It’s now clear that one of my toughest life chapters has been unfolding over the course of the past six months. The cumulative effect of this now half year of horrible job stress, family illness, worry too big for my own good, and general life uncertainty as I near middle age has been, well…
Cumulative. Crap. Cumulative crap.
I’m certainly aware that things could get worse – they have been worse, which is why I’m not willing to deem this the worst chapter. I learned way too early in life not to tempt the universe like that.
But it’s definitely been rough; rough in a way I haven’t experienced in a while.
It’s all been leaving me feeling particularly vulnerable and misunderstood, overburdened with a responsibility to make everything right. Beat up when I can’t, angry when the people around me don’t understand my sense of hyper-responsibility and why I struggle in situations like this. Craving my family and closest friends who get me, desperate for solutions that don’t exist and just flat out exhausted.
Thank god for my husband, who’s kept me getting out of bed through all of it. Who understands why I can’t be complacent when I perceive things are wrong, or simply could be better. Who understands why I make myself sick with worry. Who understands why our happiness is so important to me, and why I have to believe we’re always set up for the best future possible.
And thank god for my family.
Earlier this week, my sister sent me this:
Yes, for real. If that doesn’t motivate one to keep going, what the hell does? I’m reading it daily, and expecting results in… I don’t know. Sometime soon.
And today my mom sent me this:
A new skin. In it, I’m impervious to all the shit the universe sees fit to throw at me. I just decided.
It’s a well known fact that there is no shit allowed in Yosemite (other than the bear variety).