Halloween-ing

I feel like I always have epic ideas for costumes that are edgy, funny or relevant and no one to humor me to dress up with. No one ever goes for my family themed ones that are over the top or needing lots of effort. As a mom, I now just take the kid to choose and buy the costume with no argument since she no longer lets me dress her.

Halloween was huge when I was little. We had epic trick or treating adventures in my town. My cousins would come over and we usually dressed together. Ghostbusters, Batman and Catwoman, and so on and so forth. We got to dress up at school too, which was a day with no uniform so that's always a big deal.

Halloween is still huge but now it's like a weird exit from fall, directly into the Christmas season. The new "toy book" from Target already came in the mail for Christmas shopping. Pretty sure my kid is already making a list. 

I have a mom friend that literally wins Halloween. She decorates more for Halloween than Christmas and has made costumes for my kid and her own and goes to great lengths to do so. I have some spider and skeleton lights my mom bought us, and some other random decorations but we are probably more of a Christmas kind of people. 

I love Hocus Pocus and Nightmare Before Christmas, but Halloween somehow became the first of the end of year holidays and now is just a prequel to Christmas I think. Some stores already have Christmas decor out and for sale. It's so weird to me.

Thanksgiving has become just a Thursday we eat a lot and wait to go shopping for "deals" and is just a hop, skip and jump to Christmas. I don't want to be "that person" but I do not recall it being like this "back in my day," yes I said it.

Halloweening is now a serious thing. People go all out. Our town and our neighborhood both have epic Halloween festivities and my daughter is finally old enough to make her demands about attendance. 

I love seeing all the costumes and fun things people come up with. I admire the effort and time people put into their costumes. I love watching my kiddo enjoy the hunt for candy and get all excited. However, for me as a mom, that's about it. I don't often dress up and the most festive thing I have right now is candy corn leggings.

I don't dislike Halloween I just feel like it's no longer about me so, I put all my effort into making it fun for the little one. We also live in Florida so it's a little weird down here. It's usually hot, carved pumpkins don't last and you don't have to wear thick clothes under your costumes like I did, back in my day haha.

We are less than a week out for the big day and we have two events that are costume-wearing for the little person to attend this weekend. On the one hand, I might as well get my money's worth. On the other, she usually asks for extra things per wear be it make up or accessories. It's all part of the adventure though.

Some families are Halloween-ing like a boss. Hallow-winning if you will. For me, I just do what I can with the time and resources I have. Maybe as she gets older I will get more adventurous and creative. We'll see! For now, I will be anxiously awaiting her candy haul to sneak pieces at night!

Hurdles In Healing

I've spent how many blog posts waxing on about emotional, spiritual and mental healing? Okay maybe let's not count those. What about other healing though?

You scrape a knee, hangnail or stub a toe? Maybe you do some neosporin and a bandaid? Everyone is different. After my illness last week, boy do I have to heal. And here is where I am with it, which of course has me thinking in all terms of metaphors and other themes.

I'm totally not back to my full self yet. I'm careful with food, coffee, treats and so on because I'm super sensitive to everything with my body right now. I had a really rough workout this morning because I woke up with stomach cramps not knowing if I should go or not. I had to take it easy working out.

I'm not a "take it easy" kind of gal. I constantly push myself. I always want a good challenge so patience with healing is not me. This morning I realized that whatever my body is going through, everything is telling me to SLOW DOWN.

It's almost too funny, the irony of my body literally rejecting going back to life and getting sick the night we returned home. We pretend these things are inconvenient coincidences, but maybe they are legit signs to pay attention to. Did we have such a great vacation, one that ended weirdly with a little bit of a disagreement with my husband and an uneasy ride home that my body completely rebelled against coming back to routines?

You can speculate whatever you want but I'm more attune to the idea that emotionally, mentally and spiritually I have more power over my body than I think. What do personal trainers say? "Mind over matter?" There is truth in the cliches.

We go to therapy to heal mental wounds, but with physical ailments we take medicines and get shots and rarely let our bodies rest. I'll give it to my 6 year old but she was completely right, forcing myself to go back to work that following morning was not a good idea. I needed the rest.

So what are my hurdles in physical healing? They are ironically mostly mental. Now I second guess on what I may have overlooked within my body before my nasty illness overtook my day to day. I'm now wondering what every cramp and moment of discomfort is telling me. Is this a new "normal?' Will my body go back to pre-illness regularity?

We joke that getting older sucks and that what we got away with in our teen and twenties is long gone but it's completely true. I had a better metabolism and very lax caffeine effects compared to now. I can't have iced tea in the evening or it messes with my sleep. I can't drink too much alcohol, which means more than two glasses in one sitting with food, or it can ruin me an entire day. And now, I'm pretty careful about what I'm allowing my tummy to wrestle.

See if I Google it I probably have a tapeworm or something insane. So I sit here hypothesizing and worrying about never getting back to what I thought was normal. Then as I'm trying to figure out what to write about today, I realized I need to embrace whatever my body is telling me and that this may be my new version of normal.

Last night in the homework war, uncharacteristic to my normal self, I used the most calm tone ever talking about the tasks. I refocused her. I didn't yell if she had some crying jag outburst. I just said, okay, "If you need to feel your feelings that's fine, but if you can persist and get through what we need to do, you can spend your evening the way you asked me to earlier. Otherwise those privileges will be lost." It seemed to work much better.

Everything around me, is screaming "SLOW DOWN." Besides my body physically telling me, my anxiety, and things going on in my personal life, I'm just very much yielding to the probability that the new "shake up" in the routine, means taking things so much slower instead of some ridiculous race to get stuff done.

I'm learning to heal all over now. I'm completely in it. We are a couple months away from 2020. All of the motivational things and funny memes are coming out about it's entrance into our calendars. What am I feeling? I think 2019 has been incredible growth. Nothing is perfect and everything in my life is a current work in progress; completely in flux. But I'm not miserable, depressed or overly anxious. I'm making things work. I'm taking things as they come. And that is huge.

Healing may not be linear, which is fact, but I'm just continuing to heal, all over. It is completely encompassing me. There will be many hurdles in healing. There always are. But today, in the midst of the stomach cramps and gurgles, the morning out of routine and the workout that was super difficult on my body and lungs, I just realized "Okay, here I am, healing and working it out one step at a time." I can only do what I can with what I'm dealt. What a revelation! And so I soldier on!

Homework Wars And Worries

She's only in first grade... 

I had heard the homework cries of the mothers before me but she was still little. Only now do I fully understand. The fight about said homework is often worse than the homework itself.

She gets a weekly packet sent home and I'm already critical of the order of the packet and lack of complete communication on what exactly the lessons are. Let me just say that re-visiting all the things ingrmained in us from childhood with "newer" methods is really maddening and sometimes insulting.

My Achilles' heel is math. Always has been, always will be and some of the things they are teaching and how they teach it, I'm like "Wait, what?" It's like I know how to get the answer but not necessarily how to break down how I came to that conclusion. So then all of the issues of my childhood haunt me.

In a conference yesterday, it was explained to my husband that while my daughter is incredibly intelligent, she rushes through things and gets frustrated fast if she doesn't do them correctly the first time. This is a mixture of both sides. Other notes included that she aims to please. Duh! That's definitely a trait of mine. Oh and she has an excellent vocabulary. 

Last night my daughter and I got stuck on a math question and asked my mathematically inclined hubby to break it down. He did this whole charade and when my daughter hit a frustrated moment he told her to go to her room. I sat quietly at the table holding back tears of frustration. On the one hand, I've definitely parented that same way, on the other, I never want her feeling as though she is "dumb" or unable to feel everything that comes with learning and having a hard time doing so.

Full disclosure, have you ever heard someone explain something in detail and you just can't fully picture it? Maybe there is a way they are depicting it that you just can't break through to fully comprehending what they are talking about? You feel dumb if you say "nope" when they ask if "you get it?" So you just fake it until you make it right?

I've had this struggle the past few years at work where I feel like I'm explaining something plainly but when it comes out, a boss or superior is acting as though I'm insane, just making things up or speaking Latin. 

At some point I grew up a bit and realized, okay, slow down and explain it as though even a kid could understand what you're saying, walk the person through it and then you won't feel stressed about it. I use this regularly and now have to share the traits with my daughter. This is parenthood in full swing.

When she got upset, I felt it for her, I knew what it was. She didn't want to feel like "she couldn't." And guess what? No one does, especially us women. We do get the shit end of the stick being made to just feel inferior as soon as we are born. Not all men go out of their way to make us feel that, but there's a general fog of "boys do it better," that goes around regularly.

Getting her out of her anxious place and back to a learning place takes breaks and patience. Getting me away from my age old triggers and out of mama bear mode and into mama bestowing wisdom also takes breaks and patience. When my hubby ticked her off I wanted to yell at him for yelling at her. But I just took a breath, grasped my feelings and talked it out with her so we could finish the task at hand.

I don't know about anyone else, but especially moms, I just feel like we are ALWAYS rushing. We are always trying to do everything all the time and as quickly as possible. It's no wonder my kid rushes through tests and assignments.

We are a chore to rewards household. What this means is, that to get what you want (which is usually some form of technology) you have to do your homework and a chore first. Again, I'm not surprised she wants to "get it over with." How much of life as moms and employees and such do we want to "just get over with?" She is not coming up with these themes alone.

Last night I realized how many changes I would have to make, in order to be the best, most present mom I could, no matter how tired, no matter how "done" and no matter how overwhelmed, so that this kid could thrive. I like to joke that my dad raised three highly creative, highly intelligent, female under-achievers. I refuse to raise my kiddo like that. She will learn work ethic, to value education and to use it to the fullest to become WHATEVER she may want in life.

That starts in school. It's a frightening realization. We are cultivating tiny people to succeed in life. We get 18-ish years to mold them and guide them to be reasonable humans that do no harm and take no shit. This makes me worry.

We have these wars and arguments about reading and homework and how to do this, that and the next thing. And here I sit worried about how to make sure she gets the most out of it all and that I somehow parent her in the right way for her. My biggest fear, and I know I'm not alone but most people wouldn't really admit, is that she take on my anxieties and issues and carry them into her own world. We don't actually want our children to be exact miniature versions of ourselves. We wish we could just hand select our best qualities and then let them be their own level of awesome.

It's funny how one weird equation can add up. That was epic math pun usage by the way so, enjoy that! Parenthood keeps getting weirder. Here I am complaining about a school event this week, one that I truly don't enjoy but "must attend," and there are bigger things to deal with. 

I think my daughter will always need a little extra help. I know that I have needed extra help but am always afraid to ask. My goal is to make her unafraid to ask. This morning she was looking through the annual Target toy catalog and was eyeing an LOL scooter. She said to me "mom it only has the two wheels though so what if I fall? I'll fall." I said, "Baby, that's part of the fun. You fall you get back up and you keep going. You fall and go again and again and again." She rolled her eyes at me a bit but I want to get her past her mental hurdle that things are "too hard."

So much of life will seem "too hard" but that doesn't mean that we won't persist and that we can't succeed. Ushering in this mantra, this idea for her, this is my new project. I'm hoping that soccer and some team building stuff enforces a lot more confidence and strength too. For now, my wisdom is that I just have to get her out of her own way.

Ironically I still struggle with this. I am just now changing my internal dialogue of building up this whole exciting thing and then saying "nah, I could never do, be or have that," to, "If you want to do that, find a way to make it work for you." It's all about attitude.

No my daughter has the sass and attitude to lead a huge company or perhaps a prison gang depending on how things turn out. As her mom it's now my job to harness that for good, for her learning and growth, instead of watching her turn to negativity. Her and I will conquer this together and learn from each other, I can tell. She's already taught me way more than I ever learned in school, but for first grade purposes, I won't tell her that just yet!

The Couch Left Out On The Corner

You drive past it regularly. There's almost always one if not many on the way to anything. It's the couch left on the corner. 

Sometimes you glance and think "That's a nice couch," but then you realized it just rained a few days prior so it's probably trashed. Sometimes you are like "wow that is an ugly couch," or "that thing is gross!" Regardless, you drive on by.

Now that I'm not physically ill, mentally things start to move around more and yesterday on my way to work I saw the very infamous couch on the corner. On the road I take to work there is this random cul-de-sac with newer built homes and this couch was perfectly perched for disposal at the edge of this semi-circular neighborhood.

I started to think about all the couches that I have known in my just about 35 years on this earth and how many I have left on curbs. I recall about 5 left on curbs. My dad still has the loveseat couch from my childhood in his house now. It is ugly and not even comfy but if it ever comes my way it will be in my living room in a second.

My best friend has gone through a few couches and this summer it was what I noticed first in the living room when we stayed with her because at one time they had this huge sectional that curved around half the room that could fit all five of them and dogs. The new replacement was comfy though and still fit plenty.

On the one hand it's really weird that some couch on the corner drove me down memory lane of couch land. On the other, tis' the season for nostalgia. The holidays are upon us and I think I speak for everyone when I admit that the more holiday seasons we go through the more nostalgia we hold onto. 

So here I drive around, thinking of the couches. My first apartment I got a couch from a friend for free, the legs were knocked off and there were holes in the back where their ferrets would get in and climb and bite you. I bought my first couch cover and it worked. I kept that quite awhile. When I moved in with then boyfriend, now hubby, I had a loveseat from my mom's apartment she got at some thrift store with a very loud couch cover from Big Lots and half of the sectional from his place.

When me moved from Oregon to Florida, we had no couch, no loveseat, no living room furniture. I bought my new hubby his first recliner and we inherited a chair from my mom that was my grandma's. The first couch we got was...hmmm, possibly a pull out couch that my friend got at an auction which was in good condition but insanely heavy.

That one was left on the curb at our old place when we moved into our current home. It was replaced by a faux leather thing my husband insisted on from a neighbor which barely lasted and then we were graciously given the nicest couch and loveseat addition we have ever had in deep chocolate brown and I yell at my family regularly that we will never be so lucky as to get such nice stuff so, don't wreck it!

I never really thought about it until that particular commute but where do the couches go? Are there sanitation workers that take them home? Are they in a pile in a junk yard or trash heap? I could picture some award winning photo of a couch on top of a trash mountain just reminding us we are nasty slobs that sit on our waste in more ways than one. Wait, is this a perfect idea for some revealing expose on couches?

Do rained on moldy couches get broken down? Are they re-purposed? Do they end up in homeless shelters or lobbies of lesser establishments in this world? So many couch questions!

My daughter was recently given a hand me down doll house. My husband is extremely accurate in saying it is much more likely a doll mansion than doll house. Of course it came with many boxes of furniture. In some ways, you can't have a doll house without the furniture right? What's the fun in an empty house?  

The living room is the gathering place. The TV is the viewpoint from said couch, more often than not. And when those couches end up on the corner, it just made me wonder what happens in the grand scheme.

I wondered if the couch left out "to pasture" was replaced, downsized or just used to it's fullest. See, much like Phoebe on Friends, I love for all of our furniture to have stories:

I agree that otherwise everyone has the same stuff instead of things with history, so on my drive I was left to review the history of all of the couches of house Chriss. For some, this is a whole weird alliteration and wandering of my anxious mind. For me, it made sense after being taken down for a week in every way, that coming back I was thrown into a pensive place where a simple couch on a cul-de-sac could spark some nostalgic mental adventure that would warrant a blog post.

I would bet money you'll see a discarded couch on your way to or from home today. I would also bet that you've had this exact same reaction to the couch on the corner, at one time or another. Perhaps it's some greater metaphor or perhaps it's just "having a think" on a morning drive. Maybe I am onto some thing of a great couch story or maybe I'm just clearly getting back to all things Alison. Regardless, may your couch stay comfy and away from the corner, and may it be the thing that perfectly mirrors the placement of your TV, all while having history and nostalgia, all for the sake of friends. 

Expired Pantry Items, Expired Expectations

As we are gearing up on our first legit road trip as a family, I've been combing the pantry for things to pack. One thing I hate, is buying extra stuff you don't need, when you could have just brought some home supplies so I'm over-preparing, over-packing and overly doing all the things. As I was pantry poaching I found some things that needed attention as about to expire or expired but just recently so still edible. 

There was a huge can of pumpkin that needed attention. And this the season for pumpkin spice everything so pumpkin bread was happening. I had the large can of Libby's Pumpkin so, 4 loaves were happening and hubby brought home the few small items I needed to complete the task. Now I'm bloated on pumpkin bread and sending away loaves left and right so I don't become an actual pumpkin. With the baking all day, however, came all the insight.

Yesterday I admitted out loud that my family is "the poorest," of our friends. I don't say this as we are actually poor or going without, but compared to our friends, we have lesser financial freedoms and luxuries. I didn't say this in a mean, or sad or "pity us," way. In fact, I said it in an embracing way.

This has all come to light in proximity to our trip. We are staying about an hour away from all others migrating for our friends' wedding, because it was about $50 a night cheaper and we can't afford to try and keep up with everyone else in party mode. While we had a blast in NYC and PA, I learned quite a lesson about our travel mode: less is way more.

In NYC we saw very little and our daughter was more obsessed with The Subway, Central Park and just saying "I was in NYC," than taking in any of the epic things there. We were extremely well entertained and taken care of, but mostly she was just happy hanging out and taking it all in. We didn't need to do all the "stuff."

I also learned that we need a home base crash pad that is NOT a hotel. Hotels are fabulous but overpriced for a place with no kitchen, no readily available food, and no real space. We were lucky enough to stay with my best friend in PA and not only was she the hostess with the "mostess," but she gave us a place to play, rest, keep food and water, do laundry, and just "be" in between visits and mini golf and all the other things.

For this trip, the far away booking of the condo with indoor outdoor pool on Hilton Head Island, was based on price and mileage. I found out about a month ago how long it would take us to get to and from the wedding venue panicked that the hubby would be annoyed. Instead he seemed more excited to be away from it all.

The wedding is in Savannah. When you Google Savannah all the gorgeous images come up. The brick streets, the parks, ghost tours, the history, the food. After our NYC experience, I made the decision not to torture myself with dragging the child all over to restaurants and experiences she didn't care about, which made our destination to stay even more appealing for the wedding trip.

On the one hand we'll be away from friends, but as the poorest of the friend group, I am breathing easier knowing I don't have to go to expensive restaurants, not be able to enjoy anything because I'm obsessing about the costs, and then trying to keep up with everyone for what to do. In Hilton Head we can make breakfast, dinner or sandwiches to take with us, or maybe grab some food at a cheap local place that won't make us stress. 

We don't drink. I don't stay up very late. A vacation should be about family time, and a reboot, and keeping up with any other expectations of what it should be, is no longer a "thing," to me. If we get asked why we stayed so far? Easy, we couldn't afford to be in Savannah city proper and we found a place more suited to our needs in a different area of interest. If we get asked why we aren't going to do all the things and eat at all the places? Easy, we can't afford that kind of stuff. We'll hit the beach, the park, a new preserve, and maybe splurge for ice cream later.

The expiration of the pantry items was like a call to action for "make something or waste something." It dawned on me that this upcoming trip was a call to action for "make the best use of this time for what works for you, and forget the expectations of others."

I'm sure other people don't carry the weight of this stuff on them as I do, but if you even slightly do, you'll know exactly what I mean. Expired pantry items bother me because I put money into those and we didn't use them in a timely manner or properly utilize them. Expectations are the same in that you put your hopes, ideas and scenarios into something and when you don't utilize the time you have, poof it's gone and you leave disappointed with the final product.

The difference is, I'm ready to hit the expiration date of my expectations. No more of that crap needs to weigh me down. I'm not always ready to just toss things from the pantry. Some dates have more wiggle room! 

As I have a two day work week in front of me, I'm embracing these ideas and many others. As I'm packing and planning and handling vacation expectations, I'm just ready to be with my family a bit.
Tomorrow will be my last post of this week and I'll come back with stories galore next Monday!

Detour From A Diatribe

I just deleted two paragraphs worth of veiled complaints. Why? I don't want to be that person. I sat in therapy and spoke about formative moments. My therapist called me out on why I might be so sensitive to people deemed "complainers," and why that might be a trigger for me. Not today, complaints, not today.

Staying grateful can feel really intense. Life can be incredibly wobbly at times. It doesn't, however, warrant bitter diatribes and forgetfulness of how lucky we are to be in it, here and now.

It started with something simple, and kinda stupid. Vans emailed me that the full Nightmare Before Christmas collection was available. I've been a Tim Burton fan as long as I can remember. I loved Edward Scissorhands and Big Fish, Beetlejuice, and everything about his directing. I found it all darkly beautiful. Nightmare Before Christmas has lived in infamy on this list. My make-up bag is Jack Skellington. I have watches and jewelry with Jack and Sally. I have the soundtrack on vinyl. Our version of Elf On The Shelf is "Sandy Klaws" aka, Jack Skellington dressed as Santa.

Anyway, it's a beautiful but extremely expensive collection and Vans have always been my coveted and go to shoes since I can remember. All of mine have since been destroyed by wear but I loved them all literally to pieces. I'd love a pair, but they are completely out of the budget and I'm sure they'll sell fast.

At first this really got to me. I never really buy myself non-essential items that aren't coffee and I rarely spend more than $30 on myself for anything. I get a pair of running or gym shoes a year, and occasionally a re-up on clothes but I do so with as little money as possible. I am frugal to a flaw almost, aka cheap. 

So I had my whiny moments. I was trying to "math out" how to get them, but alas, nope. Plus I knew I would buyer's remorse them if I walked out of the store with a bag and receipt. I can't handle spending that kind of money on something so non-essential and I get upset when I spend money on myself.

I'm sure this all sounds overly dramatic but this is part of my anxiety. And definitely a struggle when it comes to my depression. I used to shop when I was sad often. Sometimes with no care for the fiscal consequences. Well, since baby and job changes, I have put myself last-er than last and shop no more. My mom has no concept of living within your means and pushes "new" stuff on me and it's just a heavier reminder of "don't do that."

I get all my weird rationality quirks from my dad. My dad will wear the same jeans, shirts and underpants for a decade but will drive a brand new car and never miss an event deemed worth doing. My dad also never goes on the cheap when it comes to FOOD. My dad used to literally repeat "Just because it's on sale doesn't mean you NEED it."

Last year was the first Black Friday I've ever shopped in my life, and I just got presents for the kid and stocked up on shoes for her to go through because they were super cheap. On average my husband gets about 3 to 4 times the "whatever money" I do weekly. I always put my "luxury" wants on the back burner and always will.

I had started this whole bitter diatribe of why shouldn't I get to have the damned shoes and thought, WHOA WHOA WHOA. You gotta stay grateful and in the moment. So many people don't have what we have and I'll be damned if I take it for granted.

Because life is hilarious, it's not even actually about the shoes. That's the thing. The shoes are just a metaphor for me feeling completely overwhelmed and trying to keep it all together. If I'm being completely honest about current situations in life, I'm feeling as though things are about to get more complicated and I'm extremely stressed.

It's all coming to the surface in my obsession with the having of the shoes. Let me explain. In my youth I worked hard to get what I wanted and I've carried this into my growth. So if I were 20 and I wanted those shoes, I'd pick up 3 extra shifts and go get them, wearing them proudly until they disintegrated off of my feet. In my adulthood, I don't have time for such frivolous things. I'm a salaried gal and I have important financial goals I need to achieve for my sanity and those shoes don't fit into the mix.

Mostly all of this is a big ass mourning session for the loss of my youth. I've got a 6 year old, almost 7 year old daughter, a mortgage, car payments, credit card debt to pay off and responsibilities out the ass. I'm pining over old concert shirts, old mix cds and Tim Burton shoes. Part of me thinks if I can dress the part I can be 22 year old Alison again. I miss adventures and being carefree and fearless. I miss napping when I wanted and watching 6 hours of Netflix drinking cheap wine and having Chinese Food delivered.

So deep down I think if I spoil myself with some custom Vans, that pre-soon-to-be-soccer-mom self, will arise and come back to keep growing, transitioning, struggling Alison company as she figures out all her shit. It's a beautifully painful realization. 

I took a detour from the diatribe because I wanted to be better than that. I endured a recent negative social session or "bitch sesh" if you will and it completely ripped me apart. I've been distracted and obsessing about unanswered texts and planning play dates to take away from all the adulting I must do. 

Complaining is the easy part. It's the easiest coping mechanism on the planet. Often we don't even have to think about it. Riding out the waves after are wipe-out is considerably harder. Staying positive when you're wobbling and feeling as though life is murky? That's difficult. So I took a detour from the diatribe and ended up here, possibly enlightened? I'm a bit unsure. The beauty of it is, I'm happy to be unsure about where I am and what to do next because I'm positive it is part of the process. Somehow there is less stress and more gratefulness in knowing that I don't have to have anything figured out, but instead just enjoy my Friday and push through. 

Mentality Matters

Yesterday in my last 90 minutes of work, a particularly prickly contributor I work with, sent me something to edit and send out and it sat in my inbox longer than he would prefer. He didn't actually call me out on it, I had felt badly because I was distracted with other work things.

Internally I was worried he would call and chew me out, or maybe a boss would get pissed about it. Immediately after I published it, I started my "I'm sorry" email. I started to type it twice and then stopped myself. Why? Because apologizing for being human, doing other aspects of my job and not being at his beck and call, didn't seem worth it. Would it even make me feel better?

I stopped and thought, why am I apologizing? This stuff happens. It's called life. What do I have to apologize for? Oh nothing really, but missing something that could have used more timely attention but it all went out anyway. I calmed myself down and got myself home.

It was my mentality about it that made it bigger than it was. Huh, quite a novel idea that it's about your personal mentality towards an issue that makes it "extra." This isn't a new idea. Some people carry this genius with them and don't have such anxious upsets and responses towards things, but for me this faint "A-ha" moment gave me pause.

I got home with my tiny person and got my evening rolling and by bed time had gone to bed forgetting about the whole issue. I woke up, remembered I had to get more blood drawn and thought "Shit, I might hear about that late update." After a successful blood draw I got to work late and heard all of nothing about it. Not a word.

When the contributor's number came across the call ID I was sure it was a verbal lashing waiting to happen. Nope. He said nothing. So any amount of upset and stress was self-inflicted and I pushed my mentality towards other things and it all turned out just fine. Huh. I may be onto something.

See my mentality can be volatile and fragile. Some days I can handle all of life's curve balls with perfect precision in hitting back or catch and pitch. Some days I cry over a burrito, or because I can't find a straw. Some people blame lady troubles or sensitivity, but mostly it is my mentality that makes all the difference.

When I mentally "let go" of stuff, it makes me feel legitimately lighter. Like when I stopped feeling badly for not being an amazing volunteer, I felt like I lost five pounds. I was like, "Oh wait I can just go live my life now and be kind? I don't have to stress over arranging something that makes me anxious? COOL!"

I'm that person who views an unanswered text as a "Fuck off." That whole "no response is a response" I changed to "No response means go the fuck away." Excuse the language but mentally, that is where I usually go. When that happens, I get defensive and down on myself, but lately instead of making justifications and excuses for the non-responding offender, I just attempt to change my mentality. Instead of "Fuck off," it could be "Feeling overwhelmed," or "meant to revisit the message later," to "busy."

While I preach low to no expectations, I also hope for the best and prepare for the worst. This I do to a fault. I mentally prepare for all possible outcomes to the point of exhaustion. I'm ready for all avenues of response or lack thereof. Apparently I get this from my dad, or so he claims.

My mentality is one of my greatest struggles. Confidence, strength, conviction, and sureness are not things I just have. So much of my mentality is wrapped in my trauma, I'm realizing. Because of past moments of standing up for myself and being down-played or degraded, I have less push to consistently be my own advocate. Because of trying and failing something previously, I hesitate to try again. 

Most of this stuff is human, some of it is awesomely Alison. What I realized yesterday in the mentality mattering moment was just how much I can do, with a little adjustment in my outlook on things. I am well aware I impose 90% of my stress and anxiety on myself, all on my own. It's like a gut reaction.What I'm still learning is how to mentally alleviate some of that, on my own. 

It's not a "just don't think about it," or, "don't let it bother you," type of situation but as I say to my daughter regularly, I feel it's more a "Thank you for sharing your feelings that you're sad, how can I help with that?" If I say, even to myself, "This is making me feel anxious," I can self-soothe with, "well what can we do about it."

For the contributor reaction issue, I had my list of excuses backlogged but instead I said to myself "It went out, I was busy with other things and not attentive to my email." No further explanation needed. For unresponsive friends or family members, I usually bring myself down from anxious whims by saying "Okay, you asked them to do x,y,z, they now have to respond according and if they don't, you just go on with your day. It's not an end all, be all thing."

My mentality matters a LOT when it comes to my ability to process my depression and anxiety. Not surprisingly, this aligns with my inner dialogue, my self acceptance, my letting go and my dealing with disappointment and expectations. So this reverts back to many, many other blog posts. This makes me feel happy about the cultivation of what matters and today, my mentality matters!

These aren't "easy" conclusions, acceptances and ideas to just keep in your back pocket but I continue to love my growth, my healing and all of the discoveries that come along with them. Perhaps in losing some blood today I made more room for some insight. Here we go thoughtful Thursday. Let's do this!

The CD Case

I had to borrow my husband's beater car or "hoopdee" as I like to call it, when he took my car in for servicing last week. He has an old Lexus he bought off of a friend. It runs, but as my daughter so lovingly claims, "It smells like fart." It's definitely "worn in." The hoopdee happens to have a  6 CD changer and when we have to swap, not only does he clean it, but he'll put in certain CDs that I might like.

He was sneaky and put in some of my obsession ones. He put in mixes I made him way before living together, let alone before marriage, kid and this life we are living now. He put in some of my most favorite bands. How dare he!

When I got to listen to my favorite CDs I remembered just how much I love putting in a disc and listening to it in it's entirety. I forgot how nice it is to replay a song if it hits a mood or to skip one that might take you back to a moment you don't want to re-live. It was a luxury in some strange way.

We live in a bluetooth, hands free, Pandora Music, Spotify, SoundCloud, and iTunes world. It seems some of the simple things in life have gotten lost fast. After the car swap, I grabbed my big ass CD case, and I put in some legit discs on in my car. Most new cars don't even come with CD players anymore. I think that kinda sucks, because at the end of the day, maybe bluetooth won't connect or your phone isn't working, and you just wanna listen to that old favorite CD. What a shame that they are diminishing that technology. Hell, I still listen to a record player weekly!

We have an upcoming road trip and I demanded, only CDs be happening as our soundtrack from state to state. I've been listening to only CDs since my car was serviced and not only did I forget about some great songs or mixes, but I had forgotten how many CDs I actually have, and this is only one case out of many.

The memories that come from these discs are intense, and awesome all at the same time:

I found an old Modest Mouse CD. Most people know this song pictured above. When this song came on I remembered listening to it in my Toyota Echo, my first car, and crying while shoving cookies in my mouth driving home from my first real break-up. I was 18, he was 22 and he attempted to make off with my car, my laptop but successfully made off with a bunch of my cash and definitely some dignity. He wasn't the best dude. I found out he was addicted to pills among having many other issues. It wasn't love but it still hurt. I later found apology letters in my trunk, written to his entire household, roommates and all, and nothing written for me. 

When that came on it morphed me from my normal commute home to being back on the winding Oregon 1-5 roads, wanting to be home in my apartment to pick up the pieces. It was weird how many memories just engulfed me around popping in that disc and listening to that song with the windows down.

This morning I busted out some Ben Folds Five, which is different from Ben Folds by the way.

My Ben Folds obsession started when I spent most of the summer before my senior year with my sister, and my brother in law had his older CDs. Ben Folds went solo and I listened to "Rocking The Suburbs" on bus rides and car rides between Portland and Eugene, or trips back to Florida on repeat. When he came to Portland when I was 17, I made my dad buy me a ticket and drop me off to see him live. I could still remember singing these songs loudly at the concerts and listening to them until I was sick of them. I still make a point of seeing him live whenever he comes to town.

Even in CD case picture here. That one above that says "sports conditioning" is from my days of training to be a Step Instructor at the YMCA. You just never know what you'll find, and the memories that come from it, are the best.

My music has always followed me and I feel grateful to have physical discs, although some are scratched and don't play very well. I love Spotify because you can make mixes but if you want to hear that ONE song on repeat? You're out of luck. My iPod died long ago, which was the next best thing, but now with Pandora and Spotify you're supposed to get the feel that iPods and CDs are obsolete. I disagree.

With my current CD case revisit,  I feel like the new technologies make us miss out in actuality. Some CDs are actually made to be listened to in order. Some artists order them as they wish for specific reasons. While shuffle is a good thing from time to time, some musical masterpieces are put together in the way they are meant to be heard. You cannot listen to The Decemberists "The Hazards of Love" on shuffle or it loses the storytelling. 

I stopped listening to Pandora years ago because I really hated that Pandora decided that when I wanted to listen to Taylor Swift, that meant then I had to listen to Rascall Flats and Florida Georgia Line and whatever. Pandora decided that if I wanted to listen to 80's, that I enjoyed solely 80's hair metal. I also don't like the idea of paying for anything that's essentially just a new kind of radio. Radio is free!

I love the 97X alternative Tampa radio station but they play the same 8 songs every hour and then randomly intersperse other "oldies" within them. I really like Billie Eilish but not 16 times a day, just the same one or two songs. At least with the CD I could skip the popular ones, right?

My recurring issue with Spotify is, they play the same songs in rotation if you listen too much and they only play 30 minutes in a row of music at best. You could listen all day and you can't go more than 30 minutes without an ad. Ads don't bother me so much but every so often when you have a long run or car ride, you don't want to be fiddling with your phone to get uninterrupted minutes. I don't pay for the service because, why not just by the CDs if I want to listen on repeat? 

See, I don't pay for music services because I'd rather spend that money to buy a CD or go to a concert. I don't want to pay Spotify $8 a month to suggest music I should like just because I put some Maroon 5 on a workout list. I want to pay the ARTISTS who make my beloved music as a thank you in more ways than one, so I'd rather just have a disc or go watch them live. Plus physically owning the music is different than renting it from Spotify, regardless.

Going through my CD case has been a memory-filled journey. You realize forgot about "that band," or "that one song," and everything comes back. I have a photographic memory so I used to know the order of my CD case and know if someone took one of my CDs, especially without me asking. I remember being so annoyed if they came back scratched or destroyed. I remember hours combing used CD stores trying to find the bands I needed or wanted because I had to have the entire collected works. 

For me, music is the key to about 90% of my memories. I could remember a moment, or an entire event based around a song and then it opens those floodgates and away we go! Sometimes it brings up painful memories, I can't lie, but some of them are necessary, and still good in my humble opinion.

As much as I love making playlist after playlist, from time to time just popping in that disc and listening to the full album is it's own kind of magic. I have soundtracks and burned mixes and full albums, EPs and so on and so forth.

I plan on getting hubby to dig out the lot and to fully engulf myself in my discs for the rest of the year, why? Well, this year has been healing and filled with all manners of growth but sometimes it helps to rekindle some old parts of yourself in the process. See, music has always been my safe space. I got caught up in Spotify this year, just making playlists about sad stuff or missing old friends, and with my CD cases every musical mood can shift at my will, with a quick disc change. I still use Spotify for my daughter's kiddo playlist and also for my workouts, but overall, I really want to get back into my CDs. 

It's funny to me how it all fell together, when I think about it. It's funny how I just opened that CD case and dove in. I quickly found a comfort I had forgotten. Sometimes when we are in the middle of transforming and growing, we need some roots revisited. For me, that's my CD case. For me, my music gets to the deepest of depths. My music is and will always be part of my process for anything. It will also always be blog-worthy!