My husband can still surprise me. We’ve been married 19 years. By now he is well-versed in the little things that make me happy. All the examples I used in my previous post are ideas that he has used many times over the years. I am delighted that he takes the time to get me things that he knows I’ll love, but I am not usually surprised by gifts from him. Well, this Christmas, he knocked my socks off with a gift card for a new tattoo. That’s not something I had hinted about or was secretly hoping for. It had never crossed my mind that he would get that for me, as he’s not interested in ink at all. But I love it and I’m so excited for my appointment next week!
Old dogs can learn new tricks. It’s hard work; old brains don’t absorb and retain information like young brains do. But it can be done! In 2015, I finished my aromatherapy certification, did my aroma-massage certification, and almost completed my reflexology certification (my final exam will be early in 2016, but I did all the book-work and most of my case studies in 2015). Old brains that have worked hard deserve a rest.
I can’t go back to the previous version of me. I realized that I’ve been functioning in crisis-mode for the seven years that we’ve been struggling with our son’s toxicity. Many of the people who are in my life now have only known the crisis-mode me. All this time, I kind of had it in my head that this isn’t the real me, and therefore most people don’t really know me. I expected that once the crisis was over, I could get back to being me again. It’s been six months since we instigated some healthy distance in the toxic relationship, and it’s been six months of healing. Somewhere along the way, it dawned on me that I don’t get to revert back to pre-crisis me. Seven years of crisis have changed me. They have changed my relationship with my husband and my relationship with my other kids. They have changed who I am. And who I am right now is the real, current me.
The new me is pretty great. Surprise, surprise! My mourning over the previous me didn’t last very long. I quickly discovered that I don’t really want to go back. I can have sadness over how things transpired with our son, but at the same time, it’s okay for me to be joyful about how I have grown because of it. When God promises to bring beauty out of ashes, He really means it! It’s not a cliché. It’s deep and profound and humbling and awe-inspiring. He is so good. All the time. He is working. All the time. And He has done good work in me!
I still have a ways to go. I don’t mean to say that the new me is perfect. I’m still a work in progress. Long-term crisis-mode bent me a bit out of shape, and some of those kinks still need to be worked out. I am more cynical and more short-tempered. But I am also more relaxed about being changed. I don’t need to be in a constant, panicky, fix-me-now state of mind. One day at a time is okay. One step at a time is okay. Temporary derailments aren’t the end of the world. I will press on towards the prize.
“Fappy” is better than “hangry” – but only for a little while. The battery in my scale died in late October. Good-bye, accountability! Hello, fudge and Doritos and white bread and shortbread and gingerbread (basically ALL THE BREADS) and cheesecake and bacon-wrapped ribs and egg nog. It’s been fun. But now it’s time to act like a grown-up again. A grown-up who can wear the jeans that she already owns. Okay, maybe “now” is not the exact time. Tomorrow is the exact time. Or whenever tonight’s leftovers run out. So, you know…soon. Ish.
Happy New Year, friends!