This week has been weird. Not that anything out of the ordinary has happened. But inside my heart and my mind has been a little chaotic. I’ve been waking up the last few days with a bit of anxiety that I can’t pin point with a reason. I’ve been thinking about the events, the people and the flow of emotions that have transpired in my life lately and it’s a rainbow of things from hella good to heartache. One of the good things that has come from the massive growth of the last 2 years is that I am able to notice when I am feeling off. I am able take note of the feeling and not spiral down and have to go through the process of climbing back out of the black hole of crummy feelings days after. Sometimes it starts out as feeling tired. Sometimes cranky. I get aloof and uncharacteristically quiet. Then I start the negative self talk. I worry. I start to think my friends don’t actually like me. I think about conversations I’ve had, ways I’ve behaved and jokes I laughed at and I feel mortified. How could anyone actually stand me?
I remember my obnoxious behavior and I cringe. Then I start not taking care of myself. Or my house. Legs go unshaved. Eye brows not plucked. Dishes not clean. Laundry not put away. And then it makes it even harder to move forward cause I look around and see the build up and it just reaffirms that fear that I am in fact, sucky.
But this isn’t the end of this story. The reason I bring all this up is because I am able to recognize the signs and start to make plans to put myself right again. It usually doesn’t happen in a day, the feeling better, I’ll admit, but I have to start somewhere. Today, I had plans to go out with my girlfriend for ladies night. And while going out may of shooed away the shadows for an evening, they’d still be lurking for me when I was once again alone. So I decided instead to take the kids out for pizza. And I invited my friend to come along. And it wasn’t fancy, and I didn’t have my hair done or cute shoes on. No mirror selfies, or filtered coy smiles or cheers boomerangs posted. Instead, it was Hialeah pizza with Coca-Cola, sticky tables and bachata coming from the kitchen.
Only the best, obviously!
But it helped. It helped to ease the anxiety. That hard band that had been constricting my chest all day had eased. Watching my kids slather parmesan cheese all over their pizza did the trick. Funny huh? The most mundane thing is the balm that the eased the ache in my chest.
And what that means to me is that those mundane things matter. These run of the mill, typical Thursday nights with my little widdles are the memories that deserve the highlight reel. The jokes they crack at my expense, the slurping sound of the straws when their drink is empty, the broken spanish I speak to our waitress, these are the sounds that flesh out those good feelings. I sometimes forget that all the while I’m rebuilding my life, I’m also building up theirs as well. Showing up for them is my job and I want to do it well.
I must admit, I’m struggling with this post. I’m struggling because I want to be transparent but I don’t want to treat my blog like a diary entry. There are things I guard fiercely, and justly so. But I know that harboring some of these feelings does more harm than good. How much to reveal is what I struggle with. But, I guess I have the power of the delete button so we shall see where it goes.
As I stated before, I have been fighting this unnamed emotion and have been feeling it for a few days. Maybe it’s been even longer, but the symptoms are much more noticeable now cause I’ve been ignoring them for some time. These feelings are not to be ignored. They may be patient but they are not weak. Eventually I topple over due to the weight of unattended crappy feelings. Or maybe I used to in the past. It scares me to think that I could potentially keep going in this vein of “everything is awesome” (in the tune of the Lego movie!”) and repeatedly brush the not so great feelings under the rug until eventually there’s a mountain of emotions to contend with. I’m tired of doing that. My life is mine to take care of. My emotions, the good and the bad, are necessary and they are mine to deal with. I have started to build this trust in myself that I will be better at taking care of me. And I don’t want to betray myself again. It does take practice though. And I have to be honest with myself. Which is surprisingly harder than it sounds. I never knew how hard taking care of yourself would be.
Being honest with myself has been a struggle. I didn’t even realize that I could tell myself a lie. It’s kind of crazy right? How do you lie to yourself? I can’t explain it, but I’ve definitely done it. For a very long time.
But I’m learning to let things go that no longer serve me. Things that I’ve clutched on to, eyes squeezed shut, arms aching from keeping them so tight to myself. For what though?
FOR WHAAAAAT!?
Fear? Regret? Ignorance? Delusion? Hope? To hold on to these people, memories, and feelings that when I give myself the time to pull back and look at, realize that the person who originally clutched them, she no longer exists. To carry the weight of heavy shit for a dead girl? Nah homie. The person l used to be died. And sometimes I mourn her. I look back and get this ache in my chest for things and people she loved. And maybe at one point, they were worthy and fulfilling. But now it’s like carrying around a bouquet of dead flowers. Who am I honoring by carrying them around? Nobody. Time to toss them out the wind and let the wind take care of the rest.
I was watching a movie the other day called Someone Great. And there’s a line in there that talks about heart break. The guy says:
“Having a broken heart is a privilege. It’s a blessing. It means you felt something and it mattered. That moment won’t last forever. Embrace it while it last. Cause once you’re not broken hearted anymore, then it’s really done.”
And I’m reminded that the emotions I feel are a privilege. It means I care about things. It means I have depth. It means I have the capability to love something deeply and hopefully have them love me in return. Imagine walking around untouched by a broken heart, never knowing the depth of despair you could feel. Can’t decide if that’s a blessing or a disability.
Have you ever felt the good sad? It sounds like I need a grammar lesson. But it’s a sadness that aches but you’re glad that it aches? Almost like the ache makes it more tangible. And it aches cause something is being lost and it really mattered at one point. And maybe it still does. But life is moving on. It’s a moment when you can look up and see the life has been patiently waiting for you for a long time. Don’t let anyone convince you that feeling sad about the ending of something that mattered to you is bad. My marriage ending wrecked me. It was an unhealthy marriage and was doomed for a long time. But that doesn’t mean that the loss of it didn’t irrevocably change my life and break every piece of me. But when I feel the ache of that lost part of my life, it’s a good ache. A good sadness. It reminds me that I am capable of great and amazing things. I was hurt. But I’ve healed in an amazing way. And to be honest, between you and me, he lost someone who loved him and I lost someone who didn’t love me at all.
Sometimes we just need a reminder that nothing blooms in constant sunshine. But you know where there’s an abundance of life and growth?
In the mother fucking rainforest.
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