How many times?, I wonder.
How many times?, or, When will I ever be healthy enough to handle this?
Because, guys, I don’t do social media well. I just don’t.
I can either be feeling really really great about my life, hop on, and see someone whose good makes my great look inconsequential, or, I can be feeling like a gigantic piece of shit, hop on, and see what appear to be the put-together-lives of no less than ten friends.
A few days ago, my husband and I were chatting about the dilemma facing adults-seeking-real-friendship, and I mentioned we should create a find-a-friend version of Tinder.
“That’s what Facebook is for!” he said.
“No way, honey. Facebook is a modeling platform; not a friend-finding one.”
Please forgive my negativity, or ignore me altogether if this isn’t you, but damn!
My life isn’t hunky-dory glorious-beautiful, and yours sometimes really looks like it is.
The problem isn’t that you’re trying to make your life look better than mine, either.
The issue is that the one picture you or I post sums up only one small moment.
No way can a picture capture a whole day.
And life happens in long, knock-me-out, drag-me-down kinds of days, folks.
Ideas are good.
I’ve always been an idea person myself. They are really helpful, they are.
Fun is good too.
But we are all stuck in our houses right now, some of us more happily than others, but shut-ins we are.
House-bound people, whether doing life alone or in small droves, poop in their toilets at various times throughout the day.
And poop stinks.
Sometimes, the stench fills the entire house. It muddies the toilet water; it clouds the good.
Then, while we are choking on our family's collective stink, we open our beloved social media, and we see a picture, one that looks decidedly un-stinky.
Do they even poop?, we wonder. Ever?
Because I’m straining to see, but it looks to me like no one in that pic is holding their noses…
All silliness and sarcasm aside... Guys.
Some of you are so good at doing the things I suck at.
Like getting out into nature with your kids.
I really want to get out into nature...
Currently, however, I have one child who is terrified of bugs. And, as luck would have it, every time this child gathers her courage, chances out the door, she has a bad experience with a creepy crawly.
Some of you are doing this whole quarantine thing so creatively, with absolutely no tech. I’m amazed by you.
Not me. As a mom with no babysitter, I’ve come to appreciate tech.
It has its place in our house.
Some of you give the best parenting advice and the most stellar homeschool advice. I’ve always known this about you. And I love your wisdom.
Does it always work perfectly for you over there in your house, with your kids, though?
I’m happy for you. Truly.
It’s just that I’ve found sometimes the bestest advice doesn’t work for me over here, in this house.
After a while, I get kinda down and depressed. I shrink to half my size and my voice takes on a childish quality.
And I hate this, because it keeps me from living and loving like I want to.
So lean forward, friends, if you're at all like me; I want to tell you some things that have set me free.
There is never ever enough time in one day to do all the things.
I mean, by the time you’ve successfully mixed the right amount of glue with the exact right amount of contact solution, you’ve also hurriedly and simultaneously wiped zillions of little glue trickles off the floor and harriedly de-glued someone’s suspiciously clumpy hair, and you are completely and totally WIPED out.
Time to go play in your room guys. Enough projects for the day. We’re done.
I'm admitting right now, in front of everyone, I can't do it all. I just don't have that level of energy.
Now, where’s the wine?
Are you honestly telling me your kids don’t fight?
No way could I ever claim this.
No fucking way.
If we're all getting along, compromising, enjoying the day, someone's abrupt burp is sure to get on someone else's nerves and spoil the mood instantly.
The one perk of my kids’ nattering fighting is that it gets ME out of the house and into nature. Just saying.
You can’t expect all your kids to like all the same things.
They are unique little critters.
They like. They hate.
They do. They don’t.
It’s okay to do those separate little things that each kid likes with each kid, separately.
There is this myth of the perfect family that always does everything together, and likes it.
That’s not our family.
We are miles above mythical.
And by the way, while you’re hanging out with one kid at a time, it’s okay to let the other kids tear up the house, or even play a few video games.
Technology is a thing just like anything else.
Overdo it, and yes, everyone may develop a case of grouchiness.
Or, they may not.
Not all kids react to tech the same way.
Some grow up to be professional gamers and YouTube reviewers who lead surprisingly balanced lives.
Some young uns, cough cough, will be inspired to cook or learn history because of their love of the game.
Treat tech like any other hobby. No need to feel guilty about it.
It’s okay to need space.
It’s okay to go on long luxurious walks all by yourself.
You can even tell your spouse you need time alone. And by alone, I mean, "I’m going to close the door and stay in this room for the next few hours," alone.
Just because advice is good doesn’t mean it is good for you.
Your fam is unique, one-of-a-kind.
So are you.
So is your significant other
Yes, we should all be spending time working, playing, socializing, resting, learning, and exercising.
But that can look however it needs to look for you cocooned there within your own four walls.
Maybe it will be a day or two of rest followed by two days of learning followed by a day of exercise.
Maybe socializing-from-quarantine, for you, looks more like Marco Polo than Zoom.
Perhaps you’re in survival mode and it all just looks like survival.
It doesn’t have to be perfect or the same for everyone.
Simply ask yourself...
Are my kids happy? Why and why not?
Am I happy? Why? Why not?
What are my values?
What are my kids’ values?
Do I agree or disagree with them?
Why or why not?
How then shall we live in this one imperfect house so as not to kill one another? Good. Then that is how we shall live.
If you find yourself getting upset when you take social media excursions, like I do, will do, and have done, now’s the time for some introspection.
Why am I upset by this post or that picture?
What unspoken rules am I trying to follow?
Do I agree with those rules? Why or why not?
Do I have a list of good resources to go to to find answers to the questions I have?
Am I judging someone else, either for being too put together or for being too strict or not strict enough?
What does that say about me?
What pain am I trying to heal with judgements’ ineffective balm?
You have permission to ignore all the ideas, mine or anyone else’s.
Go ahead and give yourself permission.
It’s okay to cry a little.
It’s normal to feel overwhelmed.
In the voice of Elsa, “Let it go…”.
I value freedom, guys. Can you tell?
These are weird, hard times. And we gotta survive.
Some of us are extremely privileged middle class folk, though we’re not above job loss and pay cuts.
We really ought to stop trying to be so perfect (or at least I do) and start looking at the very real needs around us.
There are those among us facing job loss and financial ruin.
Some are struggling to find new ways to make ends meet.
This means that right now we will not be perfect parents, lovers or friends.
Because, food. #priorities
Some among us are facing a multitude of crises, piled atop each other like shitty scoops of ice cream: illness, death, tornadoes, etc.
I can’t even imagine.
These are the times to let go of all the rules and the learning opportunities and the projects and to-do’s and just live and love the best we can.
Let your kids eat ice cream for breakfast and veg in front of the tv all day if that’s what helps you get through this.
If that does not help you and yours, then stick to a routine.
You do you.
Do what you gotta do.
All right, now, rant over.
Now I need to take a dump.
Three years ago, if you would have told me my son would soon be diagnosed with a dangerous form of cancer, I would have…
Just to name a few...
But that cancer, it morphed and grew right here, in our own house, beneath our collective naive nostrils.
When the diagnosis came, it was the last thing we ever expected.
And honestly, there is nothing we could have done to prepare ourselves for it.
We simply had to walk through it.
I remember wishing it all away, wondering, hoping that maybe, maybe it was all just a nightmare.
Yet, we had to wake each day and face reality's glare.
And, we survived.
Have we been traumatized? Yes.
Do we now live in fear of the next bad thing that will happen? You bet.
I would never want anyone to trivialize, sugar-coat, or glaze over our experience: “but look at how you’ve grown,” or “at least xyz didn’t happen”.
That would suck; it would not help...
What I am amazed by, though, is that we DID walk through hell.
You see, shit happens.
You cannot stop it.
“You can’t go over it, you can’t go under it... "oh no!", you have to go through it!”
We all fear lots of things.
And I think, beneath it all, what we all really fear is death.
Some of us dread the finality of it.
Some imagine walking through the suffering and the grieving involved and do everything they can never to go there.
Most all of us fear the witnessing of death, from either the side or the front lines.
And now friends, we are facing an unexpected sickness that is spreading faster than wildfire.
We cannot predict who will become sick when, for how long, or how severely.
We are frantically clearing shelves in grocery stores, hoarding resources and fretting over the news.
And the news?
How sweetly it alerts us to every new death.
How thoughtfully it stirs up new fears within us, ones we had not yet imagined, like “Will the internet break, since everyone is now working from home?”
And guys? We are scared.
We are the generations nurtured on sci-fi and fantasy, the children who imagined zombie apocalypses and planets ruled by apes.
The empty grocery store shelves, those people wearing face masks garbed in hazmat suits standing precariously in empty subways? These images conjure fear, fear and more fear.
We are scared, yes.
But I want us to remember.
I want us to know.
We stand on the backs of our ancestors, ones who weathered plagues and wars, who survived holocausts and depressions.
Shit is happening again, just like it has so many times past.
We didn’t have time to prepare for it, and we don’t know how bad it will get.
But here’s the truth: we really can’t control shit. Not any of it.
We cannot control the invisible. Not at this time anyways.
And we, the collective world community, WILL PASS THROUGH. We will see the other side.
One day, our children’s children will read all about it in their history books.
“My grandma told me about that,” they will exclaim.
Now that we have settled that, what do we wish to be remembered for, when the proverbial storm has passed?
How we protected ourselves at all costs?
Anger and vitriol, the spreading of lies and rumors, frosting shit with shit?
Or, how about as... the people who pulled through, they who were resilient?
They who stolidly accepted life for what it was and dug deep for the courage to do the right thing, the loving thing?
Because there really is only one element in all of this we can control, and that is our own thoughts, words, attitudes and actions.
And when you stop, take that deep accepting breath, you will see the single mother struggling to feed her kids, suddenly without a job or school lunches, the horrendous endless suffering in Syria-what will those families do if they contract the virus?-, or, heaven forbid, the lonely death of an elderly man or woman.
We have a job to do still, friends, in this world God loves.
Let’s focus on controlling that-which-we-can-control, and leave the rest to rest.
Are you a yes person?
I certainly am.
On a healthy level, I’m an optimist, and my kiddos certainly don’t complain about my yes-ness.
On a not-so-healthy level, though, saying yes has become a way to keep the unhealthy people in my life happy. You see, I hate conflict; saying yes has felt like a solid way to avoid all that complicated shit.
Also, have you ever noticed, when faced with a decision, there are usually a myriad of choices? And when various choices are presented, my FOMO kicks in, big time.
In college, if there were two events scheduled at the same time, I didn’t say “no” to either; I merely left one event early and arrived at the next one late. Missing out was not optional.
Even as I write these words, I see how egocentric this yes-habit has been.
Looking back, I notice that saying “yes” was also an intrinsic element of my spiritual DNA.
Recently, I was visiting with a person who was raised Mormon. He mentioned that if someone held a gun to his head and said, “Choose, Christianity or Mormonism?”, he would pick Mormonism. His reason? Mormons are genuinely “nice” people, but Christians, in his experience, are two-faced.
Saying yes to everything made me flat as paper and, yes, it also made me two-faced.
Because deep down, I had likes and dislikes, and there were certainly people I ought to have said no to but didn’t (usually because I was trying to be kind and loving).
Eventually, I tightened the lid on my container of flatulent no’s and gassy tempers so much it would all quite suddenly, and nastily, erupt. This came as a surprise to everyone, myself included, because I was supposedly such a “nice person”.
Two-faced? You betcha.
In my current favorite self-help book, lovingly deemed the “fuck book”, Mark Manson says, “...we need to reject something. Otherwise, we stand for nothing. If nothing is better or more desirable than anything else, then we are empty and our life is meaningless. We are without values and therefore live our life without any purpose.”
“We need to reject something.”
I recently said yes to lots of things that weren’t in line with my true passions. And some of those things have been “good”, bringing extra income into our household.
Yet, there’s something we don’t always realize about increasing our cash flow— living just to make money may cost us time, energy, relationships, and sometimes, even our dearest values.
I have been feeling as though a part of me had died, or at least was comatose, these past few months.
Now, I am looking through all the “yes’s” I made which led up to this point: Do they line up behind my core values? Do they lead me closer to being who I want to be?
I am sorting decisions, putting lots of crusty old “yes’s” in the “I-don’t-give-a-fuck-anymore” pile.
In my relationships, I am removing the sticky tape from my lips, voicing all my “no’s” and “I don’t want to’s”.
I am outlining myself in reddish-no’s: “...if we reject nothing…, we essentially have no identity at all.” (Mark Manson)
As I’ve been voicing my vehement no’s, I’ve been struck by how afraid I am of some sort of vitriolic anger or ugly retaliation from the people I am saying no to.
I’m not sure why this is. It just is.
Maybe it’s because of entitlement, I don’t know.
“The desire to avoid rejection at all costs, to avoid confrontation and conflict, the desire to attempt to accept everything equally and to make everything cohere and harmonize, is a deep and subtle form of entitlement.” Why? “Entitled people...feel as though they deserve to feel great all the time, avoid rejecting anything because doing so might make them or someone else feel bad.” (Manson)
Whatever the reason, I see now how my refusal to say no in the past has hurt both others and myself.
I am becoming a yes person to freedom, to healthy, spirited living.
And, yes, for me, that often means letting out some big ol’ lusty “No's!”.
It’s been a while, I know, since I’ve written a post.
There are many reasons for this, chief among them being that my son had yet another surgery and the Christmas season is busy.
Another reason is that I still feel as though I am trying to really dig in and find my voice for this blog: Who am I, and what am I about? Who am I writing "stuff" for?
And, what’s the point of writing on a blog in 2019 when most everyone feels far too busy to be reading articles?
The voice-for-this-blog dilemma is a microcosm of my current life.
Who am I? What is my purpose in this world? Am I living my best life?
These are questions I have been wrestling too, which have also stalled my writing.
I am one of those people who can envision myself in a variety of careers, wearing a variety of different hats.
In other words, I have a great imagination.
When I was a child, I had endless ideas.
I remember exploring a new career each day (usually one employing creativity), imagining myself becoming “great” in that area. Then, I would either become bored or disillusioned with my lack of natural talent, and move on to exploring a new idea for future-me.
I always dreamed of being great and making an impression on this world.
I also love children.
I love being a mother.
I have loved playing with my babies and watching them morph into tiny human beings.
Lately I feel as though I am straddling an imaginary line between the small beautiful world of my own little family and the great big world of possibility.
Children do not choose to come into this world. They are much smaller than us and ridiculously powerless. They grow and change every single day.
I am not sorry I have focused on my children for these years of their young childhoods. I believe I will never regret this choice.
Now that the little ones are getting bigger and more independent, I have this burning desire to figure out what I want to do with myself, though.
I want to inspire my children by working hard at something.
I want them to see that men and women can wear many different hats throughout their lifetimes.
I want them to see that choosing themselves and choosing their children are not mutually exclusive: different phases of life might require more of a focus on one or the other, but everyone in a family (as in life) is equally valuable.
I know I am rambling here…but can you empathize?
A few months ago, I decided I wanted to pursue a master’s or doctorate degree. Returning to the classroom as a teacher is not something I want to do, though I loved my years of teaching.
After exploring my options, I have tentatively landed on a master’s degree in applied anthropology.
I have always been fascinated by culture, and I also have a heart to help the immigrant and the marginalized, which applied anthropology would give me excellent tools for.
While I am literally clawing at the starting gate, other pressing matters have reared their heads: I don’t want a bunch of debt when I’m finished getting a degree, my family could currently use some extra income, and I have to take the GRE, which I won’t finish on time for next fall.
Following that thread of reasoning has led me to the decision to build a business teaching online and writing curriculum for fellow homeschool parents.
Sometimes I get excited about all of these "things" I want to do.
My husband, thankfully, believes in our equal partnership and will be there for our kids as I become busier.
Other times, doubt makes an appearance, warning and condemning me to failure.
How will I find the time to do all this?
What if I spend lots of precious time trying to build a biz, and then it all falls apart?
What if going to school “takes me away” from my ever-evolving children too much?
What if our family can’t handle all the stress this will bring?
What if my son’s cancer returns or another one of us gets sick or something costly in our house falls apart?
But I know I have to proceed, one step at a time, making the most of every moment as I go along.
What is my point in writing this post?
First, to say to other friends who are looking at big changes in their lives, "I'm right there with you".
But also just to process where I’m at and why, and to say I will absolutely keep blogging...it may be sporadic, but even if no one’s reading, at least I’m getting in some great writing practice.
And eventually, I think I will begin to iron out what my voice in life and on this blog is, as well as my purpose.
To anyone out there reading these posts, thank you for hangin’ in there with me.
If you don’t mind adventure, incongruence and wild random thoughts on life that connect in strange or surprising ways, then definitely stick around, ha!
Finally, Merry Christmas to all.
If you are feeling more heartache than joy this week, I get it. Just know that you are not alone; reach out to others, let them carry hope's torch for now, know you are deeply deeply loved.
Hey, you. I'm glad you dropped by...
I'm a busy mom of three asking hard questions about my faith.