Tomorrow, Phil goes back to England for another undetermined amount of time. As I reflect on the week we've had together, I can't help but feel a mix of emotions. I'm enthralled that it worked out so that we could spend our 1st anniversary together. At the same time, I'm aggravated at what a cocked up Immigration system we have. How can it be so difficult to let such a good man into our country?
For those of you who get to see your loves every day, you are so lucky, and I am envious. Thou shalt not covet? Well, I covet the time you get to spend together that I don't get. I want that all the time. I challenge you all to hug your love ones tightly, and do not let them go. Every moment with them is precious, and never forget that they can be taken away from you in a second. Saying goodbye never gets easier, no matter how many times you have to do it.
Saturday, September 13, 2014
Monday, August 4, 2014
Lost in Therapy Translation
Music used to be my therapy, my escape route. I could get lost for hours in the twiddles of my flute or the tinkers on my piano. But now, there is no music in my house, or in my life. That leaves a sense of loneliness that is difficult to describe -- only one that other musicians know.
Writing was my next form of therapy. I used to write poem after poem about anything and everything. I don't even have my poems anymore. I left those at my old house when I got divorced. I did have one published once, though. I still have the book.
Then, I started to blog, thinking it might take me somewhere and give me a consistent means of expression. I love blogging, but I struggle to find my communicative purpose. I have millions of thoughts every day, and think, "Man, I'd like to write about that," but the second I sit down to write, I blank. Well, I don't really blank out...I think it's more of me having so much so say but not knowing where to start.
My background in English knows that good readers make good writers. I have EVERY intention of reading more; my heart is in the right place, but I never seem to find the right time.
There was a period of time when going to the gym was my therapy. That didn't last long. I lack the determination because when it comes to exercise, mediocre is good enough for me.
After that phase, furniture was my therapy. Let me tell you something -- I LOVE restoring and upcycling furniture. Seriously, it is a huge passion of mine. I'm just limited in time and resources, so I just can't do it as much as I really want to.
Cooking was my therapy in between all of that other stuff.
Now, interestingly enough, working is my therapy. This is not how I imagined my life. I never stop. Ever. I don't have any sense of work/life balance, no matter how hard I try. I want to work to live, not live to work.
How do I regain my balance? I feel so lost.
Writing was my next form of therapy. I used to write poem after poem about anything and everything. I don't even have my poems anymore. I left those at my old house when I got divorced. I did have one published once, though. I still have the book.
Then, I started to blog, thinking it might take me somewhere and give me a consistent means of expression. I love blogging, but I struggle to find my communicative purpose. I have millions of thoughts every day, and think, "Man, I'd like to write about that," but the second I sit down to write, I blank. Well, I don't really blank out...I think it's more of me having so much so say but not knowing where to start.
My background in English knows that good readers make good writers. I have EVERY intention of reading more; my heart is in the right place, but I never seem to find the right time.
There was a period of time when going to the gym was my therapy. That didn't last long. I lack the determination because when it comes to exercise, mediocre is good enough for me.
After that phase, furniture was my therapy. Let me tell you something -- I LOVE restoring and upcycling furniture. Seriously, it is a huge passion of mine. I'm just limited in time and resources, so I just can't do it as much as I really want to.
Cooking was my therapy in between all of that other stuff.
Now, interestingly enough, working is my therapy. This is not how I imagined my life. I never stop. Ever. I don't have any sense of work/life balance, no matter how hard I try. I want to work to live, not live to work.
How do I regain my balance? I feel so lost.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
New Year
As I posted my blog just a minute ago, I found the draft you see below...unfinished, of course.
'Tis the season to reflect and renew, right? I admit, I get sucked in to the hype of a hopeful new year. A fresh start. 2013 has been a roller coaster for me, but I have to say that I am not all that disappointed with how it turned out.
For starters, I married my perfect match. While we're still waiting for our perfect happy ending, we've made huge strides in getting there. I know I moan and groan and cry about our time apart, and I know some of you get sick of it, but it's not easy living apart. The separation has taught me to never, ever take our time together for granted, and it breaks my heart when I see people who do. I have learned to cherish every moment, because you never know when you will have to say goodbye.
'Tis the season to reflect and renew, right? I admit, I get sucked in to the hype of a hopeful new year. A fresh start. 2013 has been a roller coaster for me, but I have to say that I am not all that disappointed with how it turned out.
For starters, I married my perfect match. While we're still waiting for our perfect happy ending, we've made huge strides in getting there. I know I moan and groan and cry about our time apart, and I know some of you get sick of it, but it's not easy living apart. The separation has taught me to never, ever take our time together for granted, and it breaks my heart when I see people who do. I have learned to cherish every moment, because you never know when you will have to say goodbye.
Spring Cleaning of the Mind
My life is so flippin' random. No matter how much effort I put into giving it some structure, I am always left spinning in circles. Sixty days ago, I made a career change into corporate America and became a Payroll Specialist for Paychex. I actually just came back from a week in Rochester, NY, which went by so quickly, yet so slowly, all at the same time. I am still confident that this change is one of the better decisions I have made as of late, and the payoff is awesome. While I still work at Carmax part time, I finally have a schedule that my body can follow. Sure, I'm tired some mornings, but isn't everyone?
I've slowly opened up about some health issues I've been facing recently, as well. Over the past 6-8 months, every blood pressure reading I have had has been really high. What's normal? Something like 120/80? When I went to the Little Clinic one day for an upper respiratory infection, it was 183/110. Just last week, it was 152/100. I'm 32 years old and I'm experiencing hypertension. It's really starting to make me nervous, so I've been on the hunt for a doctor, and have requested an appointment. I don't want to be in danger of stroking out before Phil gets here. OH! I forgot! Immigration: Phase 1 is COMPLETE and APPROVED! In layman's terms, this just means that the USCIS (Dept of Immigration) has approved my application to bring Phil over as my husband. This is a HUGE step. Anywho, back to the blood pressure thing. I have been trying to make a conscious effort to decrease the amount of caffeinated drinks I ingest, and while I don't eat much salt to begin with, I have also been trying to cut that out...as much as I can and still have some flavor to my food. I have reeeeeaaaaaaallllllllly tried to drink water, at least 85-90% of the time. It is damn near impossible for me to give up the occasional Coke or Sweet Tea.
I get to the gym in spurts -- as much as I can. Planet Fitness is a good place. If I can just get this stupid foot to cooperate, things would be copacetic.
The best part about my whole job change is getting to see more of my family -- something I missed out on for too many years. My nieces bring so much joy to my life, and I just can't get enough of them. Tonight was the middle one's 3rd birthday party...to the theme of Frozen, of course. My brother and his wife, and my sister and I all grew up around the same people, so naturally, several of those people with whom I grew up were there, with all their kids running around. I was sitting far away from all the noise and chaos when it hit me: I'm only friends with ONE of these people on Facebook (not counting my family in that equation, of course.) I found it to be an interesting paradox that these people who knew much more about me than I knew of myself for all these years have no part in my daily life, yet we all see each other on a pretty consistent basis because my brother and his wife are pretty sociable. We're talkin' cookouts, Derby parties, birthday parties...really any reason to have people together and eat and be crazy. Then I started wondering why it even mattered whether or not we were Facebook friends. Facebook doesn't define my life...or is it starting to? I use Facebook a lot. I mean, A LOT. Mostly because I enjoy writing clever statuses that make people laugh, whether it's about a TV show or some political current event or some pop-culture phenomenon. In general, people get a kick out of what I write. There have been many times when I have contemplated pursuing a genre and just writing something, anything, every day. I feel good when I write. I feel good when I read. I feel good when I play music. I'm really good at all 3 of those things, so why can't I figure out a way to make time for them? Maybe quitting job #2 would be a start, but I'm so close to earning the Vegas trip I can SMELL IT (that's another blog post for another time.)
I'd like to have a blog that people want to read, and enjoy reading. I like to be engaged in discussion and conversation, and I like voicing my perspective on things. Your #1 suggestion is going to be to set aside 30 minutes each night to write whatever I want to write. I'm okay with a goal like that -- it's easy, and attainable, for sure. MY problem with goals is that I have zero accountability. None. Zip. Zilch. NADA. I have no one to answer to if I don't get down 300 words a night, or if I don't get someone's question answered. I have the will to do more, but what's my incentive? Self therapy every night? Maybe. But is that enough? No.
I suppose all this rambling is the "Spring Cleaning" of my mind. Maybe 30 minutes a night is all I need.
I've slowly opened up about some health issues I've been facing recently, as well. Over the past 6-8 months, every blood pressure reading I have had has been really high. What's normal? Something like 120/80? When I went to the Little Clinic one day for an upper respiratory infection, it was 183/110. Just last week, it was 152/100. I'm 32 years old and I'm experiencing hypertension. It's really starting to make me nervous, so I've been on the hunt for a doctor, and have requested an appointment. I don't want to be in danger of stroking out before Phil gets here. OH! I forgot! Immigration: Phase 1 is COMPLETE and APPROVED! In layman's terms, this just means that the USCIS (Dept of Immigration) has approved my application to bring Phil over as my husband. This is a HUGE step. Anywho, back to the blood pressure thing. I have been trying to make a conscious effort to decrease the amount of caffeinated drinks I ingest, and while I don't eat much salt to begin with, I have also been trying to cut that out...as much as I can and still have some flavor to my food. I have reeeeeaaaaaaallllllllly tried to drink water, at least 85-90% of the time. It is damn near impossible for me to give up the occasional Coke or Sweet Tea.
I get to the gym in spurts -- as much as I can. Planet Fitness is a good place. If I can just get this stupid foot to cooperate, things would be copacetic.
The best part about my whole job change is getting to see more of my family -- something I missed out on for too many years. My nieces bring so much joy to my life, and I just can't get enough of them. Tonight was the middle one's 3rd birthday party...to the theme of Frozen, of course. My brother and his wife, and my sister and I all grew up around the same people, so naturally, several of those people with whom I grew up were there, with all their kids running around. I was sitting far away from all the noise and chaos when it hit me: I'm only friends with ONE of these people on Facebook (not counting my family in that equation, of course.) I found it to be an interesting paradox that these people who knew much more about me than I knew of myself for all these years have no part in my daily life, yet we all see each other on a pretty consistent basis because my brother and his wife are pretty sociable. We're talkin' cookouts, Derby parties, birthday parties...really any reason to have people together and eat and be crazy. Then I started wondering why it even mattered whether or not we were Facebook friends. Facebook doesn't define my life...or is it starting to? I use Facebook a lot. I mean, A LOT. Mostly because I enjoy writing clever statuses that make people laugh, whether it's about a TV show or some political current event or some pop-culture phenomenon. In general, people get a kick out of what I write. There have been many times when I have contemplated pursuing a genre and just writing something, anything, every day. I feel good when I write. I feel good when I read. I feel good when I play music. I'm really good at all 3 of those things, so why can't I figure out a way to make time for them? Maybe quitting job #2 would be a start, but I'm so close to earning the Vegas trip I can SMELL IT (that's another blog post for another time.)
I'd like to have a blog that people want to read, and enjoy reading. I like to be engaged in discussion and conversation, and I like voicing my perspective on things. Your #1 suggestion is going to be to set aside 30 minutes each night to write whatever I want to write. I'm okay with a goal like that -- it's easy, and attainable, for sure. MY problem with goals is that I have zero accountability. None. Zip. Zilch. NADA. I have no one to answer to if I don't get down 300 words a night, or if I don't get someone's question answered. I have the will to do more, but what's my incentive? Self therapy every night? Maybe. But is that enough? No.
I suppose all this rambling is the "Spring Cleaning" of my mind. Maybe 30 minutes a night is all I need.
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