Shame

How do you make yourself feel better when you've done something that goes against your belief system? Even if all your friends say, "Hey you did the right thing," or "You apologized so it's okay," how do you deal with the shame of knowing that you have failed yourself? Sure, your loved ones probably won't think much less of you, because they understand that we all fail sometimes, and they forgive you without a second thought. But how do you forgive yourself?

My own advice to someone asking this would be, "Don't dwell on the past because you can't change that. You can only change the future." Easy to say, harder to do. I have a lot of regrets in my life - things I've done, things I've said, people I've hurt, people I've ignored, things I've forgotten, things I can't forget. It's taken me a long time to come to terms with the person I was in my twenties. I don't like that girl very much. But it's been my practice to say that regret is a useless emotion and if I hadn't been that girl, I wouldn't be the woman I am today. Saying that only works, though, when I'm proud of the woman I am today.

And today I am not proud of the woman I am today.  Today. This very day. I am not proud of the Julia from this 24hr period. I said something to someone that was fueled by rage and hurt, and it was in turn hurtful. Apologies, though given, did not fix it and in fact damaged the relationship irreparably. Someone asked why the person I hurt was hurt at all, when I only spoke the truth. I said,

"One man's truth is another man's attack. No good was going to come out of posting something so filled with rage on his page. I could have approached it calmly, in private, telling him I found it hurtful, and it could have been resolved peacefully once it was determined that the post in question wasn't intended to represent his feelings about [the incident] at all. Instead I chose to take the antagonistic route. That's on me. Life lessons, I guess."

That is the truth.  I didn't have to act the way I did. How can I preach words of love, compassion, and understanding, and then act without those very things? I failed the test. When it came down to it, I didn't have what it took to be the person I want to be. And I am so filled with shame for it. I took the day off work to reflect on my behavior and to spend time with family in a constructive, loving environment. That sounds really "hippy," but there's something about the unconditional love from a toddler and the love of someone who knows everything about you - good and bad alike - that is healing. And today I need healing. I need love, kindness, and compassion. I need to forgive myself, and to take my own words to heart.  Every moment is another chance to begin anew. Even though I keep failing, keep messing up, keep losing friends, I do help people. I do fix things. I do make new friends to help heal the broken pieces in my heart.

I am not a ruined person. I am just human. If there were no shame, there would be no growth.

Today I will forgive and love myself for being human.

Feeling Panicky

New things scare me. They scare the pants off of me. In fact, I usually just avoid new things so that I don't have to worry about losing my pants in public. Sometimes, however, those things are necessary. Like actually giving birth to the baby I got myself pregnant with.  Apparently once it's in there, it has to come out one way or another... The pants really did come off in public that time...Anyway, I digress.  Three years ago I started thinking about graduate school. My employer offers this amazing benefit of 6hrs of in-state tuition EVERY semester.  That's incredible. At first I didn't avail myself of this opportunity because I had no desire to be back in school.  I needed to focus on just having a "real job" for a while.  Then I was focused on having a baby. After I finally started sleeping again after the baby arrived (a year later), I realized that I'd actually fallen in love with librarianship and I really wanted to be an official one. I wanted to be able to say I was a librarian without getting the stink-eye from people who had the real degrees. And there was a way to get a (nearly) free degree.  I would be stupid not to take them up on it.

So I applied, got accepted, and then had to go through with it. Two and a half years ago, in January of 2014, I left my baby for the very first time ever and spent a week with strangers in what my program calls "boot camp."  And oh boy, was it. There was an incident at the end that I kind of hope I'll have forgotten about in another decade or two that involved hysterical crying in front of the entire cohort after my final quiz essay got deleted right in front of me, two minutes before the time was up... I was fairly sure there were bets on whether or not I'd be quitting the program. I was sure thinking about it myself. But that was after staying up all night long to finish a paper (turned it in at 5:45am!), and I decided to give myself at least a semester to see if I could handle it.  And I could.

In fact, this program turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.  Only taking two classes a semester allowed me to really focus on each class and give them the attention they deserved. I turned in every assignment (with only a few extensions), and after that darned boot camp class gave me a B+, I got straight As (even a few A+s), leaving me with an overall GPA of 3.98.  I am incredibly proud of myself.  I accomplished this feat while working full time, parenting a toddler every moment I wasn't working, and often on my own as my wife works several jobs to make ends meet and is usually gone in the evenings and weekends, especially in the fall. On the other hand, now my kid knows how to play on a computer better than I did at the age of 15. Hey, cheaper than the babysitter we used to have to get on my school nights. By the end of this program we had a real routine down pat.

Now, however, I am facing a new challenge. Graduation.  I'm terrified.  It was scary enough in high school, with people holding my hand at every turn, and a practice session.  In college, it was pretty horrifying, but at least I was familiar with the campus and had sat through a couple previous ceremonies for friends.  Now, though, I have to travel three hours to the campus, pick up my cap and gown from a building I've never been to (in person, I sure as hell stalked that place on google maps and with pictures and building blueprints), assemble at another place I've never been to, and then yet another place.

This is a three day event for me.

• Tomorrow we'll drop our son off at daycare where he'll wait to be picked up by one of his dads for the weekend. We'll drive to our hotel that is half an hour away from the city (because when I booked six months in advance everything within a half hour radius was booked solid), then drive to the city to pick up my cap and gown.  Then back to the hotel to steam it and finish freaking out for the evening. 
• Saturday we'll wake up excruciatingly early and drive to .... some... parking spot.... on a super crowded campus... and join the thousands of people who will be there to see their undergraduate, graduate, or doctoral candidate student graduate.  This place is so big that I won't walk that day. I'll just stand up in a big fat group of my friends. My poor wife will likely be sitting alone in this stadium.  Then we're free for the rest of the day, hopefully to meet up with friends for lunch or dinner, and probably to do some tourist-y type graduation pictures. 
• Sunday we have to do it all over again, except on a smaller scale. This one will be my program's convocation. This one I'll be walking in. This is the one that will make me feel like I've really graduated, I think. Then we'll probably have lunch and head back home to pick up our son where he'll have been dropped off at our friend's house.  Then I will be able to relax.

Did I mention it's all going to be on live feed?  If I fall down, ERRYBODY'S GONNA KNOW. I have to go through with this. I have to do it. When it's over I'll be so glad I did it.  But holy crap am I scared.  I took today off to basically clean my house and calm myself down so I'm not rushing around having a panic attack tomorrow. Ha. Who am I kidding? That's exactly what's going to happen anyway. Send me a kind thought if you have a moment this weekend.  Or, if you want to watch me fall on my face, here are the links to the graduation ceremonies:

Part 1: Saturday, May 14th at 9:30am (Campuswide ceremony, I will be standing up with my fellow graduates in a large group, 2hrs)

Part 2: Sunday, May 15th at 9:30am (Smaller ceremony in which I will cross the stage, 1.5hrs)

P.S. I'll be wearing a dress so my pants can't be scared off of me.

Time Travel and Me

We've been having a Doctor Who marathon this last couple weeks. For those of you who don't know what that television show is about, it's a British sci-fi series about a time traveler from another planet (who looks surprisingly human) who has human friends, and he can travel anywhere in time and space. They go on great adventures together, and in fact rarely go anywhere without having a great adventure--some more fun than others.

One of the problems that The Doctor's human companions have to deal with is "life after The Doctor." They become accustomed to traveling universes all over time, and to live back among humans who have no idea that there is life on other planets is their idea of a monotonous hell. To plod along living life one day at a time, with many days being mundane--how could anyone live like that? They don't understand how to readjust.

My job consists of many different little tasks, but the majority of time I spend copying and pasting information between programs. The end result is a fantastic conversion of important paper documents to the Internet for your viewing pleasure, so it's definitely all worth it--just boring at times. Today I was walking out of work after a particularly mind-blowingly boring afternoon, and had the sudden thought that I wished The Doctor would come sweep me away from this life and whisk me off to various new worlds. It's a time machine, right? I could come back to this exact moment?

Then I thought about the movie Click. It's an Adam Sandler movie about a man who gets a remote control that controls his life instead of his television. He realizes he can skip past all the dull parts of his life, and thinks he's won the lottery. But after a while, the remote control begins to learn his habits, and overrides his choices and soon his whole life is over and he has missed out on all the best things.

Would I really want that? Sure, it would be nice to visit another time and another place. Heck, I'd love to just visit next week and get some lottery numbers. But I know I wouldn't want to give it up, all that traveling. I'd keep going until I was too old to go anymore, and then come back to what? My family would have all grown old without me, my friends would be gone, my pets would be long gone, and I'd be all alone in the end. And I would have missed out on all of life's small joys, like finally realizing the fun and beauty of planting a flower bulb, or sitting on the porch listening to a soft thunderstorm and the rain patter. Sure, I'd love to skip past the snowy months, but then I'd miss out on the crystallized patterns on the windows.

So, I think, ultimately.... yes. Vacations can be wonderful, but in the end the best part of life is being at home with your loved ones, living each mundane little day as it comes. One. Day. At. A. Time.

Today Was a Bad Day

I just got home from the store. I sat in the car and considered spending the night there. It seemed like a good idea, especially since I couldn't get the key out of the ignition. Oh, I could take the key out, but I most definitely didn't have the emotional strength to do it. And then I thought of the Butterfinger ice cream I just bought. It motivated me to get out of the car and climb in the snow drifts surrounding my driveway (I'm parked at the way back since there are three cars ahead of me in the driveway this week) and get into the backseat for the few bags of groceries. The first bag I picked up contained the orange juice, which was 50% of the reason I was even at the store to begin with (since after the Super Bowl I picked a fight with Julie and left the OJ on the kitchen table all night instead of putting it away). The bag sliced open and the juice dropped out. I almost shut the door and left everything in there. But no... the ice cream. Also, Heather is on her way over in a few minutes, and then I'd look like a jackass because she'd insist on helping me with the groceries once I told her where they were. But I didn't. I brought everything in. And now it's waiting on the kitchen floor for me to put it away, which I won't do until Heather gets here and sees that I haven't done it and I feel guilty enough to do it. I fed the cats, because I can't look at their poor meowy faces too long when I know Julie won't come home and do it.

I had a breakdown today. A complete and total sob session within full view of a lot of people. Heather offered to come over to be with me so I won't be alone tonight. I can't do this anymore. I can't do it. I can't feel like this. I can't let every little thing hit me like an emotional mack truck and let it run me over. Repeatedly. I'm not excited about anything. And then I am, totally gleeful. And then I'm not again. It's been going on for a while, and I've been trying to be "me," the me I'm supposed to be. But this is a me no one wants to be. And people are beginning to notice. I suppose this says it best, this excerpt from an email I wrote tonight. In order to understand it, you should know that I've been slowly attempting to wean myself off my medication because... well I guess I'm stupid and thought I could. I thought that, in a controlled way, not just cold turkey, I could "be like normal people." There was another, more significant reason, but I'm not ready to discuss it. Here's the excerpt, minus a few personal remarks:

"I'm going to see the doctor. The more I think about this situation, I think a lot of it has to deal with me being chemically imbalanced. That doesn't go away, like regular depression, and I've been fooling myself thinking I was just plain depressed, when I knew the doctor said (in 2003) I had a chemical imbalance. I need to find out if I can continue taking my medication... Up until I find out, I'm going back to doing the dose I've been on for a year. I've been sitting here having some seriously dark thoughts like being just fine with not waking up tomorrow, and all of the sudden I thought, "wait... wait... I remember this conversation with myself... the last time I had it, I was in college and having horrible life problems like... not making good choices, saying stupid things and regretting them, hurting friends, and crying at everything. EVERYTHING. Well, except for when I was fighting with people. Oh........ JUST LIKE NOW." ...it is ridiculously unhealthy to attempt to live like this."


So here I go to the cabinet, to give myself a dose of anti-depressant, and to the kitchen floor, to get out my Butterfinger ice cream. Because I deserve it, damnit.