The Time When My Computer Died

Alternatively Titled: I Realized How Having Both Kids in School Was Like My Freshman Year of College

Last week, my computer unexpectedly died.  There I was, cleaning the desktop and trash bin, when I decided to install the latest software update. 

That moment at 12:15am when you realize your meltdown over a broken computer symbolizes something much deeper. #sadmac #allthetears #speedbump #sendchocolate #sendwine

A photo posted by Erin (@erin_mommyonthespot) on May 21, 2015 at 6:11am PDT

There were scary screen twitches. The info at the top of the screen was a dark red color covered with black and gray etches.  It was very Carole Ann and the snowy TV screen from Poltergeist.

Sometime around 12:15am, I gave up googling triage options and made an appointment at the Genius Bar. 

And then I cried. Not silent tears of defeat. No, these tears were more like from toddler tantrum meltdown. I was irrational. I had no words. 

I felt helpless. 

I couldn't write my blog post. I couldn't work on some other essays I wanted to submit. School is almost out for the summer and I barely accomplished anything!

HOW WAS I GOING TO REACH MY GOALS WITH A BROKEN COMPUTER?!

And then that's when it hit me: this was so much more than a broken computer. 

For months, I've had this underlying feeling of discontent.  I always fantasized that when both kids were in school full time, I would rule the world.

 Write!

Work!

Take care of the house!

Exercise!

Have lunch with friends!

Volunteer at school!

I would do all of the things and still feel refreshed when I skipped on down to the bus stop and started the after school/dinner grind.   

At first it was awesome.  I exercised during normal daylight hours instead of waking up at before dawn.

I went out to lunch almost every day. This was glorious!  When I was a junior high teacher, I only had 20 minutes to eat AND go to the bathroom. When I was home with babies and toddlers, it was just enough to go to Target for diapers let alone sit in a restaurant to eat a meal.  Eating food that I did not prepare nor having to clean up felt like I! Had! Arrived!

Turns out that once I worked out and had lunch, I didn't have as much time as I thought to do all of the things.  Honest Mom totally articulates my feelings here.

I spent most of this year rearranging my blocks of time in various orders to try and fit it all in. And I couldn't. I was constantly falling short of my expectations.

This totally reminded me of my freshman year of college. I thought it would be this party and I would be besties with my roommates as we giggled through all-nighters and ate soft serve ice cream in between classes. 

Freshman year was the opposite of that, actually. It was a lot of hard work, and I hated my roommates.  Plus, there was no unlimited soft serve ice cream.  (That along with endless nacho cheese came during sophomore year at a different school – which is a story for another time).

So during this breakdown, I had a breakthrough.  I have a tendency to build something up in my mind and create standards that are impossible to meet. 

Freshman year was just one example.

There was that time I though seventh grade would be like the Sweet Valley Twins series.  (Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.  These were, in fact, the worst years of my life).

Or when my flowery image of natural childbirth courtesy of TLC’s Baby Story did not match up to my unplanned C-section.

And then the time I thought teaching junior high in an upper middle class school would somehow be a mix between Dead Poets Society and Mr. Holland’s Opus.  (It ended up being more like Mean Girls).

This constant feeling of letting myself down because I can’t reach my unattainable expectations chips away at my happiness and self-worth. 

And I don’t want to live like that anymore.

I’m not sure how to stop this since it’s clear that I’ve been doing this my entire life.  I’m a doer; I believe I can *DO* anything.  I just need to manage my expectations.  Upon writing this post, I also think it’s imperative to reexamine how much I let media infiltrate my visions of success.

I didn’t expect to have a broken computer fix my perspective, but I am grateful (and grateful for Neil at the Genius Bar for not only installing my new hard drive, but being very gentle with this fragile soul).

Have you had a recent breakthrough?  How do you deal with reality vs. your expectations?

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So excited that my post about the moment I realized I was no longer a full-time stay-at-home mom was picked up by Huffington Post Parents. I would love it if you clicked on over and let me know what you think!

Hello, 2015!

Hello, 2015!  Am I glad to see you!  Yes, it’s freezing and snowy, but quiet and refreshing after all of the holiday madness.

Once I had my first quiet moment to myself in over 2 weeks, I was able to focus on what I really wanted for 2015.  Sure, I want to write more and live more in the present moment, but when I really searched for what I needed to make any goals, it all boiled down to one word: boundaries.

My first peaceful moment of 2015.

I  feel like I should have this boundary thing down better by now since it seems that every personal goal I’ve made this decade can be traced down to boundaries.  This year I have noticed that creating boundaries is no longer my struggle: it’s keeping them.

 My inner dialogue goes something like this:

“I want to please everyone!”

“I give 0 F’s about pleasing everyone!”

“Well, maybe a few Fs.”

“Erin, you are strong.  You can have boundaries and still be compassionate and kind.”

The struggle is real.

And come to find out, there is a pattern with all this inner-conflict.  Doubt starts to sneak in when I’m not paying attention and starts to whisper passive-aggressive thoughts.  “Are you sure you want to say no, Erin?  Is that really the right thing to do?  Think of those that will be disappointed.”

When the pressure bears down too much and I start to question my self-worth, I explode!  There is a war being waged on my boundaries, and I must protect them!

This Is my house. I must defend it.

I want to be angry with the people who have little regard for what I find sacred, but when I sit quietly and dig deep, I am really just angry with doubting myself.  Then come the waves of self-loathing.

It reminds me of overindulging during the holidays.  During all of the social gatherings (and my introvert-mandated recovery from said social events), it seems like a good idea to loose myself in a batch of wreath cookies and a bottle of wine.  But the only thing that ever really results in that is a bloated tummy, a headache, and a deep contempt for myself.  

All of the wreath cookies.

So my intention for 2015 is to avoid the emotional hangover of becoming misaligned with my boundaries.

I want to cultivate a peaceful strength that does not need to be forceful to be heard or back down when the pressure becomes to great.

I’ve worked really hard to discover my personal boundaries.   Now I want to settle into them and feel cozy and safe; not standing at the door on defense just waiting for someone to break in.

I think the confidence that comes from being comfortable will help reaching my other goals more of a reality.

What are you hoping for in 2015?

This is exactly what I am feeling for 2015.

On my Thirty-Seventh Birthday

Today I turn thirty-seven years old.  Thirty-seven is not a milestone birthday.  It’s not like 25 or 30 or 40.  But something about thirty-seven feels like a milestone for me.

Maybe it’s because I have turned a corner with both kids in school, and I’m working from home.  Maybe it’s because I can practice yoga twice a week.  I don’t know.  But I do know that I feel more contentment and peace than I have in a long, long time. 

I mean not perfect contentment that I imagine I would feel if I were chanting ohm on a secluded mountaintop.  More like less angst-y and restless.

I remember when I started my third decade, I spend quite a few nights waking up and running to the bathroom to dry heave and cry.  At first I thought I had the flu or maybe pregnant. 

When neither turned out to be true, I decided maybe I was unhappy.  But how could I be unhappy?  I was happily married and had a beautiful daughter who was deliciously adorable at two years old.

When I quieted my mind and clocked some serious time at my therapist’s office, I came to the conclusion that I was just letting in too much – too many opinions of others, too many judgments, too many self-harming comments.  I couldn’t honor these outside forces and still have enough energy to raise Marie.

So I started to say no to things that made me feel bad. I said no to thing that made my gut red hot with dread.  I said no to things that made me feel drained and sad.  This was not easy at all.  I mean, saying no kind of goes again first-born daughter code.  There were times when I think it would have been easier to join the witness protection program than face my fears of letting anyone down as I decided to live life on my terms.

Which is what was the stem of all my itchy, uncomfortable feelings of going with a flow that was not meant for me.  So little by little, I created something I had never before experienced: personal boundaries.

I didn’t have the language to explain this transformation until I heard Elizabeth Gilbert speakat Oprah’s Life You Want Weekend.  She called her journey a Quest and talked about how it started with crying on the bathroom floor, knowing that she was not on her right path.  Which led her on journey to answer the question: What have I come here to do with my life? 

Wait - there was a name for this?  A Quest?!  I thought I was just going about my business trying to find some way to make sure I didn’t implode while raising my daughter.  But yes, when she explained exactly what a Quest is, I was indeed on one of my own.

She talked about how The Quest is filled with self-doubt and uncertainty that there will be trials, but ultimately when finished, fear is shed.

In fact, all the difficulties were inevitable.  Elizabeth shared that she used to pray for changes in her life, but without all the mess and upheaval.

And with that, the past seven years of my life were validated.  I guess I had the preconceived notion that personal transformation would be a blissful journey. Yes, I was making changes that felt like were aligned with who I really was meant to be, but shit, it was hard.  And messy.   And uncomfortable.

But it would have been more uncomfortable to stay and cry and dry heave and live a life on a path that was not for me than to figure out how I fit in this world.

So I am going to celebrate this non-milestone milestone birthday.  With cake.  Champagne.  Family.  Food.

I did it.  I am on My Quest.  And even thought it’s not easy, it feels pretty damn good.