I haven’t had much to say lately. My daughter is home sick and on her second nap, and I don’t want to be completely out of the habit of journaling.
There was a bit of a Thanksgiving plot twist. First, I realized that I was likely to stop getting invites to holidays with my ex’s family now that his fiancee and her son have moved in with him. Then, I got invited by his brother to Thanksgiving dinner, and I wanted to go (because I like them, I have no family out here, and I’d get more time with my daughter that day). Next, my ex basically uninvited me. I was sad, but I made peace with it.
A few days before, my daughter told me that my ex’s fiancee and her son were going to be spending Thanksgiving with his father. On the west coast. I texted my ex to ask, and he confirmed that this was the case. So, my ex had uninvited me to a dinner that he wasn’t even hosting out of a desire to not be disloyal to his fiancee (who he happened to have left me for), who wasn’t even going to be there.
It was shitty, and I was sad.
He told me “go ahead and take her, I don’t want anything to do with this holiday, I feel like dogshit.” I declined, because I’m not a selfish asshole. She has four cousins in this area who she was looking forward to playing with that day; was not going to keep her from her family just so I wasn’t alone.
I continued to talk up to my daughter our Thanksgiving morning and early afternoon. I handled her questions about why I wouldn’t be there okay, I think?
When Thanksgiving day came, we had a nice morning and early afternoon. She didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t get upset. I know as soon as she got there, she’d be excited to play with her cousins.
And she did have a nice time.
I was okay. I did lame things, like clean, but I didn’t sit around and cry. I videochatted with M (and his pup!), and they both came over at night bearing food and adorableness.
I’d rather do things this way than not see her at all every other Thanksgiving. Our breakfast and tree decorating wasn’t the usual Thanksgiving dinner, but it still counts as celebrating a holiday with my daughter. That’s why I didn’t really push to be added onto anyone’s Thanksgiving. All I needed to do was to feel that I celebrated a holiday with my girl.
I have her Christmas eve and morning this year, and I’m content with that because I get to put out cookies for Santa and wake up with her. If we stick with what’s on paper and flipflop the schedule next year, I have a whole year to adjust. I only have very strong feelings about Thanksgiving and Christmas in terms of family holiday time.
Since then…it’s been the three and a half weeks between Thanksgiving and winter break, and it feels longer than ever. I’m overwhelmed with work (mostly because I took on an extra responsibility), and I’m not at all happy with the quality of my (students’) work. Realizing I’m not happy at work was depressing, but it was also a relief to put it into words. I’ve dealt with it by taking some very small, but concrete steps to make my kids sound better, and I just keep chugging away at the paperwork even though I’m probably weeks behind with the outside project.
I’ve gone out a couple times. Oh, once was a housewarming party the weekend before Thanksgiving, but it was nice, and it was my “speed” in terms of socializing in public. This weekend, I went to a wedding for the couple that is basically my dream “happy ending” story.
I’m not really feeling a happy post now, so I’ll save that for another day.
I’m disturbed that I’ve lost all motivation to go to the gym. I hate it. I wouldn’t say I’m down really–this weekend is the happiest I can remember feeling over the course of 24 hours in…months? Months at least. It’s harder to get out of bed, though, and I just straight up blow off the gym. If I could just change that. I keep thinking it’s because it’s busy season, but it’s been at least a couple months since I’ve had a good couple weeks of workouts. Even putting my own body image issues aside, I was always proud of my work at the gym, and I can’t figure out how to get back to it. It used to be rewarding enough to get me there four times a week. I don’t know what happened.
And yes, I admit that I’m distressed at seeing that I’ve lost my progress. It seems like a fantastic foundation for a cycle of feeling bad about myself and not having anything about which I can take pride.