Transitions

Seriously, who the crap am I?

Transitions are tough.  Even when the new state of being is positive.  Even when the other side is wonderful.  The change can be difficult.

I remember reading that transitions are especially dangerous mental health territory.  Well, I already have mental health issues.  And now I'm in the middle of several transitions.  What a surprise I'm having a tough time.

My youngest child just graduated.  I was so focused on all the pain-in-the-butt things that were going away that I didn't look much further ahead.  And now I find myself on unsolid ground.  Not sure of my footing.  Staring at a bunch of building materials with no idea what I want to create.

My oldest will be twenty-six in a few months.  For over twenty-six years (I'm including my pregnancy), my whole life has been focused on my kids.  Their safety.  Their happiness.  How to help them be good people.  That's a long time in one job.

My youngest will be eighteen in a little over a month.  And as my kids have become adults over the last few years, my role has changed somewhat.  They're in charge of, and in control of, more of their lives.  They're responsible for their choices, whether they act responsibly or not.  In a little over a month, I will not be legally responsible for anyone but myself.

And I'm having some trouble processing that.

The transition has happened slowly, in theory.  One child at a time.  A couple years in between each one.  So why does this moment feel so shocking?

Because she's the last one.

I've been a stay-at-home mom for most of their lives.  Significantly longer than I was single and childless.  When I no longer have minor children at home, but still choose not to work, what am I?

And what do I want to be?

See, here's the thing.  I have all the choices in the world.  My husband has no desire for me to work, for both physical health and mental health reasons.  Although he would support me if I chose to work.  Because he supports me in pretty much anything I want to do.

And that's the key phrase.  What I want to do.  And I have no idea.  What do I want to do?

My health is better than it's been in years, but it's still a day to day thing.  There are still days I can't get out of bed.  Still lots of fatigue and pain.

But there are other days.  Days when I feel pretty good.  Days when I feel powerful.  Days when I believe I can conquer the world.

I'd love to be able to plan out my life.  I'd love to live by schedule.  I'd love to know how I want to spend my days.  To write it all down and live by it.  But with the freedom to set it aside if a friend needs me.  And I'm just not sure how to balance that.

I yearn for structure.  I've always been a planner.  But when my health fell apart eleven years ago, I had to stop committing to things.  I had to stop planning.  Because it just felt so bad when I let others down, when I had to cancel at the last minute.  When I couldn't do that one thing I'd so looked forward to and worked to make happen.

I'm scared to plan again.  I'm not sure why.  And I guess I've planned all along, just on a different level.  I'm not sure why this feels so different.

Yes, I am.  I don't want to waste.  I don't want to use my time badly.  I don't want to just pass through day after day.  I don't want to look in my rearview mirror and see emptiness.  Days of nothing.

Before now, even if I did nothing else all day, I still parented.  I still did something productive, just by keeping people alive and on task in their lives.  When that's not my job anymore, what value do I have?  Especially if my days are spent just doing whatever I want.

I know I'll find my footing.  I always do.  And it will be great.  And I will be happy.  But right now I feel like I'm dancing on quicksand.  In an earthquake.  With a tornado approaching.

And I have to decide whether to hunker down or face the storm.

My Husband's Zentangle Inspired Art -- and a Valentine!

When I first started doing Zentangle art I was surprised at how simple it could be.  I remember thinking, "Anyone could do this.  Well, anyone except Bill because he can't draw a straight line."  I love him and he's very good at many things, just not anything that has to do with pen and paper.

Imagine my surprise when he came home from work one day and told me that he'd found himself doodling while waiting for something to process at work and wondered if I could teach him to tangle.  What?  Really?

I tried not to let my skepticism show about his chances of success.  "It doesn't matter if it's any good,"  I thought.  "As long as he enjoys it."  Did I believe that?  Kind of.  But I'm a bit of a perfectionist and knew I might be very judgmental of his efforts.  And, honestly, at first I was.

It wasn't simple for him.  His lines were shaky.  He made up weird patterns.  And if you compared it to mine it looked kind of childish.  But that's not what art is.  It's not about everything being the same.  It's not about things being straight and exact.  It's about expressing yourself.

His style is very different from mine.  He isn't as precise (which I know sometimes bothers him).  But he is willing to take chances and jump right in -- yes, like a child.  He enjoys it.  He is proud of it.  And so am I.

I am surprised at how much happiness it brings him.  I am surprised he's stuck with it.  And I am impressed with the progress he's made.

And today, Valentine's Day, he impressed me again.

I am a minimalist.  I don't like things.  I don't want to receive stuff.  Holidays are tough for me because people always want to give me things and I have to pretend to be glad they did when I'm really just thinking, "Oh, great.  More stuff."  (Except for cookies or homemade bread or something like that; those are always welcome -- yum!)

So today when he told me he had a surprise for me for Valentine's Day, I was trying to prepare myself.  Be nice.  Be grateful.  Fake it.  Remember it's from his heart.  Even though you've told him a million times you don't want more stuff.  This is how he shows love; try not to stomp on it (like I have so many times before).

As it turns out, I didn't have to pretend to like it or pretend to be grateful.  Because he made me a tangle!  He knew I didn't want stuff.  He wanted to do something for me, to show his love.  It was perfect.  He used tangle patterns I love.  He used blue and green (his favorite color and mine) to make it represent both of us together.  He even included a Star Trek insignia (inverted) because I love Star Trek.

It was wonderful and sweet and I love him for the effort he put forth and for showing through his offering that he knows me for real. 

So, as my Valentine's Day gift to him, I want to share his art on my blog.  Starting with his valentine.

Isn't it sweet?

His first piece, as he learned the patterns.

He was going for a space theme.  I think he nailed it!

His mountain landscape.

Here's the deal.  Valentine's Day isn't a holiday I particularly care for.  It's another day with too many expectations.  It's another day that makes too many people feel bad.  And the world's idea of romance is cheesy and shallow to me.

But if we want to boil it down to its simplest form, it's about making sure the people we love know we love them.  And his gift to me did that.

It was a good Valentine's Day.

Practicing Self-Care

This is a tough one for me.  It's one I've studied and written about over and over and yet I still struggle.  I do well for a while and then I blow it.  And I don't think I'm alone.  I think many of us struggle.

There's basic self-care:  eating, washing, sleeping -- all those daily activities that keep us alive and healthy.  There's a step up:  exercise, cleaning, going to the doctor, paying bills -- those things that we think are extra, that fall away when we just have no energy left.  We might each have different things on those lists.  Something that's basic survival for me might not matter to you, because there is an element of emotion involved in survival.

And then there's more.  There are those things that feed our souls.  Those things that reward us for all the things we make ourselves do when we don't want to.  Those things that reward us for all we do for others.

I really stink at those, but I'm getting better.  I may not do them as often as I should, but at least I know what some of them are now.

I try to do them every so often.  That's probably not often enough.  I recently read a suggestion that we find time every day to do something.  That was a jolt to me.  I definitely don't take time every day to focus on feeding my soul.  But I agree that I should. 

I'm going to work on this.  I'm working on finding things that I can do in five minutes that feed my soul.  Like blowing bubbles.  Or coloring in a coloring book with crayons.  Maybe I don't have an hour every day to spend on this, but I can find five minutes.  And I can guard that five minutes.  I believe it's important.  It's time to make my actions reflect my beliefs.

When I started therapy and really working on my personal growth and mental health a few years ago, I was challenged by my therapist to do something good for myself.  To practice some self-care.  And I was completely lost.  I was clueless.

So I turned to my friends.  I asked them what they do.  And I created a resource for myself, something I can turn to when I need a little kick start.  Today I am sharing that with you.  If you don't read the whole list, at least scroll to the bottom and read the last paragraph -- that one has gotten me through some tough moments.  It's quite a long list, but I am sharing the whole thing because I don't know what will be right for whom.  I want you to be able to find what you might need.  Also, there are a few that are region specific (I live in Utah and several are about places in my area); I am including these -- as a bonus for those who live in Utah or as a jumping off point to find something similar in your area.  Some are quick.  Some are not.  I hope there's something here that helps you.  I welcome any you would like to add.

And I hope to be posting a list of my own healing activities soon.

**********

On December 28, 2006 I sent out the following request to about 35-40 people in my email address book:

I have a strange request for help.  I am in need of emotional educating (or something like that).

If I have sent this to you, then you are someone that I think could offer something of value in my current quest.

I have recently come to realize that I have difficulty relaxing, doing something that I enjoy, or rewarding myself.  When I am asked to do one of these things, I am at a loss.  I have no idea what I enjoy or what might help me relax.

So I am looking for some suggestions.  I would like to know what each of you do to relax, to reward yourself, or just for fun.  Obviously, I don't want you to divulge anything that will be embarrassing to either of us.  And things that are outside of the norm would be helpful, things that others might not suggest.  The more diversity the better.

Thanks in advance for your help,
Robin

And here are the amazing responses from my generous friends:

• Coloring with crayons
• Watercolors
• Crafts
• Digital scrapbooking
• Pedicure
• Massage
• Exercise
• Shopping
• Anything without kids – date with spouse, movie with friends, driving
• Cleaning
• Learn something new (e.g., how to play guitar)
• Do something different even when you don’t feel like it (e.g., comedy club)
• Read a good book
• Take a bath and pamper yourself with a salt or sugar scrub and some good lotion
• Call a friend
• Eat chocolate, especially dark chocolate
• Sleep
• Buy something for yourself – make sure it’s for YOU!
• Listen to some good music and be sure to sing!
• Shut the lights off, lie in bed, and listen to relaxing music
• Hammock in the sunshine (indoors by a sunny window in the winter)
• Nature, solitude in the mountains, by a lake, or somewhere quiet and scenic
• A hot bath (a hot tub if you have access; the bigger the better)
• A good movie or TV show
• A favorite treat (suggestion: Steven’s hot cocoa with a pastry made from rolled out pie crust with cinnamon and sugar on top and cut into squares and then baked to perfection)
• Yoga/relaxation or meditation type video
• Prayer
• Drive up in the hills or mountains and listen to favorite 80’s music
• Scenic places such as the Alpine loop overlook or Tibblefork reservoir, Bridal Veil Falls, Temple Square, across the lake on a drive, up any canyon
• Ski resort
• Mountain biking
• Laser tag/paintball
• A new movie you want to see
• Hiking
• Go to a water park
• Video games
• Play sports with kids
• Attend a comedy at Hale Center Theater
• Boating or canoeing
• Frisbee
• Eating good food at a good restaurant
• Going to a national park
• Lava hot springs in Idaho
• Play pool, air hockey, pinball
• Walk or hike – time to enjoy my surroundings, time to reflect, time to think, time to push myself
• Go to a movie alone
• Lunch with friends with restrictions on topics of conversation – no whining or complaining, no talking about work, no trying to solve the friends’ problems, just light conversation about the meaning of life or solving global warming
• Games
• Writing
• Find a life coach, if necessary
• Get your hair done, every 6-8 weeks
• Get a “couples massage”
• Go somewhere with best friends for a couple of days
• Creative writing – no reality-type writing; fantasy, science fiction, fairy tale (escape)
• Poetry
• Curl up in a throw and just listen to some quiet, instrumental music
• Quick crafts, something you can do ten minutes at a time
• Listen to smooth jazz
• Needlework – cross stitch, knitting, crocheting
• Listen to audio books
• Watch favorite DVDs
• Play computer games
• Take time to be alone
• Build something
• Sew
• Get in the car, turn on music that I know all the words to, and just drive and sing!
• Drive around and look at houses – and dream
• Look at a magazine
• Exercise outside
• Bike
• Walk in the canyon
• Splurge on a totally unnecessary item for yourself
• Give yourself permission for guilt-free television watching, within limits
• One-on-one time with your children -- choose something wild that you’ve never attended or done, grab one of your kids, and just go do it (e.g., skiing, monster truck rally, etc.)
• Go to Barnes and Noble ALONE, choose a book, and sit in one of those big chairs and just read
• Hot shower, clean shaven legs, and clean sheets to climb into bed
• Read – not something to learn from – just popcorn for the brain
• Create with the computer – do something with the computer just to see if you can
• Treat yourself with downloads from iTunes
• Go to a ski resort in the summer, with a mountain bike; they put the bike on the chair lift, you have a nice quiet ride up, ride the bike back down, then do it again
• Go for a ride in the car with no destination in mind, with or without company
• Go for a walk with no destination in mind, with or without company
• Go for a walk at night while it’s snowing or just after a snow
• Take a book with you in the car so that if you are stopped in traffic or have a few minutes to wait for an appointment you can read
• Work on a puzzle
• Travel/explore new adventures
• Read cookbooks
• Research things
• Garden
• Look at fabric
• Organize things
• Walk around in art museums
• Take classes
• Go to plays, concerts, and movies with friends and family
• Write poetry and prose – this can help work through strong emotions
• Ride a motorcycle
• Practice the breathing/visualization techniques you learned in childbirth classes
• Play racquetball
• Do something physical
• Take a nap
• Tickle/wrestle with your children
• Watch movie trailers on apple.com
• Call a loved one
• Sudoku
• Time with family
• Dinner out
• Pray for someone else
• Quilting
• Hot bubble bath when NO ONE can interrupt you
• Hot chocolate with marshmallows
• Read a book from your childhood
• Write in a journal – without worrying about how this will sound to future generations, just for yourself
• Window shopping at a store that is so expensive you’re not even tempted to buy (e.g., Banana Republic and Bass Furniture)
• Let your friend give you a pedicure
• Go to the dollar store and put together a little pampering kit for someone who won’t expect it and surprise them
• Learning – it’s great now that I don’t have to do it for a class

I don’t know if sleeping is hard for you, but if so:

• Sound machine – can get one at Walmart ($14, Conair); it has about 12 different sounds, 60-minute auto-shutoff, or constant
• Deep breathing – there are CDs that can lead you through different exercises
• Erasing thoughts – If I lay in bed with racing thoughts of things I need to do I have a notepad next to my bed to write stuff down.  Once it’s written you can usually let it go.  I will also close my eyes and picture a large chalkboard with all of my thoughts on it, in words or pictures, then you picture yourself with an eraser wiping them off.  For me sometimes they show up on the board again, so I just walk back and forth erasing until they all disappear.
• Heart Beat – take your left hand and squeeze your right thumb until you feel your heartbeat; once you feel it count 10 beats then move to your next finger; repeat through all ten fingers; usually by the second time around you are asleep.

*  If all else fails follow your heart.  We all have purpose in life that brings us happiness.  Sometimes it just takes time to find it.

*  I can think myself out of just about any adventure.  The key here is – don’t think!

*  One question you might ask is when did you last enjoy something or relax.  See if anything has changed since then that might counteract enjoyment.

*  I always need time to myself.  I really force others to know this.  Family and friends will always demand your time.  It is easy to find things to do for others, but it can be difficult to find things to do for myself.  It is a matter of training yourself and others.  My time is my time.  (Don’t fall for, “Can you just take care of this before you have your time?” thinking.)

*  Productivity, using my creative side, bringing order out of chaos, all of these are both rewarding and stress releasing for me.

*  I find I have to do self-talk before I do something for myself.  I am doing this for mental health.  I am taking a mental health break.  I will do this for _____ minutes and won’t feel guilty for a single second of this time.  I am worth it.

*  I’m not trying to promote an anti-kid theme, but I feel you can let your true feelings/stresses/anxieties out so much more when they’re not around – you know, no show to put on for them and their feelings.

*  Mostly it is a treat if I get to make my own choice about what to do with my time.  That happens rarely enough that I treasure the chance.

*  If I really want to treat myself, I get everything else done so the chances of my getting interrupted or feeling guilty are lessened to some degree, then I get in cozy clothes, find a cozy spot with a warm blanket, and make some hot chocolate – then I tune out the world and read.  It’s really in the extras.  In the summer I like to find a nice spot outside and have lemonade instead of hot chocolate.

 

*  Whatever you begin to do for yourself, JUST DO IT.  The fact that you are looking for suggestions is moving in the right direction.  If you don’t take care of yourself, you can not take care of anyone else.  You need to know that you are worth it, and you deserve anything you want.

A Possibility of Healing

This post is a follow up to yesterday's post, A Bad Therapy Session.

Yesterday I wrote about the pain.  About the trauma of a bad session.  About trying to decide what to do next.  About being unsure of whether or not I could continue to work with my present therapist.

What I didn't say was how badly I wanted to continue with him.  I wanted everything to be better.  I knew that we could work through things.  But I was absolutely not okay with spending another $100 to make it all better.  I was not okay with paying for another session so we could work through his mistake.

I wondered if I was just being stubborn.  After thinking about it a while and realizing the only way I could go back was if he agreed to work through it without it costing me anything, I wondered if I was being self-righteous and unfair.  But I don't think I was.

I was saying that my time matters.  That I deserve to get what I pay for.  That we are equals.  That just because I come to him for help it doesn't mean I have to gratefully accept whatever pittance he decides to grace me with.  I was saying I matter.

So that was my decision.  After lots of thought and prayer, I knew that was the only condition under which I could go back to work with him and still honor myself.

I expected him to call in response to my letter.  I didn't know what I'd do if the time came for my next appointment and I hadn't heard from him.  Luckily, I didn't have to find out.

He called today.

My phone rang.  I looked at the number and knew it was him.  I'd been expecting this but still wasn't ready.  I couldn't talk to him until I knew where he stood.  I just wasn't okay enough.  I wasn't even sure I could get any words out if I tried.  So I let the call go to voicemail.

He thanked me for my letter.  He thanked me for being open and forthright.  (There was even a note of what a great therapeutic accomplishment it was for me.)  He said he was sorry for "blowing" our last session (his word).  He said sometimes this happens.  When it does, he likes to offer a do-over.  Another session, as soon as possible, without charge.  He said he understood I wasn't sure if I was going to come back.  He said he would like me to.  He said he could make time this week to see me if I wanted to give it another try.  He asked that I call him back to see if we could set up a time.

After listening to his voicemail, I cried.  Kind of a lot.  He'd said exactly what I was hoping for.  He was the person I thought he was.  He honored the importance of my feelings.  He made me feel of value -- like an equal.

Even still, I couldn't call him right away.  I couldn't speak yet.  It was about 45 minutes before I could call, which made it a little after 5:00.  I knew there was a chance he'd be gone for the day and I'd get his voicemail.  I was even kind of hoping to.  I wasn't sure I could converse.  And I did get his voicemail.

As I listened to his outgoing message, I felt a bit of relief.  I could just leave a simple message and that would be that.  Only it wasn't that easy.  I began to speak and got choked up.  I pushed through the tears to say what I needed to say.  I told him he'd said the only thing that would have convinced me to try again.  I told him I could try.  I asked him to call me back with scheduling options.

It's not all better, but it's a start.  And it's not starting over.  Which I just don't think I could have done right now.

But for the first time in over a week, I feel like there's a possibility of healing.  Like maybe the healing has begun.

I Have a Voice. And I Have Courage.

As long as I can remember my mother has been comparing me to my father.  "Of all the children, you are most like your dad," she would say.  I have probably heard this from her more than a hundred times.  And I hated it every time she said it.  Especially when I felt controlled and demeaned by my dad.  When I saw him as loveless.  Unable to care.  Mean.  I hated that she saw me this way.

But that isn't what she meant.  This past week, as she spent two hours talking about awful things in her life and I listened, I finally knew what she meant.  She saw me as strong.  She saw me as courageous.  She was so proud of the fact that I can speak.  She is amazed that I am able to say what I want.  She envies that I have learned to stand up for myself.  And others.

That, I'll take.

It's been hard work, especially in the issues with my dad.  Learning to stand up to him has been more difficult than I can express.  Learning to speak when I know others may not want to hear what I have to say has been tough.  Even now, when I do it so much more, it's still hard.

But I believe speaking and courage are gifts I have.  I believe it is my duty to use these gifts for the benefit of others.  That is why I have fought so hard to develop them.  I am still better at using my voice through writing, through the safety of my own home, but I am getting better at opening my mouth and speaking when it matters.  And when it's wise.  (Teasing a snake isn't brave; it's foolish.)

Today I feel compelled to use my voice to share some truths.  It's much easier to say I believe than to say I know.  Today I must share some things I know.

I know that you are important.  I know that your tiny presence in this world matters.  I know that you affect more than you know.  I know that you are worth many times more than you believe you are.  I know that you deserve a good life.  I know that the hard times in your life strengthen you, even when you don't see it.  I know that you have a good work to do.

I know that I matter.  I know that speaking truth matters.  I know that I have strengths and wisdom I am unaware of.  I know that allowing God to work through me makes the best use of these strengths and wisdom.

I know there is a God.  I know that He is our Father.  I know it as surely as I know that I breathe.  As clearly as I feel air enter and leave my lungs, I feel His presence in my life.  I have two-way conversations with God.  I speak.  I listen.  He speaks.  He listens.  He strengthens me that I may continue to do hard things.

I know being kind matters.  I know our hearts are happier when we exercise them more, when we love openly.  I know strengthening others strengthens me.  I know lifting others lifts me.

I know God is aware of me.  I know He loves me.  I know He is aware of and loves you, too.  I know He communicates with us even when we don't hear Him.  I know it's worth it to keep trying to hear Him.

I know He is there in the darkness.  I know He would take away all our pain and suffering and trials if that were best for us.  I know He allows our hard times because, like a loving parent watching a child receive an inoculation, He knows more than us and knows what will help us combat all that life has in store.

I know that whether you agree with me or not you are so important.  I know you have the ability to change the world.  I know your voice matters.

Please don't think this was easy for me.  It's difficult to testify.  I have been ridiculed and punished for my beliefs many times in my life, often by people I loved.  But the fact that it's hard will not stop me from speaking.  Because it matters.

Any Man of Mine

For the first thirty-five years or so of my life I let other people do most of the choosing for me.  They dictated the kind of person I should be.  They told me the things I should like.  They told me what behavior was appropriate and what wasn't.  And I fell into line. 

The reasons why are numerous.  I wish I'd realized earlier that I had choices.

It was around age 35 that I first went to therapy.  Again, the reasons why are numerous.  It was a life saver in a very real sense.  And it was there that I learned I can choose.  If I don't like something about my life I can choose to change it.  I can choose things that make me happy even if the people around me don't like it.  It was a rebirth.  I was deciding who I was for the first time.

It was an incredibly empowering time.  But there were still difficulties.  I had to learn and develop ways to get through those difficult times.  Those people who'd had control over me for so long didn't give that up easily.  My tendency to surrender to their will and be bullied into submission didn't go away after one session -- not even after many sessions. 

New habits and thinking patterns are hard.  It takes time and a lot of work to change who you are, whether you like who you were or not.  And, unfortunately, I couldn't convince my therapist to travel everywhere with me and give me the little nudges I needed in the tough moments.  The moments in between sessions were killers.

That was kind of the long way to tell you about my Power Songs.  I found various things that kept me empowered between sessions, and my Power Songs were some of the best.  Three cds of very personal songs that helped me remember what I wanted and why I was working so hard and that it would all be worth it.

One of those songs was Shania Twain's "Any Man of Mine."  It felt very empowering.  It felt full of self-determination.  It was all about teaching people how you want to be treated, which is a big deal in therapy.

My husband mostly loved my Power Songs.  He (eventually) supported the changes I wanted to make and the new person I was becoming.  He would sing with me when I played my Power Songs.  Except that song.  He hated it.

I assumed it was because it was country.  I'm a fan; he's not.  But when I asked him why he said something along the lines of, "Have you listened to how it talks about men?"

I'm gonna tell you all the truth.  How it talked about men hadn't ever crossed my mind.  Those first stages of therapy were incredibly selfish times.  They had to be.  But it meant that I was so worried about how I was treated that I didn't consider how he was treated.

The song basically says a woman can behave any way she wants and the man better shut up and love it and behave the way she wants.  He better tow the line.

It's often what our society teaches.  It's what my mother modeled.  I believe it's a leftover from the feminist movement of the seventies.  It's the old story of the oppressed rising up and oppressing their oppressors.

But it's not healthy.  It's not good for us as women either.  It's just bullying in a different form.

Learning to treat each other with respect has been a steep, uphill climb for both of us.  Neither of us was taught this growing up.  It wasn't modeled in our homes.  Sarcasm and emotional manipulation and bullying are the languages we learned.  Teaching him how I wanted to be treated was only half of the solution.  Learning how he wanted to be treated was equally important. 

Over time I've learned that the most empowering relationship, the most healthy relationship, is one of mutual respect.  One that makes each person feel valued.  One that's not all about me or all about him but about us.  As a unit and individually.  We matter.

A Year of Kindness

This last year I decided to let KINDNESS be my guide.  The one word that would be on my mind and in my heart as I lived my life.  And I learned a lot.

I learned that any time I make something a chore it becomes less fun for me.  I did okay tweeting every day for a long time.  Then it got a little more erratic.  I think I pretty much stopped all together around July.

I also learned that choosing one word, one idea, to focus on for the year is awesome!  I loved it so much more than I ever liked setting goals or resolutions.  It works for me.  Plus, it gave me plenty of time to really internalize things.  Change takes time.  Usually a lot longer than we think.  A year allows for effort, failure, correction, learning, and more effort.

And I learned that I am so much happier when I am kind.  I'm a pro at the quick, sarcastic quip, but I don't like being that person.  It feels false.  I like being genuine.  I like saying what I mean.  I like telling people how wonderful I think they are.  I like choosing to ignore things that bug me so that others feel uplifted in my presence.  And the more I choose to ignore those things, the less they bug me.  The more kind I choose to be, the more beautiful the world becomes.

I can't speak for the entire world, but in America we live in a society that praises both kindness (openly) and unkindness (subtly).  News stories of service and giving capture our interest and sometimes change our behavior for a while, but we sure do like our sarcasm and teasing.  Our entertainment is filled with biting remarks.  The verbal slam is what gets laughs and praise.  There are entire tv shows dedicated to pulling pranks on people -- the soul purpose of which is to embarrass someone else for our entertainment.  Political discourse is less about discussing a point of view and seeking to understand the other side than it is about tearing the other argument (and often, the other person) to shreds.  We seem to say we want kindness, we like kindness, but our actions so often support the opposite side.

I've learned to keep my mouth shut more.  Since my brain still isn't fully converted, I have to control what I can.  The unkind thoughts still enter my head, but I can stop them from leaving my mouth.  I'm not always successful, but I'm doing so much better.

And I've learned that listening is one of the most kind acts I can perform.  So many people just need someone to listen to them.  Not to fix things.  Not to give advice.  Just to listen.  We all need our hearts to be heard.  Honest listening, with support and love and an intent to understand, sends value to the speaker.  There are just too many people who have no one to listen to them.  Taking the time to truly listen fills my heart in a divine way.  It makes me more than I was.  It enhances me.  It strengthens me.  Listening is a good thing.

I've also learned that being kind sometimes means speaking up.  Maybe it's the compliment I thought in my head but wouldn't always say in the past.  Say it.  It matters.  Or it's asking others to stop or change the conversation when it becomes unkind, even if it's about someone not present.  It may not ever get back to that person to hurt them, but staying silent hurts me.  Staying silent is participating.  It's passively saying that behavior is okay.  And it's not.

And I've learned that as with most things, it's more difficult to be kind with family.  And it's more important.

I notice kindness so much more.  There are so many kind acts every day, everywhere I go.  I notice unkindness more as well.  There's still way too much of that.  And I notice how my efforts to change and be more kind make a difference.  I am changing the world.  One person, one moment, at a time.

Kindness will go forward with me.  It is a part of me now.  It's in my heart.  But I've already chosen my word for next year and can't wait to get started.  More on that next week.

The Kindness Project -- 6 Months In

As the new year began I decided I wanted one word to focus on.  One idea to center my life around.  I chose kindness.  After a month I decided to broaden my vision a bit to include elements connected to kindness.  I'm six months into it now and guess what -- I'm perfect at it!

I am kind all the time to everyone I meet.  Every word I speak is kind.  Every thought I have is kind.  Every action I take.  Even my gestures.  I just radiate kindness.

Well, no.   But I wish that were true.

I am truthful and direct by nature most of the time.  This means that sometimes stupid things come out of my mouth.  I don't mean them to be hurtful, but apparently they are.  I can tell because I see the look on the person's face.  Or I miss the reaction completely and find out later because a friend of a friend has the courage to tell me.  And there are probably many times when I never find out at all. 

But I am trying.  I work harder to think before I speak.  I let the possible laugh go because the words might hurt.  I worry less about what I want to say and more about how I'd like the people with me to feel.  I want the people I'm with to feel valued.  I'm making a special effort to put away the snide and invite the sincere.

And there are times when I know it would be kind to go over and talk to someone who is alone.  To say hi to the person at the store I haven't seen in a long time.  To reach out.  But I don't.  Because, more often than not, I am scared.  That they won't remember me.  That they never really liked me.  That I imagined a relationship that was never really there.  That they are too cool for me.  That I will say something stupid.  Or a hundred other things.  Basically, that I am inadequate and not worthy of their time.  (Yes, this is a psychological hangup I have from my childhood.  I'm working on it.)  Basically I get so worked up about me that I forget about them.

I haven't worked much on this.  I need to.  I could do better.  I am pretty friendly and kind once I am invited into a conversation; I'm just not good at inviting myself.

There are some people it's very easy to be kind to.  There are days it's easy to be kind.  And then there are other people and other days.

I don't want who I am talking with to determine whether or not I am kind.  I don't want a bad day to squelch my kindness.  I want to be a person who is kind.  Period. 

The thing I'm working on most is my thoughts.  I grew up in a house full of very sarcastic people.  I am fluent in two languages:  English and sarcasm.  I am equally powerful on the defensive or on the attack.  And I hate it.  Like someone who has spent a great deal of time in another country automatically thinks things in that language first, I too often hear those snotty comebacks in my head before I ever think something nice. 

There is a language of kindness.  I am not a native speaker.  I know a lot of the words, but I am not fluent yet.  I can understand it better than I speak it.  But I am reminding myself more often to think in kindness.  Not just to push a mean or judgmental thought away, but to sense when it's starting and step on it.

Change takes time and focus.  I will be patient.  And as often as I can, I will be kind.

The Center of Attention

As a kid, I loved being the center of attention. Anything I could do to be in the spotlight, I did. Sing a song. Dance. Tell a joke. Do a cartwheel. Whatever.

Somewhere along the line, this desire waned. No longer did I enter a room loudly declaring my presence ("I'm here! The party can start now!"). I kind of stealthed in. Trying to find somewhere to sit or someone to talk to so that I didn't stand out. Trying not to be noticed.

How did this happen?

As children we come into this world with great energy and no fear. The world quickly puts a stop to that silly nonsense. Over time we learn that when we shine others sometimes try to squelch our glory. When we put ourselves out there in the public eye we open ourselves up to criticism and ridicule. We make our offering and it is sometimes rejected as inadequate. We learn that the cost of attention is sometimes too high -- it costs us a bit of our self-worth.

I no longer hide from the spotlight, but I usually don't seek it either.

So why do I blog?

I started blogging at a difficult time in my life, while I was in therapy. I found that writing things out helped clarify my thoughts and helped me process things. It helped me find truths I was hiding from myself. Writing works for me.

But choosing to publish my writings on a blog took a lot of pondering and soul searching. I just wasn't sure I wanted to put it all out there.

I tip-toed into blogging. I began writing without telling anyone. Then I told a couple of people. And I was surprised to find that others enjoyed my writing. Others found value and strength in the things I was learning and sharing. The things I wrote made people think and started conversations. To me, this increased the value of my writing.

Plus, it's fun to get nice comments.

My blogging has evolved. There are fewer therapy sessions but still plenty of philosophical ideas. There are more family stories. As I have moved through that painful time to a happier place, my blog has reflected this.

But I still don't use pictures.

**********
Today is my day to shine. I am the featured blogger on SITS (a wonderful blogging community that teaches, supports, and connects bloggers). If you are visiting me for the first time, welcome. I hope you feel comfortable here. Check out my About the Author and About the Mess pages -- they have pictures!

I usually stink at replying to comments, but for this day only I promise that if you leave a comment I will reply and/or visit your blog in return.

Celebrity Dinner

You know that question, "If you could have dinner with anyone (alive or dead) who would you choose?"  Have you ever answered that question?  The possibilities are incredible.

I've thought about this question many times.  I'm not really big on celebrities, so it probably wouldn't be one of them.  I do like deep thinkers.  I've thought about Mother Theresa, the Dali Lama, Einstein.  And Jesus.  Who wouldn't want to spend time with Jesus?

But none of these would be my choice.

My choice would be my grandma.  She was the greatest influence for good in my life.  She was the person who made me believe in myself.  She always made me feel important.  And loved.  And valued.

And I miss her.

At first I think I would want her to cook so that I could taste those moments of joy again.  Those dishes that no one else makes like she did.  That little bite of heaven.

Then I think I would want to cook for her, to repay her.  To show her that I was listening to the things she taught me.  To share something wonderful I discovered.

Eventually I realize it doesn't matter.  We wouldn't need to eat.  That really has nothing to do with the idea of this dinner.

We would be together.  We would talk.  I could tell her about all the difficult things in my life.  She could point out the ways they've helped me to grow.  I could tell her about all the wonderful things in my life.  She could help me recognize God's hand in them.

And I would listen so much more.

So much of my life with her was while I was young and so self-centered.  I wish I'd allowed her to talk more.  I'm sad about the parts of her I don't know because I was worried about my own life.  My time spent with her was before I really knew how to slow down and just be in that moment.

But even if I went on and on, she would radiate love.  She would be glad to be with me, too.  And when it was time to go she would tell me how much she loved me.  She would tell me to be good.  And as she hugged me she would give me those rapid, successive kisses on my cheek.

I want to be like her when I grow up.

All Sorts of Trophies

I have recently been in the process of gutting my house.  Getting rid of the superfluous.  Ditching the things that don't matter but are taking up space in my home and my life.

Last week I focused on the living room. 

I know some people have big homes and the living room is kept nice and rarely used.  That's not us.  We live in a relatively small home, the living room is the first room you walk into when you enter the house, and it's where we live.  It's where we congregate.  It's where we hang out.

And, when I got sick, it started to stack up.

Every horizontal surface was covered with stuff.  Boxes of things were stacked in corners.  It was a dizzying array of our lives on full display for everyone who walked into the room.

Most of it was easy to deal with; it just took time.  Throw it away.  Put it away.  Anyone know what this is?

But there were other things that were tougher.  One category that I've struggled with is trophies.

In our living room there were 28 trophies, 33 medals, and 1commemorative pin.  None of them belonged to me.  Or my husband.  They are our children's.  They are for softball, baseball, basketball, soccer, wrestling, track, piano, band, choir, math, writing, and art.  And there are more in some of my kids' rooms.

There are just so many.  And they serve no purpose.  Or do they?

I asked my kids if they wanted to keep them.  They each said they did.  I told them they'd have to make room for them in their rooms.  They said they'd think about it.  I ended up putting them all in a box in storage.  Maybe after they've been out of sight for a while they will decide they don't need them.

And I asked myself why they are so desirable.

When I coached there were times we bought trophies for the kids.  They cost about four dollars each.  They usually have a solid base and incredibly cheap plastic moldings of some sort on top.  They also usually have a nameplate of some kind.  They are pretty, but whittled down to their basic materials they aren't really worth much.

They have value because of what they represent.  Trophies represent a victory, like the trophy of a hunt.  They say, "Look at this cool thing I did!"  And through this they say that at one time we were great, maybe the best.

And I think that's why we hold onto them.  We all have moments when we doubt our worth.  But we can look at these and see that there are (or were) things we are good at.

And there are all sorts of trophies.  I think that's often what the big, beautiful library is.  It shows that we read all those books.  That we conquered.  That we are of value.  Or the trophy wife which shows that a man was chosen as superior to other men.  Or the trophy car.  The trophy home.  The trophy title.

There are so many trophies in our lives.  Why do we want them?  Why do we keep them?  Isn't knowing that we won enough?

When my kids ask, "What do I get if I win?" and I say "bragging rights" or "the knowledge that you won" it doesn't always cut it.  The world seems to ask, "Why is it worth working hard if I don't have a prize to show for it?"

But I'm going to keep trying.  I'm going to keep teaching that even when the thing that marks the accomplishment is gone, the accomplishment isn't.  That doing great things is shown in the people we become, not a cheap piece of plastic.  That many friends and a life you can be proud of are the best trophy.

Letter to a Friend -- Take Two

I think it's safe to say that I am in a heavily therapeutic place right now.  Focused on healing so much that I miss a lot.  One thing that proved this to me was my last post.

I don't think it was overly negative or anything, but it didn't even occur to me to write something positive.  Something praising.

Today it occurred to me.  So I want to try again.  There are so many people who have touched my life.  So many who saved me.  From myself.  From bad situations.  Whatever.

This is for them, with one in particular in mind.

**********

Dear Friend,

My heart is overflowing.  I have so much gratitude I don't know how to express it.  When I think of you, and the time we've spent together, I am ovewhelmed at my fortune.  I know God brought you into my life.  I am sure of this.

Do you know that you are God-like in your nature?  Do you know how much you radiate His love?  His tenderness?  His compassion and acceptance?  Do you know that hugging you is like being wrapped in His arms?

You make me feel safe.  You make me feel valued.  You make me feel wanted.  Do you know how rare that has been in my life?

You are amazing.  You fill me with awe.  I look at your life, at all you've been through, and wonder how you became so radiant.  How were you able to endure the darkest things in life and still shine so brightly?  It was your light that got me through some of the darkest times in my life.

You are such an example to me.  I aspire to be like you.  Sometimes when I'm trying to figure out what to do I ask myself what you would do.  I want to be like you.  You are one of the most Christ-like people I have ever met.

The way your face lights up when you see me.  It's overwhelming.  It floods me with love and value.  And I've watched as you give this gift to others.  Like whoever you are with is the most important person in the world.  Like there is nothing you would rather do than sit and be with this person.  With me.

Do you know your power?  Do you understand your greatness?

And no matter how long we are apart, I am welcomed back with love every time.  Never judged for staying away, for being busy, for not staying in touch.  Just loved.

Do you understand how rare you are?

I love you.  I love you so much it makes my heart hurt.  I love you for what you've done and for who you are.

And I praise God every day for bringing you into my life.  Thank you for being willing.  Thank you for letting Him guide you.  Thank you -- for everything.

Love,
Robin

What I Hate Most About Chronic Illness

Take your pick on what qualifies me as chronically ill.  Chronic fatigue.  Chronic headache.  Chronic depression.  Or whatever diagnoses we haven't made yet.  Basically I feel horrible all the time.  On a good day I just feel yucky and drained and my head hurts.  On a bad day I can't get out of bed.

And, while there are so many ways this has changed my life, there is one area that bothers me the most.

It's difficult to not enjoy things I used to, to not want to do anything or be with anyone.  It's more difficult to want to do things but not be able to.  But the most difficult isn't the things that I am missing out on.  It's what my kids are missing out on.

For the first ten years of my marriage I was a doer.  I played with my kids.  I took them places.  I cleaned house.  I made meals.  I read to them.  I volunteered at their schools.  I did crafts with them. 

But that was a long time ago.  At about the ten year mark, my health started going down hill.  And I started to do less and less.  And because it was so long ago, they don't remember all those things.  They don't remember me pushing them in the swings at the park or having picnics on a quilt in the living room.  They remember me asking them to be quiet because my head hurts so much.  They remember me telling them to ask their older sister for help on their homework because my mind isn't clear enough.  They remember me sending them to do things instead of doing things with them.

I expected to teach them about hard work by working with them and by modeling the behavior.  But they see me do one small job and then crawl back into bed because I am so dizzy.  I expected to teach them about service by volunteering in various ways and doing family service projects.  Instead, I try to encourage them to work with their youth groups when there is a service opportunity.  I thought I would teach them spirituality by doing all the things our church suggests we do to teach in our homes.  I often don't feel well enough and so those things fall through the cracks and I have to be content with just getting them to church.

I planned to have a beautiful home where my children could find a place a refuge.  A place that was warm and welcoming to all who passed through our doors.  A place where our family could feel peace.  But I can't clean like I need to.  And I am often tense and isolate myself in my room, leaving them to their own devices which leads to mess and fights.

There are so many things I thought I would be as a mother.  So many desires I am unable to fulfill.  For years I waited, hoping that it was just a matter of time.  But it might not be.

This might be as good as I ever feel again.  And I am mourning that today.

Yes, there are great things in my life.  Yes, I have found other ways to teach and show love to my children.  Yes, I have found value in the life I have.

But it's important to allow ourselves to mourn our disappointments.  It is a loss.  And it makes me sad.

**********
Oh, and this is my 100th post.  It's been just over a year since I started blogging.  It's amazing how quickly time passes.

I'm Not Who You Think I Am

I spent most of my life letting others define me.  They told me what to be and that's what I became.  Or they told me what I was and I believed them.

I was so many different people, depending on who I was with.

And this was such a part of my life that I really had no idea who I was.  And sometimes I still slip up.  Sometimes I still believe what others think of me.  Or I know it's not true but it still makes me question myself.

It's so easy to look to others for our value.  It's easier to believe what others tell us about ourselves than to decide on our own.

Some people like me.  They think I'm kind.  They think I'm honest.  They think I am strong and dedicated.

Others aren't so fond of me.  They think I'm a snob.  They think I'm selfish.  They think I'm judgemental.

Still others claim to like me but constantly tell me what is wrong with me, how I don't measure up.

I'm an angel.  I'm a witch.  I'm self-centered.  I'm compassionate.

All, some, or none of those things may be true.  There is probably someone out there to vote for each trait, who would assign it to me.

But no matter how others perceive me, no matter who they say I am, I know what is in my heart.

I am a person.  A small person in a big world.  A person with a purpose who is just trying her best.

I am okay with that.  And that's all that really matters.

Why Celebrate?

I am here to admit that I just do not understand celebrating.

The first time I went to therapy, my therapist told me to celebrate the good work I'd done.  I was absolutely clueless.

Since that day, I've pondered the idea of celebrating.  Is it really important?  Am I the only person in the world who just doesn't get it?

I don't really have any answers.

Planning celebrations is tough for me.  I guess in my head a celebration is meant to be a happy time.  A time when there is so much joy that it must come out.  And my moods and health are so variable that I just can't predict that I'll feel that way when the time comes.

No matter how wonderful the event.  No matter how much I love the person/people involved.  Sometimes I am just not in a celebratory mood.  I can't just turn it on and off like others seem to be able to.

But I have found my own kind of celebration.  I don't necessarily celebrate like others do.  On the big holidays.  With a trip or a party.  Those days are usually more quiet celebrations if I have anything to say about it.

I celebrate moments.  If I have the chance to be with a good friend, I rejoice and revel in the moment.  If it has been a really great day, I am elated.  I celebrate little things.

The big things are too pre-programmed for my taste.  Too packaged.  Too mundane.  Too everyone-else-does-this.  They can be fun enough but they don't touch my soul.

A text from a friend to check on me because he knows I've been having a tough time.  Hearing that one of my friends had something wonderful happen in her life.  Seeing my children do well at something and be truly proud of themselves.  These are the moments I celebrate.

I've been known to decide to celebrate out of the blue. 

Let's go get ice cream.  Why?  Because I'm happy today and I adore you guys.

Let's spend an entire day on an Alice in Wonderland marathon.  Why?  Because we are such good friends and I am so happy about it.  I want to do something with you that I couldn't really do with anyone else.

Let's spend the whole day in our pajamas.  Why?  Because it's the first day we have had no commitments.  Because the entire day is ours.

I celebrate the moments.  In unusual ways.  Because that's where I find joy.

Girlfriend Therapy

There are many kinds of therapy.  Physical therapy, chemotherapy, psychotherapy.  Some people believe in the powers of retail therapy.  I'm a big fan of caloric therapy.

Basically, therapy is meant to heal.  Whatever is wrong, we try to find a therapy to fix it.

Now, even within the field of psychotherapy there are many different disciplines and styles.  Each therapist has his or her own way of trying to help people.  I've seen several different therapists professionally and while they each helped, they did so in varying ways.

Therapy can be scary.  The idea of going to see a therapist is intimidating.  I know.  I had to overcome this, too.  And sometimes only a professional therapist can help.  Sometimes you need answers that only they can give you.  Or sometimes they can recommend exercises to help you work through something.  Or maybe you need medication.

But in all my experiences with therapy over these last few years I have learned one very important thing.  The most important element in therapy, for me, is having someone listen to me.  Having someone value me.  Having someone give me a reality check and tell me I'm not crazy for feeling the way I do.

Some therapists are better at this than others.  Some have difficulty remaining silent long enough for me to say what I'm trying to say.  Others think they know what I mean without checking in to see if they've interpreted me correctly.  Then there are those precious few.  The ones who get me.  They understand.  Much of our communication is unspoken but completely understood.

And now that I've worked through most of the major things I've found a less expensive way to get the validation I need.

I call it girlfriend therapy.  Me and one or two friends out at lunch, talking for 2 or 3 hours while we eat.  Listening to each other.  Validating.  Valuing.  Or maybe it's a quicker session and we go get ice cream or a slushie.  We talk in the car on the way there and back, and for longer than we normally would in front of her house when I drop her off.

It's more than just being with another adult.  It's more than just a break from the everyday routine.  It's knowing that I'm with someone safe -- emotionally safe -- who cares about me and truly wants me to heal.

Sometimes a night out or a lunch with a big group of women is wonderfully satisfying.  But nothing can beat that one on one intimacy.  That moment that says, "I put the rest of my life on hold to be with you today because you are important to me.  How can I help you?"

And the funny thing is that it is healing for everyone involved.  Even if I go intending to be the listener, the giver, I still come away feeling so much better.  So much stronger. 

And most importantly I feel valued. 

Just like with therapists, if it's not a good fit keep looking.  If you haven't found the right friend to truly help you feel more like yourself when you're with her, keep trying.  Chances are there are many women out there searching for the same thing.  A relationship of mutual caring.  A confidant.  A listening ear.  Some truly healing girlfriend therapy.

Not only is it much cheaper than traditional therapy, it's also much more rewarding.  And right in your own neighborhood.

I Just Don't Have Enough Time

EHN! (obnoxious buzzing noise)  Wrong answer!

Yes, you do.  You have exactly as much time as the person who's accomplishment you are envying.  If you are alive when the day starts and are still alive when the day ends, you have exactly the same amount of time as everyone else.

So why can they do so much and you seem to get nothing done?

Good question.  The answer is simple.  You chose to spend your time differently.  And in this instance, it's easy to see someone else's accomplishments and value them more than your own.

Why?

For the simple reason that you can see them!  They are visible and obvious; that's why you noticed them.  And so much of what we do every day is not.  No one will ever know except us.

A friend was recently saying that at the end of her day she felt she hadn't completed anything from her "to do" list.  Or that she'd done some, but much less than she'd wanted.  Haven't we all been there?

I challenged her to make a different list.  I asked her to make an "I did it" list.  Write down everything she did all day long.

I offer the same challenge to anyone reading this now.  Write it all down.  The stupid stuff.  The silly stuff.  The mundane stuff.  (You can leave off the embarrassing stuff if you must.)  And I'd be willing to bet that at the end of the day you'll believe you have a reason to be tired.

And if you don't like what you find, now you have somewhere to start for change. 

There is a reason we call it spending time.  Like money it is limited and valuable.  Like money we should assess our habits and budget it well.  And like money we will mess up.  But we also get to try again.  Every day we start with our time account full.  It's like a do-over.

But I don't think you should feel like someone else is spending their time better than you.  Only you know where your time needs to go.  And besides, maybe they secretly blow a wad of time on absolutely nothing when no one's looking.  If so, good for them.  It's their time and they need to decide how to use it.

Just like you.

A Waste of Time

If I spend two hours playing a computer game, I get frustrated with myself.  I feel like I've wasted time. 
If my husband spends two hours playing a computer game, he considers it a good start to an evening.

So who's right?  What defines a waste of time?

I would suggest that it's possible that we are both right.

Now, my first thought is that if I don't have anything else to do then it's okay if I play on the computer.  Which implies that if I have other things to do, important things, it's not okay.

But what if I've been going and going like crazy getting things done and the computer game is restorative for me?  What if it fills my well so that I can go on?

I have a friend who is crazy busy.  He is so busy that he often barely sleeps.  He is very good at the things he does and is in high demand.  Someone always wants his time.  And he says that he is this busy because he likes it this way.  He does not watch tv.  He does not play games on the computer.  He rarely watches movies.  To him, those things are a waste of time. 

To me, being constantly busy is a waste of time if it means missing out on opportunities to just sit and think or visit with friends.

Is it possible that even when you are being productive and doing something for the greater good, you are wasting time?

And isn't it funny that the things you used to do that brought you much joy now seem like such a waste of time?  Or the other way around.  A time waster today can become a gift of sanity sometime in the future.

I'm going to be more careful about my judgmentality on this.  When someone is doing something I think is a waste of time, I'm going to think about it again.  I'm going to try to see the value in it.  I'm going to ask them what it is that they like about it.  And I'm going to be more forgiving with myself and try to see the value I'm getting when I waste time.  There is a reason I'm doing it; what am I getting out of it?

Because when something has value, can it really be a complete waste?