Vegas Baby

 There’s no denying that I’ve had my share of heartache, especially over the past year. Relationships are my sore spot, since I have all sorts of anxieties around bonding with people and the constant fear of abandonment that comes with my particular diagnosis. During those dark moments when I’m obsessing over what went wrong between DG and myself, (or any of my exes and myself) I’ve turned to one source over and over again…Miss Mandy Hale aka The Single Woman.

I can’t even remember what it was that brought her to my attention. It may have been a book sale or a recommendation when I was looking up dating advice or how to survive when you go from the it girl to the avoided girl. I remember reading her Guide to Letting Go and Moving on and being thoroughly uplifted, which, believe me kids, is a hard feat to pull off. I’d never had such to-the-point, heartfelt advice that stayed with me. I swear I could have taken several of her quotes and pasted them on my bathroom mirror to recite in the morning as mantras.

After that, like a sign from the heavens, I came across her 30 Day Blogging Challenge and that was a revelation. Taking on the Single Woman’s daily questions not only opened me up from the little ball of pain I was and got me thinking and challenging the relationship I was stagnating in, but it got me writing too, and from a hopeful place. (Also, not an easy thing to pull off). I’m not one to tout other people’s stuff, but so far, not only has her new book, I’ve Never Been to Vegas, But my Luggage Has, already given me a quote to hang on the bathroom mirror, (“When you stop blooming where you’ve been planted, it’s time to put down new roots.”) but it’s given me something incredibly close to my own experience to relate to. Her account of going through panic attacks and deep depression, both of which I’m currently starting to heal from myself, have my agnostic brain calling this book a blessing. Yeah, I said it…

I’m in the midst of a marathon read in the hopes that it will bring me the same uplifting push towards self-confidence that her other books have (I read her other books in one day flat). When you’re circling a drain, synchronicities are much appreciated. I’m open to the possibility, and so far whenever I need a good kick in the pants and a shot of belief in myself, her words are put in my path like an elixir. She has an incredible talent for being both inspirational and concise.

Though I’m not quite at the end, I’m getting that no matter the slings and arrows (or lousy relationships), we all have a path to walk. That path may not be what we thought it was going to be, but the detours are marked if we care to look, each one a lesson. We can end up in an entirely different place than we imagine, but after our hissy fits and self-deceptions, we find that can be a better place, a more rewarding place, and beyond anything we thought we wanted. For the first time in a long time, I feel lit up with hope that I can find my own overgrown trail to walk toward my destination. I’m grateful, hopeful, and full of it. It’s wonderful to have the tools to create your own upswing, and this new book has definitely been one of them for me. Inspiring stories do that for you. I can only hope one day to have my own to bless people with. Until then, I’m going to keep reading and keep watching for those exit signs.

Recognize the End

What was the last thing you contemplated leaving? What were the pros and cons? Have you made up your mind? What will you choose?

It’s rather funny that today’s prompt should be about endings. This day has revolved around that very subject. Actually, all week, I’ve been contemplating leaving things in a number of ways, some less than healthy and some much needed. When you come to the realization that where you are is not where you’re meant to be and that you’re beginning to wither from being planted in the wrong place, everything begins to change.

While there are times I feel blessed to be in my job, for example, when a family has truly found closure because of what we’ve done, it’s great. Most of the time, however, I find myself emotionally drained by it. For the most part, I try to be someone who is compassionate and helpful during one of the most difficult of life’s challenges and transitions, but what I’ve found is that I give much more of myself than I should and end up taking home grief that doesn’t belong to me. There isn’t much joy between these walls and they are the same four walls every day, spent alone or with grieving family members. It’s become a challenge for me to get to the end of the day, and when I do, I find the rest of my day much the same.

 It’s what routinely is referred to as “a rut”. I can tell you, I’m tired of listening to this record skip over and over again. I’d like to get to a chorus eventually. Some joyful singing. A revelation. A plot twist. Something new is needed.

While, lately I’ve been convinced, due to I’m sure what is partly my illness, to shuffle off the mortal coil, the rational brain that’s in there somewhere is actually crying for a change. I just can’t see the direction. I have to believe that one will make itself known. The wait is sure unpleasant though. As with any painful transition, there are growing pains.

It seems like I’ve been searching for my purpose forever and I’m still not sure where it lies. I’m opening up to the possibilities. The one thing I do know is that it’s time. When you begin to hate your life, it’s a big, fat sign that you need to move on. Right now I have no idea what the choice will be. There are no pros or cons to weigh until a direction opens up, but the decision is the first step. It’s time. I’m done here.

The other big revelation is that I finally got closure, well, somewhat, in my strained relationship. It is indeed over. The bandage has been ripped off and there’s nothing left to ponder or wonder about. I’m on my own to discover what it is that makes me happy. Things feel at once more hopeful already, even though, as an ending, it feels sad. This one gutted me though and through, but I needed the lesson. The finality of it has set me free in a way. The world is open to the boy and me. It may seem silly, but there will be some way shown. Things do have a funny way of directing you. I just wish the universe would hurry up a bit.

Odd Man Out

It’s been a while since I’ve been up to writing, not because of anything in particular, but because of the pure monotony. I’ve been in a funk, realizing that every day is like the last and everything I do is a “have to”. I’m feeling on the verge of one of my roller coaster moods and I’m not sure if it’s the boredom that anyone would feel in doing the day to day drudgery or if I’m on the upward swing of my illness. Whatever the case, alone is alone.

No, this one isn’t about romance, but a wider spectrum of relationships that encompasses everyone I know. Charlotte Bronte once wrote “the problem isn’t that I’m single and likely to remain single, it’s that I’m lonely and likely to remain lonely.” There is a big difference. Being the odd one out sucked in school and it’s no less painful now. Why am I feeling this abrupt need for company now? As usual, it’s in the face of seeing others’ camaraderie.

There have been changes in the immediate circle of people that I interact with. All of that is positive for the most part, but when everyone goes on to have a good old time and forgets you exist, well, that’s a little less awesome. It’s a hazard of the fact that I’m alone in my office all day, which I think is the root of my problem. I only get to interact with people that are grieving, have a problem, or are in need of information. There’s no one to talk to for the rest of the day, and recently, it’s taken every ounce of strength to get through it.

I look forward to going home, but it’s more of the same, the weekends, the same yet. A pile of chores and tasks. No company except my boy who has more pressing things to do, like play his video game. It’s becoming a lonely existence and I’m jot sure why it’s not bothered me before. Probably because I get a little resentful of the fact and then want everyone to leave me alone. It’s an unfortunate dichotomy of the illness that we create the very thing we fear.

I don’t want to be alone and want to be included in the love fest, but because I’m forgotten, I’m resentful and seek the very isolation I’m upset about. Attention feels like pity. I think my upswing this time is an angry one. When I go hypo-manic, it’s not joy or excitement that’s awakened, it’s angst, impatience, and resentment. Who wouldn’t want to be a part of that company? Right.

I need my spring of inspiration refilled. It’s run dry. I’ll go do some randomness I’ll regret and come back to my senses, nothing having changed really in the end. I, of course, realize none of this thinking is healthy. If I want true change, I’ll have to learn how to interact with people in a less raw way. It’s still difficult not to take everything personally or as a commentary on my fitness as a worthwhile human being. It simply feels like people continually overlook me as a companion…that everyone else is preferable to me… and that’s a painful thing to feel.

It’s all part of it, I know, but it doesn’t make it better. Knowing where it stems from isn’t helping much either. I can catch it, realize it and redirect myself and hope that my company is enough for me, write a little, and wait for it to pass. Woo. Can I party or what? I think this is how people end up drinking by their lonesome and end up alcoholics. In my case, my imagination can furnish me friends and I can pretend that I’m loved. Yeah, I need some rum…