How Donuts Saved My Life

Something crazy happened. A thing that I thought would never happen and would always be a struggle. And more than that, I know the exact moment, the exact place, the exact time that it happened.

On my doorstep.
After an overnight shift.
October 12, 2013
At 8:00 am.

It’s not that I discovered my worth or finally became happy in that moment. It wasn’t the flick of a switch. I have been actively aware of and battling self image and self worth issues for close to 10 years. Since the day I stepped into Hull Middle School and realized that people could be prettier than me, thinner than me, smarter than me, more talented than me, and that a lot of people valued those things more than what I had to offer.

I strived to be valued. All the time. Every hour of every day since I was 11 years old.

But at 8:00 am on October 12, after not having sleep since 8:00 am the day before, it just kind of happened. Not caring. The realization that you are in charge of your own worth. The fact that if the boy you love doesn’t love you back, it doesn’t alter your value. The idea that if you have to job hop a little until you find somewhere you are comfortable, it doesn’t lessen your worthiness of a job, it means you did the right thing.

In a less generalized statement, my eating problems ended a few months ago. Ended. Recovered. And I have been doing the right things to gain weight, while still crumpling under the fear that if I gain it back, the thoughts will return. But at 8:00 am on October 12, 2013 I realized they weren’t going to. And that’s a hard thing to describe if you’ve ever dealt with anything like that, because you pretty much know there aren’t any certainties in recovery. I don’t know how to tell you how I know that, other than to say I just have a different appreciation for my body after seeing it wither. The happiness I feel about being healthy is indescribable. And I wish I could extract it out of me, into a vile, so I could give it to anyone who might still be confused about their value to this world being tied to a number on a scale.

I can tell you that this all started with a change in jobs. Dunkin Donuts has made life easier for me. And though the donuts and coffees and breakfast sandwiches are a great perk, they are not the reason. I do not like cleaning the donut case, or cleaning the coolatta machine. Hauling trash bags to the dumpster that are heavier than me is not where I find joy. But being accepted with open arms and given a chance after two job failures in a row is huge. Being capable and able of the work I am doing makes me feel better. I don’t know the corporation or the owners or what goes on in the dunkin mastermind meetings, but I know my boss is one of the best there is, and working along side someone like her, helping her business prosper, brings me joy.

When you go from a dry, skin and bones life, and endless monotony of alarm clocks and bills and a workday that is full of people who seem to hate you, to a belly-full of happy people and never knowing what you’re waking up to, donuts become your sanctuary a little bit. There is a reason they say that if you love your job, you’ll never work another day in your life.

Dunkin has just been dipping my toes into that lifestyle, as it is an hourly job and not my career aspiration. And the donut case really is a bitch.

But not hating your job, just that alone opens so many doors in life outside of work.

It enabled me to sit on this doorstep at 8:00 am on October 12, 2013 and realize that everything is going to be okay.

I’m drinkin’ dunkin.
Booyah, Jmac.

Irrelevant Title for an Irrelevant Blog

Once upon a time, I used to be a writer.

It was a source of pride, a glow from my chest if you will, a badge of honor. Writer. I relished in the title. And I advertised myself as such. I had a dream to write a book, and I actually wrote a very good chapter or two of a very good idea.

I DONT KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.

It makes me nauseous when I see how long I go between posts.

My brain used to be full of words, and now it’s like trying to shake water out of your ear after a swim. I am desperately batting at my head trying to relinquish even an ounce of the good stuff I used to have access to.

It all feels like mush.
But I’m trying.

Things we need to talk about when
I remember how to write:
My Weight: A Problem That Won’t Go Away
Why I Am Not As Sad About The Breakup As I Should Be
Divorces And Other Family Functions
Orange Trees
How Donuts Saved My Life
Why I Changed The Name Of My Blog: An Analysis Of The Bluebird

What It Took.

It took a text message.
It took a few text messages.
It took a phone call.
And another phone call.
It took a meal at cicis pizza.
It took an ill fitting apron.
It took a dash of bravery.
And faith.
It took a week of pure agony.
It took a lifetime of self hatred.
It took smiling at people when I wanted to kick your teeth in.
And a lot of letting go.
It took an awkward first day.
It took a hard decision.
It took an earth shattering realization.
And being okay with it.

I didn’t know if I was going to breathe again.

I’d forgotten what it was like to hear the lyrics when music was playing, really really hear them. The kind of really hearing them so much that it makes you feel. The kind that makes me crank the volume up past my restriction of 17 to a whopping 22, (getting crazy here, folks.) and singing along, wildly, at an equally obscene decibel. I had no idea the value conversations once held with me until I had a real conversation again. One with opinions and responses. Connecting with people is so important. I haven’t had that in quite a while. It took a lot of things, but the air is sweet and I can sleep easy.

Chasing Birds

Today I decided to take my mentally challenged dog to the dog park. It was quite the feat let me say. First I went earlier in the day with my less mentally challenged beast and when that was a roaring success and an hour well spent, I thought I’d give Juno a shot.

Juno is a very loving, very giant, very spatially challenged animal. She thinks that she is the size of my shihtzu, and in fact she weighs 58 pounds. This being said, she is terrified of any dog bigger than a shihtzu it seems. Never mind that she could swallow the 30 pound beagle, it threatens her.

So I leash her up and take her out there to fields and fields of tall grass and endless trails. She drug me for most of it.

The requirements of the park is that you have your dog under leash or voice control, and after we had been at it for a while I decided to let her go because we were alone on the trail and she does well under voice control – except when there’s a bird.

A little harmless bird landed in a field off to our right and hopped around not knowing it was just enticing the monster I had just released.

She went for the kill.

Now mind you, Juno is not a graceful animal. This was not a skilled attack, nor did she even have a plan, she just bolted, unaware of how massive she really is, clumsy legs carrying out her brains command of EAT BIRD. Needless to say the bird got away because my attack dog is not very good. But instead of returning to her master and heeding my warnings of whipping her butt, she carried on the sprint.

And so I chased her. We ran through a few bushes and jumped a creek before she finally ran head first into a man on the trail and I nearly died of embarrassment.

He laughed and was very kind and understanding, he said, “They don’t realize why they need to stick with us sometimes, do they?”

And no, they don’t. In the same way that when we as sinners are chasing birds of money, lust, or happiness without Him we don’t realize we just need to turn around.

My dogs do not go hungry. They don’t want, they have. But if Juno would have left me in the park she would be very needy and wanting.

Unfortunately when we are chasing birds there is no leash god can catch up to us with and rein us in. The only thing he can do is throw bushes in our paths to slow us down so he can reach us and guide us back to the trail.

And again I am burdened with the fact that I have been chasing not just birds, but chipmunks, cats, squirrels, and other dogs. I’ve gone so far into the brush and I have the audacity to get angry that there are thorns in my feet and burs on my sides. I have been helplessly flinging myself further into the darkness, flailing limbs as I go. Determined as ever to find happiness alone.

I have been fleeing the only person that can guide me. The only person that knows the way back home.

I want to load up in the back of his SUV and go home to a full water bowl.

I want to be in a place with no hurt and no pain and no sin.

The best thing I can think to do is turn on a dime and start charging back towards him. Because the stupidest thing about being a pet owner is that no matter how stupid you think they are or how pissed they have made you, you don’t stop chasing them until you have them passed out like a log on your back seat for the road home.

He never stops chasing and pursuing me. What have I done to deserve that after leaving his comfort and guiding hands to chase birds that flutter away from me before I can grasp them?

His grace and acceptance is overwhelming.

Today’s Letters

Dear Mornings, I’ve missed having you to myself. It’s really nice. If I could spend every morning in the quiet crisp cool breeze with a cup of coffee my life would be better. Things feel new and peaceful before 9am if you’re not rushing to get things done. The day is stretched out before you with beautiful uncertainty, and I like it. Dear orange poppies on my front step, please grow and be beautiful. Dear Bills, get off my back. I’ve had enough. And I’m trying really hard. Dear money, I hate you. You do not help. You enslave. You have shackled me to auburn and stripped me. All I want in the world now is to go live on a large piece of land with my dogs. I want a clothesline and no dishwasher and some hard honest work to make me tan and fulfilled. And eventually I want to be a teacher. People warn me that you don’t come along with being a teacher, like that should scare me. They warn me of the 5 digit salary like that should matter, but you don’t scare me anymore. And I care far too much about being happy. I dream of clothes lines, apple trees, and ABC’s now. Dear Daddy, you put your name in my phone wrong, it always has the extra “dy” on the end. And it always will, but no worries because I changed it. Thank you for being the kind of unconditional support I need right now. Things are weird and whimsical and I think if you had told me when I was 16 that I was going to live with my dad at 20, I would have laughed at you. But nothing is as it was when I was 16, and I’m tickled pink by this whole endeavor, and I look forward to coffee dates again. I’m just looking forward to being near people who care again. I’m looking forward to starting over a little bit so that I can get on to clothes lines and apple trees quicker. You rock. Dear Miss Noelley Bear, you are probably not going to make it with us to Charlotte and my heart is breaking over it. Girl you have your own blog coming full of all of the things I have to say once the day comes that you’re not with me anymore, but for right now I just want to say I’m sorry you might not get the apple trees and clothes lines. You might not be able to sun yourself on acres of land with Juno and Charlie, but you will be missed and never forgotten. And there will be no more pain, sweet angel. You’re my best friend baby girl, we’ll make the most of what’s left.

I QUIT

I’ve been deemed a quitter before. A few times, actually. People don’t generally respect my career choices and sudden moves and drastic hair cuts. They see me giving up, when that is not the case.

The fact is that auburn is not good for me anymore. And I have nothing left to do here but finish out my lease.

I care far too much about how my decisions affect those around me and take punches to the gut to make it easier for everyone. I’m done.

I am tired and sore and bruised and completely out of juice, so yes, I quit. Auburn, Ace Hardware, familiar faces, I’m over it.

My quitting is not in defeat but to move forward. And frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn if you disagree.

I quit jobs that make me feel empty. I am done with this town that makes me feel alone. I hereby resign from the way that most of you make me feel every day, and I quit taking shit.

Will Work For Hugs

I should have a lot to say.

But I don’t have a lot that everyone can read.

So it’s complicated.

I am lonely and frustrated and exhausted.

And I really just want someone to spend a couple of hours with me at my house so that I don’t have to sit here and stare at the walls until its an appropriate time to sleep.

I’m emotionally bankrupt. I feel like I’m panhandling for attention. Please sir, just a hug? I only need a hug! Will you just tell me I look pretty today? Can you speak words in my general direction so I can pretend you’re talking to me?

I need human contact.

And a hug.

27 Days

I know it’s the Fourth of July, and woohoo, happy Independence Day, but that’s not what this is about. But I am extraordinarily thankful to the men and women who have served to protect my freedom and am damn proud to be an American.

Right now I’m sitting on my porch enjoying the rain. I’m 27 days away from not being able to sit on this porch anymore. 27 days away from Village Drive not being my home anymore. Everybody’s getting all excited telling me I only have less than a month till I’m in my new house! And I just want this month to take its time. This house has been my landing pad for a year of twists and turns and heart aches and happy surprises. My roots are in and my heart is attached and even though everyone thinks its a horrible old stinky leaky house, I love it here. And I have to leave it in 27 days.

It keeps me up at night wondering if my bookcase will look right and if the table will fit into the new house. Will it make the right noises to soothe me to sleep? Will the morning light come through the windows and make the same homey glow I’ve come to love? Will there be somewhere for me to sit as perfect as this porch where I’ve spent most of my time here?

I’m not sure yet.

But even though the washer probably won’t leak, and the bedroom light will probably work, there will be central heating and air, and the right to decorate it however I want to, I want to stay here just a few more months. Live and breathe and love and lean here for a little longer.

Leaving this house is going to be closing an entire huge chunk of a chapter of my life, and it’s overwhelming.

I am a creature of habit and thrive in familiarity. Everything’s about to be brand new, and my comfort zone about a mile or two away.

You’ve got big shoes to fill, Lakeview Drive. You’ve got 27 days to prepare yourself.

Pain

I think we made grief and heartache out to be worse than it really is somewhere along the way. We evade sad people like the plague, because we believe they are going to rub the smile right off of our faces. And we avoid hard conversations because they will hurt our ears. We are so terrified of pain and sorrow and trust me, I do understand why and am guilty of these things myself. But in reality it is the ones who have hurt and lost and suffered that we need to draw ourselves near and poke and prod at.

We think that broken hearts shatter us and defeat us, but what I think is that it is just breaking down walls of ignorance, or lack of knowledge, pride, and ego. When the sledgehammer of despair comes crashing into your heart I think it is leaving room for more knowledge and understanding and decision making skills.

The people who have lost and been defeated are the most beautiful. You can’t truly appreciate oxygen until you’ve been without air, and the win isn’t as victorious if you’ve never lost a game. You don’t know the sun is precious until you haven’t seen it for weeks. The damage clears out the contentedness we settle ourselves in so we can see the world with more certainty and so we know what is good, and what we need to love and invest in.

It is growth and intelligence and puts that 20/20 hindsight to use.

You don’t have to like it.

But when the sun comes back over the horizon I plead you to be thankful and grow.

I always feel the need to shy away from the daylight when it shows back up after a period of depression or loss.

Like the same thing is going to repeat itself if I try and immerse myself again.

But living like that benefits no one.

And we can be so much better if we utilize that spare room in our hearts that’s been blasted to smithereens.

Your pain has made room for a better and a more productive way of approaching life. You have stories and lessons to share with others. You have blessings to reap if you continue to love and grow and enjoy.

“Blessed is the one who preserves under trial, because having stood the test that person will receive the crown of life that The Lord has promised to those who love Him.” James 1:12

Oh, bother.

It is morning. More or less.

On a normal night I would have been asleep 3-4 hours ago.

If I was working my usual shift I’d be up in two hours and working in three.

But I cannot sleep for the life of me because of all of the guilt and shortcomings and bad calls and failures and worst fears that are haunting me relentlessly.

The problem is me smoking too much.

The problem is my job.

The problem is my friends.

The problem is my roommates. And ex roommates.

The problem is my pets.

And the problem is money.

The problem is land lords and bills and hard phone calls and more hard phone calls and doctors appointments and pet euthanizations and the fact that these are supposed to be the glory days and they so very blatantly and coldly are not.

I am still so hopeful and wondrously amazed by the changes in my head. But I want so much to get to normal

That is making
Daily
Life
A
Serious
Bother.