Carrying mountains

I know I've been particularly quiet here lately, but today I missed this place for the first time in awhile, so I'm gonna give it a go. I have not had much to say because this hasn't felt like the right space lately. But not talking and not writing has been paining me almost physically, like having a toe amputated that I can't talk about.

I'll just really vaguely say that life has been hard. And my instinct is to internalize that and process it and find ways to make it all better and pretty and come here and tell cute stories about my kids or something kinda profound about life. But I don't have that in me right now. I am not palatable, if you will.

To be an adult and to have big feelings feels weird to me. Wrong. Like it's a secret. But you know, I see other people struggling too. I see it all the time now and it's kinda impossible to ignore it once you see it. Adults who seemingly have all their shit together who are also struggling internally. People who are keeping on at the surface, but are starting to crack.

On a particularly bad night the other day, a friend texted me about her bad day and my first instinct was to commiserate and say platitudes and let it go. But I had this THING going on myself and it felt not small so, after a second, I told her about it. I told her I needed help. That I needed HER. And 30 minutes later we were meeting over drinks, crying and laughing over ourselves, and how dramatic we were both being when 1. This is not the end of the world and 2. We are both strong, smart, capable, badass women. Point being, we both felt better. But I almost didn't do that, because I was hesitant to put my stupid privileged problems on one of my oldest friends.

But why? Why do we feel like we need to carry the load by ourselves? I feel like our people really want to help, but they can't help if they don't know there's a problem.

I think the privilege piece does play a part here. Like how can my problem even BE a problem when there are so many problems that are much, much worse. But I am reminded of a story where just because a friend has cancer, that doesn't mean you can't complain about your broken arm. It's all relative. A broken arm still hurts. A problem is still a problem. It may just need to be put into perspective. 

I feel so lucky to have good people in my life. I've been trying to reach out to them more without feeling too overly guilty about it. It's weird though, because it's not really my thing. I mean, feeling guilty is kinda my thing, but not reaching out. I don't know how my friends feel about this, but I'm pretty sure they're ok with it. I know this because I know I'd be. I have been. So if it's ok for me to be there for them, it's ok for me to ask them to be there for me. But HARD. But also BETTER.

A good friend told me to just roll with it. Roll with the process and let it unfold as it will. And that I needed to get out of my head. Both very true statements. Probably the absolute truth there. But this is the antithesis of who I am, or who I was. I don't know how to do this version of me. I'm intrigued, but terrified. I feel a little stalemated, unable to act or move. This was literally the case last week when I stayed in bed for 5 days because of my back, which is certainly not helping.

I'm not sure what I'm trying to say here, lol. That's where I am. I look fine on the outside, but the inside is a bit of a mess. And I'm saying it here because I think it's ok to say it to your people, even the ones not in your immediate circle. It's ok to not be ok.

I saw this and it stuck with me. ..

Stealing this from FB, Word Porn is the page. Don't know how to credit, don't care.

Stealing this from FB, Word Porn is the page. Don't know how to credit, don't care.

I haven't hardly begun to climb my mountain. It's too hard to even look at it. Too big. But I am definitely carrying it right now.

So I just walked away from this post for a few hours with the words "Roll with it" in my head, put on the perfect music, got a nice text from a friend, had my husband take care of a stupid chore that was annoying me, and sat down to a peck of peaches. Hours later, I am sticky and full of peaches, plus there are three bags in the freezer for my future self to find in the dead of winter when all hope seems lost.

Two things: I just taste tested about 30 peaches and there is no "perfect" peach. Pretty sure that's a myth. And, I could perfectly picture my February self defrosting these peaches and remembering my present angst/joy that these peaches brought me today. And gratefully enjoying every fucking bite because I PAID for those peaches. (Not literally, my mom brought them to me, thanks Mom!)

I should also add that the right soundtrack makes ALL the difference. Today my mood is DMB Crash.... perfect in every sense. So thanks, Dave, you're amazing. I love that music has that power.

I also laughed really hard at a really stupid joke. Like crazy, excessive laugh. And that made me feel good. I've got good people, seriously. And this is part of that.

I'm going to be ok. I just gotta set this mountain down.

I'm not sure what prompted me to write this, it doesn't make much sense. I really just wanted to write, to say something. But maybe you were supposed to read it. It's ok to not be ok. It's ok to ask for help, however that looks for you. And for God's sake, set the fucking mountain down. 

I'm totally talking to myself here. But maybe you, too.

Peaches, and Dave. Worth a try, anyway.

Peaches, and Dave. Worth a try, anyway.