The only constant is change

Did you ever have a pain so raw and so deep that you couldn’t look it squarely in the face? You had to dance around it, stealing glances, sure that if you made eye contact it would wash over you like a tidal wave and you would be consumed?

This is what my summer has been, waiting and dreading the day I had to face another change in my life. Yesterday I moved my thirteen year old, my baby, to the big city to live with his brother. It’s a good move for him, the right one, full of opportunity and hope. He’s surrounded by people that know him and like him and will grow to love and nurture him. I expect that he’ll flourish and grow to become the man he’s meant to be.

Deciding to let him go was a decision I made for him and not for me. It seems that most of the decisions in my life, big and small, have been made for my children. Where will I live? Will I stay at this job? How will I spend my money? Who will I spend my spare time with? What will I do this weekend? Some days I wonder — when do I choose based on what I really want? When do I choose the ending I most want to see?

Almost every conversation I’ve had over the past few months discussing this move has been centered on what is best for my boy – The school here is killing his spirit. He needs a place to let loose his creativity. He spends too much time alone. He needs the daily influence of men in his life. He wants to go. He’s happy and relaxed in a way I haven’t seen in years. This is the right thing for him. He’ll be ok.

Through it all I’ve wondered if I would also be ok. I’m tired of changes, tired of adjusting, tired of watching my dreams die. I’ve reminded myself that mothers throughout the ages have made the hard choices for their children, sending them off to their destiny even when they want to hold them close. I’ve told myself (although I’m not so sure I fully believe it) that I’m a better mother for making this choice. Somehow, by letting him go and live apart from me, I will help him become more whole and more the man he is supposed to be.

But the pain lurks, like a dragon, just around the corner. I have to consciously hold it away from me so I’m not consumed. I’m afraid if I look it square in the face that I’ll be overwhelmed and immobilized by the enormity of it all. I have to keep moving forward, to somehow make it through the long quiet nights when the doubts and the loneliness sneak up on me. I have to convince myself that I can survive this change as well as the others that came before it. That somehow, in the end, I’ll be ok.

Catching up

One of the themes in my life the last few years is the phrase “Feels like doesn’t mean is”.  I know my emotions are only semi-trustworthy, fueled by hormones, lack of sleep, sunshine (or the lack thereof), how much chocolate I’ve consumed lately, and so on. Feelings and emotions are a barometer and not to be ignored, but I try not to let them define the situation.

I have a major tendency to be hard on myself. Deep down in the core of my personality is a perfectionist who sees everything in black and white. Everything is categoriezed as either “good” or “bad” with nothing in between. The “good” means everything, down to the smallest detail is perfect. One speck of “bad” and it’s all rotten. I fight that inner perfectionist daily and I’ve learned to challenge her rigid way of viewing things. Few things in life, especially when looking at our actions and choices, are stark black and white. I’m slowly learning to accept that life is shades of gray with occasional burts of rainbows.

I’ve been quiet lately because I’ve only been able to see my faults and failings. Life has been more than overwhelming and I haven’t had much confidence in myself as a mother, an employee, a friend. I’ve tried to listen to that voice of reason and not let those feelings define me, but it’s been tough. I haven’t wanted to share my dark side. I’m cautious about being too transparent out here in public and it’s just been simpler to be quiet.

I’ll be back, hopefully soon.

In which I resort to hyperbole

Today is the first day of my personal buy nothing challenge and I failed miserably. I may not be able to recover from this. I’m thinking I should just admit defeat and give up now. I’m sure I can find a 24 hour WalMart somewhere and I’ll just go empty my checkbook and get it over with.

I started out ok and brought some yogurt to work for breakfast. I keep a box of granola in a desk drawer and like to sprinkle some on the yogurt. I didn’t buy the made-to-order scrambled eggs, or even succumb to a bagel and juice from the work cafeteria. One gold star to add to my chart. Then, midmorning, I needed to walk away from my desk. If I didn’t, it wouldn’t have been pretty. I asked a co-worker to take a little walk so I could vent and that ‘little walk’ was to head downstairs to Starbucks. It’s pretty convenient having a Starbucks right in the building, but it’s also mighty tempting. I’m not fond of their coffee straight, but a Caramel Macchiotto can certainly brighten my day. And brighten my day it did, except for the twinges of guilt I was trying to ignore.

I had meetings over lunch and was too busy to visit the cafeteria. I try to keep some quick non-perishables in my desk and resorted to a cup of ramen in the afternoon. Not great, but it kept me away from the vending machines.

In the evening it was Youth Group Night. My youngest goes to a group 18 miles from home – too far to drive back and forth – so I need to find something to occupy my time. Often the Middle Boy accompanies me and we spend at least an hour hanging out in Caribou Coffee. Reading, knitting, talking, not doing homework, sometimes working on the laptop. I look forward to the time with him and do not begrudge the price of a decaf mocha (for me) or a coffee cooler (for him). Today he started Spring Marching Band and so I was on my own.

We’re almost out of toilet paper and that’s one thing I do NOT want to run out of, so I steeled myself and went into Target. And bought stuff:

• 20 roll pack of TP
• 8 Thank You cards for people at work
• 2 pkgs of pre-mixed tuna salad to keep at work
• 2 boxes of granola (with blueberries) from the clearance rack
• A small notebook that I need for work

So far I’m feeling OK. Yeah, I could have only grabbed the TP (which was on sale, by the way) and left everything else, but I have a definite use and “need” for the cards and notebook. The cards will go out to the Team tomorrow and I’ve already started using the notebook. But then there was this:

A really cute pair of shoes. Oh sigh. I am soooo NOT a “cute shoes” kind of girl. Give me my Birkies and I’m happy. I wear the same pair of black dressy shoes until they fall apart. I’ve worn the same sandals for the last 3 summers. It’s not so much that I’m frugal in this area or trying to make some sort of statement (although I just can’t quite rationalize spending big bucks on shoes), I’m just not that into shoes. Give me comfort and I’m happy. Plus there’s the fact that my feet are long and wide and I’m just plain hard to fit. Mostly I don’t even look at shoes because it’s just too disappointing. But today…. They must have just received a shipment as there were many, many size 11’s in stock. Wide ones even. And I found these cute flowery flats that would look great with my black pants or maybe that spring green skirt in the back of my closet. And they were on sale.

So, day one and I blew it at Starbucks and with the shoes. I am a total and abject failure and I may not recover (this would be a good time to refer to the subject line).

I asked for it

My daughter cut my hair yesterday. I’d been considering getting it cut for awhile as I think my last haircut was 18 months ago, possibly longer. Overally, I’m pretty low maintenance in this area (as long as the gray stays hidden). I prefer my hair longer and I can’t stand the short-hair-framing-a-fat-face look. It was time for a trim, way past time, as my hair was starting to look a bit worse for wear. Too many split ends and grown out layers. I wanted it just past my shoulders (which would have meant cutting off about 4 inches) and all one length. That way I could still clip it back out of my face, or lift it off my neck in a pony tail.

So I asked her if she felt confident and was willing and she scrounged up some scissors (maybe that should have been my first clue). All the giggling was the second. It’s not horrible but it is rather short. Chin length, framing my face. It’s a little blunt across the ends but maybe if I give it a few days…

Today at work I got the comments. “You got your hair cut… it’s…. cute”. Said with just enough pause between “it’s” and “cute” and the voice raising into the “you know I’m lying” range. Someone even asked me if I cut it myself.

Tonight the remaining hair received the overdue dye job that I’d been postponing.  My hair is still up in a towel so I don’t yet know if it will behave when I blow-dry it. If it’s not too awful, maybe I’ll get a picture tomorrow. Or maybe not.

My Plan

I have this silly little idea running through my head about a consumer-free April. I’m not sure where it came from but it doesn’t seem to be going away. I only call it silly because I know it’s going to be difficult. I would like to dismiss it as a silly little whim, but I just can’t.

 For the month of April, I am not going to buy anything, other than necessary food or other consumables, with a few planned exceptions. Nothing new, nothing used.

I wonder if I can make it. Already my heart is racing and my palms are a little sweaty. Is it really that unsettling to even think about not spending money? Out of necessity I’m pretty frugal as it is, although I am aware of a few areas where I’m not as careful as I could be.

 Here’s what’s out:

New or used anything that isn’t a necessary consumable such as food or toilet paper. If it’s something that can wait, it will wait until May. If one of the boys suddenly grows out of, or totally destroys, their shoes (again), that would be a necessity. But if the TV remote breaks (again!), that can wait.

Unplanned eating out. It is just too easy to give in to tiredness or just plain laziness and stop for fast food or call out for pizza. The convenience of the cafeteria at work is tempting, but the money adds up quickly. Truthfully, the only reason I buy food in the work cafeteria is because I didn’t want to make a lunch at home.

Yarn or other craft supplies that are not absolutly necessary to complete a project that absolutely must be completed NOW. Ninety-nine percent of the yarn and related supplies that I purchase is, at some level, an impulse buy and could easily be postponed. Yeah, I know, it’s on sale… it’s a deal… I’ve been wanting to try this yarn and how can I pass it up… but it’s money I don’t need to spend.

Books. Oy, this is going to hurt. Is there anything more pleasant than an hour spent in a bookstore, wandering the aisles, listening for the ones that call out to me? And I do listen and more often than not bring one or two (or more) home with me.

So what is allowed?

Necessary consumables such as food, etc., although I want to be more aware of how I’m spending this money. I need to do more planning for our meals and snacks and then follow those plans.

Planned meals away from home rather than the spontaneous. My monthly Team Lunch. My “date nights” with the boys to Caribou Coffee. Pizza or some other non-homecooked meal for the family once and only once.

Can I be successful limiting myself to only these items? I’d love to confidently say yes, but I honestly don’t know. I don’t waste a lot of money simply because I can’t afford to, but I know I blow it in the areas above. I’ve learned that the best way to avoid “retail therapy” and impulse shopping is to simply avoid even entering a store without an iron clad list in hand. But knowing that doesn’t keep me away from Hobby Lobby or Borders.

I’ll begin this April 1. It’s difficult to resist the urge to run out and stock up now but if I’m honest with myself, what do I really need to stock up on? I already own more books than I could possibly read through in the next month even if things like work and sleep didn’t get in the way. The same thing could be said for craft supplies. There is very little that I really need to add to my life.

Anyone care to join me?

Goals for the new me

2007 was a year of transition. I began my transformation from an overwhelmed, chronically exhausted, stuck-in-survival-mode, robot of a woman into an overwhelmed, merely tired instead of exhausted, beginning-to-figure-out-my-new-life, learning how to laugh again woman. I learned that often when I faced the ghosts of my past instead of hiding from them, they lost much of their power. I started to live my life instead of merely moving through it.

I want to keep moving forward in 2008 and this is the direction I think I’m headed. I’m still learning who I want to be so maybe some of these goals will change as I change and grow this year. I don’t do New Year’s Resolutions – every Resolution I’ve ever made was some variation of “Here is one more thing I think I should be doing that I’m not doing now and most like won’t be doing in two weeks.” Instead of Resolutions that are destined to fail, this list of Goals shows where I am on my journey, and where I’m headed next.

In no particular order, meet some of my goals for the new me:

1. Wear lipstick more often – For years and years I never wore makeup at all. Now I usually wear a little foundation and blush. I’d like to add lipstick to the daily routine.

2. Stick with the budget – At least I have one now. For way too long I just muddled through. I’m still learning to follow it.

3. Finish getting out of debt – I’m seeing the light at the end of the tunnel here and if I focus, I can be debt free by the end of the year (except for maybe one loan).

4. Do something really memorable for my 5oth birthday – I have nine months to figure out what. I would love to visit the ocean but I’m not so sure that a vacation fits with the getting out of debt goal above. Whatever I do, I want it to be a celebration. I’m done with crappy birthdays.

5. Add some more recipes to the family cookbook. Maybe add some pictures even.

6. Hug my kids and tell them I love them every time I see them (or at least once a day for the ones at home)

7. Fix my sewing machine and sew again – I have projects I’d like to do and I’m beginning to have the time and focus to work on them. Plus one of my boys wants to learn to sew and he can’t learn on a broken machine.

8. Clean out and de-junk the garage. Again.- I’ve moved twice since my divorce and each time I got rid of insane amounts of Stuff. The first move was more about purging the Ex, getting rid of his stuff and loosening the hold he had on my life. In the move this past summer I let go of my old life and started to move forward. There’s still a long way to go. I only want to keep what I really want to keep and not be burdened with all the crap.

9. Learn to knit socks – This time next year may my blog be festooned with pictures of feet in my handknit socks

10. Sit down to dinner with my kids more often instead of simply saying “food’s ready, go get some.”

11. Take more pictures – I have rolls of film waiting to be used (and developed! Don’t forget that all-important step!) plus the handy dandy digital camera. And how often do I actually use them? Almost never.

12. Fix my grill and use it often – The bottom burned out around the drip pan right before we moved last summer. It should be a simple fix, I just need to do it.

Christmas Rant

I don’t much like Christmas. There, I said it, so shoot me. I don’t like the expectations, I don’t like the expense, I don’t like the crowds. I don’t like the mess. Should I go on? (The food however… I do like the food. Christmas food is awesome. Cardamon rolls, butter toffee, cookies, candies, peppermint ice cream, one tiny sip of eggnog. The food I’ll keep.)

At Christmas I fight too many ghosts… those unpleasant memories of not so great Christmases Past. Memories of never doing enough, never being enough. Of trying to make up for a dad who was too drunk to care.

I know, I know, I have a choice. THIS is my life now and I want to live in it and not in the past. I can make Christmas whatever I want it to be. But what if I just want it to be over? I want to wake up and it’s just another day and I can go back to the regularly scheduled struggle of being a single mom. I don’t want to deal with all this extra pressure.

I don’t think there’s any getting out of it though. Christmas will be in three days even if I attempt to wish it away. And, like it or not, I am the mother, the responsible one. It’s up to me to help the kids have good memories of the time we spend together. Although I try to gift them with things they want and need, I really don’t much care if they remember the ’stuff’ with fondness. I do care that they remember the time.

Maybe I’m just the Memory Facilitator. My job isn’t to infuse their brains with happiness and peace but to help create an atmosphere where cozy family times can incubate and grow. I can set the scene but I can’t make them get along.

My Christmas Wish for my children is that they can look back on the time we spend together without the need to fight the Ghost of Christmas Past. And maybe, when enough time has passed, my own ghosts will fade away.

Trust

Trusting God doesn’t come easily for me. It’s not so much that I don’t believe He’s in control or that He knows what He’s doing, but more that I’m afraid that what he chooses for my life will be painful and I’m afraid I will be left to deal with the pain alone. Trusting God means fully accepting the consequences and trusting that He will be there through it all.

Life hurts, I get that. Being a Christian, following God, doesn’t somehow save me from difficult circumstances. God isn’t obligated to protect me from physical, emotional or even spiritual pain. There would be a certain naive security if I could believe that, if I could lie down secure at night knowing that because God loves me, nothing bad can happen.

But that’s not His promise. God doesn’t promise to keep us from the fire. His promise is to keep us through the fire. We will have fire, no doubt about it. Do I trust God to keep me whole?

I know the scriptures… “will the clay say to the potter “what are you doing?” (Is 45:9)… “cast your anxiety on Him because He cares for you” (1 Pet 5:7)… and there are more, many more… but do I really believe them? Life is a freefall without a parachute. Do I really trust God to catch me?

What is it that makes it so hard for me to trust? I’m tired of being broken and long to be whole. I’m tired of walking through the fire and wondering if there will ever be an end. I’m just plain tired. Where is the rest? Is it there and I’m afraid to reach out and take it?

Is finding the peace, the rest, the place of trust up to me? Do I have to do all the hard work and drag myself broken and bloody and crying into His arms? Or will He reach out and find me, see my hurt and hold me close to His heart? Does He even notice I’m in pain and care enough to reach out and comfort me?

If it’s up to me then I’m lost. I don’t have the strength to bridge the gap between me and God. I need Him to see my pain and take me into His arms. 

Cooking Dinner

Maybe if I did my grocery shopping Fridays on the way home from work, the week between paydays I would be more realistic. Those nights find me exhausted, mentally spent, brain dead, and cash poor. Timing shopping then might mean that I’d bring something home that would actually get cooked and eaten during the week instead of food that languishes in my fridge longing for attention.

Instead I tend to shop Saturday morning the day after payday. I’m feeling, well, not rich exactly, but maybe a little spendy. Creative. Ambitious. Hungry. I buy things that actually need cooking rather than heating up. I imagine that I’ll make muffins or banana bread or maybe even an apple pie. I picture real meals with a vegetable, starch and meat and a dessert even. I imagine that we’ll sit around the table, enjoying good food and great conversation. Of course the children will love everything I cook even if it includes mushrooms.

Then the week happens. Up too early and out the door for a too long day. Home 12 hours later and I try to remember what I had planned to do what that lovely food. Meatloaf? Marinated chicken breasts? Cauliflour? I can’t fathom any of it.

I make pancakes (a mix, just add water), eggs and toast, ramen (if I’m creative, maybe add a chicken breast), mac and cheese (I’m not sure there’s a way to make that adult friendly but I keep trying), tuna sandwiches, tacos. The only requirement seems to be how quickly I can get it on the table with the least amount of effort on my part.

I’d like to think that a day will come when I have the time and energy to remember how to cook. In the meantime, I hope the kids can taste the love.

another beginning

So a girl with a track record of writing once every few months starts a blog. I suppose it’s proof that some people never give up. In my lifetime I’ve started dozens of journals that generally fizzle out after a few entries. Will this be any different? Maybe, maybe not. Does it really matter?

I added a few things I’ve written in the past and maybe I’ll dig up some more. Maybe someday I’ll even point the way here or someone will stumble along on their own. And someday I’ll have the time and the energy to purty up the place a bit.

 For today, it is what it is.