This Thanksgiving was especially joyful for me. I’ve experienced a life changing year, so Thursday (and on) I was feeling pretty overwhelmed with joy and thanks for all the blessings I’ve been graced with.
I’ve been reflecting on the milestones I’ve achieved so far and all I can really say is, it’s been an amazing year. Following is a list of the particularly special personal achievements that I’m holding close to my heart.
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I knew there would be days like this. I understood that just because I’ve made progress, I shouldn’t expect every day to be roses. Progress doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have days where I feel like I’m re-living the past. It doesn’t mean I would never again feel like I’m living in a mental battleground, either.
Maybe it’s because I’m sleep deprived from the sleepover our house survived. Surprisingly, it was a huge success. I seem to remember most of my 11-12 year old sleepovers involving cliques, arguing, crying, and drama. We had none of that. We did have what sounded like elephants crashing through my ceiling until about 4am this morning, but you know…sacrifices. Maybe it’s because watching both of my little girls navigating the twists and turns of growing up is making me nostalgic. Or, maybe, it’s just one of those days. I’m struggling. I wish I could put my finger on what is happening in my head. Funny, I say that – one way I always know I’m having trouble organizing my thoughts is when my typing goes out the window. Yesterday and today I’ve misspelled every 3rd word, it seems. The backspace key has been my best friend. I’ve been listening to a song. It’s one I have saved on a playlist that I don’t often go to. For some reason, though, today I decided to take a listen, and the first song that played was Just Let Me Cry by Hilary Weeks. Tears. It hit the mark dead on. I believe that everything happens for a reason We’re not just tossed by the wind or left in the hands of fate But sometimes life sends a storm that’s unexpected And we’re forced to face our deepest pain When I feel the heartache begin to pull me under I dig my heels in deep and I fight to keep my ground This is me. Fighting to keep myself from…from what, I don’t know. But I feel the battle going on inside. The push and pull, hard tugs in each direction. Whispers in my ear of the old Alison wanting to take hold again, but I refuse to let her. I can’t. I won’t. She is angry that I’ve left her in the past, and I think she still searches for small gaps in my armor to wiggle back in. I hate her. Hate her with all my heart and I wish she would forever be quiet. My in-laws were here this weekend to help us celebrate H’s birthday. I love them, always have. But, as with everyone else in the world, the 20 years I’ve known them I’ve made sure to keep them at arm’s length. Thinking about it, I’m not sure I even knew I was doing it, until my mother-in-law said something to me this morning. We were sitting in the living room, looking at the aftermath of 13 girls having the time of their life, and the subject of Black Friday deals came up. Now, it has always been our tradition to visit them for Thanksgiving and she loves, and I mean LOVES, shopping. In the past five years or so, she and my sister-in-law leave the house at midnight armed with ads, flyers, and coupons, determined to score some loot. I’ve always looked at the whole thing as an exercise in insanity. But, today, when I thought about it, I had the desire to join them this year. Her excitement was evident, which made me smile, but then she said the following to me and I was stopped in my tracks. “You seem like an entirely different person, Alison.” Am I? I don’t know. I know some things have changed. I finally let go of the idea of keeping the house clean during last night’s festivities, and just sort of rolled with the chaos. That’s different. I shared my writing with my father-in-law, and asked for his opinion. That’s new. I didn’t hide in the bedroom and make my husband interface with, well, basically everyone. That’s completely out of character. Or is it now in character for me? What I’m trying to say is, I’m chasing dreams that I never let myself think about before. I’m living in the present instead of being stuck in one place; instead of existing in a stationary state in my own mind. I no longer feel too exhausted to interface with the world. But, I’m still fighting against so many things. Things that I have trouble even forming into words. They’re just…wavy, filmy, whispers of feelings and sensations that I can’t reach out and touch or identify. Which makes articulating them next to impossible. It frustrates me when I get like this. When I’m fine one day, and then the next, totally unconvinced I’ve made any progress at all. Is the scared girl still inside me? The Alison that was so terrified of hoping for good things that she refused to allow herself to think about them? How do I get rid of her? What do I have to do to declare total, unequivocal, victory? Perhaps tomorrow I will wake up stronger. In control. Capable of regaining my equilibrium. I know the secret to it. I’ve shared it here before. I have to choose it. And I’m certain I will. But choosing is an equal mix of easy and hard, and today I don’t have the strength to deal with hard. Today, I want to curl up in my sweatshirt and fuzzy pants and let my tears fall. Sunday I turned the dreaded 40. At least, I dreaded it, though nobody really understood why. Most people kept telling me what a non-event it is. I heard it all…”It’s just a number”, “you’re hitting your prime”, and “you’re only as old as you feel”. Blah, blah, blah. Basically, get over it. And though I know, yeah, it’s just a number and, no, I’m not old, it doesn’t change the fact this birthday held a certain significance for me that perhaps not everyone experiences. The closer the “big day” arrived, the more upset I became. And I only just wrapped my head around what was causing it about a few weeks ago.
Guys, the world is (mostly) a well-meaning place. The majority of people really do have good intentions by the advice they spew forth. But, let’s be truthful. Not all advice is good advice, or even helpful, and whether it’s intentional or not, some can be downright harmful instead. That’s why I’ve found having a therapist who understands me, and more importantly, I connect with, is so important. There’s no belittlement or judgement and no feeling too trivial to explore. When she saw how upset I was getting about this birthday, she made me talk about it. And I’m so glad she did. It took one question…the right question…to turn my mind’s eye in the right direction. “What does 40 mean to you?” I remember looking out her window as I struggled with that question. The first things that came to mind were superficial: No more listening to the kind of music I enjoy; snarky, sarcastic, opinioned outbursts would be frowned upon; watching vampires on TV would appear…I don’t know, desperate? In a nutshell, I would need to grow up. But then, I realized that wasn’t it because all those fears are a bunch of crap. Being a year older, even if it is in a new decade, doesn’t mean I have to stop doing all that. In that respect, I really am only as old as I feel. I finally realized what it is. It wasn’t so much a feeling of dread as it was grief. Sounds strange, doesn’t it? But it’s not. I turned a corner a few months ago, finally starting to realize who I am and what I’m made of. It took me nearly 40 years to answer some basic questions about myself. Things that most people figure out when they’re in their twenties, or even earlier. I spent that time in a ball of anxiety and depression. Moodiness became my trademark. A feeling of indescribable sadness an invisible wall between the world and myself. Nobody understood it and few tried to. I was lonely, hurt, confused, and just plain exhausted. So, I understand now. I think I’ve been in a weird state of mourning for the life I missed out on while my mind was busy churning over feelings and worries and fears that I didn’t know how to process. That’s why it’s been such a big deal to me. I’m entering the next phase of my life feeling like a baby who’s just figured out where her feet are. Everyone around me seems like a seasoned pro. I still feel pretty damn wobbly. However. Instead of waking up Sunday morning sad and gloomy, I greeted the day with a long-awaited, and much needed, feeling of peace. The day was calm, uneventful, and quiet. I was energized to finally make a spot for myself in our upstairs office. I’d long thought about it, but hadn’t gotten around to it. This may sound odd, but creating this little space of mine...where I can sit and look out the window overlooking L’s school, where I can watch the dogs chase each other around the backyard and the children playing at recess at the same time; in a room that allows me to shut the door and, with it, shut out the world…has been the last missing piece to helping me feel like I’m finally at home. I am puttering, discovering, and creating. I do not miss the rat race that ruled my life for so many years. I am actually living now. I may not have all the answers yet, but here’s what I do know. I don’t think I deserve pain anymore. I’m tougher than I realized. I am not a quitter. I have huge dreams that I refuse to give up on. Instead of being sad at turning 40, I’m thankful. It’s a blessing. It took me a while to get here, but that’s okay. The important thing is I am here. All I needed was a little space. |
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