The Future Is Here

This year has challenged my sense of self in ways I never expected. In this episode, I talk about heartbreak, loneliness, identity, and what happens when life keeps hitting you before you’ve had time to recover from the previous thing.

Transcript

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A few weeks ago, a friend asked how I was. She's been checking on me often, knowing how rough this year has been so far. We were talking as usual, and it just came out. I'm not happy. That moment stuck with me because honestly, I've never felt this way before. I've always been content with my life. Not that my life has been a breeze, but even through the hard times, I've never felt such emptiness before. Logically, I get it. I'm fresh out of a relationship I desperately tried to make work for years. I'm pregnant for the first time at 40, and I'm doing it alone. I'm struggling with my one-year-old puppy as he goes through his teenage phase. So many things going through my mind. Why couldn't my ex love me the way I needed him to love me? Is my baby at greater risk for trisomy because of my age? Why can't I be more patient with Sunny? Am I going to be a good mom? How am I going to raise a confident child when I can't even handle a puppy? I'm lucky to have family and friends who love me deeply, but they're not there in the quiet moments. They're not there when I'm breaking down in my condo, feeling terribly lonely, feeling like a failure. I can't hold it together anymore. So much of my identity is built around being the strong one. The one who could always rely on herself. Now I feel so fragile. And that's it right there. I've slowly been losing myself. I'm not happy. When I said those words to my friend, I did not know when that would change, if it would change. I clung to the fact that there were some things to look forward to. Soon I would start to feel my baby move. Soon my parents would be here to help. But I could not find anything to be happy about in the present moment. And that's not me. I usually try to find to find the silver lining in everything. But anyway, life kept going. More things kept going wrong. A woman stopped me when I was out with Sunny one afternoon. She told me she had called animal services on me because I was clearly mistreating my dog. I'm not going to go into the details here, but I was doing whatever I could to handle him during one of his fearful episodes. The stranger had no business judging me without knowing the full situation. Still, the incident hit me so hard. Somebody said out loud what I had been thinking myself. That I'm not a good owner, that I'm not taking care of my dog the way I should. I don't even know how I've made it through the past few months. It feels like I have just been going through the motions, taking it one day at a time, doing the things I have no choice but to do. Like feed myself, feed the dog, take him out, work. And every once in a while, life beyond survival, a doctor's appointment, getting my roots done, dinner with a friend, preparing for my parents' arrival. Life doesn't stop for you while you figure your shit out. And maybe that's a blessing. Because somewhere in between all of it, life slowly started to feel lighter again. These days I feel better. The future is here. I feel my baby moving. It's really the best part of pregnancy. My puppy is finally getting the training he needs. In just a few days, my parents are moving here after years of us waiting for this moment. But maybe more importantly, I can breathe again. I'm no longer bracing for the next bad thing to happen. Yeah, there are times when I still feel down. It happens randomly. All of a sudden, I just feel sad about my ex. I miss Sunny. The feeling of loneliness comes back for a moment. I know these episodes are not gone forever. They will creep up again. But more and more I feel things are getting back to normal. The normal I'm used to. Where there are hard moments, but happiness is the default. My biggest clue, I feel like me again. Happiness for me used to be about finding joy in the little things in everyday life. But now I realize there's another layer to this. When my foundation, my identity, is shaky, the little things that usually bring me joy are still there, but they just roll off of me. I'm learning the only way to stick is when I feel connected to myself. Thank you for listening. See you next time.