I grew up attaching sentimental value to material things. I was the kid who never used her stickers because what would happen if I found the perfect place and occasion to use that super duper cool Lisa Frank rainbow colored cheetah sticker and I had already stupidly used it on a notebook? I mean, who put stickers on paper, right?! Stickers were meant to be saved and used only for super special occasions on super special things. So when I was a teen I had boxes full of stickers that no longer stuck because the glue had finally given up after all those years.
When I was a teen, I had this one t-shirt that was just awful. It was a white tee with a story printed on it about mice. It was on a background that had some mid-century art on a rolled-out scroll. It was weird. It made people stop and try to read the story which made me feel super awkward because it was on my chest, after all. But my grandpa bought me the shirt and so I associated it with him and donating it felt like I was being unappreciative and like I didn’t love him. I did the same thing with letters from friends and pretty much anything my mom, grandma, or grandpa ever bought me.
Needless to say, this translated into my adult life and I hung on to pretty much everything because you never knew when something would come in handy. Hence my three boxes worth of shopping bags my husband pulled out of my apartment when we moved into our house. My grandma always had a thing about keeping the good shopping bags (you know, the ones made out of thick plastic with sturdy handles), so I guess that stuck with me and I just kept accumulating bags and more bags because doing so always reminded me of my grandma.
I slowly started to learn that letting go of things didn’t erase memories, but old habits die hard. Five years in this house and you’d be hard pressed to find evidence that I was still a bit of a hoarder, but if you dug in the cabinets under the sink or the bottom of the pantry or the depths of my closet, you’d find bits and pieces of things that seem like meaningless odds and ends, but somehow remind me of something my grandma once said or something she’d keep.
As I typed this post, I realized that this is not where this post was supposed to go. I was going to tell you all about my decluttering adventures, and how freeing it’s been, but instead it became a trip down memory lane and a sort of introspection. It kind of brought up all kinds of happy feelings, so I’m just going to leave it here for a rainy day when I need a bag and can’t find one because I’ve finally let go of the habit. ❤
June is basically a month-long celebration of birthdays, graduations, and other party-worthy events. I think there’s one week where we have a family birthday every single day. Elliah’s birthday is on the 15th, then just 15 days later we have my husband’s birthday, and in between that, we have Father’s Day.
Parties! People! Family! Cake! Every extroverts dream!
But for me? The month leaves me emotionally and mentally drained. I love family. I love my people. But I need time to recharge in order to function. How does one find alone time in family home of 6? One doesn’t.
This week alone I had graduation, we celebrated Grandpa’s birthday, Tia Grace’s birthday, Tia Martha’s birthday, Elliah’s birthday, and Father’s Day.
Which is why today is almost sacred to me. The girls are at daycare, my husband is at work, Caleb is at his dad’s, and Monika is sleeping and watching movies, which gives me the silence and solitude I so desperately need to recharge and be able to function like a normal human being.
Most people don’t get that. It’s not the work that goes into throwing a party or the walking back and forth in heels keeping kids in line at graduation or teaching summer school after a hectic year that exhausts me. It’s the constant having to be present and talking and listening and being around other people that is utterly draining.
So today I rest and I relax and I sit still and in silence and recharge to deal with tomorrow. ❤
Sometimes, you just want to say “fuck decorum” and just put it all out there because it’s therapeutic. Because blasting people that need to be blasted eases my mind and soothes my soul.
But doing so would be in poor taste and would cause more harm than good and in the end would do nothing more than make me feel better for a few minutes and then I’d go back to being miserable because venting about something helps, but it doesn’t make the problem go away.
So thank goodness for sisterly bonds and LDRs and people who get it and don’t judge. All my love to you, babe.
Sometimes, you just need to focus on the good like grad school applications and having completed my education and being thankful that I have a career AND a great ass & I’m not stuck at some dead-end job with no diploma.
Sometimes, you just have to channel your frustrations and let them be your motivation to do better, try harder, go stronger. You have to take that next step that will get you where you want to be. Be it running a half marathon or finally getting a master’s degree or simply learning to let go of old demons.
Sometimes, you just need to remember to breathe.
Everyone in my house is sick right now. Monika has a cough that won’t quit. Ellexa has a horrible ear infection. My husband managed to catch that too. Elliah has really bad allergies. Caleb and I see to be the only normal ones right now, but living with four sick people and not getting sick yourself is nearly impossible. I feel my ears tingly and my throat scratchy, I’ve been drinking emergen-c and taking vitamins like crazy. Drinking a ton of water. And yet.
I have my first half marathon to run on Sunday. I.cannot.get.sick. Fk. I hate this.
And then to top all this shit off, I went for a short, easy run yesterday and now my left knee hurts all the way up to my thigh. @(*&*^%&#(%$^)*@&
I’ve been eating like crap because I’m so busy all the damn time so I’m too tired to cook so takeout always seems like the easiest option, but it makes me feel so gross and sick.
I need a reset. I need a vacation. I need a getaway.
Sunday. Run. Monday. Rest. Cannot. Wait.
I’ve gained about five pounds in the last two weeks and while it may not seem like much, it *is* because it puts me right under my “dreaded” weight and that is so not okay. I wish I had more time to run. I wish I had more time to myself. But alas, family comes first.
I’ve been eating my feelings and my stress and it’s been so easy to justify a cookie here and a chocolate there because “I’m going running after work anyway” except I don’t because I’m running around like a crazy woman doing pick-ups after school.
I’m seriously considering taking a mental health day because while I don’t feel stressed, I know I am. I just want a day to go to the movies and sleep and shop and not have a worry in the world until it’s time to pick up all the munchkins from school. A day to just turn my brain off.
So I’ve promised myself a few new outfits when I reach my goal weight in order to motivate myself to eat better. I’ve promised myself I will manage a way to sneak in a run every two days because the half marathon is literally ten days away. And I’ve promised myself to take the day after the marathon off because I’ll be exhausted and will need to recover and what better way to do that than with sleep, movies, and more sleep?
Until then, peace out.
I’ve been meaning to post about the beginning of the school year and how all that’s going and my training and my birthday and everything, but I’ve fallen down the Netflix rabbit hole and every spare moment I’ve had has been spent watching Dexter with Mona.
Ellexa is LOVING pre-k. She adjusted as well as I thought she would. She loves her teacher and she enjoys doing her homework (most of the time). She loves telling us all about the new things she learns and does each day.
Elliah is still adjusting. Every day is a battle of wills to get her to stay at daycare without crying. There’s nothing that she doesn’t like about it, she just got so used to having her big sister there with her.
Mona is doing as Mona always does: amazingly well. That child never ceases to amaze me. Noteworthy: Cotillion dress shopping has begun. Bring on the hunt!
Caleb is doing great. He has joined flag football and has his first game tomorrow. Basketball still is and will probably always be #1 in his heart, but I’m glad he’s branching out.
My gym membership has gotten little to no use. I’ve managed to work in a few outdoor runs here and there and one single strength workout since school started, but that’s it. And let me tell you, I can feel the difference. Not a fan of this lethargic, pudgy feeling I’ve got going on 24/7.
I haven’t even done my OOTD posts anymore because I hate the location of my mirror and need to figure something else out. My hair needs a touch-up. I’ve got lesson plans to work on. I pulled something in my back and can barely move. It’s gonna be a fun weekend. This is 31!
I do this thing with birthdays where in my mind, it has to be the birthday person’s most special day everrrrrr. In concept, that sounds great. But making that happen? Totally impossible. You can’t make every.single.birthday the most wonderful day ever. The pressure is crazy.
Unfortunately, I do the same for firsts. I get all excited and happy and expectant and I end up psyching myself out to the point where I just don’t want to do whatever it was I was looking forward to.
So this year, instead of focusing on Monday being THE FIRST DAY BACK TO SCHOOL! I’m tricking myself into thinking that it’s just the second week back and it’s just another day. Yes, there will now be students and yes, I will now be teaching, but it’s just another day.
Except Monday is also Ellexa’s first day of “big girl school” (she attended pre-school at the same learning center she went to daycare). It’s her FIRST! DAY! OF SCHOOL! So I’m psyching myself out about that. Especially because our mornings are already so hectic and adding another school to the mix will definitely be testing our time constraints. I can’t not go to my child’s first day of school and walk her into her classroom and stay for a bit. I just can’t! So I’m praying it all works out and goes smoothly and she doesn’t cry and Elliah doesn’t have a meltdown at pre-school and I’m not epically late to work.
And oh my gosh, did I mention Caleb started 7th grade this year? He shot up and slimmed down and is all grown up.
And Monika. She’s a junior. A JUNIOR. What the hell, man???
I’m gonna go make me a tea and cry in a corner. Forget firsts! Bah.