So here's the thing:
Three years ago I began preparation to step out of my comfort zone so that I would be able to do whatever was necessary to make my life tolerable again.
I worked very, very hard.
I looked at crappy, awful things.
I asked questions, researched, talked, prayed, screamed, cried, reached out, and ended up accepting help, guidance, and life as it is.
And now--I'm not finished, but I think I've come about as far as I can.
The problem is that I have an overwhelming desire to return to life as I knew it prior to the recent upheaval. It was structured, predictable, joyful, and fulfilling. Some have argued with me that I believe it was so when it actually was lacking in many areas. I'm not disagreeing, but I truly was happy. I had made for myself a really wonderful life with a husband and children who loved me, I had built a couple of successful businesses and I ran my home with ease. It was very nice. I liked it.
Tolkien Boy says that even if I try, I can't really go back.
And if I try it will mean a retreat from the relationships I've built with some very sweet friends. That wouldn't be good for me.
I think, maybe, I'm just recognizing how tired I am, and I'm looking for a place that's safe so I can rest. Because doing that emotional work in such a short time frame has made me feel exhausted--did you notice, AtP? I didn't wear us out this time--I probably haven't had the energy to make you tired for almost a year now. And I don't know why I'm talking to you, because you don't even read my blog, but I want to anyway.
So I spent an afternoon with Tolkien Boy this week. And I wasn't fun or entertaining. I think, mostly, I just sat next to him and watched the ducks at the pond we were supposed to be walking around. I felt very tired, and quiet, and a little bit overwhelmed by not knowing what to do next.
I had planned to go see Ambrosia and Bawb, but my sister called and asked me to spend a night at her house and visit with her. So I did. But I fell asleep while she was talking with me.
I met a few friends who read my blog. It was delightful--you are delightful. Forgive me if I was tired?
I have always felt that I had endless energy, that I could do whatever I chose, that I would wake up ready to conquer the world each day. Now, I sort of just want someone to hold me and tell me it's okay to rest--someone who will keep any bad things from happening while I become strong enough to do that for myself.
I sound like I'm twelve again.
I forgot to discuss this with Therapist. That was stupid.
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This is, they say, where the real work in therapy begins.
ReplyDeleteDon't let the exhaustion overwhelm you, the best is yet to come!
Perhaps you can blame me. Because I didn't find you to be tired. Then again, maybe that's why I was able to talk ever so much this time. ;)
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry we didn't get to see you, but I'm glad you got to spend time with your sister. And honestly, I wouldn't have been very much fun this week, anyway. (Or maybe I'd've been too much fun. ATP is discovering that when I don't sleep, I have no filter.)
ReplyDeleteI hope we get to see you soon.
This is kind of strange but kind of good because I've heard so much about you (or I used to), and now you're writing on my blog. Life is definitely funny.
ReplyDeleteYou stand tall (even when you don't feel like it) as an example of someone who decided to be refined by her troubles rather than burnt. I say troubles, but that is such a small word—I mean terrible, horrible things that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. You have done so much with your life—marrying in the temple, raising children, teaching Seminary, serving in RS, YW, and Primary. On top of that, you spend lots of your energy helping other people who need your insight and kind ear. You're not just "a success story in the eyes of Family Services", you're a success story, period. You now have what tons of people whose lives began much easier than yours would give anything for.
I won't forget the advice you gave me. Of course starting on the ninth, I'll have to do all those things in Spanish, which is a little frightening—"Wait, did you say your brother annoyed you or molested you?" But I'm working on it.
The worst part is that once in a while I think that if my life were worse—if I had ever had a problem that pills couldn't fix—maybe I'd know how to help this or that person better. And then I yell at myself, "What are you thinking?!" (And then I'm committed for schizophrenia.) All I've got is the Holy Ghost to help me relate—personally, I've got nothing. I also have to fight the urge to sit back and get comfy instead of improving myself.
But now I'm rambling. What I wanted to say was thank you. I'll keep your challenge in the front of my mind during my mission and beyond.