I am a habitual planner. It is one of the qualities that I think makes me an effective teacher (APPR system be damned!). This characteristic has always been both a blessing and a curse because of my natural tendencies towards having anxiety. After all when you can't go out with friends unless you plan out your outfit, what you will drink, when you will stop drinking, how you will wear your hair, and all the other things I would obsess about, it can be pretty detrimental. However, for the most part I have always considered my systematic way of thinking as an aide in helping me reach many of the goals I have set for myself. That was until this morning...
Last night I posted on Facebook that I wanted to finally begin a running program to help turn me from the couch potato that I am today into a more healthy person who runs. I have always both admired and pitied runners; admiring their stamina and dedication to a sport and pitying their obvious mental abnormalities (how else do you describe a desire to run in 90 degree weather or in the pouring rain?). But around 2 years ago I decided I that I wanted to join the cult and perhaps run a 5K. So, I began my plan to do just that. I researched the best running shoes and purchased them. I joined a gym that had a running track and began walking. I read blogs about people who were once even more overweight than I was and still managed to run that first 5K plus hundreds of others that followed. I reached out to friends who had the running addiction for motivation. I even had specific playlists planned out for what I planned to be my 3x weekly runs. I did everything a person could possibly do to prepare for a run and then...didn't run.
Well, I did try to run at the gym. Unfortunately, the day I decided to try and run I had planned to do so for 1 minute after walking for 5 minutes (just like the couch to 5K system suggested). But when I started my jogging pace I realized quickly that I couldn't run for longer than 5 seconds. After trying this a few times on the track, I simply gave up. As the other people on the track were walking faster than I was "running", I just shut down and stopped. I put the sneakers aside (because, of course, I planned on using them for running only) and reaffirmed that I would never be able to reach this goal. While I may not have actually said that, subconsciously I believed it. All because I couldn't reach the goal I set for myself for that day (i.e. run for 1 minute).
I felt ashamed and discouraged and decided that this was a goal for other people. You know, other people who were already fit. Other people who were more determined to lose weight. Other people who didn't care what they looked like when they ran. Other people who weren't me. Looking back now, I can't believe how hard I was on myself and how easily I just gave up. I have learned a lot about mindsets lately and how they influence whether or not progress is made in life goals (Mindset by Carol Dweck is a book EVERYONE should read), and it is crystal clear to me that I had a fixed mindset because I believed that I wasn't a runner so I couldn't run. I would never become a runner because I couldn't run. To even try to run was futile because...say it with me...I couldn't run.
I had gone to bed reading many encouraging comments that people had written on my Facebook post and felt quite supported although I still wasn't sure I could do it. Then an incredible thing happened...I woke this morning (about 2 hours before I "planned" to) and said to myself, "I'm going to go for a run." I got up, threw on some clothes, dug out the old running shoes, threw a headband on, took the dogs out, stretched for a few minutes, and off I went. I began walking briskly and then I started running. OK, it was only for 10 seconds once again but after a few more minutes of walking I did it again. I worked up to 20 seconds of running which to me felt like I did a 5 minute mile (I'm assuming that is a good pace...haven't researched it yet). While it was a small accomplishment, to me it was such an important lesson that NIKE tried to teach me years ago: Just Do It! Instead of "trying" to run, I am GOING to run. Whether it is for 20 seconds, 20 minutes, or 20 miles, it will happen.
As long as I can fight that part of me that insists on planning out every detail out to the last minute, then I know that I will reach my goal of running a 5K. With my incredible friends in my corner, how can I lose?
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Sunday, July 26, 2015
I've Got The Music In Me
I was reading an article this morning about what how our musical preferences can actually reflect the way our minds function. While I understand why teenagers and older people who strive to go beyond what "the establishment" say is allowable may be more drawn to rebellious music like punk rock or grunge music, I often wonder what that means for someone like me whose tastes are so eclectic. If as the article states "People’s musical choices seem to be a mirror of who they are" (Carolyn Gregoire, "What Your Favorite Songs Can Tell You About The Way Your Brain Works"), then what do the songs I listen to most say about me? I went to my iPhone and found the playlist of the songs I have played the most. Hold on to your hats...let's see what my music says about my brain:
"Forever Young" covered by Audra Mae and The Forest Rangers
Of course, this is the classic Bob Dylan song that proclaims the love and hopes for the future from a parent to his child. Dylan's version is sweet but nowhere near as lush sounding as this one uses more than an acoustic guitar to fill in the background. The fact that this version I love so much is tied to the violent motorcycle drama, "Sons of Anarchy", lends a different layer to understanding my brain. I am not a motorcycle rider nor do I ever wish to be one, so the appeal isn't tied to that aspect of the show (although I would be hard pressed to say no to anything that Charlie Hunnam suggests). But considering some of the "family values" ( Hamlet connections with some Oedipal qualities thrown in) that are inherent in this show, maybe this is what we can glean about me:
Musical Mind Connection: Don't fu@& with my family because I will hurt you...probably with the help of other family members.
"Girlfriend in a Coma" The Smiths
OK, this is the first time I've ever seen the video that goes along with this song, and it is just as confusing as the song's lyrics are. What I have always loved about the song is how the sweet melody is such a mismatch for the heavy topic of the song which appears to be the last moments of life for Morrissey's "girlfriend "(this was the 80s after all, pre-gay rights and reality television inspired by the likes of Caitlin Jenner). Watching the video and thinking about how it horribly parallels the situation that Bobbi Kristina Brown finds herself in now makes me think it is about a man physically abusing his lover (allegedly) to the point of putting her in a coma which is nothing to poke fun about. Yet...the part of the song where Morrissey sweetly sings "Bye bye baby, goodbye" makes me think of a totally different scenario. As I sing it along with Morrissey I can't help but picture the face of a woman who "stole" a man from me years ago. And, God forgive me, I smile every time I sing that line. I picture this woman, who tormented me for years after she and said asshole got together, slowly drifting away in a hospital bed and me looking down on her and smiling (I know, I'm going to hell). I took the high road in real life but what goes on in my imagination is no holds barred!
Musical Mind Connection: Once I'm in a relationship, do not interfere. Because quicker than you can say "That bitch is crazy!", I will cut you...in my mind. The reality of my reaction will be pale compared to the grudge I carry which will fuel me for years.
"Trip Through Your Wires"- U2
Well, you knew there had to be a U2 song somewhere in this blog. For those of you that don't know, the title of this blog is taken from one of my favorite U2 songs, "Grace", and U2, more than any other band, have shaped who I am as a person. My love for Ireland? Directly connected to U2. My philanthropic/liberal viewpoints? Influenced by the topics I learned about through their music. But my brain? Hmmm...let's see. This song is clearly about sex. "Angel? Angel or Devil?/ I was thirsty/And you wet my lips" "I was down/ And you lifted me honey" "You, you set my desire/ I trip through your wires". Yup, Bono is singing about being grateful about having sex after perhaps a dry spell (the song is from the desert inspired The Joshua Tree album, after all). But U2 fanatics like me are always looking for a deeper meaning behind the lyrics. Here is an actual quote from a fan about what he thinks the song may be about: Perhaps this song is about how easy it is for people to be swayed to the dark side when the "devil" can appear just as attractive and kind as an angel. When I think of "Trip", I think of a man who is lost and dying out in the desert and the first person he sees; the first person who shows him mercy, is really the devil in disguise. This song sort of demonstrates how easily humanity can be tricked and corrupted. How a human being's willingness to see only the good in other people can be their ultimate downfall.
Let me make this clear: I absolutely love this interpretation. It is overthinking at its finest! That is what makes me a fanatic. But in the end I feel that this is as spiritual a song as "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye.
Musical Mind Connection: While I believe that having sex within a committed relationship is one of the most natural things in the world, I WILL find a way to make it way more complicated than it is. And like most women I feel that sex is never just sex...it clearly is a way to be "tricked and corrupted". Because people really suck.
Well, that wasn't quite the uplifting note I wanted to leave you with but I think I have proved the article's point. Your musical choices do reflect parts of you. I hope you will take the time to reflect on your own musical choices and see what self-discoveries you can uncover. Let me know if you need Dr. T's number if you are disturbed by what you find out.
Of course, this is the classic Bob Dylan song that proclaims the love and hopes for the future from a parent to his child. Dylan's version is sweet but nowhere near as lush sounding as this one uses more than an acoustic guitar to fill in the background. The fact that this version I love so much is tied to the violent motorcycle drama, "Sons of Anarchy", lends a different layer to understanding my brain. I am not a motorcycle rider nor do I ever wish to be one, so the appeal isn't tied to that aspect of the show (although I would be hard pressed to say no to anything that Charlie Hunnam suggests). But considering some of the "family values" ( Hamlet connections with some Oedipal qualities thrown in) that are inherent in this show, maybe this is what we can glean about me:
Musical Mind Connection: Don't fu@& with my family because I will hurt you...probably with the help of other family members.
"She Thinks I Still Care" covered by James Taylor
This classic country song was written by Dickey Lee and Steve Duffy during an era where names like "Dickey" were perfectly acceptable. Anyway, I thought that George Jones was the only previous cover of the song, but a quick internet check showed that Connie Francis, Elvis Presley, and Patti Loveless also have covers! Now if that isn't an eclectic mix, I don't know what to call it. I usually have little use for country music beyond some Willie Nelson, Dolly Parton, and (from this millennium) the Dixie Chicks. But James Taylor? I would listen to him sing the Barney song. The meaning of the song revolves around a lovelorn person trying to convince everyone else he isn't nursing a broken heart. When the climax of the song erupts with James' voice ascending to that sweet note only James can reach ("...and went all to pieces"), I know what the connection to my brain is:
Musical Mind Connection: I will overthink every emotional decision I ever make and deny that I am thinking about anything at all...until I finally break down and write a miserable blog post. Or drink a bottle of scotch...and break an ankle while trying to fly out of a limousine (consider yourself lucky if you don't get that last reference).
"Girlfriend in a Coma" The Smiths
OK, this is the first time I've ever seen the video that goes along with this song, and it is just as confusing as the song's lyrics are. What I have always loved about the song is how the sweet melody is such a mismatch for the heavy topic of the song which appears to be the last moments of life for Morrissey's "girlfriend "(this was the 80s after all, pre-gay rights and reality television inspired by the likes of Caitlin Jenner). Watching the video and thinking about how it horribly parallels the situation that Bobbi Kristina Brown finds herself in now makes me think it is about a man physically abusing his lover (allegedly) to the point of putting her in a coma which is nothing to poke fun about. Yet...the part of the song where Morrissey sweetly sings "Bye bye baby, goodbye" makes me think of a totally different scenario. As I sing it along with Morrissey I can't help but picture the face of a woman who "stole" a man from me years ago. And, God forgive me, I smile every time I sing that line. I picture this woman, who tormented me for years after she and said asshole got together, slowly drifting away in a hospital bed and me looking down on her and smiling (I know, I'm going to hell). I took the high road in real life but what goes on in my imagination is no holds barred!
Musical Mind Connection: Once I'm in a relationship, do not interfere. Because quicker than you can say "That bitch is crazy!", I will cut you...in my mind. The reality of my reaction will be pale compared to the grudge I carry which will fuel me for years.
"Trip Through Your Wires"- U2
Well, you knew there had to be a U2 song somewhere in this blog. For those of you that don't know, the title of this blog is taken from one of my favorite U2 songs, "Grace", and U2, more than any other band, have shaped who I am as a person. My love for Ireland? Directly connected to U2. My philanthropic/liberal viewpoints? Influenced by the topics I learned about through their music. But my brain? Hmmm...let's see. This song is clearly about sex. "Angel? Angel or Devil?/ I was thirsty/And you wet my lips" "I was down/ And you lifted me honey" "You, you set my desire/ I trip through your wires". Yup, Bono is singing about being grateful about having sex after perhaps a dry spell (the song is from the desert inspired The Joshua Tree album, after all). But U2 fanatics like me are always looking for a deeper meaning behind the lyrics. Here is an actual quote from a fan about what he thinks the song may be about: Perhaps this song is about how easy it is for people to be swayed to the dark side when the "devil" can appear just as attractive and kind as an angel. When I think of "Trip", I think of a man who is lost and dying out in the desert and the first person he sees; the first person who shows him mercy, is really the devil in disguise. This song sort of demonstrates how easily humanity can be tricked and corrupted. How a human being's willingness to see only the good in other people can be their ultimate downfall.
Let me make this clear: I absolutely love this interpretation. It is overthinking at its finest! That is what makes me a fanatic. But in the end I feel that this is as spiritual a song as "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye.
Musical Mind Connection: While I believe that having sex within a committed relationship is one of the most natural things in the world, I WILL find a way to make it way more complicated than it is. And like most women I feel that sex is never just sex...it clearly is a way to be "tricked and corrupted". Because people really suck.
Well, that wasn't quite the uplifting note I wanted to leave you with but I think I have proved the article's point. Your musical choices do reflect parts of you. I hope you will take the time to reflect on your own musical choices and see what self-discoveries you can uncover. Let me know if you need Dr. T's number if you are disturbed by what you find out.
Saturday, July 25, 2015
Roll With It, Baby
A year ago today I was embarking on a trip that would change my life forever. In past blog entries, I have documented some of the lessons that I learned from this journey back to the hometown of my parents. I remember being anxious about all of the legs of the journey (bus to NYC, flight to Rome, flight to Sicily) and unsure of how I would handle the numerous hurdles that international travel brings. It all worked out better than I could have hoped, and I have never regretted the time spent with my mother in the place that nurtured and created the people I know and love as my parents. The love and affection that was showered on me by the people of Antillo is something that I did not expect but gladly accepted. Just as strong in its impact was the abject poverty that I witnessed in the ruins that at one time was the family home of the LoGiudices. I pictured my father as a child growing up in a stone house overlooking a picturesque mountainside and wondered if ever in his wildest dreams he imagined the incredible life of prosperity and success that he would go on to have.
I now find myself on the brink of another possible life-changing journey. If you have read my blog entries lately, then you might have picked up that I'm not overjoyed with my life right now. But like a lot of people who are trying to instill change into their lives, I'm feeling stuck and unsure of my abilities. Action is clearly what is needed in order to break out of this funk yet it seems like every time I try to put something in motion, fate throws a wrench into my plans. Just yesterday I made the decision to go into school to work on a grant that was funded by my district. Since I'm a creature of habit, I went to check my mailbox as I always do when I first enter the building. But when I did that, I found something that literally felt like a punch to the stomach. I don't want to reveal what it was but I can tell you it wasn't a pink slip or anything that had to do with my job at all. But it was something that sucked all of the motivation right out of me. I quickly gathered the books I needed and left the building so that I could process this slap in the face in private.
My normal way to handle an emotional disappointment like this would be to go home and beat myself up for trusting someone to treat me with the same respect that I treated all people. But in the car I really thought about what would help me get over this hurdle. Would being alone to cry and wallow help me get past this hurt? I took a deep breath and decided that I needed to do something that I rarely do; I needed to reach out to a friend. I needed the support of someone who doesn't have an agenda or a reason to judge me. Although it took me a few tries, I managed to finally dial the number and reach out praying that my friend was home. Luckily for me, she answered quickly and unluckily for her, my shaky voice betraying my emotional state said the words that have been so hard for me to say: "I need to talk to you."
The friend I reached out to has known me since we were teenagers, and in all that time she has heard me say those words maybe a total of 10 times so I'm sure the words themselves threw her for a loop. I went on to tell her I was really upset as if the emotion in my voice couldn't be detected. When I asked if I could come over to talk, she immediately said yes and I could hear the worry in her voice. As I told her what had happened, I felt what can only be described as a tidal wave of hurt come pouring out of me. Dr. T had encouraged me to talk to my friends about my struggles but I dismissed the idea because I didn't really think talking would help anything. I also didn't want to be seen as pathetic or weak by my friends. But all of those fears went away as I unloaded on my friend. She listened and counseled me as best as she could. One of the best things that she did for me (apart from just listening without judging me) was that she told me that the life I lead is very insulated. I work, I go home, I visit with my mom. Repeat. She encouraged me to find a way to break out of that pattern in order to open up my world a bit and not be so sheltered from the outside world.
So, this is what I'm going to try to do. I am challenging myself to try something new that takes me outside of my comfort zone each week for the rest of the summer. I'm hoping that by opening myself up to new experiences that I will find a way to let go of the past and of the people who aren't meant to be in my future. If anyone has any ideas about things to try, feel free to let me know. I am opening myself up not only to new experiences but also to spending more time with people I know I can count on. Steve Winwood advises us to "roll with it" when things get tough, so I am ready to open myself up to all of the new experiences that life has to give to me. It worked for me last year in a little town in Sicily, and I'm hoping that lightning will strike twice. By breaking out of this cage-like life that I've created for myself, I'm hoping that the only surprises in my future are the good kinds that lift me up rather than knock me down.
I now find myself on the brink of another possible life-changing journey. If you have read my blog entries lately, then you might have picked up that I'm not overjoyed with my life right now. But like a lot of people who are trying to instill change into their lives, I'm feeling stuck and unsure of my abilities. Action is clearly what is needed in order to break out of this funk yet it seems like every time I try to put something in motion, fate throws a wrench into my plans. Just yesterday I made the decision to go into school to work on a grant that was funded by my district. Since I'm a creature of habit, I went to check my mailbox as I always do when I first enter the building. But when I did that, I found something that literally felt like a punch to the stomach. I don't want to reveal what it was but I can tell you it wasn't a pink slip or anything that had to do with my job at all. But it was something that sucked all of the motivation right out of me. I quickly gathered the books I needed and left the building so that I could process this slap in the face in private.
My normal way to handle an emotional disappointment like this would be to go home and beat myself up for trusting someone to treat me with the same respect that I treated all people. But in the car I really thought about what would help me get over this hurdle. Would being alone to cry and wallow help me get past this hurt? I took a deep breath and decided that I needed to do something that I rarely do; I needed to reach out to a friend. I needed the support of someone who doesn't have an agenda or a reason to judge me. Although it took me a few tries, I managed to finally dial the number and reach out praying that my friend was home. Luckily for me, she answered quickly and unluckily for her, my shaky voice betraying my emotional state said the words that have been so hard for me to say: "I need to talk to you."
The friend I reached out to has known me since we were teenagers, and in all that time she has heard me say those words maybe a total of 10 times so I'm sure the words themselves threw her for a loop. I went on to tell her I was really upset as if the emotion in my voice couldn't be detected. When I asked if I could come over to talk, she immediately said yes and I could hear the worry in her voice. As I told her what had happened, I felt what can only be described as a tidal wave of hurt come pouring out of me. Dr. T had encouraged me to talk to my friends about my struggles but I dismissed the idea because I didn't really think talking would help anything. I also didn't want to be seen as pathetic or weak by my friends. But all of those fears went away as I unloaded on my friend. She listened and counseled me as best as she could. One of the best things that she did for me (apart from just listening without judging me) was that she told me that the life I lead is very insulated. I work, I go home, I visit with my mom. Repeat. She encouraged me to find a way to break out of that pattern in order to open up my world a bit and not be so sheltered from the outside world.
So, this is what I'm going to try to do. I am challenging myself to try something new that takes me outside of my comfort zone each week for the rest of the summer. I'm hoping that by opening myself up to new experiences that I will find a way to let go of the past and of the people who aren't meant to be in my future. If anyone has any ideas about things to try, feel free to let me know. I am opening myself up not only to new experiences but also to spending more time with people I know I can count on. Steve Winwood advises us to "roll with it" when things get tough, so I am ready to open myself up to all of the new experiences that life has to give to me. It worked for me last year in a little town in Sicily, and I'm hoping that lightning will strike twice. By breaking out of this cage-like life that I've created for myself, I'm hoping that the only surprises in my future are the good kinds that lift me up rather than knock me down.
Thursday, July 23, 2015
Closer to Fine
Acceptance is a concept with which I have had a strange relationship through the years. As a child, I practiced acceptance on a regular basis. I didn't argue with my parents about their rigid rules. The strict Italian household in which I was raised made it clear to me that friends should be female only. This is part of the reason I was sent to an all-girl high school. My acceptance of this belief that friends could not be male combined with my natural shyness made me totally self-conscious around men for a long time. This same blind acceptance of authority's rules extended to school. As a student it would never cross my mind to question the teachers about what was being taught. I knew that in order to excel in school all I needed to do was follow directions, listen to the teacher, and memorize what was taught. No real thinking required...just compliance. And when I was teased and bullied about my weight as a child, those mean remarks were met with a shrug of shoulders and little else publicly. Of course, like every bullied child those words haunted me for years and led to a very narrow view of myself. In fact, all of these types of acceptance led to consequences, some minor and some serious. For instance, taking everything I was taught as gospel-truth led to me not really knowing how to think for myself until I was well into college. Accepting certain truths without question led me to hold beliefs that weren't true to me in order to continue being a "people pleaser". While I share some values that my parents held sacred, there are a fair number of values that we don't have in common. This has contributed to me making decisions that haven't always been in MY best interest. Suffice it to say, acceptance is something that I've been wary of in my adult life.
However, what I am discovering lately is that by not accepting certain truths in my life, I am impeding my own growth and harming any tranquility that I could hope to have. In this self-help culture that we are all living through, there is always an article showing us (in 10 steps or less) how to "fix" whatever ails us. Low self esteem? Try getting out in nature more. Feeling depressed? Grab your iPod, blast your favorite tune, and dance away the doldrums. Want true revenge on a rival? Forgive and move on because you are only poisoning yourself with vindictive feelings toward another. While these nuggets of advice are all valid, they can make one feel like every bad feeling needs to be chased away with a remedy. In my case, I have been extra vigilant when those bad feelings have surfaced because of my past experience with depression and panic attacks. At the first sign of a bad feeling, I take out my toolbox of soothing strategies in order to "fix" myself mainly out of fear that one bad feeling will lead to a snowball effect of depression. But what about the times that negative feelings (i.e. anger, sadness, hopelessness) are not only warranted but needed to be felt? Is it sometimes helpful for me to feel badly?
The tragic comedy that has been my life during the past three months (starting with the sudden death of a beloved younger cousin; followed by the end of a potential relationship and friendship; with a dream to adopt being dashed; and ending with a disappointment in my career) has been the catalyst for many negative feelings: shock, anger, heartache, grief, disappointment, and outrage just to name a few. To say my counselor (Dr. T) has more than earned his paycheck in this terrible trimester is putting it mildly. The other day when I was scrambling and searching for ways to fix myself and to prevent a descent into that dark place, Dr. T quietly suggested that maybe I just needed to accept these bad events and let myself experience the negativity that accompanies them. I gave him my best "Really?" teacher look and proceeded to explain to him how much I have had to deal with lately (yes, tiny violins were strumming in the background). But upon reflection I can see his point.
It feels like I have spent a lifetime trying to run away from my feelings. Just as the alcoholic looks to that glass of wine as a mean of escape, I have searched for ways to avoid the realities in my life (Amazon.com is my choice of drug). The truths in my life that I'm trying to "not feel" have been well documented in my writing: I am a middle aged, overweight single woman who wants to be married with children. Even writing that sentence hurts but you know what? Even though that is a small part of my identity (I'm also a great friend, skilled educator, and caring person) it is still significant and trying to deny I feel badly about it has only brought about more negative feelings. Maybe I can have those feelings but still be content with my life? I'm not sure but I'm hoping it will get me closer to fine.
However, what I am discovering lately is that by not accepting certain truths in my life, I am impeding my own growth and harming any tranquility that I could hope to have. In this self-help culture that we are all living through, there is always an article showing us (in 10 steps or less) how to "fix" whatever ails us. Low self esteem? Try getting out in nature more. Feeling depressed? Grab your iPod, blast your favorite tune, and dance away the doldrums. Want true revenge on a rival? Forgive and move on because you are only poisoning yourself with vindictive feelings toward another. While these nuggets of advice are all valid, they can make one feel like every bad feeling needs to be chased away with a remedy. In my case, I have been extra vigilant when those bad feelings have surfaced because of my past experience with depression and panic attacks. At the first sign of a bad feeling, I take out my toolbox of soothing strategies in order to "fix" myself mainly out of fear that one bad feeling will lead to a snowball effect of depression. But what about the times that negative feelings (i.e. anger, sadness, hopelessness) are not only warranted but needed to be felt? Is it sometimes helpful for me to feel badly?
The tragic comedy that has been my life during the past three months (starting with the sudden death of a beloved younger cousin; followed by the end of a potential relationship and friendship; with a dream to adopt being dashed; and ending with a disappointment in my career) has been the catalyst for many negative feelings: shock, anger, heartache, grief, disappointment, and outrage just to name a few. To say my counselor (Dr. T) has more than earned his paycheck in this terrible trimester is putting it mildly. The other day when I was scrambling and searching for ways to fix myself and to prevent a descent into that dark place, Dr. T quietly suggested that maybe I just needed to accept these bad events and let myself experience the negativity that accompanies them. I gave him my best "Really?" teacher look and proceeded to explain to him how much I have had to deal with lately (yes, tiny violins were strumming in the background). But upon reflection I can see his point.
It feels like I have spent a lifetime trying to run away from my feelings. Just as the alcoholic looks to that glass of wine as a mean of escape, I have searched for ways to avoid the realities in my life (Amazon.com is my choice of drug). The truths in my life that I'm trying to "not feel" have been well documented in my writing: I am a middle aged, overweight single woman who wants to be married with children. Even writing that sentence hurts but you know what? Even though that is a small part of my identity (I'm also a great friend, skilled educator, and caring person) it is still significant and trying to deny I feel badly about it has only brought about more negative feelings. Maybe I can have those feelings but still be content with my life? I'm not sure but I'm hoping it will get me closer to fine.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Hurt
People say that everything happens for a reason and that if a door doesn't open for you, then what was behind it isn't meant for you. Unfortunately, when you are struggling with the doorknob of your potential future and it isn't budging, the frustration and the defeat felt can be overwhelming. The latest disappointment (in this long string of setbacks in my life these past few months) has me temporarily down for the count. I despise feeling sorry for myself but you know what? I really feel like an all-around loser. Every facet of my existence from my romantic life to my desire to teach younger children to my wish to become a mother has been crushed under the heavy weight of reality. It truly has made me want to crawl into my shell and not try to go after my passions anymore.
After all, playing it safe seems to work for other people. There are great people out there living single lives by choice and are fulfilled and satisfied while the divorce rate soars. Most of the teachers I know appreciate the fact of teaching the same grade level year after year because it allows one to hone the craft of teaching to a specific age group. And most of the childless people I know have much more disposable income without those pesky costs like child care, braces, and tuition to save up for. The blessings I've had in my life far outnumber the hardships that I've had to face, and there are so many people who would love to be walking in my shoes. All I have to do is be content with what I have and just ride it out for the next 30 or 40 years of my life.
But to me living a life without goals and dreams to fuel me depresses me to no end. Is it asking too much to be grateful for what I have yet want a different life? None of my wishes that have been dashed were mean-spirited or meant to hurt any other person. In fact, at the core of each of my dreams was one simple element: love. Love of teaching young children...romantic love...maternal love. Why are these things being denied to me? If I stop hoping for these things to materialize for me, what will be the point of my life? This is my struggle.
As usual, I'm turning to my writing and my music to help soothe my soul. Putting one foot in front of the other, I will "fake it until I make it"...and listen to some classic sad songs about people with problems much greater than my own. While more upbeat music might seem like the more logical choice for me tonight, I'm going to let the hushed tones of Johnny Cash and other broken souls teach me how to go on.
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Spirits in a Material World
I'm experimenting with a new blog site which I may or may not continue to use. I know it is the third platform I've used, but we writers are very particular about what we like and don't like when it comes to writing (Haven't you ever read or seen Misery? At least I"m not in a secluded cabin chugging scotch and smoking cigars). Anyway...
I woke up this morning thinking about my father. For those of you that don't know, I lost my father two years ago after a year-long battle with leukemia. He was really brave and faced the end of his life with a lot of quiet dignity and strength...much like how he lived his life. Whenever I would ask him how he was feeling, I would get one of two responses. "I'm okay" or "I'm not too good today". He rarely would elaborate or complain about his health but seeing how listless the leukemia and chemotherapy made him on his bad days spoke volumes. The fact that he outlived the first diagnosis he received (3-6 months) twice over still amazes me and is testament to his inner strength and determination.
Dad rarely attended mass, and when he did we often would joke how surprised we were that the church didn't fall in on him. But the way he lived his life was 10 times more Christian-like than many of the church-going folks I know. He was a generous and kind man who time after time reached out to help others with no thought of what he would get in return. It was only after his death that I learned about more than one "loan" that was never repaid to him (I learned this because my mother, while also leading a Christian life, wasn't quite as amiable as my dad was). I often wondered during that year if Dad thought about the afterlife that was awaiting him. I wish I had spoken to him about it but that wasn't the kind of relationship he and I had (Unfortunately, I inherited his tendency to avoid talking about emotional issues).
I believe that my Dad's soul (like everyone's soul) had lessons to learn in this lifetime and that now he is free to watch over all of us. Despite this belief, I haven't really called on him much during these past two years even though I know he has helped me. When I received a job interview with my current school district, I had reached the point where I thought I was going to HAVE to move in order to get a teaching job. My last lucid conversation with my father centered around him telling me not to worry because a teaching position was going to come up. So when I actually got the job, I knew to thank him because in my heart I just knew he was the one behind making that happen. But beyond thanking him for watching over us, I really haven't "prayed" to his spirit. But that changed yesterday after I read a short article on spirituality and receiving signs from our loved ones who have passed on.
I have always considered ducks (especially ones with baby ones near by) to be signs from my dad that he is around due to seeing a family of ducklings coming out of his backyard on the day of his funeral. Rabbit families also make me think of my dad because of his "relationship" the last year of his life with a rabbit in his backyard. So, I feel my dad has sent me signs but I've never really asked him for a sign...until last night. I asked my father to send me a sign if the answer to my question was "yes" (I'd rather not share the question...some things are private between a father and daughter). I asked him to have me dream about a butterfly if the answer to my question was yes. The article I read also said to ask your loved one to wake you up immediately after the dream so that you could remember the dream. So, I did that as well and went off to sleep.
When I awoke around 3 a.m. with the memory of a big black butterfly with blue and lavender spots flying right in the middle of a school dream (i.e. anxiety dream), I was shocked! I knew that my emotionally reticent father had found a way to not only send me a sign but to bolster my self confidence a bit. Now, I know that some nonbelievers out there may say that the butterfly was in my subconscious and that's why I dreamt of it. To be honest, the thought crossed my mind as well. But I feel deep in my heart, once again, that my father spoke to me.
I've already thanked him for his message and plan on reaching out to him again. It doesn't make the sting of living the rest of my life without him any less painful. But it does remind me that we are all souls living this brief time in our bodies, and that no matter what I still have my father with me. Thanks again, Daddy. I love you.
I woke up this morning thinking about my father. For those of you that don't know, I lost my father two years ago after a year-long battle with leukemia. He was really brave and faced the end of his life with a lot of quiet dignity and strength...much like how he lived his life. Whenever I would ask him how he was feeling, I would get one of two responses. "I'm okay" or "I'm not too good today". He rarely would elaborate or complain about his health but seeing how listless the leukemia and chemotherapy made him on his bad days spoke volumes. The fact that he outlived the first diagnosis he received (3-6 months) twice over still amazes me and is testament to his inner strength and determination.
Dad rarely attended mass, and when he did we often would joke how surprised we were that the church didn't fall in on him. But the way he lived his life was 10 times more Christian-like than many of the church-going folks I know. He was a generous and kind man who time after time reached out to help others with no thought of what he would get in return. It was only after his death that I learned about more than one "loan" that was never repaid to him (I learned this because my mother, while also leading a Christian life, wasn't quite as amiable as my dad was). I often wondered during that year if Dad thought about the afterlife that was awaiting him. I wish I had spoken to him about it but that wasn't the kind of relationship he and I had (Unfortunately, I inherited his tendency to avoid talking about emotional issues).
I believe that my Dad's soul (like everyone's soul) had lessons to learn in this lifetime and that now he is free to watch over all of us. Despite this belief, I haven't really called on him much during these past two years even though I know he has helped me. When I received a job interview with my current school district, I had reached the point where I thought I was going to HAVE to move in order to get a teaching job. My last lucid conversation with my father centered around him telling me not to worry because a teaching position was going to come up. So when I actually got the job, I knew to thank him because in my heart I just knew he was the one behind making that happen. But beyond thanking him for watching over us, I really haven't "prayed" to his spirit. But that changed yesterday after I read a short article on spirituality and receiving signs from our loved ones who have passed on.
I have always considered ducks (especially ones with baby ones near by) to be signs from my dad that he is around due to seeing a family of ducklings coming out of his backyard on the day of his funeral. Rabbit families also make me think of my dad because of his "relationship" the last year of his life with a rabbit in his backyard. So, I feel my dad has sent me signs but I've never really asked him for a sign...until last night. I asked my father to send me a sign if the answer to my question was "yes" (I'd rather not share the question...some things are private between a father and daughter). I asked him to have me dream about a butterfly if the answer to my question was yes. The article I read also said to ask your loved one to wake you up immediately after the dream so that you could remember the dream. So, I did that as well and went off to sleep.
When I awoke around 3 a.m. with the memory of a big black butterfly with blue and lavender spots flying right in the middle of a school dream (i.e. anxiety dream), I was shocked! I knew that my emotionally reticent father had found a way to not only send me a sign but to bolster my self confidence a bit. Now, I know that some nonbelievers out there may say that the butterfly was in my subconscious and that's why I dreamt of it. To be honest, the thought crossed my mind as well. But I feel deep in my heart, once again, that my father spoke to me.
I've already thanked him for his message and plan on reaching out to him again. It doesn't make the sting of living the rest of my life without him any less painful. But it does remind me that we are all souls living this brief time in our bodies, and that no matter what I still have my father with me. Thanks again, Daddy. I love you.
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