Finding What Works, Accepting What Doesn't

I had to take a step back recently. I'd hit a weird workout plateau or wall even, and I also started reverting back to my comfort coping mechanism routines instead of getting into new ones. In the midst of all of this, I just paid a bit closer attention to some things and realized quite a bit.

When boot camp ended there were a handful of us moms that took it pretty hard. We had gone for years and years and we lost a staple in our lives. During all the bad times and hurdles in life, we had good ol', reliable boot camp, and it was no more. I decided to look at this in a positive way like, "Okay, I have been sick of those 5 specific workouts for years and I was feeling kinda lackluster anyway so, this could be a good time for a change." Others had far more opposition and weren't able to see anything positive about it. 

When I started 9Rounds, I was so excited because I got a raise to be able to afford it AND I'd always loved kickboxing. I had been wanting to join a kickboxing gym for over a decade. Goal met! I had two moms in tow to start the 9Rounds journey, both of whom have since decided it's not for them. Their attendance was a good "get in and get going," for me at the start, but I have always been one to establish my own routines and work hard, with or without a buddy. And, in my experience, the longer you go to the gym solo, you end up making buddies in said gym anyway.

When I realized that 9Rounds was barely helping me sustain and I had gained a bit, I was upset at first and had my tantrum. But then, with that ever-so-important step back, I realized that over the past 6 years, all of my weight loss successes and long-term energy spurts have only happened with excessive workouts. It is the way my body is built now, and I accept that. 

I started to look around for other gyms or programs to supplement with 9Rounds but the cost was just too much. So then I thought, "I bet my work complex has a fitness center, and I bet us employees have access, so I should just ask the building manager!" I did, and she said to go ahead and enjoy. Not only am I using my lunch break in a much better way, I'm no longer spending money on unnecessary things while wandering St. Pete, I'm not out in the sun and heat or unpredictable rain, and I usually have the place to myself, so it's like a quiet little haven.

I saw the difference immediately in energy levels and just my physical well being. Immediately I was sleeping better and eating better because of the new routine. As my mom friends explained why they weren't kickboxing with me anymore, I told them that I started running on my lunch breaks and that it's an adjustment after 5 years of the same routine. I don' begrudge them finding their own way or managing their own struggles.

My old trainer from boot camp and I stay in touch. The only reason I can't go to his new workout class is because it's at 6AM and I have to be in the car by 7:15AM, ready to go to work. He joked with me that I needed a new job and I giggled because, I have the best job I've had since I left nanny-ing, and this job is worth any other sacrifice!

So again, with a step back I looked and reminded myself, that I fought really, really hard to get HERE. I once told my best friend awhile ago that when I was 19 I had two goals: to be able to afford a fancy coffee every day (aka coffee shop coffee) and to be able to afford "the good" toilet paper. By the time I was 25 I realized that fancy coffee shop coffee is a much nicer treat from time to time, and I can make great coffee at home for cheaper too. And "the good" toilet paper isn't cheap, so generic works just as well for the job! At 34, fancy coffee shop coffee is a serious treat I allow myself once or twice a week as I'm super picky and immediately get pissed if it's not made right, and "the good" toilet paper is based on what's on sale and coupons.

Things CHANGE, you evolve, you learn, you grow. Sometimes we don't want the change. Sometimes we detest the change, but you have to find what works, and if it doesn't just find a way to accept it. Or maybe find a medium of, "Okay this isn't working as I'd expected, so what can I be doing to deal with what is at hand?"

For me, for my kickboxing and working out, I realized I needed to pay closer attention to my movements in 9Rounds and supplement any exercise I couldn't do properly, rather than half-assing something. 

I realized that because it was a completely different brand of cardio than my body had become so used to, I needed to jog it out and do some additional weight training to balance everything out, and for me IT IS WORTH IT, because then I don't have to feel bad about enjoying food and life. I refuse to regret and damned doughnut unless it was actually like a bad doughnut.

This is part of the whole adulting process and everyone hits it at their own pace, but I'm there right now and when you see other friends flailing, sometimes it's hard not to step in and talk about all this, but when I had people come at me negatively it didn't "snap me" into growing, it probably just stunted me moreso, actually. 

Sometimes all of this, sucks, I won't sugar coat it, but in my humble opinion, it's worth it. Finding what works can be daunting and exhausting, at times even leave you feeling hopeless. Accepting what doesn't work can be exactly the same if not worse, but all of this is a part of life.

Everyone will be different too, but I wish we could just be supportive of each other. I have one mom friend who is always apologizing for not coming to work out with me. I never shame her or guilt her, I just say, "If you need rest or you're not up for it, I'll be there tomorrow with you so take care of yourself." Making her feel bad won't make her come back!

I've been having a struggle with church attendance recently and there is one particular church-goer who likes to bring this up whenever I manage to get myself in there. Last time took the cake of the comment, "I hope you know I'm not really trying to give you a hard time we just miss you." While the thought is nice, telling me every single time you see me that you haven't seen me in forever and you wish we would be around more, starts to sound "scoldy" and kinda mean. It's like when someone asks you to help them and then they say, "but no pressure." You just put the pressure on by adding that! And what happens to me when these situations come up? It makes me not want to go to church, because I'd rather be out of sight, out of mind, and it makes me not want to help because if I don't help, I can't get pressured while helping.

What works for me is surrounding myself with the support of my tribe; people that get me (as much as they can). The more I force myself into uncomfortable situations for obligatory things, I realize, this doesn't work and I accept that part of me. There's a certain balance with going outside your comfort zone; parameters if you will. Establishing these is another process but can be helpful in your progress towards peace. For me, that's my ultimate goal, more peace and much less stress. A girl can dream, can't she?

Trigger-y Things, Illnesses And No More Apologies

I found this the other day after church, right before everything went upside down, and it still rings true. Now we can go back to how the story of my unravelling weekend.

You may have noticed I seemingly dropped off the face of the earth. Being sick can do that to you. So I'll tell you about my last 4 days and we'll go from there.

Saturday was poised to be an epic day. We had horseback riding lessons and then a birthday party 5 minutes from our home with some of our most favorite people for a fantastic day. It was lightly overcast and they had a pool. We were in! 

Saturday was kind of a perfect day, honestly. We were in great company. I was comfortable and relaxed. I loved the vibe and the tribe and was truly having fun. My daughter took awhile to kind of get in and get comfy but once she did, she wouldn't budge. We were there all day for a total of 8 hours of fun. I tried to leave earlier, and it didn't work, because we were just having too much of a great time.

We got home and crashed wonderfully and hard, with Sunday plans on the horizon as well. Normally after that kind of Saturday I would have insisted that we stay home and recuperate, but I was already having early coffee with a friend and I felt like I had to make an appearance at church.

Read that last sentence again. The weight of "get yourself to church," was so intense lately. Admittedly it was about 90% self-imposed, but church life had been a struggle. With my husband working 6 days a week, and now Sunday being one of them, church just hadn't factored in. With my personal struggles and refocus on my family life, church just wasn't a priority. But this Sunday, I put my best foot forward and said, "Okay, let's go." 

I walked in and got the guilt immediately and just tried to power through. The sermon, however, was super trigger-y for me from the previous week. I had recently acknowledged my recent weight gain and discomfort and had gone insanely full blast into double work outs, closely watching what I ate, and making sure I was mindful about everything. The sermon was pretty much about what you put into your body affecting your spiritual life. I had a hard time with a lot of it because for me it was far more complicated than that.

I got the gist, I totally understood all of it, but it's all so much easier said than done, and also didn't have time for the consideration of mental health issues, and addiction issues, in my humble opinion. I come from a place of mental health struggles, food struggles, and a family rooted in addiction and these things are more complicated and all a learning experience. When I found out about my thyroid issues I did all of the recommendations for diet changes only to gain weight and feel worse. Part of my depression therapy was keeping myself on a healthy balance of sleep, exercise and food and finding ways to find joy in them all. I married a chef! Food is life! So having it all tie into spiritual wellness was outside of the box enough to just trigger weird things within me.

So, while the message was positive in intent, and a great discussion it was trigger city for this girl. Why? Because I struggle to balance it all. I'm supposed to take care of and support my family, my daughter, my husband, and my dog, all while making time to work out, stay fit, and be a model for my kid, and keep us all on track for everything in moderation and it's exhausting. Look, from time to time, I want the damned Cheetos, but you learn the balance and moderation, and I follow this with spirituality too. 

Maybe it was a trigger because I had brownies at the party, covered in icing and it was the first day all week I didn't obsess over food, only to walk in and feel kind of mentally ambushed. Maybe it was a trigger because food is a serious weakness for me. That day I didn't eat anything until about 2PM. 

We had snuck in an impromptu play date on Sunday at 3PM and I honestly tried to keep the kid eating and happy but wasn't as food-attentive as I usually am. I managed a quick grocery shop in between things too. We'd had almost no down time. By 6PM we were all feeling tired and done when my daughter found her own way to end the play date, by puking on our floor.

I'm not the mom that freaks out about this. I'm the mom that calmly cleans it up, snuggles the kid and makes sure she is comfy. Thus began our long night.

She didn't stop the every-so-often evacuation of her system until about 10PM and by 9PM I had resigned to the fact I'd be calling out Monday and snuggled her in with me, kicking out my husband to the guest room, which he gladly took over. But, at 11PM something came for me by way of stomach cramps and discomfort. Mine was seemingly less than my daughter had suffered. What did we catch? Not a single fever. Both normal temperature-d as ever. We returned to sleep until about 7 the next morning.

Monday morning my kid was ready to eat. Mommy had a slight headache. We had some toast and crackers. Things were mostly okay. When my daughter was bouncing into full recovery that's when her exact progression from the night before hit me, hard and I had to call in my husband for back-up. It was discovered we had intensive heat exhaustion and dehydration. Tuesday was "learn how to eat again" and recover day. Today is my first day back to life.

I kept thinking in the throws of pain and suffering that we shouldn't have gone to church. It was laughable irony, all that ungodly food being forced from our bodies. It was not as though that had cursed us or worked against us or was somehow bad, but just that I should have guarded us better for rest. And then I found the list above. "I don't need to do what everyone wants me to do." Just because church was a good thing awhile ago, doesn't mean I should force it now, especially if it is just too much in every way.

"I don't have to anticipate everyone's needs." It's my job to anticipate the needs of my daughter, my husband, my dog and myself. That's it. Everyone else can chill out, please and thank you. Sometimes I'm a tired mama. "I don't need anyone to approve of me." Okay we ALL struggle with this one. We all want people to like and approve of us, it's completely human. This one is a work in progress. I certainly don't want to be the red-headed heathen.

"I don't have to explain myself." This one I need tattooed on my forehead because I really don't. Sorry, not sorry. No more apologies! "I don't need to feel guilty about my boundaries." No I don't, if I just need some time, I just need some time. "I don't have to say yes if I want to say no." I need to repeat this daily because I get cornered into stuff I don't want to do, TOO OFTEN. Again, sorry not sorry.

"I don't need to feel bad for staying home." Yeah I'm not doing that anymore. My home is my haven and you can find me there, and I will no longer feel bad about choosing my safe space over anything stressful. "I don't have to over-extend myself to be enough." Oh man do I wrestle with that one too! One day at a time right?

"I don't need to feel the way someone else feels." This one was Sunday in a nutshell. I liked the spirit of the message, I just won't pretend I feel exactly the same about things and I won't pretend it didn't trigger me. "I don't have to minimize my emotions." No I do not. I can feel what I want, and so can you! 

"I don't need to pretend I'm different than I am." THIS ONE! I'm a full time working mother of an amazing child, wife to a chef who are both working so hard on their marriage, and I'm the daughter of addiction, divorce and dysfunction trying to find my way. I'm not pretending to be anyone but her. 

"I don't have to put others before myself." My kid, my husband and my dog, in that order, are the only people I might "have to" put before me, but really that is just motherhood and marriage. Regardless, the rest of the world I don't need to keep putting before me and I think I need to read and write that repeatedly.

This weekend and the two sick days put an obscene amount of things into perspective for me and I'm carrying them close beside me. I was reminded that working hard, playing hard and resting harder are way more important than over-booking and should-ing all over myself on a regular basis. I realized how far my husband my husband and I have come, just in the last few months on being there for each other. I realized how much of a mom I am, for better or for worse and I should never let my guard down when it comes to momming right, if you will.

But mostly I realized I'm too old for all the guilt, drama, and putting extra stress on myself for no reason. Life can give you enough trouble as it is, I definitely don't need to make my own. For the rest of this week, I'll blog when I can. I'll do what I can, and I'll feel grateful for where I am on the journey. I have a feeling the posts might even get better as I find my footing again. Thanks for sticking with me!

Selective Peopling...It's Not Them, It's Me

The older I get, the more I accept my introverted extroverted status in life. Look, I share an office with 2 to 5 people depending on the goings on. I'm a mother to a child that never stops talking unless she's asleep. My husband thrives with noise so there will be the bedroom TV on while he folds laundry in between cooking where the tablet is on with a cooking show some nights and then the kid watching whatever she's into for her down time in the evening, all at once. I LOVE MY QUIET.

My office always has some noise, I work in proximity to the TV/Radio studio for my company so there is white noise if you will, I like MY QUIET, which is music or a podcast I wanna watch with no one else in my ear. I have to be nice to the less than fantastic personalities I share said space with. I love my two bosses because they are busy and keep to themselves, my other co-workers, well one likes to talk too much about her cats, her bible study and her weird views on life and money, and the other one says the same cliche things to me and condescendingly calls me "Dear" to the point where I want to scream. I like quiet.

I do work with customers so I have to use all my kindness and patience with them and also with my child, sometimes with my husband. One thing I have learned: I can handle certain people, in certain circumstances, and most often mentally prep to do so, and I'm not ashamed to admit it.

In wonderful text exchanges this week I realized that we all do this, purposefully or not, I'm just done pretending I don't. We have a birthday party to attend this weekend and the hosts are one of my all time favorite families ever. There will be mostly people I don't know. I can mingle and talk with everyone but by dinner, I'm going to need to hide in front of Netflix and snuggle my kid after all the peopling. 

And this is my Sunday struggle. See, church is supposed to be this peaceful place, but then I go and sometimes I only wanna engage with the people that know where I'm growing, yes growing. Sometimes I can get up the energy to just people in general, but it feels exhausting to do the "How do you do and shake hands," and put on the game face, more often than not. Sometimes I just wanna "be" and when I get the sense that the "be-ing" is going to be a task, I recoil and retreat.

I always remind people, "Keep inviting me to do stuff." It's not that I refuse to people and have fun. It's more, sometimes I'm mentally exhausted and need to do nothing. Sometimes we already have plans. Sometimes we don't have the gas money or extra money to attend things. Sometimes you're going to a restaurant I hate and don't want to have a stressful dining experience. And sometimes I just can't people that day. 

I like a lot of people in general. I can do really well in social situations, when I prep myself, but I also do well one on one. For every social exertion, in turn I need some reboot. For me, its the same as working out; everyone needs a rest day from time to time. My thing is, I'm really tired of feeling like I have to explain myself. I usually just resign to claiming, "Sorry I suck at planning right now," "Sorry I suck at this, that, xyz, right now."

I might be in a completely renewed, and healing place right now, a positive, happy place even, but that's just as delicate as when I'm navigating darkness and everyone handles their personal stuff differently. For so many close to me, I know church is their haven and safe place, but for me it is not. Growing up with a Presbyterian Pastor father but attending Catholic school can really mess up your religious views. For me, it has made me smart and cynical but also very sensitive to what church should be about.

When it comes to being around addiction, recovery, alcoholism and such, church can get very oppressive for me. In Catholic school you're sent to pray as punishment, but you're also supposed to pray that people just get "better" and "get right." There is no help when things don't work out that way, or so in my personal experience. At my dad's church you were meant to find your "Framily" you know the friends who are family thing, and take the message from the sermon, and get what you can from it for your current circumstances and learn. 

When my family was struggling most, my dad stopped "making me" go to church and let me have time to heal and grow until I was ready to come back. This is now my default when I struggle. Even in happy times, if I'm struggling to adapt and keep on growing, I need my time to heal and grow without feeling the pull towards what I'm "supposed" to do with myself. And when I go and people, and put myself out there it's a delicate thing. I have to people quite carefully. I recently let my husband in on this a little more but it's really hard to explain to people, and really exhausting to have to, so again I keep distance when needed. 

I think life is hard enough. It is exhausting with long days and shorter and shorter years I feel, and peopling is rough for those of us with anxiety and all the other things happening, in my humble opinion. I try to consider this when I interact with others, just how difficult it can all be and that other people might share this point of view with me even if they don't say it out loud. Consideration is huge and it seems to be lacking in it's consistency in this world. For those people who "get me," none of the above is a surprise and for those who don't, you may never get me and I'm super done pretending I even want to be "gotten." 

The point of all of this is that, peopling can be just as taxing as a heavy workout, just mentally so. And with mental health being merged into real discussions now, just take a moment and be kind to everyone because you never know how much peopling they can do, and what inner battles they face. Stay calm, stay patient and stay kind and remember it's most likely not a personal thing, but a peopling thing. 

Easter Sunday Is Here!

I hope I'm not the only person who will never fully understand the resurrection of Jesus having anything to do with a bunny, baskets of candy, toys and Peeps, but we all follow the traditions right?

When my daughter was little we had time for the egg hunts and going to various Easter Festivities. This year we finally pulled off an at home and indoor egg hunt. It went well but after a birthday party with cold swimming fun and cold stone cake yesterday, my little one seems to be a bit...overdone. 

Easter used to be an Easter dinner thing too, if I recall. Often at my Grandma's house because my dad worked as a Pastor Easter Sunday but then wouldn't have to cook if we went elsewhere. I also recall a little bit of Lent stuff from Catholic school days, but mostly remember the Stations of the Cross being the longest, most depressing things ever. 

I did, however, always love Peeps. Yes, I am that weirdo that just loves Peeps! I am super strange in that I open the package and leave them out a day or two so they get a little firm, if you will, and then of course devour them. I somehow got this from my mom I think.

Like most church-y things, I love the tradition and anything that brings us together. It's over the past 3 years that Easter has been more work than fun. Today is a bit better, I will admit, but I definitely feel my daughter and I are starving for chill time.

My husband is at work and we have the house to ourselves. My daughter has been obsessively playing with the thing she wished for most, her LOL doll. I don't completely understand the whole LOL doll thing, I can't lie, but boy does she love that thing. It's the weirdest $13 I've ever spent.

I have endless laundry awaiting and am already fantasizing about a big salad for dinner after a popcorn pig out session and some stolen Easter Kit-Kats. We are having un-seasonally gorgeous weather and I'm already psyching myself up for Game of Thrones and an early morning workout tomorrow. 

While I'm definitely feeling a little more reserved and taken down lately, I am ready for another week with some positive things ahead. I have seen the negative results of my tech break but will keep it up as long as I can for my mental health, and so I can better focus my energy here. We are almost at the 5 month landmark for daily posts and I want to keep the posts going strong.

So Happy Easter readers, have the "Reester" Bunnies, the Cadbury eggs, the Peeps and dinner for me and enjoy the rest of your weekend! 

Sunday Is Really Just Monday Eve

I've successfully been a heathen about a month now. I've taken a church hiatus; it happens every so often. Mostly out of exhaustion, but right now I'm just going through some stuff, and while some find solace within church walls, for me it adds to the confusion. So I've just been taking some space.

It can be hard to explain but my daughter and I are similar in our wavelengths when it comes to hitting our social-ness walls. We're so good at planned and routine activities, but every so often we need to just do our own version of way less, and kinda just "be."

I tried to be that mom that planned the play dates and activities this weekend but it was a good lesson for both my daughter and I that, things can turn on a dime. Time to adapt. She had a melt down earlier and it was warranted but I quickly tried for a "Plan B" of sorts and was able to get her back on track. She is now exhausted in front of Netflix.

It's recently been discovered that my comfort zone is just watching TV and that's how I relax. In this day and age if you aren't watching 14 series on all the streaming at once, you're out of the loop. It can feel just as overwhelming as the rest of life. I've found my ways to integrate all the things without compromising too much of myself but it's definitely a balancing act to say the least. 

Sunday has really just become Monday Eve. For me it's all about "before the week kicks off," down time. I'm sure that is the way it was designed and laid out in the bible, but it's funny we seldom find it feasible. I even still have some basic cleaning things I "should do." Knowing me I will push it off until next week because I might end up feeling the weight of things to come.

Sunday in this house is usually the only opportunity we have to choose to "sleep in." For most parents, "sleeping in" is for teenagers and college students. There is always an animal or child that wakes you. For me, sleeping in is waking upon my own volition, meaning without an alarm. Sunday is the only chance I have of that. Every other day is scheduled and regimented. So planning to get up and go on Sunday can cause me a lot of stress, turns out my daughter revealed slightly the same sentiment and today we slept in.

Sunday around 4PM I turn into a pumpkin. It's a countdown to Pajamas. Dinner and bed time is always pretty early and if I can get the dog out for one more round before we all just collapse, I feel accomplished. There is also always laundry and likely a few more chores. But to me it's a count down and at the strike of 8PM all must be quiet on the home front. 

Starting the week off right is huge for me. I feel like it can set the tone. With Sunday as just the day before Monday, it's so important for me to feel capable of starting the routine again. I've had to adapt a lot lately, and so has my daughter and sometimes I feel like I can see, like very visibly see, the wear and tear it has had on us. 

Sometimes, okay often, I feel like a bad mom. When I finally got my home as just mine with my mother in a separate space and my very own first house, I stopped pretending we all had to do everything together. I have a TV in my room, and the living room one is shared among us all but is usually overrun by my daughter. I don't often watch hours of My Little Pony sitting there bored. Mostly I'm doing chores or working on things in my room with something I want to watch in the background. 

I'm just one room away and I just refuse to sit there with her when she doesn't even care. We watch Disney movies together, and I've watched an episode or two of her favorite shows but I let her "binge-on" and enjoy. I feel it's no worse than kids playing hours of iPad and everyone is allowed time to veg out, especially right before the week starts.

On weekdays, she doesn't get any of her own shows. Sometimes we have TV on in the background but she doesn't get to watch any movies or shows of her own. We have set routines and I make sure we follow as much as we can. I'm fully aware that some day sports and such will derail any plan I could have, so I enjoy the calm while I can.

Mondays through Fridays are just so darn busy, and with Sunday and Monday eve it can feel like the calm before the storm. What is the phrase now? "Sunday scaries?" I think that's the scare before the impending week, perhaps but I'm not down with the cool kid lingo so I'm unsure. Sunday is when I feel the most likely to self care. Saturdays are often still packed and busy.

So here we are on Monday Eve. I had the most "Monday-est" Friday there ever was, a productive and fantastic Saturday and Sunday has been outdoor adventures leaving me to sit in my bed and type this while listening to the kids Netflix profile bark from the TV in the living room. I have laundry to fold, dinner to prepare, some spot cleaning to do, and I desperately would love to snag some more down time. 

On this Monday Eve, I say this; self care on a Sunday is tantamount to some of us functioning well from week to week, so tread lightly with those of us that seem more "lazy" on these days. Everyone is on different wavelengths and if you find someone on a similar one to you, vibe with that well, as I've work diligently on with my daughter. Send those check in texts if the week took over and Saturday came and went. Sundays are the perfect time to reboot for the week ahead and it's easier to reach out before Monday sweeps you away.

Lastly, it's okay to not be okay, as one of my favorite people so gently reminded me this week. And taking space in your own way is also okay, just don't live there for too long, this world and your tribe needs you. So happy Monday Eve. May your last hours of the weekend be gentle, and prepare you well for another week!

I Suck At Faith

I was raised in a Presbyterian church as a normal, average, "PK" or "Preacher's Kid." Sunday School, Potlucks, BBQ, Sermons, Funerals, Weddings, Baptisms, the whole nine yards of protestant life. I was the kid who played in church and loved to be there. I wanted to take all my friends because church was the best.

In 3rd grade they put me in Catholic School because all my older cousins and my mom had gone to the same Catholic Schools. Religion was my best subject but I learned fast and the hard way that not all religion was the same. I got bullied a lot for not being Catholic. It's not something you can hide because if you don't go through 1st communion you can't have any communion at all in the Catholic church. So while everyone else went up to the front, I stayed seated, not able to participate. 

I can remember two times, both of which I've written about before, where all of my concepts of faith were completely shattered, and both happened before I was 16. To this day, neither of those situations was fully remedied. It wasn't until I was 17, had moved from PA to Florida, then from Florida to Oregon, where I finally just retired from the whole church thing. Granted, my mom and I never even looked at a church when I spent my junior year in Florida; the closest thing to a religious ritual for us was trips to the malls.

My dad was still preaching when I moved to Oregon, but his church was a good 45 minutes away. In the progressive, hippie and free thinking city of Eugene, it was easier to find Pot-dealers than church-goers, and no one who went to church spoke about it. I never had a single person invite me to a church in my 8 years in Oregon and it wasn't because I was a known preacher's kid. It just wasn't a part of my college life.

I don't know how to better describe my current situation as just the fact that I suck at faith. I know a few people who have this unyielding and compelling faith whom I admire so very much, but after a quick conversation with a mom friend who has shared some trauma with me, we kind of acknowledged that while we admire those with it, it's not so easy for everyone.

I read the bible a lot in my youth. I had many discussions with my dad and loved to study all forms of religion so I understand it all, it's just hard for me to jump in head first. For me it comes down to owning my trauma. Until recently, and I mean within the last 6 months recently, I didn't know that the many things I'd experienced in my life were allowed to be called "trauma." I thought they were just bad things that I had to learn from, so dealing with that is a lot as it is.

I've heard a lot about the millennial generation professing the one true truth as "my truth," which I think has some merit in that we are in a time of continued identity evolution. There is a lot more to consider now, than ever before. But also, so much involved with religion has become unflattering and volatile. It's a double edged sword.

I have a "home church," a church I love and identify with for the first time since I was 13. However, this came after visiting two churches that just did nothing for me at all and were part of ritual or expectation rather than "filling my cup." Where I currently attend has brought me amazing friendships and great opportunities to serve the community, which are incredibly important, but I still maintain, in general, I suck at faith.

I think when you spend your life in close proximity to addiction, alcoholism and chaos, it's more difficult to find your way, as rather you are always focused on what's in your way. I wish I had the kind of support to be free in affirming faithful ideas and constructs but I just don't, and that's just par for the course right now.

Talking to anyone about close ties and experiences with family members and loved ones in the throws substance abuse is very difficult, let alone dealing with it privately. Unfortunately, like it or not, church gossip is as easy to get to as a copy of the bible when you walk into worship, so protecting any sense of privacy can feel alienating and a kind of lost cause. 

Last week during horseback riding lessons we spoke to this young girl who had been riding since she was 7. My husband mentioned church and this 14 year old girl said, "You should come to my church! We'd love to have you!" She spoke with pride about what it was like and that even if we had a church we liked, she'd like for all of us to come to hers. I just watched her talking to us about this and was in awe of her. This girl had no fear or reservations about talking about where she held her faith. She was just as happy to talk about her church as she was about her iPhone, her sprained wrist and her horses. 

I think I was like her until my first experiences with family addiction. I think I was able to stand taller before the engulfing force that my early trauma took from me. And I'm sorry to say that dealing with the effects of the substance abuse of others is still very much a part of my daily life, and what keeps me from sucking less at faith.

Without outing everything about my personal life I can report that, although I don't struggle with drug or alcohol abuse, save from being a mother and 2 glasses of wine giving me a headache if I don't have enough water, or beer giving me stomach cramps, it's something that I have never lived without. It is a constant. For many people reading you'll reach out and say this is when I need my church and to find my faith most, but for those of you who have known me the longest, you'll know that's just not an easy thing for me.

I'm not so sure faith is "easy" for anyone, but for me it's just a work in progress like everything else in my life and my best compliment to myself about it is, at least I'm honest about it. I refuse to hide the struggle anymore because it adds too much extra stress. I suck at faith but I'm willing to work on it. For those of you who have that strong and unwavering faith, you're always allowed to share with me because I am well aware that learning about it incredibly important. 

In the meantime, I am healing and working hard on finding ways back to myself. I'm taking the Sundays I need to for a day of rest and late breakfasts, and I'm done feelingly badly about it. I'm taking every lesson I can from every sermon I attend and I'm trying to try to suck much less in the hopes that one day it will truly rub off and become easier for me. Until then, I just keep learning and doing what I can to keep on keeping on; that may actually be the religion in Eugene. "Keep on keeping on." 

All The Lessons, All The Tools

I did an Instagram post the other night because I was frustrated and sad and wanted to express that without whining or being ungrateful, but needed a bit of a "vent session." I've been working diligently on being more apt to "roll with the punches." I most identify with the idea that I'm "Anxious Alison," and planning and changing planning can be seriously difficult for me. Sometimes I can thrive in the chaos and keep the steady hand, other times I'm one second away from just screaming into my pillowcase. It can be quite a ride.

Last year during some chaos where self care had fallen to the wayside, I was miserable and mentally collapsing, I decided to take control and use my favorite coping mechanism, working out, to it's fullest advantage. For the first time in 5 years I joined a gym and went back to Spin classes. When I started I was averaging 4 spin classes a week and 3 days of boot camp. Then as things at home became worse I was adding in more double workouts to try and keep myself steady and balanced in the mayhem.

This year, because of budgeting, adulting and the gym losing instructors and messing with schedules, I had to get rid of the gym membership. Sad day. Now plenty of friends have said, "Gyms are only like $10 a month just go here, there and so and so." Yeah I need my classes, I work best in that environment and, we have zero extra money so, gotta do what ya gotta do.

A neighbor friend had a membership at the same gym and wanted a buddy to keep her in spin so she said we could go every Tuesday. I was psyched. This was the pick me up I needed and it wouldn't kill me to be slightly social and get to know her better. Welp, this happened all of one week before things changed and that was no longer an option. So, back to relying on me, myself and I.

This morning I am happy to report that after texting hubby at 8PM last night that "I'm running tomorrow whether I want to or not," I got my butt outta bed and ran 2 miles, and I feel frigging amazing. No, this isn't just endorphins or some weird runners high.

I realized something. Everything always goes back to the lessons and tools I learned over a decade ago in my therapy. Little things are bigger things in the grand spectrum and I need to work on some little things. Last week I really sucked at self care; this week, it has been tantamount to my success and I shall explain.

Last week I stayed up too late for no reason. Texting, watching re-runs of the same shows I've been watching for years, stressing about all the things I needed to do and worrying about things I could never control. I was tossing and turning about fading friendships, reaching out, not reaching out, drawing boundaries, not drawing boundaries, and things that make me unsettled. Last week I was exhausted, I didn't eat right, and I was cranky.

Now, self care looks different for everyone. For me, it is early bedtimes and new, healthy routines. I've been WAY better at adjusting things with less mental stress and not allowing my routines to "manage" me. I've been very attentive to when I need to be more gentle with myself. This week I asked my husband to meal prep some things for me this week and he did. This week I have been asleep by 9 every night and up by 5 every morning. And last night I started something, a new hope-to-be habit, that is LONG over-due.

Last night, with a cup of Sleepy Time tea and a tucked in kiddo one room away, I read for twenty minutes before bed, and it was a book I've been trying to read since December, but keep getting distracted and taken away from it. Not only did it help me get sleepy, but I felt so awesome investing that small amount of time into myself, and something for just me and my tired brain.

On another note, and this will bring the point around here eventually, at Church they started this experimental biblical reflection-type thing and instead of being lackluster, lazy and scoffing, I said "yes" and jumped in head first. Again with rolling with the punches, quickly it didn't work out as planned and I was left with one mentor and ally, a favorite mom within the church in fact, as someone to kind of check in with from time to time, instead of a small group atmosphere as intended.

The first week was okay; I liked the general spirit (pun intended) of what the exercises exemplified but things got heavy, fast. Instead of exploration it became homework. I reached out to a couple people a few times but, this was clearly meant to be group discussion with personal reflection and notating. It wasn't making me happy, or more plainly, it was "not sparking joy," if we need to conform to pop culture references. So I took a step back and thought, "Okay, so I put my best foot forward and handled the fallout of plans really well, and I tried to maintain this solo with some individual outreach but I'm definitely not hitting the target so then why am I stressing about something that I'm getting nothing out of?" EXACTLY!

It all came back to self care, lessons, and tools from what felt like I learned forever ago. This isn't to say I'm done with "church stuff;" this isn't to say I'm done trying new things. But I'm definitely learning my boundaries of saying "yes and no." And this includes saying yes and no to myself, and to others.

You may be thinking, okay, the gym isn't exactly a luxury and who doesn't make time to read a damn book? ME! The gym IS a luxury for me and I've disclosed previously as a writer, I'm the worst reader ever. And it dawned on me as to why I revert to some coping mechanisms so easily and why shaking things up can be daunting, so here we go:

My dad was a routine-driven dude. At 7AM he'd be planning dinner and every night that was in the dining room at the table at 6PM. When my mom left, in all the craze and turmoil, my dad gave up the dining room table nonsense and we used to live it up, eating in the "TV Room." We'd watch the Simpsons together, Friends, Will and Grace, Mad About You, Ellen, Cheers re-runs, Seinfeld, X-Files, Full House, and so on and so forth, all while eating dinner together. This became my favorite thing ever because instead of wallowing in the changes, we would just enjoy each other's company and lose ourselves in the plot lines and worlds of the characters on a screen.

And last night I realized that when I feel so out of control, so tired and beaten down by life and schedules, anxiety and depression, and at odds with my world, I re-watch Friends for the thousandth time and absorb the drama. I re-watch the Office and can't believe how oblivious Michael Scott is. I stay up late laughing at Seinfeld and remembering how many times that show was so right on and ahead of it's time. Because that's my version of "comfort food."

And while I love books and can devour a good series with the best of them, it's just not my go to for trying times. But the change in routine yesterday, although ever so slight, was just what the doctor ordered. It allowed me to effectively wind down and was calm and quiet. It let me read WITHOUT distraction, and distraction is my seemingly my forte.

Between the read and the run, I'm looking forward to tonight and my morning runs from here on out. I'm happy I'm back to "normal" bed times and not stressing over schedules, projects and things I can't force myself into. I'm discovering new peace. I didn't realize how volatile things have been, until this peace feeling came over me, and I must say, I just love it, and am more and more grateful for it. 

All the lessons, all the tools, I know them and I have them at my disposal, ready to use. It's easy to embrace the lazy and not do all the things. It's far more rewarding to get off your butt and get things done! Or, so I feel it is lately!

I Am A Serial Plant Killer

I just finished devouring all of The Ted Bundy Tapes on Netflix and while, as an American, I'm naturally intrigued by serial killers and love crime drama type things, it has brought to light my own issues, which include my penchant for killing plants. I am a serial killer...of plants.

This isn't a malicious thing. I don't hunt and attack the plants. But if you give me a plant to water and care for, I will kill it. I mean, come and look at my yard. I'm the complete opposite of any kind of green thumb at all. I'm the black thumb...black death.

My problem is, I don't really care about plants, and again it's not like I want to purposefully hurt them, they just aren't on my radar. I keep my dog and my kid alive and healthy. The same just cannot be said for plants.

I haven't been given many plants, but I inevitably kill them all. I have at least a dozen that have met their demise under my care. I do okay with a bouquet of flowers but those are eventually supposed to die so I feel no remorse there. In the past few years though, I have received too many plants that have not survived me.

After the car accident people gave us a few "Our thoughts are with you" types of plants. These were simple grocery store or Lowe's garden section plants. Nothing impressive really, but they barely lasted a week. I forget to water. Or I over-water, or they get no air or sunlight. They are neglected. Even outdoor plants get neglected. Why water them? Ever heard of rain?

It was about a year and a half ago when we had a house warming that a church friend gave me a "mother-in-law" or snake plant type thing and said, "Don't worry, this thing is actually hard to kill." This one lasted the longest of any plant that I have received but I did, eventually, kill it. I think it was able to live with me about 7 months. Never would I claim that this plant thrived.

I even consciously wanted to keep that damned plant alive with no luck! The plants hate me, we just do not get along.

And now for my daughter's birthday my cousin got her something super cool, interactive and thoughtful...succulents. I think we may have already lost one or two. I've replanted with proper soil and am watering, sunning and trying, but I have made no promises to these plants. I fear the worst.

I watch other people who love plants and I'm in awe. I feel like I lack that capacity to adore and care for plant life. I can match outfits, arrange, organize, file, clean, type, write, even sew, but things involving plants are just not my forte. If it were up to me, we wouldn't even have a yard, just a huge screened enclosure with firepit, grill, and hot tub. Not kidding.

I love nature. I was raised in nature and with a deep respect for nature and it seems I may be one of the only people in my entire family who has no interest in caring for plant life and keeping it happy and alive. I have seriously and serially killed all plants that have come into contact with me. I may not be Bundy-style deranged and psychopathic but these poor plants have never even seen it coming!

Perhaps I'm too focused on my own personal growth!