Identity

My Answer

Posted on by noemikjames / 20 Comments

It was so interesting to read the responses to the question I posed via the book Rising Strong. People have really strong feelings about this; it’s clear most of us hold ourselves to high standards and we have expectations that others should meet those standards as well. We don’t think it should matter if someone is doing their best or not–if there best isn’t good enough, who cares?

In the book Rising Strong, this question is posed to Brené Brown by her therapist after she comes in for a special session to deal with some serious anger and resentment she is feeling toward an organization and an individual. She is incredibly frustrated by “the sewer rats and the scofflaws” of the world–the people who don’t care about the rules and worse, the people who scorn those who do care about the rules. Her anger and resentment are making her miserable, but she can’t seem to let them go. When she tells her therapist about the situation that upset her, the therapist asks if she thinks maybe the woman who wronged her was doing the best she could. Brene Brown is unimpressed with this response, and after she assures her therapist that no, the woman could not have possibly been doing the best she could, she leaves the appointment in a huff.

But the question stays with her and over the following weeks she asks a lot of people what they believe. Some answer that yes, they think people are doing the best they can, while others agree with her that no, most people are not. She notes that all of the people who do not believe people are doing their best cite themselves as an example of someone who slacks off sometimes and could do better.

It’s not until she asks a new friend what she believes, that the author’s mind is changed. When she poses the question to her new friend, she is not surprised that the friend agrees with her. She is, however, surprised when her new friend immediately launches into a speech about how she is currently breastfeeding and she thinks it’s the most important thing a new mother can do for her child, and that all the people who say they tried their best to breast feed but couldn’t are kidding themselves and that women who are not willing to do whatever it takes to breast feed for at least a year should seriously consider not having kids, because not breastfeeding your child is tantamount to child abuse.

And Brene Brown just sits there, staring, because in that moment she realizes that SHE is her new friend’s sewer rat, SHE is the woman on the other end of the judgement, being told she does not care about the rules and is not doing her best.

Brené Brown did not breastfeed her children for very long. She is okay with that. In that moment, sitting across from her friend and her friend’s judgement, she doesn’t confess her breastfeeding sins, but she does start to rethink her stance on whether or not people are doing the best they can.

That night she goes home and asks her husband what he believes. After ten minutes of careful consideration he admits that he isn’t sure, but he chooses to believe. In the book she describes his answer this way:

I don’t know. I really don’t. All I know is that my life is better when I assume that people are doing their best. It keeps me out of judgement and let’s me focus on what is, and not what could or should be.

That is exactly why I choose to believe that people are doing the best they can.

To clarify… believing that people are doing the best they can does not absolve them of responsibility. If their best at any given moment does not meet certain standards determined by an individual or society at large, there are consequences. We must establish boundaries and maintain them. We must honor our convictions. If we believe people are trying their best, it doesn’t mean we let them off the hook, it means we hold our ground with empathy instead of judgement. It means we try to help people while we hold them accountable, not simply punish them in the name of justice.

Annie asked what the point of this question is… Z suggested that “this kind of thinking can help us be more forgiving and accepting of others’ shortcomings, and of our own.” I think that is exactly the point. If we believe that people are trying their best, we approach them with empathy and compassion. We try to help them, and we do so understanding that they might not be capable of what we think they should be capable of. It means we adjust our expectations to meet reality, even if that reality is deeply disappointing.

Take my relationship with my husband. For years I’ve been asking him to show me more affection. My brain knows that he loves me, but it’s hard for my heart to feel that love without physical affection. Despite asking him many times, in many different ways, with and without the support of a therapist, my husband has never managed to show me physical affection consistently. This has become a real point of contention between us, and I feel a lot of resentment toward him about it. I can’t help but get stuck in the thought pattern: if he really loved me he would show me affection in the ways I have asked him to countless times. If I believe that people are not trying their best, the logical conclusion is: The fact that he doesn’t do show me physical affection must mean he doesn’t care. If he did care, he would try harder. 

This mindset leaves me with a couple of options. Maybe somehow, magically, he does start trying harder, and he shows me the affection I’ve been asking for for so long. Or, more probably, he doesn’t and the cycle continues escalating into further failure on his part and further resentment on mine. Perhaps eventually the resentment becomes so great that it results in the disillusion of our marriage.

If I think that he really is doing his best, then much of the resentment melts away. I believe that he does love me, he just doesn’t know how to show his love in the ways I have been asking for it. With this mindset, the external options look very similar. I can accept the fact that he will never show his love for me in that way and determine if there are other ways that I can register his love for me. Or, more probably, I can recognize that he simply can’t give me the physical affection I crave, and perhaps it again results in the dissolution of our marriage. Either way, if I determine that my boundaries require my husband showing his love for me in certain ways, and in doing his best he is unable to manage that, our marriage is still in jeopardy. The difference lies in how I feel about him and us; when I believe he is doing the best he can, I feel a lot less anger and resentment and I am able to recognize the situation for what it is, and not what it could, or should be.

So that is where I stand on this issue. Of course there is no way to know for sure if people are doing the best they can, but I chose to believe that they are, because it helps me move away from judgement and toward empathy. It also helps me accept what is, and not cling to what I expect. Moving in this direction has helped me immensely, especially in the arenas of parenting and teaching.

When I believe my daughter is doing the best she can, I don’t bring my unrealistic expectations to our interactions and I am better able to recognize what she needs, even if it’s not what I want her to need. I also feel less resentment in meeting her needs, even if doing so feels like my own needs are diminished.

When I believe my students are doing the best they can, I am better able to create situation in which they can be successful, and I avoid creating situation in which they are destined to fail and I am destined to feel disappointed in them and in myself.

Shifting to this mindset even helps me manage my own goals by helping me recognize what I am actually capable of, even when my judgement screams that I should be able to do more, or better. I have a greater chance of creating realistic goals, and meeting them, if I believe I am doing the best I can, and am honest about what my best actually looks like.

Which brings us to an important point: believing people are doing their best does not diminish the need, and ability, to grow and change. I do believe people can improve, that their best can steadily move in one direction (or unfortunately, another). I actually think it’s harder to make real changes when we judge ourselves as lacking the willpower or determination to do things a certain way. If we believe we just need to try harder, we won’t learn the skills we need to create real and lasting change. Instead we’ll just keep berating ourselves for not trying our best, for slacking off, for taking the easy way out.

It can be hard to believe that people are trying their best, because that means when people hurt us, we have to acknowledge their hurt instead of being able to distance ourselves from that hurt with our anger and judgement. It’s understandable that we want to avoid compounding our suffering, and it’s important that we identify what we need to maintain our boundaries so that we can hold people accountable for their actions even as we show them empathy and understanding. It’s hard work, and it can feel incredibly burdensome.

I guess my final thought would be this: If we keep believing that some people aren’t doing their best all of the time or that all people aren’t doing their best some of the time, how do we draw the lines and what do we do with people once they fall on either side? Already, in the comment section of my last post, verdicts were read and it was determined who was doing their best and who was failing to. I guess my question is, if we choose to judge, then with what purpose and to what end? And how can we be sure our judgements are fair?

Thank you for engaging in yesterday’s conversation. I’m sorry I didn’t respond to the comments individually–I felt one post expressing my views would be the best way to continue the conversation. I hope this post inspires a discussion as thoughtful, respectful and interesting as yesterday’s, and I promise to participate in the comment section today.

Identity

A Question

Posted on by noemikjames / 30 Comments

Brene Brown is my spirit animal.

Her six hour talk, The Power of Vulnerability, came to me when I was drowning in the muck of shame and feeling unable, or unwilling, to be vulnerable. I have since listened to it many, many times. That talk, along with her other books, are touchstones for me; whenever I’ve lost my way I listen to them again to regain my footing.

To say I was excited when I heard she had a new book coming out would be an understatement.

I bought the audiobook of Rising Strong a couple of months ago when I was really struggling. The book is about cultivating resilience–how we can get back up when life has pushed us face down in the arena. Reading the reviews I was sure it was exactly what I needed as I felt unsure how to pick myself up in the face of hurt and uncertainty. (I was also thrilled that she narrates the book herself.)

I kind of struggled to get into the book at first. I actually stopped listening when Willpower Instinct became available on Overdrive and I was grateful for the break. I was actually really disappointed that the book was not the panacea I was hoping it would be.

I started listening to it again this past week and it’s been an entirely different experience. Now I am hooked and I “can’t put it down.” It is water on parched lips, nourishing in ways I absolutely need.

In the most recent chapter, Brene Brown is struggling with a question her therapist poses. She is sure of the answer, but after presenting it to a lot of people, and enduring an eye-opening experience of her own, her answers changes and what she learns is profound. I’ve been thinking about the question a lot myself recently, and asking others what their answers are. I realize that I used to feel one way but in the past few years have shifted my perspective, and I see now that that shift in perspective came with personal growth and a renewed understanding.

I’m curious what you all think, so I wanted to pose the question here:

Do you believe people are doing the best they can with the tools they have?

The idea is not that people are the best they could be every day, but that at any moment they are giving what they can right then, that they want to do as well as they can do in any situation.

So what do you believe? Are people doing the best they can? I leave the question with you.

Parenting & Family

Day One is Done

Posted on by noemikjames / 16 Comments

Well, we made it.

Drop off was kind of a shit show. We got there right as another kid who started last week was being dropped off. He was very upset and cried for almost the entire hour that I was there. His crying set off another crier who also howled for the entire hour. Their combined crying set off still other criers. At one point I think five kids were crying.

Nothing like a room full of inconsolable children to make you feel great about leaving your kid.

It really was awful.

The room looked shabbier than I remembered. The kids were… well not the sweet, fun, interesting kids I knew and loved in my daughter’s class. I’m sure the room looked just like that, and the other classmates left as unimpressive an impression on me when my daughter started, but it was all so long ago I don’t remember. Or rather, my memories are inaccurate. I just felt, not great about leaving my kid there. I sobbed for a long time in my car.

Later, at my daughter’s school, I experienced what her day is like. It was… also not what I expected. I don’t have any specific complaints or criticisms, it just didn’t leave me feeling good. It made me feel sad for her–that this is what her days look like–just like I feel sad that my son is at daycare.

I guess I just wished my kids didn’t have to spend so much of their lives in these places. The facilities are old, run down, kind of dingy. The toys are scuffed and stained. The carpets are faded. Nothing is new or fresh. Nothing seems to hold promise.

And so many of the interactions were reactive. So very little of substance was going on. Trying to keep 24 kindergartners on a rug is like herding cats. I appreciated what the teachers were trying to convey, but I don’t know if any of the students were actually hearing it. And even just 10 little two-year-olds with three teachers, what can they do if half the class is crying.

I don’t know. I want to say that I don’t have much choice, and while I don’t have much, I do have some. If I really wanted to move either kid I could, but I doubt I’d find a daycare that I could afford that’s any nicer that where my son is now. And the teachers at his place are great. I know them. They are warm, kind hearted and caring. They already adore my son. I know they will take good care of him there.

My daughter got a great teacher too. She has been so understanding of my daughter’s many… unique needs. She treats the kids with respect and has high expectations. She really is a great fit. And yet there is only so much one person can do in a given set of circumstances.

I wonder every day if I shouldn’t have sent my daughter to the school in my district. There are so many reasons that didn’t feel like the right choice, but now that we’re living the reality of the decision we made, I worry we chose wrong.

And now I’ll worry for my son too, because that is what parents do. We worry. We worry about the choices we’ve made, and the ones we feel are made for us.

I just hope, in the end, my kids are okay.

{I’m sorry this post is so disjointed, I’m just feeling a little down about things and having a hard time articulating it.}

Parenting & Family

Big Transition #2

Posted on by noemikjames / 8 Comments

IMG_0781

Tomorrow my son starts preschool. He’s been with my in-laws since I left maternity leave almost two years ago. For the first year and a half I picked him up at 1pm, but these past two months he been with them until 4:30 or 5pm. He has never been in a group care setting of any kind.

Tomorrow is going to be a hard day.

This week is going to be a hard week. For him. For me. For all of us.

In preparing for this transition, I’ve realized what a huge transition my daughter going to Kindergarten was for me. I hadn’t anticipated how stressful it would be for me, how much would change in my life. Looking back on these past 2 months I realize the transition has been as significant for me as it has been for my daughter. We’ve both been learning our new roles and managing uncertainty. We’re both unsure of what each day, let alone the rest of the year, holds. It’s all just been a lot more unsettling than I anticipated.

And now my son is starting school and the other half of our family will experience the same upheaval the rest of us are still recovering from. My poor boy will be thrust into an unfamiliar environment, surrounding by people he doesn’t know, speaking a language he can’t understand (I wasn’t great about speaking Spanish with him when he was younger and by the time I started to try, he was very much opposed). All I can do is hope that he will know that his teachers care for him, that he will make friends and enjoy playing with them and that he’ll thrive in his new environment.

And I hope that my husband and I can manage this transition with a little more grace than we did our daughter starting Kindergarten. That really did knock us on our asses. And I know this will too, because my husband’s morning routine is completely different now that he has to take my son to school on the bus. I just hope we can be there for each other, and for our kids, as we all get used to our new reality. It’s going to be a rough couple of weeks, but I think we’ll get there.

This past week, and especially weekend, were totally insane. It felt like every moment of every day was scheduled. I took tomorrow off so I could take my son to his first day, and hang around for a bit if he needed me there. I scheduled myself a couple of hours to get a chair massage at the mall and do the grocery shopping that didn’t get done Saturday or Sunday. Then I’m off to my daughter’s class to be a parent helper after lunch and then two hours volunteering at her school’s book fair. I know it doesn’t sound like much of a day off, but I’m looking forward to the change in pace, before I get thrust back into my regularly scheduled programming, with the added static of a boy who is coming to terms with a massive change.

I’ll let you all know how it goes.

Which transitions have you found more challenging that you anticipated? 

Minimalism

Where I usually end up

Posted on by noemikjames / 14 Comments

So. Minimalism.

I embraced it enthusiastically. Well, I embraced the idea of it. And I tried to embrace the actual practices. I made many real, significant changes in my life. And yet, I can’t say I’ve succeeded in my quest to truly embrace minimalism.

Truthfully, it feels like I’ve failed.

But I know that’s not an honest, or accurate, way of looking at it. Where I ended up is not definitively in the camp of “failure,” or “success,” but somewhere in the murky, unquantifiable, middle.

Isn’t that where we usually end up?

In so many ways, I’m a complete convert. I really do believe in the philosophy of minimalism. I absolute agree that I would be happier with less stuff. Of course, the practice of getting rid of, and keeping rid off, that stuff, is harder to implement than it is to embrace.

In some ways, I really have changed. I haven’t purchased a book in ages. Maybe one or two for my kids, but very, very few. I don’t buy them many (hardly any, really) toys or clothes. In many of the areas of my life I’ve purged and not let the things back in.

But my closet is still a mess. I just don’t have much desire to get rid of most of my clothes. I like wearing the clothes that I have and if I notice I’m not wearing something I get rid of it, but I haven’t purged my closet down to the number of items I suspect people who are really minimalists have. Same with my shoes. I have more shoes than I need, and yet I wear them all. Could I live with fewer? Sure, but I don’t really want to.

And there are some tenants I can’t quite get behind, like the idea that one is always enough. I’m sorry but one set of sheets is not enough. Actually, I like to have three sets of sheets for every bed that is being used on the reg. There have been countless times when I have needed a third pair of sheets for any one of our beds. The idea of only having one of set is insane to me.

I have two sets of my daughter’s lunch and snack boxes. I’m looking to get a fourth smoothie cup so we have two sets of two and don’t have to wash one set every day to serve two smoothies. Do I need two sets? No. But it makes my life easier.

I still really appreciate my life being easier, and sometimes that means having more than one of something.

So what (physically) does my life look like over a year after I “embraced” minimalism? It may not seem like it’s much different–there are still toys all over the living room floor, and clean laundry toppled about the sofa, and piles of books and other flotsam and jetsam on my bedroom floor, and flurries of crap on my wardrobe and papers on my kitchen cutting board/island. But it feels different. Because none of those messes stress me out the way they used to; I know I can clean them up if I am so inclined. I still KNOW where all the things go and if I start picking up things look substantially neater in just 30 minutes or so. The layer of chaos is still there, but it’s a controlled chaos that I understand and can master. I don’t feel overwhelmed by it in the ways I once did.

I’m still reading lots of minimalist blogs. I nod along, agreeing with them on most points. I recognize that my life is better for having “embraced” minimalism, and I want to keep the ideas alive. Could I improve? Absolutely! Every day I think about committing to the ideals of minimalism a bit more. Sometimes I manage it, most days I don’t. And that’s okay. The seed has sprouted, and even though it’s growing slowly, it would take a lot to uproot. I hope to tend to it more, water it, transfer it to better soil. For now I’m giving it what it needs to survive, even if it can’t thrive. And that is better that nothing.

I wish I could just commit to minimalism full throttle and never look back. I think I would be happier that way. But it’s not how I operate. It’s going to take a lot of years to get me where I want to be. I do believe I’ll arrive at the desired destination, it’s just not going to happen any time soon.

I’m trying to be okay with that. Getting there eventually is better than never getting there at all. I’d rather keep the dream alive despite not having achieved it, because I know that I’ll be better off for it some day.

And I know that as unlikely as it seems at the moment, I will eventually wake up and realize that some day has arrived, that I will be living the minimalist life I always dreamed of.

It will have been worth the wait.

Parenting & Family

Two

Posted on by noemikjames / 11 Comments

My son turns two today.

I don’t write much about parenting him. I certainly don’t write as much about parenting him as I write about parenting my daughter. There are a lot of reasons for this; mostly it’s because parenting him is a lot easier for me, and I don’t generally come here to write about the easy stuff.

What I should write about more is how thankful I am that he’s here, that he came in time for me to realize that I wasn’t failing as horribly at parenting as I thought I was, that there were other factors at play, that I was right when guessed that maybe I was having a different experience than most mothers, that when I mentioned something that felt hard and another mom commiserated and I felt like maybe we were talking about very different things, that we were.

My son taught me that I CAN be the mother I thought I’d be, even if I’m not that mother in challenging circumstances. Knowing that I can be that mother, that I am that mother, that the experience I expected was not completely out of my reach, was healing in ways I can’t describe. Only in finding that peace was I able to fully embrace the mother I am, and to glimpse the mother I could be, to my first child.

My son healed me in so many ways. He came to me when I had given up hope of having another child and he taught me things about myself that only a second child could teach me. I am always and forever filled with gratitude that he is here.

Thank you my sweet boy. I look forward to walking through life with you.

Friendship

Crickets

Posted on by noemikjames / 24 Comments

I’m a person who values authenticity. I thrive on the truth. I want to hear and read something real. I’m not interested in glossy magazines and pinterest worthy final products. I want to wade knee deep in the muck of it. That is where the interesting shit lives.

The problem is, most other people don’t.

I notice that, a lot of the time, when I speak my truth, people don’t say a whole lot back. I can kill a conversation, with even some of my best friends, much more easily than I can keep them going. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve put myself out there and all I’ve gotten was crickets. More times than I can bear.

I’m just so done with the pleasantries, you know? What the fuck is the point? Life is so short. And we’re alone for so much of it. Why waste our time talking about shit we’re not really interested in? Why dance around a topic neither of us cares about?

Maybe, the thing is, that other people do care.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve attempted a real, genuine conversation about parenting, or marriage, or how much I fucking suck at keeping my house clean and got NOTHING in return. Just silence. The awkward shuffle of feet. The murmured acknowledgement that the call hasn’t been dropped. Nothing of real substance.

This happens all the time. With people I consider good friends. Really good friends.

Am I really the only one who wants to talk about these things? Do I bring them up too clumsily? Too forcefully? Is my voice dripping with despair?

The conclusion that I’ve come to is that I’m too negative. I linger too long in the dark and depressing. I’m not grateful enough. I complain too much. People don’t want to be around a negative nelly. People don’t want to talk, well, to me.

One of the reasons I wanted to go back to therapy is I wanted a place where I could talk about the negative stuff without threatening my friendships. I’ve lost so many friends talking about how hard shit is. People don’t want to hear about that stuff all the time. I wanted to pay someone to listen to it–to the hard and the upsetting and the exhausting and the brutal. I wanted, for once, not to be met with crickets.

I can’t afford $140 an hour right now. I’m going to look into sliding scale places and hopefully I’ll find someone, because right now I really need a sounding board that isn’t my husband and isn’t my friends.

Otherwise, I might not have either at the end of all this.

Financial Security/Identity

Concerning Our Unit

Posted on by noemikjames / 13 Comments

Here’s the thing. You put yourself out there. You ask people for their opinions, advice and guidance.

And then they give it to you.

Here is the other thing.

My husband and I have talked a lot about our unit and how much we think we should rent it for. We rent out our lower unit because we can’t afford our mortgage without that additional income. We do not rent it out to turn a profit. We feel very strongly about this.

Living in San Francisco right now, it kind of sucks. The lack of affordable housing is reshaping this city in truly upsetting ways. The amounts people are charging for space are horrendous. So many people are being forced to flee–some of them are our friends. I don’t even want to think about what it’s going to look like when this tech boom is over.

My husband and I do not want to perpetuate the system that we so despise. We are not interested in playing the part of greedy, corrupt San Francisco landlord. We don’t want any part of it.

We have calculated how much our home costs us every year–mortgage and property taxes, utilities, water, trash, home insurance–and multiplied it by 25%, which is the percentage of square footage of our home that the unit represents. Then we add a little on top, for our troubles as landlords. And that is what we rent our place for.

Could we rent it for more? Probably. But we don’t want to. It’s a small unit, in a not-so-great neighborhood, housing a loud family with two small kids above it. The pipes are super loud, especially the ones the connect to the washing machine that bang like crazy on the wall shared by the unit when I run a load of laundry. Also when the shower in the unit turns on it can sound like Armageddon.

We don’t love being landlords. We do this out of necessity. Sometimes it takes us a little while to deal with things that aren’t working great. Sometimes we fix things the cheap way. We’re not trying to screw anyone over, we deal with issues in that space like we deal with issues in the space we inhabit–we always spend as little as we can to fix the problem. Heck, most of the time we fix things down there that we would just deal with in our house: When the unit’s heater stopped working we got it fixed immediately. When our own heating ducts fell down we never had them replaced and didn’t end up turning on the heat one time that winter (and one of those months was COLD).

One of the reasons we keep our unit below market value is because that great deal inspires appreciation, and that appreciation goes a long way in placating people when things aren’t working as well as they could. Will we always fix something if it’s broken? Of course! But we hope they’ll be patient if it takes us a little while to do so, and that they’ll be satisfied even if they solution is less than ideal.

So that is why we don’t rent our unit for what we could rent it for. We don’t want to play the greedy San Francisco landlord, just because an insane renters market says that we can. And we don’t want to have a renter who feels they deserve the best and fastest service when things aren’t working great, in return for spending top dollar on the space. Instead we want to provide a place to live for someone who may not otherwise be able to afford this city (and sure, as someone argued, we can’t change the market by renting our one unit for less than we could, but we do change the life of the one person who is living there). We want to have a good relationship with that person, for them to feel at home in a space that otherwise would be ours, and that we hope we’ll live in some day. We want to foster a sense of community, not of hostility, resentment and entitlement. And so we make a choice to forgo a certain amount of money each month to have that. And we feel good about it.

{We also only rent to friends or friends of friends because we just don’t feel comfortable sharing our space so intimately with someone that no one we know can vouch for, so it’s nice to be able to help out a friend or friend of a friend.}

Maybe this isn’t the right decision. Maybe we’re fools for not asking for every penny that someone might be willing to pay. We certainly could use the money (now is probably not the right time to admit that I can’t afford the therapist, and called and cancelled our first appointment). But we can make it work. And we will. And it will be okay. And for us, right now, we’d rather be stretched a little thin and feel good about how we’re renting that unit, than have more money and feel shitty about what we’re charging and stressed out about what they will expect because we’re charging it.

Uncategorized

Next Steps

Posted on by noemikjames / 7 Comments

So, you all convinced me not to pursue the alternative medicine route with my daughter. I guess I’ll have to figure out how to navigate this ncertain journey on my own.

I did, however, reach out to a therapist a colleague at work recommended. The therapist I’ve been working with since before I embarked on TTC has moved offices and now there is a bridge between me and where she meets. I do not abide bridges–actually it’s the traffic before/on/after them that I take issue with–so I have been thinking about findindg someone else. And I have. And I called her. And I have an appointment for next Tuesday.

Mostly I want to work on some issuse in my marriage that continues coming up over and over again. I keep broaching them in the same ways and then getting frustrated when my efforts yield the same results. Meanwhile, every time I air a greivance and nothings changes, my resentment grows. It’s hard not to fall into the, “if he really loved me, or even cared, he would DO something about this already,” mindset, which I know is ultimately unproductive (and not at all an accurate interpretation of what is truly happening). Still, I perpetuate the thought-cycle and the resentment becomes more entrenched and I clearly need an unbiased third party to help me either change the way I think about these things or show me how to handle them productively–probably both.

Ultimately I would love to go to therapy with my husband, but he would NOT love that and at this point I recognize that many of these issues are my own to deal with for a little while. If , after some hard work on this stuff, I’m still struggling with the realities of our marriage, I will ask my husband to join me in therapy. I know he would come if I asked him to, but I also know that he’d rather not.

On the one hand, I’m eager to work on these issues because honestly, I am TIRED of them. They are boring and mundane. I want to let them go, but I can’t, which is FRUSTRATING. Many of them are subsets of common themes that wreak havoc on my happiness and general sense of well being. If I could really get to the heart of these destructive thought cycles and dessimate them once and for all, I could be a more joyful person who feels more fulfilled.

I’d also love to talk about work woes and my unmet career aspirations and that general sense of heaviness that descends when I think about my job. 

So there is a lot to talk about, and I feel I can be focused enough to really put the time and money to good use (though I’m not quite sure where the money is going to come from, that must be determined this weekend, and it if I can’t come up with it I might be shit out of luck). At the same time, I’m so done working on myself, being stuck in a perpetual cycle of self-improvement. Most of the time I just want to watch British police dramas and forget the rest of my life is even happening. The fact that my husband never has to work on his shit causes a fair amount of resentment in and of itself. I wish I were the type of person that could just accept who I am, flaws and all. I also wish I had way less flaws. That would also make things easier.

So there is that. No naturopath but hopefully a therapist. And hopefully and end to destrucive thought processes that killing my chances at happiness. Oh, and hopefully being able to afford it.

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Popping in (but hopefully not out again)

Posted on by noemikjames / 21 Comments

I realize that I struggle to come back here after short absences because I feel weird just jumping in with some random post about, say, minimalism, when I haven’t been posting regularly. I want to fill in the holes about what has happened while I was “away,” but then every post would be an “update,” and no one wants a string of those. Or I end up writing, or wanting to write, a post similar to something I just put up, because I’m circling the same issues over and over and don’t have much else to say. And yet, I can’t seem to stop myself… and so this will be a bullet pointed post about what’s been swirling around my head lately. I’m sorry. I do hope to write again soon enough to put down something of substance. In the meantime, I just got to get this stuff out of my head.

{I’m also behind on responding to comments, especially all the amazing comments from Purple and Rose summarizing the book Overwhelm, which I may just need to respond to in an actual post. The ideas in that really got me thinking… about so many things.}

My son turns two in a week. IN A WEEK. This is insanity. He is so cute right now. Everything out of his mouth makes me swoon. I adore him. I want him to be like this for a long, long time. And yet I know 2.5 is coming and with him I suspect it’s going to be a doozy. I’m trying to savor every adorable moment with him now, while I can.

Also, he starts daycare in a week a half (the Monday after he turns two). I know it’s going to be a rough transition for all of us. I’m not looking forward to it. Ugh. And yet, I’ll be so relieved when we no longer owe my husband’s parents this insane debt of gratitude for watching him every day.

Additionally, daycare is a major expense that I’ve gotten in the habit of NOT paying. It also costs significantly more than when my daughter was attending. I HAVE to get back on my budget wagon or I’m going to run my whole bank account into a deep, muddy ditch.

Did I mention our tenant is leaving? She already paid her last month’s rent so we’re not getting that income for October and we still don’t have someone lined up to rent the space, so probably not November either. And we owe her her security deposit. Blerg. I hate money. I hate being a landlord. I hate owning a home. (We’re also having some issues with our house.)

Things with my daughter and the diet are better. She had a few rough weeks, but I pulled a few foods I had recently introduced and things are better again. I’m so thankful things are improving. It’s hard to follow the diet when I’m seeing results, but it’s almost impossible to dedicate so much time and money to it when she’s acting like she used to. I’m back on board now that the positive results have returned. We still have a ways to go, but I hope we can eventually get there.

My husband and I are still at odds about the diet. This endeavor has inspired some surprising, and even troubling, conversations. I just had no idea he felt the way he does about so many things. And I’m seeing a real “privileged white male” mentality running deep through so much of his thinking. I just never thought of my husband as someone who let himself be so blinded his privileged place in the world, but it’s clear that he does. In the end I just wish I had a partner in this journey, because doing it myself is really fucking hard.

But I’m not doing it entirely by myself. I rely heavily on the kind and supportive women who also follow the diet and frequent the closed FB page dedicated to this life that I visit on the reg. I have a post written (well it’s mostly written) about the pros and cons of that space. I hope to clean it up and publish it soon.

I’m also considering taking my daughter to a naturopath or maybe a homeopathic doctor, not because I think she needs more or different therapies/treatments, but because I’d love to have someone else to consult with about all this. Without my husband on board, the closed FB group is my primary sounding board on all things my daughter/her behavior/the diet and I’d LOVE to have someone else who knows us both well and can help guide us on this journey. I’m constantly wondering if there is more I can or should do for my daughter–it’s clear she’s still struggling, even with the improvements–and I’d love to have an informed opinion to guide me. It’s exhausting to do all of this myself; I just want someone to tell me when I can let something go and when I should pursue it further… Of course seeing someone requires time, and a significant amount of money. I’d love to see an MD who specializes in integrative medicine–I think my husband would be most easily swayed by someone with those letters behind his or her name, but I haven’t found anyone in the city, let alone our side of the city, that practices integrative medicine. An MD would also be way more expensive than an ND… and honestly, I don’t care what letters are behind the name, and I’d be the one working with him or her.

I’m also considering following the diet completely myself. The idea has been on my periphery since I started but I didn’t have the wherewithal to commit. Then I noticed, on two separate occasions, what an arbitrarily shitty mood I was in after eating M&Ms (just a mini-bag each time, snagged from the bowl by the bathrooms at school) which are a heinous candy when it comes to artificial dyes. Making that connection has me more interested in following the diet closely and tracking what I eat and how I feel. I have always been someone who suffers from severe highs and lows, frequent foul moods and maddening malaises that seem to descend from nowhere. I’ve always attributed my unstable moods to my messed up brain chemistry but now I’m wondering if they are tied to what I eat. I really do believe the diet it helping my daughter, and I see so much of myself in her, it would be shortsighted and, well, lazy, not to give it a try. If it improves my quality of life, I can decide if it’s worth maintaining.

I’m finally done administering, and scoring, the big test for English language learners at my school. The final push required seven hours of work in my classroom last Sunday but it’s such a relief to have it done. I also got a bunch of papers graded and entered, plus I finished some translation work that was hanging over my head. Without all those obligations weighing me down I feel almost buoyant.

My daughter continues to be really hot and cold about Kindergarten. One day she’s telling me how much fun she had and how much she learned, the next she says she hates it and it’s boring. I have a feeling this will be the routine for the foreseeable future, and while it’s disappointing that she doesn’t have mostly positive feelings about school, I’m coming to terms with our messy, confusing reality.

For the past few months I’ve been able to tell when I’m ovulating because I have copious amounts of EWCM and then my boobs actually get tender during the second half of my cycle. Neither of these things EVER happened when I was trying, except for when I was on the super restrictive TCM diet, going to weekly (or twice weekly acupuncture) and taking Chinese herbs. Even then it was hit or miss. The fact that my body is just doing this shit now, of its own accord, is fucking frustrating. (And I know it doesn’t mean I’m any more “fertile” — my cycles are still a measly 20 days long–but still, I’m NOT impressed.)

Oh, and while we’re down there, I’ve had to start wearing my pessary again to manage my prolapsed organ issues. Again, not impressed. Busted lady business is NEVER discussed, which is a shame because it happens to people, and for some it’s an ongoing, upsetting, sometimes chronically painful thing. And I think it should be part of the “vaginal birth is ecstatically miraculous and beautiful” rhetoric that we’re so fond of, because for those of us who have to deal with the repercussions of that birth for the rest of our adult lives, it can feel a lot like we were lied to. /endrant: I’ll get off my soap box now.

And with that I’ve written a short novel about nothing in particular, so I think I’ll spare you all and stop. If you made it this far, I’m sorry. And thank you. I promise to put up a post of some substance soon.