Dec 18, 2013
I was a skeptic too you know. What did these whippersnappers know. We didn’t need “social media” to be social. We have always used the telephone to communicate dammit.
And I can tell you, I’m still a little queasy about internet interrelations. What, you thought I was a pro at this? Because I’m here doing it? Bah, I keep thinking I’m the nerd on the schoolyard that everyone’s nice to. That they’re tolerating my comments on their sites but they’d wish I’d get the hint and stop already.
I am better than I’d ever thought possible but my hope is to get over my shyness sooner than later.
I’m three me’s. There’s me then, me now, and the me that I want to be.
I wrote the following some time ago in a mini thought journal.
Who I am Vs. Who I want to be
Just Writer Vs. writer, crafter, designer,
published and recognized by me for these
Talking Vs Listened to
Creative Only on Demand Vs. Creative on a regular basis
Contemplative Vs. Conversations
Dabbler Vs. Doer
Uncertain/Reticent Vs. Certain / Sure
Trying Vs. Doing
As long as you choose to change nothing, nothing changes. People were scared of the telephone too.
And I have no business reading anyone’s mind.
Either I am annoying and eventually I’ll figure it out. Or I’m not and I’ll rise above.
If you read my blog, you are helping me onward and I thank you!
Jul 5, 2012
Twenty years ago, I remember giving a guy friend some advice. He lived at home with his Mom and they had a rip- roaring dysfunctional volatile relationship. I suspect this was the same thing she’d had with his father. I said, “Choose not to play the game with her. She’ll keep trying to engage you but she’ll give up after several failed attempts and you’ll change the relationship”. He was baffled. Change his reaction? But he had always made the same choice.
He had no idea how to not choose to react that way. Mothers install the buttons for which there is no defense. She’d taught him lack of choice so he would play her game until her dying day. I realized, we all take part in a form of this. Whether it’s with our parents, spouses, children, or ourselves, we often don’t recognize our compulsory choices for what they are.
Recently, I was reading a self-esteem book of some sort and this idea reappeared. Again I thought, “Brilliant!” If you are A and another person is B, together your inter-relating dance equals C. A + B = C. The yester-me, attempting to fix a primary wound, tried hard to change the ex’s of my past. I scheduled fix-it operations for all the broken boys I met. I thought my past and I would then be fixed. I wanted that outcome D instead, but achieved in my way.
However, I have no control over my past or the other person who is B. All I have is me, A. As much as I may wish it, I’ll be dead and buried before I effect a change on B. But if I tweak my outlook, the outcome called C changes to E or K or X. I have been hard at work tweaking my A.
And it works. Yes, it requires letting go of the hope of fixing and changing those you love. I believe leading by example is all you really can do anyway. Continue to offer your support but stop asking others for that which you can give to yourself . And you’ll get your needs met for once. The trick is to be extremely honest about what your needs are and to be entitled to fulfill them. Even if that means the person you had slated to do the job is out of commission.
What if you are the one not stepping up for you? Changing choices move you from sad to glad? Do whatever it takes to change your perspective. Seek the insight and help you need. Travel outside your box or comfort zone to find that perspective above and beyond your comfort zone. Because either you will be telling yourself your life is worth just accepting the same old equation or you’re saying another outcome, and your happiness, is worth fighting for. If you are the change, your happiness equation may be one different choice away. Change nothing and nothing changes.
My changes have included ceasing my need to fix everyone. Choosing to trust that what I needed would be provided for me. And mostly not choosing white flour and sugar, except some white bread week-ending for the cookout season. I am less anxious, ten pounds lighter, and feeling pretty positive that I can do whatever I set my mind to. I am now busy setting my mind and my new intents. Do me a favor and ask yourself, what is the change you’d like to affect? What more could you choose, or stop choosing, to get there?
Apr 25, 2012
I followed through an idea today that I want to share.
Sometimes people talk about artist’s dates. Or a day-cation. The initial idea is that you need a break, even a 15 minute respite, from the slave driving critical parent that’s usually at the helm. The trick, of course, is to decide your worthy of halting the protestant work ethic record to listen to your heart. Because your heart needs to play or dream or do something else other than focus on production constantly.
My idea was a jar where I could put papers with happy tasks on them to draw from when I needed a jolt to my esteem or a change of perspective. I had thought this up a week ago. And nearly forgot about it until I was talking to a friend. When my husband and I were dating, we had a date jar like this. We’d put in places to go and things to do that we considered an adventure..
I made the jar today. And made up a few papers to draw from it. And when I think of more, I will run upstairs and put them in. And then I spent the afternoon pulling out my clippings and making a new scrapbook for the redecoration of my house. The hallway, boy’s room, my bedroom, and the dining room are all slated for overhauls. Not to mention the unfinished projects everywhere.
This all means I have a reason to keep living. And hoping for change. What do you have installed as a safety for sanity? A regular therapy session or lunch with a friend? A dog walk or run at theY scheduled for tomorrow. Why the hell not?
Recipe for jar :
Mason jar, horizontal card or postcard,ribbon, paper and pen.
Add thoughts on what would make you happy for at least 15 minutes if you had it. Then add permission and you have yourself a beautiful jar of hope.
Apr 24, 2012
I really wanted to just get on with some normality yesterday and today. After all the drama, I wanted some same old. No “thought thought” I told the husband.
So yesterday, I made granola, pita chips, and brown rice. I ironed mainly long sleeve shirts Mark just put into the deep storage closet today. I labeled and sorted my clothing to help make me feel more ready for the unknown days and weather to come.
Unfortunately, I also balanced the checkbook. I discovered, as if I didn’t know, we’re still in a financial sink hole after the taxes got paid. I feel sick to not be contributing monetarily. Except I keep our heads above water and our credit scores clean. I had put aside the school pictures order for the next check to come in. But then I realized yesterday was picture day. I began to curse and had to run a check up to the school. The son got pulled out of class to get his picture taken and then go to recess. It better be a good picture.
I kept thinking, what would I be doing to make money that wouldn’t take me away too much? I used to be a valuable money-making member of society. Now, recently, I had to prove to the powers that be and decide, I was actually a real member of America’s in-crowd.
Back to normal. Today, I went for a run. I haven’t done that in a couple of weeks. I did all the laundry and folded it and put it away. I went out in the backyard with my kid and made an effort to boost his esteem by having him prove to himself he could hit a tennis ball with his bat. He got a hold of a couple. The unloaded dishes and made the dinner. My exhaustion says I contributed.
We stay at home moms have a hard time valuing our contributions. We feel powerless to make the money but we manage it. We provide all comforts and services that make the home not just a house. I thought that if we all actually carried as much weight of the world as we think we do, the world would then weigh nearly nothing.
I want to blame myself somehow for not having healthcare or savings. For not being a financial wizard. But that’s ridiculous. So I have requested some research into folding some business debt into larger loans and hopefully empowering me to feel less like a loser mommy and more like a winner Mommy. When I feel good, the boy feels good. I got a little of myself and my confidence back today. But I feel I’ve a ways to go.
Apr 15, 2012
I am finding it very hard to be me these days. I stumbled a month ago. Then the chance to recover never came and I kept stumbling. How do you not take your own life personally?
The story starts with me wanting people to like what I’ve created. And when they didn’t, I tried not taking it personally. But I raged and ranted, rejected my rejection, and wanted horribly to reach the outcome I’d expected where I was wonderful. My attempt to jam a round peg in a square hole backfired on me. I was mortified. I felt compelled to apologize for wanting to rush everything. For trying to make people do stuff they didn’t want to do. For not paying attention and not being ready.
And I wished that was all that had happened to me. I might have recovered from the hormonally crazed temper tantrum I had. But you never expect the Spanish Inquisition. When it ends, I’ll tell the real story because it’s my ongoing nightmare. Nobody is hurt in this story except my self-esteem which apparently was sacrificed to the angry gods to allow me to live.
Do I have an alternate personality? Maybe Nancy? Was it she who wrote that check I don’t remember writing for the amount that over drafted my account. And she who forgot to take care of that very mundane but important detail that, when neglected, threw my life into a self doubting tornado of chaos and hell reminding me of places I’d left and no longer wanted remember.
I’m so tired of the burden of shame I’ve been feeling and the tears I either endured or stuffed this past week . I am hoping this isn’t some perverse form of unconscious self-sabotage to revisit a shameful place I left a long time ago in a marriage far far away. A place where I wasn’t safe from myself.
I’m wondering where the reset point is? When am I allowed to forgive myself and accept the fact that I may mess up again. When do I get to wear my force field coat allowing me to regain my confidence from this time forward? Soon I hope for my and my loved ones’ sake. I feel I’m in danger of losing the self-confidence ground I worked really hard to gain.
Although surely a visit to an oncology wing or a homeless shelter would give me some perspective, maybe telling my story will lessen its evil spell. Or maybe if I stop trying to bear it by myself and ask for support, I’ll feel lighter. Or maybe I need to ride it out because perspective is a square peg I can not jam in the round hole of my now.
I’m the one person I may need to truly apologize to. To say “I’m sorry Shalagh for dropping the ball. For having everyone else’s back but mine.” Next week I intend to talk back to the loser-speak. I’ll make better plans to keep me safe, organized, and clear of unrealistic expectations which might further damage my tender state of existence. “The best way out is always through”, Robert Frost said. Soon, I’ll tell you my bad story from the beginning.