This past weekend, to also include Monday and Tuesday, came marching along and straight up bitch slapped me in the face out of nowhere. I was not prepared for it. I tend to be on guard against these types of dip in mood, but even I didn’t catch wind of what was coming until it was far too late for me to do anything but burrow down in the covers and try to sleep it out. Which is exactly what I did. I’m better today. It took some intense praying to get me out of bed and moving around the house enough to finally get some energy to do something productive. I’m not smiling much, and I’m certainly not laughing or feeling carefree, but I have a sense of purpose today that I’ve been missing for quite a while now. I’ve decided to hit the reset button. Ctrl+Alt+Del my life. Open that task manager, take a good, hard look at the applications running, and start ending tasks on the crap taking up my time and energy in a useless way. One way I do this is purely physical. I start cleaning house. Today, I’ve accomplished some things around my home that I’ve put off for months. Basic activities, but things that once done, make me feel a whole lot better about life in general. Sounds pretty strange, doesn’t it…that seeing a piece of wall décor finally hung up can make the whole world look a little brighter and more manageable? Strange or not, though, it’s true for me. I dug out my pink, polka-dotted hammer (yes, it is a real thing and I LOVE it) and some nails and started literally hanging pieces of my life in place. It didn’t hurt that doing this gave me an excuse to hit something really, really hard, which in turn, gave me an extraordinary sense of satisfaction. In fact, it felt so good I almost wished I had access to a woodpile, axe, and a burning need for endless amounts of firewood. I’d call it lumberjack therapy, but minus the plaid flannel, ‘cuz yuck. The next step in my plan is crucial, and I’ve already started. I’m making a schedule for myself for each day of the week, minus the weekend. Being a stay at home mom, even though I’m also working on my writing career, provides a lot of freedom during the day. And what I’ve discovered is that a little too much freedom can be a bad thing. I need a schedule to stick to during the hours that I’m here by myself. Now, I’m not talking about scheduling myself to the minute, but there is going to be a set outline for each day, and I’m going to have to find a way to hold myself accountable to keeping to that schedule. I’ve always sort of known, in the back of my mind anyway, that I’m a person who thrives under routine and a To Do list. When I was working in the corporate world, my To Do list and pen were at my right elbow at all times. In fact, when I was up and moving around the building, I still always had those two things with me. But since I quit my job to pursue a writing career, I threw all those practices to the wind, and I think I can say with 100% certainty that it was a bad idea to do that. I need to get back to planning my days and sticking to that plan as much as possible, while still allowing myself the flexibility to go with the flow on some things. I know better than to do a complete 180 and go full throttle in the opposite direction. Balance. Balance is key. Especially for those who suffer with MDD and other mental health struggles like I do. I started on the right path last year after my last stay in the hospital. And once I began consistent individual and group therapy, that path became even clearer. Life is extremely short, and also uncertain. What time we do have here should be spent with people who support you and your dreams, who share the same values with you, and who, above all else, love and care about you. I started weeding out of my life those who didn’t fit into these categories last year, and I will continue to do so. I hate to call myself fragile, because to me, it sounds the same as weak. But, in a way, I am fragile. I am easily poisoned when I slip or let my guard down too much, and I can’t let that happen. I have to look out for myself, because if I don’t, nobody else will. The only way I can do that is to make sure that nothing that holds potential harm gets my attention. I feel calm with this path. I feel in control. In my world, feeling in control, even if I’m really not, is important. I’m raising two kiddos who need to feel like I’m in control, so they feel safe. And, watching them grow a little older and a little farther away from me each day certainly fuels my need to feel like I have my arms wrapped around what is coming. I’m embarking upon a career that is nothing, if not full of unknowns, uncertainty, and lots and lots and LOTS of waiting. I continue to struggle every day with an illness that has no cure; one that I’m still learning how to manage and mitigate through medication, therapy, and sheer force of will. As I was just recently reminded, if I grow lax, this thing wins, and I won’t let that happen. I have too much riding on my capabilities to keep this wretched illness in check. So, once again, I’m re-focusing on arming myself with everything possible to fight…and fight, and fight if need be. Prayer is huge. So is faith in my God and His Truth. Cleaning out my life both physically and metaphorically are priorities. Making a schedule and sticking to it is imperative. Ephesians 6:10-18 Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people. Oh, and this. No armory is complete without a pink, polka-dotted hammer.
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Today I was going through my makeup drawer, throwing away the old stuff that I never use or bought and didn’t like, trying to condense it all down into one storage box I bought at Michaels so I can maximize the drawer and cabinet space in my bathroom. And the longer I worked, the more pissed off I got. Do you know I have 15 mascaras? 15! And I couldn’t bring myself to throw any of them away because they all do different things and create different looks. And don’t even ask me how many eyeshadows or lipsticks I own. It’s fucking insane, and I realize it.
I’m fed up. This one little activity brought front and center in my mind the absolute unfair and unrealistic expectations that are placed on women, still, in this day and age. I’m simply fuming as I think about it. For those of you wondering what I mean by that, I invite you to pick up the nearest magazine and really look at it. Chances are high that there is a gorgeous woman on the front looking like she weighs 5 pounds making a “come hither” expression while she strikes a seductive pose that no real woman ever makes. And it’s not just women magazines I’m talking about! Then the articles….oh, the articles. We’re bombarded with titles like, “How to make sex interesting for your man!” or “Lose 10 lbs. in 30 days and keep it off!” or “Yes, even YOU can look fabulous at 50!” Really? I can look fabulous even if I’m 50 years old? Where are the articles for men giving them tutorials on how to pleasure a woman? Where are the articles telling men how to be a successful working man and awesome father and lose those last 10 unwanted pounds all at the same time? Now, let’s talk about weight. Yes, those most unpleasant, UNSIGHTLY, extra pounds that women dare to have. It’s appalling to me that models who are a size 10 or 12 are called plus size. Really? REALLY? And what’s with the term “plus size” anyway? It’s an awful term that makes women feel awful. If I had the final say, that phrase, and any other that indicates a woman isn’t a waif, would be banned from existence. How about clothing stores, online boutiques, etc. just advertise the sizes. Yes, we can differentiate between kids, juniors, and women, but let’s just stop there. We don’t need women to be broken down into any further categories than that. Advertise the numerical sizes you manufacture and/or carry. Trust me, we can figure it out from there. Do you think I’m overreacting to these things? If so, take a look at Twitter or Facebook or any other social media site. My personal Twitter feed is full of tweets and articles about how great XYZ looks just 2 weeks after she’s had a baby. Look at how thin she is already! And when you find those few celebrities who go out of their way to announce they are not going to conform to expectations and they “love their post-baby body”, we all treat it like it’s the most unheard of thing ever, when in reality, THAT SHOULD BE THE NORM. You created a living being inside your body and then gave it life. HOW DARE WE FOCUS ON THAT RATHER THAN LOSING THE 10, 15, OR 50 POUNDS WE GAINED IN THE PROCESS. I’m just so over it. I don’t want to learn how to be a fabulous mom at 40 who looks like she’s 20, makes everything homemade and full of veggies that her kids adore, raises perfect children who never make mistakes, while keeping a spotless household, volunteering and/or working outside the home, and still manages to maintain a 0% BMI and look like an airbrushed magazine model. Let’s get real, people. Goodbye, 2015.
Don’t worry, this is not a post about New Year’s resolutions; mainly because I hate them and refuse to make any. Well, that’s not exactly true. I do try to make each year better than the one before it, so if you want to call that my New Year’s resolution, then I’ll allow it. You know how people tell you “have a nice flight” when you’re going somewhere? When you think about it, it’s a really dumb thing to say because you aren’t flying the plane, or mixing the drinks, or checking to make sure there are enough barf bags, pillows, and blankets on the flight. Really, when you’re in a plane, the entire experience is dependent on someone else. Hmm, I guess that’s why I typically hate flying. I have no control. None of us do (unless you happen to be a pilot). I sort of view the upcoming year in the same light. Now, admittedly, I have way more control over it than I do an airplane, but there are still a lot of things that are going to happen, whether I want them to or not. This fact used to just scare the bejeezus out of me, but if the last 5 months have taught me anything, it’s that I can handle whatever is coming. I will forever remember 2015 as the year that I figured shit out. The year where I learned what I’m capable of. The year I began my journey of self-discovery. The year I started truly living. Those aren’t fluffy little achievements. They are big, solid, heavy-duty milestones, and as much as they’ve made me smile, they’ve also caused me to shed my share of tears, hurl curse words in ferocious anger, and simply shut down and shut the world out. So, I’m going into 2016 the way I left 2015. Well-armed. I’ve accepted that a handful of medication is necessary to keep me balanced. I made some wonderful new friendships to go along with my oldest and most cherished friends…those closest to my heart. I have the world’s best therapist who believes in me and has vowed to stay by my side through every battle, heartache, and success that awaits. I have the love of family. I have my God. Armed with all of these blessings, I’m marching into the New Year with my head held high. And for the first time that I can remember, I’m looking forward to what it holds. |
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