Planning Better Life Choices and Goals

Have you ever been tired? I mean tired from the inside out. It could be your body, your mind, your spirit? Or maybe it’s only a headache and you just can’t tell the difference any more? Maybe you’re just whining, or maybe you can’t feel your face.

I’ve been this level of tired before. Twice, actually. I’d push forward every day, but it just seemed like the current was too strong against me. Both times I found myself crawling out of bed in the morning, asking God for strength to get through the day, and getting dressed. Until I crawled into bed again that evening. Or, somewhere closer to 7:30PM.

A few people from my job were in a mental recovery facility at different times, which should have been a red flag for me. We were far too familiar with the name of that place. I gotta say, though, the facility seemed really appealing to me for a while.

About that same time, I had a friend who was having addition issues. I didn’t know about them, or I didn’t know their extent, anyway. He had apparently been on a downhill path, picking up speed for a few years and I didn’t catch on until the crash. I visited him at the mental facility he had checked into, a facility for substance abuse recovery. The place was way out in the country, and it was lovely—with trees and paths, and food prepared by a chef was served daily.

I was so very bitter.

I’ll be the first to admit that my dream of being confined to a mental facility is not the ideal mindset of a successful person. And I have recovered from the near-desperate need for it. But the dream is still alive.

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An epiphany is a visceral understanding of something you already know. –Jen Sincero

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I have heard that there is an alternative called a “Vacation”.

I don’t know, though. It doesn’t feel the same if I’m not exhausted from working. It would be like sitting down at a nice restaurant with a steak in front of you, but still being full from the cheap fast-food burger you just had.

I’ve done some soul searching these past few years. I tried to break free from the bondage of employment a couple of times, and crawled right back in. It’s so comfortable here, and they bring me a paycheck. But when I look out the window at the big, beautiful life that’s out there, I can’t help but think I’m missing something while I sit at somebody else’s desk, punching keys. Like, maybe it’s time to rethink and try again.

So, this year I’m changing my personal goals from:

• Winning the lottery.

• Having the AC unit fall through the ceiling onto my head, meaning that I’d be set for life with the damages I’d collect from my employer.

• Losing my personal freedoms and allowing myself to be put into a drugged state of submission in a mental facility.

To the positive goals of:

• Establishing one new stream of income using my God-given creativity.

• Building that business and growing a following—while I still have my day job.

• Taking a much-needed vacation to someplace extraordinary where somebody else washes my sheets and I can have food brought to me at a table along with a cocktail.

• Hiking in state park—the beginning of a plan to visit all of the state parks in Texas.

I don’t know. This just feels better.

What are your thoughts?

A Cat Who Wants to Be Outside

I woke up one morning to my partner explaining that he had been on his morning walk and had found a kitten in box. She was clearly abandoned and probably was too young to live if left on her own. Suddenly, it seemed, we had a new kitten.

Cleopatra was named for the markings that looked like eye makeup. (We called her Cleo for short.) There wasn’t much of a transition issue for her. She settled in; she ate, understood the litter box. She was a kitten with kitten energy and eyes that were in a constant state of wide-open, like she was always surprised.

Cleo dearly loved Barry’s cat, Ms. Polly, who was far too old to want to have anything to do with kittens or cuddling or mothering. No matter how much Cleo walked up to her, droopy-eyed in half-sleep snuggle mode, it wasn’t never well-received. When our cat population expanded by six cats (a friend passed and we took her cats in) Cleo more or less kept to herself. if she couldn’t have Ms. Polly, she didn’t want anybody.

By and by, Cleo took to sitting by the storm door, looking out at the back yard. We would step over her while coming into an out of the house, so she had plenty of time to dart outside if that had been what she wanted. (She also had time to move out of the damn way, but wasn’t interested in that, either.) Barry and I decided that she remembered having been outside alone and abandoned as a kitten, and had no desire to relive that experience. So, she just watched the world happen from her safe place of shelter, food and water.

The change in her mindset about the outdoors was very gradual. I suspect that she saw the strays who had taken up residence in the back yard. She watched them lounge in the sun AND get fed. Her cat brain began to question the truths she had accepted. She realized that the love and care that we showed her inside was available to cats outside as well. Hmm…

She snuck outside a few times. Barry was very unimpressed with me when this happened. He’d run late to work because he’d insist on crawling under the house to get her out from under there and bring her inside again. She went under the house because almost as soon as she had managed to get outside, she became a little spooked—no longer sure why she had wanted to be out there in the first place. Dreams of warm sunbeams forgotten because she was too busy thinking about the fact that there were only a few precious minutes before the man who lived inside the house and brought her food (Barry) would come out and chase her back inside. So she panicked and ran under the house to hide.

A few years went by like this. Then one day a confident new hunky cat named Tomcat began to strut around the backyard. Cleo mostly watched him with the same detachment as she did with the other cats and possums. As winter set in, though, and it began to get cold outside, Tomcat began coming inside at night, and was allowed back out during the day.

This was the last straw.

Not only did the cats outside enjoy food and fresh air and sunbeams, they were allowed into the house as well, and then back outside whenever they pleased? That was too much.

She rediscovered youth in her desire to be outside. The storm door doesn’t slam; it has a pneumatic closer that catches it and lets it come to a slow, quiet close. This gave Cleo ample time to allow us to walk outside and then charge from two rooms away through the door before it completely closed her in. She got better at making sure we were either out of sight, or that she engaged her cat stealth as she ran by so that we didn’t notice her.

She no longer wasted any time being frightened and confused under the house. She’d lie in the grass, soaking up the sun. Or curl up under an esperanza bush. She could alternately sleep and watch the world around her for hours before standing on the back step, announcing that she’d like to come inside again please.

She didn’t interact with the cats outside much more than she had with the ones inside, and she also didn’t care who was around. Most cats won’t walk through a door or around a corner if another cat is standing nearby. There is a code in cat life that states, in no uncertain terms, that if another animal walks across your path you must swat it. It could be another cat, a human, or a dog, it didn’t matter. It had to be swatted, and it might need to be chased, depending on the circumstance. (Possible exceptions are possums. It is unclear why, but possums can get away with all kinds of nonsense that other cats are not allowed.)

But Cleo didn’t care about all that. She was a big girl (almost 20 lbs.) and she knew her strength. More to the point, she didn’t care about those other cats. She had places to be and she proceeded, regardless of how many cats were on the back step or nearby. She walked right by them, or jumped over them. To her, they were mere objects in her path. She knew that time was somewhat limited. She may be a badass cat, but she knew that the man with the food would be around sooner or later to scold her and chase her inside, so she wasted no time.

I, myself, long to learn this lesson. Not only learn it by watching Cleo chase her dreams, but I want to really feel it in my bones. To KNOW what I want, why I want it and to make no excuses about not going after it. If the door is closing, who says you can’t reach it from two rooms away before it locks you in? If other cats want to play by their rules, that’s their business, but I have things to accomplish and work to do.

I want to go at life with the conviction of a cat who has decided to be outside. Nothing can stop a heart on a mission. Cleo showed me that.

Move over. The door is closing now; I don’t have time for nonsense.

To Those of You Who Hurt, I Understand

All of you who hurt quietly. Who wonder what’s wrong with you, who feel like you have everything going for you, but then it all seems to fall apart.

To those of you who are paralyzed, like a deer in headlights, when you hear what sounds like a raised voice, even if it’s only somebody talking loudly. To those who don’t know how to make people understand what’s going on, because you don’t understand it either.

To you, I say, I understand. I understand, even if you haven’t realized that there’s anything specifically wrong yet, if you just get into these moods sometimes and need some time alone. If you don’t want to watch psychological thrillers, because the sound of screaming victims puts you in a bad mood.

And You. I understand. When you try to tell people that there might have been something a little strange about your upbringing and they assure you that every family has one member like that.

When you choose not to go to crowded outdoor festivals or parties, and your friend laughs and says that they don’t care for crowds either, that they’ll probably just go for a little while, to make an appearance. When you know that once they’re there they will stay.

And they tell you about a boat party at the lake with loud music and drinks and everybody having a good time, so many people on such a beautiful day, and then they tell you that they understand, because they don’t really care for noisy places either. Just every once in a while.

And you think, ‘No. I don’t think that’s the same as what I feel’.

And you feel bad because they are inviting you to have fun, and you really don’t want to go, but you think you probably should. Get to know more people. Get out more.

And to those who think that fireworks are not as much fun as other people seem to think. Who get a headache even from thinking about it. And leading up to the time to go, you find yourself struggling to breathe regularly.

And people tell you that you’re in a mood.

Again.

You get in these moods. Why don’t you go do something about that?

And why can’t you hold a job?

Why do you sleep so much. You’ve gone to bed at 8 o’clock every evening. Do you really need that much sleep?

I understand why you sleep so much. I do.

Because when your friends and the people who love you have had it, and they ask you why are you like this all of a sudden, and you don’t know. You don’t know why.

You think that being a nomad might be a better lifestyle for you, moving from town to town, working odd jobs and sleeping where you can find a place. Or you dream of a small house far away from the nearest town.

If you wonder whether or not the loud voices that startle you have anything to do with excessive sleep, they probably do. They’re likely related. That and much more.

Every family does have that one person who sticks out, but I’m here to tell you that this does not make your situation normal. Even if, when you heard that explanation, you took it at face value, you knew that this wasn’t the same thing. But you convinced yourself that they were right. If you’re having second thoughts about that now, it means something. It does.

And I understand.

When nobody seems to know what’s going on, least of all you. When you try to explain and they tell you that we all have stress, we’re all dealing with things. If it makes you feel small, try not to let it.

And forgive the people who can’t understand. Not everybody knows that there’s even anything to understand. If they don’t know what it’s like when you hear two people fighting, then they don’t know.

But I do.

And you’re not wrong. You might be crazy, but you’re not mistaken. There is something wrong.

And I understand.