Embracing heartbreak with humor
Bad news bears. My mom’s dog died. It’s hard to explain to people when your dog is ACTUALLY your best friend how hard this is.
It’s hard. Loss is hard.
I can’t seem to eat, drink, sleep, exercise, laugh, run, avoid, work, or beg the sadness away. How do people get out?
Day 120 – Sad Day
Do so-called “normal” people have as many ups and downs as I do? What is normal, though? Like, pumpkin spice lattes and cute fall photos and long blonde hair and a terrier puppy and a small waist and a job in PR? Or, like, a big friend group and co-ed sports teams and tickets to concerts out in the desert and a boyfriend of 8 years that’s perfect and church on Sundays? Or, better yet, a comfortable job and financial security and good friends and a spouse and a house and a workout class every Wed/Fri and hosting themed parties and in bed by 10?
Instead, I have emotional roller coaster rides and confusion and judgment from my family and flaky friends and constant sadness and lots of cookies and evenings on the couch watching reruns and a job I tolerate that pays me next to nothing and a dream I haven’t accomplished yet and disappointing my parents and anxiety.
Am I doing it wrong?
Day 117 – Normal
Spoke too soon. I didn’t even give him one day before expecting him to move on. Grief doesn’t work like that. I SHOULD KNOW!!!
I always think I’m so self-aware, too…
I can’t tell what makes sense anymore. Sadness has warped my sense of what “should” be and what reality dictates. I can’t expect kindness and understanding and sympathy when I refuse to give it out. But I can’t figure it out. I have no idea if what I’m saying makes sense or if I’m being cold and heartless.
Cold and heartless this time, I think.
Day 103 – I should know…
I am ready to move forward on losing this sadness weight. Food tastes really good though, y’all.
But my pants don’t fit. And they only get so stretchy. I’d like to comfortably wear jeans. Are there people who comfortably wear their jeans? Like, they don’t have those markings on their stomach when they get home (actually, starting five seconds after putting them on)?
I have a complete outline of the design of my pants on my stomach. And these ARE the stretchy ones. So I need to fix this, fast. Is there any way I can keep eating pizza and the delicious cookie in my hand and still lose weight? Help.
Day 101 – Still sad-fat.
I have about 50 extra pounds of sadness on my body. Actual weight. That I’m trying to lose.
But, turns out, it’s hard to lose sadness by the pound. I can pick up the pounds just about anywhere, any time, any day but losing them is so much harder. They always find me.
I tried to lose them today… That went about as well as expected. I ate pizza when I got sad. A sandwich when the sadness came back. A brownie because brownies are delicious and I made the mistake of buying them.
You can physically see how sad I am. And when I go to the gym and see rail thin movie stars – true story, my gym is basically at a movie theatre where there was a premier today so I had to walk past them in shorts and a smelly t-shirt that’s fitted* – I was reminded of just how far I have to go. I can literally measure my sadness by the pound. And I can see how much I still have around. Pants don’t fit over my sadness stomach.
Day 94 – Weighed Down
*it’s supposed to be loose
Always a day behind. There is a chance I’ll catch up eventually, but like everything else in my life, I’m not holding my breath until it happens.
I found that freedom I was looking for today, but the grief came in waves anyway. So I bought shoes. As one does…
I justified it by saying that I’ll have a paycheck soon, but I think paychecks are supposed to be for the other, more normal expenses in life, like rent and food. But sometimes, if retail therapy will make me feel better even for a second, I feel compelled to comply. Hopefully I can replace sadness with sandals.
When will I feel better? Does that happen? I have never better understood when Cheryl Strayed takes to the trail in Wild than I do now. Because if you can’t walk away from yourself, then you just have to live in it every single day and think about it every single day. Sometimes it’s too much. Other times shoes or cookies or TV help me forget just for a second that everything is not okay.
Day 90 – Retail Therapy
Does it make me the worst person ever if I am relieved and thankful that I am back from the place where sadness lives? (A literal location, not psychological or emotional.) Or the second worst person?
Because I am relieved. It’s incredibly hard to be there. I feel free the minute the plane takes off. I read. I eat. I pet my dog. I get excited about plans for the upcoming week. I daydream about the future.
If you’ve never been in this position, maybe it seems callous and harsh. But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like…freedom. It doesn’t mean I’m not sad. I’m sad all the damn time. I wake up sad. I go to bed sad. I get sad suddenly for no reason in a room full of my friends. But sometimes I need to get away from the sadness because otherwise I will give in to it and I’ll never be able to survive that.
Day 89 – Freedom
Well, had a fun little (read: large) breakdown today. So if anyone was wondering how my life is going… that’s how.
Day 77 – Breakdown
Someone told me that after 21 times of doing something in a row, it becomes a habit and you won’t forget to do it because it will be built in to your routine. Tell that to my diet, exercising, and writing my blog.
Unfortunately, last night slipped through the cracks of how habits supposedly work. Though, for the record, I actually had such an enjoyable and sadness-free evening for the first time in a long while that I didn’t look at my phone, I didn’t check my social media, and I didn’t notice the lack of blog post.
Enjoyable despite the ultimate job rejection. And despite the fact that I am surrounded by people who are kicking ass. I’m genuinely not jealous. I’m thrilled to watch it and support it and cheer it on and be friends with successful people. I want to be one of those successful people.
And then I epically failed on my diet yesterday because PASTA. And delicious craft cocktails. And desserts. I mean, it was probably worth it, but I felt weak and pathetic that I couldn’t make it a full week before breaking down. A new day today, I guess?
The sadness is creeping back in a little bit…
Day 76 – Bad Habits
I feel like most people are torn between doing something great and world-changing and trying to stay under the radar so they can continue to wear pajamas to the store. IF you are not one of those people, then you must be living a pretty happy life.
Time has come to be that person. Make those differences. Take off the pajamas. (And then put on other clothes.)
As I say this, I’m wearing (dirty) pajamas. Some of this is essentially self-talk to convince myself to stop crying and start doing. It’s easier said than done, but maybe if I send this message out into the universe, I’ll be more likely to do it. Or does that make it less likely? I’ve heard it both ways.
I want to take charge of my life and get going. Like, yesterday. But I let sadness get in the way. I let guilt get in the way. I let invented, invisible obstacles get in the way. I let fear get in the way. I don’t want to fail. I’m a perfectionist. I want to succeed with flying colors. I want to sweep the entire world off its feet. And I DEFINITELY don’t want anyone to say anything mean to me. Ever. So, basically, I can’t leave my house if I never want to fail, if I’m afraid, and if I don’t want criticism. Which is why I’m in my house in pajamas. Makes sense…
Day 73 – Do It
A Year to Grieve 