*Jazz Hands* Mom

I…am a penguin.

Seriously. I learned something in a science class a few years ago. Penguins LOOK very social. You always see pictures of tons of penguins hanging out all in one place. However, if you go to an aerial view…They don’t touch.. They’re all keeping their personal space.

I literally sat in that class and said, “Holy shit…I’m a penguin”.

I have moments when I LOOK really social…it may look like I’m surrounded by other penguins…but I have to keep that space.

Anyway, the point of this. Yesterday I tried to be a little more social. I reactivated Facebook…to resume my Penguin self and at least look social.

But, apparently, I am the anxious penguin.

I couldn’t do it.

I sat amongst the other penguins…I watched…

I saw happy penguins with their penguin families.

I saw angry penguins fighting their injustices.

I saw penguins who think I’m not penguin enough…penguins who think I’m the wrong kind of penguin…penguins who would rather stand near other penguins than me.

I took in all of the other penguins…and still felt like I don’t fit in…even amongst the other penguins that appear to be just like me.

Was it real? Probably not. Most of the penguins probably didn’t even see me. As they lived their penguin lives, pretending to be social while keeping their social media personal space, they probably didn’t see the added little penguin chilling down the iceberg…watching…

But it felt real. It felt overwhelming. It felt like I, the anxious penguin, can’t fit. Ever.

So I took my penguin ass home and deactivated the social media again.

But I tried. And it’s not the last time I’ll try. I will try again. To fit amongst the rest of my penguin world.

And not be the anxious penguin.

So, we’re going to play a little game called, “Sheri is probably about to find out REAL fast which ones of her friends are reading her blog…”. (You guys…don’t shoot me…it’s a good thing…and I promise that I’m not getting back with the Sponge…)

I did a thing today.

I’ve been harboring A LOT of anger lately. As in…most people would be surprised by how much anger this tiny little body can hold. Which sucks, because I HATE the way anger makes me feel and I tend to avoid it at all costs. But, lately…it’s been eating me alive.

Not anger at one thing in particular. Just anger.

But, anyone who knows me well knows that a good chunk of my anger usually involves my ex that we call Voldemort or SpongeBob.

This morning I woke up to an email from the weight room under the sea (aka SpongeBob). He had been vacillating about sending it for months apparently…but he wanted me to have his son’s senior portraits because he knew how much I loved his son.

I saw the email and felt the usual anger. But…I really did want to see the pics…and I couldn’t figure out how to open them. So I emailed him back asking what program to use.

We started talking. And I realized something in all of the words that he shared.

As much as I had anger towards him for what he did during our relationship…he had more anger towards himself. He lost his best friend by his own actions. That really has to suck to know.

So…I told him I forgive him. I told him I don’t want him to hate himself. I told him I’ll always have love for my best friend, Bruce Banner….it’s just “the other guy” that I swear when I think of. I told him to let that other guy go…but also to let that anger go.

I told him the truth about the reasons I had hated him. Not because of what he did with the cheating…but because of the gaslighting and convincing me that I was crazy and the one to blame. I didn’t hate him for what he had done, but I had hated him for me losing myself and me becoming a person who let him tear me down.

And in that moment of trying to make him feel better…because I realized that some people seek forgiveness when they are ill…and some seek to forgive…

I realized that I was also forgiving myself.

I forgive myself for being weak.

I forgive myself for losing me.

I forgive myself for forgetting that love is wonderful, but you can’t love someone else so much that you stop loving yourself.

I forgive myself for the past 6 years…the years where he hurt me…and the later years where I continued to hurt and punish myself for what had happened.

I forgive me.

And, as freeing, as that feels…it makes me realize that there are other circumstances I need to forgive myself for. They aren’t people that I can let near enough to me to talk to them…and I don’t have to condone what they did…ever…but I can forgive myself.

I can forgive myself for holding onto pain.

I can forgive myself for being too small and weak to save myself in those moments.

I can forgive myself for trusting others with my heart who didn’t deserve that honor.

I can forgive me.

So, lately this has become my diary more than a blog to be shared. Which is fine. It’s nice that some people still choose to read it…I don’t know who you are, but I appreciate knowing that I’m not totally alone.

But…I wanted this blog to be fun…funny…sometimes serious, but in a good way.

Instead, it may be saving my life.

I have so very, very many words in my head right now. But none that I seem to be able to share individually. They only come out when I write for me.

I miss…well…Me. I miss happy me. I miss the me that believed I was strong. I miss the me that believed that people wanted her around. I miss the me who lifted people up.

I miss knowing that people wanted me around. I miss feeling included. I miss knowing that if there was going to be friends getting together, I would OBVIOUSLY be one of those people. I miss the times when, if I was going to be somewhere, I knew that other people would want to be there, too.

I miss being able to leave my house without feeling panic.

I miss feeling even halfway cute and like anyone could want me.

I miss sleeping without waking up remembering the nightmares from the night before.

I miss feeling hope.

I miss me.

And, in the process of missing ME…the middle of feeling so broken…I’m trying to still be there for others who feel broken…but sometimes I don’t have the words for them…which makes me feel MORE broken because I ALWAYS have the words to help other people.

The new therapist says that I’m going through an all new trauma in the past 8 months. She says that anyone would consider the deluge of events to be traumatic. But she also says that my original trauma is making it harder to process this trauma…which is why she’s making me go through the old trauma…step by step. Which hurts. Writing down every aspect. In steps. It’s all in the forefront of my mind now. All at once. And I know there’s a purpose, but I’m finding it hard to dig out of.

I’m finding it hard to find me, to remember who I am, under the pile of the memories of the people who told me I’m nothing.

I tried to leave my house today. I wound up hyperventilating and in tears.

The more I have to write about my past for therapy…the more it dredges up the memories of all the times that people left…the more I remember that no one wants me around for the long haul and even those who are supposed to love you couldn’t love me…the more I think it’s better if I just hide away. Everyone will be better off.

I just have to say, it is a very strange feeling to wish you didn’t have to live this life anymore and, simultaneously, be afraid to die.

If you know me, you probably know about spoons.

If you don’t know me…or don’t know about the Spoon Theory… seriously, it is the BEST THING EVER for explaining what it’s like to live with a chronic illness. So… here you go…and you’re welcome… https://butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/

But, for those who don’t want to read, basically the Spoon Theory states that energy is like spoons. For every activity you perform in your life a spoon is needed. Healthy people have as many spoons as they want. They can flit from project to project, activity to activity, responsibility to responsibility….they may get a little tired, but they’ll be ok after a good night’s sleep. People with chronic illnesses do not have the same unlimited supply of spoons. Some days we have tons…but the next day we may have none. We can’t borrow from tomorrow’s spoons without serious repercussions. We can use all of our spoons in one day, but the next day we may be sick and won’t have a collection of spoons stocked up to help us get by.

So…we learn to conserve spoons. (A lot of people think the Spoon Theory is negative, but to me this is why it’s a positive…) We learn to save spoons for important things like spending time with people we love. So, we may not be able to clean our house every day…we may not be able to say yes to every social invitation…some days we may not even have the spoons available to hold a conversation with you…but, when possible, we make sure we have a spoon saved up for those special moments with the people who matter to us.

I…am currently out of spoons. Like…I thought I’d seen no spoons before from my bad Lyme flare days. But then I got a second chronic illness…and apparently I didn’t know what NEGATIVE spoons felt like. lol But, lately I’ve been running super low on spoons…the past few days I dream about going to sleep from the moment I wake up because I feel like I don’t have enough spoons to make it through my day. Today…for the first time…I’m having a full Lyme flare at the same time as a bad heart day. And I could be feeling bad for myself, but instead…

*whips hand out from behind back* Look at this trusty spoon I was saving. Because life can’t be all parenting and work and school and exercise and and and…we need our people and sometimes our people need us.

So…I took that spoon I’ve been hoarding…and I asked one of my best friends to have a movie and dinner night with me. At home. Just relaxing. But together. Because one spoon isn’t taking us dancing…but it’s enough that I can remind someone that is important to me that I’m still there and enjoy some time just chilling with her.

Tomorrow could be another bad day. And I’ll have used my spare spoon…but, I choose to look at it as I used it in a way that increased my mental/emotional health…which, in the long run, may give me more spoons later.

So, in short…please send spoons. I need them. But, if you ever need me, I’ve probably saved a spoon for just such a moment.

Today is a rough day. I haven’t felt well for days, I’m feeling a bit hopeless about the future, I’m feeling like people are better off without me around…I’m JUST close enough to the bottom to feel all the pain, but JUST high enough off the ground to decide that that’s the best time to try to turn it around.

So…This is me..

Turning On The Light.

So, please don’t mind me while I attempt to shed some light on the things that are eating at me. Sheri Style.

I feel like shit. Thanks to how I’m feeling physically, I’m getting more sleep than ever!

I’m exhausted. Not as exhausted as I would be if I didn’t get that sleep I just mentioned!

I’m overwhelmed by homework. I’m on my second to last semester…the workload is heavy…but the end is in sight.

I’m honestly terrified by what’s happening to my body and I’m feeling like people don’t want to hear about it. In 3 weeks I see some of the best doctors in the world. They definitely want to hear about it…and maybe even help me feel better.

I‘m starting to feel like I don’t know who to trust or who cares about me. I have 3 people that I know care about me and I can trust. That’s more than some people get in a lifetime.

I can’t do all the activities I love to do. I’m being forced to slow down. Which is good for my grades and my relationship with my daughter. It’s also good for my heart…on a physical level AND an emotional one as I’m being forced to deal with things I haven’t dealt with yet.

The amount of things that keep coming at me is overwhelming and I don’t know how much more I can take. God is trying to show me that I’m not fat or he wouldn’t want to have to carry me so much.

There are too many things out of my control right now and that scares me. I’m finally starting to come to terms with the fact that “God helps those who help themselves” and “Let Go and Let God” CAN live simultaneously.

I’m scared that my body is failing for good. The fact that I’m scared shows me that I don’t want to die. There have been times in my life when I thought I did, so this is a good thing.

I’m feeling like a lot of people only want something to do with me if they need something from me or because I make them feel good. Now that I’m down, I feel like they have no use for me. I’m learning that I can’t be everything to everyone. Nor should I be. And those who only want something from me shouldn’t be missed.

I’m afraid I’m going to be single forever. Cats like me.

So, there we go. Some silver linings. Sheri Style. Now I’ll just keep coming back and reminding myself of these things.

Everything happens for a reason…and until I can find the actual reason for the past year…I’ll just keep turning on the light when I find myself in the darkest of places.

There have been little things I’ve been holding onto as my life has been changing with this new heart issue.

I’ve had to slow down my running. A lot.

I’ve had to give up my solitary time in the woods for now.

I’ve had to admit to needing to sit after standing too long in a store.

I’ve had to make appointments and take medications and change little things in my life.

I’ve had to ask for help.

But, again, there were little things I was holding onto. Like maybe…just maybe…this wasn’t going to be my life forever.

Today I gave one of those away.

My last volunteer code for a Spartan race. Seems silly, right? Who cares? It’s just a race.

It’s not just a race.

Obstacle Course Racing was a big part of my #EffYouLymeIWin movement. I was never supposed to be able to do those, but I did. I did things the doctors said I would never do. There were parts I couldn’t succeed at, but I could damn sure try. And I wasn’t winning any elite races, but I was out there doing things and beating the odds.

The pinnacle of that, for me, was the Spartan. Getting out there…getting my ass kicked…and happily laughing and yelling AROO!!!!!! the whole way.

That code…doesn’t expire. I could use it this year…I could use it next year…I could use it at any time for my next Spartan.

But…I gave it away.

Because Lyme was one thing. Certain parts of me hurt or didn’t work…but I could still get out there and try.

POTS…POSTURAL Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. Again…POSTURAL. That says it all. I can’t even go from laying down to getting out of bed to go to the bathroom without feeling like I’m going to pass out. I definitely can’t go from running…to climbing…to crawling…to running…to…you get the point. That’s a whole lot of postures and a whole lot of up and down.

It’s just not possible. And it never will be.

So…that’s what I feel like I just gave up. I gave up the hope that my life will ever be 100% what it was. I’m going to get the right doctors. I’m going to get the right medications. I will get certain things back, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. But they can’t cure it…which means certain things will never be done again.

I am no longer Spartan.

And I’m ok, but yeah…now it’s real.

Today’s Preface to the Blog – I’m making myself #gigglesnort at the title I gave it…because, let’s be real…don’t embrace an introvert. We don’t like it. This is my dancing space, this is your dancing space. GET OFF ME!! 😉

ANYWAY…Hi, my name is Sheri and I’m an introvert.

People LOVE telling me that I’m not (because they know me better than I know myself), but I am one of the most introverted people you’ll ever meet. Yes, I’m good at putting on a face in large groups…I can be boisterous and loud (too loud sometimes)…but it’s actually rather hard and probably why I struggle to find a middle ground (and people think I’m too much)…

In an effort to not make people uncomfortable with how quiet I am, I make them uncomfortable with how loud I am. Sing it with me, y’all… ♫ I don’t know why I go to extremes… ♫

Actually, on this one, I do. I was always REALLY quiet as a little girl. I was literally voted “quietest person” in my 6th grade yearbook. I liked people, but I didn’t talk. As one of my childhood friends put it later in life, “You wouldn’t even talk to your own best friends…”. That’s how quiet and shy I was. Then I met my dad’s family…Italian men/boys…A LOT of Italian men/boys. They have a belief that quiet people can’t be trusted and pushed me to be extroverted. I also couldn’t be heard over them unless I was LOUD. But, I was so painfully shy it was SUPER hard for me to force myself to not be shy. Then…around 7th grade I had an epiphany. If I knew everyone I’d never have a reason to be shy. So that became my goal. FORCE MYSELF to be friendly and get to know everyone so I didn’t have to be in uncomfortable shy situations.

And that’s how the Sheri that everyone assumes is an extrovert was born.

I can people. I even look like I’m good at it. And, some days, I even do enjoy it.

But, LORD it takes a lot out of me.

I’ve been realizing more and more lately that that’s a big chunk of what’s been going on with my head. For over a year I really pushed myself to PEOPLE. And I enjoyed it…but I didn’t give myself nearly enough recharge time.

Here’s the thing. I’ve always said, “I love persons. I love humanity in general. It’s groups of people that are the problem.”

Give me one or two people to talk to and hang out with…that’s my sweet spot. I can hang out all day. (I’ll still need a little recharge later, but it’s not HARD. It’s enjoyable.) Let me talk to people on a deep level. Let me know them. I want to understand who they are…why they are who they are…what they dream of and what they fear…I want to know it all.

But I can’t do small talk. I need real. Surface small talk makes me anxious.

Why am I writing about this this morning? Because this morning that introvert part REALLY became clear.

I was walking with a new friend…I laughed and said I was sorry that I wasn’t very talkative… “Please don’t be. I’m an introvert. I like quiet.” Me: “THANK GOD! OMG that’s so good to hear. I’m so used to being around the extroverts that I feel like I have to keep talking.”

So, we walked. A little chatting, but mostly quiet.

Then a couple others joined us. They were walking ahead and talking about life, my new friend and I were hanging back quietly. She looked at me and whispered, “See…they can do the talking, we can just hang.” “This is so much better!” And we did still chat. We talked about our kids, we talked about working out, we learned things about each other. Even with a new friend, it was more than surface.

Which also made me realize…Introverts don’t waste words. We know that we only have so much talking we can handle…so we make it count. We don’t chat about trivial things because that’s a waste of our social battery.

So…this morning that’s my epiphany…I’m going to stop fighting who I am. Not to say that I’ll never be around a crowd anymore, but…

I’m going to embrace the introvert. I’m going to allow myself to not feel bad when I can’t do large crowds…when I’m uncomfortable because I’m surrounded by too much small talk…when I need to be around only one or two people who are willing to actually talk on a deeper level with me.

That’s who I am. And there’s nothing wrong with who I am.

And, those who love me, will love me enough to let me truly know them so that I can be comfortable with them in all my introverted shy ways. ❤

Once upon a time, in a very close place, a raging hermit left her beloved gym solitude and joined a group of women who wanted to work out…together… *shudder*. (Spoiler alert. I’m the raging hermit.)

At that first workout, as is this groups tradition, I was given a new name. I was asked to tell them about myself…and to remember that whatever name I agreed to would be what they called me…forever…and everywhere they saw me. I told them of my love of comics…superheroes…especially Marvel … They asked what Marvel character I most closely related to.

Dude. The nerd rant I went into…epic.

Domino. Definitely Domino. Her super power is luck. But for every lucky thing that happens, it also hurts her. She has no family and made her own out of friends. She knows what it is to feel alone…and out of place…and different…even amongst those that she appears similar to. She dates assholes. Lol (I didn’t say that, but it’s true. Lol) And she never gives up.

So…they named me Domino.

And boy were they not kidding about that becoming my name.

That workout group became a lot more to me. It became my community…my village…I met my best friends there. All calling me Domino.

And, as Domino, I built a name for myself. The girl who was down for any adventure. The girl who would try anything. The girl who would do anything she put her mind to.

I was proud to be Domino. Proud to be known as Domino. Proud to be called Domino.

But Domino wasn’t the whole Sheri. And, as SHERI started to struggle with health issues and lost some of her ability to be the Domino everyone knew…

I started to feel unknown and misunderstood. It fed into the anxiety because the person that they knew…wasn’t the person they were getting anymore…and it was scary and uncomfortable for all involved.

I started to feel like I didn’t belong if I couldn’t be Domino.

I started wanting to stay home and out of that world.

I started to seriously consider leaving that world for good.

But…me being me and knowing myself as I do…I built in a safeguard. You see…I will disappear for ME, but not if I’ve made a commitment to someone else.

I always honor my commitments.

So, with one of my best friends, I made a commitment to run a new location for our workout group. Starting it from scratch.

And I have spent the last few weeks dreading it…wishing I hadn’t made that commitment…but knowing that I would do it because I promised.

Today was the first day of that new location. We named it The River (because it’s at a park on a river…we are very creative… 😆 ).

Today I put on my best Domino face and showed up…because I committed…kind of expecting no one else to really show…because my head has been telling me everyone hates Sheri and she doesn’t belong if she’s not Domino…and then…17 other ladies showed…17 other ladies came out and supported me. Not Domino…Sheri. They all complained about how hard it was while laughing and hugging me. We had fun.

I wasn’t fully Domino. I wasn’t there fastest. I wasn’t the strongest. I had to catch myself from passing out a couple of times and my heart went to dangerous levels once or twice. But I did it. The social and the physical. And I did it as…maybe a new Domino…one that’s a little more Sheri…one that’s less likely to go ninja on a bad guy like her namesake…but may actually fall over like the other Dominos. Lol

And, surprisingly, I’m glad I knew myself well enough to make that commitment as a safeguard against myself.

There is very little that’s a positive about an anxiety spiral. BUT if there is one bonus, it would be this.

Every time I get to the point of anxiety where I can NOT handle ANY more…the stupid shit that I’ve been anxious about suddenly becomes more clear. In a, “Wait…why the fuck am I stressing about THAT?!?!” kind of way.

Pretty sure I got over the worst of my exes during an anxiety spiral. It was about a year after we broke up and man….I was still constantly anxious about what he was saying or doing or whatever else. Then came an anxiety spiral, and…BAM! Ain’t nobody got time for that!

This time…my anxiety spiral is pushing me to stay in my own lane. What does that mean? Let me ‘splain.

There are people who, lately, make me feel very anxious. Not for anything they’re doing wrong, but usually because I’ve got it in my head that they’re mad at me or don’t like me. And when I get anxious about something…BOY HOWDY CAN I OBSESS!

Why didn’t they like my social media post when they liked someone else’s?

Why didn’t they text me back?

Did I do something?

Are they mad?

Am I terrible?

Do they hate me?

Y’all. It’s pathetic.

But…then came this walloping anxiety spiral and…honestly…I don’t have the capacity to be in someone else’s lane.

Are they mad at me? Maybe.

Do they hate me? Who the hell knows.

Can I pinpoint any specific hurtful thing I could have done to make them mad at me or make them hate me? Not that I can think of.

So, is it really my problem? Or am I borrowing trouble and paying a little too much attention to what’s happening in their lane?

Yeah. That part.

So…I deactivated most of my social media about a week ago. (This is longest I’ve lasted without Facebook in probably a decade…pathetic, but true…lol). The social media that I can’t deactivate for whatever reason, like a 40 year old virgin…I do me.

What are people doing? Don’t know.

Who are people hanging out with? Don’t care.

Who liked someone’s picture? I did. Didn’t look to see who else did.

Oh, look. Someone that makes me anxious posted something…and….driving away. Not my lane.

Who did or didn’t like what I posted? OK, actually, I’m human and not perfect…that one I still notice. But I’m not obsessing.

So, yes, where I’ve been at recently sucks ass. But this part…definitely my silver lining so far. Maybe I can stick to this freeing way of dealing.

I like my lane. It’s pretty.