This winter has been a tough one for me and, although Punxsytawney Phil didn't see his shadow, I'm still heading outside in a few minutes to defrost and scrape ice off of my station wagon.
It's been a winter filled with self-revelation - my seasonal affective disorder can get worse than I ever thought it could. I've gained and lost and gained 10# again and I'm officially back up to my starting weight (which is the heaviest I've been since having my daughter eleven years ago). Some days, when I look in the mirror, I don't recognize or much like the person looking back at me.
I just finished a fiction book on bullying and school shooting. After an entire education career being shoved into lockers, spit on and called names, one of the main protagonists walks into school and kills 10 kids. I've spent a lot of time recently worrying about my daughter going to middle school where bullying is more prevalent. Will she get picked on? Will she be the one picking on other kids? How did I survive?
It occurred to me some time after that bullying never really quits. Although I wasn't picked on much (in fact, I can't remember an instance of bullying - unless we're referring to myself as the bully), now that I'm older the bullying is all internal. I look in the mirror some mornings and pick myself apart. "Look how fat your face is." "Look at that stray hair where it doesn't belong." "How could you let yourself get this out of control?"
I don't know if I've ever learned to except anything less than perfection. My mother loved my sister and I very much, but I was definitely pushed to be the best version of myself. I know I disappointed her when I married and had my daughter young but, looking back, that is the same way I would feel if it were Caitlin in those same shoes.
I can't accept less than perfection from myself and I'm so tired of all the stress and disappointment that comes with that.
I just want it to be spring.
