Cream of Wheat

 

Photo by Gaelle Marcel on Unsplash

My new favorite breakfast. For years, I was an overeasy egg on whole wheat bread with a cutie, but now, I am all about the cream of wheat. I like to put a half teaspoon of lemon curry in it as it simmers, and sometimes I stir in an egg to cook in the last minute. Then I add a sprinkle or two of creole seasoning and voila! A savory, thick breakfast. I really like that the blandness serves as a backdrop for the spicier seasonings. Sort of like tofu.

It's no wonder I have to take prilosec and tums every day.

This week was hard. I have been super-busy, which cut into my lying in bed thinking about things. I have felt lonely. I have these things to talk about, but no one to say them to. I guess that is when I need to remember to pull out a journal. Just to get them out of myself. I have used a personal journal in the past, and it absolutely helps. Writing it out here helps, but of course, this is so heavily self-censored. Trying to extract the reality of the situation without the pure openness that pisses everyone off. It's a challenging dance. 

I overindulged in wine last night. It is so hard to get that balance right, too. Sometimes. I only know it is too much when I find myself staring at my messenger list trying to see who is on, aching for some sort of connection, but knowing I will never actually reach out and chat with someone. I just am not fond of putting myself onto other people. If they are interested, they will come to me. Most of the time, though, I prefer the aloneness. And I wasn't actually alone. It wasn't me and a bottle of wine in an empty, grey-walled room with a lone chair and scrubbed pine table. It's never like that. It's never desperate, or excruciating, or even pitiful. Just an every-now-and-then wow, wouldn't it be nice to have just a few people to laugh with, feeling. But I tend to push too hard with my words and make it appear much worse. I sort of enjoy doing that. 

So Gabe came in early, and I awoke at four for good. I know some day I will sleep very alone, so I should relish the little, warm bodies that like to snuggle up, but at two a.m. it can be tough. At 10 p.m. it's intolerable. I like to turn on a bit of something, delta waves sounds or thunderstorms, snuggle into a pile of pillows, one between my knees, turn onto my side and drift off into oblivion completely alone. Other bodies ruin that peace. 

I spent a few minutes reading through old blogs I used to follow. Most of them were homeschooling moms who loved natural, country life, some Christian, some new age. We all shared an affinity for home-baked goods, hand-knitted pretties, Waldorf dolls, and the idea of a simple life. Most of them now have older children and update their blog once a year or so. Retreating into romanticism is easy when your children are toddlers, but much more difficult when older children are fighting to fit into the outside world of activities, sports, and all the bourgeois cliched traps we fall into. Their lives as mothers cease to be read-worthy, and their interests start expanding beyond the home and children. I have watched this pattern unfold over the two and a half decades of the internet which have shaped, and possibly ruined my life. I guess it always was such. It just wasn't documented for strangers to see. 

Sometimes I look at these things and think I must be such an ISFJ. Or maybe ISTJ. Just longing for simplicity. But then think of how, while I love the idea of such things, I am almost just as contented forming my identity around the ideals, but never actually creating that lifestyle. Ideas are 95% of the prize. If I don't follow through on the actual follow-through to create the material lifestyle-well, who cares? It almost certainly exists and is enough in my head. Then I think MBTI is pure crap anyway. People are multi-faceted and complex and capable of change, and cannot be sorted into a simple system. Unfortunately, decades of reading about it have strengthened the pathways to MBTI to interstates in my brain, and I can't ever get away from it. It is there and isn't leaving. Like religion, I guess. It's weird how on one hand, you can absolutely not believe something, and on the other, it is vividly alive in your head. 

Last night they said it would snow today. I hope! I hope! I want accumulating snow, so the boys can go out and play. I want them to sled with friends down the road (I know that's a long shot) and just enjoy the pleasure of snow.  And I'll make crappy snow ice cream and pretend it is amazing, as the boys make memories that will grow in their souls and carry them through adulthood.

There is something simple and wholesome and homesteading-worthy about cooking up a batch of cream of wheat on a cool morning. I wonder if there is a romantic buzz inside my head as I stand before the stove stirring as I imagine people have stirred porridgy-gruelly breakfasts for centuries. I wonder if my brain is just trying to hold on to the lost dreams each morning as I sell my soul and leave home to earn money. George Carlin was right. They do own us. And we sell ourselves and our friends and coworkers out over and over again, to fight for a small spot of something-whether it matters or not-so we can buy a bit of gruel to stir on a stove to just survive a bit longer. 

Gaining Perspective Doesn't Mean a Painless Life

Photo by Nikolas Noonan on Unsplash

Every now and then, after days of pondering I will have a new perspective shine a light on my thinking, a glorious A-Ha! moment. Gaining perspective, as I call it, feels wonderful, illuminates my struggles, and shows where the true beauty of whatever I am going through or struggling with lies. I think, however, sometimes I expect once I have gained perspective, or been enlightened, or woke up, the lessons will stay forever. But the world is dizzying and ever-present and always works to lull us back into an easy sleep. Being asleep is easy, but it is deceptive. Being asleep means accepting the status quo, following the lessons of anger and selfishness the world boldly suggests, and viewing everything through the tunnel vision someone else has planned out for you.

It is hard to stay woke, folks.

One of the problems I am struggling with though, is as I struggle to stay woke, I become so disenchanted, so disillusioned, when a struggle comes my way. 

"But, but..." I tend to sputter in disappointment. And oh! How disappointing the world can be. I created this blog to be  teacher and mentor, but have been quiet lately, because what I thought I would be doing: giving advice, and leading people spiritually, isn't who I am meant to be at all. I am not the woman who stands up with a clear path and says follow me. I don't even TRUST those people. I flounder. I fall. I cry bitter, disappointed tears into my pillow. I let people down. I get petty. I want what I want when I want it, and yet don't have the persuasive powers to get it. Who am I to lead? But slowly it dawned on me, leadership isn't always a "do this!" endeavor. Face it, only the weak like those kind of leaders. Sometimes,  we lead from the back of the room, quietly sharing our perspective. The truth is, I don't care so much if people follow my path. I care that they find their own path. I care that they ask themselves the difficult questions, and are able to be open, yet kindly, honest with themselves. And I care they make a life they are proud of, which fill their soul with a warm joy at the end.

I struggle with candor. Now, I am not going to lie and say I am always honest. I am learning, learning the value of a lie. But I tend to be open and honest as much as I can (except when I am nervously sputtering crap to throw IRL people off track), and you know what-it hurts people. It gets me in trouble. I know it is just childish naivete which thinks I should be admired for honesty, but I still think so. I have watched as people laid verbal traps for me, my gut screaming to shut up, but my head wanting to be open and honest falling in, anyway. I have watched the mirth spread across people's face as they put out the bait, knowing the idea of injustice towards them would get me stirred up and vocal, and then watched as they used it against me. I don't hate them. They seem so asleep.  Not to say I am not. I fall asleep with the rhythm of a magazine article, a misplaced pep talk. I am no better than them. 

My candor has hurt my husband. He is more from the camp of little white lies to avoid hurting people, and I am of the belief that if I can't be known for who I am, what is the whole point? We stand at this impasse, I longing for self-expression, and he whitewashing pain until it becomes unbearable and he explodes. Maybe we are both wrong. Maybe I should practice washing my words first and he should practice saying what he really thinks more. A well-constructed argument is better than an unhappy life.

And I have to remind myself that as long as I am breathing, I am going to mess up. I am going to say the wrong thing, or fail to act because I am overthinking, and someone will be hurt. I am going to be honest when I should have been wisely quiet. I am never going to attain the perfection I expect of myself. 

Gaining perspective doesn't mean a painless life. Asking God to guide your footsteps and lead you where you are intended, doesn't mean the valley of the shadow doesn't suck ass. Sorry. that isn't very ladylike. The thing is, my identity and self-worth is tied up in my career, and I don't like where I am. I think I am in a position where I need someone who is willing to help me and give me a hand to move on to a better fit, and I can't find that person. This causes me a lot of pain because I am extremely work-oriented. Having babies can distract from the disappointment and pain, but three kids is really my limit at one time. And I am 46.

 My life isn't painless. I am closing my online business and closing the door on all the unexpected dreams which arose from it. Reba McEntire songs are running through my head currently and unfortunately. 

So as I work to stay awake, to see life through the correct lens, I find myself staring at my mistakes, mouth gaping in horror.  The words I need to express to understand the problem are hurtful to others. And I don't know how to fix that without losing myself.

 

Late Night Doubts

If you know me well, you know I tend to be messy when tired. My emotions tremble and everything seems magnified. Heck, maybe we are all this way. Despite not overdoing the coffee today, I am here and awake at nearly midnight. Ugh.

And what I am feeling so intensely is embarrassment and shame. There are things I have discovered lately, which just leave me throwing my hands up in--not quite despair--perhaps, just resignation. You know all those times when you feel indignant as if the world is just not fair and everyone is selfish and mean and all this is done to you? I know I am not alone here. Well, that's all true. I mean, some of it. The world is unfair, people are selfish, people can be mean, and it seems as if  the world just wants to drag you down sometimes. But you know what else is true. So are you. You are unfair, you are selfish, and you are mean. And by you, I totally mean me. We are all just this big pile of emotions, tempering them through thoughts and our own biases and so damned sure that we are right. And we are. And we aren't. I am beginning to think the order of the universe is that there is no order. Just a pile of stumbling dumb baby souls toddling around trying to get the blue cup. Some of us have people skills, and we flash our dimples to get the cup we want. Some of us have  emotional control and show our logic to convince the one is charge we should get the cup. Some of us are just effortlessly powerful, and some of us have to fight or steal our way to the cup. But the desire is the same, we all just have a different set of skills in our toolbox. And damn, that's unfair.

I have been into new agey, affirmative, abundance-based faith lately, but I feel it slipping away in doubt.
I don't want it to slip away.
Will I return to more organized religion? Will I put my faith in science for awhile? I don't know. I am not ready to leave this room, but the doubts are creeping in, and hands are pulling me away. Maybe it is time for the shift.

Maybe, it is time to better synthesize all the beliefs-to come up with one whole belief which incorporates aspects of all my faiths. After all, God is the god of all.

For years people have told me I should write more. Put more out. So I built up my blog and suddenly. I have nothing to say. My content is shallow and bland and a growth group I am in asked me, "What is my point? What do I want out of this? How do I make this a successful marketing venture?"

And I just don't know. If my power is the ramble-how can I market that? Who wants to hear from the person who "shifts" from year to year? Who wants to hear from the person who can't get the blue cup?  And I guess then answer is to fake it. Fake getting the cup, fake the whole thing until enough people buy in and suddenly I wrap my hand around that next ring. But would I lose my soul in the process? I don't mean lose, like to the devil. I mean, just lose the essense of what makes me, me?

Do I have to choose between authenticity and success? Just because of the toolbox I was given?

So I feel these failures weighing on me, and I am not sure what to do with them. I have the option of just letting go. Just making the choice to let it all drop and just keep walking away, step by step. I can keep trying, keeping pushing and see what comes of it. I can try something else and distract myself with a new venture. There are some arenas I feel very, very stuck in, and some which I can easily let go. But man, easily is a dishonest word when ego is involved.

*It is morning now, and I remembered this book: Meaningful Work. One was placed in the mailbox of each of the teachers at my school a year or two ago. It is very much my kind of thing, so I read it quickly.



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Remembering this helped me to realize I need to be making my decisions based on my priorities and my principles. Authenticity and honesty are very important to me. Faking it to get followers might work for someone else, but it is going to leave me hollow and lost. Of my endeavors I need to decide if they are aligned with my priorities. Giving up is never easy. There is a part of me that wants to dig her feet in and NEVER SAY Die. But if I am chasing something because of stubbornness, is that the dream I want. I never realized how emotionally invested one can become in something that isn't even an interest of theirs.
I am speaking of the online clothing business my daughter and I have. We will be coming up one year in July, and I am unsure I want to continue pouring money into it. But I didn't realize how hard it would be to stop. Theoretically we just stop. We run a clearance and what is left, donate. Seems easy.

 But man! This pull in my gut is like, "No, gal! You gotta make this work."
But it ISN'T my passion. It isn't my dream. But maybe that is because it isn't successful. If we were pulling in more money, I might feel differently. After all, I do enjoy it. I love looking through items and deciding what to put up. I love it when people order (even when we lose money, hahaha), and I love packaging things and getting them in the mail. I enjoy it and feel privileged.

So I wonder if that is a sign to keep it up, or maybe it is sign that I enjoy retail and should explore that further with perhaps a different focus.

Things to consider.

Have a lovely weekend,

Sophia

Wanna check out my shop? I am open to feedback!

Lil Lemon Drop

The Dichotomy of Personal Choice

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

Recently I was super-excited to find a cheap online learning course regarding living a life with poise. I happen to like this author, most of the time, so I was excited to get a little more lifestyle reading in. But even as I signed up for the cheap course (which lets face it-nothing is new-it's always just a refresher of what's already been mind-consumed), I felt the pull against poise. The pull towards authentic honesty.

There are two different camps. The camp of elegance, poise, and a bit of polite mystery stand tall on one side. Meanwhile, the pull towards authenticity, honesty, and transparency rises on the other. True, there may be some who can straddle both camps, but I think that's rare. And I find myself being pulled back and forth. I feel as if I should be on the poise side-the senator's wife is how I would describe it. Cultivating an aura of warmth, while revealing nothing, living the beautiful life and striving towards greater beauty would be paramount in this lifestyle.
On the other hand, I have always feared I would be put in the dreaded Candor group in Divergent, with a pull towards openness and honesty. I want to drag people into my crazy, into my mess, and show them,"Hey, it's all okay."

I see people around me falling into these two camps. There are people on Facebook who only show the lovely parts, who never speak of sick relatives and rarely share photos. Everything they post appears so carefully planned to present an image which helps them climb the ladder of their ambition.
And then there are the real people, the open and honest people, who tell it like it is. And I think these are the people I like more. But of course, there has to be a balance. Feelings change on a breeze, a new thoughts changes the perspective, and creates an all-new terrain frequently. If you always tell it like it is, you'll be a in a mess. I like people who are open about peeing their pants on a date, who ask people for sympathy when loved ones are ill, and who admit when their spouse is being a butt.
But then I read the poise side, and I wonder if maybe they are right. The world certainly rewards them more.

And as someone with a growth mindset, because I too am a product of this environment, I want to be improve and become more and better. I just wonder which way more and better is. Obviously, this is a case of wanting to have my cake and eat it, too. I want to say what I think, have people care, but at the same I want people to take it with a grain of salt and not care. Impossible. Ideally, I would become one of those lucky few who straddle both camps. But who is to be my guide, when I don't know any of those people? Who is to show me where the line is, so I can push it just a little bit, without hopping off the edge?

I was talking to a relative a year or two ago, about my blog just not picking up the readers like I wanted it to. This person suggested I limit the amount of personal introspection and boil it down to a lesson to give people advice on how to better their own life. This leads to doubt and stilted writing as I feel I always have to have a point. Maybe I just need to go with my gut and write what I feel and if noone follows, noone follows. Not having followers and loyal readers though, when I have the urge to write, makes me feel as if I getting it wrong. Writing with authenticity is a matter of laying one's soul bare-or rather pieces of one's soul because if one were totally honest-well, it wouldn't be pretty-and it is raw and difficult. And to not be followed can lead to a such a flushed, hot feeling of embarrassment and shame.

And then I remind myself of all the times I was quiet, and I think a life not expressed is a life not really lived.

What a Wonderful World

Photo by Ricardo Resende on Unsplash

Today I was pouring myself out in words, playing up the melodrama, and feeling sorry for myself. I referred to my younger self as poor. Then all of a sudden little things started to happen, and I realized once again how lucky I have been.

What I realized:

• We didn't have a lot of money, but we had a mother who read to us which is worth its weight in gold. 
• I remembered a time in high school when we were running errands for French (as juniors). We stopped by my townhome, because I needed something. "Wow," my classmate (with the car) said, "How much do you guys pay in rent?" I told her. "That's what we pay for our house and these are much nicer!" Just a moment before I had been embarrassed over the trials of living in a rental townhome, and she was legitimately saying it was nicer. We stopped by her house after, and I understood.
• I remembered visiting a friend in a nearby neighborhood. My mom dropped me off with plans to pick me up later. As we walked back to her room, which was on a glassed-in porch, I noted there were no cabinets under the sink, just a cloth hanging there. Now, there is nothing wrong with that and it could be quaint, but it was my first time seeing someone in such a situation. 
• Then I was also lamenting having to make meatless meals for days on end for my kids when I was in college. Oh the horrors! And then as the day went on I realized, "My God! I had meals for my kids! Some people eat meatless meals every single day. By choice! I was able to go to college as a single mom. Sure our house was a bit crappy in large part due to my own poor housekeeping, but to pity myself as poor? I was so lucky!
• And finally, I was taking a long, hot bath searching through Zillow. Now typically I look at higher end houses for fun, but today, I decided to look at cheap houses just to see what was out there, and I saw some of those places and thought, my goodness-people live there. People get naked in that house and touch those floors with their bare feet, and I realized again, how darned lucky I have been.

And I had to shake my head at my own foolishness. Perspective is EVERYTHING. I know you have heard it many times before, but there are people out there who only DREAM of things you have. I have more than so many people on this earth, and if half of it went away, I would still have more. 

How is it that we get so lost in searching for what we lack or have lacked, that we fail to see all the abundance around us, over and over again? 

I need to make a sign, like Augustus Waters mom would put up, reminding me just how very lucky I have been in this world. I'll hang where I am forced to see, and I will remember what a wonderful world this is.

Embarrassing First Date Confession

First I want to say, being a female is fantastic. Now I am not saying misogyny and sexism don't affect my world and aren't a real thing, but overall I like being me in this time and place.

Basic arm strength aside, I don't really think women are the weaker sex at all. We are amazing in the sheer amount of work we can get done(although my husband's ability to clean a refrigerator or room quickly without tiring is really impressive, and I envy that), the number of things we can keep on our mind (and this is not my strong area), and our ability to reason well and feel deeply(not saying you men can't do this either).  Women Rock! Go Rosie!

But there is an area where I feel some of us are lacking. Maybe not every female, maybe not you. But for me and some women I know, this is a problem.

But I am jumping ahead of myself. Let's get to the date.

My  mom had introduced me to Karl. He lived in the same apartment complex and my mom was always out socializing and meeting people. He had come to a group movie (I started to suspect he liked me since it was my mom, an elderly neighbor, and me only), and my mom's Halloween party. Finally he worked up the nerve...to ask me out as friends. We had a few "friend dates" where we met at a local bar complete with some heavy kissing afterward, but more than anything I was just confused. Finally after a break, he asked me out on a "REAL" date. 

I was excited, but also wary. The three week break we had just come off of had hurt me, and I wasn't quite sure of his intentions, and I have a tender heart hidden behind a layer of false bravado, keep 'em guessing BS (which probably fools noone-but helps me feel safe). We went out for Mexican food, and then back to his bar again. I am not a bar person, and definitely wasn't then, but it was a small supposed-to-be lesbian bar, which seemed to attract its share of single men, hiding out from life I guess. Anyway, I got this amazing, big tropical drink. It had five shots, but I usually stuck with wine or champagne when I had alcohol, so it didn't really register with me that that might be more than enough. I think I even ordered a second. Everything was fine. I was relaxed and having fun, and then we got up to leave. 

And suddenly, the world swayed around me.  Sounds seem to blur as wave of nausea came over me and I clung to Karl for support. We went outside and decided to walk back to Karl's place. Both his apartment and my home were within walking distance, and taking the car didn't seem like a good idea since we were drinking. Outside the winter air seemed like it might clear my head and then...

I threw up. Right in the parking lot by the back door of the bar. That in itself is embarrassing, am I right? But you see, I was a female who had three children. Three beautiful children who barged through the door to my uterus weighing a range of 8 and a half pounds to a chubby 9 pounds 14 ounces. My pelvic wall had seen better days. So when I threw up, I also (you ladies guessed it, right) peed my pants. Right there by the bar, in winter, when we were too drunk to get in a car to get anywhere. 

I was partially mortified and partially 34 and developing wisdom (hey, men will go through a lot to get a little, ahem). I may or may not have squeezed out a tear. There was nothing left to do, but walk the 1/2 to 3/4 miles to his apartment. We got there, I showered, and then embarrassingly, fit into a pair of his jeans, and we hung out for several more hours, watching movies, kissing and eating lots of candy. 

On good days, I think it is a sign of our comfort with each other, that we could move on and finish the date. 

On bad days, I think it is an omen and I should have known better.

:)

The Inner Critic

"Imagine having a friend who always made you feel bad about yourself because every time they came over they told you what was wrong with you." That loosely quoted quote came from my morning motivational series on discouragement.

I have been discouraged! Anxious. Stressed.

I realize a great deal of this comes from my own perfectionistic tendencies. I apply these to myself as well as others. I think part of me sometimes feels there is a positive proactivism in being perfectionistic and that in harshly holding myself in line, I will become the better person I want to be.

As we know, though, the inner critic, often backfires when it is too harsh, too unaccepting. Wisdom tells us we will let ourselves down. I will make a snarky comment without forethought, or a customer will be disappointed because they didn't read all the available information. My natural tendency is to jump harshly on myself. Rude comment? Welp. That's it. Noone will ever like me. Angry customer? Welp. I suck. Why on Earth would I think I could run a business? And I feel this shame over myself.

But Gosh darn! Enough already. The anxiety riding in my belly this week, requiring me to rely on Benadryl to relax into sleep and to wake up in a slight fog is just so absurd.

I made a snarky comment. Most people will know that snarky comment is a reflection on me and my insecurities. Other people make snarky comments all the time. That doesn't mean I should just not care what I say. But rather, the moment has passed, and I need to let it dissipate, and move on.

My unhappy customers? Well, on the one hand, it was spelled out clearly on the item page when shipment would come. Shipment has been slightly delayed due to issues with the supplier and a health scare, but not significantly so. However, as the seller, I have to realize people probably don't take the time to read all the information carefully. I have to either not presell, or make it very clear along with a follow-up email offering a timeline and a way out.
I have to LEARN from this, not throw in the towel in shame and discouragement.

I believe in the inner critic. I believe in holding ourselves accountable and pushing ourselves onto higher moral and professional grounds. However, the inner critic has to also be loving. The inner critic has to offer proactive help, not helpless disappointment. Working towards kinder thoughts and words is always a good thing, but allowing myself understanding and the ability to occasionally screw up is required. I don't know anything about running a business. I have so many things to be proud of including the signs showing that I am on the verge of beginning to figure how to make it profitable. That's a huge leap since we really started up last July. I am becoming more knowledgable and competent all the time.

I need to recognize and realize those accomplishments. I need to continue to work towards giving myself grace and mercy. I don't HAVE to punish myself, just as I don't have to punish others when they let me down (or make the occasional snarky comment-although, I wonder, if my quest to become the loving and sweet Melanie Wilkes, if I will make myself into the most boring person on the planet. Time will tell, I guess). I think that is the balance I struggle with. I spent years self-repressing and hiding because I didn't trust myself, and as I have struggled to break free from those self-imposed prisons, I tend to sway when I make mistakes and upset others. It's a process I suppose.

On a side note, we talked briefly of out-of-body experiences and life after death in the office yesterday, and I was so happy. I think of these things all the time, and it is so fun when other people join in!