Creating the World of My Dreams

As I come to the end of the year, I start thinking about what the next year will be.  What do I want to do in the next year?  How will I define it?  How will I change and grow?  This alone makes it a proactive activity. 

Approaching the new year understanding that I can define it is empowering. 

Many years in the past I have been carried along like a twig in a current.  Go with the flow.  Wherever life takes me is where I'll be.  No thought or effort to change my own direction, just reacting to things as they happen.

But a couple of years ago, when I decided to choose a word to define the year, a word for my focus, things began to change.  My word was KINDNESS the first year and SEE the next.  Both of those years were powerful and changed me in amazing ways.  The one word for a year thing totally works for me.

I am so excited about my word for this year.  I pondered all the things I want to change, all the things I want to do, all the ways I still need to grow.  I pondered who I am and who I want to be.  I pondered my world and what defines it.  Many words came to mind as options.  But eventually one floated to the top that encapsulates everything I want.

CREATE.  My word for 2014 is create.

This is the moment in my life when I am ready to truly make my world what I want it to be, in so many facets.  It fits where I am now.  And where I want to go.

My vision is that I will examine my life and decide what I want it to be.  I am usually so whatever in my life.  I am a very content person, happy with whatever life hands me.  And I think there is value in that.  But there is also value in choosing.  In making it what I want it to be.

It will be less about what I don't want and more about what I do.  Not focusing on the things I want to change or get rid of but focusing on what I want my life to be.  Less about getting rid of things and more about creating space.  Less about not feeling bad and more about feeling good.  Less about avoiding people who cause me stress and more about filling my life with people who bring me joy.  Less about overcoming negative behaviors and more about establishing habits of good behaviors.

A big part of this will be examining my life (which I love and am good at) and figuring out what I want (which I'm not as good at).

I have already started, because I just couldn't wait.  I've taken up a new art form (Zentangle).  I've begun creating space in my home.  But there's so much more room to create.  I can't wait to see what this year will bring.

Maybe it will be the year I finally do the small remodel on the bathroom I've wanted to do for years.  Maybe it will be the year I tackle the backyard and make it the oasis I want it to be.  Maybe it will be the year my bedroom becomes the haven I want it to be.  Maybe it will be the year I find a schedule that works for me and brings me peace of mind.  Maybe it will be the year I create a system for our finances that eases my worries.

It's about understanding what my heart needs and making it happen, inviting it into my life.

My life is not quite a blank canvas, but it's got lots of open space and I can easily paint over so many parts I don't like.  I'm excited to see what the final creation looks like.

When I Don't Get What I Want

Sometimes I don't get what I want. 

I'd like to be all mature and say that I see these moments as growth opportunities and I'm happy for the person who did get what I wanted.  I'd like to say that I roll with it and get all zen and peaceful and wish the universe well in its grand plan.  I'd like to say all those things, but then I would be lying.

Oh, I've learned to be a good sport when I lose at a game.  Or when we don't go to the restaurant I want.  Or even when someone wakes me up when I wanted to sleep.  (Not all the time, but usually.)

But sometimes I stare the universe in the eye and say, "I want my life to be like THIS.  Exactly like THIS.  Pay attention to what I'm telling you -- make it like THIS!"  I feel like the universe and I understand each other.  I see the universe nodding in agreement.  And then the universe goes and does whatever the heck it wants.

Seriously, it sucks.

I thought the universe and I were friends.  I thought the universe had my best interests at heart.  I thought we were in this together.

But I didn't get what I wanted.  I feel ripped off and picked on.  By the entire universe.

And you know what's worse?  Do you know what the real slap in the face is?  That stupid universe is right.  Like, every single time. 

It never fails.  I am sure I've got it figured out.  I am sure I know what is best for me.  I'm sure I've got the upper hand in my battle with the universe this time.

And before too long I am looking at the universe with its slight, Mona Lisa smile.  And the universe knows it has won again.  It does not brag.  It doesn't need to.  Its power is evident for all to see.

And I am forced to not only humble myself and say, "You were right."  I find myself bowing my head time and again saying, "Thank you."  (But I still mumble under my breath, "Stupid universe.")

Feeling the Stress

I'm not gonna lie.  I'm feeling the stress.  Quite a bit.  And once I started spelling it all out in my head, it made sense.

I've been helping my mom for almost a year now.  She's really struggling with her mental health.  It's been quite a battle of ups and downs.  And I'm trying to balance helping her with taking care of myself while navigating the dangerous waters of my parents' dysfunctional marriage.  And trying to keep my brothers informed.  They've asked what they can do to help.  Boy, I wish there was something.  My dad feels helpless and doesn't know what to do.  And when he does come up with an idea, she doesn't want to have anything to do with him. 

In the last month or so I've picked her up or dropped her off at multiple locations around the county (she doesn't have her license anymore).  I've taken her to get her prescriptions filled, to shop, and out for lunch.  I've accompanied her to the neurologist, the therapist, and the psychiatrist.  I've taken her for blood tests, an EEG, and an MRI. 

And now the therapist wants me to help my mom become compliant on her meds, which she isn't and never has been.  My mom has PTSD from multiple traumatic episodes in her past.  She has spent years fighting to have control of her life.  Me taking over her meds would be her losing control again and she's just not willing to go there.  I can understand that.  But I also understand that not taking her meds according to schedule is making it so much harder for her to feel better or for anyone to help her feel better.

She says she's willing to try.  When it's time to fill her prescription again she'll let me help her set up a system.  That's the best she could do.  Until then she's promised to try to take them the way she's supposed to.  And she's trying to track it all on paper like the therapist wants.  If she doesn't become compliant she will not be able to get her driver's license again.  And her psychiatrist might drop her.  But she still isn't convinced that taking her meds according to schedule is the right way for her.  She's sure that she's right about using them as needed and we're wrong and she'd be fine if the psychiatrist would just give her more meds.  She's only trying to get on schedule to keep us happy, not because she believes in it.  It's control she's clinging to with both hands, tight fists.

I'll keep taking her to appointments.  And doing what I can to help while trying to keep myself emotionally stable.

On top of this, three weeks ago my husband lost his job.  We've been married twenty-three years and he's been laid off eleven times.  Because of my health I am not able to work.  That was our only income.  He's interviewing and applying and trying.  And I'm doing all I can to be supportive and helpful.  I'm trying to manage what little money we have left.  I'm looking for alternate sources of income.  I'm trying to stay on top of all the medical bills from my daughter's brain surgery and hospitalization and my emergency room visit and stress test and my husband's MRI and my daughter's MRI and all my therapy and all the other miscellaneous medical bills we have outstanding.  I'm trying to keep food in the house. 

But my biggest job has been to keep my husband from slipping into a depression.  His self-definition has taken a major hit.  He's questioning his value.  Every job rejection slams him down again.  So I try to spend time with him.  I try to help him see healthy choices.  I try to keep him involved and active with something other than computer games and movies and sleep.  We've had a few deep, dark days, but are mostly keeping his head above water.  It requires constantly treading water.

And no one leaves my house.

School is out.  My oldest daughter quit her job for the summer (before my husband lost his job).  My second daughter lost her job when my husband did (company went out of business).  My third daughter is out of state for the summer (so I guess she left the house, but that's a little too far gone for too long).  My son doesn't have a job and my other daughter doesn't have a job (they are sixteen and fourteen).  Rarely does anyone go anywhere or do anything other than watch tv and play video games.  It feels like my whole household is sinking into a depression.  I love my kids.  And I want them to be happy.  I want them to have a break.

But I am a homebody.  Partly because it's exhausting for me when I leave (I have chronic fatigue) and partly just because I love to be home.  And I used to get six hours a day to myself in my home.  But now I don't seem to get any time with the house to myself.  And my mental health is taking a hit because of it.  It's wearing me down.  I am really feeling what it means to be in the "sandwich generation."  Taking care of my parents and my kids.  Lots and lots of others needing me.  Not enough time to just be me without worrying that someone is about to knock on my door and need something.

And I recently stopped going to therapy because my therapist and I were no longer connecting well.
And I have become heat-intolerant the last year or so and we are in the middle of a heat wave.
And next week is my daughter's birthday and I have no money for it.
And I have no energy to complete any of the thousands of things that need to be done around the house.
And I have no energy to make anyone else do them either.
And the car didn't pass inspection.
And the faucet in the bathroom is leaking.
And the toilet keeps running.
And I am just not enough.

Things will get better.  But right now I'm feeling the stress.

The Delicate Threads

Life is a tapestry.  Every thread is important.

Last night I was asked a question I've thought about a lot.  If I could change one thing about my life, what would it be?

She may have meant to ask what I would change about my current life, but that's not how I answered it.  I answered about my past.

I've had a lot of difficult experiences in my past.  And I've done a lot of stupid things.  But when she asked what I'd change my answer was simple.  Nothing.

When I've thought about this before, in that way we do when we wish for the magical power of a do-over, the one thing that comes to mind first is the times I've hurt people.

*  The time I wrote that mean note.
*  The time I said that horribly mean thing because I thought I was being clever.
*  The time I broke a friend's heart.
*  The time I was selfish when someone needed me.
*  The time I said out of anger that I didn't love someone.
*  All of these thing multiplied numerous times and many others.

If I have any regrets in my life, it would be these.  But if I had the power to take them back, if I had a Jimmy Stewart/It's a Wonderful Life moment, would I?  No.  I wouldn't.

And this is why.  I like who I am.  I like who I am so much better than who I used to be.  And each of those moments affected me.  Each of them led to growth.  They helped me become me.  I would be terrified that pulling on even one of those threads would change the picture of my life.  Would change it into something less wonderful.

And I'm sure many of those moments changed the people I associated with.  They grew.  They learned, possibly just to be more kind than me.  It would be awfully selfish of me to mess with someone else's life like that so I could have fewer regrets.

The threads in my tapestry matter.  Every single one of them.  The picture might not be anything like what I expected, but it's exactly what I need it to be.

Transitions Suck or Forced Early Retirement

Take your pick.  Either title works.

I am in transition.  Kind of stuck in transition.  At least, I hope it's transition.  I hope it's not my new life for keeps.

I worked very little before I got married.  I got pregnant almost immediately after getting married, was incredibly sick, and became a stay-at-home mom.  We made lots of sacrifices to live on one income so I could be with my kids.  My heart and soul were devoted to them.  As exhausting and difficult as it was sometimes, it was totally worth it and I don't regret a minute of it.

As my youngest child approached school age people started asking what I was going to do with all my children gone.  I joked that I'd probably sleep the first year.  After that I might consider working.  We're old fashioned.  My husband believes it's his responsibility to provide for our family and I believe it's my responsibility to raise the kids.  We've each pitched in a bit in each other's realm, but for the most part we took the traditional route.  My husband left my choices about what to do with my life after the kids went to school entirely up to me.  Work or don't work.  My choice.

Kindergarten was only a couple hours a day, just enough time for me to run errands and get a few things done.  But when our baby started first grade it opened up six hours a day for me.  I wasn't looking for work, but as it happens a wonderful job fell into my lap.  A job I was perfectly suited for and excelled at.  A job full of wonderful people.  A job that helped others.  A job that was very personally satisfying.

I worked there for three or four years.  There were ups and downs as I tried to merge my work life and my family life.  I got to a point where I felt like I had it worked out.  Balanced?  Maybe not quite.  But well shuffled.  I was happy and content and fulfilled.

Then my health fell apart.

Long story short, I had to make a choice.  I only had enough in me physically to work or take care of my family -- not both.  It was a traumatic time.  I didn't want to give up what I'd gained through work.  But my heart told me to go home.  Many other people could fill my position at work.  No one could take my place at home.

So I quit my job and went home.  I'd been a stay-at-home mom for about fourteen years before that job.  I knew how to do it.  The transition back should be easy, right?  Not so much.

I didn't have little kids any more.  The world I left and the one I returned to weren't the same.  I was kind of lost.  Still lots to do in the morning and after school but so much empty time during the day.

Which should sound beautiful and appealing and free.  But it's not.  Because I don't feel well.  Really ever.  So I have six hours a day trying to force myself to do something even though I don't want to get out of bed.  I'm still searching for a purpose.  I would love to have a schedule and plans.  I would love to volunteer or create or make a dream come true.  But each day I don't know if I am going to be able to get out of bed.  I can't plan my day because I don't know if I'll be functional.

I keep thinking I'll find a routine, a rhythm to my life.  I'm still searching.  It's been five or six years.  I spent the first three or so going to doctors and doing everything I could to feel better, hoping in the back of my mind that I could go back to work some day.  Expecting that one day I would feel good again and go back to being the over-achiever I am in my heart.  I still go to doctors and try to feel better, but I now accept that I won't have that life back again.  This is the life I have now.  I need to figure out how to live it and feel fulfilled in it.

But I still feel like I haven't found my footing.  I still spend too much time floating from this distraction to the next trying to find what fits.  Bored and frustrated.  What works one day doesn't work the next.  One day I have a little energy but my mind won't work clearly.  The next day my mind is okay but I can't see well.  And then there are the days that I don't get dressed until just before my kids get home from school, having spent the whole day in bed without actually noticing that time passed.

I'm trying to create a life that fits me.  But I still struggle to know who I am now, in this new form.  I'm still wandering.  Hoping I'm still in transition.  Hoping I'm not just lost in my own life.

A Moment Out of Life

It's easy to get caught up living life according to a checklist.  Get up.  Get dressed.  Eat breakfast.  Clean yourself up.  Go to work.  Go to lunch.  Go back to work.  Go home.  Make dinner.  Eat.  Brush your teeth.  Watch TV.  Go to bed.  Repeat.  Repeat.  Check.  Check.  Check.

Or to just fall into the routine of flowing from one thing you always do to another thing you always do.  With no empty moments to allow something powerful.

That's the way my day started.  I got up.  Ate breakfast.  Did some stuff on the computer.  Got cleaned up.  Went to the movie.  Thing after thing.  Average.

And then there was a moment.  As we drove home and it was quiet.  I looked ahead and saw a flock of birds flying directly in my line of sight.  Eye level, right across the road a few feet ahead of us.

I'm not sure why they caught my eye.  It's not like I don't see birds flying around all the time.  But this moment grabbed me.

Maybe it was because they were smaller than most birds I see.  In perfect formation.  Flying with such power and purpose.

And I was struck by their magic.  I watched their wings and wondered at the power and mechanics involved.  Flight is an amazing thing.  Something we see so often we forget how incredible it is.

They were just so beautiful in that moment.  So magical.  So wondrous.  It was a pure moment.  Like time slowed down.  Kind of like the birds and I were all that existsed and the rest of the world faded away.  It filled me with peace and awe and a sense of the divine.

Pure moments are everywhere.  Like when I overheard a child thank someone today without being told to.  Or heard another child trying to think through why the escalator wasn't running.

They are just tiny moments.  If we are just moving from thing to thing we miss them.  But they are the magic of life.

I WILL Change the World

As a kid, there were times I wanted to be famous.  I wanted everyone to know who I was and believe I was wonderful.  I wanted to make a grand discovery or create something breath-taking or just be so incredible that everyone had to know me.

I no longer have that desire.  Partly because I have seen what fame is like.  I truly believe most famous people are miserable.  They are still searching for approval.  They are still trying to fill that hole in their heart that says they're incomplete.

I'm not.  I am complete.  I am content.

But I WILL change the world.

I used to think I had to be famous to change the world.  Or that if I changed the world it would make me famous.  Neither of those things is necessarily true (although it can happen).

The best part of being sick (I call myself sick even though we can't figure out what's wrong; my body doesn't function the way it should -- to me, that's sick) is what I have learned.  I have learned to slow down.  I have learned to spend time with people.  I have learned to look them in the eyes and listen.  I have learned to hear the pain in their hearts.

And that's how to change the world.  Touch one heart.  Lift one burden.  Comfort one soul.  And the world is changed for the better.

I don't need to reach millions; I just need to reach one.

Noticing Progress

I want to be perfect.  I want to have all the answers.  I want to be able to do anything and everything all the time.  Be everything my family and friends want me to be.  Is that really so much to ask?

Of course it is, and it sounds ridiculous.  But time and again those are the standards I judge myself by.

I walk through my house and notice everything that needs to be done.  I notice the mess.  I notice things that are broken.  I notice what I've never really liked about the house that I still haven't changed.  And I feel bad.  I feel like I am not enough because it's not all perfect.  Right now!

I wake up and start moving at the beginning of the day.  From the moment I start to stir, I feel tired.  So tired.  As I get moving I notice how much my head hurts.  Maybe I notice how dizzy I am or how blurry my vision is.  And how little motivation I have to do anything.  I try to get my kids up and off to school, getting irritated and grumpy in the process.  And I feel like a failure because I lose my cool and snap at them.  I want to be the mom that's happy all the time and participates in everything they do.  I want to be at every event.  I want to play with them and study with them and help them when they are sad.  Every time!

But I can't.

I am a problem solver by nature.  My mind is constantly working to fix things:  physical, emotional, spiritual, psychological -- and all the other "al" words.  Which serves me well much of the time.  But it also holds me back and causes me pain.

We can only truly focus on one thing at a time.  Sometimes we fool ourselves into believing that we are multi-tasking, but we're not really.  Our brain isn't paying attention to lots of things at once.  It's swapping out attention from one thing to another, sometimes so fast that we don't realize that's what is happening. 

Why does the inability of our brains to multi-task matter?  Because if we are looking at the problems we are not seeing the successes.  This is a major struggle for me.

I see the messy house.  I don't see the six trailer-loads of stuff I cleaned out and gave to charity or the five trailer-loads that went to the dump.  I don't see all the things I gave away to family and friends.  I don't see all the free things that were offered to me that I politely refused to keep from bringing more stuff into my life.  I see that my life isn't spartan and pristine, not that it's so much better and more peaceful.

I see how tired I am.  I don't see all the doctor's visits, therapy visits, prescriptions, tests, lifestyle changes, and progress I've made.  I don't see that I used to go to bed for days, semi-sedated just to face another day full of pain.  I don't see those months on end when I didn't leave my house except for church.  I don't see those times when I was so depressed that I scared my husband.  Or those times when my mental state was so bad that I sliced my own arms open.  I don't see that these things aren't true anymore.  I overlook the fact that I've checked back into life.  I don't see that I am doing so much, so many things.  I only see all the things I want to do but can't.

Not today.  Today I see progress.  I am not all I want to be.  My life is not all I want it to be.  But I have done so much and come so far.  And that's what I'm going to focus on today.

I Refuse to Apologize

No, this isn't about my husband.  I usually don't apologize to him because I'm right and he's wrong.  Right, honey?  (That was a joke, by the way.)

This is about blogging.

I read a bunch of blogs.  I currently have about 65 that I'm subscribed to.  Few of them post every day.  Some almost never post.  I read most of those posts; I comment on very few of them.

There is one thing I see over and over that bugs me.  Apologies.  Apologies bug me because it seems like these bloggers are questioning themselves, whether they are enough with what they offer.  It feels like they believe they are inadequate as they are.  That they need to constantly dance to keep their followers happy.  These bloggers apologize constantly.   (No, not all of them.  But enough that it seems like all the time.)  I probably read a post with an apology at least once a week.  And in the blogging realm I think I am much less involved than others so I'm sure there are more out there. 

If I hurt someone's feelings through something I say, I am sorry.  And I will say so if I know that I hurt them.  But there are very few things about my blog other than that for which I will apologize.

I will not apologize for:
*not commenting on every blog I read
*not replying to every comment I receive
*not posting when you think I should
*not writing about what you think I should
*not using pictures on my blog
*dropping blogs that no longer appeal to me
*not blogging in the way you think I should, whatever way that is
*choosing my real life over an e-life

This is my blog.  I will decide how to use it. 

This blog is not my life.  I will not surrender my life to the internet and/or my followers.  When I am old and gray I hope to be surrounded by my family not my blog posts. 

Please do not read this post and think about all the things you're doing wrong (if you're a blogger).  Please do not feel like I am judging you.  I am not.  And because I am not, there is no need to apologize.  You don't owe me anything.  If I read your blog it is because I like what you write.  I consider your writing to be my reward for reading.  I don't need to be wooed or babysat.  Neither of those things will keep me coming back like good content.

Just be who you are, even on your blog.  Write what you want, when you want.  Authenticity in a blog will get you so much further ahead than pandering.

Smartly Essay -- Hollywood

I have a new essay up over at Smartly.  It's all about how Hollywood Has Messed Me Up for Life.  I mean, seriously, why can't my life be like the movies?

You'll understand after you read it.  So go.  Now.  Read it.

A Smartly Sub

My essay suggesting that we treat life more like competetive sports (Who needs a sub?) is up over at Smartly.
You should go read it.  It will make you smarter and more popular.  You will sleep better at night.  You'll be able to read minds.

Okay, maybe not, but you should still go read it.  It might make you think.  And we could all use more of that.

A Smartly Metaphor

I have a new essay up over at Smartly.  A metaphor for life.  You should check it out by clicking this link. 

And I will have a new post here sometime soon.  I hope.