A Bit Under The Weather...

I had a therapy session on Monday. 

It did not go well.

I've been seeing this therapist for some time now, and I really like her, but as she reminded me this week, I am not just here because of Youngest. No matter how much I want to blame all my stress on him.

She kept asking me what I get in return from taking care of everyone.

Well, Duh... it's just who I am. It's what I do.  It's what I always have done. Since I was, like, four.

Except that it's not who I am, it's what I do. (Insert eye roll here as this is what I consistently say to Youngest about his choices of late.) This of course, sent the brain spinning in all directions, some healthy, some not.  Most thoughts involving a deep need for ice cream. 

Looking back, I can see that in the beginning I did it because I would be needed and more needed I was, the more important I was. My self worth was completely tied into how dependent other people were on me. Then my kids were born, and they like, actually needed me.

And quickly I realized that if you could dress yourself and drive a car, I didn't need to be taking care of you. My husband at the time of course didn't like that, as he had become so dependent that when I was no longer there, he in fact, didn't survive. 

I spent a lot of time in therapy figuring out that what I wanted was to not be needed, but to be wanted,  and I settled for nothing less.  The husband, regardless of how lost he says he'd be without me, was a fully functioning adult before we met and I took over nearly every facet of his life.  

Because that's what I do, I take care of things. I'm a organizer, a planner, a list maker, and he was just fine with that. Unlike before, it's now a choice to do these things for others.  I see that we are almost out of the boy's Banza chickpea pasta and choose to pick up more.  I choose to help navigate health insurance waivers for Oldest's college. I ensure everyone is taking the right cold medicines at appropriate times and choose to take the day off to ensure that Youngest gets his chest x-rayed tomorrow and not just an it's a cold, go home from the on call doctor tomorrow. Now a days I choose this, for those I love most, therefore making it a substantial part of who I am. I take care of others, because I feel better knowing that their life is a bit easier.

I don't see this as a flaw. But I can see how, if I'm not careful, even being selective on who I do the most for, will leave me wiped out and empty, unable to help anyone. What my therapist doesn't see is the progress I've made in saying no. The amount of phone calls that go unanswered because I know my limits, and family functions I don't attend because I just don't want to. That I am surrounding myself with  people who understand what I'm going through and bring as much to the table as I do. And perhaps the most important thing, that I am purposefully doing things for no recognition at all in an effort to break my psychological correlation of other's appreciation and my self worth. 

It is not an easy task friends.

Yesterday I was cleaning out mail boxes along the route as I've been training someone for the past week.  I stopped at every box, ensure the correct mail was there, and cleaned out mistakes, etc. along the way. I have an older gentleman on the route who I routinely talk to. I noticed his box was stuffed extra full and started to ensure it was all his. When I noticed it was a full week's worth of mail, I made the decision to take 2 minutes out of my day to go to the door.  He didn't answer.  I checked in with a few neighbors, one who had seen him 4 days ago. He said he'd ask another neighbor who had a key. I thanked him, said it was most likely nothing, but if he could check in that'd be great and I went on my way. The old me might have done more, but the new me knows my limits.

Thing is, he was not okay. Living alone, he sat naked, most likely an effort to stay cool in the massive heat wave we were having, in his recliner eating dinner, when something went wrong.  His house was unkept and by the time the neighbors found him, incoherent, in this state it had been days, the food was rotting, he was filthy, and the rats were everywhere. He's been removed from the home.  The home will be condemned. He is alive but will likely not be back.  He does not talk to his sons.  He has no one else. 

Most carriers in my office would have just kept stuffing the mailbox. He's alive because I chose to spend two minutes of my day making sure he was okay. And I will not apologize for that. It's who I am. It's who I choose to be.

Some day I will be gone, and the legacy that I want to leave is not that of a doormat, but that of a difference.  That my existence in others lives made a difference to them. Be it from 2 minutes on the mail route, or a lifetime of second chances and unconditional love. Or, maybe just a balance between the two. Because if not caring about people is the way for me to be healthy, I think I'm okay with being a little bit under the weather. 

If You Give A Girl Some Plywood....

 She'll probably want some two by fours to go with it.

We live in roughly 900 square feet.  The basement, which technically adds an additional 900 sq feet of sanity, is partially finished into two rooms, one was Bonus son's during his brief stay between the expiration of his lease and the closing of his condo, and the other is Youngest's. Space here, is a commodity, and organization is key. 

When Oldest moved out for college, I built a closet organization system for him. I waited until he moved out because honestly it was a lot easier to do when he wasn't here, living in it, daily. And when he came home for Christmas, it was a nice surprise.

When Youngest decided to stay in the smaller room downstairs after Bonus Son left, the plan was to wait until he left for school as well for the same reason, and also because he tends to be collector of all things. 

The. Boy. Has. Stuff.

Except he never left for college, so we've had to do things as we can, working around his collections busting at the seems.  The heat ducts were finally connected in January, and in March we did a clean sweep of his clothes that no longer fit and books that could be boxed up for enjoyment on another day. He has a difficult time letting go of things, combined with his laziness, he often ends up with a strange collection of items from his past, like stuffed animals alongside barbed wire from West Point, comingled with empty Amazon boxes, candy wrappers, and sea glass from the beach. I will spare you the before pictures of his room....

Since it appears as though he will be living here at least until January, I figured it was about time to get him organized. I came up with a basic design, knowing that when he does move out I will use it as a sewing room. I told him three days ago that it was going to happen.  I asked for him input, and got a whatever you want Mom... so this morning I got some plywood...

Cost is a big factor in this project, and durability. So I started measuring, and then the husband started with the cutting, since he's far better at achieving straight lines than I am. 

The 18" legs allowed for storage bins underneath.  Storage is key for this boy.  The larger platform is for his yogibo, which is like a giant bean bag bed, that until now we've had no place for. I was smart enough to have the two sections screw together so it would move in and out of the basement door easily.  I know, so unlike me to be thinking ahead. And get this, the platform can be disconnected and longer legs can be added, so when he does move out,  it will become the perfect sewing table.  Win, win.

Basically I just kept adding shelves until I ran out of 2X4's.  I was bound and determined to have as little waste as possible.  In the end, I have nothing but 2X4 sawdust and one 12" X 4' shelf left over, which I think will be fashioned into a prop box for the television on another day. 

This took about an hour.  Taking everything out of his room, cleaning, putting it all inside, securing it all together, and rehoming everything?  Another 2 hours. At one point Youngest came home, saw his room was destroyed, and walked back out.  Sometimes it's better to not be around when your mother is elbow deep in literally every crack and crevice of your room, and even better for me, I found nothing unexpected or exceptionally gross. I also discovered that at one point we had a squirrel in the house, as  literally every bin this boy had had a pile of acorns in it. 

And so, for 3 hours and $90 including tax, the boy has a non-stinky, air conditioned place to hang with a friend and play his Nintendo switch without waking us all up. 

I sent a picture to the neighbor across the street. She's SO EXCITED she would no longer need to hang out in the musty garage when she wants to chat late at night. She's already organizing a gaming Nintendo marathon tonight weather he likes it or not.

I'm just excited I can see the floor again.

 

On The Lighter Side....

I've been working an excessive amount of OT lately. The end goal is money for our vacation so that if something comes up I can, without hesitation, say yes.  Hot air balloon ride? Yes please. Fancy smancy dinner out? Yup. Room service because sometimes you just have to be lazy? Hell yes. 

We leave for San Francisco in two-ish months.  Two and a half days there, then road tripping to Santa Cruz for another two days. We plan to travel the pacific coast highway for the best scenes, stop in Big Sur, hit some touristy stuff in San Fran, see the redwoods and Salsalito, and take in the virtual immersive Van Goh exhibit for which we have already secured tickets. It's a lot, but I have 4 days off when we get back to rest up.  It will be nice to get away as a family again, and to celebrate our tenth anniversary.

Ten years. Crazy.  Doesn't feel like a day over 30 years.

On my rare day off a month (aside from Sundays) I've been catching up with my Mom, and meeting friends for lunch.  It's nice to have some one to talk with that is going through more or less the same struggles with their kids that I am. Things ebb and flow with Youngest and it's exhausting.  Oldest is gone 11 hours a day and on weekends his butt is planted firmly in a chair on the beach. It's nice being a quarter mile from the ocean. Youngest prefers the pond, as he's more free to be himself without getting arrested. At least for now. 

For me, the backyard is becoming my sanctuary. 

Hubs does a great job at keeping everything alive for me.  So good in fact we spent much of Sunday morning before the heat rolled in  splitting, thinning, and repotting all kinds of plants for my friend from work. 

As for work, we are currently in the middle of a heat wave..... 

Meanwhile... in the mail truck....

Thankfully I am training so while my days are longer in the office, my road time is shorter. The heat is supposed to break tomorrow night which is good, because I feel like my insides have been thoroughly cooked through. My trainee is doing well, but it is still mentally challenging to be training for weeks at a time. And because I am not an official trainer I literally get nothing for my efforts other than knowing she is properly trained. My old substitute, that I adore, is making career and has requested to come back to my route, so this new trainee won't even carry for me aside from a week or two.  If management listens to me, she'll then move to another vacant route to train, and she'll likely stay on as his permanent sub. It's unlikely they will listen to my suggestions though, as there's a huge disconnect between management and staff.  The postmaster has been investigated twice for mistreatment of the employees.  Its' getting scary folks.  Like, really concerning.

My niece and I are touring two more colleges in three weeks.  At this point I think we are just visiting to visit, as I believe she may have found her happy place with our first tour.  It's also the cheapest one, which makes her parents happy.  I still can't believe she's almost 18, and going into her senior year. especially since I'm not aging, Not. One. Bit.

And lastly, the heat has brought out the swimmer in the girl. Once afraid of the water, if not watched carefully she now runs in full boar during our walks, stopping short of getting her head wet. Which is so funny to watch, not so funny to smell or wash out when we get home.  

Pond water + triple coats of husky hair = a special funky smell. 

Wait... is that a squirrel?

There's a good sniff over here...

And here...

Since last weekend the pond has been packed.  It's nice to get a few moments at night when there's almost no one around.  But it does provide for many, many good, highly distracting, sniffing spots.

And with that, I am off to eat dinner, before the chaos begins again.  

An Unexpected Reset....

 The weather has been getting warmer and warmer here.  So warm that we had to turn on the air conditioning for the dog. It sounds crazy, I know, but until we did she just hid under the bed all day, seeking out the coolest place in the house. 

So it would come as no surprise with the holiday weekend coming up, the temperatures dropped like they had seen a state trooper in the rearview mirror. And with the cold, came the rain.  Lots and lots of rain. Truth be told, a rainy weekend tends to slow everything down, prompting a much needed reset.  

The lure of overtime drew me to work on Saturday. I left work around two, only to return with an old nightstand I was repurposing at the office and an updated news bulletin board that, since it's install that afternoon, has since gotten a lot of attention. Morale has been at the lowest point I have ever seen, and a few of us are working to find ways to recognize and connect us all.  Currently I am working on a perpetual plaque to honor retirees.  What started as a small project now has me recognizing retirees from as far back as 95, some of whom have long since passed on. Once the drop off and installs were done I headed to the grocery store for some desperate restocking.  Among the ingredients were all the fixings for chili and gluten free honey cornbread. The day certainly called for it, and nothing makes me feel more in the moment than chopping and sautéing, hearing the sizzle in the pan, smelling the fresh baked cornbread in the oven. It's comfort food for the soul.

Sunday called for more grocery shopping, bulk stuff this time, restocking the dog's essentials, and the garden center for a little treat for myself.

(The ever elusive yellow peonies)

The husband and I knocked it all out in about three hours which left plenty of time for early afternoon napping.  Recharged from our power naps, the husband worked on selling and listing sports cards while I tackled the garage.  It's been Youngest's clubhouse for some time now and it needed some serious cleaning and organizing, as well as a thorough checking for unexpected things.  Thankfully there were none.  

The rain continued long into the night, so my inside projects continued. While  switching the laundry over, I noticed there was water was seeping in under the door.  In 16 years we've never flooded in through the basement door, but a quick check revealed that there was about 9 inches of water collected at the bottom of the back stairs. So there we were, the bucket brigade, shoveling bucket after bucket against the tide, or in this case the raging storm.  The husband took the 5 minutes I went into the house to get the ladder and climb on the roof to unclog the gutters.  

I could have killed him, if the rain, winds, or fall didn't.

Thankfully, he returned to earth unscathed, aside from getting stabbed in the butt by the nearby grapevine. Serves him right for not listening to me. So with the water diverted and the dehumidifier running, we finally called it quits. I believe the news reported that we got nearly 4 inches of rain throughout the night. Thankfully, only a small amount of it was in the basement.

Monday was far less exciting, more laundry and hanging out watching TV. My Mum's been trying to catch up on holidays we've missed over the last year so we headed to her house for Chinese food and family.  Youngest did not go, which is a story for another day, and I'd be lying if I said his absence didn't bother me. But like I said, that's a story for another day.

Because today's story is one of clearing the clutter, resetting the day, appreciating the sunshine's return, and embracing the rain... when it's not flooding the basement. 

A reset if you will....

Of the earth.

Of the home.

Of my mind.