Lost

This is one of those "I don't know what to write about" posts. For the last two months, I have been trying to plan what to write about. So much runs through  my mind, but nothing ever seems like it can be composed into a blog post for others to read. Admittedly, this post may be the kind of thing no one should read - or that no one would want to read, but I also wonder if this cloud over my brain is because I haven't written anything in quite some time.

So, here we go... more rambling. You have the choice to indulge or not.

I'm not happy. As I stare at those words on the screen, I hesitate whether or not to delete them. But I think this is where I am. I'm not happy. (What does that even mean, right? I'm not sure I know anymore, but I can't think of any other way to say something that looks like a simple, bottom line.) Part of me wants to delete all of this because my mom will read this and she will worry. But she worries anyway. And she knows already.  She knows I'm not happy. I don't have to tell her, but mom always knows. Another reason for hesitation is because I know I have a lot of "good" in my life.  I know that we have come to think happiness equates gratitude.  So let me say this - I am grateful for all the good in my life and there is a lot of good, but happiness is not equivalent to gratitude.

My very first post somewhat mentioned that this blog was a way for me to figure out grief. The thing is, I am still grieving. I don't think that will ever change. I think that grief is just a component you add to your life and figure out where and how it fits each day, and you go with it. You never lose grief. Part of this "not happy" I feel has a lot to do with the grief that's ever-present. It's like a domino effect.

All these dominoes have different labels; they stand there one behind the other on this fragile floor, and the slightest jolt means they shift and fall, one into the other, into the other, into the other. Most of the time, only two or three fall, and I find myself steadying the room and placing them back where they were and tip-toeing off back into my life, guarding them from falling again. Lately, I'm tired of guarding them. They have fallen over and I'm starting to think whatever pattern they've been in just won't work anymore, and the effort to create a new pattern to get them upright again seems daunting as opposed to exciting. Instead of glowing with a promise of new, the thought of a new pattern is illuminated in flames ready to devour any hope or promise.

And yet, a new year is upon me, and all I can think is "ugh (sigh)." And that's all I've got at the moment. Though I admit, I was never one to believe that the transition from December 31 to January 1 was some divine moment of change. Change can happen from any day to another - from any one hour to the next. I don't revel in the mysticism of a new year. And a flip of a calendar isn't going to magically change my mindset either. Hard work, dedication, commitment - those are the things that bring change, and a calendar flip doesn't suddenly endow you with those qualities. You have them or you don't. You obtain them or you throw them to the wayside. And right now, a "new year" just seems to me to be "same shit, different numerical representation." I'm not excited about that.

Back to those dominoes that have all seem to fallen down...

Finances. I live check to check. I'm back on a debt management plan. Yep, I said "back on," as in I have done it before - don't think that's not a disappointment to myself. To get out of debt once, only to make the same f*@%ing mistakes and find yourself there again sure does make you feel like shit about your growth. So that's one domino down. It crashed into the domino for work.

Work. I mean, it's no shock that the world of public education and the life of a teacher is a shit show. I'm grateful for the friends I have at work who keep me laughing at the comedy of errors that make up our days, but if I didn't need the income and the health insurance and the longevity of the retirement fund I have invested in for 16 years, I would pursue something different. Work domino crashes into the domino for something better. "Something better" is what I'm labeling the domino for working toward my Masters in Education. Yep, you read that right. Though I would pursue something different if I could, I am working on my Masters in Educational Leadership. And now we have the view of that once-idealistic soul that still lingers in me who believes somewhere, somehow, there has to be a way to improve some little piece of the world of education - even if only for one kid. Now, for the most part, my coursework has gone well.  But I am worried about the spring semester because I have previewed the upcoming syllabus for my first course and it looks like a doozie. So that domino has crashed into the domino for time.

Time. Never seems to be enough of it, and yet, every day when my head hits the pillow I think of all the time I wasted every day. And I wonder how anyone with more than dogs to tend to is able to stay afloat. And I wonder what's wrong with me that I wasn't more productive that day. So the time domino crashes into the productivity domino and that one crashes into the "self-esteem" domino.

Self-esteem. This is the big one, and this giant domino is the origin of multiple pathways for this series of dominoes that all fall down one into the other. One pathway that self-esteem crashes into is "friends," another is "family," another is "daughter," another is "weight," another is "fitness and health," another is "girlfriend," and another is "faith." And now, you see where  my mind is every day. All these dominoes are toppled over in my mind, lying in disarray on the floor. Lately, I have just been walking all around them and sitting in the corner staring at them not having a clue how to redesign this pattern. And I don't even have the energy at this point to even attempt to stand them back up in the pattern that's there. I'm pretty certain this is depression. But the fact that I can "see" that this is what I'm doing suggests to me that I'm not in an abyss of a depression - I'm just... not happy.

I'm a shitty friend. I don't reach out to see anyone. I don't want to (see them) because seeing and spending time with friends means meeting for dinner or a drink, and that means spending money. And I don't have excess money. So I don't reach out and make plans because I can't do anything. I don't have kids so my friends who have kids and arrange playdates with other friends who have kids is nothing that makes sense for me to do. And quite frankly, sometimes being around friends who have kids is just a resounding reminder that I don't (and won't) have kids. (That domino changes sizes, but sometimes it's massive.) I think I could vomit at the "you never know what love is until you have your own child" comments. (Gee, thanks for saying I'm unable to know what love is.) No one says this intentionally; no one says this to generate hurt; no one directs this to me; I get that. But the statements are there sometimes. And it can make for a a heavy domino. But I don't want to dwell on that - this is about my friends. I absolutely believe that my closest friends are always there for me, and I am lucky to have those people in my life. I worry I am a shitty friend because it's possible that they don't know how much they mean to me and how much I value them because I am so distant. And I am always grateful to my best friend, Marilyn, who won't let me isolate for too long, yet I worry I don't do enough as a friend for her.

Family. Why is this such a conundrum to me? I feel guilty for not going to see family. But it's hard with two dogs and limited finances. Boarding the dogs costs money, and traveling takes funds. I feel as if I am the one expected to do the traveling - I don't have kids so it's easier for me. But, I also don't really have a house conducive to more than one individual coming to visit, so me being the one to travel makes sense in that regard. But I often feel like if I don't make the trip, time will just pass by without seeing family. I get everyone is busy. But it doesn't mean I have to like it. It doesn't mean I don't feel sadness that coincides with the separation I feel from them. And I ache. I don't think everyone has the benefit of feeling the sense of family that my family creates. To be without it for any length of time can weigh on you. It hurts. And I feel incomplete.

Daughter. (Ok, Mom, just let me vent here.. I hope you know the origin of all of this is love.) I could do more for my mom. I should do more for her. Sometimes I don't know how. And sometimes I know she wants to do for herself, and I try to stay out of her way. But allowing her to do for herself sometimes makes me think I am shirking my duties as a daughter. She has no idea the volume of people who love her and that their concern for her is not born out of thinking she is inept but rather, it's born out of such a realm of protection we all want her to feel. Her desire for independence and my desire to care for her clash in unbelievable ways sometimes. I want to build her up, but sometimes when I try, it comes across as belittling her. My pep talks are heard as scolding. My planning is misconstrued as control. I am a product of her and dad and they each loved so differently - it's no wonder I love from one extreme to the next. Sadly, she and I clash more often than we collaborate. And it kills me. I want to be goodness to her in this world. I want to be a force she relies on for help and not one she sees as trying to smother her. Our relationship has had to find new footing without Dad here as our buffer, and we struggle at times. And I know we get so angry and upset because it comes from love - it comes from wanting it to be positive and good and we get frustrated (ahem, by "we" I mean "I") and then offer apologies and find forgiveness. And I don't know how she does it, but she forgives - all the time, she forgives. Not just me... but she forgives people even when they don't ask for forgiveness. And she lets go.  Not me. I hold a grudge. I get that from Dad. It's a flaw...but the biggest flaw is the grudge I can hold against myself when I fail. But man, I love her.  And as her daughter, I want to do right by her, and most of the time, I feel like I fail at that. And it weighs on me.

Weight. Fitness. Health. I literally just took a deep breath, held it in, let it go and thought, "I don't want to write this section." Then I said back to myself, "Do it. You need to." Maybe I do.  But I also feel like writing this section and knowing others will read it means they will be watching for me to make a change. (Ugh.) My fear right now is that I can't anymore. That it's too far gone, and I don't know how anymore. And I'm not sure what my "why" is anymore. As horribly negative as that sounds, the negativity is even louder in my head. I can't explain it to anyone. The only person I could explain it to who I felt like never judged me and fully understood was my dad. I am currently at my heaviest and most unhealthy. 238 pounds. Size 22. When I walk the dogs, I have difficulty bending over to pick up their poop.  Yep. I said it - it's difficult to pick up my dogs' shit. I don't look in mirrors unless they only show my shoulders and up. I don't shop for clothes because it's deflating. I can't wear heels because it's too much pressure on the balls of my feet. (You might think mentioning this is odd, but there's a femininity that comes in wearing heels, and now that I can't, I feel like I can't "dress up and look pretty.") (Hey, I never said everything I was writing was rational... I realize a lot of this is irrational!) I can't tie my shoes without gasping for breath. I can't do anything quickly around the house because I break into a sweat. I am less flexible than I was. (Admittedly, I was never very flexible, but it's embarrassing to me now.) Extra-large shirts are too small. I fight tears every day when I get ready to go anywhere. And yet, I don't do anything to change any of that. I used to be a very motivated person when it came to exercise. Dad would ask me if I was going to the gym or going for a run. I would text him before a workout or run and he'd reply back with something like, "Ok!" and the amount of encouragement I would gain from his one exclamation point was more than anything. If I went 2 or 3 days not working out or running, he would say, "Don't go another day, Lizzie. Dad just wants you to stay healthy," and him saying it would never sound mean or condescending. I could text him in the middle of a hard run, and he'd be there with a reply to "keep going, you got this" and I'd keep going. I know all the things he would say.  I can "see" the messages, and "hear" his voice, but I cannot find the connection in my soul to make it mean anything right now. My godsister has listened to me say these same things recently. She has had her own struggles with weight. Somehow, she has become my sounding board. I don't think she knows it (Maybe now with this blog she does! haha), but somehow, I "hear" Dad in things she says. I never hear any kind of judgment from her, just patience. Right now, I don't think my body is even able to work out unless I drop some weight first. I feel like I know all the things I am supposed to do, yet I am not doing them. And the anger toward myself builds along with the frustration. Food has been my comfort for years... has been the source of feeling good in the moment... Even I know you can't keep finding short-term comfort in the very thing that is making you uncomfortable and unhappy in the long-run. I'm not sure what it will take to flip the switch, but I know my godsister is ready to roll out the praise when it does. I hope I can hear Dad in a new way, too.

Girlfriend. This is one of those dominoes that I think people can jump to conclusions with super fast. Based on my comment of not being happy, I feel as though I should clarify this aspect: I am happy being with Fletcher. I am not happy with the girlfriend I have been to him lately. Luckily, we can talk about things. In our conversations, he allows me to give all my reasons as to why I think I'm terrible, and then he reassures me that he's happy and he loves me and that he knows I'm battling my own negativity and he's here for me. For me, it's another domino that falls down because I think I am not doing all I could.

Faith. Any time dominoes fall, I can usually look at my "faith" domino, and it's intact. I suppose when I put together the pattern of all the dominoes in my life, it sets apart from the others because as long as my faith is standing, it can carry the falls of the others. But I think most recently, that faith domino toppled over, too. It's the only conclusion I have as to why I have this lost feeling about where to begin, what new pattern to create, what domino to stand up again and where. The good news is I know I still have a faith domino - all is not lost! But right now, I'm not sure how big it is, and even though I might be holding it in my hand, it's another layer of trust I have to find in order to place it upright again. I also know I should start with faith. I'm likely clinging to it because I'm not sure what comes next.

So there it is... the myriad of my thoughts as to why I haven't posted a blog since Labor Day weekend, why I feel like shit, why I'm unhappy, why I can't find the exact thing I want to write about when it comes to Dad and grief, why I dread going back to work Monday, why I'm distant with people, and why I'm scared to click the "publish" button. Maybe clicking "publish" is an element of faith, and if getting all this out somehow puts me in the direction of not feeling so lost, then I'm all for that. Here goes.