Wow, I can't believe it's been a month since I've written — and it has been a strange kind of month around here. I didn't mean to go on a blogging hiatus, and in fact, I wish I had been writing. That would mean I wouldn't have been living in this brain fog that's been my companion the past few weeks.
Nothing too life-altering has happened; I am simply feeling scattered and spread in too many directions. It's a natural product of my being a bipolar Gemini — always shifting moods, always catching onto big ideas — and sadly, I get to this place all too often. But at least now, as opposed to in my younger years, I hunker down and try to make sense of my world instead of running away from the madness.
One of the things I've been putting a lot of focus on lately is my latest professional endeavor. I've never mentioned this officially here, but those of you who know me in real life know I have a "Pinterest Test Kitchen" column on ksl.com, which recently made the jump to TV. So now in addition to writing weekly, I am featured every Thursday at 12:45 on KSL-TV News at Noon. When this opportunity finally came to fruition I felt like I had won the lottery. How awesome that I not only get to keep writing for a living, but I get to be inspired by and play around on Pinterest — legitimately! — and get paid for it?
Here are a few of my columns and TV appearances:
DIY dishwasher detergent recipes put to the test
Popular Pinterest recipes for easy, healthy, make-at-home snacks
Pinterest goes camping: Do-it-yourself ways to keep the bugs at bay
Anyway, I am so lucky to have this opportunity, but lately I've been getting really stressed about it. I have a grand vision and I have high hopes for this segment — not to mention the incredibly high standards I've always held myself to. Despite the success of the column, I'm still struggling to get my vision to translate to TV. This has led to an ongoing internal struggle, with me wondering daily if I need to try something else, or just suck it up and work harder, or if my energies would be better spent elsewhere and I'm just wasting my time. I can't figure out the answer to that one, so I am pressing on, ever pushing toward that mythical vision of success.
In the end, it doesn't matter what project I'm stressing over. This is what I do. My sister and husband continually chide me about this, because it's becoming a set-in-stone pattern: I start a new project and am completely gung-ho, proclaiming it the coolest thing EVER. A few months go by and my energy naturally wanes. Then, one hangup or another slows my progress, and I find myself in a cycle of self-doubt and frustration that takes another few months to power through. Then, I either find a way to work it out and circumvent the problem, coming out even strong than before — or I deem the effort a doomed failure and move on to find a new project.
And thus the cycle begins again.
It must be exhausting to live with me. If it's any fraction of what it's like to BE me, then yes, I can say with 100 percent certainty that it IS exhausting to live with me. And yet, I like to think my loved ones wouldn't have me any other way. OK, I may be totally making that up. It may be the thing that pushes my husband to his last straw one day, or the habit that drives me into eventual ruin. Or maybe the truth is this: that underneath the crazy-making self-doubt and frustration are the enthusiasm, drive, determination, and bold confidence that push me to succeed. Because yes, success (of varying degrees) is always a phase in that cycle, every time.
I didn't sit down to write anything in particular tonight; I mostly wanted to just push myself out of a writing rut. But as is so frequently the case, when I let myself follow where my writing leads I always find something redeemable about myself or my situation. I see a bigger picture and I see a moral to the story. Today, the bigger picture is that I am blessed with some pretty unique and exciting opportunities in life, and despite what roadblocks I come across, this is the bare-bones truth: I am at the heart of every failure and every success. It all depends on where I choose to stop in the cycle.
So, my message to you, friends: Don't give up. Take a step or two back if you have to, re-assess, and take a hard look at your life, but don't throw everything away in a time of worry and sadness. Don't believe your self-doubt; only believe the enthusiasm that pulls you toward all the good things in your life. It is what will take you to where your heart truly lies and where your success will take shape.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
Opportunities for learning abound
I've bragged before that my son is a smart cookie, and to set the stage for this post I'm going to brag some more. By 16 months Evan knew all his letters, could count to 10, had a vocabulary of literally hundreds of words, could apply abstract concepts to real-lilfe objects, and has a memory like a steel trap. I'd like to say that he is this way because I'm a super-mega-awesome mom and I fill his little brain with all this knowledge and deserve a big ol' pat on the back — but that's not true. He was born with some very special gifts, and nothing I do or don't do can take away from that. I am just really a proud mama and am in awe of the amazing things he does and learns so quickly.
Now, having said that, it's still not the whole truth. Because I know my son has a natural aptitude for learning and understanding complex things at a young age, I work very hard at building on that. I consider it a great honor to have an intelligent child, and I also feel a great responsibility to nurture that intellect.
But still, I don't take it to an extreme. I don't have lesson plans or flash cards, and truth be told I probably don't challenge him as much as I should. Instead, I've realized that the opportunities for teaching and learning are everywhere. That's what we focus on.
Like so many kids his age, Evan is a sponge, absorbing anything and everything around him. There's really no need for flash cards with toddlers, because practically everything in their world is new and exciting and sparks their curiosity. Instead of stressing about structured learning, take the time to explain things as you're doing them, or encourage your children to explore and try new things. You will be delighted by the connections they make and the things they come up with, and you will be inspired to find more ways to light up their little minds.
Here are some great ways to get your child learning without cracking a book. They may not be able to recite their alphabet or identify hexagons now, but these lessons are being filed away and not forgotten.
ABC's and 123's:
Counting: Although learning to count is a somewhat by-rote experience, children will understand that numbers have values when they see objects being counted instead of just hearing numbers recited. Count out loud when you're divvying up snacks, climbing steps, sorting the dishes, or stacking blocks.
Colors: Identify colors wherever you see them. For example, attach a color (and adjectives) to the name of common objects: big blue truck, yellow block, soft, brown monkey. Give your child a chance to identify colors in the choices they make, like, "Do you want to wear the blue shoes or the brown shoes?"
Letters: In addition to reading to your children (often!), draw attention to letters when you're out and about. Focus on one letter at a time ("Look, that sign has an 'S' on it!") or when something big catches their eye. This is also a great way to distract kids in the car or the store when they're getting cranky: "Can you find me a letter B?" This also works with colors and shapes.
Shapes: Our everyday objects are all made up of simple shapes, which makes the discovery of these shapes in everyday life more exciting. In addition to playing with shape blocks, point out similar shapes when you're unloading the dishwasher ("That plate is a square"), putting away toys ("That football looks like an oval"), and heading outside ("That stop sign is an octagon. It has 8 sides to it.")
Textures: Sensory play is especially important for babies, but with toddlers' burgeoning communication skills, identifying textures by name takes it to the next level. Try naming textures in the grocery store ("That pineapple is scratchy"), when folding laundry ("Your socks are so fuzzy"), and playing outside ("That sidewalk feels hard"). Soon you'll be able to ask: "Does that slide feel smooth or scratchy?" Your toddler will get a kick out of being able to know the answer.
Life Skills:
Open-ended play: I could write an entire post on "Heuristic" play, which is defined as "offering a group of children, for a defined period of time in a controlled environment, a large number of different kinds of objects and receptacles with which they play freely without adult intervention." Since I'm no expert on the subject I'll just hope that you read up on it, but I will say this: Toys are not the only things that are toys. Children learn so much when they are given an object and their imaginations are allowed to wander, because discovery is a far better teacher than any instructor could ever be. Let your little ones rummage through the kitchen utensils, give them a bunch of empty boxes, let them play in the sand and the dirt and the rocks. This is where their neural pathways are ignited and grow, so let them.
This is, of course, far from an all-inclusive list, but hopefully it will inspire you to try something a little different. So what are your ideas? What have you done with your children that has taught them far more than any flash card?
INSPIRATION:
An article on heuristic play
The Imagination Tree
Play at Home Mom
Growing Play
Pre-Kinders
Kid Activities board on Pinterest
Now, having said that, it's still not the whole truth. Because I know my son has a natural aptitude for learning and understanding complex things at a young age, I work very hard at building on that. I consider it a great honor to have an intelligent child, and I also feel a great responsibility to nurture that intellect.
But still, I don't take it to an extreme. I don't have lesson plans or flash cards, and truth be told I probably don't challenge him as much as I should. Instead, I've realized that the opportunities for teaching and learning are everywhere. That's what we focus on.
Like so many kids his age, Evan is a sponge, absorbing anything and everything around him. There's really no need for flash cards with toddlers, because practically everything in their world is new and exciting and sparks their curiosity. Instead of stressing about structured learning, take the time to explain things as you're doing them, or encourage your children to explore and try new things. You will be delighted by the connections they make and the things they come up with, and you will be inspired to find more ways to light up their little minds.
One of Evan's favorite games: Does it sink or does it float?
Here are some great ways to get your child learning without cracking a book. They may not be able to recite their alphabet or identify hexagons now, but these lessons are being filed away and not forgotten.
ABC's and 123's:
Counting: Although learning to count is a somewhat by-rote experience, children will understand that numbers have values when they see objects being counted instead of just hearing numbers recited. Count out loud when you're divvying up snacks, climbing steps, sorting the dishes, or stacking blocks.
Colors: Identify colors wherever you see them. For example, attach a color (and adjectives) to the name of common objects: big blue truck, yellow block, soft, brown monkey. Give your child a chance to identify colors in the choices they make, like, "Do you want to wear the blue shoes or the brown shoes?"
Letters: In addition to reading to your children (often!), draw attention to letters when you're out and about. Focus on one letter at a time ("Look, that sign has an 'S' on it!") or when something big catches their eye. This is also a great way to distract kids in the car or the store when they're getting cranky: "Can you find me a letter B?" This also works with colors and shapes.
Shapes: Our everyday objects are all made up of simple shapes, which makes the discovery of these shapes in everyday life more exciting. In addition to playing with shape blocks, point out similar shapes when you're unloading the dishwasher ("That plate is a square"), putting away toys ("That football looks like an oval"), and heading outside ("That stop sign is an octagon. It has 8 sides to it.")
Textures: Sensory play is especially important for babies, but with toddlers' burgeoning communication skills, identifying textures by name takes it to the next level. Try naming textures in the grocery store ("That pineapple is scratchy"), when folding laundry ("Your socks are so fuzzy"), and playing outside ("That sidewalk feels hard"). Soon you'll be able to ask: "Does that slide feel smooth or scratchy?" Your toddler will get a kick out of being able to know the answer.
Life Skills:
Making decisions: Like most humans, a child's level of confidence is related to how much others respect and approve of their decisions. Even though giving a toddler the reins seems like a suicide mission, in the long run it will help them be confident in their decisions and themselves and encourage bravery and independence. Not only should you give your children limited choices ("Do you want to eat oatmeal or eggs for breakfast?" or, "Do you want to wear the red shirt or the blue shirt?"), you should praise your children for making decisions ("That was a good choice") so they learn to trust themselves. You can also build on this confidence by challenging your toddler to push a little out of their comfort zone, then praising them with phrases like, "I knew you could do it."
Responsibility: Teaching responsibility is a lifelong task. When it comes down to it, it's one of the most important roles of parenthood. It's never too early to start. Have routines, rules and consequences so that children learn that life has boundaries and we all play a role in making things run smoothly. When there are hard-and-fast rules, it makes it easier for us as parents to both enforce the rules and encourage good behavior, because these rules — and the consequences for breaking them — will always remain constant. Rules like, "We always pick up toys before we go to bed," "We wash hands before/after we eat," and "If you throw your book I will take it away," are easily understood and enforced.
Responsibility: Teaching responsibility is a lifelong task. When it comes down to it, it's one of the most important roles of parenthood. It's never too early to start. Have routines, rules and consequences so that children learn that life has boundaries and we all play a role in making things run smoothly. When there are hard-and-fast rules, it makes it easier for us as parents to both enforce the rules and encourage good behavior, because these rules — and the consequences for breaking them — will always remain constant. Rules like, "We always pick up toys before we go to bed," "We wash hands before/after we eat," and "If you throw your book I will take it away," are easily understood and enforced.
Empathy: Empathy is a skill that is, sadly, fading away. We live in a me-first world, but that doesn't mean that your children have to follow their generation. When you show children that everyone has emotions, good and bad, and that we can be sensitive to others and help them feel better, you are not only empowering them to reach out and be kind, you just might be changing the world. Empathy is not that hard of a skill to learn when you start early. Point out emotions in others ("The baby is sad," "Mommy gets mad when you pull a tantrum"), talk your child through their own emotions ("You are mad that I took away the ball," "You were scared when you couldn't find Mommy"), and help them calm down ("Let's have a cuddle until you feel happy again," "Let's take some big breaths until the mad goes away"). Above all, practice empathy yourself ("I understand, you really want a cookie," "I know you feel mad, it makes me mad too") and model appropriate behavior for your own emotions ("I am so mad I need to stomp my feet," "I feel sad, can you give me a hug?"). Not only are they crucial emotions to teach your child, but it may help you be in touch with your own and motivate you to keep your negative emotions in check.
Enriching young minds:
Asking questions: The best way for a person to learn something is to allow them to find the answers themselves. Asking questions instead of simply explaining everything is a great way to give your child the chance to participate and be creative with their responses ("What will happen if...?" "What do horses eat?"). For young children, giving them the choice between two options can build this skill while still filling them with knowledge ("Is the sky blue or orange?").
This is, of course, far from an all-inclusive list, but hopefully it will inspire you to try something a little different. So what are your ideas? What have you done with your children that has taught them far more than any flash card?
INSPIRATION:
An article on heuristic play
The Imagination Tree
Play at Home Mom
Growing Play
Pre-Kinders
Kid Activities board on Pinterest
Monday, July 9, 2012
Are you a stay-at-home mom or a full-time mom?
I have so many things I've been wanting to blog about, but this one topic keeps coming back to mind. I've started and stopped posts about it several times, but I just can't seem to get it right. It is such an important issue to me, but there is just so much to be said about it that I just can't make the words come out right.
The heart of the issue is, I am happy and proud to be a stay-at-home mom. I never knew that life could be this good! I never knew I could feel so centered, calm, and happy. When I made the decision to quit the daily grind a year ago, I thought I could never be as fulfilled and challenged as I could be in a really good career position. I am so happy to report that I was wrong — dead wrong.
And yet still, the title of "stay-at-home mom" is misunderstood and the role is drastically undervalued. Even the phrase it self — stay-at-home — seems to undercut the role, suggesting the archetypal trailer park mom who lounges in a bathrobe and curlers, eating bon bons and watching soap operas all day.
To me, the phrase "stay-at-home mom" implies that mothers are locking themselves away and simply letting the world pass them by. In many ways that may be true; in fact, it sure feels like it some days. And although many may look down upon this aspect, it is where I've found my greatest sense of peace.
Frankly, I am tired of trying to keep pace with the world. There are so many mixed messages out there, especially for women. We are told that we can have it all, be it all, and do it all — and be glamorously fabulous all the while. I don't know about you, but simply reading that wears me out.
I am tired of trying to be everything to everyone. In all my years in the workforce, I always felt like I had to prove myself every single day. No matter how skilled or accomplished I was, it never felt like I was taken seriously or even really appreciated. I busted my buns all day every day, and I rarely had anything to show for it. Not only that, but by the time I finished at work, there wasn't much of me left. I was exhausted, stressed, depleted, practically demoralized. I doubt I was a great wife or a good friend, or even a great mother. I used everything good I had trying to work toward someone else's bottom line, toward some boss or manager or CEO's definition of success. At the end of the day, I had nothing left for the people in my life who matter most.
For years I thought this depletion was my fault — like I wasn't trying hard enough or working smart enough, or that I just plain didn't have the resources (emotional and mental) to cut it in the workforce. Maybe that's true, maybe it isn't. Either way, it all boils down to this: I was putting all my capital into an investment that never, ever paid off.
In light of this confession, it may sound like my choice to become a stay-at-home mom was one of those "by default" decisions. Let me assure you it wasn't. I still had the fight in me, and I wanted to keep at it until I found that mythical measure of success I kept chasing. But as you can see from my earlier post, "Why I became a full-time mom," eventually my good sense prevailed. I chose to quit the daily grind to focus on what's really important: My family and my son, who desperately needed me to be at my best.
I'm not going to lie: After the first few weeks of bliss, reality hit — hard. I came off that summer break feeling after about six weeks, and suddenly I was left to really face the stresses of caring for a small child day in, day out, all alone for nearly 11 hours a day. And it was ROUGH.
Some days it was all I could do not to run screaming from the house. There was a time when I cried, every day, for about a month straight. I was lonely, I felt unprepared, and I truly believed what society wanted me to believe: that the world was passing me by.
But then I got tough. I knew that I had made the absolute right decision for me, and I knew that it was the path that my Father in Heaven wanted me to take. Most of all, despite the stress and sorrow I was feeling, I could see the difference it was making in my son and my marriage. And so I got clever and started to face my new lifestyle for what it was: the career of a lifetime.
I read parenting books and magazines for techniques, I cruised blogs and Pinterest for play-at-home ideas, and — perhaps most importantly — I sought help. I sent Evan to the babysitter once a week or so, and I enlisted the help of family to ease the burden when I couldn't carry it. I'll admit I had my reservations and found myself feeling guilty for dumping my troubles on someone else, but that was proven wrong, too. The people in my life love my son, and they obviously love me enough to help me out. They want me to succeed, and they are helping me do it. This was one of the best things I have done as a full-time parent: giving myself permission to admit I can't do it all, and let others help.
I also spend more time out of the house. I devise an outing every single day, whether it's extravagant (a trip to the aquarium), exhausting (a trip to the park), or necessary (a trip to the grocery store). I also spend a lot of time hanging out at my parents' house. My dad is retired and I think we both enjoy the company as well as the break from our somewhat solitary lives, especially in the winter. And I made a good friend nearby, another stay-at-home mom who will commiserate and be just as thrilled as I am to sit in the backyard and whine while our kids run around like banshees. The point is, I don't actually stay at home. I shake it up a bit. The variety does both me and my son a world of good.
But perhaps the best thing I've done is, like I said, treat this for what it is: a job. I even call it that — I am no longer a stay-at-home mom, I am a full-time mom. This is my calling and my career, and I take it seriously. I am not just here as an empty presence, keeping my kid fed and out of mortal danger. I am his caretaker, his teacher, and his friend. I take the time first thing in the morning to sit, cuddle, and read to him every day. I not only enforce the rules but I take the time to teach him why rules are important — and I go through the agony of enforcing time-outs when he breaks those rules so that he understands that actions have consequences. I take the time to plan games and activities to spark his curiosity and build his skills. I make sure that I stop what I'm doing and look into his eyes when he is upset. I address his emotions, I talk through the problems, and I try to explain what is happening or has happened. He may not always understand, but he is learning that he is important to me and that I will always comfort him when he needs it.
These are just some of the things that take up my day, and I've been wanting to blog about each and every one of them. Soon I will, but already this post has gotten away from me. The point is, even though what I really want to do is sit on the couch and watch "What Not to Wear" all day, I don't. That's not my job. Being a mother is. And when I put forth this great effort to be patient, to nurture, to have fun and play and see the world through my child's eyes, I am more happy and fulfilled than I've ever been in my 30 years on this planet.
Yes, the world may be passing me by, but I say let it. Let the hustle and bustle consume everyone else. Let me be here, really and truly present, for all my son's discoveries and stages and even tantrums. What matters to me now is not someone else's bottom line. What matters to me is this precious soul that was entrusted to me the minute I became his mother. Being here, at home, with him and with my husband is where I am supposed to be. This is where my emotional and physical energy need to be spent. This is where I matter most, where my value truly shines through. This is the investment that will not only pay off, it will exceed my expectations every single time.
I am so blessed. I hope you feel this way too. I realize that many mothers work out of necessity, and that the thing they want more than anything in the world is to be where I am. My sympathies are truly with you, because I know how torn you feel. Just take confidence in the fact that you are doing the best you can to support your family. If you're not, then re-assess your life and decide what really matters to you. What's important is that you do the right thing for your family, and that is different for everyone.
But for all you moms in the trenches with me who are struggling with this lifestyle, take heart. You are not struggling alone, and what you do does matter. Decide right here and now to never be ashamed of your decision. It is noble, it is good, and it is so very important to the little people in your life.
So the next time you find yourself saying, apologetically, "I'm a stay-at-home mom," stop. Lift your head high, smile, and say, "I am a full-time mom, and I am damn good at my job."
The heart of the issue is, I am happy and proud to be a stay-at-home mom. I never knew that life could be this good! I never knew I could feel so centered, calm, and happy. When I made the decision to quit the daily grind a year ago, I thought I could never be as fulfilled and challenged as I could be in a really good career position. I am so happy to report that I was wrong — dead wrong.
And yet still, the title of "stay-at-home mom" is misunderstood and the role is drastically undervalued. Even the phrase it self — stay-at-home — seems to undercut the role, suggesting the archetypal trailer park mom who lounges in a bathrobe and curlers, eating bon bons and watching soap operas all day.
To me, the phrase "stay-at-home mom" implies that mothers are locking themselves away and simply letting the world pass them by. In many ways that may be true; in fact, it sure feels like it some days. And although many may look down upon this aspect, it is where I've found my greatest sense of peace.
Frankly, I am tired of trying to keep pace with the world. There are so many mixed messages out there, especially for women. We are told that we can have it all, be it all, and do it all — and be glamorously fabulous all the while. I don't know about you, but simply reading that wears me out.
I am tired of trying to be everything to everyone. In all my years in the workforce, I always felt like I had to prove myself every single day. No matter how skilled or accomplished I was, it never felt like I was taken seriously or even really appreciated. I busted my buns all day every day, and I rarely had anything to show for it. Not only that, but by the time I finished at work, there wasn't much of me left. I was exhausted, stressed, depleted, practically demoralized. I doubt I was a great wife or a good friend, or even a great mother. I used everything good I had trying to work toward someone else's bottom line, toward some boss or manager or CEO's definition of success. At the end of the day, I had nothing left for the people in my life who matter most.
For years I thought this depletion was my fault — like I wasn't trying hard enough or working smart enough, or that I just plain didn't have the resources (emotional and mental) to cut it in the workforce. Maybe that's true, maybe it isn't. Either way, it all boils down to this: I was putting all my capital into an investment that never, ever paid off.
In light of this confession, it may sound like my choice to become a stay-at-home mom was one of those "by default" decisions. Let me assure you it wasn't. I still had the fight in me, and I wanted to keep at it until I found that mythical measure of success I kept chasing. But as you can see from my earlier post, "Why I became a full-time mom," eventually my good sense prevailed. I chose to quit the daily grind to focus on what's really important: My family and my son, who desperately needed me to be at my best.
I'm not going to lie: After the first few weeks of bliss, reality hit — hard. I came off that summer break feeling after about six weeks, and suddenly I was left to really face the stresses of caring for a small child day in, day out, all alone for nearly 11 hours a day. And it was ROUGH.
Some days it was all I could do not to run screaming from the house. There was a time when I cried, every day, for about a month straight. I was lonely, I felt unprepared, and I truly believed what society wanted me to believe: that the world was passing me by.
But then I got tough. I knew that I had made the absolute right decision for me, and I knew that it was the path that my Father in Heaven wanted me to take. Most of all, despite the stress and sorrow I was feeling, I could see the difference it was making in my son and my marriage. And so I got clever and started to face my new lifestyle for what it was: the career of a lifetime.
I read parenting books and magazines for techniques, I cruised blogs and Pinterest for play-at-home ideas, and — perhaps most importantly — I sought help. I sent Evan to the babysitter once a week or so, and I enlisted the help of family to ease the burden when I couldn't carry it. I'll admit I had my reservations and found myself feeling guilty for dumping my troubles on someone else, but that was proven wrong, too. The people in my life love my son, and they obviously love me enough to help me out. They want me to succeed, and they are helping me do it. This was one of the best things I have done as a full-time parent: giving myself permission to admit I can't do it all, and let others help.
I also spend more time out of the house. I devise an outing every single day, whether it's extravagant (a trip to the aquarium), exhausting (a trip to the park), or necessary (a trip to the grocery store). I also spend a lot of time hanging out at my parents' house. My dad is retired and I think we both enjoy the company as well as the break from our somewhat solitary lives, especially in the winter. And I made a good friend nearby, another stay-at-home mom who will commiserate and be just as thrilled as I am to sit in the backyard and whine while our kids run around like banshees. The point is, I don't actually stay at home. I shake it up a bit. The variety does both me and my son a world of good.
But perhaps the best thing I've done is, like I said, treat this for what it is: a job. I even call it that — I am no longer a stay-at-home mom, I am a full-time mom. This is my calling and my career, and I take it seriously. I am not just here as an empty presence, keeping my kid fed and out of mortal danger. I am his caretaker, his teacher, and his friend. I take the time first thing in the morning to sit, cuddle, and read to him every day. I not only enforce the rules but I take the time to teach him why rules are important — and I go through the agony of enforcing time-outs when he breaks those rules so that he understands that actions have consequences. I take the time to plan games and activities to spark his curiosity and build his skills. I make sure that I stop what I'm doing and look into his eyes when he is upset. I address his emotions, I talk through the problems, and I try to explain what is happening or has happened. He may not always understand, but he is learning that he is important to me and that I will always comfort him when he needs it.
These are just some of the things that take up my day, and I've been wanting to blog about each and every one of them. Soon I will, but already this post has gotten away from me. The point is, even though what I really want to do is sit on the couch and watch "What Not to Wear" all day, I don't. That's not my job. Being a mother is. And when I put forth this great effort to be patient, to nurture, to have fun and play and see the world through my child's eyes, I am more happy and fulfilled than I've ever been in my 30 years on this planet.
Yes, the world may be passing me by, but I say let it. Let the hustle and bustle consume everyone else. Let me be here, really and truly present, for all my son's discoveries and stages and even tantrums. What matters to me now is not someone else's bottom line. What matters to me is this precious soul that was entrusted to me the minute I became his mother. Being here, at home, with him and with my husband is where I am supposed to be. This is where my emotional and physical energy need to be spent. This is where I matter most, where my value truly shines through. This is the investment that will not only pay off, it will exceed my expectations every single time.
I am so blessed. I hope you feel this way too. I realize that many mothers work out of necessity, and that the thing they want more than anything in the world is to be where I am. My sympathies are truly with you, because I know how torn you feel. Just take confidence in the fact that you are doing the best you can to support your family. If you're not, then re-assess your life and decide what really matters to you. What's important is that you do the right thing for your family, and that is different for everyone.
But for all you moms in the trenches with me who are struggling with this lifestyle, take heart. You are not struggling alone, and what you do does matter. Decide right here and now to never be ashamed of your decision. It is noble, it is good, and it is so very important to the little people in your life.
So the next time you find yourself saying, apologetically, "I'm a stay-at-home mom," stop. Lift your head high, smile, and say, "I am a full-time mom, and I am damn good at my job."
Friday, June 29, 2012
"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle"
I've noticed a deeply troubling trend the past few weeks: More than a handful of my friends are dealing with the sudden and unexpected suicide of a loved one.
The thing about suicide is, it's always sudden and unexpected to those of us left behind. But for the one who choses this desperate last resort, it's rarely sudden. It's the final act in a long and agonizing battle.
Why is that? How can we be so near others and seemingly never see it coming? The answers are as varied as the reasons behind the act, and unfortunately no one will ever truly understand why someone chooses to take his or her own life. Instead, the survivors are left to say, "If only she had reached out to me," or, "If only I had reached out to him."
If only... If only...
This is half the tragedy of suicide. It is not only bitter for the life lost, but for the sorrow of those wishing they would have done more.
I have not been affected by suicide in this way, but I have been on the other side of the coin. I feel I need to share my experience to hopefully shed light on the situation for those trying to understand it.
I have lived with depression for more than half of my life. In those 17 years, I have been suicidal many, many times, and each time I was surrounded by people who loved me. But I'm going to be completely honest: At my lowest points, there were so few people who, despite coming into contact with me every day, ever reached out to me. At my worst, just before falling into a nervous breakdown that took years to climb out of, I was considered very popular and in the middle of a very big social scene. I was in close-knit clubs and organizations and had two very close friends, and yet as I pulled away, the phone calls became infrequent. By the time I completely withdrew and spent my days staring at the walls, not eating, not sleeping, just crying, not one single friend checked after me. Not one.
I don't know why this is, exactly. I think for the most part it was because I focused so much of my energy pretending that I was OK, so that nobody had any idea this was going on. I also spent much of my time building walls around me, so that even though I was surrounded by friends I didn't let anyone get really close to me. I guess they thought that if I wasn't around, I didn't care about them, either.
I'm not sharing this to point any fingers. In fact, I don't blame anyone for what happened. It's hard to know what to do when the problem is kept such a secret. It was a big mess all around, but it's over now and it's time to learn from it.
Here's what I want us to learn:
If someone is truly struggling, chances are they're not going to show it. For some insane reason, we've gotten it into our heads that having these emotions is shameful, as though to feel pain is to be weak, pitiful, a disgrace. When someone is suffering a mental illness, these feelings of guilt and shame are magnified, compounding the grief and multiplying the agony. Putting up a wall and acting like things are fine is a defense mechanism.
If you are pushed away, don't go away. There are so many times where people did ask how I was, and even though in my head I was screaming, "I'm not OK! I'm not fine! I need help! Please save me!", I still put on a brave face and said everything was fine. Eventually they just stopped asking. I don't blame them; I basically pushed them right out of my life. But still, I really wish they'd have kept asking. Even though I didn't open up, it was so important to know that people cared. When they drifted out of my life, I took it as evidence that I didn't matter and that nobody would miss me when I was gone.
If you care about someone, let them know. You don't have to make grand gestures or have deep talks to let someone know they're important to you. Be kind, be friendly, be curious about their life. They may never let you know what they're going through, but they will feel your love. This is true for everyone, not just those who are struggling. We all need acceptance, friendship, kindness and forgiveness. You never know how even the smallest of actions, like giving a smile to a stranger or asking about a co-worker's weekend, can touch a person.
If you suspect someone is struggling, don't think it's someone else's problem. There seems to be the idea that if someone has a serious emotional battle, it's not just anyone's place to step in. If an acquaintance is struggling, don't assume that it's the job of someone closer to them, like family or close friends, to make it right. You are not responsible for changing their situation, but you don't have to wait to offer a kind word or hand of friendship. We are all connected in this big human family. Whether we're related by blood or joined by close friendship or none of the above, we all share in the responsibility to lift the human race. At the very least, think of it this way: Would you rather face the supposed awkwardness of approaching this person, or face the guilt after they are gone of doing nothing at all?
If you don't know what to say, then listen. I'll let you in on a secret: People don't actually want you to solve their problems. In fact, not all problems are solvable, and it's rare that outsiders can actually change what's going on inside of us. It's up to us to change our own lives and pull ourselves up, and yet, having a shoulder to cry on can be invaluable in this process. When someone comes to us with a problem it's very tempting to want to provide a solution, to help fix it (I am so guilty of this myself). It's even more tempting to think, "I can't help them, I don't know what to say," so they just avoid the person altogether. Instead, the best course of action is just to listen, to ask questions, and offer encouragement. You will not only be giving much-needed moral support, but by letting them talk through their problems, they just may find ways to solve them.
If you want to help, then help. Sometimes people feel that they are powerless to turn a situation around. While it's true that you may not be able to change things completely, nobody is without the ability to impact another for the better. No gesture is too small. You don't have to get someone into therapy or host an intervention. Simply be a friend, offer kind words, smile, ask about their day, give them a compliment, invite them to lunch. You don't even have to get into the heavy stuff, ever. Just offer your happiness to another, and let that person know that they have value.
The plain truth is, everyone is struggling. No one is free from sorrow or strife; we are all fighting the same battles in different ways. And yet, in spite of this, we all carry on alone. We put on a brave face, tell others we are fine, turn down offers of friendship, and close ourselves off to those who love us or want to be closer.
The thing about suicide is, it's always sudden and unexpected to those of us left behind. But for the one who choses this desperate last resort, it's rarely sudden. It's the final act in a long and agonizing battle.
Why is that? How can we be so near others and seemingly never see it coming? The answers are as varied as the reasons behind the act, and unfortunately no one will ever truly understand why someone chooses to take his or her own life. Instead, the survivors are left to say, "If only she had reached out to me," or, "If only I had reached out to him."
If only... If only...
This is half the tragedy of suicide. It is not only bitter for the life lost, but for the sorrow of those wishing they would have done more.
I have not been affected by suicide in this way, but I have been on the other side of the coin. I feel I need to share my experience to hopefully shed light on the situation for those trying to understand it.
I have lived with depression for more than half of my life. In those 17 years, I have been suicidal many, many times, and each time I was surrounded by people who loved me. But I'm going to be completely honest: At my lowest points, there were so few people who, despite coming into contact with me every day, ever reached out to me. At my worst, just before falling into a nervous breakdown that took years to climb out of, I was considered very popular and in the middle of a very big social scene. I was in close-knit clubs and organizations and had two very close friends, and yet as I pulled away, the phone calls became infrequent. By the time I completely withdrew and spent my days staring at the walls, not eating, not sleeping, just crying, not one single friend checked after me. Not one.
I don't know why this is, exactly. I think for the most part it was because I focused so much of my energy pretending that I was OK, so that nobody had any idea this was going on. I also spent much of my time building walls around me, so that even though I was surrounded by friends I didn't let anyone get really close to me. I guess they thought that if I wasn't around, I didn't care about them, either.
I'm not sharing this to point any fingers. In fact, I don't blame anyone for what happened. It's hard to know what to do when the problem is kept such a secret. It was a big mess all around, but it's over now and it's time to learn from it.
Here's what I want us to learn:
If someone is truly struggling, chances are they're not going to show it. For some insane reason, we've gotten it into our heads that having these emotions is shameful, as though to feel pain is to be weak, pitiful, a disgrace. When someone is suffering a mental illness, these feelings of guilt and shame are magnified, compounding the grief and multiplying the agony. Putting up a wall and acting like things are fine is a defense mechanism.
If you are pushed away, don't go away. There are so many times where people did ask how I was, and even though in my head I was screaming, "I'm not OK! I'm not fine! I need help! Please save me!", I still put on a brave face and said everything was fine. Eventually they just stopped asking. I don't blame them; I basically pushed them right out of my life. But still, I really wish they'd have kept asking. Even though I didn't open up, it was so important to know that people cared. When they drifted out of my life, I took it as evidence that I didn't matter and that nobody would miss me when I was gone.
If you care about someone, let them know. You don't have to make grand gestures or have deep talks to let someone know they're important to you. Be kind, be friendly, be curious about their life. They may never let you know what they're going through, but they will feel your love. This is true for everyone, not just those who are struggling. We all need acceptance, friendship, kindness and forgiveness. You never know how even the smallest of actions, like giving a smile to a stranger or asking about a co-worker's weekend, can touch a person.
If you suspect someone is struggling, don't think it's someone else's problem. There seems to be the idea that if someone has a serious emotional battle, it's not just anyone's place to step in. If an acquaintance is struggling, don't assume that it's the job of someone closer to them, like family or close friends, to make it right. You are not responsible for changing their situation, but you don't have to wait to offer a kind word or hand of friendship. We are all connected in this big human family. Whether we're related by blood or joined by close friendship or none of the above, we all share in the responsibility to lift the human race. At the very least, think of it this way: Would you rather face the supposed awkwardness of approaching this person, or face the guilt after they are gone of doing nothing at all?
If you don't know what to say, then listen. I'll let you in on a secret: People don't actually want you to solve their problems. In fact, not all problems are solvable, and it's rare that outsiders can actually change what's going on inside of us. It's up to us to change our own lives and pull ourselves up, and yet, having a shoulder to cry on can be invaluable in this process. When someone comes to us with a problem it's very tempting to want to provide a solution, to help fix it (I am so guilty of this myself). It's even more tempting to think, "I can't help them, I don't know what to say," so they just avoid the person altogether. Instead, the best course of action is just to listen, to ask questions, and offer encouragement. You will not only be giving much-needed moral support, but by letting them talk through their problems, they just may find ways to solve them.
If you want to help, then help. Sometimes people feel that they are powerless to turn a situation around. While it's true that you may not be able to change things completely, nobody is without the ability to impact another for the better. No gesture is too small. You don't have to get someone into therapy or host an intervention. Simply be a friend, offer kind words, smile, ask about their day, give them a compliment, invite them to lunch. You don't even have to get into the heavy stuff, ever. Just offer your happiness to another, and let that person know that they have value.
The plain truth is, everyone is struggling. No one is free from sorrow or strife; we are all fighting the same battles in different ways. And yet, in spite of this, we all carry on alone. We put on a brave face, tell others we are fine, turn down offers of friendship, and close ourselves off to those who love us or want to be closer.
Let's make a vow never to let our friends and loved ones — even our acquaintances — drift away because of our own indifference, or worse, our negativity. We may not be able to keep others from making drastic choices, but we can do our part to lift them up. Let's vow not to be ashamed of emotions and work at supporting those who are battling their own. Let's offer kindness all along the way, to friends and strangers alike.
The world can be a dark and lonely place, but we don't have to let the darkness surround us. Let's band together and let no one feel unloved. Let's be kinder than necessary and work to magnify our love for others. Always remember:
Sunday, June 17, 2012
30 and proud!
Today marks a very momentous occasion: It is the 30th anniversary of my birth.
Yep, that's right—I am 30.
When my husband turned 30 a year and a half ago, I didn't think crossing this threshold was as big a deal as some make it out to be. I said to him, "You're only as old as you feel, and you, sir, are so not 30." I genuinely believed it. But then, a few months ago, I started to change my mind about getting older.
It's not that I felt old, exactly; it's that I didn't know how I was supposed to feel. Facing this milestone birthday actually made me quite confused. I thought a lot about it and realized that each decade in a person's life is pretty defined. The first is your childhood, followed by the adolescent and teen years. Then your 20's are where you become an adult and get the crazy stuff out of your system before you settle down and start to build your life. The older adult years are fairly straightforward as well: In your 40's your kids are starting to leave the nest (typically) and you are established in your career (hopefully), in your 50's you start to see your children marry and have their own families, and in your 60's you retire and take full advantage of the grandparent lifestyle, if you're so blessed. It's all pretty neat and tidy.
So what, then, defines the decade of your 30's?
The answer varies from person to person. Some are still single and hoping to settle down, some are headed back to school or finishing higher degrees, some are just starting families, some have older children and teenagers, some are respected in their careers, and some are still hopping from job to job. It's still a decade of personal evolution, but this is the point where your path and the paths of your peers can diverge quite drastically, if they haven't already. In some ways, it can be more tumultuous and full of change than your 20's, the decade that's supposed to be notorious for it.
And then there's the perception aspect. What does a 30-year-old look like? With such a prevalent youth culture in America, you can look and act as young as you want, it seems, without being called out on it. And yet, I sometimes wonder if I look more like the babysitter than my child's mother with my T-shirts and Converse sneakers and ponytails. While I certainly don't mind looking young (because I feel it), I don't ever want my authority to be in question—especially as a parent. As a female I feel you almost always have to prove your authority and worth, especially when you're under 35 (and short, have you noticed that?).
Then there's the other side of the looking young coin—the side where you look like you're trying too hard to be too young, so you just end up looking ridiculous and nobody takes you seriously. To me, this is far worse than getting old itself.
This is what brings me back to the no-man's-land decade of my 30's. I've thought a lot about this, as you can tell (probably more than is good for me). And then last night I was treated to a little birthday party and it all fell into place.
My sweet husband has been working on this for some time, I believe. He began the evening by blindfolding me and taking the long way to one of my favorite restaurants, where a few close family and friends were waiting. We then went to my parents' house for a pool party, where my sister had done an awesome job decorating the place in full princess style—yep, with confetti and princess plates and everything, because I will never be too old to be silly and enjoy the fun, girly things in life. My sister-in-law even made a delicious cake (German chocolate, my favorite), complete with candles and princesses on top.
It was a lot of fun, and I definitely felt loved and appreciated. And that's when I realized, I am more than OK with turning 30. I am happy to be here.
I've had a lot of wonderful experiences in my life. I have accomplished many goals in a way I can be proud of, and I've made it to all the major milestones I had hoped to at this age: I graduated from college, I got started on a great career, I got married, I am a homeowner, and I became a mom. I have also had a lot of devastating experiences in my life and been through a lot of strife. But you know what, I am just as proud of how I made it through those times as I am of my other accomplishments—actually, even more so. I like myself, and I love who I am working hard to become. And although the next decade may not be as exciting as the last, I have no doubt that it will be infinitely more rewarding as I continue to focus on what matters most: my family and my spirit.
As for the rest of the confusion, that's all gone too. I may not have a good idea of what my 30's are supposed to look like compared with the rest of the world, but that's OK. Instead of looking for comparisons, I am going to just be me. I vow to be 30 and proud, maybe even becoming some kind of role model (if I may be so ambitious) to others trying to figure this whole thing out.
So here's to getting older, wiser, happier, and more confident. Here's to being both silly and respected, mature and beautiful, loving and playful. Here's to 30 and whatever else may come. I am ready!
Yep, that's right—I am 30.
When my husband turned 30 a year and a half ago, I didn't think crossing this threshold was as big a deal as some make it out to be. I said to him, "You're only as old as you feel, and you, sir, are so not 30." I genuinely believed it. But then, a few months ago, I started to change my mind about getting older.
It's not that I felt old, exactly; it's that I didn't know how I was supposed to feel. Facing this milestone birthday actually made me quite confused. I thought a lot about it and realized that each decade in a person's life is pretty defined. The first is your childhood, followed by the adolescent and teen years. Then your 20's are where you become an adult and get the crazy stuff out of your system before you settle down and start to build your life. The older adult years are fairly straightforward as well: In your 40's your kids are starting to leave the nest (typically) and you are established in your career (hopefully), in your 50's you start to see your children marry and have their own families, and in your 60's you retire and take full advantage of the grandparent lifestyle, if you're so blessed. It's all pretty neat and tidy.
So what, then, defines the decade of your 30's?
The answer varies from person to person. Some are still single and hoping to settle down, some are headed back to school or finishing higher degrees, some are just starting families, some have older children and teenagers, some are respected in their careers, and some are still hopping from job to job. It's still a decade of personal evolution, but this is the point where your path and the paths of your peers can diverge quite drastically, if they haven't already. In some ways, it can be more tumultuous and full of change than your 20's, the decade that's supposed to be notorious for it.
And then there's the perception aspect. What does a 30-year-old look like? With such a prevalent youth culture in America, you can look and act as young as you want, it seems, without being called out on it. And yet, I sometimes wonder if I look more like the babysitter than my child's mother with my T-shirts and Converse sneakers and ponytails. While I certainly don't mind looking young (because I feel it), I don't ever want my authority to be in question—especially as a parent. As a female I feel you almost always have to prove your authority and worth, especially when you're under 35 (and short, have you noticed that?).
Then there's the other side of the looking young coin—the side where you look like you're trying too hard to be too young, so you just end up looking ridiculous and nobody takes you seriously. To me, this is far worse than getting old itself.
This is what brings me back to the no-man's-land decade of my 30's. I've thought a lot about this, as you can tell (probably more than is good for me). And then last night I was treated to a little birthday party and it all fell into place.
My sweet husband has been working on this for some time, I believe. He began the evening by blindfolding me and taking the long way to one of my favorite restaurants, where a few close family and friends were waiting. We then went to my parents' house for a pool party, where my sister had done an awesome job decorating the place in full princess style—yep, with confetti and princess plates and everything, because I will never be too old to be silly and enjoy the fun, girly things in life. My sister-in-law even made a delicious cake (German chocolate, my favorite), complete with candles and princesses on top.
It was a lot of fun, and I definitely felt loved and appreciated. And that's when I realized, I am more than OK with turning 30. I am happy to be here.
I've had a lot of wonderful experiences in my life. I have accomplished many goals in a way I can be proud of, and I've made it to all the major milestones I had hoped to at this age: I graduated from college, I got started on a great career, I got married, I am a homeowner, and I became a mom. I have also had a lot of devastating experiences in my life and been through a lot of strife. But you know what, I am just as proud of how I made it through those times as I am of my other accomplishments—actually, even more so. I like myself, and I love who I am working hard to become. And although the next decade may not be as exciting as the last, I have no doubt that it will be infinitely more rewarding as I continue to focus on what matters most: my family and my spirit.
As for the rest of the confusion, that's all gone too. I may not have a good idea of what my 30's are supposed to look like compared with the rest of the world, but that's OK. Instead of looking for comparisons, I am going to just be me. I vow to be 30 and proud, maybe even becoming some kind of role model (if I may be so ambitious) to others trying to figure this whole thing out.
So here's to getting older, wiser, happier, and more confident. Here's to being both silly and respected, mature and beautiful, loving and playful. Here's to 30 and whatever else may come. I am ready!
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
All is well
This post is a bit overdue, but I have to say a big thank you to everyone who reached out to me with support after my last post. I was so moved by your kindness and concern. Thank you for reminding me that I am not an island, and that what I write has the ability to touch others.
I have to say, however, that I actually felt kind of bad after posting. I was not only sorry to alarm and upset my friends and family, but I started to feel like others were more concerned than I was at that point—not because I was nihilistic or anything, but writing it all out must have been very therapeutic: After I got it all out, I no longer worried. I had a strong feeling of peace, and I knew that no matter what happened I would be all right. I must have been feeling your prayers, and again, for that I truly thank you.
Speaking of being all right, I have good news: After nearly a week on the antibiotic, the lump seems to be going down. This means that it was likely caused by an infection and, best of all, it's not cancerous. Huzzah!! All I need to do now is go back for a follow-up appointment so I can get official permission to breathe a sigh of relief.
Again, thank you all so much for your love and concern. It's wonderful to know that I am cared about and that if my world all goes upside down, I will not be without support.
I have to say, however, that I actually felt kind of bad after posting. I was not only sorry to alarm and upset my friends and family, but I started to feel like others were more concerned than I was at that point—not because I was nihilistic or anything, but writing it all out must have been very therapeutic: After I got it all out, I no longer worried. I had a strong feeling of peace, and I knew that no matter what happened I would be all right. I must have been feeling your prayers, and again, for that I truly thank you.
Speaking of being all right, I have good news: After nearly a week on the antibiotic, the lump seems to be going down. This means that it was likely caused by an infection and, best of all, it's not cancerous. Huzzah!! All I need to do now is go back for a follow-up appointment so I can get official permission to breathe a sigh of relief.
Again, thank you all so much for your love and concern. It's wonderful to know that I am cared about and that if my world all goes upside down, I will not be without support.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Memories and realities
"How hard it is to escape from places! However carefully one goes they hold you—you leave bits of yourself fluttering on fences, little rags and shreds of your very life."
-Katherine Mansfield
I've been feeling very contemplative this week, and not about motherhood. I've been wanting to sit and write it all out to help unravel the things swirling around in my head. These days when I can't seem to spit the words out right, it's only in the writing that they finally make sense.
My first childhood home is up for sale. I lived there from birth until about age 10, when we moved 4 blocks west and a half a block north. Because of this close proximity I've been past my old home countless times over the years. Sometimes I drive by with the tiniest bit of longing and nostalgia, but mostly I just hurry past on my way to somewhere else.
The house is on a little dead-end street. I have driven down it, too, a number of times, always shocked at all the changes. About half of the original homes remain, and I don't know how many more have been built where fields once stood—the fields where we built forts, and explored the Crane's old tool shed, and fed Whitney's horse, and got trapped in Grandpa Crane's chicken coop while a mad turkey shrieked and pecked at the door, and crossed the stream to sell soda on the 9th hole of the golf course.
It's easy to conjure up memories when you're staring at the place they used to be. When confronted with change, it's impossible not to see the way things were instead of the way things are or will forever be.
That's why, when I drove by my childhood home yesterday, I had to stop and get out of the car. Not only is the house for sale, but it has been completely remodeled, as the sign on the front lawn says. I wanted to see for myself instead of wonder about the way things will forever be.
It was a long shot, but I knocked on the door to ask for a tour. As I stood there waiting, the strangeness of it all started to hit me. It was the first time I had stood in the yard in 20 years. I had stepped over the driveway where I learned to ride a bike, my hot pink Huffy with the white seat. It's the same driveway where I taught myself to rollerblade, going in circles one foot at a time. It's where I pushed my little sister on the scooter and she screamed because I couldn't make it reverse. Right next to the carport where my brother and I hid from a lightning storm in a giant cardboard box, where my dad parked the boat before loading it up for a week at Lake Powell.
Nobody answered the door, but as I turned to go I noticed someone working in the yard. I walked, over the ground where an enormous blue spruce once stood, across the driveway and onto the grass where a small landscaping hill used to be. He was only a neighbor boy there to mow the lawn, and he told me the homeowners were gone and I should check back on Friday when there might be an Open House. I thanked him and told him I would.
As I turned to leave I realized for the first time that the yard wasn't huge; it was really quite average, maybe even on the small side. It's not that my memories deceived me—rather, they were just from the perspective of a small child. In that child's world, everything and everyone was big.
That's what got me thinking: Does it really matter that memories and perception are different than the cold facts of reality? Is it more important to remember every detail to perfection, or are the tone and feeling of a memory what matter most?
Late at night when I can't sleep, I close my eyes and take a mental tour through the places of my past. My childhood home is a location I frequent, and along the tour I stop at the two little stairs where we waited to see what Santa brought us, the unfinished basement with the blue-green carpet scraps where I used to play library with my toy kitchen as the check-out stall, the sewing room where my mom hung my drawing of a llama, the upstairs master bedroom with the small window where we stood on chairs to watch fireworks on the 4th of July. Taking a tour of the children's bedrooms depended on the year of my memory; was I visiting the room I shared with my brother and later my little sister, or when they shared it together and I moved to the room next door, the room I chose to paint pink with a wallpaper ballerina bear border?
All these memories and more flooded into me as I turned to get into my car, and to my great surprise I found myself becoming a bit emotional. (If you know me, you know why this is a surprise. I am not sentimental and I do not cry at things like this.) That's probably because of the reason I found myself at my house in the first place.
I was on my way back from the doctor's office, which was just a bit further east of the house. I was at the doctor's to see whether or not a lump I found in my armpit is cancerous.
Unfortunately, as of right now we just don't know what this lump is. It could be one of several things, either perfectly harmless or very dangerous. So, we have to go through the process of elimination until we know exactly what is going on. I'm taking an antibiotic to see if the lump is a reaction to an infection and we'll check again in 10 days.
At a time like this, it's easy to become wrapped up in emotion and sentiment and entangled in conflicting visions of the way things were vs. the way things will forever be. I am doing my best not to jump to the worst-case scenario, which is neither likely nor unlikely. I am stuck in the middle, in the land of the way things are.
Maybe that's why I dwelled so much that day on the memory of a place. Maybe it's because I was scared that I would soon become a memory rather than a living, changing person—that I would be someone my son would have to close his eyes at night to remember, to wonder about, to cherish and to miss.
I have to stop there, because I'm getting way ahead of myself. I don't want to wander too far down that morose path. The chances of this being cancer are not enormous; it's more likely that I have a clogged sweat gland or a cyst or a lingering infection. And anyway, it seldom does much good to dwell on what may or may not be. Worrying does nothing but ruin your chances of happiness.
All I can do is to keep living life one day at a time. And the way I feel, there is never any cause for fear when you live your life to the absolute best of your abilities. Whether I die in a year or 10 or 50, if I do my best to learn from my mistakes, to uplift others, to beautify my corner of the world, and to show love to others, my life will be worthwhile—every day of it.
If I'm doing my best to live up to my potential and help others reach theirs, I won't have to worry that my present doesn't live up to the past or the future, or vice versa. There will be no discord between the memories and realities of my life—I will be a person to be loved, remembered, and cherished, and when I do finally move on, I will still be looked to with fondness.
And just like my childhood home, what happens to me in the future is really irrelevant to the memories that others have of me. They can remodel every inch of that house, tear down walls and pull up carpet and leave nothing of what used to be, but it will still live in my mind just as clearly as it ever did in the past. It will be forever treasured, a part of me that is eternally protected from the way things will forever be.
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