The Autonomous Moxie Project

It's broken. Fix it.

[broken-to-salvage]

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.

-C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed (via broken-to-salvage)

It's like being in a violent, thrashing storm that threatens to consume you. And it's terrifying. I don't want to drown. But the grief fills my lungs like the salt water of the ocean. And the waves crash down on me as cling to my canoe in the ocean. Surrounded be the people I love and who love me, I've never felt so alone in my life. I am here but I'm not present. I pain in my chest is real. Is this what a broken heart feels like? Or is this a broken heart on the way to having a heart attack? It's hard to tell...

[grieving]

[theautonomousmoxie]

This is the truth.

[theautonomousmoxie]

Got the knocked down thing down pat. Waiting for the standing up taller part.

[theautonomousmoxie]

It literally hurts

Grief. It fucking hurts. Physically, emotionally, spiritually… It really hit me yesterday. I am an orphan. “But how? You’re a grown ass woman with two kids! You can’t be an orphan… ” Tis true. I am those things. But I am also an orphan. I found out that what I am feeling is not unique. All the other orphans out there have lived through this Well, ok through is not the right word. There is no getting through it. You have to learn how to live in it. And that means you have to learn how to live with a shattered spirit and a broken heart.

I found myself going back through the pins she sent me on Pinterest. In the last few years of her life, she pinned over 14 thousand pins. She was bed bound in a nursing home and it was her escape. I can remember being annoyed at the number of pins she sent me or the times when my feed was clogged up with whatever her latest obsession was. I now find myself combing through them, scouring for anything that she may have typed in herself. I’m trying to find her and I have one last conversation with her. I re-read everything she sent me. I want her back. And it hurts. It hurts so much that I feel like I can’t breathe.

This is also ripping apart my marriage. I feel like there is an ocean between us. He doesn’t understand the feelings I’m having because he can’t. You cant understand this journey until you’ve gone on it. But on the flip side I feel so alone and misunderstood. The fights are more frequent, bond is brittle and no one is happy. It feels like my entire life is falling apart.

And to top it off, the physical effects of grief are getting to me. I’m tired in a way sleep can’t fix. I’ve started having high blood pressure, I either don’t want to eat at all or I want all the junk food. My memory has gone to shit. The jaw clenching has made my jaw popping really bad.

I know that there is a beginning and an end to everyone and everything. This just feels endless and hopeless. It makes me wonder what will be left after the storm finally passes.

[theautonomousmoxie]

Highs & Lows

No one can stay at the peaks of awesome forever. I’m having a bit of a low. I absolutely hate my boss. I cried on the way home because I’m so very miserable at work and I hadn’t been at that point since 2007. My cat from pre-marriage is dying. My youngest is sick. I really wanted to go work out today but could t because of scheduling conflicts. It is easy for me to get sucked into the tornado of despair since so much sucks at once. My sister tried to give me perspective on my way home. She told me to look for the rainbows in my day and to lift them up. So here I go…

#1 - I signed up for a mentor program with a volunteer organization that I belong to. I met the most amazing woman today. I’d been following her blog for a while and knew her through that alone. Today, I had the chance to meet that force of awesome in person and I am grateful for that. She was the perfect match for me as a person and a mentor. I really should thank the person who matched us up.

#2 - I have a close friend at work who has taken it upon himself to teach me a new programming language. The fact that he is taking the time out of his day to teach me something this complex means more to me than I can express in words. I’ve only had one other colleague like that in my life and if it weren’t for that person, I would not have the qualifications I do today or the job (no matter how shitty the boss) that I do today.

#3 - I treated myself to Starbucks this morning. It was delicious.

#4 - I have done intensive workouts for 15 days since 1/3/15. I am stronger, have a tighter body, and more self-determination than ever before. One day missed from working out will not stop me.

#5 - I have a patient, loving, and supportive husband who puts up with me and the bullshit baggage I come with unconditionally. I can’t say for certain, but I might have left my ass by now if I were him.

#6 - My big sister. She is really like a mother to me and always has been.

That’s all for now…

[theautonomousmoxie]

A New Year & New Battle

It's been months since I posted. I've learned a few things in the meantime... Life is only as wonderful as you make it. You can't expect a tree to grow if you don't plant the damned seeds. Growth isn't easy. Quitting is. I'm glad I've chosen growth over surrender. Exercise DOES make you feel better. Imagine that. No one has the right to make you question your worth. If they do, it's time for them to get the hell out of your life. This includes friends, family, and colleagues. Let's keep on fighting the good fight, shall we?

[theautonomousmoxie]

[theautonomousmoxie]

[theautonomousmoxie]

The Other Side of The Fog

I made it!!! Today is day 2 of being of the medication from hell. I can see such a huge difference in my life and my head. It was the right decision and I'm happy with my choice. I've had a few moment of sadness that I would have likely not have been able to even feel before but I didn't fall to pieces. I still have some residual side effects but those are gradually going away as well. I have made a commitment to myself to change the course of life and to live it to the fullest. I have also quit smoking with the help of a patch. I had a little slip but I got right back on the wagon. No one is perfect and we all slip up. It's getting back on course that matters. I realize now that the fog has been lifted that I was not myself. I was a walking zombie. There are a few balls that I dropped but then again I managed to keep most of them in the air even though I was a prisoner in my head and not on my A game at all. Now is the time to rekindle the friendships which I neglected and get the ball rolling forward again. As Queen sang, the show must go on!

[theautonomousmoxie]

They Don't Get Me?

It's been more than eight weeks and I'm still a hot mess. He doesn't get me, my siblings don't get me, I don't even get me... But yet against all odds somehow I've managed to make it through another few days! My niece came over and we had the most magnificent up sleepover party with homemade cookies from scratch, homemade pizza crafts, pony races, gourmet popcorn, & the works. Why is it not enough???

[theautonomousmoxie]

Withdrawal, Reality, and War

I fell apart when my mother died. She had fought a long and hard battle. When she died it was quickly and peacefully (thank god) but the road to that tipping point was a decade and a half of varying degrees of hell. At the time, I was in a desperate state and my doctor decided that the best thing to do was to get me on antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds. Two months on this ride and I realized that it is not worth the horrible side effects. So, I am discontinuing the main culprit and decreasing the dosage incrementally for a week at a time till its out of my system. In the meantime, I have to have fun with the withdrawal symptoms in addition to the side effects. Tachycardia, night sweats, tremors, myalgia, gastrointestinal distress, nausea, dry mouth, insomnia, bizarre nightmares when I am lucky enough to doze off, the feeling of being numb, jaw clenching, migraines... Doesn't that sound like a blast? The reality is that she is dead, I am not and I need to function. This shit is not doing that for me. I am not myself. There have been times that I look in the mirror and literally don't recognize the face staring back at me. I need to grieve and heal. I do not need to take a pill that makes me ill and question my own sanity. So right now I am at war - with withdrawal, grief, and life in general. You had better believe that I am not going down without a fight.

[theautonomousmoxie]

Some goddamn fool once said that flanks have got to be secure. Since then sonofabitches all over the globe have been guarding their flanks. I don't agree with that. My flanks are something for the enemy to worry about, not me. Before he finds out where my flanks are, I'll be cutting the bastard's throat.

Conference with his officers (1 August 1944), as quoted in General Patton : A Soldiers Life (2002) by Stanley P. Hirshon, p. 502

[theautonomousmoxie]

It is about to get real. I think I'm ready to feel all the things I've numbed.

[theautonomousmoxie]

[theautonomousmoxie]

A Woman's Work Never Ends

Here are the balls in the air at the moment:

• Need to renew the flood insurance before 11:59pm or it will lapse

• Pick-up kids, feed them, bathe them, read to them, put them to bed and pray that we skip the going to bed game

• Do laundry

• Pay bills

• Try not to think about the fact that my mother took her last breath 2 months ago right now and that I really have guilt that I wasn’t there because I stayed late at work. The job is still here and so is the work.

She is gone and a part of me died with her.

Update: It's 7:31 CST. I've almost completed objective #2, began #3, am stuck on #4, and still ABSOLUTELY MUST get #1 done. It takes 5 clicks of a mouse. Seriously. Why haven't I done it? Procrastination, that's why. In the real, I'm stuck. Death in my 20s meant blocking it all out, numbing the pain, going on the most magnificent of benders. Death in my mid 30s, all while juggling real life responsibilities, means I can't drown myself in my own pain. In my own wanting not to feel the reality of the situation. It means putting on a happy face, showing up on time, and acting like a grown ass human being. I don't know what to do. I feel alone my head and can't find or even begin to muster up the courage to tell someone where I am. And maybe it's because I don't know where I am. I'm in the suburbs. I'm in a great relationship with husband. I have healthy children. I have potted plants, that despite all of my neglect, have managed to stay alive. The bills are paid. Everyone is taking care of. Yet somehow I failed to take care of myself and that's because I don't know where to even start. Yes, I'm talking to someone professionally. But how? How do I even begin to peel back the layers of this fucked up onion to let my "therapist" know that I am broken and so many ways and from so many years and so many different things? I don't know how to fix this because I don't know where the beginning of it is. Is it my true beginning? Is it another beginning? Is somewheres in the middle? What's really the matter with the ambitious Moxie project? And why is it that I would rather bear my soul for the entire world to see, behind some masquerade of anonymity, instead of letting the people who are nearest and dearest to me know that I have had enough and I am tired, I'm afraid, I'm sad, I'm happy and I'm grateful? Why is that?

[theautonomousmoxie]

The Beginning of The Rock Bottom

I get it. It's broken. I broke parts of it. Others broke parts of it. Parts just wore the hell out due to age and (mis)use. I can just sit here and watch it all go to hell in a hand basket or I can start to put the pieces back together. It's not like it can't be fixed. It just is going to require time, elbow grease, gumption, and a fuck ton of moxie. Autonomous moxie. I don't know if this is rock bottom but I have to be close. The problem is that I am such a good faker. I don't think anyone knows what a walking disaster I am. That I am putting on a hell of a show. Things look almost perfect from the outside. I'm the mother of two beautiful & happy children. I have a devoted, kind and loving spouse and have beat the odds of the relationship not working out. I have a great job in Corporate America that has plenty of growth opportunity. The house is beautiful, the cars are new, and to top it all off I am a volunteer in my community, engaging in fundraising and community outreach. Sounds great, right???? What in the world could be wrong here? Is this another case of an over-privileged whiny white girl crying because her PSL wasn't just right? Maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe I keep up a good front because it's what I was taught to do. Never let anyone know what's going on inside. If you fake it hard enough, it will become the truth. Blah, blah, blah.... I'm old enough to realize that I can live the rest of my life broken or that I can man up and fix this shit. Stop passing on the legacy that I was given to the next generation. Learn to actually live. Love. Be loved. Forgive. Grieve. Believe. I'm tired of numbing everything away through too much. Sleep. Food. Alcohol. Faking. I'm ready to start this journey. This is my place. My little place to have my "Dear Diary" moments. For the whole world to see. Except they won't know it's me. And yes. I know that the Internet is forever. And I know that everything can be tracked back to anyone. But I don't give a shit. If anyone is that desperate to reveal my identity, go for it. I really am not in the mood. I'm here to have a sounding board for me. I want to be able to look back and see how far I've come, or how far I've fallen. So, am I going up or am I going down? I guess I have to get in the elevator and see where it takes me...