So, something has been bothering me for, oh, about a month, now. Back in April, I had posted a status on Facebook about how stressed out I was because of my newish job. It is a very exhausting position that I actually do like at times, but it involves dealing with people who have recently been hospitalized or who have sick relatives. They’ve been through a difficult time and the last thing they want to hear is me telling them their insurance won’t cover whatever equipment they need to get their family member home and away from the hospital. No one patient of ours is ever happy or pleasant or even slightly kind, and while I usually keep a cheerful disposition, (even if I’m lying)it starts to wear on you. Like any other modern human, I vent about it.
About an hour after posting my status, a friend posted a status of her own, vaguely complaining about my complaints. She didn’t actually single me out, to be fair, but I told her she definitely could unfollow me on Facebook if I was bothering her. Her response was, essentially, that I had said I was happy lately and that she was tired of seeing me be negative on Facebook and if I was so damn happy, I ought to act like it…
Now this friend is a sweet person, and she meant no harm. But the whole scenario sort of dug at me, because I’ve been struggling with the same topic internally for a while. I am happier than I have been in my adult life. In the past year I got to know myself I on a deep, harsh level, I grew from my mistakes, learned how to heal when someone I trusted with my heart set it on fire (multiple times), and I know what it is now to be loved by someone worthy of loving me. So, yeah, sure, I’m happy.
But, as a popular Netflix movie intones, you can’t get rid of your depression. Just because things change and your spirit is lifted, it doesn’t mean your insecurities and stresses that mired you down just disappear. And the juggling of your happy, airy heart with your sad, taxed heart gets difficult at times. There is pain in me that I will carry for a lifetime. The girl who misses her brother. The life I put aside when one door closed forever. And while I may have found the man of my dreams, have a steady job that’s getting me back on my feet, and I’m back in my mountains, daydreaming of my one-day happily-ever-after and no longer scared of pinterest lest I see something wedding-related on a board…. that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be a little blue every once in a while.
Mainly, I just struggle with acknowledging that pain in a healthy way, one that will help me deal with my demons while living in the beautiful moments a hundred tearful nights gave way to. I’m getting better at it, but some things pull me down.
Take, for instance, my last name. I kept my ex-husband’s in the divorce, for multiple reasons, some practical and others not so much. But living back home, it causes a few problems. I’m always having to second-guess my own introductions of myself. If I’m with my boyfriend and meeting members of his church, its easier to refer to myself by my maiden name. If I’m at work, I have to remember that I need to use my married name’s initials when signing medical documents. Each and every time I sign my name, flash my ID, or tell someone who I am, I’m reminded of my troubles. Every time I lie and say my last name is still Herndon, (maiden) I feel wrong for sparing someone the disgrace of knowing I’m divorced. Every time I use my legal, married name, I feel like a fraud.
Just the simple use of a name is something I have to deal with on a daily basis. Divorce doesn’t just end with signed documents and parting ways…it follows you.
And I may be a thousand times healthier than I used to be, I may be happier than I ever thought possible. But I need to stop beating myself up for being sad. I need to stop feeling as if I’m ungrateful for what I have (believe me, I know how lucky I am to have someone in my life who can make me smile like an idiot just by looking at me, ok? ) and allow myself to be a little bit nicer…to…myself.
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