Not a Wasted Word

I spent about an hour Saturday night falling down the rabbit hole of old posts. First I checked out November of 2014, then November of last year. I did NaBloPoMo in 2015 too, so there were a lot of posts to read.

There were some good posts. Some honest, raw, authentic posts. Some important posts. I was proud of a lot of what I read, and the discussions my words inspired.

As has been the case on many occasions when I read my own archives, I am left worrying that writing has deteriorated, that I’m somehow becoming worse for wear as I write year after year. At the very least my current posts feels lazy. Certainly the topics of my recent posts are. When I read through old posts it always feels like I was tackling more important topics, and getting better results, than I’m currently doing.

Of course back then I was still struggling. A lot. Especially in 2014. Struggle seems to inspire good writing, at least for me. Struggle is interesting. It’s dramatic. It pulls you in. It is part of a arch with conflict and hopefully, eventually, resolution. Struggle is a driving force in writing.

I’m not struggling so much anymore. Sure there are still challenges, but that desperation, that despair is no longer there. I have a much better handle on my life. I think the main reason for this is my kids are more manageable. They can play together for 10 or 15 minutes without any parental supervision. I no longer have to act as their constant referee. 10 or 15 minutes doesn’t seem like much, but those swaths of time are incredibly freeing. And with that freedom comes a calm, a sense of peace, an ability to regroup and prepare for what comes next. Reading back through posts from one or two years ago there is no doubt in my mind…I am a different woman, living a different life. For that, I am thankful.

I suppose what it all comes down to, is that ever lingering fear that in the absence of struggle I don’t have anything substantial to say. This blog is not packaging a brand. I don’t have some message to impart to the masses. I’m just a woman writing about her life.

But just writing that paragraph I’m already scoffing at my own words. It’s silly to think that in the absence of dire circumstances I have nothing substantial to say. Surely that isn’t the case. I have plenty to say, I think it will just take a lot more work to find the words and write them down.

And there is still struggle. Plenty of it. I am still struggling to find a definition of minimalism that makes sense to me. My house is not nearly the disaster area that had me believing I was a miserable failure, but it’s still not where I want it to be. Minimalism (or my understanding of it) delivered me from certain doom, and I absolutely believe it can make me even happier and more content than I already am.

My marriage always provides a steady stream of material, and I think I’m finally learning how to write about it in a way that respects all parties involved. And of course motherhood, and the crooked way I continue to muddle through it, will always leave a trail of blog post fodder in its wake.

So yes, I do believe I have something substantial still to say, I just need to take the time and energy to say it. I dedicated myself to posting every day in November, and while requiring a regular return to this space was a useful exercise, I see that moving forward I need to dedicate myself to this space in a more meaningful way, with fewer, more thoughtful posts.

I know that the election really hijacked my mental space. Navigating life the past few weeks has been an emotional minefield. While I’m disappointed I didn’t show up here with something meaningful to say, I am ready to forgive myself and move on. There is plenty of time to write thoughtfully about this terrifying new world we live in. And I do believe I still have something substantial to say.

So don’t worry. You’ll be seeing more of me, even after November.

I started a tradition when my daughter was two of getting a set of ornaments each year with a character or characters she was really interested in. I have happily continued this tradition; I enjoy decorating the tree each year with a walk down memory lane. Remember how much Garfield we read when you were four? I ask my daughter as I put up that ornament. I imagine I will appreciate it even more as my kids grow up, and away, from me. 

The thing is, it’s not always easy to find ornaments of some of the toys or characters my kids loved. It was when I ordered a set of Dis.ney princess ornaments that I realized people were solving this problem by making toys into ornaments themselves. The set I got on eBay was the exact set of figurines my daughter already had, just with eye pins drilled into the heads. 

This year I decided to make my own ornaments out of some toys that the kids don’t play with anymore by drilling a small hole in the top and screwing an eye pin into it. It worked better than I had hoped. 

The best part is now I have a way to keep some of these toys that I loved so much, but that the kids no longer play with. By making them into ornaments, I’m killing two birds with one stone: decorating the tree and saving sentimental pieces of their childhood in a meaningful way. 

As a comic book afficionado I always loved these DC super heroes Little People. They were favorites of mine when my kids were young.

I also got a couple of sets of figurines (very much on sale) and made them into ornaments without the kids ever playing with them. 

I watched Mickey’s a Christmas Carol a million times as a kid. When I saw these I just had to have them for our tree. 

My son is deeply obsessed with “Light Queen” so I got this set now, because I suspect he’ll still be playing with his set for many years to come (I’m also less confident I can make ornaments out of metal cars–this set is plastic).

Making ornaments out of toys also saves me a lot of money. Now I don’t have to buy a set the year the kids are playing with them, but can instead wait until the toys are no longer used, and then make them into ornaments. It also saves me from throwing away these smaller toys that are harder to sell or donate. 

Between these toy ornaments and the ones I personalize each year with a picture, my tree is becoming a walk down memory lane. Which makes me love it all the more. 

I feel like you pretty much have to put up a gratitude post on this day. And I do think writing out what I’m thankful for will help me getting into the Thanksgiving spirit. So here goes:

I’m thankful that:

I don’t have to spend today with family who have wildly different political views than my own.

My in-laws are always very gracious about giving actual Thanksgiving day to my parents, and are happy to see us on Friday.

My husband and I have been on pretty solid ground for a while now, despite frustrations with how we each are processing the elections.

Interactions with my daughter are so much less fraught and divisive and so much more fun and inviting. For the most part I’m really enjoying my time with her these days.

My son is finally on the mend after a two week stomach bug. So glad to be getting over that.

My immediate family (including parents and in-laws) are healthy right now. Most even seem to be pretty happy.

I have some friends that live near by that I can see when I really need to get away and enjoy a drink and some adult conversation.

I am not yet interested in buying Christmas presents! Hooray!

There is a lot of good stuff available streaming to distract me from weighty thoughts of the future. (And thank you Mel for recommending The Crown–I am thoroughly enjoying it!)

Apps that let me instantaneously check out audio- and e-books on my phone via my library account. This has saved me untold amounts of money.

Friends, near and far, that I can be my authentic self with.

The opportunity to create new and interesting curriculum at work. 

This entire week off from school. 

* * *

I hope all of you have a wonderful Thanksgiving. Abiding with you all, in the good times, and the bad. 

I have several groups of friends that I text with on a regular basis. Each of these groups is an important part of my daily/weekly social interaction and I am very thankful to have them in my life. Without these texts groups, I would go long periods without having any meaningful adult conversations with anyone besides my husband.

I have felt somewhat uncomfortable participating in one of the text groups for a while now. While I’ve considered asking to be removed from the text chain, I’ve always stopped myself because I know that is a request I cannot unmake, and that it will have irreparable ramifications to those friendships. So I’ve stuck around, participating less and less, and learning to just go with the flow when it comes to those discussions.

Recently I realized what it was that makes me so hesitant to participate in text “conversations” with these friends; I no longer feel I can be my authentic self with them. There are myriad reasons for this, stemming from both conflicts in the past and responses (or a lack thereof) in the present. In the end it doesn’t really matter why I feel I can’t be myself with them, all that’s important is that I really and truly don’t feel that I can express myself in a truthful way.

When I do say something that reflects my actual feelings I usually get crickets. I can never be sure if it’s because of what I said or life pulling them away from their phone in precisely that moment, but I’ve gone back and reviewed conversations and it does seem accurate that my statements end a text conversation more than others’ do. Other times my comment is simply ignored; nobody acknowledges what I’ve said in any way. Since I don’t feel like I can say what I actually feel, I end up not saying much or saying something I think they want to hear.

It’s not surprising that I no longer feel very close to these friends. If you can’t talk about what is really important to you, or express your views honestly, then distance will develop. And yet I can’t seem to take the definitive steps to pull away. I’m too scared to let go of what little is left of those friendships, and in the end I convince myself that having friends, even if I can’t be genuine with them, is better than not having them at all.

But maybe that isn’t right. Maybe that is letting fear win. Maybe if I let those friendships go I’ll have more time and emotional bandwidth to cultivate new friendships in which I can be my more authentic self. Maybe it’s precisely in the not letting go of these friendships that I have made it impossible to find the new friendships I so crave.

I definitely have to think about this more. If I could remain distant friends with these people, without having to be on their text chains–basically, if I could still have amicable conversations with them if events with shared friends brought us together, without having to converse with them on a daily basis–that would be the best case scenario. I just don’t know how to manage that without hurting their feelings and making it apparent that I no longer feel I belong, or can be honest with them (and therefor destroying the opportunity for amicable conversations if we do end up at the same events). If you all have any suggestions, please pass them along. I think I might finally ready to step away from daily participation in these friendships, and I hope to do that without totally destroying them. But how?

Do you feel you can be your authentic self with all your friends? If not, do you maintain those friendships, or let them go?

This year my school district is in session until the 23rd, which means there won’t be much time after we get out to buy Christmas presents. My mom is using this as an excuse to buy ALL THE THINGS now, and it’s kind of driving me crazy. I hate the idea of getting things for my kids just to get them, or just to have something for them to open on the big day. I know my mother loves my children and wants to make them happy, but the reality is they don’t need a whole new set of toys every year.

Walking around a few different stores in the past few days I’ve been struck by how BIG toys are these days. The boxes are huge and the toys inside them can be as tall as the kids playing with them. If they aren’t massive in size they have a million parts. We live in 1200 square feet, and our garage doesn’t have much storage–we have to be conscious of how much space a toy requires, both for play and storage.

Recently I purged a bunch of my son’s toys. One of the things that went was this big fire department toy with a building and pieces to make roads. It was a big toy, and required a bunch of space both to set up and to store. My son definitely played with it on occasion, but in the end I just didn’t feel it had a good enough play/space ratio to keep it; the space required to store it was greater than the play value.

I asked my in-laws if they wanted it back and they said they’d take it. I could tell they didn’t understand why we were giving it away when our son sometimes plays with it. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to explain, or for them to understand.

I’ve been thinking of that play/space ratio a lot as I consider presents for my kids (for their grandparents to get them–I’m still not buying Christmas presents yet). At this point in my life, a toy has to be very versatile, without needing a lot of space to store it, for it to be considered. I refuse to let our precious space be taken over by a bunch of toys the kids only sometimes play with.

I can tell my attitude is annoying both sets of grandparents, who honestly probably have more toys at either of their houses than we do. They don’t seem to understand why we want to limit what comes into the house. My parents have a much bigger house than we do; maybe they forget how much space all these things require? My in-laws are all about giant plastic containers filled with toys–they are stacked in closets, hidden under beds and lining the walls of the garage. I just can’t manage that amount of stuff.

I understand that gift giving is a way to show love; I just wish both sets of grandparents were more respectful of the play/space ratio and avoided giant toys with little space value. Maybe if I explain it in a memo they can finally get on board…

{Side note: I’m also increasingly annoyed by junky little stocking stuffers that require batteries. When they inevitably break, or just annoy me to the point of no return, I can’t just throw them away. I have a massive box of electronic shit that I’ve been trying to take to the electronics recycle for five months. Does nobody think about how time consuming it is to properly dispose of stuff that needs batteries or plug in?! It’s driving me crazy. I shall have to add that to my holiday gift giving memo. It probably won’t go over well either.}

Do you have an ideal play/space ratio? Are you overwhelmed by how many toys your kids get every year?

Yes it’s true that I’ve been happily dwelling in my echo chamber, and I need to step out of it if I want to be a part of the solution, but I will admit that when I read most right-leaning pieces I have a hard time conjuring empathy, or understanding.

I do believe there are two Americas, and that they haven’t been this divided in a long time. I want to understand the other America, but it seems they speak another language and I walk away from interactions with them feeling confused and despondent. The inability to understand plunges me into despair and hopelessness. 

Last night I read the first article that provided an inkling of understanding. Surely it does not paint the whole picture, but for the first time, I can begin to discern the outlines from what before felt like chaos. I’m really glad I came across this piece, and wanted to share it with all of you. 

I read some articles last night that shook me to my core. This is not just about a hateful, bigoted man running the country, this is about the possible (probable?) corruption of our institutions and the tearing apart of the very foundation of our country. This is not just the rolling back progress, but the destruction of everything we hold dear. 

I have been shaken in ways I never fathomed were possible in my lifetime. I feel like I’m living in a dystopian novel. There is this incredibly strong undercurrent, under every thought and feeling, to please just wake up from this nightmare. Please let it be the very worst dream. 

I’m holding my family close. They are what keep me going, what give me hope. I have to keep my head on straight, I have to keep fighting. For them. They deserve so much better.