What To Do

It's not you, it's me. You haven't changed, I have. For the better. You see, I'm at a point in my life where I actually know what I want. As it turns out, this isn't it.

We've had some great times together, you and I. We've shared laughter and tears, anger and frustration, and celebrated each and every triumph together.

This isn't the end of us. We're simply morphing into something newer and better.

I am excited for the future, and I hope you'll come along with me for the ride. I will post a few more times and will let you know what the next thing is.

Thank you for your support.

xo

Dealing with Negative People

We all have stories of that one person who drives us crazy in a 'smash-their-face-in-with-a-brick' way. My complaints are no different: this person I have to interact with continually pushes my buttons and makes me frustrated. What to do?

From what I understand, when someone in your life makes you feel this way it's usually because they are triggering some facet of your own personality that you don't like. So I thought about that. I sat with the anger and the frustration and I thought about what it could be that is making me not able to interact with this person.

Hours later, I am still sitting here thinking. I don't know what it is, if anything, that I see in this person that reminds me of my own behavior so I suppose for now I'll have to keep my eyes open and wait for the metaphorical lightning to hit. 

Until it does, I am going to remind myself that everyone has their own shit they are dealing with on any given day. Maybe that will help me be able to see past my own frustration and extend some sympathy and understanding instead.

Done and Done

Moved. 

What an experience. From the purging to the painting, the friends who offered their help and support and those that actually did, it's been an experience.

I know so much more now than I did before.

We have more space. The cats feel more relaxed. There is a home office, an actual delineation of space that allows us to work and live in the same space without stepping on each other.

I have my spirit back. 

I don't where it went, nor how it knew how to find me again. I know that things feel better. 

That's all I have for now. Still reeling from the amount of energy expended during this past weekend. 

So incredible happy with the new space. So incredibly happy with the way things are going. 

So incredible, this life. 

Stay on Target

Here's the funny thing about setting goals. You set them and then if you are not able to complete them, no matter the reason, you feel shitty about yourself.

No more goals. Not now, not ever.

I already refuse to make resolutions in preparation for the new year simply because I know that I am not going to follow through. Not because I am a terrible person with no direction: my reasoning is far simpler.

Trying to tell myself that I will get up every morning and exercise is futile. I am not a morning person and I find it very difficult to actually get out of bed when my alarm first goes off. Making a resolution or setting the goal to get up earlier will not work and attempting to change this right now will not give me the results I am looking for. 

I know that I need to exercise. I know that I feel better, sleep better, and have more self confidence when I make time to stretch and move. My solution is to do it when I get home; that way I get it done and, more importantly, I actually have the energy to do it and will work out longer. Problem solved.

Working within my parameters has afforded me opportunities to explore different ways of doing things I want to do. For me, it's interesting to see how I can make sure I get things done that I want to accomplish but it's also about the process. The process changes every time I feel that I want to do something.

And that, my friends, is the secret to getting shit done.

Generally Speaking, Things are Okay

Still packing, sorting, discarding, donating, and giving away things that have been in our home for years. While I find it difficult, I realize that it's better to move with less things, especially those things that are no longer needed.

Insert your own witty comparison between things and people here because I am too tired.

Seriously. I am exhausted. I am waking up in the middle of the night, unable to get back to sleep until the sky starts to lighten with the dawn. By then, it's time to get up and I'm angry at not being able to sleep.

I hate the packing part of moving. Everything is out of place, I can't find anything because I've already packed it, and tempers are short. The cats are being asshats because they know something is up but don't understand they aren't being left behind. Being rescue cats, their stress stems from being left by previous owners and no amount of time with us will change that. We try and calm them down and tell them they are coming with us but who knows what cats actually understand?

Work is super busy and I'm juggling multiple projects along with everything else. I feel like I'm being stretched far too thin but I refuse to give up spending time with people outside of the apartment. I understand we have tons left to do, but sometimes you just need a fucking break from taping and packing and labeling and shouting.

So glad we hired movers.

On My Mind

I have an overactive imagination. I know this. I also know that there are times when I simply cannot stop my brain from coming up with ridiculous images and scenarios that just won't happen. I have to just let it do its thing and then chide myself after.

Or do I?

I've been reading a lot about reprogramming behavioral responses and while it sounds incredibly scary, I understand what it means for people like me who cannot stop their brain from conjuring up pictures and scenarios. I am not in any way suggesting that people should try this out for fun: this was, and still is, something I feel can be either incredibly beneficial or a fucking nightmare depending on who is administering the treatment.

Case in point: I have a consultation this afternoon with a new therapist. The doctor works out of her home and I woke up in the middle of the night with a panic attack thinking that it's all a front and she is actually going to kill me. I lay there trying to get my brain to calm the fuck down and after two hours of this nonsense, I finally gave in.

Okay brain, I said to myself. You want to wake me up and fill my head with this shit? Fine. LET'S DO THIS.

I conjured up scenes that belonged in a horror movie, complete with chainsaws and running blindly down corridors. I let my brain exhaust itself with all the potentially terrible and horrific things that could go wrong spiraling through my psyche. At the end of it all, I asked myself a question: why are you so afraid?

My brain instantly went on the defense, telling me that I'm not afraid, just being cautious. I reminded myself of the images I had just witnessed and asked if these were the thoughts of a cautious person, or one trying to justify not going to the appointment. 

And that was my 'a-ha!' moment.

After I figured out the pattern of self-sabotage, I realized that I had just spent three hours in deep conversation with myself. 

One step at a time.

Sweeping it All Away

In the midst of preparing to move, I've discovered a lot of things I didn't realize I was still holding onto. I found letters from previous lovers, divorce papers from husband number 2 (including the terrible letters he wrote me telling me how much I suck), and a ton of other things.

I sat and looked at all that stuff and I started to cry. It's emotional to see parts of your life splayed out in front of you. I sat and looked at it and when I was ready, I methodically tore each piece of paper into shreds.

Words cannot describe how amazing that felt. To be able to sit there with these pieces and process the emotions around them and then let them go. 

I found the first few extremely difficult. I wanted to give up and shove the rest into a bag and 'deal with it later' but I knew that was a lie. I wouldn't do it later, or ever. If I didn't deal with it right then, I would spend the rest of my life dragging this excess shit around me and wondering why I felt so bad.

Part of my struggle through depression was the feeling that I wasn't going to get any better. I spent a lot of time lying on my side wondering when the pain will stop and my life would start up again. When I was able to function again, I remember looking at the junk and thinking I should clear it away but it seemed too difficult.

It's a strange feeling, this new lightness. I have systematically cleared out most of the places where I've hidden my excess baggage: the old paystubs, old birthday/Valentine's/Christmas cards, things I no longer need in my life. 

I didn't need any of it and yet I held onto it out of fear: fear of change, fear of facing myself, fear of not having the security of things. I realized that I will not win anything at the end of the day for having held onto my crap. 

I am no longer looking at what to hang onto. I am looking at what to let go of.