I am always so thankful for some really great bloggers I follow faithfully. Not only do I enjoy the blogs and the different styles and topics for writing, but occasionally someone’s post will strike a chord within my sensibilities and/or emotional senses and I choose to reblog those posts here. That’s been especially helpful in the past few months as my writing my own posts has dwindled.
I’ve had dreams about where I wanted to take this blog on its next step of the journey. I don’t have to look back specifically to know that I’ve done my fair share of whining about things in today’s world. Having been scolded as a child for wearing my emotions on my sleeve, for the stupidity of crying over spilt milk, for letting them “see me sweat”, I have never truly balanced my emotions. I can remember in my early adulthood of acting like my mother did, getting angry to the point of needing a physical release. I can remember learning more about anger in therapy and how to manage it until I could find an appropriate release for it.
Yes, I have been in therapy. It was the best gift an employer ever gave me. When I took an administrative position in a mental health outpatient practice, all employees, regardless of position, were required to go through 3 months of personal therapy within the first 6 months of their hire date. The owner of the practice said this requirement existed for two reasons. The first reason was that each of us came with baggage, and a therapist could help us with any baggage we were having trouble carrying. The second reason was that each employee needed to experience being a patient “on the couch” to get a better understanding of our clientele. My 3 months of therapy lasted for 5 years. The last 18 months of it, I had processed all of my baggage and learned some better coping skills, but honestly, I liked having somewhere I could go and for 55 minutes, I got to be me in raw form with one safe place where I could say anything I wanted and be in any kind of mood and the person in front of me was being paid to not pass judgement.
As the year of 2021 started drawing to a close, I think I finally realized that my hopes that 2021 was going to be so much better than 2020 weren’t going to happen. 2021 has been a tough year for me in so many little ways. I’ve had more health concerns – nothing life-threatening but, in some ways, life changing. I have had to deal with ongoing issues of lack of energy and poor sleeping, and no longer being able to ignore my body when it starts to tell me, “Hey, we’re about done for the day”. On a good day, when there are a lot of distractions that keep me from thinking about it, I can push through for about 12 hours before exhaustion sets in. My average per day, however, is more like 8 or 9.
Then, in late summer, some knowledge came to light about a family member and a specific extended family member that was not what I wanted or expected to hear. This news is very negative and very stressful, and something that must be dealt with if for no other reason than for my peace of mind. It brings up a great deal of both anger and disappointment. Trust me, with so much of my being, I wish I was in that therapist’s office so I could give voice to and a place for those emotions, because I see them being expressed in relationships that matter greatly to me – and I just don’t know where to let them out!
So yes, it’s a new year and no, nothing is ‘normal’ in our world and our lives yet, but am I the same old me? Do I want to be the same me that I have been? The answer to that question is easy but the steps necessary to become a different me may be too steep for my liking. Having succumbed to learning that old age has brought me some balance issues (that have nothing to do with me being less than graceful at times), the steepness of those steps causes me fear.
The thing is, none of the ways I know in which I’d like to change are going to be pleasant to all people. Though I share a lot of myself here in this blog that I don’t share elsewhere, believe me, I’m still conscious of protecting myself – or perhaps, protecting your perception of me – on some levels. I really need to learn to quit censuring myself for fear of offending you, my readers. I need to remind myself that I started this blog for ME, and that each of you who reads my posts do so by CHOICE, and you can just as easily choose not to read them if you find them offensive.
Having said all of that, I really have no clue about where this blog is headed next. I only know that I’m tired of ending up with so many trashed drafts of posts because, upon reading them with fresh eyes, that fear of perception is exactly why I choose not to post them. So, consider yourself pre-warned!