It’s been about 3 1/2 months since my Dad was here to help me out with my man issues and just as long since the man who was causing the issues has been gone.
M came by this weekend and we emptied my storage unit. There wasnt much in there. I spent most of Saturday rearranging my apartment to accommodate an armoire, bookshelf, and a few other odds and ends. One less tie, one less thing I have to pay for. The best part is that now it feels like my apartment is my home, and it looks like one too. It’s the first time in more than a year that my apartment feels like it’s truly mine. I finally have a place to store extra blankets, my yarn, and needles. Yea!
Not to be selfish, but this is supposed to be the Year of Me. For the first time in a very long time I’m putting myself first ahead of and above someone else. I go to yoga once a week and massage once a month. I’d go more often if I could afford it. Both M and my masseuse think I look better, more balanced, and look like I have more life.
It’s true. I do feel better now than I did in January. I’ve put healing, both physical and psychological, first. While it does feel a bit strange, unusual, and a bit selfish, I finally feel happy for the first time in a very long time. Must be doing something right.
There have been a few bumps along the way. That’s not entirely unexpected. These bumps and humps are more annoying than anything. One is anxiety. I still have anxiety and trouble sleeping at night. More on the weekend than during the week. It’s extremely annoying to be up at 6 or earlier on Saturday or Sunday morning. While it has gotten better since January, I guess I need more time.
My body got used to a high level of stress and anxiety over 2+ years. Living that way became normal. Now, I have a new normal and it’s taking more time than I thought it would to adjust. Adjusting means noticing things I didnt before. One being that when I feel anxiety, it feels like it lives in my stomach. It feels like there are butterflies or birds fluttering in there, trying to escape. Even though the source of stress is gone, my body is used to acting and reacting in a specific way.
I see my Doc tomorrow for my “Hi-Ho Silver” appointment. Ladies, you know all about putting your legs in the stirrups. Sometimes, I wish I was a boy so I could just turn my head and cough. My doc is really nice and for the first time asking for help getting over the sleepless hump doesnt feel like weakness. I got used to sleeping through the night one or two nights a week and not sleeping for 3 days in a row. Now I want to sleep through the night every night. M and I talked Saturday and I know what to tell my Doc and what to ask for.
Who knew learning to ask for what you need would be so challenging. It seems to be my lesson over the last few weeks. Like not being embarrassed to tell my masseuse one of the muscles in my butt is giving me trouble. Yes, this muscle has been giving me trouble every time I’ve seen her, but it is on my butt. She said I shouldnt be embarrassed to tell her anything and that she works on a lot of butts.
One thing about massage and trying to get my body healthy is that I cant knit as much as I did before. It’s very strange. My muscles are learning new ways to interact with each other so when something hurts or gets sore I feel it more than I did before. I can still knit, but am slower than before and cant sit and knit for several hours without paying for it.
I’m learning all over again that I can confide in M about anything. And, that if I talk to him about something once, it doesnt mean I cant talk to him about it again. He wont get mad. He’s my best friend, he’s my gay boyfriend, that’s what he is for.
I’m also learning that if I’m exhausted from not sleeping that it’s okay to be lazy on the weekend, or after work. Who is going to get mad at me? Claire loves it when I am lazy in bed because it means she has someone to pet her. Friday night was a sleepless night, bad dreams, that kind of thing. When I finally woke up Saturday morning she was so sweet, she rubbed her face on my face which is my absolute favourite form of cat affection.
Yesterday I learned that if I’m exhausted and try to cook, it isnt going to end well. I failed at cooking wheat berries and nearly failed at cooking lentils. It’s comforting to know that I did not fail at making pasta.
Learning new things or re-learning new ways of doing old things is taking longer than I thought. I would like nothing more than to wave a magic wand and sleep through the night on a Friday and wake up at 8 or 9 on Saturday. It’ll come, it’s just going to take more time.
Tonight, I have a date with sweet potatoes, black beans, rice, a beer, and my bathtub.