Healing, like trauma, will always hurt. If it doesn’t… you’re not healing.
It ain’t that type of blog.
Don’t even get your hopes up.
It’s storming and I’ve not had a great day so I figured I’d write. There are about three to four other things I could and should be doing but none feel like something I need to give my entire attention to.
Being disabled has shown me a lot about people and the dynamics of relationships.
An extraordinary fact that I have learned is that there is a HUGE difference between “a provider” and “a care giver”. The definition of provider is simple… a person or thing that provides something. To further break that down, to provide means to equip or supply someone with (something useful or necessary).
Okay. We got that part right?
A caregiver can be defined as a person who gives help and protection to someone (such as a child, an old person, or someone who is sick/disabled). There’s such a difference in even the definitions of the words. Provider seems so straightforward…. I’m here to give you what you need. A breadwinner. Anyone can be a provider. But to be a caregiver… a giver of CARE… a helper… a protector… not everyone can be that. We see it in the first relationships we have, the ones with our parents. My mother was a provider and a caregiver. She was both for me. My father (step) was more so a provider until we established our bond and evolved within our father/daughter relationship.
Being in any kind of relationship is hard when you’re disabled. You have certain needs and wants that everyone isn’t equipped to deal with. Your partner could be a great provider and a shitty caregiver. And as a disabled person you sometimes (I lie… you MOST OF THE TIME) need someone who is well versed in how to be BOTH. Because what happens when you get to a point when you can no longer do things for yourself and you need help? Who do you call? Who do you ask?
I wish all these changes in my life came with instruction manuals. I wish they came with ready made textbooks with clearcut instructions on what to do when you can no longer do what you used to be able to do.
But they don’t.
And you’re just left trying to figure it out on your own.
I’ve just come to terms with the fact that I can’t consistently write in a blog to save my life.
I don’t know if I don’t have enough will power, enough discipline, or just simply the “give a fuck” to do this every day.
My exhaustion consumes me most days. And when that doesn’t take over, the mind fog and the depression/anxiety kick in and I’m left stuck in a pit of self pity and shame. It’s a terrible cycle.
But I’m here today. To write. To gripe honestly. And to complain.
Honestly I just hate when a person’s words don’t match their actions. My love language is acts of service and next is gifts and honestly every one in my fucking life fails at this. Family… friends… my spouse. Just about everyone. It’s so frustrating to constantly feel as though I’m not being loved the way I feel like I need to be. My biological father used to break promises to me all the time when I was growing up. He would say things that he never planned on doing. He would constantly assure me that he wanted to be in my life and become more of a father to only disappear for years again. I got to the point where I told myself that I would never listen to or believe another word that came out of his mouth. To this day… that remains true.
My spouse triggers a lot of those feelings that my father did in my childhood. She will say one thing and then her actions will contradict everything she just said. It bothers me to my CORE. And having to repeatedly tell someone who loves you how their actions make you feel and nothing is done about it really makes you question your reason for being in that person’s life. I’m going to talk about it more with my therapist. A lot of my childhood traumas have been coming to the surface for me lately. My family is going through some hard times, and being the eldest daughter I feel as though I have to bare all the weight. And honestly I’m tired of that shit. It’s too much.. I got my own personal shit going on.
I’m going to try to get through this week and make a note to bring all this up in my next therapy session.
I’m going to start writing some random thoughts and words of advice to myself. And to whoever may need it too.
I’m going to tag them “WOA”.
Take whatever is written however you want to… *that’s the trigger warning*
Never marry someone who only has love to offer…
Screaming out loud requires a lot more energy than I have.
But my god do I want to fucking scream.
If bored in the house and in the house bored had a face it would be mine.
I… Am… NOT…. DOING…. O K A Y.
I have read books.
I have baked various bread items.
I have played all the games.
And done all the puzzles.
I JUST WANT TO GO OUT AND DO HOODRAT SHIT MAN!!!!!!!!!
I woke up really sad this morning.
I miss my family. A lot.
My mother, my sister, and my nephew are going to my grandmother’s house for Mother’s Day and I really wanted to go as well. It’s about a 9 hour drive to North Carolina where my grandmother lives. It’s 11 hours to New York City where the rest of my immediate family is.
In the 5 full years of being with my wife (3 dating, 2 married), we have NEVER spent a holiday with my family.
NOT FUCKING ONE.
I always feel like me being with my family is an afterthought. And I don’t think she takes into regard my feelings about this. The last time I saw my family as a whole was at the funeral of my uncle. My uncle died in 2018.
Like… I hate to sound bitter about it but I am. I feel like if you weren’t prepared to spend holidays without your family and with someone else’s then you shouldn’t have gotten married. Especially to someone who was so far away.
And I get it… it is hard for us to travel. With my illness and everything happening in the world… there’s so much to take into account. But I still feel like when I bring up going to see my family she just does nothing. It’s like she’ll look at me and not say anything. She won’t make any attempts to make a plan. She won’t say “well let’s see how much xyz is.” It’s just *crickets*.
It makes it even worse because for the amount of time of this trip, I could have made an even shorter trip to Atlanta so that I could clean out a storage room I’ve been renting and save myself about 100$ a month.
But you know… who needs extra money anyway?
I’m so tired of about writing about this. I just needed to get it off of me to have a semi better day.
During this pandemic I either wake up exhilarated and ready to get shit done, or I wake up to just go back to bed.
My lungs and asthma decided to really act up yesterday and for a second I thought about making a scary but necessary trip to the emergency room. Luckily (for me) I dug down and drew strength from my ancestors and used some essential oils and prayed for some sort of relief.
I finally got to sleep around 3am. I woke up this morning a little sore but feeling a lot better and unusually ready and willing to tackle some clean up of my inboxes and social media.
So today I’m trying to get that done in between simply taking a day to relax and enjoy the global reset we’ve all been given.
What’s going on your way?
I don’t know how anyone outside of my immediate circle is handling this pandemic but everyone I KNOW has be having difficulties adjusting. It makes me feel a whole lot better about how I’m doing. I had therapy today so I’ve had a chance to cry and scream and not be okay. I am trying to keep calm by crafting and writing and reading. I figure the more I keep my brain engaged, the less breakdowns i’ll have.
My nephew’s birthday is tomorrow. Two years old. And I can count on my hands the number of times I’ve seen him physically. Not being around my family is becoming more and more difficult.
I’ve been trying to talk to my friends and family… people who make me smile and bring some goodness my way. *heavy sigh*
My everything is just in survival mode.
I am so homesick.
If you don’t know, I was born and raised in The Bronx, New York.
I love New York. Rightfully so… It’s home.. But living there and having the income I do, it’s just not doable.
My family is still there. My mother and father, my siblings. They are all still in NYC and the last time my family was all together was when my uncle died in 2018.
I wanted to go spend Mother’s Day in North Carolina with my Nana. My mother and sister are supposed to be driving down to see her as well and I just want to be there. I miss them. I miss them so so much.
With all that’s going on in the world… I just want to be close to them. Even for just a few days.
Not being able to travel alone anymore is always a constant reminder of the things I lost in the fire. What I mean by that is it’s a constant theme of things I can no longer do independently because of my illness. I hate those reminders. They stir up so many negative feelings and it take a little bit of time to calm myself. Writing has been helpful though. I try to change my perspective each time I go through these feelings though. I need to retrain my brain into saying “things I’m learning because of the fire” instead of focusing so much on what I have lost. I want to keep a spirit of gaining so that I can continue to receive all that is for me.
I am having a hard day today. Not gonna lie.
I think every time I get wind of someone else who is pregnant I get into my feelings and the process I spoke about in this blog starts all over again. It’s an emotional rollercoaster that seems like I’ll never get off of.
My self esteem always takes a hit when this happens and I get so down about myself.
Social media will fuck you up. Your everything up. It will have you thinking so negative about yourself when everything anyone (relatively) internet famous is posting about how easy and carefree their lives are.
The shit is all smoke and mirrors honestly.
I get into the frame of mind that i’m not successful enough, that i’m not pretty enough, that i’m not smart enough.
I go back to my word of the year for 2019. And that was “enough”. I am … and will be… enough.
It helps that I purchased some really sexy lounge clothes that I absolutely plan to wear outside.
Judge ya mother.