Happy

So, this is a #firstworldproblems kind of post. In even saying that, I'm belittling my feelings, but it is what it is. The truth is, I'm having a great time. I'm blessed with wonderful, spirited kids. I have a decent house and a good job. I'm going out and having fun. I've had exciting travel experiences in my life. I'm enjoying dating an interesting guy who's been nice to me.

So, why do I wake up some mornings, more than most, and feel a sense of dread and general crappiness?  I move forward and take steps to feel better, and then I do. But the echo of the dread and crappiness doesn't go away, and it leaves me wondering why and what I can do about it.

And the very first thing I think of, as alluded to in my first sentence, is that I have no right to feel this way.  There are so many people in the world, so many women, in truly crap situations. Who am I to think or feel anything negative, given the advantages that I have and that everyone around me has had. But I think that's a cop-out.  I need to step up, to acknowledge and meet these feelings face to face, as it were. It's only by facing them directly that I can put them into their proper perspective.  That much is clear.

For my birthday this year, I wished to have intent.  What did I mean by that?  I wished to make decisions with a clear intention, and ideally with a healthy end in mind.  I want to move away from taking actions and making decisions based on fear.  I want to release my fears, stop grinding metal, and ease down.  And I can do it.  I know I can.  It's just this darn muscle memory in my mind, as well as some unhealthy habits that I can take steps to alter.

What do I mean by muscle memory? When I say muscle memory, I mean it's like a knee jerk reaction to blame myself, to feel bad, to apologize, to grab onto something -- a man, for example -- that can make me feel like I have value. If I dig deeper into the dread and general crappiness, I find that it's aimed at me. It's a feeling of crappiness about myself, and a feeling of dread that I'm going to do something wrong, that it will be all my fault, and that I will feel even crappier and everyone will know.  In that way, it's kind of a fear of fear. And, while it may have internal logic, it's certainly not rational.

When I think rationally and systematically about my life, I'm amazed at all that I've done.  I try to look at myself objectively, as if I were looking at my awesome friend Suzanne or some other SMILF.  I look at myself and say, wow, she's a strong person.  She's done a lot of things, and many of them required courage.  She's a loving, caring person. She has a hell of a lot to offer. She's well-equipped to deal with bullshit, to have her own back, to make healthy decisions, to step up to whatever she wants to do.  She knows.  She has value, as does everyone, actually.  So....WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP BEATING ALL OF THIS INTO MY HEAD OVER AND OVER AND OVER??? (Sorry for the all caps....sometimes they're incredibly appropriate.)

I don't know. Well, I have some ideas, of course. To expand a little bit on the memory part of muscle memory, certainly in my childhood I came away with the idea that as a girl, as a woman, you're nothing if you're not part of a couple.  And that clearly came from my parents, who, in their own loving way, shut everyone else out. The irony is that now that my dad is gone, my mom--who I blame, fairly or unfairly, about my misguided beliefs in this area--is not part of a couple anymore and she feels totally fine about herself.  From my vantage point, she appears to feel like the world owes her, and her job is to get people to give her what she deserves.

(Now, I know that's TOTALLY unfair. My mom struggles with anxiety and feelings of inadequacy, and she deals with them in her own, 1950s-embedded way. Any negative feelings I may have towards her related to that come from childhood patterns that were probably unconscious on her part.  But, still, family members can push your buttons, even if you have the best intentions and love them dearly.)   

But, to get back to my point, if my mom, who holds the primary blame for this dysfunctional muscle memory, doesn't think she's somehow inadequate on her own, why the heck should I be thinking that about myself?  Why can't I commence avec moi?  I've written before about how I want to throw myself into someone, to dive into a relationship and lose myself so I'll be okay.  In reality, I'm here in my life. I'm living, I'm raising my kids, I'm being a friend, I'm trying to be nice and help others, I'm learning and I'm working.  But in my heart, or maybe in some part of my psyche that some wacko like Freud identified 100 years ago, there's a crack that leads to a chasm of bereftness. And I'm so scared of that chasm, and how it will drive people away, and how it means I'm not okay.

I know, as I've written before, that facing something scary, that naming it, that walking through it can diminish the thing and the feelings until they shrink to their actual size.  And because I'm the mother of 2 little girls, I feel I have a right to post an uplifting video (even if someone could easily call this move cheesy).

 And I think I know what I can do, what I need to do, to feel and to be happy and healthy.  Some of those things I may not be ready to do.  For example, there are some unhealthy things in my relationship with RFG, but I can only work through them in the appropriate time.  There's no jumping ahead there...things will happen as they're supposed to. (Another question is why I can't simply stop worrying and enjoy our time together, but that's probably a topic for another posting.) And there are many things I can do now.  I can write, as I've done this morning.  I can love my kids and take steps to feel appreciative.  I can soak in nature and beauty.  I can treat myself well, with sleep, hot showers, exercise, flattering (but non-pricey) clothes, a noncluttered environment.  I can own my story and speak my feelings.  I can step up and do my work.  It's clear, I've done it, I'm doing it, and I will continue to do it.

And I wonder if, ever, one day, I won't have to use that exasperated, allcaps, boldface scream in my brain to remind myself that I'M OKAY and IT'S ALL GOOD.  When can I stop being Al Franken as Stuart Smalley and use my own internal mirror, in an unconscious way so I don't even know I'm doing it?  Maybe this is just how it is, and I should be grateful that I can do all these things.  Maybe it's a matter of building new muscle memory, over time, in the same way that I'm committed to getting physical exercise on a regular basis.  I suppose faith, however that's defined, comes into play here as well.  And I do have faith in myself, even if I forget that sometimes.  Here's to throwing myself into it, in a healthy way, for myself!