Tag: The Happiness Project: Or Why I Spent a Year Trying to Sing in the Morning Clean My Closets Fight Right Read Aristotle and Generally Have More Fun

Writing is hard, mmmmmkay?

Ok, the writing itself isn’t hard. Really, it’s carving out the time to do it. Yes, I make time to do other things, such as watching tv with my partner, read stories to my preschooler, stare off into blank space, and of course, the ultimate time suck: scroll through social media. But lately, we’ve been falling into the rhythm of the change in season (and daylight savings, since I’ve not had to do that in many years. Hats off to Arizona for not succumbing to such silliness). The days are getting shorter, the air getting significantly colder, and motivation getting harder to muster.

Instead of writing, I’ve been doing my best to get into a gym schedule that works with my every-pressing work obligations. My ability to keep healthy during the long Midwest winters is something I’ve been striving for the last few months. I do not want to get into a rut of laziness, certainly not before my sunny mid-winter vacation we’ve got planned. I want to look and feel strong and healthy alongside my family while taking in the sea air and ocean views.

Moreover, I’ve been looking into winterizing my car, and looking for ways to keep myself happy when “outside” isn’t on my radar. We are investing in full spectrum light bulbs to ward off the SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), of which I definitely struggle, and also fun things to do indoors for a houseful of people who are busybodies. Interactive games and toys that span a wide range of ages are easier said than done. We have a preschooler and teenagers, in addition to adults with short attention spans.

As I have done many times in my recent past, I’ve made a decision about this new season (read: goddamn it’s cold), and that is to embrace it. Despite the fact that everyone in my house has fallen ill in the last few weeks, I’ve maintained my immune system’s fortitude. I do not plan on being anything but healthy throughout this winter (and beyond). I will continue to boost my immunity with elderberry, zinc, vitamin C, and my standard multi-vitamins, but more to the point, I have made the mental and emotional choice to remain mentally healthy too. SAD is a real, and sometimes serious condition, especially in this part of the US.

I’m not saying I won’t have down days, because that’s a distinct possibility as the grey wears on for weeks. The winter here is just starting, and I’ve got a long time before we see much of the sun again. However, the decision I’ve made is this: I am going to embrace this part of my life here. Not just for me, but for my partner and the kiddos in our lives. They all look to me, consciously or not, to be a constant grounding force in our home. I owe it to myself to accept and love the life I’ve chosen, even if this climate is exactly the opposite of my desire. But I also owe it to my family to be happy, present, and connective as much as possible.

The cold sucks, the snow sucks, the winter that drags on for what seems like eons, sucks. But, I have the power to smile through it. To see my daughter see snow for the first time, to build forts, and throw snowballs, and go sledding, and throw herself into snow banks, just as I did so many years ago. I have the opportunity to experience my youth again, and all the excitement I once had, with fresh eyes and wonder, with her and through her. I also get to do it with the family I’ve chosen, to create new memories with them, to share experiences with them. I’m so grateful and I cannot wait.

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Wake Up

When I typed in “bed”, to search for a photo to go at the top of this entry, there were quite a few clocks similar to the one I chose above. It’s very strange that searching for a bed, I get a clock. However, it’s rather fitting, given the title.

Waking up, is quite literally the very first thing we do each day. Not “being awake”, as to many of us “awake” is a much different state than “waking up”. For a large portion of us, the thing letting us know that IT IS TIME, is often a loud thing in our ears. Whether it’s an alarm clock, a child, pet, or partner, something jolted us from asleep, to awake.

I, personally, take issue with this jolting part. I’m sure many others do too. However, unlike many people, at least in my life, I do not like snoozing. I typically, if left to my own devices, just get up when I wake up. Recently, my partner has been quite persuasive in encouraging me to remain in our warm, comfy bed a few minutes longer than I would otherwise. I silently think he’s using it to feel better about himself snoozing a bit extra, but don’t tell him I said that. ;)

In reality though, I tend to oversleep and wind up rushing, rather than allowing myself a few extra moments of relaxation before stepping out the front door. When you have a small child, spare minutes are really helpful. Especially since my kiddo is a sleeper. She will sleep 10 hours or more if I let her. Unfortunately, like her father, she’s also a night owl. I’m an early bird, so her bedtime is early, because she has school and I have work. Also, she takes forever to wake up more days than not. It’s annoying trying to coax a preschooler out of bed at 6am, without a major fight.

I know there are some kids like me, and you are all my people. I’ve never been a sleeper, not even during my partiest of party years. I was always on time for work, even after virtually or actually zero sleep the night(s) before. I wasn’t even a sleepy child. But I think the reasons for that are more anxiety related, and maybe they still are.

Which leads me to discuss the real topic of today’s blog. The sleeping habits of my family was merely a segue.

There’s a new culture about that’s gained popularity and a name. Woke. I’m by no means an expert on popular culture in any fashion, but I pay attention to things. Woke culture seems to be heavily intersecting with Call-out culture which has shone a light on a number of really great things, but I also think that they can be really damaging in certain contexts.

Trust me when I say that I’m an absolute advocate for human, animal, and environmental rights. I’ve spent the majority of my adult life as an activist, but part of me wonders, what happened exactly to letting others do their own thing, as long as they’re not hurting anyone else? I had a teacher in high school say that my rights as a person end at the tip of my nose, or that my rights do not extend to a place where yours are being infringed upon. So, who are people that are telling me that I’m wrong for doing X,Y, or Z, if it’s not affecting them in any way? I’m just over here, doing my thing.

If I’m over here being an asshole, I fully deserve to be called out, but if I have purple hair (which I do at 38 yrs old), who cares? If my partner and I have tattoos and have the nerve to swim in a public pool, who gives a shit? Why do people suddenly feel entitled to give me or him or anyone else flack for that?

The short answer: you don’t. Knock it off. End of discussion. Pretty simple. Stop it. The end.

But meanwhile there’s politicians trying to legislate women’s bodies, the rights of trans people, and profiteering from war and gun violence. There’s something seriously wrong with this. If you want to call anyone out, let’s call out our legislators. Call your congressmen and women. Get woke to real shit and let’s be working toward equality and rights for us all. Instead, there’s a bunch of infighting, bickering, and worse. Knock it off. Your rights end at the end of your nose. You don’t get to be in charge of anyone else’s body, mind, rights, etc. Stop it. End of discussion.

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Progress

It’s funny how when we make plans and goals, that sometimes we just get distracted. Ok, I get distracted. I’m not going to project that same behavior on anyone else. Life happens, time slips away from us me, and I’m too tired, or unable to focus on what I really want to do, because I’ve spent so much time doing other stuff.

I had a plan last night to write for this blog. I had some extra time and I chose to spend it with my family. I got to lounge around the house with my partner and my kiddo. Hung out with the pets, sat on the couch and watched tv. It was pretty great. I could have stayed at work, despite having nothing going on but noisy construction that was making it hard to think and breathe. Instead, I went home to nurse my migraine and had to justify the wage loss for doing so to myself, for much of the afternoon.

I felt like I was letting my boss down (who was also out sick) and the rest of my team. However, I was not going to be effective given the situation, and I had to come to terms with that. I did all the important stuff, but then I bailed. In my haste, I misread my calendar and was late to a meeting this morning, but that was a separate thing. Coming in early is a challenge when you have a small one, especially when it’s several times a month, and it changes often. Anyway, I digress. The point is that 1) I didn’t do my stuff yesterday because I was distracted and 2) leaving work early was awesome, but also I felt guilty for leaving.

I often feel like a juggler, spinning plates constantly. It’s truly exhausting to keep all the plates moving, while not losing my freaking mind in the process. In the attempt to simplify my life, and improve the quality of it, I feel like I need to revamp my 40 day challenge. The meditation element has to stay, as it’s the catalyst for the whole challenge in and of itself. I’ve been sort of accidentally exercising lately anyway (thanks to tracking it on my watch), because I’ve been doing a lot of stair climbing, chasing after people and animals, and we’ve been going out and doing stuff.

For instance, we walked around the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden on Sunday, and I chased my kiddo around the meadow for a long time, between viewing the beautiful artwork in the park. I easily walked 10 miles that day before, during, and after our outing.

https://walkerart.org/visit/garden

Moreover, this challenge is supposed to be challenging, yes, but it’s meant to be a blessing and a way of drawing in more life and love, while lessening the feelings of burden and obligation. I love writing, and someday I will make a living doing it in some way. But writing everyday has been a difficulty, primarily on weekends. So I’m no longer requiring myself to write every single day.

I will commit to 4 days, and keep the 500 word minimum. I think that will keep me feeling energized about GETTING TO wrote, rather than feeling distracted and HAVING TO. I love my family, but they make it difficult to focus, because I’m so easily distracted. And truthfully, I want to be with them. I’m at work much of my day and I find it hard to spend as much quality time with them as I want to, because it’s very much a get up- go to work- come home- cook dinner- go to bed- start over tomorrow life in this modern world. I am working on simplifying though, and creating a better work/life balance. It just takes time to materialize. I will get there. And it will be marvelous.

Until next time. Thank you for reading.

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The art of worry

The art of worrying.

If worrying were an artform, I’d be Picasso, or DaVinci, or some other famous savant in the craft. I combine my worry skillfully with millennia of guilt, thanks to my genetics and harsh upbringing. This 1 x 2 punch of worry and guilt paved the way for extreme bouts of anxiety and panic attacks later in life. From even a very early age, I recall behaving so rigidly, mastering the delicate balance between internal control and external chaos. I had utmost personal control until I was about 17. I had fallen prey to and overcome disordered eating and many more potentially damaging self-control behaviors to have some sort of balance in an unbalanced world. Once the anxiety and panic attacks began, it was significantly harder to control the deluge of emotion that had been bottled. 

However, as an adult, I’ve developed much better coping mechanisms. I focus more on positivity and meditation. I have expanded my consciousness in countless ways, over many years. I do yoga and practice gratitude for the things that I am so blessed with in this life. Stemming from making it this far, when I shouldn’t have, by all accounts. Yet, I still battle my worry/shame/guilt demons regularly.

With the help of more self-help books than I can even recall, some brilliant scholars and experts on these and many more topics of interest, I can mange these character flaws more readily. But I still worry. I worry about the things that have happened, that might happen, that are likely to happen, and that could not happen in a million years. I fret about the health and well-being of everyone I have ever, and never, met. Every animal, every tree, everyone. I worry about every-single-one.

Because I’m such a skilled worrier, I barely even notice that I’m doing it, until I notice I’m doing it. I’ll have 100 thoughts of things cross my brain before I pin point that I am worrying about nothing, or everything, as it were.

More to the point though, I am actively ending this cycle of needless worrying. I am focusing on all the things that I can do, of which worrying, will not accomplish. I am focusing on the immense sense of gratitude that I feel with each breath in my chest, each beat of my heart. I think not only of the worry in the back of my psyche, but also the love that I see all around. I see the helpers, doing great things and changing the world. I am grateful for them. I choose to feel the warmth of life, instead the coldness of heartache. I believe deeply in my soul that worrying accomplishes nothing productive, but rather takes all your forward momentum out of you, leaving you bobbing in the waves without a sail.

A friend asked for advice the other day and was stressing about something that wasn’t genuinely important to really anyone. Instead my friend used the better part of a day, thinking about something that they knew the answer to, but had to have confirmation. They had to “know”, so worrying all day took all their attention away from other things, and I felt sad for them. I recognized that they were fretting about nothing and they largely ended up exactly where they started when all was revealed. Except they and another person were heated, for no good reason. So much wasted energy and emotion over something that didn’t matter. But they needed the anxiety of “not knowing” to end. So, they worried and analyzed and turned it over in their head. I am so guilty of this. I do it constantly. I’ve done it as long as I can remember. Turning over things from the past, far beyond the reaches of anyone else involved. I’m positive that the other people didn’t give these scenarios a second look, and here I am dwelling for over a decade about something that was done or said. How much energy I’ve wasted on trivialities. 

I’m glad that I’ve embarked on this journey of reflection and self-actualization, because without it, I’d have taken a much longer time to recognize these things in myself that I do and feel powerless to change. I recognize my shortcomings and do better with every opportunity possible. I’m an imperfect human, bound to the confines of humanity… but I am striving to get better every single day.

This is not to discount the struggles of anyone else, by any means. I know that my friend does not want these intrusive thoughts, and they battle them often. My heart goes out to them and other like us that are often crippled with things in our heads that we cannot shake. I spent a large part of my evening one day this week rolling it over in my head how I “could have” prevented a tragedy that I witnessed. It still haunts my mind as I type this. However, my rational brain knows that it’s unlikely that there was anything that could have changed things. Possibly prolonged them, but the results were likely to be the same. It breaks my heart either way. I remember to breathe. Focus on the things that I can control in this world, and put simply, I can only control myself.

Thanks for reading. 

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Landlocked

There’s a song by Death Cab for Cutie titled Brothers on a Hotel Bed, with a line “even landlocked lovers yearn for the sea like navy men”. As someone who has been living in landlocked states for the majority of my life, I understand this with great clarity.

Listen to it here

There’s some scientific evidence about the health benefits of living near the coast (Article) that are wide ranging and in many ways, primal. I’ve heard benefits include negative ions in the air is similar to being surrounded 24/7 by a salt lamp, improving mood, sleep patterns, and more. During the brief time I lived in Southern California, I was still about an hour (without traffic) from the ocean. I highly doubt the benefits stretched quite that far, but I was close enough to eek out some of it, I’m sure.

Back to the Death Cab lyrics.

It’s partly about growing older, but I feel as though it’s also a relationship that’s reaching its end as well. “You may tire of me, as our December sun is setting, because I’m not who I used to be.”

I know so much about this. It’s hard not to change, and one of the great tragedies of life is that you’re not guaranteed to grow in the same direction, at the same pace, or even remotely in the same fashion as your romantic partners, friends, or family. It’s hard to have a lasting connection with someone who has grown to live on another planet.

But it’s with any relationship with another fallible human, you run the risk of being on different planes. It’s hard to find people who share the same wavelength, let alone for any amount of time. “Because now we say goodnight, from our own separate sides, like brothers on a hotel bed”

Sleeping in a bed with someone with whom you don’t connect, is weird and hard. I had a partner years ago, that didn’t like to be touched at night. I wasn’t able to rest my head or hands on him, let alone embrace. It was like there was a vast divide between us, lacking intimacy completely. I wasn’t allowed to even sleep close enough to feel his body heat. Previous to him, my first husband, near the end of our relationship we slept like burritos on opposite edges of a king size bed, in our own separate blankets. You easily could have snuck another full person and none of us would have touched.

It’s been like that more recently too, progressively getting further away. We slept in separate beds after a while, partly because we had a small child in ours with me who was still nursing, and partly because of good old fashioned stubbornness from us both. I had, for a long time, been wedged between him and her, scarcely occupying space at all. Just enough to slide in and out at bedtime or waking. But that’s what I’ve been conditioned to do.

Scarcely occupy space.

Not just in my romantic partnerships, but even as a child. I was watched by my grandfather, and he was old school. Rigid. Children are to be quiet, keep themselves busy without making a mess, or noise, or anything. We weren’t allowed outside, unless we were all outside. He couldn’t watch us, if he couldn’t see us. So for many many many hours growing up, I sat silent, not touching anything or anyone. That probably explains why I’m so outgoing now, and a hugger. Man, am I a hugger. My kid loves it (for now), but many adults think it’s weird, especially those in which I’m not particularly close or familiar.

I think physical connection makes people uncomfortable these days, in general. We are so accustomed to being totally isolated from physical contact, save for the strangely obligatory handshake. We often live in cubicles, our cars, small parts of large houses. Scarcely occupying space.

For me, this notion that we need to be isolated is totally nuts. I think it’s by and large a good chunk of why we are so miserable as a society. We simply aren’t wired to be separate. Granted, I dislike greatly strangers I do not invite to, touching me, I’ll shake hands with virtually anyone, and dish out shittons of hugs.

It just makes me truly sad that when we are disconnecting with someone, that one of the first, quiet signs, is that the gap between your physical space widens. I understand that you can’t spoon every night for decades, but we can be near, can’t we? I read somewhere that when relationships are near implosion, sex is still something that regularly happens, because as I’ve heard, needs. But KISSING stops long before the sex. It’s that intimate, face to face contact that falls away. “Like brothers on a hotel bed.”

Thanks for reading.

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