Vista

I have finally gotten some distance from a situation I was in, and with that distance I have gained great perspective. Only now do I realize the extent of my isolation and depression.

Five years ago, I was a whirling dervish. Running myself crazy, fitting my life to everything around me, taking no time for myself to even stop and just... breathe. That's what happens when you have a family, a full time job, volunteer work, and someone you love has cancer.

Back then, I would muse dreamily how wonderful it would be if I could just have a moment's free time for myself.

Two and a half years later, I lost my job.

Two days after that I lost my loved one.

I was grieving, and instantly worthless.

There were no projects due, no endlessly ringing phones, no emails demanding attention, no doctors to call, no hospitals to go to, no prescriptions to collect, nothing had a time frame or a dead line. I had the one thing I use to dreamily wish for - time.

I spent so much of my life being something for everyone else that when no one wanted me to be anything I didn't know what to do. Insomnia remained a constant extender of my useless time and made my days become amorphous.

It was easy to fall back into a pattern, devoting my all to one person that seemed to need it. Turning away from myself.

Hiding from myself.

And somewhere in it all, I lost two and a half years.

Cutting my hair has meant more to me than I realized at the time. I had kept it the way my loved one wanted it. I hadn't been able to let go. Cutting it was for me. It was the first time since he died that I did something because it was what I wanted, what made me happy.

And boy, did it make me happy.

It was a small, symbolic thing that's allowed me to start figuring out who I am, what kind of person I want to be, what makes me happy.

Baby steps to finding out that it's ok to be selfish. It's ok to put yourself first. It's ok to be me.