I know it’s taboo for a blogger to apologize for not posting but I’m going to do it anyway.
I’m so sorry!
Over the course of the last ten days, I’ve thought about writing, I definitely needed to write, and I probably should have written. I just didn’t. I had zero desire to face the thoughts and emotions swimming in my head. I needed to disconnect from my overanalyzing brain for a little while.
Last Friday I posted this on @PunnyOfficeBored, and it totally captured my state of mind.
Just dealing with life felt overwhelming. That same day I had to apologize to the 12-year-old after snapping when I found out something (pretty small and insignificant actually) from another parent instead of him. It was a stream of conscious look-I’m-stressed-and-I-need-you-to-step-up-becuase-I-can’t-do-it-anymore kind of lecture.
That’s when I realized the kind of load I’ve been carrying.
So I removed all responsibilities from myself for a little while. Well, within reason of course. I’m a parent, I just can’t walk away, but I can remove self-imposed pressures, let the house get dirty, and stop doing things like blogging.
So that’s what I did.
That night the family went mini-golfing.
And we ate dinner at Chic-fil-A. I wasn’t cooking. I just didn’t have it in me.
Saturday I took the boys to our local ceramics place.
It was so fun just chatting with them and being creative.
I called this painting therapy.
Sunday, the family went to see the Ninjago movie (I fell asleep in the middle) and had lunch out. Then I came home and took a nap! It was glorious and the laziest Sunday I had in quite a while.
Monday it was back to work but only for a few days. My last day was Wednesday, so I was in wrap-up mode.
Monday night I came home and made this.
Pork chops dusted with cumin, allspice, and nutmeg on pureed butternut topped with drunken shiitake mushrooms and roasted Brussels sprouts on the side.
I called it cooking therapy.
Wednesday my co-workers had a small going away party for me unexpectedly. It was bittersweet. I grew more attached to them than I expected. I will miss the team for sure but leaving there was the right decision. It just wasn’t the type of organization I wanted to work for, and I wasn’t happy.
Thursday I woke up a free woman with a plan.
Once the kids were off to school, I watched a bit of the morning news and then tackled the spice cabinet.
It desperately needed to be cleaned and organized.
Then I moved to the pantry, the bookshelf and the junk drawers.
Yesterday, I tackled my closet, clothes, and office.
When it was all said and done, I produced seven bags of garbage and donation items.
Is there any greater feeling than taking some time to organize your life?
I call it purge therapy.
Yesterday I also hit the gym and decided to “test out” before my surgery. Every week our last day of training is a max out day, and we see how heavy we can go with three lifts: Snatch, Clean and Jerk, and Front Squats. Week to week I’ve been making some progress, but it seems to ebb and flow. Some weeks I crush it, others I can’t even come close to my numbers.
I PR’d all three!!
I was most excited about the back squat number pictured above. My back squat has been stagnant for almost two years. It felt so good to finally stand up with 173lbs on my back. It’s taken me five years to hit that number. When I first started lifting, I avoided back squats as I was afraid of the barbell on my neck. Then I slowly worked my way up. I remember feeling like a bad ass when I hit 113. I remember getting frustrated when I was stuck at 138. I also remember feeling absolutly defeated when I couldn’t hit my old one rep of 163 earlier this year. One day I will squat 200, mark my words. It may just take me another five years to get there.
The other two lifts I PR’d by 5 lbs each, hitting a 128lb bench press and a 103lb strict press.
I call this lifting therapy.
Right now it’s Saturday morning. I woke up at 5:30 a.m. and couldn’t fall back to sleep, of course. So I put on one of my favorite playlists and started writing.
Sharing my week is, in a way, the last stop in my self-therapy journey. It’s giving me time to reflect and organize my thoughts. Now I feel ready to tackle all my pre-hysterectomy emotions.
I’m scared ya’ll. Not gonna lie about it.
I know it’s common. I know it will help me feel better. I know I shouldn’t worry.
Knowing all that doesn’t help.
I’m worried about something going wrong during the actual procedure. I’m worried about recovery. I’m worried about how it will affect my relationship. I’m worried it will cause more problems than it’s solving. I’m just worried, and I hate talking about it.
Yet, I feel like I need to talk about it because the number of women who have told me they also had this procedure is astounding. And I don’t mean people on the internet of which there have been tons! I mean people I know and interact with daily — another mom at the bus stop, two women in my bowling league, nearly all of my friends’ moms — speaking of, this is making me feel old because many of these friends are slightly younger than me and now I feel like I relate more to their parents than them. When did that start happening?!
Anyway, for some reason I’m ashamed to tell people I’m having a hysterectomy the same way I was ashamed to talk about my period problems, and it bothers me. Why is it so taboo?
I mean, I guess I know why but I’m calling bull shit on myself. I am planning to blog my whole hysterectomy experience.
I call this writing therapy.
My surgery is Monday morning. Wish me luck!