I was having coffee with my daughter this morning and some things because painfully obvious to me. One, I need to suck it up. I push myself and blame my life on anxieties that, if I'm being honest, are just in my head. I've tumbled about recently, feeling more like Ero then Pooh. I'm not saying that there is anything wrong with getting down every now and then, with reevaluating where you are in your life. It becomes a problem if you can't break free of it.
Here's the thing about me that I don't know if many people know. I used to be a really mean person and not really give a shit about anyone. And then some stuff happened and then I had a kid and then my priorities changed. I've worked really hard to be more positive, to be kinder, to be more patient, and to be more accepting. That being said... I'm still human. There is still a bitch inside me that every now needs to come out. There is still a sad little girl that once in a while needs to cry out in the open. And you know what? There will always be a hippy in me that refuses to not shine.
I can sit here, wallow in the death of my father and break my heart thinking about my daughter growing up and ball my eyeballs out at the knowledge that soon my sweet puppy will move to heaven (because all dogs go to heaven) and worry myself into a heart attack about money, but there is no point to any of it. I can say things but words don't change what is... but you know what I can do? I can learn to let go of all these things that have recently been tugging so brutally at me. I can focus on finding solutions instead of being defeated by the problems.
My husband is a sweet man and sometimes my anger gets unjustly directed at him when, at the end of the day, I am angry at myself. He gave me the most brilliant, right on description of myself that made me cry. Here is the one thing that I want to make clear. I do not hate myself or dislike myself. I know that I am a strong woman, a good mother, a loving wife... but what I struggle with is who I am to myself. What I struggle with is balance. I think we change through out our life, becoming more one thing and less something else. We trade in traits for other traits because they fit better where ever we are in life. Do I apologize for the bitch that I can be? No. Do I want to suffocate that sad part of me? Absolutely not. Do I wish I could be that happy hippy all the time? Yes, I do but that's not a realistic reality. I am absolutely all of these things. I am the scars I carry. I am the hurt that I feel... but what I also am is the joy that I feel, the love that I give. I know I can't be everything to everyone, something I struggle with. I know that I need to be needed and I get real butt hurt when I feel like no one needs me. What I need to learn is how to just be enough for myself and for the real people in my life that matter. Again, I must remember that I am human and can't kiss everyone's scraped knees.
Who we are is what we choose and what we can't. Who we are is a balance of the parts of us that we can control and the parts of us that just are. So when I get lost because these parts of myself are conflicting with each other, I got to just ride it out sometimes. Feelings are wild and crazy and tender and something we should take care of. Sometimes you can fight them, you can hide them, but eventually you do have to deal with them. Sometimes you can stare them in the face and talk them down. Sometimes there's nothing to do but close your eyes and hold on. We all find our way to the shore eventually. The beautiful part about all of us is brighter then we know.
We were driving to get coffee this morning, a bright beautiful Sunday morning. The kid was in a good mood (at that moment) and my hubby was making jokes. And I just sat in the passenger seat thinking about all those things that go on in my head that I can't often verbalize. Last night I cried. I cried because of the same old demons that I carry around with me won the round. My husband quit smoking this week. I couldn't be more proud of him and I couldn't want more to be right there with him... but I am having a much harder time with it. You know what? That's ok. He was ready. I, apparently, was not.
Here's the thing. My brain sometimes doesn't work right. I have struggled with self esteem, with depression, with feeling like I'm enough for years. I started writing when I was ten because I felt so sad all the time, felt so alone. And these feelings don't leave. They are like waves. Sometimes the tide is high and I feel as if my head is crashing into a million pieces. Other times they are low, quiet, almost soothing. I have been on and off Zoloft in my adult life but I have been off for a long time because I don't want to use chemicals to control my brainwaves. But, in retrospect, I feel like I've always used cigarettes in its own way as a form to keeping these demons at bay.
My husband is a brilliant, loving, kind soul. There are so many reasons why I fell in love with him, why he is my best friend, why he makes me a better person. So last night on the way home after I had worked a nigh shift, I cried in the car. I had a couple drinks in me and had smoked half a pack of cigarettes and was feeling as if the sadness was getting the best of me. I realized that, at the end of the day, I am my own worst enemy and generally don't know how to deal with so many things. It wasn't just the death of my father. It's been my whole life of swallowing any sort of feelings. So, in this moment, my sweet husband looks at me and tells me that I am stronger then I think I am and I always have been. And in that moment, as the tears I should have let flow for so long traveled down my cheeks, I finally let go.
I know that I will fight this battle for a long time to come. I know that I will always think in the back of my head that I am not good enough, that I am not thin enough, that I am not smart enough, that I am not enough... but I also know that all of those feelings for as harmful as they can be will always push me to be a better person. The trick here is to find balance between self destruction and self motivation. The older I get, the more aware I am of how much I don't know. I am a learning experience. I just have to be open to the lesson.