“It just has to be ok for me to not be ok sometimes” I said as I lie next to my beau a few nights ago before bed.
If you know anything about me by this point it’s likely that you know I try to be superhuman often. The last few months have been pretty roller coastery for me even with a lifetime of practicing as an overachiever. Moving, selling my house, recreating my in person certification program to work for a group coming in on different days and also to work for visibly impaired folks, running the business, trying to keep up with about 40 new online certification folks, trying to find new people to hire, trying to figure out what we’re going to do when our lease runs out on the studio, having 2 employees leave, having another take a 2 week vacation (putting all the pressure of making enough to get the biz through Dec squarely on my shoulders), holidays, family birthdays, and all the little humaning tasks associated with all these things too.
For the past 7ish weeks I’ve been living with a lot of my stuff in boxes in the garage mostly because I’ve been too busy/overwhelmed with life stuff to deal with it. The other part is that the stuff that’s in boxes in the garage are the final fragments of my life before I was this. It’s all the leftover memories of a life lived in shame, fear, and endless self-doubt. It’s like looking at the ghost of a person who no longer exists, and I suppose some part of me hasn’t found full closure on all of this still.
The “stuff” haunts me sometimes as I have watched my mom’s hoarding tendencies create a world where everything is so important that there can never truly be room for anything. I don’t want to live that way, but I also recognize that dealing the the stuff, looking at it, holding it, feeling the feelings, and ultimately, letting it go is what will bring me clarity and the productivity I need to keep moving forward.
Lately I have felt entirely unmotivated. I have had days where I haven’t worked at all (ok, very few but still). I’ve had days where I was too tired, too sad, too whatever to do anything but lie in bed and wait and hope that with rest I will feel better and more capable of being me.
“It just has to be ok for me to not be ok sometimes.”
When we laid there and cuddled up after another long day that was not as productive as I would have liked my beau started out hesitantly “There’s something I’ve noticed lately that I feel we need to talk about, but I don’t want to pile on…” I told him I’d rather we talk about it as I would pretty much always rather talk about whatever it is than not. He tells me that I’ve been a slob and leaving my things everywhere and it’s been so much of this that it’s now affecting his world and he’d like it to change. In all fairness he was completely right. I had been leaving my stuff everywhere, getting home and throwing my clothes wherever I changed and putting my bag down wherever and even leaving old dishes lying around. Not who I am. Not who I want to be. Where I am at right now…
In typical “overly emotional sam” style I cry as I start to explain myself and try to justify why I’ve been terrible at humaning lately. Telling him all the things about how uncomfortable I am in this new space. How I feel like I so much to do that it’s overwhelming and then I not only don’t make it better, but I actively make it worse by being self destructive and leaving my shit everywhere as my little rebellion to myself for pushing too damn hard. How I feel like I don’t have the help I need. And finally how all the stuff in the garage is hard to deal with because of all the things I said above and how sometimes it needs to be ok for me to not be ok. Sometimes I have to break too. Sometimes I need to be a lazy asshole who’s self destructive and has no fucks to give because I. HAVE. NO. FUCKS. TO. GIVE. and I need that to be ok (and of course I say all of this while crying in this poor, sweet man’s arms).
Somehow he understood and didn’t take offense. He gave me permission to not be ok. He told me how he wants to continue to be a support person for me, and how he understands that he doesn’t need to fix it. Thank goodness for this man who gets me.
Yesterday he stayed home after a rough night of sleep and spent the whole day helping pick up, move the stuff that he knew he could, and do 8,000 little things to help make my life a little easier. When I got home yesterday our room was still a mess. There were still boxes in the garage. There was still a million tasks I hadn’t finished (as will likely always be the case for me). But there was less. It was better. I had been allowed to not be ok, and somehow that made me more ok. The acceptance of the “not ok” is so heart opening for me. Being able to sit in that space and hold that feeling. Being allowed to feel less than human. It somehow has this magic feeling for me of giving me permission to be me.
I realized when I got home that I hadn’t eaten lunch yet…it was about 5pm. haha. 3rd time this week I forgot to eat lunch. I grabbed a snack after thanking my beau for all the things he had done to help, and I laid down and watched an episode of The Dick Van Dyke show. I then got up, and for the first time in a long time, I wanted to clean and put order into my life again, and so I did. By the time I went to bed the room was beautiful. It was as it should be, and so was I.
Today has been a little easier living again in the context of being allowed to be human. There’s still boxes in the garage, still unopened boxes (there’s a blog post about this in the archives if you want to read it btw), and there’s still a million things I’m super far behind on. But today, right now, I get to human, and I get to feel good about going home to a beautiful clean room, a man who loves and supports me more than anyone (besides my family) ever has, and I get to be ok.
Peace, Love, and Cuddles,