I will warn you: I am tired tonight. More tired than tipsy, that is. The kind of tired that can easily be mistaken for a hardcore buzz. I’ve been fighting reopening my eyes after every blink for hours already. So, whatever follows this opening paragraph is sure to be pure gold. You’re welcome in advance.
My question of the week: When the hell did I become the kind of person who cares what other people think?
I have always defined myself (in self-talk and in real talk) as “feisty, strong, stubborn, independent, carefree, uninhibited, the I do what I want” type…so, whhhhhy in gods name, have I found myself trailing down emotional dark alleys filled with thoughts like, “Maybe I shouldn’t…Is what I’m doing right…I wonder what he/she thinks when I say that…Why did he/she look at me like that when I…Does everyone think I’m nuts for…” I want to punch MYSELF in the face when I realize my self-talk. Die! Die, doubt! Die, second guessing! Diiiiiiiiie! (I know, I’m not dramatic at all) And then I think, “But, seriously, what if those doubting questions or looks from people are valid…maybe it’s time to rethink my process…my attitude…my choices…my life?” This whole debacle makes me imperatively sad. I literally wanted to curl up on the bathroom floor of the some of the sweetest people’s home where I’m staying this week in Colorado and bawl my eyes out tonight. (I know what you’re thinking, “What’s new, MB?”) I get it. I didn’t reacquaint myself with the bathroom floor this time. Even I have my limits of succumbing to the ever-rising well of tears of sadness, regret, failure, loss, disappointment, betrayal, and confusion. So, tonight I passed on the invitation.
Instead, I questioned myself. Maybe in a good way or maybe in a counter-productive way. But, nevertheless, I was questioning and answering myself about my process. Double-checking that I’m actually feeling this way and then trying to remember what “normal” people in society view as acceptable or heading toward “yikes, she’s not herself…she’s becoming one of those…she may never be the same” types. I know you’re all very anxious to hear what I came up with, so here it is:
I guess I don’t really give two shits if some lucky bastard who has never walked anywhere near the path I am currently walking thinks I’m losing my marbles or milking my story or using it as a crutch or letting this “get to me” too much.
I just don’t really give a fuck. Because you know what? I am losing my marbles. And I am never going to be the same. I have lost my marriage, the family I knew and spent 10 years building, the dreams I had for my future and my kids, my perspective, and worst of all, my person. So, yeah… all the doubters and nay-sayers are probably right, but I have already learned I cannot please everyone. All I care about now is ONE thing: that my precious, beautiful children may thrive in childhood and that their adult years wouldn’t be too jaded by all the shit our little family has been dished through the years. That’s all. I was talking with a friend this week about how her life took a drastic turn for hell out of nowhere this year and she said the most beautiful honest thing I’ve heard in a while, “I’m not even asking to be happy!” A simple break from the constant assault of chaos, disaster, nightmares, and tragedy would suffice. We’re not being greedy here and hoping for happiness anymore, just a modest hope for a break in the waves would be more than welcome!
I don’t pretend I am OK. And I won’t start now just because I see the discomfort on the faces of those who hear my uneasy answer to the age-old-rhetorical-unless-you’re-really-perfectly-fine-it’s-ok-to-answer-honestly question, “How are you?” Just don’t ask me if you feel squirmy with my easily misunderstood grief for my ex-abusive husband. I realize it doesn’t make sense to a lot of people who witnessed or walked with me through Tyrel’s painful abuse. I do not discount your questions or confusion. But here’s the thing, that guy was my first love, my best friend, my family, the father of my babies and my person before he turned on me. For most of my adult life he was my everything and I fucking miss him. And I will miss him forever. I am counting on it not hurting so badly everyday one day, but for now, it does. I miss the good, obviously, I don’t miss the bad. But I am seeing the bad with new eyes now as I understand mental illness more, and that takes time to process too.
Thanksgiving Day will be ten weeks to the day since he took his life, so I just need a fucking minute to catch my breath, get my bearings and start kickin’ ass again. But not yet. For now, I will entertain the idea of accepting the woeful fetal position for a good cry most days. But you may all be happy to hear that upon my return to Texas, I will be cutting in some more time for myself: to cook, lift weights, get counseling and enjoy the outdoors. I am trying. I may be a royal mess, but I’m doing all that I can to not give in to the weight of the world that I feel on my head.
I may cry, but my heart is not broken. I may drink, but my feelings are never numb. I may cuss, but I haven’t lost sight of all my classiness amidst the savage. I may fail, but I will get up again. I may talk about giving up, but I will never follow through with it. I may have days where I am distant, but my children will never lose access to my heart. I am a fighter if anything. My life has not been easy, but it could be worse. I have my health and two healthy children, and I am grateful for those things every day. There is sweetness in the sorrow and because of my absurd-without-a-doubt-annoying-at-times positive spin on life, I will find my way back to the good again. But in time. I’ve lived through enough to know I can’t rush this grief monster or he’ll keep coming back to bite me in the ass for the rest of my life. So, I will sit in the muck until it’s time to crawl out.
P.S. To all my sweet friends who I’ve visited with this week…you did NOT inspire tonight’s outpouring. I am thankful for questions and for differences in opinions, I have learned that it keeps me moving forward and not settled in my egocentric opinions. I will be me and always expect you to be you. XOXO
P.S.S. I literally just posted an UNFILTERED selfie to the interweb universe. Surely I have proven my state of exhaustion with this single, unhinged act. And I bet I will have doubts about this tomorrow…
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