Discover more from A Whole Lotta Middle by Marie Rossiter
Real talk about the long middle road of weight loss while navigating an empty nest
When you wait for life to change, you're going nowhere
I’ve been stuck for a while now.
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I cannot tell you how awful it feels to know you’re bogged down in your brain and can’t find your way out of the maze.
Compared to where I was a year ago, I’ve been unhappy with my health.
I’ve been unhappy with my apparent inability to sit and write what I feel is a coherent sentence or passage. It’s not that it doesn’t make sense. It just feels empty. Other than my work writing, anytime I’ve tried to sit down and write anything of meaning for me, I either stare at the blank screen or when I do get a couple of words down, I hit delete.
It may sound like my depression is in high gear right now. I’m pretty sure that’s not it. I’ve often been at the bottom of that hole and do not see the same symptoms.
When I’m in one of my depression cycles, I feel nothing. Or, at least, everything is muted.
I let basic things go, like my home, work, relationships, etc. I pull back from the world. None of those things are happening.
The best way I can describe what I’ve been feeling lately is a sense of inevitability that the other shoe will drop. At first, I couldn’t understand why this sensation was weighing down on me. Things have been somewhat…calm…lately, at least in our corner of the world.
Boom. That’s why, silly. I’ve been in crisis mode for so long that it’s become my driving force.
COVID-19 did a number on me. Many of us are just waking up from the emotional and physical toll the entire shutdown and virus had on us. Seeing my daughters’ lives upended because of the shutdown, the fear of what would happen if any of us got sick, and all of the baggage that came with the COVID-19 mess is enough to wreak havoc on anyone.
At the same time, my husband and I faced the growing reality of dealing with aging parents during this time.
I lost my (step)dad in 2022 and have had to navigate my mother’s grief for a second time (my father died in 1994). Each passing came with different emotions and aftermaths that my mom and I are still working through. I’m happy to say this time around, it’s been healthier, but it’s still rough.
My father-in-law is slipping deeper into dementia and that comes with a boatload of baggage I can’t even begin to explain, nor should I because, at this point, it’s my in-laws’ story to tell, not mine.
As all of this was happening, my two daughters pushed forward through all of the chaos and started heading out into the world on their own. I had certain expectations and hopes for what empty nesting would be like. The sputtered start, thanks to COVID and the unexpected feelings of “what now?” had me bouncing back and forth between wanting them to leave and fearing what would happen if they did.
At the end of last year, Jon and I decided to take the leap and move to the kind of house we’ve wanted for years. Things fell into place very quickly and we grabbed onto the opportunity despite some fear and uncertainty.
The following six months after we moved in were an ongoing nightmare. Jon’s work schedule suddenly shifted to where he was traveling more often than he had been.
As that happened, our new-to-us-home was falling down around us despite an inspection. A flooding basement that needed to be torn up to repair, an illegally installed roof that got replaced only to have our dining room ceiling cave two days later, a yard that needed a total overhaul to help with drainage and to make it maintainable…the list goes on.
The amount of money pouring out of our bank account kept me up nights and distracted my waking hours. Seeing our plans for paying off our mortgage early evaporated. Feeling like we were duped made me sad and angry.
Fast forward, the house is lovely and what we hoped we’d get when we bought it. We are happy and don’t have work crews around anymore. I’m experiencing a sense of gratitude that we were able to shuffle things around and get things fixed.
I can look at the money spent as funds lost or an investment for the rest of our lives. Truthfully, I have days where I see it both ways.
As if that wasn’t enough…
Over the course of 8 months, my husband and I moved our entire home, our youngest daughter to and from Florida for the Disney College Program, to camp for her summer job and then back to college in Indiana for her final year and our oldest daughter twice due to job promotions.
And I’ve been wondering why I can’t focus on anything to help me move forward and feeling like the next, giant life tsunami is going to crash into me.
What the hell? Am I really that dense?
It’s finally dawned on me that I haven’t wanted to devote any real mental or physical effort beyond the basics to my hopes and dreams because they keep getting interrupted by “fires” that need to be put out.
I’ve talked about small goals for years, starting with just one thing and doing it. Except I wasn’t doing it. Why bother? It’s never going to go anywhere. And something will happen to get in the way anyway, right?
No wonder why I’m feeling stuck. I’m living…no, waiting…for a time when life will stop having its way with me so I can get back to myself.
The reality? Life has stopped being absurdly crazy lately and my brain is making up potential detours to keep me where I’m at—in a hyper-aware, something terrible can happen and I have to be in a “ready state.”
And I’m tired of it.
Over and over, I’ve managed to deal with whatever crisis comes along. I’ve had a lot of practice through the years. I can start believing that my family and I will handle what life has in store, and I am allowed to return to creating the joy I want in my life.
Or, I can continue to sit and wait for the shit to hit the fan.
I want more for myself. I deserve more. I have the potential to be more.
But, only if I start taking action and not wishing for it.
What does all of this rambling mean?
Over the past few days, I’ve dared to start writing down some goals and some action steps. Small ones—really tiny. The things I’ve said over the years are meaningful but never fully committed to in my heart and mind.
I have to meet myself where I am. Instead of beating myself up for all the time I’ve missed in the past 12-18 months living in fear or crisis mode, I need to see that my family and I have survived it and it’s okay to move forward and want a deeper happiness that my comfort zone has given me.
I have to be willing to take small, easy steps to get there and accept it’s enough.
Because it is.
Here’s what I’m working on this week:
15 minutes of writing work five days this week—anything counts as long as I’m writing, and it’s not for my job!
Go to the Y twice this week
Keep tracking my food—yes, I’ve been doing that—and work toward keeping a closer eye on calorie intake instead of simple accountability.
Weigh in 2x this week
That’s it. I’ll keep you posted on social media on how it’s going for the week. You can find me on Facebook and Instagram.
Oh, and to prove a small plan can work—I began this writing session with a 15-minute timer, saying I can make myself do anything for that long. I had to reset the timer two more times because once I pushed past the first 5 uncomfortable minutes, things got rolling.
Let’s see how this goes…
Thanks for reading A Whole Lotta Middle by Marie Rossiter! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.