Category Archives: about me

February 9, 2015 · 8:48 AM

raw

There’s a scene in the movie, Mean Girls, that’s been on a continuous loop in my head (Mean Girls, by the way, is a movie you should immediately watch when you’re done reading this. One of the most ridiculous and quotable cult classics ever). In this one scene, the guidance counselor is doing a team-building exercise with all the girls in the school, and they’re taking turns getting up onto the stage in the gym, apologizing publicly for something, then trust-falling into the arms of the crowd below. This one girl gets up, in tears, and says:

“I wish we could all get along like we used to in middle school… I wish I could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy…”

Someone yells from behind the crowd, “She doesn’t even go to this school!”

And when asked if she does attend, the girl responds through her tears,

“No…. I just have a lot of feelings…”

It’s of course played to be funny, and it was funny… but it also kind of breaks my heart a little. Because I AM the girl with all the feelings. Mike and I will often joke that one of the things that makes our marriage work is that we’re opposite but complimentary extremes in so many ways.

He has no feelings. I have ALL the feelings. ~~Sometimes~~ ~~Often~~ Pretty much all the time, I walk through life as one big, weeping, bleeding feeling. And often my grasp on not drowning on said feelings is… tenuous.

It’s a great paradox to me as a writer, because so very much of who I am comes from that same, raw, tender spot in my heart. The part of me that makes me creative, that allows me to share, that enables me to use words to paint pictures is the same part that makes me so, so sensitive to the fallout. The same part that makes sharing so painful and vulnerable in the first place. Sometimes it just doesn’t seem fair that I seem to so badly need to share myself in some way, and at the same time have such difficulty dealing with what comes along with it.

I want to pull down my blog (along with my personal online presence) at least once a week. I know when I’m headed for protective, breakdown mode when that desire starts to get more frequent. Lately, I’ve been wanting to do it approximately 17 times a day. I’ve not been in a good place emotionally, and coupled with not sleeping, the simplest of negative online interactions are making me unravel.

Yesterday I was the recipient of some unkindness from someone I went to church with about a hundred years ago. I entered into a highly charged topic of discussion on Facebook, against my better judgement, and was rewarded by having my parenting decisions and my intelligence attacked and disparaged. The parenting attacks get me the most, because it is so very, very personal. It’s my life’s work. My heart. My soul. I’ve been a parent for 18 years, and I’m a good parent. And coming from a fellow Christian? Those tend to be the conversations that sting the most, because 1) I am still carrying a lot of hurt and damage from my church upbringing, and interactions like that just rip off the barely formed scab, so I’m basically walking around as an open wound that never gets the chance to heal, and 2) I still have the silly notion that we’re supposed to be… I don’t know…. nice to each other.

It just about undid me.

And when I got up this morning, after another night of tossing and turning and not having slept, and sat down at my computer to write a new post… there was nothing there. Nothing helpful or positive or witty anyway. Just brokenness and fatigue. Someone once told me, one of the last times I shared a similar post, that perhaps a personal journal would be a more appropriate place for such thoughts. Well I have a journal. It’s a veritable uncensored stream of emotions and crazy. But this blog is journal-like too, in that it’s streaming from the same personal, tender place. It’s just a “tone down the crazy in case my mom reads it” (even though she doesn’t) version.

So why am I sharing? In equal parts for myself – it’s cathartic for my weary soul to transfer it from my head to the screen – and for you, too. I think it’s only fair that if I share the happy and the upbeat and the positive, that I should also share the positively broken open.

I’m not going anywhere. I’m still here. Still writing. Still reading your comments.

I’m just a little fragile. And I’m the girl with all the feelings. So if you’ve been waiting for just the right time to start following the adage, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all,” right now would be great.

And if you held your arms up and caught me when I trust-falled off the stage, that would be great too.

21 Comments

Filed under about me, life, mental health, random

January 27, 2015 · 9:47 AM

2 AM

Photo credit: espensorvik

I scroll through the Netflix menu, only half seeing it through sleepy eyes. They seem to have added a whole slew of Lifetime TV movies, and I find something oddly nostalgic and comforting about that, bad acting and all.

I carefully re-stack my pillows under my right arm. I’m basically cocooned in pillows at this point, the only way I can get comfortable enough to sleep (which, of course, I’m not doing at the moment)

Just about exactly 3 months post surgery, my shoulder’s starting to feel a bit better, but I try not to think about it… lest I jinx myself.

I pick a movie, based solely on the cheesiness of the title, and roll onto my side. That was a bad decision, as it necessitates starting the pillow stacking process all over again.

I’m back on my back.

I stare at the ceiling fan, letting my eyes go out of focus until the blades look like they reverse direction. I remember doing that as a kid, to pass time in church.

I think about church as a kid, and all the baggage it brought with it.

I get up for water. I take a couple of ibuprofen for my headache, being as quiet as I possibly can, because if the cat hears me in the kitchen she’ll start incessantly meowing, convinced it’s time for breakfast.

I resist the urge to check on all the kids, and assure myself that they’re all still breathing.

I return to bed, and look at the two people already in it. Both my husband and my six year old, sleeping soundly, their breathing deep and even. I try not to resent them for it.

I see the blood pressure monitor (bought not because I have a blood pressure problem per se, but because our health card paid for it, and I find it fascinating to monitor) on the night stand when I set down my water, and consider taking my blood pressure, just for something to do. Decide against it when I remember that its velcro is pretty much the loudest velcro in existence.

Stack the pillows.

Play the movie.

Play my week’s to-do list in a constant loop in my head. Think about all the things I should have done, need to do, and want to do. Think about the fact that things happen, and plans change, and sometimes to-do lists don’t mean anything at all.

My brain is reaching, reaching…. for something that I can’t see. Old mistakes, old conversations, old embarrassments, old hurts. If I think about all of them, cross them all off the list, will I eventually rest?

I stare at the ceiling fan some more.

I look at my movie, and have no idea what’s going on. Someone’s crying (unconvincingly). Someone’s always crying on those Lifetime movies.

I briefly doze at some point during a courtroom scene. I jolt awake, with a sharp inhale of breath. A nightmare, this time about the upcoming conference. I think of some conference-related things I need to do. I think of seven more.

Will I remember in the morning?

Why don’t I have a pad of sticky notes next to my bed?

If I go get my phone, I can take care of some emails, and get a jumpstart on my day.

Is that sound I just heard coming from outside? From my kitchen? From my 14 year old’s room? Is someone getting murdered?

I stay in bed, where I’m safer.

The credits are rolling; my movie is over. I switch to Friends, which has lost none of its appeal even after its 83723rd viewing. I’m up to Season 7, episode 10: The One With The Holiday Armadillo.

I roll over onto my side. Fix my pillows.

I hear Mike’s alarm, suspended somewhere in that space between dreams and consciousness. It’s 5:00. I hear the shower running. Then he’s saying goodbye, and I mutter something in return. Good bye? I love you?

I try to close my eyes, but sleep still won’t come. My head hurts. Did I already take ibuprofen?

On my back. Stack my pillows. Fix my covers.

I start another Friends. The One With All The Cheesecakes. Season 7 wasn’t my favorite season, but it’ll do. Wasn’t Tag Jones (Eddie something. Eddie Cahill) also on some sort of police drama? One of the Law and Orders? Or CSI? Criminal Intent? Something? At 5:30 in the morning, on 2 hours of sleep, it feels imperative that I know. I make a mental note to look it up on IMDB when I get up.

The sun’s coming up. The room’s getting brighter.

I force myself to stay in bed until after 6:30. I kiss the girl, still sleeping away, on the cheek. I pull the covers a little higher over her body, and she stirs just a little bit as she snuggles more comfortably into the pillow.

The house is quiet – so quiet – as I head straight to the kitchen, tasting my coffee (the only thing that’ll get me through the next several hours) even before it’s made.

I’ve already forgotten all about Eddie Cahill.

5 Comments

Filed under about me, random

December 15, 2014 · 9:30 AM

Saying No to Say Yes

It’s a week and a half before Christmas, which is always…. tricky.

I adore Christmas. Love it. Love the spirit. Love giving presents. Love the lights. Love the food. Love the Christmas cookies. Love hanging out with my family.

But it can be so BUSY, which, if left unchecked, can lead to stressful. Exhausting. The exact opposite of what you’d want a holiday season to be.

This year I was well on my way to the latter. I haven’t been sleeping, I’m still smack in the middle of my recovery and rehab, I’m still in daily pain, the house has once again gotten away from me.

And there are gifts to wrap! Plans to make! Events to attend!

There’s a six year old, looking to her mom with love and expectation and wonderment, trusting that I’ll make the season magical and fun and exciting.

I literally couldn’t “do Christmas” at the speed I was going, and take care of all my other responsibilities, and focus on my recovery, and make things nice for the kids, and maintain any level of sanity.

So, I started saying no.

The first thing I said no to was Christmas cards, even though we do them every year. The pictures, the designing, the addressing, the stamping. And you know what? The earth is going to keep spinning even if all my relatives and friends don’t get a smiley picture of the McGrails to hang on their wall for two weeks before they recycle it.

Then I said no to a writing project, one I’d actually really wanted to do, but that carried a deadline of ten days before Christmas.

I said no to adding 237 new cookies to my repertoire this year.

I said no to causing myself physical pain by making the house reach some magical level of cleanliness before we have guests. They’ll deal.

I said no to feeling like I needed to answer all my emails, or respond to everyone’s questions, or to fulfill anyone else’s expectations. Yesterday morning, I got up and cleaned out my email box with one big (what I’d like to think was polite) response along the lines of, “I’ll get to this after the new year.”

I said no to doing, deciding, or thinking about anything that isn’t a priority right now.

And those “no”s freed me.

Those “no”s mean that I can say YES to my girl, and to my family, who shouldn’t have to pay the price for me not being able to say no when it’s needed.

YES to a lazy day at the zoo.

YES to paper snowflakes.

YES to a movie and popcorn first thing in the morning.

YES to playing with new dolls.

YES to gingerbread houses.

YES to playdates.

YES to driving around at night just to look at Christmas lights.

YES to Christmas parties with friends.

YES to spending hours reconnecting over Pay Day or Minecraft or Little Big Planet.

YES to hot chocolate and whipped cream.

YES to carpet picnics.

YES to quiet moments, and loud moments, and silly moments.

The “yes”s come quickly and easily, or at least they do when I’m not bogged down with Very Important To-Dos (ie: things I probably need to say no to). I often find it strange and frustrating how hard it is to say no sometimes. Why should it be hard? Why shouldn’t we be able to say no at any time, for any reason, and not give it a single moment of regret?

I can’t be all things to all people at all times. I said those words on my FB page just a couple of weeks ago, and I know I’ll say them again. I seem to need the constant reminder.

I can’t be all things to all people at all times.

Because the thing is, there is nothing more important than my family, especially right now. So when the moment comes and I have to make a choice…. when I feel that little tug of “But, but… you need to do this! You have to do that!” I’ll answer, “You know what, as a matter of fact I DON’T.”

This year I’m giving myself the gift of NO, and what a gift it is.

2 Comments

Filed under about me, Christmas, family, parenting, perspective

November 17, 2014 · 6:00 AM

Healing

Just over three weeks ago, I had surgery on my shoulder. It was a revision for a previous surgery, 2 years ago this month. The whole thing started in May of 2012, and the only reason I’ll always remember that is that it was Mother’s Day weekend, and we’d spent the weekend camping with friends. (Here’s the original post on that) There were better days here and there, but I basically haven’t had a pain free day for 2 1/2 years.

This time around, he repaired some stuff from the first surgery – an anchor was rubbing every time I moved, so he removed that, as well as cleaned up new tears, scar tissue and arthritis that had developed. He also did something called a biceps tenodesis, which basically means that he detached the bicep on one end, and literally moved it and reattached in a new place further down my arm to take the pressure off my shoulder. I have a permanent metal button that’s holding it to the bone. Crazy, right? I know from experience that recovering from the work on the shoulder (the labrum, in this case) is no picnic, but it’s actually the bicep piece that’s going to be the most frustrating recovery, in the sense that it requires the most restriction – and patience! – to heal properly.

I spent the first two weeks after the surgery on the couch…. taking painkillers, eating comfort food, and logging more hours canoodling with Netflix and Playon than I care to admit (I knew I’d reached a particular low when I started re-watching the original Melrose Place from the very first episode.) It’s a frustrating feeling, having to be waited on. I’m not very good at it. And the whole thing was compounded by the fact that it only took a couple of days before I was feeling sad, lonely, and embarrassingly sorry for myself.

I was longing, literally longing, for someone to show up at the door with baked goods, or coffee, or just themselves, and sit and keep me company and give me something positive to chat about for awhile. My sister, who scored some major good sister points, did exactly that a couple of times. And when a dear out-of-state friend happened to be in town visiting another mutual friend, they stopped over as well, bearing cupcakes and hugs and conversation, just two days after the surgery. And I did get one sweet card in the mail. Other than that, it was pretty much radio silence (save for dire warnings about the addictive nature of the painkillers I was taking), from friends and family alike, and it made me…. mopey. How hard is it to pick up a phone, I’d think, and send a get-well text? Or ask if I needed anything?

I know; self-pity is an undeniably unattractive thing, but it’s exactly what I felt. I was a spectacle. Moping around in my sweatpants and my sling, wearing the same shirt for days because it was just too much painful work to change it, hopped up on drugs (that I’ve since stopped taking, but at the time genuinely needed and got chastised like a unruly dog for taking). I was a zombie from not sleeping, so I tried the Ambien my doctor prescribed, which only caused a horrible reaction that kept me up all night (I got chastised for taking that too.) I was literally starting to gain weight – over the course of just two weeks! – because of my inactivity and the general volume of non-nutritive food I was eating. My upper arm had a really weird, creepy looking new shape to it that I feared was permanent. And to top it all off, I felt like I had no friends.

(Ha. I just re-read that last paragraph, and is it any wonder no one came to visit? 🙂 Who’d want to spend time with that miserable person? God bless my crazy sister.)

Last Monday, I started physical therapy, which even though I knew it would be painful, was a huge positive step in my recovery. For a lot of people, going to physical therapy reduces their pain…. but when you go to re-gain strength and range of motion after a surgery, it actually causes pain, at least in the beginning. On a side note, it amazes me the movements we take for granted until we can’t do them anymore, like straightening out your elbow, or raising your arm up over your head. Anyway, I decided on that first day that I would use that pain as a reminder of the healing that’s going on. It’s truly amazing when you think about it… tendons and muscles and bone, all slowly slowly knitting themselves back together. Every day getting just a little bit stronger, every day getting just a little more flexible. I never properly healed from the first surgery (or, I guess more accurately, I never had a break in between healing from the first one, and dealing with the subsequent problems it caused) but I know I can’t let that allow me to think I won’t properly heal from this one. Being a revision, by its very nature it’s going to be “messier” than the first one. In other words, I shouldn’t be expecting to reach 100%. But 80% sounds wonderful right now. And I’ll get there. I will.

Slowly, painfully, I’ll heal.

And so it goes with my shoulder and my sorry, sad-sack attitude. I’ll heal. It’s funny how something as simple as a surgery and its accompanying rehab can suddenly propel a person (again) into full-fledged mid-life crisis mode, but that’s exactly what it’s done. And it’s a good thing! It’s time once again to look at my life, evaluate what’s important, what’s not, and work to eliminate the latter. So as my shoulder and arm heal, so will the rest of me. I guarantee it’ll be painful at times, just like with physical therapy, but the pain will eventually reveal something brighter, clearer, and stronger. With each appointment, each ice pack, each Advil, each good night’s sleep, I’ll heal. In the grand scheme of things, it’s but a blip. I indulged myself for two weeks, and now it’s time to move on.

To healing, even when it hurts.

3 Comments

Filed under about me, health, life

October 14, 2014 · 6:00 AM

Free To Be 2014 – Day Three

Photo by Kiera Cook

Day Three – Saturday – is at once the hardest and yet most interesting day to write about. It was the busiest of all four days, and arguably the most memorable. Besides the violent monsoon and the subsequent flooding (I’ll get to those later) it was an emotionally taxing day for me personally, so very much like my feelings, this blog post will likely be a little bit scattered and all over the place as I re-live it.

I woke up feeling terrible on Saturday, burnt out and exhausted. Recognizing that I would be crawling by the end of the conference if I didn’t do something about it, I cancelled yoga and took the extra hour to myself. Some ibuprofen, a shower, some coffee and a proper breakfast – Yay! Breakfast! – later, I was feeling a bit better, at least physically.

One of my kids was going through something difficult… something that would have been difficult under the best of circumstances, and was made almost unbearable by the conference setting. As a parent, it’s always…. well, it was difficult (yes, I just used the word “difficult” three times in four lines.) It was difficult, (4) and I share it just to give a fuller picture of where my head was at on Saturday.

So Saturday.

There was a chance of rain (Ha. Foreshadowing is great.) so we’d already planned to move the dinner inside, instead of on the pavilion. We also had the talent show to think about, and Jungle Jill, and board breaking, and air brushed tattoos. Mike also left at one point to go pick up Amy Steinberg from the airport, which left me somewhat… anxious. While he was more than content to work quietly in the background, (“This is your conference,” he kept telling me. “I’m your assistant.”) Mike and I very much worked as a team, each of us doing entirely different things. There were questions that only he could answer, and vice versa. All of that to say, whenever one of us left the hotel – which only happened a handful of times over the course of the four days – I got a little nervous.

But all was well.

The rain started when he was gone, and it wasn’t long before it was coming fast and furious, complete with the unrelenting lightning, rolling thunder, and gale-force winds that make Arizona storms so exciting.

Up until that point, everything had been going smoothly. Jeff inspired everyone by opening up a conversation about passions. Sara & Matt Janssen taught us how to become gypsies. Matt Jones talked about reconciling unschooling with a corporate life. Jen Andersen reminded us all to tune out the outside voices so we can better focus on our own kids.

My parents had come set up their air-brushed tattoos, and there was a line 10 deep. There was button making and face painting and plastic bag print-making.

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Photo by Dan Omerza

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Photo by Jenna Boring

Everyone seemed to enjoy Jungle Jill despite the apocalypse happening outside:

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Photo by Chrissy Florence

And all the teens on the teen panel were wonderful and well-spoken:

I don’t remember where I was when the flooding happened. That sounds dramatic, doesn’t it? Like all those big moments in history, the ones where you always remember exactly where you were, and exactly who you were with. (Where were YOU when you heard about the flood? :-D) Anyway, I was in a lot of places, and it changed moment to moment, so I really don’t know where I was. I just know that at some point, there was flooding, and everyone that was attending anything downstairs made a mass exodus for the second floor.

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Photo by Qarin Van Brink

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Photo by Qarin Van Brink

In typical unschooling conference fashion, people hardly blinked. (Which is so, so interesting to me. We got complaints over much smaller things, but flooded out conference rooms? No problem!) We had to shuffle around the rest of the schedule a bit, the whole evening starting with dinner had to get pushed back an hour; and Erika’s SSUMs, Laura Flynn Endres’s main presentation, and Matt’s board breaking funshop all graciously went along with the flow. (See what I did there?)

The staff had to work harder than ever, there were some downed trees, and some definite scrambling. But no one was hurt. It was not a catastrophe. And in the end it just made for a little extra excitement.

Oh and the kids?

Photo by Jenna Boring

Photo by Heather Kennedy

Photo by Chrissy Florence

I don’t think they were too broken up about it.

And even the big empty rooms that were drying out turned out to be a great place to play:

Photo by Chrissy Florence

Once the excitement of the flooding had died down, we all gathered for the Mexican dinner. It was the first time during the conference that everyone was really in the same place at the same time, and it was a little overwhelming to me. Not in a this-is-way-too-many-people-around-my-hamster-ball-of-introversion kind of way, but in a “We did this!! We created this thing, and people are here, and they’re happy and they’re chatting and they’re eating and they’re HERE and we did this” kind of way.

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340 people, all in one place.

Looking around that room during that dinner was an incredibly powerful, surreal moment for me, and it’s one I will remember above almost any other. Granted, I was physically and emotionally spent by then, someone had just given me a hard time about something, and everything was a little extra…. raw. Still, what I felt was real, and it turned out it was just a precursor for what I’d feel an hour later.

On the surface, the talent show that followed the dinner can be summed up like this: a couple of skits, dances, music, and jokes interspersed between a whole bunch of little girls’ interpretations of Frozen’s Let it Go.

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Photo by Chrissy Flornence

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Photo by Chrissy Florence

Photo by Jenna Boring

Beyond that though, it was So. Much. More. It was a whole roomful of people offering genuine love and support to every child who got up on that stage. It was parents encouraging – but never pushing! – their children into trying something new, and feeling their joy with them when they did it. It was people accepting and celebrating the uniqueness and beauty and perfectly imperfect quirkiness of each and every person in that room. It was people who knew they were free to…. well, free to BE. It was the whole of gentle parenting and unschooling and the conference all in that one moment.

And that’s what made me lose it.

I was admittedly on the precipice of tears the entire night, but the exact second they finally spilled over was when this lovely little girl was singing:

Photo by Alicia Gonzalez

This is Tegan’s new friend, and Jennifer Andersen’s (of Our Muddy Boots) little girl. It was a big deal for her to get up there, but she did it. I looked at her, and I looked at her proud mom, and I looked at Tegan who was doing all the hand motions with her off-stage in solidarity (Let it Go is ALL about the hand motions). In that second, all the stress and the anxiety and the wondering and the worrying and the relief culminated in a sudden unstoppable rush of tears.

I was very grateful for the previous rain, because when I slipped out the door onto the walkway, it was cool and comfortable outside. There were a few kids running and laughing nearby, but it was otherwise silent and still. I stayed for but a minute, all by myself (there was too much of the evening left to totally check out) but I stayed long enough to cry, to breathe, to pull myself together, to feel gratitude…. gratitude for that moment, gratitude for the conference, and gratitude for all the people who came and made it a conference.

Until two days ago, even my husband didn’t know about that moment. In two minutes I was back in the room, and back to business as usual. And an hour later I was drinking white Russians and serenading everyone with Wrecking Ball. (Wait what?)

I share it with you now mostly because I’ve received so many really lovely comments of gratitude over the past two weeks, and I want you all to know what it all meant to me too, and what YOU all meant to me. I don’t know that I can truly put it into words, so my hope is that a glimpse into a vulnerable, private, tear-stained moment might give you some idea.

It meant the world to me, truly. And I thank you.

An Explanation

So, last week I vanished from Facebook. For a few days I even pulled down my blog. And while I admitted that the whole thing made me incredibly sad, it also felt extremely liberating. Just the idea that I could do it – that I could walk away if I wanted to, that the option is always there – made me feel infinitely better.

It was a fairly easy decision to re-publish my blog itself, if for no other reason than the fact that keeping it down made entirely too much work for me. I was getting a ton of emails, people were asking me about individual posts, I was wanting to share things that I could no longer share, and I’d created a whole bunch of broken links all over the place. The rational thing to do was to bring it back, a whopping three days after I’d announced that it was down.

The Facebook page is another matter altogether though, and I feel at peace about taking a good long break. I never gave any sort of explanation for that…. partly because I don’t feel I owe any explanations, but also because I didn’t yet really have an explanation, other than that I knew I needed to step away.

Today though, I have an explanation, and I thought I’d share it for the people who are still wondering.

First, I’m sure there’s an appearance of something akin to a child’s playground tantrum: “That is IT. I’m taking my ball and GOING HOME!” And sure, that’s part of it. I mean, I was hurt, and frustrated, and burnt out, and had had it with everyone and everything. Given the timing of my exit, a lot of you assumed that I left because of the last couple of conversations we’d had on my wall, but that really wasn’t it. I’d been a hair’s breadth away from making this decision for months, and that just happened to be the impetus that pushed me over; not the reason itself. I was not feeling heard, and that’s really one of the worst feelings in the world, isn’t it? Don’t we all just want to be heard? I ~~verbally vomited~~ shared a little bit of that in the Things I’m Not Saying post, and while it was a very true representation of how I was feeling at the moment, in hindsight the full truth is a little bit different.

I received another email this morning wondering what had happened to the Facebook page. It wasn’t one of the sweet ones, telling me she missed me, and that she hoped everything was okay (and absolutely, I got those too, and they were appreciated.) No, she was almost…. indignant. Angry. And she wasn’t particularly nice about it. Why did I leave?! Why didn’t I tell her what was going on?! She was wanting to share a specific post, and she couldn’t find it, and what was she supposed to do now?!

I literally read it as I was walking out the door. I was frustrated because I was supposed to be playing Minecraft with Tegan, and I had to postpone to go the doctor. The surgeon’s office had just called to tell me that they’d had a ton of cancellations (half of the valley is flooded right now), and if I could come in right then, they could get me a cortisone injection, as a way to sort of cross every t and dot every i before we decide that a revision surgery is the right next step. Spencer wasn’t feeling well, so I was doting on him; I felt bad for bailing on Tegan; I was off to get what I knew would be a painful injection that would render me out of commission for the rest of the day; I had a million little things to do when I got home…

and all I could think about was a stupid email from a random stranger.

I realized at some point during the 8 minute drive to the doctor’s that the issue was NOT the email. It was not the other person at all. All this time I’d made it so easy and convenient to blame others for what had been happening, when really it was my own issue all along. Somewhere along the way, I’d failed to set appropriate and healthy boundaries for myself. It wasn’t that I simply got the email (and others like it), it was that I’d allowed them to take up any space in my head. In my day. In my life.

I allowed that to happen.

Every day I went to my own Facebook page, and I’d read the comments and while I KNEW intellectually that I’m the same me no matter what; that what others say to me reflects on them, not me; that I don’t have to give any attention or weight to any negativity; that I don’t have to even blink an eye about not living up to anyone’s expectations but my own… while I knew – and KNOW – all of that wholeheartedly, I was letting it creep in. Letting it create that tiny dark spot on my day. Letting it make me tired. Letting it get me down. And over time, it all just got to me. But it was ME, and not the “haters”. People are allowed to think whatever they want about me. People are allowed to call me whatever they’d like. People are allowed to email me. People are allowed to expect too much of me.

And I’m allowed to protect me.

So that’s why I took down the Facebook page, and why it will stay down for the time being. Because of what I’ve allowed it to do to me. When I figure out what I need to do to stop the negativity from digging its way in (and to be clear, I’m not asking for advice), I’ll be back. And I’ll be glad too, because I do miss it. A lot actually. But I’d be lying if I said that it hasn’t been really really nice to go a whole week without being called names.

I’ll figure it out, and I’ll come back.

In the meantime, I’ll be nursing a shoulder and playing Minecraft with my girl. Because priorities.

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Filed under about me, blogging

March 14, 2014 · 10:59 PM

First Impressions, and The Worst Part about Blogging

A happy bird.

I realized something sort of huge tonight.

All this time, I thought that the thing I liked least about blogging was the negative comments. If you asked me, even this morning, I wouldn’t have hesitated. “The negative comments! The people who call me names, the people who call me judgmental, the people who make unfair assumptions!” And don’t get me wrong, I don’t like that part. It’s not enjoyable.

But it’s not the worst part.

Tonight I was told that I “justified judgement, arrogance, and condemnation.” Now that’s certainly not the worst thing anyone’s ever said about me (heck, it probably wouldn’t even make it into the top ten), but it still stung. Because while I can intellectually realize that what strangers say about me doesn’t matter, and that what other people think about me is none of my business, and all those other cliches that everyone likes to remind me of when I start to feel beat down by the negativity….. emotionally is another story.

Us introverted writers are a sensitive bunch.

But after I followed a dear friend’s advice and hugged a kid, hugged a cat, and had a drink (in exactly that order) I realized that I’ve been bothered by the wrong thing all along. I really didn’t care what this stranger had said about me. What I cared about was the fact that in that moment, in that blog post, to that woman…

I had failed.

When someone follows a link and comes to my blog for the first time, I have ONE chance to win them over. And I don’t mean “win them over” in a slick salesman, motivational speaker kind of way. I don’t profit in any way from my blog, and I have never written with a goal of getting more readers. But I do want to connect.

I don’t like superficiality, I’m terrible at small talk, and I’ve never been accused of being the life of the party. But if you want to have an actual conversation? I’m your girl. Which is why, when someone comes to my blog and promptly decides I’m judgmental/arrogant/a generally sucky person based on one post…. I feel like I failed. Conversation’s over before it started. “But she doesn’t even know me!” I’ll often lament to husband, who will respond with something to the effect of, “That’s right, so why would it matter?”

It matters because maybe we could have had a conversation. Maybe we could have connected in some positive way. Maybe you hated, absolutely HATED the first blog post you read by me…. but would have loved the next twenty. Maybe you would have discovered I’m not so awful after all.

I’ve carried a little metal link on my key chain for the past several years. (It was given to me by a Church of Christ minister, lest you read my story and I think that I only harbor negative memories. I don’t) It serves as a reminder that we never know when God might use us as a link for somebody else. A link to God, a link to kindness, a link to compassion.

The really great thing about blogging is that it allows me to be that link fairly often. Connecting with others and supporting each other on our journeys is sometimes the only thing that keeps me from pulling the whole thing down. I get that not everyone is here to connect, and/or thinks I’m a terrible writer or has zero interest in anything I have to say. That’s cool too, when you leave quietly and I don’t have to actually be made privy to anything I just mentioned.

Oh, but the ones who come out of the gate with the insults……

I try to give the benefit of the doubt, because their first impression of me is also my first impression of them. But, well, it’s hard to shake hands with a fist.

And so, I’ve nothing to do but to think of the quote from What About Bob:

You know what I do? I treat people like they’re telephones. If I meet somebody who I don’t think likes me I just say to myself ‘Bob, this one’s out of order. Just hang up and try again.”

Out of order phones. I just need to think of it – of them – as out of order phones. If for no other reason, because it’s a whole lot better than thinking that I failed.

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March 3, 2014 · 5:04 PM

Dreadlocks, 26 Months

I am cracking up because 1) They were extra crazy today because I slept with them in a bun last night, 2) After watching both this video and the one from when they were 8 months, I realized I said many of the same exact things, and 3) A public speaker I am not. But people are always so curious, so here they are, at just over two years.

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Filed under about me, dreadlocks

February 8, 2014 · 9:37 AM

The Hard Things

I’m really bad at Scrabble. So bad that on the rare occasion that I dare play with my husband, he doesn’t just beat me. He demolishes me, with double or triple my score. And no matter how many times he tells me it’s a puzzle game, NOT a word game, it still bothers me that I – someone who lives and breathes for words – can be so dreadfully awful at a game that revolves around… well, making words!

I’m bad at chess too, and all my kids who play can beat me easily. I don’t have the attention span required to think two, three moves ahead (to be honest, paying attention long enough to think through one move is pushing it), and I can never remember the rules.

I’m good at baking, but I can’t fry a decent egg to safe my life.

I like sports, but I’m incredibly clumsy. I ran track one year in high school, and the coach was so frustrated at my repeatedly bungled attempts at the high jump, that he finally said, “You know what, this event isn’t for everyone. Maybe you need to think about trying something else.” I did eventually get the hang of the long jump and triple jump, although doing so gave me life-long shin splints, so I’m not sure it was a fair trade-off.

I struggle with math. Once I go beyond the basics, something inside me cries, “Too hard, too hard!!” and a little switch in my brain shuts off. Refuses to even try.

I have a terrible sense of direction. I’ve lived here in Phoenix for over 8 years now, and while I never truly worry that I’ll get lost-lost (mainly because the layout of the city is very gridded, and I know I’ll eventually get to an area/street/highway that I recognize) my track-record outside of my own normal stops is… spotty. The thought of going anywhere I’m not very familiar with, especially without my little sticky note of directions (I tend not to trust the GPS) makes my palms sweaty.

So why am I sharing this list of shortcomings? Because, about a month ago, I started taking a karate class as part of my 40 for 40 list of goals for the year. I always thought it’d be fun, and it is fun. But it’s also really freaking hard, at least for me. It doesn’t come naturally. I keep getting my left and right confused, I’ll start a middle block and some how end up with a high block, and when my hands are finally doing the right thing, my feet forget what they’re doing. I get flustered and embarrassed and I have to work really hard to mentally get past my mistakes.

But I keep showing up, and I keep working at it.

Twenty years ago – probably 10 or even 5 years ago, if I’m being honest – I would have quit. Gone home after that very first class, made some sort of declaration about karate being “not for me”, and never gone back.

I stand before you a recovering perfectionist. For most of my life, if something didn’t come easily to me, if I couldn’t do it well right from the get-go, I simply didn’t do it. I avoided anything that was hard at all costs, anything that would make me feel stupid, or incompetent, or… human. And you know what? It’s really no way to live. I mean, sure, I did some worthwhile things. I wrote! I made art! I played music! But the things I missed out on… the things I really wanted to try, but avoided because deep down I was afraid of failing? That list is longer than I care to admit.

Some of the most rewarding things I’ve ever done as an adult have been things that were terrifying. Things that took me way outside of my comfort zone. Things that were – or continue to be – really, really hard. Over time I’m learning to embrace the challenge, stare the fear in its face and say, “You’re not going to stop me this time.”

My kids? They don’t need to learn how to do this. They’ve already got it. When I interviewed them for my blog last year, and asked the question: “Some people think that unschoolers will only learn things that are easy for them, and will not ever challenge themselves. So do you learn things that are difficult, or do you just go for easy things that you know you’ll do well?” Spencer was quick to answer, “I like a challenge!” Right now he’s currently challenging himself with a two-year long small engine repair course that’s going to mean assignments, studying, and formal tests. And just last week, when Everett and Paxton started a fencing class, their first comments after the class was done were, “That was SO HARD! And so fun! I can’t wait to go back.”

They’re not afraid of doing the hard things, and I’m finally, after 40 years on this planet, understanding why.

Because that feeling you get when you finally get that triple word score, or solve that polynomial equation, or smoothly execute the low block – middle punch – upper cut without getting tangled up in your own arms…

That feeling is pretty damn awesome.

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Filed under about me, fears, learning, life, perspective, trust

January 10, 2014 · 7:00 AM

40 For 40

Today, I turn 40.

This is 40

I haven’t done New Year’s resolutions for a long time (although some of what follows will definitely sound resolution-ish) but I do so love a list of goals. This year, as I approached 40 and my brain started tickling with all the new things I wanted to experience this year, I decided that a “40 for 40” list was in order.

It’s a year of celebrating me. Of self-care. Of creativity. Of honoring the 40 years I’ve been on this planet. 40 years is a long time, and yet…. God willing, sooo much life still ahead of me! So much to do and see and try and taste and experience.

40 is also the year that I let go of the last few holds of perfectionism. The need to DO ALL THE THINGS, and do them all “right.” To that end, if I don’t do something on the list, it’s okay! If I decide I don’t want to do something after all, that’s okay too. Maybe it’ll get added to the 41 for 41 list. Or maybe it’ll get replaced with something even better. I have no doubt that it will all work out exactly the way it’s supposed to.

And without further ado, my list (and my commentary):

~~Start gauging my ears~~ – Mainly because it’s just something I always wanted to try. So I did, a week ago today. I’m a tiny little 14 gauge right now, and plan to go up to 0.
~~Get another tattoo~~ – That’s done too! Thanks to my lovely friend Erika coming to visit at the last minute. Tattoos are always better when you go with a buddy! It made tattoo #5.
~~Take a karate class~~ – Another thing I always wanted to do. My class started on Wednesday. It is fun and fast paced, and so much harder than I thought it would be! It made me feel so clumsy and uncoordinated, it’s amazing I can put my own pants on in the morning. I was telling my sister, who is taking the class with me, that it’s a good thing I waited till now to take it. The old me would have been too intimidated, too embarrassed to go back after my muddled first attempt… but the current me is shouting, “YEAH! A challenge!!” I can’t wait to learn more!
Go back to school – I’ve taken various classes over the past several years, took a nutrition program, earned my RYT to teach yoga, etc. Earning a degree has never held any importance for me (and it still doesn’t), but ASU recently expanded their online offerings, and I found something called Healthy Lifestyle Coaching which combines fitness, nutrition, yoga, anatomy… all those things I get super geeked about, all in one major. And well, given the fact that I get a ridiculous discount since Mike works for them, I just couldn’t NOT do it.
Put on a successful conference – I’m not gonna lie. I’m nervous. Possibly as nervous as I’ve ever been about anything.
Draw something. Hang it on my wall. – I took art classes all through high school, and a few in college. I liked painting, but I loved drawing and sketching. Pencil, charcoal, pen and ink… loved. I’ve missed it.
Knit a project from start to finish – I taught myself to knit a few years ago, but got bored before I actually completed anything. Thought it’d be fun to pick it up again.
Get back into doing a handstand – even if it’s against a wall. My shoulder’s ready. And,
Learn the scorpion pose – They worked on this a bit when I was in my teacher training a year and a half ago, but my shoulder injury dictated that I sit it out. 🙁 Fast forward through surgery, and a L O N G recovery, and I was never able to work on it. I’m ready for that now, too.
Sit down at the piano, and practice and learn a new song – One song, any song. And not just the intro.
Get back down to my drivers license weight – Okay, so, I am the first person to tell you to ignore the scale, don’t focus on numbers… that you should gauge your progress by how you feel, how strong you are, how your clothes fit, etc. But. There’s something powerful about having a specific, concrete goal (such as do x number of pushups, or run x number of miles) rather than a general, “get healthy.” Well, too many pushups blow out my shoulder. I only run when chased. But I can control my weight. Some of the 20 or so pounds I’ve put on over the past few years are due to a changing metabolism for sure… but much was also due to injury, depression, less activity, ::cough:: too much alcohol, and just plain not taking care of myself the way I should. I won’t beat myself up about the past. My body has – mostly – served me well exactly the way it is. But I’m ready to do something else with it now.
Finish my parenting book – It’s time.
Take myself on a date to the movies – Once upon a time, I would have been way too self-conscious and embarrassed to do something like that by myself. But last year, I accompanied Mike on a trip to Chicago for business, and needed to keep myself occupied when he was busy at his conference. I went to two movies by myself, and I LOVED IT. Seriously loved it. Like, “Why on earth haven’t I been doing this all along??” loved it. So I need to do it again.
Spend an afternoon drinking coffee and wandering around Barnes and Noble – Because books. And coffee.
Re-read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance – I was in my early 20’s the first time I read it, and am curious how my 40 year old self will relate in comparison.
Read Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking – I’ve only fully embraced my introvert self in the past few years, and have been recommended this book over and over.
Read The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy – Just because everyone’s always shocked that I’ve never read it. So I put it on my “see what the fuss is about” list.
Paint a picture – Hang it on the wall, with my drawing.
Take an overnight trip by myself – I just need to decide who I’m going to visit!
Take an aerial silk class – Because it’s awesome
Learn how to make a really good homemade pad thai – Because it’s delicious
Get some new eye makeup and learn how to use it – I’m 40, and have no idea how to use makeup. I’ve been a mascara and lipgloss girl forever, if I can be bothered to use that much.
Spend a day at the zoo, just to take pictures – my favorite place to play with the zoom
Get rid of all my clothes I don’t love/don’t fit – My drawers are stuffed, and I wear just a few favorite things. This makes no sense?
Hike at least 20 new spots in the valley – It’s sort of criminal that I live here, surrounded by all these great views and hiking trails, and I barely venture out of the house unless it’s in the truck to go off-roading. And, bonus, this is one my family can enjoy with me.
Make a blogging schedule, and stick to it… whether it’s once a week, every day, etc – I try to give up blogging sometimes, but it keeps calling me back…
*Don’t* do Nano, and feel good about skipping it – For the past 4 years, November has meant I was writing like a crazy woman, trying to get in my 50,000 word novel before the month ended. I loved it and hated it and got a lot out of it… but this year I’m focused on other things.
Go to a concert – Christina Perri is coming to Tempe. I’m a little bit obsessed with her.
Sew something – Finish it.
Make myself a chain mail necklace and/or bracelet – So far I’ve only made them as gifts, but I really love doing it.
Aim to do yoga *every* day… but feel no guilt if I skip it – I need to do this if I’m going to be successful at #8 and #9
~~Go back to a paper planner, and do this with it.~~ – I’m on week two so far, and loving it!
Actually cook/bake/create some of the things I’ve pinned on Pinterest – Because there’s too many cool/delicious/fun things on there to let them just languish away on the interwebs.
Get Melt: The Art of Macaroni and Cheese and work my way through it – Don’t care that’s it’s all carbs and dairy. Sigh. Garrett of Vanilla Garlic. I’m a little bit obsessed with him too.
Get some Earth Boxes and grow some vegetables. Try not to kill them – I’m sadly the only one in the family who was not blessed with a green thumb. I kill Christmas cactuses. I kill things that are supposed to be impossible to kill. I’m not going to get crazy, but ~~surely~~ maybe I can grow some tomatoes.
Do the purging challenge at least for one month http://www.theminimalists.com/game/ – DO IT.
Take the Personal Trainer test – I’ve had the book for at least a couple of years now. I just need to study it.
Find a really perfect pair of jeans and a really perfect hoodie – Everyone should have jeans and a hoodie that they really love and feel great in. I don’t currently have any that fit that criteria. 🙁
Ditto for a skirt – I’m not a skirt person. But I think it’d be fun to be one sometimes.
Pay off one credit card – Because, ugh. Enough already.

And there’s my list. Phew. I can’t wait to cross the next thing off! Happy birthday to me.

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