Life's Ups and Downs

 There has been a lot going on in my life lately.  I accepted a new position at work on February 14th.  It's a great position for me.  I'm not standing and walking all day anymore, my legs and feet are so much happier with me.  The leg that has been giving me trouble has been so much better since I finally started in the new position three weeks ago.  And there's no more face to face with angry customers.  I think that's actually been the biggest relief to me.  I felt like my soul was withering away being constantly exposed to so much anger and rudeness.  However, because life is full of ups and downs, then my Grandmother passed away on March 1st after a terrible battle with lung cancer.  

     She was one of my favorite people in the entire world. 

Nana

When I was a child my parents split up.  It's hard for any kid when their life dramatically changes like that, no matter how hard their parents try to make it easy on them.  My Nana was my rock.  Her house was always the same; and she was always the same.  We spent weeks at a time there during the summer.  We would swim, garden, fish, hike and play.  Her house was the one place I was always comfortable and safe.

     You know how some people are just meant to be grandmothers?  They have that aura of grandmotherliness, and mother everyone they come in contact with.  That was my Nana.  My friends called her Grandma or Nana, and she loved them like they were her own grandchildren.  She fed everybody.  You couldn't stop in for even a quick visit without her offering to cook you something.  And she wouldn't let you refuse.  You had to, at the very least, let her get you a cup of coffee and a toad in the hole.  

     When I separated and divorced from my first husband I moved in with Nana and my Aunt.  She never said "I told you so" or made me feel bad about my admittedly bad decisions up until that point.  She welcomed me with open arms and helped me get back on my feet.  Even after I moved out into my own place I called her at least once a week and was still over there all the time.  Now I can't pick up the phone and call her to tell her about the recipe I want to try, or the craft project I'm working on, or the book I'm reading.  I talk to her still, and I know she hears me.  But it's not the same.   

     We had a lot in common.  Both introverts.  Both caring, loving women, almost to a fault sometimes.  Since March 1st I've struggled pretty much everyday with a feeling like there is a hole inside of me. My depression hit me hard.  For a few weeks after the funeral I struggled with even getting out of bed in the morning.  But I did, because I knew that if I didn't get up, even just one day, it would make getting up the next day even harder.  If that happened, eventually I just might not get up at all.  I hid it.  I covered it up well. 

There's never enough coffee.

    I got up everyday.  I went to work.  I smiled and I pretended I was fine.  I hid it well.  Most people never knew.  But inside there was a hole that radiated cold pain.  As time went by the hole got smaller and smaller.  I started to feel better.  The smiles became more real, not all of them were fake anymore. 

Kitty snuggles are a must have for self-care.

 







Now, twelve weeks later, I feel a lot better.  I practiced a lot of self care, which for me involves copious amounts of coffee; kitty snuggles; twice weekly dinner of chips, guac and queso from Chipotle; and hermit time.  The cold hole is still there, but it's tiny.  I'm going to be ok.  I like to compare life to a roller coaster.  It's full of ups and downs and sometimes it twists you around and upside down.  But a flat roller coaster isn't any fun, and neither is a flat life.      

Pretty sure I ate my own weight in chips, guac and queso from Chipotle.