Energy begets energy...
It's our anniversary weekend and he's gone to bed early, tired from a ridiculous week of school. I've focused more on having some Only Child Time and purposefully putting myself away when I come home Saturdays. The private practice is slowly growing, so I'm seeing both private and in-home clients during the day Saturday, getting home usually around 1700. I blearily look at him, give a quick kiss, then hustle upstairs into bed to either read, pet a cat, or sleep until he wakes me up at a determined time. It's difficult at time balancing this Adult thing: three jobs, care-giving for his grandfather, trying to go to research studies to make some extra cash. We get poked and prodded, asked various questions about drug use, then give more and more blood.
It's fine; we'll make more anyway.
I had to have another conversation with yet another supervisor about the ridiculousness that is my parents, a four-day stint of going-into-coming-out of hospitals, threatening nursing homes, thinking of renting RVs, and purposefully compartmentalizing my life so I can attend to my clients. I'll call tomorrow to receive the newest update. Maybe this will finally prompt them to come north, maybe it won't. It's a callous feeling, but I am just so, so tired of the crisis and chaos that my father produces. Though my mother will flail and almost passed away, she usually pulls me out due to actual crisis. My father, on the other hand, wants me to take emergency medical leave to come to Florida. And watch my parents do what? Sleep?
I've been trying to focus more on myself, having started to run again this month. I took some time at the beginning of the month and spent some time in the Valley to just spend some time in the Valley. I slept on friends' couches, catching up on life goals and trying to reconnect how we were still friends 15 years later. I ate good home cooked food that I didn't have to prepare, sitting around fires or making s'mores off a gas stove. I brought old planners, trying to figure out how I used to prioritize my own health amidst the full-time-work/grad-school/partner cacophony and realized that I just kinda, well, did it. So now, doing more planning, I've set aside times to run.
I realize I hate to run, but an hour is only an hour, so just get over yourself.
Energy indeed begets more energy. I walked 1.4 miles from one job to another on Thursday instead of taking public transportation. We walked down to a breakfast spot Friday morning for Fidget's birthday breakfast, the first time we could do it in two years. I toted my bags back to work and received flowers.
I got a little teary-eyed.
I tried to explain to my coworker that it wasn't that he sent me flowers. Fidget used to sporadically get me flowers frequently. Additionally, he sends flowers to work to make other partners look bad. I understand that aspect.
But for the first time in two years, he could send me flowers. Not only did that signify that we might finally be recovering from this past two-year ridiculousness, but I also had a place he could send them, which hasn't happened in over two years as well. A place I've been employed roughly three months that just offered me a 5% temporary raise to mentor an intern.
It's not that I'm crass or unappreciative; I feel as though those roses signify much, much more than just his love for me. Signifies a change in office scenery. Signifies some capital coming into our home. Signifies six years of hard ass work in communication and patience. Signifies that six years later, he still wants to send me flowers and make my coworkers' partners look bad.
We've had rough moments here and there, where I get a bit spinny and realize I'm not caring for myself. It helps for me to accept the circumstances and realize it's only a day of chaos, that thankfully, this will be over in one hour/day/week. Working in addictions has given me that peace: One Day at a Time. One second, one minute, one hour. The mantras I repeat to my clients and hear them repeat to each other has finally started to sink into my own head.
So, I started running again, putting in more energy. Hearing one of my clients competitively run motivated me to come home after the tedious bus ride home and don my own sneakers, then trudge along on my treadmill. I'm still concerned about my shoulder, and fear lifting weights, but I'm thinking more cardio can't be a bad thing and am interested in doing spin classes at a local studio. There's a little money saved up and an hour on Sunday is still just an hour, especially when I need to pay someone to yell at me.
I ran the other night, pushed myself, trying to run past the interludes of the station. Ran solid for two minutes, something I didn't think my body could do. And yet, it amazes me that even though I haven't had a consistent work out schedule in almost three years, my body almost remembers how to keep pace, to push itself, heal itself, and keep moving.
There is so much overall healing that is happening lately. I'm working on healing myself, both by putting in more physical energy, but mostly more psychological energy. Yes, I need to work, but I also need to practice mindfulness and being in spaces, and fully understanding what I am doing. I need to plan more and accomplish more, but also plan to give myself time and namely space away from Fidget in our home.
There's healing in our relationship, where we joke more and try to do activities together. We've seen more movies this month than probably the last few years. We've walked more places. We're trying to incorporate more physical energy also into our relationship, walking more to our farmer's market and library than simply driving. It helps to be present with each other.
There's healing with my parents, than despite the chaos, I'm still able to put forth my boundaries and not drop my life to fly to Florida for another non-emergency.
There's healing in my cats, how we snuggle and pet and I focus on putting energy toward them. Then we nap.
The Universe appears to be slowly healing me. When I gripe and complain about a ridiculous week with morning appointments and no chance to sleep in, then a friend from Dippy's wedding texts me randomly about sock puppets. We celebrate in new lives and being Adults and how we've been able to maintain these five/ten/fifteen year relationships. How I was finally able to go clothes shopping this month for the first time in years and buy myself a new purse, especially since the old one was older than Bluejay's marriage.
Big Things are hard to accomplish. So, as therapists, we write small, achievable goals that accumulate to Big Things. I forgot this somehow. But in three months of hooking a new job, I've bought myself a new purse and finally some new work pants, paid down half of a credit card balance, kept Fidget insured, and started running again. We're still on track. Our cats are still alive. Sometimes our house is clean; sometimes I spin into a tizzy and we have to do dishes before I'll calm down, but mostly, I'm more stable and more centered...
... it really is about self-care first, then handling those around me, whether they be furry, walrus-y, or in Florida.
It's fine; we'll make more anyway.
I had to have another conversation with yet another supervisor about the ridiculousness that is my parents, a four-day stint of going-into-coming-out of hospitals, threatening nursing homes, thinking of renting RVs, and purposefully compartmentalizing my life so I can attend to my clients. I'll call tomorrow to receive the newest update. Maybe this will finally prompt them to come north, maybe it won't. It's a callous feeling, but I am just so, so tired of the crisis and chaos that my father produces. Though my mother will flail and almost passed away, she usually pulls me out due to actual crisis. My father, on the other hand, wants me to take emergency medical leave to come to Florida. And watch my parents do what? Sleep?
I've been trying to focus more on myself, having started to run again this month. I took some time at the beginning of the month and spent some time in the Valley to just spend some time in the Valley. I slept on friends' couches, catching up on life goals and trying to reconnect how we were still friends 15 years later. I ate good home cooked food that I didn't have to prepare, sitting around fires or making s'mores off a gas stove. I brought old planners, trying to figure out how I used to prioritize my own health amidst the full-time-work/grad-school/partner cacophony and realized that I just kinda, well, did it. So now, doing more planning, I've set aside times to run.
I realize I hate to run, but an hour is only an hour, so just get over yourself.
Energy indeed begets more energy. I walked 1.4 miles from one job to another on Thursday instead of taking public transportation. We walked down to a breakfast spot Friday morning for Fidget's birthday breakfast, the first time we could do it in two years. I toted my bags back to work and received flowers.
I got a little teary-eyed.
I tried to explain to my coworker that it wasn't that he sent me flowers. Fidget used to sporadically get me flowers frequently. Additionally, he sends flowers to work to make other partners look bad. I understand that aspect.
But for the first time in two years, he could send me flowers. Not only did that signify that we might finally be recovering from this past two-year ridiculousness, but I also had a place he could send them, which hasn't happened in over two years as well. A place I've been employed roughly three months that just offered me a 5% temporary raise to mentor an intern.
It's not that I'm crass or unappreciative; I feel as though those roses signify much, much more than just his love for me. Signifies a change in office scenery. Signifies some capital coming into our home. Signifies six years of hard ass work in communication and patience. Signifies that six years later, he still wants to send me flowers and make my coworkers' partners look bad.
We've had rough moments here and there, where I get a bit spinny and realize I'm not caring for myself. It helps for me to accept the circumstances and realize it's only a day of chaos, that thankfully, this will be over in one hour/day/week. Working in addictions has given me that peace: One Day at a Time. One second, one minute, one hour. The mantras I repeat to my clients and hear them repeat to each other has finally started to sink into my own head.
So, I started running again, putting in more energy. Hearing one of my clients competitively run motivated me to come home after the tedious bus ride home and don my own sneakers, then trudge along on my treadmill. I'm still concerned about my shoulder, and fear lifting weights, but I'm thinking more cardio can't be a bad thing and am interested in doing spin classes at a local studio. There's a little money saved up and an hour on Sunday is still just an hour, especially when I need to pay someone to yell at me.
I ran the other night, pushed myself, trying to run past the interludes of the station. Ran solid for two minutes, something I didn't think my body could do. And yet, it amazes me that even though I haven't had a consistent work out schedule in almost three years, my body almost remembers how to keep pace, to push itself, heal itself, and keep moving.
There is so much overall healing that is happening lately. I'm working on healing myself, both by putting in more physical energy, but mostly more psychological energy. Yes, I need to work, but I also need to practice mindfulness and being in spaces, and fully understanding what I am doing. I need to plan more and accomplish more, but also plan to give myself time and namely space away from Fidget in our home.
There's healing in our relationship, where we joke more and try to do activities together. We've seen more movies this month than probably the last few years. We've walked more places. We're trying to incorporate more physical energy also into our relationship, walking more to our farmer's market and library than simply driving. It helps to be present with each other.
There's healing with my parents, than despite the chaos, I'm still able to put forth my boundaries and not drop my life to fly to Florida for another non-emergency.
There's healing in my cats, how we snuggle and pet and I focus on putting energy toward them. Then we nap.
The Universe appears to be slowly healing me. When I gripe and complain about a ridiculous week with morning appointments and no chance to sleep in, then a friend from Dippy's wedding texts me randomly about sock puppets. We celebrate in new lives and being Adults and how we've been able to maintain these five/ten/fifteen year relationships. How I was finally able to go clothes shopping this month for the first time in years and buy myself a new purse, especially since the old one was older than Bluejay's marriage.
Big Things are hard to accomplish. So, as therapists, we write small, achievable goals that accumulate to Big Things. I forgot this somehow. But in three months of hooking a new job, I've bought myself a new purse and finally some new work pants, paid down half of a credit card balance, kept Fidget insured, and started running again. We're still on track. Our cats are still alive. Sometimes our house is clean; sometimes I spin into a tizzy and we have to do dishes before I'll calm down, but mostly, I'm more stable and more centered...
... it really is about self-care first, then handling those around me, whether they be furry, walrus-y, or in Florida.