, it will help us get our minds on more positive things and pull us out of this negative set of routines we’ve built for ourselves, and it will create a happier, healthier environment for us and our love bugs. Let’s make a plan, together, to make our life happier and healthier, one mess at time. 

Life is chaotic.  We have jobs and responsibilities. We all want to have quality time and make memories. We all want to laugh, be happy, and have fun.  But nothing worth having is free.  Hard work is how you get what you want and appreciate it.  Working together to do the hard things creates more time for the fun. Here are some ‘guidelines’ for maintaining a healthy, happy, clean home:

1. Clean up your messes. Don’t leave them for someone else to pick up.  If you get something out, put it away. 

2. Be thoughtful. If you see a dirty dish, piece of trash, or other easy to clean up mess, take a few seconds out of your time to clean it up. It’s not hard, I do it all day every day.

3. Make good choices.  Stop with the “I didn’t do it” mentality.  It doesn’t matter who did it. We all need to stop this bad habit.  We all live in this house. Change your thought pattern and stop immediately thinking negatively.  Being intentional and positive will help you and everyone around you.

Room by room, because I’m feeling like being thorough and concise.  Not because I am being a Nazi mom/wife.  But because I simply need your help: 

YOUR ROOM

Laundry: don’t leave it on your bed or your floor.  We ALL do this! The best way to NOT create a big problem is to handle it while it’s small.  Put your clothes in a basket, or down the shute.  When the basket is full, take it down and wash it.  Or if you go down and there’s a pile under the shute, start a load. In an hour, go back down and put it in the dryer.  In another hour, go get the clean clothes and take them to your room, fold them and put them away.  It’s not hard and it’s not time consuming.  There are a million other things you can do while the clothes are washing and drying.  But please do not just leave them sitting in the basement or on the bathroom floor for me to deal with, dirty or clean.

Dishes: Wherever you decide to eat your meal, whether it’s your room, the living room, outside, at the table, sitting on the toilet…do not set those dishes down anywhere.  Take them to the kitchen and wash them.  You are never that busy that you can’t take 5 minutes to do this.  There is no reason that the sink should ever be overflowing with dishes on either or both sides at any time.  Leaving dishes sit causes caked on food to be much, much harder to wash off.  It’s no fun, especially when it’s someone else’s food. Also, it smells and attracts ants, spiders, stink bugs, lady bugs, roaches and about 100 other insects and rodents into OUR home. 

Clutter: I know it’s difficult to organize all of your things when you don’t feel like you have much space to do it.  I have a whole house and I feel that way. You have choices.  Make space.  Get rid of things you don’t use.  Donate them. Sell them. Trash them.  If you don’t want to do that, stop buying new things.  Another option is to rent a storage space and put all the things you want but don’t currently use in it.  Do not leave your things in common spaces in our home.  The living room, kitchen, hallway, bathroom, basement, garage, someone else’s bedroom and the porch are not your personal storage spaces.  Be mindful of the space you are using and the fact that you are not the only person that needs to use it. Who’s ready for a purge day???

*if you do not allow things to build up into hard to deal with messes, they become less of a problem. It’s much easier to maintain a clean room than a dirty one. Living in a constant state of ‘mess’ is not only aggravating and worrisome, it also causes depression, loss of self esteem, anger, self deprivation and relationship issues. 

KITCHEN

-Dishes: If you dirty it, clean it. 

-Messes: If you dirty it, clean it.  Wipe down space after making a meal, especially if it’s one that created crumbs, spills, or sticky surfaces.  

-Trash: It goes in the garbage can, not on the counter, on the table, on the stove, on the dog food container, on the floor next to the garbage, or sitting in a bag anywhere in the kitchen.  The outside trash can and recycling container are a few steps away. Also, don’t walk past any trash, deal with it, even if it’s not yours. If the kitchen trash is so full you have to push everything down to fit your trash in it, that is a sign from the Gods that you have been chosen to take that bag out to the outside trash bin.  Congratulations, lucky one. 

Pay attention to your surroundings. Or go get your eyes checked. “I didn’t see it” isn’t working for this tired mom anymore. 

I can sweep and mop but if you make any messes on the floor please pick up the broom/mop and take care of it. Don’t leave it for me to take care of because you’re too ‘busy’ or don’t have time.  If you don’t have time, make time.  This is a sign that your priorities need reorganizing. Cleanliness and the safety of our health and welfare should come before entertainment, laziness and the biggest hurdle of all in this house, pride. 

BATHROOM

-Toilet: It’s broken, in case you didn’t know.  Please make sure you flush, let it fill up, and turn the water off EVERY time.  It’s the considerate thing to do.  Eventually we’ll fix it or replace it but until then, let’s all give a crap.  See what I did there? Also, don’t overuse toilet paper, ya filthy animals.  Cleaning out the drainage pipes when we get back ups from too much TP now costs $225.  From this point forward, you will be billed for your share when we incur this expense. It may be a required contribution to the plumber or the monthly water bill.

-Shower: Please check to make sure water isn’t getting outside the shower and if it is, clean it up. If you continue to neglect this responsibility you may find yourselves 10 feel below the first floor of this house with a bathtub and toilet on your head. Don’t leave sopping wet rags on the tub floor. Ring it out and throw it down the shute. No one wants the thought in their head of their hands on your butt rag. If you use a razor in the shower, put it on the shelf under the shower head and be sure to throw away the little plastic cover as it clogs the drains.  Us long haired fools are the ‘root’ cause of tub drain clogs and those smelly hairballs trap everything causing backups and putrid hair rats. If you don’t know what that is, you can accompany us the next time we clean the hair out of the bathroom drains. It’s quite fascinating.  Don’t leave clothes on the floor in the bathroom.  You are standing RIGHT next to the laundry shute, fools! Heck. 

-Sink: Don’t leave your hockers, toothpaste spit, boogers or anything else you rid your body of in there. Just, Ew. Come on. And if you use a wash rag outside of the shower, throw it down the shute, don’t leave it on the sink or the back of the toilet.

-Trash: There is actually a garbage can in there.  Use it. And not for poopy diapers. It can hold things like used q-tips, snotty tissues, wads of hair, razor covers, toilet paper rolls, empty toothpaste containers, used bandaids, old toothbrushes, boogers, used cotton balls, nail clippings and a variety of other things often left on the counter, flung on the floor or wiped on the walls.  Again, Ew. Also, if it’s full, take it outside and put it in the big can and replace it with a new bag.  If it’s overflowing, don’t test the capacity of that can as well as the minimal space under the sink by shoving one more thing in it.  And I know when a bathroom garbage bag is full to capacity it will fit inside the kitchen garbage can but I strongly suggest you take the few extra steps to the OUTSIDE can.  And thank you. 

LIVING ROOM

I’m aware that dad and I spend more time in this room than anyone else in this house so this section is mostly for us.  But we should all make mental notes here. 

-Water bottles don’t belong on the floor.  In fact, if you choose to drink a bottle of water, from this point forward, know that you are also choosing the responsibility of emptying it and putting it in the recycling bin, outside. If you are sitting there drinking it, fine.  If you drink it all, get up and recycle it.  If you don’t, the next time you get off your duff, drink it and recycle it.  You need water anyway, don’t dilly-dally. Chug. There is nothing wrong with drinking bottled water either. As long as you are recycling and not being a jerk to the earth by being lazy and throwing it in the trash.  

*Not to lazy ass self: Recycling can. It’s blue. You can see it out the window and it literally will do you good to walk the eff out there anyway.

-If you insist on sleeping on the couch, which is an awful habit we need to break (self and beloved spouse), take your blanket to the bedroom in the morning.  P.S. You shed 8lbs of dead skin every year.  https://health.howstuffworks.com/skin-care/information/anatomy/shed-skin-cells.htm Most of that process happens WHILE YOU ARE SLEEPING. Just some fun facts. Ew. Mental note: wash your bed sheets once every week or 2, dirtballs.

-Creatures: The living environment of our ‘pets’ is atrocious.  Not only is that not very nice to do to them but it’s also not safe for any of us.  Their cages need more attention, more often. Period. There’s no shame in asking for help to make it go a little faster.  If we are keeping these ‘friends’, we should be loving them more. Otherwise, the most loving, responsible thing to do is find them a new home. No other options available here.

-Shoes: One pair of your shoes left by the door is more than enough.  All other shoes should be somewhere in YOUR room. I know I’m terrible at this, too. This is for all of us, I’m not singling anyone out. We should stop wearing our shoes in the house, too.  I don’t care how clean you think they are, you are tracking in things from outside and they are being left behind when you walk. I know this because unlike you I walk around without my shoes and feel the crunch everywhere I walk.  

-Dishes, food, trash, clutter, etc: None of it belongs in the living room.  Stop the laziness. Stop the madness.  And if you drop crumbs, create spills, or insist on consuming anything while sitting on the couch, take full responsibility for your mess.  Don’t half ass it.  Don’t leave it for later.  Don’t get mad. Just be responsible and give a crap. And do a good job so when I do bigger cleaning I don’t ‘discover’ what you missed. Better yet, don’t leave it behind for Max to ingest.  You’ll feel terrible if it hurts him in any way.

LAUNDRY ROOM/BASEMENT

I’ll keep this as simple as I can.  Some of the madness is mine. Some of the madness is not.  It’s time to de-clutter, reduce, minimize shit, maximize space, clean up and clean out. I think that covers it.  OH, and the basement is not a storage room.  I know, I know…where else can you put all the things??? Right? You can refer to the YOUR ROOM category or simply do this: Take a little time to go through it and get rid of what you don’t want/need, and reorganize so as not to take up so much common space in our home. Bam! Resolution. What I hear most about why laundry sits down there for so long is that you don’t have room.  Excuses I give myself are similar. New rule for anyone that utilizes that room: Wash it, dry it, fold it, put it away.  Do not leave it in the basement. Keep your room clean and organized so it’s easier and less time consuming to keep up with your own laundry. 

Barry, get rid of all the dusty, 25 year old clothes in the closet. You will never wear them again. Gabe, Kiara, Natalia…there is no way you wear all those damn clothes. Mass exodus, please. Hold it in your hand for 3 seconds.  If you can’t reason with yourself in that amount of time why you would want to keep it, throw it away (or donate).  It’s that simple.

I’m getting ready for another purge and I intend to do it before Christmas.  Make time. Please do your part. Prioritize. I am going to rent a dumpster (I know Bear, for a day and no more) and we are going to seriously PURGE the fuck out of this house.  I’ll give you the date and that is your sign to start going through ALL of your shit.  Bag it up and put it in the basement or garage. Or get it the hell out of our lives by donating it or giving it away.  I don’t care.  I don’t care what method you use for this purging process but none of us need all the bullshit we have in our lives. Not to mention, Santa skips houses that don’t have room for new goodies. 

I love you. I’m not crazy. I’m just tired of being tired of being tired. 

p.s. If it is your intention to dismiss the urgency and seriousness of this message I shall expoundeth on these royal thoughts daily until you chooseth to comply.

Love,

The Queen

Duty calls

There was a time when I was looking ahead to new beginnings.  Sure, I was scared, not knowing what to expect or when to expect it, but I had hope. Hope for a brighter future.  Hope for a little relief, financially. Hope for change that would set me on a different, better path in life. I'm still very hopeful. And I'm still looking forward.  This view is a little different than I had imagined it would be at this point. But the future still looks very bright.

 In this 'novel' I am going to share not only my journey through new beginnings (so far) but a little perspective and a brief view into my chaotic, emotional and ever changing mind. I am able to manage my feelings and emotions on a lot of levels by writing down my thoughts  If no one reads this, it's still benefiting me to sort things out and understand them better through this type of expression. I'm so grateful to inquisitive minds who enjoy reading what I write, and to those who share their thoughts in return. So I hope if you do read it, you are at least entertained. 

Here I sit, 19 days into this new journey, and the evolution of my feelings has been a little more than I anticipated.  What a whirlwind it's been!  I knew saying 'goodbye' would be hard. And it was. I knew saying 'hello' would be a challenge as well. And it was.  Traveling by air for the first time in 14 years to tour my new headquarters, meet staff that I'll mostly only work with, remotely, and soaking up every ounce if information I could possibly soak up in that 41 hours (yes, I counted) was challenging, exciting, terrifying and encouraging. Little by little, the hard things are becoming a little easier but there is one 'feeling' I've been having trouble with.  Anxiety is a MONSTER. No matter who you are, what you've been through, how prepared you are for something or how much you have to learn, when you throw anxiety into the mix, it compounds every single aspect of the situation you are in.

The last week at the old office was harder than I imagined, too.  Wow, that was 5 weeks ago, already. I was supposed to be training the new hire but there were quite a few bumps in the road.  In some ways I felt like I worked harder that week than I had in the previous 23 years.  Sarcasm was a heavy burden as thoughts raced through my head, causing me to ask myself, 'should I be actually working or training?' If I were the boss, and my employee of 23 years was on her last week of employment, I think I'd take it a little easier on her. But that's just me. Circumstances were challenging as the new hire faced some health problems that caused her to not be there a lot of the time, mentally and physically.  I felt terrible for her.  I was definitely in full mom-mode. I tried so hard to simplify everything in writing before she came to train. I imagined it would be hard to retain everything so I wanted her to have a visual reference for when I was no longer there.  A giant part of me, the part that felt like family to that office, wanted to make myself indefinitely available to answer questions and trouble shoot, as long as it took her to get acclimated, anyway. And I will risk sounding selfish by saying that I wanted to make sure my office was left in a manageable state of operation once I was no longer there to run it. My raw emotions were absolutely dangling on my shirt sleeve that whole 5 days. A million thoughts, all day and night, running rampant and causing me to worry and second guess every single thing.  Couple that with the fear that I'd be easily forgotten and my heart was just a big giant ball of mush.  Half my life, folks. Half my life.  I was somehow able to compartmentalize my feelings during that week to focus only on the organization of introducing new help, cleaning up old messes, organizing for their future, removing everything about me from their business.  The last day was the hardest.  They planned a little goodbye gathering for me at 4pm that day.  I knew I had to leave by 3 to get my boy from daycare and drop him at home before I headed to the 'party'. The morning was hectic as I walked in to what I expected to be a clean, empty, and someone what sad looking desk only to find a pile of to-do's. I got a call that one of the powers-that-be would likely not be in before the afternoon due to a busy morning schedule.  That schedule consisted of some business but mostly pleasure or dare I say 'other' responsibilities. This call caused me to reflect a little and there was no way to quell the anger, the hurt, the sadness.  It was my last day of work after a faithful 23 years and there was something more important than that.  Something that wasn't a business necessity. Something that could've waited. Something that was clearly 'bigger' than I was to this person.  Yes, my feelings were a bit juvenile and I was being a big baby.  But that sense of family was clearly stronger in me than it was in them, and that's painful. I swallowed those hard feelings and continued to prep for the new hire's arrival as well as still taking care of business that was obviously still expected of me, even on my very last day of work (insert more sarcasm).  As per the flow of the entire week, she wasn't up to par but she hung in and tried to follow along.  In any other scenario I would have had her doing the work and I would've supervised but these 'tasks', according to the person who was unable to be there due to all those responsibilities, needed to be done that day.  These tasks normally take several days to complete, by the way.  But who pulled through? Who powered through all the things to make sure, one last time, that things were 'taken care of'? I was unable to run errands that day like normal due to the fact that I had to leave early, though not as early as I had hoped.  It was after 3:30 and I had to drive about 8 miles to pick up my son, drop him at home and make it back down to the 'party'.  I was late to my own party.  Fitting, I suppose. Once again, a million emotions.  I was angry for being expected to do all that work on my last day, angry that no one cared to ask if I needed help, angry that no one even noticed the time or seemed to care that I was running late to my own party.  I was sad because it felt like no one cared. It felt like no one was even in tune with my emotions. I don't mean to sound like a child about it but this day was GIANT in my life.  I thought they felt the same way about me that I did about them. I thought they cared about more than the position they paid me to be in.  I thought we were family.  Honestly, this is me being a bit dramatic.  But when anxiety rears it's head, drama ensues. I was pleasantly surprised at the faces I saw that evening.  There were a lot of stories, shared memories, heartfelt feelings and goodbyes as my employers and acquaintances, new and old came to bid me farewell.  Bittersweet doesn't even begin to cover it.  It was humbling in some ways and by far the best part of my entire week.  And yet somehow, I still felt as if this little outpouring of support was somehow a burden to some.  

The following week was supposed to be a little down time between jobs for me to relax, rest, gather my thoughts, prepare for a new day.  I spent the beginning of the week preparing for my in-laws to visit from out of state.  You know how it is.  Cleaning and organizing all the things to make it look like you're on top of things.  The visit seemed so short as they were here just a few days but it was some much needed family time that not only filled my heart but also distracted me from all the other emotions I rightfully should have been feeling at that time.  My first official day of work at the new job was that following Thursday.  The couple days before I started are a bit foggy in my memory but what I do know is that I was a hot mess! I realized pretty quickly that the only emotions I had been dealing with up to that point were those associated with my 'old' job.  I had somehow managed to put those feelings on the front burner and essentially block out any feelings about the new job.  I hadn't really thought about the new job much until that point.  And suddenly it hit me.  The law office wasn't my office any more.  The new office wasn't mine either.  Suddenly, I didn't fit in anywhere.  

The first day was short and really just a lot of paperwork. Getting me in the system so that I could receive a paycheck, etc. I got my new phone that day and for about 5-6 days was overwhelmed with issues switching service from AT&T to Verizon.  Some texts were coming in on the old phone but I couldn't reply. Some were coming in on the new phone and I could. But the messages that came in on the old phone never appeared in the conversation on the new one.  Calls were only coming in on the old phone and I was able to take those calls, even though service was supposed to have ended on that one.  It was very strange to say the least.  For the first 3 days of the following week things were pretty slow and uneventful.  I don't know what I expected at this point but it was a very overwhelming feeling of not fitting in, not keeping up, not knowing what to do or how to do it.  The irony of that is that there was really nothing to do yet. That Wednesday morning the new boss picked me up and we headed to the airport in Detroit.  There was a lot of awkward silence as we made the hour or so trip up.  I was feeling a lot of things that were somewhat paralyzing, like wondering if he was having any hiring remorse already. I'm aware those were irrational thoughts since I hadn't even been able to do any sort of 'work' for him yet.  In my mind I had all these ideas of how my first month or so would go and so far, I've yet to encounter a single day where any of that has come to fruition. He said it would be slow going at first. He said there would be a lot of down time.  So I should just breathe, I know.  And I'm trying.  I haven't flown in 14 years.  If you haven't flown in a while, let me just tell you things are SO much different than they were back then!!!  And let's talk about that for a minute.  I was pretty intimidated at how well my boss had his crap together.  Seriously, he walked (well, he kind of ran) with confidence with every single step.  He has traveled a lot and has been doing this for some time, so of course he has confidence.  Nevertheless, it was a little intoxicating.  I was walking as fast as I could and I could feel myself sort of trot from time to time, just to keep up!  We zipped around, up and down, all around and I was completely lost in the first 2 minutes after we stepped out of the car in the parking garage.  Honestly, I was lost the second we arrived in the Detroit Metro area.  That place is insane! It was Wednesday morning, overcast and chilly and it felt like driving directly into the twilight zone.  What world was I in?? I had to work pretty hard to keep up with him and I hoped he didn't notice that part.  I hoped he was impressed at how well I adapted to this obviously new situation I was in.  Security was a little nuts because we went in two different entrances, due to him being a frequent traveler and his status with the airline. I was a newbie. I got shuffled off with the gen pop. Maybe 14 years is a really long time but I didn't remember having to take our shoes off to go through security. Nevertheless, I made it through and came out the other side to find entirely too many directional options in front of me.  The bossman was nowhere in sight. I looked at my flight info on my phone (there's an app for that!!) and saw my gate #.  Then shortly realized there was an enormous map about 200 feet in front of me.  Open those peepers, Sambo! I followed the signs like a responsible adult and found my gate.  We had about 20 minutes before they started boarding.  Whew! I won't lie, I was a little nauseous. Not just from all the anxiety of the previous couple hours and more so the last 20 minutes, but also because I was about to be roughly 35,000 feet in the air for an hour and a half.  I had to sit near a stranger (remember, I was perk-less).  He was like a robot.  He didn't say hello or even look in my direction. That is really boring, sorry.  I had an isle seat so I couldn't even look out the window for entertainment.  There were kids in front of all the windows around me so I couldn't snap any pics for my youngest either.  I imagine the parents would've been none too happy about me snapping photos of their kiddos.  We landed, pretty smoothly I might add, and I was immediately thrown back into that anxiety ridden state as I realized I had to find the boss when I exited the plane.  Once again I boarded that struggle bus and managed to keep in step as we made our way to the rental car, a Jeep Wrangler.  At least we were going to look cool for a few days.  We grabbed some Subway and went straight to headquarters and I was immediately introduced to the new faces knowing full well that I'd never remember everyone's name by the time I left that building. 

Oh, and just to rewind a tad, I didn't bring my work laptop.  I have a pretty tough time with opening my mouth (imagine that) to ask questions that I feel may seem frivolous, obvious, or self-explanatory. I like to think I'll figure it out, eventually, whatever it is. I learned pretty quickly on this trip that I need to open my mouth more!  I didn't know we could take 2 carry-on bags.  I managed to fit everything I thought I would need for that short trip in one carry-on-and-stuff-under-the-seat bag that my son let me borrow.  I never asked if I would need to take the laptop as I assumed I wouldn't need it if I was just going to be 'observing' and 'touring'. Of course one of the first questions he asked when we arrived....you guessed it....and for the first time during that visit, I felt like a giant failure. That won't happen again. 

Day one I was able to sit in on a meeting with the President and my boss and hear them discuss business matters, which gave me my first bit of insight into operations. Of course I didn't retain much from that because I have little to no knowledge of the actual business.  This is worlds apart from what I've done the last 23 years.  We went to the hotel to check in at the end of the work day and relaxed briefly before meeting for dinner.  That dinner was pretty eventful, even if just on the entertainment end of things.  The President of the company met us there and ended up offering our waiter a job.  Opportunity knocks and you must answer, eh? Made it back to the room and hit the sheets like a ton of bricks!  But not before grabbing a much needed shower and talking to my loves back home for a little bit.  The next morning we were up and at it, arriving back at headquarters bright and early.  It was a full day of meeting the team and learning all of their responsibilities. This was key since my dealings with them would be remotely and I needed to know who to reach out to and for what.  Late morning we traveled downtown to attend a meeting and grab lunch.  We ate at a pretty cool place that had great food, bar restaurant that reminded me of home, a lot. Then we headed back to headquarters where I met more of the team, toured more of the grounds and operations and met directly with a couple key players that I will likely have a lot of dealings with.  We cleaned up at the hotel and headed out for dinner, again. This time more of the team met up with us as they were celebrating a birthday and engagement.  The wife and son of the President also attended. For whatever reason, this was the point when the heaviest of burdens set in. My anxiety hit the roof and as I sat there trying so hard to go with the flow of things I started to feel myself sinking in my seat, physically.  I was shivering from the cold air yet I could feel sweat forming on my brow.  I had a hard time speaking.  I smiled, hoping beyond hope that no one could see through it to the gut wrenching, deafening, paralyzing fear that was now in complete control of my body and mind.  I managed to excuse myself and made my way to the bathroom.  By the way, another really cool restaurant that served German dishes and had a serious German feel to the atmosphere.  I loved it! Though I had tunnel vision from my seat all the way to the bathroom. Once safely inside I did some breathing exercises and paced a little to get my body temperate right and shaking to cease.  I felt nauseous, my head was pounding, my heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest and my ability to take in oxygen seemed to be diminishing, quickly. Then it hit me that I was in full blown panic attack mode!  If you have never experienced a panic attack, count your blessings.  I am completely embarrassed at what took place that evening but I'm hoping that by talking through this and sharing this experience, maybe it will never happen again. At the very least, someone reading may be able to relate and understand that they are not alone. I scolded myself for my weakness, staring at my reflection in disgust and disappointment.  I told myself how ridiculous I was being and that what I was feeling was normal. I knew I had to face these people again, with that smile I mustered up before, and then I had to ride in the car with my boss back to the hotel, likely having some sort of intelligible conversation.  The thought of losing my grip in front of him was terrifying and right then and there, as that thought zoomed through my mind, I indeed lost my grip.  I vomited every delicious bit of food I had force fed myself just moments before.  My eyes were watering, tears starting to stream, and my face instantly flushed red. My skin on my face felt tight, as did all of my joints and I felt a little dizzy.  I swear I thought I was having a heart attack.  I sat on the toilet to gather what I could of myself and continued those breathing exercises. I don't know how but some other force must have been at work as I cleaned myself up and made my way back to the table.  I gulped down what was left of my lager, praying to at least mask my vomit breath, and hoped for the best.  Making it back to the hotel a couple hours earlier than expected was nothing less than a miracle as I desperately needed to let it all out.  I showered and crawled into the super comfy bed with full intentions of calling the fam before I allowed myself to fall into peaceful slumber. I didn't want to make that call until I was through the worst of the anxiety ridden evening so I laid in the bed for a few trying to make sense of that last few hours.  The darkness swallowed me right up as I laid in silence crying, curled up in the fetal position.  I woke up a couple hours later, startled from a dream that felt like anything but. I was mad that I fell asleep without having a chance to say goodnight to the fam.  I knew I'd have a hard time falling back to sleep at that point, and I was right.  I dozed back off, waking up around 3 am for good and finally got out of the bed around 5am. The rest of the morning, while getting ready for the day I walked around beating myself up, mentally, over the way I spent the entire trip worrying about everything under the sun. I had so many questions, and still do.  I have so much guilt because I'm so used to being so busy all the time and suddenly, I'm not.  I know it's temporary. As I learn more I'll do more, as with anything new.  But in that moment, still having one more meeting on the books before I hopped back on that death trap in the sky, all I could do was fear the worst.  What if they don't like me? What if they decide they don't need me? What if I don't fill the shoes they expect me to fill? What if I fail? I buried the anxiety, at least temporarily and packed up my things.  We left the hotel before 8am and met with the President briefly before heading back to the airport.  That meeting was more for them than me, but also meant as a final farewell.  It really was great to be a part of those 3 days, even if just in part, to see who I was working for and with.  It gave me some really good insight into not just the company, but my future with them. The trip back to the airport was more awkward silence coupled with fear of my own competency.  I don't know why it's been so difficult to speak up and ask questions but there are so many.  Maybe I just don't know how to ask. Maybe I am not prepared for the answers. Or maybe I need to give myself a little grace and try to understand that I'm right where I need to be for the moment and that everything will fall into place in time. 

I am fairly intelligent.  I know that in time, a lot of my feelings of anxiety will subside and I will become more comfortable in these shoes.  I've been told to expect a lot of down time until we get things rolling.  I've been told not to feel bad if I'm not super busy for these first few months. I've been afforded the ability to do most of what I'm currently doing, from home. It isn't for lack of understanding.  And I've had to have some pretty thick skin over the years so I can hold my own.  I have dealt with a lot of things most wouldn't have put up with or continued to do.  Life has made me tough in a battle to the death kind of way. I'm fully prepared for battle and everything that comes with it. I may just cry while I'm committing murder.  That's all.  I can do hard things.  And if I can't, you'll never know because I'll die trying. 

I start my daily outlook with the Serenity Prayer.  I end it with a grateful heart and the weight of countless blessings. Everything in between is just details. I'll get through this initial stage of this new life and be a better, happier, more knowledgeable human because of it. With any luck, I'm passing this on to my children so they are never, ever afraid to try something new and better themselves. They will learn to never stand still, but move forward with an open heart and mind.  They will learn patience and resilience, confidence and the value of personal growth. Something I asked myself before I made the final decision to leave my old job was, 'What changes are you willing to make to better yourself and your family?' I know I made the right choice.  

As I navigate through this life, this anxiety, and this new adventure I am sure of one thing.  Change is inevitable. Without it, everything stays the same.  I will continue to put my best foot forward and keep an open mind.  Maybe I'll talk to my Dr. about how to better manage the anxiety part.  But I will not give up no matter how scared, discouraged, defeated, or under utilized I feel. This is me, getting better.  

A New Day

I wonder what my mother would say.  

My father would be very proud, I know.  When I started this job back in 1999 he was in tears.  From day one, every time I saw him he would comment on how proud he was and how smart I was.  At the time I thought he was just doing what any dad would do.  I mean, I took a job answering the phone.  That doesn't exactly require genius status, dad. That job grew into something bigger and year by year he would continuously show me love and tell me how proud he was.  He was dealing with so many battles within himself, but he always let me know how he felt about me.  God, I miss him.  My mother never really had a chance to get to know who I was, nor I, her. I was just a baby when God took her from me. I know who she was based on what my family tells me.  And I like to believe she's been watching over me all these years.  But there's a part of me that really wishes I could hear her tell me she's proud of me too.  I'm 47 years old.  I'm not a child. I don't know why the child in me is so needy.  But she is. 

Things have changed a lot since 1999.  When I was hired in, the people I worked for had been doing what they do for quite a while.  They were 'seasoned'.  Everyone welcomed me and made me feel like family, right from the start.  They were very respectful, kind, supportive, understanding, accommodating and helpful.  They took a chance on me, a 23 year old single mother with little to no work history and baggage that could sink a ship. I thought I'd be here a few weeks or months.  Over those years they helped me develop more skills and inadvertently taught me life lessons I wasn't learning elsewhere.  I looked up to them and respected them.  Little by little they started to leave this office and new blood would arrive.  So many times I wanted to make changes in my life that would take me somewhere else, somewhere I could grow even more, learn even more, and have the opportunity to provide more for my family. I was built up so much and believed that I was needed around here.  I was an important part of the operations of this office as a whole, and to each of my bosses.  They would tell their clients that I ran the place, that I was the bulldog that got things done. In the last 10 years I continued to do all the things I'd always done but the atmosphere around me was changing. I still loved my job but it was beginning to feel less like the laid back, family-like atmosphere and more like actual work. I started looking around to see what other opportunities were out there.  I had a resume put together in case I somehow found the bravery and courage to step outside this box. I had a few job offers from word of mouth but when I weighed all the things I considered benefits, my heart said it wasn't worth it.  It wasn't worth the stress of starting over and worrying about the longevity or security of something new. It wasn't for lack of being grateful for what I had.  I counted my blessings regularly and was happy just to have a job.  I even talked my way out of it, telling myself that everyone goes through it at some point when they've been in the same place for a long time.  Work gets stressful. It's not always fun.  Right? I guess I just felt like things were getting too complacent. Too comfortable.  Every time we welcomed someone new, my anxiety would kick in. I'd ask myself silently if they would be a challenge or if they would be like my previous work family.  So many changes.  So much time.  I feared the newbies wouldn't even like me the way everyone else seemed to.  They added more and more responsibilities, which wasn't an issue.  I like being busy and it was never anything I couldn't handle.  I liked that they trusted me that way too. That spoke to me.  They didn't do things the same way that others did, but they still let me know they appreciated me.  And no two are equal. They showed their gratitude in different ways.  I got to know them, individually, and learned their needs as it pertained to my abilities.  I almost let disappointment get the best of me twice when I packed up all my belongings and had one foot out the door. But I silenced that inner child and put on my big girl panties. I felt, so many times, like I was going above and beyond.  I wanted them to know that I cared.  I wanted to help. I wanted them to continue to trust that I was good for their business.  I wasn't perfect, no one is. But my grandma always said, as long as you are giving it your best shot, that's what matters most.  I gave it my best shot. I gave it more than my best shot.  I'm embarrassed when I think about how many times I came home in tears because my own feelings got in the way.  I failed at keeping things professional the second that first tear ran down my cheek.  But why did I cry? I cried when I felt like I fell short on the job. My amazing husband was there to comfort me and talk sense into me.  He was my calm, my reality check, my rock. I've been humbled in a lot of ways as I've navigated my way through this job for 23 years.  I've been in positions where I could relate to some of the clients and/or the situations they were in because of my own life experiences.  My job was never just about answering the phones, punctuality, words per minute or dollars per hour.  My job has not only meant survival for me and my family but it has also been the place where I've lived, loved and grown, emotionally and professionally. Because of this job, I can now put both feet out the door, spread my wings, and fly. 

Here I sit, reminiscing and remembering and somewhat defending my years here at this office. In 24 days I will be walking out the door for the last time, saying goodbye for the last time, calling this home for the last time.  I'll never climb these stairs, lock these doors, or worry about these somewhat functional light switches ever again. I'll never place another office supply order, send another email with my office manager signature, eat lunch in this kitchen, charge this ring doorbell battery, empty this trash can...

Saying goodbye is hard.  

This is family. This is home.  This is essentially ending a relationship. I'm not leaving on bad terms, but why do I feel like I am? Why do I feel like this shouldn't be this hard? Why is that child in me curled up in a proverbial corner, sobbing, wishing for just one extended hand, one pat on the back, one smidge of gratitude, one little sign that I'm not the only one that feels like this was more than a job, it was a relationship? The atmosphere is so tense, so volatile. It seems like I am the only one that realized I had room to grow. But I know deep down, that's just the child in me.  Or maybe, they just never thought I would leave. 

From the time I started actively looking for another job I have been upfront and honest and very forthcoming about my intentions with everyone in this office.  I knew the position they were in and I knew that growth was no longer an option for me.  I didn't share my intentions with them as some sort of ploy to extort more money from them.  Even if they tried, I knew it wouldn't be enough to stop me from wanting and needing and looking for more.  Not just more money.  More security, more freedom, more goals, more opportunities.  I knew I had reached a point where I needed more and they were not, nor were they really ever, going to be in a position to give it to me. I had to do what I had to do for myself and my family.  I am not so blind by my own feelings that I can't see how this is affecting the office.  They have to continue to do business while they search for new help.  And in today's society, that's quite the task. It's hard to find good help.  It's really hard to find good help that is willing to do it for a certain amount of money. I am fully aware of how stressful that process is and how scary it is to have to put your trust in someone new.  Part of my decision to stay here as long as I did was due to that acknowledgment.  I care about everyone in this office and a giant part of me didn't want to put them in that position.  Like any place of business, you have priorities.  First on that list for my office is finding good help, and fast.  I'm trying to do what I can to help that happen and wish that I could do more. A lot more. And I'll always wish I could just stay.

Today, I'll continue to do all the things I've done for 23 years.  I'll say goodbye, knowing that I'll see them again tomorrow.  Today, I'll be the office manager, the secretary, the administrative assistant, the link in the chain that pulls the horse, the familiar voice that everyone hears, the employee that loves her job. Yesterday is long gone and with it goes half of my life.  Yesterday holds all my trials and tribulations, my victories and my defeats, my accomplishments and my losses.  There are 12 people who may never know the impact they had on my life.  12 people who have molded me, held me together, guided me, taught me, loved me and fought for me.  12 people who will never, ever be forgotten, but revered for what they represent to me.  They are not just bosses, attorneys, colleagues and friends. They are family.

Tomorrow is not far away.  It holds my breath. It holds hope and knowledge. It holds adventure and promise. Tomorrow is a journey to something bigger, better, and more fulfilling. In 24 days, tomorrow will look so much different.

Tomorrow is a new day.

Who am I

 Maybe it's the position of the moon but my world has been off kilter the last few days.  I don't feel like myself. I don't know how to explain what I feel, but I'll try.  

They say not to bottle it up. I've said it myself, to myself, and to people that I love dearly when I see them struggling to communicate.  My best friend, my husband, the one person who I feel truly understands me, sits just outside my grasp right now.  For the first time in...well, my entire adult life...I'm at a loss for words. Maybe it's because the words that come to mind cut like a knife and I've become so good at ignoring my own emotions. The thoughts I've had are debilitating, paralyzing. Yesterday was a serious lesson in discipline and patience as I fought back sobs from the time I rolled out of bed until I finally crashed after midnight, last night.  But for the first time ever, I didn't talk about any part of the storm that was taking place inside me. I simply explained it all away every time it would surface in my mind and kept myself occupied so I wouldn't have to deal with it, I guess.  Truth is, I feel pretty selfish. I'm pretty confident my husband thinks I'm a better human than I think of myself. He tells me constantly.  Typically, we're yin and yang, balancing each other out.  And when I'm in a funk, he pulls me out of it and loves me through it.  Yesterday, I was emotionally unreachable.

I want to talk about it.. But I don't want to open my mouth and allow all the things to flow freely because inevitably, I know I won't be able to stop.  I also know that while my problem could probably fit in a thimble, once the flood gates open my problems will suddenly need an ocean. I've been told I talk to much.  My whole life, I've been teased about being a motor mouth, constantly going off on tangents, rambling, and generally not knowing how to shut the hell up.  It's a serious problem, I know.  But better out than in, that's what my dad always said.  I'm pretty sure as a child, if it existed back then, the doctor's would've diagnosed me with ADHD.  At the very least, I should've been treated for all this anxiety.  It's only gotten worse as an adult. To put it mildly, when I want to speak, to make a point, to answer a question, my brain has 9000 words it's trying to put together to form a sentence or two and when I open my mouth, all 9000 come out, all at once.  I'm not sure how to fix that. I have been able to curb the sarcasm through the years and I credit that achievement to some humbling moments when I saw myself through someone else's eyes.  I'm still sarcastic and sometimes even funny.  But all that funny is literally me just trying not to be me. 

There is a lot of pain locked up in this 46 year old body.  There are wounds that will never, ever heal. There is a vulnerable tenderness, just beneath my mostly, outwardly appearing tough skin. I've been through some stuff that has inadvertently created that tough skin.  At this point in my life I feel like that was God's plan to protect me.  Such a fragile flower I can be. People have said things like, "I would not want to be on your bad side". Do I give off that bad ass vibe of "fuck around and find out"? I have never in my life felt like that person, yet somehow, I convey this to others through my words, actions, and glances. Where does that even come from? Does it come from my childhood somehow? Maybe from listening to my father tell 1,000 stories about how he was tougher than the other guy, or how he was so strong he could beat up a tornado? Maybe it comes from always feeling a need to protect, whether it was my baby sister, my friends and family, or many times, myself.  A few times I can recall going to my dad to tell him how others had treated me, unsure of how to feel about it or how to deal with it.  And every time he would tell me that I shouldn't care what other's think, that they are just taking something out on me because I'm an easy target, tiny and soft spoken, and that they are just words.  I was 'better than them' for not allowing it to bother me.  Well that shit hurts when you are a kid and your peers are saying derogatory things to you and about you.  And when other kids laugh, it makes you feel so alone and helpless.  And when you hear it enough, you start to believe it. Kids are sponges.  And they don't know any better. They don't know how to deal with all the crazy emotions they go through, much less someone else's. Yeah, maybe that fight or flight stuff started back then.  All I really ever wanted, as a child and even now as an adult, was for someone to listen. Maybe I don't really have anything to say. Maybe there's is no one point I'm trying to make.  But if I can just get it all out I'll feel so much better.  At least, that is what my chaotic mind tells me. But now, as an adult, I hear that I 'talk things to death' and it makes me feel like that lonely, helpless child again. Immediately in my head I'm responding, "I'm sorry".  For what?? What am I sorry for? You don't have to listen.  I'll talk to my damn self.  There's that fight or flight Sami, again. 

So I'm a motormouth.  I'm also an "open mouth, insert foot" person, or so I've been told.  Those 9000 words are not always the ones I should say.  But if I have to take the time to sort through all 9000 to find the ones that will not get me in a bind, you know what happens? I forget. I lose my train of thought all together.  In the time it took me to 'think about it', my brain already started thinking about something else.  It's absolutely imperative that I just get it all out, otherwise, you are missing my point. Ok? So why is it so important to my brain that I say ALL the things? I just don't understand. I know I am guilty of saying things that most others wouldn't and it's not because I think I know more than anyone else. I just don't know how to close those flood gates. I promise, once it's been said, I absolutely know I shouldn't have said it.  And that's where that sarcasm dwells. No matter how dumb I feel for saying certain things, or how funny I try to be to cover it up, the guilt of not being able to control my mouth never goes away.  I sometimes lie in bed at night, thinking about things I 'accidentally' said, and I cry about it like a big ass baby. Then I realize I'm being a cry baby and I just get mad at myself.  I can't be the only one that does this.  

I'm not diagnosing myself here, but I'm pretty sure if I took this to a professional they would tell me there's some OCD somewhere in there.  For example, laundry.  In my head, you know, when I talk to myself, I tell myself that the clothes need to be folded a certain way so they fit in their space properly.  There are a few ways to fold a towel.  I'm a half fold, tri fold, half fold girl. This way I can fit two stacks nicely in the towel closet. If you fold them too wide, you can only have one stack, right? I mean, common sense.  Not only do I re-fold the towels when someone tries to help and folds it differently, there is some misfiring going on in my brain and at that moment, I can't focus on anything in the entire world but getting that towel folded the RIGHT way. I start rage folding after that. But not like, how dare someone fold that towel like that! It's more, me yelling at myself about why it really matters.  I'm the only one that gives a damn about how it fits in the closet. Then I'm arguing with myself in my head for 10 solid minutes, only to end up just feeling like a big bitchy jerk. That is the actual definition of controlling.  But I swear I'm not trying to be controlling.  I just need help trying to figure out how to not let it bother me when someone folds haphazardly. Sigh.

One thing that really gets me feeling sorry for myself is when someone spits some truth at me about my 'habits'. When someone throws shade and references my shortcomings, putting my business out there in the universe, smiling, as if it's supposed to be some cute, loving gesture or joke, I can physically feel myself shelling up. Maybe a little bit of that is me being soft as butter, getting my little feelings hurt, and pouting, internally.  Maybe.  But maybe in my mind I feel completely disrespected and bothered that someone who is supposed to love me would be so careless and hurtful toward me for their own shits and giggles.  Is that the same thing? I feel like it might be the same thing.  My chaotic brain won't let me decide.  And if you think for one second that I ever let that shit slide...uh, oh.  Fight or flight.  So, yes, it bothers me.  Yes, I get in my feelings.  Yes I give death stares when my feelings are hurt.  And yes I will absolutely hold a grudge unless you acknowledge your jackassery. No one likes to feel belittled, ok? If my reaction bothers you then maybe you should think about your actions.  Or maybe I should use that backbone I spent so many ears strengthening.  Maybe I should have more of a sense of humor.  Sometimes, it's actually funny. It doesn't feel good when people say hurtful things. And maybe at 46 I should know when someone is just 'messing around'.  I used to be able to take constructive criticism and even laugh at some of the things people would direct at me. The older I get, the less I am willing to endure, I suppose. In my mind, no matter how you explain it to yourself, it's bullying.  If someone spoke to someone I love the way some people speak to me, momma bear would be all over that. 

The last few days there hasn't been one day that I looked in the mirror and liked what I saw.  I have felt so weak, defeated, and insignificant that I haven't wanted to even get out of bed, much less deal with myself. There is no one thing that happened to trigger this pity party.  There is no one person who hurt my feelings or did me wrong.  I simply woke up.  I saw myself the way others apparently see me. And it hurt like hell.  Who am I? To some I am controlling.  I am stubborn. I am a motormouth. I am a cry baby. I am sensitive. I am weak. I am bitchy. I am annoying. I am argumentative.  What I think I am is confident, sensitive and strong, determined, fun, ambitious, self-less, and  empathetic. I want to believe that deep down, I'm none of those things that other people think they see or hear.  But maybe I am.  I'm also human and my number one trigger for almost all of those negative things...is disrespect.  I know I'm not perfect, nor do I strive to be.  There are a million things I'd like to change about myself.  Today I think I'll just love myself a little more.  It sounds like I need it. I'm sure on the outside no one will notice and it will be more of the same.  But on the inside, I promise you it's changing. I'll still be sensitive because I fucking care.  I'll still be stubborn because I know I don't deserve to feel that way. I'll still be a motormouth because I actually like to talk. I'll still be annoying and argumentative because I like to stand up for what I believe in. I'll still be controlling because that's how people see confidence sometimes. I'll still be bitchy because sometimes that's the only thing people recognize, not their own hurtful ways. My feelings will always get hurt easily because I wear my heart on my sleeve. So I'll still cry.  But if you ever want to know why I've changed, just ask yourself why you haven't. 

I'm not perfect.  But I'm me, unapologetically.