The New Skin

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:

A letter from one of my dad's employees to my sister on LinkedIn, 22 years after his death. If he could make that kind of impact at my age, with the struggle he went through, well... Shit.

A letter from one of my dad’s employees to my sister on LinkedIn, 22 years after his death. If he could make that kind of impact at my age, with the struggle he went through, well… Shit.

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:

My dad's factory jacket from Livonia Transmission.

My dad’s factory jacket from Livonia Transmission.

A new skin. In it, I’m impervious to all the shit the universe sees fit to throw at me. I just decided.

And thank god for my girls: Kim, Carla, and Marlene. We’re going to Yosemite on Friday and I can’t wait to get the hell out of Dodge. 

It’s a well known fact that there is no shit allowed in Yosemite (other than the bear variety). 

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3 thoughts on “The New Skin

  1. Margaret Wisniewski says:

    Put that jacket on and you will find the strength to keep going. Guaranteed! In fact, maybe you should wear it to work as a reminder of the values your dad embraced at work, in spite of similar obstacles. You are a “Tim”! Your gene pool dictates that people in our lives are what matters most; that shit happens; and that failure is not an option. It is still worth getting up in the morning and doing it all over again. Now, go to Yosemite!!

  2. Margaret Wisniewski says:

    Good for you!!!

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