Busy

Does knowing your weaknesses make it easier to improve yourself?

 
I’ve known, arguably forever, that I put an exorbitant amount of pressure on myself in all aspects of my life – from school to my personal life, I’ve always felt a need to be the best. In many ways, it’s been the reason behind my success but I can honestly say it’s been my downfall more than once. It’s often impossible for me to keep up with myself.
 
For years, I beat myself up over not doing well enough in this or that. I refused to admit defeat, and don’t even get me started on the process of swallowing my pride and asking for help. My stubborn nature and independence has led me down some slippery slopes, but I think I’m finally figuring out how to keep it together.
 
It took a long time for me to be able to admit to my “crazy”, partially because I felt like it made me a failure. The sense of impending doom that lived in my chest was exhausting and the ups and downs were giving me whiplash. I spent many days feeling like I was stuck – kind of like when I was a kid and I decided to walk in the muck behind my great-grandmother’s, only to lose my boots in the process and need to be rescued. I didn’t like it.

I don’t feel stuck any more.

After weeks of not sleeping, sluggishly dragging my sorry ass to school, struggling to keep my eyes open at work and many tearful phone calls with my Mom I went to the doctor. In spite of my overwhelming desire to deal with my anxiety on my own terms, I just couldn’t do it anymore and waving my little white flag has been the best decision I’ve ever made.
I still get anxious when I’m working towards a deadline or if traffic is heavy and I’m late, but I don’t get anxious about taking the dog outside any more than that’s a wonderful thing. I’m still putting a lot of pressure on myself, piling my proverbial plate so high I can barely see over it but I probably always will.
 

Even armed with the knowledge that I’m often setting myself up for burnout, I jump at the opportunity to get involved with various organizations and squeeze things into my schedule knowing full well I’ll be scrimping on sleep and rushing to get things done. I’m so tired most mornings the bags under my eyes are bigger than my boobs, but I’m sure I’ll slow down someday…

…right after I run the Bluenose 5K with the Autism NS team, organize a breakfast for 400 people, work on the Autism Golf Ball, go to Aqua Zumba every Thursday and squeeze in some time for the boys I love to squeeze. Oh, and get my hair done, paint my nails and walk that thing I call my dog. After I get all of those things done, grab a coffee and pick up some new shoes I’ll slow down.

Not.

Shameless

"Get over it."

How often have we said that to ourselves, our loved ones, our friends? "Put it behind you," or "Don't dwell on it," spoken with love and the best intentions, yet those words often do more harm than good.

It's not that easy, you see. I worry about stupid things, like sleeping in and not making it to an appointment on time, I check to see if I have my apartment and car keys over and over before I shut the doors behind me. I obsess about my weight, and sometimes I feel an overwhelming sense of impending doom. It doesn't make me crazy. It's my anxiety. It's a thing. It has a name, and it's not as easy to "put behind me" as putting one foot in front of the other.

Anxiety. Depression. Mental illness. I live it every day, and it's rarely easy.

After the meltdown back in August, I felt like I was managing just fine but when I couldn't get to sleep at night and couldn't get out of bed in the morning, it got to be a bit of a problem - especially with a 5:20am alarm and things that need doing.  After hiding my "crazy" for so long, it was liberating and terrifying to talk openly about how I'd been feeling. As I opened up to friends and family, I came to realize that I wasn't alone.

When I first wrote about it here, I was afraid of the reaction I might get - I was afraid I'd be defined by my anxiety. Instead, I've been empowered by it and I wish nothing more than for others who feel that impending sense of doom to reach out for help. It's easier to weather the storm when you have an anchor.

I recently made the decision to take antidepressants after a lot of thinking (and a lot of sleepless nights). I was proud of myself for coping naturally, through exercise and by writing but I'm too tired to be the hero right now. I'm sure that there are some who will uphold the stigma of mental illness, and that really sucks for them, and it sucks for those around them. You'd probably be surprised at the number of people who struggle with anxiety and depression - and you may be surprised to learn that you'll probably experience it in your lifetime, though it may not be as pronounced as it is for others.

You wouldn't roll your eyes or doubt someone suffering from arthritis. Mental illness can, and often is, just as crippling.

We don't shame people suffering from cancer, diabetes or multiple sclerosis, so why the Hell are we shaming people with mental illness? It's time to stop.

It's time to be shameless.


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Apologetic

Christmas: it's right around the corner.

Shit.

Please don't get me wrong, I love the holidays and I love my family even more. I truly enjoy shopping for their gifts, wrapping them with care and seeing their happiness and excitement as they open gifts on Christmas morning. I love feeling near to them, sitting around the table laughing and sharing stories with wine pouring and food in adundance. It's a happy, joyous time and yet it makes me incredibly sad.
 
Ever since my breakup, I hate being around couples... including my own family. At my Grandma's birthday party in the summer, I stood out like a sore thumb. Not only was I going through a lot emotionally, but I had lost the spark of myself. I hung out along the periphery, weaving in to talk to cousins and aunts for a moment only to weave back out and sit on my own. I didn't eat because I was so anxious around my own family that I was afraid I'd throw up. The occasion reminded me of how sad I was, how alone I felt. Even though I'm very happy with my life right now, it made me miss having someone special in my life. It was magnified again at Thanksgiving, and I know Christmas will be doubly tough. It will be the first Christmas without him.
 
I know I'm not alone in my post-split avoidance of couples, partially because I've been the friend in a happy relationship wondering where my newly single friend is hiding out. We all do it - we keep to ourselves because we don't want the reminder that our relationship just went down the drain. But, it's not a one way street. A lot of my coupled-up friends were unavailable or unwilling (I'm not able to say which) to help me through that time. Some had a lot going on in their own lives, but some of them didn't. They just checked out, and they might be surprised to learn that I have the lock on my door now.
 
When we're in a happy relationship, do we avoid our friends who are coping with a breakup because we're afraid of catching the "break up bug"? FYI, it's not contagious. While your friend might be miserable and devastated at her own relationship coming to an end, she almost definitely doesn't want to see yours crumble too. If she does, you need a new friend. But if you're ignoring her because you don't want to deal with her pain, she needs a new friend.
 
The hurt of losing your relationhip is magnified by the friend who is blissfully in love, finding excuses to pull her significant other into conversations over coffee ("Dan hates pumpkin spice lattes, how cute is that?" *puke*). In the back of your mind, you hope your friend is being lovesick and completely unaware that the mention is a mini-stab to your broken heart. If she's not, you really need to find a new friend. Tell her how you feel, or avoid more hurt feelings and try to change the subject.
 
To all of the friends I avoided: I'm sorry I couldn't be happy for you while I was feeling sorry for myself. To my best friend: the person I couldn't be a friend to because I was too wrapped up in my own sadness to realize that you were having a hard time coping with stress in your life: I'm really, really sorry. I love you, and I hope we never come to that again.
 
To all of the friends who were coping with a breakup while I was falling in love, I'm sorry that I was the girl who couldn't discuss tampons without bringing my new love interest in the conversation. I know I've done it, and I know now how much it hurts. I'm more sorry than you'll ever know. I would also love to shoot tampons at all the guys who've broken our hearts in the past, so call me with your availability for that. I'll bring the wine.
 
To the "friends" who have walked out of my life when I most needed them and waltzed back in when it was convenient: I hope you never experience that kind of cruelty, even if it's no more than you deserve. Friendship isn't about getting together when the sun is shining: it's about making fun of how terrible you both look when your hair is plastered to your face in the rain and snow, while wearing Santa Claus hats and singing Chipmunks songs.

Oh, and forgiving one another for those "nights that don't exist".
 
End Rant.

Step on a Crack...

I try very hard not to let superstition creep into my life.

Lately, it's not working.

Leading up to my wedding, everything went wrong. It started with the date - we didn't get the date we wanted, but we got into the venue on the Labour Day weekend. Next was the dress - my Mom hated the first one I liked, and the dress that I absolutely would have killed for had to be bought "as is", and would have taken a lot of stress and work to make ready for a real wedding. Then, the invitations were wrong not once, but five times. They were even sent out with the incorrect RSVP date because there was just no time to have them fixed again. We wrote the correct date in pen.

There was the ex-roommate who turned into an ex-bridesmaid when she informed me she planned on driving five hours to the church the day of my wedding - meaning she wouldn't be present for photos, hair/makeup, the meet-and-greet or anything else to do with the wedding but the actual wedding itself. Then there was the fact that my in-laws dictated everything. The day of the wedding, I looked at my best friend and my Mom and asked, "Am I making a mistake? Were they signs?"

Maybe they were, maybe they weren't. The only thing I do know is our one year anniversary should have been two months ago, and I haven't seen my husband since July. Aside from a handful of texts this week, I hadn't even heard from him in four weeks - which is usually the case, just a text to say he's sent something for F. I've dwelled on not listening to my gut and reading the signs that were blatantly flashing before my eyes, and have wondered if I would be happier, if hearts would have been spared had I called off the wedding when it first crossed my mind - around the time shit started hitting the fan.

Yesterday, I felt that strange sense of "Is this an omen?" when I went to my apartment to find the door to my unit UNLOCKED. WITH MY STUFF INSIDE. I could feel my heart breaking - I have never felt so assaulted, so violated in all my life. All of my things were where I'd left them, but the building managers cared that little about my belongings that they didn't even lock the door that separated them from the world. I was furious. This was only exasperated by the fact that the apartment hadn't been cleaned, a jug of paint sat in the middle of my floor and there were still cigarettes and old coffee cups on my counter. What did I get myself into?, I asked myself walking down the stairs shaking with anger.

We had no choice but to my move my things into the apartment. I looked at my Dad and said, "I'm looking for a new place. I will not stay here." He agreed, wholeheartedly and within a few hours, I had found a few spots to look at on Sunday when I return to town. It was sickening feeling. All of my doubts about going back to school were blown up on the projection screen for me this last week. An apartment that wasn't ready, twice. Since telling a few people where the apartment was, I've heard everything from "I saw a car on fire in the parking lot there once" to "the cops are there every day".

Needless to say, I'm moving and trying to stay positive that this isn't a sign from some greater force that I'm not supposed to go to school right now but that's not going to happen. Shit happens, but always for a reason. Maybe the perfect apartment is just waiting for me to move in!

Enough

I woke up this morning feeling pretty pleased with myself.

Two big suitcases sat jam-packed with my stuff against the wall, a third set on top of a rubbermaid container (mainly to hold said rubbermaid container closed), waiting to be filled. In a little under two hours last night, I managed to pack the clothes I like the most need for my first few weeks in the new place. How efficient am I? I thought smugly, and then I looked into my closet.

More clothes. Dresses, jackets, shirts, sweaters, shoes, pants, jeans, skirts... There is an entire wardrobe packed in my suitcases and another full wardrobe hanging in my closet. My bureau drawers aren't empty either. In spite of having not one but four white button-front shirts, last week I looked at one and thought how much I wanted to buy it. I didn't, and was reminded why last night. Given, some of the clothes hanging don't fit quite right but some were expensive items, and you never know when you might put on five or forty pounds, right?

More. It consumes our lives, day in and day out. We want more money, bigger houses, faster cars, better wardrobes, more vacation time. Some of us even lose sleep over it - I know I do. Want keeps me awake, need rarely does. Every now and again, want and need overlap for me. Going back to school is a great example of that. I could have done all of the schoolwork in the upcoming year in the time I spent worrying. All those hours didn't change the outcome though. They don't make tuition less and as far as I can see, worrying isn't going to make leaving any easier.

Wanting more this and more that has really only given me more stress, more headaches and less happiness. Worrying about things I can't have or can't change has only dulled my own life and taken away from all of the wonderful things I do have. What if, just for one day, I could swap wanting more with being happy with enough. I have enough. 

I have a roof over my head when thousands of others are freezing in the street. I have food in my cupboards, and electricity keeping my fridge running. I have an amazing support system of family and friends. I have a beautiful, bright and loving little boy and I have our health. New jeans or a shiny car won't make any of that better or worse.

When it's all stripped away, I really have it all - I have more than enough.