Posts Tagged ‘feeling’

Fifteen Minute Blog

March 1, 2019

That’s about all I got tonight.

Fifteen minutes.

I almost decided to not write, but then I thought, when am I going to have the opportunity again?

I mean.

PhD full tilt boogie.

38 hours a week at my day job.

I’ve also clocked 13 hours at my internship so far this week and I have a client tomorrow as well as three on Saturday.

This is it.

Take the moment.

I could, sure, do some homework.

But.

Well.

I’m pretty on top of it right now.

I wrote a paper over the last two days at work as I was left pretty much alone during the afternoons at work with the baby (who’s really not a baby anymore, 26 months tomorrow) who has been taking these great big fat three-hour naps.

I can knock out a lot of work in three hours.

It’s been a huge gift.

When people ask me how I’m doing it, that’s really the key right now, homework while the baby naps.

Of course I do homework at other times, but the three hours really gives me a way into staying abreast of the work.

I have plenty to do the next couple of days as well with school work, new module’s opened in one of my classes, which means obligations to post discussions and respond to others.

I have done the readings so it shouldn’t be too bad and if the baby naps well tomorrow and the mom’s out of the house, I’ll get it done.

I’m staying busy.

Maybe, sort of, on purpose.

I will say I was a little surprised today to not be as upset and sad as I thought I would.

Then again, when I have slowed down from school, work, clients, dealing with my car being in the shop for six days, OHMYGOD do I love having my car back, I have broken down pretty quick.

I’ve been very careful since the break up to not listen to certain music.

I’ve gotten caught once or twice when I was in a ride share on my way to work and the driver had something come on the stereo that knocked me for a loop.

Cue wearing my ear pods on all drives to and from where ever I was going.

As well as making sure to listen to music at work that’s very upbeat.

I’m sure there’s more grief to grieve.

I lost my best friend and we have a no contact agreement.

I have felt lonely  and lost and sad.

I have also felt some freedom I wasn’t expecting and some relief that it’s done.

Walking around last week for five and a half days knowing that I was about to break up was harrowing.

Just the relief of not having to do that is tremendous.

I haven’t looked at photos either.

And I’ve not gone looking through texts or emails.

Maybe I’m packing too much swaddling around myself.

I don’t know.

I just know that the first time we went through a break up it was so horrendously sad I walked around for days, weeks, feeling like I had been beaten.

And I couldn’t stop crying.

I have had a few moments of unbearable crying jags, but just not to the extent of last time.

I was also not practiced at the breakup.

He and I have gone through it two times officially from my side and once, in a sort of conditional way on his side.

Third times the charm I guess.

Oh.

I do sort of still hope that something miraculous will happen.

That he will decide to alter the things I asked him to alter and we’ll be together.

And I know I can’t wait around for that, it probably won’t happen, and I can’t live my life hoping.

I have to live my life in faith, I know that.

The situation I was in was untenable and I went on in for almost two years.

I’m lucky to have known the depth of love that I had but I also went through a lot of pain.

A lot.

Things were just never quite what I wanted.

Fuck.

Now I’m teary.

Shit.

I thought I’d make it through.

Oh well.

My person reminded me that it wasn’t that there was a lack of love if anything that was what made it so terrible to do, we were so in love with each other.

We’d frequently call the other the One, or soul mate, or magic, or love of my life.

So, it’s rather heartbreaking that we couldn’t get around the issues that broke us apart.

I could wish it different, but I couldn’t make it happen.

And man.

Did I try.

I really tried to be super flexible and not look at things with black and white thinking but in the end I wasn’t getting my needs met and he and I both knew it and he was guilty and sad for it and I was upset over it and it wasn’t working.

God I wish it had.

Ugh.

Now I know why I wasn’t wanting to blog.

I knew that I was going to process emotions doing this and now I’m typing and crying and the heart ache is there and it doesn’t matter what I’m playing on the stereo, it’s all love songs about him anyways.

Well, that was fun.

I just precipitated a crying jag with my head on my table.

Ugh.

I can’t really avoid myself and my emotions when I’m writing, they just naturally come up.

Sigh.

And I can have some compassion for the part of me that doesn’t want to feel and has kept mighty, mighty, mighty busy not thinking about it.

I am sad.

I am tender.

I miss him so much.

Fuck.

I miss you darling.

I miss you so bad.

Advertisements

News!

June 6, 2017

Aside from the fact that I am super tired.

And.

Hello.

It’s Monday.

Bwahahahahaha.

Ugh.

It is what it is and I know once I’m in the groove of the week I will be just fine.

I usually am.

I just need to hit my stride and there was some extra work that I hustled into my schedule today aside from my work and going to meet with my supervisor, I also went to school to take care of some more paperwork.

My God.

The amount of stuff I have to get signed.

I know it’s a necessary evil, but man, there’s a lot of stuff to keep track of.

I had a moment when I was going to leave something in my scooter basket, just a cloth sack with a file folder in it.

Then.

I had this vision of someone breaking into my scooter basket and taking that file.

I was like.

Oh, no you don’t, motherfucker.

Not leaving any paperwork to be stolen.

Not that I think that anyone wants my BBS forms (Behavioral Board of Sciences) but they might break into the basket to see if there’s anything of value and rifle through shit and drop that in the piss and used rigs on Minna Street.

And just.

NO.

I spent too much time and effort getting just a couple of those forms filled out–one of them has four different signatures and also three different initialed spots, spots that are not my own signature.

I did not want to risk it at all.

Anyway.

I took it with, popped into the practicum office at school, had a really nice chat with the woman there and got some more paperwork and went to another floor of the school and got some more paperwork there, all the papers, and then scootered off to work with a big smile on my face.

I got some good news today.

I don’t have to stop writing my blog!

OH MY FUCKING GOD AM I HAPPY OR WHAT?!

I brought it up again with my supervisor and what the group of interns at my internship had suggested and while I was talking he gets on his phone and says after a minute, “don’t bother, you’re not coming up on any searches, you’re buried.”

And then.

“Take that with a grain of salt,” he continued, “you get a stalker client, and I’ve had my share, you’ll get someone who will find your stuff, but you are anonymous enough, I think you’re going to be fine as long as you don’t post your blog any longer to social media.”

So.

Hurray!

I am so very pleased.

But.

Yes.

I am going to be going off social media with my blog pretty damn quick.

My end date on it is this Wednesday.

I am not longer posting on Twitter.

In fact, I tried to deactivate it today, but it had me a bit flummoxed, man when you’re on the site they want to keep you there.

I did log out of it and I took it off my phone and I won’t be linking my blog to it any longer.

That is a start.

My supervisor also prescribed all the privacy actions that I have already taken with my Facecrack account and then told me to make sure that my LinkedIn account is not public.

Fact is.

I have no clue.

I set up a LinkedIn account over six years ago, maybe longer?

I have never used it.

I have no idea what it may say about me, but I need to clean it out and make sure it’s private and obviously update it.

A bit has changed in the last six, seven years, to say the least.

But.

I can do that.

I can keep writing this blog.

Oh.

I know.

A client might find it and my supervisor and I talked about that too and how that can be handled and how that can be brought into the therapy and I felt really good discussing it all with him.

He is a fantastic supervisor.

He scares me a little, he’s just that smart, but he’s good and I’m learning so much from him, I am beyond grateful we are working together.

So I was pretty happy to walk out of his office knowing that Auntie Bubba will ride again, not that she’d been stabled, but that I did think I was going to have to put her out to pasture.

I have gotten some amazing responses over the last couple of days from folks who want to continue getting the blog or some semblance there of and I am happy to report you, my dear reader, that you can still read the blog right here on WordPress.

I would suggest you either subscribe to my blog and get it e-mailed to you or you can, by signing into WordPress set up an account and become a follower.  I have about 11 people who get it e-mailed to them and 284 followers.

You’re welcome to become 285, or 286, or whatever the number may be.

I don’t have many followers, but I feel like I have rapport with many of them.

I feel honored that some folks have been reading from the very beginning and that many, most of the reader who follow me don’t even know who I am.

Which, hey, is how it’s supposed to be, right?

Especially now as I begin my therapeutic endeavors.

“You have your first client this week?!” A friend asked me tonight, “they are a super lucky person, they really are.”

I could tell my friend was sincere and in his warm face I felt all the love and strength and trust and faith in myself that I could ever hope to feel.

I am so lucky.

Blessed.

Graced.

You pick.

To get to do this kind of work.

And.

Really.

When I look back over my life, I have been in so many situations where I was privileged to hold a confidence, to listen to someone walking through pain, to be a shoulder, literally and figuratively, I have been prepping most of my life, it would seem.

Grateful for every damn thing that has brought me here.

I am the luckiest girl in the world.

I absolutely believe that.

So much love.

So much gratitude.

Happy.

Joyous.

Motherfucking.

Free.

Have You Forgiven

November 15, 2013

Yourself for being single?

She asked me, a perceptive light in her eye, leaning forward across the table.

Oh shit.

What?

I have never had it laid out like that before.

Or if I did, I wasn’t hearing the message.

Oh, lots of time I will be paying rapt attention to the medium–is it flashy, does it glitter, is it pretty–but the message was have you forgiven yourself.

Well, god damn.

No, I have not.

I am to blame, don’t you know.

For everything, when it comes down to it.

As though I have some power over this, over anything.

The last couple of weeks have more than amply demonstrated that I don’t have power over much, just the actions I take, or don’t take.

Try not reacting.

Try pausing.

Say it with me, pause.

Pause.

Breath.

I took a naptation today.

I made that up, but man it was glorious.

I had my little Thursday girl, just one charge, music class, long nap, pigtails and a late afternoon Americano at the Mill on Divisadero.

I discovered that yes, indeed, the pushing of the stroller does aggregate my shoulder, it’s not just the double stroller, it is now every fucking stroller I use.

ARGH.

I did, however, after I posted last nights blog, log into my medical provider and book an appointment with my doctor.

I go in next Wednesday.

I was going to try to push it out to the week following, but I just can’t do it.

I have to get this taken care of.

I don’t like the idea of missing work, it’s a fucking catch-22, I can’t afford to miss a shift, but I can’t afford to get injured worse and potentially miss a lot of shifts.

So, I am taking it on the chin and going to get taken care of.

It was suggested to me that it could also be a pinched nerve.

Oh, hell.

It does sound like it, little internet web doctoring over in my corner, maybe…

Anyway, since I am not a doctor, I am just going to let my employers know I need to be checked out and leave it at that.  I can still work a half day, I booked the appointment for the afternoon.

After I got my charge down for her nap, bless her little heart, 2 and a half hours, I ate a really nice lunch (purple kale salad with organic baby cucumbers, Roma tomato, a tender sweet carrot, a little chopped apple, olive oil and balsamic and a veggie burger, accompanied by a cup of Earl Grey and an after lunch apple that I sliced up and sprinkled with sea salt and cinnamon) and sat down with a Tom Robbins novel, Still Life With Woodpecker.

I read for about an hour, stretched, got up, had bathroom break and decided a meditation was in order.

I got myself situated, followed the tail of my breath and sat for about twenty minutes.

Then I fell asleep.

Oops.

But so nice.

“Naptation.”

I like it.

I was not out for very long, but enough to really get refreshed.

“You sound like you are very tender,” she said, “are you aware of that?”

“Oh God, yes,” I replied, “I am in a lot of pain with the shoulder.”

“No, not what I meant, more that you are sad, grieving, maybe still Paris?  Have you written about that?”

Who are you and get out of my head.

“No, I have not done a lot of writing about that and you are now the second person in recent history to suggest I do.”

Grr.

I almost stuck my tongue out at her.

I listed all the great things I have been doing: bought myself flowers on Saturday, got a massage on Sunday, have been hula hooping, I went to an amazing concert, I got a boogie board….

“Yes, I know, and you’re sad and you’re feeling alone,” she added.

Stabbing pain in chest.

I thought my shoulder hurt.

Fuck.

“Can you be nice to yourself while you grieve?” She asked.

Can I play, can I forgive, can I move on?

How about, yes, yes, and yes.

I had never thought about it the way she was describing it, to love myself, to hold myself tenderly.

I am a bit gruff with myself.

I am doing more and more work.

Small things like stickers and sweet-smelling candles help, “are you burning potpourri in here,” my friend asked when he came by for a visit a few weeks back.

No.

Candles.

I like them.

Little fires in my house.

I like the way burning smells.

There was wood smoke drifting through the woods tonight as I rode my bicycle home, I pulled lungful upon lungful of air into my body.

Smoke.

Eucalyptus.

Evergreen.

Undercarriage tree leaf mulch, wet, rich, damp, earth, potent with magic and fecundity.

I whipped down Lincoln, her words in my ear.

How refreshing.

Not just the thoughts, no, the freedom.

I can forgive myself.

I don’t have to hold this garbage over my head any longer.

I am and have been doing the best I can.

Change will come when change is supposed to come.

I believe, with all my heart, with that wicked flame of a soul I have, with every bit of my being, that I do have a partner out there, we may have met, we may yet to meet, but until we do I can hold this space, tenderly, for myself.

Be tender to myself with forgiveness and let in love ,in its richness and abundance, spread out into my world.

To literally, tend to myself.

I came home and played.

That’s what I wanted to do.

I got out my hula hoop and put on some house music and hooped for a while.

Then, haha, yes, I played dress up.

Dress Up

Dress Up

My friend’s masquerade ball birthday party is this Saturday.

I got the hair down.

I’ll grab a mask tomorrow, the one my house mate’s daughter has is too small, and just wear a plain black dress and heels.

Voila.

Masquerade ball.

And aside from the forgiveness of self, which I am sure will be a continuing life altering exploration, I was given an assignment.

I have to plan three things for the upcoming months.

I have to make plans for Thanksgiving.

I have none.

I have to make plans for my birthday.

I have none.

I have to make plans for Christmas.

I, uh, yeah, have none.

So.

I have an idea for my birthday, beach bonfire, but not sure when to execute that.  My birthday, one week before Christmas, is a hard date to get anyone to come together on.  Plus, it’s on a Wednesday.

I have a little time to think about it.

Thanksgiving I don’t have a great deal of concern about, but I will take the suggestion and make a plan.

I have the whole week off.

I am open to ideas.

It was a revelatory day.

Painful.

Yup.

But once I got into the flow I realize that all these experiences, well, they just enrich my life more.

How amazing that I get to have all these emotions, to continue experiencing growth, even when those growing pains hurt, to have new revelations, and dare I say it, new forgiveness.

Today I am forgiven.

I forgive myself for being single.

Ain’t nothin’ gonna change til somethin’ changes.

I am a changed woman tonight.

Tender.

But changed.


%d bloggers like this: