Too Far.

I have been living life in too many lanes.  Not telling anyone, and thinking no one had noticed.  But it was just that no one had said anything.

It all came to a head last week when I went way too far. I'm not going to get into details because I have finally found the grace to forgive myself.  Tell myself I did nothing wrong.

It was just a blip in time.

It won't happen again.

I've always been careful to not go too far.  To be the good girl.

I just finished watching Taylor Swift's Netflix special and I am sure I am not the only one who has that in common with her.  She states over and over that she was singing and dancing for the validation of her fans, for the validation of being a good girl.

That has been my whole life until it just about fell apart.  I'm not a singer/dancer/songwriter or multi-millionaire, but I am a woman. Mother.  Wife.  Employee

Those things come with responsibilities that are not easily cast aside, in my case it has been years worth of self-loathing and self deprecation that brought me to the closest edge I've ever been.

And friends, I got scared, damn scared.

I never said I was sorry.  Purposefully.  I didn't want to be sorry.  Except to one person.  Someone else said, "You shouldn't feel that bad."

But bad I did feel and my depression and anxiety over what I had done went into overdrive.  But I managed to pull out of it.  Not unscathed.  Still prickly and, at any moment, ready to throw the baby out with the bathwater.

And then the whole world went into the COVID-19 chaos and I had no choice but to show up soundly for my family.  They need me whole.

I need me whole.

I am not fully over it (the thing that happened), but right now it is water under the bridge as I stand and hold onto the hands of my sons and husband and just breathe.

We are all in this together.  All of it.

Sandra XXOO

Help.

I went to see a clinical counsellor and I started crying before she pretty much said hello.

I am proud of myself for getting up and going. God, I am lucky to be getting the help I need, my pyschiatrist referred me.  It is all covered under our Canadian medical plan.

But what of the Coronovirus?  I waited forty-five minutes for my doctor the other day.  I have to say that has never happened before.

These are strange times.  For now we are going on as if things are normal, minus cancelling our trip to Washington.  But, this thing may spread. Italy.  My heart goes out to Italy.

And I have been there, through Venice's packed streets that are now empty.  Everyone staying home to contain the virus.

I am no medical professional and can only speak from my heart and my heart says I love you. I love you to anyone and everyone I have had a decent relationship with, minus that first boyfriend, still working on that one.

But LOVE is the only way through now.  Medicine, of course, doctors, nurses, hospital staff, giving up their health to help the sick.  It is simply not fathomable to me.  I am not there.  Just like when you break your foot and the minute it heals you forget all about the pain and suffering it took to get better, to walk up stairs, to get to work.  I am not there.

Canada is, so far, okay.  But this could change, and my son, wise soul that he is, has his number, if it gets to this point, Mama I'm staying home.  He has an inner compass that guides him like nothing I  have seen before.

I want that knowing again.

I had a bee say hello to me today.  It was cold and no flowers were around, and it looked like it was reverberating light.  Spinning in front of me.  Saying there is more to all of this, more.  Just stay. Stay in your moment.  Stay with your kids.  Stay with your husband.

See your counsellor.  Do what is right in your heart  You know.  We all know.  Close your eyes and sleep.  It's okay to take a small rest amidst the thunder.

Sandra XXOO

The Edge.

When we overdo it, we want just the edge to come off.

We stand on the ledge between forever and now sniffing the air for relief.

Relief from too much of what we have eaten.

Relief from too much of what we have had to drink.

Relief from too much of thought.  Too much work we can't keep on top of.

Never being good enough.  Never knowing the sweet nectar of success.

We are expected to love, especially as women, especially as mothers, especially as partners:

Love is a loaded word.

I love my work.

I love my dog.

I love my man.

I love my children. [always]

I love my body. [big fat lie, but it's not all that bad]

And what if my dog died twenty years ago and my work is driving me mad in all sorts of directions and well, my man, is my man.

Love is a loaded word.

I overdo it when I'm not sure which edge needs filling.  I over do it when I do know.  Usually the body suffers the most as I tip too many nachos along with too many beers and too many thoughts right after the other, until that numbness caresses the neurons that feed into other neurons and the sad story I have been telling myself can finally end.  I finally begin to feel the fuzz around the pain.  And I can soothe myself.  It was just a silly story, nothing to fret about.

Numb.

It doesn't matter if he didn't return your email.

It doesn't matter if your boss is wrong.

It doesn't matter if I gain five pounds.

It doesn't matter that I still cry over my German Shepherd twenty years later; almost every third night.

I've never known how it is to belong anywhere, or at least that is the story I tell myself.  I am full of it.  Full of that story

But my kids, I think they know, they clearly know where they belong right here with us, but even with them, I can feel a film of imaginary cellophane scroll down between us as they interact with the many teenagers they've brought to our house.

"Why our house?" asks my husband.  "Why are there six teenagers in our house on a school night?"

Clearly he hasn't had enough beer.

And I have.

I gather myself together.  We take care of the teenagers.

And another day goes by where I have talked to the trees, yelled at the sky, shopped, made dinner, put in laundry and cried that morning listening to country music all the way to work.  I am falling apart, so minutely that it may not be obvious to the naked eye, but eventually where I stand, there will be only the phantom of someone I once was trying to become.

I fight to sleep until I fight to wake up.

Love is a loaded word.  I need to fill up.  On that thing that is all over the place right now, in lights, in action, live in person: SELF LOVE.

Who are those people?

I better find out, I have a good feeling it is the only that will take this edge off.

Sandra XXOO

Trust

From the latest Instagram post of the @lionswhisperersa, this man has a bond with the lions, if you don't follow his feed you should at least have a look at it.  His latest post is of a lion licking the back of his head in admiration, yes, licking the back of his head, he says:

"Trusting and developing relationships with animals has always come easier to me than trusting and developing relationships with people.  Animals, yes even wild ones, have no hidden agendas, unlike their fellow human cohabitants.  Which one is more likely to turn on you and therefore which one is more dangerous I ask?"

I had a hard day at work.  I posted it to my socials and I felt vulnerable and probably a bit like a target.  But I got a wonderful and kind response.  However, the work part of it still remains the same, as do I, minus a gallon of tears and a bottle of wine.

I do trust some people, okay, one person.  I trust one person at work.

The rest I tend to worry about on various scales depending upon their stature and their relationship to me. It is an unpaved and gravelly road that I am not adept at navigating but insist upon pursuing.

I am good at my job.

I am just not good at my emotions.

I don't even want to move up, well maybe a little, but it is not some grand goal.

I just want to be be considered a good contributor, a solid employee and someone you can count on.

All of those things mean the world to me and if I catch wind of someone with a "hidden agenda" who is not of this belief, I want to tear them apart like the lion does his prey.  That is my legacy and that is my name.

I trust in myself.  I protect myself.  Some days it's just a little harder than others.  Even the lions don't catch their prey 100% of the time.

Sandra XXOO