On Improvement

Photo by Nitin Mathew on Unsplash

 I feel as if I am constantly on a quest to be better. From being a child pouring over my aunt's teen magazine and my mother's women's magazines to ordering fun little books like "14 Days to a Whole New You," from the book form in junior high, I have always wanted to do better.

As a child, conquering my temper was my main area of focus. Oh, I could get mad. It still flares from time to time, particularly when one of the kids are making gigantic messes on a day when my body is already just done. Or when the person I am trying to have a discussion/argument with is refusing to be logical-or bringing up past arguments. Then I will find myself on the edge (you know, the place where the F word abounds). 

One thing that amuses me is how in my 20s and 30s and early 40s I always saw myself as the good guy. Yes, I was too prideful and could get bitchy when my pride was attacked, but my expectations for others were rather high, perhaps impossible. My fear of rejection was so great, I couldn't just relax. I was ever vigilant, ever worried.  And there is some reason behind that-people do exclude and people do talk about other people-even friends, and that sucks. But somehow, you just have to suck it up, and keep moving on. The problem is I don't know how to be open and vulnerable to people and still be detached and self-protective. And I guess you can't. If you want to be open to people, you have to just accept you are going to be disappointed and hurt. You are going to have to pick yourself up, talk about it, and forgive. I can understand that intellectually. But emotionally, there is always this wall that barricades me from the pain faster than I can see it happening. I don't want to detach so easily, but I do understand and accept that this wall once served an important purpose in my life. 

We won't drag all that out here. Let's just say, I don't feel I have reached the previous year's goal word of "connection." 

To me, connection would be having someone to call when I needed to talk (besides my poor daughter), someone to walk with, someone to see movies with. Or several someones. And I am not there. Of course, I have real, pressing daily responsibilities which preclude just being able to go do things, and I am weirdly perfectionistic about my home (which means, I won't let people in, unless it is just so), so...it just may not be my season for that, but it doesn't stop the yearning. 

Anyway, improvement. I feel I have shown growth over the past few years. I feel angry that lessons which should have been learned early were not-but what can you do with that? I mean, it is what it is, right? I need to talk and identify feelings more with my kids, so they don't have to figure so much out on their own-not to make my life easier-but to make theirs easier.

But you want to know a secret? Nature is there. She is coiled up in the pit of your stomach, and no matter how much you learn to tame your pride, and how much you struggle to keep your eyes open and be honest with yourself, she is always ready to strike. Maybe the real truth isn't that I don't trust others. Maybe it is that I don't trust myself. 

There is an argument that people don't change-not really. And whenever I feel the flare begin to flame in my belly, I understand this. Our nature is always with us, always awaiting its chance to strike, tear apart, and build itself up. Our higher self must remain ever-vigilant, ever aware of this impending destruction. Our higher self must calmly hold the reins, guiding us ever-onward and upward. It isn't an easy fight, and it is one I have poured my soul into through my prayer journals (but wait, there's more!)

And so, we keep moving forward. I have my journals begging for growth, peace, clarity, wisdom. God DOES answer prayers-but the path he leads you on is not the path of least resistance. To the external eye, it may seem as nothing is happening. To the seeker however, the path is present and difficult and real. 

Let's finish up with up with a little Oceans, shall we?

I long to be in the mountains.

 

On Vanity

 

Photo by Rod Long on Unsplash

 Off Topic

I had a draft of a time management post started, but then I realized-I am not a step-by-step advice giver. I could write a post about how to manage time, but first of all, I wouldn't follow it and second, it would be dull and dry. I just have to write what I am FEELING in the moment instead of what I think would be most logical. 

Guys, I am getting old

 Sometimes I don't see it. I put on my makeup, feel okay about myself, shudder at how old my classmates on Facebook are looking, thank God I am aging better, and then later in the day, glimpse this old woman in the mirror and actually am confused. Like...it is a SHOCK that I look as old as my classmates. Sometimes the grey and the fading eyes and the wrinkles and crepey cheeks are just blasting out through the reflection, and I can't reconcile this with how I feel inside. 

I don't FEEL old

I am young. I am a stumbling toddler, making big mistakes, just figuring out this world, and the confusion that is other people, and you are telling me I am over halfway through this life? How is that even possible?

Always the supporting role, never the main star

I love this clip from this movie. BUT,  he calls her beautiful...which deep inside, does that mean those of us average people should NOT expect to be the leading lady? Does that mean we should accept our role as "best friend" or "supporting actress?" 

Iris, by the way, is an ISFJ in the movie. She makes me think being an ISFJ might be okay, even though MBTI communities usually detest S's.

I was never a show stopper. Catcalls were rare and nonexistent after 35. I never had people buy me drinks like they do on TV (course I was always married and at home making babies-and when I wasn't I was at home watching a movie and sipping chardonnay (until I discovered red wine-which is so much better-or champagne/spumante (Heaven in a crystal glass)). But...maybe that is because noone asked me to do anything. I always went to college and work functions WHEN ASKED. Unpopularity, hurts people, but I digress. Anyway.  But slowly, over time, I have found that you just sort of cease to exist on the physical realm. Like men will talk to you about serious things and work issues, but they'd prefer to talk to the 30 year old with the waistline and flirty lashes. Anything you have to say would be better respected coming from someone who doesn't have spreading agey freckles climbing up their arms. 

And eventually you become okay with that. Whatever. I prefer attractive men myself. I am not interested in your paunchy beer belly and thinning hair. Gross. But I am willing to see past it to the person within, if you can make me laugh and have a soapy-clean smell. 

Shoulda, Coulda, Woulda

But there are things I WISH I HAD done when I was younger. I wish I had gotten a nose job. Taking a few millimeters off my schnoz probably doesn't matter at this point in my life, but in my 20s, I could have enjoyed it. I should have gotten a boob job. Not for MEN exactly, but just so I could have known what it felt like to have pretty feminine breasts when I was young. Why not? None of these would have CHANGED my life-but it would have been nice to experience. 

What's the point now? I could improve upon these flaws and still be the most invisible person in the room (and since I will probably never have intimate relations again, I can just wear a padded bra-I mean, there is no one to worry about disappointing at this point

And here I stand

So I get the celebrated creams (I like Estee Lauder, but when I am broke I use CeraVe or Olay) and smear them on my face and you know what I get? Soft, smooth wrinkly, crepey skin. You just can't erase 48 years of living and sun. 

And this is the point where we reach way down deep and Oprah our way into acceptance and joy and self-love. We remind ourselves that each age spot is really just a brilliant, fun day we spent soaking up the sunshine being alive. Our wrinkles are signs of the laughter we have had. Our grey roots represent the wisdom we have acquired.  We are supposed to believe in our own beauty and imagine ourselves the leading lady even if society is turning away.

And that is all true. Hopefully we are also working on smoothing out our kinks, taming our negative impulses, growing our soul, and understanding God and the world better over time. 

But damn. It'd be nice to have all those memories, laughter, and wisdom wrapped up in a perpetually 28-year-old body.

On Vision-Why Developing it Matters to Me

 

Photo by Matt Noble on Unsplash

Vision. 

My focus word for the year

Vision is the word I have chosen as my focus word of the year. It is something most of us probably like to think we have, but many of us truly do not utilize vision to the fullest extent possible. If you had asked five years ago if I had vision, I would have said, "Yes, of course."  However, aging has a way of making you look at yourself differently and embrace your faults and shortcomings in a kinder, more whole-hearted way. And I don't operate from a place which utilizes vision. 

Now is this TRULY a shortcoming or just a manner of being? That, my friend, is wholly dependent upon your values and how you wish to live your life. For me, it is an area I just feel the need to expand upon. 

What is vision exactly? 

To me, vision is the ability to use your imagination to see how things might be different or better in the future. Vision is looking beyond maintaining the status quo and picturing a way to make things better. Vision may or may not be about bending things more to your will, but ideally, it is based on constructing an enhanced future with greater depth and meaning. 

I often feel as if I going through life partially asleep. Physically it feels like there is a lulling, foggy weight sleeping on the frontal lobe of my brain and behind my eyes. I feel as if I am truly NOT completely awake. While it is possible to operate in a fairly complex manner and maintain a challenging life half-asleep, it can also lead a sense of complacency with what is and sleeping through life watching Netflix reruns and living for the next donut opportunity. It's a smaller way to live. 

And again-it's okay. If you work hard and are relatively good (most of us are neither as good nor as bad as we think ourselves to be, I imagine), you will live a fairly fulfilled life in the half-asleep state. You will enjoy your animal comforts, love your children, laugh at jokes, and enjoy the sensation of a soft pillow and a conscience-free heart. And for many that is enough.

But if, like me, a persistent, nagging feeling is tugging from within-pressing on your eyes, rousing your forehead (it's truly a physical sensation for me) shaking the cloud hovering just over the front of your head, it may be time to search for more. 

I cannot imagine this is a one and done affair. I can't spend 30 minutes imagining a future, write it out and be on my merry way. First of all, I am out of practice when it comes to imagination. As a child, I would lie in bed at night envisioning ways of making my mark on the world. I was to be a martyr, universally loved and cherished at the  moment of my death. People would KNOW. Now though, martyr dreams are out-I have  a family to raise, and frankly, it just doesn't sound appealing.  I have to sit and DO the hard work of planning. And I am out of practice. As much love as I have for self-help books, I always skip over the workbooky aspects of them which require putting onto paper your thoughts and plans. I thought it was because doing so was a waste of time and slowed down my intake of ideas from the text. I know now, however, that it was sheer mental laziness, impatience, and a way to consume ideas without truly digesting and fully incorporating them into my life. I thought it was mental freedom, but it was actually mental neglect. 

There are different ways I can handle this. One is to get a book which organizes a life path-where I just need to fill in the blanks. Another might be to determine which paths to focus on before I spend time envisioning the future. Yet another is to just sit quietly and let the dreams and visions unfold to determine what I want. Even now, I just want to think about thinking about it. I don't want to DO it. It's hard. Thinking and imagination, for those out of practice, is HARD.

Always have to make the plan...

Since this is a yearlong focus, I will be blogging at least monthly on my progress in this area. 

1. First, I need to determine which life areas I wish to focus on applying vision. 
2. Next, I will need to spend time allowing my imagination to soar as I envision ways to improve, alternate possibilities, and how to go beyond "drink more water and get more exercise," to creating a truly unique life experience which awakens and challenges me. 
3. Finally, I need to put it into practice. 

For me, this is the satisfying part. Writing out what I plan to do is usually enough to make my brain hit that little checkmark tab on and I think, "Done." I need to move beyond a simple plan, into true thought and imagination, and finally application. 

I need to keep shaking myself, keep waking myself, and keep demanding I stay awake and aware.

When I return I plan to have an outline of the areas in which I want to focus my vision. 

See you soon.

Junk Journal or Make a Smash Book? Tough Decision.

The view from my window. Note the patched screen? My next husband MUST be handy. ;o) Really just a good ole ST who can fix things  and leave me alone, will be just fine with me. If only I had the resources of Murphy Brown and could just hire a painter/handy man to get things done. But alas, there is the need for intimacy and someone to take along on trips and movies. Those experiences are generally better with another human-and men are cute.

The second area I wanted to focus on this year is creativity. I have been intrigued by the lovely junk journals I have seen, including the one I purchased to use for photos when I went to Ireland. I was going to share some photos of it, but it is currently misplaced. It will show up eventually.

However, getting started has been a challenge for me. First of all, I threw most of my scrapbooking papers away last year. Over the years, I get less and less sentimental. In fact, a lot of the stuff I have, I now have because it was a gift and I am waiting for people to die so I can toss it out. So I want to get started, but I don't want to spend a ton of money on supplies. 

That is why I started thinking about smash books rather than junk journaling. Junk journaling suggests pulling out pages and sewing and covering bindings and oh, I could do it...but it isn't a start quick and get it done thing. And I am impatient.

What's the difference? This lovely article sums it up:

Junk Journal Vs Art Journal Vs Smash Book

So I think I am going to start with what I have. I have various journals and old books. In Ireland, my almost-ex-husband (just one more week or two), bought me an old religious text at a used book store. I used it to journal and sketch with oil pastels. It wasn't a work of art-je ne suis pas une artiste-but it was fun.

                                

These are oil pastels:

Photo by Kai Tremblay on Unsplash

And so I ordered some paper ephemera which finally came in after about 3 weeks, and am ready to get started. Here are my goodies!

Now of course, part of me can't help but decry the lack of authenticity in my goods. These are made in China to look old. They will not have the charm of a truly repurposed postcard, for instance. However, they are within budget and get me off and running AND I can slowly start adding more "real" items to my collection of supplies. 

Whilst looking for my Ireland junk journal, I found this day calendar from 2017. It must have been a Christmas gift which was tucked away and forgotten. Oh well.

I'll post pictures on new blogs as I create. The goal is one post per area I wish to work on, per month.

Getting Fit-Why is it so hard?

Photo by LOGAN WEAVER on Unsplash

This pic is absolutely not me. It makes my neck hurt just to look at it. plus I just couldn't pull off that shade of haircolor.

 I am looking at the first branch of my plans for the year, and that is the ever-popular one: Fitness.

Just saying that makes me want to jump under the quilt, cover my head, turn on my side, and dive into the quiet world of fantastical imagination (usually centered around romance, because that's how I roll). 

I haven't dove in as enthusiastically as I wanted. There are a myriad of things that are stopping me. First of all, inertia. It is easier to stay still when you are still. Procrastination is rearing its ugly head. I plan to exercise in the morning, and then morning comes, and it seems like cruel and unusual punishment to do more than sit quietly and sip my French roast and maybe do a few simple stretches and squats. I am only sleeping about 5-6 hours, which overall feels okay, but since I usually fall asleep within about two minutes of turning out my light, I think I might be sleep-deprived.

 I also have a fitness blog and matching Instagram (which I am not ready to share-I don't need my coworkers seeing me in a sports bra at this point in my life), but people are ALWAYS trying to sell something.  This is a problem for me because I get pride doing things for myself. If I figure out how to lose weight and tone up, it means something. If I go the gym and get a personal trainer (which is the ONLY way I see myself going to a gym), good for me. If someone else makes a suggestion-it doesn't mean as much. It robs me of my ability to feel pride in my accomplishments. Plus, saying no is hard for me. Now, a walking/jogging partner (a newbie like me) would be helpful. I think that would get me out the door-but since I have taken on a couple online courses to teach in the afternoon, I don't know when I would get the childfree time for that.

So there are all my excuses. 

On a side note, I was listening to an Oprah podcast on Spotify this morning (while slowly sipping my French roast), and one of the main points being made was how important it was to be true to your word. And Oprah cut in (she cuts in too much-I mean I like the topic, but shush and let the speaker unfold), and talked about how hard it is to be true to our word to OURSELVES. She talked about how easily she could talk herself out of not finishing a workout she had promised herself. And that is so true. When we aren't true to our word to ourselves, we just call it, "Changing my mind." Something to think about.

Knowing all these excuses, doesn't get my ass smaller, though. Actually, I don't "see" my butt, except in pictures, therefore I really worry about my stomach and my double chin. Every pound, I swear jumps to my waist and face.

I have to find ways to build this into my day without a lot of stress. 

I know the easiest thing to do is to put on my sneakers, dress Alec (because he walks in the door and strips his clothes off everyday), and just go out for a walk. There isn't anything hard about that. Except that-people will see me. That stresses me out a little. When I am home, I want to be home. Alone. Quiet. In pajamas and unseen. 

I have my 15-pound dumbbell. The exercise video I do with the weight, literally takes less than 5 minutes, and I feel pretty worked out the next day. There is NO excuse not to do 5 minutes of this a day.

The weighted hula hoop is easy, though it feels too easy and gimmicky to work. Tierney said it was working for her, though. The yoga mat isn't getting a lot of use because, it seems like too much in the morning. 

How can I build this into my day?

I need to have it all set up in the morning. I need the yoga mat spread out on the floor, the weight and hula hoop nearby, and the roku remote ready to go find a Youtube video for Yoga or others (I always used to love Cynthia Kerulik videos-apparently she was a thing for men to gawk at, but I always enjoyed listening to her quiet chatter while working out). It is just a matter of getting the ball rolling. The easier I make it on myself, the easier it will be to do it the first time, the second time, the third...until I feel like a habit has been formed. 

I think a HUGE part of the problem is the idea of fitness is linked with attractiveness in my head. And I will NEVER be young again. I need to retrain my mind to focus on how it FEELS to move lightly and with ease. How good it would feel not to huff and puff. How nice it feels NOT to have heartburn and to have your pants a little to0 loose rather than too tight. 

Now...I have written a whole lot of words here. Until I put them into action that is all they are. Words. I could do a check-in or a fill-in-the-bubble when you do it planner activity, but those don't work for me. My rebellious nature will kick that plan to the door. FREEEEEEDOM!

But now I have a plan. Set everything up the night before. Grab the dumbbell before I turn on the TV. Do the hula hoop the first 10 minutes of salivating over Damon. Just do the danged floor exercises WHILE I listen to my soul-growing podcasts. When I set it in motion, 3, 4, 5 days in a row, I should theoretically start feeling good about the new habit I am developing. Then I will let you know how it goes!

New Year's Resolutions-Getting ready for 2022

 

                                            Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

I didn't want to say New Year's Resolutions, but let's call a spade a spade. After a delicious 11 days off, tomorrow it is back to school for the second term. I have thoroughly enjoyed binge-watching The Vampire Diaries (rumor is it is going off Netflix in March), which I just found in November. I have enjoyed doing a whole big fat lot of nothing. It was wonderful. But now, I feel the need to stir things up, plan for the new year, and start making progress towards greater meaning in this crazy little thing called Life.

Do you make resolutions? How do you decide what to focus on?

My Resolutions

Below are a list of things I want to focus on this year:

Fitness

First of all, I feel a renewed need to focus on fitness. Let's be honest. I am 48 and have carried and given birth to six children. No matter what I do, this has marked my body. And sometimes I do get discouraged. When energy and mood is flagging and brownie batter is calling my name, it is hard to stay focused on the fact that am overweight. Part of me thinks, "Well, no matter what I do there will be stretch marks and saggy skin, so why bother?" But part of me is also aware of the things I want out of life. I want to hike, all day hikes, which require a strong, healthy body. 

Creation

I want to start junk journaling. I have wanted to do this for awhile, but have put it off. First of all, when I have tried making/creating things in the past, the kids have always interrupted or messed with my supplies. However, I am tired of putting off what I want to do. I need to develop systems which allow me to quickly and easily put away my items and get them out when I want to use them. 

Here is a link to a video on Junk Journaling for Beginners.

Photo by Rhodi Lopez on Unsplash

Focus on Vision

I am one who likes to quietly experience life and then slowly contemplate my experiences. This is where I find meaning. However, I want to start focusing more on vision and planning a future for myself. Part of me abhors this-it such a high-maintenance TJ  (the link explains the different types. I am an FP, so TJ are sort of my polar opposite)  sort of thing to do. But really, whenever I try to participate in meditations or abundance mindset, I find myself struggling to even know what I want. 

What I feel like I want is romance and friendship and adventures and interesting thoughts and quiet nights and good books and an occasional fire crackling in the fireplace. And that is all good. But maybe, it is time to start envisioning more for myself. This is actually VERY hard for me. I remember watching people at work, and they had all these ideas for how to improve things, and I am over here like, "Hey, let's just all be friends and have fun together." 

While that is okay and is valuable, I also feel like there is a part of my brain that is quietly slumbering through life. It probably doesn't help that most of them are younger now and they do get together and I am sadly excluded-so I have no choice but to change my focus, haha). And I want to wake it up and shake it up a little. I know I often come across as flaky and unintelligent, and while I am a wee bit shallow (I like the way things look), I also know I am intelligent. It irritates the bejesus out of me when people are surprised at my tests scores or my ability to get things done. Just because I like boots and makeup doesn't mean I don't have the ability to think deeply. Now, thinking quickly, that  may be a problem for me. But slow thinking has its benefits, too, and both types are needed to get things done. 

Either way, when someone asks, "What do you want?" I want to have an answer.

Less Screen Time

Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

I really plan to focus on less screen time for both myself and the boys. Time spent blogging and creating-not so bad. Time spent bingewatching a TV show and watching the boys scroll through Youtube videos (I don't allow TikTok), is a bit of a waste. I plan to develop limits and then ENFORCE them. The enforcement is the hardest part. When I have worked all day, and the boys are bickering, it is hard to hold my ground. But I can and must. I watched this horrific video by Mrwhosetheboss (who by the way is sexy as hell-I have a thing for British-Indians, I guess), and I feel like the whole world is slipping away from us and we are just dumbly watching it happen (It may have something to do with getting older, too).

The video I'm Worried about humanity's future is really an interesting one!

Less Perfectionism

Finally, I need to start nipping my perfectionism in the bud.  I often feel like I can't have people over unless my house is perfect, or I can't start a hobby without the perfect workspace in place. I have to stop that. I can't keep waiting until everything is perfect to live my life. If someone cannot realize that I am working fulltime and am doing well to keep up with laundry, kids, and dishes and wants to judge me because some things need work, I don't need them in my life. 

This is easy to say, hard to do. I want to be liked. I want make other people happy. But if Joe or Josephina Cool can't deal with my broken dishwasher, then are they really the best person for me?  Let them go find the perfect person with the perfect life. This insecurity over my imperfections is terrible. 

My workplace is going to masks not required tomorrow (thanks to our state attorney general), and while I yearn to breath freely, part of me is worried that people will see my larger than average nose again and BE DISAPPOINTED. Like Screw them. I *know*if someone likes me, they will extend this to my face, but ... this damned nose. Sigh. 

Anyway, more acceptance, less perfectionism. I think part of me wants to be more and higher. I want friends with money and beautiful homes, but I also know if I can't get there myself, they probably aren't my group. So I hide and...I'm a fruitcake, people!:).

Anyway, I will get a head start on this, by not proofreading this post. I hate proofreading and editing. Blah. 

So those are my basic resolutions for the year. I realize these aren't SMART goals. I plan to attack each individually in upcoming posts.

Happy New Year!

Please share what you hope to focus on this year.

 After the topsy turvy upheaval of my life, i find that things are now quite quiet. However, I find I am struggling with a problem I haven't had to face in a long time- acute loneliness. It usually hits sometime after dinner. I am sitting quietly, awaiting bedtime and bam! the aloneless starts to seep under mys skin. It is times like these when I really miss my mom. I miss having another adult to call and to have call me. I even miss my soon-to-be ex hanging around, when he was healthy, he was another person, another mind to connect with. 

The hardest part has been falling asleep. My body is tired, I am perfectly comfortable in bed, fan blowing, and I just can't drift off into dreamland. Last night, I finally got up at around 11, after trying to sleep for over an hour, and took a melatonin and went down to the couch. That seemed to help, and I was alseep within 20 minutes or so. I do hate having to rely on a pill to go to sleep, though, especially when my body is quite tired. I guess, though, taking a melatonin is preferable to that silent, creeping loneliness. It is such an ache, grabbing a slow squeezing control of one's chest. Getting through the evening is the tough part. During the daily hours, something can always been done. There is work, or sitting outside, or entertaining Alec, who "doesn't like being on his own," as he frequently tells me.

Projects around the house have been keeping me somewhat busy. I am trying to pace myself, so what could be done in a day is being completed slowly a little at a time. Mainly this is just to protect my own energy. Laying the floor in the dining room a week and a half ago, completely wiped me out and left me with very sore leg muscles. I don't care to feel that way again soon, so doing things slowly seems to be the trick to not completly exhausting myself.

Social media actually helps a bit, too.Just putting something out there and getting a response helps. Now there are the people who make me cringe every time I see their posts, and that can drag me down a bit (why do I follow them? Well, you know, ,keep your friends close and your enemies closer, they say. While I wouldn't say they are really enemies, they are people who just get my shoulders crunching up and my mouth skewing into an unpleasant angle. I keep them around for soul growth. I figure when their lame-o popular posts stop bugging me, I will have definitive proof of my growth as a human. 

My eyes have been on and off imflammed, and I think I am going to have to face the fact that I just cannot handle contacts anymore. It makes me SO sad, because glasses make my eyes tired and they are inconvenient, especially when dong active things like hiking or wading. I will just have to invest in strudy prescription sunglasses, I guess. Makes me sad. Plus I really like wearing green or hazel contacts to brighten my face a bit. But nope. My eyes are making everything difficult. Photophobia and cringing when the light hits, makes accomplishing ANYTHING very difficult. I left work early because of it yesterday. I just pray my eyes are calmer today. Frozen/cool compresses help ease the pain a bit, but that isn't practical at work with a classroom full of kids. 

By the way, I am working in the library for summer school, and I really just don't like it that much. I like getting to meet all the kids, but I think I prefer actually being in a classroom. My schedule is full, so I am not really bored, so that is a bonus, but it just isn't as satisfying as having one or two groups of students to work with all day. If I do elementary summer school in the future, I think I want a 4/5 classroom to work with.I just love leading classes. It is what I was meant to do. The middle school classes are nice, too. I think that is my frustration with my current job. It isn't that coteaching is bad, or that my coteachers are bad. It is just not where my strength and desire lies. I want to be leading a class independently. While I do also long for my own classroom (that's a huge draw to being a teacher-having that space, it is leading the class itself that I love). I get so frustrated because I can't have that where I am (at least not full time). So I will just keep searching, which sucks, because I want a home-but I want the right home.

What Does it Mean to Be Mighty?

Photo by Meritt Thomas on Unsplash

 

Lately, I have been thinking a lot. In truth, now that I am the only adult in the home, the quietness , though it is rarely ever quiet, leaves a lot of thinking time.

Tonight I sit by the white-orange logs in the firepit where the larger logs burn with a heat and mesmerizing chemical magic which fails for words. An artist would be able to capture it perhaps-an an artist's eye could determine whether the logs burn white or orange, but my untrained eyes, can't distinguish. It is both to me. 

A breeze is brushing the treetops and the stronger gusts bring a shower of maple seeds-helicopters- raining down on me. The moon is just the slightest smidgen shy of full.

It's been weird. A peace invades the house, my house, my castle. I do what I want when I want (as long as it involves kids). I sleep on the couch without excuses, my room smells, not of tobacco, but of cats and me. I don't resent anyone lying on the couch while I work, and I don't have the easy ability to slip out the door and into the car alone anymore. 

People irritate me. I try to explain my feelings-the joyous peace, the occasional crush of loneliness. Others say, "I could see. I could see you were hiding your pain. I knew you were unhappy." It is frustrating. Of course. It is so easy on the outside, isn't it? But I know me. I know my easy ability to wash away the pain, to forgive the past, to see what is so wonderful. Happy posts about flowers and candlelit baths were REAL. They weren't put on for show. The date night selfies were done in fun, not show. The companionship of sitting by the fire, watching a favorite tv show together, that was real. In truth, bad things are rarely bad all the time. If they were, they would end so much sooner. Bad, awful, hurtful things are interspersed with good moments, with laughter, with understanding,, and intimacies. People on the outside don't see that. They don't want to see that. They see the evil, the bad. The bad, I so easily forgot, I had to start keeping a diary to remember what had happened.

And that's fine. It isn't their burden. But it feels as if my cross to bear is the inability to be honest about the pain. About the loneliness. About how hard it is to be the only adult in the house-even when it is easier to not live with someone unstable and unhappy. Nothing is simple. And were people to come over, I would probably make polite conversation, and wait, and watch the clock, wanting my hours back to myself. Companionship is not to have any warm body, but to have the right warm body. Oh, don't get me wrong. There is noone on my mind. And that is difficult, too. My INFPness lives to dream of romance, to get lost in a crush, but there is no one now. Everyone I meet is married or young. And damn, if that isn't dull.

And I thought I could be so happy alone. My own bed. Noone to care that I am gross sometimes, or let the bathroom trash sit way too long. And I am. But my toes tickle for the touch of someone else-don't read into that-I don't have a toe fetish-, my toes are actually just tickling right now. They are propped on the edge of the firepit, probably falling asleep. And it is like some animal urgency, this desire to have someone. I don't really understand it. I am 47. I do not want more children. Why does my mind scan the world for a partner NOW? But alas, the world is made for couples, it is normal to want someone to do something with, I suppose. Restaurants, nights out, travel. The world was made for two.

And I make my stupid jokes, and then I worry that people pity me. And I do hate pity. I want to be adored and babied and yet, I want to be strong and admired. The truth is, even as I write these thoughts-it isn't so bad. I don't feel so sad. I don't cry. I worry. I worry so much about this person who is falling apart and won't let me help. I worry for my four year old who misses his dad. And I feel the sickening disgust that so many of my thoughts are financial. Am I really so cold and removed and calculating as that? Everything is filtered through loss and gain. And then I remind myself that idealism only goes so far. It is okay to think about practical matters. It is okay to fight for the best life possible. All those hurtful words thrown at me-cold, calculating- don't matter. If it is cold to want the best life and stability for my kids, then toss me in a glass of lemonade, because I do. If it is calculating to do what is within my power to keep my kids in a stable home, then I guess that is what I am. There is no shame in caring for their well-being. 

So to be mighty. What is that? Is it being honest and open? Is it carrying on in silence, striving towards the future with grim determination? Is it something in-between? 

According to the Century Dictionary, mighty means:

     Possessed of or endowed with might; having much ability, strength, or power; eminently         strong, powerful, or great: as, a mighty conqueror; a mighty intellect; a man mighty in         argument

I think to be mighty is being honest with oneself, doing the tasks for the sake of those who need me, and just letting the waves wash over and around me. If you don't fight reality, you don't sink. If you go with the flow, eventually the water will part around you, and you just rise and fall with the swell of waves. So I am mighty. I am sad. I am tender. Nostalgia is all around me in this sad house, and yet each morning, I wake up with a smile, and joy for how incredibly amazing this journey continues to be. I snuggle in my soft bed at night in peace, not with tears, but with a feeling of strength and pride. And as much as I long for people to understand exactly what I feel, I know they can only see what the filter of their own experience allows. I am mighty when I am sad, and I am mighty when I move forward. Mightiness doesn't dissipate because I am real and because I feel. Mightiness reigns because I move towards the future, because I know I will survive. There is no self-pity, no surrender. There is just determination to keep on going, to keep on feeling, to keep on pushing towards destiny and seeking God's purpose. 

Quintessentially, Unapologetically Me

                                                 Arno Smit on Unsplash

I have been rather quiet on this blog lately. There are several reasons for that which I will get to in a moment. But first let me say, Hello! Spring is in bloom here in my neck of the woods and life is bursting out with vibrant color. This. is. heaven.

I have been quiet on this blog for several reasons. 

First, my personal life has crumbled down in the past six months, although the stirrings of trouble have been brewing for a few years. I don't want to get into the details, but all I will say is, it is hard to smile and give life advice when you feel guilt over not being able to fix everything in your own life. Now, granted, I realize I cannot be held responsible for everything wrong in a relationship, but I can't help but look at my failings and mistakes and how I might have contributed. But alas, I am my bestest friend, and I will forgive myself for my less than perfect motives. I just want a peaceful, happy life guys.

Second, a sort of authentic honesty has been bubbling up in my chest of late and dang it! it has to come out. Whilst I am writing blogs on being a leader and getting ahead, the truth is--I only ever just wanted a happy house and happy kids. I have failed domestically in so many ways.  One of the main issues is in today's modern world while of course you need to have a perfect kid and a perfect house, it shouldn't really be your focus, unless you are Today's Christian Woman or something. The fact that reading wardrobe planning and puttery decor tricks is how I love to spend my time is sort of shameful in the eyes of the modern female. How can I protest a world which essentially forces us to be men in mascara, without sounding like some aging luddite clinging to a world that has long past? How can I be my own frivolous self and still command respect? So I am on these fan pages for Sarah J Maas books and the hate that quiet, wallflower, homebody Elain (of the ACOTAR world) receives is strong. And as a quiet, wallflower homebody-that hurts me. I try to defend her without making myself a target (social media is brutal), but are we flower loving girly girls really such a waste of space? And how do I balance my need for spending Saturday nights in a bath drinking wine and reading makeup tips with the sometimes overwhelming feelings of jealousy and competition. I want to win. I don't care what it is, I want to be on top.  And thus, I have been trying to sort out exactly what I want to win. If it is queen of the wavy hair, then I want to accept that. Maybe I wasn't mean to be queen of the working world. But oh the shame! It is shameful to not be the best at anything-that is how I feel. So I have these conflicting desires. Do I want love or respect? Do I want to be cute or commanding? And I struggle with leading my readers with my thoughts, because I don't know how to be EVERYTHING.

So I am trying to sort it all out. How to be me, and how to please everyone, and how to be the very best at every possibility out there. So Yeah. That isn't going to work. 

So be patient with me. I am going to arrive at a higher place with a stronger sense of self by the end of this. I might not be the person I was trying to be, but I will be the best me I can be. 

And on that note--what are you chasing? Are your dreams and goals hijacked from someone else or are they truly yours? What four things are you working towards in your life? Are you putting your energy towards those goals, or are you falling down rabbit holes of borrowed dreams? 

And on another note-This video is everything to me: 

Why the Starks Always Get Betrayed

This is me! This is my failure! It was so cool to see my mistakes on the video. I have been expecting everyone to react to things like me. To have motivations like me. Then I end up feeling betrayed when I am...betrayed. But I wasn't careful; I opened the door, but I didn't have my eyes open. I am not advocating for deceit, but maybe a little discretion in some areas is best. I wish I had seen this years ago.

Why The Starks Always Get Betrayed

You are Not a Winner

 

Photo by Marcos Paulo Prado on Unsplash

Or...maybe you are. I don't know your personal circumstances. I have been thinking a bit about what is is to have a motivational and success-inspired blog. Is it hitting the highlights? Spreading positivity, optimism, and lots of YOU CAN DO ITs!? Is it reading and dissecting business and personal growth books, which yes, I do love, and discovering ways to apply the tidbits to my own circumstances? Is it getting What I Want, When I Want, with no room for anything less than being all that and a bon bon on the side? 

The truth is, I love this blog. I love self-help, self-improvement, self-motivation...I guess I love self! But one thing I think we tend to forget in this world of positivity, lead-the-way, never yield, but be vulnerable and approachable, by golly, perfectionism, is that the top is is small and life is short.

The truth of the matter is, what you do and how you act, DO matter. It does have an impact on where you will go. But know what else determines that? Who you know and a good deal of luck. The truth is, there are probably more qualified people for the "top" than there are spaces. You could do everything right, and still not make it. You could make rookie mistakes and not make it. You could make rookie mistakes, but have a fantastic personality, a pretty/handsome face, and lots of luck, and get just what you want.

I am not saying this to lead you into despair. Life is too short for despair. "To despair is to turn your back on God," according to Marilla Cuthbert in the 1985 miniseries version of Anne of Green Gables. If you don't know either the miniseries or the books, you must, so here is a little more information: Anne of Green Gables Movie  and Anne of Green Gables books. 

Anyhoo, I am saying this to pull you away from the path of self-bullying, away from toxic positivity, away from win-or-die mindset and towards a deeper truth. We are spiritual beings. While there is nothing wrong with wanting to be boss lady of your company and working like Hell to get it, that's not what it is all about. Unless this is your own personally written mission and you planned the company and/or are on board with the philosophy and outcome. Otherwise, it may very well be...a job. And yes, the thrill of victory, the excitement of seeing YOUR plans put into actions by others is quite satisfying. But there is a good chance, the great and powerful Oz, er I mean, God of our Universe, doesn't give a camel's backside (doesn't that make you think of a fabulous camel trenchcoat?), about what you do to earn your bread. What he wants is to see you growing and changing and learning. And he may fancy that "reject" down on the corner for the way they smile at the strangers who go by, or help the elderly load their groceries into the car, over your ability to wheel and deal. Or maybe, he loves them both equally, like all good parents, do...

So listen, go get yours...but if yours doesn't somehow materialize despite your best efforts, just know...it's okay. 

There is so, so much more to this experience we are going through. 

Love!

On Serenity

       https://unsplash.com/@daiga_ellaby

We have all heard the serenity prayer, right?

I remember reading those words, probably at Hallmark, as a teenager, and being so inspired and awestruck at the wisdom they contained.  As a youngster you often don't know what you are going to face in life. Your demons to face, crosses to bear, and lessons to learn are still yet unrevealed. 

One of the major themes in my life appears to be The search for security and how fleeting and evasive it can be. Watching my mother struggle, I felt the weight that not having enough money can bring. After getting divorced in my  late 20s, I felt the challenge of single parenthood on a teensy tiny income. Now as a married adult, choices are made relying on someone else to hold up their part of the bargain.

And sometimes the rug is pulled out from under even as we are building dream castles in the air. I sit and remind myself to breathe. I remind myself that I am strong and I will endure and even thrive. I remind myself that my "if worse comes to worst" is still better than many, many people worldwide. 

Some things, even things which directly affect my life, are  outside of my control. What I can control now requires greater prudence, self-restraint, and wisdom than I have had to practice in recent years past. 

It isn't what I would have chosen, especially as the emotional aspect of this challenge tears my heart apart (I am exaggerating for dramatic effect-but there is a painful struggle). I don't know what the outcome will be. My sense of care, pity, and duty for one who is ill is strong. I ask myself, if this was cancer, would I turn my back so easily? But there is an element of choice at play here, and frustrated anger on my part that healthy protocols were not followed.

 My desire for security crashes over me in terrifying waves at times. 

And I breathe. And I pray for serenity, and courage, and wisdom. And I have faith they will come. My little toy box might be overturned, dreams scattered. But from the part and pieces a new game will emerge, and it may be different, but it will be as God has planned for me. And I will thrive.

How Short Time Is

 Naara Turner died yesterday. I suppose it has been Naara Toole for quite a while. A few days ago I told my husband an old classmate was going to die (based on photos of her with friends on Facebook, with her seated and wrapped in a blanket). It was such a weird feeling. To lose a classmate is such a reminder of the how fleeting and fragile life is. Our bodies will give out. Whether to illness or old age, one day we each will draw our last breath, and our time of influence-our time to leave an imprint-will be done.

To me, Naara is just a few memories. When she first came to Springfield (from Georgia, I believe), explaining how to pronounce her name. She smiled politely at teachers when they remarked on her lack of a Southern accent. Naara had a big smile and teachers seemed to warm to her quickly. To me, Naara is a cabbage patch kid, a beautiful song. When Nichole Tummons had a Halloween (sleepover?) party, Naara was the other girl (besides me) who wet her pants when Nichole's older sibling knocked on the garage window, scaring us 10-year-olds. I feel somewhat of a solidarity with her as a fellow weak-bladdered gal. I remember trying out for the solo/duet for our Christmas program at North Town Mall. I went up with Debbie Barnes, despite neither of us having a spectacular voice), and we giggled through the audition. Then Naara came forward and sang, "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas," with such beautiful sincerity (she even closed her eyes at times), I wondered why the rest of us even bothered. I don't know if we performed or not. It might have been snowed out. Naara is the girl who would sneak in her tight jeans to change in the bathroom before school in 5th grade because her mom didn't approve. She is the 6th grader who supported my short romance writing efforts. I would bring in thick Writer's Market books to determine where to send my gems, and Naara would smile and offer to edit them for me before I sent them off. I was first runner-up in the school spelling bee in 6th grade, second to Naara. My disappointment was evident, I am sure, when I congratulated her, and Naara reassured me she wasn't feeling great and maybe couldn't go. Everyone was mad at her that week (we were a petty, petty group of kids), so they congratulated me instead. She did go, of course.

After we changed to junior high, I didn't see Naara much. We didn't seem to fall into the same classes anymore. Naara was in theatre and though I longed to be, I was shy. Naara could sing, and I wasn't interested. And that's okay. Naara was more mature than me, falling into different crowds with her brilliant smile, while I still had many years of work to bring myself up on my own. 

Naara brings to mind lessons I wish I had understood decades ago. She is a symbol of power to me: who has it and who doesn't. When I was with Naara's group, I was a hanger-on. My words, no matter how carefully crafted, were never quite right. I could never understand why, when I used the same tone, said the same words, they weren't received in the same light. It wasn't until my late 20s, when I realized, I have an underlying pettiness, a chip on my shoulder, an immaturity, which makes my most sincere responses questioned. It wasn't until my 40s when I realized power within a group also played a strong role. I grew up in a world without role models. I watched the girls I admired closely and strived to be more like them. I watched how they dressed and how they talked. I listened to how they handled themselves with others. I remember sitting in French IV, realizing with shock, that this girl I admired so much (Lynnette Pember), might not get slapped for being bratty. All my life I just assumed every family was somewhat the same, and then --I realized--some people don't get slapped. Some girls may never have had their hair pulled by someone else's frustration. It really blew my mind. I couldn't help but think of this amusing scene in As Good as it Gets. There is a kernel of truth  in it. 

Click the link  --->Good times, noodle salad. <----Click the link

The world's loss of Naara is likely great. Some lights shine brighter than others, and Naara appeared to be such a light. Not perfect, no one is, but a shining light reminding us we can do better. We can be more. We can smile at anyone. Not only are the days we have to create something amazing and long-lasting numbered, but the days we have to brighten someone else's world are finite. The time we are given to change a life is so short. I hope to never take each moment for granted. 

Let's Talk About Health, Baby!

 

Photo by Bruno Nascimento on Unsplash

Winter is officially here, right? Happy Birthday, fictional character, Feyre Alcheron! Welcome, winter solstice. I wish I were into rituals and had something symbolic and meaningful planned, but alas! I am not big on the preparation that ritualistic symbolism requires. I do admire the romanticism, however.

Do you ever just feel Amy Marchy? Like clearly you were intended to have a staff? Can you guys imagine what life would be like with a housekeeper and maybe a part-time nanny? What could be accomplished? Or a personal assistant who just does all those details?  I can. And it looks pretty nice from right here.

My Simple Weight Loss Plan

So health. I am gaining weight! I can see it in my face, and feel it around my waist and suffer with it with my ongoing heartburn/acid reflux, and esophagus narrowing problems. The thing is, I don't know what I am doing differently. I don't feel like I am eating that much. But number don't lie, and I must be. My old standby-the only weight loss trick that works consistently for me-is counting calories. And there is no trick there, just hard work and discipline. And friends, I think that is the threshold I stand upon now. So back to MyFitnessPal, back to counting candy calories, back to just saying no to that bowl of chips and salsa after dinner. 

Have you tried MyFitnessPal? You must! I use the free version and it is perfect.

I can lose weight on 1500 calories, and lose it faster on 1200. Somewhere in between those will be my target. I can do this.

My Simple Exercise Plan

If you know me, you know I am big proponent of K.I.S.S. (Keep it Simple Sweetheart). When planning a vacation, I have a rough itinerary of the must-sees, but believe in leaving a lot of room open for surprise side trips. I will be the first one up and out the door at the hotel, but I am not going be checking the time, herding everyone along (unless something might close). I also believe in ACTIVE vacations. As appealing as lying on a beach with an alcoholic drink appears, the fear of missing out on the WORLD hasn't allowed me to take such a vacation just yet. That and I always have kids around. But why lie on a beach when you can go to an art museum? Or hike to a waterfall? Or drink coffee in a rainy metropolis? Hell, let's just do all of this, beach included. That's the life for me. The truth is, I think I was meant to be an active person. I was an active kid. I loved running and climbing and playing. But whereas other girls funneled their energy into organized sports as puberty hit, I didn't know how. I had no teacher, no experience, and let's be honest, possibly no talent. As I watched other girls seem to flourish, I disappeared into myself behind a wall of shame and self-hatred. The self-hatred kept my weight down throughout high school, but once the babies came, the struggle became quite real. The last time I was really happy with my weight was after my first child was born, and before the others came. I was working out to a video 3x a week, walking the stroller on alternate days, and sticking to three small meals a day. All that work got me to just  under 130 pounds. Perhaps if I hadn't gotten pregnant with Caleb (very much planned), I would have continued to shave off a few more pounds.

This year, I have been doing some floor exercises pretty regularly. Stretches, (REAL!) pushups, crunches, and some leg/butt exercises. Then a couple weeks ago, I just stopped. Sometimes the carpet needed vacuumed and grossed me out, and sometimes I just didn't sleep well, and wanted to conserve my energy for the day. It is amazing how rapidly a tightening abdomen can disintegrate into softness. Also I had been walking a couple nights a week with my son. We decided to add jogging, he protested on the second time we went out, and we haven't done anything active since. 

So my new plan:

1. Renew the exercises. I may have to get strict with myself (no getting dressed for work until they are done). 
2. Continue/amp up the squats I do while waiting for my coffee to brew. I thought my 20-30 squats were great, then my coworker (who is 10 years older!) told me she did 400 squats one day. Umm, Okay. I can do better. 
3. Go back to walking/jogging. I happen to know my son is getting a new scooter for Christmas, so I can still jog and with a new scooter, he can keep up (and get some exercise time).

I don't think I have caught the Coronavirus, though I have had one bad cold and one minor cold since it all started. Who is to say the colds weren't the virus? I don't know, I never had a fever, cough, or loss of taste or smell. But I do know if I do get a heavy viral load, I am overweight, over 45, and A positive blood type. So I need to get my act together, man. And I teach! I am surrounded by germs. 

I am not a big vitamin person. I think vitamins should mostly come from healthy foods. However, my husband did purchase some vitamin gummies, which taste yummy, so I have been eating a few of them each day.

With these steps in place, I have no reason to think, I won't lose at least one of these chins by spring!

Winter Break is coming!

 

The year is ending! While I enjoyed my share of 2020 memes, let's face it-it ain't the year that's the problem. I can't complain about this year, but I don't want to be too nonchalant about it. Some people have suffered greatly and are suffering still. 

What I am tired of is the politics. So tired of the politics. Listen, if this is all some scheme to take away our freedoms, your bitching over masks isn't going to make a difference. Now, if two years from now, Covid isn't a thing, and we are still wearing the damned masks, then yeah, let's throw a hissy. But now is not the time. 

I have been a bear lately. I hate it when I get down, because my mind spirals to worst case scenarios quickly. Some may have a kernel of truth, and some are just a runaway imagination playing with possibilities. But the thing is, even when the truth is evident, not everyone wants to hear your truth. I can only blame myself, for not being successful enough to quit the day job...but then I think woah! Maybe I am caught up in that capitalist rat race idea that I am just not trying hard enough. On the other hand, maybe I am not. I am not sure. It's kind of hard to step outside of your own paradigm and see things as they truly exist. 

So grumpiness aside, it is nearly time for the end-of-the-year festivities. I have plans!

Plans to reread Anne's House of Dreams (my favorite-around-New-Year's read), maybe the ACOTAR series, and to finish watching this season of Call the Midwife. Those are my grand and glorious plans for my week and a half off. I am super-excited. As you know, since I work both sessions of summer school, the winter break is often my longest break of the year. Although I applied for summer school jobs a couple weeks ago, I haven't heard anything and my insecurities are raging. What if I didn't do a good job last year? What if the person who usually hires me, and also sent me an invitation for Gabe to go reading tutoring, now thinks I am a poor teacher because my kid needs tutoring, and won't hire me? Those are the things running through my head. I was invited to the virtual learning orientation, but haven't got a job. Now I am wondering what I did wrong. Did I ask the wrong questions-did they uncover something about me they didn't like? I was so excited and felt cherished when I received the invitation, and now I feel...like...I...am...falling. I have bills to pay, and I am willing to work, people!

Hope springs anew, of course, and the day is glorious and bright, and while I acknowledge the fear and insecurity, I know there is a plan. The Universe is racing through its cosmic destiny, and I am where I need to be. Being fearfully and wonderfully made, I can rest assured in the knowledge that God's plan cannot be thwarted. And all is well.

And I can't wait.

A Little Housecleaning...Literally

Photo by Jonathan Francisca on Unsplash

The older I get, the more I desire a clean environment.  When you are young, you have so little that you spend a lot of energy buying and collecting things. At some point, though, you reach the apex, and you start to question all the crap you have around you. You go to those amazing craft fairs and tourist traps, and you begin to question whether you really want to spend the next 20 years dusting that personalized wooden...whatever. You start to groan when your MIL, despite having her heart in the right place, gives you another Hummel figurine, because you KNOW she is going to want it displayed (although this particular problem was temporarily solved when the toddler brought the curio cabinet crashing down and so many things busted). At some point, I became the person who will stop and do dishes in the middle of a get-together, because I simply cannot relax and tolerate the mess.

However, as much as I desire a neat environment, I work full-time outside the home and have three small boys constantly pushing the tide against me. My house will not be company ready for a few more years. 

That said, a gal can only take so much chaos, am I right? Occasionally I get the kids' dad to take them somewhere for a good chunk of the day, and I am able to get a good housecleaning in. However this only happens every couple of months, and that is just not enough. So I am going to introduce you to my survival trick for Saturdays like today.

First of all, after a crazy busy weekend last week, this weekend is blessedly open. Nothing on the table, just me and my home and my time. The best. But I awoke to a disaster. By 8 a.m. there was cinnamon toast crumbs everywhere, remnants of last night's feasting (I went to bed early instead of cleaning up) all over the table, piles of laundry waiting to be folded, dirty bathrooms, dirty carpets, some sticky, sweet something all over the floor, and a host of other horrors. I would get a picture, but the kids always steal my phone.

But I am at energy level: Recovery. This means I am relaxing as much as I can, so my stores build back up.

And that is where the 10-minute clean-up comes in. The 10-minute clean-up is exactly what it sounds like. For 10 minutes out of every hour, I straighten one room. It is important to focus on one area at a time during the 10 minutes to see progress, but you don't have to finish one room to move to another. For example, I usually start in the front room and/or dining room. They clean up the quickest, so I can see progress right away.  However, 10 minutes is usually not enough time for vacuuming, so the room is never completely done. During the next 10 minutes, I might move to the kitchen. Obviously, a trashed kitchen will not be cleaned within 10 minutes, especially since my dishwasher is broken. I might do a couple 10 minute sessions here. Sometimes I see so much progress, I keep cleaning. Sometimes I don't. Later in the afternoon, the big boys will go outside, and this is when I start to fold the laundry. Usually by the end of the day, at least the downstairs is straight and pleasant, and I don't feel wiped out or like I was cleaning all day. Plus, once he sees the positive progress I have made, Karl will usually get inspired and pitch in. And there is nothing like manly muscle for getting some jobs done (like that sticky stuff in the fridge-takes him 5  minutes to clean what I would scrub for 30).

So basically that is the lazy girl's guide to cleaning when you really just want to be a slug.

I actually use this method at work, too. When I have to start some less than stimulating paperwork, I tell myself I only have to do 10 minutes worth. Generally after 10 minutes, the flow is going and I continue working. But if I don't, I pat my back and call myself successful for meeting my goal. 

Works for me!

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

 

Photo by Ava Sol on Unsplash

Two steps forward, one step back is how I would describe the journey of personal growth. You learn, and ponder, and stretch, and reach, and you are rewarded with real signs of growth and then...suddenly you look up and realize your focus has been lost.

This blog is about positivity and motivation for leading a better life, but I lose sight of that sometimes. I can be a very melancholic person-I love diving into the sadness, because that is where I feel my creativity is held. I get a lot out of it personally. However, sharing that on this blog, instead of my personal blog, is off-focus. And I find my slip-ups-the sharing of the darker side, on this blog, embarrassing. 

It is okay, though. Mistakes and less-than-ideal choices are part of life. One of the most difficult lessons I have had to learn is how to stop regret and let shame roll slowly off. Shame is a strong emotion- it can hit unexpectedly, and usually shows up uninvited. But regret is intentional. Regret can be dismissed easier. In my 20s, I spend so much time regretting choices, imagining what I should have done differently. But my 30s were about letting go of regret. Occasionally, regret will visit, and I will have to stop and think about what I can do better in the future, but never invite regret to stay. It will tear your life apart. 

Shame loves to just let itself in by the back door. I have found the best way to deal with it, is to acknowledge it, and give yourself an inner hug, and remind yourself, we are ALL just babies here. We are all learning. We are ALL okay. I can't say shame doesn't visit me ever-or that an occasional dose doesn't shake us out of destructive patterns, but I do know this: Shame should be an uninvited acquaintance, not a close friend. Take a deep breath, wrap your arms around your waist and give yourself a big hug...and send shame on its merry way.

Good morning!

Cream of Wheat

 

Photo by Gaelle Marcel on Unsplash

My new favorite breakfast. For years, I was an overeasy egg on whole wheat bread with a cutie, but now, I am all about the cream of wheat. I like to put a half teaspoon of lemon curry in it as it simmers, and sometimes I stir in an egg to cook in the last minute. Then I add a sprinkle or two of creole seasoning and voila! A savory, thick breakfast. I really like that the blandness serves as a backdrop for the spicier seasonings. Sort of like tofu.

It's no wonder I have to take prilosec and tums every day.

This week was hard. I have been super-busy, which cut into my lying in bed thinking about things. I have felt lonely. I have these things to talk about, but no one to say them to. I guess that is when I need to remember to pull out a journal. Just to get them out of myself. I have used a personal journal in the past, and it absolutely helps. Writing it out here helps, but of course, this is so heavily self-censored. Trying to extract the reality of the situation without the pure openness that pisses everyone off. It's a challenging dance. 

I overindulged in wine last night. It is so hard to get that balance right, too. Sometimes. I only know it is too much when I find myself staring at my messenger list trying to see who is on, aching for some sort of connection, but knowing I will never actually reach out and chat with someone. I just am not fond of putting myself onto other people. If they are interested, they will come to me. Most of the time, though, I prefer the aloneness. And I wasn't actually alone. It wasn't me and a bottle of wine in an empty, grey-walled room with a lone chair and scrubbed pine table. It's never like that. It's never desperate, or excruciating, or even pitiful. Just an every-now-and-then wow, wouldn't it be nice to have just a few people to laugh with, feeling. But I tend to push too hard with my words and make it appear much worse. I sort of enjoy doing that. 

So Gabe came in early, and I awoke at four for good. I know some day I will sleep very alone, so I should relish the little, warm bodies that like to snuggle up, but at two a.m. it can be tough. At 10 p.m. it's intolerable. I like to turn on a bit of something, delta waves sounds or thunderstorms, snuggle into a pile of pillows, one between my knees, turn onto my side and drift off into oblivion completely alone. Other bodies ruin that peace. 

I spent a few minutes reading through old blogs I used to follow. Most of them were homeschooling moms who loved natural, country life, some Christian, some new age. We all shared an affinity for home-baked goods, hand-knitted pretties, Waldorf dolls, and the idea of a simple life. Most of them now have older children and update their blog once a year or so. Retreating into romanticism is easy when your children are toddlers, but much more difficult when older children are fighting to fit into the outside world of activities, sports, and all the bourgeois cliched traps we fall into. Their lives as mothers cease to be read-worthy, and their interests start expanding beyond the home and children. I have watched this pattern unfold over the two and a half decades of the internet which have shaped, and possibly ruined my life. I guess it always was such. It just wasn't documented for strangers to see. 

Sometimes I look at these things and think I must be such an ISFJ. Or maybe ISTJ. Just longing for simplicity. But then think of how, while I love the idea of such things, I am almost just as contented forming my identity around the ideals, but never actually creating that lifestyle. Ideas are 95% of the prize. If I don't follow through on the actual follow-through to create the material lifestyle-well, who cares? It almost certainly exists and is enough in my head. Then I think MBTI is pure crap anyway. People are multi-faceted and complex and capable of change, and cannot be sorted into a simple system. Unfortunately, decades of reading about it have strengthened the pathways to MBTI to interstates in my brain, and I can't ever get away from it. It is there and isn't leaving. Like religion, I guess. It's weird how on one hand, you can absolutely not believe something, and on the other, it is vividly alive in your head. 

Last night they said it would snow today. I hope! I hope! I want accumulating snow, so the boys can go out and play. I want them to sled with friends down the road (I know that's a long shot) and just enjoy the pleasure of snow.  And I'll make crappy snow ice cream and pretend it is amazing, as the boys make memories that will grow in their souls and carry them through adulthood.

There is something simple and wholesome and homesteading-worthy about cooking up a batch of cream of wheat on a cool morning. I wonder if there is a romantic buzz inside my head as I stand before the stove stirring as I imagine people have stirred porridgy-gruelly breakfasts for centuries. I wonder if my brain is just trying to hold on to the lost dreams each morning as I sell my soul and leave home to earn money. George Carlin was right. They do own us. And we sell ourselves and our friends and coworkers out over and over again, to fight for a small spot of something-whether it matters or not-so we can buy a bit of gruel to stir on a stove to just survive a bit longer.