I have been trying to do small stuff to help myself feel better, function better. I try to do Yoga at least a few times a week and a cardio video (which really just turns into me dancing around circles flailing my arms). I even took a walk on my lunch break the other day. I looked in the mirror the other day and made myself look. I tend to not look at my reflection all that often. It’s not that I am ashamed of what I look like but I don’t feel great about some things either. I realized that the way I’m feeling on the inside is reflected on my outside. I’ve gained some weight since leaving the back-breaking restaurant life. I no longer stand on my feet for anywhere from 6 to 15 hours a day. I don’t get that workout, that physical adrenaline release. I don’t get that feeling, after all, is said and done of making it through the chaos. There is this feeling of release after you make it through a dinner rush in one piece. And I just don’t get that same feeling from sitting at a desk being verbally abused by adults. That negative, motionless, uninspiring desk may be literally killing me (yep, totally overdramatic, it’s cool).
So, I sat down at my kitchen table and, just like Sonny, I pulled out my box of tools to figure myself out. I wrote last week about my anxiety and how it is just getting out of control. I feel like partially it’s my fault. I know. It’s not really a matter of fault but it’s me that doesn’t know how to cut off negative energy in a healthy way. These are how I deal with life. I let it fester, boil over until I have had enough. Then I either do something about it or I say fuck it and just don’t care. I struggle with what to fight for. So much of my adult struggle has been about the fight I fight for others around me. It wasn’t really about me. I wanted it to be about me but I never allowed it to be because when I did? Well, getting shoved back down started to take its toll on me. I feel like I’ve come full circle, still fighting the same annoying battle of feeling empty. If I look at my life, this empty is completely absurd and so I get angry that I can’t just shut up already. I look at all that reflection and understand I got to the point of being so overwhelmed, angst-filled that I just didn’t care anymore. Who was paying attention to me anyway? I certainly wasn’t.
I changed over the last year and not all of it has been in a good way. I can accept my own responsibility for it. I allowed my environment to drown me when I should have had a life jacket on already. But I feel like because I’ve stopped so much physical activity, I have also lost that natural release. My head had lost its ability to push through something because my body is now just this blob that sits at a desk, listening all day to people who have nothing better to do than to say nasty things. So, I have been trying to add things to my day like the yoga, the Zumba videos, the occasional walk around a building. And, in a small way, it is helping but it is not the solution. It’s only a part of the solution. My artwork and my drawing is another part of the solution but still, I haven’t quite figured out the entire equation. I think it’s important for me to see the whole picture, to really take in exactly what I’m dealing with. My head feels full of unnecessary jumble and I need to clean house but some of this hoard has been in here for too long. I realize that I enjoyed the rush of the restaurant life because I didn’t have time to think, to feel, to really deal with me. And now? Well, now that reflection is staring me right in the face and it’s time I stare back.
I know a lot of my blogs lately have focused around this same theme. I feel like I’m going through this journey right now and this is how I find my best way. I don’t know how to talk to people but I know how to write. So, this is where I go. At the end of a sentence is where I find myself. This is one of the small things that help me find my center, my balance on these two wobbly feet. I once believed that I should keep all of these feelings inside a journal where no one can see. And, I’ll admit, I do have a journal full of secrets I will never tell but part of this journey for me is learning how to be vulnerable, to tell people how I feel. Do I wish I could sit down with you and just say the words? Sure, sometimes, but that will come in time. The Poem I wrote earlier was about being sincere and how I will run quickly away if I even smell a hint of someone being insincere but I’m still learning how to trust this world around me. I’m still learning on how to let go of the hoard that is in my head which includes a lot of disappointment. Maybe my wind will change this week. Maybe I’ll look at that reflection and won’t feel so broken. Maybe I’ll find the voice to speak these words but it’s all right if I don’t. This is my journey and I will find my shine in my own time. We all do.