Pulling Myself Up

This has just not been a good day. I woke up still pissed at the library from yesterday’s discriminatory event against my son, then I got to work and found out they screwed up my schedule and my manager threw out the list of dates I asked for off, so I may get in trouble for next week having Wednesday and Friday off. I’m burnt out from a full week of work. Blah.

I’m trying to keep my head above water. I’m planning a random act of kindness event for Thursday morning where I leave ziplock bags with tea packets and affirming messages around the town for the people of Newmarket to find; where I won’t be sharing thanksgiving with family I’m hoping to at least give back to people and show them someone cares. This would also be good for Syrus as a lesson in love, if he understands the concept I’m trying to do. I need to buy tea bags for the zip locks I’ve started; there’s 50 of them in total. I’ve been doing random acts of kindness searches on Pinterest. It’s been fun. 

I remembered my mom shaming this part of me as a teen… I remember planning something where I wanted to help people, and I was told it was a bad idea and shouldn’t do it. It’s a vague memory, but I feel the tightness around my heart and in my chest and upper body… The shame and sorrow and slight tinge of anger from feeling so misunderstood. It wasn’t fair. There’s a real sense of weight about this grief… I’m connecting with someone deep in me. 

A part of me wants tony she myself and say I’m overcompensating for my loneliness this thanksgiving, but I also know this is part of who I really am. I want others to feel good… No one needs to know it was me; although if I make cookies for the police department they’re gonna know it was me. I’m thankful for the HUGE turn-around this year compared to last, and I wanna give back for it. I have to stand by my side on this and not label myself codependent, but greatful. 

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