Getting Real

I’m sitting here watching out the window as the sun plays peek a boo. My weather app says that rain is coming, just not yet. I am one of those individuals who do not do well in winter months, yes, I’m a sad person. Seasonal affective disorder to be precise.  and it is currently in full flare up.

When I get like this, even as I know God loves me, God is always with me, even with all my faith and prayers, my emotions are a roller coaster mess. I seriously dislike roller coasters of any sort but this, is the worst. It is every emotion created running zoomies through my head and then when the need for hyperactivity wears off, the emotional crash is real. It gets sad and dark. It is the finding oneself sitting in a quiet room watching the wind outside blow a dead leaf stuck in a spider web against the window. Deep in a state of introspection or nothing more than simply being.

There have been many times when I wish for different, Then I remember for there to be different, then I have to make that happen. Different is not going to come knocking at my door, my dogs going crazy to announce its arrival. I would like to have a better interaction with friends, but I have to be a friend first. I want to feel as if people care, but I have to show that caring first. It would be ice to spend time with others, but I have to be more comfortable with leaving the house that has become way too much of a safe space. Here I don’t spend money. Here I don’t use gas in the car. Here I don’t risk making a fool of myself around others. Here, in all honesty, is my safe space, my prison of choice. The doors are open, the only lock is the one I have created. I have the key, but often choose not to use it for a variety of reasons.

The fact that I am needed here to take care of my parents is true, but there are times when I am free to move about. It feels odd though, walking alone. Even when I have gone to events, I find myself standing quietly off to one side. I’ve quit chasing after people, but I will happily chat with those who make it known conversation is what they wish. Being empathic is real. It is a curse and a blessing. Unfortunately more of a curse when one is also dealing with seasonal disorder. Hand me all the excuses, reasons, causes you want, I know better. I can tell the difference between those genuinely glad to see me, and those who merely tolerate my presence. I’ve done it for as long as I can recall, even before I understood what it was.

Toss grief on top of all that and you have a mixed salad of emotions that can be a nightmare to deal with. Speaking of nightmare. I was very upset recently over something and that night I found myself in one of these between sleep state moments. I wasn’t fully dreaming, but my mind was actively going over what happened and what could have happened depending on my actions and reactions. But that was anger, not grief. The grief, the missing my late husband, the missing my brother, the emptiness of the part they filled in my life, piles up. It is a darkness that attempts to suffocate me in its empty vacuum. The loss great and heavy.

I should have gone to church today, but I over slept. Its odd how comfortable that inflatable mattress has become. I think partially because it is something my late husband had no part in. My bed, that is in sections in my car port, is this huge monstrosity. A queen size reminder of how empty it and my life is. Yet, I do not seek out companionship or relationship in any form. With the exception of the dark times, I am content. It is peaceful, safe, boring maybe but quiet.

I sit here now, in a quiet house, the only sound the occasional huffing of the dogs getting comfortable or that leaf against the window. In the kitchen there are dishes that need to be washed and maybe at some point I will prepare something to eat. One can try, but one cannot survive on coffee alone. Yesterday I began the process of going through some of my stuff to decide what I can get rid of and what I wanted to keep. The keep pile will be gone through again as I hope to minimize possessions. One simply does not need three dresser drawers of shirts. We won’t even go into how many sweaters I have tucked away, or hats.  I mention that for this purpose. When one stops and gets real about their life and emotions, one can envision better what is needed to be done. I’ve been reading articles on how to declutter your living space. I believe, you can put a similar concept into practice with your emotions. Take them out, spread them in front of you and see exactly what you have.

I’m no doctor. This part I’m sharing, are the plans I hope to implement. In the order of which I thought of them, not in their importance.

 Realize and acknowledge that my emotions are real. I have every right to feel them. It is important however that I do not allow them to take over and rule my life and actions. I cannot allow them to keep me imprisoned and alone.

 I need to face the reality that I am actually allowing them to do what I just said I shouldn’t. When I do that, I need to make real changes in my thought processes. Then put those changes into action.

All emotions have value. We are human, emotions are a very real part of who we are. It is how we react that is important.

Understanding what causes us to feel as we do. What makes us angry? What makes us sad? What brings joy?

If we feel that one emotion is overstaying its welcome and overwhelming us, what do we do to over come?

What do we do, what can we do, to find comfort in uncomfortable situations?  How do I become more friendly in crowds? What differences would make me appear more approachable? How can I be true and genuine and yet accepted?

How do I stop enviously watching others apparently enjoying life, and begin to live mine. I have no way of  knowing what might be hidden behind their smile, just as they have no way of knowing my struggles. I have no way of knowing how difficult it may be for them to put themselves out there, risking what I have been too afraid to attempt.

As I sit here, writing all this down, getting real and open, I am feeling a peace forming. Others cannot come in, until you open the door. Even as you realize that opening that door, holds risk. But when that risk is met and change happens, you see it was well worth the taking. The app still says the rain is coming. This emotional roller coaster says that change is coming as well, and the brain says its about time.


About rebecca s revels

A writer, a photographer, a cancer survivor. An adventurer of the mild kind, a lover of the simple pleasures such as long walks and chocolate. A Christian unashamed of my faith and a friend who is dependable and will encourage readily. Author of three self published books with more waiting to find their way to paper. An advocate of good things, a fighter against wrongs.
This entry was posted in adventure, education, encouragement, faith, growth, healthy, inspiration, life's journey, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Getting Real

  1. John says:

    We are similar, Rebecca. I have chosen to be a homebody after the last divorce years ago. My home is my safe place and I love being here. Yet, I want change too. A good friend, man or woman. I can go to church yet stay home and watch on my laptop since it is safe and comfy. Similar… If we lived near each other I would love to meet you and hang out! 👍🏻😀

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