Trapped in My Mind, and in My Pictures
The last few months have been a bit crazy, but in a good, I-know-it-will-come-to-an-end kind of way. It has to, because no one can be stressed out for this long, right?
Now, I hate talking about stress and that kind of stuff on here. This blog is about my adventures and fun times with Dave and my friends, because I love life. When I die one day, a long time from now, I think I will be able to look back at my life and see that I really LIVED it. Took a long time for me to get to this place, but here I am.
And I don't want to trivialize this post with talk of stress at work and blah blah, because there are more important things in life. I can deal with stress at work. I deal with it by leaving things at the door when I leave there (most of the time), and filling the rest of my time up with things that make me happy.
|Me, actually AT work!|
And beside's, I realized something about myself not too long ago: I am a stressed out person. If it wasn't work it would be something else. My brain is just constantly moving around everywhere...touching on this, trying to figure out that, there is no room for relaxing in there. This is something I am going to be working on very soon, because it needs to stop. Yoga helps. All that slow breathing that I don't allow myself ever....it really does a body (and mind!) good.
|My desk in the corner! Nobody puts Baby in a corner!|
My stress comes out in weird ways too. I tell everyone I am fine, and I actually do THINK that I am fine...but my body tells me different. Yes, my stress comes out in very physical ways. Whether it's extreme exhaustion, not eating properly, or eating too much, aches, pains, etc. My body tells me when I have shit I need to deal with instead of just telling myself it's fine and smiling through it.
But, there is a new stress in my life that is bigger than all of them put together. I have cried about it, freaked out about it, and been sad about it. Now I am at the point where just thinking about makes me want to stick my head in the sand or throw up all over the place...my dad has to go in for a quadruple by-pass.
|The stairs I walk up and down a thousand times a day|
|My wonderful friend Naz, my work wife.|
And I know that everything will be fine. Of course I do. It's not necessarily the surgery I am afraid of (although I am a little bit, mostly of the pain he is going to be in), it's more that my dad, my DADDY isn't Superman. He isn't going to live forever, and although I KNOW that, this has really brought his mortality to the forefront of my mind.
|Back deck, where I go to decompress for a few minutes sometimes|
I know he is going to feel like a million bucks when he is better and healed, I know all of this. And this is what I hold on to. But the thought of my strong, forever young, stubborn dad in extreme amounts of pain? Unbearable. And my dad not even able to walk to the bathroom by himself for a week or two? I can't handle this. There has never been anything wrong with MY dad.
My dad is strong, and the toughest man I have ever known. Sometimes to a fault. But he is also a big softy who loves his kids and my mom and animals more than he knows how to deal with. So thinking of him being so vulnerable and weak, it's hard.
My dad who could climb trees faster than any of his kids could, who could run laps around us in a race. My dad who gently and lovingly takes care of his garden as if the vegetables and plants were his other kids. Who is not afraid to get dirty and sweaty and who always took care of his family no matter what.
And like I said, he will be a-ok. Eventually. And he will feel as good as new, maybe even better. Eventually. But it is going to be a hard road of recovery and I am thankful he has my mom (and us) by his side every step of the way. We are all going to need to take care of him and he will get better...maybe he'll even challenge me to a race when all is said and done...
Anyway, sorry for unloading, but I feel a bit better. Writing it all down and compartmentalizing things sometimes helps. Breaking it down into smaller pieces instead of one huge giant whole, staring at you int the face and over-whelming you.
So that's what we have to do; take it day by day, step by step. The worst (for me, in my mind) is seeing him right before and after his surgery on June 29. He is not going to look pretty when he comes out of it, but I have to tell myself that it's part of the process. Maybe after I hit publish my belly ache will finally go away, and my feeling that I need to be sick every couple of minutes will disappear. Here's hoping!
So everyone, if you could...think of my dad on June 29 and send him positive vibes. Say a prayer, enjoy your day, kiss your own dad, tell someone you love them, treat yourself to something special.
For my daddy.