12/7/18 – Hello, Again!

Happy 7th! Wow, I apologize. It has been three months since I was blogging consistently. I fell into a bit of an existential slump. I dealt with a job that turned out to be not beneficial to my life whatsoever, battling elements, and just trying to find my place overall. I felt as if I was running out of options, but after not being able to sleep for two nights, Derek and I discovered exactly what has been causing this inner turmoil: freaking money.

I’ll start from where I left off. I was heavily working as a pet sitter. I remember sharing that very long house sitting I had with you guys, and giving you pictures of Ranger being a little dingus. Then I started working at a dog training facility, which was not what I had expected. If anything, it was disappointing. Luckily, it solidified in me that working with OTHER people’s dogs is just not my slice of pie. It takes a very specific kind of person and passion to want to work with (and be good at working with) other people’s living things—dogs or children. I have to be well-bonded to a dog or child first, and board and train specifically feel like “fast food” results with no relationships. If anything, I would prefer a private 1-1 route, but again, I am never working with other people’s dogs again. I know I’ve mentioned this in my Instagram before (if you don’t know already, I am very involved in the dog Instagram community [Handle: @ObsiDuneRoyale]) but the dog world can get very clique-ish. I try to stay away from things like that, as it can get toxic. Hell, I’ve even stopped following dozens of trainers, popular dog photography accounts, and people who are just there for “Instagram fame” just to get away from the toxicity. Everyone thinks they’re the best of the best. So much elitism. Too much noise. I’ve dwindled down to wanting to find people who are fully themselves and are just trying to do the best they can for their dogs. I have a multitude of friends on Instagram; I adore each and every one of them. They are real. 

Got off on a little tangent there, but all of that to say that my perspective with dogs has changed. I will simply keep dog training/nutrition/etc., a hobby. If people come to me for advice, I will give it as a personal anecdote/speculation and nothing more. I’ve stopped doing dog sitting all together, because quite honestly I’m tired of walking in tropical storms, freezing wind advisories, and scorching heat warnings. Call me a baby, but if you had to face the elements like that every single day and desperately rip your wet socks off at the end of the walk and stick your feet on your car vents just to get feeling back into them multiple times a week… Yeah, I’m a baby for sure. I would try to convince myself that there are people working outside all the time, like construction people and what not… and then I’d walk by construction sites that no people on it during rain or snow… OR the house would nearly be finished so they’d be working inside with little space heaters. Give me a break. $17 dollars per walk is not worth blue fingers.

What usually happens when I fall back into a “what the hell am I going to do” slump? Writing. For some reason, every other job type I pursue is the “other guy” in a chick flick that the female protagonist keeps trying to make work. Yet her patient, loving male best friend who secretly loves her and would die for her remains in the shadows. He arrives in the most meaningful moments and is there to lift her up until she finally realizes that he is everything she every wanted. I’m afraid that writing is my patient soul mate. I must love it somewhere deep down , because here I am! I went to school for it. I’ve been writing poetry and stories since 5th grade (I would make my own Sonic the Hedgehog fan fictions. Come at me). My family and friends are enthralled with my work, yet I sit here and flit around asking, “What do I do? Hmmm.” Is it really that obvious? Am I here on this Earth to just write? Like every other writer? What makes me so special that I’m always coming back here? Destiny? Purpose? Desperate? Drive? Sigh.

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After the end of the dog training job, I immediately jumped into job hunting. I’m driven by finances, and Derek and I are so poor I’m not even sure how we’re alive, to be honest. Without any income from me, 80% of our income goes into rent ALONE. Excluding bills groceries, gas, etc. The pressure was on, but here I am pulling away from dog stuff like an idiot. I figured I wanted something low expectation. Something like administrative work. I could do that! I applied, found some other positions, and then the anxiety started. A LOT of anxiety. Not “Wow, a new job” anxiety, but existential crisis anxiety. I got an interview, and I had no spirit there. I couldn’t muster up the spirit if I tried to. I walked out of the interview hoping they didn’t call me back for a second interview, and they did… and I declined. I freaking declined! Job hunting feels wrong. It’s making me sick to my stomach. That then made me think about my family. Would they think I’m just avoiding work? They should hopefully know I’m not like that. I have literally just had the worst luck with jobs, and since I’m very intuitive I can’t go against what I’m feeling even if it may be against what is the most practical option. Sometimes money ISN’T enough to keep you where you are, especially when my role as a wife is something different. If I were a husband, this would be a whole different blog post.

Warning: I am about to get Christian, so there may be lingo or concepts that are not fully understood, which is okay. You’re awesome anyway. I like to give warnings because I don’t even like getting Christian since I can easily lose a reader (it’s like a whole different culture), but this is a large part of my life so here I go.

I was reminded that around June/July this year God told me I needed to yield and be 100% dependent on Derek financially. This would be fine with me, but Derek isn’t the greatest at holding a job or finding work or getting a job with a salary that isn’t a high schooler’s pay rate. (Note: I am not crapping on him. He can’t control the job market and the pitiful numbers being thrown at him right now. I’m grateful we have income at all! Something is going down between him and the Big Man Upstairs, and I’m doing my wifely duties to just let him work through it). Though, I could not comfortably sit under him and just trust God to the fullest. Hence: Rover and finding other work. I was going against the grain, really, and trying to justify my actions. But if I’m not following God’s choreography, then am I messing up the entire story? Is my fear and selfishness fudging up Derek’s potential and opportunity to learn and grow from financial struggle and then (hopefully) rebirth? Probably.

I wasn’t able to sleep two nights ago. Derek and I started a new sleeping routine, and that includes shutting our phones off an hour before bed time. What does that mean? No numbing memes = too much thinking. I was paralyzed that entire night. Cold/hot sweats, stomach pain, heart racing, rapid breathing,  you name it. A low key panic attack from 11:30pm-2:30pm. I used a sleep mask, tried sleeping on the couch away from Derek’s shifting, and I counted down from 1,000 all the way to 667 while doing a breathing exercise, but I could not shake it. Usually if it’s just a stupid amount of anxiety, it’s easy to shake off, but this was a legitimate reason. I just didn’t know exactly what it was at the time. I was wondering if it was strictly finances, since that morning I was crying and panicking over that. Derek sort of soothed me, but he gets just as frustrated about money that his “comforting” isn’t a comfort at all. Try comforting a child who is scared of the dark when you’re scared of the dark, too. They know.

Last night was the start and repeat of another sleepless night. I laid in bed for an hour, straining to keep my pained eyes closed. They felt like they were bulging out of my head because of how exhausted I was, yet my body was stuck in a fight or flight mode. When Derek got home from work, we talked it out. That was when he reminded me, “Did Pastor J tell you that you had to become financially dependent on me fully?” “No,” I responded, “That was God Himself that said that.” As I remembered that, I started to yawn. The more I talked about how job hunting feels so wrong for me right now, the more my body relaxed. I got my appetite back and had to leap out of bed and eat. My whole mood changed to a bubbly, optimistic one. I told Derek I was feeling a pull back to blogging, and I even received a new comment on one of my posts that mentioned I have a regular reader. I missed writing about my mundane life and trying to make it interesting for readers. To top it all off: I rediscovered my local library and I’ve been reading books. He even suggested I do something like a job, so I can compartmentalize it in my brain and not feel so lost. Here is the chick flick moment of me seeing all of my stars aligning.

Also, shout out to Derek for being so helpful, understanding, and supportive. I couldn’t go through this life without him.

Other jobs never working? People loving my writing more than me? God’s word over me? A strong need to sit in a library and read again? People telling me they read my blog? Ugh, “You’re a wizard writer, Harry Lydia.” (I’ve never even see those movies or read those books, but I know every reference because of the internet.)

So here I am. Can this be the last place I stop? I really just want an answer. I even may venture into book reviews. Who knows? I don’t know. What could it hurt? I can’t get money anyway as I’m waiting for my husband to grow and go through his own journey, I might as well just be productive and just trust in the ride. So my solution is to spend several hours a day at the library (my “office”) reading, writing, focusing, and finding my muse. As I type that now, I’m getting hot tingles all over my body and there are butterflies breaking free from their cocoons in my gut.

Stay Sane,

Lydia