On Earning (and Justifying) Fun

As I heal, I grieve.

Each time that I do something that is in opposition to my old pattern, I grieve. Can you understand that? Have you felt that before?

It is a reminder that I have not been treated like I deserved, by myself and often by others. You needed love, Self, and tenderness, but you came up wanting more often than not.

Each time that I do something that is in opposition to my old pattern, I go into high alert mode, looking for those harbingers of retribution to come. It’s an if/then statement. Everything has strings attached.

A couple of months ago, I had a mani/pedi girls day with Tiani and Ami. I got picked up and we went to a mall I’d never been to before, eaten at a restaurant I didn’t even know existed and ordered fancy french fries for lunch (french fries! Okay, I also got a tamale to make it seem less like having candy as a meal), and then indulged in an expensive mani/pedi, my first ever. No one called me, asked me when I was coming home, could I stop at the market before I did, and if it's not too much trouble, hey, bring me something to eat. There was no pressure to have to earn my fun day, to justify it, to apologize for it.

And yet I was stressed out the entire time. Did I have fun with them? I did. Did I marvel at the opportunity? I did. But it was also so extremely uncomfortable in its unfamiliarity, I kept waiting to be devoured by monsters or at least punched in the face multiple times by a passing stranger, or better yet, by Ami or Tiani.

“Who you think you?” I imagined. “You don’t belong here. You don’t do this. This isn’t for you.” Over and over. You don’t belong here, this isn’t for you. You don’t belong here, this isn’t for you.

It has taken me all this time to process this day. I was invited. They wanted me there. That’s already enough for a few therapy sessions, yo. I spent all this money on myself is another month of therapy. I didn’t have to drive and worry about gas or parking or traffic. What?? I felt anxious and scared the whole time. Holy fuck, that’s why I’m in therapy.

But here’s the thing: I did the thing. Even though all of the things were unknown to me, I did it. Even though all of the things made me feel crazy, I did it. Even though I cried and cried when I got home, I did it. Even though I still can’t get this damn fucking nail polish off my fingers, I did it.

Healing is not easy, even when it’s a fucking fun-ass mani/pedi day with T&A. You think that should be easy. Ahhh, what a relaxing day. No! It wasn’t! It was hard and uncomfortable and I cried. It was fun and hard and I was so touched that they wanted me there and I was also thinking like wtf am I doing here? And I’m stoked i went.

Each time that I do something that is in opposition to my old pattern, I heal, and I’ve been doing a lot of opposing lately. Doing things because I want to instead of what’s expected. It’s hard. I grieve. I cry a lot.

But you know what? I’m making my way back to me. My life has been in this strange and confusing flux beginning in 2017 when I began bleeding for nearly 2 years straight; through a partial hysterectomy in 2018, mini menopause, and cancer; the uncertainty and terror of Covid in 2020; my health scare and eventual gallbladder removal; depression and anxiety in 2021; and now, in 2022, my second divorce. In that time, I not only endured, I did shit. I earned my undergraduate degree, lost 60 pounds, trained for and finished the Great Aloha Run and Hapalua Half Marathon, sold art that I made, published several blogs that got hundreds of views each; and learned to invert my body on a pole and hang by one leg.

I’d say I’m winning.