I used to say that Popa was like a Timex watch, he took a licking and kept on ticking. It came from the multiple health issues during the last few years of his life. Whatever happened, he still smiled and kept plugging away. Even when we had to take food (one of his favorite things) away from him. Between the feeding tube and his walker, you would think that would have slowed him down, but nope, the man could move lightening quick and very quietly when he really had a hankering for something more than his nutrition shakes.
I admired how he was always happy, willing to see the bright side to every situation. There are times that I love to think that I have even an inkling of his attitude. And there are times where I am quite sure he would be disappointed in me because I go into my hole.
My good friend Cherry reminded me of this hole I like to crawl in from time to time. It is a coping mechanism for me. It doesn’t matter if I didn’t do anything to cause the bad situation, I beat myself up. I look back at the decisions and realize I haven’t learned a damn thing.
Depression and anxiety sucks, I have dealt with it since I was 33. I have made jokes about it, I have talked openly about it and I have tried to share with my friends in order to help them when they find themselves trying to dig into a hole.
The whole Allan thing (again) really knocked the wind out of me. While I know it was the right decision and I am happier than I had been, it is still hard. I still have moments where I can feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I still care about him and the bug. I still worry about them and I pray that his decisions are for his kid as opposed to what he wants. But I can’t control the situation and I can’t compete with his desire to have constant drama in his life. The “I’m sorry I pulled you into my mess” excuse grated on my nerves last time and this time it just set me off.
We all have to take responsibility for our “messes” instead of dragging others in or using that as an excuse when the grass looks greener on the other side. We also have to respect those we have in our lives.
I am taking responsibility for my contribution to “the mess” by finding simple pleasures in my day to day life. I take time each morning to be grateful for the day, I love on the Wookster and I truly appreciate the job I go to daily. Sure, Monday kicked my ass and I am sure there will be plenty more of those but I love the fact that I don’t have a sense of dread when walking into the office. That I have nice coworkers and a boss who has decorated my cubicle with plants (those poor things, I cannot promise anything due to my black thumb).
I am fighting back against the running commentary in my head about what I could have done or should have done. I am fighting against those voices that tell me I was not good enough for him. And yes, there are times where I just want to sit and cry at yet another failure but for the most part, I find happiness in each day. There are triggers and I am learning to cope with those, just as I have learned to cope with my depression and anxiety.
I may not be throwing back mass quantities of Jack Daniels and partying all night but life is kind of okay. I can look at myself in the mirror and realize that I am being honest with myself, my friends and my family. I don’t have to hide anything or pretend that things are one way when they are really another.
I am realizing how I have taken my friends for granted and I don’t ever want to do that. They are family and I love each and every one of them. All I ask is for patience as I work through this and yes, there will be times when I don’t feel like going out or I agree but then back out. But I will get there.
In the meantime, I will be working on getting me back, losing some weight and actually keeping a tidy house. I am also going to get back to telling that story because with each failed relationship I am reminded of someone who loved me way more than I deserved.