I don’t know that I’ll ever really forget you because you were the reason I found my path. And yet, I know I won’t see you ever again and that chapter has been closed for a long time.
Still.
Posts in category High Drama
I truly do recognize the irony of what I’m about to say …
WHINE WARNING. Click more at your own risk.
Feeling taken for granted
Ever feel like the 3 million things you do to make someone’s life easier, better, happier just go unnoticed or taken for granted? I do.
(Side note: as “seer of all sides”, I recognize that I’m not the only one that feels this way, my mom likely felt it, all moms / good friends / teachers / lovely people feel it. I just have to get this out.)
I love Duty with all my heart and know he loves me in his own way. But some days, all the stuff I do that I think makes his life easier just gets taken for granted.
For example, I make sure his phone is charged up, his keys, work badge, wallet, etc. are all in one place for him in the morning. He bought the wrong kind of coffee at the store yesterday and was going to take it back. I put it in a bag with the receipt taped to it so he could take it. I make sure his glasses are always by his computer when he leaves them laying all over the house.
And so what? Right? These are the things that go unnoticed or at least if he does notice them, unremarked upon. I say thank you often for things he does around the house. He tells me to stop saying it, that I’ve already said it. (He hates when something is said more than once.)
There are pros and cons to being married to someone who walks through life in some sort of oblivious fog. Today, it feels very con-like. And I feel very unappreciated.
Come to realize one of the few places I ever felt appreciated was Ye Olde Place of Employ. Apparently, my vat of stored appreciation has run dry.
All the things I just cannot with
There’s so much ‘stuff’ on FB these days – noise, sadness, arguing, etc. that I can’t overly add to that without feeling like I’m just dumping so I’ll do that in my safe space here. Take that as fair warning that this will be a whiny-ass post and read or move along as suits your needs. (Thank you.)
I just cannot with the following:
- Noise. Oh my God! OH MY GOD. I do my best work in silence and it also restores me so having none of that and in fact, quite the opposite of that, has thrown me off kilter hard-core. Not only is there noise, but there is no space for me to go in the house where there is quiet. All the spaces available have Duty, television, dogs, a cat and noise. I used to retreat to my bedroom for that but since it’s under construction, no can do. So, this girl is feeling it big time. I’ll live and yes, first world problems but dang. It’s messing with me.
- Work. Remember mama saying last time that she’s bitten off more than she can chew? Mama has bitten off half a damn cow! This is good in that it’s forcing me to create priorities but it’s also stressing me out at a time when that’s really not helpful to said work at all. Routine is/will be/has to be my friend. The office space I’m using temporarily isn’t the best but it will do for now. The only difference really between it and the quiet room in the library is that I can bring coffee in there if I want and also do phone calls.
- Dogs. This is why I probably would have made a shitty mom because I am over my dogs and their incessant barking, whining and general neediness. Most days, I can hold space for that but minus the quiet, add the chaos and overwhelm and you’ve reached my limit. It’s my fault they are spoiled, I know. Again, mama-suckage in full-view.
- Chubs. Yes, I’ve abandoned taking care of myself so fast, it was just a blur. Yesterday, I ate cereal for breakfast and lunch. (It could be worse, I know. Still, poor choices.) Again, again and again, I go away from my body because it’s too much effort when I know – I KNOW – that it’s going to hurt me in the end. I don’t know how to love myself into less of me. I don’t know that I know how to take up space without all the space I take up. I just don’t know.
- Connection. One of the ways I’ve allowed people into my space is neediness. If they need something, I. AM. THERE. Then, after a while, where that’s all that exists, I am very unhappy and begin to dislike them. (Which is shitty, because this is not their fault at all. I’ve allowed it. Just like with the dogs.) There are some people who I connect with in a different way where they own their stuff, I own mine, we talk and laugh and keep moving. But those relationships are few. Still, they feed me. And I have been starving myself (possibly why the cookies fill a need, you know?)
Okay, that’s it for now. The banging and drilling has begun in earnest and the dogs are on high alert and my peaceful is now not peaceful any longer. There is a rainbow, however. The new bathroom will be magnificent when it’s done and I’ll be able to move around in the shower, flush the toilet less than 30 times for one pee, my bedroom will no longer be a paneled space and the energy will be different. That’s a good thing.
(Thanks for reading. Maybe this is what The Whine Line site should be. Just me and my whining so you only go there if you are ready for that.)
Thank you, dear shitheads
Dear 19 year-old self, dear 22 year-old self, dear 28 year-old self, dear 32 year-old self, dear 35 year-old self,
Would that I could go back in time and tell you the #truthiness of this statement. However, you would not be the woman you are without the lessons learned from engaging with said shitheads.
The one who said ‘my weight was an issue’ when he was quite overweight himself.
The one who embarrassed me in front of friends when he stood me up before a big dance.
The one who knew only his needs and knew that I would make his needs a priority at the detriment of my own.
The one who tried to convince me that I was wrong, always wrong and stupid and not worth anything.
The one who would come in and out of my life, knowing that each time he disappeared, it wounded my soul and he still did it anyway because it’s what he does.
Battle scars, more tears than you can imagine and a beat up heart is what made you stronger and helped you love the right person more. You learned to appreciate the importance of allowing your heart to be held gently rather than tossed away and smashed.
I owe a debt of thanks to all the shitheads who ambled along my path and helped me see that my worth did not depend on their approval or acceptance or presence in my life.
So, while I’d have preferred not to tangle with shitheads in any form (male or female), they were necessary and instrumental in my personal growth.
And you stand stronger because of it.
Love always,
Your best and biggest self
