I promised myself and I think you all that I would try to be honest and open about feelings and situations as I navigate through this new reality.
Or maybe I promised only myself. I don’t know.
So this week, I have accomplished a lot on some major items on my to-do list. I hired a handyman to make some much-needed repairs around the house. And it looks great! Is it perfect? No. But it is much improved and much needed. Benign neglect eventually shows. Hopefully these improvements will change that. I have other people coming out next week to do a few things, and then the week after next, I have people coming out to repair the screens on my back porch that children and asshole squirrels have torn.
Squirrels really are assholes. In addition to my screen, they like to nibble on wood and dig up and eat my flowers. Assholes. Don’t let their adorable appearance fool you. They are assholes.
Despite all the good things that occurred this week, I am having a rough night. Maybe it’s fatigue. Maybe it’s just the busy-ness of the week getting to me. Maybe it’s fucking perimenopause because why not??? I’m teary. And emotional. And feeling sorry for myself. I’m having a case of the “uns” as I call it. Think of any adjective: pleasant, intelligent, attractive, loveable, etc. and put “un” in front of it. That’s it. That’s what is going on with me. I feel UNpleasant; UNattractive; UNloveable; UNintelligent; UNimportant. UNremarkable; UNworthy…you get the point.
Why?? Again, I don’t know. I’m sitting here marking items off my to-do list like crazy. I’ve been on calls with district offices trying to help ensure our program is portrayed as well as it can be. I’m planning a retirement party for a dear colleague and team member. I’m wearing real shirts and lipstick every day!
But. I feel the “uns” in the back of my mind. And there is a loneliness associated with it, maybe because I have only myself to talk about these feelings with.
The truth is that I have always had a case of the “uns.” They have always been there as I was growing up. I tamped it down, subjugated it, pasted on a smile and went on my way. I’ve mentioned before that I feel as raw and vulnerable as I did when I was a teenager lately. Well, the “uns” were a part of that time of my life too. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. 44 going on 15. That’s pleasant. Give me acne, and I really am back at 15.
But, at the same time, maybe there is a purpose to these feelings. Maybe they are part of the same forces that are helping me to crack the shell that has been around me and hindering me from feeling. It’s true that these aren’t feelings you necessarily want to feel, but they are feelings. I am feeling something. And it’s acute enough to make me cry through 5 kleenexes on a Friday night.
It’s cleansing in a way. I feel better. Sad, but better for letting these feelings manifest. And I get to realize that I have primarily myself to count on. There is no one riding in on a horse to banish these feelings and take care of things. And that’s good. I need to rely on myself. I need to trust myself. Having feelings and crying on a Friday night is not a bad thing. It’s both discovery and healing.
I’m an only child, and in some ways, there is an inherent loneliness that comes with that. Or maybe not – I have only my experience to go on. But I did and do feel lonely as an only. Lonely Only, right? But at the same time, it’s familiar. I have only myself to count on. To rely on. To depend on.
I can do this. I’m up for the challenge. Me, myself and I. We’re strong enough.