I have no idea who even reads this blog, but if anyone has been checking, only to note I haven't said shit in the last few weeks, it's because I'm madly painting. Pictures. That I'm selling on eBay. To earn the money to buy a few pieces of furniture for the house which aren't in our budget this year. Like a couch, and an antique farm table that I'll hopefully find at the Round Top Antique Fair in a month. And then, maybe, later in the year, a bedframe for our king sized bed.
So if you wanted to see what I'm selling on eBay, type "TRASI" into the search window and it'll bring up all of my pieces. I actually sold one for $43 last night. Very exciting.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Thursday, March 01, 2007
Regrets?
As is usually the case with me lately, I am inspired by something else I read and am going to post a discussion about it myself. Heather (who writes Dooce) posted regarding regrets. It's a topic I have mulled over a lot in my life. Over time, I have developed an aversion to the concept of regrets. Life gives us a lot of opportunities to make good or bad decisions, and at the time, most of us do our best to try and make good ones, based on the information we had at the time. These decisions cut a path for us through our own timeline, setting a course that carves our personalities and shapes our understanding of the world. Those decisions, good and bad, are all valuable in their own right, for the lessons we learn, the people we meet, and the experiences we gather. So there isn't much I regret, because it brought me where I am today. But then again, I haven't ever made any "turning point" types of decisions or mistakes which have had such a bad effect that I would want to undo it to spare someone pain or undo some grossly disastrous wrong.
Even so, there are a few regrets which stand out in my mind. Some end up unraveling, as I ponder the effect that could have had on my life, and some stand firm.
As a high schooler, I was offered the opportunity to study before and after school with my art teacher, in order to better prepare me to go to art school. Like Kansas, or Chicago. SERIOUS FUCKING ART SCHOOL. It was put to me as a decision - either I was willing to put in the effort and work my ass off to get in and succeed, or my art teacher wasn't going to put in the extra time with me. It was a HUGE compliment to my talent, and something I took my time thinking about before deciding. I talked to my parents about it at the time. I was SSSSOOOOO tempted, because art is in my soul and it feeds my soul a LOT. But, in the end, I decided not to go to art school. I thought then (which was true then, may still be true now) that the only time my art was really brilliant, rather than just capable, was when some wretched sort of emotion came out of me. Angst, anger, sadness, fear, frustration, loneliness. And the rest of the time, if I forced art to come out of me, I wasn't really satisfied with it. I was afraid of becoming a "starving artist", depending upon brief bits of misery to create something that would pay the rent. And usually the brilliant pieces that came out of me weren't part of an "assignment", the way most artists are given assignments for their jobs. The thought of just painting and selling my pieces never occurred to me; most artists I knew of never were famous until they were dead. Um.... NOT APPEALING! So I chose to study languages instead. That was something else that I was not only good at, but also didn't depend upon my mood. However, I can't say that I actually regret this decision. It all leads to the path of where I am now, and I like where I am now. I wouldn't be married to the man I'm married to, because I met him through a friend I made in Russian class. I wouldn't likely even be in Austin, now. And clearly, I wouldn't have my beautiful Hootie. So no, I don't regret it. But I can say that I could have done it, had I decided otherwise. That, or med school, another thought that occurred to me in hindsight. Not that I had any idea I would maybe have been good at that, but later in life I have discovered an affinity for that which never occurred to me back then. And, had I done that, I would have also missed out on a great many trips to Europe and other parts of the world that have so enriched my life. SO, no regrets.
I also could regret that I spend SO MUCH time wrapped up in trying to please other people, worrying about what they think. There's definitely a balance to be achieved, though. I don't know that I have it down yet, but it is in the hopper, so to speak. I don't want to be this hapless narcissist who is only out to please herself, but I know that a lot of my life I have spent making decisions and behaving in a way that I envision would be likeable and smart and savvy. I didn't really even consider really just marching to the beat of my own drummer, because heck, I didn't think my drummer was very cool, and didn't trust him anyway. These things are changing, especially in the last 7 years. But who is to say when a person ought to be learning this? Many people never learn it, and either go on in their self-absorbed way, or become a doormat/martyr for the people they want to impress or please.
But there are some little regrets I do have, which I know wouldn't have changed my life course at all. Like, for example, the decision to not stay in Austin on our wedding night, and go to the big ass party all our friends threw in our honor. We didn't have a lot of money, and my inlaws paid for the tickets to get us to Colorado for our honeymoon. The ones they chose, however, were red-eye flights the next morning, out of Dallas, and the only way we could get there on time for the flight was to fly out of Austin at 7pm the night of our wedding. So, we had a 2pm wedding, and what amounts to a "tea and buffet" mid-afternoon, and we flew to Dallas. To stay in a BORING hotel next to the airport. Which, for a wedding night, was less than fantastic. I would have loved to have stayed, sucked up paying for more expensive tickets, and had a great time with our friends, because isn't that what it's all about anyway? As I look back at the wedding itself, I still love a lot about it. Just not that part. AND, I would have served alcohol at the wedding. We didn't because there was a friend or two we thought would get rip-roaring drunk, and make an ass of himself at the wedding. Well what wedding is complete without a drunk friend, I ask?!? I was too uptight back then. Seriously!
I'll also borrow from Dooce, in that her only regret was not wearing more sunscreen. I have a sneaking suspicion that I will end up dealing with skin cancer at some point in my life, especially on my face, because of having gotten so much sunburn in my life. I have always liked to have a light tan in the summer, and many years had a nice dark tan. We always thought that was so attractive. It ain't gonna be so attractive when I have scars from having stuff cut off my face and arms and chest and back someday. I'm much more into sunscreen, ESPECIALLY for Hootie. I don't even want to instill in her that having a tan is something worth seeking. If you get some color from being outside, and it happens slowly and naturally with a LOT of sunscreen on, then that's just living your life. But I BATHED IN BABY OIL as a teenager, to get a darker tan. HOLY SHIT, HOW STUPID IS THAT?!? My uncle just died from melanoma, from a spot on his back that had been there forever, which likely turned to melanoma in part from sun exposure. This is the generation that needs to make a change in culture about the sun. And really, it's a woman thing, I think. I don't see men worrying about it nearly as much as women do.
But really, that is it. I don't think I've been purposefully mean to people in my life. And over time, I have learned a lot of good lessons from the various mistakes I've made. But I've also been very lucky, in that I haven't really made that many mistakes, and the ones I have made haven't had that many heinous consequences. Maybe if something I did had led to someone being severely hurt by me, then I'd regret it. But luckily, that's never happened to me. KNOCK ON WOOD it never does. The saddest part of reading Dooce's post was reading the comments of people who have some seriously bad regrets, like regretting giving up a child, or regretting not seeing their parents before they died, stuff they can't undo and will wish they had for the rest of their lives. I try my best to think through the decisions I make so that I don't have to wish things were different.
Even so, there are a few regrets which stand out in my mind. Some end up unraveling, as I ponder the effect that could have had on my life, and some stand firm.
As a high schooler, I was offered the opportunity to study before and after school with my art teacher, in order to better prepare me to go to art school. Like Kansas, or Chicago. SERIOUS FUCKING ART SCHOOL. It was put to me as a decision - either I was willing to put in the effort and work my ass off to get in and succeed, or my art teacher wasn't going to put in the extra time with me. It was a HUGE compliment to my talent, and something I took my time thinking about before deciding. I talked to my parents about it at the time. I was SSSSOOOOO tempted, because art is in my soul and it feeds my soul a LOT. But, in the end, I decided not to go to art school. I thought then (which was true then, may still be true now) that the only time my art was really brilliant, rather than just capable, was when some wretched sort of emotion came out of me. Angst, anger, sadness, fear, frustration, loneliness. And the rest of the time, if I forced art to come out of me, I wasn't really satisfied with it. I was afraid of becoming a "starving artist", depending upon brief bits of misery to create something that would pay the rent. And usually the brilliant pieces that came out of me weren't part of an "assignment", the way most artists are given assignments for their jobs. The thought of just painting and selling my pieces never occurred to me; most artists I knew of never were famous until they were dead. Um.... NOT APPEALING! So I chose to study languages instead. That was something else that I was not only good at, but also didn't depend upon my mood. However, I can't say that I actually regret this decision. It all leads to the path of where I am now, and I like where I am now. I wouldn't be married to the man I'm married to, because I met him through a friend I made in Russian class. I wouldn't likely even be in Austin, now. And clearly, I wouldn't have my beautiful Hootie. So no, I don't regret it. But I can say that I could have done it, had I decided otherwise. That, or med school, another thought that occurred to me in hindsight. Not that I had any idea I would maybe have been good at that, but later in life I have discovered an affinity for that which never occurred to me back then. And, had I done that, I would have also missed out on a great many trips to Europe and other parts of the world that have so enriched my life. SO, no regrets.
I also could regret that I spend SO MUCH time wrapped up in trying to please other people, worrying about what they think. There's definitely a balance to be achieved, though. I don't know that I have it down yet, but it is in the hopper, so to speak. I don't want to be this hapless narcissist who is only out to please herself, but I know that a lot of my life I have spent making decisions and behaving in a way that I envision would be likeable and smart and savvy. I didn't really even consider really just marching to the beat of my own drummer, because heck, I didn't think my drummer was very cool, and didn't trust him anyway. These things are changing, especially in the last 7 years. But who is to say when a person ought to be learning this? Many people never learn it, and either go on in their self-absorbed way, or become a doormat/martyr for the people they want to impress or please.
But there are some little regrets I do have, which I know wouldn't have changed my life course at all. Like, for example, the decision to not stay in Austin on our wedding night, and go to the big ass party all our friends threw in our honor. We didn't have a lot of money, and my inlaws paid for the tickets to get us to Colorado for our honeymoon. The ones they chose, however, were red-eye flights the next morning, out of Dallas, and the only way we could get there on time for the flight was to fly out of Austin at 7pm the night of our wedding. So, we had a 2pm wedding, and what amounts to a "tea and buffet" mid-afternoon, and we flew to Dallas. To stay in a BORING hotel next to the airport. Which, for a wedding night, was less than fantastic. I would have loved to have stayed, sucked up paying for more expensive tickets, and had a great time with our friends, because isn't that what it's all about anyway? As I look back at the wedding itself, I still love a lot about it. Just not that part. AND, I would have served alcohol at the wedding. We didn't because there was a friend or two we thought would get rip-roaring drunk, and make an ass of himself at the wedding. Well what wedding is complete without a drunk friend, I ask?!? I was too uptight back then. Seriously!
I'll also borrow from Dooce, in that her only regret was not wearing more sunscreen. I have a sneaking suspicion that I will end up dealing with skin cancer at some point in my life, especially on my face, because of having gotten so much sunburn in my life. I have always liked to have a light tan in the summer, and many years had a nice dark tan. We always thought that was so attractive. It ain't gonna be so attractive when I have scars from having stuff cut off my face and arms and chest and back someday. I'm much more into sunscreen, ESPECIALLY for Hootie. I don't even want to instill in her that having a tan is something worth seeking. If you get some color from being outside, and it happens slowly and naturally with a LOT of sunscreen on, then that's just living your life. But I BATHED IN BABY OIL as a teenager, to get a darker tan. HOLY SHIT, HOW STUPID IS THAT?!? My uncle just died from melanoma, from a spot on his back that had been there forever, which likely turned to melanoma in part from sun exposure. This is the generation that needs to make a change in culture about the sun. And really, it's a woman thing, I think. I don't see men worrying about it nearly as much as women do.
But really, that is it. I don't think I've been purposefully mean to people in my life. And over time, I have learned a lot of good lessons from the various mistakes I've made. But I've also been very lucky, in that I haven't really made that many mistakes, and the ones I have made haven't had that many heinous consequences. Maybe if something I did had led to someone being severely hurt by me, then I'd regret it. But luckily, that's never happened to me. KNOCK ON WOOD it never does. The saddest part of reading Dooce's post was reading the comments of people who have some seriously bad regrets, like regretting giving up a child, or regretting not seeing their parents before they died, stuff they can't undo and will wish they had for the rest of their lives. I try my best to think through the decisions I make so that I don't have to wish things were different.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Self Esteem
Recently I have been going through a coaching exercise as a sort of trial for a friend-of-a-friend. J is learning to be a coach for a program in Montana, whereby people from the business world come in and learn about leadership during a work retreat, involving horses. What I am doing has nothing to do with horses, but in a way has a lot to do with the same concepts a person learns in leadership training. J needs to practice with her tools and techniques prior to being able to finish her training, and I'm a guinea pig for that. Since I'm already grossly introspective anyway, I probably make a really EASY candidate for this exercise... not much of a challenge for her, but probably give her the ability to use a lot of her tools!
It's been pretty enlightening for me also, in the way that counseling has been enlightening, the few times I have engaged in counseling in my lifetime. However, when I have gone through any counseling before, it was in response to some major issue going on in my life, and I don't feel I have any big pressing major issues right at the moment. Maybe that is a better time to sit back and reflect on oneself, though, because I'm not caught in the crossfire of the issue itself.
One big fat aha moment for me has been around the area of self esteem. As a child, when I lived in Iowa and befriended a girl with hearing aids, I was absolutely NOT a popular child. Like, dump-the-books unpopular, or turn-off-the-bathroom-light-on-her unpopular. I always figured it was because of my association with Erika, who was exponentially even more unpopular than I was, as she had the social skills of a rock (or one of those oddballs at a Star Trek convention). But even when I moved to Texas, I wasn't HUGELY popular. I had friends, quite good ones, and was well respected and never teased or tortured like I was in Iowa, but popular? Nope. And I grew to understand it was more a function of my looks than it was anything else. So, I became REALLY REALLY GOOD at a zillion things. Art. German. Other languages. Straight A's. And then eventually as I went to college and so on, the world broadened for me, and I met a wider range of people, once I was out of that microcosm where your looks and charm determine your likeablility. You know how it is in every high school in America - either you're gorgeous, you're a star athlete, or you're the class clown. The latter two not requiring the looks as much, but those sure help out.
So, I'm not what I'd consider grossly unattractive by any means. I'm just not a bombshell. I am well aware that I'm not pretty in the sense that the world finds people pretty. I'm also not interesting looking, in the way the world will still consider you attractive if you've got a quirky, funky look about you. I have the same nose all babies are born with - a pudgy little ball plopped on the middle of my face. I have no bridge to my nose, and my profile is just very flat. My smile is kinda funny, and my hair... well... let's just say it has never been my best feature. At age 37, it is amazing how much this STILL seems to play into my psyche and my self confidence. I know it shouldn't. At this point, it makes about zero difference in my world. I have tons of self confidence about a great many other areas of my life, but that one still remains a bit hamstrung. I didn't really even know it, because I have always considered myself a pretty confident, self-assured person. What I found out is that people will often overcompensate in one area, to make up for something they perceive themselves lacking. And that's me to a T. I just wasn't actively aware of it until recently. So my current self-project is to really focus on this area, and come to terms with exactly the way I look, and let it the fuck go. There's very little about it that I can change, and fundamentally, it doesn't matter. I don't need to overcompensate for it, I don't owe anyone anything extra because I'm not easy on the eyes and/or the funniest thing alive. It's a hair shirt, and I'm tired of having that feeling in the back of my mind. I'm not entirely sure how one goes about taking OFF said hairshirt, but I'm sure as hell going to try and figure it out.
Okay. That's all.
It's been pretty enlightening for me also, in the way that counseling has been enlightening, the few times I have engaged in counseling in my lifetime. However, when I have gone through any counseling before, it was in response to some major issue going on in my life, and I don't feel I have any big pressing major issues right at the moment. Maybe that is a better time to sit back and reflect on oneself, though, because I'm not caught in the crossfire of the issue itself.
One big fat aha moment for me has been around the area of self esteem. As a child, when I lived in Iowa and befriended a girl with hearing aids, I was absolutely NOT a popular child. Like, dump-the-books unpopular, or turn-off-the-bathroom-light-on-her unpopular. I always figured it was because of my association with Erika, who was exponentially even more unpopular than I was, as she had the social skills of a rock (or one of those oddballs at a Star Trek convention). But even when I moved to Texas, I wasn't HUGELY popular. I had friends, quite good ones, and was well respected and never teased or tortured like I was in Iowa, but popular? Nope. And I grew to understand it was more a function of my looks than it was anything else. So, I became REALLY REALLY GOOD at a zillion things. Art. German. Other languages. Straight A's. And then eventually as I went to college and so on, the world broadened for me, and I met a wider range of people, once I was out of that microcosm where your looks and charm determine your likeablility. You know how it is in every high school in America - either you're gorgeous, you're a star athlete, or you're the class clown. The latter two not requiring the looks as much, but those sure help out.
So, I'm not what I'd consider grossly unattractive by any means. I'm just not a bombshell. I am well aware that I'm not pretty in the sense that the world finds people pretty. I'm also not interesting looking, in the way the world will still consider you attractive if you've got a quirky, funky look about you. I have the same nose all babies are born with - a pudgy little ball plopped on the middle of my face. I have no bridge to my nose, and my profile is just very flat. My smile is kinda funny, and my hair... well... let's just say it has never been my best feature. At age 37, it is amazing how much this STILL seems to play into my psyche and my self confidence. I know it shouldn't. At this point, it makes about zero difference in my world. I have tons of self confidence about a great many other areas of my life, but that one still remains a bit hamstrung. I didn't really even know it, because I have always considered myself a pretty confident, self-assured person. What I found out is that people will often overcompensate in one area, to make up for something they perceive themselves lacking. And that's me to a T. I just wasn't actively aware of it until recently. So my current self-project is to really focus on this area, and come to terms with exactly the way I look, and let it the fuck go. There's very little about it that I can change, and fundamentally, it doesn't matter. I don't need to overcompensate for it, I don't owe anyone anything extra because I'm not easy on the eyes and/or the funniest thing alive. It's a hair shirt, and I'm tired of having that feeling in the back of my mind. I'm not entirely sure how one goes about taking OFF said hairshirt, but I'm sure as hell going to try and figure it out.
Okay. That's all.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Exasperating.
I've been swamped recently. Trying to get a million things done before Thursday, when I will finally hear from my orthopoedic doctor what the F is really going on in my shoulder. It's bothered me since Hootie was born, basically, since that timeframe in which she lived perched upon my right shoulder whilst I bounced endlessly, pacing and walking, keeping her from the interminable screaming which would take place, generally between about 3 pm and 4 am. At first I attributed it to her not caring for the BRIGHT, COLD place in which food doesn't come at a steady pace anymore, but eventually I settled in and let it be called colic. Four months (give or take, it sort of faded, rather than stopping abruptly) later, my shoulder would ache and occasionally I would feel a sharp pain when I put it in certain positions. I've consumed somewhere on the order of a shitload of ibuprofen since then, most days at least some. Some days none.
About 18 months ago I saw the doc, had an x-ray, and found out that I have calcific tendonitis, which is basically this chunk of hard calcium my body decided to place on my tendon where it experienced some tearing from overuse. Somehow my body got this signal to "fix" the problem. But what it does to fix it makes it worse. Now this chunk of calcium scrapes and shreds my muscles and other soft tissues when it comes in contact with them. Which hurts, of course.
I haven't ever been one who likes to sit around and belabor things which hurt. Let's drink Folgers coffee at the kitchen table, smoke a pack of Camel Unfiltereds, and talk about how we're getting older, falling apart, and did you know Preparation H is on sale at Walgreens? No foolin? Yeah. NOT.
So instead of bitching, I started doing yoga. And that helped me a lot, for a year, especially when it came to getting my range of motion back. I had gotten to where I was so careful with the arm, I stopped moving it very much, and that sucked. So the yoga got that back for me. And for a while, it didn't hurt as much either. But the more I progressed with yoga, the more I'd come home with a sore shoulder, take ibuprofen, and have to rest up for the next class. So now I'm back to being on the verge of bitching, and I made the commitment to myself I wouldn't do that. If it ever started to prevent me from doing something that I wanted to do, I would do something about it.
The doc tried cortisone, it didn't work. He said he could try again, but he knew he got it in the right spot, so didn't hold out much hope of it working the second time, so I skipped that round, left his office, and sucked it up until about a week ago. I went in again, told him it had gotten worse. He scheduled an MRI, which I endured last Friday, and now I'm waiting to go talk to him Thursday about the results. If my muscles are torn in the rotator cuff region, he wants to operate quickly. If not, I can wait until summer timeframe. But at this point, I am not sure I want to be waiting much longer, as it's really been bugging me more in the last few weeks.
In the meantime, I have project upon project lined up for me to complete. I just made a bookshelf this week (6' tall by 30" wide) with my friend Gene, for Hootie's bedroom. I need to sand and stain and seal it next. I want to redo an entire garden bed in my front yard with lavender, rather than English ivy, which is gonna take some shoulder to do it. I started painting and selling things on eBay (selling paintings, that is), and have been trying to figure out how to create a business for myself whilst I am at home, something I could do with my artistic side to pull in some G. In order to buy some furnishings for my house, which we've been needing for quite some time.In any case, I feel like I'm a bit under the gun, to get this done before I'm Gimpy the Sling Girl for 3 weeks, and "I can't do much with this floppy thing" for the following 5.
Productivity is a driving force in my life. I am not sure what I will do when I'm a "lame duck" for 2 months. Gah.
But HEY! I haven't had a sinus infection since Thanksgiving! Life is awesome!
About 18 months ago I saw the doc, had an x-ray, and found out that I have calcific tendonitis, which is basically this chunk of hard calcium my body decided to place on my tendon where it experienced some tearing from overuse. Somehow my body got this signal to "fix" the problem. But what it does to fix it makes it worse. Now this chunk of calcium scrapes and shreds my muscles and other soft tissues when it comes in contact with them. Which hurts, of course.
I haven't ever been one who likes to sit around and belabor things which hurt. Let's drink Folgers coffee at the kitchen table, smoke a pack of Camel Unfiltereds, and talk about how we're getting older, falling apart, and did you know Preparation H is on sale at Walgreens? No foolin? Yeah. NOT.
So instead of bitching, I started doing yoga. And that helped me a lot, for a year, especially when it came to getting my range of motion back. I had gotten to where I was so careful with the arm, I stopped moving it very much, and that sucked. So the yoga got that back for me. And for a while, it didn't hurt as much either. But the more I progressed with yoga, the more I'd come home with a sore shoulder, take ibuprofen, and have to rest up for the next class. So now I'm back to being on the verge of bitching, and I made the commitment to myself I wouldn't do that. If it ever started to prevent me from doing something that I wanted to do, I would do something about it.
The doc tried cortisone, it didn't work. He said he could try again, but he knew he got it in the right spot, so didn't hold out much hope of it working the second time, so I skipped that round, left his office, and sucked it up until about a week ago. I went in again, told him it had gotten worse. He scheduled an MRI, which I endured last Friday, and now I'm waiting to go talk to him Thursday about the results. If my muscles are torn in the rotator cuff region, he wants to operate quickly. If not, I can wait until summer timeframe. But at this point, I am not sure I want to be waiting much longer, as it's really been bugging me more in the last few weeks.
In the meantime, I have project upon project lined up for me to complete. I just made a bookshelf this week (6' tall by 30" wide) with my friend Gene, for Hootie's bedroom. I need to sand and stain and seal it next. I want to redo an entire garden bed in my front yard with lavender, rather than English ivy, which is gonna take some shoulder to do it. I started painting and selling things on eBay (selling paintings, that is), and have been trying to figure out how to create a business for myself whilst I am at home, something I could do with my artistic side to pull in some G. In order to buy some furnishings for my house, which we've been needing for quite some time.In any case, I feel like I'm a bit under the gun, to get this done before I'm Gimpy the Sling Girl for 3 weeks, and "I can't do much with this floppy thing" for the following 5.
Productivity is a driving force in my life. I am not sure what I will do when I'm a "lame duck" for 2 months. Gah.
But HEY! I haven't had a sinus infection since Thanksgiving! Life is awesome!
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Staying Connected
I read a post on one of my favorite blogs today, sweetjuniper. For those who don't care to go read it (it's lengthy), the core story is that Dutch was in Generica (strip mall in suburb area) at a party store, when an old man came in looking for mylar balloons which commemorated his 60th wedding anniversary. He wanted to take them to his wife in a nursing home, who wouldn't really know the difference. He told his little story to the clerk who was disinterested and didn't interact with the old guy at all.
Most of the people on the post were noting how sad it must be for that little old guy, and how shitty these people were for not just reaching out and hugging the guy. Then there were the mom-and-pop store jihad folk, who wanted to say it's all because of Big Box America that clerks you talk to in stores don't give a shit about you or about their jobs. Some wanted to say, "hey, the kid's a teenager, cut him some slack". I tend to think those people are parents of teenagers, but whatever. There was some wistful hearkening back to the good ol' days of yore, when people cared about their customers, got to know them by name, gave good service.
But none of this was really the point of what Dutch was trying in there to say. Basically he was surprised that this little old guy even shared his story, because that's not how our current "society" typically interacts. It is how HIS society, back in his youthful days, did interact. People didn't have the internet to "talk" to each other. If you wanted to meet people, you went out on the town with your friends. You went to a dance, to a drive-in, to the soda fountain, or to church. You met people at the grocery. If you wanted to buy something, you went to the store to buy it. And you probably didn't have the 412 choices we have today. The guy selling it to you was knowledgeable about his "craft", whatever good or service he was in business to provide. Everything involved a lot more direct person-to-person interaction than we do today.
Why is that? Are we in love with convenience? Are we lazy? Are we a new breed of massive introverts? What is it that causes us as a society to withdraw so significantly from each other that we barely even have that which used to be called a community?
I take a look at myself - I'm a bit of an oxymoron in this vein. Yes, I'm introverted, but I'm not a hermit [crab]. But admittedly, my preferred method of communication back and forth with a good many friends is via email. It isn't that I don't like to talk - I talk to my mom and sister just about every day. But I like the fact that I can write something and check back later for an answer, rather than calling and leaving a voicemail, and waiting for a call back, or talking. I like face-to-face interactions better than the telephone or email, however, so I'm not hopeless. But the point wasn't lost on me that the concept of community is slowly eroding around us. That's sad. But more than it being sad, it's a call to action. If that isn't something that I want for our lives, if that's not something I want to pass on by way of example to my daughter, I need to behave differently to create a different experience. I am generally speaking polite and courteous when I'm out and about with people. Sometimes I can tend toward impatience when I'm around someone who is ignorant and blocking my way, but even then, I try and just talk myself down from it and let that go. But moreso than just not being rude in public, I think there's a stronger effort required to frequent the businesses in my neighborhood, develop even more relationships with people in my area, sit on my porch and play in the front yard with Hootie more. Talk to people as they go by. We're very lucky in that we live in a neighborhood where there are porches and sidewalks and neighborhood groceries and bakeries and wine shops and delis. In some of the more recently built neighborhoods, you rarely see people even outside. If they are, it's in their back yards, behind a 6-foot fence, guarding their privacy. People drive into their garages, close the door, enter their houses, and don't even interact with their neighbors at all. I don't want that, but instead of just saying I don't want that, I need to be responsible for not HAVING that. For going out there more, meeting more of the neighbors, being more involved, and being more open and responsive when other people open a line of communication with me.
I know my child is going to grow up with technology at her fingertips, but I hope and pray we manage to teach her that technology doesn't and shouldn't take the place of real, face-to-face human interaction. That's what emotionally feeds us. It isn't that we cannot also connect with these tools - I've gained a broader view by all of the insights and perspectives I read on the internet, and have developed some tentative e-relationships through that mechanism. But it certainly isn't my primary interaction mechanism, and shouldn't be.
Most of the people on the post were noting how sad it must be for that little old guy, and how shitty these people were for not just reaching out and hugging the guy. Then there were the mom-and-pop store jihad folk, who wanted to say it's all because of Big Box America that clerks you talk to in stores don't give a shit about you or about their jobs. Some wanted to say, "hey, the kid's a teenager, cut him some slack". I tend to think those people are parents of teenagers, but whatever. There was some wistful hearkening back to the good ol' days of yore, when people cared about their customers, got to know them by name, gave good service.
But none of this was really the point of what Dutch was trying in there to say. Basically he was surprised that this little old guy even shared his story, because that's not how our current "society" typically interacts. It is how HIS society, back in his youthful days, did interact. People didn't have the internet to "talk" to each other. If you wanted to meet people, you went out on the town with your friends. You went to a dance, to a drive-in, to the soda fountain, or to church. You met people at the grocery. If you wanted to buy something, you went to the store to buy it. And you probably didn't have the 412 choices we have today. The guy selling it to you was knowledgeable about his "craft", whatever good or service he was in business to provide. Everything involved a lot more direct person-to-person interaction than we do today.
Why is that? Are we in love with convenience? Are we lazy? Are we a new breed of massive introverts? What is it that causes us as a society to withdraw so significantly from each other that we barely even have that which used to be called a community?
I take a look at myself - I'm a bit of an oxymoron in this vein. Yes, I'm introverted, but I'm not a hermit [crab]. But admittedly, my preferred method of communication back and forth with a good many friends is via email. It isn't that I don't like to talk - I talk to my mom and sister just about every day. But I like the fact that I can write something and check back later for an answer, rather than calling and leaving a voicemail, and waiting for a call back, or talking. I like face-to-face interactions better than the telephone or email, however, so I'm not hopeless. But the point wasn't lost on me that the concept of community is slowly eroding around us. That's sad. But more than it being sad, it's a call to action. If that isn't something that I want for our lives, if that's not something I want to pass on by way of example to my daughter, I need to behave differently to create a different experience. I am generally speaking polite and courteous when I'm out and about with people. Sometimes I can tend toward impatience when I'm around someone who is ignorant and blocking my way, but even then, I try and just talk myself down from it and let that go. But moreso than just not being rude in public, I think there's a stronger effort required to frequent the businesses in my neighborhood, develop even more relationships with people in my area, sit on my porch and play in the front yard with Hootie more. Talk to people as they go by. We're very lucky in that we live in a neighborhood where there are porches and sidewalks and neighborhood groceries and bakeries and wine shops and delis. In some of the more recently built neighborhoods, you rarely see people even outside. If they are, it's in their back yards, behind a 6-foot fence, guarding their privacy. People drive into their garages, close the door, enter their houses, and don't even interact with their neighbors at all. I don't want that, but instead of just saying I don't want that, I need to be responsible for not HAVING that. For going out there more, meeting more of the neighbors, being more involved, and being more open and responsive when other people open a line of communication with me.
I know my child is going to grow up with technology at her fingertips, but I hope and pray we manage to teach her that technology doesn't and shouldn't take the place of real, face-to-face human interaction. That's what emotionally feeds us. It isn't that we cannot also connect with these tools - I've gained a broader view by all of the insights and perspectives I read on the internet, and have developed some tentative e-relationships through that mechanism. But it certainly isn't my primary interaction mechanism, and shouldn't be.
Monday, January 29, 2007
Hope and Fear
Yesterday I returned to my beloved yoga studio, that I have missed for 2 weeks while I was away. My instructor Keith (I only attend his sessions, not out of any dislike for the other instructors, but for a strong appreciation for his teaching style and the content of his practice) usually weaves some sort of concept into each practice, upon which to meditate or focus. Sometimes it is something as simple as slowing down, choosing to move very fluidly and purposefully between asanas and between thoughts. Increasing the distance between thoughts. Sometimes the ideas are more complex. The studio is a Buddhist yoga studio, which evidently differs from others in that Buddhist teachings exterior to the actual practice of yoga aren't necessarily woven throughout other yoga classes. Having been only to a class offered at a former workplace years ago, I wouldn't know. But I really have developed an appreciation for the works of poetry Keith works into the class as well as the philosophy he shares very humbly with us all. He does it in a way that lures you to chew on these questions in your mind long after the 90 minutes are over.
So on Sunday, on the board was written something to the effect of this: "Tension is what you think you should be. Relaxation is who you really are. Chinese proverb." And then at the beginning of class he shared a quote from an author who said, "The essence of happiness is this: fear nothing, hope nothing." Keith claimed it took him years before he could fully grasp the meaning of those statements, and come to see them as true. And that the absence of hope is not to be confused with pessimism. Because there's an absence of both fear and hope. This limbo place in the middle where basically you aren't married to the outcome of anything.
We're conditioned in our American environment to always have hope. To pray for what you want, to hope in your heart for the best outcome. But I think what Keith was getting at is that implicit inside hope is desire. And when you desire something you do not have, you set yourself up for disappointment and unhappiness if the outcome isn't in your favor. Inherent in that statement is the focus on the self, the "ego", which Buddhists work to eliminate in order to become one with each person's higher self. God, "Buddha Nature", Allah. So from what I understand, the intention is to be happy with whatever comes in life, to not expect or yearn for more than what it is, to experience it with wonder and curiosity and equanimity, fully without expectation. Everything is basically neutral, not good or bad. Attachment causes suffering, which is to be avoided in order to join in "bliss" with the higher self.
While I can definitely see the point of "fear nothing" and can work in my life toward that goal whole-heartedly, I have a hard time with "hope nothing". In fact, I think I have a hard time with living a life devoid of attachment. How does one stay connected to anyone, without a certain level of attachment? How do Buddhists define concrete relationships like marriage, without the concept of attachment? I understand the damage done by excess attachment, where you grasp at someone or something, often causing it to slip even further from our grasp. Love openly and you love without demands or possession. I'm all good with that. But even if we can imagine this state of being in which you are basically fine with whatever happens in life, birth, death, disease, and so on... not wishing or hoping for the best, just letting life unfold... it seems very void of the intense joys and sorrows to be experienced in life. Hope implies that you are fighting for an outcome. How does anyone with cancer actually beat it without hope? A lot of the point is to not fear death, to not see it as an "end" but rather as a transition. And therefore, not to cling to this life we are living here and now. But that would seem to mean you are neutral towards death, and aren't fighting against it. And I just can't take that stance. When I go, I'm sure I'll go kicking and screaming into the next phase, wanting to fully get as much of life and experience out of this one as is possible.
As a mother, I know that if my own life were ever in jeopardy, I damn well would fight like hell to stay on this earth, for no other reason than to be there for my child. Losing a parent at such a young age is devastating, and often can cause irreparable damage to a little one's psyche. While I know my daughter has a large number of people who love and cherish her to where she would never be without family and nurturing, I cannot imagine it would be as good as if her mother were there with her. Damn straight I'd fight to be here for her. And for my husband and family as well. When people die, it's not sad for them, they're moving on into the next phase. But for those of us left on earth to miss their presence, it leaves a hole and an ache. I don't think that I would want to be this stoic individual who remained so unattached to everyone and everything that they didn't feel the sense of loss in experiencing the remainder of their lives without their missing loved one. I am fully willing to go through the suffering and sadness of loss, in order to experience the abundant joys of rich, deep respectful attachments to other people in this world. Maybe I am missing something, or perhaps I am just delving into the bottom layer of this concept, for it can't be that simple, if it took Keith many years to grasp and embody it. I guess I'm just not there. May never be there. I think it is possible to hope for the best, and then deal with the reality. And I don't see the inherent "unhappiness" in doing so.
So on Sunday, on the board was written something to the effect of this: "Tension is what you think you should be. Relaxation is who you really are. Chinese proverb." And then at the beginning of class he shared a quote from an author who said, "The essence of happiness is this: fear nothing, hope nothing." Keith claimed it took him years before he could fully grasp the meaning of those statements, and come to see them as true. And that the absence of hope is not to be confused with pessimism. Because there's an absence of both fear and hope. This limbo place in the middle where basically you aren't married to the outcome of anything.
We're conditioned in our American environment to always have hope. To pray for what you want, to hope in your heart for the best outcome. But I think what Keith was getting at is that implicit inside hope is desire. And when you desire something you do not have, you set yourself up for disappointment and unhappiness if the outcome isn't in your favor. Inherent in that statement is the focus on the self, the "ego", which Buddhists work to eliminate in order to become one with each person's higher self. God, "Buddha Nature", Allah. So from what I understand, the intention is to be happy with whatever comes in life, to not expect or yearn for more than what it is, to experience it with wonder and curiosity and equanimity, fully without expectation. Everything is basically neutral, not good or bad. Attachment causes suffering, which is to be avoided in order to join in "bliss" with the higher self.
While I can definitely see the point of "fear nothing" and can work in my life toward that goal whole-heartedly, I have a hard time with "hope nothing". In fact, I think I have a hard time with living a life devoid of attachment. How does one stay connected to anyone, without a certain level of attachment? How do Buddhists define concrete relationships like marriage, without the concept of attachment? I understand the damage done by excess attachment, where you grasp at someone or something, often causing it to slip even further from our grasp. Love openly and you love without demands or possession. I'm all good with that. But even if we can imagine this state of being in which you are basically fine with whatever happens in life, birth, death, disease, and so on... not wishing or hoping for the best, just letting life unfold... it seems very void of the intense joys and sorrows to be experienced in life. Hope implies that you are fighting for an outcome. How does anyone with cancer actually beat it without hope? A lot of the point is to not fear death, to not see it as an "end" but rather as a transition. And therefore, not to cling to this life we are living here and now. But that would seem to mean you are neutral towards death, and aren't fighting against it. And I just can't take that stance. When I go, I'm sure I'll go kicking and screaming into the next phase, wanting to fully get as much of life and experience out of this one as is possible.
As a mother, I know that if my own life were ever in jeopardy, I damn well would fight like hell to stay on this earth, for no other reason than to be there for my child. Losing a parent at such a young age is devastating, and often can cause irreparable damage to a little one's psyche. While I know my daughter has a large number of people who love and cherish her to where she would never be without family and nurturing, I cannot imagine it would be as good as if her mother were there with her. Damn straight I'd fight to be here for her. And for my husband and family as well. When people die, it's not sad for them, they're moving on into the next phase. But for those of us left on earth to miss their presence, it leaves a hole and an ache. I don't think that I would want to be this stoic individual who remained so unattached to everyone and everything that they didn't feel the sense of loss in experiencing the remainder of their lives without their missing loved one. I am fully willing to go through the suffering and sadness of loss, in order to experience the abundant joys of rich, deep respectful attachments to other people in this world. Maybe I am missing something, or perhaps I am just delving into the bottom layer of this concept, for it can't be that simple, if it took Keith many years to grasp and embody it. I guess I'm just not there. May never be there. I think it is possible to hope for the best, and then deal with the reality. And I don't see the inherent "unhappiness" in doing so.
Friday, January 26, 2007
Drugs
Okay, so I realize that this post is probably significantly controversial to a good many people who may read it. People seem polarized on the issue. But, it's my blog, so I will offer up the topic and anyone feel free to debate my points.
While I was up in Washington helping my mom (the second Mom, not the first one) after foot surgery, there were a few rough days in there. Hootie is in a very long 3-year-old phase of testing all the boundaries and I admittedly am not as consistent as I probably should be. I've got my head focusing on other areas for improvement right now, such as managing my irritation and frustration levels, and responding to those things appropriately. We were in a cold place, making it hard for Hootie to play outside for any length of time. I haven't really restocked the toys up there to suit her age, so most of them are still baby/toddler toys. On top of that, I was much less available to help direct her play and get her set up with arts and crafts and so forth, because of the time spent taking care of Mom and the house. Two days in a row, I tried getting Hootie out of the house for a few hours - over to my sister's house to play with her cousin Zakky, and once we took the kids together to the mall to play on their little indoor playscape. Both times, Mom ended up wanting or needing my help while I was gone, and became irritated that I wasn't there as I should be. The second time, I called and found her friend Susan there visiting, but Mom would not let Susan prepare her lunch. She waited for me to come back home to do that, bring it to her bedside, and then basically dismissed me and Hootie so she could visit with her friend. She wouldn't let Susan read Hootie stories or visit with me, she just wanted me to do my work and be gone. All of that set my mood to one where I felt I was between a rock and a hard place. Unable to please anyone in the situation. I was frustrated and stressed by it. This general frustration and stress lasted about two days and then Mom and I had a big discussion about it, and "cleared the air" so to speak. We discussed how Hootie is learning the "art of manipulation" and how I am not responding to it in a firm, authoritative way. I know we disagree on a few areas of child rearing, one of which is the use of corporal punishment - spanking and the like. It isn't that I do not believe in the use of a physical deterrent from some behaviors. In particular, I have used a "flick" of the lip when Hootie is grossly disrespectful to me, especially after repeated verbal warnings. But spanking her, which I have tried a few times, has had very little positive effect. I think it's good for things like teaching a toddler not to go in the street or not to touch a hot stove, etc. Or when they are throwing fits and disobeying direct requests or commands intentionally, after escalating warnings and consequences. But I believe in using consequences which somehow relate or tie to the misbehavior. Flicking her mouth tells her that she's being hurtful with her mouth, so her mouth will get "stung" by my flick. If she cannot share a toy, I will take it away so that nobody plays with it. If she cannot exhibit proper dining etiquette, she will sit in a time out in her room. And so on. This is just how I see it, and each parent makes up their own mind on these issues. It is each parent's perrogative to choose what they see as appropriate discipline to deter poor behaviors and guide their child. But it clearly bothers my mother that Hootie hasn't quit exhibiting these behaviors yet. And she doesn't agree with how I handle her. But for me, that is okay. I don't need permission or approval on that front. It'd be nice if my mom thought I did a good job with my child, but it's not critical that she approve. But, things went much smoother after that conversation. However, yesterday she told me that she thought she had mentioned (which she didn't), that maybe I should consider getting on some anti-depressant medications. That perhaps I need some help in managing my stress.
Anti-depressant medications have made a huge difference for many people that I know, and I am all in favor of them for these folks. My Mother in Nevada has been on them for years, and constantly struggles with getting the "balance" just right. However, without any medications, she'd be in a mental hospital or dead, I am sure. She's got a chemical imbalance which causes her to irrationally experience a lot of depression. My mom and sister both use anti-depressants, for different reasons. My mom's got a progressively debilitating disease which causes a lot of pain and stress and fear, and these drugs help her immeasurably. My sister has not explained a whole lot of what she experiences when she does not take medications which manage her depression, but I can definitely see what benefit they have for her, how they help her feel so much better. My friend Kathleen has taken two different medications for as long as I have known her, and she's also told me she needs them to even herself out - she's also been diagnosed with depression. So clearly, I am not against them at ALL.
But, I think there's a time and a place for them, and I don't believe that I fall into the category of needing them. I see it as either a temporary problem (a very close loved one dies - a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling - which causes deep sadness and despair), or a chronic problem (like a chemical imbalance, making one prone to depressive thoughts). I don't feel I have either of these issues. Generally speaking, I am happy and content with my life. Of course I have adversity. Of course I have things which I work on to improve in myself. But I don't believe I fit any of the classic signs of depression. According to a website on signs of depression from the Mayo Clinic, the two hallmark signs to look out for are:
1. Loss of interest in normal daily activities; you lose interest in activities that you once used to enjoy
2. Depressed mood; You feel sad, helpless or hopeless, and may have crying spells.
Further, it goes on to note that for a doctor or clinician to diagnose depression, most of the following symptoms should be present for at least two weeks:
Sleep disturbances. Sleeping too much or having problems sleeping can be a sign you're depressed. Waking in the middle of the night or early in the morning and not being able to get back to sleep are typical.
Impaired thinking or concentration. You may have trouble concentrating or making decisions and have problems with memory.
Changes in weight. An increased or reduced appetite and unexplained weight gain or loss may indicate depression.
Agitation. You may seem restless, agitated, irritable and easily annoyed.
Fatigue or slowing of body movements. You feel weariness and lack of energy nearly every day. You may feel as tired in the morning as you did when you went to bed the night before. You may feel like you're doing everything in slow motion, or you may speak in a slow, monotonous tone.
Low self-esteem. You feel worthless and have excessive guilt.
Less interest in sex. If you were sexually active before developing depression, you may notice a dramatic decrease in your level of interest in having sexual relations.
Thoughts of death. You have a persistent negative view of yourself, your situation and the future. You may have thoughts of death, dying or suicide.
The only symptoms in all of these which pertain to me are "agitation" (my frustration and ability to be easily irritated), and some level of fatigue. As was clearly proven to me at my mom's house, I am able to sleep all night if not interruped multiple times by a child or a dog, which is the case at home. I'm tired because I don't get uninterrupted sleep most nights. I'm easily irritated because I am tired. But none of the other things describe me at all. I get a lot of pleasure out of many things I do routinely - yoga, taking walks with my husband and daughter, cooking meals, cleaning my house and seeing it all tidy and cute, shopping, reading, visiting with friends. My self esteem is just fine, my interest in sex remains strong and unchanged, and the thought of death... well, I just don't ever think about that, unless I'm on an airplane and it's really turbulent, and I'm afraid. But I don't think that's what the Mayo Clinic is referring to.
Medication is appropriate when a person needs medication to solve a problem. When there aren't other ways to really solve them. I take ibuprofen multiple times a day to deal with the pain in my shoulder. I take allergy pills to combat my severe allergies to everything in this town. I do yoga and meditate and garden and spend some time alone to help calm and reenergize myself. And I think those things are appropriate ways for me to deal with stress and frustration. I'm a at a bit of a loss on how to deal with my dog waking me up at night, and we've been progressively working on the child so that she will sleep through the night in her own bed. But what I deal with is just life. Normal things in life.
While I was up in Washington helping my mom (the second Mom, not the first one) after foot surgery, there were a few rough days in there. Hootie is in a very long 3-year-old phase of testing all the boundaries and I admittedly am not as consistent as I probably should be. I've got my head focusing on other areas for improvement right now, such as managing my irritation and frustration levels, and responding to those things appropriately. We were in a cold place, making it hard for Hootie to play outside for any length of time. I haven't really restocked the toys up there to suit her age, so most of them are still baby/toddler toys. On top of that, I was much less available to help direct her play and get her set up with arts and crafts and so forth, because of the time spent taking care of Mom and the house. Two days in a row, I tried getting Hootie out of the house for a few hours - over to my sister's house to play with her cousin Zakky, and once we took the kids together to the mall to play on their little indoor playscape. Both times, Mom ended up wanting or needing my help while I was gone, and became irritated that I wasn't there as I should be. The second time, I called and found her friend Susan there visiting, but Mom would not let Susan prepare her lunch. She waited for me to come back home to do that, bring it to her bedside, and then basically dismissed me and Hootie so she could visit with her friend. She wouldn't let Susan read Hootie stories or visit with me, she just wanted me to do my work and be gone. All of that set my mood to one where I felt I was between a rock and a hard place. Unable to please anyone in the situation. I was frustrated and stressed by it. This general frustration and stress lasted about two days and then Mom and I had a big discussion about it, and "cleared the air" so to speak. We discussed how Hootie is learning the "art of manipulation" and how I am not responding to it in a firm, authoritative way. I know we disagree on a few areas of child rearing, one of which is the use of corporal punishment - spanking and the like. It isn't that I do not believe in the use of a physical deterrent from some behaviors. In particular, I have used a "flick" of the lip when Hootie is grossly disrespectful to me, especially after repeated verbal warnings. But spanking her, which I have tried a few times, has had very little positive effect. I think it's good for things like teaching a toddler not to go in the street or not to touch a hot stove, etc. Or when they are throwing fits and disobeying direct requests or commands intentionally, after escalating warnings and consequences. But I believe in using consequences which somehow relate or tie to the misbehavior. Flicking her mouth tells her that she's being hurtful with her mouth, so her mouth will get "stung" by my flick. If she cannot share a toy, I will take it away so that nobody plays with it. If she cannot exhibit proper dining etiquette, she will sit in a time out in her room. And so on. This is just how I see it, and each parent makes up their own mind on these issues. It is each parent's perrogative to choose what they see as appropriate discipline to deter poor behaviors and guide their child. But it clearly bothers my mother that Hootie hasn't quit exhibiting these behaviors yet. And she doesn't agree with how I handle her. But for me, that is okay. I don't need permission or approval on that front. It'd be nice if my mom thought I did a good job with my child, but it's not critical that she approve. But, things went much smoother after that conversation. However, yesterday she told me that she thought she had mentioned (which she didn't), that maybe I should consider getting on some anti-depressant medications. That perhaps I need some help in managing my stress.
Anti-depressant medications have made a huge difference for many people that I know, and I am all in favor of them for these folks. My Mother in Nevada has been on them for years, and constantly struggles with getting the "balance" just right. However, without any medications, she'd be in a mental hospital or dead, I am sure. She's got a chemical imbalance which causes her to irrationally experience a lot of depression. My mom and sister both use anti-depressants, for different reasons. My mom's got a progressively debilitating disease which causes a lot of pain and stress and fear, and these drugs help her immeasurably. My sister has not explained a whole lot of what she experiences when she does not take medications which manage her depression, but I can definitely see what benefit they have for her, how they help her feel so much better. My friend Kathleen has taken two different medications for as long as I have known her, and she's also told me she needs them to even herself out - she's also been diagnosed with depression. So clearly, I am not against them at ALL.
But, I think there's a time and a place for them, and I don't believe that I fall into the category of needing them. I see it as either a temporary problem (a very close loved one dies - a spouse, a child, a parent, a sibling - which causes deep sadness and despair), or a chronic problem (like a chemical imbalance, making one prone to depressive thoughts). I don't feel I have either of these issues. Generally speaking, I am happy and content with my life. Of course I have adversity. Of course I have things which I work on to improve in myself. But I don't believe I fit any of the classic signs of depression. According to a website on signs of depression from the Mayo Clinic, the two hallmark signs to look out for are:
1. Loss of interest in normal daily activities; you lose interest in activities that you once used to enjoy
2. Depressed mood; You feel sad, helpless or hopeless, and may have crying spells.
Further, it goes on to note that for a doctor or clinician to diagnose depression, most of the following symptoms should be present for at least two weeks:
Sleep disturbances. Sleeping too much or having problems sleeping can be a sign you're depressed. Waking in the middle of the night or early in the morning and not being able to get back to sleep are typical.
Impaired thinking or concentration. You may have trouble concentrating or making decisions and have problems with memory.
Changes in weight. An increased or reduced appetite and unexplained weight gain or loss may indicate depression.
Agitation. You may seem restless, agitated, irritable and easily annoyed.
Fatigue or slowing of body movements. You feel weariness and lack of energy nearly every day. You may feel as tired in the morning as you did when you went to bed the night before. You may feel like you're doing everything in slow motion, or you may speak in a slow, monotonous tone.
Low self-esteem. You feel worthless and have excessive guilt.
Less interest in sex. If you were sexually active before developing depression, you may notice a dramatic decrease in your level of interest in having sexual relations.
Thoughts of death. You have a persistent negative view of yourself, your situation and the future. You may have thoughts of death, dying or suicide.
The only symptoms in all of these which pertain to me are "agitation" (my frustration and ability to be easily irritated), and some level of fatigue. As was clearly proven to me at my mom's house, I am able to sleep all night if not interruped multiple times by a child or a dog, which is the case at home. I'm tired because I don't get uninterrupted sleep most nights. I'm easily irritated because I am tired. But none of the other things describe me at all. I get a lot of pleasure out of many things I do routinely - yoga, taking walks with my husband and daughter, cooking meals, cleaning my house and seeing it all tidy and cute, shopping, reading, visiting with friends. My self esteem is just fine, my interest in sex remains strong and unchanged, and the thought of death... well, I just don't ever think about that, unless I'm on an airplane and it's really turbulent, and I'm afraid. But I don't think that's what the Mayo Clinic is referring to.
Medication is appropriate when a person needs medication to solve a problem. When there aren't other ways to really solve them. I take ibuprofen multiple times a day to deal with the pain in my shoulder. I take allergy pills to combat my severe allergies to everything in this town. I do yoga and meditate and garden and spend some time alone to help calm and reenergize myself. And I think those things are appropriate ways for me to deal with stress and frustration. I'm a at a bit of a loss on how to deal with my dog waking me up at night, and we've been progressively working on the child so that she will sleep through the night in her own bed. But what I deal with is just life. Normal things in life.
Thursday, January 25, 2007
No I Didn't Fall Off the Face of the Earth.
Have been away, up in Washington, helping my Mom post-op. Just returned back to Austin last night. I missed a bad-ass ice storm, from what I hear (see attached pic of my roof! With ICICLES!)
So yeah. And I switched to Verizon, got a new phone (a Cherry Chocolate, which I like though I would have liked the Mint Chocolate more, had they had one in stock, which they didn't. And all efforts to exchange it for a Mint Chocolate in Washington were foiled due in the first part to my first Cherry Chocolate breaking, and in second part to me leaving the BLOODY BOX AT MY MOM'S HOUSE instead of bringing it with me to the store. DUH. Now it is probably too late, if they even have any at any store in Austin.) The husband bought me a 1MB card to put in the phone so I can download some music to it, and use it as a... well, it's not an IPOD, though the UI is frighteningly similar, and the format isn't MP3, so it isn't an MP3 player. I can use it to play music, OKAY? So I downloaded individual songs to it, and then I sat and relished in my song choices, and the songs I haven't listened to in quite some time, and so that was all fun.
I'm sure I'll have something to say here soon. I am rarely without something to say. Like maybe how my mom suggested perhaps I ought to think about anti-depressants to help me deal with stress and my 3-year-old. That went over like a fart in church. For a lot of reasons. Stay tuned.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Balancing Act
So I have this dilemma.
My Mother (the one who raised me, not the one I'm going to see next week) has invited me and my family to come to Nevada for the holidays this year.
What to do about this?
My gut reaction to this invitation is unfortunately, "No thank you." In short, I do not wish to spend the holidays with them in Nevada. I would rather either spend time with them in Nevada another time of the year, or POSSIBLY spend a holiday with them in Austin. But even that isn't high on my list.
They left Austin two weeks after Hootie was born. They saw her twice as a newborn infant before they left. Once at the hospital, and once when I took her up to their house as they were preparing to pack up and leave. They have not been back to Austin since they moved to Nevada. They claim it is because they cannot afford it. Because they sunk their retirement income into a custom-built, beautiful house in a little golf community north of Las Vegas. They don't play golf. Or gamble. But they like this little town, and they like the lack of state income tax in Nevada. And they felt they had no other choices but to buy a home which continued to increase in price as it was being designed and built. They also have three dogs to board, should they leave town. So evidently, it's a big ordeal to go out of town.
I brought Hootie to their little house once, when she was almost 2. And my Mother saw her at a family funeral in Washington when she was about 9 months old, for a short time. So that's all they have seen of their granddaughter.
After a rather unpleasant exchange about holidays in mid-2005, wherein I explained that we already had made commitments for both Thanksgiving and Christmas that year, my mother tearfully claimed she felt like a bastard stepchild, unimportant and left out, and would I EVER spend holidays with them? I suggested they come to visit between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and we could celebrate a joint holiday and go to festivals and see lights and what-not, but this wasn't received well. If it isn't THE day of the holiday, it isn't worth anything, evidently. I eventually conceded out of pity, and said that the Thanksgiving of 2006, the following year, this past year, was free, and we'd love to have them come visit in Austin. I reiterated my invitation multiple times throughout the year, only to be told they hadn't discussed it yet, and maybe, maybe not. I even reserved the little guesthouse across the street which I manage, in case they decided to come. Throughout the year, whenever I would inquire about it, they blew me off, didn't really respond to my invitation, and of course, did not come.
Further information pertaining to this dilemma resides in my earlier post regarding why I have two mothers, and the state of the relationship with my parents. Holidays with a bipolar individual are not usually easy. My mother's medications are not consistent in their effectiveness, and I've spent many a holiday with her where she's miserable to be around. Sometimes not, but it's a crapshoot. Add to it the fact that there's little to do in this little town in Nevada, and my parents are pretty sedentary, and we haven't got terribly much to discuss as it is. We couldn't find an open playground anywhere in this little town, only the one attached to the school, which was fenced off from the public. My parents have nothing which accommodates a child, and the town has even less, considering it's really a retirement community of sorts. The thought of spending my holiday there doesn't appeal to me personally. If we were to go, it would be solely out of a sense of sadness that these two people are alone in Nevada, with no other children to celebrate the holidays with, and little initiative to make of it something special between the two of them. I realize that this situation is all of their own doing, yet I nevertheless feel sad for them that this is how it is.
As a married woman, I live that life where you go to one spouse's family's house for one of the holidays, and the other family for the next one, being Thanksgiving and Christmas. It rotates around and adjusts when the husband's sister is able to come to Texas and be with us for a specific holiday, so that we can all see her as well. So, when it's time for my family's "turn", I like to go to Washington. I like to see my Mama and sister and her family. Hootie loves to play with her cousins, we get to play in the snow and possibly go skiing, everyone laughs and plays poker and watches football and has a lot of holiday cheer going around. It's FUN. So, to give that up to assuage any sense of guilt or burden of responsibility toward the people who raised me... it just isn't appealing.
Believe me, in having been an only child and having one live in my home, I have put a good deal of thought into how I am going to raise her and treat her, such that she doesn't inherit the same pitfalls of only childhood which I have had over the years. I know that I am "lucky" not to have depression or bipolar disorder, and that I am also very blessed to be a self-sufficient individual. We plan to travel and invite Hootie to join us if she so chooses, during holidays. I think the idea of spending a Christmas with just my husband sounds lovely anyway. But I don't want Hootie to face that same sense of pressure to "entertain" her parents, or to make us feel loved or give us reason for being.
So how did I respond? Well, I told my Mother via email that I appreciated her offer, but we would not be able to come for either Thanksgiving or Christmas. However, if she wanted us to come for one of their birthdays, or in between the holidays, or some other time, we could possibly arrange that. I have yet to hear back, but I'm anticipating another long, unpleasant silent treatment initiated by my ghastly selfishness.
I don't know what I want or expect from this post, other than just to get it out of me. Thanks for reading.
My Mother (the one who raised me, not the one I'm going to see next week) has invited me and my family to come to Nevada for the holidays this year.
What to do about this?
My gut reaction to this invitation is unfortunately, "No thank you." In short, I do not wish to spend the holidays with them in Nevada. I would rather either spend time with them in Nevada another time of the year, or POSSIBLY spend a holiday with them in Austin. But even that isn't high on my list.
They left Austin two weeks after Hootie was born. They saw her twice as a newborn infant before they left. Once at the hospital, and once when I took her up to their house as they were preparing to pack up and leave. They have not been back to Austin since they moved to Nevada. They claim it is because they cannot afford it. Because they sunk their retirement income into a custom-built, beautiful house in a little golf community north of Las Vegas. They don't play golf. Or gamble. But they like this little town, and they like the lack of state income tax in Nevada. And they felt they had no other choices but to buy a home which continued to increase in price as it was being designed and built. They also have three dogs to board, should they leave town. So evidently, it's a big ordeal to go out of town.
I brought Hootie to their little house once, when she was almost 2. And my Mother saw her at a family funeral in Washington when she was about 9 months old, for a short time. So that's all they have seen of their granddaughter.
After a rather unpleasant exchange about holidays in mid-2005, wherein I explained that we already had made commitments for both Thanksgiving and Christmas that year, my mother tearfully claimed she felt like a bastard stepchild, unimportant and left out, and would I EVER spend holidays with them? I suggested they come to visit between Thanksgiving and Christmas, and we could celebrate a joint holiday and go to festivals and see lights and what-not, but this wasn't received well. If it isn't THE day of the holiday, it isn't worth anything, evidently. I eventually conceded out of pity, and said that the Thanksgiving of 2006, the following year, this past year, was free, and we'd love to have them come visit in Austin. I reiterated my invitation multiple times throughout the year, only to be told they hadn't discussed it yet, and maybe, maybe not. I even reserved the little guesthouse across the street which I manage, in case they decided to come. Throughout the year, whenever I would inquire about it, they blew me off, didn't really respond to my invitation, and of course, did not come.
Further information pertaining to this dilemma resides in my earlier post regarding why I have two mothers, and the state of the relationship with my parents. Holidays with a bipolar individual are not usually easy. My mother's medications are not consistent in their effectiveness, and I've spent many a holiday with her where she's miserable to be around. Sometimes not, but it's a crapshoot. Add to it the fact that there's little to do in this little town in Nevada, and my parents are pretty sedentary, and we haven't got terribly much to discuss as it is. We couldn't find an open playground anywhere in this little town, only the one attached to the school, which was fenced off from the public. My parents have nothing which accommodates a child, and the town has even less, considering it's really a retirement community of sorts. The thought of spending my holiday there doesn't appeal to me personally. If we were to go, it would be solely out of a sense of sadness that these two people are alone in Nevada, with no other children to celebrate the holidays with, and little initiative to make of it something special between the two of them. I realize that this situation is all of their own doing, yet I nevertheless feel sad for them that this is how it is.
As a married woman, I live that life where you go to one spouse's family's house for one of the holidays, and the other family for the next one, being Thanksgiving and Christmas. It rotates around and adjusts when the husband's sister is able to come to Texas and be with us for a specific holiday, so that we can all see her as well. So, when it's time for my family's "turn", I like to go to Washington. I like to see my Mama and sister and her family. Hootie loves to play with her cousins, we get to play in the snow and possibly go skiing, everyone laughs and plays poker and watches football and has a lot of holiday cheer going around. It's FUN. So, to give that up to assuage any sense of guilt or burden of responsibility toward the people who raised me... it just isn't appealing.
Believe me, in having been an only child and having one live in my home, I have put a good deal of thought into how I am going to raise her and treat her, such that she doesn't inherit the same pitfalls of only childhood which I have had over the years. I know that I am "lucky" not to have depression or bipolar disorder, and that I am also very blessed to be a self-sufficient individual. We plan to travel and invite Hootie to join us if she so chooses, during holidays. I think the idea of spending a Christmas with just my husband sounds lovely anyway. But I don't want Hootie to face that same sense of pressure to "entertain" her parents, or to make us feel loved or give us reason for being.
So how did I respond? Well, I told my Mother via email that I appreciated her offer, but we would not be able to come for either Thanksgiving or Christmas. However, if she wanted us to come for one of their birthdays, or in between the holidays, or some other time, we could possibly arrange that. I have yet to hear back, but I'm anticipating another long, unpleasant silent treatment initiated by my ghastly selfishness.
I don't know what I want or expect from this post, other than just to get it out of me. Thanks for reading.
Thursday, January 11, 2007
First Bicycle, Learning to Ride
Some might say that perhaps 3 is too young for a first bicycle, that Hootie ought to be riding a tricycle at this point. Well, PAH, on that. Although the little red flyer tricycle is cute, it is "vintage", is is nostalgic... it isn't Hootie's forte. The diameter of the pedaling circle is so bloody small, it takes MUCH more force to even make the pedals GO, let alone keep pedaling. And it's high up, easily tipping over. She does MUCH better on a bicycle, IMHO. I'm sure the training wheels will be on it for some time, but that's okay. I am dreaming in my head of the day when we can actually all head out on our own bicycles for a family ride. I so remember the beautiful days when the husband and I would hop on the bikes, head downtown, weave through the lovely old buildings and shops and coffeehouses, down to Town Lake, where we would head east toward the little-used section of the lake, past the Holly Street Power Plant, over the bridge at Pleasant Valley, through the parks and back around to the populated section where the joggers and walkers and bikers and dogs and kids all were, creating our obstacle course through to Zilker Park and back around to the downtown area. We'd stop at the Cedar Door for a Mexican Martini and some pubgrub, and head back up toward the house, a little bit wobbly from a long ride and a nice, relaxing margarita. Haven't done that in about 4 1/2 years, sadly. And the child hasn't come along in a baby carrier because a) the husband doesn't like the safety of the bike-mounted carriers, and b) the husband also doesn't like the idea of dragging a child trailer behind the bicycle through downtown. So when the day comes that Hootie's old enough to go do that with us, HALLELUJAH! I will be THRILLED. Usually the initial riding of a bicycle brings on feelings in a mother akin to, "Oh, my little BABY is growing up, she's not a baby anymore!" and all that. I have PLENTY of other things that trigger THAT response, thanks. Bicycling? That will be a delight!
Sunday, January 07, 2007
It's A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood
It's stunningly beautiful outside, about 60 degrees and clear and dry. One of the days I dream about all summer when it's 98 and sweltering and humid. We took a lovely walk down on Town Lake this morning and I took a few pictures:
Nothing exciting to report on a Sunday afternoon, just posting pics.
Nothing exciting to report on a Sunday afternoon, just posting pics.
Thursday, January 04, 2007
Elaine in Training
This is Hootie, dancing to Shonna's boss Nick playing piano at their party in Driftwood.
Monday, January 01, 2007
Happy 2007!
This was us, out last night for a delicious dinner with good friends. Happy New Year to everyone!
Sunday, December 31, 2006
Refining My List - IDEALS for 2007
So a while ago, earlier this month, I wrote a post about ideals worth sacrificing for. I have talked with close friends and family about this to a certain degree, and am further refining my list to those things which are most on my list to work on, plus things I didn't list previously. So some adds, some outs, and now we have a list, on this beautiful last day of 2006. And I like to review the substance of the year, just because it is cathartic to me. I have had a good year, and feel very lucky in that regard. We did a fair bit of traveling - to Washington (east and west, multiple times) as well as San Francisco, Florida, and Colorado. Plus within the state, to Houston and Dallas and Wichita Falls to visit family and friends. All trips were terrific. I gained a new nephew, Samuel, took up a life-changing endeavor in yoga, we remodeled our kitchen primarily ourselves. I managed a little guesthouse across the road, began helping a friend get up to speed on new technology for her office to go wireless and paperless, and got my daughter's bed switched to a big girl bed. I painted some watercolor paintings, crocheted some blankets, did some sewing, made some jewelry, and did some gardening. I got a tattoo, finally, after thinking and planning and talking about it for a zillion years. We lost some very good neighbor friends as they moved to Portland, and grew closer to some other friends. I don't know that I necessarily made any *new* friends this year, but I definitely feel like I've developed some of my friendships more than I had in the past (especially Melissa, HI MISSY!). I've been working hard on being more calm, reducing my level of frustration and irritation, and responding a lot more peacefully to things that previously would elicit a haughty irritated response, as though I should not have to deal with irritation. It isn't that I don't still feel the irritation, or that I try to squash it. But I'm learning to let it exist, yet not act on it or respond to it.
This year hasn't been the best for some of the folks close to me. My heart goes out to each of them, with prayers for a better year in 2007. I, for one, am thankful this one was good to me, and hope the next is as well. And here's what I'm working on.
1. Recycling - much more than in the past
2. Organic foods - where it makes sense
3. Buying local/American/fair-trade foreign goods
4. Continuing my yoga practice 2-3 times weekly
5. Allowing myself to be imperfect, realizing that within me is my perfect self, but I can only remove the clutter to find that if I am patient and loving of myself in the process.
6. Being in the present. Being mindful and experience each moment for what it has to offer. Not goody-goody "stop and smell the flowers" or "enjoy each moment" - because a lot of it isn't very fun. But wisdom comes from mindfully enduring difficulty and frustration and pain as much as appreciating the beauty in life. I haven't been very mindful, always living in my head, rehashing or reexperiencing the past, or looking forward to something in the future. I need to do much more of this, just being in the moment itself, for whatever it brings. Especially with Hootie.
7. Living simply. This means everything from continuing my efforts to reduce the amount of clutter in my home to uncomplicating my relationships, to letting people have their own emotions without taking them personally, to how I entertain my child. The most difficult part of that is that I have been given a lot of lovely things, which I would feel bad parting with because of the loved ones who have given them to me.
8. PAINT MORE. I need to do a lot more art.
9. Spend money on travel and experiences rather than things. I think I might allow myself a few indulgences though. Photographs, beautiful food, and I think I'm going to have to go with shoes. Not overboard, just indulging my weakness now and again.
10. LOVE MORE. We all could stand a little more of that, eh? "All we need is love, da ta da da da..."
Now I am going to go put on a sexy black dress and heels, and accompany my husband and friends out to a nice New Year's Eve dinner sans child. Happy New Year to everyone who is reading, and much health and happiness to all.
This year hasn't been the best for some of the folks close to me. My heart goes out to each of them, with prayers for a better year in 2007. I, for one, am thankful this one was good to me, and hope the next is as well. And here's what I'm working on.
1. Recycling - much more than in the past
2. Organic foods - where it makes sense
3. Buying local/American/fair-trade foreign goods
4. Continuing my yoga practice 2-3 times weekly
5. Allowing myself to be imperfect, realizing that within me is my perfect self, but I can only remove the clutter to find that if I am patient and loving of myself in the process.
6. Being in the present. Being mindful and experience each moment for what it has to offer. Not goody-goody "stop and smell the flowers" or "enjoy each moment" - because a lot of it isn't very fun. But wisdom comes from mindfully enduring difficulty and frustration and pain as much as appreciating the beauty in life. I haven't been very mindful, always living in my head, rehashing or reexperiencing the past, or looking forward to something in the future. I need to do much more of this, just being in the moment itself, for whatever it brings. Especially with Hootie.
7. Living simply. This means everything from continuing my efforts to reduce the amount of clutter in my home to uncomplicating my relationships, to letting people have their own emotions without taking them personally, to how I entertain my child. The most difficult part of that is that I have been given a lot of lovely things, which I would feel bad parting with because of the loved ones who have given them to me.
8. PAINT MORE. I need to do a lot more art.
9. Spend money on travel and experiences rather than things. I think I might allow myself a few indulgences though. Photographs, beautiful food, and I think I'm going to have to go with shoes. Not overboard, just indulging my weakness now and again.
10. LOVE MORE. We all could stand a little more of that, eh? "All we need is love, da ta da da da..."
Now I am going to go put on a sexy black dress and heels, and accompany my husband and friends out to a nice New Year's Eve dinner sans child. Happy New Year to everyone who is reading, and much health and happiness to all.
Friday, December 29, 2006
So Yeah, About Christmas.
We've returned from Houston, where we spent Christmas with the husband's delightful family. Let me just say, I know there are a lot of poor, sad women out there who hate their in-laws, especially their mothers-in-law. I would not be one of those people. And she wouldn't be a daughter-in-law hater either. We really had a terrific time with them. The only complaints I can make are that I got extra fattened up by all of the delicious food (for which I have to take some responsibility, making two Dutch apple pies and a shitload of cookies AND the turkey gravy), and our sleeping situation sent the child into another, YES ANOTHER, tailspin. We were in a room with two single beds, and the child was on the floor. Had we ALL wanted to hear her howling in the night, we could have forced her to sleep in what was once her little crib, now turned "toddler bed" in the little room next to the husband's parents' bedroom, but I felt I couldn't really subject everyone to that. So we put her on a palette in our bedroom, on the floor next to my twin bed. Sleeping on a floor never hurt me as a child, so there's no "pity poor Hootie" going on with that situation. The problem was that Hootie was allowed the much-desired sleeping proximity to her mother. Which resulted the last three days in me ending up SHARING my SKINNY LITTLE TWIN BED with her land-grabbing, horizontal-laying butt. MUCH TO HER TOTAL GLEE. So, as is the case when we return home, it was back to the routine. Last night was straight from hell, with the whining and cajoling and the "MOMMY!" (repeat for TWO HOURS, interspersed with other dialogue and requests, some of which were legitimate, some of which were pure 3.5 year old bullshit). We like to say in our household that the child's inner monologue is being broadcast because someone left the mike on in her head. Read on. I don't make this shit up. Our room is adjacent to hers and we're lying there, me reading Buddhism for Mothers and my husband with his laptop on his belly, reading either www.DarkHorizons.com (yes, this gags me out) or maybe some news site or something. She's bellowing "Mommy" ad nauseum, which we are ignoring, since we've already addressed bathroom needs, drink of water needs, please can you adjust my pink blanket so that it is silky side down needs, and I dropped my Glowy Stick needs, I'm NOT KIDDING. Then, a slight pause. Is she giving up? No, there's a mumble (or what SHOULD be inaudible mumbling, but comes out as FULL FLEDGED TALKING), "I don't think Mommy can hear me. Maybe if I say it really LOUD, she'll wake up and come in here to me. Okay. Here I go. 1....2....3..... MOMMY!!!!"
Are you fucking kidding me?
Yep, that is what my child said. Followed up with stuff like, "She's not COMING. Maybe I wasn't loud enough. I'll try it again. 1....2....3....MMMOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYY!!!" (and other wonderment that this strategy is not, in fact, working). This did go on for two hours. I went to the front bedroom to sleep. I COULD STILL HEAR HER WITH ALL THREE DOORS BETWEEN US CLOSED. AND the computer was on, humming its obnoxious hum.
So, the sleep thing, it begins again, anew, afresh. For the 734th time. Delightful.
But the Christmas and festivities and games and conversation were all terrific. And, much to my own chagrin for having thought otherwise in advance, my daughter enjoyed going to see the Nutcracker Ballet. I personally thought there'd be no way a 3 1/2 year old would even GET the Nutcracker, much less sit for three hours on my lap ENRAPT as I narrated the story for her. But she did. It wasn't even so much as saying that she was well behaved, or that she "did well" or anything, as though her presence was an unfortunate side-deterrent to enjoying the ballet, or as though we had no option but to bring her with, and could we just get through it without a tantrum? She ENJOYED it, was actively watching it, probably moreso than many others in the audience. Of course she won't remember that when she grows up, but for the time being, for being 3 1/2 years old, she got as much out of a visit to the Nutcracker Ballet as anyone at that stage of life could. And I'm glad that we went, treated by the husband's sister and brother-in-law. It was remarkable.
We also went out to see our friends play in a band. Not a "current" band, mind you. A band that was actually a real band when we were in college in the early 90s. A band which sings songs primarily about food, about strange and wistful relationships, and about broken down cars. All original music. A band whose music is incredibly catchy and Texas Rock. They are called Banana Blender Surprise and their music is fantastic, and they only get together and play a few gigs a year, usually around Christmas, when people gather in Houston to see their family over the holidays. We danced like we were 23 again, and had a terrific time. All these 30-somethings, acting like we know what's up, taking our kids to the family show from 4-6 before tucking them into their beds with their grandparents and going out to rock the house again at 10. We stayed out until 2, drank lots of beer, sweated through our smoke-infested clothes and remembered the good ol days when we'd go every Tuesday night to the Black Cat Lounge and watch them play. FANTASTIC, it was. But, that said, I'm glad I'm going to bed tonight at 10. Wait. That's one minute from now. G'Nite.
Are you fucking kidding me?
Yep, that is what my child said. Followed up with stuff like, "She's not COMING. Maybe I wasn't loud enough. I'll try it again. 1....2....3....MMMOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYY!!!" (and other wonderment that this strategy is not, in fact, working). This did go on for two hours. I went to the front bedroom to sleep. I COULD STILL HEAR HER WITH ALL THREE DOORS BETWEEN US CLOSED. AND the computer was on, humming its obnoxious hum.
So, the sleep thing, it begins again, anew, afresh. For the 734th time. Delightful.
But the Christmas and festivities and games and conversation were all terrific. And, much to my own chagrin for having thought otherwise in advance, my daughter enjoyed going to see the Nutcracker Ballet. I personally thought there'd be no way a 3 1/2 year old would even GET the Nutcracker, much less sit for three hours on my lap ENRAPT as I narrated the story for her. But she did. It wasn't even so much as saying that she was well behaved, or that she "did well" or anything, as though her presence was an unfortunate side-deterrent to enjoying the ballet, or as though we had no option but to bring her with, and could we just get through it without a tantrum? She ENJOYED it, was actively watching it, probably moreso than many others in the audience. Of course she won't remember that when she grows up, but for the time being, for being 3 1/2 years old, she got as much out of a visit to the Nutcracker Ballet as anyone at that stage of life could. And I'm glad that we went, treated by the husband's sister and brother-in-law. It was remarkable.
We also went out to see our friends play in a band. Not a "current" band, mind you. A band that was actually a real band when we were in college in the early 90s. A band which sings songs primarily about food, about strange and wistful relationships, and about broken down cars. All original music. A band whose music is incredibly catchy and Texas Rock. They are called Banana Blender Surprise and their music is fantastic, and they only get together and play a few gigs a year, usually around Christmas, when people gather in Houston to see their family over the holidays. We danced like we were 23 again, and had a terrific time. All these 30-somethings, acting like we know what's up, taking our kids to the family show from 4-6 before tucking them into their beds with their grandparents and going out to rock the house again at 10. We stayed out until 2, drank lots of beer, sweated through our smoke-infested clothes and remembered the good ol days when we'd go every Tuesday night to the Black Cat Lounge and watch them play. FANTASTIC, it was. But, that said, I'm glad I'm going to bed tonight at 10. Wait. That's one minute from now. G'Nite.
Happy Birthday To Me.
I'm 37 today. The weather is rainy and dreary outside, though not "cold". It's going to have to be a "curly hair day" (any day where it's humid or raining is a curly hair day). I am not really satisfied with my weight, my shoulder is bothering me. I spent too much money over Christmas, though nothing that can't be overcome and corrected within a month. But that's about all the complaint I can muster! I'm happy with who I am, and with the directions I am taking in my life. I'm blessed with a wonderful husband, a daughter who amazes and awes me, a Mom who loves me dearly, a terrific sister, and a long list of special and interesting friends. I live in a fantastic neighborhood, in a cute little house, which is cozy and intimate. I have projects to work on, art supplies beckoning me, books to read, yoga to center me, and beauty to enjoy every day. All in all, I'm exactly where I want to be at age 37. Ten years ago I was embarking on a high tech career, drunk on the amount of money I was earning, WAY more than I had ever even fathomed. I was buying a brand new car for the first time in my life, and had very little introspection. Ten years later, just about NONE of that is true anymore. No career to speak of, living dependent upon a man, raising a child, still with that same car I bought 10 years ago (though the husband drives it now), and I'm extremely introspective. Do I feel 37? I don't know what it should feel like. I don't feel 18 anymore, and I don't feel "old" per se, so I guess I do feel 37. Do I look 37? Heck, I don't know. You tell me. Do I?
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Thank You Gramma Tretsven
In my family, my great grandmother Anna Bank Tretsven is a legend. She died when I was six or seven, while I was living in rural Iowa. I moved to Iowa at age 2, visited California one time, where she (and the rest of my extended family) lived, I think when I was four. I really don't have any memories of Gramma T herself but BOY do I know stories about her and her husband, Grampa T. But he's another story for another post.
Gramma T was the quintessential Grandma. A bit chubby, especially through the bosom, white short curly hair and glasses, a wide smile. Someone you buried yourself in when you scraped your knee or broke your heart. She had a breakfast nook with a built-in seat, and in the storage compartment below the seat were always brown paper sacks from the grocery, and an assortment of craftsy stuff (popsicle sticks, string, pom poms, pop bottle lids, markers, crayons, decals, and so on) to use to make masks on a dreary Saturday afternoon. Her four daughters and their families lived within this same block of property, onto which my great grandfather built little houses for each of them, and the connecting back yard was a playground for my mother, Mama, and their other 8 cousins. They would all run in and out of each others homes, with basically four mothers and a grandmother to keep them all in line. And, best of all, the most amazing stuff came out of her kitchen. I think her heritage was Danish, and Grampa T's was Norwegian. So many of the things the cooked had that flair - Ebelskiver (ball-shaped pancakes cooked in a special pan), pebber nooder (spice cookies at Christmas), rosettes (dainty fragile fried cookies dusted in powdered sugar), and so on. In any case, most all of us still know how to say the Norwegian grace before meals, and a few silly little ditties and songs associated with children. And Christmas. What we call "New Harvey Yuligan" (not spelled even REMOTELY correctly, I don't speak Norwegian or Danish) is a family tradition as well. If you can't sing New Harvey, you have to learn it and sing it BY YOURSELF in front of the entire family. A common family greeting at Christmas time is just "New Harvey", rather than "Merry Christmas!"
Gramma T was the one who could cook anything, and it was all traditional home-style cooking. Old fashioned everything. My Mama (not my birth mother) inherited her recipe box, which I raided with a new stack of recipe cards, painstakingly copying down recipes a few visits ago when I was up to visit Mama in Washington. I kinda wish I had the box itself though, with Gramma T's cards in it, as they have splots and smears of grease, spices, butter, and so on, from being on the counter when these dishes were prepared, hundreds of times over the years. I'm sure my Mama looks at them, with her handwriting, and gets a little frog in her throat thinking of her grandma making these things for her, from these very cards.
When I grew up, my mother did speak of some of the family traditions, and I knew a little about Gramma and Grampa T, but I learned the bulk of it from my Mama, once she came into my life. I certainly didn't learn anything about cooking Gramma T style from my mother, but have learned as much as I can since. My first great lesson was The Pie Shell. Evidently this isn't exactly the easiest thing to do and do well. My sister has gone through her share of attempts, cursing all the while, and I have had to do the same. The first time I tried making one, the air was BLUE with cursing, it cracked in about 5 places, wouldn't hold together and looked like crap. When I did finally piece it together in the pie dish, it was too thick, like a brick. The second time I tried to make it, I added too much water and it was hard as a rock, and not flaky at all, and tasted like I imagine homemade play doh to taste. The third time, I worked on getting it the right consistency, but subsequently have either gotten it too thick or too thin, and it just hasn't been easy or flaked just right. Most of the time, I feel Gramma T's little angel spirit staring over my shoulder, trying to calm me down and give me tips on what to do. "Don't TOUCH the dough, honey." "The water needs to be ICE cold, sweetheart." Or "Roll it from the center out, get the center nice and thin, not so much on the outsides!" Sometimes my own frustration gets the better of me and I haven't been able to listen to her.
At Thanksgiving, my Mama was here. She and I have been working to use a lot more whole wheat flour in our cooking, as it is healthier. But of course, that means I can't bake a bloody THING like my Gramma T, so I will make exceptions. As we learned, after trying the pie crust with whole wheat flour, it comes out like CRAP. I could even hear her saying, "Oh honey, you can't USE that for your pie shell. It won't stick together, and it won't taste good! You mark my words!" And she was right. It was a rock, tasted like cardboard, and I had to chunk out the entire first attempt while trying to roll it out in total vain. You aren't supposed to touch it with your hands, and if you do, it gets overly hard and won't roll out anyway, which is what happened. It fell apart, wasn't wet enough, required more water than the recipe calls for, and probably more shortening as well. So I just had to chunk it and start over. I finally made one that "worked" but it didn't really work. It was a dog.
So this Christmas, I was asked to make the Dutch apple pies for Christmas dinner tomorrow. I went back to the regular flour, I cut in the shortening first, then added the water slowly. It came together like a CHAMP. I just knew she was sitting on my shoulder, helping me put just the right amounts in, telling me when to stop with the pastry blender. And my Mama was on the other shoulder, going, "yep, that's right, Matilda, a little more rolling on the middle...". They look AWESOME. I am excited to taste them tomorrow.
I want Hootie to grow up remembering how GOOD her Mama's this and that always tasted, and I want her to be at her boyfriend's parents' house eating dinner one day, and she'll say to that mother, "My Mama makes THE BEST PIE, Ma'am!" and I'll just know it. I will feel that sentiment from wherever I am, and wherever she is, I'll know she's talking about me. I want to be that person like Gramma T, where she'll remember my hugs, and my songs at bedtime, the way I cook her favorite things for her when she feels tiny, and always iron her pillowcases and spray them with lavender spray every Monday morning when I change the bed linens, how I put out new little dishtowels every other day with embroidered or vintage patterns on them, how I do up her hair in pretty little styles, and play with her dollies and toys with her. I want her to always feel cozy about me, and when she's sick, she'll come home to me to get well. When she feels all sad and blue, she'll want to come be with me to cheer her up and help her feel better. She'll go away to college and long to come home for my pot roast or my pasta dishes, or my lasagna, or apple crisp. Or better yet, she'll want Gramma T's apple cookies, or nut bread, or her Moosie's dishes that I have learned to make. So every time I do something that Gramma T would have done, whether it be something taught to me by my Mama or something I know I have inherited from my family, I say a little thank you to Gramma T, though I didn't know her, for having been such a great pillar for our family to learn from.
Gramma T was the quintessential Grandma. A bit chubby, especially through the bosom, white short curly hair and glasses, a wide smile. Someone you buried yourself in when you scraped your knee or broke your heart. She had a breakfast nook with a built-in seat, and in the storage compartment below the seat were always brown paper sacks from the grocery, and an assortment of craftsy stuff (popsicle sticks, string, pom poms, pop bottle lids, markers, crayons, decals, and so on) to use to make masks on a dreary Saturday afternoon. Her four daughters and their families lived within this same block of property, onto which my great grandfather built little houses for each of them, and the connecting back yard was a playground for my mother, Mama, and their other 8 cousins. They would all run in and out of each others homes, with basically four mothers and a grandmother to keep them all in line. And, best of all, the most amazing stuff came out of her kitchen. I think her heritage was Danish, and Grampa T's was Norwegian. So many of the things the cooked had that flair - Ebelskiver (ball-shaped pancakes cooked in a special pan), pebber nooder (spice cookies at Christmas), rosettes (dainty fragile fried cookies dusted in powdered sugar), and so on. In any case, most all of us still know how to say the Norwegian grace before meals, and a few silly little ditties and songs associated with children. And Christmas. What we call "New Harvey Yuligan" (not spelled even REMOTELY correctly, I don't speak Norwegian or Danish) is a family tradition as well. If you can't sing New Harvey, you have to learn it and sing it BY YOURSELF in front of the entire family. A common family greeting at Christmas time is just "New Harvey", rather than "Merry Christmas!"
Gramma T was the one who could cook anything, and it was all traditional home-style cooking. Old fashioned everything. My Mama (not my birth mother) inherited her recipe box, which I raided with a new stack of recipe cards, painstakingly copying down recipes a few visits ago when I was up to visit Mama in Washington. I kinda wish I had the box itself though, with Gramma T's cards in it, as they have splots and smears of grease, spices, butter, and so on, from being on the counter when these dishes were prepared, hundreds of times over the years. I'm sure my Mama looks at them, with her handwriting, and gets a little frog in her throat thinking of her grandma making these things for her, from these very cards.
When I grew up, my mother did speak of some of the family traditions, and I knew a little about Gramma and Grampa T, but I learned the bulk of it from my Mama, once she came into my life. I certainly didn't learn anything about cooking Gramma T style from my mother, but have learned as much as I can since. My first great lesson was The Pie Shell. Evidently this isn't exactly the easiest thing to do and do well. My sister has gone through her share of attempts, cursing all the while, and I have had to do the same. The first time I tried making one, the air was BLUE with cursing, it cracked in about 5 places, wouldn't hold together and looked like crap. When I did finally piece it together in the pie dish, it was too thick, like a brick. The second time I tried to make it, I added too much water and it was hard as a rock, and not flaky at all, and tasted like I imagine homemade play doh to taste. The third time, I worked on getting it the right consistency, but subsequently have either gotten it too thick or too thin, and it just hasn't been easy or flaked just right. Most of the time, I feel Gramma T's little angel spirit staring over my shoulder, trying to calm me down and give me tips on what to do. "Don't TOUCH the dough, honey." "The water needs to be ICE cold, sweetheart." Or "Roll it from the center out, get the center nice and thin, not so much on the outsides!" Sometimes my own frustration gets the better of me and I haven't been able to listen to her.
At Thanksgiving, my Mama was here. She and I have been working to use a lot more whole wheat flour in our cooking, as it is healthier. But of course, that means I can't bake a bloody THING like my Gramma T, so I will make exceptions. As we learned, after trying the pie crust with whole wheat flour, it comes out like CRAP. I could even hear her saying, "Oh honey, you can't USE that for your pie shell. It won't stick together, and it won't taste good! You mark my words!" And she was right. It was a rock, tasted like cardboard, and I had to chunk out the entire first attempt while trying to roll it out in total vain. You aren't supposed to touch it with your hands, and if you do, it gets overly hard and won't roll out anyway, which is what happened. It fell apart, wasn't wet enough, required more water than the recipe calls for, and probably more shortening as well. So I just had to chunk it and start over. I finally made one that "worked" but it didn't really work. It was a dog.
So this Christmas, I was asked to make the Dutch apple pies for Christmas dinner tomorrow. I went back to the regular flour, I cut in the shortening first, then added the water slowly. It came together like a CHAMP. I just knew she was sitting on my shoulder, helping me put just the right amounts in, telling me when to stop with the pastry blender. And my Mama was on the other shoulder, going, "yep, that's right, Matilda, a little more rolling on the middle...". They look AWESOME. I am excited to taste them tomorrow.
I want Hootie to grow up remembering how GOOD her Mama's this and that always tasted, and I want her to be at her boyfriend's parents' house eating dinner one day, and she'll say to that mother, "My Mama makes THE BEST PIE, Ma'am!" and I'll just know it. I will feel that sentiment from wherever I am, and wherever she is, I'll know she's talking about me. I want to be that person like Gramma T, where she'll remember my hugs, and my songs at bedtime, the way I cook her favorite things for her when she feels tiny, and always iron her pillowcases and spray them with lavender spray every Monday morning when I change the bed linens, how I put out new little dishtowels every other day with embroidered or vintage patterns on them, how I do up her hair in pretty little styles, and play with her dollies and toys with her. I want her to always feel cozy about me, and when she's sick, she'll come home to me to get well. When she feels all sad and blue, she'll want to come be with me to cheer her up and help her feel better. She'll go away to college and long to come home for my pot roast or my pasta dishes, or my lasagna, or apple crisp. Or better yet, she'll want Gramma T's apple cookies, or nut bread, or her Moosie's dishes that I have learned to make. So every time I do something that Gramma T would have done, whether it be something taught to me by my Mama or something I know I have inherited from my family, I say a little thank you to Gramma T, though I didn't know her, for having been such a great pillar for our family to learn from.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
The Zodiac, which I'm not into.
I'm not one of those people who's into the zodiac at all. But once in a while I come upon a blurb about Capricorns, into which zodiac sign I fall, and I'm usually quite blown away by how FRIGGING RIGHT it seems to be. Are all people born in late Dec/most of January like me? Really? Can that actually be how it is?
Here's something I found online about Capricorns. I'm going to (just for GP here) highlight everything that is right about me in green, and everything that isn't right in red. Things which are partially right, they will be in yellow. I think even undertaking this exercise proves my point, as you will see.
Capricorn is one of the most stable and (mostly) serious of the zodiacal types. These independent, rocklike characters have many sterling qualities. They are normally confident, strong willed and calm.(not when I'm frustrated) These hardworking, unemotional (sometimes I am emotional or sensitive) shrewd, practical, responsible, persevering, and cautious to the extreme persons, are capable of persisting for as long as is necessary to accomplish a goal they have set for themselves. They are reliable workers in almost any profession they undertake. They are the major finishers of most projects started by the 'pioneering' signs; with firm stick-to-it-ness they quickly become the backbone of any company they work for.
Capricornians make of themselves, resourceful, determined managers; setting high standards for themselves and others. They strive always for honesty in their criticism of self, they respect discipline from above and demand it from those beneath them. In their methodical, tough, stubborn, unyielding way, they persist against personal hardship, putting their families and/or their work before their own needs and welfare to reach their objectives long after others have given up and fallen by the wayside. In fact when practical ability allied with the drive of ambition are required in employees to make a project succeed, Capricornians are the people to hire. They plan carefully to fulfill their ambitions (which often include becoming wealthy), they are economical without meanness (I don't think I'm particularly economical, look at my SHOPPING HABITS!), and able to achieve great results with minimum effort and expense. Because of their organizing ability they are able to work on several projects simultaneously.
They have a great respect for authority but may not, if they reach high rank, be willing to listen to other opinions on things they are directly responsible for. As the ranking authority figure in a given situation they expect their underlings to be as self disciplined as they themselves are, and to perform every task undertaken to the highest standard.
They are, nevertheless, fair as well as demanding. Among their equals they are not always the most pleasant of work fellows for they are reserved and too conservative, valuing tradition more than innovation, however valuable the latter, and they are often humorless. There is also a tendency to pessimism, melancholy and even unhappiness which many Capricornians are unable to keep to themselves, especially if they fail personally. In the extreme this trait can make them a very depressed individual; ecstatic happiness alternating with the most wretched kind of misery which is so subconsciously buried that he or she should seek help if such emotions become frequent. For the above reason, capable Capricorn should spend many hours in meditation, gathering the strength to control such inner emotions.
Their intellects are sometimes very subtle. They think profoundly and deeply, throughly exploring all possibilities before deciding on a 'safe' alternative. They have good memories and an insatiable yet methodical desire for knowledge. They are rational, logical and clearheaded, have good concentration, delight in debate in which they can show off their cleverness by luring their adversaries into traps and confounding them with logic.
So mostly, there's a lot going on in there which is how I am. I'm not particularly frugal, at least not relative to my husband. He's tighter than bark on a tree. We have no debt and are on our way to a decent retirement, but I don't exactly save all of our surplus in the budget each month. Between getting things for the house, garden, child, and clothing/shoes for me, it seems to dissolve rather rapidly. :-(
I would never consider myself pessimistic, unless you again compare me to my husband. I see myself as a realist. It it what it is. The glass has 4.2 oz in it. For him, it's always more than half full, and my doesn't it taste wonderful? but perhaps the water is just in the wrong sized glass.
The last little bit talks about this ecstatic happiness alternating with wretched misery - that sounds like bipolar disorder, and I know I don't have that. I am much more even keeled in the big picture. I have moments of frustration that I tie to lack of patience, which stems from lack of consistent, uninterrupted sleep and frequent sinus infections. But if you took that root cause out of the picture, or looked at me prior to having a child, you would see a very level-headed, stable, unemotional individual. I've been working on myself to become more emotional, or let more of the emotional side of me out. But especially in the business world, I'm NOT emotional at all.
But it is uncanny about many facets of this description, how it actually does suit me. I'm a do-er, I'm confident and productive and reliable and dependable and driven and ambitious. I get shit done, and I expect everyone else to do it with the same standards that I uphold. And though I know that isn't always right and I'm working on that too (add it to the frigging LIST), it's my nature to NOT understand how or why other people do a crappy job at things, half-assed.
Here's something I found online about Capricorns. I'm going to (just for GP here) highlight everything that is right about me in green, and everything that isn't right in red. Things which are partially right, they will be in yellow. I think even undertaking this exercise proves my point, as you will see.
Capricorn is one of the most stable and (mostly) serious of the zodiacal types. These independent, rocklike characters have many sterling qualities. They are normally confident, strong willed and calm.(not when I'm frustrated) These hardworking, unemotional (sometimes I am emotional or sensitive) shrewd, practical, responsible, persevering, and cautious to the extreme persons, are capable of persisting for as long as is necessary to accomplish a goal they have set for themselves. They are reliable workers in almost any profession they undertake. They are the major finishers of most projects started by the 'pioneering' signs; with firm stick-to-it-ness they quickly become the backbone of any company they work for.
Capricornians make of themselves, resourceful, determined managers; setting high standards for themselves and others. They strive always for honesty in their criticism of self, they respect discipline from above and demand it from those beneath them. In their methodical, tough, stubborn, unyielding way, they persist against personal hardship, putting their families and/or their work before their own needs and welfare to reach their objectives long after others have given up and fallen by the wayside. In fact when practical ability allied with the drive of ambition are required in employees to make a project succeed, Capricornians are the people to hire. They plan carefully to fulfill their ambitions (which often include becoming wealthy), they are economical without meanness (I don't think I'm particularly economical, look at my SHOPPING HABITS!), and able to achieve great results with minimum effort and expense. Because of their organizing ability they are able to work on several projects simultaneously.
They have a great respect for authority but may not, if they reach high rank, be willing to listen to other opinions on things they are directly responsible for. As the ranking authority figure in a given situation they expect their underlings to be as self disciplined as they themselves are, and to perform every task undertaken to the highest standard.
They are, nevertheless, fair as well as demanding. Among their equals they are not always the most pleasant of work fellows for they are reserved and too conservative, valuing tradition more than innovation, however valuable the latter, and they are often humorless. There is also a tendency to pessimism, melancholy and even unhappiness which many Capricornians are unable to keep to themselves, especially if they fail personally. In the extreme this trait can make them a very depressed individual; ecstatic happiness alternating with the most wretched kind of misery which is so subconsciously buried that he or she should seek help if such emotions become frequent. For the above reason, capable Capricorn should spend many hours in meditation, gathering the strength to control such inner emotions.
Their intellects are sometimes very subtle. They think profoundly and deeply, throughly exploring all possibilities before deciding on a 'safe' alternative. They have good memories and an insatiable yet methodical desire for knowledge. They are rational, logical and clearheaded, have good concentration, delight in debate in which they can show off their cleverness by luring their adversaries into traps and confounding them with logic.
So mostly, there's a lot going on in there which is how I am. I'm not particularly frugal, at least not relative to my husband. He's tighter than bark on a tree. We have no debt and are on our way to a decent retirement, but I don't exactly save all of our surplus in the budget each month. Between getting things for the house, garden, child, and clothing/shoes for me, it seems to dissolve rather rapidly. :-(
I would never consider myself pessimistic, unless you again compare me to my husband. I see myself as a realist. It it what it is. The glass has 4.2 oz in it. For him, it's always more than half full, and my doesn't it taste wonderful? but perhaps the water is just in the wrong sized glass.
The last little bit talks about this ecstatic happiness alternating with wretched misery - that sounds like bipolar disorder, and I know I don't have that. I am much more even keeled in the big picture. I have moments of frustration that I tie to lack of patience, which stems from lack of consistent, uninterrupted sleep and frequent sinus infections. But if you took that root cause out of the picture, or looked at me prior to having a child, you would see a very level-headed, stable, unemotional individual. I've been working on myself to become more emotional, or let more of the emotional side of me out. But especially in the business world, I'm NOT emotional at all.
But it is uncanny about many facets of this description, how it actually does suit me. I'm a do-er, I'm confident and productive and reliable and dependable and driven and ambitious. I get shit done, and I expect everyone else to do it with the same standards that I uphold. And though I know that isn't always right and I'm working on that too (add it to the frigging LIST), it's my nature to NOT understand how or why other people do a crappy job at things, half-assed.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
It's A Phase. I FRIGGING HOPE IT IS!
My child is 100% unable to SMILE LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN BEING. I know that having a snap-happy, camera-laden parent isn't really appealing for a child. I know that I feel like a "stage mom" every time I try to get the child to smile normally. And I can certainly blame my CRAPPY EQUIPMENT because we have an OLD digital camera, one with about a 10 second delay between pictures while it decides if it's "ready" to take another one, one with 3.2 megapixel hoo-ha. It's old, I know it. We need a new one. I can't get a lot of candids, because the MOMENT IS GONE before my camera can actually rev up to take the shot. But HONESTLY, the child cannot just smile normal. Here were my attempts at a Christmas picture today at her preschool party. FAILED MISERABLY.
Monday, December 18, 2006
Working Out Stuff About God
The situation in my household is that my husband was raised Catholic, I was raised really "nothing." Our daughter will hopefully be exposed to a wide range of thoughts, but technically, she's Catholic. However, I'm the one, the "lost" one, who spends the most time thinking about this subject, and working out my thoughts and feelings on it.
My faith is of my own development. Possibly if you asked my parents, they would tell you they are Presbyterian because they were once members there; or Methodist, because my father's family claimed that denomination when he was raised; or even just generic Christian, since they have never attended church or practiced their spiritual side as long as I have been aware. Or my mother might not even tell you that she's Christian. I don't know that she even knows what she believes on that subject. My father believes he's Christian, has a set of values he upholds, and it's more the values I was taught, rather than any sense of "faith". But when I got into my 20's, I did some faith exploration of my own, starting from the premise of deciding whether or not I believed Christianity, rather than a blank sheet of paper with a list of the world's various religions on it. I went under the assumption that I wanted to practice Christianity, and then sort of tore at my questions about it with the help of some very, very good friends. That went on for a number of years. I don't know that I really got "answers" to my questions as much as I got a nice understanding of where I falter and what I am unclear about. I did a lot of learning though, which is a good place to start any exploration of a new subject matter. And that makes me feel better, though I know I'm no scholar.
My husband went to church with his family, was confirmed as a teenager, and will attend periodically throughout the year, though not regularly. His mother is Catholic, his father attends church but doesn't claim denomination or really make much comment about any of it. He recites the blessing at the table for mealtime, and he will attend church with his wife, I think mostly upon request or at holidays. The husband's sisters are mixed. I think one is agnostic (at least doesn't attend church of her own volition and wasn't married in a church), and the other has a very strong faith which is now practiced within a Protestant church setting. Point of all this is that the family is of mixed religious belief. My husband has a "quiet relationship" with God. He doesn't see a need to think about it, to explore it, to discuss it, or "work" on it. But he will only really attend a Catholic church, as I have discovered over the years, in an effort to maybe find something between Catholicism and whatever I am to suit us as a family. Our daughter was baptized Catholic, because I agreed upon marrying him (in the Catholic church) that I would not stand in the way of her learning about Catholicism. I don't have to teach it to her myself, and there is nothing to say I cannot expose her to other faiths as well. I just cannot prevent my husband from teaching her or indoctrinating her into the Catholic Church. Not that I want to either.
But, I cannot become Catholic. I have studied it, I have thought about it for YEARS. My mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law have invited me with open arms into the Catholic faith. I appreciate their invitations and have taken it extremely seriously. About 98% of it is fine, and in agreement with my views. But I honestly have some problems with it that keep me from being able to stand up in front of a congregation and affirm that I believe the same things they do. My MIL tells me that all Catholics have a few things here and there they disagree with, and that's okay. But I cannot do that, in good faith, disagree but say that I agree.
I have issues with the whole role the Pope has within the church, and what they believe to be true about the Pope. I have issues with his "infallibility" and we've seen throughout the course of history that many Popes have been very, very fallible. I have issues with the priest putting himself as a necessary participant in my communication with God. As though I cannot be forgiven directly, I cannot be in Communion with God unless I become Catholic, as though the human beings within the church know my heart, or could possibly know it well enough to decide if I can be in Communion with God, if I am forgiven when I ask for forgiveness.
However, I have a good friend who is Orthodox Christian. This faith is older than Catholicism - it was the schism between those two as a result of the political situation at the time in Europe/Eastern Europe which resulted in the position of the Pope being established, and after which the Nicene Creed was "altered" by the Pope at the time, changing a fundamental Orthodox tenet of doctrine. I learned a lot through my friend Brent about Orthodoxy, and did a good bit of reading about it. While its doctrine and rituals are very firm and inflexible, somehow I am able to stomach that more than I can Catholicism. I think if any denomination has a right to claim it is the original Christianity, it is Orthodoxy. If it is in any way critical that we follow what was originally Christian, I think Orthodoxy is the way to go. But that is one big fat question - is it critical we follow and practice our faith and worship the way it was done back then? The Orthodox believe it is, because they don't trust themselves to read the bible, interpret it, and know what to do. They cite the fact that everyone else who has done that on their own has come up with different interpretations and approaches and beliefs and doctrines. So therefore, it's not possible to "do it right" or consistently, anyway. So if we, as fallible human beings 2000 years after the fact, actually cannot read these multiply translated versions of the Bible, and understand what was really meant by those words, what are we to do? Can we get the translations right, and understand the context in which it was written, with such a drastically different culture and political situation from so long ago? Should we be taking everything that literally anyway? Those are my major open issues. If we really cannot do that, then I think Orthodoxy makes a lot of sense. The religious clergy never decide anything alone - everything is done in the context of a large group of scholarly, learned clergypeople, praying that if they can collectively agree on something, it must be due to divine wisdom being imparted on them. And the clergy are there to help their followers understand the Bible and know what God expects of them.
And, on the other hand, there's Buddhism. Having done a lot of thinking and participating in my yoga classes, I find this philosophy enlightening, and inspiring. I think it doesn't conflict with Christianity, but can go hand in hand. Buddha isn't "God". Buddha is the being inside each of us which joins with the higher power. That within us which is divine, our true selves. I see this marrying nicely with the idea that God created each of us exactly as we should be, and that we ought to seek union between our divine nature and God Himself.
So, on Sunday, I was in church with my husband, daughter, and his grandmother. A priest came to talk about how he came upon the priesthood as his true vocation, and how he feels about Catholicism specifically. It was very judgmental, very self-centered, in my opinion. I was so turned off. I do not know how I can be so turned off by a facet of Christianity, when one even stronger in their exclusivity (Orthodoxy) does not turn me off at all. Food for thought.
My faith is of my own development. Possibly if you asked my parents, they would tell you they are Presbyterian because they were once members there; or Methodist, because my father's family claimed that denomination when he was raised; or even just generic Christian, since they have never attended church or practiced their spiritual side as long as I have been aware. Or my mother might not even tell you that she's Christian. I don't know that she even knows what she believes on that subject. My father believes he's Christian, has a set of values he upholds, and it's more the values I was taught, rather than any sense of "faith". But when I got into my 20's, I did some faith exploration of my own, starting from the premise of deciding whether or not I believed Christianity, rather than a blank sheet of paper with a list of the world's various religions on it. I went under the assumption that I wanted to practice Christianity, and then sort of tore at my questions about it with the help of some very, very good friends. That went on for a number of years. I don't know that I really got "answers" to my questions as much as I got a nice understanding of where I falter and what I am unclear about. I did a lot of learning though, which is a good place to start any exploration of a new subject matter. And that makes me feel better, though I know I'm no scholar.
My husband went to church with his family, was confirmed as a teenager, and will attend periodically throughout the year, though not regularly. His mother is Catholic, his father attends church but doesn't claim denomination or really make much comment about any of it. He recites the blessing at the table for mealtime, and he will attend church with his wife, I think mostly upon request or at holidays. The husband's sisters are mixed. I think one is agnostic (at least doesn't attend church of her own volition and wasn't married in a church), and the other has a very strong faith which is now practiced within a Protestant church setting. Point of all this is that the family is of mixed religious belief. My husband has a "quiet relationship" with God. He doesn't see a need to think about it, to explore it, to discuss it, or "work" on it. But he will only really attend a Catholic church, as I have discovered over the years, in an effort to maybe find something between Catholicism and whatever I am to suit us as a family. Our daughter was baptized Catholic, because I agreed upon marrying him (in the Catholic church) that I would not stand in the way of her learning about Catholicism. I don't have to teach it to her myself, and there is nothing to say I cannot expose her to other faiths as well. I just cannot prevent my husband from teaching her or indoctrinating her into the Catholic Church. Not that I want to either.
But, I cannot become Catholic. I have studied it, I have thought about it for YEARS. My mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law have invited me with open arms into the Catholic faith. I appreciate their invitations and have taken it extremely seriously. About 98% of it is fine, and in agreement with my views. But I honestly have some problems with it that keep me from being able to stand up in front of a congregation and affirm that I believe the same things they do. My MIL tells me that all Catholics have a few things here and there they disagree with, and that's okay. But I cannot do that, in good faith, disagree but say that I agree.
I have issues with the whole role the Pope has within the church, and what they believe to be true about the Pope. I have issues with his "infallibility" and we've seen throughout the course of history that many Popes have been very, very fallible. I have issues with the priest putting himself as a necessary participant in my communication with God. As though I cannot be forgiven directly, I cannot be in Communion with God unless I become Catholic, as though the human beings within the church know my heart, or could possibly know it well enough to decide if I can be in Communion with God, if I am forgiven when I ask for forgiveness.
However, I have a good friend who is Orthodox Christian. This faith is older than Catholicism - it was the schism between those two as a result of the political situation at the time in Europe/Eastern Europe which resulted in the position of the Pope being established, and after which the Nicene Creed was "altered" by the Pope at the time, changing a fundamental Orthodox tenet of doctrine. I learned a lot through my friend Brent about Orthodoxy, and did a good bit of reading about it. While its doctrine and rituals are very firm and inflexible, somehow I am able to stomach that more than I can Catholicism. I think if any denomination has a right to claim it is the original Christianity, it is Orthodoxy. If it is in any way critical that we follow what was originally Christian, I think Orthodoxy is the way to go. But that is one big fat question - is it critical we follow and practice our faith and worship the way it was done back then? The Orthodox believe it is, because they don't trust themselves to read the bible, interpret it, and know what to do. They cite the fact that everyone else who has done that on their own has come up with different interpretations and approaches and beliefs and doctrines. So therefore, it's not possible to "do it right" or consistently, anyway. So if we, as fallible human beings 2000 years after the fact, actually cannot read these multiply translated versions of the Bible, and understand what was really meant by those words, what are we to do? Can we get the translations right, and understand the context in which it was written, with such a drastically different culture and political situation from so long ago? Should we be taking everything that literally anyway? Those are my major open issues. If we really cannot do that, then I think Orthodoxy makes a lot of sense. The religious clergy never decide anything alone - everything is done in the context of a large group of scholarly, learned clergypeople, praying that if they can collectively agree on something, it must be due to divine wisdom being imparted on them. And the clergy are there to help their followers understand the Bible and know what God expects of them.
And, on the other hand, there's Buddhism. Having done a lot of thinking and participating in my yoga classes, I find this philosophy enlightening, and inspiring. I think it doesn't conflict with Christianity, but can go hand in hand. Buddha isn't "God". Buddha is the being inside each of us which joins with the higher power. That within us which is divine, our true selves. I see this marrying nicely with the idea that God created each of us exactly as we should be, and that we ought to seek union between our divine nature and God Himself.
So, on Sunday, I was in church with my husband, daughter, and his grandmother. A priest came to talk about how he came upon the priesthood as his true vocation, and how he feels about Catholicism specifically. It was very judgmental, very self-centered, in my opinion. I was so turned off. I do not know how I can be so turned off by a facet of Christianity, when one even stronger in their exclusivity (Orthodoxy) does not turn me off at all. Food for thought.
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