Mother's Day Reflection

Every once in a while - it used to be rare, but it's becoming more common - I look in the mirror and see my mother's face. Sometimes, when I speak, it's her voice that comes out of my mouth, her words I that say. As I grow older, I turn into her.

And I am proud.

Question

Is there any woman that can watch the scene in the 2005 version of Pride & Prejudice where Mr. Darcy comes striding across a field at dawn to declare his love without sighing and wishing, however briefly, that that was her life?

Pride and Prejudice - Last Scene

On the Kindness of Others

I’ve had a rough few weeks. And, of course, it could be worse, at least I still have my health, et cetera.

The one thing that’s been very amazing about every thing so far has been the kindness of others.

From my husband and family, who are sort of required to be nice to me and care about me, to virtual strangers, I have been very lucky to be on the receiving end of so much kindness.

My darling friends have listened to me complain, had flowers delivered to my door on a day when I really needed a pick-me-up, sent me sweet cards in the mail reminding me that I am loved, taken me out for after work drinks and Saturday morning bacon, become genuinely offended on my behalf, e-mailed me just to tell me that they care, texted me with job openings they’ve heard of, held my hand when I teared up, and reminded me that I am so much more than this one job.

My assistants at work, upon finding out about my impending lay off, have been alternately outraged on my behalf to incredibly sad about my leaving. “What will I do without you?” they ask me.

A random acquaintance, upon hearing of my impending unemployment, sent me an email letting me know of a job opening in her firm that I am likely not qualified for but will still apply to anyway.

People are wonderful. People I love and care about are being so good to me, and people I don’t know well or even at all, still care.

I hope that I will always recall the kindness of others and will remember to, in turn, be kind to those around me.

Resolutions

No. 1: Swear less. I learned to swear fluently early on in life and have done my best to develop it into an art form since then. I can curse in three languages (English, Spanish, and enough German to get into trouble) and can string together a nice long burst of profanity. I’m kind of okay with this. What I’m not okay with is that I curse when conditions don’t warrant it – there is no reason to sprinkle cuss words through a conversation and to punctuate my thoughts with the f-bomb. So I’m going to try to limit my swearing to times when it is warranted (accidently stapling my finger, dropping a knitting needle on the train, anything involving home improvement projects).

No. 2: Be more tidy. My desk at work is actually in pretty good shape and usually is, primarily because during bouts of boredom and slow work periods (see also: the past 18 months) I clean. But at home…wow. Part of it is that neither the mister nor I are particularly neat people. If given the option of putting something away or just putting it down, we pick the latter every time. As a result, our house, well, it looks like a pack (herd?) of rabid monkeys has taken up residence. I cannot do anything to change his habits, but I can work on my own. So my resolution is to spend 15 minutes every day picking up/putting away my stuff. If I can at least remove my junk from the mix, the house will be a little bit tidier. If there’s nothing of mine to pick up or put away (haha), I will spend those 15 minutes doing dishes or cleaning out the fridge or vacuuming up the drifts of dog hair in my living room.

No. 3: Be happier. I have been such a downer lately. Most of my unhappiness stems from one thing in particular, so my biggest goal in this area is to FIX THAT ONE DAMNED PROBLEM. But because this is proving to be difficult, I’m making a smaller goal: to make a conscious decision every day to be happy; to count my blessings; to enjoy myself. Tied into this one: stop being such a wretched bitch and taking out my foul mood on innocent bystanders.

No. 4: Do laundry once a week. I have enough underwear to go for nearly a month (though the last few days are spent yanking wedgie-inducing undies out of my butt) and enough professional-esque clothing to go nearly that long, as long as I remember to swing by the dry cleaners once or twice, and as a result, dirty clothes pile up. The pile gets so big I just sort of ignore it, pulling out a few items here and there and tossing them in the wash, but never making much of a dent. If I do laundry once a week, it won’t get so out of hand.

No. 5: Attend a group fitness class once a week at the gym. Kickboxing, yoga, spin, strength training, whatever. Just go. No, seriously, stop thinking about it and making up excuses, get off your ass and go. Now. Other health-kick type goals: keep working out, stop eating cookies for breakfast, and be able to retire fat-pants permanently by swimsuit season.

Year-end Recap

Stolen shamelessly from R.

1. What did you do in 2008 that you’d never done before?
Scuba dove in a real ocean, not just a junior high pool.

2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
My resolution last year was to stop swearing. That, uh, didn’t work very well. I will likely make the same one again this year and then actually try.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
My friend Allie from law school. My friend AP is very pregnant (and a teensy bit annoyed by it, as she would like junior to vacate the premises ASAP) and I’m hoping she delivers soon.

4. Did anyone close to you die?
My uncle passed away in March.

5. What countries did you visit?
I did not technically leave the U.S., but the mister and I visited St. Croix in the U.S. Virgin Islands, which was close enough to a foreign country.

6. What would you like to have in 2009 that you lacked in 2008?
I would like to have more energy.

7. What dates from 2008 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
The day a partner in my firm closed my office door and we had a come-to-jesus. My one-year wedding anniversary.

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Not losing my mind.

9. What was your biggest failure?
My career.

10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Well, I sort of threw my back out. I’ve developed a lovely case of insomnia. I had to get stitches due to a tragic accident with an uninstalled kitchen sink.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Well, I consider the several hundred bucks spent on plumbers to unclog my basement drain to be money well spent. The new fridge was a good purchase.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
The mister for being wonderful. My friends KVE and MJ for propping me up during my career crisis. My pal B for being as kind, funny, and generous as always.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
No one, really.

14. Where did most of your money go?
The mortgage. Student loan payments. Credit card bills.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
Our trip to St. Croix.

16. What song will always remind you of 2008?
I have no idea. Mercy by Duffy, maybe.

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder?
b) thinner or fatter?
c) richer or poorer?
(a) sadder. My work-related malaise has made me a Debbie Downer. I hope to address this in MANY WAYS during the new year.
(b) thinner. I was significantly thinner a few weeks ago, but the Christmas season and its accompanying cookies, peanut brittle, snack food, and gigantic meals, combined with my appalling lack of self-control, has put some of the weight back on.
(c) about the same.

18. What do you wish you’d done more of?
Job-hunting. Playing with the dog. Hosting parties and get-togethers.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of?
Complain. Cry. Whine.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
Christmas Eve – my house, with many relatives. Christmas Day – my mom and dad’s in the a.m., mister’s aunt’s in the p.m. Day after - the mister’s parents’ farm.

21. Did you fall in love in 2008?
No. Unless you count my mad, torrid love affair with my new camera.

22. What was your favorite TV program?
I love Bones.

23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year?
Not really. There are some people I like much less, but no one I hate.

24. What did you want and get?
A finished kitchen (mostly finished, anyway), really great shoes, a new camera.

25. What did you want and not get?
Violin lessons. A new job. A raise.

26. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I worked, had lunch with KVE, got in a spat with the mister, ate dinner at King and I Thai. I turned 26.

27. Who did you miss?
My friend MJ. We used to see each other nearly every day, but jobs, houses, and life interfere with that now. Even though we email frequently, I don’t get to see her enough.
I miss the old me, too. But I’m working on getting her back.

Email Exchange

I'm cleaning out my very full e-mail inbox at work today because we've officially hit the holiday slump, where there's just not much going on. And my inbox is VERY full, mostly with junk or funny emails from friends.

I stumbled across this gem:

Me: I forgot to put on deodorant today and I'm starting to offend myself.
AP: It happens to the best of us.

Really? I think she was just being nice, because I find it hard to believe the rest of the world is as batshit insane as I am and forgets such basic stuff. Have you ever forgotten deodorant? What about other things, like socks? Or am I the only one that has to keep a full change of clothes and a toiletry kit in her office?

The Season

I love the Christmas season.

I hate that it now starts in October, but the real Christmas season, between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, I love.

I love music in the stores and freshly fallen snow and the agreement my friend B and I have to not buy each other gifts but to spend time with each other instead.

I love ornaments and twinkly lights and little kids hanging stockings.

I love snow ball fights and fur-lined boots and hot chocolate.

I love pretty scarves and Christmas cards and homemade cookies.

I love Christmas carols and midnight mass and the hustle that is trying to see his family and my family and not kill anyone in the process.

I love putting Santa hats on my dog and helping my mom make caramels and sitting down to a prime rib dinner.

I love that my mom burns the rolls every year and that my dad thinks my pumpkin bread is the best thing ever made and waking up on Christmas morning next to my husband.

I need to remember some good things, to think on my blessings, and remind myself that I am fortunate. There is no better time than Christmas.

Working on getting out of that funk

I used to be a good sleeper. Given a relatively horizontal surface and ten minutes, I could be out cold. Noise, light, people, didn’t matter. I’d be asleep. I was a great napper and an even better nighttime sleeper. I’d crawl into bed and once the lights were out, the mister and I were done conversing (or whatever), and it was time to sleep, I’d sleep. Deeply. Until the alarm went off or just a couple minutes beforehand.

I’d listen to people comment about not being able to sleep or not getting enough rest and I’d nod, all the while secure in the knowledge that while they were awake and counting sheep, I’d be snoring peacefully.

But recently my good sleeper status has been disrupted and that’s probably a large part of my funk.

See, I finally listened to some good friends, namely MJ and KVE, who told me to seek help because not sleeping and constant anxiety are not good things.

I sought help.

And, guess what?

I am totally, absolutely normal.

Seriously.

(Stop laughing.)

The woman I saw listened to my story and gave me the following diagnosis: mild situational depression. Her words: You’re in an unpleasant situation. You have been for a while. It’s thrown you off. The result of this is heightened anxiety and disturbed sleep. Those two things feed off each other and eventually you end up where you are: constantly worried and worn out.

Her solution was to suggest a short course of a prescription sleep aid to remind my body that nighttime is for sleeping, not staying awake worrying, and to keep doing what I’m doing otherwise, which includes relying on the mister and my family and friends to prop me up and working to get out of the situation I’m in.

And, honestly, it was very validating. Sure, I have the sympathy and understanding of family and friends, but they’re sort of required to be nice to me, particularly if I keep crying on them all the time. It’s hard to look a tearful loved one in the face and say, “listen, you’re just being a whiner,” so the idea that they’re just humoring me was always in the background, particularly since I felt like I was just being a whiner.

It was another thing to hear from a professional that, yes, indeed, I’m in a pickle and it’s perfectly normal to lose my shit over that. That not sleeping and worrying and waiting for something awful to happen are perfectly normal reactions to my situation and no, that it does not make me depressed, it does not give me an anxiety disorder, it does not mean that I need heavy medication. It means that I am worried. And I am handling the worry pretty well. I haven't taken up drinking, I don't snap at perfect strangers for no good reason, and I haven't taken to curling up in the fetal position and sobbing, so I'm doing okay.

At the end of the day, I’m still me: quirky, embodying a strange combo of cynicism and optimism, and someone easily amused by a great number of things. Whether I get out of my pickle or simply learn to handle it better, I’ll still be me.

So now I’m going to get my sleep aid and learn to sleep at night like I used to, and maybe, hopefully, I’ll start to feel like myself again soon.

In a Funk

Pardon me, but I am in a foul mood. Have been for a while. I might as well just be honest and put that out there. I am cranky, depressed, whiny, miserable, and generally not much fun right now.

My husband deserves an award for not losing his temper with me, my friends are all up for sainthood with their unending support and kindness, and the whole universe deserves a big thank you for putting up with me.

I realize how lucky I am. I have a wonderful family and amazing friends. I have a home, a car, a dog, and a life 99% of the rest of the world can only dream of.

And still, I’m in a funk.

I’m sure a lot of it is job related. There’s nothing quite so demoralizing as getting up every morning dreading the rest of the day. Puts me in a bad mood right off the bat and keeps me there all day.

Some of it is seasonal. I hate that the days are getting shorter and the temperature colder. I hate that leaving my house now requires planning. I have to leave time for defrosting and scraping the car, time for slick roads, and time for searching for my other mitten. I hate that I will only see the sun out my office window: it doesn’t rise until I’m at my desk and it sets before I leave for the day.

Some of it is just outright bitchiness.

Some of it is dissatisfaction with myself. I had some very definite goals for myself and I have not met them and am mad at myself for failing.

I just want to slink back to bed, pull the covers over my head, have a good cry, and stay there forever.

A clear purse

Today was one of those days when I spied all sorts of interesting characters in the skyway. There was a young woman with a bird pinned to her head (reminiscent of Carrie in the wedding scene of the SATC movie, though this bird was brown, not blue), a man decked out in full cowboy gear, down to the crushingly tight jeans, and a woman carrying a clear plastic purse.

It was this that caught my eye.

Like every other woman I know, I carry a purse. Well, not really a purse, more of a bag. I own several (waaayyy more than I should) but I always end up resorting to the same style. Big, generally cavernous, probably closer to a tote bag or briefcase due to the size, with at least one interior zip-up pocket and one exterior pocket where I can tuck my go-to card, straps long enough to sling over my shoulder but short enough that the bag stays firmly tucked under my arm. The bag must be large enough to carry my wallet (a little wristlet), my cell phone, my lunch for work, a little pack of Kleenex, neosporin and a couple of bandaids, antacids, my ipod, a little notebook, a couple of pens, some chapstick, and some sort of entertainment, whether it be a knitting project or a book. Usually both.

I cannot imagine carrying a clear purse, though. I mean, my whole life is in there. In addition to the crap listed above, there are old receipts, about half a dozen tubes of lipgloss, feminine hygiene products, slips of paper with notes written on them, bills to drop in the mail, a couple of pens, knitting patterns, pamphlets and fliers for stuff I want to see and do, 15 pounds of loose change, and all the other detritus I accumulate as I move through my day.

I cannot imagine just putting that shit on display with a see-thru purse. Baring my soul, that’s what that would be. Inviting people into the deepest, most secret parts of my life. Displaying my lack of organizational skills, my packrat tendencies, and my entire being to the whole world as they stroll by me in the skyway.

That woman is way braver than I could ever be.

At least I have the shoes

Do you ever pause for a moment and look at your life? Do you ever have that shocked feeling that where you are is so not where you thought you’d be? You can’t figure out how you got here, how all those plans you made got switched around.

And you’re not discontent. In fact, you’re pretty damned happy. But still, how did this happen?

I never imagined I’d end up where I am. I figured I’d lead a cosmopolitan life – that I’d see the world and then I’d change it; that I’d be a bigshot lawyer or a journalist or a novelist or a beloved professor or an influential (in the good sense) politician; that I’d have the world at my feet, and that those feet would be clad in incredible shoes.

Instead I’m remarkably average and astonishingly domestic. I’m married (at a relatively young age). My job is, at best, tolerable, and most days it’s incredibly boring. What do you do for a living? Oh, I make paperwork. I have a home with comfortably ragged and mis-matched furniture. A dog. I knit in public. I’ve developed a strange love for cooking. One of my greatest joys is opening my home to friends, enjoying their company, their laughter, the easy companionship.

My job is anything but influential and bigshot-like. I sit in a badly climate-controlled office and count hours until I can go home. My dreams of writing a novel (or anything more complicated than a blog post) are currently buried because the very idea of spending more time in front of a computer after work makes me twitch. I’m not traveling the world or changing it. The world is most certainly not at my feet. In fact, I sometimes get the feeling that I’m at the world’s feet and the world is waiting for me to stand up so it can sucker punch me.

I’m just here. Me.

But at least I have the shoes.