Today feels like the quintessence of a spring day. Blue skies, trees bursting in bloom, fresh air that isn't stifled with heat or humidity. It's days like today that, when I get in my car, I just want to drive and drive and drive.
It's also days like today where my brain just picks up, doesn't stop, and things end up being worse than usual. For whatever reason, the feel, the smell, the collective summation of everything that is happening, triggers my brain in usually two ways: one, being nostalgic and summoning a general feel of my childhood (with no specific memories), the other (often triggered by the aforementioned trigger), reflecting on...well, what feels like everything, but is usually dealers (i.e. my brain's) choice.
The past week has been what feels like a lot. Not that a lot has happened, but my mind has had so much swirling around in it, that it's like I can't remember what was churning inside. Mostly because when I wanted to write, and remembered what I wanted to write or what I was thinking about, I was working, so I couldn't drop things to whip out my computer and/or journal to furiously try to keep up with my thoughts.
Things are not permanent. Nothing is in this life. I remember being obsessed with the word "ephemeral" in high school after I learned it, because truly, most things are ephemeral. And my peers at the time were obsessed with ephemeral things, things that didn't really matter in the long run. Things that didn't hold actual value. Eternal value.
On top of that, my life at the time taught me that things were not permanent. That love was something to be gained based off behaviour, and something to be lost, based off that same thing. My value was determined by what I could bring to the table (i.e. not take up the time and energy of my parents by misbehaving), so if I was good, or at least didn't draw attention to myself by way of getting in trouble, I was fine. I was approved to be kept, to stick around.
I've been journalling (somewhat consistently) since I was 13. I remember, even back then, being conscious of what I wrote, because when I grew up and got married and had children (ha), someday I would die, and they would stumble upon my journals. I didn't want to write things I couldn't take back, or at least, write about things that weren't going to stick around in my life.
The first man I ever found myself actually in love with, I never mentioned by name. I wrote about him, to be sure, to process things that happened, the ways he made me want to be not me (but for the better). But not once did I ever write his name in my journal. Why? Because I knew he wasn't permanent. I knew he wasn't going to end up in my life in the way I so desperately wanted, because at the time, he did not believe the same as me, and that was a hard no for me. (Also he had no idea how I felt, so it's not like he reciprocated feelings for me, although others assured me things he said and/or did indicated differently.)
The man I used to be married to found a permanent place in my journals. Name, memories shared, and so much more. Obviously, he ended up not being a permanent fixture in my life, in spite of the vows he clearly otherwise made.
I've been thinking lately (big surprise) about something that repeatedly breaks my heart every time I think about it. Imagine knowing someone, having them be such a big part of your life, dreaming of a future with them, expecting to only part with them when death takes one (and eventually the other) of you. And then imagine that it's not death that separates you, but the decision of a person who was not willing to put in the hard work that any and every relationship requires, at some point or another.
And then just like that, with no warning, that person becomes a stranger.
Yes, you grew apart when you were together, because the marriage was neglected. You were strangers to some degree even when you were together, because of so much time spent with priorities placed elsewhere, and no curiosity was found to continue to get to know one another. But then you were physically apart, and then vows were cut and severed.
And you still remember so much about that person. Things they like or love (if they even still do), favourite colour, dream motorcycle, you see things so often that remind you of them. You want to text them the things that remind you of them, you want to send them things you pick up from the few times you've travelled, you want to tell them things (even if you never felt heard, you still didn't stop trying to share, at least to some degree).
But they are not part of your life anymore, as a consequence of their decisions. And so the shared memories fade, the facts that were once true about them may no longer be true, you are not part of their life anymore and you become complete strangers.
He was once my world, my heart, the dream I never knew I had, and now I only see him in my dreams. And it breaks my heart.
(I am living in a nightmare. I have been for years now, and I cannot wake up. Because it's not a bad dream, it's real life. My world turned upside-down, I was betrayed in a way I never expected to be, and none of it was within my control. I can't wake up. Someone wake me up.)
I haven't felt seen the majority of my life. Growing up I got in trouble, and unfortunately it was me fitting the youngest child stereotype of acting out to get some kind of attention, any attention, because I wasn't getting the positive connection and attention and affection every child needs. And on the one day a year I did get positive attention (my birthday), the next day everything went back to normal (ignored unless I was getting in trouble), and the emotional crash and burn was real and hit hard.
There have been a few moments in my life where I have actually felt seen by my family. By my dad, when he made a point to "fire up the grill" (so to speak) to make hamburgers for me when I visited home in 2021, because my parents know that's my favourite food. Or when my mom suggested a local store for coffee, and my dad shot down the suggestion because he knew I thought their coffee wasn't the best (it's not). Or when my sister-in-law passed on to me something my brother told her about me, that he commented to her that I'm extremely loyal. Or the time when my then-husband had to drive a little bit a ways away for work, and saw some architecture where he was, and remembered I love architecture, and made a point to drive me back to that place to show me the houses that he saw. (That was one of the few times I felt seen and loved by him to such a high degree.)
Recently there was someone who wrote me and basically pointed out they had a good idea that I would like things they sent me, because they (essentially) paid attention to things I said (well, not said, but wrote about, mentioned, posted online). That floored me...because someone paid attention to me. That got me feeling...well, a jumble of emotions. Ones I'm still sorting, I think.
On one hand, I felt seen. Haven't had a lot of that happen in my life, so it's weird when it does. But I also felt exposed, because to be seen by someone feels like a vulnerable thing. And it feels more comfortable (in a manner of speaking) to be seen when there's somewhat equal knowledge about each other. Currently things are a bit one-sided, but hopefully that will change. Maybe it won't. I can't do anything about that, but I can hope that at least communication can continue, and perhaps even friendship. (Also that person included a pun in their communication to me, and when I tell you I giggled like an idiot...I did, because it was both kind and funny, and if that isn't one of the ways to catch my interest, I don't know what is.)
I'm actually not reading into anything except that the person, for whatever reason, decided to pay some attention to me, and what that tells me is that they are observant. Until communication about intent or anything at all is stated clearly, I'm not going to make things up in my head because that's dumb and will only get me in trouble. Especially because I don't know anything about them, so I can't really make informed decisions one way or the other.
But I digress.
I haven't been to the gym since November of last year. When I finished an 8-week fitness challenge I signed up for, made it to the final round of people to be considered winners, but wasn't a winner. It was great progress though, and I was glad of the progress I made; although the burnout from that, plus the burnout of my job at the end of the year insanity that always happens, plus plummeting mental health meant I stopped going to the gym altogether, and have lost all progress that I previously made.
Consistency is everything, whether that's spiritual health, physical health, mental health, relational health. You show up, consistently, frequently. You put in the time and the work and change happens. I know this. I miss feeling and being strong.
I managed to make it to the gym a couple times a couple weeks ago. But then I discovered the magic of sleeping longer (due to a change my manager approved for my shift to start later), and opted to sleep more instead of getting up early. For one thing, you get super sore when you start working out after months of not. So I wanted to rest and let my body recover. But also, that was probably the first time in...I honestly have no idea how many years, where I slept move than 7 hours before getting up for work. And the difference it made was insane.
I know I need rest. I am perpetually exhausted, and feel like I never get enough sleep. Sleep is incredibly important for health (physical and mental). I know I should be okay with sleeping and allowing my body to rest. And I am, for the most part. But at the same time, I know I can't improve and get back to what I want if I'm not showing up at the gym. The ideal is to go before work (even though that makes me exhausted the rest of the day), because the gym is less busy then. Although with starting later, that means I get off later, which means not going right at the time everyone else is also going because they're off work...although even in the evening at 1900 or 2000, the gym is still pretty packed. And mentally these days, I'm so exhausted, the thought of having to be in a crowded gym, avoiding people, waiting for machines, not being able to get in, do my sets, and get out...that adds to the exhaustion. I need to figure out a way to get enough sleep AND be able to work extra hours (as I have been) AND get to the gym (ideally when it's not super crowded).
I have a surgical procedure scheduled for the end of next month. I'm not in bad shape (gross shape, yes, but relatively healthy), but I want to be more fit than I am now when that time comes. The only way that's going to happen is if I get back in to the gym. I need to figure it out. Or suck it up buttercup, and go back to not getting enough sleep in order to make it to the gym, but lack of sleep will hinder progress. Ugh. Fuck me, going around in circles like this makes me feel overwhelmed and I shut down.
There is just a lot going on. In my head. In my life. Some things I'm trying to address, others I'm ignoring because I don't have the time (or money) to give.
I'm trying to process. I'm trying to function (failing, most days, honestly). The truest thing that is applicable right now is that my heart is still severely broken and it hurts. That hasn't changed, even after all this time, even when thinking about the things that would indicate it shouldn't.
Love was not destroyed or lost or even lessened. It is still there. And probably, honestly, always will be.
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