I have undoubtedly been having a difficult time as of late.
It is a lot of things, truthfully. Relationships are hard. I am at this point where I am so cognizant of the things that I do automatically (like talking to myself negatively) and yet, I cannot quite get to a point where I can stop doing that.
For example–I know I shouldn’t rely on other people for my worth. I know that can lead to a lot of emptiness and that it subjects me to the whims of other people. Yet, I still feel a lot. I worry about my relationships. I internalize negative beliefs about myself in my marriage (for example, I am not sexy enough. I am fat. I can’t turn my husband on because I am gross). I worry about abandonment and the inevitable moment when people that I love will see me the way that I see me…and then I will lose them.
I worry about being alone.
And yet…I also know that, to be healthy, I shouldn’t worry about any of these things.
It. Is. Frustrating. Continue reading
I am in a funk. So much so, that I haven’t even been compelled to write anything lately.
…and for me, that is rare.
Every January, February, and early March, I find myself here. I don’t know if it is lack of sunshine, an abundance of illness, or just the everyday blah of cold weather and dark nights.
What I do know? Continue reading
A year ago, I was breaking through. I saw the tunnel. I saw the end. I thought I had reached it. 2017 was coming for me. I was ready. I was ready to kick 2016 to the curb and welcome a good year.
I turned 30. 30 and 2017 were going to be my year.
I have spent the last four years working at elementary schools in various capacities. I have known, for awhile, that education is the career for me. It just took me some time to take the leap and go back to school to earn a second degree.
School was a safe place for me. Growing up, when life was crazy, chaotic, and traumatic, school represented a place where I could go and be free. Loved.
Throughout my schooling, there were a few individuals who saved me. The teachers who saw who I was, and encouraged me to do my best. The teachers who embraced me and made me feel loved and supported. The ones who saw beyond the messy hair or messed up clothes. The ones who didn’t care that my parents didn’t show to parent/teacher conferences and told me I was smart anyway.
Therapy is such a process.
There have been times when I have wondered: Is it time to be done?
The reality? I still have a long way to go.
I had been doing a lot better. I had been having much longer spaces between therapy sessions…from weekly, to twice a month, to once every three weeks, to, almost, once a month.
But then, another setback.
I’ve always been the type of person to avoid confrontation. For me, it is more than just unpleasant–it is emotionally fueled, painful, and anxiety provoking.
It has always been easier…better…to just be the peacemaker. The nurturer.
I was cultivated into this role from an early age. The first person that I tried to avoid confrontation with is a person that I still try to avoid confrontation with: my mother.
I have been an irritable, grumpy person lately.
Life has been stressful, for no really great reasons.
My anxiety has felt okay.
It’s just that melancholy creeps in.
Some days? It overtakes me.