If She Knew What She Wants

Whenever I am really quiet I hear a small voice screaming from the depths of my soul. She is my true self; the one that wants to be free but I refuse to let her into my life. I wish I could sort out what I want from what I need. My biggest fear? I will get to the end of my life and be the same hot mess that I am right now. I want to stop. I am not interested in punishing myself anymore. I put too much pressure on myself to be perfect in my WW journey. Changing out terrible eating habits for better eating habits is a job that never ends. One bad choice on my part and I spiral out of control, sometimes for years. When I say bad choice I don’t mean potato at supper instead of salad, I mean I get bored or angry or frustrated and then I just decide to stop going any further. I cave in on myself. I have been brooding about how I walk away from myself since before Christmas letting my anger fester, growing more and more discontent with myself.

Depression is a merry go round I never truly get to escape from. Have you ever listened to the lyrics of the Pink Floyd song HEY YOU? It is the desperate cries of someone who feels invisible and wishes to be SEEN. I feel like people never really see ME. They see my persona, the shiny part of the mirror that deflects away from the broken shards that make up my soul. That persona draws people in like a moth to a flame.  HOLD IT! WAIT!! STOP!!! BULLSHIT ALERT!!!!

Is it okay to call bullshit on myself? The people in my life don’t always know when I am hurting or in a bad head space because I do my damnedest to keep them at arms length. Feeling invisible is on me no one else. {breathe, just breathe} No one is a mind reader. Sometimes I can’t make up my own mind so why would I falsely believe people don’t know me? or can’t see through what is causing me distress?

I don’t want to be like my mother. It was hard growing up in a family with a damaged parent. I am shrapnel in a wound that won’t heal. I am not sure how I ended up here feeling like this again. I feel like I am lost at the edge of the woods. I can see where I need to be but I am over run with anxiety about which path to take so I choose no path, which adds to my anxiety, which makes me spiral farther, which adds to my depression, which adds to…

I need to quiet the noise. I need to return to myself. I need to be the person I am. When I wander too far from myself all of my relationships suffer. I smile less, I worry more. I am dissatisfied with myself, my life, my hubby, my friends. I mope around. The only energy I am willing to spend is for napping.

Honestly, I have happy moments. I know that I am loved. I have wonderful friends. My lifemate stands as my rock. He steadies me when I feel all is lost. He angers me, he moves me, he loves me even when I don’t love myself. Is it possible to become a beautiful butterfly after the age of 50? I don’t know but I will never give up trying. The sun will shine again. Spring is here, more hours of sunshine and warmth are on the way. Adventure season starts soon. There are always going to be things in my life that need attention in order for me to feel my best. I need to learn to ask for help. [ What a novel idea = ) ] We are all on the same road trip called LIFE. Will you walk with me awhile?

I love this song from GODSPELL.

Have You Ever?

Caught a glimpse of what you are to someone who loves you? Understood how they value you? view you? regard you? Have you ever felt the emotion that is tied to their version of that unknown element, that je ne sais quoi, the beauty or wonderment that makes you the object of their love. Trust me when I say it usually has nothing to do with the superficial value of outer beauty and everything to do with the important things:  kindness, patience, wisdom, trust, understanding. Intangibles that turn love into the thing people will spend all they have just to catch a glimmer of.

All these years and I am still his reason to face the day.

I am no stranger to depression. I have experienced it, survived it, lived with a parent who was deeply affected (paralyzed) by it. I struggle everyday with finding a reason to continue one more minute of one more day in a string of days that seem to never change but I manage because I refuse to give in. I want more. I will never stop searching for happiness, peace, well being. Love compels me to keep searching.

All these years and I am still his reason to face the day.

He does not see the ugly things about myself that I do not like. He only sees me. He tells me I am beautiful. I am the one he trusts with his love. I am HIS one. Have you ever been that loved? Some times I am so busy being upset with myself that I don’t want to believe he stills loves me, needs me, desires me. I hate me! Why doesn’t he give up? How can he still love me! I lash out by throwing angry words against his soul hoping to break his bond to me but the holds are strong. He talks to me, he sees me, he understands I am fragile, he listens to what I am really saying. Sometimes things do not come out as words but as bad choices or hateful behavior. He cradles me to his chest, wipes away my tears and keeps right on loving me in his quiet gentle way.

I am finally gaining an understanding of who I am to him. I see the sparkle of joy as we see each other from across a crowded room.  US

Have you ever been so loved and unaware of what you mean to that someone at the same time? I was.

All these years and he is still my reason to face the day.

Never forget who  you are…https://youtu.be/TqsAElcHcZs

HMmmm?

Sometimes the beginning of a story happens at the end. Everyday that we get up and participate in our life we write more of our own story. We alone are responsible for its content and meter. My rhythm was recently interrupted by a ripple I never saw coming. One chapter ends and a new one begins. In a good read, chapters are often ways for an author to tie up loose ends or introduce a new plot twist or a dangerous and suspicious evil character. Who will I be for the next chapter in my story? Am I a damsel in distress? or a damsel in a dress? or am I damsel at all?

In my lifetime I have had numerous people tell me they “know” me. What I like, how I react, when my mood swings…You know the type of person I am talking about, right? Funny thing is some days I don’t know myself. So how in the world do smug pricks always think they have the plug-in for what I am feeling or what it is that I will be doing next, when I am not sure myself?

I am just getting home after work, from my Jeep I can tell the mailman has made his rounds blessing my homestead with the unwanted littering of ads. Maybe there will be some mail I might need. I never expected his death certificates to be amongst the upcoming grocery sales. The envelope is simply stamped city clerk’s office from the city where I live. Holding it in my hands I feel my soul begin to shrink in on itself. I feel nervous and anxious. I know he is gone. So why does this envelope make me feel so empty? and lost?

A new chapter begins where another ends. I make the rounds to the places that need confirmation from this envelope of finality. Social Security office,  the administration office that manages his pension, the IRS, the Registry of Motor Vehicles, the list is lengthy. My anxiety begins to mount and suddenly I am crying full steam ahead in the arms of a complete stranger. WTH? Cathartic and horrifying.  Healing, because for the first time I am feeling his loss, horrifying because now this stranger thinks I am a little crazy. Just wonderful! I call my hubby from my vehicle. I am hyperventilating. The sadness of my Dad’s passing finally slapping me so hard I am struggling to stay focused. No one wants to happen upon someone in the midst of hysterics. I want to run away from myself but I can’t. No matter which way I turn or run reality is still there patiently waiting for my acceptance. I am learning to adult better but I am afraid.

Thanksgiving is fast approaching. I don’t feel thankful. I am depressed and angry. It’s very hard for me to tell any one when I am feeling less than stellar. There is a long history in my immediate family associated with depression. Depression comes with stigma. A heavy necklace of doom you are tasked to wear. I hate it. I hate everything about it. Depression lies. Its voices penetrating my soul in places I DO NOT like to linger in for too long. We all struggle. No one is happy and well adjusted all the time.

Not knowing the answer to questions I have always had makes me more anxious. I am on the journey of my life. I no longer have a mother or a father that I can bounce questions off of. There is no one left who knows every little thing about me:   all of my secrets, my loves, my hates, my ambitions, my loneliness, how I got the scar in my eyebrow. There is no one left to reminisce with about the good ole days gone by. I lost so much more than my Dad. I lost the last link to my history.

The Best Gift You Can Ever Give To Someone Else Is You.

I love the month of October. The weather is still fairly nice. The leaves are turning into a colorful array of wonderfulness. I can still wear shorts even if I have to pair it with a hoodie. I feel calm; like every little thing is right in the world. Somewhere though in the middle of my bliss the depression lurks… as the leaves start to fall off their perches I feel myself descend into the dark part of my soul that I like to keep hidden.

I struggle with my emotions and often I feel I am on the edge of tears. Soon it will be time to turn the clocks back and the long winter will slowly suck all my happiness to the edge of my existence. I hate the darkness of winter. The world is not meant to be viewed in black & white. Wake up in the dark, leave for work in the dark, return home to enjoy 25 minutes of evening shade and then plunge back into darkness. Never ending cycle of the 50 Shades of Grey and not the kinky kind. I spend the long tedious days of winter planning the first burst of Spring.

I have a best friend. She is not only my best friend; she is THE best friend. She listens to me piss and moan. She is brave enough to laugh in my face. She lets me know when I am being a shithead. I enjoy her company. I like to believe she enjoys my company and that I am as important to her as she is to me. Sometimes we go on adventures. Thinking about the places we’ll go and the crazy things we’ll do helps me to push through winter. She has a way of knowing when I am down and somehow always finds a way to make me smile.

...to be a friend is the best gift you can give anyone = )
…to be a friend is the best gift you can give anyone = )