When things just are… or aren’t…

SONY DSCThere is so much happening, in life, at any given time. I was at a dental appointment yesterday, talking with my hygienist, and she mentioned I’d rescheduled my visit 3 times and was 6 weeks late in coming in. My eyes filled with tears and I had no word for her but Life. She touched me gently on the arm and said “I understand, it happens.” Moments later my dentist was telling me that my sleep grinding has significantly worsened and I’ve sustained damage to my jaw. This time her eyes moistened and she said “life”, so quietly. It was a rare human moment where, truth be told, I wanted to curl up and rest for a while.

Within that moment it was both safe and warm. There were certainties and kindnesses that don’t exist out here in the life part of reality.

For one who doesn’t cry, I’ve sure found myself in that tear-stained place a lot these past two days.

Sometimes our worst fears come true. Some of mine might be. Standing here, on the brink of that, I am both terrified and nauseated. I am sick and unprepared, but that’s the thing about life and revelations- these things were real and on course before I knew of them, so… There are things we all tell ourselves we will never, ever do. And then, then there are times when we stand on a precipice where we know we have no choice but to do them. I have to do this.

Suddenly, every God-awful moment before this one doesn’t feel as ugly as I remember. Here, wrapped tight within this heart-wrench, perspective beyond this is an impossibility. There is no later, other, then, when

This becomes life. suffocating… deafening…

Broken life.

I’m standing in a place that I swore I would never stand, though I knew the possibility of it and kept it tucked in the back of my mind where I could pretend it wasn’t real, wasn’t mine, wasn’t a part of my options or realities. And yet, despite all of my swearing, and trying, and planning, and plotting, and loving, and fighting for (and with), I am standing here. Today my perspective can’t see past this moment, but I hope soon I can see a bigger picture, one that includes some hope, or at the very least, more than a mere sustainable trickle of oxygen…

In the meantime, I just needed to write from where I am at today. I may not have a lot of detail, nothing funny or poignant to say, but at least I’m not falling into a puddly mess at my dentist’s office, so that’s progress right?

On being very, very afraid…

Fear is like a cancer.

There can be one big, debilitating fear that cripples you or I to the point of inaction. As long as that inaction remains in effect though, the fear will spread and become other forms and types of all-consuming fear. A fear of failure can morph into an overwhelming anxiety of rejection. Very seldom do we hear of an agoraphobic sufferer who just woke up one day and could no longer leave their home. No. It’s slowly consuming.

As a writer I once feared failure. I once feared writing a book and attempting publication with query letters not leading to anything positive. This was such a consuming fear that when I finished my first book 9 years ago, I set the ridiculous goal of mailing out 25 query letters. I mailed off my 25 queries and of those queries I got 12 rejection “letters” back. (I say “letters” because if you’ve never had the privilege of receiving one, they are the most impersonal wastes of postage out there. over half of them were just strips of paper with a sentence typed out that said “not interested.” I have to believe when the very system began, it had a bigger point than that, but I digress…)

In regards to my first book, it was written from a passionate place. While fiction, it was inspired by the lives of the women in my family and when my grandmother passed away in 2006 and I made the personal decision that I’d rather keep that work tucked away and private, within our family, for now anyway. It worked out better, and I am grateful for the hindsight.

I no longer fear rejection, in that way. I personally believe the publishing industry is a broken and biased system so this is partly why… but the other reason is because, technically speaking I “failed” that ridiculous self-imposed goal, and I survived intact. I’m still alive and no parts of the world seemed to be disastrously affected by my failure so I realized it wasn’t a big deal.

Fear never really goes away though, like I said, Fear is like a cancer. Even once I’ve conquered one, I still need to keep myself in check because there are others. New ones that will creep up and my writing is where I’ll be incredibly vulnerable because this is my life’s work.

I finished my second book awhile ago. I say finished because it is written, from beginning to end. It also needs some revisions and I just can’t bring myself to look at it, so I’ve put it away for a while to work on another project. It is fiction, and a very personal story for me. I fear that it won’t be loved. I fear that it will be mediocre. Sometimes I get caught up in the harsh criticisms and judgements that people hide behind, online, and it terrifies me to put my work in their hands… And so I remember wise words from long ago that urge me to allow fear to motivate me, and I think “I can do that…” And I imagine fear motivating me to make this project that much better, but I also realistically embrace the inevitable- that it will happen and I have to be ok with that and not care.

As a young girl I knew my life was to write stories and words that would touch or inspire other people. As I grew, I knew that I had stories in my heart that others could relate to, and that could help them with their own hurts. This means everything to be but this hurdle between the place of fear and the having leaped- I just do not know how to get there…

So I worry the fear-cancer spreads. And sometimes I just look away and ignore my projects. And most days I dream of a boldness that has to exist somewhere deep inside of me, I just need to figure out how to harness and mount it so that I won’t be so afraid anymore…

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“You’re welcome…”

GenOne thing Chw and I have been spending a lot of our one-on-one conversations about, lately, is the fact that we aren’t perfect parents and we are ok with that. While that doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t daily strive to be better parents, or better spouses (which in turn makes us better parents), the one thing which became blindingly clear to us in recent weeks is that it doesn’t matter to us whether our 15-year-old likes us or not.

I never imagined I would feel this way. I grew up in foster care and always knew that my kids would LOVE me and think I was absolutely the coolest mom ever. That’s just the way it was going to be. And now that I have a teenager who spews rage at me on a regular basis, just for fun, I’ve realized I don’t really want her approval. I’ve seen the things she prioritizes in her life, and some of the people she approves of or things she thinks are cool. These are categories I don’t want to fit into, but thanks. Incidentally, she also takes every opportunity to point out how disapproving she is of our parenting techniques…

Specifically she has screamed and thrown things because I am “verbally abusive” and she knows it for a fact because she has “asked her friends, and they confirmed what I do is abuse.” When I asked her what it is I do, she proceeds to point out things like:

– tell her when her zipper is down, or her pockets are sticking out. (when I asked if I do it discreetly she bursts into tears and says “yes, but I’m so tired of you tearing me down that way!” When she finished the dramatics I said “then why not let your obvious frustration motivate you to check your own zipper and pockets from time to time?” To which I received a hateful look and was called a profane name. alright then…)

– I scream at her. When we hashed this out, it turns out I scream at her to “stop” when she is hurling insults, back-talking, arguing and won’t stop. Her voice is far above ours and she is incredibly hateful and I will scream at her to “STOP!” When I asked her how, in this scenario, she wasn’t the verbally abusive one since she was the one hurling insults and saying cutting, hateful things while yelling at her parents, I get the “You would say that, wouldn’t you?” response and glare.

– We “nag” her. (By “nag” apparently it means we remind her over and over to chew with her mouth closed, give her warnings about behaving in school because the school called AGAIN, pick up her messes and stop back-talking.) How dare we!

So… When we repetitively point out that no, these are not abusive things, these things are called PARENTING, she will plummet into her 4 times a week rant about what an awful mom I am. Crappy to hear? sure. But a little comical too.

On one such recent festive occasion, (we are both so tired of these near daily events, sorry for not blogging more, my goodness is drained…) I just looked at her and said “Do you believe we need your validation or approval to get by? Do you honestly think we are just hoping you approve of our parenting?” She was shocked. I continued, “You are 15. Not only do you have no idea how to be a parent, you have no idea how to be an adult and you especially have no idea what we have been through or what it has been like along our parenting journey. When you have a decade of the experience we do, under your belt, I’ll value your input on my performance and what you have to say. Now? Now your opinion is based solely on your selfish whims and desires.” Did it solve the problem? Probably not, but it gave her food for thought.

She’s also always telling us her one friend “really likes us” or “was excited to see us.” It’s all lies and we couldn’t figure out why she kept telling us these things until these conversations between us started, so I added that to the mix. I said “And Gen, we don’t care if your friends approve of us or like us either. Your friend’s opinions of us mean absolutely nothing to us. I don’t need their acceptance or approval.”

This was an idea she could not comprehend, which felt awesome… And hopefully, also makes her think a little.

Awhile ago I read an article or something that said “when your teen hurts your feelings, they may not be aware of their actions. Articulate “thank you for hurting my feelings by _____________. That was really painful.” And maybe this will spur them to take responsibility for their actions. So, the other day she said something really awful to me and I tried it.

Her response? “You’re welcome,” Saccharine smile.  Shocked, I texted my husband who couldn’t believe it. Later that night, he was home and the fun continue. She said something else and my knee-jerk reaction was “ouch, wow Gen, thanks.” And she did it again, “You’re welcome.” Sickeningly sweet smile…

A couple of hours after our talk about not needing her approval she said to me “I don’t like what you said. I think my opinion of the type of parents you are should matter more than even yours does. That makes me feel… I can’t even explain it.”

I smiled at her, “Like you aren’t in charge? Like you aren’t above us? Like we are the parents.”

She sighed.

I walked over and hugged her close and guess what I sincerely whispered in her ear?

You’re welcome… (someday she will be grateful, but we don’t need her to be. That’s another thing we’ve realized. Someday (I hope) her opinion will be different and she will get it.)

And someday she will have a teenager and I will laugh harder than I’ve ever laughed before, and maybe I’ll say it again, but that time just for fun:

You’re welcome!

just call me the bag lady…

IMG_2948My weekend was a mixed bag…

Whenever that happens, and it’s not simply a fantastic set of days, I’m tempted to wallow and cast a negative shadow on the whole thing. In the essence of fairness though, that’s simply not, well, fair.There is something truly redemptive in the way discomfort or a “bad day” makes the beautiful look better. It really does have a way of fine tuning our gratitude, when we let it. I tried to let that be the attitude with which my weekend seemed to abide by. I wasn’t perfect, and that’s ok.

On Facebook I shared that I wanted to:

1.) see a movie. (now there’s a shocker.)

2.) paint my toenails.

3.) finish a home organization project.

And I met my goals. While I did other things, and I likely could have done more, I set three simple goals that were practical, important (to me) and fun (or at least a mix of the three) and it made the weekend a lot easier. When I did that, I did not know we would deal with the teenage animosity we dealt with, pangs of homesickness over what we were missing back in Boise this weekend, or that I would struggle with an on & off again three-day migraine. (allergies combined with stress…)

But the really good bits-

an unexpected nap;

food & game night with friends;

laughter;

my husband’s awesome popcorn;

having the laundry done by the end of the weekend- these are really good things. And amidst the worst moments, these rays of brightness become even better. Maybe the very best we should hope for is a mixed bag, because too much of a good thing just makes it bland and ordinary and I don’t want that for any of my beautiful moments…

hello June…

June is a pretty special month for me… Not only does it hold several very important birthdays, but it’s the official start of summer and that’s a great thing, right?

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Me-
– An exciting new project that I can’t divulge too many details about, but you know what they say: my excitement is your excitement… {They say that, right?!?!}
– I joined a new summer book club and I am so excited! (Perhaps I should add overuse of the word exciting and any words derived from it. Yikes.) I’m hoping it will be a great experience and connect me with a few new gals in my area!
– I have some fun books between my night stand and my kindle that I’m looking forward to getting in to.
– have coffee/tea/social plans with a new friend.
– I have not done it in ages, but I really want to do a paper craft project, or two, this month.
Family
– End of the year school program.
– sending our youngest off to Jamaica with a youth group team from our church, for a mission trip. {yikes!}
– we are (finally) going through the stuff we have stored in our garage, from our move, that we just don’t have room for.
– celebrating several birthdays of loved ones, even if from afar.
– having a belated Father’s Day since we won’t be able to be together for the calendar scheduled one.
– bike rides, evening walks and active weekends.
– summer movies, trip to the drive in, etc.
 Food
– I’m wanting to try some new, summery recipes in the kitchen.
– Mastering fontina cheese fondue. {Yum!}
– concentrating on more vegetables.
– Grilled dinners complete with deck dining.
– weeknight sun tea, fresh squeezed lemonade, weekend cocktails.
 
Home
– I’m inspired to redo my photo ledges (and this has been an ongoing hope for months) but I can’t quite figure out what I want to do.
– we’ve had tragedy befall our dining room table recently so we will be taking on a creative, yet affordable redo in that area.
– My office has been a mess since our trip to Idaho. When I’m in here, it’s for a quick second or to rush through a work project. I need to organize and clean it.
Love
– We have theater tickets to a Tony winning show that I’m really excited to see!
– We have a couple of other fun, intentional dates on the calendar for the month. Our intentional date challenge has been a really fun one!