(I’ll be referring to my ex as “The Mosquito” or “TM” henceforth because mosquitoes are blood sucking pests with no direct benefit to humankind.)
I’ve decided that Sundays are for pancakes and listening to music. This week, Holiday music obviously.
I’m supposed to go to the old house to pick up some things. The Mosquito remains difficult. Now he says he won’t see Little Guy until after Christmas so he can see his relatives. I said that’s fine and I get why he’s isolating (relative is immunocompromised) but not including Little Guy in that plan is unfortunate. The exchanges are always civil. Unreasonable, but civil. So I’ll be thankful for the small things today.
It’s a nice day out so I’m hoping to get back outside again. LG and I took a nice walk and he went to the playground this morning before pancakes. I have to go down to the house and pick up some more things. Some deliveries. A curling iron. My plants. TM’s been very clear about which plants he’ll be taking, but not about his kid. Sure sure.
I’m not sure where Ginger the ginger plant will live, but I’ll find a place for her.
Last night I had a wee bout of loneliness. My typical nightly ritual is watching Impractical Jokers while eating snacks and then watching the Golden Girls before going to sleep. I was annoyed with myself for making chocolate chip cookies at 10:30pm. Onscreen on Impractical Jokers, a bunch of middle aged ladies who looked… well worn… terrified me. Here I was with chips and cookies and single and 43 and what the fuck.
I started to become scared that I’ll just be alone forever. But a weird thing happened. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I didn’t care. Companionship would be nice, but I am in no position to take care of another adult baby. Funny how the thought of a companion taking care of me hasn’t even come close to crossing my mind. I’m old enough to know better.
But yeah. I’ve got the Quarantine 15 and some self-pity on top of that as we’re coasting in to the sedentary season of Winter. I do like winter hikes. I guess this is the year I finally do some. Perfect for a single mom with an 8 year old and a dog. (Maybe not the dog… she is extremely lazy.)
Last year I addressed my drinking. Maybe this year I address my self-esteem.
I am FEELING things today. I am frustrated as hell. Instead of just stuffing down and moving through, I took a minute to acknowledge my feelings.
1. I was on a call for work for over an hour where the same two people blew hot air for 90% of it. This call is supposed to be a weekly check in to give an overview of what everyone is working on. It inevitably veers into granular territory of specific projects by one particular individual. It is especially frustrating to me because this stuff has nothing to do with me. My portion of the check-in is typically crammed into the last 1-2 minutes of that call.
As aggravating as it is to hear one person drone on for an hour, I am fine with folks delving into details. I remind myself that, at times, this is actually valuable education. Other times, however, I feel that it is inconsiderate use of time. It is clear that my update is treated with minimal importance. I have a good relationship with my boss and could bring this up to him, but I need to sort through it first so I don’t come across as whiny. I want my voice to be heard. Also, random “pro tip”: NEVER use the word “just” in business emails. EVER.
2. The MBA v. Artist thing. Taking my courses is becoming such an emotional chore. I am really at odds with whether I want to see this through.
The thing is, when I consider quitting, several faces show up who are either judging, laughing at, rolling their eyes, or are disappointed in me. Throughout my life, I have had a lot of false starts and big ideas that went nowhere. Like – here she goes again. What tends to happen is I make a big statement like – “I’m going to be an art therapist” and then I start classes and then I drop out. And a couple years later I say, “I’m going to open up an art studio” and I secure a space and then a global pandemic happens and the whole idea crumbles. So I think, “I’ll get my MBA”, and apply, get into a program and then second guess whether or not I am looking for a high five from my parents or for someone to finally fucking take me seriously. ANYONE. Because I am worthless without a secondary degree apparently.
Also, I feel like a lot of my accomplishments are out of spite. Hhahah. I’m not even kidding. I rage-succeed. Jesus. Oh you think I can’t do that??? WATCH ME. And I’m wondering if that’s what THIS is. Again. Quitting drinking was partially a rage-success. Improving my credit was absolutely a hate-fuck.
But back to work stuff, I started working in an office in my early twenties. I NEVER fit in. I’m smart but I’m not good at herd mentality and I am terrible at sucking up. I was typically doing “women’s work” as a receptionist or secretary where I did a good job but ultimately got bored and then unmotivated and I’d eventually become horribly depressed and quit. This cycle happened 4-5 times.
I’ve been at my present job for 14 years. I enjoy what I do and I generally like the folks I work with. I have a flexible schedule and I get to run things without anyone breathing down my neck. As far as office jobs go, it’s perfect. But it’s still an office job and I’m at a conflict with myself about it. Our CEO is going to retire in the next few years. Basically, I like working for him. I feel very hesitant about starting over under someone else.
3. I am also not feeling heard at home. This is a very large knot that will need a lot of time and patience to untie. Typically, just looking at it sends me into a panic so I just pretend it’s not there. It’s just getting bigger. Surprise?
I think what I usually do is get angry and snippy and then I isolate myself and get into a merry-go-round of resentment in my head. Today, I took a breath and thought about it and felt the feeling. I kept repeating “feel this” which was weird. But I did. And I connected with it. And now I’m writing about it. I will not be getting into specifics but this feels like a baby step forward – for my own healing at the very least.
I feel like a lot of what I am looking for is permission.