It's Hard to Focus On Just Me...

...when I used to blog about 3 other people, 2 dogs, 2 goats and occasional cats.

Not to mention my garden. This is the first time in 30+ years I haven't had a garden to plan, plot, nurture, tend to. Then plant, weed, pluck and basically figure a way to keep the damn goats out of there.

I'm not asking for a garden at someone else's place. I'm not saying I necessarily need one. Maybe I do. Not here where I live though. I worry that my old asparagus patch has done nothing but been sent to fern. I wish I could have donated my finally fruitful blueberry bushes to someone who would have appreciated them.

Don't even get me started on how much I miss composting. I've done the city plot composting before and needless to say, I'm pretty sure my new-ish neighbors don't want me attracting rats.

I want to know how my crocus did, how my daffodils spread, how my Nanking Cherry bushes have fared during this unseasonably early spring. If the deer are eating everything, if the bird feeder is getting filled.

I want to know that everything I did in my life before has meaning...

Shift

So, I almost forgot this blog existed. I think I have vented and purged as much as I can here and so now we shift gears a bit. I am done dwelling on the past. The past is done, over, and I am ready to move on.

A good friend asked me recently if I wouldn't be happier to have a boyfriend. Someone who is local, and ready to become part of my life. The answer is, um, NO! It's not to say that if someone came along who was nice and interesting that I wouldn't consider going out with him. Guaranteed though, the first time he asked me why I didn't answer his text right away I'd lose it and tell him to get lost, controlling bastard.

I have met a ton of new people, none of whom ever knew me as a wife, mother, sister or daughter to anyone and that has been awesome. Right now, I feel like the most good I can do for myself is to nurture the female friends that I have made. Believe me, I thought I had some good local ones before, but nothing says seriously? you've lost your touch on the judge of character thing when they all disappeared as soon as I needed them most.

I have made some great new women friends over the past 8 months and while I miss my old friends (the college ones that I don't get to see that often), it helps me to get through most days knowing I have this new, local support system. Let's face it, women can be the best medicine for each other. Just stay away from the bitches! :)

Sweet Emotion

One of the hardest things for me to have learned about myself through all this intense counseling is that I am an all-or-nothing, do-or-die, black-and-white perfectionist procrastinator.

That's a helluva-lot to digest.

Especially once one realizes it is indeed all true.

(I just looked out the window, swung side to side in my chair [that I put together, ROAR!] and took a deep breath, heavy sigh combo)

The theme this week was: emotions. I couldn't figure out why I wasn't getting the A-Ha! moment that I wanted from all the goddammed crying I was doing last week. And while my counselor today was explaining to me about how my dominant logical self wants resolution to every! damn! thing! that comes up...my super-suppressed Emotional side is clamoring for someone, anyone to recognize she exists.

So blubber away, emotional side. I see ya, and I'll raise ya. Because now I know the secret. I can let you and your emotions into the pool, but I know now where the ladder is so that I can climb out. I'll meet you at the Balance Beam...

In The Mean Time

I am able to handle quite a bit. I've lived through a nightmare of false accusations and punishments for someone else's imagination. I can suffer with the best of 'em and still come out the other side relatively whole. I am way stronger than I ever thought I could be and I have managed to survive an exhaustively gut-wrenching series of counseling sessions that would fell most people.

And yet.

I am naive. I am innocent. I like to think I am a good judge of character. I am (apparently) not. I trust people when they tell me things. I believe them when they say they are going to do whatever it is they say they are going to do. I look for the positive and want to help my friends if they need an ear, a shoulder, a hug. Respite from the chaos of their own lives. I assume they would do the same for me.

And yet.

I am hurt. I have feelings. I am capable of feeling sad, hurt, angry. Confused. I never expect the same level of interest in my life that I show to others' problems, issues, concerns. But I have problems that I wish someone would want to help unburden me from. It's not easy for me to bring someone in to my life. It's not easy for me to feel vulnerable.

And yet.

I have never felt so vulnerable, so confused, so hurt and so foolish as I do tonight.

Alternatives

One of the consequences of living in a constant state of fight-or-flight preparedness is that for the time being, it's perfectly acceptable for one's body to survive on cortisol and adrenalin and maybe insulin as well. I'm no doctor (or crazy scientist) and have probably only scratched the surface of that subject doing my research. But it's a fact that the body is flooded with hormones that keep us prepared to react to whatever happens in our lives. That's what it is supposed to do for survival.

These reactions are only supposed to be a short term solution to a temporary situation and eventually we are supposed to right ourselves out. When that doesn't happen, eventually the body experiences consequences that can lead to chronic problems. That is what I think happened to me. When I had pneumonia in October of 2010, it was a wake up call to me that I had let myself become run down and I knew that my defenses couldn't defend me. It was only a scratch in the surface of my wall of defense. Little did I know that pneumonia would be the easy part.

Fast forward to now. I am in constant pain. Every joint in my body is achy but I don't have any redness or inflammation. I diagnosed myself with having chronic pain issues due to an overabundance of stress. I have to diagnose myself because I don't have health insurance anymore. I paid it as long as I could (about a year) after my dead-beat ex stopped paying it soon after his own daughter was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. I just couldn't keep up the huge payments.

So I am doing what works for me. So far at least. A combination of chiropractic care and acupuncture treatments for the past three weeks seems to finally be working. That, along with my continued counseling. Today I feel pretty good for the first time in over six months. I truly believe that once my body feels better, all the other pieces will fall into place; better sleep and a more positive attitude will go a long way towards improving my general health and well-being. Cheers to that!

Win Some, Lose Some

One of the hardest things about the way my life has changed is the way people have reacted to me over the past year and a half. Apparently I can't do much right, 'cause people seem to be awfully mad at me...

My one "friend" who I supported through the worst, most unimaginable sorrow, decided I wasn't worthy of his friendship anymore. Apparently I was supposed to ignore all my divorce hearing dates and my one child leaving for basic training while the other was going off to college, just to pay him a visit 7 hours away? Oh well...

My other so-called friends from recent years couldn't have been more invisible than they were. And to think how happy I was to make new "friends". Whatever...

The worst though, are the ones who I have known for 30+ years. Don't get me wrong. There are several friends who I have that kind of "pick up where we left off" kind of relationship. Then there are those who never, ever called me to hear my side of the story. Content they must have been to hear his belligerent need to be right. blah blah...

Whatever. I am making a new path for myself. Meeting new people and, more importantly, having the respect of my daughters which is more than I can say for a lot of people. I am glad to have all those in my life who have stuck by me. You will know who you are always, because I will remind you how much you mean to me. In my own way.

Chugging Uphill

I appear to be at a very critical part of my therapy. I have learned so much about myself, especially this past five months. When I first started counseling, I was in a crisis situation and the counselor I was assigned at the women's shelter was amazing in how she listened and helped me to understand why things were as they were. It's quite a relief to learn that no one has any control over how another person reacts and thinks and behaves (much as some people like the idea of being a control freak). Oh, I knew that stuff before, deep inside me but to have it applied to so many situations that I thought could have been different if I only had said this or done that or looked a certain way or laughed instead of smiled....well, it was very eye opening.

Over the summer, that first counselor moved to another state and I was assigned a new one. At first I was dreading getting to know a new personality and thought I was going to have to re-hash my whole life story and yada yada. I was uncomfortable for the first couple sessions and I swear I think I was just babbling away for the hour, not making any cohesive, back-to-back sentences. And then it hit me. I don't have to talk about anyone but me now. I'm sure she was briefed on my sessions with the first counselor to a small extent but none of that really mattered. I could change my goals for therapy and figure out what is going on with me and wow, that was liberating to a person who has put everyone else's needs before mine for many, many years.

Then it happened. I walked in to her office a few weeks ago holding an item that triggered a lot of bad feelings in me (one of those converted cell phones set up for 911 that I was returning) and the flood gates opened and I just shook and cried and felt all those scared feelings as sure as if I had slammed in to a wall at full speed. Since then, I have been unable to stop all the feelings that I have stuffed down over a very long period of time. I know I can't stop them. It's painful and I know it is part of the process. A sort of grieving process that I must experience and feel so that I can come out whole and intact on the other side.

That very day, I said to my counselor that before our time began, before I sat in that lobby holding that damn phone in the Ziploc bag, before I was flooded with that trigger so powerful it shook me to my core, I was going to tell her that I felt so good I couldn't think of anything to talk about that day. She said to me that people say that all the time, usually at the end of an emotional hour. Apparently, just when one starts to feel really good, the brain says, ah yes, I've been waiting for you to get to this point! Now, let's deal with all this crap you haven't dealt with yet.

Great.

Well, it will be. Someday.