Momma Mia, Mea Culpa

57 days ago life as I knew it ended. And it ended very sadly from an extremely painful breakup. And then I realized the only way to find my way back to ME was to start writing/blogging again with weekly progress updates.

The past week went a little like this:

Monday, I cleaned the house, did the laundry, took out the trash, and all that jazz. Then I wrote a new blog post and I even found the courage to announce my business idea.

But by Tuesday? Every one of my insecurities and total self-doubt crept in. My biggest problem right now is that I don’t believe in myself. At. All. I’m having major confidence issues. And I feel like I have ZERO self-worth.

For example: If I were to walk into a stranger’s house to start a cleaning job, I wouldn’t be nervous at all. But the mere idea of meeting a stranger as a prospective “client” for my “own business” scares the living shit out of me.

And my therapist helped me figure out why.

Because I tried so hard, and because I did so much in my last relationship, only to fail. No matter what I said or did nothing was ever good enough. And the fact that it was so easy for all three of them to discard me so quickly – after everything I’ve done – is BY FAR the most painful of all. The fact that I meant so little to them, the fact that they think so little of me, and the fact that I feel completely disposable, like a piece of garbage, will most definitely destroy ones self-worth.

Apparently, according to my therapist, I am confusing my own self-worth with the notion that I failed, because the relationship failed. I’ve been blaming myself and beating myself up – when in reality – I desperately tried to fix things. But since no one else wanted to fix things with me, getting out of that unhealthy environment was a successful move and not a failure.

I am still in the “Little Victory Phase” because the last six months of my relationship was so incredibly bad; I literally could not get out of bed, sometimes for days on end. I was miserable, mean, nasty, sick all of the time, hung over, and incapable of the smallest task. I couldn’t even talk to my own mother, because I couldn’t face her, because then she would know just how bad things had gotten. I was hiding from everyone, completely isolating myself. And that only drove me deeper into depression.

So, for the past 57 days waking up at 7 o’clock in the morning, getting out of bed, taking a shower, putting on real clothes, leaving the house, surrounding myself with family and friends, writing, taking care of my health, cooking, shopping, going out for lunches and dinners, or basically accomplishing ANYTHING, before going to sleep at 11 o’clock at night – is quite frankly – a fucking miracle.

And I need to keep remembering that. Small steps, even baby-steps, really DO matter.

Wednesday was “Pay The Bills” day. And, um, that was even scarier than I thought it would be. I immediately doubted myself again and started questioning every single decision I’ve made over the past 57 days. “Did I make a mistake by taking on this condo?” “Am I a fool for thinking I could pull this off?” “Should I just move back in with my parents?”

But then, I remembered I always do betterwhen there’s a proverbial gun to my head. And then I grew a fire in my belly. And then I paid all of my own bills, with all of my own money, and that felt kind of awesome.

And then I remembered I’ve rebuilt my life before, and I can do it again, and this time it might be better than before, because I’m older, and wiser, and working to become stronger than ever.
 

Thursday turned out to be a much better day. My mother, god bless her hoarding heart, asked me to help her organize her garage. Of course I agreed because she’s my mother and I’ve wanted to get my hands on that space for many years now. But I mostly jumped at the chance to test my abilities and to prove to myself that I am capable of starting my own Professional Organizing business.

While hauling trash and other items to be donated out from the garage, my mother’s neighbor saw what I was doing. She was so impressed with the transformation that she HIRED ME ON THE SPOT to come help her get organized before moving to North Carolina! So I’ll be doing my first REAL estimate, next week, and I am taking on my first REAL client!

Screw you, self-doubt!

By Friday, my body was wickedly sore from running up and down ladders and hauling/moving/sorting/organizing items that weighed more than me. My hands were swollen from Rheumatoid Arthritis and my feet looked like balloons. However those physical pains were almost happy pains, comforting pains, because I haven’t felt such sense of personal accomplishment or even such a sense of hope in a very, very, very long time.

Even though I felt like complete shit, I refused to be ‘man-down’ or stay in bed. Instead, I got up, I got dressed, and I went to my dermatologist for a laser therapy facial treatment. Then I went grocery shopping – alone – for the first time in three years and I was able to buy everything I needed for less than a hundred bucks!

That afternoon and all through the evening I worked on my best friend Tiffany’s website. So if anyone in NYC, NJ, or PA, is interested in getting the best hair EVER contact her let her know Meleah sent you!

Saturday morning, at 3:30am, I woke up SCREAMING from THE WORST NIGHTMARE EVER. I dreamt that I was completely naked, in the middle of the woods, gagged with duct tape, my hands behind my back, bound with twine, and tied to a tree, while being skinned alive, but I couldn’t see WHO was holding the knife.

It was the most vivid and terrifying dream I’ve ever had in my entire life. When I sprung out of bed, I couldn’t stop crying FOR HOURS. I couldn’t get that image out of my head. And I was totally afraid to go back to sleep. Thank goodness a few people reached out to me on Facebook with sage advice on how to cope with such alarming feelings. Once the sun started shinning, and I finally caught my breath, I grabbed my computer and put on my old favorite TV show SCRUBS and I went back to sleep.

My therapist warned me. She told me there would come a time – when I felt settled or safe enough – that my feelings would come out whether or not I wanted them too. And she warned me that I might actually collapse from sheer exhaustion after the adrenaline wore off. And I think my nightmare is proof she was right.

When I re-awoke, I decided to TAKE THE DAY OFF. I decided to LET MYSELF collapse. I allowed myself to STOP running, and doing, and being, and working, and proving, and planning, and over-thinking, and over-analyzing. Instead? I watched TV. I ordered-in. And I took a candle-lit bubble bath. Completely. Uninterrupted. And it was wonderful.

Sunday, morning I had a huge breakfast with my son, JCH, who surprised me by showing up the night before. It was as if his radar went off and he knew I didn’t want to be alone.  We caught up, we gossiped, we talked about what’s going to happen after he GRADUATES from Rutgers University and moves back home on Mother’s Day. And then we laughed, and laughed and laughed.

And then I wrote this blog post. And then I updated my ‘business’ blog. If you would like to see how my mom’s garage turned out, please feel free to visit the main website aptly titled ‘OCDWITHME’ or feel free to click HERE to go directly to the before/after photos!

And that’s a wrap folks!

See you next week – for the 4^thand final installment – of the Post Breakup Series.