Once upon a time I felt an innate need to write. It made me feel confident and human, until it didn't. Until a pressure to do it perfect snuffed out the desire for being seen. This little blog made feel seen. And human. Because in my real life I didn't.
My last post was almost 6 years ago, otherwise known as a lifetime. No sense in reconciling what has changed, only to say it has been so much. Too much to document. Where I am now, is so far from where I was, but yet on the outside, it looks relatively the same.
I now have a beautiful 14 year old that I see so much of myself in. I want to protect her, but she does not need it. My middle crazy is blossoming, after a rough few years. She amazes and terrifies me. And my sweet baby has been here for almost a decade. The fire I felt while she was in my belly I now see in her personality.
None are easy. It is hard. In a few short months I will have a high schooler, a junior high, and elementary student. My love and I passed the 25 year mark with little fanfare. We were busy. Too busy to mark it. Until we weren't.
Life recently has taken a strange turn. Today marks the beginning of our 4th week in a state (and nearly Nationwide) quarantine due to the Covid-19 virus. What is old is new again. Hence my desire to revisit this defunct space.
Strange times these are. My brain has had a hard time coming to grips with the state our state is in. We brace for a virus that affects all. There is a paralyzing fear as we look at people we love and wonder if their bodies are strong enough to overcome it, if they should contract it. Daily updates are provided by our governor labeled loving as 'Wine with Dewine'. A governor none of us voted for but are glad we had as he is being internationally recognized for his forethought and preemptive actions that could possibly save thousands.
Thousands. Everyday we watch the death toll climb and are finally being told to brace for the worst. We could be looking at a hundred thousand lost. Our old, our weak, our brave.
My sister is a doc. I am afraid for her. My parents are nearing 80 but feel invincible. I am afraid for them. I am afraid for our financial stability as jobs are being lost by thousands daily and it feels like we underprepared. I fear for lost schooling for our kids as we face no 4th quarter, period. My niece's high school graduation will be cancelled. Another niece's college graduation is pushed back by months. Yet another niece had to push back her wedding by a full year, after the invites had already gone out. No recitals the kids have practiced for all year. No play they were excited to perform. No final swim meets. Softball season. Outdoor soccer. All the busy stuff we dreaded but relished because we could. It's gone. For a season at least. For a brief (but agonizing long) season we are given a gift and prison sentence of time.
My mind reels at this. 'If only I had time...' is now a mocking statement because it's all we are left with.
With the help of my new anti depressant and supplemental anxiety med, I feel like I need to document this journey however long it lasts. Why? Because it feels really fucking important. Super significant. And if it's one thing I've learned through rereading this abandoned blog is that even the realest shit gets smoothed over and painted glossy by time. One day I believe I will want to visit this moment and look at it from every angle (because right now I only blearily look ahead to my next day and the mind numbing details it encompasses).
Welcome to the shitshow lovingly known as 2020.
Monday, April 6, 2020
Saturday, May 17, 2014
Hands of Change
Hi.
My name is Stephanie.
I started writing because it made me feel better.
I haven't written in over 16 months.... hmmm. Prophetic?
I have thought about writing but the motivation was never so overwhelming to force me to the computer. I was under the assumption that life would somehow slow down once the kids got older. All I hear is laughing about how wrong I was. If you are interested, the last 16 months have been the typical journey that you would expect. I reread some of the last posts and remember where I was, and it feels like a lifetime ago. I can't say much as changed, but feel I am rediscovering, or somehow just now discovering who I am. And I want to write here so I can use this springboard to where I hope to go.
Weight aside (as I wrote before), I'm basically where I was. But just so you know I have tried. I really, really tried, a few different times, different things. And I do feel better. It feels like chipping away at a huge chunk of marble and I don't quite know how to use the tools, but I can see a figure take shape as I figure it out. It will continue to be a journey, one I don't intend to give up on, but it is coinciding with another journey... one of mental health.
I realize now, I'm an anxious person. I was an anxious kid, nervous. I felt shell-shocked a lot and felt very heavy weight of pressures. I was taught people were always watching and you were to show your best side, do your best. This worked for my older sister who rose to challenges, but for me, it turned me into a mess. It is probably one reason I love to live in the city where I feel like I melt into the background. I do love to reach out to others, but on a very personal basis, and to those who have known me forever.
That being said I've noticed changes in myself. Having children isn't the best for the hormones. I've not been the same since my first born. And just over a year ago I had the realization that things are so far postpartum and breast-feeding (at that point, 2 years) that I started to come to terms that my struggles to remain on a even-keel where on the forefront of my mind constantly and that my rage and sadness were overtaking my life.
It's hard to say I had rage. Because with the rage comes the intense guilt. I just need to do better. I can control this. Eat better. Exercise more. Have more free time. Get enough sleep. Clean up your environment. Volunteer and do good things.
I could go on and on about all the things I tried but it still remained.
I went to my OBGYN last month and decided to lay it all out for her. I had spoken about possible postpartum depression years before and she told me, "I just don't see it in your eyes". Some people might be outraged at that, but I trust her. And I carried on.
But when I looked at her this time I could see her eyes soften. I explained my life. Intense rage followed by weeks of recovering the damage that I had done. It's hard to say that about yourself. I told her "I have one good week a month". She gave me a knowing smile and said, "It's time."
She explained all of this was fueled by the hormone fluctuations women get in their mid-thirties. One that is exacerbated by life stresses and my anxiety based personality. She then prescribed me my first anti-depressant.
I walked out feeling part-elated and part-failure. Why can't I just get it together? I don't know. But I know I needed help, in the form of a 20 mg pill. She told me to write a journal page that night. And then one 8 weeks later. She said she wanted to know if I saw a difference.
I can tell you I did/do.
I'm not going to be shy about telling people I'm 'on something'. It's now part of who I am and my story. And I know it's so commonplace. I will tell you the difference it is making in me.
First thing? And it's the major thing. If my rage was a lit wick with an endless supply of oil, that little pill dumped out the fuel. It was extinguished. I feel such relief from that. I don't like being angry and have bitterness swell inside me, but that was all that lived in my heart. A heart I love to share with my family, friends, church, etc. It was being resided by a poison, that always kept a part of me at bay. I needed the connection again, but was so fueled by emotion I couldn't get there.
Relying on something other than my moxie is new to me. But will be an important part of the next phase of my life. I don't want my children to have memories of an enraged mother, that is not who I wish to be. Please don't think that I am in la-la land either. Things are still very real, but it has given me back perspective as to what is important and what isn't as I navigate the details. There have been some weird issues that have come up, most likely side effects, but I'm willing to deal. The shaky hands I now possess are better than a clenched fist any day.
My name is Stephanie.
I started writing because it made me feel better.
I haven't written in over 16 months.... hmmm. Prophetic?
I have thought about writing but the motivation was never so overwhelming to force me to the computer. I was under the assumption that life would somehow slow down once the kids got older. All I hear is laughing about how wrong I was. If you are interested, the last 16 months have been the typical journey that you would expect. I reread some of the last posts and remember where I was, and it feels like a lifetime ago. I can't say much as changed, but feel I am rediscovering, or somehow just now discovering who I am. And I want to write here so I can use this springboard to where I hope to go.
Weight aside (as I wrote before), I'm basically where I was. But just so you know I have tried. I really, really tried, a few different times, different things. And I do feel better. It feels like chipping away at a huge chunk of marble and I don't quite know how to use the tools, but I can see a figure take shape as I figure it out. It will continue to be a journey, one I don't intend to give up on, but it is coinciding with another journey... one of mental health.
I realize now, I'm an anxious person. I was an anxious kid, nervous. I felt shell-shocked a lot and felt very heavy weight of pressures. I was taught people were always watching and you were to show your best side, do your best. This worked for my older sister who rose to challenges, but for me, it turned me into a mess. It is probably one reason I love to live in the city where I feel like I melt into the background. I do love to reach out to others, but on a very personal basis, and to those who have known me forever.
That being said I've noticed changes in myself. Having children isn't the best for the hormones. I've not been the same since my first born. And just over a year ago I had the realization that things are so far postpartum and breast-feeding (at that point, 2 years) that I started to come to terms that my struggles to remain on a even-keel where on the forefront of my mind constantly and that my rage and sadness were overtaking my life.
It's hard to say I had rage. Because with the rage comes the intense guilt. I just need to do better. I can control this. Eat better. Exercise more. Have more free time. Get enough sleep. Clean up your environment. Volunteer and do good things.
I could go on and on about all the things I tried but it still remained.
I went to my OBGYN last month and decided to lay it all out for her. I had spoken about possible postpartum depression years before and she told me, "I just don't see it in your eyes". Some people might be outraged at that, but I trust her. And I carried on.
But when I looked at her this time I could see her eyes soften. I explained my life. Intense rage followed by weeks of recovering the damage that I had done. It's hard to say that about yourself. I told her "I have one good week a month". She gave me a knowing smile and said, "It's time."
She explained all of this was fueled by the hormone fluctuations women get in their mid-thirties. One that is exacerbated by life stresses and my anxiety based personality. She then prescribed me my first anti-depressant.
I walked out feeling part-elated and part-failure. Why can't I just get it together? I don't know. But I know I needed help, in the form of a 20 mg pill. She told me to write a journal page that night. And then one 8 weeks later. She said she wanted to know if I saw a difference.
I can tell you I did/do.
I'm not going to be shy about telling people I'm 'on something'. It's now part of who I am and my story. And I know it's so commonplace. I will tell you the difference it is making in me.
First thing? And it's the major thing. If my rage was a lit wick with an endless supply of oil, that little pill dumped out the fuel. It was extinguished. I feel such relief from that. I don't like being angry and have bitterness swell inside me, but that was all that lived in my heart. A heart I love to share with my family, friends, church, etc. It was being resided by a poison, that always kept a part of me at bay. I needed the connection again, but was so fueled by emotion I couldn't get there.
Relying on something other than my moxie is new to me. But will be an important part of the next phase of my life. I don't want my children to have memories of an enraged mother, that is not who I wish to be. Please don't think that I am in la-la land either. Things are still very real, but it has given me back perspective as to what is important and what isn't as I navigate the details. There have been some weird issues that have come up, most likely side effects, but I'm willing to deal. The shaky hands I now possess are better than a clenched fist any day.
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
The Road Back: Part One
This morning I was getting breakfast ready and heard the news person introduce a piece about 'The Road Back'. It caught my attention and I looked up to see they were talking about obesity in America. Ironic, as weight and weight loss has been on the forefront of my mind. I've been writing entry after entry in my head for months, my favorite title being, "Shit Gets Real". But this slightly hopeful title motivated me enough to actually sit down and write about some things which have been on my mind lately.
When beginning this blog, most everything was complete ridiculousness. When you have 3 children who are 4 and under your life is a circus... literally. The only way to stay sane is by opening up the three rings and let others glimpse at your show, hoping someone gets a giggle out of it.
2013 is beginning life on a more manageable scale. I don't have those funny anecdotes to publish as the kids are becoming less like monkeys and more like humans. Fin does still play with her poop but I suppose she'll outgrow that at some point. Soon. Let's hope real soon.
Many, many years ago one of my closest & oldest friends was upset with me. I sensed it as she banged around our shared house. I point blank asked her why she was so mad at me. I anticipated on getting a run down the well-known laundry list of 'bad roomate' qualities I knew I possessed. But, she instead turned around and with slight disgust and some sadness said, "Because you gained weight." She thought I was destroying my body and that made her sad and sick. Amazing. That moment was 14 years ago and my emotions still surface when thinking of it.
It's not that she wasn't correct. After high school and the lack of constant physical activity I put on some pounds, maybe 15-20 the first 3-4 years. At 21 though, I had surgery to correct my severe reflux disease. I had terrible habits in college but wasn't able to indulge greatly because nearly everything made me sick. After that surgery, I could finally eat without throwing up. Drink and... well I usually threw up when I drank so not much changed there... but I didn't feel so sick. All those bad habits started stacking up. With stress, night after night of all nighters my lifestyle was catching up to me. Quickly too. The thing was, I didn't care. Really. I had a long-term boyfriend who loved me for who I was and I was molding the designer within at school and interviewing for co-op jobs, moving, moving and moving about 9 times in just a few years. Fact is, that's all I could handle. My thought was, I'd deal with the weight later. I'm surviving the best I know how.
I graduated, breathed a sigh of relief and opened my eyes for what seemed to be the first time in 5 years. My boyfriend of 7 years and I had moved in together, I landed a job during a recession and I had a paycheck... and insurance! I remember going to the allergist. I hopped on the scale and couldn't believe what I saw. I knew I had gained weight but... wow. I'm up nearly 60 lbs from high school. But things will slow down, I'll get into a workout routine.
A year later I got engaged and joined Weight Watchers. One meeting I summoned the courage to say something during the share time. "I bought my wedding gown this weekend". I got claps and congrats. Then I got, "So did you buy it a size smaller?". Something about that rubbed me the wrong way and I never went back to another meeting.
See, getting married while obese isn't all shits and giggles. My experience with buying a dress was wrought with anxiety & sadness. I didn't invite my mother or sister. I didn't invite a whole gaggle of friends. I chose my most uplifting friend because no matter what she saw on me, I know she would only see me as beautiful and tell me so. By the grace of God that day, I walked into David's Bridal and asked for the largest size in a dress I had seen months earlier at a bridal show (and fell in love with). The saleslady looked at me and the dress, slightly worried before a smile broke out saying, "We just got that style last week in plus sizes!" I grabbed my normal size and tried it on, only to have to get a size up. When I tried on the larger size, I said, "That's it! I'll take it!". My uplifting friend looked shocked and said, "Don't you want to try on ANYTHING else? Don't you want to look at another style? Something?". Nope. I paid for it and walked out with my dress that day. The whole experience lasted maybe 20 minutes. And I didn't even have to stifle tears trying to find something to fit. Winner, winner chicken dinner.
So when that bitch at Weight Watchers asked if I got a smaller size, I wanted to punch her in the nose... a little. Ok, a lot.
Why I am rambling on you ask (and threatening bodily harm)? Well, I'll ramble on some more soon and let you know. There will be more storytelling of my road to where I'm at today. Because this year, I'm going to try to find that elusive road back.
To Be Continued...
When beginning this blog, most everything was complete ridiculousness. When you have 3 children who are 4 and under your life is a circus... literally. The only way to stay sane is by opening up the three rings and let others glimpse at your show, hoping someone gets a giggle out of it.
2013 is beginning life on a more manageable scale. I don't have those funny anecdotes to publish as the kids are becoming less like monkeys and more like humans. Fin does still play with her poop but I suppose she'll outgrow that at some point. Soon. Let's hope real soon.
Many, many years ago one of my closest & oldest friends was upset with me. I sensed it as she banged around our shared house. I point blank asked her why she was so mad at me. I anticipated on getting a run down the well-known laundry list of 'bad roomate' qualities I knew I possessed. But, she instead turned around and with slight disgust and some sadness said, "Because you gained weight." She thought I was destroying my body and that made her sad and sick. Amazing. That moment was 14 years ago and my emotions still surface when thinking of it.
It's not that she wasn't correct. After high school and the lack of constant physical activity I put on some pounds, maybe 15-20 the first 3-4 years. At 21 though, I had surgery to correct my severe reflux disease. I had terrible habits in college but wasn't able to indulge greatly because nearly everything made me sick. After that surgery, I could finally eat without throwing up. Drink and... well I usually threw up when I drank so not much changed there... but I didn't feel so sick. All those bad habits started stacking up. With stress, night after night of all nighters my lifestyle was catching up to me. Quickly too. The thing was, I didn't care. Really. I had a long-term boyfriend who loved me for who I was and I was molding the designer within at school and interviewing for co-op jobs, moving, moving and moving about 9 times in just a few years. Fact is, that's all I could handle. My thought was, I'd deal with the weight later. I'm surviving the best I know how.
I graduated, breathed a sigh of relief and opened my eyes for what seemed to be the first time in 5 years. My boyfriend of 7 years and I had moved in together, I landed a job during a recession and I had a paycheck... and insurance! I remember going to the allergist. I hopped on the scale and couldn't believe what I saw. I knew I had gained weight but... wow. I'm up nearly 60 lbs from high school. But things will slow down, I'll get into a workout routine.
A year later I got engaged and joined Weight Watchers. One meeting I summoned the courage to say something during the share time. "I bought my wedding gown this weekend". I got claps and congrats. Then I got, "So did you buy it a size smaller?". Something about that rubbed me the wrong way and I never went back to another meeting.
See, getting married while obese isn't all shits and giggles. My experience with buying a dress was wrought with anxiety & sadness. I didn't invite my mother or sister. I didn't invite a whole gaggle of friends. I chose my most uplifting friend because no matter what she saw on me, I know she would only see me as beautiful and tell me so. By the grace of God that day, I walked into David's Bridal and asked for the largest size in a dress I had seen months earlier at a bridal show (and fell in love with). The saleslady looked at me and the dress, slightly worried before a smile broke out saying, "We just got that style last week in plus sizes!" I grabbed my normal size and tried it on, only to have to get a size up. When I tried on the larger size, I said, "That's it! I'll take it!". My uplifting friend looked shocked and said, "Don't you want to try on ANYTHING else? Don't you want to look at another style? Something?". Nope. I paid for it and walked out with my dress that day. The whole experience lasted maybe 20 minutes. And I didn't even have to stifle tears trying to find something to fit. Winner, winner chicken dinner.
So when that bitch at Weight Watchers asked if I got a smaller size, I wanted to punch her in the nose... a little. Ok, a lot.
Why I am rambling on you ask (and threatening bodily harm)? Well, I'll ramble on some more soon and let you know. There will be more storytelling of my road to where I'm at today. Because this year, I'm going to try to find that elusive road back.
To Be Continued...
Saturday, June 30, 2012
On Edge
It's 12:30 am and I promised my husband I would be in bed over an hour ago. I'm going to be tired tomorrow. But, I'll get up and take care of everything like always. Drink a lot of caffeine and go about my duties. It's a routine I know well as I've been doing variations of this for the last 6 years.
I don't know if it's the summer, or just that overall feeling that we are moving on to the next stages of life that has been keeping me up to sometimes 2 am every night for the last few weeks. It's been a mixture of uneasiness, anxiousness and a little excitement.
All of a sudden (or what seems like all of a sudden), I have some time to think. Like waking up out of a blur. Ok, not like waking up out of a blur, I have been in a constant state infant blur to which I am just recovering from. My little one is just shy of 2. She's getting easier to deal with and instead of finding myself knocked up again (as I had been when the other two where her age) I now how some... free time (gasp!).
Free time is something I've never been good at. Looking back if there was a sliding scale from Lazy to 'Go-Get-Em' I would be about a 3... on a good day. Being a mother though has kicked Lazy Stef's ass out and told her to do the piling up loads of laundry, go to the store, have dinner cooked and for goodness sake DO SOMETHING FUN WITH YOUR KIDS. I know you all have that same inner voice yelling at you too. There is ALWAYS something to be done.
Well, I am doing most of that stuff, with a teeny bit little time left over. And I feel like it's time to start doing something for myself. The problem? Well, the stuff I need to do for myself is something I've never been able to do before.
I'm overweight. Have been since early 20's. The funny thing is I like who I am much more than I ever did at a reasonable weight. It's the best feeling to love who you are. But realistically I need to lose 80lbs. Dreaming...100 lbs. And I think about all the stuff I want to do with my kids are are growing faster than I can grasp. Yet this extra weight I carry is like carrying all 3 my children all day long.
Around my neck.
Around my legs.
Around my waist.
I have always faced weight loss as a vanity issue. Now it really comes down to a quality of life issue. The weight will start getting in the way of fun stuff we do as a family. Roller coasters, hiking, swimming. They can be done, but honestly, not very well.
If I haven't been able to figure this out by now, at almost 35 years old. How can I start? Where do I start? I don't know. I just know I have to start.
Where I've been is on the edge of feeling simultaneously that I can do something great... mentally I'm ready, physically I need it. But also life can't stop so I can do this HUGE thing. This long time consuming, challenging thing that might as well be me learning how to be in two places at once.
So, lately I've been using that extra bit of time for other worthwhile and fulfilling projects. Good, but at this time of night with nothing but my thoughts and the guilt of how to be a good role model for my girls, rest can't find me.
I just continue to sit on the edge with my feet dangling, watching the other cool Moms playing in the deep end. Sitting here I'm safe. Jumping in means 'sink or swim'. And after just learning to swim through this whole motherhood thing, I'm just not sure I have the stamina to go there. The fear of drowning is keeping me here. For now. I hope.
I don't know if it's the summer, or just that overall feeling that we are moving on to the next stages of life that has been keeping me up to sometimes 2 am every night for the last few weeks. It's been a mixture of uneasiness, anxiousness and a little excitement.
All of a sudden (or what seems like all of a sudden), I have some time to think. Like waking up out of a blur. Ok, not like waking up out of a blur, I have been in a constant state infant blur to which I am just recovering from. My little one is just shy of 2. She's getting easier to deal with and instead of finding myself knocked up again (as I had been when the other two where her age) I now how some... free time (gasp!).
Free time is something I've never been good at. Looking back if there was a sliding scale from Lazy to 'Go-Get-Em' I would be about a 3... on a good day. Being a mother though has kicked Lazy Stef's ass out and told her to do the piling up loads of laundry, go to the store, have dinner cooked and for goodness sake DO SOMETHING FUN WITH YOUR KIDS. I know you all have that same inner voice yelling at you too. There is ALWAYS something to be done.
Well, I am doing most of that stuff, with a teeny bit little time left over. And I feel like it's time to start doing something for myself. The problem? Well, the stuff I need to do for myself is something I've never been able to do before.
I'm overweight. Have been since early 20's. The funny thing is I like who I am much more than I ever did at a reasonable weight. It's the best feeling to love who you are. But realistically I need to lose 80lbs. Dreaming...100 lbs. And I think about all the stuff I want to do with my kids are are growing faster than I can grasp. Yet this extra weight I carry is like carrying all 3 my children all day long.
Around my neck.
Around my legs.
Around my waist.
I have always faced weight loss as a vanity issue. Now it really comes down to a quality of life issue. The weight will start getting in the way of fun stuff we do as a family. Roller coasters, hiking, swimming. They can be done, but honestly, not very well.
If I haven't been able to figure this out by now, at almost 35 years old. How can I start? Where do I start? I don't know. I just know I have to start.
Where I've been is on the edge of feeling simultaneously that I can do something great... mentally I'm ready, physically I need it. But also life can't stop so I can do this HUGE thing. This long time consuming, challenging thing that might as well be me learning how to be in two places at once.
So, lately I've been using that extra bit of time for other worthwhile and fulfilling projects. Good, but at this time of night with nothing but my thoughts and the guilt of how to be a good role model for my girls, rest can't find me.
I just continue to sit on the edge with my feet dangling, watching the other cool Moms playing in the deep end. Sitting here I'm safe. Jumping in means 'sink or swim'. And after just learning to swim through this whole motherhood thing, I'm just not sure I have the stamina to go there. The fear of drowning is keeping me here. For now. I hope.
Monday, June 11, 2012
From Whence You Came
During college I had a friend, more a girlfriend of my boyfriend's friend, who happily referred to herself as 'daddy's princess'. No, seriously. They went to Disney world like 4 times a year and when her sister got married in her 30's she had a Disney princess theme. It was all a bit shocking to my system as I had grown out of that phase at age 5 or so.
When she and my boyfriend's friend got engaged, we were all invited to her hometown for a bridal shower. I remember one of her closest college friends pulled us 'newbies' aside and said, "When we go to her hometown, you will understand why she is the way she is." Sure enough, after 2 days with her parents, aunts and other close friends and family, I realized that she wasn't the crazy one. She had only absorbed crazy growing up and knew nothing more.
When she was around her family it was like she was the missing piece of the puzzle. She was a perfect match to the environment. She wasn't the loud one anymore, she wasn't the biggest 'princess', in fact she seemed downright subdued comparatively. I DID understand her more. And felt sorry for my friend who was marrying into all that.
Personally, I had always felt a little 'wierd' growing up. I liked to wear black, my brother's cammo, my Dad's high school letter jacket and my sister's big 80's jewelry. The more unique the stuff, the better. So when I left to go to OU, I thought I would fit right in. Turns out my liking to shower daily and lack of experimentation with drugs kept me from fitting in with the hippie crowd. And I didn't care as much about my looks to fit in the sorority crowd. After a year and a half I moved on.
Moving to UC was much better, I liked to think of my DAAP class as the 'Island of the Misfit Toys'. There were the typical driven freshman, but also an exceptionally large amount of transfers. Those of us who were over the newness of college and through different circumstances had found our way to that strange building with strange hours and strange professors. Not one was the same, but we were all linked by the same ridiculousness that 5 years brought us. Some I clicked with more than others but we all had the same battlefield alliance no outside person could relate to.
The last 10 years have brought an expansiveness to our lives with new church acquaintances, mommy friends, neighbors, etc. We all have something in common that I truly enjoy being a part of.
Last weekend I went back to my hometown to celebrate the birthday of a best friend since birth. At midnight I found myself surrounded by girls, now women, who had spent their formidable childhood/teenage years together. There were the same old stories, a lot of laughing, beer, yoga pants, stretch marks, no make-up and pony tails. But most important was the unmistakable sense of home. The moment I no longer felt like a fish out of water, but piece of the landscape.
I never want to move back. I have a happy life with my family a few hours away, but sometimes it's nice to go where people know (and helped create) the skeletons in your closet and who knew you before you figured it out yourself. As different as we all are now, we all had this small town in common that shaped who we were to become.
Most importantly, after that weekend, it's really nice to know I'm not all that crazy. I just absorbed a large amount of it growing up :)
When she and my boyfriend's friend got engaged, we were all invited to her hometown for a bridal shower. I remember one of her closest college friends pulled us 'newbies' aside and said, "When we go to her hometown, you will understand why she is the way she is." Sure enough, after 2 days with her parents, aunts and other close friends and family, I realized that she wasn't the crazy one. She had only absorbed crazy growing up and knew nothing more.
When she was around her family it was like she was the missing piece of the puzzle. She was a perfect match to the environment. She wasn't the loud one anymore, she wasn't the biggest 'princess', in fact she seemed downright subdued comparatively. I DID understand her more. And felt sorry for my friend who was marrying into all that.
Personally, I had always felt a little 'wierd' growing up. I liked to wear black, my brother's cammo, my Dad's high school letter jacket and my sister's big 80's jewelry. The more unique the stuff, the better. So when I left to go to OU, I thought I would fit right in. Turns out my liking to shower daily and lack of experimentation with drugs kept me from fitting in with the hippie crowd. And I didn't care as much about my looks to fit in the sorority crowd. After a year and a half I moved on.
Moving to UC was much better, I liked to think of my DAAP class as the 'Island of the Misfit Toys'. There were the typical driven freshman, but also an exceptionally large amount of transfers. Those of us who were over the newness of college and through different circumstances had found our way to that strange building with strange hours and strange professors. Not one was the same, but we were all linked by the same ridiculousness that 5 years brought us. Some I clicked with more than others but we all had the same battlefield alliance no outside person could relate to.
The last 10 years have brought an expansiveness to our lives with new church acquaintances, mommy friends, neighbors, etc. We all have something in common that I truly enjoy being a part of.
Last weekend I went back to my hometown to celebrate the birthday of a best friend since birth. At midnight I found myself surrounded by girls, now women, who had spent their formidable childhood/teenage years together. There were the same old stories, a lot of laughing, beer, yoga pants, stretch marks, no make-up and pony tails. But most important was the unmistakable sense of home. The moment I no longer felt like a fish out of water, but piece of the landscape.
I never want to move back. I have a happy life with my family a few hours away, but sometimes it's nice to go where people know (and helped create) the skeletons in your closet and who knew you before you figured it out yourself. As different as we all are now, we all had this small town in common that shaped who we were to become.
Most importantly, after that weekend, it's really nice to know I'm not all that crazy. I just absorbed a large amount of it growing up :)
Friday, March 30, 2012
Dear Isla (And Middle Children Everywhere)
Dear Isla,
I composed this letter to you as I took a shower this morning, before I cried and after I screamed at you. I want so much for you to know, one day, why your mommy loses it on what seems to be a regular basis lately. My dear child, you are a wonder, an amazement. And I feel have pretty much tried to undo me since my pregnancy began with you.
I want to write this, to have this out into the universe, so that one day you can know what it was like from my point of view, because I know you will not know the internal turmoil I go through struggling on how to raise you, how to do right by you.
In a few weeks my dear you will be a total of 4 years old. With your older sister I remember the defiance melting away on the day she turned 4. I feel though defiance is welded in your soul, something age and time will never take away.
I tell people all the time that ultimately YOU are the one I will never have to worry about. You will NEVER do ANYTHING you don't want to do. You voice your opinion, stand up to your beliefs. This will be a wonderful attribute one day when peer pressure to try drugs or have sex has entered your world. You will never follow the crowd.
My only fear is that you will lead it.
Your defiance and stubbornness at this age though has a much different challenge because you do not yet have the knowledge of life that I do. My job is to teach you what I know. I know that car driving through the parking lot can't see you as you dart out in front of it. I know that children can be taken when they run far away & hide from their parents in a public space. I know kids can get very sick by putting unknown substances in their mouths. That in some rare cases these things can take precious children away from their parents that only want to protect them.
But you only know that yell, never hearing the worry, sadness and anxiety behind the scolding. And as much as I can tell you its because I love you, I feel like you don't really feel it. And I know for sure that you don't understand it.
My biggest fear is you will only grow resentful. Resentful of all the punishments you incur that your sisters never do. Resentful of the threats of no birthday parties and visits with friends. Resentful of the moments when I snap and grab your arms and half cry/ scream for you to sit in time out, only to have you jump up and scream in that angry, sad cry, "NO, I'M NOT GOING TO DO IT! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! YOU'RE NOT MY MOMMY ANYMORE!"
Resentfulness that will ultimately block out any useful item your daddy and I want you to know and protect you from. I know this from experience.
I remember growing up with 'the middle child'. I remember being scared out of my wits as my defiant teenage brother stood his ground with my angry parents. There was some violence, a lot of screaming and on my part, a lot of fear. I watched my brother on the outside so strong, physically and emotionally. Only later I saw deep wonderful sensitive & resilient soul that I love and admire today. He was a rock but inside a brilliant gem. I see so much of him in you. I see how diverse his world is, how he could navigate any place his choices took him and made it out the other side a better person. I also remember that some of those places were the result of impulsive (& sometimes poor) choices. Once he was an adult he there was nothing else Mom & Dad could do but watch, they could no longer force him into into the choices they knew best. From my point of view I loved watching him prove them wrong. To this day I'm pretty sure they are the most proud of him, mostly because of his journey. As backward as it was, they parented the best they knew how and view him as a success. But even well into middle age, I know my brother doesn't see his experience growing up as anything but traumatic.
How do I, my dear child, harness your spirit without crushing it?
I see glimmers of your incredible soft and loving side as you gently rub your great-grandmothers hand and speak to her like you would your best friend. You are the first to give the most incredible hugs and cuddle. You seem to gravitate and draw out those who need it. Your smiles are unabashed and infectious. You are naturally exuberant and enigmatic. A truly strong life force to be reckoned with.
There never in this world will be another Isla. And in many ways that's a good thing. We only need one. Her strong spirit, minus her diminutive size, can be crushing to those with more submissive souls. Myself being one.
Know dear that I struggle daily with the best way
To discipline you.
To guide you.
To encourage you.
And most importantly to love you. I am your mommy. And always will be.
I composed this letter to you as I took a shower this morning, before I cried and after I screamed at you. I want so much for you to know, one day, why your mommy loses it on what seems to be a regular basis lately. My dear child, you are a wonder, an amazement. And I feel have pretty much tried to undo me since my pregnancy began with you.
I want to write this, to have this out into the universe, so that one day you can know what it was like from my point of view, because I know you will not know the internal turmoil I go through struggling on how to raise you, how to do right by you.
In a few weeks my dear you will be a total of 4 years old. With your older sister I remember the defiance melting away on the day she turned 4. I feel though defiance is welded in your soul, something age and time will never take away.
I tell people all the time that ultimately YOU are the one I will never have to worry about. You will NEVER do ANYTHING you don't want to do. You voice your opinion, stand up to your beliefs. This will be a wonderful attribute one day when peer pressure to try drugs or have sex has entered your world. You will never follow the crowd.
My only fear is that you will lead it.
Your defiance and stubbornness at this age though has a much different challenge because you do not yet have the knowledge of life that I do. My job is to teach you what I know. I know that car driving through the parking lot can't see you as you dart out in front of it. I know that children can be taken when they run far away & hide from their parents in a public space. I know kids can get very sick by putting unknown substances in their mouths. That in some rare cases these things can take precious children away from their parents that only want to protect them.
But you only know that yell, never hearing the worry, sadness and anxiety behind the scolding. And as much as I can tell you its because I love you, I feel like you don't really feel it. And I know for sure that you don't understand it.
My biggest fear is you will only grow resentful. Resentful of all the punishments you incur that your sisters never do. Resentful of the threats of no birthday parties and visits with friends. Resentful of the moments when I snap and grab your arms and half cry/ scream for you to sit in time out, only to have you jump up and scream in that angry, sad cry, "NO, I'M NOT GOING TO DO IT! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! YOU'RE NOT MY MOMMY ANYMORE!"
Resentfulness that will ultimately block out any useful item your daddy and I want you to know and protect you from. I know this from experience.
I remember growing up with 'the middle child'. I remember being scared out of my wits as my defiant teenage brother stood his ground with my angry parents. There was some violence, a lot of screaming and on my part, a lot of fear. I watched my brother on the outside so strong, physically and emotionally. Only later I saw deep wonderful sensitive & resilient soul that I love and admire today. He was a rock but inside a brilliant gem. I see so much of him in you. I see how diverse his world is, how he could navigate any place his choices took him and made it out the other side a better person. I also remember that some of those places were the result of impulsive (& sometimes poor) choices. Once he was an adult he there was nothing else Mom & Dad could do but watch, they could no longer force him into into the choices they knew best. From my point of view I loved watching him prove them wrong. To this day I'm pretty sure they are the most proud of him, mostly because of his journey. As backward as it was, they parented the best they knew how and view him as a success. But even well into middle age, I know my brother doesn't see his experience growing up as anything but traumatic.
How do I, my dear child, harness your spirit without crushing it?
I see glimmers of your incredible soft and loving side as you gently rub your great-grandmothers hand and speak to her like you would your best friend. You are the first to give the most incredible hugs and cuddle. You seem to gravitate and draw out those who need it. Your smiles are unabashed and infectious. You are naturally exuberant and enigmatic. A truly strong life force to be reckoned with.
There never in this world will be another Isla. And in many ways that's a good thing. We only need one. Her strong spirit, minus her diminutive size, can be crushing to those with more submissive souls. Myself being one.
Know dear that I struggle daily with the best way
To discipline you.
To guide you.
To encourage you.
And most importantly to love you. I am your mommy. And always will be.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Wait... I have a BLOG?!?
I completely forgot about the 4 people who read this on a semi-annual basis!
I know, I know, your life has kind of been put on hold since I last posted, just waiting on some story that would make most people feel much better about their life, right? Ha! Yeah, I'm laughing at that one too. But as your life has surely gone on, so has mine. So to catch you up, I'll give you a brief synopsis:
Summer happened.
Kids survived.
I survived (barely).
Finlay walked.
Then turned One.
Hazelle started Kindergarten.
Isla started Preschool.
We got a kitten named Blu.
And now we are nearing October. And I have one more big thing, for me anyway. NO. I am not pregnant. In fact, I am happily starting to gather up the newborn/baby stuff and giving it away, something I thought would send me into despair. But no, just the opposite. One of the side effects of being in a 1400 sf. house with 5 people and a cat? Space = Happiness.
The big thing? I'm starting back to work. Next week. Just about 10 hours a week, but it's so strange . This job of being a full-time mom, this terrain I was so afraid to tread, this place that I unwillingly went, but stayed at is coming to a slow end, much like the warm summer days of 2011. I realize that the black hole of staying at home has spit me out a happier, better person.
No longer do I think that my job should get more attention that my 3 year old. No longer do I value the opinions of my superiors more than my husband. No longer do I look down upon the lifestyle I had no training for, but had completely submersed myself in. I have respect for life. I have confidence in myself. And because of those changes, we have a happier family.
3 years ago I was in a different place. Treading water. Closing my eyes and wishing it away.
Being laid off and at home forced my eyes open and allowed me to watch my kids through the most amazing, growing times in their life. I no longer tread water, some days it damn near feels like I walk on it.
Anyway, I feel good about things. And I feel best at the monumental shift that happened, just in time. Because you really never do get those things back. Work will always be there, your kids won't. Thank you Universe for allowing me to learn that lesson.
I feel like I just took the training wheels off my wisdom bike :)
I know, I know, your life has kind of been put on hold since I last posted, just waiting on some story that would make most people feel much better about their life, right? Ha! Yeah, I'm laughing at that one too. But as your life has surely gone on, so has mine. So to catch you up, I'll give you a brief synopsis:
Summer happened.
Kids survived.
I survived (barely).
Finlay walked.
Then turned One.
Hazelle started Kindergarten.
Isla started Preschool.
We got a kitten named Blu.
And now we are nearing October. And I have one more big thing, for me anyway. NO. I am not pregnant. In fact, I am happily starting to gather up the newborn/baby stuff and giving it away, something I thought would send me into despair. But no, just the opposite. One of the side effects of being in a 1400 sf. house with 5 people and a cat? Space = Happiness.
The big thing? I'm starting back to work. Next week. Just about 10 hours a week, but it's so strange . This job of being a full-time mom, this terrain I was so afraid to tread, this place that I unwillingly went, but stayed at is coming to a slow end, much like the warm summer days of 2011. I realize that the black hole of staying at home has spit me out a happier, better person.
No longer do I think that my job should get more attention that my 3 year old. No longer do I value the opinions of my superiors more than my husband. No longer do I look down upon the lifestyle I had no training for, but had completely submersed myself in. I have respect for life. I have confidence in myself. And because of those changes, we have a happier family.
3 years ago I was in a different place. Treading water. Closing my eyes and wishing it away.
Being laid off and at home forced my eyes open and allowed me to watch my kids through the most amazing, growing times in their life. I no longer tread water, some days it damn near feels like I walk on it.
Anyway, I feel good about things. And I feel best at the monumental shift that happened, just in time. Because you really never do get those things back. Work will always be there, your kids won't. Thank you Universe for allowing me to learn that lesson.
I feel like I just took the training wheels off my wisdom bike :)
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