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.

:)

Negative Thoughts? Take these 3 steps now!

I am feeling a bit like a hypocrite this morning. For one, last week was a fairly negative one. I overshared with a couple of people at work on Friday, due to a stressful situation and feel a bit of regret. Especially since a big thing I overshared about seems better. I should feel better that it is better, but instead I feel I was blowing it out of proportion to get attention or sympathy or something. Then I was feeling anxiety about possible future events outside my control and found myself directing that anger in the wrong way. Don't get me wrong, it was almost entirely internal, but a few less than complimentary comments on my part have me stressing. I am better than that. I know better than that. And if I don't handle the internal struggle, eventually it become external and that's destructive.
 A family member has been ill and is struggling with dealing with illness and weakness, and I fear he is making it worse with his worries. He doesn't seem to be getting out or walking or doing any of the things he has always loved and which ironically probably kept him healthy for so long. It is hard to watch someone flounder, especially when you feel if they would just listen to advice, relax, take their meds, and stop the alcohol and nicotine roller coaster, they would probably be just fine.  But he feels he is dying. And maybe he is. He is closing the world off around him and that is not a good way to flourish. He is saying anxious I love you's, and my brain wonders if it is anxiety and depression driving him or intuition. And it worries me.

And the house is a mess.

And I sit here, feeling like a hypocrite, Who am I to give advice on living to another person? Who do I think I am? That's the feeling running through my veins.
But it is just twisted perfectionism hounding me. This idea I harbor telling me perfection is attainable if I just TRY HARDER, and then I will be fit to give advice.

Nonsense! I mean really. A big load of bull. Everyone struggles.

First thing to be done is take a big, deep breath, and then let it out. And  then another. And another. The second thing is to mentally take this pile of worries and push it away. Seriously, I am visualizing a big brown dirty scruffy Charlie Brown pile with a white sign and red letters painted "Worries," and just pushing it all away by hand. I don't have to carry this load.
YOU don't have to carry this load. Push it away! Now it's all there, but it isn't blocking the path. From perfectionism, to desiring control to ensure a perfect outcome, to worrying about things which are in someone else's hands, I acknowledge that I can't fix all this. I can however stop tormenting myself with it all.

Now, I visualize myself walking right past that pile down an open path (sun setting in the distance, of course). And I feel lighter.

One of the hardest things to do, when you are caught in a negative cycle, is realize what it is. It is just you choosing to focus on the wrong thoughts. PUSH THOSE THOUGHTS AWAY. Unless you are actively coming up with a plan to alleviate your concerns, just thinking about them, running circles around your brain, is not going to help. It is going to keep you stuck.

Newsflash! You are going to screw up. You are going to say the wrong thing, leave the wrong impression sometimes, and deal with family illness. It's going to happen. Ruminating will not take the words back, scrub your impression clean, or heal your sick person. It won't. YOU CANNOT OUTTHINK MOST OF YOUR PROBLEMS. I have been trying for years. I am no Einstein, but I know some things (though I have forgotten so much more than I know-which reminds me,  you know when you meet that person who not only can recall a lot, but can quickly use it in arguments and discussions? I envy those people. Meanwhile I am over here, like, Hmm. My gut tells me you are wrong, but I need to go home read some books, search my soul, and figure this out. I will get back to you next week, how's that? I guess that is why I like to write. Meanwhile, the world is following that quick thinker and easy speaker EVEN IF THEY ARE WRONG, because that's how the world works. Silliness).

When things are just wrong and you believe you have screwed up one of the best ways to get relief right away is to just stop everything. Stop digging that hole. Stop trying to fix the problem with thoughts and words and just be still a moment. Then walk past the problem. I get it. The problem is still there. I do understand that, but you do NOT have to live a life of misery because you are not perfect,  or because certain things are simply outside your realm of control. You don't.  Just stop, gather your wits, and walk away for a bit. And later, when you are busy in a project, doing a hobby, watching a favorite show (and make sure you really love what you are watching or do something else. Life is too short for mediocre), or just sitting completely in the moment watching the world around you, you will find that the problem might not be so bad.

And what if it is? What if that pile marked "Worries" is persistently following you and there are serious problems stacked up in that pile? I guarantee if you take a break from them, if you write them out and leave them to a higher power, and ask for help in solving them, the help will come. I don't guarantee it will be the answer you want or the way you want it. But if you can pull yourself away from demanding it all go down in a certain way, it will all work out in the end.

So my 3 steps in a nutshell?

1. Stop and breathe. Breathe deeply and exhale through your mouth several times. Feel your shoulder, chest, and upper back relax with those breaths.

2. Visualize that pile of worries and push it away.

3. Walk past that pile into the distance and start doing something else. Something you love, something you have to do, something constructive, or something frivolous. Just get busy, even if that means just watching the birds hop along in your backyard busily searching for their next meal.


You can revisit the worries later. Now is not that time. Now is a gift. Unwrap it with joy.

Responsibility

It has been a long and beautiful weekend. The days crawled by as the children played with neighbors in 60 degree weather. I did next to nothing. Oh, I did some maintenance housework, my husband and I rearranged the bedroom, (managing to avoid the Coffin position for the bed, for those who read my personal blog), and the house received a good airing. I did some things for my online shop, but really, it has been a lazy weekend.

I paid off my library fine for the coffee damaged books, and have more on reserve. I have been listening to books on Audible, but this will not be about them.

I found a short little article which so succinctly summed up my feelings on healing and responsibility, by Brianna Wiest,
Trauma is not Your Fault, but Healing is Your Responsibility.

This article has been timely for me because I find myself being reminded of snippets of unpleasant memories. Not the memories of  my many, humiliating mistakes, but memories of moments outside of my control. Many of these occured as child, a few as an adult. And sometimes it is helpful to be reminded of the pain and trauma of the past for various reasons. For one, a depth of feeling brings a sense of painful angst which drives me to write, drives me to create. Also, little Jill just sometimes wants remind the world, she is still here, and the scars still mark her skin.

But, the thing is, noone can fix the pain, but me. It doesn't need erased. It needs acknowledgement. But acknowledging it and dwelling in it are different. We all have our scars. In some way, we have all been hurt. Some have faced more trauma than others. I am luckier than so, so many who walk the earth. If I don't choose to learn and grow and takes steps to make different choices, my life can never accomplish what I was intended to accomplish. So while at times I choose to snuggle up with the inner child and hold her, I don't choose to live in that place.

I believe in a higher power who listens to me and helps me. If I ask for strength, or guidance, or wisdom, or even for unspecified help, I believe I will receive it. We are our own superman. We are the ones who intervene for our more fragile selves and take the leap of faith and ask for help. We are so strong and so powerful when we learn who and how to ask.

If you are like me, a part of you is dismayed with this focus on self. Perhaps you, too, feel your focus should be on helping others. But my dear, you can't save anyone until you have learned to save yourself (or to ask God for the help you need). You can't hold your child aloft in the crashing sea  if you don't put your life preserver on, too. There are so many things I wish I understood decades ago. But with faith I walk forth, and the blame game stops, and the healing begins.

Moving the Bed

I feel the urge to move my bed today. In the nearly 5 years we have lived here, the bed has been moved twice. Once to a perpendicular wall, and once back to its original position.

The bed was in this position for three years. It felt right when we moved in, and we had the delivery people set it up right where it is now. In this bed, I felt the joy of home ownership and nursing sweet baby Alec. I cried anguished tears when Karl was unwell, driving around Missouri in 0 degree temperatures all night. I snuggled deep into blankets on cold March nights, when Karl had to be on his own for a few months to get better and the boys were at his house for the night, and I was trying to adjust to this new normal, which wasn't part of any plan I had had.

One day I moved the bed. Karl was healthy and back home, and had taken the boys to his parents for the day. I cleaned and painted the counters-part way- and moved the bed in my room for a change. Caleb stopped by that day. He wandered around, greeting the cats in his quiet way, and stopped on his way out to tell me the house looked nice. I asked if he wanted to stay, but he had to get to his night job he said.

The bed was already moved. Over the following weeks, I wondered, superstitiously if moving the bed had been my mistake. Feng Shui calls it "coffin position" when the foot of the bed faces the door. Did I bring death into our lives?

My head, of course, knows otherwise. But superstition works a little differently. It seeps out slowly from under the skin, churning the midsection with a hint of anxiety. Supersition can be reasoned away for awhile, but its hazy face is always peeking around the corner looking for a way back in.

And now I want to move my bed again. It just feels like it is in the wrong place. But then I think what is this all about? Am I trying to recapture the innocence of that day, when I first moved the bed and got my house in order. Or, even more insidiously, perhaps I am being moved to change my bed because death is lurking around a corner looking for a way in.

You can't go home again, and I can't bring back that morning when Caleb inhabited an earthly body, anymore than I could pray or wish his pain away. It's weird to think how scary it can be to do something as basic as moving the bed.

So, I am going to do it soon.
If you die, my apologies.

Danged Feng Shui.

Living Life, without Sleep

It all seemed perfect. I put the kids to bed, turned on a fan, and snuggled in against my husband ( and I am not usually a snuggler!). it seemed like a perfect night of sleep was before me. And then. My seven -year-old came in. My husband had already gotten up and headed for the couch (which he does at times), so there should have been plenty of room. And yet, after this 1:30 a.m. awakening I simply could not fall back asleep. My mind had gotten stuck on the service learning project my fourth grade son is supposed to be executing for his one-day-a-week gifted education program. My son, who would much rather just play with magnets and batteries, isn't going to take the initiative. This project and getting it going is on me.
As I lay there and thought about how I could get this accomplished, I found that I simply wasn't falling back asleep. Now it's 4:30, and I have given up, gotten up, and started my day.

As you know, a sleepless or at least very sleep-deprived night can lead to some pretty unpleasant achiness throughout the body.
 I have a meeting scheduled with a parent so calling out isn't an option. I started looking online for tips on handling a sleepless night. My first search led me to several beauty tips on how to look like you slept well. Listen. I don't need that. I want my coworkers to see my face, read my pain, and pity me. I don't know about you, but I get emotional when sleep-deprived. However, if possible, I want to feel as good as I can.
I found this little article, Didn't Sleep Much Last Night?:10 Ways to Function Today,  by Murray Newlands, on Entrepreneur.com and it has some great tips on feeling better.

Using this article as a guide, I have created my action plan.

 1.Alternate cups of coffee with glasses of waterat least at home.
I am heavy coffee drinker, but I need a little more pure H2O in my life.

2. Take Ibuprofen. My body aches when I don't sleep well, particularly my neck, shoulders, and upper back. No reason to deal with that.

3. Listen to a Simple Habit podcast on waking up. Today I plan to listen to "Rise and Greet the Day."

4. Use positive affirmations and tell myself, I am rested and ready for the day.

5. Finally, I intend to make it a point to reach out and greet each person I meet. I have an introverted tendency to withdraw, especially under stress, however, a smile and a kind words should give me a little kick to keep going.

How about you? Do you have any tricks to share for getting through a sleepy day unscathed?

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!

A World of Choices

I have been playing with mortgage calculators and Zillow today and my goodness! if I had my credit cards paid off, I could have quite a beautiful house. I mentioned it to Karl and he too, was kind of ready to move on. Now, it will be a few years before I get the credit cards taken care of, but, is that the thing to do?
Sidenote: I also looked up the homes of some of my acquaintances. Some of you married well! Others made just the right choices to move up, up, and away (but you have small families and have lived in Missouri all your life, so the wealth is a trade-off-don't mind me-it's wine and jealousy talking-though I always wanted a big family-definitely rather be an Ingalls over an Oleson. Well, actually I always kind of liked Harriet Oleson on the TV series. I mean sure, she was mean, but she was also goodhearted deep inside. She just needed the right person to bring it out).

ANYHOO, it got me thinking about where exactly my priorities lie. It's a judgement free zone really. Nothing wrong with wanting a beautiful home in a prestigious neighborhood. This world is harsh and demands proof of your worthiness. A good zip code can help that. But travel! To see the world, isn't that the real dream? Or perhaps to enjoy more wonderful offspring-I do delight in seeing how the genes mesh together to make a new person. A new person with the potential to brighten the world with altruism, wisdom, or artistic beauty. And let's be honest, if I could have all three, that's what it would be. But if i have to choose-if I have to choose, which would I choose? Lovely house? Travel? More kid activities? Savings for kids? A new pair of shoes every now and then? Damn all the credit cards. I miss shopping. Maybe I should work on making this place more of what I want instead of wanting to throw in the towel and move on. Maybe living below our means is the key.

I don't know. I just find it so intriguing to consider all the many choices out there, and how each little choice can profoundly affect another.

And isn't it lovely, all these choices? All this possibility at our fingertips, waiting for us to pluck it off this tree of life, and taste the pulpy sweetness with nibbling teeth and eager tongue?

That's all.

I have decided, a decade late, perhaps, to read 50 Shades of Grey. Supposedly Anastastia is an INFP, though I think tonight I'd rather be the dreaded INFJ. Either way, I just...am...too...curious, ,and the thought of reading a deliciously unhealthy and unwholesome romance is just too tempting. Wish me luck!