So, I don't know how many times my husband has said to me, "Why aren't you writing in your blog" for the past two years, but I just couldn't. As it is for many people, life just continues to stay complicated. Blogging was a way for me to share some moments in life that I could look back on and remember, but right this very moment (past two years moment), I'm in the "people can kiss my ass if they don't like what I'm doing" phase, which is a phase that happens quite often and goes along with, "I don't have time to make sure my body language, attitude, and speech are politically correct" phase. As I'm writing this, I realize that maybe it isn't a phase. Yeah, it isn't. So why should I blog about stuff I don't give a shit what other people think? Yeah, that's why it's been two years.
So why am I writing now, because I need an outlet for all these feelings and sometimes other people need to read something like what I'm going through. I know I have really enjoyed Beth Woolsey's blog Five Kids Is A Lot Of Kids
http://putdowntheurinalcake.com/. I would totally move to Oregon to be her long lost best friend, but I don't ever want to move again and I think I may seem like a stalker, which I would totally be fine with, but I don't want to ruin my kids' reputation. Also, they have some friends and are liking the schools they're in (kinda) so might cause issues. Oh and not having a job could cause some problems like having to end up living in a yert. I may have mentally gone down the road of moving to Oregon a little farther than is logical and normal right? Again, no problems with being a stalker for the right reason.
Other reasons I haven't written is that I've felt mentally blocked. Like constipation. I know it's there wanting to come out, but it just sits there festering possibly becoming ugly and might hurt a little. Maybe a gross analogy and thus the reason to let it stay blocked. I've realized over the past two years and some therapy, that I have social anxiety. God knows where I got it, whether it was the incessant bullying of my entire elementary and middle school years or having been in an occult that we don't talk about because it just brings up painful memories, but it's there. It's not like the type of anxiety that makes me want to hide in a corner, my job is to deal with people all day so that would be awkward, but more in social situations anywhere but work. Funny right? Well not so funny, but you know, weird. Anyway, I was on medication to help me deal with this for awhile, which it did work. I felt less nervous, and really didn't give much of a shit what people thought. But that was the issue, I no longer gave a shit. I really liked the me that gave a shit about something. Don't get me wrong, I was still able to have feelings, but it took the "edge" off enough that I was just fine being in the moment. Well, that was awesome for two years because I was always that person over analyzing a situation (mole hill into mountain) and looking for the next thing our family can do, and try to be everything for everyone. Oh did I mention I was angry about everything? Yeah, pick a topic, I could get spun up about it.
Then this year came around and I was done taking a pill. Not that the pill wasn't helpful, it so was. But I just wanted to feel passion again. I was worried about stopping because of the anger, because the family definitely suffered when I was angry. However, on my two year journey, I realized that most of my anger was pent up from me not wanting to show weakness that my feelings were hurt. I wanted to be a strong person that could handle small humans saying mean things, and not getting bent out of shape because someone at work was rude or said something mean. The anger comes from me not wanting to cry, ever. Crying is not allowed in baseball or by me. Yeah, so I've done some brain searching, I don't say soul searching because that wasn't the problem, it was those rules I'd made for myself in my brain. Those ones suck and have no basis in my "now" reality, they are based on old wounds and experiences that happened when I was forming my sense of self.
So here I am, age 41 (almost 42), and I realize my sense of self needs some major renovations. Really? I thought as I got older I would have this figured out. I would be grayer but wiser and happier as a being. Nope. Good news for me is, I know now I can always re-invent, have a big burn party for the sense of self stuff that just needs to be burned into a fiery hot molten mess that can be hammered into something that gives me true strength instead of sadness and regret. Does this mean my anxiety is gone? Hell no - I still have diarrhea of the mouth when I meet new people, trying to tell them all about me so if they don't like me, they can be triaged that day versus wasting more time on a friendship. I still have anger that wells up without my understanding why and I still have plenty of sense of self issues. BUT, I've found this ability to look at them and see if it's worth it to keep going down the path. I'm able to look at my anger sooner and try to realize why and where it's coming from. I can explain to my kiddos that I need a moment or that their words have hurt me so I got angry because that's what I do when my feelings get hurt. Is this ability always there when I need it, again Hell No. But, it's there. I'm hoping that means I've learned something. Also, my passion and giving a shit are back. That makes me happy, usually.
Here's to me posting some really funny, eloquent, and deepling interesting things in the near future or at least giving a shit to write something.
