I am in a wonderful place, right now.
I am sitting at our dining room table, coffee at my side, and being offered a delectable football/sandwich hybrid by my Playdoh master, Allen. He is currently trying to adjust seasonings to take down the sodium assault he just literally shoved in my face... I think. His little brother is onto more constructive activities and shoving as much of the stuff into a crushed loader bucket and pickup bed. Nate is off to an appointment this morning and is tripping out to work for the week tomorrow. The new routine outline I set up about two weeks ago is being adhered to, the day is flowing nicely, (no one is screaming,) and life is good.
I have been seeing a therapist for a while now and I really enjoy the hour that I have with her a week. My reason for seeking her out was the general sense of overwhelming pressure I put on myself to raise my kids "right" and the anxiety and anger I feel bubble up when that gets derailed. Obviously there are many other issues at hand, one of which was ignoring them because I'm "strong." My thoughts on that word are to come in a later entry. My intentions were to be able to regulate my anger, I have been doing shadow work since my diagnosis last year in hopes to resolve the guilt and resentment I had within this disease as well as my life before it. It is beyond overwhelming, to look at your entire life and try to pinpoint what has gone "wrong," what my reactions to them has entailed and impacted, and how to respond in the future. While down that very dark, lonely rabbit hole I have become incredibly self-aware. In that I have a constant monitor, or leash on, of my emotional state, and wheel of rationalization for things done to me or in my environment. Knowledge without action is small potatoes though, and I had no idea how to approach actually making my family and my own life more enjoyable and less ridden with anxiety.
In comes therapy. Though I enjoy it, it is not easy. I was faced with the question, "If you could place all of the issues in a stack based on priority to resolve, which would be the top?" I responded that I would really like to work on being a better, less angry, and more involved parent so my boys don't suffer from my own shit. Thus began my current workings; figuring out why I am such a moody bitch with my poor, loving, terrorist children. They are not easy, I know they're not easy. They can't control their emotions, and I know they learn how to from their parents. They are perfect mirrors of every miniscule action I take in their presence, which is nearly every single moment of their lives. If I am equipped with this knowledge, why in the world is it so hard for me to grasp the concept of being a better human for their sake? That inquiry was immediately met with more questions. How are your relationships and are you supported? How is your marriage? How is having cancer going? How are treatment changes effecting you? What has this winter done to your mood? How have side effects and new impairments changed your daily life? How, how, how, how? Stress. Stress. Stress! Stress!! I have been holding onto so many big feelings and downplaying each one so it is easier for me to focus on my body healing, when the reality of doing that is chipping away at and helping the demise of this wonderful body. My children were seeing the effects of mountains of stress from other sources, and I was allowing them to. She knew I wasn't being anxious from my parenting and allowed me the spark of discovering that myself.
The enjoyment of this deep self-reflection is like a riptide. On the surface, there are small victories in answering the hard questions and piecing the puzzle of my own psyche together. They give me the energy and momentum to dig further for that rush of self-accomplishment and finding tools to make me a better me. Underneath more questions with harder emotions and consequences lie pulling at the fibers of my soul. How are my relationships, really? Do I actually feel the support and love I am offered? Do I really hate myself? My rushing mind welcomes these topics, but the communicatory level of my being is writhing. I can think these thoughts to death, but the idea of clearly communicating what I need to those I love terrifies me. Why? Vulnerability. I may add my feelings about that word into that entry with strength...after I finish Daring Greatly by Brene Brown. Click here for second hand copy. Is it because I fear being a burden? Am I really in a position to ask more of those I love? I can see the exhaustion brought on by my diagnosis in each of their eyes and feel their hurt for me in my bones. Cue the hardened mask of "strength."
I hate the term of toxic positivity, but I can't help but think there are people out there that label me with that. I don't think that positivity is toxic by any means and I have used that leverage to overcome every obstacle I have had in the past year. I present the positive to those around me with the notion that the suffering I have endured in getting to that outlook is mine to carry and incredibly personal. I have surveyed every tiny detail and possibility that follows every word that comes from my doctor's mouth over and over. I have the authority to hold those findings and experiences to myself and present only what I deem fit to share to the world. And I do share a lot. You get nearly everything, just not the raw uncut version. You reading the process it took me to find the good, light, and positivity that I share would be days and days of writing and reading that neither of us have time for. And yes, I would love to turn it into a book someday.
So how did we get here, from coffee and Playdoh?
I'm not entirely sure, but those words needed put down. I appreciate you being here to pick them up. I feel I opened many topics today that are unresolved in this entry. We'll name it content security. I have such exciting news to add to all this inner dark that will be shared when planning turns to plan. I will say, goals and pipedreams are not so hard to fulfill when you allow them to happen.
Until Next Time,
XOJO
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