Hi, my name is Currie and I make mistakes. Welcome to my support group.
Yesterday, I had a horrible day that almost immediately began with a hiccup which quickly snowballed into more issues and before I knew it, I was a walking cess pool of neuroses.
It was not pleasant.
It’s days like yesterday that make me want to extract myself from my body and experience the world from someone else’s shoes. Preferably someone who has ridiculous good looks and scads of cash lying around which can be used at the drop of a dime to buy a plane ticket for a fabulous escape.
Since I haven’t found anyone who wants to trade places, I was stuck with myself yesterday. I was stuck with my inner five-year old who feels like a clumsy alien who can’t seem to make anyone happy. I was stuck with the little girl who is walking continuously and not so successfully on eggshells, who doesn’t feel safe and can’t seem to exhale.
How did my inner five-year old get invited to come out to “play” in a such an unpleasant way?
Well, first I have to give you a quick back story:
I’ve been living with a woman who I think is old enough to be my mom. I have been living with her for longer than I’ve stayed anywhere in the past two years, I think. I like living with her mostly because of her kind, generous, grounded personality. She is not flaky in the least, which proves to me that I am evolving and inviting in a more stable life for the most part.
I like to believe she likes having me here too. We have a trade worked out in exchange for a place to stay and I think I deliver my end of the bargain consistently well. I feel appreciated and I like knowing that I am a working member of the household community.
However, there are times when I am not an ideal house mate. Mainly, these times occur when I am breaking things (this doesn’t happen too often, but often enough to be a noticeable issue). Or, when I am spilling copious amounts of liquids onto things that can be ruined. The first few times it happened, my house mate just kind of let it slide… though it’s not fun, these things happen.
However, last week it happened again (very accidentally) and I felt horrible.
Since I live somewhere else a few days a week in order to keep my evening babysitting arrangements and she travels often for work, the way that we tend to communicate is through notes.
Now, I am generally a pretty sensitive person. Though I believe this to be a gift, sometimes it really isn’t. So, notes aren’t always an ideal form of communication for me. Therefore, when I broke something last week and since it was so close to the last time it happened, I decided I would wait until I saw her in person as I was afraid a note would do more harm than good. I was relieved to know that I had a few days before we would be at home together again and I could brace myself for an empowered expression of what had occurred and also my heart-felt apologies.
However, fate had another plan in mind.
I happened to arrive at about the time she was leaving. We had about a 15 minute overlay of time in which we said our hellos, she said what she needed me to know and then it became my turn to share the not so pretty truth.
Mind you, I am a coffee addict. I can hardly function or see straight until I’ve had my morning beverage. This interaction happened before my coffee and after I spent the morning trying to get my bearings whilst experiencing the chaos of kids, their mom and everyone getting ready, figuring out breakfast, getting dressed, a mild tantrum or two and being dropped off etc.
I honestly needed some quiet time and perhaps a little more sleep.
So, when I broke the news, unsurprisingly, she wasn’t amused. I hated that I had to tell her while I was in that state.
She did express some frustration and the only thing I could say was, I really didn’t mean to and I’m so sorry. I got to thinking (surprisingly clearly) and realized why this keeps happening. So I told her that I think it’s because I haven’t lived anywhere for so long in quite some time and I think I simply can’t remember how to live in a house. Honestly, it seems feasible as I am in awe of the fact that I’m just now remembering how to sleep in a bed.
I became teary eyed as my inner “bad little girl” seemed to be triggered and I felt horrible.
My housemate, being the understanding person she is, hugged me and said, I don’t want you to feel un-welcome here, okay? Then I told her that I didn’t want her to feel sorry for me and she assured me she didn’t. She just asked that I try to be more aware of what I’m doing.
Later, I joked that I promised I wouldn’t break anything while she was gone and she responded with a very compassionate, Just try.
(End of my back story)
So, yesterday when I spilled something a little too close to the computer, I felt desperately upset with myself. When I realized what happened, I let a slew of colorful expletives escape from my lips like swearing was the only language I had ever known. Luckily, I saved everything and only one very small piece of paper was damaged.
However, that didn’t stop me from beating myself up all day long.
Since yesterday I was scheduled to spend the night elsewhere and I knew we wouldn’t cross paths until either today or later this week, I left a note. Probably a little emotional in nature since I had quickly allowed myself to slip into trauma mode and became convinced that now she would surely ask me to leave. Oh my goodness, maybe I haven’t healed the issue around my mother…. or maybe this will be a repeat of Minnesota… Man, I’m a jackass. Why can’t I do anything right?!?
I mean, I know if I’m asked to leave, that I do have a safety net. However, at this point, I really really just want a job. I really want to pay some rent. I really want to know I’m okay. I don’t want a tragic loss and more than anything I want to exhale.
I know that part of life is learning and growing (which none of us, no matter how rich or good-looking, are immune to), but at this point I just can’t take it anymore (at least not at the accelerated rate in which it has been taking place… I want to learn and grow as a result of new problems to solve). I need a reprieve in the form of safety, security and stability. I don’t want to go backwards and relive old problems, I want to keep moving forward.
Anyway, in the end, we briefly crossed paths this morning and all was well. It turns out I worked myself up a little too much over a minor issue. We didn’t discuss it, but we generally exchanged good vibrations this morning and I am under the impression that she knows how much I beat myself up and that I really am trying to be more careful and that I really do care about her space.
While walking her dog this morning, I realized maybe this is the beginning of the new problems I recently asked for. I’ve never, as far as I can remember, given myself permission to see that even though people may aggravate one another at times, that truly unconditional acceptance can be a part of my story. The whole world and the happiness of others does not have to (nor should it) rest on my shoulders. Most importantly, if I make a mistake, the whole world will not come crashing down on me.
My life doesn’t have to be mired in suffocating problems and I can, if I choose to be aware, see that my story has indeed shifted, and I can flow with the new story unfolding.
I feel like being where I am is truly in every sense training wheels for my home-coming.
For that, I am ecstatically grateful.