How do you want to be remembered?

A few weeks ago, I had said goodbye to a dear friend. At the service for her, people spoke about the kind of person she was. Even when I spoke about her to others, I feel like everyone echoed the same thing about her – she was a kind person, who never had a bad thing to say about anyone and who was always such a light. And so, I began to really mull this over. So much in fact, that I started to take a deeper look into my own self. I do this every week in therapy but this time it was even more than I let out in a 45 minute session.

Gosh, what would people remember most about me? Did I want it to be the worst parts of me or the best? Do my best parts outweigh the worst? Part of the reason why I kept a close circle of friends is because they will not short change me. They won’t tell me things I want to hear for the sake of hearing it. If I’m being an asshole, sure as heck they’ll call me out for it. That’s what everyone needs in their life, people who won’t constantly placate them. I appreciate raw honesty, those are the kind of people I want and need in my life. You can be an honest human being and still be kind, it’s possible because I’ve witnessed it first hand.

My best friend’s mother passed away not to long ago, and it was a hard hit. I failed to understand why someone so good was taken far too soon. There wasn’t a mean bone in this woman’s body, and she would do anything for you if asked – that was the kind of person Brenda K. was. The same can be said about my friend, Sara. They deserved better. They were too good for this Earth. I miss seeing both of their inspirational posts on Facebook, or the occasional heart emoji comment. I know that I’m certainly not the only one who feels this way about these two women – aside from their close family and friends, that is. I know there’s a giant hole in their families hearts where that person should be.

I struggle with my self-esteem and have since the dawn of time. That’s mostly because of my childhood and all that I had gone through. As an adult, it’s taken me time to not care about what others think of me. If people don’t like me, that’s not my problem. I have plenty of people who do and I’m more than okay with it. But people not liking you isn’t something I feel you should be proud of. Which leads me to what I want to be remembered for when my time is up. I don’t want people to remember me as what I’m not, but more so what and who I am. I don’t want people to say, “Oh, she was such a bitch.” Being bitchy isn’t something I want to be, and I think I adjusted my ways big time. How could I possibly preach to my child to be kind when all I am is the opposite? It’s hypocritical.

In the past five years, I’ve started to mend my ways. I stopped being petty, because petty me would have sent out several nasty emails and texts by now to people. I have forgiven people who have hurt me over the years, because I can’t hold grudges anymore. It’s exhausting to be so angry all of the time, I can speak on this for a fact. I know I’ve done a lot of wrong things in my lifetime, things I’m not proud of. People do and CAN change, only if they want to. I wanted to, and I’m still working on it.

When it’s my time, I want to be remembered for always trying to help others. For being kind, for giving everyone a fair chance. For being selfless, encouraging, loving. A lot of soul searching has been going on here, and I’ve reflected a lot on my almost 40 years of life. I don’t want to be angry, I don’t want to have any hate in my heart.

That being said, this is where I leave this blog. I don’t have a heck of a lot of time to dedicate myself to it, but I want to put my focus elsewhere on things that bring me joy. I want to invest my time in something that will make me feel good about who I am and the person I’m still trying to become. I need to be the best version of myself – for me, for my family. It’s never too late to change your old ways, and there’s nothing wrong with doing so.

Honestly for the last time,
Marie

I’m tired of being tired.

They say that anywhere between 7-8 1/2 hours of sleep is sufficient for an adult. When I look at my sleep patterns, I get confused. Why? Because on a normal night, I’m usually passed out cold by 10. There are days that I do stay up late and get caught up in catching up on my DVR or reading a book and I will regret it wholly in the morning. But it’s definitely safe to say that I’m in bed after my kiddo is asleep – even on nights that’s not mine to read to him and get him in bed. I’ll lie down and just pass out, wake up about two hours later and then fall right back to sleep. I wake up feeling like I just simply do not sleep. I know I’m asleep, I sleep straight through the night unless my kiddo wakes up from a bad dream. I have a thyroid condition and I know that does contribute somewhat to how tired I get but I DO sleep at least eight hours a night – so what gives?

There are many reasons why I feel tired all of the time. Work, motherhood, thyroid disease, my husband’s limited physical abilities. My only break from any of this (save for my thyroid disease) is during my commute to and from work. I sit on a bus and I have time for myself. And unless I can stay awake at night, then I also have time for myself. I don’t think that’s enough for somebody who’s constantly got so much heaped on her plate. When things start to become too much, I have my meltdown. I go to therapy once a week, and it’s starting to come to light just how much of a break I truly need.

I love my kid. I love being around him. I love being with him. If it were an option, I’d be a stay at home mother and be able to pick him up from school before 5 and hang out with him. But I need a break. I need my husband and son to vacate the premises of my home for a few hours so I can have peace and quiet. I will leave my home on Saturdays to run errands – that is not time to and for myself. That is time doing things for everyone else in addition to doing things for me. That is NOT time for myself. Time for myself is doing things that I want to do for me – sitting and reading, writing, grabbing my coloring book and pencils, watching some of my DVR, working on another puzzle. None of that consists of hearing the name “Mommy” nine thousand times or being asked to pick up this, that and the third from the grocery store and oh, please get me an iced coffee or a Slurpee.

I’m just tired of being tired. I want a day where I can sit on my couch, stare out my window and sip my coffee before it gets cold. Check my emails, work on my Young Living business, read my book, writing with my friends like I used to. I don’t think it’s asking for much, right? When I traveled to Charlotte a few months ago for work, I was upset because I was going to be away from my kiddo even if it was just for a day. That night, I got to my hotel room and looked around. I just stood there for a moment and took it all in. Peace, quiet, nobody asking anything of me. A bed to myself. A tv to myself. I started to feel guilty for having this moment. Why though? Why the heck should I feel bad about this? I shouldn’t.

I know this sounds like a boatload of complaining, but I cannot be alone in this. I know I’m not. I’m not one of those people who ask for much at all, I’m not a demanding person by any means. The things I do ask for, the things that I do truly want, should not be THIS impossible to get. There’s a few things that have crossed my mind lately and I’ve had to give it a lot of thought. And I still am, if we’re going to be honest here. About things that may help alleviate all of this pressure, to help me feel less run down and pulled in ten different directions. I have always told myself that when I’m not happy with something in my life, it’s up to me to change it. I can’t rely on others to do that for me, and quite frankly as a grown woman it’s ridiculous to be going to others and saying, ‘HI, SOLVE MY PROBLEMS FOR ME THANKS.’ Something has to change, and my gut has been telling me exactly what it is for the past six months.

I should probably listen to my gut, it’s never failed me in my 38 years of existence and I don’t think it will begin to, either.

This took me awhile.

I’ve been sitting on this blog update for what feels like forever. I meant to have this done in January, then I pushed it back to the beginning of February. Here I am, early March and still wondering if I should keep writing. How long am I going to put this off? Why did I put this off in the first place?

Fear.

Yes, you read that right. Once I get it out there, it becomes more real. And it’s scary to talk about the things that break you down because then that leaves you feeling raw, vulnerable. And those are feelings that terrify me the most. I go to therapy once a week. I sit with my therapist for 45 minutes, and it’s easy because he doesn’t judge me. He has no personal attachment to me, so it’s not scary for me to open up and get to the root of some of the issues that I have. When I leave my appointment, I’m tired and I just want to go to sleep. It’s not that simple because I have to go back to work and pretend to be 100% there.

I’ve been working on a lot in my appointments, I’ll say that much. There are things that I’ve come to terms with, things that I’ve learned how to handle. A lot of the time it’s all works in progress. Three weeks ago, I told my therapist that it was time to remove Facebook & Instagram from my phone. This was something he and I had discussed before, I just didn’t ever pull the plug because I felt this pressure to keep up at it. I lived in a time before social media was ever a thing, nobody should be aghast that another doesn’t post every little facet of their life on a site for public consumption. Yet, here we are.

A little bit before December, I started spiraling down a very dangerous rabbit hole of depression and anxiety. Nothing made me happy. Nothing interested me. I just wanted to sleep, not even eat or drink. I couldn’t find joy in the things I always did. I found myself scrolling through Facebook and Instagram at night and being so angry, feeling so incredibly worthless. But why? I have a great life, I know that I do. But anxiety kept telling me that it wasn’t enough. That Person A was going on these luxurious vacations and Person B looks terrific even without makeup, and Person C’s husband seems so loving and attentive. And then there’s the, “So they’re going out and having fun without me” and the “I’m not cool enough to be invited?” feelings. Those are always fun (not really).

I continued to beat myself up, and then something happened that was the straw in the camel’s back. I spent the holiday season in complete misery, pretending that I was okay when once a week for 45 minutes I would reveal that I’m just not okay. I continued to beat myself up over so many things, to sink further into a depression that often left me not wanting to get up and out of bed and be a functioning human being. I would look at myself in the mirror and say, “It must be nice for people to wake up and not have to worry about being ugly.” Then I would feel like I am a burden, that I’m exhausting. “They’re better off without me.” It got that dark, it got that scary. It stayed like this for awhile, even past the new year.

I may have been a distant person for months on end. It’s not because I don’t care, but I have to be selfish and take care of myself. For years, I have been everything to everyone. I neglected my own mental health so much that it caused me to end up in the deep end of the pool and nearly drowning. I knew that it was unfair of me to bring my issues to someone else’s life, and that if I couldn’t take care of myself I couldn’t be expected to be a good friend to anyone. I had to go through my own shit, for lack of better words. I wasn’t good company for anyone, I didn’t even like to be left alone to my own devices.

Finally, I decided that it was time to make a change. Facebook and Instagram were removed from my phone, of course I can go on the websites and all but there’s no more app. There’s nothing there to distract me or for me to waste time scrolling through and feeling like my life is boring, or that I’m too ugly or fat. It’s been three weeks, and I feel less angry at the world. I feel less angry at myself. I’ve been enjoying time not plugged into a social media outlet. I hardly get time to boot up the laptop, and when I do I’m looking up DIY projects or trying to find some new craft projects for me and my son to do together.

In the past three weeks, I’ve found new hobbies and I’ve rekindled old ones. I’m even starting to write my cookbook – something I’ve always wanted to do. I have no desire to curate my life on social media, to make it look so perfect. We’re held to this expectation that everything HAS to be if you’re going to share it on social media. We choose to share only the good things, we choose to curate our lives to look flawless for everyone to see. We are also not obligated to discuss the details of our lives, but we’re expected to for whatever reason that might be.

Hey, I finally finished this.

Honestly,
Marie

It’s the most wonderful time of the year…really?

Let me preface this by saying that I am not a Grinch. I love Christmas. I love the decorations, music, movies – you name it. So this has nothing to do with disliking Christmas and all of that jazz. If you are one of those people – you do you, friend. I hear you, I understand, and I get it.

What I don’t love about this time of year is the insurmountable pressure that I am under for an entire month. Once Thanksgiving is said and done, it’s like everything just continues to pile on with no end in sight.

I told my husband the other night that I just want to not be so tired anymore. I’m falling asleep almost every single night between 9-9:30. By some miracle of miracles, I was able to stay up tonight. I had way too much to get done and I knew that if I fell asleep once Andrew went to bed I would find myself stressing out about not getting Christmas cards out or not finishing up laundry. Truth be told, I’m stressed out because I didn’t order enough Christmas cards so people that normally get them won’t be. My anxiety is saying that the people that aren’t getting them this year are going to be pissed but I know that isn’t true. And if people are pissed off about it, it’s a piece of paper with my kid’s face on it that they’ll probably throw away after it’s opened.

Because things have been so hectic for me across the board, I forgot to get my kid’s outfit for his Christmas show. I also forgot to get a sweater/sweatshirt so I can start making his ugly Christmas sweater for school. So naturally, I panicked and I began to cry. What kind of a mother am I? How can I forget these important things? What the hell is wrong with me? I know he’s not going to realize that I forgot, obviously he’ll have his sweater and he’ll have his outfit for his show but he’ll never know that leading up to it I called my mother and cried about how I’m just failing miserably.

I know that I’m not, I know that I’m doing pretty good.

I’m just bad at ordering the right amount of Christmas cards.

The space between.

It’s 1am. I should be sound asleep, but I just finished packing. And watching Talking Dead.

I’ve been at my job for nearly 10 years. I got to travel to Mohegan Sun two years in a row for a couple of days for a sales meeting. That was the furthest I’ve gone since I’ve been with the company…until tomorrow. There’s been a lot of changes going on and like any company, it’s bound to happen. With those changes came an opportunity to travel with my boss and he gave me the option to go with him to Charlotte. I told him that I needed to talk it over with my husband first and then I’d let him know – to give me 24 hours and I’d have an answer. After talking it over with Jimmy, I made the decision to go.

I leave tomorrow afternoon, I get to drop my child off at school and then head into the office to do some work and then I’m airport bound. I’ve been in Charlotte’s airport, that’s it. This is the first time I’ll be in the city, and while it’s only for 24 hours I get to add another city to my list of places I’ve been. We get in tomorrow early evening, leave tomorrow early evening. Quick trip, but it feels like I’m going to be gone for a week.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ll miss my husband. I adore the shit out of him and he makes me nuts but being married to me is probably the most stressful shit he’s ever had to endure so I can’t complain. But my heart hurts. Legitimately HURTS. For the past week I’ve dreaded this because I knew that I wasn’t going to be okay when the time came. I started crying last night, and I’ve been doing it at random times looking like a lunatic.

I’m going to miss my kid so damn much.

I know, it’s just 24 hours. He’s been at my mom’s and my mother in law’s for a night – but they’re both in driving distance (my MIL lives in the same town as I do). I’m getting on a plane. I’m going to be 650 miles from home. I’m going to have to say goodnight via FaceTime and say good morning the same way. I’m going to have to go to sleep without cuddling him tight before I do so and make sure he’s all tucked into his bed. I won’t be getting his hugs and kisses and he’s adorable little face nuzzled into my shoulder as he leans on me. I’m a damn mess, people.

This is the furthest that I’ve been away from my son since I had to leave him in the NICU unit when he was first born. It killed me then to do that, I felt like the worst mother in the world even though I knew he was where he needed to be. And now, I feel like the worst mother in the world because I’m leaving him for a night because I have to work. I carry that guilt with me daily that I’m a working mother. I know it’s normal to do that nowadays, I know that I’m not the only one who feels that guilt. What pulls me out of it is knowing that I am doing this to make sure he never has to worry a day in his life about where he’s getting his next meal from or if he’ll have a place to live. My husband and I work very hard to make sure we’re providing for our boy – but it doesn’t make this whole thing easier.

Of course my anxiety is telling me that the worst will happen. I took everything as a bad sign. “Oh my god, that movie is about plane crashes WHY.” Yes, I am overthinking it but that’s what I do sometimes. All the time. I have anxiety.

I know that I have to do this because it’s going to be good for ALL of us in this house. It’s going to be the longest 24 hours that I’ve endured since my baby was born but I can get through it. If I could get through that entire week from hell, maybe I can do just about anything.

Honestly,
Marie