Sitting in your own shit

Warning: This blog entry has an excessive amount of cuss words. If that type of thing offends you, you might want to skip this post.

I fucking hate being in this sandwich generation. I hate that I don’t make enough money to buy a decent car. I despise the fact that I gained weight this winter. I really fucking hate that my brother is sick and sometimes I just hate the whole fucked up world. For more than a day, I’d like to stop putting on that stupid ass fake smile that everyone thinks is real.

You might be saying, “Well, yes, life is hard but there are so many other people worse off than you are.”  That is absolutely true. But you know what, ass hat? I don’t give a flying fuck right now.  I don’t want to look on the fucking bright side. I JUST WANT TO BE MISERABLE AND SIT IT MY OWN GODDAMNED SHIT, OK?!?  IS THAT ALRIGHT WITH YOU?!?


Alright. Here’s the deal. I, Holly Williams, am giving YOU, my lovely readers, permission to have a pity party. Right now. Go ahead! Do it. It’s completely fine.  You do not have to be positive and chipper and cheery all the time. It’s ok to feel shitty and hate what’s going in your life. It’s ok to cry and scream and bitch about it. It’s even ok to let it all out on social media. (Just expect people to unfollow you for a bit because not everyone can listen to that shit 24/7.)

Life is really fucking hard sometimes. It is. I know it can be filled with beauty and joy and unicorns dancing with woodchucks, but it can also be filled with disaster and grief and pure suckage.  It is completely acceptable to admit that life isn’t good right now.  When someone asks you, “How are you?” go ahead and tell them the truth. Tell them that life is shitty right now but thanks for asking. Or grunt. I’m personally a fun of grunting. Sometimes talking takes too much fucking energy.

It’s ok that your life isn’t wonderful and it’s ok to feel bad about it. No one’s life is wonderful all the time, no matter what bullshit they post on Facebook.  At some point you will probably have to find a way to fix whatever is wrong or learn how to handle whatever issue or problem you may have, and you will. But right now, today, you don’t have to.

Go ahead and sit in your shit, wiggle your ass in it and feel it squishing between your butt cheeks until the smell is too fucking awful to breathe. Then, and only then, when you can’t stand yourself anymore, do you pick yourself up, clean yourself off, and deal with whatever shit storm you’re in.

You’ll be able to handle it now. You’ve wallowed and cried and screamed and stunk up the joint and now you’re ready to move on, let it go or suck it up. You can do this. You can. Really.

So go.  Clean that shit up and start smelling like daisies again. Put on a smile if you have it, and if you don’t? Who gives a fuck. Just be yourself and do your best to deal with what life flings at you.




Looking for Contentment

I am a tall woman who lives a small life. I live in a very small town with less than 3,000 people. I work in a small, rural library in a town of only 4,000 people. I rarely travel, except to and from work and to soccer practices and games and to my mom’s house and to most of my mom’s appointments. I run and I read and if I want to have a drink, typically I’ll have it at home where it is considerably less expensive.

Most of the time, I think this is ok.

It’s not the exact life I thought I’d have, but it’s not horrible. It can be hard some days and weeks, but it’s not bad. It can be horribly hectic, particularly weekday mornings (probably like yours, too!)–trying to squeeze in a run or a walk before or in between getting the kid ready and making dinner for that evening and doing laundry or dishes and fitting in a shower in there somewhere. And if I’m volunteering at the school library that morning? Forget it. I don’t even try to exercise on those days unless I’ve been up since 4:30 due to the cats hitting my face with their paws….claws out.

Again, not horrible. A little bloodshed, perhaps, but could be worse. And yet, I strive to find contentment. Do you?

I often wonder if social media is what has done this to me. I see my friends taking their children to far off places or flying to another state to run and drink (and vomit?) but having an adventure of some sort anyway.  Typically I’m very happy for my friends and family and the journeys they are fortunate enough to take, but this week it really got to me. I was thinking about all of those lovely images as I entered the local pharmacy where I needed to pick up extra vitamins for my mother because she couldn’t remember to get them. As I kneeled on the floor trying to determine which calcium was the right one for her and which one wouldn’t bankrupt me, I felt my shoulders slump and had to blink back tears. This? This is what my life is? Sitting on Rite Aid’s floor trying to find the cheapest yet most effective vitamin for my poor mother whose entire life seems to center around her cat? How has this happened?

Once I got back to my car, I had to take some deep breaths and try to snap out of this funk. Feeling sorry for myself or for Mom isn’t going to get either of us anywhere, yet sometimes wallowing in self-pity in private doesn’t really hurt, does it? If it does hurt, then I’m a damn mess.

I didn’t shake the blues until two days later. I barked at everyone at home and at work, until my boss and I had this great conversation about “kitchen envy” and trying to put things in perspective. She loves to cook but has a small apartment with a small kitchen. Yet some of her friends will post photos on Facebook of their gorgeous homes and kitchens and my boss will drool a bit over them. But she reminds herself that she has a small place with that horrible orange countertop so she can have decent vacations and save for a good retirement on the small salary that she makes.

Perspective. Again. I keep having to remind myself that it’s about perspective.

I do live a small life in a small town in a small state. But I also live in a lovely town in a gorgeoudscn3538s state. My family and I took a walk in the Bangor City Forest this weekend, to attempt to “leave town” but also in payment for a promise that we’d do something together OUTSIDE. It was one of the best days I’ve had in weeks. I watched my kid kick butt on the soccer field, I got to walk in the crisp air with the trees falling from the trees with my family around me, then I stuffed myself with sushi and rice noodles and tea. It was a good day. A BIG day in my little life.

Does this mean I don’t want to travel with my family (or without them) or fly off and run a race in another state? No, of course not. I yearn to take my child to San Francisco, a place I’ve always loved, or to go to Seattle, a place I’ve never been but desperately want to go to. I’m not into racing much these days, but I’d love to do the Brain Freezer 5K again, for sure! (No alcohol, but ice cream and possible vomiting.) But for this day, for right now, I didn’t need to buy an expensive gadget or travel to another state to have a great day. I just needed to look around and realize and appreciate the wonderments I had right in front of me.





I started 2014 with a visit to a neurosurgeon, who told me that with a more positive outlook on my life and my health, my back would get better.  And for a  while, things *were* better. I was able to run more off and on throughout the spring and summer. By fall, though, I asked my doc to send me back to physical therapy. Each night without fail, pain would shoot through my lower back, making it nearly impossible for me to walk from my son’s bedroom (after a fun-filled evening of reading) to my own room.  There were many nights that I lay in my bed and my boy would read me something from his room because I just couldn’t get back up again.  And after two months of PT, I once again have a better outlook on life, but not without some changes to my future.

My physical therapist, Chad, is a very good person, or so I believe. He came up with a walk/slow run plan for me that will eventually get me back in shape and back to running on a more consistent basis.  I liked that. But he also told me that any dream I had about running a marathon or even another half marathon, would never come to fruition.  Chad said, “If you’re running because you enjoy it and it makes you feel good and because you want to improve your physical and mental health, then good for you. Keep running. But….as for long distances….”

I have no idea what else he said because I started to talk over him. I didn’t want him to say the actual phrase “You cannot do this.”  He didn’t want to either.  So I said, “You know, I ran a half marathon last year and I’m so glad I did. But I’ve pretty much give up on my dreams on running a marathon.”  (I wish I could have seen my face, because *that* is the face of a liar.)  Chad nodded and said something else about running for my enjoyment and I shook his hand and got out of there. I held in my tears driving back to work then ate too much candy throughout the rest of the day.

But you know what? That was two weeks ago. The words have been said, the deed is done. I’ve started the walk/slow run program and it’s super hard. I’m really out of shape and I want to eat everything in sight and since I tend to do what I want, I gained 7 pounds since Thanksgiving.  (I know I said that in the last blog post, but I’m still in shock over it so I felt the need to say it again.) But now it’s officially 2015 and I have to just suck it up (especially when buttoning my pants) and do this walk/run program and stay diligent with my back exercises or I will always be in pain and miserable and terribly squishy.

Just yesterday I was feeling sorry for myself because I couldn’t complete the walk/run program for that day. Chad told me that if at any point during the run portion specifically, if I feel pain then I should stop running and start walking. So I did.

And I was pissed about it.

I was mad that I couldn’t run anywhere near the mileage I did a few  months ago. I was angry that I’d never be able to run the Bay of Fundy Marathon I set my eyes on back in 2013, hoping I’d make it there by 2018.  I felt like an imposter for being my friend’s virtual “coach” as she loses weight and trains for a marathon in the spring. I wallowed in my self-pity, whined a bit on FB, and ate a big spoonful of Cool Whip. (I know, I know, it’s nasty stuff. A bowl full of chemicals. But I friggin’ love it.)


That’s our kitten, Bean, snuggled at my boy’s feet.

This morning after breakfast, I was in my bedroom trying to decide if I wanted to try and workout or just loaf around for a bit, when I heard my son run to the bathroom. He was sick and a little scared and needed me. After helping him get cleaned up, we proceeded to camp out in the living room, where we watched My Little Pony and attempted sips of tea and snuggled with the kittens.  After a few more trips to the bathroom and cleaning of “the” bucket, he went to his room and lay on his bed. He asked to watch Youtube videos on the tablet and to hold my hand. That’s all. Those were his only needs just then. To watch other people play videogames and to be near me.


Do I care about that marathon now? Nope. Not today. Will I try to run then berate myself because my body isn’t ready? Nope. Will I snuggle with my sick kiddo and just appreciate the fact that he needs me and right now nothing else matters?