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just a case of the february…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

I hit the second half of February in solid migraine form. I was in bed, living in a heightened state of nausea. The following week my husband had his second dose of the Pfizer vaccine and he was down for the count for three blurred-together days. (his blur, not mine. I was clear headed, but they were unnaturally long days.) The day that he felt human again was the day I was knocked back down:

fever.

chills.

migraine fest.

fatigue.

It was like we were tag-teaming on the worst part of winter blues and seasonal illness, except that he had a reason and I really did not.

In this era of C-19, when every sniffle raises a heightened paranoia, I made the decision to label whatever mystery was bringing me down (life? fibro? stress?) as February.

Are you feeling better? What do you think it was? I am, and February. It was February.

It works, don’t you think? It works because February is possibly the worst of the months. Winter is dragging on (or unfairly pummelling Texas, if we’re lasering in on this year) and though the days are growing a bit longer, it doesn’t matter too much when it’s still cold outside.

Beyond realizing that February is my least favorite of the twelve months, I thought I’d take this end-of-the-month reflection time to share some other things I’ve learned through these past four painfully long weeks:

  • Our little rescue kitten Darcy is nine months old. No one told me that nine months would bring her heat cycle. It was short, but those days were intense. Mostly we both just felt so bad for her. Bless. Also, our vet can’t get her in until April… Will she cycle again? I know nothing… except that the vet will only see her 8 weeks POST cycle so fingers crossed she does not.
  • Because we could not go out for Mardi Gras (something we love to do, even if we are here in the north), I decided to make some Creole food at home. The dirty rice was pretty meh, but the shrimp dish I made was PHENOMENAL and the beignets were a bit like heaven. All in all, a win.
  • A fellow writer talked skeptical me into joining Clubhouse. I was 100% convinced it was stupid and I’d hate it. It turns out it’s timely, pretty fantastic and I love it. Since so much of my job and passion involve community and connection, it has been an incredible experience.
  • Meundies. Have you heard of them? I was told they were the “softest and most comfortable underwear on the planet” and, once again, I was super skeptical. I was wrong. They are heaven. Also, here’s a code to save you $20. Trust me, you WANT to save it to this.
  • I spent moments in February coming face to face with my pride. Really questioning why something may have hurt my feelings and realizing it was up to me to keep myself in check. Sometimes that self reflection can feel really scary and trust me, I am no expert. Growth can be painful, but these growth moments were so healing.

And now, we are practically at March. A beautiful, closer to Spring blank slate and I am here for it- tired, but ready…

let’s talk about our men…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

I wanted to take a moment to talk a little bit about mental health. Primarily, men’s mental health. I love that more conversations are happening and we are, as a people, more willing to recognize this issue.

With most mental health things, we often do nothing because we feel powerless to make an impact or bring about change. This isn’t because we don’t care as much as that we care deeply and don’t know how to help. I want to direct our attention to some statistics and something that will be an amazing resource.

Family Man is a free, online course designed to equip fathers of children between the ages of 2-8 with the practical skills needed to cope with frustrating situations. Drawing on research-based principles of positive parenting, Family Man uses the latest parenting strategies that support happier homes and better mental health.

“There is a huge amount of research that shows parenting is more effective when it’s done as a team,” said Jane Endacott, Director of Digital Health Mental Health and Suicide Prevention at Movember. “We know that when dads are fully engaged in parenting decisions, it benefits the whole family.”

The interactive program is comprised of three 20-minute animated episodes. Each episode features a father as the main character who is faced with a challenging situation such as a battle over the dinner table or a public tantrum – common meltdowns that can cause friction in households and impact the whole family’s mental well being. Users are prompted with a number of possible ways to respond to the situation and an explanation of the pros and cons and likely outcomes of each option coaching fathers through each situation step-by-step.

Adapted from ParentWorks[i], a successful program designed by Professor Mark Dadds at the University of Sydney, Family Man has been vetted by a global panel of psychologists and parenting experts.

“Evidence-based parenting programs are effective in reducing behavioral problems, yet few involve the participation of fathers,” said Professor Dadds. “Family Man was designed to be accessible to all families and may be especially useful in rural and remote areas, where resources can be hard to access. It can be fully delivered online, without the support of trained practitioners, which is a key barrier for many parents.”

A recently launched survey by Movember of 1,600 fathers across North America including 800 US fathers from across the country showed that:

  • Nearly 2 in 3 US dads (63%) said they would be very or extremely likely to seek advice from an online website dedicated to fathers
  • 54% of fathers felt there was a lack of online parenting resources for fathers
  • 47% of fathers felt parenting advice from websites and social media are not aimed at them

Additional survey findings helped inform the need for a tool like Family Man:

  • 94% of dads reported that they feel more engaged with their children during the pandemic
  • 1 in 5 (19%) US fathers say their child’s behavior at home is somewhat manageable while 16% of US fathers say their child’s behavior in public is somewhat manageable
  • 31% of fathers reported feeling more impatient since having children

The  State of the World Father’s report indicates that approximately 80 percent of men will become biological fathers at some point in their lives. In addition, a previous study conducted by Movember also found that 67% of soon-to-be fathers and more than half of all men say that men are under more pressure nowadays to be good fathers.

For more information, visit familyman.movember.com

what do i mean by…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

A few weeks ago I was part of a workshop on Proprioceptive Writing. During the freewrite portion, I allowed my thoughts to flow, not knowing quite what would surface or where they’d go. To be honest, the experience has haunted me a little. Not in that scary way one associates “haunting”, but in an almost relentless way in which the words that came simply won’t leave.

They’ve hung around, whispering in the background , in nearly everything I’ve done since.

After a lot of thought, I’ve decided to give them a bit of life, within this space. Perhaps they can, in turn, dance and play here while I move forward with some peace…

The voice that criticizes me for constantly being in over my head, incapable of reaching the goal or outcome I aim for, is the rhythm timed to my mind. I see the air trails of this voice, as I flip back in memory of the moments of my life.

It is always present.

Every gym glass.

Every art project.

Each new friendship, relationship or job.

Every attempt at anything.

Always.

Predetermining my failure, and then ridiculing (relentlessly) my fall.

What do I mean by this voice? Whose is it? As I flip through the faces of my childhood, seeking one to match its sound, the scrolling land on the face of my mother. This comes as no surprise. The unexpected twist is that the voice is also infused with the sound of my father, a man I did not know.

Woven, deep inside of the voice there are also traces of me.

Of my own voice- my own sound.

There is five year old me, but also sixteen year old me too.

And now, who I am no lives there within that vocal range.

snowglobe…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

My living room is filled with windows. When one sits on the couch, in any direction looked, the panels give access to the world beyond these cottage clay walls. The cardinals play in the holly bushes beneath these window sills, and squirrels busy themselves in the trees beyond. Through every season there is so much beauty offered, though it is winter in which I find the most comfort.

I call it our snowglobe. As snowflakes drift from sky to ground, we sit warmly tucked in the middle.

It is magic, this radiant white light.

I do not love to venture out into the winter. I do not love being on the roads or the footstep crunch of ice, but warm within our snowglobe, time slows just right. This reminds me that, though nearly a year into this Pandemic way of life, we are still being called to slow. My own soul still needs this prompted reminder.

On an ideal day, this magical space within our globe smells of fresh baked cookies and is filled with the sound of vinyl records giving music life. Most days aren’t as idyllic as we’d like though, are they? On normal days, today type days, I am holed up in my office with the tiniest single window, showing me its pinhole views of the flurries outside. I work for myself, can’t I call a snow day?

Sure. I could, but also, more would fall on tomorrow, and more the day after that. Instead I sigh, sip my earl grey tea and hunker down to work. click. click. click.

I hope that, in the Great Beyond, I remember these moments. Both the tiny window-work day ones and the snow globe (or other season globe) views of life beyond the pane.

Beyond the pain… That’s kind of it, isn’t it? The point. We slave away to overstimulation and busy schedules (or at least we did, in the Great Before) because these are the most entertaining and/or productive ways to act out our denial. We pretend we’re “taking control”, but instead we are really drowning ourselves in the chaotic noise of anything but.

These January weeks within the snowglobe have left me challenging what it is that I understand about balance. Is it maintaining the work hours and also the rest? Is it tuning in to listen to what my inner soul is encouraging when it comes to needing solace and still? I’m finding that pre-pandemic, it wasn’t unreasonable to spend a day running errands, grabbing a coffee and spending a few coffee shop hours writing. This side of the topsy-turvy that feels incomprehensible. Back to back zoom meetings, while dressed in sweatpants and a messy bun, followed by a sixty minute writing session depletes my brain like a tree spout left on.

Today I will wrap up work and curl up on my couch, in a cozy throw. I will watch the snow swirling beyond the globe and sip something wonderful. I will realize that I leave the house so much less, and yet also seem to accomplish so much less within my days. It may not make sense in a pre-pandemic world, but in this snowglobe life of today, it kind of does.

It has to…

nothing…

Published on by Mae @ Rainydayinmay

Today is National Nothing Day. It’s purpose is to give Americans one day to sit and do nothing. No festivities, no celebrating, just nothing. The day was established in 1972 and it begs the question: what was all of this happiness causing so many celebrations that this became a necessity?

Is it merely my Pandemic mind that cannot comprehend this? I mean, I personally have reached the point of this non-choose-your-own-adventure where I am ready for a DO SOMETHING day. When is that on the calendar?

And I say that as I stare ahead at a very busy weekend. Busy weekends, anymore, usually revolve around some form of Zoom (as in the case of my weekend) or other video conferencing services. While I am so grateful this insanity hit when we had such luxuries, I’m also ready for a really brilliant outdoor music festival.

I’m itching to watch a live musical.

I long to host a dinner party where conversation flows with ease.

I’m ready to meet friends for drinks and laugh, without the conversation always coming back to the death toll, or crazy D.C. developments.

What even is nothing anymore? While we live in it, are we wasting it?

The busyness of normal life used to leave me craving a Nothing Day, and now I have more of them than not. Perhaps the beauty of nothing is when the mere idea of it is the unicorn within our crazy normal…

And about that: crazy normal. Do we really want that back?

I remember sitting in a ladies networking luncheon a few years back, and a woman mentioned all of these ideas she had for someday. She was the guest of a colleague, and though excited for the someday dreams, she admitted she couldn’t possibly do anything as long as her kids were home. On Mondays there was soccer. Tuesdays the school paper to help with. Wednesdays her son had Karate, and Thursdays her daughter dance. She was on the PTA, she was a room mom. She was clocking nearly 200 volunteer hours a month, all revolving around her kids school/activities/interests. She admitted she hadn’t had an actual conversation with her husband since her kids had been in elementary school, unless it was about her kids. (who, at this point were in 7th and 9th grades.)

“We chose to be parents”, she said. “When they are grown, we will have all the time in the world.”

I wonder how she is.

What it has been like for her, in the nothing.

We were, so many of us, so busy going just so that we could avoid the hard things… and now, now we are stuck on the carousel of hard things, with nothing else in sight.

I am so eager for the someday things, that may return. When they do, they’ll be different.

We’ll be different.

I am different.

Even though I deeply miss such things, I don’t want to waste the nothing either.

On National Nothing Day, I’ll be navigating my way through my busiest Saturday in January. I’m ok with that. I want to believe there is magic in the nothing. There must be something they knew, back in 1972, that we’ve lost sight of, along the way. To honor the day I plan on not celebrating, as this is what the day was made for. I also plan on deep breathing in the peace that comes with nothing.

I will not stress today, about all of these hard-dark things beyond my control.