#lifeisgood

It usually annoys me when the youngsters say the word “hashtag” before something they are talking about or referring to. “Hashtag feminism.” “Hashtag yolo” or what ever ridiculous thing they are talking about.  Right now I am so obnoxiously happy that I am going there. “Hashtag life is good people!”

I moved into my new place last Monday.  I finally have my own place after two years of moving from roommates and boyfriends all over like a damn gypsy.    For those of you who haven’t read my blog before, I got diagnosed with bi-polar disorder about 3 years ago, went through a major depression and cycled through meds trying to pull out of it.  I had no support from my family and only a few friends and had a 2 years spiral to rock bottom.  Since being pennyless and homeless in March of this year, I have paid off $2700 in traffic tickets, got my license reinstated, got a job, a car and now an apartment of my own.

I was previously a project manager for a general contractor and had a career in construction spanning 2 decades.  I am back in the industry and enjoying it more than ever. Every day I wake up not only grateful to be back at work, but feeling self sufficient and more like my old self every day.

On a side note, the man who I thought was the love of my life (and I have struggled with getting over) is finally out of my life for good.  We have had a year long on and off again love affair.  I would usually be devastated and crying and depressed about the whole thing.  While I was a little angry, I’m actually relieved.  I am alright with the whole thing.  I feel a little stupid and used but I am still happy.  I am actually happy with myself and who I am a person and losing that relationship isn’t going to change it.  Probably for the first time in my life I am not letting my happiness hinge itself on a man.  I have a horrible habit of thinking I needed to be loved by another to be happy.  I should say HAD.  Past tense.  I don’t anymore and that feels amazing.

Have you ever evolved in some way in your life?  Have you ever really looked at your self honestly and thought about the how you may have caused your own unhappiness?   Like really truly dug deep and admitted your faults to yourself?  Not only admit and realize them but make a conscious effort to change?  It is hard.  I’m 38 years old and have only recently learned to love myself and value myself enough FOR myself.  I’m alone – as in single – but I’m still happy.  I love my life.  I love my job. I love my boss. I love my car.  I love my precious little girls. I love my apartment.  I love that I have come this far in a mere 7 months and I did it alone.  I am proud of that even if no one knows my struggles but me.  So I’ll say it again – #lifeisgood

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I think I can….

Its been just over 2 months since my last post where I was marveling at how much has changed in such a short period of time.  Here I sit a little over two months later having accomplished so many of my goals that I am coming up with new ones.  When last I posted I had paid off my traffic warrants and gotten a new job.  Well that job fell through and I immediately got another one.  My boss was cool enough to pick me up and drop me off for 3 weeks after which I bought a car.  Not just any car – a beautiful 2014 Audi A4 S.  I love it.  I’m proud of myself.  Having a car again has helped me feel more independent.  I don’t have to rely on anyone anymore.

I am currently an assistant project manager on a $24 Million elementary school.  I love my job. I love being back at work full time.  Having a steady paycheck is great but working again has done wonders for my self-confidence.  I had always been self-sufficient – even the major bread winner in my marriage – and being dependent on others killed my self-esteem.  I feel whole again.  Even though its not true, not being able to generate much income made me feel worthless.

Today I signed a lease on my new apartment that I will be moving into on October 30th.  It feels amazing to have my own place again.  Little by little I am getting my life back together.  Unfortunately, with all the good positive changes in my life, I have had my heart broken.  The love of my life, Brian Oliver, takes me for granted and doesn’t see how inconsiderate he is.  His business is barely keeping afloat, his truck keeps breaking down, he’s been selling all his assets to keep up with bills and even borrowed from friends.  He’s a hot mess.  His laundry is all over the place, his house is a pig sty, he is always late for everything and is a total stoner.  He admits that he should stop smoking weed but unfortunately keeps being the loser that he is.

I have decided that he is unhealthy for me as much as I love him.  I think I can move on.  I think I will be just fine without him.  I have to think that way.  I have been able to put my life back together through positive thinking and hard work.  How can I continue to let this man bring me down and hurt my soul?  Everything I’ve accomplished in the past few months was because I thought I could do it.  If I just tell myself that I can  – then I can.  I am one of the most determined people I know.  I can set my sights on any goal and accomplish it. Why has everything except letting go of this man been easy?  I know my worth.  I know I deserve better.  Why can’t I let him go?  I can.  I think I can.  I have been able to do so much this past year and I need to do this.  So like the little engine that could I keep telling myself – I think I can.  I will move on.  I will let go.  I think I can…..

What a difference a month makes

The last time I posted I was stressing out about my trip to Los Angeles with my kids.  The kids enjoyed camp and visiting with family and I had only one major blowout with my parents.  Here I sit a little over a month later and I can not believe how much has changed.  I started seeing my ex boyfriend Brian again.  Which I self-sabotaged in my Tasha-esque way last night.  We are going back to being just friends.  I flipped out over something that is a pet peeve of mine but also very small in the large scheme of things.  That man is the love of my life.  He always will be.  I’m just under a lot of pressure right now.

I worked for a month for my Dad while in Los Angeles and was able to pay off my warrants when I got back to Las Vegas.  I’m getting my license reinstated.  I already took the written and I’m borrowing a car from a friend to take the driving test tomorrow.  While I was in LA an old Superintendent of mine, who is now a Sr. Estimator, messaged me on LinkedIn about an estimator position at his firm.  I start my new job on Tuesday.

Also, while I was in Los Angeles, my boyfriend at the time/best friend Brian moved all my stuff out of the weekly hotel I was in and into this room I am now renting for $425 a month.  He bought me furniture and bedding and put my room together.  I was so happy.  He is amazing.

A mere 6 weeks later I have moved, paid off traffic warrants and have a new job paying me 70k a year.  I remained positive and worked hard and while I still have a ways to go before I’m completely whole again, I am optimistic that the rest of this year will be even better.  I still have to work through some things and I am constantly trying to better myself.  What a difference a month makes…..

Emo

So, I was inspired by the voice of my friend in my head, yes I hear voices sometimes, telling me that I sound like an emo. Weird right?  Then I thought about my last blog post.  Homer was right.  It was kind of depressing.  Have I now become that person?  Shit.  Am I the annoying person always crying about something?  When did that happen?  I never considered myself a whiner.  I was a do-er.  Have I been sitting on my ass on just whining and not even trying?  I did.  I really, really, did try.  I’m sitting here trying to remember how far back this goes.  How long have I been depressed?  How long have I been stuck?  I don’t even know.  Now I have the motivation back.  When did that happen? It wasn’t all of the sudden.

Things aren’t as hard as they used to be. I’m not constantly down about my shitty position at the moment.  I’m going to work hard and prove to myself that I am capable of functioning ….that’s it.  I was looking for the rest of that sentence in my head…but there isn’t any. I have to prove I can just function.  Get out of bed and work every day.  I guess I was that bad at one point.  If I wasn’t depressed and didn’t have my kids I was mostly likely drinking somewhere.

I am really trying to stay positive people. But I am in the first 90 days of sobriety and it’s no picnic.  It is unbelievably hard.  I just got invited to happy hour by my friend Amber and sat staring at the phone trying to decide my answer.  Habit was to send an ok.  Then I stopped and didn’t hit send.  Should I say yes?  I’m not supposed to be drinking.  I want to say yes.  I really fuckin want to say yes.  I want to drink and walk around town square laughing at other people like an asshole and have fun.  But then I feel like shit when I’m sober.  Because I don’t to want be that asshole anymore.  I guess I kind of did turn into that annoying emo person of the group but it’s better than the previous versions of me.  The next one is coming on.  I’m soon to be the super annoying always think positive one that quotes those damn affirmations all the time.  I’m totally becoming that person too.  But I’m ok with that.  This version will be followed by one even better and then a better one I hope.

This must be what growing up must be like. Will I finally be strong enough to pull it together and stay focused and sober for a month in LA?  I’m growing insane imagining scenarios of me with my family members in LA.  Which one is going to either piss me off or annoy me first by some off handed comment or dig?  Why am I even assuming that it’s going to be a negative encounter? Because it’s the Miranda women.  Sidenote:  The “Miranda” women are women from my mom’s side – my grandmother and her 7 daughters including my mom of course and their daughters.  There’s always someone not getting along with someone else for who-knows-what.  It was habit to get edgy and on the defensive around them.  Or is that just me?  No – it’s not.  The Miranda women are notorious for being difficult and stubborn.

I don’t want to assume the worst, though. I’m fuckin nervous about my first encounter with each one of them.  I hate the open ended “So what have you been up to?” or “How have you been?”  No simple one-word- answer questions.  No open with a difficult one.  Shit….um I can’t say, “Being a drunk because I feel like a total failure.”  What a buzzkill, right?  Gotta go with the vague, “You know, same old thing.”

I can’t stand the questions that grandma hits me with, “So are you working?” “Do you have a boyfriend?”  I’ll avoid her as much as possible.  I don’t want her asking if I have been going to church.  Ha!  I haven’t gone to church in like 20 years.  I kinda figured everyone just quit doing that.  But she’s old fashioned.  Good for her.  Gotta keep up them old fashioned values.  Her judge-y catholic guilt crap is the best.  No thank you.  I have enough guilt without your help.  Bi-polar here – depressed enough.  Thank you for the help though.  Much appreciated but I have enough from my parents leaving to Paris when I started chemo.  They have it covered.  We all know that makes a child feel important . “Take a trip while I suffer from a life-threatening illness and start the only thing that might keep me from dying. I got this.  Go have fun.  Bring me a souvenir.  It’s ok.  No, no.  I’m over it now.  It’s only taken 15 years, hundreds of hours of therapy and a lot of whiskey to do that but I think I’m finally ready to stop being a whiner.”

It wasn’t only that one incident that caused me to be such an emotional wreck though.  What was I supposed to do?  “I’m just going put all the fucked up shit in an little box and put it next to that fucked up shit and save that for later in life.”  Just when you think you’re about to succeed at something – bam that’s when the new fucked up shit comes.  All dressed up in a pretty little box.  You think is a present.  Don’t open the box.  That’s how it happens.  You never see it coming.  Or you somehow block it out.  All those signs that you going the wrong direction. Were they always there?  Well fuck I sure missed them.  Or maybe I was just drunk. One of the two.  I’m going to be positively annoying and assume that the first encounter with my family is going to great and we’ll toast to mental health awareness.