Blog Archives

Then the dam broke

“It’s just everything – it’s worrying about Christmas,  and the car … and always having to worry about things like that – it’s doing it alone, but I wouldn’t have it any other way – what we have … and not feeling well and not being able to go to the doctor – it’s being stressed out and not having someone to talk to about it.  Because they’re going to tell me not to feel a certain way when I DO feel that way.  It must be okay to feel that way if I feel it??  It’s when people ask “Feeling better?” with a raised eyebrow because your answer had better be ‘yes’ … it’s not being allowed to feel sad because you’re the person who makes people laugh.  And on top of it all, I don’t feel well.  And I’m sad.  I’m just … sad.  And no, it’s not forever – and yes, it will pass and I’m so grateful – I’m grateful for everything we have and everything we don’t have … but I’m just … sad.  And I should be allowed to feel sad.”

– Me, after telling my son I couldn’t possibly vent to him.

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I left work early today.

I couldn’t take one more second of holding myself upright when all I wanted to do was curl into a ball.  I put a smile in my voice on the phone … and in front of customers who came into my office.   I went above and beyond on my files – went in early today and cleaned.  I pushed and pushed – and broke.

Monday I had a pretty bad ‘spell’ at work.  Besides my heart condition – I think my body also tells me when it’s done holding things in.

My vision blurred in my right eye and my chest squeezed.  I couldn’t get my bearings. I sat outside on a curb, taking purposeful breaths and feeling the wind on my skin until the spell mostly passed and went back in to work.

That’s what I do.

Remove myself, compose myself and return.

Yesterday I came very close to asking to use my barely used sick time.  But I stuck it out.  My ears have been hurting me – I’m dizzy and nauseated.  But I stuck it out.

This morning, I came even closer to asking to use my barely used sick time – then remembered I had a meeting and had to approve a settlement statement so that a customer could sign their documents.  So I went in.

I tied all the loose ends up and emailed both of my bosses asking to use 1/2 of a sick day.

The answer was yes.

I read an article yesterday on a hospice website.  About the phases of death.  I was making sure I was using ‘catabolic’ correctly in my last post.  A catabolic state is when your body can no longer process nourishment – it’s so starved for it – it starts breaking itself down.

That’s how I understood it anyway.

And that’s how I have been feeling.  Like there has been no nourishing input lately – that I’m sustaining myself and breaking down all my reserves.

So after my grand monologue that I wasn’t going to give in front of my son, I ended with, “I just want to hear ‘everything is going to be ok'”

To which my son replied, “Everything is going to be ok”

And when he hugged me – I sobbed harder.  And he didn’t tell me I wasn’t allowed to feel sad.

I love him so very much.

The sky this morning

The sky this morning

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Catabolic hearts and Candy Corn pencils

I spent last night with a few tears – and like a child in need of comfort, I also grabbed a blanket and my bear.

Yesterday brought joy and sadness, love and aloneness, hope and fear.  And sometimes, it’s all just too much to process.

It wasn’t due to any one thing in particular – things build over time to overflowing and when there is no outlet – blanket and bear come into play.

I joke about saying too much – about not editing myself.  But the fact is, I keep so much inside that it hurts sometimes.

You know when someone notices that you’re out of sorts and hugs you?  That dam that bursts because of that hug?

I feel like life (and, yes, me too) constantly plugs up my dam with no relief in sight.

When I desperately need a hug.

And to be heard.

And seen.

I posted this on my Facebook wall this afternoon – after a day of feeling unwell physically, but mostly overwhelmed emotionally.

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I did this because I felt safe putting it there, I am very selective about who my ‘friends’ are on Facebook.  People that know me and ‘get me’ are privy to my mostly quirky, sometimes funny and often odd status updates.

I don’t have friends I don’t trust.

What I really wanted to do was write about it here though.  So I’m going to.

I have a lot on my plate and on my mind.  A lot weighing on my heart also.

I find it necessary, again, to reiterate that I am a happy person – and a grateful person – and a loving person.  And I know what is important in life.

But I am also a human person.

I used to think it was not okay to permit myself to feel my sadness.  That I was somehow being ungrateful by doing that.

I know not to wallow in it – not to become melancholic – but it is necessary to feel.  Denying myself permission to acknowledge sadness or fears is not healthy.  And there is no growth when one does not acknowledge, assess and address a feeling or emotion.

Still, lately I’ve pent everything up.  Putting one foot in front of the other and plugging away at life, while I tackled real and imagined problems alone.

The soul has this amazing ability to take a lot of crap from us – but has its limit.  I reached mine.

Then I came home to mail.

Real mail.

Not just an envelope either – a small package.

It was from a dear friend in California (she actually taught me how to do what I do for a living over 14 years ago!)

Inside – was this letter, the sweet pencil and a bag of Halloween candy:

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Here I was questioning whether I am worthy of love – and I receive this sweet, sweet gift.  That she knows me so well – that something reminded her of me – that she made the effort to go the extra mile and purchase the item and tell me that she thought of me … such love.

And to want to feel connected to me.

What a blessing to have such friends.

I’ll take the pencil to work with me tomorrow and put it somewhere I can look at it as a reminder.

And because it touched me so – my heart can’t possibly be in a catabolic state.  It’s still capable of processing love.

It’s just scared.