My Happy Beginning

Recently, I was whining over lunch to a good friend of mine. I said, although I am not depressed and have so much to be thankful for, I am not entirely happy a lot of the time either.  I have two beautiful daughters, a husband that still loves me as much as he did when I was 16, and a roof over my head with beloved family living near by.  What's not to love?  

Sometimes, as mommies, we lose a piece of ourselves in being a servant to everyone else.  I'm not saying that serving others is a bad thing; just the opposite!  I really believe that serving God and family is the highest calling that a person can have.  We have to be careful, though, to remember what it is that we love about ourselves, as we are loving everybody else.  When the drudgery of everyday existence snuffs out that little light that resides within each of us, it doesn't just effect one person, right?  When Mama's not happy, ain't nobody happy!  Perhaps, the truest statement ever.  

My smart friend admitted to often feeling the same way.  She is crazy intelligent, a great mama, and incredibly giving of her time.  But, she agreed that when she looks at a dirty bathroom, she often thinks, "Is anyone really going to notice if it stays dirty one more day? Is what I do around here really important?"

What a relief! Here I was thinking that I was the only Mom who is entirely unmoved and unmotivated by soap scum!  To say the least, I appreciate her honesty.  She recommended that I pick up a copy of The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin, a New York times bestseller.  Just the fact that this book has spent a year on the New York Bestsellers list is evidence alone that a lot of us women, whether working at home or elsewhere, struggle with finding happiness.  The author, Rubin, was feeling bogged down by her everyday existence and decided to dedicate one year of her time and energy to becoming a happier person.  In the introduction, she talks about always waiting for her life to change on its own.  

Hello! That's me!  Maybe one day we'll start eating dinner at our dining room table regularly.  Maybe one day I'll save up the money to go to a blogger convention.  Maybe one day I will read a book that does not have a smug looking Scotsman or scantily clothed pirate on the front.  Just kidding...The Happiness Project counts, right?! The list could go on.  I am really just starting the book, but I am already inspired.  So I thought I would undertake my own happiness project.  Like Rubin, it is not practical for me to pick up and move to Bali or Naples for a few months (would interfere with a few things), but I can make a few changes here and there to fan the little flame within me.  

My Grown Up Happiness List:
1.)  Always assume people are thinking nice things about you (because they usually are and if they weren't, do you really want to know that?)

2.) Make some time to be quiet with God everyday (much harder than you think...have to do it in my parked car so I don't get distracted).  

3.) Be the kind of person who REALLY prays for people when they say they will (I love those guys).  

4.) Stick a card in someone's mailbox just because.  

5.)  Trashy novels and TV are only allowed after 8pm...TV time is something for Hubby and I to do together.  

6.) At LEAST take a long walk everyday so body does not move any further south (God help me).  

7.) Organize or clean something everyday to make a happier space.  Nothing bums me out more than crap laying everywhere.  

8.) Call my husband's family more.  I love them SO much!  I just HATE talking on the phone.  

9.) Make the drive to Atlanta with my family.  We live in the sticks (not even pizza delivery for Pete's sake) and Atlanta is an urban adventure just waiting to happen.  

10.)  Stop using my credit card (I feel better about myself when I know what I am spending).  

11.) Speak the truth if I am asked for it. Trust that people will still love me even when I disagree! 

12.) Do something creative that brings joy to another person #my Dad's 76th birthday present.

13.) Let my husband see the best version of me from time to time...he usually gets the "it's 6pm and please get your ass home soon" version.  

14.)  Listen to more classical music.  It makes me feel like I am living in a beautiful, period film.  

15.) Be a better listener.  Stop thinking about what you are going to say next and just "be" attentive to what they are saying.  

Okay, you've read mine! Now what's on yours?  It's really quite liberating to put it out there for everyone to see. If you don't want to broadcast it, then tell a friend.  Do something to hold yourself accountable to making some happiness changes.  Only keep it to yourself if it's like, "Stop visiting Asian massage parlors," okay?  

No, on second thought, you should really tell someone that.  
 


 

Naked Me

 

Here is one tidbit readers may not guess about me: I do not "do" strong feelings well.  I know...shocking! The lady who bares her soul to the world via the Web does not know how to deal with big feelings.  This is actually a relatively new realization for me, but not so much for my friends.  If we took a poll right now, I guarantee you that all of my good friends have witnessed me ugly cry like I am a 16 year old having a coming to Jesus with Dr. Phil on at least one occasion.  If you haven't beheld the ugly cry, just wait...give me a couple of months; we'll get there. 

 

 This realization occurred to me recently, when I was talking to a dear friend on the phone.  The conversation went something like this:

Friend: Remember that time when my son was so stressed out that he put a hammer through the drywall? 

Me: Oh, yeah! That was awful. I remember how stressful that was. 

Friend: It's kind of funny that my son is losing it and I'm trying to hold it together...meanwhile, you are the one hyperventilating into a paper bag in my kitchen! LOL!

Me: Wow! I totally forgot about that...but you are right. I was a mess!

It got me thinking (only occasionally a good thing).  What was it that made me so panicked about that situation?  Or a million other situations like it when I have had to fight the overwhelming urge to run away before my chest explodes.  Even writing about this subject is pretty tough for me because this is me at my most vulnerable.  As I'm writing, I feel a bit like that dream where you are walking through the halls of your high school and you realize, "Oops! I'm naked!" 

Who knows what makes us lose it during stressful situations?  In college, someone told me it was probably due to the fact that I never witnessed my parents argue growing up (no practice at resolving conflict).  My mom said, "That's rich!  So, now we've screwed you up because we didn't fight enough?" 

Mom and Dad, thanks for the traumatic "Leave it to Beaver" upbringing.  Please, put away the violins.  I will somehow carry on!

I'm just gonna keep it real and lay it all out for you.  For many years, my thought process around conflict went something like this.  Someone hurts me.  Someone is in a crappy mood and gives me some attitude.  There is a little file in my brain where that person goes and stays until I deem them fit to reenter my life.  I know, messed up, right?  They could apologize, make a kind gesture...doesn't matter.  In my head, I'm thinking, "Take a hike." 

Now, like a good Southern girl, I would never say such a thing.  Heavens, no!! I would smile, say the right things, and slip them into the naughty file.  

It's a little nuts.  I like to think I'm a bit more evolved than that these days. Like a Big Girl, I am slowly learning to use my words and express how I feel.  Largely, the change is due to the presence of honest, real friendships in my life.  Words cannot describe how much I value the close adult friendships in my life.  In these, I find accountability, love, and acceptance. There is no room for gossip, judgement, or resentments. 

But, it is still pretty unbearable for me to feel any negative, strong emotions.  Be it anger, fear, sadness, anxiety, etc., I choose the "avoid at all costs" approach until inevitably things boil over (at the most inopportune times)!  Here is a great example of my avoidance strategy after a super stressful week:

Me: How is your day going?

Hubby: Really busy and stressful.  Too much to get done in one day.  

Me: So this is probably not the best time for me to tell you what I've been thinking...

Hubby: What?? 

Me: Well...wouldn't it be great if you and I got tattoos together?! I mean, there are so many things in our lives right now that are so out of our control and what a great way to feel empowered.  It could be like a birthday present to you! Fun, right??

Hubby: Wow.  Really? What are you, like twenty?  No, babe.  And if I have to look at one body for the rest of my life, I'd really prefer that it not be tatted up, please.  

Me: Okay.  Well, it was just a thought.

Bless my husband's little heart.  It's great to have people that know you so well, isn't it?  They know all of your dysfunctions and issues and they don't let you get away with stupid stuff.  He knows that I look for quick fixes...stuff that will give me a little adrenaline so that I don't have to feel what I am feeling or God forbid, think too much.  This morning, before leaving for work, he asked what was next.  "So, Babe, you going to ask me to join the military today because you think the uniform is cute?"  Ha!  No, I'd just make him buy the uniform, silly man.  

So, what now?  Well, I think I have enough insight to pick up the phone and talk about what is going on in my head before I do something like cut off all my hair, get a tramp stamp, or pierce something.  Let's face it.  Nobody wants to see that stuff on a thirty four year old stay at home mom...at least not this one.  Gross.  I might as well start smoking Virginia Slims, wearing toe rings and sporting hoops in my cartilage, right?  Been there, done that.  Instead, if I feel sad, or mad, stressed,  or whatever...I'm going to try to look it square in the eye. 

And maybe, one day, I can stop running around and just sit with it.  Because it's not the negative feelings that get us in trouble. It's the untruth, the belief, that we'd better just put a lid on those feelings because no one else would understand.

Ugly Crying and Counting Crows

I have been like a ticking time bomb this week.  Does that happen to other moms or is that just me?  If it is just me then do me a big fat favor and keep it to yourself.  Nobody wants to hear how damn happy you are!

Sometimes I feel like the love and concern that I feel for my children is going to be the undoing of me.  And it will, I'm sure.   By the time they are tweens, if everything is going as planned, I will hear, "I hate you! No one understands me!" on a regular basis.  I've already heard that a couple of times this week as I'm trying to poor pink gunk down Nana's throat every three hours.  She has had a wicked case of strep since Wednesday (yes, we are the streppyist family in America) and I have had to take her to the ER, (104.5 temp that kept rising) which was about as much help as calling my husband's Macedonian grandma for help.  No, less help!  Because all they did was give her an icepack and some Tylenol after a two hour wait.   Babo's vinegar sponge bath probably would have been more effective, if stinky. Days later, she still has a 103 degree temp but seems to be in less pain and moves around too much when her fever reducer kicks in.

Admittedly, I am a nut about having a scary-sick kid.  Yes, I am that parent who asks the doctor a million questions and calls after hours.  But, honestly, I am not sorry.  It occurred to me that I have no shame about getting help when we need it because we only have ONE Savannah.  She is precious and for whatever crazy reason, God put her in my care. 

I will be doing the same thing when she is a teenager and refuses to talk to me...asking friends a million questions (their views on premarital sex) and calling her boyfriend's parents after hours.  I will attach GPS tracking devices to their backpacks and sniff them every time they walk in the door. Uncle Mark will sit on the front porch sporting his rifle if any bad apples come sniffing around. I will NOT however, ground them for listening to loud, rap music! Mom and Dad, you had SUCH bigger fish to fry than Tupac Shakur, but there is no need to rehash old drama.  No need at all.  

When I feel like this, my head clouded with worry about everything from Scarlett fever to global warming to the possibility of being smashed into smithereens by a Mack truck, leaving my children motherless, I try not to do anything impulsive.  Sometimes though, just sometimes, you need to drive to the Target parking lot with the windows rolled down and ugly cry, while listening to Counting Crows.  After all, why would God give us the ability to cry, if we weren't supposed to use it?  By the time I get home I am calmer, even though nothing has changed.  

I wrote my husband a note today about everything that was starting to boil over in my mind.  Honestly, I expected him to scoff and say, "Lady, you don't even know what stress is!" because he is a pretty stressed out dude.  What I got instead was a note back that said, "What can I say? I get it. Go do what you've gotta do."  When Counting Crows and I got home, I gave him a hug and said "Thanks. That was the right thing to say."  Like most men, he does not say a lot about feelings, but the words he chooses are usually right.  Best of all, he does not hold a grudge when I am all squinty eyed and behaving badly.

Think I'll keep him.  

 

Bad Road Ahead

There is a song by Ginny Owens that has carried me through some truly dark and dismal times in my life.  There is something hauntingly pure and simple about Owens' voice and message of "If You Want Me To" that speaks to my heart and comforts.  

http://youtu.be/1q8pWgDsv1E

As I listen to it now, my breathing slows down and my chest relaxes.  

Ginny Owens is a young Christian singer who happens to be blind among other things, like brilliant.   I heard her tell the story of how she majored in music education in college, expecting to pursue her passion for teaching high school students upon graduation.  Unfortunately, she soon found out that administrators were less than thrilled about the idea of a blind choral director.  Of course, they never said as much in interviews.  But, they could hardly hide their surprise after meeting her for the first time.  "If You Want Me To" was born out of her frustration over when and how she would pursue her dream to teach.  

Fortunately, God had bigger plans for Ginny than she ever could have imagined.  Today she has sold over 1 million copies of her albums and is a three time Dove Award winner and a multiple ASCAP award winner.  Clearly, she's doing just fine without those administrators and their jobs. She is teaching on a different level. 

I know that God has incredible things planned for me and my family.  I really do.  And I take Him at his word when he says, " I have plans to prosper you and not harm you; plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11 

But, have you ever gotten the feeling that you were looking at 12 miles of bad road ahead? You can just see the train wreck coming and there's not a thing you can do about it.  Typically, when this happens my reaction is pretty typical, not logical, but typical.  In the past, I would choose the crying/tantrum/pity party route.  Maybe if you just refuse to accept the hard road, it will magically disappear! No?? Why the hell not?! 

Uh-hem.  Sorry. 

Now that I am ever so much wiser, I prefer the pursuit of quick fixes.  This may come in the form of food, trashy books, movies, music, etc. I also like to throw in some major life changes just for fun.  At least I don't color my hair ridiculous colors or get tattoos anymore (I'll never tell where it is!) 

Yesterday, I had this thought.  This is SO cliche, but I wondered what Jesus did when he was scared.  After all, He got more than a healthy dose of the human condition during his time on this earth, right?  We know that the night before his crucifixion, as he was waiting in the Garden of Gethsemane for his arrest, that his soul was "sorrowful, even to death." (Matthew 26: 38) He fell on his face, praying desperately for this cup (his death) to pass from him if possible.  But, even as he wished for a way out of this suffering, he accepted God's will.  I cannot even imagine that kind of fear and still, he trusted God's plan.

Whatever the road ahead may bring, I know God will be with us.  History is a great predictor of future events, and He has yet to leave me hanging in a time of need.  I, on the other hand, am like the fair weather friend who gets happy and lazy and forgets all about Him.  But, even now, as the storm approaches, I can feel Him pulling me in, calling me home.  And I am so, so grateful that He still welcomes this prodigal child with open arms.  



 
 

 

 

Angry as a Wet Hornet

I was a little bit afraid when I signed in to my blog tonight that it would reject me, saying, "Who do you think you are, biotch? I haven't heard from you for two weeks! Someone else is writing me now, so take a hike."  

Seriously, I thought I would experience at least some form of disdain.  When you were a kid, did you ever find yourself writing, "Dear Diary, I'm really sorry I haven't written in so long..." 

That was probably just me...I am even codependent with myself.   Sad, really.

Back to the matter at hand.  I have been following the old adage, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."  I have been angry...and hungry...and mean.  

I can honestly say that I have never dieted as part of a New Years resolution until now.  Let me be clear: it was not by choice.  If you had told me in December that I would be giving up all processed foods (fast, starchy, salty goodness) I would have said, "I'm going to pretend like you did not say that."  In fact, when my cousin told me that she was starting a cleanse that would eventually lead to "clean eating," I honestly felt a little betrayed.  How could she leave our teen aged diet behind?  It was a source of secret pride that we could still eat chips, pizza, burgers, etc. and not be terribly chunky (as we should be).  

But, eventually, folks, we all have to face the music.  Pay the piper, as it were.  You see, I have a genetic predisposition to high blood pressure and anxiety, which does not help the b.p.  My parents put off taking medication until their 50's and 60's because they do not eat like idiots.  I, however, feed my kids really well but my diet usually consists whatever is handy out of the pantry and can be eaten on a paper towel, standing up.  Classy.

Just for kicks and giggles, I took my blood pressure at CVS while waiting for a prescription and almost peed myself.  My usual 120/78 did not pop up...let's just say it was an appropriate b.p. for a 50 year old Kate.  I panicked, repeatedly shoving my arm in the cuff as I watched the numbers go higher.  And then, I went home and cried.  

Yup.  My husband (and you) might think I'm a big baby.  That's okay.  You guys don't understand my relationship with food.  If I am planing a vacation, it centers around where we are going to eat.  My budget for the week revolves around what I'm going to eat.  Don't ever offer me Prada or Gucci.  Just take me out to dinner.  My husband and I don't exchange birthday or anniversary presents.  You guessed it!  We eat.  

So, my crying was an appropriate response to the realization that chips, pastries, mac n' cheese, pizza, fast food, and a whole lot of other good stuff would no longer be a part of my life.  Now, I read labels.  I do not marinade and smother with condiments.  I lightly season and steam things, dump them on top of brown rice, and pour some honey on it for "flavor." Yum. 

It makes me very, very angry. 

Here is a classic example.  I had just prepared the family's dinner: turkey meatloaf, salad, baked potatoes with sour cream, salt and pepper, and garlic bread.  Enter Hubby, home from work.  I was just settling down with my salad topped with salmon. 

Me: What are you doing?

Hubby: Getting some more sour cream.  

Me: Why?

Hubby: Because...I like it?

Me: No, you're not.  Put it down.  

Hubby: Why?

Me: It's disgusting!! There is enough sour cream for a family of four on that potato already! Do you want to have a heart attack??  Maybe you'd like some potato with your heaping plate of sour cream!!!

I proceed to rip the container out of his hands.  He looks defeated.

Hubby: You know, not all of us have high blood pressure. Just saying.  

Me: I know.  I'm sorry.  I just can't watch you do it.  I am experiencing food withdrawals and it makes me crazy.  

I am lucky to have a husband with a high tolerance for crazy.  

This too shall pass.  My brain will adjust to the lack of starchy goodness.  And, hey! What the heck is pinterest for if not for discovering new recipes?   I'll bet there is a whole pinteresting world out there of low sodium food delights just waiting for me!

I can hardly contain myself.  

And most importantly, there is comfort in knowing that millions of Americans are probably angry and hungry this January, just like me. 

Sing Out Loud (Even If You Don't Know the Words)

Confession: I have not been looking forward to blogging this week because for once, I am speechless (you might want to record this moment as it may never happen again).  Like the rest of America, I feel like everything I take for granted, everything I thought was safe, is now uncertain and scary.  I have felt this way only a couple of times in my life (9/11 was one) and I find myself leering up at God, thinking, "So, you really know what you're doing, huh?  Got this under control too?"  

And of course, He does.  As Americans, we have this hefty sense of entitlement that leads us to believe (falsely) that this life should be smooth sailing, if only we try hard enough to do the right things. The whole "what goes around comes around" bit. He never promised it would be easy or safe or fair...only that He would be with us to the ends of the earth.  

So where does that leave us?  I can only speak for myself.  This week's tragedy has reminded me that my children don't really belong to me.  They have just been loaned out to me for safe keeping.  I don't know what their futures will hold, or what tomorrow may hold for that matter.  The only thing that I have control over is their reality right here, right now.  

This week, the little people have been unleashed upon me for Winter Break.  Hooray!! (Sounded pretty sincere, right?)  Seriously though, as I listen to Lilah beg for gum (we are looking for a PreK twelve step program) for the 500th time that day, Savannah clinging to my leg, whimpering desperately each time I try to walk the dog (late onset separation anxiety??), I find myself breathing a little deeper.  Relaxing the tiny muscles in my forehead.  And speaking softly with compassion.  As I walk by them with laundry spilling out of my arms, I spontaneously smell and kiss the tops of their little heads.  They still smell like babies to me. I think to myself, "You are so precious to me with your loud voices, grimy fingers, and ridiculous fashion choices (flip flops paired with a wool coat)." 

We all do that after the unspeakable happens, don't we?  Talk a little sweeter and softer...take a minute to notice the blessings that are in front of us.  

Here was my blessing for the day...my four year old singing a song that makes her sound like a cougar trying to reel in fresh meat.  Before you judge, we do NOT listen to songs in my car that frequently use the word "baby"in reference to the opposite sex, I promise.  Lilah learned this little gem at the cheer-leading camp she attended with her big sister.  They now love Ms. Carly Rae Jepsen more than the Chipettes (Alvin's Lady-friends), which is saying a lot.  This is Lilah enjoying the heck out of "Call Me Maybe" and not at all sure about the words.  Hope it puts a smile on your face! 

 

My s#@% is Highly Sensitive!

Yesterday, as I was enjoying a leisurely trip to the urgent care center with the Grinch, a.k.a. my youngest daughter, who was sporting a very high fever and some suspicious lesions on her throat, I did something very, very naughty.  Something strictly at odds with my moral code.  Let's just keep this tidbit of information between us.  

I ripped a page out of the November 2012 issue of "O" Magazine and shoved it in my purse.  

My oldest daughter looked at me quizzically and said, "Mama, why are you tearing that out?"  

"Because it's very, very important to me. Shhhh...."  Real nice, right?

I will not be held responsible for my actions.  Spending four days nursing a tiny, mean person and cleaning up said person's vomit is enough to push any good citizen to the edge.  If you don't believe me, just try it (come over right now.)

The reason behind my evildoing is that I was instantly so overcome with emotion while reading this article that I had to have it.   Has that ever happened to you?  You read something and it's like a lightening bolt shoots down from the heavens and you know, "That's about me!"

The article, "How Thin Is Your Skin?" is adapted from The Highly Sensitive Person, by Elaine Aron, PhD, who has been studying highly sensitive people for more than twenty years.  You may be thinking, "Great! Just what we need, another diagnosis."  And you are right.  We live in a world that is flush with psychiatric illnesses and medications.  But, HSP is not a disorder because it affects too many people.  Between 15% and 20% of the population have this highly sensitive personality trait.  Do you?

Take a peak at the questionnaire Dr. Aron has developed to indicate whether or not a person may be considered highly sensitive.   I will confess that I could absolutely identify with all but one of these indicators.  In other words, my shit is highly sensitive.

According to Dr. Aron, and many others in the field of psychiatry, HSPs are keenly aware of the world around them because they process sensory input more deeply than the rest of the population.  Imagine your brain is a sieve that has larger holes than the next guy's.  This means that HSPs need to consciously create downtime for themselves to catch a break from all the sensory overload.  

I have been unconsciously doing just this for as long as I can remember, but there is a certain amount of shame that accompanies being that person.  Don't pull out your violins; I am happier with myself than I have ever been and honestly wouldn't change a thing.  But, at a young age I knew that my desire for peace and quiet was not the norm for other kids.  Certain sounds and textures set my teeth on edge.  Too many people talking loudly or at the same time makes me crazy.  I even quit Jazzercise because all those "party screams" and count downs made me want to shimmy my ass out the door.  When my sweet children bombard me with questions, I feel like a cornered rat. Just try taking away my alone time and I will choke somebody. And house guests?  Just the thought of one makes my blood pressure rise (but you know I love you). 

For a long time, I believed that this made me selfish, lazy, or weak minded.  At the age of 34, I really do know that none of these describe me.  You see, it's actually really smart to figure out what you need to live happy and do it.  When I take care of my kooky brain, I am able to appreciate and love the people around me to the best of my ability; especially my HSP child, who needs a whole lot of patience and compassion. Taking care of me makes me the best possible mom, friend, and wife.  

My husband knows and accepts all of my quirks and God love him for it.  He is a talker. He is loud.  He needs very little sleep or downtime to live.  We could not be more different, yet he loves me just as I am and only teases me about it a little.  And he does not snap at me when I ask him to turn down "Around the Horn" for the umpteenth time.  Thanks for the patience, Babe, and for not trying to change me. 

Are you an HSP?  Do you know one?  I'd love to hear your thoughts!