The GGA Project -- Day #295 "Cinematic Therapy"

It's been a long, up and down week.  So I decided that after Monkey went to bed, I'd set out for


Today's New Activity: Date with Self.  No, I Mean Real Date...


As in the movies and Starbucks on Saturday night.  As in, packed movie theater for 50/50, a movie that just came out this weekend (great date movie, as I'd come to learn, but also a great movie to watch by yourself).


Here's the thing: I've never really believed it's somehow brave or strange to go to the movies by one's self, even on a weekend night when people are likely to assume you got stood up.  But this week in particular I needed to revisit the feeling of independence that comes along with it.  I needed to remind myself that I'm okay with who I am/where I am/the lack of knowing why I am.


I don't write about this sort of thing often, mostly because it's unpleasant for me and makes me feel like a loser, but I definitely struggle with my share of insecurities and feelings of unworthiness.  And this week was rife with such moments of self-doubt and even a few pretty low lows.  Most of the time I am able to just hang out with those feelings until they pass, until I can think through them, reason through them, or even just muck through them and eventually feel better.  And while it did work out that way this week in some sense, I also felt particularly lost, particularly dissatisfied with my (lack of) accomplishments, and particularly unappealing all the way around.


So I did what you do.  I went to the gym.  I spent time with my son.  I worked.  I just did the stuff.  You know...the stuff you do.  Some of the time I felt good.  Some of the time I felt bad.  This is life, right?  This is life, exactly.


And by the end of my work shift today I was really, really liking the idea of escaping to a movie theater to let a story be told, to take me somewhere else entirely.


It turned out the movie addressed the issue of mortality.  And in one scene in particular, taking place the day before the main character is set to have a major operation, there was a beautiful light streaming through the trees, and you knew the character was taking in all the beauty of the world even as he wondered if this day will be his last.  And I decided (all over again), that every day must be lived in this way.  As if it were my last.


Amazing how a mood can change just like that.  I guess I was already feeling pretty good by this afternoon, but that singular moment in that movie just kind of sealed the deal for me.  Yes, there is time for being sad and feeling like you suck and for complaining and feeling sorry for yourself.  Let those be the briefest of moments for me.  There's just too much out there to be happy about.


By the time I'd spent an hour reading at Starbucks afterward and was on my way home, I was in the best spirits I'd been in all way.  If only all dates could go that well :)

The GGA Project -- Day #284 "______________"

I told myself I would allow one day for this...


Today's New Activity: NO NEW ACTIVITY


When I think about it, it really is a change for me, given that doing something new has been on my mind every day for the past 283 days.  It's become the norm.  So I told myself that on the day I made this change, it would be with intention, not out of oversite.


I wish I could say I enjoyed it more--the mental freedom from thinking about it.  But I was at work and then came home to a house empty of my son's vibrant energy and went to bed feeling sadder than I've felt in a very long time.  It was a lot of everything having caught up with me.  And it involved tears, yes.  But that is necessary sometimes.  It is the acknowledgment that all is not perfect in my life, the reminder that I am still very much alive and sentient, and--on the horizon--the promise of rebirth and renewal.


It was the perfect day to focus on the whole of all that.

The GGA Project -- Day #132 "A Life in an 8' by 12' "

The star atop the tree that was this week's big room switcheroo was taking stuff I didn't need, along with some great furniture donations from my parents, to my storage space down the street from the house.  I've probably been there 10 times already since first moving my things there about 6 months ago.  It's on the second floor, and though there's a lift and all, getting all my things in there during the multiple trips involved has been no small (or fun) task.


Thankfully my Dad has been along on most of these trips, helping me organize, maximize the space, and, well, carry stuff.  Today was no exception, and he handily rearranged the mounds of stuff already there to make room for its new friends.


I have to say I wasn't much help today.  I never mentioned this to my Dad at the time (I saved this 'help me!' sentiment for my Mom when we returned home), but I was a little distracted trying to reconcile the sight of my whole life's worth of things, contained in this smallish storage unit.


Today's New Activity: Pausing to Reflect, Mourn


In the beginning of my separation, I cried all the time.  Sometimes it was sadness, often it was pure confusion, and sometimes it was just plain pain.  It was difficult to be focused on parenting tasks during that first, raw period, and thankfully I had both my parents and my dear friends Kelsi and Nicole to help fill in any gaps.  There was definitely a period of feeling simply dazed.


The months that followed were very different.  My new and necessary focus was on logistics: the logistics of work and supporting myself and the Monkey while working out temporary and permanent custody issues, the logistics of filing for divorce, gathering the paperwork, the daily grind of doctor's appointments, grocery shopping, gym-going, baby bathing, clothes washing and the like, and the logistics of carving out time for friends and recreation (which I hadn't prioritized for some time and was happy to make time to do now).  


The past 6 months have been such a whirlwind that I think I didn't even allow myself much time to feel--to give space to the emotions surrounding my divorce.


Today I guess the powers that be decided I no longer had a choice in the matter.


Standing in that little rectangle, looking at the various things I've collected over the years, furniture and odds and ends, my bicycle, and all of Monkey's baby things that I haven't been able to let go of yet, I felt immense sadness.  What it all brought home for me was that I have absolutely no idea when I'll be in the place to let these things out of that little storage unit, when my life will begin to resemble something that feels respectable of a person my age, and a mother at that (meaning, basically, when I'll be in the position to move out of my parents' home).  It was a very sobering moment that made me wonder where on earth my life is headed.


I hate feeling that way when I have a young child who I'm responsible for.  I wish it were the case that I had it all together, that I'd established a permanent place for him to grow up in, preferably one with a yard and nice neighbor kids.  I wish I'd made better choices, all along the way.  I wish that wherever this is all going, it would get started.


And then, of course, I remember that it's already well on its way.  That there is no wish I have that it's not within my realm and not, indeed, my *responsibility* to make happen.  I remember that these are the moments that test a person's character and humility, and that give their loved ones the chance to show just how much they care, the chance to lift them up in their time of need.  My brain knows all that.


And still, in that moment today, my heart ached.  The reality of divorce hit me, anew.  The reality of starting over hit me, anew.  The reality of failure and wasted potential and concern for the future all hit me, anew.


What to do but stand in the hallway and hug my Mama and let that be the little (big) thing to start me feeling better?  These emotions are necessary to allow in, and out.  If I didn't have moments like these I'd be concerned for myself and wondering when, exactly, I'd turned into a robot.  But still, they are painful and then the feeling itself is followed by guilt for not trusting the process (the whole life process) more, for not giving myself a break, for not thinking positively. What a vicious cycle!


Thankfully I didn't spend all day looping around in it.  After all there were deposits and withdrawals to be processed at work this afternoon, and errands to be run, and always the laundry, ready to distract.


And after the day's earlier emotional heaviness, I'm thankful for all that.