We love stories

I went to Sam's class in December to read a few Chanukah books. After I read to the kids, I gave out some chocolate gelt and some dreidels. I got a little excited talking to this group of kids; third grade really seems like an age when you can start engaging them in some higher order thinking. For most of these kids, Sam is the first Jewish person they've ever met. They've maybe, vaguely heard of Chanukah, and the idea that some people in the world don't celebrate Christmas is fairly foreign to them.

So after I read the books I shared a little bit about how old Judaism is. How Judaism has been around since before the Greek and Roman empires. Sam wrote the Hebrew characters from the dreidel on the board, so they'd know how to play. And then my mouth was going faster than my brain. I rhapsodized that human beings have always wanted to share stories. Before the first alphabet, we told stories orally, or drew our stories on cave walls. My Classics major self wanted in on the action, and I drew some ancient Greek letters on the board, getting them to guess which letters in our alphabet they matched. Sam and I told them what the first few letters of the Hebrew alphabet are, and hey, check that out, they sound just like the first two letters of ours (not to mention that Greek alphabet I'd just shown them). I was fairly exhilarated at this point, none of this was in my plan for the afternoon. I gushed a wee bit longer, about how I hoped that each of them would one day stumble upon the subject matter that just absolutely light their souls on fire.

To be human is to have a story, and to want to share that story with others. The stories we tell now are in homage to the original story tellers. I get giddy when I think of how we are linked to the people of long ago.

Because I believe that sharing stories is an essential part of being a homo sapiens, I'm always surprised to read articles in which the author claims not to understand blogging. Blogging gives people the chance to share their story. Stories are how we connect, and it is no surprise to me, that in an era where so many of us live far from our families or our childhood hometowns, that we would use new technology to help us tell our stories, and connect with others.

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These posts, (Jen Lemen, Bipolarlawyercook, and another one from Bipolarlawyercook)
by two of my favorite blogging ladies, have been in the back of my mind for ages now, and I think, in some small way I've touched on the pieces of these posts that I really connected with.

Dear Internet

I send you messages in my head every day. Have you gotten them?

No? Drats.

Well, I will have to keep working on that brain to blog link up.

In the meantime, I'm holding steady. Or, sort of steady. I see the other side, I am almost there. Trying hard. Opening my heart to love, learning to let love lead the way. Fear has led for far too long. Trying to think less, talk less. Trying to just Be.

I kinda lost touch with hope for a few weeks. It's coming back I think. I'm witnessing, from afar: a mother's hope after the birth of her first sweet baby, who had two surgeries in her first week of life; a friend's hope, picking up the pieces after a beloved's suicide; another mother's hope as her baby undergoes care for a serious heart defect; and my sister's hope and strength as she navigates new terrain in her motherhood journey.

Despite the sensitive gal sensory overload event below, today wasn't so bad. Really.



See? A smile.

I've been trying to practice resilience this week. Monday was great, awesome. Wonderful therapy session, blue skies, a walk around the lake with the breeze keeping me cool. The ability to look at small things and appreciate them. I had decided to focus on my husband, to notice him, to be his friend, and not just co-parents of the same children. And somehow this was misinterpreted. It is hard to change patterns. Either the new efforts aren't noticed, or misunderstood. Add to that some work stress for him, and some hurtful things were said. Honest to goodness sobbing followed, on my part anyway. I just couldn't understand how my good intentions could have been twisted into something so hurtful. Here I was, working so hard to make things different. And boom. Explosions.

Emotions have always lingered for me. Wait, scratch that--negative emotions have always lingered. How many hours did I spend in my room as a kid/preteen/teen feeling that burn? Stoking the fire of sadness, anger. I find it difficult to accept an apology and move on. Things just hurt too much, and I need time to recover. And so it went on Monday night. I was pissed that my great mood was so fleeting, and wondered how long it would be till I could recapture it. I wondered how long the feeling of wishing I weren't alive would last (note: to me this feeling is very different than feeling like I'm going to actually run out and commit suicide. It is simply feeling so blue, so awful, so misunderstood that I wish I didn't exist). And then I tried something different. I am not sure if this idea was born from my head fully grown like Athena, but somehow I told myself that I could feel crappy all night Monday, but that on Tuesday I had to keep doing what I'd done Monday morning to feel so good. To continue trying to change my patterns of communication with my husband, even if he didn't understand the new pattern at first.

Like I mentioned yesterday I wonder about this. Did I not learn to handle my emotions well as a child? Is it a product of being anxious for as long as I can remember--did stewing feel better than worrying about everything, wondering if I was good enough, doing enough, doing things correctly and perfectly? Is falling down the rabbit hole of depression and gloom a product of having a mental disorder, or is it a habit I fell into somehow? What do "regular" people go through when they have a bad day? Do they just naturally bounce back, or do those days have the potential to multiply like dirty dishes piling up next to the sink?

I definitely believe that I need my medication. There is a place for new skills and coping mechanisms too. I know that I've been working so hard on myself for so long. When did life get so much harder for me? Was it having kids that made everything so much more complicated? Marriage?

Huh. I guess part of me wonders if I'm faking it. Have I just latched on to the word disorder as declared by my psychiatrist and therapist? Rationally I don't believe that, but the thoughts are down in there somewhere I suppose. I know my husband has a hard time with it. A broken arm, or diabetes, or a cold-those are things he can wrap his mind around. Generalized Anxiety Disorder? Not so much. Yet those three words have helped me understand my life so much better, and I really have been better able to translate myself and my behaviors for my husband.

So I think I'll go to bed with hope filling up my heart. I did turn the week around from the direction it was headed on Monday night. Whether it was my medication, an amazing meditation yesterday morning, self-talk and determination, or this nifty gadget for my Google home page giving me a smile every time I see it doesn't really matter. I just need to keep on practicing.

Goodbyes

I've never been good at goodbye. At the end of our annual visit to my grandparents in San Diego I would be in tears as we said goodbye before leaving for the airport. My parents would want one more picture, and I would inevitably be in tears.

Tonight we called my husband's sister and her family. Tomorrow they are moving from a town 2.5 hours away from us to Hawaii. When we saw them a few weeks ago I was very standoffish. I couldn't bear being close to them that weekend, knowing I'd have to say goodbye soon. Tonight I apologized for acting like a jerk when we had time together, and of course burst into tears. She's not just my sister-in-law, she's my friend. We can talk about pretty much anything. She may not have lived in my town for the past few years, but she is pretty much my closest friend geographically.

It's true what they say about anger--there is usually another emotion behind it. I thought I was angry at them, but truly, I'm just oh-so-sad.

Friendship Part II

When I wrote about Friendship the other day, I meant to talk about a theory of mine. I think that the internet is full of other folks who have a hard time making or keeping friends, with introverted people who want connection with other, but who need lots of time alone.

I met many women with new babies in the summer of 1999 online, when my son was born. Several of them have become my closest friends. We've met in RL, our families know and love each other too. We've been through subsequent pregnancies, and all kinds of ups and downs together. I'm so grateful I have them. But I still really yearn for someone who lives nearby, in the same county if not in the same town.

I took a step this week. I volunteered at my kids' camp for the past two weeks. The teacher I was helping was really fun to hang out with. I gave her my number and email address. I'm hoping we can get together and develop a friendship. I really hope to hear from her, but if not at least I've learned that it isn't so scary to try.

Friendship

When I was a kid, my mother was always reassuring me that the day would come when making friends would be easier for me. Don't worry, she'd say, there are more kids in High School. Then, oh, in college you'll meet people you have more in common with. When you're a parent you'll meet lots of people in your new town.

Caroline at Potato Prints wrote about friendship today. Her drawing really resonates with me. Looking from the outside in, wanting to be a part of that closeness, or fun, and yet being too scared to step forward. It is so lonely.

When commenting to Caroline I realize: I've lived here for eight years. I don't think 'I'm new in town' is my problem anymore. My son is entering third grade and my daughter will attend kindergarten at the same school next year. I know friends won't just jump out and attach themselves to me. I do feel like I'm different than most people here. I grew up in a big city, most folks grew up in this small town. I encounter many folks who've learned racist attitudes from their parents. I cannot get close to someone who believes that type of thing. Where is my bosom buddy?

My daughter is very extroverted. I've had to stretch my boundaries for her. I need to do it more. It is hard for me to arrange play dates for my kids, and yet, how will they learn about friendship if I don't make it possible for them? Yes, they play with kids at school and camp, but we don't often have a child over to play.

Somehow I need to push myself out of this friendless zone, for myself.

Three Steps Forward, Two Steps Back

up and down up and down. My mooods have always been that way. I think I have a little less swing as I've gotten older and learned more about myself, but sometimes I just can't help it.

This week is one of those weeks. So many things to feel up about, but yesterday has pretty much negated the up feeling. I had a terrible time with my son yesterday afternoon. It is hard to even contemplate. I did apologize for my inappropriate actions; he did too, and I am hoping he understands a little better what we ask of him. I do think there is something deeper going on with him, which is a reminder that I need to be present for him in the afternoon, instead of getting caught up in my own things.

I also had a terrible fight with my husband. I regretted a lot of what I said. I apologized when I realized the damage I had done. I was also able to apologize this morning for the whole thing. I'm not much of a kidder. I tend not to like silly jokes, and I've been called "too serious" often. He'd made a comment that just set me off after a bad day. After a night's sleep I was able to acknowledge that it was a harmless comment and that I didn't need to let my emotions run away with themselves like that. That is a step in the right direction, as I'm usually unable to recognize that what I've done maybe wasn't necessary. And if I do recognize it, I have a damn hard time admitting it!

I haven't been doing my grateful journal every night for the past few nights. And for a lifelong pessimist I have definitely found keeping track of what I'm grateful for useful. I will make sure to do it tonight.

When I go home this afternoon (soon!), I will be present with the kids. I will not try to get other things done (well, I might crochet in their presence, but that's ok, right?). I want to be fun mommy, not raging, raving lunatic mommy.

Ok, so three steps forward, two steps back, and maybe another one forward.

Off Kilter

Our family has been a bit off kilter lately. My daughter is falling to pieces at the slightest provocation. I'm tired and cranky, and don't have a lot of reserves to deal with it. We were in a pretty good place as far as the clutter/cleanliness balance goes, but we've lost it and can't quite regain the balance.

Today I realized that this is not the first time that this has happened to me in March- two years ago we were getting ready to go to the Bahamas for spring break. I told my husband and his family that I absolutely needed some time to simply sit and relax on the beach. It was a great vacation, and I went home refreshed and ready to be mom in charge again. I don't recall what we did last spring break, but I do remember this same drained feeling. Maybe it is a changing of the seasons thing.

We're trying to hash out what we're going to do over spring break. Husband wants to take a sort of long road trip; I'm not sure that will bring me the relaxation I crave.

On the bright side- the orange trees must be blooming, because their delicate scent is filling the air here. There is nothing like the smell of orange blossoms.

P.S. A bunch of really cool parenting posts at Oh My Stinkin Heck.
One
Two
Three

Lots of food for thought there.

So Love *is* Tough

Yesterday I was working on my Demons sketches. My kids wondered what I was drawing, and after they looked, they asked about the pictures. I explained to them that these were sort of anti-superheroes and represented parts of myself and behaviors that I do that I am not happy with (this will make more sense when I get time to actually scan the sketches and share them here lol). They were very interested and curious. So I asked Sam, what would you call that guy inside you who whines so much? What does he look like? And I sketched him. Then I asked Maya about the part of her that moans at every little thing that doesn't go how she wanted it to go (oh, how I wish I could get my needs met by moaning or whining!) and we sketched that one.

I had no trouble sharing this with my children. So why, when my sketchbook was out on my bed, did I feel uncomfortable when my husband glanced at it? I decided to push through the uncomfortable feeling, and explained the images to him. It was a good moment of connection at the end of a long and harried day.

I'm not sure why it was easier to be emotionally open and vulnerable with my children. I suspect part of me was embarassed to share those demons with my husband, though he is surely well acquainted with them.

Definitely more to mull over here.

Fishy Photos and Sisterly Love

My family has a history of taking photographs with fish. This is one of the first, I was probably about 3 years old. Dad got back from fishing and noticed the fish was about my size...




The tradition continued after my sister was born and went on...





...as we got older, until Dad replaced fishing with bird photography.


I pulled out the third picture (with my sister in the cap) this week. She gave it to me, framed, for my birthday one year. It is one of my favorite gifts ever. We fought as kids--typical pulling hair, pinching, punching. She even knocked the wind out of me with her punches on a few occasions. When I was 17 and she was 13 things started getting a little weird at our home. It turns out my parents were talking about divorce. My sister and I became very close at this time, and we've been close ever since.

She got some upsetting news about her one year old son this week. It has been heartwrenching and one of the most difficult parts is that we're about 1000 miles apart. I so much just want to give her a hug. I'll get to see her and deliver an in-person hug in a few weeks, but for now I'm sending love and support via phone, email, and thoughts.

I love you my sister.

I did something huge yesterday. I bought a piece of furniture for our house without consulting my husband. You see, I'm a reasonable person. I like to confer with him, my partner, my co-homeowner on decisions like this. Sadly my ideas are usually turned down, and the end result is that I feel that I have no control over certain decisions regarding my own home.

I think it is going to be a great addition, and will help manage some everyday clutter- backpacks, dance bag, etc.

Sibling Love

I sent an online friend of mine a link to some Halloween photos of my kids. She commented that they looked very sweet together. I was happy that soemone who didn't know them in person could see that, even if just through a few posed Halloween pictures.

Sure, they have scuffles. There are tears, usually due to someone hitting a flailing body part while they wrestle or run around the house. Until someone gets hurt (and someone always does), the wrestling is accompanied by laughter. They just have a great time together.

Personally I prefer their quiet play, but then again I never enjoyed being physical with my sister as a kid either. But in their quiet play I get to enjoy their great imaginations working in tandem. The'll devise elaborate scenarios with the animals or dolls or Playmobil figures. Eavesdropping on this type of play gives me such a wonderful feeling inside.

Another time that their love for one another shines through is in the morning. My son will often give his sister tender hugs when she first wakes up, and call her sweet little names. He has a great look on his face when he talks to her like this.

My daughter is very sensitive to others' emotions, and will try to comfort her big brother when he's upset. She is also quick to ask me to get him something if I'm buying her a little treat at the store, and she often initiates sharing a snack or something good to eat with her brother. Sometimes I catch her looking at him with such great love and admiration.

I have a great relationship with my sister. We faught a lot as kids; we came together as a unit when our parents were acting strangely (the prelude to their divorce). It's possible my kids will go through a fighting stage, but for right now I'm enjoying the sibling love.

The Twilight Zone

There comes a time in discussions with my husband, very often when we are under pressure or on the verge of a major blowup, when I feel like I'm in the twilight zone. I hear the words he's saying, but they make no reasonable sense. I think he hears my words, but what happens to them once they enter his brain I couldn't tell you. Sometimes it happens when I've been particularly careful with my words, to ensure that I'm clearly portraying my needs--and yet I'm still misunderstood.

We're kind of having one of those nights tonight. As the man sings, So love is hard And love is tough.