Weighted But Weightless

God, my heart hurts.
It hurts with happiness, it hurts with sadness.  It hurts because it's overwhelmed and also because it's so underwhelmed.  It hurts with reality but more so with possibility.
There's something pushing against my chest, making it hard to breathe.
There's a hole in my stomach, eating it away.
I'm not writing this post as a sob story, a cry for help or even for someone to read.  I'm writing it because I need to expel just how I feel into the universe.
Inevitably, I'm always waiting for the next thing.  But I fear for the day there will be no more "next thing" and I actually have to sit in my feelings and absorb them.  It will be sink or swim.
I'm okay.  Really, I am.  I am just spent.  I'm exhausted.
I need sleep.  And more hugs.  And calorie-free wine.

Changes

The ebbs and flows of life.
Goodness,  I have no idea what to write about.  I was just speaking with someone the other day about the weight of feeling like I need to write when I'm happy.  Words come naturally with sadness.  That's easy and poetic.  The difficult and humbling experience comes from writing when we're happy.  Or at least content.  I suppose that's what you could call this place.
I'm overflowing with emotions, truly.  They present themselves randomly, evolving without rhyme or reason.
Call me a fountain.  But be prepared to stand back or you'll be drenched.

A rock and a hard place.

I had a thought today that refuses to leave my head and is keeping constant tears in my eyes.

I don't want to lay it all out like dirty laundry, but a lot has happened in the last year and half.  As a person who doesn't let go of things...ever...every single moment is on my shoulders.  I am teetering from one side to the other under the burden.  It has been physically impossible to not let this effect me.  

I keep telling myself, "Once you feel better, you'll go back to the real you.  Once this is all in the rear view mirror, you'll be back to normal.  It won't be so damn hard.  This isn't the real you.  You are better than this.  You're cheerful, you're funny, you're heartfelt.  One day it will go back."

At what point do I need to be admitting that this is the way I am now?  That there is no going back.  

I've let it break me.  I've let it heavy my heart, hurt my spirit, poison my thoughts, lace my words with venom.  I have not won here. I have so sorely lost. 

I'm back...

Wow, the last time I even glanced at this blog was over a month ago.  Is it possible that time moves that quickly?  I literally cannot keep up.  I mean literally.  When my alarm goes off in the morning, my mind is still processing the previous night's events.  That's something that fades away, right?

I've been debating what to write about in this post.  Obviously, a lot has happened.  I cannot decide if writing about it all will hurt or provide relief.

I've experienced death before.  A void in my life that will forever remain vacant.  I was too young to understand the process, but old enough to remember the details.  Old enough to realize that one day, those details would be enough to keep me connected.  This time was so different.  I'm old enough to understand the process, but fully unable to grasp the details.  The sheer weight of sorrow I hold in my heart for Steven prevents me from fully acknowledging last moments, last laughs, last memories...they are too heavy.  Even dwelling on this paragraph makes me feel like I can't quite get a full breathe.
There are flowers in the sunny spots of our living room, slowly wilting and decaying.  There's a plant that appears eternal and is full of butterfly ornaments, decorating a  once bare corner.  There's a small urn on our bedside table, suspended in a period of grief, as we attempt to find a place that provides as much beauty and remembrance as she deserves.  Here, we will linger.

Day fifty-four: This Weekend

What makes today a good day, you ask?

Well, I'll be picking up my mother from the Omaha airport around 7:05 p.m.

THAT makes today a good day.

This radiant beam of wisdom will be by my side through a FULL weekend of wedding planning.  We're talking hour-to-hour appointments booked through weekend.
THANK GOODNESS!

This will be wedding dress weekend.  So!  If you have a moment, send some nice thoughts my way.
As I told my bridesmaids, I've been dreading this day since my first diet at age eight.
Have a happy weekend!

Day fifty-three: Therapy

A year ago, I met a person whom I could finally open up to about everything.  Whom not only takes what is coming out of my mouth in strides, but changes it into a language that I can better understand.  The ability to do so, change what I'm saying and make me understand it better, is a trait that not many possess.  And I was SO thankful for her.
But then I got sick and a snowball of unexpectedly gut-wrenching events began.  AKA 2015.
Before I could even get a word in edge-wise, I'm buried deep.
Let me just say that I am VERY good at keeping it together in public.  I even catch myself doing so while talking to her.  I learned this trait early; that the world should not know your secrets, your emotions.  But behind closed doors, in front of the most important people in my life...I am a mess.
I've touched on this briefly in several other posts.  But let me assure you, I am not over exaggerating and it is f***ing ugly.
Onto the topic of today's.
There were several points brought up to me recently that helped me immensely.  I figured I'd share them, in case someone else needed to hear them as well.

• There is such a thing as "new normal" and it's ever-changing.  I chuckled at this phrase as she spoke the word.  I recently wrote a post about my normal no longer being present.  She just spun it into a prettier appearance.  There is no longer a normal as my mind holds it.  But, there is "new normal".  I'm learning to accept this and grow with it.  But that doesn't make me any less scared or fully of melancholy.
• It's all about perspective.  Not only my perspective of the situations at hand, but my perspective of situations as they arise.  I am an "emotion-jumper".  I react and then think.  I'm wincing at having typed that and planning to expel it into the universe.  I'm working on it and I've been working on it since before I can remember.  It's part of me and if I become lazy and give into myself, I get emotionally ugly.  It's all about my perspective...which requires me to take a second.
• I need to redefine what a good day is to me.  This was, by far, the biggest message I took away today.  I am a planner.  I have a schedule, to-do lists, checklists...everything.  Before I even set my feet on the floor in the morning, I've already got the next 12 hours planned out.  Combining this characteristic with my sense of what "normal" should be equals unfulfilled.  I need to take smaller strides.  I need to relish in the simple acts of what makes a day "GOOD".  Because I am missing the point entirely.  Today I woke up feeling good with one of my favorite songs stuck in my head.  That made it a "GOOD" morning.

I know this post is chaotic.  This blog has been chaotic at best lately.  I'm trying.

Day forty-six: You.

I choose you.

Day forty-three: Foggy

My health took a step backwards.  I began experiencing pain again, just as I did a year ago.  I've since come to the realization that what I felt most was likely panic, which made my pain worse.  Thus, my appointment tomorrow in which I was scheduled to begin discontinuing my medications is taking another direction.
I'm okay with taking this medication longer because it makes me feel better, I know that it has literally saved my vision and ceased much of my pain.
There is a large downside, however.
It makes me very foggy.
Like, forget what we were talking about in the middle of our conversation foggy.
It took me about 8 months to realize this issue was happening...
I had to increase my dosage over the weekend and I don't think I've had a clear thought yet.  Literally, every thought process has a cloud around it.  I cannot, for the life of me, reach a point of clarity.
It's affecting every aspect of my life.  Negatively.  It makes me very sad.  It makes me feel very lonely and worried.
The last seven days have been trying.
Truly, I could just use a hug or a pat on the back.  An acknowledgment of my effort despite what my productivity has been.
Or an eight week vacation far away from here.

Day forty: A Story I Read Today

I came across an article today on my news feed regarding something very heavy and very ugly.  It was a blog written by a mother who had last her child minutes after birth due to an expected birth defect.  This wasn't the premise of the blog, however.  She was writing because someone had informed her a person in a town that I've grown and lived in falsifying pictures of her daughter following her birth.  This woman claimed the same story, the same tagline.  She pretended that something terrible had happened to her and her family.  It was a very well written blog.  Completely acknowledging the disrespect and lack of humanity her claims had provided.  This isn't the topic of my post today, though.

I became curious of this woman's story, of the way she presented her life and her relationships...the pain, love, hope, anger.  It was all there in her words that flowed like water.  
I eventually came across a post regarding her husband following the loss of their precious baby.  
I found it very relate-able.  Not only that, but I found strength in her words.  They were giving me direction.

She admires her husband for the way he handles his grief.  Quietly and gracefully.  As she self proclaims anxiety-attacks and outwardly handling grief, she struggles to accept that he is grieving as well.  Her perception is that through his "gathered" demeanor, he is not hurting as much as she.  
Simply, her admiration for his outlook gathered my complete attention:

"But, as you have constantly reminded me this year, there is still good. If it cannot be merry, it can be good. And it is."

"You are a good man and a good husband and a good father, and it isn't fair how many times a day I fail you as a wife that you are still all of these things. You are constant. I am moved every moment that God has given me you."

Her words spoke to me in a way I did not even realize I needed to hear and made me realize a frame of mind I needed to adapt:

Let our days be gentle to us, to him.

Let us, let him, feel peace and help us remember to acknowledge our blessings.  

Let me continue to look at him and feel more love than I ever imagined possible.

Let him feel surrounded by said love, protected from reality.

Let him feel supported by the strength of our relationship.

"I love you more than I loved you yesterday, but not as much as I'll love you tomorrow."

Day thirty-nine: I'm sorry

For those who routinely check on this blog (yes, I see you and thank you), I apologize that I disappeared.  Things have been hard lately, to be honest.  Harder than before at least.  I don't really want to go into specifics.  There aren't really any  specifics anyway.  It's just the relentless, never-ending "-ness" of it all that is getting to me.
I downloaded this audio book the other day.  I've never been one for audio books, but I had a free download and figured I'd give it a try.
This is what I chose:

As you can see, the book is called Furiously Happy.  I'm not very far into it, but I have to admit...whenever I turn it on, I can't stop smiling at the irony of what I'm listening to.  The author is a woman who has struggled with pretty significant mental illness in her life.  She's FUNNY, but she is also honest.  I'm thoroughly enjoying the book and intend on reading another written by her in the future.  I recommend for those who struggle with darkness.  She does a great job at forcing in some sunlight.  Cheers!

Day thirty-three: My Career

I felt that by writing this down, it may make more sense even to me.  Who knows.

I've wanted to work with animals since I was very young.  Granted, it's always been in different contexts.  Still heavily regarding animals.  I don't know at which point I decided it was zookeeping that was for me.  But in a moment, I knew that was it.  I knew what I needed to work for and accomplish.  I knew the ladder to climb for the rest of my life.  I worked hard.  I worked at several zoos, while also interning for free at others.  All to build my resume and gain those desired experiences.  This was on top of being a full time student working my way towards a bachelor's degree.  I enrolled in a school worthy of notation and somehow, someway, honestly earned my degree:  Bachelor of Science in Animal Science.  Whoo-hoo!  I was already working at a world famous, top-ranked zoo and headed on up that ladder I had memorized.  Not only working as a zookeeper, but also as a grooming salon attendant.  Truly, it was anything that I could get my hands on to earn experience and help pay the rent.
But one day, out of the blue, I got a call about a position within a veterinary clinic that desperately called my name.  Fast forward a few weeks, some breakdowns, some panic attacks, tears, excitement...I accepted the position.  Just like that, I gave up the job title I had well earned, had molded myself into.  I had dedicated myself to a career and decided it wasn't for me before it even began.
There was no logic behind this decision.
I knew the salary of a zookeeper well before pursuing my degree.  I was WELL aware of the job inside and out from an early standpoint.  I loved my job, I bled and breathed zookeeping.
There was something inside of me pulling me away.  And to this day, I try my hardest not to dwell on those feelings.  Because what if they were betrayal?
I have learned so much in the veterinary field.  My skill set has never dwindled but rather expanded.  I changed motion about a year into the job I had accepted and decided I could be happier in another position at another clinic, helping me fill my resume further.
I've thought about potentially becoming a practice manager...this would require me going back to school to earn my "mini MBA".  But, I'm up for the challenge.
Truthfully, I have no idea what I'm doing.  Once I removed myself from the world I had created, I didn't recognize my reflection.  I've played the blame game.  I could try to go back if I wanted to.  It feels like playing with fire, though.  I'll wind up right where I was.  Perfectly content, but yet not fulfilled.
I feel trapped in a degree that nearly killed me while trying to earn it.  Irony is harsh.
I am a firm believer that situations will not change unless you take the action to change them.  So, being told to be patient and wait is insulting.  There has to be something out there for me.  I just wish I could hurry up and find it.
I hope to touch back on this subject in the future.  Until then...

Day thirty-two: Materialistic Things

I wanted to keep it light and talk about some physical "things" that have been making me pretty happy as of late.  

1.  LUSH!

If you have never heard of this company, get on it!  I'm a bath-o-holic.  I would take a bath every night if I could.  This company makes awesome bath products, beauty products, hair products...you name it.  I won't go super in depth as I just started using this line, but I'm four days in and addicted. Period.  

The orange and robot are bath bombs.  The pink and white piece is a  bubble bar that smells like delish candy, appropriately named "The Comforter".  The blue item in tin is the shampoo bar "Seanik", while the green item in tin is a condition bar called "Jungle".  These products are awesome.

2.  Star Wars!

Okay.  I had never seen Star Wars and was planning on keeping it that way forever.  Until Christmas when Steven decided he wanted to watch the original films on VHS.  So, I said, "Okay, but we need to get it over with now so I don't have to listen to you complain about me having not seen them anymore".  **cough, cough**...it's not my fault that I liked them so much.  I even drug him into the movie theater to see the newest installment.  Granted, I still have much to learn about the films.  Regardless, I loved being able to watch those with him.

Fact of the day:  Fester's name used to be Yoda.

3.  NEW WASHER!

Thank you Mom and Dad Sitzman for buying us a new washing machine for Christmas.  Our hunk of metal has pulled us through some tough times (ie. zookeeper and veterinary staff household).  But we are moving on up to bigger, more electronic things.

It even has lights.

4.  The snuggle love in our household is strong lately.  These two typically can't stand each other.  But Christmas brought everyone together for snuggles (pause for cheesy effect).  Here's proof.  

Thumby likes being the big spoon.

HAPPY THURSDAY, EVERYONE!

Day twenty-nine (a seven day jump): Normal.

I'm choosing to focus not on the days that I've missed, but rather that I'm back here yet again writing.

The New Year came and went as expected:  that rock is still in my gut.
Possibly even more so.  It's as if December 31st, 2015 was a date that I was trying my hardest to avoid. Because anything beyond that was unpredictable and saturated in grief.
But, here we are.  No matter how hard I dug my heals into the ground, 2015 was leaving with or without me.

It's been weeks since our household functioned on a "normal routine".  I was heavily anticipating the return to such an existence.  I, however, came to the conclusion that what I'm looking for is no longer there.

There is no longer a normal.

These days are the the days that tear apart love.  That make you feel weak and dangerous.  I would like to say I'm an unwavering beam of support, but I am the farthest from it.  I have daily breakdowns at this point.  And I try my HARDEST to prevent them from occurring.  It's relentless.  If this makes me less of a human or unfit for companionship, then I guess that's the way it is.  I'm trying and failing.  With each fail, a piece of me becomes more broken.  With each fail, it's harder for me to get up in the morning.
There is no longer a normal for us.  As I'm sitting next to Steven in our living room that we've decorated together, made into a home and shared for almost three years, it feels unfamiliar.  Those hugs that I crave so dearly feel empty.  There is no longer a normal.  There is only moving forward with the fragments I feel we have and will still be taken away from us.
I don't really have any more to say about it than that.

On a lighter note, here are some aspects of my life that supply routine.  In order to "look on the bright side".

• Our pets love us.  Thumby will wake us up every day with his obnoxious meow.  Bun will go berserk every time she hears the popcorn maker.  Fester will always sing for me at any mention of cookies.  They are normal.
• Pets need surgery.  Work is normal.  Busier, in fact.  Which is great.  And normal.
• Gas prices:  thank goodness.  Not ridiculously high, but normal.
• The familiarity of my own shower.  I always take that for granted until I realize how much I've missed it.  It is normal.
• Planning a week of meals because it allows me to address a week in advance without panicking.  A normal routine.  
• The love that I carry for the man of my dreams.  My normal.