Thoughts on Letting Go and Being Happy

I think spring is finally here.  I live in Michigan, so although the weather is nice (for now), I do not count on the weather to coordinate with the calendar seasons.

For me, this year spring has been marked by the Listen to Your Mother countdown.  I also set aside a spring deadline for rebranding my blog.  So now that I have my new blog look (which I LOVE and will talk more about in another post) and Listen to Your Mother is right around the corner, I officially declare spring has arrived.

I am not sure if it is the changing of the seasons, but I have been in retrospective mood. My life has been so different since I started blogging almost five years ago.

I am thankful for the opportunities to have my work published on other websites, to be teaching again, to be a part of a production that was once only a dream.

I am grateful for the people that I have made along the way. They have pushed me out of my comfort zone, offered me their friendship, and often saw something in myself that I didn’t quite believe was in me.

I had this notion that I should feel nothing but happy for all of the wonderfulness that has happened.   So I was totally confused by an unexpected twinge of sadness.  I am writing!  I am teaching!  I am in Listen to Your Mother!  Just be happy already!

After some deep contemplation over some Ben and Jerry’s Chocolate Therapy Ice Cream, I have come to the conclusion that when one breaks away from their pack (maybe it’s family, maybe it’s lifelong friends) and begins down a path of self-discovery, not everyone will understand this new leg of the journey.

Instead of being happy that you are finally living life according to your inner compass, some question and may even resent your choices. 

For someone who is easily influenced by the need to make others happy (especially at the cost of my own happiness), it has taken an enormous amount of energy to remain true to myself and focus on all of the positive things that have happened.

So I think that unexpected sadness comes from the sense of loss – a loss for the comfy things in my past that were not really that healthy for me anyway. 

I am glad that I am taking the time to get to know myself. I now have the courage and confidence to see certain things - people, personal dynamics, my own destructive behavior patters – for what they are and let go.

Letting go has allowed light to shine in and good things to happen.

Working hard on this.

I'm working on this, but I can't help feel a little nostalgic for the past.

Do you ever miss things from a certain time period of your life?  How do you handle it?  Do you mourn it?  Do you chase it?  

Parenting and the Downward Spiral of Guilt

Today I should've been in beautiful Napa celebrating our 10th anniversary. Instead I'm dealing the emotional fallout of moving and starting a new school.

Was it the right decision? Absolutely. Am I upset about canceling my trip? Damn right I am. But not for the reasons I thought I would be.

Yes, I am sad that I am not immersed in beautiful scenery, drinking delicious wine, and dining on amazing food. (Oh, Girl and the Fig, I'll be back for you. Someday).

However, I’m more upset about how our lives ended up at this point. What if we hadn't moved? Wonder if my dabbling in blogging/social media/ teaching/freelance writing had not evolved into something that resembles real part-time work?

Then I go deeper in the spiral and start to think about how I might really being effing up as a parent.

I don't think I am spending the same amount of quality time with Thomas as I did Marie. I know it is always different with the second child, but what if I hadn't taken steps to boost my social media ventures to the next level? Maybe Thomas would like to write his name. Maybe he would like to craft? Maybe he wouldn't be so interested in Angry Birds?

It would be easy to get defensive of my choices and push forward with my goals. It would also be easy to justify my choices in that not everyone is meant to develop a deep affinity for handwriting and glue sticks.

But instead, I am listening to the signs that the kids are giving me; I’m letting it soak in, resisting the urge to downplay it in hopes that everything will work out.  I have restructured my “office hours” and reexamining my work commitments. I have put a premium on getting enough sleep so I don't meltdown. And I'm finally doing all those Pinterest crafts to help Thomas along with finding his handwriting jam.

Redemption through Pinterest

A challenging foam, no glue craft that Thomas loved!
Also, that cape melts my heart into a puddle. 

Next year, he will be in school all day next year. This is it for him. And I need to make it count.

As for Marie, I will listen patiently as she finds the words to verbalize her feelings about being the new kid.  We have also chosen a calming essential oil to help her relax at night. And we have kicked off our weekly dates.

Anything missed in the work-sphere while I tend to my babies during this transitional time will have to be categorized under "not the right time". And I will have to have faith that the right opportunities will still be there.

I am going to try to unwind myself for the guilt spiral. Up until two conversations with some help ladies, I was completely convinced this was all my fault. Turns out, it might not be my fault.  The anxiety about being a new student in a new school and the strong dislike towards coloring/writing may actually be something independent from me.  Regardless, I have to show up for some serious face time and with my listening ears on.

In the meantime, it might be time for me to get some more chocolate therapy.

Do you ever feel like you are just doing it wrong? How do you deal?

Parenting is Hard

Parenting is hard.  So very hard.  A totally obvious statement, I know.  But since parenting is filled with challenging moments every single day, I find my threshold for pain is pretty high.

Get up in the middle of the night to tend to scary dreams?  Got it.

Being the fun governor when it comes to enforcing screen time limits?  I (begrudgingly) do it.

Trying to make sure each child’s needs are met without cloning myself?  I practice that each and every day.

But then something comes along that pushes my limit.  In yoga, it is called going beyond your edge.  When I go beyond my edge in yoga, I have exceeded my physical and mental boundaries and everything becomes a challenge.  Even breathing.

This moment occurred when Harrington and I decided to cancel our 10^th wedding anniversary trip to Napa and Sonoma, which we were going to after his business trip at Lake Tahoe.

Yes, this little message is in my inbox.  Taunting me.

It actually pains me to type this sentence.

We came to this decision after listening to the deep, sorrowful, painful sobs of how much Marie would rather be home with me than at her new school.  The crying, that was on the verge of hyperventilating, yanked at my heartstrings.  Even though this specific breakdown took me by surprise, in retrospect, I have realized that she has been very emotional and has been having a hard time at night.

How am I supposed to go clear across the country for six days when my child is hurting?  And not just hurting, but hurting for me?

On the other hand, I feel like I am letting Harrington down by not going with him on this trip and celebrating our 10th anniversary.  One day, these kids will leave the nest, and since he is the one I will be stuck with (in a good way, of course), I want to make sure my marriage is a priority.

But when your baby needs you, how do you walk away from that?

As Harrington said, they won’t need us like this forever.  We need to be there when they do now.

I decided to think about what I could live with in the long run – going on this trip with my husband and hoping that Marie would be OK. 

Or could I live with skipping this trip with my husband, but knowing I didn’t take off when my daughter needed me?

If this is a pivotal time in her life with the move and going to a new school, and I leave, I don’t think that is something I could undo.

And what would a big decision like this be without a healthy serving of guilt.  I blame myself.  If I wasn’t busy working this summer, I would have been more emotionally available to her.  If I wasn’t busy unpacking, I would have had more time for her.  If I had been able to pull it together, I could have had this all situated and not have to bail on an awesome trip.

Letting down your kid and missing out on wine country: kind of feels like the biggest fail in the history of my fails.

So what has been the hardest parenting decision you have had to make?  How did you get through it?  Should I stock in more chocolate or salty snacks?  Would it be inappropriate to listen to grunge rock and sulk in my room?

Portrait of Despair

I see someone I love very much on the train tracks.  She looks so small and vulnerable in the distance.  And all of a sudden, I see that a train is coming. It’s far away, but I can see the tiny prick of light from the headlight and hear the quiet whistle in a distance.

I start to yell in hopes that help will arrive.  I see others coming to her aid, but the temporary wave of relief is fleeting as I realize that the others don’t hear the train getting closer.

Now everyone is on the tracks, and I am instantly filled with anxiety because they don’t hear me screaming at them to get off the tracks nor do they hear this train rushing towards them.  This train is loud and scary, and that tiny light and whistle heard in the distance is becoming brighter and more thunderous by the second.

I yell louder and louder, desperate for someone to hear me.  I am afraid to get closer to the tracks because I don’t want to get injured.  I’ve been hit by that train more than once, more than twice.  And now I am responsible for other human beings other than myself, human beings that are now old enough to discern when something is not right,

Instead I continue to scream, “Don't you hear the train? It’s coming so fast!  Why are you ignoring it?  Why are you ignoring me?”

The train roar is deafening, covering up my desperate cries.  I cannot fathom how the people on the tracks cannot hear this.

I yell some more, but it’s futile.

The next logical step would be to run and get help, however, I’m afraid to tell anyone else because this train that is coming to destroy my loved ones, it's a secret.  When discussed with loved ones, big, angry fireworks explode to cause a distraction from the real issue, the issue of the train barreling down the tracks with no regard to anyone or anything.

 
I am stuck; immobilized by fear. No one can hear me over the rumble of the train and the blast of the fireworks, but I’m scared to tell anyone.

Even though the train is so close now and it is clear no one on the tracks can see it, self- doubt starts to creep in.  No, creep is not the right word.  More like flood in, and I am drowning in self-doubt.   Maybe this train isn't really here. Maybe I am the one imagining all of this.  It’s hard to stay focused on the train with all these volatile, abrasive fireworks going off all around me.

Until the trains hits.

It’s messy and sad and unbearable.

I thought nothing could be worse than the anxiety of trying to get others to listen.

Wrong.

Guilt. The guilt that pierces right through to my core and sickens me with its vileness - that is the worst.  It’s the guilt that I didn't protect my loved ones and keep them safe.  The guilt that I let my warped distorted sense of loyalty and the irrational duty of secret keeping prevent me from doing what was right is the worse.  It makes me feel dirty and no amount of hand washing will ever make it go away.

 
Only time seems to make the guilt slowly fade away, and I start to feel hopeful that I may start to feel normal.  I do normal things, like brush my teeth, brush my kids’ teeth, make meals, and do laundry.

But when it’s quiet, I find that guilt slowly undulates into anger and back into guilt.

When I am exhausted from the raging course of my emotions, I lay still in hopes that it is peace that emerges from the dark waters.

But right now, that is not the case.  I am left with steady flow of despair which constantly erodes my sense of well-being.    

The Flip Side

 ** Before I get into the post, I just want to send everyone a deep, sincere thank you for voting for me on Skinny Scoop’s Top 25 Mom Bloggers of 2012. I came in fourth place!  I am so excited.  Thanks, everyone, for your support!**

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Did I ever tell you the time I almost shut my blog down?

It was this winter, and we were sick for three months.  Raising kids takes a lot of energy, but taking care of them when they are sick leaves little energy for anything else.  (Especially since they were really good at sharing their germs with me).  I was becoming so emotionally drained that I was starting to feel depressed.

But I grit my teeth and pushed on through with maintaining my blog.  I was determined to not give up on something that brings me so much joy.

Determination: it’s one of my best traits.  It helped me get through this winter.  It helps me make the best, most informative choices I can make when raising my kids (especially when it came to their various health issues).

Determination has seen me through the not-so-good times in my marriage and has not allowed me to give up on myself and my dreams.

Determination has served me well.

Until it doesn’t.  Because the flip side of determination is stubbornness.

For every time determination has helped me, stubbornness has bit me in the ass.  Hard.  (And not in a 50 Shades of Grey kind of way.  Ew).

Like the time I was *not* going to leave target without a bike helmet for Marie.  An employee from the Electronics Department knew absolutely nothing about fitting bike helmets.  When he told me they were by age, I quickly cut him off because that is not always the case.  He replied by telling me to Google it. 

Google it?!  I may have communicated in a somewhat assertive manner that he should do more to help me.  And next thing I know, I am being followed by Target security detail.

Or the summer after I graduated college and was teaching summer school English to a bunch of 18-20 year olds.  (Note: I was only 21 years old).   I was going to follow the rules and teach my favorite subject.  I was enthusiastic!  I was excited!  I was determined to be successful!

Until one student didn’t follow the rules and was about to fail which, in turn, would have delayed his graduation date .  Instead of just making up the work, he took the most *logical* step: he threatened to kill me.

Or the time when I was getting too comfortable around a difficult family member and I let my boundaries get a little soft and mushy.  I was determined to make this relationship work.  People were counting on me, for Christ’s sake!

Determination got in the way of reality.  And when reality checked in, it checked in hard.  And loud.  And nasty.  I knew the situation could be compared to a ticking time bomb.  But determination flipped into stubbornness and I made a bad choice.

Determination is like a super power and should be only used for good.  And wisely.

I walk a fine line between determination and stubbornness.  The good side of the trait has given me strength I didn’t know I had, yet the flip side has taken me down some very dark paths.

Do you teeter between a positive trait and the dark flip side?