Sometimes, it's just not a good day

Today wasn’t such a good day.  I have a lot of reasons (and excuses) as to why: didn’t get enough sleep, PMS, unreliable coworkers, general stress of my job, hunger, people not making sense.   I was on edge and feeling frustrated by 30 minutes into my shift.  I had apparently reached my limit because it was like a switch was flipped. My brain-to-mouth filter took a leave of absence and that voice of reason in my head – the one that reminds me to keep my cool and maintain some courtesy and professionalism despite my frustration – went silent. 

So there I was: cranky, tired, annoyed, frustrated, impatient, anxious, and (gasp) unfiltered.  And I didn’t even care.  Which meant the ugly things I usually suppress in the name of adulting just came flying out of my mouth. And I felt justified.  For about five minutes.  Then the voice of reason finally started talking again and reminded me I’d been kind of jerk and I begrudgingly accepted I should apologize.  My filter remained on the fritz all day, though I made more effort to force it into submission – a battle I lost many times, by the way.

As my overthinking brain analyzed this all day long, I kept coming back to a couple important concepts.  One – it’s okay to have a bad day, we all do, nobody is perfect.  Two – I am responsible for my behavior and how I treat others, regardless of bad days.

Even though I didn’t feel entirely in control of my emotions and attitude, even though he wasn’t making sense and I didn’t have the time or patience for him to get to the point, it was still me who snapped at a coworker.  But in stead of beating myself up all day over losing my cool and being a jerk, I just tried to rein it in and do a little better.  And in stead of justifying or rationalizing my rudeness, I owned up to it and apologized.

I somehow got through the day without going postal on anyone and feel more like myself after my little purring machines snuggled and napped on me while I read and scrolled Facebook. 

Tomorrow will be a fresh start to do better.

Grief

This may look familiar to some people since I posted it on Facebook shortly before starting this blog. I wanted to share it here, too.

I've been thinking about grief.

A coworker of mine recently lost his sister - she had chronic health issues. I remember the day he got the news he was very emotional. The week or so after that, he was noticeably subdued. Now he seems basically normal - as in, more like before his sister passed.

It reminds me of the time after my brother died, the time after my dad died. How, regardless how I may have looked to others, I was far from ok, far from normal. And it's such a strange feeling, walking around in a haze of grief while everyone else is just carrying on like life is normal.

But you have to keep going, right? You have to keep living, going to school, going to work, doing the dishes, feeding the cat, yada yada. The world keeps on moving even though your whole world has changed. In an instant, absolutely nothing will ever be the same again. And anyone who has grieved the loss of a loved one knows, it never goes away, it never really gets smaller.

But here's the thing. It DOES get easier to carry. 
Eventually, the good days outnumber the bad days, you find your new normal, and this grief you carry becomes part of who you are. A scar more than a gaping wound. Not gone - forever changing the landscape of your heart, but still allowing it to function at full capacity.

But it takes time. And how long a time is different for everyone. So be gentle and patient with yourself. Allow yourself to grieve, but don't be afraid to keep moving and keep living. You'll get there.

New Beginnings

I think this qualifies as a new beginning. I am brand new to this and I feel a bit like a grandma trying to learn Facebook or Instagram - and while I’m no spring chicken, I’m certainly not a grandma either. But I am trying something new here and I’m gonna attempt to blog.

I am a self-proclaimed book junkie because reading is my drug of choice.  I have dealt with depression since I was a teenager, though I didn’t get help for that until my late 20s.  I lost my brother in a car accident when I was 16, lost my father to a stroke when I was 34.  I was the victim of verbal and emotional abuse throughout my childhood and youth, even into adulthood, and still carry those scars that cause me to be guarded like Fort Knox.  I am the youngest of 5 siblings and currently look after my oldest sister who is special needs and lives in a nursing home. I am very active in my church and believe in God and Jesus Christ, even though I often struggle with my faith.

I am a work in progress - as we all are, always - and I am trying to learn to be more accepting of myself, more comfortable in my own skin, more confident despite my mountainous insecurities. This is why I chose “beautiful mess” - because we can be a mess and still be beautiful. I’m just still working at seeing the beautiful.

I mention all of this because my intention is that these will be the kinds of things I write about. Life. The happy, the sad, the frustrating, the hard, the scary, the inspiring, the ugly, the beautiful. And I hope that what I am able to write about here will be helpful to others.  That I can share things that are relatable and uplifting. In our society that is so obsessed with beauty and perfection, it can be easy to feel alone or inadequate. I want this to be a place that can help people feel less alone and where, together, we can find ways to help us remember we don’t have to be perfect to be enough. Let’s be a beautiful mess together.

#beautifulmesstmh #newbeginnings #life