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. 

Vacation Bliss and Sick Daze: Whirlwind Unwound

Well, it's been awhile. I'm welcoming myself back into things as I type. Where have I been? Well, with the exception of a great trip, I have been nowhere awesome. In fact, I had been so ill last week I just couldn't pull it together to write, but I'm back and rebuilding in every which way to finish this year strong.

We had driven from left coast Florida to Hilton Head Island South Carolina for a Savannah, Georgia wedding and had a trip that caused my best friend to text me and tell me to do whatever it was we were doing more, so that the joy captured on my face was there way more often.

We had fun at the beach, we did some learning about the area, we went to a petting zoo, played a round of mini golf, we got treats galore! We were living our best lives as the cool kids say. We weren't breaking the bank, which was beyond amazing for us, too. That allowed for more relaxation in fact.

After a great family weekend with one minor speed bump, which now in retrospect is so telling it's almost creepy, I came home to one of the nastiest illnesses I have ever experienced.

Our last night we went to a restaurant my husband wanted to try. Full disclosure, I really don't enjoy going out to dinner. Breakfast out is a dream, lunches I can handle, but dinner with a 6 year old out, is like a race against time before she's done and you just want to relax and get your money's worth.

First I ordered a peach bellini, thinking it would be one way and it came out with more pulp than all of Florida's orange juice. I don't send things back. I also major in passive aggression. I will not complain and I don't want conflict. My husband is Mr. Restaurant Man and encouraged me to send it back, so I did. It was not an easy thing and actually caused a bit of a strain between us because I can get a little high strung in those situations and often over-stress it. 

When we ordered I tried to be adventurous and when I got my food it was lacking. After the humiliation and strain of the drink send back I didn't want to make another fuss and be "that customer" of the evening. The cole slaw on my tacos tasted weird, so I made the hubby try it. I said, is it like "bad" or a flavor that I'm not into? He said it was fine, I grinned and finished up, we headed to ice cream. For ice cream I ordered a blue cookie monster thing and then made everyone laugh at my blue tongue, blue lips and blue teeth to lighten the evening. We walked off the food and returned for the last night in the condo. I hit the hot tub for all of 10 minutes but then started to feel off.

I will admit that I'm that person who has physical trouble on her travels, meaning, my body gets off its normal schedule, if you get what I mean. In new places with unreliable bathroom use, my body gets tense and tends to stay that way until nature has it's way and wins. My husband made me a probiotic tea at the first mention of my tummy being off. It seemed to get some things feeling better. I slept. We got up early to see the sun rise before the long day in the car.

I was not even kind of hungry. I just wanted coffee. The coffee seemed to help the second act of whatever my tummy was going through. I didn't have solid food until 11AM and started with crackers. Then my husband and I shared some chicken salad. It wasn't until we were 2 hours from home I finally caved and got fast food. I got Taco Bell and at the time it was amazing and gave me the push through for the final stretch. However, as soon we were home and comfy I started to feel even more off. And so it began.

I will spare you the gory details, this is not that kind of blog, but let's just say my body was rebelling against either, dinner the night before, or the cheesy gordita crunch or all of the above. I had more tea and more calming food and still, things were leaving my body swiftly and I was having the most intense stomach cramps I have ever experienced. As the night went on it was coupled with fever and chills and long showers and midday naps weren't cutting it. I called into work Monday, with no choice but to rest. I got a weird second wind Monday and changed our sheets, convincing myself I would be fine the next day after all the extra sleep, and a bowl of pasta. 

Monday night was another sleepless night but I was going to work, come hell or high water. I hit the grocery store for reserves after rolling out of bed, taking a long shower, throwing on clothes, resting in bed another 10 minutes and then pulling it together enough to get myself to the store and the office. I got to the office 20 minutes early and napped in my car. I just had to make it to lunch I told myself.

I was on a steady diet of ginger ale, gatorade, water, and all I wanted was applesauce. I had cheese as the secondary option for protein. On my lunch I took a car nap then woke up violently needing to hit the bathroom. I started to have horrible cramping to the point where I felt faint, and then another ugly symptom came up and that's when I called in the hubby. He told me it was time to leave work, and go to urgent care, enough was enough.

My bosses were fine with me leaving early and I made it to urgent care in about 30 minutes. They warned me of a two hour wait. It only took me about 30 minutes before I got to a room, and my husband came to join me later. When the doctor came in, I had left out some important and gross symptoms my husband filled in for him, and apparently I warranted one injection and 2 prescriptions.

I was uncomfortable and in an haze. Ironically the shot was administered through none other than my butt and a very young, attractive woman who was a nurse practitioner had to see my old pale rear end to give me my injection to feel better. I will say my color came back quickly and I was released to go home and rest. The residual migraine stayed with me and off I went to get better. I had to take Wednesday off as well.

On Wednesday while the meds were working their magic I felt very spacey, almost high. I watched all the things on "the big TV," I normally wouldn't be allowed to if the kid were home. I tried to stay up all day so I could sleep well that night. I wasn't allowed to work out while I was on the meds and my husband check in on me that I was just resting and trying to get in some calories.

I had lost about 6 lbs in 2 days. Most women would jump for joy. I'm not even kind of "most women." This was killing me. I wanted my body back. I missed things like coffee, having any kind of appetite, wanting real food or meat and not having to go to the bathroom after every meal. I missed not feeling so thirsty and feeling like I actually knew my body. I felt like my body was just rebelling like "how could you!?" 

It wasn't until exactly a week later, last night, that I could eat at normal capacity. This morning was my first cup of coffee in over a week. After all of this, after everything, I realize how important it is to take care of myself in more ways than one. After I went to urgent care my daughter said "Mom, it was not a good idea for you to go to work this morning!" She wasn't wrong.

On the one hand, showing my make-up-less struggling, slightly smelly self was proof that I was actually not okay. On the other, it did me no favors. I was stupid grateful for my husband and daughter being supportive. I was also grateful the dog gave me endless healing cuddles. My bosses were amazing, with no guilt, and that helped me heal as well. 

This morning was my first workout back and I had to take it slow. I'm usually the last one to go after western medicine as the healing but I couldn't wait it out, and now I'm back to finish this year off and here is where I'm idling:

I can only do what I can with what is before me. This year has been one of healing and growth and we have made some serious moves in our family life and personal lives. It's been really hard. I've had to admit some stuff about my life, my family and myself that I don't want to. I've had to face some old traumas. I've had to grow UP.  Next year will be more of that.

I'm here and lucky to be here with the family that is mine and the good health I have. It is my job to make the most of the time I have on this planet. There will continue to be good days and bad days, vacation bliss and sick days and life's whirlwind may wind me up and keep me spinning but I just need to keep my focal point so as not to lose my balance.

I plan on finishing this year of blogging as intended and I'm not sure what 2020 will look like for writing. I appreciate all of you taking the time to read along and will be working on new topics this week and through the holidays. I'm back in action and hope to not be knocked down any time again soon!

Health Hassles

The irony in life seemingly never stops, and today was quite the test, quite the example. It was doctor time, check up time, wellness physical and all that. Last year was the slippery slope of the the thyroid drama. This year was all new challenges.

The weight thing I've accepted will just always be a struggle. While I no longer carry the self-hatred and self-loathing I once did, and I am avidly working on loving my body more mindfully, technically I am overweight. I don't feel it much, if at all, but by American body mass index standards, yes I am overweight.

So first thing in the door they stick me on that scale. I knew it was coming. I didn't enjoy the number, but it also wasn't a complete surprise. I wish I could say "yeah because all I do is eat." I wish I could say, "Too many desserts" or "too many days of skipping workouts." It's none of that.

Ironically enough, this is the most sober I've been since I was 18. Compared to this time last year I'm drinking a fraction of what I was. I went from drinking a couple nights a week to only weekends to now, two drinks once or twice a month. I went out recently and had A beer. Just one beer. Yeah I'm growing up and adulting. It's happening.

I've curbed the bread stuff too although pumpkin loaves are necessary. It's fall. Mostly though, I have no one to impress but myself. I'm not even partial to what hubby thinks. Judge not lest ye be judged, or whatever.

After that was the blood work part. The good news was my natural thyroid supplement from Amazon is doing it's job. I'm actually stoked about this. The bad news was within two new categories. Before I divulge the bad news, this isn't like "life-threatening" or "life altering" but when you're 34 you just want to hear "You're fine, maybe exercise more."

The new blood panel was too much of the bad cholesterol and not enough of the good cholesterol. Also my liver levels made mention as, we'll see what happens next year but they are "off" but better than last year. I'm not sure any of that was encouraging.

If I'm being completely honest and candid, I'm just waiting for the day I walk in and they say "cancer." Is that morbid and horrible? Sure. Is it kind of realistic anymore? Maybe. I had my appendix removed when I was 17 which has been my only surgery. I've had a sprained ankle but never anything broken. My hospital experiences with my daughter made me regret not having a home birth, especially when it comes to breastfeeding.

I'm not exactly the biggest fan of western medicine. I know it works wonders. I know there are some people who receive excellent care, but if I didn't have to go to the doctor, I doubt I ever would. I feel like they never tell you good news, but almost only bad news. Or maybe that is just me.

Mostly I feel like health stuff is mostly a hassle. Everyone has their own ideas and own experiences with it but what I have experienced in the medical fields have been mostly negative. 

So here is my ray of hope or my positive outlook in the murky midst of adulting: I'm glad I got a supplement from Amazon that doesn't break the bank that is actually helping my thyroid stay okay. I'm glad I have a cholesterol excuse to force my husband to make me more salmon and halibut and such. My liver? Well, I'm not drinking  much so suck it up buttercup.

I work out often. I'm mindful about what I eat. I'm not going to let some number on a scale and some blood work translator scare me into wasting my life away missing out on a great pumpkin beer, or go low carb. Bread is life. Even Jesus said that. I will, however, stay aware.

My body tells me a lot. My body can tell when things are off and I'm going to "stay woke" as the cool kids say. In this world with health advances and opportunities, I plan on staying as un-medicated as possible but as present as I can with what information I'm given.

I had a moment where I thought this could negatively affect my vacation and I just thought, no thanks. If ever there were a reason to eat and enjoy what I like, this would be it. I haven't binged on potato chips for a good car ride in ages. There will be full breakfasts each morning. While I'm glad I'm "in the know" about my body, part of my loving that body and loving myself, is to live my life to the fullest, which goes for my stomach too. After all, there are pumpkin coffees, pumpkin loaves and wedding catering at stake! Did you say steak?!?

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!