I don't really know when it happened...

But somewhere along the lines, I think I lost a part of myself. 

Before the pandemic.

Before I had kids.

Before I got married.

Before my parents died.

Before I decided to call trauma, trauma.

Before the fighting and manipulation of my childhood.

Somewhere it happened.

Maybe a really long time ago.

I don't really know.

But the when part doesn't really matter. It only matters that it happened.

I've been having a really shitty time emotionally. And it peaked after the holidays this year. I mean PEAKED. I couldn't get out of bed some days. I felt like crap about myself. I've put on a ton of weight. I felt like writing a blog post about PTSD symptoms would help me help explain to myself that what I was going through was normal for what it was. I thought maybe it would allow for connection. I thought it would make me feel better. 

It didn't.

I've been in weekly therapy for the past several months. Going back and forth between seriously intense EMDR sessions about childhood trauma and talk therapy sessions where talk about how I feel like I am losing my mind and that I am not good enough for anyone in my life including myself. And then I try to logicize all of it with all of my book knowledge of psychology and experience as a therapist. But logicizing why it is happening, doesn't help my heart from feeling shattered and my self belief just continue to crumble. Because I do not want to let myself feel. One time during EMDR, my brain manifested a migraine as if to say -- leave her alone, she doesn't want to do it. But I keep pushing through because I desperately need those chapters from the past to close and not keep slipping out when I don't want them to anymore.

I told my therapist that I was thinking of taking my kids on a trip, or one of my kids on a trip. That I was feeling burnt out from Extreme Parenting: Pandemic Edition where you are your children's only social interaction for 400 million days. Understandable she says. Why not go by yourself, she asks.

Ew. No. I do not want to spend that much time with me and my thoughts thanks, but no thanks.

Maybe you should dig into that a little more.

I don't like me. Why would I want to spend time with me? Plus my children need me and how is it fair for me to go on a relaxing vacation when my husband is the one that works all the time.

Because you need to take care of yourself and you're busy taking care of other people all the time and doing the incredibly hard work of the chapter of therapy you are in. And you're grieving a lot. And you need to also be happy. So.

Eh. I don't know about this.

Fast forward to Saturday night insomnia of this past week and crying and telling Mike that I changed my mind and I am not going to go. No you have to go -- they'll still charge you for the hotel...AND you need to do this for yourself. 

Crafty husband telling the frugal part of me that I will now lose money if I don't go...so now I must. But meanwhile still feel guilty. Cue bursting into tears to say but it isn't fair to you. Yes it is. Stop. You're going.

Ugh. Fine. 

He gets home from work Sunday night. I leave to drive for Mystic, Connecticut. Children get emotional. I get emotional. I think about perhaps taking the children even though it's the last minute. 

I don't. I leave during crying chaos.

5 hours drive turns into almost 6 because of rain and my weakened pelvic floor from having the two children I left behind. I think several times that I am too anxious to drive this far away from home. And then I remember that I used to go places all the time by myself to meet up with other people all the time prior to 10 years ago so what is going on now? But what if something bad happens? Should I turn around? No. I will lose money if I turn around. Plus it is late and I am tired and maybe it will feel good to not share a bed with any people or animals. Maybe.

Fast forward to Monday morning. I did not sleep well. People are freaking loud and I am basically an old woman at 32 and would like some peace and quiet. I guess I'll wander to get breakfast and then start my itinerary.

I've never been to an actual restaurant alone. So I take a book. Find a breakfast spot. And sit down. Two middle aged women sit next to me, both look at me and whisper to each other. I continue to read my book but then get self conscious and then say to myself...why in the actual hell are you concerned about this right now? Who gives an actual eff what they are saying? And honestly it could be that they like your hair or something and don't think you're some weird lonely woman. And again, it doesn't matter!

Breakfast complete and I head into Olde Mystick Village. It is charming. I go to get donuts. I tell the cashier I can't decide between two of the donuts and ask her which one she prefers. She says their both good and why don't I just get both? I think, clever sales ploy but sure why not. She says, to be honest with you, that's how I am living my life lately. I am not stressing over decisions like, which donut should I get, I think I might like both and I get both. We're only here once.

You know what, yeah. Absolutely. I'll take both. And I contemplate. How much time do I spend stressing over decisions that ultimately have no bearing on my quality of life or dreams? A lot. A ton. Too much. Okay. I hear you universe in the voice of donut shop cashier. Later I buy some crystals at a shop. I've been into this lately and feel embarrassed when I first go in because, I don't know...I'm a straight laced Virgo? I've been intrigued. WHY AM I THINKING ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE THINK AGAIN? Who gives a flying eff? I like them. I think there's power in anything we give power to. I am allowed to feel this way. I buy them. I'm happy I did it. 

Later I head to historic downtown Mystic -- it's the definition of little New England coastal town. I go into Mystic Pizza. Fangirl at the pictures of Julia Roberts and think about how cool it is that the movie was actually filmed there. I ask for a table. "Are you waiting for more people?" No. Just me. Oh. Then you can sit at the bar. I feel slightly awkward. But a little less than I did at breakfast. The pizza is amazing. I buy a T-shirt from the movie. That was on my list. Check.

I think about the fact that I have a dinner reservation for 1 later at a relatively upscale place. Sigh. Is that going to be really awkward too? I don't know. I could take a book again. Would that be weird? I don't know. Walks around to more shops and the waterfront.

I go to the aquarium. I'm obsessed with the beluga whales. They're adorable. It is way too crowded everywhere else so I just leave.

I go back to the hotel to get ready for dinner. I'm going to do my hair and make up and wear a dress. Literally just for me. When is the last time I did this? My hair is in a messy bun so often I think my hairline is starting to recede. How even long is my hair anymore? Oh wow, there is no one here to interrupt me getting ready. It's too quiet. Turns on the TV for background noise. Oh my damn, I do know how to do make up and my hair is long and looks fab. Despite my fat face. SHUT THE EVERLOVING EFF UP WITH THE NON SELF LOVE, have you not been practicing grace for yourself and your current weight. Stop it. You'll get there.

Back downtown. Walk around more. Head into a cute shop where I know none of the clothes will fit but the accessories will be cute. The woman behind the counter is chatty. I haven't really chatted with anyone. I am also chatty. She asks me where I am from. 

Pennsylvania. 

Oh nice! I'm from Atlanta, my daughter lives there now, she's an influencer. I live here to be near my mom.

Oh cool. Slight internal eyeroll at daughter's profession being a social media influencer. It's a cute town. I'm here to have a mommy break since I've been solo with my kids since the start of the pandemic. And also just needed a little me time.

That. Is. AWESOME. That is such a good idea to do that. You need a break as a mom. You have to give up so much of yourself to parent.

Do I dare say what I really feel without fear of judgement? Sure. Why not? --  Right?? They do not tell you that part, and honestly, I love my kids but no one tells you that sometimes it is just shitty but everyone wants to act like it is all rainbows and butterflies and act appalled if you're honest that sometimes it sucks AND you still love your kids. That those things co-exist.

OMG THANK YOU FOR SAYING THAT YES! It is SO SHITTY sometimes. Why do we not support each other more in the fact that it is shitty?!? Being a mom is literally the worst sometimes and you lose yourself. And I have THE BEST KID. I love her to pieces. But oh my god sometimes it was the worst!

Phew. Metaphorically wipes brow of non existent sweat of honesty. Thank you for being willing to be honest too. We seriously need it more so we feel less crappy about ourselves when we aren't being perfect. It is a paradox. On another note, since I am surrounded by constant testosterone, I need this really pretty headband.

Omg yes you do. It looks awesome. By the way, your make up is fabulous. Do you do that yourself?

Yes. And thank you. I almost forgot I knew how to look like a woman and not just a mom in oversized t shirts and yoga pants. 

Enjoy and relax and do whatever you want while you can!

Fancy dinner time. Fan girl a bit because it's owned by a baking God in my opinion and purposely didn't go to the bakery on the first day because I want to take everything home.

I'm early for my reservation. It's cold. It's on the rooftop. Whatever. I'm here early. Oh that's totally fine. And sit at this long communal table with a firepit. I look around briefly and quickly. I'm the only lonely, except for some old dude at the bar. And guaranteed no one is saying...look at him all alone. If no one is saying that about him in my mind, why would they say it about me? I eat a fabulous meal. I have a lovely server. I drink a fabulous drink. I relax. I don't read. I just sit. And I just enjoy. And then I stroll the waterfront and sit and enjoy the birds and distant noises and watch the boats. And it is perfect. I am alone and happy and not feeling extraordinarily guilty. Oh, that's new.

At the urging of my waitress she tells me to message the owner on social media after I leave because his wife runs it and they're awesome and she'll more than likely get back to me. So I do. She's the literal sweetest. She tells me to stop in the next day to say a quick hi to her husband, and he'll do his best to pop in. Oh my gosh cool. I've been wanting to go for a while. I've been following their journey on social media and just found it inspiring. And I am surely on the hunt for inspiration in any way shape or form right now.

More shitty sleep because people are loud again. But I'm also anxiety-ridden again thinking about talking to someone that is so successful and that I idolize. Mike jokingly says, you're going to do that weird laugh you do when you're nervous and filling space. Then that's all I can think about. Being a weird fangirl and my awkward silence filling laugh.

I head to the bakery for breakfast. I feel awkward and ask the girl if he's there and that his wife said he would try to say hi. She says he's not. I feel slightly defeated and also more awkward. Well, whatever. It's fine. It wasn't meant to be. Also, I slipped malachite in my pocket that I bought the day before because of destiny and manifestation and whatever so I was like oh I guess this isn't it. I stock up on pastries anyway and buy breakfast to eat on the porch. I look around like a little kid in a candy shop...well I mean...I'm a kid at heart in a bake shop so it's really the same thing. I drop $50 on pastries and feel zero guilt about it because I am obsessed and the artistry is insane and it is everything I want to be capable of. But you know, they say not to meet your heroes because you'll be disappointed...so maybe this is for the better.

I go to the Mystic Seaport Museum. I meet an old boat captain that now does river tours. It's not crowded. We chat for a while. He lives on a boat and just travels around doing odd jobs. He's awesome. He asks me a lot about Amish people in Lancaster. I realize I am not as passionate about where I live as he is. And he's my second favorite person that I met on the trip. He refuses to use the microphone provided for the tour and just yells as loud as he can, which isn't very loud, over the boat engine to me and two other passengers about the history of the seaport. I leave that tour knowing small bits and pieces, and really just words, that I picked up over the engine about the port. Thank you Jeff. You were awesome and I hope your day is the best. Safe travels to you, Jackie. 

I walk through the old village. It's awesome. It touches something in my core. I think about writing again. Here we go again you indecisive person. You've had like 47 different jobs and passions and tried 84 different hobbies. And you're back to thinking about writing but you also want to open a bakery which is also intense. Make up your damn mind. Walks through an old house, stares at the hearth and listens to a woman talk about making a sponge cake over the fire and the recipes of old that say mix eggs, flour, and sugar and bake until done. I'm enchanted by the herbs that hang from the beams on the ceiling and the warmth of the fire and I think of the characters I've developed in my mind over the years. And suddenly, why don't you get both donuts? chimes in my mind while I'm staring at this kitchen. Because both things are hard. So shut your face about that. All things are hard and you like both so why do you have to give one up? Oh. Why not both donuts? I didn't have a good answer for why not get both donuts. I don't really have a good answer for why not both things. Why not bake and write? Because "it's hard" isn't good enough. Well, now I have more thinking to do and a lot less excuses.

It's weird if I go back. Like how stalker-y fangirl is it for me to go BACK to the bakery when he wasn't there this morning. It's really dumb. It's weird, right?

It is not weird Jackie. Just go. You'll be mad at yourself if you don't. And they seem really nice. Just go.

Okay. Who cares if it's weird? I won't be back and put myself in this situation again and they were just being nice and I'll buy a sandwich. I will buy a sandwich and a drink and then I'll ask. And they'll say no and I will just go home.

I will take the chicken salad croissant and I feel weird asking but I was talking to Adam's wife on Instagram and she said that I should tell you guys when I came in and he would try to come and say hi. And I totally understand if he's busy but it doesn't hurt to ask. And, what's butterfly lemonade? No, I'll just take a Hibiscus Mango Lemonade. Thanks so much and I really hope it isn't too much trouble. I see her talk to another barista and then she asks my name and says she'll go check. She calls. No answer. He is probably busy but am I planning to stay to eat? She'll try again. Sure. I'll sit and read my book but I am content that this isn't happening. I give them a big tip because I feel awkward again.

Jackie?

Just as I take a bite of my sandwich and respond with "Oh. My. God. Hi!" 

He thanks me for the kind message that I sent on Instagram and how much it meant to him. Tells me he is in the middle of working on his first cookbook and he's hoping to finish it up tonight to send to a publisher. I prepare myself for this to be it and quick but I'll ask one question. What would be the most encouraging bit of advice you could give someone that is standing right on the ledge but is too scared to step off? He says, you need to do what you want and not let other people steal your authenticity. There are ways that I could cut corners and make more money in this business but I don't want to. I want to stay authentic to scratch baking and quality ingredients and my vision and myself. He tells me more about the business and the cookbook and starting up and Food Network and friends with connections I might be inspired by. We talk about what is important in connection and the therapy that baking can be and how to have a loyal staff and my dreams for what I want to accomplish and our kids and the importance of family and time for yourself. I talk about how passionate I am about mental health and recovery and reducing the stigma and how I feel there has to be a way for me to connect everything. An hour and a half goes by and we take a picture and he thanks me, genuinely from the heart for the opportunity that we had to connect and talk, and I thank him from the bottom of my heart for the encouragement and direction. And I'm supposed to keep them posted on what I decide to do and what I accomplish. And I truly believe that they meant it and are invested.

And then I drove home.

And I haven't cried until right now. 

I don't know if the malachite in my pocket helped give me the placebo effect of manifesting my destiny or if the universe said it was my time to shine and learn and grow or if maybe I don't give myself the credit I deserve for making things happen.

But I do know these things:

I bought both donuts. Physically and metaphorically.

I spent time alone but still with me, and I am not as bad to hang out with as I thought.

I authentically connected with people with the realest version of myself.

And I found the pieces that were missing. 

And I'm not certain what exactly is next but goodness knows I now know the direction I am headed.