Today's musings

I had my weekly therapy appointment today, and one of the things I love about my therapist is how comfortable she makes me feel. I've been in and out of therapy for most of my life. I've always loved the idea of therapy. It makes sense to me. But I have never felt 100% safe or comfortable with any of my former therapists. I've always felt judged. But from my first appointment with my current therapist, it was different. And I can truly say that I have learned a lot about myself, have had a number of "a-ha!" moments, and I've grown. Now, don't read that and think I've fooled myself into thinking I've reached my full potential and I'm done - helllll no. Life is a continuous journey, and I have no plans to stop therapy. 

Today, while discussing my most recent "a-ha" moments, my therapist said something that brought me such peace. She said something along the line of "you're reaching that '40' moment. I've encountered so many people who have said 40 was a pivotal moment in their lives. They've realized that the paths they were on were no longer serving them fully, and they began to realize how important filling their own cup was. They started setting boundaries and keeping them." 

And she's right. I've been putting in work, and I've started setting boundaries. Last night, I was drained; not just from a long, busy day, but from also filling others' cups along the way. I felt tired from doing so much for everyone, making everyone feel peaceful, stress-free, happy, and not getting anything back. I'm tired of stretching myself thin and emotionally depleting myself because I know how to care for everyone around me. I'm tired of giving 110% to co-workers, inside and outside of my unit, I'm tired of giving affection, attention, understanding, love, and patience to people who don't bother to find out if *I* need any of that. 

Don't mistake what I'm saying to mean all of these people are maliciously and selfishly just taking from me - it's an unconscious draw, I'm sure. No one in my orbit is a "bad" person... but when their needs aren't met, they come to me because I am able to offer whatever it is they're lacking. Need a boost, I got you. Need to vent, I'm an excellent listener. Feeling weak, I know how to build you back up. Need encouragement, I'm your girl. Physical touch, I give the best hugs or cuddles. I'm there. I'm *always* there. But, who's there for me? Who's there when I have a long, hard day and need someone to listen to me, hold me, encourage me? Who, of these people that i take care of, ever think, "Let me reach out and see how she is." *My* needs are an afterthought, if a thought at all, to people. Does anyone reach out to me unless they have an unmet need... no. 

I'm not saying I'm going to stop being who I am - I'm a nurturer by nature. These people come to me, and it comes so easily to me; *because* I have this gift. But I'm certainly learning that I do need to fill my own cup because no one else will/is. I *am* finding that as 40 draws closer, I'm realizing that putting up some boundaries and saying "no", regardless of the outcome, is healthy for me; and in the long run, will allow me to continue to be there for others.

A new chapter

I have never been comfortable with all eyes on me. That is a fact that many disbelieve. I'm often told I am charismatic, kind, charming, infectious; a friend to all. That may be, but I am actually terrified of attention and have always sought to make myself small in school, at work, around crowds... I have very big opinions and ideas, but only feel comfortable being agreeable and quiet when in public or with groups. I worry constantly about saying or doing the "wrong" thing. I have often battled with why I do not believe myself to possess this "magnetic personality" I'm told I have, and often feel like a fraud in my own skin. 

In three short months, I'll be hitting a new decade - 40. I'm not afraid of aging, I don't even "feel" 40. What does age even feel like?? What a stupid notion, to "feel" an age. What I do feel, however, is that I need to embrace myself. I need to remove myself from last place and finally shower myself with true self love. I need to take time for me, to satisfy me, calm me, ensure my own happiness is intact. In order to continue filling the cups of all of those around me, I need to realize that task may be better done if I finally fill my own cup, first. 

Society has given us all such a fucked sense of what is "worthy". How men and women should look, in order to be found appealing. How to defy age or slow the affects of aging. I've always been lucky that, even when not feeling it's true, I'm able to shine like a fucking diamond. I'm human - I scrutinize my (many) imperfections. I see darker circles, more hollowed eyes, where I used to have a more youthful sparkling gaze. My cheek bones aren't as lifted. I dye my graying hairs. I worry about facial hair, wrinkles, lack of elasticity around my eyes. My physical "snap back" isn't as quick,  or as easy, as when I was 20 years younger. 

Most of all, I worry about not finally shedding this heavy suit of armor I've carried for almost four decades. Holy shit - four decades sounds a ton of a lot older than "40" 🤣🤣. I do not want to remain guarded all the time. I do not want to feel ill at ease when having to attend a party, a gathering, or an event. I do not want to feel too drained to do something for myself. I want to be able to embrace my full worth - honor my full worth. Whole-heartedly enjoy what is left of this time we get on Earth - because it is far too fleeting. 

40 isn't here yet.... but I'm getting ready for when it is...

T

She hated attention, so do I. I remember always thinking she was so cool. She had full, gorgeous, shiny, straight hair - I was a little girl who looked a mix between Shirley Temple and a Bad News Bear. Her nails were always long, and pointy, and when she was seated, having conversations, she'd always run her index finger down the center of her nose, tapping the tip occasionally. Her favorite perfume was Knowing, by Estee Lauder, and I remember that smell so vividly. She spanked me with a hair brush, on more than one occasion, when trying to brush out my knotted curls. She wore a big, sapphire and diamond ring. She bought me a smaller, matching one. She always wore beautiful, trendy clothes. She called me "Jilly" or "Jilliana". She had a beautiful voice, but never sang in public. She loved dogs. She wore a brown fur coat that was always cold when she hugged me. She held her lips a funny way when she laughed. She was left-handed and wrote so beautifully. She was a nervous, anxiety-riddled person. So am I. When i was older, we'd sit at her kitchen table, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes. She shared her secrets with me. We laughed together. We cried together. We sat in silence together. We stopped talking. She was stubborn. So am I. It's "crazy" to say, but 2 days before I got the phone call saying she was gone, I had the strongest urge to call her. But I was putting the boys to bed, and I didn't. It doesn't feel possible. It doesn't feel real. I've told myself that my Nana Gilda was waiting for her, with open arms...that after 47 years, she finally got to hug her mom again. I imagine she's sitting at the table, with my grandmother, my great grandparents, and my aunts and uncles, having wine, eating feasts, and catching up. I imagine her heart is finally healed and at peace. But I can't say "so am I"...