The Struggle With Being Strong

This has been on my mind for a few weeks now, but I've been too busy to sit down and write it all out.

I hate being strong. There, I've said it. What, why?! Trust and believe, I understand that it's a compliment, a testament to how I inspire others. A single mom of three boys who knows firsthand what it's like to stand in line in the rain waiting for a food pantry to open, exactly how it feels when you have to sell off furniture to make rent, the pain of having to beg someone who repeatedly hurts you for help just to survive, and knows the reality of simply not being enough. Yep, that's me. And did I mention I've done all this why managing my mental health? Yep. Truth is, I don't know how I do it. I just do. So many people call me strong, but I wouldn't call myself that. If anything, I'm survivor. I simply refuse to be a victim. I refuse to give up. I don't know how to just give up. I'm not of the mind to "let go and let God." I see it like this, God made me who I am by equipping me with a strong sense of survival. And that's exactly what I do. Survive. Yes, I know, I know it's strength. But I hate being called "strong".

Why? Because it makes me feel like I'm not allowed to be weak. Like I'm not allowed to have meltdowns and feel overwhelmed. Because believe me, I do. When my body stops being on the same page as my mind, I feel weak. When trying to juggle my busy schedule of  being a single mom plus sole breadwinner collide, I feel overwhelmed. And sometimes I just can't do it all. I'm human! Society has this grand idea that moms are supposed to be able to do everything. But wait a minute, aren't women supposed to be the weaker sex? So when everything doesn't get done, I find myself feeling like shit. But, wait I'm not supposed to feel that way because I'm mom. I'm super human. I'm supposed to be able to do every single damn thing all while wearing a smile.

The truth of the matter is sometimes my children eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with fruit and a glass of milk for dinner instead of a well balanced home cooked meal. Sometimes I just say fuck it and put on a movie for my kids so I can catch a nap instead of taking them to the park for quality family time. Sometimes I wait until we only have condiments and crackers to go grocery shopping instead of making sure my pantry is fully stocked at all times.

Sometimes I cry in the shower. Sometimes I cry myself to sleep. Sometimes I cry in my car. Sometimes I just simply acknowledge I am not some superhuman machine and that I am weak.

Now this doesn't take away from my accomplishments or the fact that I truly am making shit happen. No, it doesn't negate any of this. But, I hate that sometimes I fall victim to feeling like I have to do XYZ because this is what strong women do. No, it's not. I am a strong woman. I persevere.I go on. When the going gets tough, I just deal with it in the moment. It's who I am. I struggle with being strong, but I don't know any other way. And, I'm okay with that.

The Fault in Our Stars Review

I don’t know if you know this about me, but as much as I love to read I don’t do reviews. I simply don’t. It’s very rare that I write them now that I’m over the age of 13 and they are no longer required for a grade. Chillax. I’m not saying people who write reviews are wasting their time. I actually really appreciate those people because they  spare me the burden of having to put my thoughts to paper on a book.

Something you may know about me, my reading is personal. I tend to get overly involved in the lives of the characters I read. I cry, laugh, smile, and kick ass with them. When their friend or family dies, I feel it right there with them. Hell, I’m still mourning the death of Madoc of Powys who delighted me in A Moment in Time by Bertice Small. A book from 1991. And don’t even get me started on Kisten from The Hollows series by Kim Harrison. My heart still hurts over that like it happened yesterday.
 

So anyway, my reading is personal. I have no problem discussing a book, its characters, its plot, what the author was trying to say, etc. But when it comes to sitting down and actually reviewing about and saying while I loved or hated it. Unless, I really really hated it. It’s simply something I don’t do. I like to keep my characters to myself and let others decide for themselves whether that character does it for them. 

If you follow me on Goodreads, you’ll see me rate books with the star rating and that’s it. This might also be why it’s taken me almost 2 years to finish writing THE REVIEW for my friend Phil on a series he loaned to me. Seriously, it’s turned into pretty much a book report. In my defense, it started off as a joke between my friend Gwen and I. Phil is very passionate. Goodness that man is so passionate it drives me crazy (the good kind of crazy). I love how enthusiastic he is and how he lights up from the inside when he loves something. It reminds me of one of my boys when they get a new gift. Anyway, he asked me nearly every single time I saw him what I thought of so and so and this scene and that scene. To the point where I just said to Gwen “you know what? I’m going to write him a report. Typed and double spaced. And put it all in a binder.” The idea was brilliant. Especially since I know he would actually read it. And I still plan to do it. One day. Anyway, it’s very rare that I’ll write a review. 

So anyway, countless people have asked me from friends to coworkers to what I think about The Fault in Our Stars by John Green.  Because I needed a blog post for today and I legitimately felt like answering it, below is my review:

The Fault in Our Stars

Have you ever cried to the point where your stomach hurt? To the point where you felt so weak and utterly exhausted? To where you just felt completely empty? Drained of all emotion? This is what TFOS did to me. It left me raw. I finished the book around 12am and it took me an hour or two to fall asleep after I closed the book and placed it on my bookshelf. It’s not that TFOS made me cry. Or that it made me smile. It made me reflect. My dad died of cancer similar to one of the characters in the book and that broke me. I spent a lot of time thinking back on how I spent the last year of my Dad’s life. Was I like Hazel’s parents? Hovering, overly involved, annoying? Was I like Gus’s parents? Trying to let him live his life? Involved, but distant? To be fair, the book made me laugh way more than it made me cry. It’s a very honest, very raw account of what it’s like to live with cancer. Which I thoroughly enjoyed, especially since so many books get it wrong by telling the story of what it’s like to have cancer.  Big difference in my opinion. There were some “A-ha!” moments and some “seriously?!” moments to which all I enjoyed. I gave the book four out of five stars because honestly, I just haven’t read a book that meets my high standards in order to receive a five. Oh they are out there; I’ve read many of them, just not all of them. Anyway, the book was touching, sweet, sincere, and raw. The book touched me deeply to the point where I have no idea which direction I want to go next. 

Popping Squats: The New Way to Communicate

So at the end of March, I was talking to coworkers and we were lamenting over how much we sit all day. On average, I work 10 hour days, come home and log on for another 2-3 hours, and I unwind by watching 1-2 hours of TV. So let's say 13* hours a day I'm sitting. 13 x 5 (work week), that's 65 hours I'm sitting during the work week. On average, I sleep about 5 hours during the week. That's 25 hours. So of the 120 hours during the week, in the time that I'm awake which is 95 hours, I'm sitting for 65 of those hours. Seriously. WHAT THE FUCK?! Right?!

That means I'm only actively moving for 30 hours a week! That's crazy! I know! So I was like "Bob, that's re-damn-diculous! We need to fix that". So we started joking around about silly shit we could do to move more. And my genius self said "we should pop squats after every email we send". Everybody was like "Yeah!!! That sounds AWESOME! Let's do it!!" So we all made a pact that we would start popping squats after every email sent starting April 7th. We pushed the start date until then because I was going on vacation the next week and we all wanted to start together. Solidarity and all that jazz.

So come Monday, April 7th, we were ALL psyched about our new get fit program. Bob kicked it off, then I went next, one by one we all got into the routine. Ain't none of think that shit through! Nope. We were so busy thinking about how awesome we were that nobody did the math on how many emails would equal squats. At first we were all like "woo!!! squat time!" then by that 10th squat we were dragging a bit. Then by the time we made it to our 20th squat, I was like fuck this shit. But guess what? It was only 9am. YES!!! Only one damn hour had passed. And I still had until 5pm?! Hell to the naw! My body was BURNING!! So I tried to get creative, every customer who emailed me I picked up the phone and called them right away instead of sending an email. Hell, customers who were like Makita, you can just email. I was like nah, let me upload it to your page and you'll be able to access it that way. For real, by 10am I was crying out for Mary, Jesus, and Joseph. Shoot, I was crying out for that little lamb that be in half them Jesus paintings.

Random, but doesn't Jared Leto now look like Funny Jesus?

By 11am, my manager came over and asked us what we were doing. She said we had never made this many phone calls ever. Shoot, we were all giving the best customer experience that day. No email was not important that day! So we went back to the drawing board and decided that 1 email = 1 squat was re-damn-diculous and that 5 emails = 2 squats. Much better, much more doable. So now, I'm averaging about 20-25 squats throughout the day while at work. Next month we move up to 5 emails = 4 squats. Cause you know, you gotta keep progressing.


*Also includes time I am sitting down to a meal/driving/activities generally performed sititng

30 Day Fitness Challenge...Here We Go Again

Did I ever tell y'all how I have a serious addiction to workout DVDs? No, seriously, I'm not joking. I have everything from Sweating with the Spirit (yes, you read that right. Workouts set to gospel music) to damn near every single TaeBo workout ever made. Throw in some Pilates, Pole Dancing, Jillian Micheal's and every other workout you can think of. True story, they all work. I'd swear by each and every one of them. Have a lost weight using them? Yep. Do I enjoy doing them?

Well...

I do. Until the novelty wears out. But does that stop me from buying them, swearing this time will be different? Nope. But now, I've gotten addicted to these fitness memes going around. Especially all the 30 day challenge ones. Cause you know, 30 days is all it takes to get fit. Yep. In 30 days from now, your ass is going to be beach ready. Right...cause it only takes 30 days to undo all the bad habits you've developed over the years. As cynical as I am, I still love these things. I don't know why. I know I'm not going to be looking sick like Serena Williams in 30 days, yet I still do the daily goal. I give myself no false hope. I guess they're just fun. But here's where my addiction kicks in. I don't just stop once the 30 days is over. I keep going. Sometimes, I do the same 30 days challenge, sometimes I mix it up and start a new one. At times, I've done two in the same 30 day period. I'm currently doing the 30 day plank challenge and the 30 day little black dress challenge.

 Besides, saving a meme and then printing it out is a hell of a lot cheaper than buying another workout DVD.

Heaven help me if they ever start making DVDs of these 30 day challenges. Oh, wait. They do. And I already have like 6 of them. No further comment.

Today, My Heart Opened Up and I Cried

Today was such a bad day for me emotionally and physically. I woke up in a lot of pain from the retrolisthesis. What's that? I have a vertebrae in my lower back that is pushed inward instead of aligned with the rest of my spine. What does that mean? It means my hip and lower back take turns agonizing me. And sometimes, like today, they decide to play together. When my arm started tingling I had a panic attack. Which was definitely not good.

I started playing the What If game. Despite the fact that I just saw my orthopedic surgeon two days ago, I managed to work myself into a frenzy. Completely ignoring his "Makita, honey you're doing great! Look at all that new bone growing!" I'm healing very nicely, I can't believe it's been nearly six months since I went under for the surgery. It's crazy how time flies.

Anyway, back to my sucky day. So I was in pain physically and emotionally my heart felt drained. I miss my boys. Yes, I always miss my boys when they are with their father, but this weekend just seems LONG. And I know it's because of Easter and the fact I haven't spent Easter with them since 2010, but still it just kind of all ganged up on me today.

To make matters worse, my stupid bank sent me a new card all because they want to protect me from merchants with shitty security standards. Gee thanks bank. You know what would have been super helpful? If you had told ME ahead of time. Imagine my horror at trying to pay my bills online only to keep having my card declined. It didn't help that when I called my electric company, the representative was a total asshole. Thank you Everything Electricity, I will NOT be renewing with you. Anyway, I called the bank and they told me that they sent me a new card, but my current one should still be useable. Wrong. So I try to use my back up card. Guess what? It's also not working. I called them to find out what's happening because I can SEE MY MONEY in my account but I can't use. Guess what? Trying to get to a live person to speak to was like trying to find Waldo in a SuperBowl crowd. I got frustrated and started pushing buttons hoping one would connect me to a live person.

Wrong.

Somehow, I selected fraud activity and managed to deactivate that card. I lost my shit and just burst into tears. I'm now in physical pain, lonely, hungry, and penniless. I sat in the break room and just bawled. I cried because I was in pain. I cried because I was lonely. I cried because I was hungry. I cried because I was frustrated with the bank and myself for not carrying cash. I cried until I just couldn't cry anymore. And when I could, I cried some more.

The sad thing to me is not one single person stopped and asked me if I was okay. I work in building with at least two to three hundred people. Not one of them stopped.

Except my TSR, who is now my work husband.

He didn't say a single thing, just pulled me into his arms and let me cry. And it wasn't a pretty cry either. No, it was one of those body shaking cries that leaves you ready for a nap. He held me until I couldn't cry anymore, listened to me, and then gave me cash so I could do little things like get gas and food. To say I love this man would be an understatement. It's crazy because when we first started working together, he annoyed me. He's hyper at times. Okay, he's hyper ALL the time. But, he great. And he's a solid person. Most of all, he knows how much I hate asking for help. He knows how "strong" I like to be and not a damsel in distress. He knows my pride sometimes gets in my way. He knows my moods. He knows when to leave me alone and run for the hills. And when to comfort me and not to let me wander off alone.

He knows all that and still manages to me one of my very best friends.

I hate crying at work. Of all the places in the world, work in the last place I ever want to cry. I try to save my crying for my lunch break when I can go home and cry in solitude. Or at the very least my car where I can turn the volume all the way up and pretend I'm invisible.

Today, my heart opened up and I cried. And I had a friend to help me through it.