I skipped Saturday morning and opted for today instead. I’m tired today. Emotionally exhausted. I have been pouring my heart out while pouring over these memories and it has left me somewhat vulnerable in my current life. I’m sensitive lately. I don’t know if this is strictly biological due to my most recent surgery or if it is because I am coming up on the most difficult years of my life as I sift through my muddled brain. I am amazed at the things we do to cope. I am not referring to the external ways of self medicating, whether that be with drugs, alcohol, sex, gambling, eating or any number of other vices. I am talking about the way the mind works to shut certain parts off from remembering. And when I do remember, it’s bits and pieces, fragmented into just the right amount to survive the process. I can’t describe how conflicted I was in my life after my second divorce. On one hand, I was happy with all I had accomplished and how far I had come. I was no longer homeless with two children and no education. I had a home. I was college educated. I was financially the securest I could be with no help from my children’s father, no child support, health insurance or even weekends off. I was grateful at times that he wasn’t in their lives.I didn’t have any ex-husband drama. I had only myself to answer to. I was changing and evolving but I still felt like a failure. I wasn’t actively participating in my life. It was going on around me and I was trying to stay emotionally afloat. It was at this time that I attached the term “shelf-life” to loving me. I was at work one day updating the med room. I was carefully inspecting and logging the expiration dates on the medications and destroying the ones that were no longer good. I remember looking at a vaccine vial and this sadly profound thought occurred to me. This vial was at one time good. It was useful. People came here to specifically seek this out and utilize it to provide them some level of protection and safety. And now it was no longer favorable. It had an expiration. It had served it’s purpose and here I was discarding it unceremoniously into the trash. I was this vial. I had been sought out, useful, favorable and needed and once I was all used up, I was unceremoniously discarded. I had a shelf life. It was different amounts of time for different people, but it was there. I could be tossed away, never thought of again and without any difficulty. It hurts. I have used that term to describe what happens to me for years. I believe it was my minds way of creating an “out”. This was my coping mechanism. Now when relationships don’t work out or friendships end, It is simply past my expiration date and time to move on.
Published by christiepage "pando pandemonium"
Confessions of a mad mind~ Author of A Practical Guide to Forgiveness from an Impractical Survivor and She was the Stuff of Stars, Christie Page was born in Falmouth, Massachusetts. She lived in the Nobska Point Lighthouse with her mother and father who were stationed there as a result of his service in the Coast Guard. Shortly after the family made their way to West Palm Beach, Florida where she grew up continuing her love affair with the ocean. She has two children Joshua 26 and Laura 24 and currently resides in South Florida. In 2015 Christie left her twenty year medical career to pursue her passion for writing full time and has been featured in the world’s largest mindful living publications including Chicken Soup for the Soul, elephant journal, Sivana East, Thirty on Tap and The Urban Howl. She was also a feature columnist for Controlled Chaos magazine. An active yogi, hoop dancing enthusiast and self-proclaimed whiskey chick, she is a third generation breast cancer survivor, recovering anorexic/bulimic and is on life six or seven of her nine lives. She has been homeless and sheltered, rich and poor, loved and hated and believes her experiences have lead her down a path of spiritual exploration and awakenings. Christie wishes to share her journey with others in an attempt to come to peace. She writes to clear space from the rolodex that is her muddled mind. Christie View all posts by christiepage "pando pandemonium"