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broken and fixed and life

I can’t figure out how to fix my mobile site after I broke all the things last month. I am just that good at breaking things. Sadly, breaking things isn’t something most of us can put on our resumes. Unless you break shit for a living and, maybe, I should look into a job like that.

So…yeah. I’m trying to fix the things that are broken on this website.

Until then, hopefully you’ll still stop by every now and then on your regular old computer. Which is probably the internet equivalent of me sending you a typed letter via owl. But whatever. We can’t ALL be super good at all the things, you guys.

Besides breaking things. Of course.

Seventh grade and senior years are going really well so far. These kids of mine seem to have a shitton of homework at all times and I almost feel bad for them. Mostly, I feel bad for me because homework all the time means I need to be a responsible parent and not let them watch tv or hang out with friends all the time. It also means that every so often, The Dude and I get roped into projects and other things that make our brains hurt a lot. Especially when you add that to all the other crap that senior year brings. College nights and applications and a bunch of little things that make us feel like we’re doing most things way too late or totally wrong and, sometimes, a little bit right.

I know this is ridiculous, but I’m legit proud of how well I’ve been holding up the first month or so of senior year. I’m not saying I should win any awards for stalwart mothering, but I haven’t completely lost it. Not even once. Not even when these arrived in the mail.

prtraits

The Dude has had a couple of moments that nearly broke my pretend stoic behavior. Like when I texted him pictures during her yearbook/senior portrait session and his response nearly knocked the wind out of me. He’s not usually the one who is blasted by this kind of thing. I took a turn acting like I was completely fine with all of it.

I try not to do it very often, but there are times when I can’t help but wonder what this time next year will look like. It’s weird to think about only one of our kids living at home. I know we’ll be fine, but do you get used to that? Is it weird to let the dog have her room once she leaves?

Don’t answer that.

I’m not going to let the dog have her room. Probably.

Deadlines for early applications are right around the corner. There is so (SO!) much to do and get ready for, I feel like I’m going to blink and it will be Christmas and we’ll know (for better or for worse) if she got accepted or if we pick up and start applying to her plan B and C and D schools. More than anything, it’s just really weird that this is our life right now. Awesome, but weird.

* * *

I wrote all of that earlier thinking that I would get it all finished and set to post this evening. About an hour ago, I got a text message from that senior in high school from her friend’s house as they build their last homecoming float. She mentioned how much fun she was having but how it was a little sad that this was their last homecoming together. And yeah…I cried all the way home from the grocery store, so all those things that I wrote about me being okay is sort of a lie. Well, it’s less true than it was before an hour ago anyway.

But I’m going to be fine. Really. I’ll keep saying that until we all believe it.

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On Anxiety and Masks and Hating When Other People Are Right

I’ve been thinking a lot about anxiety lately. Mostly mine. I mean, I can think about yours if you want me to but I’m more familiar with my own. I’ve just had more practice with mine. I’m so selfish like that.

I don’t talk about anxiety very often. I’m not very good at it and sometimes it’s just easier to keep quiet. There’s always the possibility that people will start acting weird about it once they know. Maybe they’ll be uncomfortable with the topic. (I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. That’s not right.)

When I take better care of myself, I handle life much better. I wish I could remember that all the time, but I don’t. I seem to forget every time that life gets complicated and I stop working out or eating right or drinking enough water. You know, that damn oxygen mask we keep talking about. I keep forgetting the part about putting mine on first.

What can I say? I’m a terrible flyer.

I wasn’t always an anxious person. I’ve always been a champion worrier pretty much all of my life. But my actual, “hey there’s an elephant sitting on my chest”, introduction to anxiety happened several years ago after a few ridiculously stressful months. As I’m wont to do, I put off going to the doctor until I really couldn’t ignore it anymore. My doctor immediately caught on. Me? Not so much. I’M NOT WORRIED ABOUT ANYTHING! I kept saying. THERE IS NO REASON FOR ME TO BE ANXIOUS, I maintained. He (politely) humored me and referred me to a specialist while saying, “Hey…I’m going to prescribe these (super low-dose) pills for anxiety because you really should think about all the ways you are obviously in denial about having anxiety.

I never did fill that prescription.

Because I’m an obnoxious know-it-all. Clearly.

See also: stubborn as shit.

Pills aren’t always the answer for me. Of all the rotten side effects that might happen – there is inevitably something that does happen to me. I’m just lucky like that. After those doctor appointments I felt that my entire self, the whole me, needed a tune-up and I took a more holistic approach to feeling better. Say what you will about acupuncture, but damn if I didn’t feel a lot better after several visits and really paying attention to a little more self-care. The oxygen mask was on, bitches.

Until it wasn’t. Until I, once again, put everyone else first and made sure I came dead last.

After some rough months (stressful deadlines and, you know, worrying about every last thing and school and college plans and, and…) I ignored all the signs that kept telling me I was headed back to not being well. My body hurt all the time. I was anxious A LOT. I felt like every task was a huge struggle. I could focus only on what was demanding my attention which meant I operating on a pretty stressful diet of hurry up and OMG YOU ARE ABOUT TO MISS THIS DEADLINE. (Or I would completely forget to do things. Important things. And then miss the deadlines.) It wasn’t a great place to be.

It’s still not fabulous. But it’s a lot better than it was. And a lot of improvements happened this week when I cut some yucky things out of my diet and started to get my run/walk on a little more. (Ok, a lot more than I was at ALL.) Gawd, I hate it when those nuts are right about things, but yeah. I feel a little better. I’m not going to pretend that I’m now living in this magical place of always feeling great and good, but at least it’s a step in the right direction. The fact that I can write about this and maybe even entertaining the idea that I’ll actually hit publish is a big deal. There is so much room for change and improvement, but I wish I could remember that taking care of myself is important. I hope I can keep this (not exactly) bullshit oxygen mask on my face. I really like the me that wears it.

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Left Foot on Green

I’m stuck.

It’s my own fault. I don’t know what ‘unstuck’ looks like. I’ve been too busy with being so busy, I haven’t stopped for two seconds and figure things out. I haven’t really been listening. I haven’t really been paying attention.

I may, or may not, be ignoring all the signs.

I read this Facebook status today. I, in no way, am trying to make someone else’s sadness or tragedy about me. But there’s this part that I can’t get out of my brain. Like she wrote it for me even though I know for certain that she didn’t:

Fifteen years ago, my pastor Veronica said that when she had no clue what direction to take, she imagined standing in a spotlight, as if on stage, and waited, prayerfully, until one more spotlight began to appeared nearby. Then she would go stand in that circle of light.

 

I surrendered. I lay down my weapons and went over to the winning side. I am a recovering Higher Power.

 

I’ve been standing still for a really long time. (I mean, metaphorically speaking of course.) I’ve been resisting change. You know, standing in my own way like I do. Tying my own shoelaces together and attempting to run. Falling flat on my face because, well, you can’t get very far like that. If I could just get my feet untangled and start walking, maybe I’d figure out where the heck I’m supposed to go?

I’m feeling very Dorothy, yellow-brick-road, need a brain/heart/courage right now.

But that pastor and standing on the stage and the light. Knowing what your next step is. Or the next place. Maybe it’s just knowing the plan or having a plan. Maybe it’s not. What if it’s all about putting your feet *right there* and then (THEN!) you’ll know what comes next.

It’s like Twister for real life.

That’s pretty powerful stuff. Not just because it’s a lot like Twister.

I’m just saying, A LOT could be learned by putting left foot on green.

Or stepping into your light. THE light. And just knowing.