I’ve been trying to get my act together enough to write a blog post for a week now, which is about how long it’s been since I entered another sick-and-tired cycle. I can barely put two thoughts together.
When I don’t feel well, it’s frequently because of something I’ve eaten or something else that has triggered inflammation, like stress or lack of sleep. The mystery is always, “What was it this time?”
I’ve always loved problem solving. I feel like Sherlock Holmes, hunting for patterns and clues.
But this mystery has overstayed its welcome. I’m sick and tired of it.
I had wanted to write a post about a recent camping trip Steve and I and the dynamic dog duo went on near Grand Marais. I have some beautiful photos…
But the words wouldn’t come. Not like the words are coming now, for all the wrong reasons.
I think I mentioned previously my little quest to get my original birth certificate (OBC). Four months ago I petitioned for a copy. I waited two months then contacted the County Juvenile Records to find out the status of my petition. They couldn’t find it. They said they never got it.
No longer trusting mail delivery, I filled out the petition again, had it notarized, included the paperwork from social services saying they had verified that my parents are deceased, and hand delivered the pages to Juvenile Records.
I waited another two months before calling to check on the status of my petition. Once again, they can’t find it.
As I relay this story to people, I laugh and make a joke out of it, but that’s just me trying to make it okay.
It’s not okay.
So many emotions have been triggered as I continue to be lost in the system. For once, can something that is important to me be seen as something that matters?
“Dear adoption system, please stop looking out for everyone but the adoptee. You’ve done enough to us. How about doing something for us?”
I want to pack a bag, throw it into my truck, and invite my dogs to go on an adventure with a crazy lady. I picture myself driving away. I’d listen to audio books. Maybe camp. Maybe sleep in my truck. Write. Sob. Hike. Scream. Pound my fists on the dashboard. And let all the shit out that I’ve held inside so tight that I feel like I’m packed with dynamite.
Can you hear the sizzle?
But I don’t want to end on that note…
I managed to pick up my sick and tired self and go running on Tuesday. I iced my knees, took ibuprofen, put on my knee supports. cut my running sequence from ten to five minutes, while increasing my repetitions from two to four, and I hit the trails.
Because I needed to do something. To let it not be perfect. To let it be enough. Knowing whatever I did, it was better than not doing anything.
I run where I do because usually no one is there. But school sports must have started up and I ran into the local high school track team.
I felt embarrassed with my slow, sloppy pace. Still dressed in the clothes I wore to work, I didn’t even look like a runner. But as I passed by a group of girls, one of them smiled and said, “Good job!”
Perhaps she hadn’t noticed I was an old lady and not part of their group. But perhaps she had. Either way, it was nice to hear.
Those off-hand words people say without thinking anything of it. The thumbs up. The head nod. They’re a big deal. That kind of thing can make the difference between someone feeling unseen or feeling like their efforts matter.
So I’m holding on to those two words, “Good job!”
And I fully support myself if I get into my truck and drive away for awhile. I bet Java would go with me. She likes my kind of crazy…
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I can relate to every single word you have written. We are both rowing the same boat. I’ve started a blog post so many times and end up nowhere. I too want to run off into the woods and not come out until everything is over.
I always look forward to your postings and even though I don’t always write a comment, you always seem to touch my heart in some way. Thank you.
Robin, I’m sorry to hear you too know this road (or ocean) and it is indeed like being in a row boat! I was never very good at rowing in a straight line.
It’s so good to hear from you! I look up to you with all your gorgeous, imaginative photography and artistic talents and the cool places you travel to. Yet, we all have our struggles. Perhaps that’s why we love to create something beautiful when we can. And you indeed do. I hope you find that outlet for all the parts of yourself that wish to speak.
I hope with all my heart that you find exactly what you’re looking for because I see how hard you try and how you always show up. I stopped beating myself up when it comes to keeping up with the blog posts, it’s just not feeling the same lately. That probably ties in with the season and changes. Be easy with yourself and remember that you’re doing a great job!
That level of incompetence is really tough to understand, and I don’t even have the emotional connection to the situation you do, so it must be unbelievably frustrating. So sorry. Good for you for knowing what you need and for finding a way that works when you need it. And what a terrific reminder to all of us little kindnesses cost us nothing but are so very valuable.
I find it hard to read about your pain.
But enjoy your writing so much…so I continue with tears.
XO’s
Just wanted you to know how much you look like Mom..and your other blonde sissy..beautiful but stressed.