Changes

It’s the Final Countdown

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

(If you sung that title in your head while reading it, we can be friends)

If you know me even a little bit, you know we are almost at my favorite holiday, New Year’s Eve. Really, what’s not to love? It’s literally a night where the very next day you get to start over. First page of a blank book, clean slate, whatever you want to call it, I love it. With the rip of a calendar page the whole world can begin again. We essentially get to go to bed one night and be reborn the next morning as we embark on a new year.

I’ve had this blog since 2013 which means this will be my 8th year of posting a New Year’s Eve post. Even if I hadn’t written for months, I always found it obligatory to document what was going to be my great baptism into a “new year” and a “new me”. Looking back sure didn’t disappoint in that assumption. Post after post of “this is all the crap that happened this year” and “next year is going to be the best ever. I’m going to make it my year.” Blah, Blah, Blah. I’m nothing if not consistent it seems.

2013 was the year I was going to “rest and reflect” after a mother’s day miscarriage, my dad dying, and major heartbreak. But…it was also the year I found running, which I wouldn’t have done had 2013 been all hearts and flowers. 2014 was the year of shedding all that 2013 had burdened me with. It was also the year that I became pregnant with Charlotte and ran (and walked) a half-marathon at almost 5 months pregnant. I look back at that girl sometimes, completely in awe of how much she was able to overcome and how she really stuck to all the goals that she set out to achieve.

Fast forward to 2017. The hard year. The worst year. The year with the least amount of blog posts. The year I had no desire to document or ever hear from again. But also…the year I left home for good. The year I got out of a very toxic and harmful marriage. The year I finally had a little courage. The year I was brave. 2018 and 2019 almost look like mirror images. These were the years I was going to stop quitting things. These were the years I was going to let my baggage go. These were the years that I was going to finally be that grown-up version of myself that I was supposed to become.

And for the most part, I did become that person. 2020 was no joke. I know this year was tough for a lot of people, and I definitely had my share of bitter moments. There were the two miscarriages in May and June. There was the small, though significant breakdown in January. There was the sadness of missing my friends due to Covid 19. But there was also so much wonderfulness that came out of 2020. I finally got divorced and won my custody battle. We took so many trips as a family. We adopted two wonderful puppies. Because of virtual schooling I got to spend so much time with my kids, which is exactly what I had spent the past two years fighting for. For the most part, it was a good year.

The time has come,’ the Walrus said, To talk of many things: Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —Of cabbages — and kings —And why the sea is boiling hot —And whether pigs have wings.’

The time has come.

For the first time I’m not going into a new year hoping to completely the slate clean and start all over. Do I have goals and plans for 2021? Absolutely. But that’s not this post. I am in a constant state of evolution. And this year is even more different as it’s also the year I turn 40 in a little under a month. Instead this is just going to be the year that I work. On my family, on my relationships, and mostly on myself. It feels like I FINALLY have the other parts of my life under control and now there are no more excuses. I’m allowed to try hard.  I’m allowed to be good at things. Hell, I’m allowed to be bad at things.  I’m allowed to love you too much and tell you about it.  I’m also allowed to tell you why you are hurting my feelings if you are.  I’m allowed to take a break from people who aren’t letting me be me and are constantly trying to put me down to make themselves feel better.  I’m allowed to be who I am, and if someone doesn’t like it, it’s their loss.

Most of all, I am allowed to shed all of the stuff from my past that is not working for me any more. Opinions, judgments, people, fears, assumptions. Boy, bye.

“Don’t look back. You’re not going that way.” I couldn’t have said it any better myself.

Summer is Different This Year

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The past few summers have been a shit show. I mean, I’m sure there’s a better way to put it, but why sugar coat it. They were.

There’s the summer three years ago when I sat around every single day trying to find the courage to tell my husband that I was leaving. The amount of stress and exhaustion were enough to kill me…and I’m pretty sure they almost did.

There’s the summer two years ago where I was still scared of doing anything wrong. Anything at all that could make me somehow lose my kids. And the guilt of leaving was still so fresh that I constantly gave in to unhealthy behaviors simply to stay afloat.

Last summer was the worst. Going through the divorce and custody battle caused my anxiety to be at an all time high. I was nervous going anywhere even when I didn’t have the kids because something could go wrong. I couldn’t make one wrong decision or one single misstep because it could come back to bit me in the ass. I actually think I have slight PTSD from my custody/divorce battle. I actually had to turn my email notifications off my phone because hearing the ding reminded me of all the emails from my lawyer and I actually start to shut down.

This is the first summer where I finally feel free. Free to go on vacations with and without the kids. Free to make decisions without constantly worrying about what someone else might think or make an issue of. Free to mention Joe’s name without worrying about the repercussions.

It’s an amazing feeling, but you know what’s funny? It’s almost like a piece of me is missing now. I held on to all that worry, all that anxiety, all that anger for so long, that there is a void. What do I worry about now? What do I think about now? What should I do now?

Luckily, it’s still summer and for the first time in forever I can allow myself to find these answers. I can allow myself to figure out who I am or who I want to be. And most importantly I can actually allow myself to breathe.

Just a few tweaks

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It’s my last day at home before school starts back up without the kids, so I allowed myself to have a rather lazy morning. I stayed in bed until 9. Got some stuff done around the house. Ate a random breakfast/lunch combination around 11. Worked on a budget for next month, complete with cash envelopes. Binge watched way too much Gilmore Girls while doing all of this. You know, the usual.

I finally decided around 1 to get into the shower because after a week of knots and dry shampoo it was time to wash my hair. As I’m standing there dragging the bamboo comb through my hair, hating how long I know it was going to take to wash my hair, eyeing the amount of hair now in my comb after fighting with the knots, I decided the only logical thing was to grab the scissors from my desk drawer and chop a few inches off.

So I did.

As I shampooed my much shorter hair in the shower, it occurred to me that this haircut could be a mistake. It might look like crap. I have no idea what I am doing. People go to school for this nonsense and here I am hacking away at a pony tail with a pair of scissors that came with my boyfriends tool kit. And then, right as I was yelling at myself for being such a damn fool, I did something I don’t normally do.

I told myself to stop.

There is nothing that can be done about this now, so beating myself up about the choice wasn’t doing anyone any good, especially not me.

I can sit here all day long and regret this decision. I can let it make me sad and depressed. I can berate myself for being so spontaneous and not thinking things through…again. I could do all of these things. And usually I would.

But today I realized that even if I put all this energy into being sad and feeling regret, my hair will still be short. The inches of hair will still be in the trash. Nothing at this point will change that. So why waste the effort and the energy. Time to move on, hope for the best, and if not, invest in more pony tail holders (THANK GOD, it still is long enough to be pulled back).

You know what, though? It doesn’t look that bad. I mean, it needs a few tweaks here and there, but for the most part, I’m pretty happy with it. Just like my life. I realize now, I’m pretty happy where I am in my journey. I just need a few tweaks here and there.

Sounds about right.

Sometimes smaller is better

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Usually around this time of year I begin to compose a post that is an ode to my favorite holiday. I. Love. New Years. LOVE. It has always been my favorite since I became a “grownup”. There are the lights and fireworks, being with your loved ones, and of course, the idea that the very next day is a blank slate. A do over. A new beginning and a new chance for anything.

Like I said, usually this post would be about all of that stuff. But not this year.

As I sit here and write, my house is in complete disarray. It is a literal shit show. And for someone who has anxiety related to clutter and crap, this is not good. Two of my kids have been sick. One is under-medicated and annoyed by the very one that only wants to spend time with him. The ear infection/lose tooth kid has been a terror because she’s been getting up before the sun. They all have. Every morning at 5:30. I am on break. Please sleep. Or rather, let me sleep.

And this is why instead of cleaning my house, or writing about love and magic and second chances, I have mandated that everyone lay down for the next hour and nap. I’m not naive enough to think any of them are actually doing it, but the doors are closed and it is quiet for five seconds, so that’s good enough for me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this year and all the goals I made for myself last year…and I didn’t accomplish a single one of them. Don’t get me wrong, I have accomplished a great deal. But just not what I set out to do 12 months ago. I’ve barely run, let alone finished a race. I’ve gone into more debt (hello lawyer fees). I’ve added more stress to my life. I’ve definitely gained weight, because see above.

But I learned how to fight. I learned how to stick up for myself. I learned how to surround myself with people who appreciate those things and say goodbye to the ones who don’t. I’ve complained less. I’ve appreciated more. And while I’m not living my life while working from home in my RV, where I am right now is pretty great.

So, as I sit here with a glass of wine at 12:52 on a Monday afternoon (again, see above), I’ve come to realize that big goals and big resolutions aren’t all they are cracked up to be. Sure, I accomplished far more than I set out to, but still, had I made more manageable goals, maybe I would have gotten even further.

I’ve decided to set 5 goals for myself at the beginning of each month and document them here. That way, not only can I keep myself accountable, I can also hopefully inspire someone to “play” along with me and be my hand holder and cheerleader (and warning giver should I stray).

January Goals

  1. Finish four weeks of Couch to 5K – Running at least 3 times a week. I just spent $215 to sign up for these races, so I better actually do this. I love running. It has helped me through the toughest times of my life. I know it can help me again. Along with this, I’m going to drink less and eat healthy more (just not making it a concrete goal yet)
  2. Go to the gym at least once a week…to actually work out. I know this doesn’t seem like much, but baby steps, y’all. I paid for Merritt for months and never used it. I’ll hopefully update this goal in February, but I need something attainable right now.
  3. Unfollow all toxic people on social media. And by this what I mean is toxic people to me. People that make me feel less than or unworthy. People that complain way too much. People that live negatively and miserably. These people may not be toxic to others, but as someone who feeds into the climate around them, they are definitely toxic to me. While I need to use my phone and social media less to begin with, while I’m on there I need to surround myself with people who inspire and uplift me.
  4. Start each day with a daily gratitude. Each and every day I will pick one thing that I am grateful for and hold on to that idea throughout the day when things get rough.
  5. Decrease my daily phone usage by 10%…and do the same with the kids’ technology. Enough said. I use it too much for stupid shit and I need to learn how to put it down and read or write or cross stitch or something.

I’m definitely ready for these changes. They’ve been a long time coming. I’m ready to make my 39th year the best one of my life.

…Then it will change you.

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

I logged onto WordPress to find that today is my WordPress “anniversary”. Ten years ago I created my first blog and tried to quiet the ramblings inside by writing them down for all to see. I’ve had this particular blog since April or 2013. This was two months before my world became unrecognizable. Two months before my dad died. Two months before I entered into a completely unrecognizable relationship. Four months before I would begin running.

There are a few pivotal moments that I can say defined me and completely changed my entire existence of being. Becoming a mother for the first time. My dad dying. Falling in love with running. And this entire divorce process. I’ve been feeling my own mortality lately. Not in the bad way, but in the good way. The “you only live once” and “you can’t take it with you” kind of way. I know it’s time to start making some pivotal changes in my life. But while I know what some of them are, I haven’t a clue where to even begin looking for the direction and motivation of the others.

This divorce has changed me in ways I didn’t even know were imaginable. I’ve gained 30 pounds (boo), become a better mother (yay), lost some friends (boo), and discovered some new found loves I never knew I had (I’m looking at you, camping).

But the true change has come in who I am. I listened to this TED Talk today at the recommendation of a friend (I can now officially say I listen to TED Talks) and while it focused on success and completion in the workplace, I can definitely say I see so many of these qualities in my every day life. Before my divorce I was an “agreeable giver”. I did whatever anyone else wanted, no questions asked. Now, to be fair, I like giving. I like doing things for other people. I like helping. But I realize now that sometimes it went too far. I changed my entire personality for friends and boys. I was a coward. I shied away from any confrontation. The only thing in the world I wanted was to be well liked (cue the absolutely abysmal low self esteem). I had no idea at all who I was. I didn’t know what music I liked. Or what books I liked. Or even what causes I liked. I was a follower…because I felt that made people happy.

But now…I’m different. I still love to give and help out. But I will challenge things that are blatantly wrong and I will fight for the causes I now KNOW I believe in. I don’t like fake (which is what I used to be). I’m not just going to roll over and take it anymore. Not from anyone. If you don’t like me, I don’t care. I will listen to my music and sing it loudly and I don’t care how embarrassing my Fleetwood Mac is! It’s freeing. It’s refreshing. And it’s also completely and utterly sad that it took me 38 years to get to this point. It makes me want to cry. But it also makes me want to rage against that girl that was so passive and complacent that she let her self almost pass her by.

I’m excited for the next few months. I’m excited to try and get back to running. I’m excited to try and lose the weight I gained back when I was in an abusive and manipulative relationship. I’m excited to see where I’m going to go professionally. But most of all I’m elated that there has been a reason for all this pain and suffering, and that reason is me. The caterpillar can’t just change into the butterfly because it’s his destiny. He has to work for it. He has to put in effort. He has to want it.

First it will challenge you…then it will change you.

Little Victories.

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So I’m going to list the good with the bad. The bad being it was a very rough day in the world of inner city teaching. My teaching team member was out today so It was just me and our ESOL para wrangling up two classes of kindergarteners. That mixed with 9 kids out due to the flu, a new student who definitely needs extra supervision, and one of our fifth graders and his mom being killed on Friday, led to a very somber and overwhelming Tuesday. I was supposed to go to the gym, but honestly I just don’t want to. I am mentally exhausted. And its not something the gym is going to bring me out of. I know after my run yesterday that my body (and mind and soul) need a rest so that’s what I’m doing.

The good news is that as much as I wanted to just throw in the towel and eat out tonight, I didn’t. I made a healthy dinner, tracked all my calories and still came in under my goal. The old me would have just thrown away the entire day, but the new me is going to take whatever victories she can make happen. Today it wasn’t exercise, it was healthy eating and self-care and that’s good enough for me.

The Resolute Quitter

/ Cassie / 1 Comment

Someone once told me that to write I need to write about what I know. Luckily that’s all I know how to write about anyway.

In the past four years I’ve quit every thing I’ve started. You name it, I’ve attempted it…and then quit. Run streaks? I quit by week two. Running? I used to run 25 – 30 miles a week, and now I’m lucky if I even walk two. I’ve signed up (and wasted a LOT of money) on countless 5Ks, half marathons, and marathons only to quit about half way through…when I had decided that it got too hard. Being more environmental? I’m pretty sure I threw away a pile of paper yesterday instead of recycling it because the recycling was full and I just needed it out of my house. Hell, I’ve even quit my marriage. At this point the only thing I haven’t quit is my job, but I did switch schools so maybe that counts?

I wasn’t always this way. As a matter of fact, I used to be exactly the opposite. I would make a plan and resolutely stick with it, no matter the consequence or if it was the best decision in the long run. I was just that stubborn. I would see it through to the end even if it killed me. I used to think this was one of my biggest character flaws, but now I’m not so sure. The tenacity that would once push me over the finish line has now been replaced with apathy and indifference. I would do anything to get it back.

Maybe I’ve spent so much time quitting lately that it’s just what seems normal and comfortable now. I’m used to it. It’s familiar. It’s has the feeling of that soft, comfy shirt that is completely stained and threadbare. You need to throw it away. You want to throw it away. And yet, you can’t bring yourself to do it. As if parting with that one thing is going to increase your sadness even more than it already is.

Fear has become such a major part of my life over the past few years that it is literally ingrained in my soul. The fear of failure keeps me from making the big leaps. The fear of judgment keeps me from making the choices I know I need to make, the choices that are the best for me. Fear of retribution keeps me on my feet at all times…constantly looking over my shoulder and waiting for the other shoe to drop. I’ve spent so much of the last few years of my life being scared that I have barely lived at all. I’ve made so many goals and had so many things I want to accomplish which have all been brushed aside because of fear. And I don’t want to do that anymore.

If you know me at all, you know I love New Year’s. The blank slate, the new beginnings, the chance to start again all resonate with me on a deeply pure and spiritual level. I tend to make resolutions, grandiose goals, and big decisions all to have me eventually quit. I just can’t keep living my life like that anymore. I think this year I’m going to dump the resolutions. The changes I want to make within myself are big. Every single thing I want to change about myself I can control. And I don’t need resolutions or a New Year to do that. I can just do it. Plain and simple. It’s really that easy.

Of course, coming up with the idea to do something is the easy part. The hard part is the follow through…and that’s exactly what I plan to work on first.

The other day, as we were driving through the city on the way home, two runners crossed in front of our car. Joe’s immediate response was about how it was cold and they were outside running and that they were wearing shorts. It’s true, it was about 25 degrees…it was cold. But all I felt was the formidable tug of nostalgia. I remember thinking that I wish I was a runner. Or more clearly, I wish I was still a runner.

So you know what? I’m going to become one again.

I Miss My People

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A funny thing happened the there day.  It was pretty insignificant, really.  But my first thought was, “Oh my God, I have to text…” and in the place where you would insert a name, my mind thoroughly drew a blank.  I had no idea who I would text with this news, no idea who would laugh along with me at the oddness of it all.

As we progress in our significant romantic relationships, it’s only natural that our time with our friends diminishes and our “others” take the place of our best friends and most trusted confidants.  Add in a kid (or multiple kids) on one (or both sides) and its seemingly impossible that mutual time can be made available.  Thus the friendships break down even further, and personal contact is replaced with random texts and the like, promises of “we need to get together soon” and “I miss you”, until you feel awkward even texting with your random odd news, unsure and afraid that they won’t even understand.

I just know I miss my friends.

And I know that I am *at least* half to blame.  I am terrible at keeping contact with people.  If we feel like going the psychoanalysis route, to make a long story short, I tend to push people away, choosing to reject them before they can reject me (which I am absolutely, unequivocally sure they are going to do).  This was even confirmed today by a book I read about my birthday and being an Aquarius, so this is obviously scientific fact now.  The lack of confidence in my friendships even goes so deep as to HATE to invite people out or over.  I don’t want them to feel obligated and I know I’ll feel even worse if they don’t come.  So instead I sit and wait for my friends to invite ME to do things.

Yes, I know this is stupid.  Yes I know I am 37 and am acting like a 14 year old.  But the truth is the truth.

True, I have work friends.  We text about work stuff and funny family anecdotes.  We occasionally meet up for after work drinks or other events, but it’s not the same.  It’s not the same as finding those people who know you below the surface, those who have not only seen you go through hell, but have also gone through it with you. Those you can say just one word to and have them cracking up.  Those who have motivate you, and inspire you, and love you for who you are…even if you’re a psycho that constantly fears rejection.

I know I have a person who loves me.  I know I have my brothers and family members.  But sometimes, I just really miss my friends.

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Lenten Promises

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Sigh.  A week without wine. I’m ready to throw in the towel.

I’ve been thinking about Lent a lot lately.  I’m not sure why, because I’m not particularly religious.  I think it’s the whole idea about willpower and of beating myself at something.  I’m nothing if I’m not competitive.  I assumed that the hardest thing for me would be to give up wine and that if I could do it for Lent, I could do anything.   And let’s all agree, this is not true.  Giving up wine is not going to give me some insane super power that is going to magically change my life.  It’s just not, and I feel foolish for even thinking it.

As I sit here in my dining room, the sun shining outside, and the wind blowing through the windows I opened, I’m pretty sure I’m doing this Lent “thing” wrong.  As a matter of fact, I’m positive that I am.  Joe and I each decided to give up something for lent that we felt we over-consumed.  For me, wine (though I gave up all alcohol) and for him soda.  And do you know what we did the minute we decided to give them up?  We began planning for Good Friday when we can have them again.  We know exactly where we are going to eat, and exactly what we were going to drink.

Each day we count how many more days we have until we can imbibe again.  Our conversations and communications with each other throughout the day have picked up, but it’s basically each of us telling the other that we want wine or soda and the other one agreeing wholeheartedly before ushering in the “we can do it”s and any other encouraging comments we can muster.

So in a nutshell…we’re talking more but simply about what can’t have and planning for the minute that we can have it again.

I’ll say it again…I think we’re going about this the wrong way. Or at least I am.  What is the point of giving up wine for lent if I’m going to go right back to it? What is the point of giving up wine for lent if it does not affect my life in any way (neither positively or negatively)?

No.  This is not an excuse to go out and buy myself a bottle of wine right now and call it a day.  It may seem like that, but it’s not.  While many people tend to focus on the “fasting” portion of Lent, giving up something we don’t need, depriving ourselves of the excesses and luxuries we may have in order to become more attuned spiritually, we forget that Lent is really a time of self-examination and reflection, a time in which we look inward to really determine ways we can be better: whether it is ways to better serve the Lord, ways to grow spiritually, or simply ways you can make a positive impact on the world, or others, or yourself.

Maybe instead of depriving ourselves of something it would be more admirable to find small ways to change our habits.  Maybe I should add in a reading time each day instead of TV watching.  Somehow I feel like I never have time to read for pleasure, but have no trouble finding time to binge watch 10 episodes of The Office.  Maybe I add a mandatory “no phone” time for myself (another black hole of time suckage along with the TV).  Maybe I make sure I complete a mile every day (whether it’s walking or running) just to get some time outside away from technology with my family and boyfriend.  Maybe I do all three.

To make a long story short (too late) I need to rethink this.  If I want to do this right…really do this right…I need to start thinking of ways I can better myself for more than just 40 days. I need to be in it for the long haul.

 

Nostalgia

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Nostalgia is a funny thing.  I usually try and shy away from it as it tends to make me sad.  I sugar coat the past at times, putting the shiny crystal sheen on things making me think I had it better when, in actuality, I probably didn’t. Charleston, kid free times, college – all things I think back on fondly, wishing I was still there in those moments, never really remembering the times that weren’t so good.

Today, though, was different.

I’ve been contemplating the idea of accepting my guaranteed entry to the NYC marathon since I dropped out last year.  I told myself that maybe this was the year I would *actually* do it if I could just take the first step and get out the door to exercise.  Today made three days in a row and I’m pretty damn proud of myself for that.

Today is cold.  And snowy.  But I managed to get the workout clothes on and out the front door to run/walk/jog/slide for 30 minutes.

As I began navigating the neighbor streets where I now live, the neighborhood streets where I lived years ago when I first began running, the nostalgia was overpowering.  This is where it all began…my love for running.  The shiny beacon in an otherwise tumultuous time in my life where I could barely stay afloat.  And then out of the blue “Summertime Sadness” by Lana Del Rey came on and my heart stopped.

This could be the fall of 2013 when I first started running.  That song took me right back to those moments so many years ago.  The early mornings and sore legs.  The darkness of running pre-dawn.  The excitement I felt when I ran down certain streets and crested certain hills and the annoyance I felt with others.

Not only did I fall in love with running on these streets and sidewalks, for the first time I actually fell in love with myself.

This girl.

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And this one.

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The girl who completed her first Runner’s World Run Streak.

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And her first half marathon.

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The girl who was happiest and had the biggest smile when completely covered in sweat.

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This wasn’t the same kind of nostalgia that I was used to.  It wasn’t so much remembering what I had as discovering what I can absolutely have again.

With this short 30 minutes this morning I began to realize that maybe I never lost my love of running or even myself.  Maybe it’s always been here.  In this neighborhood.  On these streets, waiting for me to return.  Because this is where I belong.