There isn’t anything more awful than getting old.
And let me stop you before you start in on that, “32 is not old,” crap, lest you forget my shitty genetics that basically guarantee obesity, cancer, and an early grave. My people don’t live that long. Stupid science, man.
You know what other awesome thing genetics gave me? The inability to say no, insomnia, and crippling anxiety. Also, stunning blue eyes and mermaid hair. (Win some, lose some.)
My life is so weird. For a while I was working several jobs, going to school, leading groups, running my kids around to activities and helping with homework, cook delicious and nutritious meals, trying to keep a semi-nice house together, and also try to be a good friend every once in a while. And I was great at it!
But I also slept like 2 hours a night, was a heretic to be married to, and survived like, 14 months on basically diet coke and gummy bears (and had the body of Mrs. Butterworth’s and the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man’s love child to prove it.)
Looking back I would say things started going down hill right after I broke my arm. My brain also kinda broke, in that anxiety and stress started to spiral out of control. I would freak out if I didn’t check my inbox every 30 minutes for fear I missed something important. I obsessed over details of my day, analyzing conversations, trying to derive meaning from punctuations. My datebook was so full of appointments I ran out of room most weeks of the month. I cringed every time my phone rang out of fear of who could be calling. Physically, emotionally, mentally I was just exhausted. Things got out of hand, it was one of those times where I actually was totally jealous of those people who go missing and are later found alive lying in drainage ditches. After all, nobody ever asks when those people are going to be done with their writing, because, duh, they were in a damn drainage ditch!
The one bright side of breaking my arm was that I met my insurance deductible, and, to stick it to the man I decided to see every single physician I could schedule. *Basically free healthcare! Thanks, Obama.
(* $3,000 out of pocket is not free.)
Three things I found out after the first round of my great free healthcare experiment:
- I had the white blood cell count of a 80 year old pneumonia patient with a heart condition that’s also addicted to speed
- Shingles are freaking ugly and will certainly make you think that you might be turning into a dinosaur (you are not, but you will wish it was that instead – ouch)
- There’s some questionable wonky cells taking up residence in my body that needed to be cut out with a tiny melon-baller, basically
I asked if any of these were caused by a semi-concerning diet coke addiction. All of the wonderful medical doctors said no. But they all said that all of the added stress needed to go… Immediately.
My stupid ornery brain tripped up on that for a few days. I totally have all my crap together, I thought. Except, that was the opposite. Like 100% the complete opposite. Like comically. I feel sorry for me. My brain may want to throw a rager and push this janky old body to its limits, like thinking it could spend every evening out rolling on molly with Miley Cyrus or something, but I had to make a concerted effort to turnt down (As said in ‘Lil Jon’s voice.)
I had to take a few things off my plate of responsibility, including a job that I loved and other things that in a different season would be great to be a part of again. That was tough. I still don’t know if I will ever be 100% confident in those decisions, but at the same time it had to be done. Being alive is still one of my favorite things about myself, possibly my favorite. (We will work on self-esteem later.)
So when people are all, you turnt down for what? (LOL, at the idea of that happening in real life.) I can tell them I did it for my children. I might be the world’s okayest mom, but my children will always be able to say that at least I tried to stay alive. Alive long enough to die at 400 pounds choking on a chicken leg when I’m 80 years old because I want to 1) die painlessly 2) die doing what I love 3) at least outlive 3/4 of my family, screw you, genetics!