02/08/2022
The past year has been very interesting. And by interesting, I mean it sucked big, hairy, donkey ballzz!
1. I officially became an empty nester and my identity crisis began. My youngest baby graduated college and moved out of my house. My oldest daughter moved out (as fast as she could) and has been “free from mom” for 5 years. I’ve been a full-time mom for 25+ years. What do I do now?
2. I lost my desire to serve. I quit my job as a RN at the busiest and poorest hospital in Detroit after working understaffed in a fu***ng pandemic for the past 2 years. Actually, I’ve worked as an understaffed nurse for my entire career….let’s be real! If I’m not a mom or a nurse, then who the f**k am I?
3. I sold my house (which was a blessing in this market!) and literally moved across the county. Detroit(ish) to Seattle(ish). My choice was based on proximity to my sister and distance from others.
4. My tumultuous 4-year relationship ended. I guess the Beatles were wrong about this one: sometimes love is NOT all you need.
I landed at Sea-Tac airport a few days before Thanksgiving a blubbering, gaunt-looking, miserable, exhausted, severely depressed woman who felt totally lost and out of options. I was broken: physically, mentally, spiritually. I hadn’t felt this overwhelmed since loss of my second hubby (the good one) and my “rock bottom” as an addict. Having several mental breakdowns in your past = red flag???
I literally didn’t know who I was anymore, but I knew for sure I needed to get someplace safe. My sister is my safe place. She knows EVERYTHING about me and still loves me. That’s sainthood level sisterhood because we ALL know how difficult I can be on my best day, much less if I’ve had a bad day….a bad week, a bad month, a bad year. But, Saint ReBecca (and her long-suffering wife) once again stepped up and took in their distraught sister.
I was fragile. Like a fu***ng bomb.
I spent the first week crying in bed all day long (not just in bed, though, cuz I’m versatile….the floor, porch couch, regular couch, bathroom, office, shower floor, etc). But sometimes that’s what self-care looks like: torn pajamas, messy hair, Gatorade, a pile of snot rags on the floor, and gallons of tears.
Thankfully I am a nurse and have worked in many EDs and Psych Centers. Self-care is a concept I understand and have even taught my patients tricks and techniques throughout the years. But I never practiced what I preached. I put my wants & needs last….sounds like all women, right??
But this no-self-care s**t caught up with me in a big way. If you don’t handle your mental health, trust me, that s**t will handle you!!
So, I slowly started to implement some self-care techniques. I found a licensed female therapist. I started taking walks. Then tried a little hiking. I listened to upbeat music and danced on the porch. I hugged some trees. I read a lot more often. I collected rocks on beaches. I drove up into the mountains. I got my hair and eyebrows done. I got a couple massages. I blocked certain people on social media and started following inspirational people instead.
And guess what the f**k happened?? I started feeling better!
So, here I am 13 weeks later. I am finally feeling calmer, more at peace, more purposeful. I still have days when I feel like a worthless, stupid, neurotic, s**t-ball-covered loser, but it’s happening less often. That’s called “looking at the bright side of a situation”, motherf**kers!!
So, I am starting a new journey. I bought a F350 4X4 and a 26 foot travel trailer (that’s a TT to the ultra hip camping enthusiast). Last night I slept in my TT in a RV park for the first time all by myself (I was “practicing” in Becca’s driveway for the past week). My plan is to work for the State Park Service as a full-time campground host. I am going to travel for the next year and do a lot of hiking with my puppies and write and make art and meet new people and read and meditate and just “Be Still” (don’t be so surprised I know Bible stuff, judgy). I will heal. I will get better.
Follow along for this exciting journey of self-discovery as I try to learn self-love. It’s gonna be like “Eat Pray Love”, but hopefully with lots of biker or**es.
