Trying to find my “Why”

Edit: So I’m working with a group, that includes a Life Coach, to try to get my life back on track.  Things have been ridiculous and insanely stressful and I’ve let so much of “me” slide.  One of the questions they asked us was, “well, what’s wrong with the way you’re living now?  You’re all still living, aren’t you?”  And, sure, we can all come back and say we are.  So the mission is to find a “why”, a few or a list of reasons why you want to change the path you’re on right now.  I know my path is unhealthy.  I know my path is self-destructive.  But despite being given tools to change things – I cannot change my path if I’m not willing.  This is what came out when I was asked about my “why”.

I’m trying to find a way to be accountable for my actions.  I want to break the cycles.  I’m trying to find a way to becoming a healthier me.  It hasn’t been easy.  But I didn’t expect it to be.  There’s been a lot of years of damage, so it’s not going to go away overnight.

This time I feel like I might be ready.

Because I’ve seen, and continue to see, loved ones going through so much suffering.  I’ve seen suffering to extreme levels with all kinds of issues, from skin to joints to organs.  I’ve seen suffering that can be traced back to issues with weight, coupled with chronic illnesses.  I’ve seen their pain – I’ve cried with them, and for them.  I’m still doing so.  I’ve seen the extreme limitations on living lives.  The opportunities lost or missed.

Because I’ve felt it myself, too.  I’ve felt the pain of weakness, extra body weight, exhaustion.  I’ve felt humiliation on so many levels… While my skinny friend got stuck going between the seats in the minivan in Roatan as well, I was the one they laughed at.  I don’t take seats on the subway even when I’m exhausted because of the looks.  I’m always seen as in the way, and that it’s okay to jab, poke, and push me out of the way.

My self-esteem is low.  My self-confidence is as well.  I’ve let so many opportunities pass me by, and I keep doing so.  Jobs, hobbies, friendships, travel, relationships…  Because I don’t know how someone could love me when I look in the mirror and cannot love myself.  Don’t get me wrong – I don’t hate myself.  But I don’t love myself either.   Some days I can see past this out-of-shape, obese body to the kind, funny, sweet person that people say I am.  But frequently I can’t.

This isn’t what I intended to write when I sat down to do so tonight.  But it’s what came out, so I guess it needed to be said.  So I’m going to continue to push through.  Work on tackling some of my demons.  Actually planning things for my future – since I’ve decided I’m actually going to have one.

Gonna work on making it be a good one.

Compassion

Compassion by Miller Williams

Have compassion for everyone you meet,
even if they don’t want it. What seems conceit,
bad manners, or cynicism is always a sign
of things no ears have heard, no eyes have seen.
You do not know what wars are going on
down there where the spirit meets the bone.

From The Ways We Touch: Poems. Copyright 1997 by Miller Williams.

I came across this poem a couple of months back when dealing with some people in the office who were particularly abrasive towards me.  Mostly in the sense of “I’m hurting a lot here about things not related to what I’m taking it out on you, but you’re here at the moment so you get all my angry shit.”

I know I shouldn’t have to put up with bullshit.  But I also understand that there are some times when you just have to shut your mouth and take it, and take it gracefully.  Never mind that you’re in a similar scary place.  Complain to a trusted friend about how much it sucks, but smile and show the person love and respect next time you see them.  Despite the fact that it really fucking hurts at the moment.

Because the stuff that they’re saying to you is stuff that you don’t take personally.  It’s not you.  It’s not even them.  It’s a reaction to the pain they’re feeling on such a deep level that they don’t know realize that what they’re saying sucks.

There will be remorse expressed later, and apologies.  But there’s trust as well, and years of friendship.  And a return of compassion when I’m in such a place as well.  And I would rather they say these things to me than to their superiors and end up fired.

Maybe

Somehow going back to the British Columbia that I love has made me long to move out of the city and back to my hometown.

Maybe I am tired I am of all the pavement.
Maybe I miss the stars at night.
Maybe it’s made me miss grass and trees.
Maybe I miss the cottage.
Maybe I want my own washing machine and dryer.
Maybe I want more space.
Maybe I want my own garden.

Maybe I’m just tired of the city.

cyn-i-cal

I’m feeling cynical.  And feeling a bit down.  It might have something to do with the weather, or it might not.  It’s gray, rainy and cynical outside as well.

It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m sitting on my couch, with the cat sleeping next to me.  He’s snoring, all curled up on the blue blanket. I’m still wearing the PJs I put on yesterday afternoon.  They smell faintly of vinegar from my washing the windows before the rain hit.

A bottle of orange-flavoured water next to the laptop, and a small bag of popcorn on my other side. The bottom of the bag has burnt popcorn in it. The smell of burning mixed with popcorn is nauseating.

The door to the patio is open and the screen on the screen door is cracked.  I can hear the rain and cars driving by over the soft voices on the TV.

There are a lot of things I need to do.  Take out the trash from yesterdays purge of stuff.  Sort through the laundry to prepare for wash loads.  Continue going through my books.  Take down the recycle.  Wash dishes.  Prepare dinner.  Shower.  Get stuff ready for the coming week.

And yet I cannot make myself get off this couch.

Hey now.

The soft sound of rain falling outside my open window.  The fan is running on low over me, taking care of the mild heat and allowing me to stay curled partially under the blankets.  The pillow is soft but firm under my head.  The cat is lounging next to me, idly batting at strands of my hair that flutter in the breeze and get to close to him.  His purr is soft next to my ear and, when not pre-occupied by my hair, he’s covering me with nuzzles.

Right now… right now I can feel the calm.

Can you feel it?