I Lost the Note, I Rocked the Boat

I have got to do better for myself. There. I'm not prioritizing my priorities and those who I am prioritizing are not matching that effort. That's a hard thing for me to write. It's a hard thing for me to even think about. My mother told me a variation years ago of "If you let them, they will." I mean, at the time I didn't recognize that as boundary-setting. I think I still thought everyone deep down, wanted to give more than they take, with few exceptions. At that time, I was already setting boundaries and had no idea that's what I was doing. I'm so much better at that now.

I feel like I am present and supportive with all I've got and because of that, people rely on me and need me, but that I project this "I got it" attitude, which I live because I do got it. I've always got it. I always have. "You're okay. You're always okay. It's part of your charm." And I can hold all of my shit together and probably a bunch of other people's really intense shit too, but I'm tired of it. I ask for help in the subtle ways that I can, but I guess I'm just not kicking hard enough for people to see past the person who's always on top of it.

I'm scheduled for knee surgery a week from Tuesday. I'm not 100% sure who's driving me. I would love to do that myself, but they don't really let you. My house is still in boxes scattered across the space, with the kitchen in full half-drop-clothed and dusty chaos. I want to go to the sketch event at the Botanical Gardens today. I can't make the time for that. I want to paint my cat. Or her portrait. But I don't have the time to make that a reality. It would be experimental for sure. I want to create. I always have. And until the past few years, all of that was waiting inside me and that caused my unhappiness. And because I can't make time for that now, all that dark is creeping back in.

I need to fold laundry and sweep and change the sheets and take out the trash and clean up the bathroom from the water leak upstairs and excavate all the things I know are here that I just cannot find and reorganize my office so that it's a comfortable place to work and create. I have dreams for this closet. Yes, the one presently full of Gabe's stuff. 

My job in intense. It always is this time of year. I love my job. I'm good at my job. But when I add that intensity that no one else really seems to get because I do try to (that word...the word...) mezuzah the shit out of that when I walk out the door. And I usually can. I can usually put it out of my mind and worry about it the next work day. These days, I waking up at all hours remembering things I should not have forgotten in the first place or solving problems that absolutely could wait. 

This world is a fuckshow. This man, 33, was arrested downtown last week for clocking a young woman with a glass beer stein then continuing to assault her because she attempted to remove the swastika from his Nazi "costume." And this wasn't a caricature of a costume, it wasn't satire. This thing looked real. It turned my stomach. I hope there were no Jewish people around to see that because I cannot imagine how that would feel. 

As of tomorrow, one in eight Georgians will have less money for food. It's 2025 and we're okay with letting kids go hungry. Old people, veterans, the disabled. And people are absolutely celebrating. That is a level of cruelty that I can't even fathom. Something like 22% of children in Georgia receive food subsidy benefits. These are the pro-lifers. Pro-birthers.

All of this is causing so much stress. And the stress causes depression. And the depression and stress are impacting my sleep. I feel like I could stay in bed forever and I still wake up feeling like I barely slept. My smartwatch suggests that I'm getting fewer than 1/3 of my nights with adequate deep sleep needed for restoration. And when I get this way, I pull out a nail file to smooth off the edge of my right thumbnail that I snatched off when I was filling some dings on the cabinet doors and I realized that this nail file is from the pack that I brought to Nanny in the hospital when she broke her hip because when I called to ask her if she wanted anything, she said a nail file. So now I'm crying again. I just become so fragile and sensitive. 

I guess part of that is good because I'm really good at feeling my feelings. I know that sounds like such bullshit, but you can only kick those down for so long before you get a grippy socks vacation. I hate saying no. I hate disappointing people. I love  hard work. I excel at it. The more effort it takes, the more I want right in the middle of it. The thing about that is that when so many things require that level of effort, the list of things you can say yes to dwindles fast. Mama would say that anything worth doing is worth doing right and I try so hard to live by that. I have some things on my plate that require so much that there's not much leftover, but I gotta get on it, regardless of how that might disappoint anyone else. 

The stress, depression, and sleep issues are causing memory issues. Words I know that when I reach for, aren't just there. They're always just there. That scares the shit out of me. I make my living on my brain. I make my life on "creative solutions" to problems. That's from an anonymous set of work reviews. But it's always extended far past work. And I just can't lately. And it makes me feel so very stupid. And on my list of negative feelings, that is the one I hate and resent the most.

And I know that because I am overwhelmed, tired, unsupported, stressed, unhappy, and generally just not alright, it impacts how I treat others. I try so hard to be patient, a good listener, gentle, kind, open, non-judgmental, and most of all present. I catch myself snapping at people. I hate myself for that. I've cultivated being careful. Tell the truth, but this "brutally honest" thing is just an excuse to be mean and impatient. I recently said that my style of being a human is "love, light and 'why the fuck did you just do that?'"

Well, my therapist tells me writing helps. She's right. She's almost always right. Dammit. I love her and I'm pretty sure she's saved me more than once. Here's to Halloween. Here's to Friday. Here's to getting these cabinets painted before Monday and getting my house so that I can walk through it and not break my other knee next weekend. Manifest.