Rejecting Rejection.

"So what did you do at the party, Ellie?"
"We played wif da parachute, and climbed on da rock wall."
"Oh, was that fun? Were you good at the rock wall?"
"Yeah," she said, and then paused. "But all the kids said I was too heavy," she added.
My heart broke. Again.
But then she went on..."But I didn't cry or whine or do anything, I just did it anyway. I thought about turning around and saying 'Don't say that!', but I just ignored it and did it anyway."

YES! YES, my beautiful Ellie girl. Don't let them defeat you before you even begin. Don't let them tell you you can't do something just because of your size - whatever that size is. Try it anyway. And most of all, don't let their negative comments influence your own feelings about yourself. Way to go!

R-E-A-L-I-T-Y...Find Out What It Means to Me!

(This blog post is actually an e-mail response to a friend who had blogged about "consciousness" and wanted my response. Her original post is here.)


Thinking about "consciousness" is something I do often. Or sort of, in that what I often find myself ruminating on is what "reality" must feel like to other people. I mean, my husband is probably closer to me than any other person, and yet his life is so different from mine. He is so different from me. He has different thoughts, different expectations, different experiences, and yet we share more of our lives than I do with anyone else. It fascinates me to wonder what life feels like to my fundamentalist next-door neighbor. To the Islamic family across the street. To the elderly couple next door. To the alcoholic woman living nearby, struggling with her kids. These are all people right in my vicinity, but whose lives are vastly different from mine. 

Expand that. What's it like to be living right now in south central LA? In London, England? In China? In Africa? We're all living at the same time, in the same world, and yet our experiences of that world are so different at any given moment that it sometimes amazes me we have anything in common at all. And yet we do. When I read Facebook posts, I can relate to so much of what others say. Reading books, watching videos, experiencing all those forms of communication makes me realize we are so very different and yet not so different in terms of basic wants and needs, for the most part. I may be a flaming liberal and you (the general you) may be a conservative Republican, but I bet both of us want to be loved and cared about, etc. 

This is something that fascinates me. I'm not into philosophy. It feels beyond my reach. But I love to analyze in a pop psychology way. I may get my philosophers wrong from Western Civ recollections, but I believe it was Plato who postulated there were "ideals" beyond what we see - we see a million variety of cats, but there exists somewhere an "ideal" cat. I don't know if that's true, but what fascinates me is that for most of us, that "ideal" would be different, but yet would still kind of be the same. You may picture a certain kind of chair when you think of chair, I may think of another, but yet they are both chairs. Am I right and you wrong? 

So I often wonder if there is such a generic, general thing as reality, when reality is based so much in self. Our understanding of the world is colored, of course, by who we are. By the biochemical wiring of our brains, by our life experiences, by our values (learned or "innate"), by our expectations. I don't dabble in politics much, I don't care for the stress and anxiety it creates in that I don't think I'm going to change your mind, you're not going to change mine, so why argue? But thinking about how we all have our realities that necessarily conform to what we believe and feel to be true about the world helps me understand, somewhat, people who can be political or religious extremists. For them that IS what the world is. Extending that, however, to claim that EVERYONE must feel/experience the world in that way makes no sense to me. 

This is one of MY struggles with religion and politics. Just because *I* believe something to be true and valuable, does that mean I have the right to think YOU should believe it, too? Is it even realistic? I mean, I believe strongly in equal marriage rights whether one is gay or straight, but is it fair for me to demand everyone else believe that, too?

I know so much of my own religious and political views are influenced by my personality and how I relate to the world. I am an anxious person. I seem to have anxiety wired into my brain. Therefore I seek out things that make me feel safe. Is this "ideal"? Probably not. But it's what I do - and I think it explains, partly, why the idea of a protective government that provides social services and aims to care for the disenfranchised, the poor, the struggling, appeals so much to me. Because if I were in that situation I want to believe someone would help me, and not that I would be left to pull myself up by my bootstraps, so to speak. Perhaps if I were wired toward independence and self-reliance I would understand Republicans more. (Probably not. ;))

The same goes for religion. I was not raised in a religious household, my mom having decided for herself Christianity did not ring true. As a teenager, we started attending the Unitarian Universalist fellowship, in part because my mom felt she needed to provide some sort of spiritual education/outlet for her children, and partly because I think she needed one herself. I loved it and still do - but I became a Christian in 2004. I have dabbled in and danced with Christianity my whole life - WANTING to believe but knowing I couldn't just "say" I believed to "conform", I had to really believe, because doing otherwise would be a lie and disrespectful to practicing Christians. Do I know WHY I wanted to believe? I'm sure to a small degree to fit in better, but more than that, I craved the "safety", the feeling of being loved no matter what, the feeling that there was something else. Is this rational? No, probably not, in the strict sense of the world. But it fits with my anxious world view. Still, anxiety is not the only reason I sought something else out. It's looking for answers, it's wondering, it's reflecting on a tradition 2000 years old. But it was some personal experiences that cemented it for me, and those are in no way based in science or even logic. I'm O.K. with that. 

I'm smart enough to know if I'd been raised in an Islamic area I'd most likely be Islamic. Or Hindi. Or Jewish. So even though I call myself a Christian now, I agree that there's so much I don't know, and so much I feel none of us can know, that I don't make any claims that I'm right and anyone else is wrong. I'm living this life for ME, not for you. I'm open to all traditions and all faiths, and open to the idea that they could all be wrong. They could all be right. I don't know. But for my day-to-day sanity I find it more comforting to believe there is something out there. And I'm O.K. with that. 

Anyway, I do ruminate a lot on the idea of consciousness in terms of realizing that I will never truly know what life is like for anyone outside of myself, no matter how close or how removed from them I am. This fascinates me and freaks me out. I watch people turning the corner in cars when I sit at a stoplight and wonder where they're going, what they're thinking, what life is like for them, and these are just people in this town. I realize I will never really know what it's like to live as a black man, as a Latina woman, as part of the 1%, as a Jewish person. I will never know what it's like to be Chinese, to hail from Argentina, to be Russian. I will never know what it was like to live in the 1950's, the 1850's, the 1450's, the Roman Empire. This is partly why history fascinates me - and why I struggled with academe. Because as a historian, I was expected to speak authoritatively on what life in the past was like. But as we all know, history is written by the victors, or at least those with access to power to record, and not only that, but history is EDITED, as well. We can't possibly relate all the details about a time period even if we had them, because then we'd basically have to live the time period again. We necessarily edit history all the time. We write it, color it, interpret it, explain it, from our own perspectives. We CAN'T ever divorce ourselves from our own biases. This is what I struggled with in school, with my gender studies slant - what does that REALLY reveal about medieval history, beyond that that's what interests scholars RIGHT NOW in 21st century America?

Things can constantly be reinterpreted, changed, manipulated, edited, omitted. What does that mean for "reality"? I love historical information - but do I have to constantly worry about what is true? How do we really KNOW Charlemagne existed? Plato? Harriet Tubman? Are those people and their historical acts any more or less true than religious figures and experiences mentioned in religious texts?

We write about medieval history as if we really knew how they lived (I mention this period because it was my era of study), but we work from so few sources it's almost laughable. I'm amazed by how much we can know, sure, but also never forget how much we'll never know. It's like a never-ending jigsaw for which we have only a few pieces.

We read modern newspapers, magazine, even blog posts, and assume they tell us about our world, but I feel more and more the only world we ever really know is our own, the one we can immediately experience. You'd think that would make me better at living in the present, rather than worrying about the future or lamenting the past. It doesn't.

I kind of experience other people's realities through discussions with them, through day-to-day interactions, through reading, through Facebook posts. But I don't really know them and they don't really know me. By knowing I mean I don't really experience life as they do, and vice versa. I often look at Brett and wonder what it would be like to go through life with self-confidence, and having very little interest in other people. What would it be like to be male? What would it be like NOT to be anxious? And then I extend that to "What would it be like to be an extremist? Of a different race? Growing up under a different political system? In a different time period?" I love this question. Most people think I'm nuts, I think, when I talk about it.

The older I get, the more insular I get. I'm not sure this is good. But if the only reality I really have is mine, why not focus on it? If I can't escape the "I", I might as well embrace it.

But I still love the reminders that, even as I get caught up in ruminating on differences, amazingly there are many, many experiences that link we humans (and even animals) together.

Distracted

Distracted. I feel so distracted lately. I haven't even blogged in nearly 6 months.

Lost. I feel lost lately. Not really sure where my life is going. Not really sure of my position in the world.

I'm certain part of this is because of the Big Change this year. No, not menopause. I'm not quite there yet. But my kids both are in school full-time this year. I'm still at home. I want to be at home. We really need me at home, with the carpooling and vacation days and errands to run and sick children to care for and laundry to do, etc. But it means I'm at a bit of a loss. What is my value when I'm not with kids? Do I really have to spend all my time cleaning and keeping house? How much free time is it O.K. for me to have?

I settled part of that, the desire to make us a little (and I mean little) money and feel as if I'm contributing, by relaunching my eBay business, only this time I'm also selling for other people. And I have plenty to do. Enough to work at it full-time, at least right now since 5-6 people have given me lots to sell. Only I'm NOT getting to it full-time. I'm not even getting to it half-time. So now I have a second area of guilt: not only is the house not clean (because really, it's just not something I enjoy doing so I don't prioritize it), but I'm not getting my job done, either. I'm getting maybe 8 hours in a week most weeks, I'm guessing.

Where does the rest of the time go? I do still waste too much time on Facebook. I've discovered Pinterest. I'm still trying to make it to the gym (oh yeah: third point of guilt is my falling off the fitness wagon and being too lazy and unfit to jump back on). I do laundry. I run errands. I play too much Words With Friends. I hang with my husband. I putter and clean and bake. I do the newsletter and other small fundraising things for my kids' school.

I haven't gone out of town on fun day trips like I thought I would. I only occasionally go out to lunch with friends. I'm not lying around watching Oprah and eating bon bons. And yet I feel so behind in every way.

Is it just a case of poor time management? Maybe. Lack of focus? Probably. The struggle between doing what I WANT to do and doing what I NEED to do? Certainly.

How do other women do it?

Sex Without Love

Just because I've always loved this poem. And because it's a question I've often thought myself.

Sex Without Love
Sharon Olds

How do they do it, the ones who make love
without love? Beautiful as dancers,
gliding over each other like ice-skaters
over the ice, fingers hooked
inside each other's bodies, faces
red as steak, wine, wet as the
children at birth whose mothers are going to
give them away. How do they come to the
come to the come to the God come to the
still waters, and not love
the one who came there with them, light
rising slowly as steam off their joined
skin? These are the true religious,
the purists, the pros, the ones who will not
accept a false Messiah, love the
priest instead of the God. They do not
mistake the lover for their own pleasure,
they are like great runners: they know they are alone
with the road surface, the cold, the wind,
the fit of their shoes, their over-all cardio-
vascular health—just factors, like the partner
in the bed, and not the truth, which is the
single body alone in the universe
against its own best time.

Chocoholics Not-So-Anonymous

I am a chocoholic. I love the stuff. I crave the stuff. Well, as long as it's MILK chocolate. Dark chocolate doesn't seem to do it for me, which is too bad, because at least then I could claim it had health benefits. The only benefit I get from milk chocolate is the endorphin rush. When I'm on chocolate, I seriously feel as if I could do about anything. For someone for whom self confidence issues are a daily battle, this is powerfully seductive.

The problem is, those feelings don't last. I get half an hour, maybe an hour tops, and then the sugar lows hit, and I get tired and headachey and want more chocolate. More more more.

People have told me often I don't need to give up chocolate - just have it in moderation. Only I can't. Maybe one day I start out with one Kit Kat. But soon enough, whether it be days or weeks, I will literally be eating almost nothing BUT chocolate, in gross amounts. Yes, I mean disgusting amounts - we're talking 8-10-12 candy bars a day.

So, the best thing for me to do with chocolate is to abstain from it. Interestingly enough, once I make it through the first week, I don't miss it. I truly don't. I feel much more even-keeled, and while I miss the high, I'm grateful not to have the low.

This is the reason I gave up chocolate on 9/1/11. And I made it all the way until 10/26/11. See, I don't promise I'll give it up FOREVER. I had told myself I could have some on Halloween. But I made the mistake of buying our candy stash early (and of course only items I LIKE to eat), and opening it early, and have basically been on a 5 day chocolate trip.

I promised myself I would stop on 11/1. Maybe I'll have some again at Christmas, but for now I need to stop. My mood has been all over the place, but predominantly bitchy. I haven't been as focused in the things I need to do. And I certainly don't want to step on the scale.

Chocolate, I love you. But you don't love me. I am like a drug addict, and you truly impact my daily life. So, good-bye again for now. Maybe in heaven Kit Kats will be side-effect free.

Bruised Pride

Yesterday the family and I went to Back Home on the Farm - a wonderful pumpkin patch farm full of fun activities for the family (pig races, corn maze, sling shot, etc). One of my daughter's favorite things there is the Cow Train Ride - a bunch of plastic barrels laid sideways with holes cut in the top and seats built in. The barrels are up on wheels and fastened to a 4x4, which hauls them around to the sound of much squealing and laughter.

The last time we were at the farm, I declined the Cow Train ride, figuring I was too large to fit into the barrels. This year, my husband and son had gone off to do the corn maze, so it was just Ellie and me. She wanted me to do the Cow Train Ride. Of course she did. And how could I tell her, "Mom's too fat?" So I gallantly tried to get in to the sucker, even though I was already embarrassed at the idea that I might not fit. And indeed, I didn't. My butt is too big. So, cheeks already burning crimson, I tried to oh-so-casually exit the stupid barrel. Only my feet apparently had other plans - as I was trying to withdraw my right leg, the shoe caught on the lip of the barrel. As I was working to pull it free, I thought to myself, "This is bad. I'm going to fall. I'm going to fall out of this barrel in front of all the people who just saw me be too fat to fit into the friggin' barrel in the first place. Wonder if I can fall without killing myself?"

Yes, all those thoughts went through my head as I, indeed, tumbled out sideways from the barrel and landed with a THUD on the ground. A collective gasp went up behind me and the 4x4 driver came rushing over. "I'm O.K.!" I shouted, as I got up. "I'm O.K.!" I tried to laugh it off. I reassured Ellie that mom was fine and asked her if she wanted to go by herself (she did!). I walked over to the other parents watching their kids about to go on the ride, trying to crack jokes. They helped me brush all the hay off of me.

And yes, really, overall I was fine. I hurt my right knee a bit, and apparently fell on the edge of my shoe with the back of the other knee, because it's got quite the mottled bruise today and hurts a bit. I'm probably lucky I didn't break anything, given the amount of weight I slammed down on to the ground.

But what's bruised most of all? My ego, of course. Not from falling out of the damn barrel. But from being too fat to fit into it in the first place. Well, O.K., a little bit from the fall, too. Grace is not my middle name.

I admit, it must have been funny to see the fat lady fall over. And the first question my husband asked when I told him I'd bit the dust? "Is there any video?" Thanks a lot, honey.

But the biggest pain today is not from my leg, and not from my knee. It's from being confronted again with the fact that I am fat, fat enough that it precludes me from doing a lot of things. That hurts more than any physical bruise.

Prioritizing

Prioritizing apparently is not my forte. At least not in the sense of prioritizing in order to bring balance to my life and my work, and to ensure that everything that needs attention is getting it. I'm very good at prioritizing whatever it is I want to be doing, to the exclusion of everything else.

And therein lies the rub. I'm living a multi-tasking life, as we all are. There are not only many different things that I HAVE to do, such as caring for kids, doing the dishes, running errands, paying bills, but also many things I WANT to do, such as work on eBay, write my book, sort out the unfinished side of the basement, read, blog, etc. And it seems there's just not enough time to do it all. Which necessitates prioritizing. Which I suck at.

It's kind of funny to be just shy of 40 and really having to face the realities of these shortcomings of mine. I'm not good at prioritizing, and, related to that, my time management skills could use a boost. I tend to operate by emotion, rather than self-discipline, meaning if I feel like doing something, I will, and if I don't, I won't. There are obvious exceptions - I must help the kids get ready for school, I must make dinner for the family, etc. But there are many things I ignore because I feel like doing so (the dirty toilet, the errands I was supposed to run yesterday, the Quicken software that feels too complicated to learn right now so I'll do it 'later', etc). That's a luxury. It's something I would never do in a real paying job.

So I'm left wondering today: 1) Am I doing too many things? What is realistic? 2) How do I prioritize in such a way that everything gets the attention it needs, in logical appropriations of time invested? 3) How do I develop the discipline to do what I ought to do, not just what I want to do? 4) How do I let go of the guilt I feel for not excelling in 1, 2, & 3?

In some ways it's great to be excited about so many things. I LIKE that I'm interested in writing, genealogy, drawing, eBay, etc. But real life is real life, and I don't want to short shrift my family in favorite of those things. And I think I often do. Not only that, but even when I'm doing them, I'm thinking about everything ELSE I should be or could be doing, and so I'm not even 100% in the moment with the things that I enjoy! Is that nuts or what?

How do YOU find balance in your life between what you want to do and what you need to do? And even within those categories, how do you decide how much time to give to each thing?