End of year countdown...
In about 3 weeks, 8 years of fighting with insurance and hospitals will finally come to a close. In 4 days, the pagan new year happens and all the stirrings going on will be on full tilt. In 7 days I will begin the last year of my 30s. For about the last 3 months I've been in full introspective mode, not sure if it's helped me at all, but it's made me see a good bit more than I really wanted to see, but I saw it anyway. I'm getting ready to be laid up and incapacitated for a few weeks, so here it goes...
I'm tired of being the punching bag. I really love people, but I will not shoulder anyone's problems. As one of my parents has said, there is not enough room in my brain for that. I will listen, I will make suggestions if asked, but I am not the bellhop at ________ Hotel for Burdens. I will also be differentiating between which universal tugs I will pay attention to, because again, won't be a punching bag. If I show up because I feel that and I offer my abilities and you kick me, I'll ignore the next one. Sorry. Again, no room in the brain for that. If you don't like my choices on something and you can't offer real, validated information on why I should change my choice - with my main concerns that inform that choice being addressed, that's on you.
TL:DR My fuckit bucket hath overflow'd.
As much as I love my friends, I also can't keep track of all the sensitivities anymore. I really can't. The eggshells are strewn around more than rose petals at a princess wedding. So while I still love you, I just can't and that's on me. Not you. I'll do what I can, and if I reach that limit then I'll just remove myself till I can again. Don't change you for me, but I ask the same respect.
For the next stage in my life, there has been a calling, of sorts. And I'm going to pick that phone up and take that message. The goal is to set up my current company as an umbrella that allows me and my main office mate to maintain our Buckhead office and start up another company that allows me to incorporate the other, more spiritual side of things, that I want to pursue. Which will also make me more monastic than anything, with minor exceptions. Maybe I'll emerge after my 40s, or even during, who knows. But I'm tired of feeling like there's a part of me missing, and I'm kinda pissed at myself for letting it be hidden in order to appease others - or at least appear to appease.
For the surgery, well, I'm going to look a little different. Nothing I can do about that, and hopefully it just means I look more like my Mom. Hoping it results in fewer headaches, and if not, that they can be more manageable.
_______________________________________
For all the other stuff, I've made promises about writing posts about stuff that I never get around to writing. At this point I've forgotten most of the promises. One of the posts had stuff to do with me personally, and this is kind of some of it.
There's an extent to which I'm feeling kind of dulled with myself. My personal style has stunted in the last few years due to overwhelming adulting that has had to happen. I pretty much stopped taking care of myself. Well, I've started to reverse that trend. Even started wearing a bit of make-up again. Trying to enjoy dressing up a little bit, getting the house more into the personality of Pastry and me, eating better, yaddayaddayadda. It's been pretty difficult, but I've finally started prioritizing things and enforcing it. Even found a new therapist I can see regularly. The headspace is coming along, but that will improve with some of the physical stuff disappearing and activities reappearing. Also helps to take more time for myself and using it a smidge more productively - and that includes not being productive at all. I'm trying to have one sloth day a month, at least. Where I do absolutely nothing but binge watch TV shows. Once the condo is done and gone I'll focus more on The Refuge. Pastry and I have a lot of ideas, some we can easily do, others not so much, but damn it will be awesome when we're at a point we can be "done" with it.
And maybe I'll start taking more time out for writing. We'll see.
I'm tired of being the punching bag. I really love people, but I will not shoulder anyone's problems. As one of my parents has said, there is not enough room in my brain for that. I will listen, I will make suggestions if asked, but I am not the bellhop at ________ Hotel for Burdens. I will also be differentiating between which universal tugs I will pay attention to, because again, won't be a punching bag. If I show up because I feel that and I offer my abilities and you kick me, I'll ignore the next one. Sorry. Again, no room in the brain for that. If you don't like my choices on something and you can't offer real, validated information on why I should change my choice - with my main concerns that inform that choice being addressed, that's on you.
TL:DR My fuckit bucket hath overflow'd.
As much as I love my friends, I also can't keep track of all the sensitivities anymore. I really can't. The eggshells are strewn around more than rose petals at a princess wedding. So while I still love you, I just can't and that's on me. Not you. I'll do what I can, and if I reach that limit then I'll just remove myself till I can again. Don't change you for me, but I ask the same respect.
For the next stage in my life, there has been a calling, of sorts. And I'm going to pick that phone up and take that message. The goal is to set up my current company as an umbrella that allows me and my main office mate to maintain our Buckhead office and start up another company that allows me to incorporate the other, more spiritual side of things, that I want to pursue. Which will also make me more monastic than anything, with minor exceptions. Maybe I'll emerge after my 40s, or even during, who knows. But I'm tired of feeling like there's a part of me missing, and I'm kinda pissed at myself for letting it be hidden in order to appease others - or at least appear to appease.
For the surgery, well, I'm going to look a little different. Nothing I can do about that, and hopefully it just means I look more like my Mom. Hoping it results in fewer headaches, and if not, that they can be more manageable.
_______________________________________
For all the other stuff, I've made promises about writing posts about stuff that I never get around to writing. At this point I've forgotten most of the promises. One of the posts had stuff to do with me personally, and this is kind of some of it.
There's an extent to which I'm feeling kind of dulled with myself. My personal style has stunted in the last few years due to overwhelming adulting that has had to happen. I pretty much stopped taking care of myself. Well, I've started to reverse that trend. Even started wearing a bit of make-up again. Trying to enjoy dressing up a little bit, getting the house more into the personality of Pastry and me, eating better, yaddayaddayadda. It's been pretty difficult, but I've finally started prioritizing things and enforcing it. Even found a new therapist I can see regularly. The headspace is coming along, but that will improve with some of the physical stuff disappearing and activities reappearing. Also helps to take more time for myself and using it a smidge more productively - and that includes not being productive at all. I'm trying to have one sloth day a month, at least. Where I do absolutely nothing but binge watch TV shows. Once the condo is done and gone I'll focus more on The Refuge. Pastry and I have a lot of ideas, some we can easily do, others not so much, but damn it will be awesome when we're at a point we can be "done" with it.
And maybe I'll start taking more time out for writing. We'll see.