Man oh man.
I’ve had my ass kicked a few times this year by Life. She can be a real cunt. When you’re certain you can’t possibly handle any more feels she will knock on your door with heartbreak and a bottle of Jameson and a tall dark stranger. She will test you and watch your edges fray while panic sets in and she will enjoy it (She will also try to kill one of your 6 month old kittens). So here I am, it’s my Saturday and I’ve survived This Week.
We almost lost one of our fuzzy idiots to acute kidney failure. Work was annoyingly busy and demanding. Miscommunications caused problems in every area of my life. I couldn’t sleep most nights, and on evenings that I did manage to get a few hours rest, I had assaulting vivid dreams. My stupid fucking less-than-a-year-old phone constantly dies if I remove it from the charge, so I missed important messages and calls. My body was sore from pushing it at work and pushing it on my evening runs. My appetite was non-existent from all the stress. My anxiety and depression have been playing hopscotch in my head every single day. An unexpected visit at work from NB’s partner caught me off guard and stirred up 500 things that I’ve been trying to handle internally for months and I just don’t fucking know how to deal with any of it. I feel burnt out and overstimulated so much so that our finicky front door lock reduced me to tears yesterday when I couldn’t jimmy it open on my first try. So yeah, that’s where I’m at. Needless to say, this week can kiss my ass.
But then there’s the other side to this messy life… Spock is now home and back to his old antics. Work being so crazy helped foot the bill for his vet care. I had some deep clarifying conversations with people that I respect and love and now feel closer to. My dreams brought up four or five things I hadn’t considered about my recovery and are encouraging me to think harder about the type of person I want to become, even though the idea makes me squirm. I will get a new phone soon because mine is still under warranty and is clearly a dud, but honestly I’ve enjoyed not hanging off of every ding and vibration. I’m running again and that means my smoke-free (47 days), alcohol-free (150 days) body is getting one step closer to being happy. My brain can’t always be my friend but I’m now able to fight back when it’s attacking me, which is something I never was able to do even 6 months ago. Uncomfortable situations continue teach me about myself and about the people around me and how much has changed in such a short amount of time. And yet my heart still really hurts and I’m even more lost. I get fucking angry when things are thrown at me and I can’t fix them or will them away with all the good intentions in the world. I am learning that the person I want to be is waiting patiently at the end of every awful day. The person I want to be realizes that the universe is not out to get her, but that sometimes it will feel that way. She is keeping her mouth shut instead of provoking needless confrontation. She is meditating in the mornings, instead of popping Advil and frantically searching through her phone to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid the night before. She is hurting for all the people affected by weeks like this one. She feels sorry for hurting anyone even if they aren’t the most savoury of people. She is hugging her close friends and missing the far away ones. She is reaching out to her family and telling them her story. She is so damn excited to be an Aunt, really REALLY soon. She is not changing her plans even though she wants to burrito in bed until things get easier. She is writing down cheesy inspirational things and posting them around her house to make her feel like a warrior. She is comfortable telling an entire group of co-workers/friends/regulars that if she doesn’t leave right this second, she will absolutely have a drink and that is not a fucking option.
This person is having a hard time with these things but is trying to do them anyway, because that’s what being brave is alllllll about, right? Doing the thing, even though your legs are shaking and you feel like you’re gonna puke and it sucks the goddamn breath right out of you. You don’t drink or smoke even though you’re furious that Life is fucking with you and you’re convinced you’ve earned the right to numb it out. You don’t lash out at the people around you because they are not the ones who made your decisions for you and they don’t fucking deserve it and somehow they love you in spite of all the shitty things you’ve done. You don’t bitch about the cost of saving your pet’s life because what would you prefer, having a healthy pet or commas in your bank account? You bite your tongue and count to ten and if you still feel like exploding, you continue to bite your tongue and count to twenty instead. If all else fails, yesterday taught me that taking a moment in the walk-in fridge at work does wonders with chilling insane overwhelming emotions. Sometimes you gotta take what you can get.