When it rains, it pours. Sometimes it shit storms.
About a month ago my live-in relationship had come to an end. Once lovers now strangers/friends/roommates? We tried harder than you should have to and it didn't work out. I was sad. I was relieved. I was scared. Thus began the rain.
I was able to use the money I had saved for a trip to Peru later this year, towards a down payment on a house. After some stressful clearing up of inaccuracies on my credit report (THANK YOU Student Loans!) I qualified to make an offer on a home. I found a "perfect" 1960's ranch with the best little sun porch (soon to be Spring/Summer studio), killer deck, and best of all, a large fenced in yard for my beloved pups. WINNING!
Until I got the inspection report...a nightmare-ish list: leaky roof, ungrounded electrical outlets, new furnace-needed and lots of plumbing band-aids, NOTHING up to code. As adorable as this "dream home" seemed, (did I mention the beautifully refinished hardwoods throughout?) I had to walk away, out four figures worth of general fees. OUCH. And then it pours.
Adding to this barrel of laughs, after a year of experimentation with my diet and digestive track (I even quit drinking!) my specialist had decided it was time for a colonoscopy. I eat a relatively clean diet, very little processed foods and hardly any sugar. I usually feel great. But now, sitting teary-eyed in the exam room, all I could do was imagine my insides riddled with cancer. Then my doctor said it, "You'll need to have someone bring you to the appointment and stay until it is done. Do you have a person?" Nope Doc, I sure don't. While my break-up had been amicable up to that point, this question put a big ol' spotlight on the place in my heart where "my person" no longer resided. The tears flowed like the poo soon would during my "procedure prep."
A vicious cycle: the break-up, the house buying excitement, and the uncertainty of where my two doggie girls and I will be staying after May 8th (my original closing date) all continue to add to my digestive distress, including stressing over what the colonoscopy results might entail.
While not always successful, practicing mindfulness has been my best friend. Also just learning to be a friend to myself has been helpful. Why is it so tough for me to be nice to me? Like a cliche sign from the social media heavens, I was grateful for this quote that popped up on my Instagram feed a few weeks back:
I miss the comforts of having "a person." I miss feeling in control (haha). I miss having an appetite and eating delicious food. I miss energy and getting through a Crossfit WOD without feeling like I am going to pass out. People have commented on my weight a lot recently, "I'm so sorry about your break-up, but at least you look fantastic!" My response, "Ya it's this thing where your body doesn't absorb nutrients and you feel like crap all the time, also YOU ARE CRAPPING ALL THE TIME." Don't get me wrong, I know people mean well and my friends and family have been amazingly supportive over the past month. Anyone receiving this response would expect nothing less than my brand of comedic sass. You can thank my parents.
So, I'm doing it. Tapping into myself, crying when I need to let it out, accepting the help people have offered graciously and unconditionally, and striving to be my own hero. I am getting my shit together, or out anyway? The funny thing about colonoscopies is that when you mention them, people come out of the woodwork with their own experiences. This has been so very comforting. I am making colonoscopy lemonade... no really, you have to drink this stuff to "prep" your system, and I am putting lemon flavoring in it. So bottom's up (pun SOOOO intended) and bring on the shit storm!
Because this is an "Art Blog" here is a donut I painted last week:
Special thanks to my Mom, Dad, Jenn, Katie, Tanya, Christine, Kristin, Kim, David, Todd B, my Crossfit Goliath peeps, my real estate agent Todd H, and my TJ's Family- heart you crazy 746'ers!