Living-Deliberately.com

Long term readers will remember my review of the Oprah-recommended book Family First, Woman Always. Actually, a good portion of my traffic is still for the keywords, “Kathryn Sansone” (the author of the book) and that title, and also the contrast I blogged about in Michelle Duggar. While both women have large families, they are on opposite sides of the “Family First” spectrum. I find that to be much more plausible with Michelle than I do Kathryn. From all appearances, Michelle is the embodiment of what a “dedicated mother” is, not just for having lots of babies but in the sheer amount of time she pours into them…the impression I got from Kathryn’s book was that the “woman first” was really what it was all about, with cute kids as accessories on the side.

So…two years after those posts, I still stick to the disclaimer that these are not judgments or opinions on the women or families or ideologies themselves but rather the image they are putting forth to the public for our avid consumption. Kathryn wrote a book and went on Oprah; the Duggars have a TV special debuting tonight.

This morning over coffee it was quite the surprise to see the gathered Duggar family on the Today show from my little town of HILLIARD, Florida. This place is a little-known notch in the Florida/Georgia border. Apparently the oldest Duggar boy married a local and this morning they had a live telecast with Anne Curry right down the street from our house.

I like Michelle’s new hair. She is vibrantly expecting baby number 18, a girl. The thought of that makes my uterus hurt but any woman who does that gets nothing but “life and love” from this corner. I’m kind of bummed I didn’t get to meet her!

Have you ever gotten a glimpse of a possible outcome? Like, one for yourself, a future you way on down the road?

This year has been, and will continue to be, full of many little milestones. Moments where I pause in the Ordinary Time of Life and remember exactly where I was one year ago today. The end of 2006-2007 marked so many turning points: a gradation of events that when finished, mapped a very clear bend in the road. Something Significant Had Changed.

In so many ways, it was like the frog in the water, the amphibian focused on the goal of jumping into the water, ever curious, and not noticing for quite some time how hot it was getting. And like boiling or freezing temperatures, so comes the darkness, and sometimes depression, and sometimes awakening. With the coming dusk ends the day and so is born the night. Watching someone descend into mental illness is exactly like that at times…their world becomes darker and they grope and struggle, not really seeing, and all the while the ones around are just becoming aware, their eyes adjusting to what is really happening, an awakening under moon rise.

One of my milestones is the day that I saw the Old Hag. I remember with clarity where I was, what I could smell, what I could hear. My feet can still feel the floorboards of the porch under my bare toes. And the Old Hag was just a glimpse in my mind of where I was going if I didn’t change my course fast.

Who is she? She is unhealthy. She looks years and years older than her linear age. Her parade to the doctor’s office for mysterious and persistent pain is incessant. She never smiles. Her primary talent is motivating those around her with guilt. She can’t understand her world, doesn’t see her own role in how it came to be, and feels continually alienated. So far removed from what a functional relationship looks like, she doesn’t even think twice anymore when the man in her life smears her face in her mistakes or makes her feels small or pushes her into the wall; she can see his point. She’s no ballerina but she’s skilled at walking on tiptoe; fear can sometimes be disguised as grace. She longs for her children’s baby days because that is the last time they looked up to her and were kind…she’s not sure she understands why they are they way they are now, distant, disdainful, self-interested, and angry. She will die younger than she should and hopes that the Ones She Stayed For will appreciate her sacrifice when she’s gone. With a heavy sigh, she goes on through her days, sometimes thinking of What Could Be or Could Have Been, never quite seeing her own responsibility to change what she can.

The Old Hag was a Black Hole I was staring into. I knew women like this, some quite close to my situation, but the glimpse was more than recognizing an example: she was representative of what kind of fruit comes from the seed I was growing in my life’s garden. And that is what stabbed so profoundly: the marriage of an idea and a reality. It was a moment of “I am not making this up” clarity and my dazed mind stumbled over to my favorite rocking chair.

It was just a few seconds…how often we have passing thoughts and move on with our days inattentive to them. But my head still ached from last night’s fight and my back was sore…I’d developed some kind of strange pain that the doctors couldn’t pin point and I’d gone from x-ray to bone scan to physical therapist trying to find out what it was. Driving was insanely painful, as was sitting at my desk. I didn’t know then that abused women frequently have acute pain, recurrent infections, cancer, and a seemingly endless list of symptoms that often disappear when they leave their abusers. But in that little morning, with brisk early autumn air brightening everything, I sat and rocked and pondered Who I Was Becoming.

It’s not why I left. That would be absurd…The Leaving was a such a climatic combination of years of issues, evidence that things were worsening rather than improving, and in the end, true and imminent danger that required a friend and a priest’s help in order to escape. But I know the idea of her propelled at least a portion of my action then and tremendous amount of my effort in the aftermath as I worked on healing. I don’t want to be her, don’t want that to be my End of Days.

And in a funny way, Oprah helped! How, pray tell? Well, Ms. Oprah is in her 50’s. And she makes it look like the new 20’s. She’s hot and vibrant and energetic. She’s getting things done and trying new ventures. She’s a heroine for an evolutionary life that continues to find new challenges. And I knew the Old Hag was in her 50’s too, maybe approaching 60. It became a sort of contrast for me to watch. Did I want the red pill or the blue pill? My own little Matrix choice, one of many in the process of awakening to What Really Was. Facing denial is what I had to do: the truth had been there all along.

The Old Hag today is just my example for that one choice. I think we get many of them along way if we choose to pay attention to them. When we are having weight issues, we might see a diabetic future and clothing struggles and decide to change. Or, when we’re racking up credit debt, maybe we a vision of ourselves walking into bankruptcy court and decide to sit down and write a budget instead. Choices are points on a path and if you look behind you, you can see the trend. Look ahead and you might see a trajectory path, not unlike a great hurricane. Sure it can still make a final turn before hitting land but that doesn’t always happen. Storms don’t have wills of their own (despite what we may come to think by naming them) but people do. If your path ahead is taking you somewhere you don’t want to go, and you have any power to change it, chances are even a slight lean in the right direction will start a new trend.

Just a “standing in the check out aisle and wanting a treat for the kids” tip: YUMMY EARTH CANDY.

They are organic, have no nasty high-fructose corn syrup or artificial-anything. That’s a big deal in my house with kids with food sensitivities. And the flavors are FANTASTIC! Pomegranite, Mango, Chili Lime….

AND they sell them in bulk so you can get them in time for Halloween!

No, not a paid advertisement but I’m enthusiastic about these and wanted to share :-). My kids love them and I sneak them too.  Click to buy and support a great idea! Oh! And they have free shipping too!

One day I’ll find relief
I’ll be arrived
And I’ll be a friend to my friends
who know how to be friends
One day I’ll be at peace
I’ll be enlightened and I’ll be married
with children and maybe adopt
One day I will be healed
I will gather my wounds forge the end of tragic comedy

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture
this whole time of being forever incomplete

One day my mind will retreat
And I’ll know God
And I’ll be constantly one with her night dusk and day
One day I’ll be secure
Like the women I see on their thirtieth anniversaries

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture
this whole time of being forever incomplete

Ever unfolding
Ever expanding
Ever adventurous
And torturous
But never done

One day I will speak freely
I’ll be less afraid
And measured outside of my poems and lyrics and art
One day I will be faith-filled
I’ll be trusting and spacious
authentic and grounded and home

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture
this whole time of being forever incomplete

(p.s the youtube below opens with a little commentary from Alanis; good bonus explanation and admonition to savor our moments today)

Watch and Listen here

• What was the last movie you watched? Next one you want to?
• What was your most recent music purchased? Next one?
• Whatcha reading? And where do you most enjoy sitting and reading?
• Any new foods on your plate? Brave and daring forays into culinary bliss welcome….
  

I’ve learned something about myself in this previous year and I don’t think I’m anywhere near the only person who does it. Maybe part of it’s the greater American culture at large and maybe another portion comes from being the child of entrepreneurial parents, that self-employed sub-culture that sets it’s own hours and knows very acutely that “when it rains, it pours”, “you gotta get while the gettin’s good”, and “no work, no eat”. And perhaps another portion of the root is just how I’m wired. Regardless, it “is”, and regardless, it needs to be worked on.

• I feel the need to apologize when I’m weak
• I feel the need to justify needing rest, or time off

Self-employed people don’t get vacation days. Neither do Mommies. We, unlike some portions of the population with vacation days and personal days and flex time and parental leave and whatever-they-come-up-with-next-to-pad-a-benefits-package, have to build in our own relief time. On the work end, I totally get this. Sundays have long been days of rest. Creative minds often do much of their work in their heads (when it looks like we are doing nothing of consequence at all) and then in one purgy-push of a day later it all comes spilling out in uber-productive days. There’s a natural ebb and flow to it. And maybe on the Mommy end I understood it as well: children need multiple adults in their lives, ideally two committed parents, and tag-teaming can be essential sometimes. Running a household and managing multiple schedules is just too much for one single person to do alone all the time.

But I don’t think my previous decade supported this honest need. For years, “vacations” were spent with critical in-laws; weeks spent with argument and stress and family drama. When that failed to produce relaxation (duh), we switched to work-at-home vacations: weeks full of projects with an unrelenting pace. This gave the half of “us” who went to an office every day a change of scenery but I never left my daily environment and those weeks contained all my usual work load plus a lot more. In 13 years we took one family vacation. We averaged a few date nights a year and I took two weekend trips with girlfriends. Compound this with the particular stress of a relationally toxic household, where weakness was criticized and perfection was constantly striven for and what you have is one exhausted family with an unhealthy pattern of all work and very little play. Or sleep for that matter.

Fast forward several months, a divorce, a growing business, public school, and many, many therapy sessions later. My therapist is fond of reminding me, “You don’t owe anyone an explanation” (in regards to boundary setting). But the drive to defend myself is still very strong. I can feel my throat flush red, tightening, struggling to find the words that will make the tense moment smooth over. Old fear is there, that I won’t say the right thing and a painful consequence is headed my way. The people in my life are not the offensive or abusive type and patiently wait and listen. It’s been freeing and relaxing and I can see the steps toward progress. Respect has replaced threat; it’s a whole new world.

But the other day I got sick. Not terribly so but enough to where I couldn’t maintain my pace and needed to depend on someone else to get through a few hours. Pretty human of me, pretty human for everyone. I was fine recognizing the need and crawling under the covers and shutting out the world for a bit. Not so much knowing that in my absence others were helping out with my responsibilities. I apologized profusely, which actually seemed to offend the one caring for me. “We all need it” was the chastisement and they were right. No one is super-human, everyone is tired sometimes, no one really lives in a bubble.

On the larger scale looms time away…. dare I call it “vacation”? My life is still written in pencil, not quite yet to the point where I’ll approach a calendar with pen. Days fluctuate, flexibility has to rule, there is no room for the former rigidity or even monotony and maybe some of this is the flip side of isolation. A life filled with people and events is going to have an element of unpredictability. But some things are becoming increasingly set: the school calendar with days off, sports schedules, dance recitals. Other things haven’t changed: the seasons change and the result of that on property. And still others continue on: court dates and hearings and unresolved issues that will eventually find their end. With this increase in routine has come the birthing of that light at the end of the tunnel, days to look forward to, and a hunger for a breather along the way.

And right there lies the rub. I’m not quite “there” yet, and “there” is not a place where some corporation is going to grant permission for a set number of days away. If there is going to be a place in my life where I can “put in” for my vacation and unapologetically take some time in a fresh environment, it’s going to have to be of my own making.

The temptation to take that time and justify it via work projects is huge. In my past experience, breaks are taken after exhausting levels of work (you gotta earn it after all). Time off that doesn’t include productivity is almost a sin. Apology attempts to cover the guilt for having the need and daring to meet it. Expense must be explained.

Where real grace and growth will be is when rest is granted without any other explanation other than humans sometimes need it. Taking it before exhaustion sets in is healthy and stable. Recognizing the need and answering it sans guilt is to know and love one’s self. It can be as simple as a cup of tea or coffee in a quiet room some afternoon or as complex as a private retreat for a few days. Maybe for some it’s a complete step away from their reality by going some place very unrelated to them, like an amusement park or a missions trip or a foreign country. Maybe it’s getting your nails done, taking a walk in the fresh air, or sleeping in after too many alarm-clock days. There’s not a thing in the world wrong with admitting we feel tired and need a break now and then.

I have a hunch that the people who get in a huff when someone else is weak are driven by their own fatigue, need to justify, or perfectionist tendencies. Or, perhaps, it all comes down to envy. Those are thoughts for another day though because for now, there’s this log in my own eye, penciled-in days off on my calendar, and the post-it on my bathroom mirror reminding me that: “You’re human. No further explanation necessary.”

What it does: sends your library information to Apple. Then you choose a song to hear and click on the “genius” logo.

What you get: suggestions for other songs you might like from the itunes store.

What it really will do: sell tons of music because those who love music will find those little .99 recommendations pulling song memories from the cobwebby corners of the mind irresistible.

Listing to the Eurhythmic’s today, after a friend got “Here Comes The Rain Again” stuck in my head (especially the bit about, “I want to dive into your ocean, is it raining with you”…what a great lyric), Genius thought I might like a little Thompson Twins, Bruce Hornsby, Tears For Fears, and s’more Annie Lennox. And they were right. Songs I would not have gone looking for just came right to my machine.

Brilliant! Er…Genius.

• Tri-Training with anemia. It’s lazy, that’s all I can say.  Hard to feel like I’m going to make my race goal when I have 6 day stints away from the gym. But today’s work out was pretty good and I’ll just keep keepin’ on. To help:

1. I’m looking for other ways to get iron. I currently take a supplement and eat iron-rich foods on the worst days. But I wonder if there’s something else I could be doing…and no, liquid iron ain’t it! GROSS.
2. I never drink sports drinks or eat energy bars (bad memories of stealing Amway bars out of my parent’s basement when I was a kid… nasty little vitamin tasting things disguised as candy bars. Double GROSS). But Brian has been making his own sports drinks and I’m curious. Who else makes their own stuff from real food?
3. Shoes are still shot and goal or no goal, I’ve just got other financial priorities than shoes and a bike. So for now, I’ve switched to the elliptical machines because there’s no impact. It has made for an interesting change in my work outs…distance is harder and there is more butt-emphasis (which is not really a bad thing LOL).

• Living the alarm clock life.  The kids starting school has gone amazingly well. They love it, are doing much, much better than predicted by those who tested them, and they are excited every day to go. I’ve kept up the routine of laying out clothes and packing lunches at night so that we have easier mornings. But I’m also getting up earlier a lot of mornings to get in some quiet work time and make their breakfast.  I’m even getting enough sleep most nights, based on the fact that I often wake up naturally, 5 minutes before my alarm goes off.  But I’m no morning person. I think what I miss most about homeschooling is the pace…the relaxed hours of time together (quantity DOES matter) and the rhythm of living naturally, sleeping and rising when it your body wants to.

1. I’m using my cell phone and trying different sounds. If you use an alarm clock, what sounds do you wake to? We also have a rooster getting ready to strut his stuff; he’ll be competing with anything I choose.
2. Bedtime still has to be strict; every moment of my weekday is regimented, which leads to it’s own form of exhaustion.  Sabbath rest just became even more important. Our Sundays have always been my favorite day of the week anyway, with their mix of church, friends, food, naps, and now football :-).
3. COFFEE. All summer, the drink of choice has been “iced with whole milk, no sweetener”. And I go back and forth on adding espresso shots based on my schedule that day, but I manage to keep it to about one a week and just one or two cups a day otherwise.

But still….coffee, rest, and a soft alarm later, I still struggle to anything other than auto-pilot before 10 am. Anyone have ideas to help hit the ground running?

There’s other stuff contributing to fatigue but I can’t blog about ‘em. So I’m focusing on what I *can* work on….maybe having learned something from that serenity prayer after all.

…the theme of my thoughts on this September 11th anniversary. It occurs to me that in every hero tale the essence comes down to one thing: attendance. “Being There”, wherever “There” is or needs to be, may get lost in the shuffle during the drive for impression or performance or perfection. But presence is critical and perhaps matters more than anything that may happen after. Phrases like, “I’d walk to through the fire with you” or “In sickness and in health” get their gravitas from the companionship implied. And maybe that’s why taking out the trash for someone can sometimes seem more heroic than the mere saying, “but I’d die for you”.

On this day, in matters big and small, from half-mast flags to promises kept or broken, the reminders have been constant: real heroes are the ones who show up. Who stand up. Who do. Who hold hands and stand side by side. Who lead and protect. They are action verbs requiring one thing: Being There.

Yesterday was the kind of wonky Monday that sticks out in memory for some time to come as a good example of the weirdness that day of the week can quintessentially espouse like no other. You know…what other day of the week would get started with missing keys, a bank mistake, an overcooked lunch sandwich, windshield wipers that mysteriously turn on and off by themselves, low tires, two round trips to town… all peppered with a little fatigue and moodiness? At one point in the morning I decided to “just bounce” with it and work on exercising that “flexibility muscle”. By afternoon I was singing, “no body’s gonna break my stride, nobody’s gonna slow me down, I gotta keep on mooooovin’ “, and it worked. Still a busy day that operated anti-smoothly, but at the end of the day, somehow everything got done and relationships were still quite intact. Not bad.

Life is still changing around here… never static! In everything from school (which is going fantastically btw), to a new phone (didn’t go with the familiar and so glad for it!), to a dream-come-true of a new job, there are lots of opportunities to “just bounce”. So life doesn’t always go the way we expect? That often can be a GOOD thing! And as a result, I’m wondering if maybe part of that is because I set my expectations for what life can hold too low.  Anyone have thoughts or comments on that trend? Do you do it as well? Or not? Good thing/bad thing?

Just a side note….I’m not commenting on whether or not the Palin family is a good one or not.  That would be impossible for me to tell and I’ve seen too many shiny-happy families with nasties lurking in their closets (and rough-around-the-edge ones with real stability) to make a surface judgment anyway. My point was to think out-loud on how the choice of her as VP feels to me, and to say that I question any elected official’s ability to serve their office well with lots of family drama and needs. Ditto Edwards and cancer/grief, ditto Clinton and adultry/sexual addiction, etc. Maybe she’d be an excellent candidate four years from now but I personally don’t see the wow-factor at the moment.

She’s bold…sometimes her boldness takes my breath away as I cringe though the screen. I admire her daring, especially her career moxy and tenacity even when I wouldn’t always make that same choice myself. But in this case, that being mothering a special needs child through a high-level career, she has a particular knowledge and experience base that helped articulate the Elephant in the Room.

Read it yourself: Sarah Palin’s Children Should Take Priority Over Being Vice President.

I didn’t like the way I felt when I saw McCain’s choice. I felt manipulated. I felt like this choice on his part was objectifying women….it feels like she was chosen for her appearance and gender because I doubt a man of comparable credentials would be chosen for the position. I don’t like the way she got here because she was plucked by an old politician instead of having time to get to know her. I don’t like what I hear…like her elected offices are mayoral and very short-term gubernatorial (18 months? Is that right?) in an area where “small town” issues preside, or like how she has an infant with special needs that must be getting precious little attention from her right now. I feel insulted that it’s suggested women should vote for her for the “soccer mom” parallels. I feel uncertain in her ability should Old-Man McCain die.  I feel unconvinced that the position of vice-president would really be very influential in matters of war and policy. I remember being impressed with the Cheney-Lieberman debates and thinking we had great VP candidates but feel now that it’s just a distraction in the race. I feel hesitant to engage in political conversation again because this choice polarizes somehow. I feel like she’s sheep’s clothing for a wolf. If she participated in continuing a war that could extend long enough to take my children, I’d feel her betrayal as a fellow mother.

I know little of her and distrust the amount of time given to learn her. It may have been more respectful to the intelligence of the country to choose someone we knew better…as it stands, I trust him too little to trust his choice. Maybe it takes more than a (vagina) pretty face to persuade. Maybe this political year is about change and true content and if something feels like hot air, it probably is. Maybe he means well, maybe she’s fabulous. Maybe she’d be the voice of reason to his poor choices but…well, that suggestion begs the question of him again. If he needs that, I’d rather not have him in charge of much.

When I see McCain, and now McCain/Palin, I hear the Alka Seltzer song… “Plop, Plop, fizz, fizz….”. The country has indigestion of the ulcerative kind and a quick and sparkling remedy will soon fall flat, leaving the same issues and problems to churn and gurgle.

Life moves on. This choice does not excite me towards change.