I'm Not Cut Out For Full-time Work

I'm conscious of where I'm at. If I weren't, I think I'd be back where I started.

But I'm about 10 pounds back up from where I figure my "good weight" is (260).

I'm 20 pounds up from where I was, though.

It's hard to accept that my focus has gone in other places, and my health takes a back seat. It's hard for me to wrap my brain around it. I don't know how long it takes to adjust to a new job? For me? Probably forever.

I'm a complicated person. I realize this. I feel like I have personal stuff to get in order, but life keeps happening, so personal stuff doesn't get in order.

But maybe it never does.

So, my new job - I have a love/hate relationship with it. Fancy that!!! Me?! Yes.

I love the work, the feeling of helping people, being helpful, and being in my element. But I hate that it consumes my life, and that my world, 80% of it, all revolves around WORK.

From 5am, to 5pm it's work. I'm either there, or planning to be there.

Get up, get ready, go, work, come home, unpack, pack for the next day, lay out clothes, try to come down from the day.

REPEAT.

It's taken its toll on me, and I'm miserable.

It's a weird misery.

I feel useful and valuable (at work), but I'm worthless in the areas that are important to me (my home life).

The most important - to me - is the home life.

I can be replaced at work. I can't be replaced at home.

I only have a few years until my kids are all out of the house. Though they need me less than they used to, they don't need me tired, ornery, and useless.

I feel caught. I've got a fantastic job (I really do - I landed a job in my niche with a great company), which is why I didn't turn it down. But it was more than I wanted - which is why I'm regretting it.

I pray that it's not all for naught, and that God will send something my way. I really do. I don't care about how hokey that sounds. I'm hanging on by a thread daily. I feel regret, embarrassment, fear, when I think of moving on from this position. But I also feel trapped by where I am.

I don't want this to be me.  I want to continue taking care of myself and the people around me. I want to figure things out. I'm 40. I'm on the top of the hill riding down and I don't think I'll have myself or the world figured out in the next 20 years, but I dn't want to look back and wonder where they all went, either.

Tiny, Little Miracles

Sometimes a day can be summed up in tiny miracles.

Kind of like counting One Thousand Gifts, and the gift is gratitude for the capability of simply hanging on.

There are times when I have felt so desperate. I wasn't sure if I could make it through the day, and would have visions of running my car off the road. I think when I was at my heaviest, I was completely overloaded, physically and mentally. I ate to fill me up, but I was hollow with no bottom, in many ways.

That person isn't really gone. I've worked and struggled to win my mind battles. Sometimes --most of the time-- it works. I win. I'm still here. I'm fighting the fight. But there are days, and sometimes those days span into weeks - or months.

I was there not too long ago, sitting in (yet another) psychiatrist's office, giving The Background, wondering what he will make of me, at least the me that I show him. He prescribed a pill, I said I'd think about it.

I haven't filled it yet.

I don't plan to, honestly. But it's in my back pocket of arsenal, should I need.

When you're in a cloud like that and it is dark, it's hard to see life without that filter. Quite honestly, I'm not sure that filter is ever completely removed from my eyes. Maybe for moments, those times when I feel complete joy and presence of God. It's rare, but it happens. Many times I see pain, deception, twists and ruts in the world and in people. In myself, mostly.

As I went about today, overwhelmed in a way that, on many other days would completely overwhelm me, I thought small.

I put lotion on today.
I did my hair.
I... showered.
I put in three loads of laundry.
Answered emails.
Ate in.
Stretched.
Did a short workout.
Put away my clean clothes.
Ran downstairs to grab a bottle of tea.

Little, minute things. I am thankful, and appreciate that I did them all. There are days when I don't do any of those things.

I'm lazy, tired, fatigued to the bone, unappreciative, filling my face, not caring if I can afford lunch out and grabbing it anyway, waiting for someone else to put my clothes away, too lazy to run a flight of stairs for something I want.

Every now and then I take a day where I don't do much and just enjoy being "off" for the day. I'm not talking about those days. I'm talking about the days where the filter is so heavy that nothing appeals, nothing matters much, and everything was specifically calculated to irritate me. Those are not good days.

For the here, right now, I am very thankful for the tiny, little miracles that fill my time.

I'm A Good Listener

I'm a good listener. It has its drawbacks. When you're so darn good at listening (when it counts), people forget you might have something to say. I say a lot. I talk. But not always when it counts. Not always when my heart is bleeding and I need a band-aid.

This has been bothering me lately. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized I should be grateful for my capacity to lend an ear. For the times when people have said, "You should be a counselor." Or thanked me. There were times when it was my own boss who said those words.

I felt good. Not a proud good, but a good feeling. I don't have tons of money, I don't have a lot of time. But I do have ears that can listen, empathize; a heart that can weep and encourage. 

To be able to give that away should be a blessing, not a curse. Today I am remaining thankful for that gift. 

There are parts of me that are good, but I've stuffed them down and rejected them and I'm not sure why. As much as I'd love to lose weight, be skinny and have the physical attributes I desire, I also want to find myself in the process. There are these small glimmers of hope that I can do that. I am ready to do that.