Why is it that every time I'm having a bad day I feel inclined to blog. Perhaps, because like writing in your journal, its cathartic, but somehow I feel like I'm getting heard (or read) my thoughts and needs acknowledged. But in an anonymous way without having to blubber it all out to your husband or some sympathetic friend and feel embarrassed about the aftermath of it all. I don't even want to begin to address the ramifications of anonymity and the internet. Instead I think I might consider the idea of making the blog private - for only those who don't mind my tendency to overshare (code for complain) on a bad day.
Somehow having a bad day lately leads me to read articles on how to manage stress, how to adjust to being a stay at home mom basically . . . how to fix myself so I am happy with my life. (Funny just last week I was saying to my husband how great it is to be so happy . . . ). Yet after eating way too many chocolate chip cookies for the past three days I realized all my stress eating and moodiness had to be dealt with, so then I turn to internet articles. Guess what I found, Wikihow's how to adjust to being a stay-at-home mom in six easy steps. Ha ha! (Ok in their defense maybe they didn't say easy) but it was implied.
I wondered, how do mom's "make time for themselves" when their child is going through a clingy phase and really only wants to spend time with dad in thirty minute increments? Or how do you make play dates with other mothers when you live in a town of nine hundred people (most you are not really sure if you relate to) and your husband takes the car to work everyday?
Cut things out, be less picky about the house being clean - believe me I already don't iron, don't scrub the tub every week and have resigned myself to the mismatched sheets on our bed. In fact, I probably even do have some free time to relax, but I just can't seem to get out and get away and if I do the question is where would I even go? (And I must confess I feel a little guilty for wanting to get out and away).
Yet when my husband goes out for a night with a friend I find myself secretly resenting the ease with which he can make plans and go. In reality, I know he would support me in a night out . . . but where with who and how with my six month old? Now WikiHow please tackle that problem!
Alright now that its very clear that I'm having a not so private pity party, I feel a little sheepish about even posting this at all. Yet what better venue for venting if not a blog that's not really meant to be read afterall.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Monday, December 5, 2011
S'not pretty
Yesterday was one of those days . . . where everything that I normally try to hold in came out in one big snot running blubber in the middle of Relief Society. Let me tell you that was inconvenient! The first time I made a mad dash for the bathroom composed myself, sat on the toilette, blew my nose twice, put a wet cold paper towel over my red nose and pretended that no one would notice. I'm not sure what really triggered the blubbering - I've been feeling a little bit emotional as of late, wanting to do and be everything and feeling like I'm achieving nothing, no real progress on my thesis, a temp job that pays too little and perpetually messy house and thank you cards that still haven't been sent from our wedding four months ago. Not to mention I didn't do my visiting teaching last month!
Maybe that was what set me off, the lesson was on visiting teaching and suddenly a flood of guilt was overwhelming - I usually can shut myself up, at worse sniffle a little and then go have a good private cry later and write in my journal. But this was no such moment.
I had returned from my first trip to the bathroom to sit down when our branch president's wife started talking about how even many active strong women have their own private trials . . . that was when I moved to the hiccuping cry. (There is a reason I try to be a private cryer, it really is literally messy, I need a roll of toilet paper an ice pack and some ib profen to get through). My second mad dash for the bathroom was definitely more noticeable. No hiding the mixture of snot and tears running down my face.
Now really, perfectly rational this morning I can tell you that I am making slow but persistent progress on my thesis, I got a dollar raise for my job a month ago and that my husband is a sweet heart who doesn't mind a messy house, or quickly helps me to clean if I ask. As for the thank you cards and visiting teaching . . . I am simply human.
However, that's the problem, I don't want to be human, I want to be perfect (or at least in public have some semblance of holding it together, or some major reason like a death in the family, for falling apart). I want to be the woman who does her visiting teaching every month, reads her scriptures faithfully every day, exercises at least four times a week, prepares balanced meals, finishes her thesis on time . . . etc.
Instead I'm hiding out in the bathroom blubbering about all the things I'm not; my charade of holding it together was long over. So I sat there and contemplated when Relief Society would get out and if I could slink off quickly and get my scriptures without anyone noticing. Or at least if the red puffiness of my nose would go down enough that my husband wouldn't get too alarmed. He was teaching a lesson on loving your wife in Elders Quorum and the last thing I wanted to do was interupt that lesson sobbing.
I wish there were some reason for feeling so emotionally overwhelmed (being pregnant would be a great excuse). But there I was with no good reason except my own expectations and I wonder why I do this to myself? I'm not sure that other people expect that of me . . . if they do they don't voice it. Instead, Bobby clears the women out of the bathroom, my branch president's wife guards the door, and he pulls me out of the stall like a small sad child and tells me that he loves me. Feeling more than a little folish for my breakdown, and wondering if I'm a basketcase, I wonder why it is I even started crying. But I know really. Some how in all the mix of everything, I just kept feeling like I don't quite measure up, and that's the funny thing. Me with a wonderful life, great husband, great family, job, cute house and enough to meet my needsstill I have a nagging feeling of inadequacy.
So I went home, snuggled with Bobby on the couch, read ensign articles about dealing with guilt - and started again making a mental to-do list of what I needed to get done in the next week and how to do it all . . . or not. But in the back of my mind I keep thinking about the what one of our branch members said in his testimony, that we're all a little broken. I identify with the feeling. Broken as in incapable of doing it all, and especially doing it all myself.
Snuggled up to my husband I realized that being broken doesn't mean being unloved or unuseful (as evidenced by the mass outpooring of love that came through notes, emails, and muffins after my blubbering) but instead simply human. And I, as a human, can live with that.
Maybe that was what set me off, the lesson was on visiting teaching and suddenly a flood of guilt was overwhelming - I usually can shut myself up, at worse sniffle a little and then go have a good private cry later and write in my journal. But this was no such moment.
I had returned from my first trip to the bathroom to sit down when our branch president's wife started talking about how even many active strong women have their own private trials . . . that was when I moved to the hiccuping cry. (There is a reason I try to be a private cryer, it really is literally messy, I need a roll of toilet paper an ice pack and some ib profen to get through). My second mad dash for the bathroom was definitely more noticeable. No hiding the mixture of snot and tears running down my face.
Now really, perfectly rational this morning I can tell you that I am making slow but persistent progress on my thesis, I got a dollar raise for my job a month ago and that my husband is a sweet heart who doesn't mind a messy house, or quickly helps me to clean if I ask. As for the thank you cards and visiting teaching . . . I am simply human.
However, that's the problem, I don't want to be human, I want to be perfect (or at least in public have some semblance of holding it together, or some major reason like a death in the family, for falling apart). I want to be the woman who does her visiting teaching every month, reads her scriptures faithfully every day, exercises at least four times a week, prepares balanced meals, finishes her thesis on time . . . etc.
Instead I'm hiding out in the bathroom blubbering about all the things I'm not; my charade of holding it together was long over. So I sat there and contemplated when Relief Society would get out and if I could slink off quickly and get my scriptures without anyone noticing. Or at least if the red puffiness of my nose would go down enough that my husband wouldn't get too alarmed. He was teaching a lesson on loving your wife in Elders Quorum and the last thing I wanted to do was interupt that lesson sobbing.
I wish there were some reason for feeling so emotionally overwhelmed (being pregnant would be a great excuse). But there I was with no good reason except my own expectations and I wonder why I do this to myself? I'm not sure that other people expect that of me . . . if they do they don't voice it. Instead, Bobby clears the women out of the bathroom, my branch president's wife guards the door, and he pulls me out of the stall like a small sad child and tells me that he loves me. Feeling more than a little folish for my breakdown, and wondering if I'm a basketcase, I wonder why it is I even started crying. But I know really. Some how in all the mix of everything, I just kept feeling like I don't quite measure up, and that's the funny thing. Me with a wonderful life, great husband, great family, job, cute house and enough to meet my needsstill I have a nagging feeling of inadequacy.
So I went home, snuggled with Bobby on the couch, read ensign articles about dealing with guilt - and started again making a mental to-do list of what I needed to get done in the next week and how to do it all . . . or not. But in the back of my mind I keep thinking about the what one of our branch members said in his testimony, that we're all a little broken. I identify with the feeling. Broken as in incapable of doing it all, and especially doing it all myself.
Snuggled up to my husband I realized that being broken doesn't mean being unloved or unuseful (as evidenced by the mass outpooring of love that came through notes, emails, and muffins after my blubbering) but instead simply human. And I, as a human, can live with that.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
The abundant life
This week I've been reading and thinking about what it means to have an abundant life - our Sunday school lesson is in the New Testament in John and I've always loved the scripture "I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly." Beyond the concept that I know Christ brought eternal life, I can't help but think of all the simple ways my life is abundant.
In the middle of trying to stretch a small budget even farther, hoping to make ends meet, and even save a little until I find a job the thought of an abundant life seems ironic. Yet now, more than many other times in my life I feel incredibly blessed with abundance, an abundance of confidence, peace, happiness and faith. I made some wonderful discoveries about what makes my life abundant and the idea that surprised and delighted me was how important the concept of creativity was in an abundant life. Though abundance comes from saving and serving in the middle of all of that is the importance of actively participating in the creation process,creating a person who lives abundantly, who is motivated by things that she loves and who has the strength to take responsibility for her own well-being .
Perhaps what I really want to say is that I found some amazing quotes that I want to define my abundant life!
President Monson - In Quest of the Abundant Life:
"The spirit of exploration whether it be of the surface of the earth, the vastness of space, or the principles of living greatly, include developing the capacity to face trouble with courage, disappointment with cheerfulness; and triumph with humility."
"God gives man the challenge of raw materials, not the ease of finished things."
"To measure the goodness of life by its delights, and pleasures and safety is to apply a false standard."
"In our science oriented age, we conquer space but cannot control self; hence we forfeit peace."
Joseph B. Wirthlin
"Fully understood and embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ heals broken hearts, infuses meaning into lives, binds loved ones together with ties that transcend mortality, and brings to life a sublime joy."
"It is not a gospel of chains but a gospel of wings."
"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." Albert Camus
In the middle of trying to stretch a small budget even farther, hoping to make ends meet, and even save a little until I find a job the thought of an abundant life seems ironic. Yet now, more than many other times in my life I feel incredibly blessed with abundance, an abundance of confidence, peace, happiness and faith. I made some wonderful discoveries about what makes my life abundant and the idea that surprised and delighted me was how important the concept of creativity was in an abundant life. Though abundance comes from saving and serving in the middle of all of that is the importance of actively participating in the creation process,creating a person who lives abundantly, who is motivated by things that she loves and who has the strength to take responsibility for her own well-being .
Perhaps what I really want to say is that I found some amazing quotes that I want to define my abundant life!
President Monson - In Quest of the Abundant Life:
"The spirit of exploration whether it be of the surface of the earth, the vastness of space, or the principles of living greatly, include developing the capacity to face trouble with courage, disappointment with cheerfulness; and triumph with humility."
"God gives man the challenge of raw materials, not the ease of finished things."
"To measure the goodness of life by its delights, and pleasures and safety is to apply a false standard."
"In our science oriented age, we conquer space but cannot control self; hence we forfeit peace."
Joseph B. Wirthlin
"Fully understood and embraced the gospel of Jesus Christ heals broken hearts, infuses meaning into lives, binds loved ones together with ties that transcend mortality, and brings to life a sublime joy."
"It is not a gospel of chains but a gospel of wings."
"In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." Albert Camus
Monday, April 25, 2011
Contented rambling
I just ate the last of my box of strawberries that I bought a few days ago for our Easter dinner fruit salad. I'm practicing the art of taking time out to relax tonight . . . I was thinking about the movie Eat Pray Love where the Italian man is explaining how Americans don't really know how to relax - just be entertained - and I'm out to prove him wrong. I'm listening to a little Etta James, blogging and day dreaming . . . just a little.
There is something really rich in the satisfaction of relaxing - funny how writing the blog is a relax time - I think I'd see that pattern if I looked back to read them (all Andrea's rambling philosophizing that I'd be a little embarrassed for anyone to read except the people that love me already). I don't know if its the fact that I'm two papers away from taking my last class of my master's degree or the warm evening and April rain that make me feel like I want to slow down and enjoy, but somehow I feel incredibly grateful tonight. I picked up my roommate's book men are from Mars and women are from Venus . . . and yet somehow I didn't feel the need to analyze my relationship, myself or my boyfriend - instead I felt incredibly content with it all. My mom sent me a little email today saying how my dad had commented on how happy I seemed - and its true, I am happy. I'm not quite sure why and how I get this blessing now, but I am so grateful for it!
A worried me would analyze the risks, look for guarantees and securities . . . but tonight Etta James and I aren't analyzing - we're just relaxing and enjoying a Sunday kind of love.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nfNLspDL3ns
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Kitchen Memories
I'm sitting in my favorite place in our apartment, perched on top of our chest freezer, with my back up against the wall and a great view of the sink. I'm not quite sure why I love it here so much, but I think a lot about how much time I spent in the kitchen when I was little and maybe that's the attraction. I love food . . . but that's not really what its all about.
In our kitchen we had brown and yellow and orange linoleum flooring - sixties style. Sometimes it was my job to scrub it and I can remember how the years of dirt never seemed to scrub out of that paisley square pattern. Yet somehow, I ended up in the kitchen, often sitting on the floor or climbing the counter tops.
When I was kindergarten, my mom would pull out one of the lower drawers, moving the measuring cups and rolling pin, and make into a little table where she would serve me lunch so I could be with her while she worked. (Our big table was in our dining room).
But my favorite place was the big square of sunlight that came in from the large old-fashioned windows and would warm up our yellow and orange linoleum. I would sit there in the mornings, before our old house had heated up, like a cat soaking up the sun. I don't remember whether I talked to my mom, or just sat . . . but I find it interesting that here I am again, in the kitchen.
I chatter to my roommate while she's doing dishes, or smile at my boyfriend as he's making me dinner (I know, isn't he wonderful!) but somehow the kitchen always seems to be a gathering place. And I think I've found my favorite spot again, perched up here on top of the chest freezer, writing away on my blog.
Its funny, I haven't written for awhile because of the hubbub of my life, adjusting to a new relationship and trying to make life plans post graduation - somehow that all seemed to confusing to put on a blog. Yet here I am again - a comment from a friend, a request from my mom, and I'm writing. But not about that big life, ironically, instead what I remember sitting here is the simplicity of kitchens, warm memories and feeling safe. Perhaps this is why I blog.
In our kitchen we had brown and yellow and orange linoleum flooring - sixties style. Sometimes it was my job to scrub it and I can remember how the years of dirt never seemed to scrub out of that paisley square pattern. Yet somehow, I ended up in the kitchen, often sitting on the floor or climbing the counter tops.
When I was kindergarten, my mom would pull out one of the lower drawers, moving the measuring cups and rolling pin, and make into a little table where she would serve me lunch so I could be with her while she worked. (Our big table was in our dining room).
But my favorite place was the big square of sunlight that came in from the large old-fashioned windows and would warm up our yellow and orange linoleum. I would sit there in the mornings, before our old house had heated up, like a cat soaking up the sun. I don't remember whether I talked to my mom, or just sat . . . but I find it interesting that here I am again, in the kitchen.
I chatter to my roommate while she's doing dishes, or smile at my boyfriend as he's making me dinner (I know, isn't he wonderful!) but somehow the kitchen always seems to be a gathering place. And I think I've found my favorite spot again, perched up here on top of the chest freezer, writing away on my blog.
Its funny, I haven't written for awhile because of the hubbub of my life, adjusting to a new relationship and trying to make life plans post graduation - somehow that all seemed to confusing to put on a blog. Yet here I am again - a comment from a friend, a request from my mom, and I'm writing. But not about that big life, ironically, instead what I remember sitting here is the simplicity of kitchens, warm memories and feeling safe. Perhaps this is why I blog.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
I'm not just happily hoping . . .
Have you ever spent so much of your life wanting something to happen and then it does . . . and you have to pinch yourself to believe that you're really in it? That's a little of what my life feels like right now. In the middle of all the jumble and hustle of trying to write a thesis, get my course work done and live my life, its there. Part of me wants to write all the details of my happy life on my blog and spill it all out, but mostly I just want to sit here quietly and enjoy how sometimes in life I don't need to hope - because good things really do come true.
I think I spend so much of my life looking to the future and planning for it, but days like today I can live just in the moment and enjoy it all. The sunny skies, laughing and playing, good conversation, good food and most of all the sweet together time.
I'm still stressed about how to get my thesis written by the deadline, find a job, know where to move, and shape my career, but despite all of that I can't help but acknowledge life is good - better than I expected.
I think I spend so much of my life looking to the future and planning for it, but days like today I can live just in the moment and enjoy it all. The sunny skies, laughing and playing, good conversation, good food and most of all the sweet together time.
I'm still stressed about how to get my thesis written by the deadline, find a job, know where to move, and shape my career, but despite all of that I can't help but acknowledge life is good - better than I expected.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Reflections on a Good Life
Its been a long day, the middle of the first week back at school and I feel tired! I committed to helping the missionaries today and in the middle of driving back and forth across town I wondered at the wisdom of taking out so much time for chauffeuring, lessons and dinner, when comps are looming over my head, and my to-do list already seems longer than I can manage. (Granted everything feels dramatic on Wednesdays when the weekend is still 3 days away) but I couldn't help but think, why again did I say yes to this? But on my drive home tonight I remembered.
Shelly, my new friend from China is taking the lessons with the missionaries and came to institute with me. As we talked about my feelings about institute and the church on the way home she said. "I read the things Sister Nien gave me to read and I know that there is truth to them. I felt touched in my heart."
I was quiet. I was touched. Her faith was so simple in the truth of words she didn't completely understand, and it put my feelings of being overwhelmed with normally daily things back into perspective. I remembered why I take time, to remember what is I believe and know and what is important. Shelly gave me a gift tonight, when I was concentrating on the "great" sacrifice and service I provided, her simple faith gave me the boost to remind of what I know. That the Lord loves me, His words are true and everything will be alright.
How could I not feel grateful for my life tonight?
Shelly, my new friend from China is taking the lessons with the missionaries and came to institute with me. As we talked about my feelings about institute and the church on the way home she said. "I read the things Sister Nien gave me to read and I know that there is truth to them. I felt touched in my heart."
I was quiet. I was touched. Her faith was so simple in the truth of words she didn't completely understand, and it put my feelings of being overwhelmed with normally daily things back into perspective. I remembered why I take time, to remember what is I believe and know and what is important. Shelly gave me a gift tonight, when I was concentrating on the "great" sacrifice and service I provided, her simple faith gave me the boost to remind of what I know. That the Lord loves me, His words are true and everything will be alright.
How could I not feel grateful for my life tonight?
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