To say the last two months have been challenging, exhausting, and draining would be an understatement. I have spent the last two months in a whirlwind of chaos, trying to help someone else get their life straight, while also being their support system, their accountability, their parent (at times), and their director of resources.
It was two months of conflicting emotions, stress, and pressure. Pressure on me because this person was in my home because of the relationship I have with them. Pressure of them because they were on a strict deadline on how long they could stay in our home. I was glad I could give this person a chance/some help, but I also simultaneously disliked the invasion of my space. It was very confusing and very overwhelming.
To complete these two months, the last week was just insane. Not only were we doing what we could to help this person but also hold them accountable to their time limits, but my husband and I had also agreed to host a gathering of co-workers (at the co-workers request) the evening that our house-guest moved out. Which meant the last week was doubly stressful -- trying to get one person out while also working frantically around the house to get it prepared for a large gathering of guests. There was a yard to mow; hedges to trim; TONS of weeds to pull; floors to clean; clutter to clear; fall decor to put out; and preparations to make for potential overnight guests who could be too inebriated to drive.
Somehow, we got it all done though. The house was ready and our house-guest had moved on. I cooked meatballs, made buffalo chicken dip, and Daniel put some chicken on the grill.
And we waited.
Two people showed up. Out of the expected 20-25. And those two brought nothing to contribute (which was fine, but still).
I was emotionally exhausted from the farewell of our house-guest (and honestly from the past two months as well; I never really had the opportunity to process/deal with their arrival or continued presence) and then to be asked to host a gathering where no one shows up where I had busted my butt to prepare for them? Hurt was an understatement.
So after a little bit, I slipped away from the few guests and allowed my husband his "guy time" and retreated to the bedroom. To add to the emotional exhaustion of our house-guests arrival/two month long presence/departure, I could now add the emotional wear/tear of being stood up by so many people after I had worked so hard to accommodate their request for the gathering in the first place.
I just laid in bed for a while with the window open and the cool fall breeze floating in. I have a TV in that room, but I didn't even bother to turn it on. I just laid there in the silence and comfort of my bed in my room alone. I did deep breathing exercises to try to release some of the tension that had been mounting. And I tried to do some emotional exploration with journaling. All I was really able to accomplish was to write down a brief summary of events before my eye lids became too heavy to keep open and I drifted off to sleep.
When I woke up on Saturday, I was still emotionally hungover. I also did some reflection on being stood up the night before and while it still stung, I was able to find gratitude in knowing where I stood with these people and that they did not prioritize me or my husband like we prioritized them (which meant that it was time to shift our priorities); I was able to find gratitude in that my house was SUPER clean and wasn't trashed Saturday morning like it likely would have been if everyone had come over; I was able to find gratitude in that I could release the energy I had in this group of people and invest that energy in other people who would reciprocate the investment. So while I was hurt, I was able to find some positives and some peace and move on.
I subconsciously decided that I wanted to spend my weekend resting and investing in activities that refreshed me. Because after the last few months, I needed it! I wasn't opposed to television, but I really didn't want to spend my weekend watching it. So in the mornings, I binge watched Blue Bloods on Netflix. But I spent more time this weekend investing in my quilting!!
I had a few goals this weekend when it came to my quilting:
-Finish Block 1 of the Moonlight Paths QAL (which meant finish making the 96 blocks of four patch)
-Start/Finish Block 2 of the Moonlight Paths QAL (which meant make 100 miniature blocks of flying geese)
-Start/Work on the Missouri Star quick quilt "Alter Ego"
-Work on getting more of the mug rug binding sewn on
-Work on straightening up some of the clutter in my sewing room
-Make sure I have hand work projects to take to work for Monday and Tuesday nights
Just a few goals :-p
Well, setting those goals made a huge difference, because I did every single one of them! I finished all 96 Block 1's. I finished all 100 Block 2's. I am (as of this blog post) 3/4 of the way done with making ALL the blocks for the Alter Ego quilt (I might get the last 25% done in the last few hours before bed). I got 2 more mug rug bindings machine stitched on. I straightened up some of the craft room. And I packed my "Activity Bag" for work Monday/Tuesday with: Crochet Crowd's Summer Crochet Along (which needs the last row and the edging and then it's done!), four mug rugs whose binding needs to be hand sewn, and the needed materials to work on favors for the quilt guilds Day of Sharing. I am extremely pleased with how productive I have been in that sewing room this weekend! Especially since I really didn't even start working in it until Saturday.
Daniel and I also took a little time and went to the local pumpkin patch and experienced that. We fed the animals, shot the apple sling shot, rode the hayride, and picked a lovely warty pumpkin (I really do love the weird looking pumpkins). Daniel was in a mood when we got there, so we limited what we did, but I enjoyed the little bit of time there that we had.
And today I took a little time to visit with some friends in New Bern. I love my girls there and my community that I still have there. I miss living there every day, but I'm grateful that my friendships continue. I spent some time with Kira and her son Luke, talking everything pregnancy/labor/post-partum/motherhood. Then I met Chrissy for a quick sub and a lovely walk in a nearby park. I always leave that town feeling so full of gratitude, refreshed, and peaceful.
But now I'm in the short last few hours of my weekend off before I head into another long week at work. I love my job, but I have so enjoyed this weekend of rest, relaxation, recovery, and productivity, that it really does make it hard to be excited about going to work tomorrow! LoL.
I just hope that when I get my couple of days off on Wednesday and Thursday that I'll be able to continue the rest/relaxation/productivity that I've been able to accomplish this weekend.
Monday, October 22, 2018
Thursday, August 9, 2018
How does anxiety attack?
How does anxiety attack?
It attacks without warning, constantly catching you by surprise, and you're never prepared -- regardless of how long you've struggled with anxiety.
It attacks silently. You're the only one who can feel it. There are no outward symptoms that your loved ones can see so they know it's happening. You're the only one who can hear it -- the chorus of self-doubt, negative self talk, accusations thrown at yourself; they all go round and round until you feel like you are the worst person on the face of the planet and that no one likes you and that everything you do is a mistake and a mess up, that you are nothing but an annoyance.
It attacks relentlessly. The chorus of every attack feels incessant. You struggle to believe that it will ever end. And when it does finally end, you're exhausted. And just about the time that you build yourself back up, it hits again.
It doesn't just destroy you. It affects relationships of those who you are closest to. It takes a very strong person to be able to be with someone who struggles with anxiety. And a lot of people can't handle it. So relationships fall apart because of the constant anxiety, self-doubt, and paralyzing fear.
Anxiety has you questioning every inch of who you are as a person, whether anyone could possibly like you, wondering if people just tolerate you and if they talk crap about you behind your back like they do others. It has you withdrawing from others, retreating to books and television and the bed.
Exhausting.
It attacks without warning, constantly catching you by surprise, and you're never prepared -- regardless of how long you've struggled with anxiety.
It attacks silently. You're the only one who can feel it. There are no outward symptoms that your loved ones can see so they know it's happening. You're the only one who can hear it -- the chorus of self-doubt, negative self talk, accusations thrown at yourself; they all go round and round until you feel like you are the worst person on the face of the planet and that no one likes you and that everything you do is a mistake and a mess up, that you are nothing but an annoyance.
It attacks relentlessly. The chorus of every attack feels incessant. You struggle to believe that it will ever end. And when it does finally end, you're exhausted. And just about the time that you build yourself back up, it hits again.
It doesn't just destroy you. It affects relationships of those who you are closest to. It takes a very strong person to be able to be with someone who struggles with anxiety. And a lot of people can't handle it. So relationships fall apart because of the constant anxiety, self-doubt, and paralyzing fear.
Anxiety has you questioning every inch of who you are as a person, whether anyone could possibly like you, wondering if people just tolerate you and if they talk crap about you behind your back like they do others. It has you withdrawing from others, retreating to books and television and the bed.
Exhausting.
Wednesday, August 8, 2018
Prodigal Daughter
In the last three months, I have surrounded myself with busy-ness and buried any sort of emotion that has come up. I pushed away anything and everything that forced me to face my feelings or what had happened. I threw myself into work, home improvement projects, and visiting friends on every available occasion (yet largely refusing to talk about what had happened). Any time a feeling came up, I forced it into a dark corner and shut the door.
After three months, I was running out of dark corners and doors. A permanent state of exhaustion, weariness, and imbalance had set in. Emotions were less containable. They began to leak out of my eyes and choke me up.
But still I persisted. Determined to push forward with a normal routine and deal with it later.
On one of my friend dates, we went to worship night at her church. The church was one I'd never been to before. It wasn't huge. We walked in and sat down. The room was dark. There wasn't too many people there, so I didn't feel an overwhelming press of "too many people." The music started and it surrounded me, enveloped me, and gave me no chance of ignoring it. It pulsed into my skin and deep into my soul. Promises, love, faith, and hope were sung and I couldn't escape them. I couldn't push God into a dark corner in this dark room. He was everywhere in that room. I had pushed him away for three months without even realizing it. And there he was, even still. I was overwhelmed with his presence, the lyrics, the message. I was the prodigal daughter in that moment. I was forced to face that I'd let my own grief and busy-ness come before God. I had real work to do. Real healing.
That next Monday at work, I asked my boss for a couple of days off. I told her that I was finally ready to spend some time with my feelings and that I needed some time to heal. She gave me the next week off (this week).
Today is Wednesday. Monday and Tuesday I spent basically in bed. Three months of stuffing all those things into dark corners had physically exhausted me. I slept. And when I wasn't sleeping, I just simply rested. I watched TV. I slept. I rested. I cried.
Today.... Today I knew I needed to work on drawing closer to God. I admittedly put off this work, this healing. I knew it was going to be messy and awkward. So I rested some more. Watched some more TV. Went to the grocery store. But after dinner, I knew it was time.
So I picked up my Bible and my notebook and went outside. I just sat there in my glider chair with that beautiful, leather bound book in my lap and had no idea where to start. I opened to where my ribbon had been left during my last study but didn't feel like that was where I was supposed to be. I flipped to 1 Peter and read a few chapters, but that didn't feel like that was where I was supposed to be either. I flipped to find the 10 Commandments, but didn't feel like Exodus was where I needed to be. I closed the book, frustrated.
In just three months, I hadn't just fallen away. I was totally lost.
Not just in reading my Bible.
But in prayer too. Even trying to just close my eyes and pray to God felt awkward and frustrating and wrong.
I knew this would be hard. But I wasn't prepared for all of this.
After three months, I was running out of dark corners and doors. A permanent state of exhaustion, weariness, and imbalance had set in. Emotions were less containable. They began to leak out of my eyes and choke me up.
But still I persisted. Determined to push forward with a normal routine and deal with it later.
On one of my friend dates, we went to worship night at her church. The church was one I'd never been to before. It wasn't huge. We walked in and sat down. The room was dark. There wasn't too many people there, so I didn't feel an overwhelming press of "too many people." The music started and it surrounded me, enveloped me, and gave me no chance of ignoring it. It pulsed into my skin and deep into my soul. Promises, love, faith, and hope were sung and I couldn't escape them. I couldn't push God into a dark corner in this dark room. He was everywhere in that room. I had pushed him away for three months without even realizing it. And there he was, even still. I was overwhelmed with his presence, the lyrics, the message. I was the prodigal daughter in that moment. I was forced to face that I'd let my own grief and busy-ness come before God. I had real work to do. Real healing.
That next Monday at work, I asked my boss for a couple of days off. I told her that I was finally ready to spend some time with my feelings and that I needed some time to heal. She gave me the next week off (this week).
Today is Wednesday. Monday and Tuesday I spent basically in bed. Three months of stuffing all those things into dark corners had physically exhausted me. I slept. And when I wasn't sleeping, I just simply rested. I watched TV. I slept. I rested. I cried.
Today.... Today I knew I needed to work on drawing closer to God. I admittedly put off this work, this healing. I knew it was going to be messy and awkward. So I rested some more. Watched some more TV. Went to the grocery store. But after dinner, I knew it was time.
So I picked up my Bible and my notebook and went outside. I just sat there in my glider chair with that beautiful, leather bound book in my lap and had no idea where to start. I opened to where my ribbon had been left during my last study but didn't feel like that was where I was supposed to be. I flipped to 1 Peter and read a few chapters, but that didn't feel like that was where I was supposed to be either. I flipped to find the 10 Commandments, but didn't feel like Exodus was where I needed to be. I closed the book, frustrated.
In just three months, I hadn't just fallen away. I was totally lost.
Not just in reading my Bible.
But in prayer too. Even trying to just close my eyes and pray to God felt awkward and frustrating and wrong.
I knew this would be hard. But I wasn't prepared for all of this.
Thursday, May 17, 2018
Baby Registries
Baby Registries. I'm at the stage of life where everyone around me is pregnant, trying to get pregnant, or just finished being pregnant. Baby Registries abound!
Baby Registries serve a purpose. They give direction. Options. Suggestions. Ideas. They direct friends and family members to help prepare for the new one based on what the parents have decided they want or need. In many ways they're indispensable, as baby goods are expensive and soon to be new parents need that help.
But baby registries also create a lot of pressure. To spend spend spend. To a degree they encourage excessiveness. So many items are wanted but un-necessary, but they're so cute. And when you don't have a lot of money to spend spend spend, or when you're not close to the soon-to-be-parents, you dread scrolling through the baby registry. You don't want to seem cheap and only get the pacifiers. But at the same time, you don't want to go broke, again, for another baby whose items you purchase will be long forgotten and sometimes rarely used for the parents who you barely speak to or see except on social media.
So you purchase an item or a group of items. You send them if the parents live far away or if you're unable to make the baby shower. You take the items to the dreaded baby shower if you're able to make it (another reminder that you're in your thirties, not pregnant, and in a world that you truly can't understand yet that makes your social anxiety sky rocket because you're uncomfortable and surrounded by people you don't know but know all about the world of children).
Sometimes you get a thank you note, and that justifies your purchase and social anxiety. But more often than not, you don't receive a thank you note. And that just increases your annoyance with baby registries and baby showers -- it feels greedy and dirty. Cause if you don't gift something, you're looked down upon from the parents eyes and eschewed in future friendship and social situations.
And when people are pregnant, baby shower invitations come out of the woodwork. Oh, you're a classmate who I haven't heard from personally since we were in middle school and are only facebook friends -- but you're pregnant so you track down my address through other family members and suddenly I'm being pressured to attend (ahem, spend money on a gift) a baby shower.
It's ludicrous.
I enjoy giving gifts. I enjoy spoiling people I love and care about. I enjoy strolling through the baby departments and admiring all the precious, tiny things. I just hate the social and financial pressure that comes from the invitations of those who I am not close with.
And while I rant, I'm sure that there will be some people when I'm pregnant who receive an invitation and feel the same way, because they don't perceive our relationship the same way I do.
Such is life.
Now back to scrolling through this baby registry and figuring out how to appropriately spend what money I can to make the biggest impact possible so the parents feel a moment of appropriate excitement from us...
Baby Registries serve a purpose. They give direction. Options. Suggestions. Ideas. They direct friends and family members to help prepare for the new one based on what the parents have decided they want or need. In many ways they're indispensable, as baby goods are expensive and soon to be new parents need that help.
But baby registries also create a lot of pressure. To spend spend spend. To a degree they encourage excessiveness. So many items are wanted but un-necessary, but they're so cute. And when you don't have a lot of money to spend spend spend, or when you're not close to the soon-to-be-parents, you dread scrolling through the baby registry. You don't want to seem cheap and only get the pacifiers. But at the same time, you don't want to go broke, again, for another baby whose items you purchase will be long forgotten and sometimes rarely used for the parents who you barely speak to or see except on social media.
So you purchase an item or a group of items. You send them if the parents live far away or if you're unable to make the baby shower. You take the items to the dreaded baby shower if you're able to make it (another reminder that you're in your thirties, not pregnant, and in a world that you truly can't understand yet that makes your social anxiety sky rocket because you're uncomfortable and surrounded by people you don't know but know all about the world of children).
Sometimes you get a thank you note, and that justifies your purchase and social anxiety. But more often than not, you don't receive a thank you note. And that just increases your annoyance with baby registries and baby showers -- it feels greedy and dirty. Cause if you don't gift something, you're looked down upon from the parents eyes and eschewed in future friendship and social situations.
And when people are pregnant, baby shower invitations come out of the woodwork. Oh, you're a classmate who I haven't heard from personally since we were in middle school and are only facebook friends -- but you're pregnant so you track down my address through other family members and suddenly I'm being pressured to attend (ahem, spend money on a gift) a baby shower.
It's ludicrous.
I enjoy giving gifts. I enjoy spoiling people I love and care about. I enjoy strolling through the baby departments and admiring all the precious, tiny things. I just hate the social and financial pressure that comes from the invitations of those who I am not close with.
And while I rant, I'm sure that there will be some people when I'm pregnant who receive an invitation and feel the same way, because they don't perceive our relationship the same way I do.
Such is life.
Now back to scrolling through this baby registry and figuring out how to appropriately spend what money I can to make the biggest impact possible so the parents feel a moment of appropriate excitement from us...
Grief (Originally written 5/16/18)
A week ago today I got the phone call that Dad had had a heart attack and was in cardiac ICU and I dropped everything and drove four hours to be with him. I was with him day in and day out, leaving only twice to get rest in a single bed and shower. After just a few days, he passed away on Saturday afternoon. There was a lot more involved than just this, but I just don't know if I want to share every single detail. I've journaled it. I've talked it through multiple times with different people. I don't know that I want to repeat it all AGAIN right now.
But I can say that Dad passed with dignity, surrounded by people who loved him, and in the way he wanted to go even if it was too soon for him to go. I can also say that he died knowing and accepting God's love. And that is a huge relief.
We put the funeral off until next week. So this week is a weird week. I'm feeling very numb and confused. It's so new it's not real. It's a rush of do this, do that, take care of this, don't forget that. We're tying up all the loose ends. Cleaning out the apartment. Figuring things out. It's a lot.
I took this week off of work. To process. To be able to get things done. To decompress. I went to counseling yesterday. I'm exhausted -- I have no energy between the lack of sleep last week and the grief and stress this week. Folding laundry takes everything I've got, and then I have to take a nap.
I'm so grateful that I have people in my life who care. Who keep checking on me. Helping me. Letting me talk. Letting me vent. Letting me cry.
I'm so grateful that I got those last few days with my Dad. And that all things considered, he went out on his terms and by his rules. But what I would give for one of his bear hugs....
My heart is broken. It feels like there's a hole. And there is. That hole will never be filled again on this earth. But I have to smile because I know where my Dad is and whose he is and who he's with right now.
I don't understand why. I shake my fists and scream out about how unfair this is. I tremble with the pain of loss. I wonder how to navigate my future -- Dad was always the one I called first about everything. We had plans. Big plans. Trips. Get togethers. Holidays. He'll never meet my children and my children will never meet him.
I have waves of intense emotion and waves of feeling like life is completely normal. And the normal waves make me feel guilty.
Grief is a back and forth experience.
But I can say that Dad passed with dignity, surrounded by people who loved him, and in the way he wanted to go even if it was too soon for him to go. I can also say that he died knowing and accepting God's love. And that is a huge relief.
We put the funeral off until next week. So this week is a weird week. I'm feeling very numb and confused. It's so new it's not real. It's a rush of do this, do that, take care of this, don't forget that. We're tying up all the loose ends. Cleaning out the apartment. Figuring things out. It's a lot.
I took this week off of work. To process. To be able to get things done. To decompress. I went to counseling yesterday. I'm exhausted -- I have no energy between the lack of sleep last week and the grief and stress this week. Folding laundry takes everything I've got, and then I have to take a nap.
I'm so grateful that I have people in my life who care. Who keep checking on me. Helping me. Letting me talk. Letting me vent. Letting me cry.
I'm so grateful that I got those last few days with my Dad. And that all things considered, he went out on his terms and by his rules. But what I would give for one of his bear hugs....
My heart is broken. It feels like there's a hole. And there is. That hole will never be filled again on this earth. But I have to smile because I know where my Dad is and whose he is and who he's with right now.
I don't understand why. I shake my fists and scream out about how unfair this is. I tremble with the pain of loss. I wonder how to navigate my future -- Dad was always the one I called first about everything. We had plans. Big plans. Trips. Get togethers. Holidays. He'll never meet my children and my children will never meet him.
I have waves of intense emotion and waves of feeling like life is completely normal. And the normal waves make me feel guilty.
Grief is a back and forth experience.
Sunday, May 6, 2018
Friday, April 27, 2018
Random Musings
Mountains and Valleys. Such is life. Highs and Lows. Peaks and Depths. Peaks and depths. peaks and depths.
Good weeks come, then they fade into bad ones. Good weeks are filled with self-belief, self-confidence, focus, motivation, inspiration, hope, promise. Bad ones are filled with self-doubt, self-blame, self-hate, anxiety, depression, frustration, tears, angst, feeling trapped, feeling un-liked and less than.
The pendulum swings one way, it's inevitable for it to swing back the other way.
I don't like the swings. I don't like the negativity, the feelings of failure. But when you feel surrounded by them, it's hard to swim out of that current. It's a riptide. Pulling you in and cycling you around and around and around.
My constant is creativity. Expression. Outlet. Directed energy focus.
I enjoy quilting. I need to do more of it.
Except I'm at a creative block on how to quilt the borders.
And it's getting late.
So while I need to create, I shouldn't start. Because I'll be up all night. And I need sleep for work in the morning.
Sometimes I think I'd like to learn how to paint. But do I really need another hobby? Not really. I've got enough to keep me interested between quilting/sewing, hiking, and running.
Good weeks come, then they fade into bad ones. Good weeks are filled with self-belief, self-confidence, focus, motivation, inspiration, hope, promise. Bad ones are filled with self-doubt, self-blame, self-hate, anxiety, depression, frustration, tears, angst, feeling trapped, feeling un-liked and less than.
The pendulum swings one way, it's inevitable for it to swing back the other way.
I don't like the swings. I don't like the negativity, the feelings of failure. But when you feel surrounded by them, it's hard to swim out of that current. It's a riptide. Pulling you in and cycling you around and around and around.
My constant is creativity. Expression. Outlet. Directed energy focus.
I enjoy quilting. I need to do more of it.
Except I'm at a creative block on how to quilt the borders.
And it's getting late.
So while I need to create, I shouldn't start. Because I'll be up all night. And I need sleep for work in the morning.
Sometimes I think I'd like to learn how to paint. But do I really need another hobby? Not really. I've got enough to keep me interested between quilting/sewing, hiking, and running.
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