The Shift

 I don't know when it happened. I can't give you a season, time of day, what I was wearing... but something shifted.

I changed mentally, my outlook on life moved one foot to the right and maybe an inch higher up on the wall. Something cracked open my heart and love, like a fire, ignited me from within. Not love for another human, or even love in the "rose colored glasses" perspective. It's like I woke up and all the negative input and darkness from my past just fell away from me.

I'm seeing my children and their precious selves and wanting to cultivate the good in them too. I see so much hurt in my oldest. I see it in the way he seeks validation through his ever changing hobbies and conversation. I see it in the way he reaches for my mom and not for me, and while there was a bit of jealousy and anger in watching him leave me for her, I know that it's so important for his mental health to know that he has my support and that he knows he has ME when he needs me most. He feels safe with her. He feels safe with me as well, but he knows that Grandma will give him that one on one he craves that I cannot give him when I'm the only adult in the house and I have three little people to answer to. 

I see myself in my middle. I see the awkward discomfort of living in her own skin and the mental power struggle of wanting to be herself and wanting to fit in. I hear the distress in her voice when she's doing all she can to keep herself together instead of exploding and bouncing all over the place mentally. My youngest? 

My bud? He's calming down and has become more open to receiving our new routine in the new home. He's shed his anxieties and distrust of the "newness" of new schedules, new home. I hear him vocalizing his discomfort and frustration more often, but with that I also see that he too is shifting. He knows the words are there in his mind, he can feel them on his tongue, but nothing comes out. I can resonate and understand this 1000x over as I too have issues getting my words outside of my head verbally.

I see the people I love that I WANT to surround myself with as who they are, imperfectly perfect. They are who they are and at the end of the day I can't expect them to be anyone BUT themselves. What I can control though? Is the amount of interaction I have with them. Even if I love them down to their bones, it doesn't mean I have to allow myself to participate in their toxic or negative behaviors/activities. I can love them safely from a distance and appreciate our differences from afar. It doesn't mean I condone or tolerate them, even though I know sometimes my silence may feel differently to them.

This past weekend I indulged myself with simple tasks that soothe my obsessive brain and maybe having more time to do this is making me a better person both for myself and for my loved ones. I folded ALL the clean laundry; the neat clean piles sorted, stacked and disbursed between our rooms made things seem more orderly. I built an over the toilet storage cabinet. Sure, I cursed incessantly as I assembled it, BECAUSE WHY WERE THE DIRECTIONS IN PORTUGUESE? I managed to survive all in one piece without any new wounds (which we'll discuss here shortly). I bought myself some pretty fall/winter flowers and hung my hanging planter hanger at the front door assembling my collection so they spilled out with color plus rosemary for height/scent as a centerpiece. I'm obviously VERY PROUD and also VERY out of potting mix. Looks like another excuse to go back to the nursery.

The following story could have gone a complete different direction, however I reacted more with love than irritation and I AM SO PROUD of myself for this. This past Friday night I was stepping out onto the patio and I thought to myself, "let's not announce that this single white female is alone late at night on her patio." And so I never turned the light on to see what I was walking into. I have two colorful plastic Adirondack on our patio and as I went to sit down I realized that something was NOT right around the same time that I heard the crunch of plastic shattering. I went THROUGH the chair and as I did, a jagged piece of the chair sliced the outside of my thigh (right under my left butt cheek...) I knew my leg and pajama shorts FELT wet, but brushed myself off and sat on the other chair contemplating what the fuck just happened. I stared and cursed inwardly at the chair, embarrassed and oh so grateful I didn't turn the light on so no one could bear witness to my literal downfall. At this point, it didn't sting or hurt, but my shorts became soaked with blood and the backs of my arms ached with promise of bruising. I slightly panicked once inside when I saw how much blood was running down my leg. I sprayed the wound down with peroxide, wiped away the evidence to reveal a gnarly cut. I instantly remembered a few days prior discovering my youngest opening as many band-aids as he could to use as adhesive to hold his pictures up on the wall (I can't make this up) and so I hid the first aid kit from both himself and of course myself. I tore the apartment apart looking for that damn kit and finally, when I realized there was no point in looking anymore because I had to cover the wound, I reached out to my neighbor (friend from my HS years who's a cop) who could also pass for one one of those hot TikTok cops. (Insert awkward wave here in the case he reads this.) The panic and embarrassment crept up through me as I shot him a text to see if he was awake, had any first aid experience, and could help me patch myself up as my t-rex arms didn't quite reach and with it being in such an awkward location I was unsure just how bad things were down there. He responded that he had a medic kit and to come over and so I hobbled to the apartment behind mine, his gut reaction, "JESUS, what did you do??" I ruined my pants, that's what I did. The entire time he was eye level with my butt, the only thing I could pray was that his girlfriend was somewhere watching so she could see that I wasn't trying to make any moves while my backside was exposed. I am NOT that kind of woman, although if he has any friends... And this is exactly what I mean by remaining positive through this terrible accident. Not once did I curse at the fact that NOBODY brought up the broken chair even though at least two people knew. Not once did I break down and get overwhelmed at the fact that I was in an unplanned predicament (even though planned predicaments can't always get great responses either.)

So "high five," me! Way to survive an incredibly could have gone WAY farther south weekend and keeping my eyes on the prize of just getting through it with the best attitude possible. ((And my leg didn't need stitches YAY! and is healing nicely from what I can tell.))

Now to survive tomorrow's long list of doctor's appointments (tetanus shot, flu shot, full blood panel, full physical exam, lady doctor exam, 3 different therapy appointments...) and all I'm truly itching to do is unbox ALL my books and get them on their appropriate bookshelves. #priorities #bitcheslovebooks #POSITIVITY