'It is, what it is' and other bullsh*t
Inspired by a friend's entry describing her recent struggles in life and how she is working on turning things around...here I go...
I used to work with an older woman whose favorite saying was “it is, what it is”. It was her answer and her justification for everything. Now, I understand that people need their platitudes, need to have a motto or mantra that allows them to keep going, but I take extreme exception to this one. Always have.
Mother laughed at me about it. She couldn’t grasp why these five little words bothered me so much and I could never explain to her fully why they offended me on such a fundamental level. It was several months later when this woman looked at me and uttered her favorite saying and I, irritated at her at the moment, replied back “No, it is what I make it!” That knee-jerk reaction completely summed up my annoyance at that dreaded statement and, in a way, my outlook on life.
I realized recently that I have somehow forgotten this. I recently went to the doctor for my annual check-up. When she asked if I had been depressed lately, for the first time in my life I had to pause and really consider my answer. I have never considered myself depressed. Overworked, overstressed, overwhelmed but not depressed. Finally, I told her that I had my bad days, but no I wasn’t depressed.
I mean, how could I be?
Some of you know, either through my posts here or my personal messages, that my family has undergone some changes in the past year. My husband accepted a position in North Carolina requiring our family to relocate from our native state of Florida. We decided to rent a home to give us some time to figure out exactly where we’d like to have our permanent residence. Six months ago, we found a VA foreclosure that we could buy and put some money into making our own. The kids are thriving, my husband loves his job and we have a home. What more could I possibly need, right?
Except…the house remodel (much of which my family has undertaken ourselves to save money) has taken its toll on our bond and my patience. We’ve spent every weekend since Thanksgiving working on it. Murphy’s Law reigns supreme and even the smallest project has not gone according to plan. My husband and I have fought more in the last six months then in the 18 years I have known him. There have been times I have threatened to set a match to the entire place. I guess I shouldn’t say that too loud. With our luck, the damn thing will catch fire and I’ll be arrested for arson. It’s slowly coming together and, even though we are living here now, there is still a suffocating amount to do.
Oh, and this…before the move, I worked as a Paramedic. I loved my job. There were times, I hated it - a bi-polar off her meds head-butting me comes to mind - but on the whole I loved my job. It was fulfilling and I felt I had a purpose. The area where we moved did not provide me with opportunities in this field so I had to find something else. I began working in advertising sales for the local newspaper and it finally dawned on me recently that I HATE MY JOB!!!! Not just hate it, but FUCKING HATE IT! I
And one more thing…when I worked on the ambulance it was constant motion. Lifting, carrying, climbing, running, jumping in and out. Now, my life is sedentary. Cue the weight gain. Then we started on this house so there was fast food and faster calories every weekend. Did I mention that I was a stress chocoholic? So in the past year I have gained 15 pounds. Nothing fits and I can’t stand myself.
And then finally…this is the longest thing I have written since I finished my RBB in January. I have three unfinished fics waiting to be written and 1 charity fic that I started and thank God I have a patient bidder. I still surprised someone bid on my dribble. Writing is my happy time. It’s what I do for myself, for my own personal, selfish enjoyment and I have all but abandoned it lately. My muse hasn’t left me, I left her. I have all these ideas and thoughts and I just haven’t had the energy or time to pen them down.
So…where does this leave me? I still don’t consider myself depressed, just beat down. Okay, granted…terribly beat down, but it’s time I remember ‘it is what I make it’.
I have sent out resumes for a few bookkeeping jobs. It’s something that I’ve done in the past and thoroughly enjoyed. And even though I still have to put on high heels tomorrow and schlep a product I don’t give two snots about, I feel better knowing that I’m looking.
I also mandated that each weekend we spend one day doing something fun - even if that means just sitting in our pajamas and binge watching Firefly - and the other working on the laundry list of things that need to be done to the house. This house may be our home, but I refuse for it to take over any more of our lives. If the trim doesn’t get hung in the kitchen for another month, the world will not end.
I received a newsletter in the mail yesterday and on the back was a ‘save the date’ blurb about a 5K run in October. I have always wanted to run a 5K and have decided to train for this one, even convincing my 13 year old son to buddy with me for it. I have also vowed to eat better. I turned 38 in March and I have set a goal for myself to lose 39 pounds before I turn that old next March. It is a reasonable weight for me.
That only leaves the writing. I consider this my warm up. I am going to make my personal, selfish enjoyment a priority. I don’t care if I have to lock myself in the bathroom to get the privacy I need, but I vow to write at least a thousand words a night. First, I will finish the charity fic I owe because she has been overly patient and kind. Next, I will finish Redemption. I have it slated for another 5-7 chapters and have twists and turns planned…so fans of that arc hold on to your seats. Then I will finish Home (my Firefly fic). I have a lot in mind for that and Jensen and Jared have a lot ahead of them. Then I will finally finish Once Upon a Time. Poor Jared has a rough road ahead of him on that one and you know me, I won’t make it nice.
So the moral of this ranting story is…I’m still here and I am going to get my sh*t together. I hope y’all are still interested in my stories and I can’t thank you enough for sticking with me. I will make it worth your while, I promise. I love you all…
I used to work with an older woman whose favorite saying was “it is, what it is”. It was her answer and her justification for everything. Now, I understand that people need their platitudes, need to have a motto or mantra that allows them to keep going, but I take extreme exception to this one. Always have.
Mother laughed at me about it. She couldn’t grasp why these five little words bothered me so much and I could never explain to her fully why they offended me on such a fundamental level. It was several months later when this woman looked at me and uttered her favorite saying and I, irritated at her at the moment, replied back “No, it is what I make it!” That knee-jerk reaction completely summed up my annoyance at that dreaded statement and, in a way, my outlook on life.
I realized recently that I have somehow forgotten this. I recently went to the doctor for my annual check-up. When she asked if I had been depressed lately, for the first time in my life I had to pause and really consider my answer. I have never considered myself depressed. Overworked, overstressed, overwhelmed but not depressed. Finally, I told her that I had my bad days, but no I wasn’t depressed.
I mean, how could I be?
Some of you know, either through my posts here or my personal messages, that my family has undergone some changes in the past year. My husband accepted a position in North Carolina requiring our family to relocate from our native state of Florida. We decided to rent a home to give us some time to figure out exactly where we’d like to have our permanent residence. Six months ago, we found a VA foreclosure that we could buy and put some money into making our own. The kids are thriving, my husband loves his job and we have a home. What more could I possibly need, right?
Except…the house remodel (much of which my family has undertaken ourselves to save money) has taken its toll on our bond and my patience. We’ve spent every weekend since Thanksgiving working on it. Murphy’s Law reigns supreme and even the smallest project has not gone according to plan. My husband and I have fought more in the last six months then in the 18 years I have known him. There have been times I have threatened to set a match to the entire place. I guess I shouldn’t say that too loud. With our luck, the damn thing will catch fire and I’ll be arrested for arson. It’s slowly coming together and, even though we are living here now, there is still a suffocating amount to do.
Oh, and this…before the move, I worked as a Paramedic. I loved my job. There were times, I hated it - a bi-polar off her meds head-butting me comes to mind - but on the whole I loved my job. It was fulfilling and I felt I had a purpose. The area where we moved did not provide me with opportunities in this field so I had to find something else. I began working in advertising sales for the local newspaper and it finally dawned on me recently that I HATE MY JOB!!!! Not just hate it, but FUCKING HATE IT! I
And one more thing…when I worked on the ambulance it was constant motion. Lifting, carrying, climbing, running, jumping in and out. Now, my life is sedentary. Cue the weight gain. Then we started on this house so there was fast food and faster calories every weekend. Did I mention that I was a stress chocoholic? So in the past year I have gained 15 pounds. Nothing fits and I can’t stand myself.
And then finally…this is the longest thing I have written since I finished my RBB in January. I have three unfinished fics waiting to be written and 1 charity fic that I started and thank God I have a patient bidder. I still surprised someone bid on my dribble. Writing is my happy time. It’s what I do for myself, for my own personal, selfish enjoyment and I have all but abandoned it lately. My muse hasn’t left me, I left her. I have all these ideas and thoughts and I just haven’t had the energy or time to pen them down.
So…where does this leave me? I still don’t consider myself depressed, just beat down. Okay, granted…terribly beat down, but it’s time I remember ‘it is what I make it’.
I have sent out resumes for a few bookkeeping jobs. It’s something that I’ve done in the past and thoroughly enjoyed. And even though I still have to put on high heels tomorrow and schlep a product I don’t give two snots about, I feel better knowing that I’m looking.
I also mandated that each weekend we spend one day doing something fun - even if that means just sitting in our pajamas and binge watching Firefly - and the other working on the laundry list of things that need to be done to the house. This house may be our home, but I refuse for it to take over any more of our lives. If the trim doesn’t get hung in the kitchen for another month, the world will not end.
I received a newsletter in the mail yesterday and on the back was a ‘save the date’ blurb about a 5K run in October. I have always wanted to run a 5K and have decided to train for this one, even convincing my 13 year old son to buddy with me for it. I have also vowed to eat better. I turned 38 in March and I have set a goal for myself to lose 39 pounds before I turn that old next March. It is a reasonable weight for me.
That only leaves the writing. I consider this my warm up. I am going to make my personal, selfish enjoyment a priority. I don’t care if I have to lock myself in the bathroom to get the privacy I need, but I vow to write at least a thousand words a night. First, I will finish the charity fic I owe because she has been overly patient and kind. Next, I will finish Redemption. I have it slated for another 5-7 chapters and have twists and turns planned…so fans of that arc hold on to your seats. Then I will finish Home (my Firefly fic). I have a lot in mind for that and Jensen and Jared have a lot ahead of them. Then I will finally finish Once Upon a Time. Poor Jared has a rough road ahead of him on that one and you know me, I won’t make it nice.
So the moral of this ranting story is…I’m still here and I am going to get my sh*t together. I hope y’all are still interested in my stories and I can’t thank you enough for sticking with me. I will make it worth your while, I promise. I love you all…