2023: The year to relearn to love myself.

Way back in 2015 I taught myself to “date myself” by doing whatever it was that I wanted… even if it meant doing it solo. I ran my first half marathon. I would take myself out to breakfast. I tried making friends. And getting to know my town. I started to make connections only to leave again. Appears to be my motto for life it would seem.

Somewhere along the way of the last (almost) decade, ouch, I lost my way again. I got hurt. A few times. And I built the walls thicker and higher as the years flew by. Every time I built a door, or window in the wall… I would get hurt again. And my fatal flaw is that I always blame myself. I blame me for letting in those that were just trojans waiting to watch me crumble.

Well… We’ve crumbled. The walls are up, and being rebuilt by the day. But the infrastructure of my life is in ruin. I have a job. I have school. I have my few long distance friendships. I struggle with new friendships still. But my core is rocked and eroded. I don’t know who I am anymore.

I can tell you signalment. I’m a 36yo single female that moved home at the end of 2022. I failed boarded in 2022. So can I honestly say I’m a Critical Care specialist without such a title? I don’t know anymore. I’m a 2nd going into 3rd year Acupuncture grad student. Although I’m hitting a slight pause on that loveliness this year. I’m a veterinarian… but one in need of a break. I say that year in and year out… but I’m not feeling “rested” after any break, or change. I’m a daughter. I have felt the guilt of not being there for my mom enough. Now I’m going to be underfoot and yet, I feel like that may bring her more stress. I want to heal her. Make her better. Keep her cancer free. But I fumbled at that lately. I feel more leech than helper. I’m a friend. But I’ve been so wrapped up in my life drama I suck at being a friend. I’m a pet owner, but sometimes I feel like I’ve let them down. Fi hates being here. I think H does better here than back home.

I guess I shouldn’t call that place home anymore. All that’s left in North County is my PO Box. I don’t feel Nevadian as my SIL called it. To be honest I don’t feel much of anything. I’m tired. The type of fatigue a nap, or good night’s sleep can’t fix. I’ve been home a week and I feel more depressed and sad by the day. Probably because I’m in my late thirties and moved home. While I did so to micromanage my mom’s healthcare, I also did so to give me a break from #ReggieTheRig.

People say that I’ll be stronger when this is all sorted, and figured out. But I actually feel weaker. Less capable. Less able to handle the stressors of life. All the money spent in the last month for “self care” and such… It’s money spent, but zero results. I don’t feel whole. I don’t feel sane. I don’t feel secure. safe. happy. healthy. I don’t feel capable of solving the problems, but I make do. I hang my head and patch another life hole. Duct Tape and super glue can only go so far though. Sometimes that creates new problems.

So this year I’m working on healing me. I’m trying to cut back on the shifts at work. And yet save for a house, retirement, etc. Bit of a pickle. I’m also trying to force myself to take a semester off over the summer if I want to sit boards one more time. I like the number 5. It’s been a favorite. Maybe 5 is my number. Ugh. I have to resit herbal comprehensives. And at some point I have to sit second year ends.

Sigh. I’m already stressing myself over listing out my todos. My rooms a disaster trying to cram my life into a single room. I’ve made a LOT of progress. But whenever I take out another box from the garage to pack away into my room it gets crowded again. I’m feeling the need to purge. Kinda feeling the purge and burn vibe. But what I’d like 2023 to be about is me cleansing my soul. Because what haunts me is my soul’s burnout. My soul is tired. So 2023 is me healing my soul. Finding my peace. And building a new foundation. Hope your 2023 is productive. prosperous. and above all else… healing. Happy New Year!