This is the part of the year where we feel as if we have been quite cooped up, physically and spiritually. The weeks seem to move a little slower, and hell, this time around we even have an extra day to the month. The drudgeist month.
I am training for a half-marathon, and as the training runs get longer, I am forced to go out to do them earlier in the day. Last week I set out at 4:45 am to do a nine-mile run, only because the rest of my day was so jam-packed. Pre-child, this was my every day routine, as it was the only way to incorporate training into my work life. I forgot that this was sacred time. I forgot how pristine the world can be before it wakes up and starts urging its inhabitants to rush. Maybe the inhabitants are urging the world to rush. Our endless cycle of rushing, completing, crossing off. You know, I will never trust a world that perpetuates this cycle. I will never trust a world that pushes snooze through this sacred time. A time that is so silent, so honest, that you have no opinion of yourself yet, you simply just are. There.
Do not write me off as preaching. I sleep through this sacred time most days, until I hear the thump, thump, thump of my leggy daughter in her crib. Then I stumble to warm milk, find a sweater and flip on PBS hoping that there is something amusing enough for her so I can come to life and start thinking about how to approach the day.
We all have money to make, people to feed and the need to entertain ourselves. But is this a core dilemma? Are you satisfied missing sacred time, whatever time that may be for you?
I cannot believe that A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle is Oprah's book of the month. This can be a great thing by raising the awareness of the general population who watches Oprah...the person seeking information and inspiration at the afternoon hour between carpools and homework crackdown. I urge anyone at any age to listen to what they have to say, sign up for the e-seminar that starts March 3rd or pick up a copy of his book. I promise, it will be exactly what you seek if you feel drudgery lingering on.
To slap myself in the face about the world rushing by that I will never trust? Only Eckhart Tolle can say it, "The world can only change from within."
Friday, February 29, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
In The World of A 20-Month-Old
Two stuffed Elmos are better than one. One stuffed Cookie Monster is enough. This way, all three can be carried with ease in short arms and no one gets left out.
Snow is not cold. Not even when the air is 10 degrees below zero. Snow is a play thing that tastes oh so good at any time of the day.
Hats should never be worn, even when the air is 10 degrees below zero.
A good use of ten minutes is to get up on a chair, get stuck, cry to get down, watch The Mommy help, then repeat until The Mommy realizes her back might snap.
It takes a while for The MommyDaddy to realize that the reason why the bath tub was scary was because the bath tub was slippery. A bath mat was a simple solution to two months of screamy fear, a little too late.
It is still amusing once in a while to cry in the middle of the night long enough to see if The Mommy will resort to a midnight viewing of Baby Beethoven. Very amusing.
Yogurt should be consumed at every meal. Duh. Then is should be tossed on the floor because it takes the shine right out of hard wood.
The garbage can is not a garbage can, but a delightful collection of ever-changing playthings.
Even when The MommyDaddy leave for a weekend, there is a whole line of people waiting to step in. Those people have kids and are a little more experienced.
Kissing everything is an important part of the day.
Asking for hugs is a sure way to change the mood of The MommyDaddy and an easy way to accomplish any of the above.
Friday, February 15, 2008
What I have learned so far...
One thing.
When you remove your stand-by coping mechanisms, it is hard to cope.
Imagine you are standing at the just-unlocked door of an old library that you created. There is a dusty beam of sunlight streaming through a thin window to the outside. You stare at that beam for a long time, noting how the dust shimmers and dances as it falls to the floor. On the floor are several books that have fallen off the shelf, and out of curiosity or compulsion to keep things tidy you step in the room to examine those books. The room has a chill because it has not been visited in a long time. The door has been locked, and because there was always some other distraction, the room has been easy to avoid. Upon examination, it is clear that this room is a library of emotions. The books that are on the floor have titles that read Over-sensitive and Resentment and Fear. On the shelf there are books with titles that read Delight and Gratitude and Presence. You have forgotten about these books. You have forgotten that you are the one to choose which books you will keep off the shelf, open on the floor for easy reference. Nobody else is going to mind your library.
It is time to put some books back on the shelf.
We have to constantly be aware that the world is not set up in a way that holds people accountable for how they feel. Without my distractions, my coping-mechanisms, I am forced to examine why I feel the way I do at all times, and at the same time, keeping myself in check that I am not taking myself too seriously. I have come to remember that there is nothing, nothing on the outside that should have the power to make us feel one way or the other. You choose. You are accountable.
I am grateful to have stumbled on the blog of Christine Kane. This post helped me remember there was an old, locked library somewhere.
When you remove your stand-by coping mechanisms, it is hard to cope.
Imagine you are standing at the just-unlocked door of an old library that you created. There is a dusty beam of sunlight streaming through a thin window to the outside. You stare at that beam for a long time, noting how the dust shimmers and dances as it falls to the floor. On the floor are several books that have fallen off the shelf, and out of curiosity or compulsion to keep things tidy you step in the room to examine those books. The room has a chill because it has not been visited in a long time. The door has been locked, and because there was always some other distraction, the room has been easy to avoid. Upon examination, it is clear that this room is a library of emotions. The books that are on the floor have titles that read Over-sensitive and Resentment and Fear. On the shelf there are books with titles that read Delight and Gratitude and Presence. You have forgotten about these books. You have forgotten that you are the one to choose which books you will keep off the shelf, open on the floor for easy reference. Nobody else is going to mind your library.
It is time to put some books back on the shelf.
We have to constantly be aware that the world is not set up in a way that holds people accountable for how they feel. Without my distractions, my coping-mechanisms, I am forced to examine why I feel the way I do at all times, and at the same time, keeping myself in check that I am not taking myself too seriously. I have come to remember that there is nothing, nothing on the outside that should have the power to make us feel one way or the other. You choose. You are accountable.
I am grateful to have stumbled on the blog of Christine Kane. This post helped me remember there was an old, locked library somewhere.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Celebrity
I can't believe Patti Digh commented on one of my recent posts! She must have a super-stealthy thingy that alerts her whenever someone links to her blog. If you get a chance, check out a blog that will change your life: 37 days.
There! I just did it again! Is she looking at MY blog right now? Patti Digh, I give you permission to roll your eyes now.
I mean this is a woman who has brilliant writing genes, a kid or two, a husband and the ability to see the world in an amazing way. AND SHE WAS HERE!
I felt this way when Snickollet commented too. She is a mother of twins who lost her husband 10 months ago to cancer, someone else who is doing a way better job at living than I am. She inspires me almost every moment of the day.
Okay, so I only get one comment a month on my blog, but this week, this week I feel like a celebrity. I can't even begin to describe how much I love comments on my blog posts. Is it because I spend most of my time working from a basement in a town that is under a foot of snow most of the time? Should I change the name of the blog to Dark, Cold and Lonely?
Nah. The aforementioned women have taught me better than that...
I am off to celebrate! With diet coke, of course...because you know what they say, if you can't celebrate with wine, overdose on the food industry's version of battery acid.
There! I just did it again! Is she looking at MY blog right now? Patti Digh, I give you permission to roll your eyes now.
I mean this is a woman who has brilliant writing genes, a kid or two, a husband and the ability to see the world in an amazing way. AND SHE WAS HERE!
I felt this way when Snickollet commented too. She is a mother of twins who lost her husband 10 months ago to cancer, someone else who is doing a way better job at living than I am. She inspires me almost every moment of the day.
Okay, so I only get one comment a month on my blog, but this week, this week I feel like a celebrity. I can't even begin to describe how much I love comments on my blog posts. Is it because I spend most of my time working from a basement in a town that is under a foot of snow most of the time? Should I change the name of the blog to Dark, Cold and Lonely?
Nah. The aforementioned women have taught me better than that...
I am off to celebrate! With diet coke, of course...because you know what they say, if you can't celebrate with wine, overdose on the food industry's version of battery acid.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Can't Win
My sister and I signed up to be volunteers in our church nursery, an obligation that only comes around about once every six weeks. This past week, it was our turn, but she was smart enough to pile her family into her car and go to an indoor water park to escape our sub-zero temperatures.
So, I enlisted my husband's help. You know, the agnostic, does not like to shower on the weekends husband.
He was thrilled.
But he is a good man and agreed, so we piled in our car in the sub-zero temperatures and made our way to church when he said, "I hope that there is not like 25 kids."
The reality of the situation was there was only one kid besides our daughter when he said, "Wow. I am so glad that we made the trip to help" in a voice that gave sarcasm a run for its money.
In addition, when it came time to clean up the toys, we had quite a job to do. He got really into the oversized blocks during that short hour.
So, I enlisted my husband's help. You know, the agnostic, does not like to shower on the weekends husband.
He was thrilled.
But he is a good man and agreed, so we piled in our car in the sub-zero temperatures and made our way to church when he said, "I hope that there is not like 25 kids."
The reality of the situation was there was only one kid besides our daughter when he said, "Wow. I am so glad that we made the trip to help" in a voice that gave sarcasm a run for its money.
In addition, when it came time to clean up the toys, we had quite a job to do. He got really into the oversized blocks during that short hour.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Lent: What I did instead
Okay, okay, so I AM feeling a little lame and selfish for the "giving something up" garbage that I have made of Lent this year. See previous post for an update on that.
Sooooo, I estimate I would have used about $35 worth of pharmaceuticals and/or alcohol today based on the day that I have had and the loneliness and fear that I am feeling at the moment. I spent one minute thinking about the pills I have stashed to my right and the full wine rack towering behind me. After that minute, I then spent exactly $35 on a donation to Amnesty International USA, you know, that little human rights group that I spend a lot of time and brain space on.
Now I need your opinion. I have just the most UNIMAGINABLE craving to get a tattoo of the Amnesty International symbol on the palm of my right hand. This is the logo, but I would only get the candle and barbed wire tattooed, in black.
I get the sense that some family members and friends would be ashamed of me if I had this, even though I explained that it would measure no larger than an inch, and it would look like to most people that I had simply forgotten milk at the grocery store and decided to scribble it on my hand.
Also, as I just read in 37 days, which inspired me to make the $35 donation, "This is more about your action than about their reaction anyway. As is most of life."
Then why get it?
Because, as you know...I get a little lost at times and if I need a reason to stand up a little straighter and stop thinking about my own damn self once in a while, all I have to do is look at my hand. My right hand. The one that I would use to shake yours. The one that I would hold up if I ever had to swear to God before any sort of judging body. The hand that I would use to give you anything, if you needed it.
Because THAT is who I am.
But First, A Confession
Yesterday was Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent. You can always hear a silent, but collective groan from Catholics around the world on this day. Except from me. I practically find myself leaping into God's lap, tail wagging, saying, "Ooooo...I have an excuse to change who I am again!?"
It is pathetic. I am addicted to self-transformation. Please, don't ever go to the self-help section at your local Borders. Come to my house and look at my bookshelves. Not to mention, your cup of coffee would be free.
This is also when I usually hear about what my Catholic friends and family are giving up for Lent. And this is usually where I think, giving up? That is not what you are supposed to do! That is so fourth grade. What did you pick this year? Chocolate? Soda? So lame. Wouldn't you rather embark on a 40-day transformation journey?
So here I am. Another Lent. The same person I was before and after last Lent and the Lent before that, if not worse off. I now know that if I too had picked giving up chocolate or soda I would be at least a little lighter. Who was I to judge? We do what we are ready to do.
Guess what I am ready to do?
Give something up for Lent.
This is where I confess. For the last 10 years or so I have been on a slow, but steady hiding-the real-me-because-I-don't-like-the-real-me process. How? Stocking my shelves with half-read self-help books for one. How did it start? This is where I have to stop dead in my tracks, otherwise I will get on a 40-day blaming process when there is nothing to blame. Maybe it is because I am never honest with people. Always telling people that they don't hurt me when they do...telling friends that they are not asking too much of me when they are...then trying to actually be honest with myself and others and having it blow up in my face. No one wants honesty. Everyone wants validation. It is called running around in circles, and humans love to do it.
Except me. Enough. I am done.
Because the only way that I have figured out how to make it through the last 10 years has led me to the brink of substance abuse. There it is. My confession.
You can imagine what you want, and I assure you...there are some parts that are worse than you imagine and some that are better, but in a nutshell, my recipe has been as follows.
To shake off a hard day: A drink. Then another. Maybe another.
To sleep: A pill
To calm down: A different pill
Insert different pills and more drinks where needed per situation.
This is by no means much different than an average American who likes a drink, has minor anxiety and can't sleep. So am I an addict? No. Could I become one? Certainly. For me, at this moment, it is simply confusing the issues. Why do I need to shake off a hard day? Why can't I sleep? Why do I need to calm down? Who is the ME behind all of this masking?
So there you have it. My Lent. The substances have been given up. Me finding me, and hopefully discovering why me can't handle me. Raw and unfiltered me.
To my friends, please...no judgments. Just let me do this and try to understand if something odd or un-me comes flying out of my mouth.
And maybe next year, I will be lucky enough to give up chocolate.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Facebook First Into the Wall
My friends that know me well, know that I like to use phrases such as "this makes me want to run face-first into the wall!" or "this makes me want to rock back and fourth in the corner!" when I am agitated.
I joined facebook and I am agitated.
I have a friend who asked me to join a while ago, and I did not. I am just not into the whole facebook/myspace/classmates/reunion thing. I like to move forward and not look back too much because my consumption of mood-altering substances tends to rise when I look back.
However, one night I was watching one of those 20/20, Dateline, Nightline non-news type news shows, and the creator of facebook was being interviewed. I must say, I was impressed. This kid (early 20s) is worth about 15 billion dollars, and he looks and acts like he does not have a dime to his name. He was one of those high IQ, low EQ people...but I was quite taken with his, how do you put it...snarkiness. Impressed enough to check out facebook by joining.
The results were instant, I had friends waiting to contact me, and this was fun to see. However, the part of facebook that is a little agitating is that you can waste your whole life by getting involved in things like "take this quiz to find out which celebrity resembles broccoli!" You can even play games like Scrabble or travel something called the Oregon Trail. Last time I logged on, my profile said, "You currently do not have any loves listed. You are not very loving"
Huh?
I don't really have the time to invest in these features. Not unless my daughter learns how to change her own diaper and not fall down the stairs when I am not looking.
For now, I must admit, facebook has connected me with people that I would have never found by any other method. I do smile when a friend appears or someone drops me a line. As a stay-at-home, work-at-home mom, I don't see many faces. Joining facebook has helped me remember that I exist in a world that is bigger than my 1200 square-foot home.
I joined facebook and I am agitated.
I have a friend who asked me to join a while ago, and I did not. I am just not into the whole facebook/myspace/classmates/reunion thing. I like to move forward and not look back too much because my consumption of mood-altering substances tends to rise when I look back.
However, one night I was watching one of those 20/20, Dateline, Nightline non-news type news shows, and the creator of facebook was being interviewed. I must say, I was impressed. This kid (early 20s) is worth about 15 billion dollars, and he looks and acts like he does not have a dime to his name. He was one of those high IQ, low EQ people...but I was quite taken with his, how do you put it...snarkiness. Impressed enough to check out facebook by joining.
The results were instant, I had friends waiting to contact me, and this was fun to see. However, the part of facebook that is a little agitating is that you can waste your whole life by getting involved in things like "take this quiz to find out which celebrity resembles broccoli!" You can even play games like Scrabble or travel something called the Oregon Trail. Last time I logged on, my profile said, "You currently do not have any loves listed. You are not very loving"
Huh?
I don't really have the time to invest in these features. Not unless my daughter learns how to change her own diaper and not fall down the stairs when I am not looking.
For now, I must admit, facebook has connected me with people that I would have never found by any other method. I do smile when a friend appears or someone drops me a line. As a stay-at-home, work-at-home mom, I don't see many faces. Joining facebook has helped me remember that I exist in a world that is bigger than my 1200 square-foot home.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)