Sometimes I wonder if I’m just allowing myself to be lazy or weak — then a period like the one I just had hits, and I think I might be right doing what I do.
Have I gone to work when all I wanted to do was sleep in bed? Yes, twice. Vividly. Both times, tuition classes. One was with a group of amazing secondary four students — they were already a wonderfully sweet bunch, and they saw the pain in my body and made class easy as I crouched and hobbled, my back rounded, between the board and the first tables. The other class? Little kids learning advanced phonics. I held on to the moment class was over, and I sped to the toilet in cold sweat.
I swore that I would never take on a job that would force me to work through my period. Nothing that would make me wake up early, every morning, ask for time off, explain that I was in pain and be judged for it.
Ah. I have an old memory of someone judging me for wanting — no, needing — to go home when my period hit and it was a bad one. He thought I was just being lazy, that I needed to suck it up and work. I shall forgive him, for he was stupid and unable to see, and was unwilling to understand that his view of the world isn’t everyone else’s.
This period was hard. Harder than usual. This round found me crying in bed, trying to massage my calves while my uterus screamed bloody murder as my brain fired signals to all muscles to cramp and squeeze and tighten. I was maxed out with pain and couldn’t even tell Jarrod I needed help and where and how. Poor guy had to figure it out slowly, when he was already exhausted from his day.
I spent two days in bed, napping, sleeping, resting. It’s 1:01 am right now. Jarrod’s asleep (I hope, because he’s got super-hearing and I’m trying to type as silently as possible [note to self: buy a silent keyboard that lights up — gently! — so that I can type on nights like these.]) and I’m just trying to let all the words and thoughts out so that my mind is quieter.
I’ve heard that your life is a direct representation of what you’re willing to sacrifice, and what you believe you’re worth.
I am fat. I am heavier than I’d like to be, and I’ve chosen this. I choose it every time I eat, every time I choose not to work out, every time I say “yes” to dessert or a sweet treat or extra sides to a meal. I choose it because I want to enjoy my food and my time here on Earth and I do not think that my strength and stamina and health are as important, because I don’t prioritise working out.
You are what you do, more so than what you say, or what you think.
You can say, “I am meant to be rich”, you can think, “I am meant to be rich”, but if you don’t do it, if you don’t do what needs to be done, and you don’t feel it in the body, then it’s just empty sound on repeat.
I’d like to be slim. To feel good knowing that I look good. To dress up and like what I see. To go back to shopping for dresses sized M instead of XL and potentially plus-sized. It’s something I miss about where I was two years ago.
I was sadder, two years ago, and that put me on the easiest diet I’d ever been on. I don’t want that, thank you. I want to be stronger, with better stamina, and a lot more flexible.
I want more control of my body.
Yeah, that makes more sense to me.
As for my time, I am not — nor have I ever been willing — to give up the hours of my days to someone else. I’ve never had a 9 to 5 and I want it to stay that way.
When it comes to relationships, perhaps that’s a bit outside of life being a direct representation. Because meeting someone is outside of anyone’s control, since it involves other people. But the quality of a relationship — that’s on you.
I had so many unhealthy relationships because I believed that was all I was worth. Staying in something unhealthy is a choice. So is leaving. And if someone decides to leave you, then you get the choice to continue pining, or to grieve and move on. It was only when I decided that I’m fine on my own that Jarrod appeared, and we had a chance for a healthy relationship.
Does it mean everything is perfect and we never fight? Ha, no. It means we’ve set boundaries, we choose to play fair — when it matters –, and we choose to love and understand each other every moment.
“Love each other, even when it’s hard, even when it’s not convenient.”
Jarrod, during a best man’s speech.
How I show up in this relationship — in any and all my relationships — is up to me. What I accept, what I fight about, and how I choose to fight about it, is up to me. And whether I stay or leave is up to me too.
The last thing, then, is how I show up to work.
Because I’m letting the fear of “not good enough” get in the way. Not good enough to be a writer, not good enough to be a realtor, not good enough to learn and assimiate and have my own thoughts and opinions about things. I need a little more confidence and a little more ego and a little more (swearing warning) fuck you, fuck off, I know what I’m talking about so sit down and listen to me.
I loved being a writer because I had that ego for a bit, and it worked out for me, because I got things done. Then I lost it, and I lost the ability to get things done for my clients too. I’ve got to remember I’ve been here for a long time, and I’ve been writing even before they started their businesses — so what am I intimidated for, when it’s on my ground?
They pay me because I’m good, so to the voice inside my head telling me to “behave, be perfect, be beyond remonstration, don’t make a fool out of yourself”, let me talk to you in italics.
As for being a realtor, I’ve let my insecurities take over as well. I’ve allowed myself to believe that people — who have their own issues — were better, smarter, more in tune and analytical, more deserving of success.
Oh, so I didn’t believe that I deserve success.
Yes, I took the realtor’s examination on a whim. But I passed. I’ve passed, and joined, and helped clients sell and buy houses — successfully.
Yes, there’s lots to learn, but since when has that been a problem? There’s so much I can learn. So much that I can choose to figure out. So much that I can use.
It’s like me watching Jarrod train in his workshops — he’s deft and confident and able to pull everything he’s learned into something that his participants can relate to and understand — and I know that I’m not supposed to be him, or be like him, but to be my own version.
There are things that will always stay the same — there are fundamentals to writing, to sales, to real estate, to the Enneagram — but everything else is up to you. Every teacher does it differently. Every person has their way.
Learn the rules. Choose what matters. Let go of everything else.
I didn’t expect all this to appear, and it’s one of the many reasons I love writing. Blogging. Journaling. Content Creation.
My realtor team had a 30-day challenge to post daily on social media. It was meant to support our profile, and to boost our realtor business. It ended up backfiring, for me, because it solidified my content creator identity instead.
Alright, it’s 3:11 am. Time to go to bed.
Just one last note: has my writing style/tone changed? i was present to being honest, and less generic/general. will see soon, i guess.
🌧️
Image of a wedding aisle on the beach,
decorated with flowers by Thanakorn laksanawaree from Pixabay.
