SO, I’m sitting here in a hotel room, trying not to bawl my eyes out, and I’m not entirely sure why.
And, that’s not entirely true. I’m having an anxiety attack. You may remember this is a relatively new thing for me to experience, and they only kicked in after I stopped smoking in August of 2017. They make me really want a cigarette.
Anyway, I’m living in this hotel room for a week. It’s gong to be interesting to see how all of htat works out with this anxiety.
I’m spending my New Year’s Eve drawing a bath with bubbles from my gorgeous, cobalt-blue Dawn dish soap, because I’ve already showered, and just need to chill. I expect incredibly dry skin as a result. The bathroom is accessible, which takes away a decent part of the tub itself with handles and hoses and contraptions installed to make bathing easier for folks who are less-capable. For now, I am capable, even though these tears.
The bathroom tiles are white, square, and -8 degrees. I might as well be walking on the cement outside.
And I’m fully feeling my empathy, and something huge is on the horizon. I’m hoping for something good, but my signals are garbled, and static-y, and full of noise. I’ll sit with it later, but for now, I want to dish on 2018, and make promises to myself for 2019.
January found me three months into my latest cardiac issue, where I was going into atrial flutter on a relatively regular basis. Insurance had kicked in, and I was finally able to afford proper treatment. I was so lucky to have the cardiac teams I did, and they kept me going. I also discovered that I was making a minimum of $3 less than the men I worked with at the liquor store, men for whom I was the manager. I was also dating my coworkers.
Enter February, which found me in and out of the hospital more, and in for surgery twice. The first surgery mid-month, they found my femorals were occluded, and did the cut-downs anyway. They did enough damage, that I had to have pressure bandages, which removed skin in about 1-inch square. They gave me two weeks to heal, and then went back at it. What that meant was that they were going to have to go through my carotid artery, adding a few more layers of danger, as they wrapped the wire for the ablation around my arteries and back to my heart. On the way, they sliced my superior vena cava, and had to stop the operation so that I could heal. Two more weeks took us to
Mid-March. I had already expressed that I wanted to have this complete by my 42nd birthday, if at all possible, and this time it was a success. There was much joy, until I was attacked at work, and body slammed by a thug-girl that I was trying to kick out of the store. I quit immediately. they didn’t care anyway, and wanted a body to abuse – someone who would struggle for less money than the heartbreak was worth. Right decision, except that I had lost most of my clients while I was in the hospital.
April brought hope, and May brought love that lasted all the way to July 11 – 3 days after I moved home to Colorado to be with him. He kicked me out to the couch, and then proceeded to simultaneously berate me, and tell me he wanted to work on us. I believed him and stuck around until he picked a final fight with me on September 30, and moved into a friend’s basement on emergency.
Which brings me to December…31. This past month, I found out that apartment communities in Colorado really discriminate against freelancers, and force you to have a W2 to rent a place, even if your bank account shows enough income. BUT I was able to get a car – which means car payment, but also freedom – and here I sit. In a hotel room. On new year’s eve. And, I’m okay with it.
There’s not going to be any “new year, new me” bullshit here. I have to focus on getting on my feet, completely, and stop being okay with patches instead of fixes. That means that the same-old-me that has kicked 2018’s add needs to continue to exist to get shit done in 2019 and beyond.
And with that, I wish you a very happy new year. I’m sending you much love, kindness, and peace for the new year. I also want you to have strength, to know you are enough, and that you’ve got this.
No, really, you do.