Baby Steps

It’s been so long since I wrote in here. Many things have changed, mostly for the better. I have been working full time as an assistant program director at a teen parent program since October. It’s within walking distance from my house which is nice because I get to go home daily for my break. This is a really nice perk since my hours are usually from around 11am – 7:30pm, giving me a lot less time in the evenings to do things then I was used to when I last worked and my schedule was 7am – 3pm. I’m gradually adjusting to this new life of full days and learning how to function with a full time job again.

            The job is far from perfect but it pays the bills and keeps me busy so I really can’t complain. Well I can, and I do, but I probably shouldn't  Venting is normal though and I believe necessary. There’s no reason I can’t be grateful for what I have and still vent about my frustrations. So I do.

            I’m working really hard on living in the moment and not letting myself waste my life on worries recently. I’m sick of cheating myself out of my present by dwelling in the mistakes of the past and obsessing about the uncertainty of the future. Of course this is easier said than done but I’m making baby steps. I found a lot of inspirational quotes about worrying and posted them around my office and also printed them out for home. Phrases like “Worry often gives a small thing a big shadow,” and “Worrying is like sitting in a rocking chair, it gives you something to do but it gets you nowhere.”  I figure if I surround myself with these reminders something is bound to stick right? I sure as hell hope so.

            I’m also trying to get back to hobbies I've been neglecting since I started working again. I went to the gym for the first time in months last week, I am back to studying French, and obviously, I’m getting back to writing as well. I’m okay with the fact I let these things slide while I got back to living a real person life with a full time job, but I’m ready to challenge myself now and push myself to do more than just work. It’s time.

            Something I didn't let slide after I started working is my goal to get off of Prozac completely. In less than 6 months I have gone from 80 milligrams daily to 60 then to 40 and now I’m at 20. Getting off of meds you've been on for 10 years is hard as hell and rife with side effects both physical and mental, so I’m pretty damn proud of myself. Only 20 more milligrams to go – I’m anticipating this will be the hardest 20 to kick.

            My marriage is good, my family in Ohio is good, and I get to take my husband with me to visit the rest of my family in May for my 30^th birthday. All my favorite people in the same place at the same time: now that is something to be grateful for. My plan is to enjoy each moment of the trip and enjoy the gift that is the present. Yep, I know that’s corny but I don’t care, that is where I’m at right now – and for once I am okay with where I am at and not in a huge hurry to get somewhere else. Baby steps.

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I'm back, but am I really here?

It has been eons since I last wrote a blog post.

Okay, maybe not eons, I don't even know how long an eon is, but it has been half a year. Hard to believe, that half a year has passed. When I was a child half a year seemed like an eternity, and now it passes by in the blink of an eye. It's not as if the past six months have been filled with excitement and activity. One month was - it contained our wedding and European honeymoon. The rest was filled with the mundane stuff of life as an unemployed woman: workouts, putting off workouts, applying to jobs, being excited about job interviews, being disappointed when jobs fall through, reading, tv viewing, chocolate eating, sanity questioning and napping.

I first started this blog as a lead into the 'novel' I was planning on releasing. I quickly grew very discouraged with that, realized I am an average writer at best, and that my only feasible option was to self publish. If I did, sure some family and friends would fulfill their obligation to read and buy my work, but why put one more obligation on them in a life full of obligations? Wouldn't that be somewhat selfish of me? Or perhaps I'm making excuses for my lazy self who got so off track from her goal.

Whatever the cause, my manuscript is currently in the back of my closet. Maybe I"ll go back to it sometime, maybe I won't. The fact is I'm not an incredibly driven person. My largest ambition is to be happy and that is my focus right now. To get out of this unemployment rut I'm in, and get back to feeling useful and productive in my everyday life. I'm happy with my husband, I'm happy with my home, and I'm happy with certain aspects of everyday life, but I am not happy with my job (or lack thereof). So off to the job boards I go, hopefully I'll blog again before six more months pass.

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Hope is Beautiful

Last week, while the sun was shining and high temp records were being shattered I was busy reaching my low. I didn't realize at the time just how down and hopeless I was feeling, but looking back on it now that I feel hope again, I realize that I was circling the drain . . . luckily I did not fall in.

For me falling in would most clearly be indicated by binging and purging. I haven't in so long it feels amazing. It's been months, probably closer to a year since I stuck my finger down my throat and punished myself for being me. Sometimes I con myself into thinking I'm completely out of the woods, and then weeks like last week strike. I was overcome with ridiculously strong urges to binge and purge on almost a daily basis, sometimes for the entire day. What brought this on? Well I was having some medical issues that nobody wants to hear me go into detail about so I won't, and I realized for the first time how much I miss work and how scared I am that I won't ever find a job I care about so much again. I'm sure other unconscience crap was going on too, but what do I look like, a psychologist?

I'm not sure what kept me from giving in, but I'm so glad I managed to find the strength not to. Most of that strength I believe came from my loved ones, even though they have no idea what a role they played. I kept envisioning my wedding in July. I pictured my fiance, who loves me no matter how nuts I am, my mom, who has been there for me through absolutely everything, and others close to me and realized I wanted to make them proud. I wanted to show them proof that they weren't crazy for loving me and for sticking by me, that I have finally managed to become a stable, HEALTHY, adult. I couldn't do that if I was binging and purging. And I knew from experience that if I let myself do it just this once, I would do it again, and again, until I was doing it several times a day.

This week things are much more dismal outside (back to March in New England) but I feel as if spring has sprung within me. I'm proud of myself for not giving in, even when I had hours and hours of solitary free time to do just that. In the past I have had to make sure I wasn't home alone for more than an hour, because it was a sure thing I would binge. I've come a long way. I'm also feeling better medically, not perfect, but I've managed to get perspective. I think one reason it hit me so hard was that medical issues mean I am getting older, and that can be tough for any gal to deal with! I also feel much better about my work prospects this week, I've started really applying to jobs, jobs that excite me, jobs I'm qualified for, jobs I know I would be good at. I'm sure it will take awhile to find the right one, but that's okay, I will be learning how to cook in the meantime, doing my writing, and recieving love and support from those around me. I really don't have things so bad after all. I have hope again, and it is beautiful.

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Always Feels Like I'm Waiting For Something

 I feel like I've spent far too much of my life waiting for my life to begin. I have a very difficult time focusing on the moment, and often find myself preoccupied with memories, regrets, and questions from the past or longing for the life I will have at some point in the future. If I could change any one thing about myself this inability to just LIVE very well may be it.

I can spend days obsessing about choices I've made in the past, and how my life would be different if I had made different choices. We have all made mistakes but I can't seem to forgive myself mine. Instead I emotionally whip myself regularly, berating myself for the stupid things I've done, even when everything turns out all right in the end. I am the queen of What If's? and I'm tired of it.

When I am actually paying attention during the present I find that I choose whether or not to do things based on what I want my memories to be like. I may not feel like making homemade cut out sugar cookies, but I want it to be a tradition, something we always do at Christmas, so I make myself do it. I may not have felt like going to all the parties I went to in college but did I want to remember college as one big fun party or as nights spent alone in my room? I went to the parties. It's a maddening way to live, making your choices based on how you want to remember your life rather than on how they will effect your life.

Waiting for the future is the other bothersome part of my thought process. Right now is a prime example. Matt and I plan to live in our apartment in Somerville, MA until he finishes his degree and then move away, buy a house, etc. I'm quite eager to get away. I'm not a huge fan of the area's overcrowding, traffic, trash in the gutters, parallel parking, weather, and I could go on. To make matters worse, I just lost the one thing in this area that mattered to me other than Matt, which was my job. I find myself far too often wishing these next couple of years away, just so life can really begin. That is no way to spend life! Two years is a long time and I should be living them to their fullest not counting the days until they are gone.

I've always been like this, in a rush to get on to the good part of life. Way too often I end up missing, or not enjoying fully the good part because of this. Thank God I don't always listen to my voice which says now now now. If I did I would have skipped college in favor of settling down right away. I now consider college to be the best years of my life, but back when I was 17 I really couldn't wait for it to be over.

So what's to be done about all of this? I don't know. I just wanted to get it out. And see if maybe others experienced similar difficulties. Please tell me I'm not the only one who does these crazy things! Or tell me I am, as long as your honest, I welcome your input. If the comment box is not already displayed please click on the link which indicates the number of comments and let your voice be heard!

Honesty in Writing

This morning I completed my first round of edits on my book. This is rather exciting for me because I have been trudging through the manuscript for over a month, trying to get it to look presentable. Although I will celebrate today by laying outside and finishing the third book of the Hunger Games, my work is far from over. I have line editing to do. I have a wealth of material and many decisions to make about content before I start that.

The problem I'm having is that I am writing about real people. Sure, details have been changed, especially when I refer to client's, but if any of my co-worker's read the manuscript they will know who they are. Not everything I write about my co-workers is flattering, even those I hold in high esteem and who will be attending my wedding in July. My goal in writing this book was to be completely honest, to not sugarcoat the flaws of myself, others, or the drug treatment system as a whole. I'm  not sure everybody mentioned in the book will understand that. I'm left with a dilemma: Take parts I know will be offensive out of the book and sacrifice realness, or leave them in and risk upsetting people I care about and respect?

I also have to decide how much I want my mother to know about my inner most thoughts. I love my mom dearly, but I don't tell her everything that pops into my head, mostly for fear of giving her a heart attack. Do I really want her to read about my own history experimenting with substances? I think I can handle that. Do I want to risk breaking her heart by exposing her to my doubts about the religion she is completely devoted to? Not so much. The section on spirituality is important to the book as a whole though so I'm left with another dilemma. Take it out to protect my mom or leave it in and risk hurting her.

I know that many writers deal with this, after all we do not write in a vaccuum. By publishing a book you are giving the entire world permission, actually an invitation to read it. What do you think you would do? Or if you are an author, what have you done? Is maintaining the original integrity of the work worth risking important relationships?

I love to hear your thoughts and engage in discussion. If the comment box is not already displayed please click on the link which indicates the number of comments and let your voice be heard!

My better half

When I was younger my journal entries, both on paper and online, tended to focus on whatever boy I was into at the moment. I cringe when I look back at old entries and find myself talking about how wonderful some guy was, now that I know he wasn't. I don't mean to say all of the guys I was interested in were losers, but none of them were forevers either.

Now that I have finally found my forever guy I rarely mention him in my writing. Does this mean I take him for granted or does this simply indicate that I've finally grown up and realized that there is much more to life than who you are dating? I think maybe a little of both.

I have realized there is much more to life then who you are dating, and perhaps this is one reason I shy away from mentioning my love life in my writing, but on the other hand I am no longer dating anybody so this is somewhat of a moot point. When you find, dare I say it, 'The One', dating is far too casual of a word. You are dreaming dreams together, building a life together, making plans together, creating traditions together. As corny as it sounds you complete each other and you make each other better. Thats what the expression 'my better half' means to me. Not that your partner is a superior being, but rather that he/she makes you a better version of yourself.

I know that my fiance, Matt, has helped me become a far better me. I believe I've done the same for him.  I do think that sometimes we take each other for granted. I'm sure most couples do.

When I recieved some upsetting/stress inducing mail this past Saturday which threatened to ruin my entire weekend, it led me to realize just how much better I am because of Matt. Within a couple of hours he had managed to help me completely forget my worries and instead have a wonderful night playing card games involving killer bunnies and the mafia. How did he do it? He simply reminded me that I wasn't alone and that no matter what happens we will be okay. We. I've become so used to being part of this unit that I forget how scary and uncertain it can be to be alone.

I am tremendously lucky to have found the person I'm meant to be part of a unit with. Many people don't, and thus many unit's don't work out. I have no doubt ours will. I had no doubt 3 and a half years ago either. Little things like the scenario I mentioned above happen on a daily basis. I need to remember to be grateful for that and not take a moment of it for granted.

This concludes my self-indulgent love life entry, I promise not to write another one for quite some time!

Growing Up

Yesterday I got my 23 year old teddy bear out of his home with all my other stuffed critters (much to the consternation of my fiance, they live in a forever-growing pile in our living room) and hugged him tightly for a couple of hours. I cried into his fur like I had so many times before over a broken heart or a broken dream.

Whenever I'm incredibly upset or overwhelmed, this aged teddy bear, who I call Cuddily (yes I know it is spelled incorrectly) is my go-to source of comfort. I don't feel like there is anything wrong with this, after all I always stand up tall, brush myself off and keep on going after a good cry, but some may disagree.

I needed Cuddily yesterday because I got more bad financial related news. I haven't received any pay for over a month, (I'm laid off and the wheels of unemployment seem to turn slowly) but I somehow have to pay over 500 dollars a month to keep my health insurance. In July once Matt and I are married I can get on his, but until then I'm out of luck. He could put our pet guinea pigs on his insurance if he wanted to, but he can't add me. I digress. Yesterday I found out I owe an additional 400 dollars largely due to a mistake made by someone other than myself. I had a temporary breakdown.

What surprised me, and made me realize how much I've grown up is who I called after the initial cry and hugging of Cuddily. I was stuck for a moment, unsure whether to call my mom or Matt. I'm still, even at the age of 28, used to my mom being there to fix things when I find them unfixable. I'm lucky to have her, but I realized yesterday that I didn't need to always go to her anymore; she didn't need to be my first call. Matt is my family and he will always make sure I am okay. So I called him and he made me feel light years better. We worked out a solution together and by the time I talked to my mom later that day I was able to share the crisis with her but not ask her to pull me out of it.

Something about this made me incredibly sad. I felt as if I was ending an era with my mom, almost being disloyal by not going to her. I had to acknowledge that our relationship has changed and it never will be what it used to be. She is no longer my caretaker. This really isn't anything new, she has been my friend much more than she's been my caretaker for ten years, but this feels like the final step and it's hard.

I know this is a good thing. She has done far more for far longer than many parents do. It is time for me to be completely independent and allow her to focus on making herself happy. I am my caretaker and Matt is my partner in all my endeavors. She took care of me for years, her role is changing now.

 I don't even want to type this, but if I am honest with myself I know that one reason this is difficult is because this natural progression means we are both getting older and I am forced to face our mortality. It is especially difficult to face hers.

 Has anybody else had a similar experience? What was the process of transitioning roles with your parents? Do you have your own Cuddily to help you out when you are blue?

I love to hear your thoughts and engage in discussion. If the comment box is not already displayed please click on the link which indicates the number of comments and let your voice be heard!