Don’t Live There: Get Up

 

 

 

melt down

 

As anybody who knows me or has talked to me in the last week or has done even a minimally good job at following this blog, ya’ll know the past week or two has been beyond the bounds of stress.  I may have snapped at a few people, been less than my cheerful self, become irritated by small things you asked me to do, seemed overwhelmed at a task that wasn’t that big, not returned your calls, or avoided you all together.

Right here, right now:  I intend to fix that.  Like the picture above says, “cry it out and then refocus on where you are headed.”  Well, I think, after tonight, I’ll be done crying it out, at least for a little while.  I could say for a week or a day or a month, but we all know what Father Time can do and how Mother Earth likes to smack us upside the head sometimes, maybe when we’re getting a little too proud or confident.

 

bad day

It’s easy to generalize a bad day into a bad year, for sure.  Especially at the start of the year, when not much time has passed.  It has not been a great year for DSB’s health.  There was the abcess from the kidney removal, the subsequent surgery to remove the abcess, and then, to add insult to injury, a wound vac that must be changed three times a week by a registered nurse.  And now a (going on 5-day) stint in the hospital with pneumonia.  DSB’s 2014 has been unpleasant, medically speaking.

While it’s safe to say that DSB has not had a stellar start to 2014, I can’t take that on as my own.  To generalize that to myself, to say that dearest Rosa has not had a stellar start to 2014, would be a lie that only I would tell myself.  That I have sometimes told myself time and time again, when things between DSB and I were not going well.  Because when someone is sick and someone is tending, tensions grow.  When someone is sick, the other person worries and stress rises.  But Rosa has not  had a bad start to 2014.  Some amazing things have  happened, and I think I have chronicled some of them in my TToT posts.

To, me, I can feel like the woman in that picture above.  I can sense the wonder at the rising or setting sun, the yellowed grasses around me, the sky, the very being of myself.  Some truly wondrous things have happened to me so far this year.  I have:

1) Formed and continued solid friendships with my bloggie friends.

2) Solidified my love for DSB, by choosing right over wrong, trust over lies, consideration for the other over self-indulgence.

3) Forged deeper connections with my inner voice.  I can let that voice out now, and have it be heard, and not worry (too much), about what effect that voice is going to  have on a person that chooses willingly to read what I have written.

4) Given up trying to hide myself from the one who has always hunted me.

5) Learned to forgive, not to forget.  Learned to trade in anxiety and lonesomeness and uncertainty in a fatherly relationship for compassion for what that person must be going through at this time.  We are all human, even dads.

6) Learned to separate myself from that which is negative in my life.  I choose not to have negativity in my life, and won’t tolerate it.  Even if this means giving up people that I thought I cared about.

7) Started to open myself up to the possibility of rejection.  Making jokes, telling fish stories, and selling bait isn’t as easy as you might think.  There is a world of nuance within those walls.

8) Decided to stop counting my breaths as I am trying to fall asleep, and instead to just.breathe.  In, out.  Don’t say it, don’t think it, just do it.  Appreciate the feel of the air through your nose, through your mouth, the rise and fall of your chest, the tickle in your throat.  Don’t put a word on it, just be, just do.

To celebrate, let’s take a listen to my second most favorite meditation practice, singing bowls.  And let’s be honest, Goddess of Mindfulness, my first pick is always the metal, but nowhere else can I get those bowls.  They are addictive and the stories you told me on Wednesday left happy traces of puppies and friends and love on my heart.  Bless you.

Please note that these are quartz singing bowls and they have a very special place in my heart.  If you can (after you get through the commercial-ish first section), do take a listen.  Take off your shoes, set your feet on the floor, sit upright, and breathe.  You can do this.  You really can.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Accepting “Not Quite Good Enough”

Oh, I had such plans for yesterday, but as I blogged about procrastination, it became all too clear that I simply wasn’t going to get done everything I had planned.  And I didn’t.  And it wasn’t quite good enough, I, personally wasn’t quite “good enough.”

I sat stuck in this idea for a good bit.  I tried music, meditation, and tried to validate myself that I did get quite a bit done.  “But not everything,” I kept reminding myself.  DSB came in and commented on how much I had accomplished.  That whisper in my head still ever-present, “But not quite good enough.”

And I fed that whisper with my continued self-doubt, self-loathing.  I fed him until he filled up the room and squeezed the air from my lungs.  I fed him until he was all I could see in front of me.  “You, Rose, are not quite good enough.”

It took the better part of the evening, a PRN Klonopin, some journaling, and a lot of self-introspection before I could start to put off that whisper.  To tell that whisper to go right back to the hell it came from.  In days and years past, I wouldn’t have been able to do that.

What did I do to get this whisper out of my head?  I wrote a “done” list.  Instead of looking at my to-do list and bemoaning the fact that not everything was crossed off, I pulled out a separate sheet of paper and wrote down every little thing that I had accomplished that day.  And it turned out to be quite a lot.

I talked to QoB and the Big Dawg and told them I was going to continue with group, but would make myself available to work on Fridays.  They insisted that I go to group all three days, and that was such a big relief.  We are getting to a slower point in the season, so it isn’t really necessary to have two people there all day.  The Big Dawg will still get to leave early, regardless of if I am there or not.  The Wonder Boy will still work his same hours whether I’m there or not.  It works out overall.

I am really excited about continuing group.  It is good for me in a lot of ways and I can see real improvement in some areas of my life, and hope to see that improvement extend to other areas in days to come.  I am thankful that Big Dawg and QoB were so supportive in letting me continue, and DSB is supportive of it, as well.

Sometimes I get this feeling that it really IS gonna be ok, without those words coming from someone else’s mouth.  This is a feeling that is rising within me, coming straight from me.  And sometimes I chant it to myself…gonna be ok…gonna be ok…gonna be ok.  Whatever it takes, right?

Searching for A New Drummer to Dance To

As anyone who knows me, or reads this blog consistently (hello 1.2 persons!), my life has changed dramatically from where it was when I first started this blog.  For the better, of course, but still.  Change.  Bleh.

I’ve been trying to figure out why I don’t blog anymore.  I think I’ve found it.  In the beginning, my blog was a way to vent about a stressful (yet sometimes amusing) job, release my anxieties, expound on depression and bipolar disorder and anxiety and PTSD and ALL THE CRAP THAT WAS WRONG WITH MY LIFE.  I seriously think it’s some of the best writing I’ve done.  That’s sickening, though, to think that way.

When I started to get better, I wrote about this fabulous wonderful DBT and how it had saved my life and how everyone on the face of the Earth should be required to take some DBT classes.  Every post, I was shocked at how much BETTER my life was.  When I wasn’t shocked about how much better it was, I was busy being temporarily miserable because someone died or my job was stressing me out or bemoaning the fact that my butt is huge.

I haven’t posted in almost exactly one month.  For the life of me, I just can’t figure out what to say.

My life is boring.

I love my job, but I can’t blog about it too much.  I work in mental health at a state prison, for crying out loud.  Do I really want someone to find me on Google?

I have a healthy relationship with a man that I love.  We have our issues sometimes, but it’s not something I’d blog about.  It’s funny how it’s ok to blog about how I want to die and my innermost thoughts about my mental health, but it’s not ok (in my head) to blog about a (relatively) funny argument with Dr. Love.  It’s just too personal.  I know that sounds crazy.

My dog is amazing.  Enough said about that.

I don’t have any hobbies or real interests. 

I am interested in staying level, but not so interested that I don’t get bored with mood stability a lot of the time sometimes.  Generally what happens is that I’ll wig myself out purposely subconsciously and then Dr. Love or QoB will direct my attention to it and I will stop the negative behavior that I am expressing. 

I think it’s possible, however, not probable that I have a personality disorder.  That could just be from working at the prison, though.

This is absolutely the worst piece of drivel that I have ever written. 

I will continue to force myself to do so, however, on the off chance that I say something interesting on accident.

I put a cover of this song up awhile ago.  Here’s the real thing.  Well worth the repeat.

The Wallflowers, Josephine