My Mother Would Have Loved Marie Kondo

Growing up, my house was never tidy. Sometimes it was clean, but it was never tidy. And it was never kept that way. We had things stacked up in lots of random places, because my mom found it hard to let go. But every once in a while she would get frustrated at her family for also not being tidy. She would ask us to clean our rooms. She would pick up things that we had left lying around and she would say “There’s a place for everything, and everything in its place.”
I think that’s why my home feels chaotic to me sometimes. Most things have their place, but a lot of things don’t have their place, so they just get set somewhere, and then when we need them we really have to search. I don’t want to live that life anymore.

I’ve been watching, like I’m sure a lot of people have been watching, Tidying Up with Marie Kondo on Netflix. It’s been amazing. I’ve been wanting to read her book for so long (let me know if you want to buy it for me) so when I saw this show I got so excited.
One thing that I heard her say in one episode is that it feels good when everything has a place. I instantly thought of my mother when I heard this.

My mother didn’t get to have a lot of innocent joy in her life. And she kept a lot of things. But I don’t think many of those things brought her joy.
I think my mother would have loved Marie Kondo, and I wish I could have seen her take Marie’s techniques into her life. I hope I can take Marie’s techniques into my life.

I’m ready for more innocent joy and less meaninglessness. I’m ready to be tidy. And I want to do it, because she couldn’t.

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130

Not many people are aware of how much I struggle with my weight. Inside my head I have been overweight since I was fifteen. I don’t think this is actually true though.

Before I started high school, before I hit puberty, I was barely a size zero. I fully believed I would be able to fit into a size two my entire life. I weighed 98 pounds when I was a freshman and I thought I would always be small and always be able to eat however I wanted. My sophomore year I was having some knee problems, so I couldn’t be as active and I remember being in my english class and looking down and for the first time noticing my stomach. I wasn’t fat. But in my mind I was.

I remember going shopping for shorts with my mom when I was 16. I was doing physical therapy to repair my knee that I had messed up running track, but I was the largest I had ever been. I tried on the size that I thought I should be and it was way too small. This is one of the reasons I won’t buy pants from places like JC Penney or Target, because their sizing is off. A four at Old Navy is an eight at JC Penney. Trying on a six at 16 and having it be too small shattered me. I felt so fat. But a six is not even large. It’s barely considered a medium. But my head believed I needed to be a two, which I will never be again.

My weight has gone up and down over the years. I’ve been in really good shape and I’ve been in terrible shape. I’ve gained weight and I’ve lost it and people have noticed. All I want now is to be healthy.

This year I started a bullet journal, and I’ve dedicated one of the pages to trying to reach my goal weight. I have no idea if I’ll reach it, because muscle weighs more than fat, and who knows if I’ll lose motivation. I want to weigh 130, because I feel like that’s a good weight for my height. However, muscle weighs more than fat, so if I drop in size but not weight, I guess that’s okay too. I guess I just want to see if I can do it. I want to be accountable.

So here’s to 2019 and health and happiness. I want to be my best self.

2019- A Year For Words

I used to read a lot. And I used to read quickly. I devoured words and had so much inspiration to spin more. But I’ve been distracted for so long. I go through phases, but I don’t want reading and inspiration to be just a faze. So I’m going to try to make 2019 a year for reading, a year for words.

I made a decision that I’ve been thinking about for a long time. I decided to sign up for Book of the Month. This means I’ll at least read one book a month.

I tried last year to do the Amazon First Reads on my Kindle, but I just don’t like reading on my kindle very much. It’s useful for school books and for traveling, but there’s just something about real books with pages I can turn. I can see how close to the end I am getting. And the pages don’t make my eyes as tired.

I’ve also decided that if I don’t like a book, I’m not going to kill myself trying to finish it. That’s what makes reading so exhausting. Not every writing style is as easy for me to read. Everyone likes what they like.

I’m going to do my best to do what I like. Because for a while now I haven’t been doing what I like. I haven’t been doing that many things that make me happy. Alabama has not made me happy. It’s time that I start taking care of myself through and through, starting with reading again.

Out of the Present

I find myself often dreaming about the future.  Keeping it in the front of my mind.  Daydreaming; focusing all my attention.  Because the present isn’t something that I like to live in.  

I find myself often remembering the past.  I tell stories about the good times, how good it used to be.  Because it used to be so damn good.  And I took it so for granted.  

My heart carries all of the bad times.  My heart carries all of the hard times.  My heart dwells in its own pain, even when I try not to.  

Anymore

I’m not creative anymore.
I’m not really anything anymore.
And my whole life used to be creative.  Everything I stood for was so that I could put more words down and life more people up with them.  But was I ever really that uplifting?
I feel like I don’t know how to make good decisions anymore.  I feel lost.  I feel terrified.  I just want to give up and start again, but life doesn’t work that way.  I feel stuck, but I have to get unstuck, or else I won’t survive.
And I’m not sure what else I can do.

I miss home.  I miss the west.  I want to be anywhere but here.  Because there’s a little bit of grace in starting fresh.  And all I want right now is to start fresh.

My heart has been aching for so long now.  Every step I make to lessen the pain only makes it worse.  Why can’t things go back to the way they used to be?  Why can’t I just go home?  All I want is to go home.  I want to be able to tell my mom how frustrated I am with Alabama and the lack of opportunities and community here.  I want to go home and have my dad make me dinner and help me figure out how to fix all of this.  Because for most of my life I had that ability.  And I didn’t realize how lucky I was.  I didn’t realize how much I took it for granted because I was so depressed and stuck in my own head.  But now I’m depressed and I have nowhere to go.  And I can’t go home anymore.

Common Sense

My mother always said that common sense didn’t exist, because it’s not common.  Everyone grows up differently and develops their logic based on the kind of mental training they have the opportunity to learn through.  So I’m getting kind of tired of people being berated for not using their common sense.

I watched a supervisor berate a subordinate for not using common sense when it was really busy because he didn’t see a label, so he asked a question.  Studies show that logic capabilities are not as strong when a person is under stress.  I work in a high stress environment, especially around this time of year, and I don’t see how anyone can survive if they’re not allowed to ask questions, even if the answer is right in front of them.  What happened to patience?  What happened to kindness?  What happened to caring?
So, as a supervisor, I tried to speak up.  I tried to say something, but apparently defending other employees means that I’m undermining the authority of another supervisor.

I looked up the standards of business for my place of work.  The first thing that is covered is “the way we treat one another.”  And I wish I had read this sooner.  I wish I had refreshed my memory.  Because page one literally says that we have the right to work somewhere free of bullying and harassment.  Does anyone know how many employees have come to me feeling that they have been bullied or harassed?  Far too many.  And I felt that I couldn’t do anything, because my manager won’t do anything about hearsay.  The most important person’s word will always be the strongest, and that will never be me.

I quit my job.  I start my new one soon.  More pay and less responsibility, and hopefully I’ll be out of a depressing and painful environment.  But will it be enough?  I keep wondering if I should do something.  I know that I should do something.  I know what to do.  But I’m scared.  We’re all scared.  That’s why none of us have done it yet.

I have two weeks left.  Two weeks of feeling caught in the middle.  Two weeks of feeling like a pariah.  Two weeks left of trying.  So should I try?  Or will I be shut down?  I guess it’s time to find out.

Complacency

I feel bored and overwhelmed at the same time.  I forget sometimes that I moved across the country and established a life here all on my own.  I think I forget this because I’m not satisfied and I miss home.

I had a dream the other night that I was trying to get my old job back in Mammoth.  I dreamed that I moved Bobby out there and we were trying to figure out a way to afford a big enough place for his studio.  But that was just a dream.  I have no plans to move back to Mammoth, and in all reality, I would probably feel almost as complacent there.  The only difference is that I would have a community that I some how took for granted when I lived there.

I’m looking for a new job.  Most people know this, but I guess it’s time to make it public.  I’ve been depressed where I’m at for some time now and I haven’t found a satisfactory way to make myself happier there.  I haven’t gotten any bites anywhere else yet though.  I feel so confused as to where my path is right now, but if I look back to my past, things have always worked out the way their supposed to.  So I have to believe that things will work out again.

I’m trying to get myself used to school again.  It’s hard and not hard at the same time.  I just haven’t retrained myself to set aside time in the right way.  I feel like I used to have far more time on my hands.  Where do all the hours go?
And I have to do this group project with no information, so that’s not stressing me out at all.

I decided to go back to therapy.  I’ve had exactly one session.  But how can I be a licensed therapist if I can’t even take care of myself?

I’m doing my best.  And my best probably looks pretty good to a lot of people.  But it feels like it’s not enough a lot of the time.  But I guess that’s what depression is.

Hello my old friend.