“It’s been a while” seem to be words we use to talk about something or someone that we may have let go of. Maybe not intentionally, but as life continues to move, things or people get left behind.
I was recently the one left behind. It has taken me some time to come to terms with it and have it hurt a little less. I also know that writing will help me feel and sort my feelings. Sometimes it’s better than therapy. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything. Now is a good time to start again.
For two and a half years I poured myself into a job that gave me a sense of worth, community, and pride. I was needed and helpful and, for the most part, appreciated. I learned to love the people I worked with and gained a sense of pride in myself that I am grateful for. Looking back, I can see that it wasn’t meant to last, it was meant as a stepping stone. One of those pretty ones that make you want to stay a bit.
I couldn’t stay. I was let go. I was the one left behind.
First I was mad. Then, for a minute, it was oddly freeing. I can see how much value I placed in that work versus in myself. Now that I have dug a little deeper, I can be more honest with myself. That job allowed me to believe that I was valuable and without it I felt useless. Sometimes I still do, but useless is a feeling it is not who I am. I can work on my mindset about who or what I am. This Katie person is not set in stone. Change is constant and I can change.
Being unemployed (health coaching is not my income source) has thrown me sideways. I, supposedly, have all this time to work on myself, reconnect with those I left behind, and be an all around super mom/wife/housekeeper/friend. I seriously thought that at least my house would be clean. Big fat nope. Nothing like being an emotional wreck, in a not so clean house, with a kid home with you most every day (yay summer). Binge watching, chips, chocolate and social media sucked me in, and down, for a good month. It’d been a while since I’ve felt like myself. Time to reconnect.
Before I could do anything about anything, I had to do something about myself. I needed an outlet and a purpose. Not for the benefit of another, but for myself. Turns out kickboxing is great for when I am sad or mad or ate a whole box of cookies. I don’t regret the cookies, they served their purpose, but needing to buy new clothes I may regret. So, currently, I am working on myself through kickboxing, journaling, and now writing this. Whatever this is. Blog? Personal rant? Gibberish? Ehh, whatever.
I can’t say that I am good, but things are better. I smile more and have more energy. Sometimes the hurt creeps up and takes away my day. I am learning to allow that and not be mad at myself for it. I know what depression feels like and what it is capable of. If I fight it I just feel worse. I ride the highs and lows as they come. I have outlets and support. I love myself even when I don’t like myself. Sometimes that love looks like junk food and movies. Sometimes it looks like a sweat and boxing gloves. This is my balance.
It never feels good to be left behind, more so when it’s not by choice. I am allowed to feel sadness when I realize how long it’s been since I talked to those I used to see regularly. When they keep moving in their direction, without me. When it seems I was so easily forgotten or so unneeded. Is it really that easy to just let me go? Probably. I let me go pretty easily. I put myself on the back burner for things deemed more urgent. It just seems to happen.
I didn’t choose this to happen, but I do get to choose my response. I also get to change that response whenever I want. I have moved from doing little with my days to working a little on myself most days. It’s been almost two months since I was let go and I think I am rocking this healing and self awareness thing. Baby steps are better than no steps at all.
I want to remind you that if you are hurting it is better to hurt than it is to fight the hurt. Feeling is the only way to get through our hard times. I still have things to do, so I can’t wallow in misery, but my hurt comes up when I have time on my hands. I try to use that time to process (cry, scream, punch something). I felt shattered, now I just get sad sometimes. Progress is a process and processes take time. I hope you find the time.
Much love and support,