Sunday Morning Moments

 Saturday and Sunday mornings are precious times to an introvert. In the old days I would awaken early and enjoy a few quiet hours to myself. Now, however, I have an Alec, who is an early bird, too. I jsut remind myself, that he is always growing and changing, and as a mom of many, I know these moments and years pass quickly. One day I will awaken to a quiet house and long for the sound of someone else's breath and footsteps.

 

I flipped through the Prime channel this morning and everything looked lovely. I finally settled upon The Secret of Roan Inish. I've seen it before, so it can be background, it's more uplifting for the kiddos than scary, bloodsucking vampires, and the music and sea scenes are pretty much where my soul resides.

My wish for vampire diaries is that there had been one more preciously romantic season. But alas, that is probably why so many movies end when they couple ends up together. It is hard to sustain the romantic intensity. Anyway, I think I've had my fill. I will still watch clips on Youtube. I mean...look at this man...And I love this song by Fleurie:

Well, I am a sucker for romance. Hopefully heaven is chockful of yummy romantic experiences. Or at the the opportunity to temporarily experience romantic drunkeness as one wishes. Otherwise-what is the point of all these desires if the aren't to be fulfilled somewhere? I will be quite disappointed, if it is just animal procreation driving it. 

I always start my blog with such a plan-I will have a focus and draw people in, but in the end, I am just a collection of thoughts and feelings.I rebel against the idea that a blog must be a certain way, even if that is the way to pulling people in. People want to know what they are getting into, they want answers, they want guidance. Who am I to guide, when the world is just a giant smorgasbord of that which can be experienced. Everyone with all their grand plans and schemes, and we will all be gone in 130 years. 

A Tale of Loss

From the top of Blarney Castle

 I was looking through my Facebook photos on a whim to have some turned into canvas prints to hang. I stumbled upon my trip to Ireland. And there, on grey-skied days was smiling, mystical feeling me (is there anything like clouds and a silent walk through a crumbling abbey to leave one feeling mystical?) And there in grey and color was Karl. Karl who laughed and spoke in his loud American voice, whilst I cringed. Karl who talked with the locals, whilst I sat quietly. Karl who walked closer to the pub musicians and nodded and yelled  while I drank my cider sitting quietly in my chair. Karl who always made me cringe, but whom everyone seemed to like more. He swore he was an introvert-but I don't think so. Just insecure.

The thing is, things are as they must be. Things are better. The kids don't even seem to miss him. But despite things being better this way. I miss having my friend. I miss the good days and weeks, when I felt I could tell him things. I miss my companion and my helper. I miss the person who helped put the kids in bed and was willing to watch chick flicks with me. 

And it isn't loneliness. I am not really lonely most of the time. At least it isn't something I feel too keenly. But it is just the memory of the good times. It was having someone on my side every once in a while. It was saying, "Hey, the refrigerator is broke," and then sitting back, because I knew it would be taken care of.

And there is this underlying guilt. Did I do everything I could? Did I give up on him? Was there a point, years ago, when I could have watched him take his meds and made sure he was safe. Was there ever a spiteful moment, when I gave safeguarding his health just to not have to stress about it. Where does my responsibility fall? And he is gone. In Springfield, Missouri, California, Illinois, I have no idea. He is just gone. And I see these photos-the good times, and I think of how I thought we would be together for ever-maybe not for love-but for companionship. And it was a comforting thought, warm and cozy and belonging. Until it wasn't. Until it was  fence I couldn't see over or around. Until it was a sentence of responsibility and duty. And I can't help but wonder-who broke first? Was not taking his medicine his way of starting down the path to freedom? Or was my giving up on nagging him my step down the path?

I don't know. 

But now I have to procure my own refrigerator.

It's a New Year!

   

Photo by Moritz Knöringer on Unsplash

  Even though part of me tries to shrug off all the hoopla that comes with the changing of the year, it is impossible not to get a little bit excited about the idea of a fresh start. I think a clean slate which is ready to be written on again, is just something that appeals to us hopeful humans. 

    I have been thinking about the areas of my life that I struggle with, and the areas I want improve upon. These are non-related to work. Of course, I have things I want to improve upon at work, but this isn't the place for that discussion.

    After a lot of thought and soul-searching I can sum up my areas of focus as the following:

• Eating healthy
• Sticking to a budget
• Interpersonal relations
• Keeping up my home

    These are the areas I want to focus my attention on this year. As far as eating healthy goes, I am trying to move towards a more Mediterranean diet. I may or may not lose weight, but there is simply no excuse for the large intake of sugar in my diet.. Well, it's good. I guess that is the excuse. It will be  hard to break away from that easy high of  flavorful food, but I am going to have to find other ways to release some good hormones.

    I am starting off the year by keeping track of my spending in a separate planner. I think I am bleeding a lot of cash to areas which don't really represent my values. This area will be hard, since it is so easy to spend money online and those little trips to Walgreens and Walmart for necessities add up quickly. 

    

    Interpersonal relations! It's a struggle for me. I want to work on this area. This includes improving my interactions with others through better social skills and taking small chances that put me outside of my comfort zone. I have a lot of anxiety in this area. When I felt like someone didn't like and/or was trying to get me emotionally riled up in the recent past, I used my newly found skills to not be paranoid,  told myself it was silly, and got subsequently got burned. I have to learn to balance both my intuition and my trust in others. It won't be easy!

    And keeping up my home is an oldie for. me. Mostly I am referring to keeping it tidy and clean and keeping up with basic repairs. I tend to stress out tremendously over my homemaking skills and the feeling that I am not good enough. So I plan to give myself some grace, meeting myself where I am, and simply improve upon my routines. I am not in competition with YouTube Moms or the stay-at-home mom down the street, or even the working family next door, whose youngest child is 13. I am only trying to better own situation.

    These are my areas of focus for the year. Expect to see detailed blogs regarding how exactly this is affecting my life itself.

    

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Personality Types-Does it Matter?

 I have had an all=encompassing slight obsession with Myers-Briggs testing and similar tests for years. The first test I heard about was an archetypal type with three tiers. Honestly, it was part of a group my first husband found online with bulletin boards or chats or something. This was twenty years ago and all very vague now. It wasn't hard to see which types were considered best and to quickly adjust an answer or to in order to get that result.

Incidently, I just took this test, The Jungian Archetype Test, and both my self and persona results came out as The Hero, which is "Strong and perseverant with boundless ambition." Okie-Dokie!

Anyway, in the early years of testing, I was in college and excited about all the new ideas in the world. Making a difference and using my brain to do something amazing. Learning and big ideas. Back then I usually tested as an INFP or INTP,  with an occasional ENFP. I think most can agree, I am not extraverted. Most people bore me to tears. The right people raise my energy, but not just anyone can do that. I do not say that with an air of superiority. The most fascinating people are people who find the gem within others and find the OTHERS fascinating. I acknowledge other people may bore me because *I* am boring.

I always assumed I could not be the dreaded ISFJ because, well that is the mom of the group-the boring and mundane with a splash of mushy emotion. Also an ISFJ would have a neat and tidy house right? She'd pack amazing lunches and sit and think about what is best for her family all the time. And she wouldn't like impromptu road trips at the last minute. Nope, I am much cooler and spontaneous than that, right?

However, upon further thought, I think I may very well be that dull person. I am obviously introverted. I have been known to go in the other room at my own gatherings, just for some peace. Sensing over intuition is the hard one. Anyone familiar with MBTI knows that intuitives think they are some sort of Gods who have won the game of life and are brimming with extraordinariness. But truthfully- there is a fine line between infp and infj, in that they are both considered "super-feelers." Our first natural reaction is to think about how we feel about the situation unfolding. This leads to problems, especially at work, where thinking about your personal feelings about something can come across as a little immature. Well, thinking about it is fine, I guess. But talking about it and acting on it, not so much. As a sincere personality, however, it can be hard to hide those feelings behind indifference or white lies. Although-I have been known to say stupid lies, like totally opposite of what I wanted when scared and wanting to hide (telling my high school crush I didn't want kids-of course I did, pretending I didn't like history to another guy even though it has always been one of my favorite subjects and I went into MSU AS a history major-I am just really stupid with guys and say dumb things). And finally the P versus J. I always thought I was P and spontaneous. Struggling to keep house is hard for me. However...I think I might be J. I am never late if it is up to me (or if anxiety isn't forcing me to choose to be late-like the saying stupid things, anxiety in a work or social situation can push me into self-destructive behaviors). I WANT a clean house. I would NOT feel the least bit upset if I cleaned for an hour or two a day to get that clean house, however, I can't seem to make myself do that. Whether it is a touch of ADHD or just lack of structured training in how to keep house, I just struggle with it. Well, and the fact that you do something...and have to do it again and again. It makes

Happy Days... reading Gabby Berstein's new book

 I know it has been awhile since I have written on this platform. I felt as if my desire for growth was being pushed down. I was just hanging on for long while. 

I have started reading Gabby Berstein's new book, Happy Days. My first thought when I read about the book was, "Oh, I don't need that book. That's for people with real trauma." Reading it, though, I am aware that trauma isn't always a big one time event. It can be a series of things that make us feel unsafe or not in control of our bodies. And when put that way, there has been a lot of trauma. 

So I am reading through that and doing the writings. I am not expecting a huge light bulb moment, Like, "Aha! This event is why I am the way I am." But I have been thinking a lot of and a lot of "I wonder why" moments are coming up.

Now Gabby herself discusses a lot of therapy that sounds a bit woowoo to me. If she has the money and inclination for it, good for her, but I want something a little earthier and preferably one I can do myself. However, I was thinking maybe there is healing in saying things out loud, so next time I have some time alone at home, I will do that.

The Books

 Another Easter is in the books. From the magical hopefulness of a childhood Easter imbued with joy and excitement to the anticipation of a Easter as a young parent to whatever it is I am now. 

It's been a dreary day. I can take a little dreariness sometimes. But there are days when I just WANT the sun to shine. There is a coolness in the air, and after running around outside for 30 minutes or so, Liam ran in with a nasty case of hives. He is allergic to cold air, although it is also spring and pollen exists in the world. So, he's been dosed with Benadryl, and I sit looking out my window. The screen is patched. I try to look past the imperfections to my neighbors purple flowering trees. I desperately want some lilac bushes and a couple dwarf apple trees. I never got them in when Karl was here, and now I face having to do it myself. Shudder. Not this year. 

I guess this is the first year I have been alone at Easter. Of course my kids are here. I know I should have made an effort. I should have invited people, but honestly, I have trouble rallying when my pocketbook is empty. We did have an AMAZING chuck roast. Since Karl moved out over a year ago, we haven't really enjoyed much roast or steak, so it was a great treat. I broke the rest up and made barbeque beef, but I made the crazy decision to start eating Keto last night, so I can't have the barbeque sauce. Taryn dropped by to see the boys,  which was nice, but she is a vegetarian, so there wasn't much point invited her to our one pot meat and vegetable meal. 

So I am feeling down. This is evident. My confidence is meh, my excitement is nonexistent. But...I've lived long enough to know I don't have to take the road to despair. I just need to sit tight and let the wave wash over me, which it will, and the sun will come out tomorrow. Maybe not literally tomorrow, but you know. It looks as if the end of the week will warm up, which is what I really need. Just some warm air on my skin and a hint of sunshine on my face.

In the Face of Change

Photo by Rory Hennessey on Unsplash

 I stand on the edge of a cliff-the Cliffs of Moher lie before me-but this time, swirling gray fogs clogs the  foreground. It's just grayness and cliffs beyond unseen.

Truthfully, I am a bit apprehensive about next year. I am leaving my current workplace for another. I feel as if I have been an utter failure at my own job. While students tell me they will miss me, students are fickle, and next year will warm up to their new teacher by telling them how much better they are than me. And that is right. They need to move forward.

All I know is that every adult I know that I am not related to will soon be absent from my life. And that is a scary feeling. It is one thing to change jobs when you have a partner, it is quite another to change when your evenings are already spent alone. Now I will lose the only people I ever talk to. Of course, there will be other people, and hopefully among them a warm spirit or two. 

My coffee turned out exceptionally weak today, and that is after I pushed the "strong brew" button. I wonder if this has a deeper meaning. Perhaps it is a sign of my weak, faltering spirit. I kid. Sort of. The truth is, I feel very fragile right now, and I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, and there is nothing to do but move forward.

BUT! In the face of change there is the one realization that is always helpful. WE get to choose what we dwell on. We get to choose what we think about. And I simply have to choose not to dwell on my feelings. There is a certain comfort in picking apart my feelings and understanding them, but there is also a destructive element of painful despair when helplessness against fears overwhelm. I can choose to keep pushing forward and turn my back to the clouds. I can choose to search for the sun.

And so I will.

Being without a partner makes me long for a partner. I don't understand it. For the most part I love having my own bed and my own room. I love making my own plans and having no adult to question me if we have a cake for dinner. And yet, this yearning to connect, to feel loved, to make someone smile is always present. Is it just social conditioning? Or is there more to it? It is just a hard world and having someone to share the burden, to tell me the sweet things one needs to hear at the end of a long day, to cook with me, and strive towards healthier living together, to make plans with... those are good things. But then...they are there. They notice when you skip doing dishes, when ice cream give you clear-the-room gas, when you just want to sit down and enjoy a bowl of brownie batter. With people comes judgement and having to be a little bit better than you are. 

The future is uncertain, and I don't know if I will ever be loved, but there is not shame in the hope, right? So why does it feel shameful to admit? Curious. 

I had intended this blog, A Mighty Queen, to be about striving to become better and achieve more, and I feel as if I am letting my readers down. I ordered a book on life planning and life goals and it is SO hard for me to fill out. Because what I want is a good life, with lots of travel, a beautiful romance, and a lot of quiet time to relax at home on rainy days. How do you break that down into serious goals?

I guess step-by-step. I can plan a trip. Maybe not this year, but in two years, (if I don't do anything dumb) my credit cards will be paid off and I will have more money to play with. 

I could make myself more attractive, which in our society means thinner,  which sadly means less brownie batter. In truth, I always wanted a physically active life. I just don't know how to do it with kids. Even hiking about kills Gabriel who is afraid of heights and thus has built hiking into this huge fear of standing on a mountaintop (he literally is afraid of Colorado). But the kids are getting older, and soon, I will be able to leave them for longer and longer and do my own thing. 

So, maybe the answer is to accept the fog. To let it swirl around me, mysterious and opaque, because in truth, the unexpected was exactly what I wanted. I didn't want my future to be one place with the same title and same building and same people. I wanted something different. I neeed to remain cognizant of that and step-by-step, I need to light my own candle. I need to make a short-term plan and a long-term plan to focus my attention on. I need to let go of the sadness of my failures (noone is really going to miss me) and examine what I can do differently (focus less on my feelings and more on theirs, maybe? I don't know, you tell me, what am I doing wrong?), and take that forward with me. I need to accept the disappointments (and there have been many) and use them as the driving force for change. 

Foggy mornings have always been my favorite. I will remember that, as I step forward. And if I fall, the crashing sea of life is an amazing place to land.