No, not in heaven. But it was a little heavenly I suppose...
There's a lot of crap going on right now and my anxiety level is quite high. Normally, I don't consider myself an anxious person. I can be a very stressed out person. I can be a very depressed person. I can even have some very manic moments (Usually premenstrual - it's not a bipolar thing.) where I laugh so hard I start crying or cry so hard I start laughing. (Seriously, I'm not bipolar.)
But I don't think I'm a particularly "anxious" person.
But lately....lately...yeah, pretty anxious. I keep having to remind myself to breathe. And I keep doing this thing where I lean my head back and close my eyes repeating, "Breathe Rachel. It'll be okay Rachel. Deep breaths Rachel. Think of good things Rachel. RELAX RACHEL!" and then my head springs back up, my eyes fly open and I'm all anxious again.
Last night, I was flipping through the channels and came across The Hills: A Look Back With Lauren Conrad on MTV. I've already confessed my obsession with The Hills so I don't feel the need to get into that humiliation again here. (If you'd like to read about it you can look back in the August archives under "There's Gold In Them There Hills!" )
Anyway, I stopped surfing and sat there staring at the TV and became totally engrossed in the drama. Lauren and Steven, Steven and Kristen, Lauren and Jason, Jessica and Jason. I was mesmerized. Suddenly, an obnoxious commercial break came on and I was snapped out of my trance. I looked up at the clock then looked over at Greg and said, "For the last seven minutes I didn't think about one single problem AT ALL for the first time in almost two weeks. For seven whole minutes I thought about nothing else except for Lauren and whether or not she'll get her shit together with these boys."
First, he laughed pretty hard. Then, he strongly encouraged me to keep watching. (Which he never does because he feels the need to pretend that he hates The Hills. And yet...he always makes his way upstairs on Monday nights around 10pm for some reason....hmm. Odd.)
I did continue to watch, and while I don't think it's any real solution to all that feels wrong right now, I do believe that mindless shows like that - if kept in perspective (I know it's not going to win a frickin' Emmy) - can be a gift. An escape. And at this point, I'll take whatever I can get.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
What I've Learned This Past Week
This past week has been full of ups and downs. I've learned a few things:
1) People are a pain in the ass.
2) People are wonderful.
3) Some people will do almost anything not to face the horribly scary path that their children are on.
4) My daughter is a strong and wise girl. Her heart breaks, but she still finds laughter in the midst of it all.
5) I fear that I will never fully trust anyone ever again if this sort of shit keeps happening.
6) Prayer has helped me get through this situation much better than the last time this happened when I couldn't bring myself to pray at all. It has made it abundantly clear that I need to start praying about that situation finally. Maybe it will make it stop hurting once and for all.
7) I feel more strongly than ever in my resolve to be who I want to be no matter who the other person chooses to be. I will continue to strive for kindness and a loving attitude in the face of irrationality and cruelty. It ain't easy but it's the right thing for me.
8) I'm so very thankful for the people in my life that restore my faith in family and friendship.
9) Sometimes a big brownie, cuddling with a cat and watching a good movie does solve everything - for a couple of hours anyway.
10) I need to strengthen myself physically so I am stronger when stressful situations come along. I will be signing up for that fitness class. I need it. I deserve it.
Wonder what this coming week will teach me?
1) People are a pain in the ass.
2) People are wonderful.
3) Some people will do almost anything not to face the horribly scary path that their children are on.
4) My daughter is a strong and wise girl. Her heart breaks, but she still finds laughter in the midst of it all.
5) I fear that I will never fully trust anyone ever again if this sort of shit keeps happening.
6) Prayer has helped me get through this situation much better than the last time this happened when I couldn't bring myself to pray at all. It has made it abundantly clear that I need to start praying about that situation finally. Maybe it will make it stop hurting once and for all.
7) I feel more strongly than ever in my resolve to be who I want to be no matter who the other person chooses to be. I will continue to strive for kindness and a loving attitude in the face of irrationality and cruelty. It ain't easy but it's the right thing for me.
8) I'm so very thankful for the people in my life that restore my faith in family and friendship.
9) Sometimes a big brownie, cuddling with a cat and watching a good movie does solve everything - for a couple of hours anyway.
10) I need to strengthen myself physically so I am stronger when stressful situations come along. I will be signing up for that fitness class. I need it. I deserve it.
Wonder what this coming week will teach me?
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
With High Hopes
I've decided that when the next paycheck comes in this weekend I'm going to go out and buy a bottle of champagne. And I'm going to bring that bottle home and put it in the refrigerator right away so that it's chilled and ready to pop open for when we get some good news to celebrate. And I'm thinking that it doesn't even have to be stunningly great news like a new job or winning the lottery or a someone giving us an around-the-world cruise as a surprise. Maybe it will just be that Emma got a great grade on a tough test. Or that I finally hung some pictures up around the house. Or that the weather was nice enough and my foot pain-free enough to take a long walk.
And yes, I will admit that there's a part of me wondering if this just means that the bar is set real low for us right now. But I'm not wondering about that enough to stop me from inviting hope for celebration in my life. I have hope.
That's a great thing.
And yes, I will admit that there's a part of me wondering if this just means that the bar is set real low for us right now. But I'm not wondering about that enough to stop me from inviting hope for celebration in my life. I have hope.
That's a great thing.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
I'm Working On Complaining Less and Saying Thank You More
The house needs cleaning. It always needs cleaning. That fact is hard for someone like me to accept. I like to make lists. Lots of lists. Make a list, complete a project and then cross that task off the list with flourish. But the cleaning never ends. You get it done and then it gets dirty again (rather quickly it seems) and then you have to do it again. It's the same with exercise for me. It never ends. You have to do it regularly and frequently. FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.
I'm better with finite tasks. Come up with a project, plan for the project, shop for the project, schedule the project, start the project, complete the project and then...and then! Scraaatchhh that item off your list. Ahh, the satisfaction is palpable.
But oh, the cleaning. The horrible, dreaded cleaning that consumes my mind. Consuming because although I hate to clean, I immensely enjoy a clean house. I love walking into a room and seeing shiny surfaces, dust free corners, spotless rugs, breathing deep and smelling that fresh, just cleaned smell. Love it, love it, love it. But it eludes me. I get discouraged and frustrated with the other creatures in the house that seem hell-bent on undoing all that I do. Sometimes, on a bad day, I think it's maliciousness, but mostly I think it's just carelessness or thoughtlessness or simply being oblivious to the mess.
Just a few days ago I was sitting around trying to muster up the energy to clean the bathroom. And resenting the hell out of it. Wishing that I could afford a housekeeper. Thinking about how much better the quality of my life would be to just have the damn cleaning taken care of. To be able to stop thinking about it for the first time in my life. To just have it DONE. For heaven's sake, is that asking so much?!
That afternoon, I decided to watch Oprah. How to describe the images...people like me, people like Greg, people like my sweet Emma...
They were living in homeless shelters, in tents, in their cars, in their offices. They had lost their jobs, their cars, their homes and all but the barest of their belongings. These were good people - hardworking people - people that just had one too many things go wrong for them. One more maybe than me or you.
It was sobering, of course. Scary. This past year has been rough for us, as it has been for so many others. But by the grace of God we've been able to keep our home. A home with four bedrooms, two and a half baths, dining room, living room, kitchen and a big back yard with deck. And every inch of it has been moaned over, bitched about and neglected to some degree. All because I hate to clean, Greg hates to work on our house after working other peoples' houses all day and Emma simply refuses to pick up after herself - her one area of complete stubbornness.
So, as I sat on my bed watching these people on Oprah - a boy who knew just getting a cake would be a lucky thing for his eleventh birthday, a woman who cried over how dirty her fingernails always were now, a mom desperately trying to keep her young children away from the male population at the shelter they stayed in, a couple that used the shower at the local fitness gym because there wasn't one in their office that has now become their home.
As I watched these people I was humbled. And mortified. And ashamed. Not of them, but of myself. Embarrassed that I had the nerve to complain about having to clean my house when I knew that these people - and thousands of others like them - would do almost anything to have what I have. To have the "problems" that I have. How dare I lament the lack of a housekeeper. What a spoiled brat I am. The only thing keeping me from having the clean home that I want is my own complete and utter laziness.
I promptly got off the bed and went and cleaned the bathroom.
Happily.
With joy.
Yes, JOY people. Complete and utter joy to be cleaning the toilet. My toilet. The one that I own. And two others just like it.
What an absolute privilege. One that I'll never take for granted again.
I'm better with finite tasks. Come up with a project, plan for the project, shop for the project, schedule the project, start the project, complete the project and then...and then! Scraaatchhh that item off your list. Ahh, the satisfaction is palpable.
But oh, the cleaning. The horrible, dreaded cleaning that consumes my mind. Consuming because although I hate to clean, I immensely enjoy a clean house. I love walking into a room and seeing shiny surfaces, dust free corners, spotless rugs, breathing deep and smelling that fresh, just cleaned smell. Love it, love it, love it. But it eludes me. I get discouraged and frustrated with the other creatures in the house that seem hell-bent on undoing all that I do. Sometimes, on a bad day, I think it's maliciousness, but mostly I think it's just carelessness or thoughtlessness or simply being oblivious to the mess.
Just a few days ago I was sitting around trying to muster up the energy to clean the bathroom. And resenting the hell out of it. Wishing that I could afford a housekeeper. Thinking about how much better the quality of my life would be to just have the damn cleaning taken care of. To be able to stop thinking about it for the first time in my life. To just have it DONE. For heaven's sake, is that asking so much?!
That afternoon, I decided to watch Oprah. How to describe the images...people like me, people like Greg, people like my sweet Emma...
They were living in homeless shelters, in tents, in their cars, in their offices. They had lost their jobs, their cars, their homes and all but the barest of their belongings. These were good people - hardworking people - people that just had one too many things go wrong for them. One more maybe than me or you.
It was sobering, of course. Scary. This past year has been rough for us, as it has been for so many others. But by the grace of God we've been able to keep our home. A home with four bedrooms, two and a half baths, dining room, living room, kitchen and a big back yard with deck. And every inch of it has been moaned over, bitched about and neglected to some degree. All because I hate to clean, Greg hates to work on our house after working other peoples' houses all day and Emma simply refuses to pick up after herself - her one area of complete stubbornness.
So, as I sat on my bed watching these people on Oprah - a boy who knew just getting a cake would be a lucky thing for his eleventh birthday, a woman who cried over how dirty her fingernails always were now, a mom desperately trying to keep her young children away from the male population at the shelter they stayed in, a couple that used the shower at the local fitness gym because there wasn't one in their office that has now become their home.
As I watched these people I was humbled. And mortified. And ashamed. Not of them, but of myself. Embarrassed that I had the nerve to complain about having to clean my house when I knew that these people - and thousands of others like them - would do almost anything to have what I have. To have the "problems" that I have. How dare I lament the lack of a housekeeper. What a spoiled brat I am. The only thing keeping me from having the clean home that I want is my own complete and utter laziness.
I promptly got off the bed and went and cleaned the bathroom.
Happily.
With joy.
Yes, JOY people. Complete and utter joy to be cleaning the toilet. My toilet. The one that I own. And two others just like it.
What an absolute privilege. One that I'll never take for granted again.
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