I haven’t written much lately. My husband tends to feel like he’s letting himself down when he doesn’t write for a long time, but for me it’s kind of a relief. I have noticed that I tend to write when I’m sad. Or angry. Or when I just need to process things that I can’t wrap my mind around. If I’m not writing a lot, it’s a pretty good indication that I’m doing well. I’m happy. I’ve got stuff figured out. Of course, there are always exceptions to the rule…
I had surgery at the end of August and I was pretty dependent on J for most of my daily needs for quite a while. (That was horrible, by the way. I had no idea that I valued my independence so much!). But once I was on my own two feet again (albeit with some pain), I was much better.
And now here I am again, which means I need to figure some stuff out. Counselor says I need to cultivate a relationship with myself. I need to learn to love myself. Forgive myself. I don’t know how to do that. She also recommends I do some kind of art, because it’s a way to be creative and explore myself without the analytical stuff that comes out when I write. I don’t know how to do that either.
But I am learning to sew. And I bought glitter. That’s a start, right?
But what about liking myself and forgiving myself? What do I like about myself?
I’m very smart.
I’m great at communication.
I’m the best (job title) that (company name) has ever had. Their words, not mine.
I have moments when I’m really fun to be around.
I can make some people laugh.
I think I see a beauty in the world that others often miss.
I’m generous and kind.
I’m a great baker.
I’m fiscally responsible.
I’m analytical (Yes, I like that about myself, but I certainly do have to keep myself in check in that regard.)
And what do I need to forgive myself for?
I’m not perfect.
I sometimes hurt the people I love.
I’m bad at keeping my home clean.
I’m not sure how to forgive God for His silence lately.
I’m not sure how to forgive God for allowing my mom to get sick.
I’m not beautiful.
I’m not as witty as I wish I was (…as I wish I were?)
I’m often lazy.
I frequently don’t do the things I “should” do.
Why does the bad stuff feel more potent than the good stuff? How can I choose to focus on the good things about myself, when they don’t feel as real or as important as the bad things?
Yesterday J told me that he’s worried about me; I’ve been losing things lately. I regularly lose my phone, for example. In fact, J recently named it Waldo since I’m always looking for it. The phone is sort of funny, though; like an endearing quirk…but then I left my wallet somewhere. Unfortunately, the person who found it isn’t of the honest variety, and now I have a few minor transactions that I’ll need to dispute. It could have been a lot worse, but it was an emotional slap in the face. And then when J made his comment about being worried, I broke down. I know he meant it in kindness, but I felt like my competence was in question…and competence is kind of the only thing I’ve got right now. ..but not anymore. I’m ditzy and forgetful, and I’m ashamed of that fact. J thinks I’m just overwhelmed. I’m not sure, but he could be right.
I am hoping that my new job, which I just started today, will be less stressful. Less hectic. Less political. Less drama. Initially it will be worse, though, at least in some regards. I had been with my last employer for over four years so I knew pretty much everything about my responsibilities. Doing something completely new today was quite a shock, like diving into a cold pool after basking in the sun’s warmth. I hate the learning curve, but I think — I hope — that this will be a good fit for me.
I was at work (my current work, not the new job) in the reception chair. Everything was normal…but then I grew catatonic while the people around me continued with their regular activities. As I sat in the chair, my body grew stiff, my body leaning backward: back straight, limbs outstretched, mouth gaping. My eyes were open, but I was not able to see. My hearing, however, was perfect. People around me casually commented on my vegetative state, but didn’t act concerned. I woke up from the dream at one point, but then sank back into sleep and the dream continued.
My thoughts on the dream:
It was strange to be surrounded by people, yet separate. Although I was keenly aware of my surroundings despite my lack of sight, I was also terribly alone. Still, I was not anxious or panicked by my inability to move, but rather fascinated by the experience. It felt like an intellectual experiment, albeit involuntary. I wondered somewhat disappointedly at my coworkers’ lack of concern….but I wasn’t very concerned about it either. I was more curious about how I would get my work done than anything else.
Feelings of helplessness and paralyzation.
Lack of emotional connection to people around me — Academic interest in and over-analyzation of experiences rather than emotional interaction.
Feelings of not being valued except by what I contribute.
Finally, I think this stems from the fact that I am worried that although my last day on the job is Monday, no one will actually miss me.
So much has happened in the past few months. So many times I have thought that I should write about this or that. Visiting my mom… Spending time with my sister and brother… Interviewing at the nonprofit and the disappointment of not being awarded the job… Interviewing at the real estate firm and the joy of being offered (and accepting) the position… The strange dream that seemed so profound, but oh so confusing at the same time… My birthday and the perplexing cocktail of disappointment and happiness that surround all my recent birthdays…
So many things I could have written about, but the moments all seemed to slip by. My life is slipping by.
And now here I am, finally writing, and I don’t know where to start. All I know is that I feel sad. Lonely. …and I don’t know why. I have been shown so much love recently, so my feelings are not justified. And yet, it IS how I feel. I want to analyze my feelings away, but I can’t because there’s no logic behind it all. It just is this way… I just feel this way… I just am this way… Without explanation. And why am I finally writing now when I should have written all those other times when I actually had something to say?
(Aside: I like to analyze my feelings when I’m low because, I think, I’m more comfortable in my cerebral mode than in my feelings. I may have already blogged about this. It’s been so long, and I just don’t remember.)
So there you go. I’m sad. For no apparent reason. (Yes, I know. “Feelings are not right or wrong; they just are.”)