My routine has been somewhat disrupted this week, in mostly pleasant ways, but I have found it difficult to carve out some time to really write. Tonight after my shift, I start house-sitting in North Park for a bit over a week. I’m looking forward to the shorter commute, and time with the kitty, and playing house in the big nice house where I will be staying.
It’s been an emotional month. I’ve been sharing a lot of deeply personal stories and it has left me feeling a bit gutted. Yesterday I had a really good therapy appointment with Grace, and while most of the entire talk was positive, she did have some advice for me in one situation that is proving very difficult for me to follow. It is hard for me to make the choices that are best for my heart, it is such a willful child.
I’ve been happy. Living out in the boonies in a house is so different from being in an apartment in a walkable neighborhood. I feel like the space has allowed me to decompress and be there for my friend that I am living with. She and I have become even closer since I moved in, and it is nice to have created a positive little family for ourselves.
My car is loaded up in preparation for the house-sitting gig. I have my guitar and clothes and toiletries and all my daughter’s stuff, too. I feel prepared! I also am feeling excited about Thanksgiving. Last year I got unintentionally ditched and spent Thanksgiving all by myself, crying my eyes out. I was a mess. Three years ago, I was in jail over Thanksgiving. So I’m determined to make this year amazing.
We are planning on making a ham, and having the grandmas down, and Mr. W will be there, too. It should be cozy and fun and I fully intend to drink enough mimosas while cooking that I can fly through any awkwardness with ease. Drunk cooking is a skill I have mastered over the years, although I do it very rarely these days.
When I was younger, my grandfather always contributed tiny pecan pies to Thanksgiving dessert. He would make trays and trays of them. He would take them to family, friends, neighbors. Everyone loved my grandfather’s pecan pies. I am sad that I never got to write the recipe down before he died, but I am determined to someday replicate it. Every year I seem to wait too long, and never seem to get around to actually making them.
Lately, I feel like I am living day to day, in the moment. I am trying not to get too attached to plans, or dwell too much in the past. My therapist is really proud of me, and I feel proud of myself, too. My self-esteem is blooming again, and I have started to take an interest in having a life. My depression has taken a back seat, which is astonishing.
Today I’m blogging from the front desk at work. I have four massage clients throughout the day. Afterward, I need to go pick up my daughter and then go feed the kitty and spend our first night in the house.
It’s going to be a good day, a good week. I am going to do my best to roll with it. The holidays are a tough time for so many people, one of my very favorite things is creating these special holiday memories. Celebrating life as it comes is very important, because life can be short and tiresome, and unwinding is one of the keys to happiness.