It’s only Wednesday, and this week has been quite the adjustment. I always struggle with post-travel-blues; but this time, a couple added stressors have been thrown into the mix. Such is life; but, my emotions have gone a little haywire since the afternoon crowd at Universal Studios a couple days ago– I’m still feeling a bit prickly. No worries, I shall persevere (ps. I had counseling last night, shout out to my therapist for the optimism injection).
My time away was fabulous. I am so grateful for the vacation, but straying from my every day environment was tricky. In the past, I’ve relished the opportunity to have time away from the complications of my life. This was my first trip since I’ve, really, established myself. I felt differently. I missed the comforts of home, I missed my alone time, the sneezing and watery eyes I live with for my cats. Fun fact, I’m a crazy cat mom to two fur-babies– I am also incredibly allergic to them. Oh, the sacrifices I make for love… While we’re near the topic, hey boys: if you thought I was kidding in my last post when I asked for your input, I wasn’t. Holler at me.
Anyway, being away from home threw me off. Although I was excited to return to the condo in Naples that housed so much of my healing a year ago, I found that it made some of my darker emotions resurface. I expected a sort of celebration within myself when comparing my current life to the past, but it didn’t happen. When I walked through the condo door, I felt like I went back in time. I felt off, delicate, and uncertain– and I was really disappointed by that. I think we can all agree that I tend to be hard on myself; but, disappointment in myself fills me with the greatest shame. The biggest problem for me in these situations is that I’m aware that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself, know that I should not be having the feelings I am, but dismissing them is such a struggle. I’m able to do it, but it takes time. In that time, I shut down, and I struggle to cope (one of the big reasons I’m in therapy, y’all).
What’s more unfortunate is that when I’m shut down, my sensitivity reaches an all-time high. So, when I’m out for my last dinner of the trip and I’m called, “sweetheart” and “hun” consecutively by different men, and hear a woman ask to cut the bathroom line because it’s an emergency; but, the guy in front of her says that she can, only, if she kisses him, rage gets added to the disappointment, and my recovery time doubles.
Nothing fires me up like being spoken down to. There are a lot of thoughts racing through my head at all times. I am pretty good about filtering which of the million to share; however, when I feel disrespected, I struggle to hold my tongue. I don’t think it’s surprising that I became this way during my last relationship; and, while I’d like to complain that it has become a part of me, I enjoy knowing that the fight is in there. It makes me feel strong, and that’s pretty neat.
So, here’s to a week of surprises and struggles. I’ve got lot’s of gratitude for my past and present, but wow– they’re awfully challenging to work through sometimes.