the big ask

Someone reached out to me yesterday to ask if I would have a difficult conversation with our mutual loved one. She has attempted the conversation herself only to be shut down, and, as she put it, I’m “the only one____ really listens to.”

It’s a conversation regarding health issues: both physical and mental. So I guess I’m going to do it, and hope for the best.

Luckily, I’m quite good/experienced at having difficult conversations where I tell someone something they don’t want to deal with. I mean…that’s essentially my entire job.

But still…ugh.

shattered

I had a breakdown in the middle of a hospital last night.

I was confused as to how to get out, because I’m directionally challenged on my best days, and I couldn’t find my keys, and I leaned against the wall and just started sobbing. After six hours of holding it all in, I just couldn’t anymore. A nurse came over and helped me find my way (and my keys).

There are still kind people in the world.

Then I ran into someone I kind of know and that was weird because we’re both there for awful reasons and there are other weird things going on and I think I was nice and comforting to her but I was in a daze so I don’t really know.

On my rush to the airport to pick up D, I went the wrong way onto the highway. I realized it almost right away, thankfully. I sobbed the entire way to the airport.

There’s no point to this other than to get it out. Maybe that will help. Gotta keep writing it out. It would be easy to just shut down. Can’t do that. Gotta keep it together.

My husband is devastated. It hurts to look at him. The sadness is just emanating from him.

I’m way off the rails with my diet and exercise. I look at myself and only see a mess that I need to clean up. It occurred to me, however, that this is exactly what’s wrong with society, and my mindset perpetuates that bullshit. And so, while I intend to start taking better care of myself, it’s going to be because I want to be healthier, and not because I need to fit some bullshit mold of what a woman should be/look like. I’m lovely as is: inside and out. I need to remember that impressionable minds are looking to me as a role model. I have to practice what I preach.

Get it together, Jenn.

desperately seeking something

The blog has gotten kind of dark recently. I realize that. I’m not apologizing for it, however, because this is where I am right now, and this is my place. This is where I write it out. Gotta take the good with the bad.

I think I’m going through a mid-life crisis. I’ll be 39 in a month, after all. The last year of my thirties. I’m approaching true middle age, and I guess it has me questioning a lot of things, particularly career related things. I am quite content with my home/family life. My relationship is fucking solid. But I’m not happy with my career. I cannot imagine doing this every single day for the rest of my life. And that has me super down. I’m also not doing really well with this whole post-menopausal/aging situation. I feel old, ugly, fat, and unattractive. I’m trying to take better care of myself both physically and mentally, but it’s hard, and I struggle to love myself/take care of myself the way I deserve.

It doesn’t help that the world seems to be getting shittier every day, and it makes things feel both hopeless and pointless.

I feel so much rage towards so many people. I’ve been so good about swallowing it down for so long, but it feels like everything is going to erupt. There are people in my life who are dangerously close to no longer being in it.

I don’t fucking know. All I know for sure is that I’m a bit of a mess. I’m trying to fix it, but I’m definitely riding the struggle bus.

Maybe this will help?

  • My anxiety is raging.
  • I don’t know how much longer I can handle this.
  • I regret daily the decision to have my ovaries removed.
  • On the flip side, I commend myself on having the courage to go through with it. Because I knew. And I did it anyway.
  • The silver lining of feeling completely overwhelmed by my life is that I’m starting to do and say whatever I want. Fuck the consequences.
  • I want to be clear for my husband’s sake: none of this is about my home life. My home life is awesome.
  • My professional life? That’s another story entirely.
  • My self-esteem? In the toilet.
  • The thing is…if I’ve fought so very hard just to stay alive, then the rest of these decisions/issues should be easy right? I’ve already done the hardest part. I mean, I’ve literally allowed parts of my body to be cut off just to stay alive.
  • Cool, cool, cool.
  • Everything feels harder at 2:33 am.
  • Nothing is fucked, Jenn. It may feel fucked, but you’ve got this.
  • Remember what you told D: what if instead of faking it, this is just what making it looks like? Nobody said it was going to be easy, and I’m pretty fucking sure nobody else feels like they have it all under control either. Everybody is faking it.

I want to be better than this, but I’m just so fucking tired.

I’m going to love myself anyway.

It’s okay. Take a nap. Wake up and try again.

Write in your journal.

Go for a walk.

You are only one person.

You are only human.

Tomorrow is another day.