A New Mindset With A Side Dish of Existing Reality



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Each day is new, but always includes our existing reality from yesterday.

 

Every minute is a chance to live, but it is also another opportunity to improve our mindset.

As many do, I find myself buried under the weight of life. Of the possibilities that get swept under the rug once my head hits the pillow. Of the thoughts that always invade when I close my eyes.

My mind's switch is broken. Never obeying my instructions when I scream "Light's out".Kind of like my children, but we won't go there.  



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My desk is full of notes, blatantly nagging me to be productive. To use them. To create something from that one word. That sentence that scars the paper's surface is yearning for a home.

 

These ideas often sit and gather dust. Mocking my mindless sleep deprived brain.

 

  

 

 

 

 

All are products of my disobedient brain. It's choosing when to think. When to produce. And I'm rarely ready, when it happens.

 

 

I am working hard on setting up a writing routine and also space to call my own.  Not the kitchen table....where my laptop is decorated with that day's art project or the latest permission slip. And definitely NOT my bedroom, where my husband likes to "check" in on me.

 

An area that is M-I-N-E.  (Again, I am an only child, so some habits can not be broken.)

 

To encourage myself to be more productive,  I have set goals for myself. To some this is not a strange thing to do.  It's actually quite normal for me to set them....... To complete them is another story.

Excuse the cuss word...but I firmly think we all try (unintentionally, of course) to achieve #1.
It's just not very realistic.
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Past attempts at goal setting have been short lived. Maybe this is a form of ADHD? A result of being a busy mom? A form of laziness?.

 

Or just not being mentally prepared to achieve the end result?

 

 Instant gratification tendencies....be damned.....here's it goes. To make myself accountable, I thought I would share a few with you. I seem to do well under pressure.

 

 

Short & Long Term Goals

1.) Finish the first draft of my novel.

2.) Complete my "Cloffice" upstairs. 

3.) Volunteer more at my children's school. (Now, I am still me - so I have taken baby steps with this.....a few hours a week is enough.)

4.) Work out a schedule for blogging & social media marketing for my blog and author site.

5.) Don't second guess myself..... See last week's post, to get a glimpse of my inner struggle with this.

 

 

 

**Disclaimer to my Husband: 

Due to these stressful tasks I am undertaking.... I am not to be held liable for my crankiness.  Please excuse any abrupt outbursts. I respond well to quiet hugs (with no groping) and cookies.

Me, Myself, and a Million Uninvited Ideas

As a writer, I argue with my own thoughts constantly. There are times when I don't know which ideas are good and which are bad.



I portray a totally different thought process...... depending on my moods. On bad days, I want to give up and burn every piece of writing that I have. On good days, I want to sing so loud that everyone can hear me. Then there are the mediocre days. These are the days, when I feel lost but still have enough strength to find my way out.

This past Saturday, I experienced a bad and a mediocre day. All within a time span of a few hours.



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Just me.....myself......and a  million, uninvited ideas.  All of us were cruising south down IH 35, after Saturday's class.  No matter if my car were the size of a Greyhound Bus,  it would of been too close for comfort.  Trying my best to ignore my passengers, I resisted the urge to open the driver door and bail.

 

No, I am not crazy....just a writer and an over-thinker.

Let me introduce you to the passengers on board the Car Ride from Hell.......

 Me, is someone I have known all my life. She is usually the driver, in most situations. On occasion, she will allow someone else to take the wheel. But it is rare. Always focused at the task at hand, she knows exactly how long it would take from Point A to Point B. She is a no nonsense kind of girl. Well, most of the time......

 Myself, is a little trigger happy. She prefers to ride shotgun most trips. Mouthing off whenever the mood strikes her. She rarely filters what she thinks before it flies from her mouth. She is not allowed out much. She was overwhelmed at this particular time. She wanted to stop for a milkshake. She needed to stop and pee. She was annoying Me.

 

Finally, meet the Million Ideas, who occupied the back seat and any other crevice they could squeeze in to. Some of them lacked brains and had no common sense.  These were the ones rolling around and flying into the front seat, at each tap of the brake. The good ones, stayed tucked away. Scared for their life.



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Me and Myself  became quite irritated about 5 miles in. Causing Myself, the uninhibited one, to spit curse words every 5 seconds.  She was also busy blaming Me for signing us up for this class. Because of Me, we had to deal with the unruly ideas flying around.

 

You see, knowledge does this. We take it all in, but Myself forgets to siphon the nonsense out. Allowing our brain to become so full. Thoughts become murky. The information turns sticky, thick and useless.

I needed to calm us down.

So, I allowed Myself to talk Me into  that chocolate milkshake. Bribery works with kids, right? Well, this situation was not much different. 

 

After stopping and calmly ordering, we waited. Allowing Myself and the  Million Ideas time to fight it out. We took the "may the best one win" approach.



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 By the time our dessert was delivered, a truce was called. We also lightened the load.  Kicking out a few of the stupid, useless ideas while buckling in the ones with possibilities.



 "Myself"  passed out from a sugar coma within a mile.....



 And, "Me"?

Well, she turned up the radio and enjoyed the inner silence that had been achieved. 



My View from the Back Row

Having to witness a friend deal with marital issues is hard. Maybe because I am an Alumni to the School of Divorce. Maybe because I love her so much and hate to see her life disrupted and trampled on. Maybe it is a bit of both.

Trying to manage other's decisions is easier when they have no impact on you and your life. We tend to give our opinions and force those opinions into an already rocky situation. This is neither healthy or wise for a friendship. 

 

I made the decision to stand back and stay silent.  Offering support, yet allowing her room to contemplate her decision.

Going through marriage is difficult. Period. You have bought a ticket, expecting a glorious love story. Instead you are faced with drama, heartache, and suspense. Of course, there is love and sex tangled in there somewhere......but sometimes that is not enough  to get you through to the end.

 

 

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 From my vantage point, I feel I have a clearer perspective. Unfortunately, I can't share this with her.  She is up in the front row.  Blinded by the brightness. Unable to hear due to life's constant noise.  I can see her shoulders slouch from back here. The emotional special effects, pushing her down.

 I don't dare join them. The seats next to her, blocked off by caution tape, are not safe for anyone.  I can't point out the obvious or interrupt their moments with judgment. I just sit. Invited to their private viewing, due to friendship, does not give me the right to judge. 

I was there, in the front row, during the demise of my first marriage.

I was up close and personal with the well-worn seat cushions, that my friends are now seated in. These seats were already thread bear and worn when I had my turn. And sadly...... I know my friends will not be the last to occupy them.



 I taste the bile that rises from my stomach from being back in the same theater. It physically makes me ill as flashbacks assault me. I am reminded that no one is immune to this reality.

Many years ago, I was seated in the front row.  Beside someone who vowed to honor, love and protect me. The close proximity of that one person, was enough to make my heart flutter...... or my skin crawl, depending on the moment.  When I felt brave enough, I would grab his hand and test the waters. Yearning to feel something to prove that our marriage was worth saving,

I could rarely, stand the previews of the coming attraction, knowing  that the feature movie would turn my world up side down. Hearing the whispers of friends, colleagues, and family behind me...I wanted to hide from embarrassment. I hated that my life was bared for the world to scrutinize.


 In the end, as the final credit rolled, I realized what I had had been refusing to acknowledge. I would never get my happily ever after. At least, not with him.  

 



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 These were my moments of despair. When the room was too dark to see who was there around me. Who would still be there to love me through this?

Then the lights brightened and I turned around.  Defeated. Hollow.

My life's drama had weeded out the drama seekers and negative so-called supporters.   I  looked upon those still sitting and realized that I was not alone.

This was my redefining moment......the moment I met my support team. 

Now, at 38, I think I'd handle everything differently than I did back then.

That I would be more poised and sophisticated. More confident when faced with divorce. 

Another side of me wonders if I'd be hiding in the closet. surrounded by empty wine bottles, used Kleenex and cookie crumbs.

 Fortunately, I am not faced with this harsh,  life-altering reality.

My friend is.

And I feel helpless.

 

I never told her I'd agree with her decision.  We are not the same people. It is not my life. 

BUT,  I did say that I would respect it.

 

That is what friends do. With that being said,  I am stocking up on Kleenex, Raisinettes (her favorite!),  and wine. Knowing we both may need them soon.  I also have my flashlight handy, just in case the lights aren't bright enough.  Because when she turns around to check who's still left on her backup team........

I want to make sure she knows I'm there.

Losing the "Me" in "Mom-me"

Two weeks ago, I reached an end.

The end of my Summer Patience.

Yes, I gave it a name, because patience of any type deserves a title. I have been neglecting my blog and writing. Primarily due to the constant attention my children seem to need with their 24/7 presence in my house. With me. ALL day.

 

 With chauffeuring them to and from BFE, shopping and packing for camps, visiting museums, applying suntan lotion to wiggling bodies, checking out countless library books (and paying the fines because we forget to return them on time).......I was done.

 

Approximately 80 days....... 1,920 hours of togetherness. I was well past done.

Below is an excerpt of a journal entry that I penned when my Summer Patience began to show cracks in its pretty, shiny suntanned surface.

 

I am not writing this to get sympathy, or encouragement that summer will end (because it will!). I am sharing this to showcase another part of my life. Another part of me that most don't see.

 

August 18, 2014

However alone I am....I am never without my reality. Kids, family, money concerns, dreams. They weigh heavy on my shoulders, my heart, and my mind.  

So, in other words, I am never alone. And that alone, can be depressing.

 A parent never is alone.  Our children and their lives are imprinted into our brains. Our skin. Our habits. We swear we never want this to leave us. That we love the job of nurturing them. Shaping them to become wonderful adults that will  better the world.

 

Then, I have moments of clarity when I get tapped on the shoulder. That other side of myself that craves to be paid attention to. The "me" in Mommy likes to make an appearance quite often and sometimes I ignore her.

 

 In our attempt to give our kids all we can....... Attention, love, and especially most of ourselves, we lose our "me" somewhere. Mine gets lost quite regularly and I am worried that she may not return at times. 

  My kids are cute, funny, and full of love. I love them more than anything in this world. But I don't have the urge to just sit with them 24/7.  I don't want to cuddle constantly or bow to their every whim, whimper, or tantrum. I can only take so much before I crave my alone time. 

Hubby gave me a get out of jail free card yesterday. One night away. So, I took it. (I am not crazy!)

 

I left the house and dimmed the parent light a bit.  When I am able to allow myself to take center stage, I find the strength to dig deep into my reserves. I recharge.

I think Hubby sensed my breakdown before I did. He is the referee in this game of life we play everyday. He saw a need for a time out. He made the call. Smart man.

I never claimed I was good at this mom thing. I actually think I suck at it although Hubby disagrees. This is why I keep him around. (There are other reasons too, but I won't dwell on those in this piece.)

Ok, now it's close to wine time. So, I'm signing off. Hopefully, I won't fire myself from my Mom-me position before tomorrow comes.

 

 

My Magnificent Three (A Goofy Pose - they don't normally look alike this.)

 

 

Live for Today...Breathe for Tomorrow....Write for Me

Sitting alone allows your mind to contemplate things. The things you don't have time for during everyday life. The hustling to get out the door. Speeding to get somewhere on time. A certain somewhere you'd rather not be. Frantically trying to keep your composure when all you want to do is scream. Or cry. 

So today, I sit here. Listening.

Car doors slam. Water drops hit the pavement, as a sprinkler waters the flower bed.

My temporary sanctuary soothes me.  If only everyday could be like this, wouldn't I be content?

 I guess this could be my everyday. Some may not understand the feeling I crave. The freedom in escaping. Listening. Creating.  

 I've always written when I felt Ike it.  Whenever the urge hit.  Never facing a career ending deadline,  my words came and went as they pleased.

When I am highly emotional the words flow out of me, just like the sprinkler watering nearby. They are not always good words, but my page fills and I find peace. An emotional balance.

When I am living in my normal........I  tend to shut my writing door. Closing off the inspiration and disregard my emotions knocking from the other side.


 Venturing out ..........


I attended my first RWA Conference this year.  Sitting among people that also have a passion for writing, made everything REAL.

After my first day at the conference, alone in my car,  I was hit an immense feeling of inadequacy. Along with tears and the annoying urge to puke.

Apparently,  REAL scared the shit out of me.

 For a split second, I thought these feelings meant that I did not belong in the midst of these other writers. That I was in over my head.

 Then, as fast at it hit me, my doubt was gone.  I started to think about the book ideas I have created and the characters that are alive in my head. The characters that are barely breathing. Suffocating under my procrastination.

Both stories are as much a part of me as my own heart.  If I let these stories disappear, will  part of me fade away too?

My first AHA! Moment.

Strength took hold and rooted itself deep within me. I realized that I am tired of keeping the door closed. Only allowing access when I'm emotional, unstable, or just plain mad. It's time to remove the door. Rip it from its hinges and explore the possibilities of my reality.

Learning to Color Outside the Lines

Before I gave birth to my first child, I had a certain picture in my head.  An image of what parenting looked like. It was perfect. Smooth, even lines, and elegant lighting showcased what my life would be like.

 

As time went by, I threw away my perfect picture.  I found that it is easier to raise my children by ignoring the rules set by books, well-meaning advice and criticism.  

I  now listen to my gut and raise my children how my husband and I think is best. Our parenting picture kind of resembles a Picasso painting. Abstract, yet beautiful.

If We Only Knew......

I don’t recall any stage of my children’s lives that were entirely warm, cuddly and calm. They all included some sort of struggle, whether it was from figuring out WHY they were crying at 2AM…….or wondering WHERE they were at 2AM.  

 

But, I do realize that without ever having the moments of witnessing first smiles, hearing the contagious laugh of a child, cleaning scraped knees, or enjoying sloppy toddler kisses…….my life would not feel complete. These experiences softened me. Preparing me for teenage arguments, curfew rules, and hormones.

This is a viscous, natural cycle....
 

My oldest is moving out this next week. Her furniture has been loaded up. Her mementos, clothes, and stuffed animals are all packed away. This is her decision. Her life to lead. I support her, although I am scared for her.

With tears, remorse, anger and pride I released her hand and watched her drift off into a world…..one that I hope I have prepared her for.

 

Although her belongings  now reside under another roof, I will never stop being her mother. That’s not how this parenting thing goes.  I will never be done. Surprisingly....I am ok with that.

Where I feel my sun is setting with my oldest, I am fighting the urge to ask for a few more minutes of daylight. A few moments to show her how to cook, how to get certain stains out of her clothes, or to just make sure she has enough underwear, socks, and toilet paper.

 

The Rising and Setting of Parenthood - Recap

I wanted to share a guest piece of mine, that posted last week on Great Moments in Parenting.
Take a look below if you did not get a chance to read it.



The Rising and Setting of Parenthood

 

 

As I awaken to the early morning, I shake off sleep and admire the sun slowly peeking through the trees.
Still trying to find its place in the world, much like I am. Rising without a sound. Shedding its light upon us, secretly telling us that there is so much out there to see.

It’s steady, reliable, sometimes harsh, yet always beautiful.

 

Ignoring the urge to crawl back under my warm covers, I start my day. It is summer and right now I can’t recall what day it is. I search for caffeine.

The sun’s smooth, calming rays wash over the kitchen. Dust particles dance off the counters, partnering up with the sun’s light. Both are mocking me. I have not cleaned since we’ve been back from vacation. The kids cups from the night before line the sink edge. A tiny army of mismatched cups, half full, waiting for someone to attack.

I sit and inhale a deep breath, relaxing each muscle. The tribe will awaken soon. Blasting through my calm. Causing me to miss the sun rising up over the tree tops, which somehow occurs each day without me taking note of the beauty.

Cereal will be poured. Chocolate milk will be spilt. I will ingest additional caffeine. There will be more sighing and protesting when I ask the kids to dress for the day.

 It’s never ending. Ongoing. Predictable.

Sitting in my car, driving towards our fifth stop of the day, I adjust my sunglasses, attempting to block out the harshness beating through the windshield. Questions about lunch echo through the car. This same question has been asked since the last bite of cereal left their bowls. I ignore it. They will get fed … eventually. They always do.

Once we’re back home, the pool is waiting. Clear blue skies blanket us from overhead. I’m able to sit and watch the fun unfold.

The sunblock shimmering from their tanned skin. The sun–no longer gentle, but harsh and bright–almost blinding if I dare to tip my chin up. So I don’t. I look at what’s in front of me. Laughter and happiness. These memories are burning into my heart.

Sweat pours from my skin. My stress and worries dissolve. Once the bugs appear and I can’t take the heat, we retreat inside.

The coolness of the AC shocks our system, but we welcome its relief. Unwinding and setting into our evening routine, dinner is prepared as shadows dance across the kitchen.

Our sun, my daily guide, is slowly setting. I feel my energy drain and want to call it a day. But the kids are not done. They never are.

Dusk is upon us. Lamps are turned on and the bath-time battle commences. My companion has almost vanished … only its glow remains, reminding me that my day is almost to the end.

Once all is quiet, I sit again and take a deep breath. I try to not think about anything, but know that tomorrow will be more of the same. It’s my constant, the rising and setting of parenthood.

This is the time of my day I often contemplate the future. Fear and hope are lingering in the shadows of twilight, invading the parts of my mind that were sidetracked throughout the day. I understand that I will always be a parent. Just as the sun rises and sets, I will forever be a mother.

But there will be a juncture when they will leave to live their own lives. Stepping out of our warmth to follow their own adventures. Leaving the protection I have always provided.

How will my life change once parenthood vanishes?
Will I feel sad?
Will I bask in new-found freedom?
Will they forget everything we have tried to instill in their young brains?


I vow that when this moment arrives, I will hug them tight and remind them:

To always dance and cherish the delicate rays of each sunrise.
To always protect themselves from the harsh burn that comes when they least expect.
To stand tall and never fear the shadows of twilight.

 ***

If you have a chance, check out Great Moments in Parenting s website for other great reads!