Getting rid of emotional clutter

I have been churning through a lot of emotions while going through stuff. I’ve been in the house for over a decade and there are a lot of memories. There are also things that have moved a number of times in my life which I am determined to pare down if not get rid of completely because I don’t need them anymore. Emotional triggers are all over the place, and I feel a need to face and conquer the negative ones so that can’t hurt me again.

I only have a few items that belonged to my mother, and am loathe to part with them. While passing something I was suddenly reminded of something that her stepmom told me some years after my mom had passed away. She told me that having me killed her. That’s something I took to heart and didn’t question. I thought it was one of those things that simply hadn’t been said because kids get shielded from so much of life. I finally unpacked that and have come to the conclusion that it’s not actually true. It implied either some harmful intention on my part from wanting to be born and/or martyrdom on my mom’s side for choosing to have children. While it is certainly true there is often a taboo about speaking ill of the dead, that is no reason to vilify the living.

Now, it is true that my mom had complications with a number of pregnancies. My sibling and I survived yet others were miscarried. I have visible defects from poorly managed blood sugar levels in the early weeks of pregnancy. There were other complications due to diabetes and heart disease. Yet there were also other factors in why she died at the age of 37. She did not die in childbirth. Perhaps there was more strain on her body and heart, and pregnancy took some time off her life. Yet why on earth would anyone tell a child that by existing they hurt much less killed their mother? It’s possible my granny resented her husband’s first marriage and kids. Maybe she was bitter about things. For the most part she was kind and hospitable the few times they visited our home or us theirs, they lived pretty far away. I never knew them well, yet I know there were tough aspects of their lives. I hold no malice about that conversation, yet I am ready to let go of the guilt it triggered within me.

Moving right along

I rented a moving truck and we moved some large furniture pieces. Now I have more room to sort through accumulated items and stage them for relocation, redistribution, recycling, and other forms of disposal. Once more things are gone I’ll be able to focus on maintenance and repair, deep cleaning, and painting. While it is important progress it was bittersweet as it is hard to prepare to say goodbye to what was a good home for many years.

I’m still finding it difficult to compartmentalize some feelings. I find myself silently crying at odd times.  It is a little difficult to be around people who are polite, nice, and friendly while I feel like my world is changing rapidly. I feel a desperate need for change. I do have positive things and people in my life that I hope will be a greater part of my future. Fitting into a new place is a challenge. Growth isn’t always easy.

I am too easily distracted by things like books, photos, memorabilia, and more. I forget to drink enough water or eat. My stomach is in knots a lot. Sometimes it helps to play music or have a show playing on TV, and other times I need it to be quiet. Life feels like an erratic, chaotic mess when what I need is stability and calm. There are always moments of calm, even on the roughest thrill ride, yet sometimes they are few and far between.

 

Treading water and doing no harm

My feelings fluctuate throughout the days. I ask myself countless times if I’ve done the right thing. I worry about my ex and go back and forth over whether I’m doing to much or too little to keep things from becoming toxic for either of us.

It seemed like a good idea to go from being partners to being housemates. The house has enough room and it would allow things to remain relatively unchanged for my kid who cares a lot about my ex. Logistically it has been challenging. Emotionally it is heart-wrenching. How does one grieve a relationship when seeing the ex almost daily?

Months later I still feel the pain of betrayal. I get angry. I do what I can to stay calm when around the others and grieve on my own time. I feel guilty for not being able to forgive repeated transgressions, accepting apologies, and doing whatever it takes to make things work. I know relationships are hard, and sacrifices are necessary at times. Yet I am not willing to sacrifice my needs and accept lying, cheating, and disrespect of me. I feel like i owe it to myself and to my child to insist on honesty and fair treatment, yet I still feel like it is my fault for not doing more, being more, or otherwise continuing the relationship.

My ex has tried for weeks to avoid all of the problematic behaviors. I seem them hating themself, being incredibly sad, and trying to make amends. I am worried they will spiral into a depression without support and as much stability as I can allow. I observe a lack of self-care on their part. I see them taking blame, feeling like they have screwed up yet another relationship and that they will never be happy with their life. When words have been heated and hurtful things said to me, I haven’t been able to defend myself well. I don’t want to do any emotional damage to someone who has clearly been blamed and hurt and taught that they do not matter.

So it is hard to be at home. I hold a lot in, and do what I can to be supportive as things change.

I keep buying things they need or might like. I send them off to a convention to meet a childhood hero and have a fabulous weekend with a friend. I do extra chores. I initiate conversations asking about their progress on stated goals for recovery. I exhaust myself keeping the waters smooth and try to think of how to let go of the guilt. I wonder if I’m being stupid to think that we can work out something mutually beneficial, at least for a while as we figure out what directions our lives should take next.

Part of me wants to rage, yet I cannot. I can barely cry. I am too busy living a crisis. I suspect it is not good for me, and I make efforts to reduce stress and enjoy things away from home without being neglectful. I think I have a working balance, yet if feels like I’m balanced on the edge of a sword.

What’s with men who act like Pepe Le Pew?

I’ve always had mixed emotions about being back on the market so to speak when it comes to dating. There’s excitement about meeting new people. There’s lingering sadness about having had to say goodbye to someone I loved. It’s a challenging wave pool to re-enter.

It amazes me the amount of effort some men can put into pursuing a woman before scampering off like their tail is on fire if/when she decides to give him a chance. Perhaps the thrill of the chase is enough for them despite the countless assertions that they sincerely want more.

My most recent Le Pew scenario took a very long time to come to an end. We met online, as one does, and exchanged a number of messages before a reasonably nice meeting at a local bookstore. We went our separate ways, chatted on the phone and online, and for various reasons didn’t logistically work out meeting up again before I entered into a dedicated monogamous relationship with someone else. My Pepe was respectful yet persistent in friendly inquiries and compliments on and off for over four years. When I was single again I messaged a friendly hello and his response indicated his ongoing interest in getting together with me. Yet this time when I was agreeable he ghosted. A week or so later he not only hadn’t replied to me he had modified his interests to indicate he’s looking for someone with very different characteristics and interests.

I wasn’t terribly invested given that he’d always espoused wanting to keep things casual with anyone (and had with someone else over the years). I was mildly disappointed, yet not insulted or hurt.  It was mostly perplexing given numerous common interests we’d discussed at length and his committed determination. I doubt he will suddenly find himself with the type of (younger) person he seems to be searching for and the serious relationship he claims to now be seeking, yet I also don’t care too much either way. It might have been fun, and certainly seemed a worthwhile pursuit at the time, yet I have no patience for those kinds of games.

While I can’t say I fully understand the Pepe Le Pews, I can say they stink.

Wheat versus chaff

As I continue sorting through items that have accumulated in my home the hardest part remains processing the associated emotions. I have tried a few techniques to make it easier. I’ve tried holding the item and saying goodbye, or thanking it for the purpose it has served in my life. I’ve taken pictures sometimes. I’ve let myself feel the joys and pains of remembering those I was with or whose items they were. Sometimes it’s a matter of forgiving myself for a purchase that didn’t work out the way I thought it would.

I’ve found it is easier to let go of things that will likely be used again. Things like toys, gently used clothes, or kid items that will be donated to a local community organization. It is much harder for me to throw away something that has been worn out or soiled to the point it should not be donated.

It hurts to find things that were purchased yet never used or gifted because someone left my life or circumstances changed to the point where it no longer seemed appropriate. Such items are usually easily donated, yet I again find myself forgiving myself for having made the investment in the first place. It isn’t that I regret them, more that it increases the sense of loss.

I keep having to tell myself that many of these are not things that I need, and that it is okay to let them go. There are useful items that I have trouble deciding about, too, yet those are easier to pare down. Taking the time to ponder how much I actually like an item versus whether I’m keeping it simply because it could potentially be useful helps me with those determinations.

Memories are potent. Sometimes I need to take a break. Overall I am making progress; that’s the important thing.

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

I have had some reasonably successful long-term relationships in my life. Some were marriages, others were not. Some breaks were a lot cleaner than others. I’ve had some intermittent relationships and possibly more than my fair share of dating fiascos. I was 18 when I first married and though it lasted several years I assure you it was a mistake and I was naive and ignorant at the time. I’ve initiated some breakups and been blindsided by others. It’s never an easy or fun thing to go through regardless. Staying amicable when trust has been broken is difficult, everyone copes differently, and every situation is a bit different. I’ve been trying to identify any trends in my reactions, so here are some observations.

I feel guilty regardless. If it ended because my partner cheated on me, I feel as though I must have given them cause or not been meeting their needs. If I broke it off, I feel bad for hurting them. Even when things end by nature of mutual choice because of logistics or it no longer being mutually beneficial I feel terribly responsible. A symptom of this is that during the immediate aftermath I go out of my way to make life better and easy for my now ex partner. I’ll continue shopping for them whether it’s snacks or clothes. I’ll buy them things. I’ll do extra chores. It’s possible that in some situations I’ve been concerned about triggering anger or violence and have erred on the side of compliance and sacrifice to keep things amicable. It’s like I have a great need to treat them well, even if they treated me badly. I don’t think it’s particularly healthy.

I end up with physical stuff. I don’t know if it’s sometimes a vain hope that they’ll get back together with me or they want some ongoing connection or what, yet I’ve ended up with clothes, toys, music, and more. It feels weird to have, and weirder still to get rid of right away. I don’t enjoy being reminded of them when I come across such things, especially from the marriages. Maybe it’s a subtle form of control or punishment that I have to deal with things they didn’t have time or space to manage. It sucks. It is literal baggage that nobody is paying me to store. Closets, basements, and garages all have ended up stuffed, and I feel like I should be billing my exes for storage and disposal fees. Worst of all is a bunch of crap my kid’s biodad foisted off “in case they want it when they are older.” I have enough other things to manage and organize without guilt over potentially nostalgic items from someone who left when they were two. Neither the kid nor I need cast-off goods simply because someone else didn’t take them. Oh, and “maybe you could sell them for extra money” was insulting as well. Leaving behind junk is not charity; I am not Goodwill -the labor of sorting and organizing for donation is not easy or fun.

I lose stuff. Somewhat ironic perhaps given the previous paragraph. I’ve lost equipment, movies, books, clothing, and more because I couldn’t say no when they asked for them or didn’t notice they were gone until it was too late. I’ve lost things in some moves which I would have returned if roles had been reversed (legal paperwork, childhood keepsakes, etc).

Everything is awkward for a while. Socially who knows and who doesn’t? I don’t want to put everything out there publicly nor talk about it over and over again. So I tend to withdraw at times when I really need support. This is one area where having the Internet has been helpful. I can post in forums where nobody knows me for advice if I need help or compassion. I can research and read what others have done in similar situations. It’s not easy, yet this does eventually improve.

My intent is not to cast a negative light on my prior partners, even those who took advantage of breakups to get rid of stuff and/or get things they liked. This is mostly me trying to identify what boundaries I may need in place in the future. Most of my former loves have been decent fellows. Courtesy can be in short supply when your heart hurts. While I seem to have a great need to take care of them, I definitely need to take even better care of myself.

So Much Stuff

I don’t think I’m a hoarder. While I have difficulty letting go of things I have seen worse situations. Though at some times I’ve lived in clutter to the point of having paths through a room instead of higher levels of organization, there are levels of filth and decomposition that I cannot tolerate. That might be a low bar to set, yet it is what it is. I don’t prefer a cluttered environment, much more the opposite. Sometimes it’s tough to dig out, though!

I tend to be non-confrontational. So I don’t often request much less insist that others clean up after themselves. This has led to a default at times of if I don’t do it, nobody will. Sometimes I think this is a problem of sexism, as most partners and housemates were used to their mothers doing such things. That applies for dishes, laundry, and a lot more.

I didn’t have that kind of example. Our organizational method was largely random. We all did laundry, dishes, and yard work fairly regularly as needed. Dishes, clothes, and books had consistent places to be yet many things did not. Our personal items went to our rooms and it didn’t much matter where once in them. When I moved to a home that didn’t have a linen closet I was pretty lost as to where to put the ones that weren’t in use. Having been raised with a mindset that if something isn’t broken you keep it in case you need it makes it tough to get rid of many things. I have seen this be a problem for my dad. While I value the frugality of making do with what one has and being prepared for harder times, there is literally too much, The cost of keeping things and the guilt of discarding them make for a constant battle.

I was never trained in how to set routines or organize anything. It is somewhat ironic that I have had to perform organizational and inventory related tasks for some of my jobs and did so successfully. Not knowing where certain things might belong or work best, and fearing that if something is put away out of sight I’ll forget where it is have both contributed to problems for me. A lack of training and support, compounded by repeated shaming from loved ones for not automatically knowing such things, has left me feeling inadequate, worthless, and hopeless. That isn’t meant as an excuse, because as an adult I know I can still learn, and change, and hope to live in an environment that is more peaceful and settled. It simply takes a lot to keep going when the process feels overwhelming on many levels.

 

Closeting My Emotions & Talking to Myself

I’m in the process of cleaning out a 1400 square foot home (plus basement and two car garage) and fitting stuff into a 980ish square foot home (unusable basement, leaky one car garage, small storage shed). I have a lot of stuff going back a few decades, not all of it collected by me. There are some things to which I have emotional attachments, like the piano that belonged to my mother. There are things that other people foisted on me in various ways like by moving out and saying “Oh, you can just keep that, I won’t have room). It is a tedious and extremely stressful process for me to sort through and get rid of things in general having been raised with a depression era mindset that you should keep everything in case you might need it later. Having memories of other people who are no longer in my life and having to get rid of things that were theirs makes it even harder. Frankly, it has been overwhelming at times and I’ve procrastinated too much.

So I began with a closet that was so stuffed it wouldn’t close properly.

How hard could it be? Let’s listen in as I converse with myself. For sake of clarity let’s limit this to two voices: Productive Me, referred to as PM, and Hesitant Me, referred to as HM.

PM: Okay. Let’s do this! [proceeds to remove paint cans, boxes, and some other stuff. Gets trash bag for actual trash, dust, dog hair, etc.] Wow, we haven’t had a dog in over three years. This is way overdue. [continues by removing some coats, accessories, and more] Alright, let’s see if we can close this door now! [door slides over, dips down, and rests at an awkward angle against frame, leaving a gap.]

HM: It’s broken. *sigh*

PM: So we’ll fix it!

HM: We don’t know how it’s broken, or how to fix it. It always worked before!

PM: Are you serious? Fixing sliding closet doors was literally part of a full time job you had one summer during our college years. It’s probably a quick fix with a screwdriver.

HM: I don’t know. That was years ago. I’m not sure I remember. This is a different door. The hardware might be different.

PM: I’m pretty sure this house was built before those dorms were, and the tech used has not changed in decades. You can do this. Let’s get a light and a screwdriver! [begrudgingly, we do so and assess the door from within the closet.] Okay, so turning this would raise it, and tightening it should make it close flush with the frame. Oh! The plastic piece that allows for adjustments is missing. That explains it!

HM: Aw man. I think I remember finding that and throwing it away. [roots through closet] I don’t see it. It’s gone. We’ll need a replacement. This makes everything look bad. This is terrible. I am horrible at home maintenance. I’ve neglected things. I shouldn’t have thrown away that piece.

PM: Dude, get a grip. Seriously. You and I both know this is an easy fix once we have that part. It will be fine, even if we have to go to a hardware store and buy one. Maybe the other one broke off. You used to be confident about this stuff -you could probably do it half asleep! What the heck happened to you?

HM: I lived with a judgemental narcissist who belittled any mistakes, blamed me for his, and steadily eroded my self-esteem over the course of several years!

PM: …Uhm…..Uh…Well, I’m sorry to hear that? You didn’t deserve that, at all. You are okay. I know you can do this, and do it well. It isn’t difficult. I think we might have compatible hardware from a set of doors we removed from another house a couple of years ago. Let’s stop for now until we can figure that out.

HM: But now we have all this stuff in the hallway! It’s a mess! I made it all worse!

PM: We are the only ones here. Nobody else is going to see it. If somebody comes to the door we’ll pretend we aren’t here.

HM: Like that one time at Halloween when we didn’t have any candy?

PM: Exactly. I think you need a break. We’ll come back to it.

Amazingly enough, or perhaps not, a plastic piece of the needed variety was found within minutes of searching. Sadly, it was getting dark in the hallway as it was late in the evening.

HM: This isn’t working. I’ve tried several times and the light’s not bright enough. I’m tired of holding my arms over my head to try. The screw isn’t fitting into the back plate. We might need to take the door all the way off and use the other plate instead.

PM: I am pretty sure it’s the same sizing. Let’s try again in the morning!

Sure enough, the door was properly aligned in less than two minutes the next morning and once again closes flush with the door frame. Yay! I did know what I was doing!

The rest of the closet was cleared, and items that still need to be there are better organized. Coming across baby-proofing items on the shelf was frustrating because they could’ve been donated somewhere ten years ago, I’m unlikely to ever need such things again, and for being a reminder that I should have cleaned things out sooner. Finding wedding-related items, both decor and a full photo collage frame, let me feeling a bit ill. I feel obligated to keep the photos at least for now. Oh well. One closet down, a whole lot more to go.

The Battle Continues

Since my prediabetic diagnosis I’ve learned a lot and tried a lot of different things to both reduce my weight and to improve how my body processes carbohydrates. My brother seems to be managing Type 2 okay with medications though his weight is concerning. My father, in his upper 70s, takes a variety of medications and his kidney function has decreased. Neither of them makes much effort to restrict their eating. I cannot force anyone to eat differently, yet am pleased to report that my health markers have been improving.

I did not see much change by restricting my food intake and increasing exercise. Following the program I’ve used before did not yield results. I gained weight up to 249 pounds, and was at 245 by March of 2017.

During the spring of 2017 I began eating low carb, aiming for 20 carbs or less on most days or around 10% of overall food intake. I slowly saw weight going away and dropped a couple of clothing sizes by fall. Then I discovered intermittent fasting and Dr. Jason Fung. Following recommendations from his books The Obesity Code and The Diabetes Code I have not only dropped more weight and size I have also lowered my hbA1c to 5.8 -the highest recorded for me was 6.3. The biggest factor has been hormonal. Severely restricting sweets and only eating during a limited window on most days has made a huge difference for me. I still eat to satisfaction when I eat, and I don’t eat “diet” food. When I do eat significant amounts of carbohydrates my body is able to process them more efficiently and I have not seen blood sugar levels above the 120s in quite some time. My fasting blood sugar level is usually between 90-110, so that is still on the high side. What has amazed me most is that my blood sugar levels stay more stable, and I have not had much in the way of spikes or sudden drops. Most other health markers, lipids, kidney function, etc, have also seen improvement and my fitness has improved.

New opponent: diabetes

Actually, though it’s new to me, my family has been devastated by this disease for decades. My mom died in 1977 from related complications. My father and brother have both had symptoms and been modifying their lifestyles in different ways for years. Mom was diagnosed when she went into a coma at the age of 8. I don’t know what her blood sugar levels were then, yet it was enough to identify her as a Type 1 diabetic. It filled her life with an ongoing cycle of blood sugar highs and lows, insulin injections and other medications, and eventually severe heart disease. She survived two heart attacks, and a stroke on the night she was to come home from one of them (coincidentally one of my father’s birthdays). She came home paralyzed in her left arm. Her eyesight worsened and she went blind a few years before she died. You may have some difficulty imagining what it’s like for children to watch a parent dying, or to watch a spouse lose their quality of life and be in and out of the hospital. Be assured that it affected all of us very profoundly. Though diabetes monitoring and management has made tremendous strides in the past four decades, to us it has loomed like the specter of death itself.

I was checked for diabetes periodically as a child, and occasionally as an adult, with no sign of it through my 20s or 30s. I started to gradually gain weight as I transitioned to a more sedentary lifestyle studying in college and beginning a career. I didn’t look bad, and I was fairly fit, yet I knew I was overweight.

Not long after getting married I discovered and used a very comprehensive eating and exercise plan to reduce my weight from 193 to 136 pounds. I wore clothes I’d worn in high school over a decade prior and I was healthy and fit. Then, despite eating healthy and still exercising, I gained most of that weight back during a pregnancy. I weighed 172 pounds a few months after my child was born. That didn’t change much while being at home nursing and caring for the baby for a couple of years. Yet then my husband left us, and I had to make a lot of changes and shift priorities.

I compromised my healthy eating habits, a little at a time, thinking I could always go back and drop weight again when life calmed down and we were more financially stable. I’d be able to restart an exercise regimen without being regularly interrupted when the kid was older. I was naive at best and possibly lying to myself.

It hasn’t quite been ten years since I uprooted our lives. Despite uncountable attempts to reduce my size and weight I have instead gained and gained a lot. This year, without making any serious changes and eating relatively healthy most of the time I have gained over 20 pounds. I don’t have the energy that I once did, yet am still moderately active. I weigh 235 pounds according to my doctor’s scale. While my heart related vitals are good, my body no longer processes carbohydrates well. So it is clearly past time for a change.

Due to some concerns for the potential effects on my kidneys I do not want to follow a low carb protein based diet at this time. I’ve previously gone for long stretches of time without eating much in the way of meat in the past and felt fine doing so. Yet correcting a carbohydrate-related disease by primarily eating carbohydrates doesn’t seem logical. I want to steer clear of highly processed foods completely as I don’t find them satisfying and I want to eat simple, healthy foods. I’ll be meeting with a dietitian in the weeks ahead to discuss my options, and hope that I’ll get some helpful guidance.

For now I’m keeping track of what I eat, and sometimes checking my blood sugar. I’m seeking a decent understanding of how I feel at different blood sugars so I’ll be able to recognize the fluctuations and control them with foods. I’m “only” in pre-diabetic ranges so I have a shot at staying off of medications for a while, possibly for good if I return to a healthy size and weight.

Diabetes took my mother from me far too young. I don’t want that for my child.