Health and nerves

I definitely wouldn't say I'm a nervous person.  I'm fairly relaxed in everything that I do because I just don't see the point in getting so worked up that emotions overwhelm reason.  There's a balance in all things to allow you to see clearly through the muddy waters that life sometimes has a way of becoming.  So why does the title of my post include the word "nerves"?  Well, I've had a small health concern and I've got a couple/few weeks to stew about it before I get any kind of answer, for good or ill, pun intended.

My family has a history of illness on both sides of varying types and degrees.  Because of that I was never truly tempted to partake in any risky behavior.  Aside from an immense love of tattoos and a bucket list item of skydiving, there's not really anything that I do that should threaten my health and well-being.  Uh, except for food.  Food is love and I love flavor so I don't always make the healthiest choices, but that's a work in progress as I balance that with healthy physical activities.

Anyway, the point is because I have a family history that seems to always necessitate hospitals in some way, shape, or form, I'm careful and cautious since I want to live a long and happy life with my kids.  Preventative exams are essential to that endeavor and a few weeks ago I came across something a bit concerning.  A couple of lumps caught my attention.  They could be totally benign, lots of people, women specifically, find lumps that come to nothing and are treated only as a preventative measure.  But because my mother and maternal grandmother as well as more distantly related family have had breast cancer of varying severity I'm understandably a little nervous.

I've got an appointment in a couple weeks for a mammogram and breast ultrasound so we can figure out just what's going on and I won't lie and say I'm not worried.  Part of me is very worried.  It was quite nebulous, the worry, something that didn't break the surface until I spoke to my mom today.  I don't want to dwell on it for two weeks and put myself into a position where I freak myself out or show anything like that to my kids so today I'm allowing myself a little cry and a little venting.

I have great friends and family and I could likely call any of them and hear any number of "don't worry's" or any other platitude you can think of and that's fantastic to have that kind of support, but I'll be honest here, I don't really want to hear it.  I work through things best when it's on my own with an occasional need to vent.  My mom's advice was really helpful though, so I'm glad I called her, but other than her, I'm not exactly up for hashing this out with anyone else.  It's not going to be something to truly worry about until I go over the results of the tests with my doctor in three weeks and it's bad news.  Until then I just wanted to put down my thoughts and feelings to a medium that I can reflect on and share with others that may feel similarly.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

I read a book a couple days ago that made me confront some very difficult feelings within myself.  The Parable of the Mustard Seed by Lisa Henry isn't a parallel of my life, but there were questions in it like why, at what point is it enough, and where is my happiness.  There were scenes that were straight out of my most treasured dreams that were shattered by someone's selfishness and the surprisingly inevitable end of a lifelong commitment.  Nothing in life has truly been easy for me except for love, obviously not my love life, but my ability to love.

I like myself, I love my children beyond imagining, I love God...will there ever be someone who will love me as wholly as I could love them?  That's kind of what I'm struggling with right now.  It seems so superficial with everything that's going on in the world and for that I feel a modicum of shame.  But just a tiny bit.  I had a bad afternoon and that was the focus of my emotions and I refuse to belittle what I feel because it's valid.  I'm valid.  What I hope for is valid.

So now on to the maudlin, the bitter, the sad...

Why couldn't my marriage work?

In general, I get why Jordan and I didn't work out, but what am I needing to learn from the one thing I yearned for in all my life being taken away?

In Mustard Seed there's a scene with a husband who actually suggests more kids in the midst of dealing with teething at its very worst.  It was supposed to be humorous...I cried nearly as much as when Jordan told me we were really done.

My heart wasn't made to be alone.  I have my kids to love and adore and be frustrated by, but for someone to care for my heart...that's missing from my life and it hurts.  It physically hurts to be confronted with the fact that I just wasn't enough for someone I committed my life to.  That's not a reflection of my worth, I don't take that on myself, it's that everything that I am, the person I've forged through all manner of experiences good and bad, that person who gave all of herself with complete trust was denied and rejected by the person she trusted to care.

All the thoughts of things not being fair really hit me hard.  I know, I know, life isn't fair.  I get it.  Trust me, I do.  And I know, deeply, that God works in us and prunes us through trials.  It doesn't mean I can't occasionally bemoan that life isn't fair when all I want is love.  I'm only human.  And yes, I totally get that that's an unChristlike justification that I'll need to change if I want true peace, but my trial isn't over and all I can say at this point is I'm trying.  No guilt, no shame in that, I'm struggling and that's okay.  I'll make it through.

So maybe it's because of all this self-isolation, maybe it's that cyclical grief that's come knocking again...whatever it is, it sucks and it's just not fair.

I mean, I survived being molested as a child, boarding school at 12, being teased constantly as a preteen, serving a Mormon mission, college in Utah where my version of Mormonism wasn't always a shared view, following Jordan to a country where I had literally one friend, no family, a province with no oceans, and now a city with zero verdant forests.  I was willing to separate myself from everything that made me happy outside of my life with Jordan and the prospect of kids.  And now I get to be a single mom, still without all that other stuff, and also without the partner that made leaving all that other stuff bearable.

I'm tired, disappointed, resentful, and just so lonely sometimes.

I shove that away to try to be a good mom.  My kids are truly my life and I don't consider it a hardship to put them first.  So when the girls go see Jordan I escape into books and movies and I see a friend for a day to do "normal" people things and pretend like I'm not really a hermit.  But mostly, I think I pretend I'm not lonely even to myself because I'm trying to fake that until it's real.

The truth is, I want happiness to find me.  I fully acknowledge that you're supposed to go after it yourself and to choose it, but at this moment, I just don't care.  I'm too tired to care that happiness is supposed to be within my own power to grasp and too emotionally tired to do the work.

How's that for maudlin, bitter, and sad?

On a positive note, I made a killer baked potato for dinner and I go pick up my girls tomorrow so I can continue embarrassing myself with a hula hoop because my 7 year old is a pro and I'm ...not.