This month was short but full. As I continue to try to persevere in certain areas, I find that it takes mindfulness to stay on course. Here's where my mind and actions focused this month.
Autonomy for My Kids
I've always known my job as a parent is to get my kids ready to launch. We have a very short time to accomplish that, and I've started seeing how short since my oldest is halfway to 18. I'm trying to give all four more autonomy, still being there when they need me but not being there when I feel like I need to be and they don't. Sometimes it's hard to know the difference.
We've spent more time in nature, one area I want to continue to persevere in, and the kids are natural leaders there. I've also been handing over recipes and letting them cook, something that wasn't easy for me when they were younger since our flour costs $12 a bag. Messes are costly, but so is robbing them of the independence of prepping food for their whole family.
Basically, I've been doing what I've always done but more often and with more natural consequences: let them make their mistakes, make their choices, test their limits, and deal with the outcomes. Sometimes it's gone well, like a three hour outdoor exploration led entirely by the kids where we came home wet, tired, and exuberant. Sometimes it's been pretty awful, like when one kid didn't want to do AWANAS work, didn't do AWANAS work, then had a massive breakdown when the verses weren't magically memorized. Or when one kid didn't get out of the bathtub when asked just to throw sass and had to shove dinner down her throat in four minutes, miss bedtime stories and her nightly smoothie. That's life, and that's what we're preparing them for.
Loving the Planet
I've always cared about the planet, but I'm also kind of lazy. I have tried to make all the very big, environmentally positive changes in one day, and I've inevitably failed at all of them. Not this year.
I am making small changes that will hopefully have large impacts when it comes to taking care of the environment. We've always recycled, but I also started making myself carry reusable bags to the store this month. I have done this in the past, but when I forgot I'd just take plastic. Now if I forget, I make myself by another reusable bag. I'm cheap, so this is really working to jog my memory.
I needed new jeans (need is the accurate word in this case since I had one pair and they started ripping in two places that were going to eventually lead to indecent exposure charges), so I ordered from ThredUp, a used clothing company. Reusing is environmentally friendly, and the new jeans were made for me, even if I'm not the first one to wear them.
We're going to explore the recycling center in March to help the kids see the impact of our decisions. I'm also trying to wear D down in the hopes that he will eventually get on board with composting. He has some concerns since I can't smell, and rats the size of squirrels are often seen on the sidewalks in our neighborhood, but I know I can make it work. I don't really know that, but I'm trying to convince us all.
We're also eating loads of leftovers to decrease food waste, and that's decreasing our grocery bill in the process.
Accepting Constructive Criticism
I got the coolest rejection email last week, and I cannot shut up about it. Okay, I've only told D, but he will tell you that I can't shut up about it. A local, wonderful publication rejected one of my short stories, but they took the time to send me feedback because the story was well received by most of their reading committee. They only send feedback about 10 percent of the time when they think stories have a real shot if revisions are made.
There were two detailed, very honest reviews of what did not go well with the story, and I hopped around the house like a toddler who found mom's secret chocolate stash for an hour after I read them. Why? Because they responded. They took the time. Also, they were right. I did what they said I did, it weakened the story and caused it to go unpublished, and now I can fix it. They also shed light on habits I have in my writing that I need to work to overcome, and I am eternally grateful for that.
It's easy to get stuck on the rejection part, but I try to teach my kids that learning, even if you don't win, is invaluable. I actually felt that this month. I didn't personalize the rejection; I appreciated the opportunity to improve.
Anxiety Tracking
It's come to my attention that many people still don't fully understand what anxiety is like, as evidenced by the many conversations I've sat through where things like "don't worry", "have faith", and "let go of control" are repeated.
Sure, people get anxious when they are stressed, but anxiety is also a recognized mental health issue that some of us can't fully control. I wake up on certain mornings with my heart rate elevated to the point that I can't take deep breaths. Nothing changed while I was sleeping except for a hormonal shift that affected my brain or my adrenals wigging out and not controlling my cortisol levels. I didn't just forget to "let go and let God".
Anyway, I started tracking my anxious days because they follow a pretty regular pattern. I am much better since my adrenals are recovering, but when I ovulate, I still have issues. The adrenals produce progesterone, mine still seem to be failing at this, so ovulation is a hard time for my body.
I may deal with this forever, or at least until menopause when I will begin a whole different load of challenges, so I'm trying to do what I can with what I have. I'm tracking my anxiety days because the best thing I can do when I'm anxious is contain the damage. I need to pull away as much as I can on these days, which isn't completely possible since I homeschool my kids. Still, when D gets home and I've pegged a days as falling on the anxious scale, I leave.
My anxiety looks nothing like me worrying 24/7. It looks like me being so irritable that there is nothing anyone can do that does not startle me and then push me into an all-out angry response. Imagine all sounds causing my heart rate to spike and put me in fight or flight mode + four kids under the age of 10. You'd be glad to see me leave, too.
Social Justice Activities
I voted in the Democratic primaries. It didn't take much time, I felt great about who I voted for, and I am counting down until November. It's not hard to get politically involved.
D and I also found a sitter so we can go meet with our church about the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements. D and I haven't had a sitter in about three years. This is important, and we both want to be around the table discussing next steps, me as a survivor and him as the best damn feminist I know.
Tuesday, February 27, 2018
Monday, February 5, 2018
It Wasn't All Bad: Persevering in January
That last post about persevering through the loss of a familiar, wonderful freelance gig didn't leave much room to talk about other ways I persevered in January, ways that weren't so traumatic. I'm doing that here because my focus word has helped me evaluate my goals and plan my time, and it's going well. Here's where perseverance led me during the first month of the year.
I supported a local writer friend and signed up to be on a launch team for another writer that I know through a place we both have work published. I am also filling out Amazon reviews for books I love. I want to support artists, so I'm finding ways to make it happen.
I attended a Bible study on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the Book of Amos, and social justice. We have a discussion this week about where to go from here, and I can't wait to see what comes from it.
I attended the Women's March in Dallas with a dear friend. I was able to protest while hanging out with one of my favorite people, so double win. I also met women running for office in Texas while there and felt a sense of belonging that calmed me in the midst of all the upheaval in the world.
I kept in touch with my people face-to-face, through text, or on the phone. I do this regularly, but I tried to be the one to initiate contact more often. Community is necessary and healing.
I got out in nature and got the kids out in nature every second we could. We took the idea of no bad weather, just bad clothes seriously, and I have felt much better because of it. There's very little I know of that can't be cured by fresh air and sunshine.
Where I Need to Work
Fiction Writing: I pretty much met my goals on non-fiction work, but this novel needs to write its own damn self. I made progress, but not the progress I hoped for.
In case you're wondering, D is an excellent and very strict editor. When I missed my first deadline, I was sentenced to wiping the butts of the youngest in the house until my pages were turned in. That's two four-year-olds 24/7. He looks nice, but he does not play.
I did make major progress on a short story, so that's something. I think I may have to set an appointment every week to leave the house and set up camp alone to work on fiction. Will someone make sure I do this? I am 38 years-old and still in desperate need of a keeper.
Sleep: So, I need sleep. I need a bedtime routine. I need to grow up and get disciplined in this area because there is only so much coffee in the world. Whatever. We'll see.
How are you persevering in February?
I supported a local writer friend and signed up to be on a launch team for another writer that I know through a place we both have work published. I am also filling out Amazon reviews for books I love. I want to support artists, so I'm finding ways to make it happen.
I attended a Bible study on Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., the Book of Amos, and social justice. We have a discussion this week about where to go from here, and I can't wait to see what comes from it.
I attended the Women's March in Dallas with a dear friend. I was able to protest while hanging out with one of my favorite people, so double win. I also met women running for office in Texas while there and felt a sense of belonging that calmed me in the midst of all the upheaval in the world.
I kept in touch with my people face-to-face, through text, or on the phone. I do this regularly, but I tried to be the one to initiate contact more often. Community is necessary and healing.
I got out in nature and got the kids out in nature every second we could. We took the idea of no bad weather, just bad clothes seriously, and I have felt much better because of it. There's very little I know of that can't be cured by fresh air and sunshine.
Where I Need to Work
Fiction Writing: I pretty much met my goals on non-fiction work, but this novel needs to write its own damn self. I made progress, but not the progress I hoped for.
In case you're wondering, D is an excellent and very strict editor. When I missed my first deadline, I was sentenced to wiping the butts of the youngest in the house until my pages were turned in. That's two four-year-olds 24/7. He looks nice, but he does not play.
I did make major progress on a short story, so that's something. I think I may have to set an appointment every week to leave the house and set up camp alone to work on fiction. Will someone make sure I do this? I am 38 years-old and still in desperate need of a keeper.
Sleep: So, I need sleep. I need a bedtime routine. I need to grow up and get disciplined in this area because there is only so much coffee in the world. Whatever. We'll see.
How are you persevering in February?
Thursday, February 1, 2018
So You Thought This Was Going to be Linear: Persevering in January
It's funny how when you set a goal, life decides obstacles might make it more interesting. Truthfully, I am lucky I chose my focus word and had a clear view of my goals before January, because the last week of the month blew pieces of my world to bits.
The website I contribute to regularly is about to disappear. A source of professional and personal support, as well as income, is going to evaporate, just like that.
I'm a freelance writer, so I should be used to this, but I'm not. I have been so lucky from the start because Parent Co. is amazing. I've published other places, but I really dug in with them because of my amazing editor, their streamlined process, and their unending support for their authors. Plus, I loved their website even before I wrote for them.
I handled the news really well. Just kidding, I freaked the hell out when I received the email on Monday. D wasn't home yet, and I was in the house with the kids suddenly dealing with tunnel vision and dry heaves. This was a gut punch, a loss, cause for immediate mourning. I calmed down long enough to realize this loss hurt for a multitude of reasons, and I was going to have to face all of them.
1. I like bringing in money. We don't depend on my income, thank God, but it's nice to have and I like making it. I like being paid consistently for what I do. Yes, I can do this with other sites, but I had a process that worked, and I LOVE my routines.
2. I have some serious identity confusion at times. I know I'm a writer whether my work is being published or not because I write. I know this is not the only place that has accepted my work. However, the loss of this place made me feel like I lost my writer identity somehow, and I need my writer identity. I love being a mom and a wife, but I need to write and to view myself as a writer because it's what I do. Before I talked myself through the whole you're-still-a-writer-thing, I felt untethered.
3. I like it when things are linear. I worked a couple of years to establish my writing, and it went well. I found a place I loved and did work for them. Nice gig. This is not the freelancer's real life, and I should have known that since every freelancer on the planet will tell you all the time. I didn't listen because I didn't want to. I am at the starting-over place—luckily not totally over because I have made contacts and built my resume—but I do not love the two-steps-back process.
4. I love the people I work for and with. I submitted to Parent Co. because I read their articles and found them beautiful and useful. They spoke to me as a parent in a way that I needed to be spoken to. I was so intimidated that I hesitated to submit my work, then when the first article was accepted, I assumed it was a fluke and was scared to try again. I finally did after my editor reached out to me, and now I have around 50 articles that have found a home there.
Luckily, the writers and my editor (is it weird that I'm still claiming her?) have come together and vowed to never leave each other. The support has been more than I thought was possible.
Everyone talks about how enlightening and freeing it feels to be pushed out of a routine and into the scary places, but here's the truth: first it feels like shit, like a sucker punch, like your skin is on fire and you are running from yourself.
I cried a lot. I still cry a lot, even though we're going on day five of the news. I cry because something beautiful is ending. I cry because beautiful things are already being planted. I cry because I feel taken care of by people I've never even met in person, and I need that right now. I am zero percent useful in a crisis. I hate this about myself, but it is a fact. One friend told me to just be bossy during a crisis and it would calm me down, but what would I say during my bossy time? Don't follow me, I'm just running in circles with no clue? This is as horrible as it seems, I can feel it? I just threw up in my mouth? Nobody needs to hear from the person who can only bring themselves to this, which is me.
Other writers have created lists and are encouraging all of us to get back out there and own it. They are reminding us kindly of all the waiting rejection but also of the possible success. They are whispering persevere.
And I will. The first night I just cried into a plate of cheesy bacon fries and sent an email to my friend that said, "I'm not having a crisis. Wait, yes I am." D talked me off the ledge about 400 times, only to have me start crying again five minutes later.
My friend sent an email back that said "you're gonna continue to rock out with your lady c*ck out (that's a colloquialism. If you have a lady c*ck I think I would have heard about it by now)", and I laughed for the first time since I got the news. I will rock out, eventually.
In honor of a wonderful site that gave me so much love and support, here are three pieces that hold a special place in my heart that were lucky enough to find homes on Parent Co. Check them out before the site is gone for good at the end of the month.
The Inconvenience of Girls Who Want
I outed myself as a survivor of rape and sexual assault in this one, though you would have to notice the word we instead of them to catch it.
I don't believe victims of rape and sexual assault have to out themselves. It took me over a decade to tell anyone I was raped, and I still don't share the details. However, it was important for me to tell at this point in my life, and this article was the beginning of that. I felt freer once it was published, and I am so grateful my editor saw fit to include it on the site.
Raising an Orchid Child in a Dandelion World
When I found out one of my kids was an orchid, life made sense in a way it hadn't previously. I was able to pull together all of the research I had been doing when I wrote this one, and it gave me an opportunity to get everything straight in my head.
Can a Mother be Undeserving of Her Child's Love?
Originally titled "When Love is a Homemade Necklace, and I'm Not Worthy", this is the first piece that I ever had published on Parent Co. I am still way too careless with my children's love, and I try to do better every day. Putting this piece out there made me feel both vulnerable and accepted, even when I'm screwing up this mom thing.
May you go forth and persevere in February and every day, no matter what life hits you with. Onward.
The website I contribute to regularly is about to disappear. A source of professional and personal support, as well as income, is going to evaporate, just like that.
I'm a freelance writer, so I should be used to this, but I'm not. I have been so lucky from the start because Parent Co. is amazing. I've published other places, but I really dug in with them because of my amazing editor, their streamlined process, and their unending support for their authors. Plus, I loved their website even before I wrote for them.
I handled the news really well. Just kidding, I freaked the hell out when I received the email on Monday. D wasn't home yet, and I was in the house with the kids suddenly dealing with tunnel vision and dry heaves. This was a gut punch, a loss, cause for immediate mourning. I calmed down long enough to realize this loss hurt for a multitude of reasons, and I was going to have to face all of them.
1. I like bringing in money. We don't depend on my income, thank God, but it's nice to have and I like making it. I like being paid consistently for what I do. Yes, I can do this with other sites, but I had a process that worked, and I LOVE my routines.
2. I have some serious identity confusion at times. I know I'm a writer whether my work is being published or not because I write. I know this is not the only place that has accepted my work. However, the loss of this place made me feel like I lost my writer identity somehow, and I need my writer identity. I love being a mom and a wife, but I need to write and to view myself as a writer because it's what I do. Before I talked myself through the whole you're-still-a-writer-thing, I felt untethered.
3. I like it when things are linear. I worked a couple of years to establish my writing, and it went well. I found a place I loved and did work for them. Nice gig. This is not the freelancer's real life, and I should have known that since every freelancer on the planet will tell you all the time. I didn't listen because I didn't want to. I am at the starting-over place—luckily not totally over because I have made contacts and built my resume—but I do not love the two-steps-back process.
4. I love the people I work for and with. I submitted to Parent Co. because I read their articles and found them beautiful and useful. They spoke to me as a parent in a way that I needed to be spoken to. I was so intimidated that I hesitated to submit my work, then when the first article was accepted, I assumed it was a fluke and was scared to try again. I finally did after my editor reached out to me, and now I have around 50 articles that have found a home there.
Luckily, the writers and my editor (is it weird that I'm still claiming her?) have come together and vowed to never leave each other. The support has been more than I thought was possible.
Everyone talks about how enlightening and freeing it feels to be pushed out of a routine and into the scary places, but here's the truth: first it feels like shit, like a sucker punch, like your skin is on fire and you are running from yourself.
I cried a lot. I still cry a lot, even though we're going on day five of the news. I cry because something beautiful is ending. I cry because beautiful things are already being planted. I cry because I feel taken care of by people I've never even met in person, and I need that right now. I am zero percent useful in a crisis. I hate this about myself, but it is a fact. One friend told me to just be bossy during a crisis and it would calm me down, but what would I say during my bossy time? Don't follow me, I'm just running in circles with no clue? This is as horrible as it seems, I can feel it? I just threw up in my mouth? Nobody needs to hear from the person who can only bring themselves to this, which is me.
Other writers have created lists and are encouraging all of us to get back out there and own it. They are reminding us kindly of all the waiting rejection but also of the possible success. They are whispering persevere.
And I will. The first night I just cried into a plate of cheesy bacon fries and sent an email to my friend that said, "I'm not having a crisis. Wait, yes I am." D talked me off the ledge about 400 times, only to have me start crying again five minutes later.
My friend sent an email back that said "you're gonna continue to rock out with your lady c*ck out (that's a colloquialism. If you have a lady c*ck I think I would have heard about it by now)", and I laughed for the first time since I got the news. I will rock out, eventually.
In honor of a wonderful site that gave me so much love and support, here are three pieces that hold a special place in my heart that were lucky enough to find homes on Parent Co. Check them out before the site is gone for good at the end of the month.
The Inconvenience of Girls Who Want
I outed myself as a survivor of rape and sexual assault in this one, though you would have to notice the word we instead of them to catch it.
I don't believe victims of rape and sexual assault have to out themselves. It took me over a decade to tell anyone I was raped, and I still don't share the details. However, it was important for me to tell at this point in my life, and this article was the beginning of that. I felt freer once it was published, and I am so grateful my editor saw fit to include it on the site.
Raising an Orchid Child in a Dandelion World
When I found out one of my kids was an orchid, life made sense in a way it hadn't previously. I was able to pull together all of the research I had been doing when I wrote this one, and it gave me an opportunity to get everything straight in my head.
Can a Mother be Undeserving of Her Child's Love?
Originally titled "When Love is a Homemade Necklace, and I'm Not Worthy", this is the first piece that I ever had published on Parent Co. I am still way too careless with my children's love, and I try to do better every day. Putting this piece out there made me feel both vulnerable and accepted, even when I'm screwing up this mom thing.
May you go forth and persevere in February and every day, no matter what life hits you with. Onward.
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