Under Construction

I'm under construction AND started worked outside of the home on Monday.  Please be patient. . .
Working to incorporate everything into my new schedule and looking forward to catching up soon!

The Breath of Life

I feel I have been absent as of late, not just from Sperk*, but from something indefinable.  However, I won’t bore you with examination of the vague and give only the concrete.  Certainly there has been movement.  After months of a plague of depression, there has been forward progression even amid costly inconveniences:  Scruffy had his tail amputated after nearly chewing it off, the main drain to the house was clogged and filling the basement with feces, and my front tooth composite finally crumbled after many months of gingerly eating and cementing it with toothpaste during the night.  These were all financial setbacks, indeed, and at the most inopportune time of the year, the holidays.

The girls are well.  My tween who is emerging into a teen is quite gorgeous, like a sprouting tree in the spring, in her entirety, not just in her outward beauty.  My teen of 14 years is a constant mystery and deliverer of stress, but I’m learning to take it in stride with less seriousness and worry.  And last week, I finally put my year old degree to use and gained employment.  I’ll be caring for little ones full time.  It is funny that caring for small humans, during the most significant juncture of human development, pays the least in the field of education.  It is my opinion that early educators should be paid on the scale of professors.  And we should be required to have the same amount of education as college level instructors.  However, if that were the case, I wouldn't have my current employment, right?

The clock says 6:31 am, so I must wake the girls.  Here’s to coffee, cool autumn mornings, and the breath of life that keeps us going.

photo credit: Muffet via photopin cc

I Am Doing It, So There.

As part of my plight to thwart depression, I have committed to blogging every day.  I have not come out with an official public announcement regarding this pledge because typically, when I broadcast what I’m going to do, I don’t do it.  Then I am left with evidence of my failure—that evidence being an audience and my blog.

There is nothing worse than the sting of your daughter saying, “Mom, you never do anything you say you’re going to do.  You don’t do anything, with the exception of Sperk*.  You do that.”

Yeah. She said it. 

No. It’s not true.  I do a lot of other things besides Sperk*.

I refrained from going into a raging rant about how there is always food on the table and asking her where she thought that came from.  

I refrained from asking her what she might think her life without a devoted mother may look like.

I just said, “Yeah, it’s probably too late for me to become the famous female music conductor I always wanted to be.”

She had a twinkle in her eye as she said, "That would have been perfect for you.  You could act crazy and everyone would politely laugh at your jokes, you know, because of the formal environment.  Everyone is always polite to the conductor."

Where was this coming from?

So what if I haven’t finished redecorating her room, a project I started two summers ago.  She changes her mind about what she wants every two days.

So what if I haven’t gotten a job teaching at a preschool.  Yes, I finished my degree in early education almost a year ago, but even though I love babies, I don’t want to change diapers for $8 an hour.

Then I announced to her that I wanted to go back to school and possibly get my teaching license.

She said, “Well, you know you’ll have to be a substitute first if you go for teaching.  They call in the morning for that, you’d never be able to get ready.”

She was right.  I would never be able to get ready.

She went on, “Plus, you’d be that substitute everyone hates.  The one who is excited to be there, the one who is excited about learning.”

She was right.  I am excited about learning.

This week I’m learning to be patient with my depression and her adolescence.

This week I am learning that I actually do the things I say I am going to do.  Here's the proof:  you are reading post #4 on day #4 of blogging every day.  

So there.  

photo credit: xlordashx via photo pin cc

Turn Back Time, Again

I was questioning everything I did like it was my first day on the planet.  Everything was wrong, even my attitude.

Then I got a message asking me to participate in an outstanding blogging meme at Chosen Chaos.  I enthusiastically said, “yes!” and even though I wasn’t scheduled to contribute until later in the year, being considered was more than enough to turn my negative attitude into goodness. 

Jamie Walker created If I Could Turn Back Time as a way to meet new bloggers and learn some life lessons:

Rea­sons for this series include…

Intro­duce my read­ers to some great blog­gers out there

Learn a les­son from some­one else’s les­son learned

Enjoy some “thank God for that” thoughts that we never haveto be 18 again

Remind our­selves that we’ve come a long way… and still havea long way to go!

The meme was comprised of one question:

If you had the oppor­tu­nity to sit down with your 18 year old self what would you say to her?

I thought of all of the funny things I would tell my 18 year old self and quickly typed them out.  However, how many funny posts at Sperk* have you read?  Zach Galifianakis is not burning up my Twitter feed with requests that I collaborate on writing a movie.

I put it away for a while.  I had time.

Then I had one day.

Thinking of what and how to write my submission was difficult.

It stirred things up.

I became angry—mad at my 18 year old self, frustrated with my 42 year old self, and furious at time.

Then I wrote.

Things don’t go away without effort.  One has to let them go.  Then one can make room for a new outlook, a fresh perspective, a space where breathing is effortless and living feels right. 

That’s what this post did for me.  It was featured at Chosen Chaos on July 20^th. 

Today, Chosen Chaos is celebrating a full year of If I CouldTurn Back Time by linking up all of the bloggers who participated.  My submission is below followed by a link that takes you to that link up. I encourage you to go there and spend some of your time.  Each writer approached it differently.  Each writer gave the reader something to hold onto that is inspiring. 

If you had the opportunity 
to sit down with your 18-year-old self, 

what would you say?

Put down that beer right now. It has caused you enough grief already and I am sure that if you stop drink­ing now, it will save you a lot of grief in the future. You do not need it. It just makes you seem silly and makes you a target for abuse.

Now, call your mom back and tell her you will be changing your major even though she thinks you won’t be able to succeed at anything else. Danc­ing is her dream, not yours. You want to be seen AND heard.

Unfortunately, your life has been based on how you appear to others and it has made you very inse­cure. You will never measure up to the incredible standards you have created for yourself. So, just do it. Change your major from dance to psychology.

Here comes the difficult part.

You are not crazy.

You are right.

The drinking, the eating disorder and the incredibly low self-​esteem are connected. I know you have been searching with all of your might, try­ing to find the missing piece, trying to get it to make sense. I know you do not want to drink and you do not want to count potato chips. You want to walk into a room and confidently say, “Hello.”

The missing piece is a lost memory. You suppressed it because it was too much for your developing brain to handle. I am not sure your brain can handle it now, but I do know you’ll waste less time if you know—now.

If you need to leave school, do it.

If you need to stop talk­ing to your mom and sis­ter, do it.

If you need to join the Peace Corps, do it.

Whatever it takes to begin your journey of healing, do it now.

All else will take care of itself.

No need to worry about getting too old to dance. You won’t be a famous dancer. Dance for fun.

If you want to be famous, head towards that lit­tle room in the basement of the university next to the sports equipment storage—the computer lab. That’s where the money is. And yes, you are smart enough to do it.

Work on your voice. Write. Laugh. Go for a walk and write some more.

No, I’m not kidding.

That journal writing you have been doing is good stuff. It really, really is. And don’t throw away any of them. You’ll want all of your writ­ing, even the stuff you wrote when you were eight years old.

People will hear you.

You will be heard.

It will get very lonely sometimes. But it will pass. It all does. Everything does. Darkness turns to light, sadness to joy and vice versa.

Yes, there will be darkness.

When it is especially difficult, look in the mirror and say, “I love you.”

Look at me, right now, saying, and “It wasn’t your fault.”

You will get through this.

You have survived the worst of it.

There will be light.

And I will be here, with you, always.

If I Could Turn Back Time Link-Up

photo credit: slack12 via photo pin cc

I am a Role Model

I made it through the interview.  The most fun part of preparing was sharing the inspirational Wonder Woman Season 2 opener with the girls.  They giggled exuberantly and Sophia said, “That just may be the cheesiest thing I have ever seen!”  Their laughter made me feel like a super hero and I felt good going into the interview.  Self-talk switched onto positive and focused.

The one negative aspect of the interview was that I do not think I want to work for the company.  I posed a simple question to the assistant director: “How does your curriculum support the educational philosophy of your center?” She replied very ambiguously.  Was she unsure?  Knowing what impact early education and care has on the kids in that center, on their families, and on the community, this was disappointing

The facility was beautiful and appeared to be safe.  Because of the assistant director's inability to clearly explain their program, I surmised that it was typical to a daycare out to serve their bottom line and not their families.  Nevertheless, going through the interview process for the first time in 20 years and performing successfully was valuable. Success begets success.

Afterwards, I arrived home to my two daughters lying at either end of the couch.  They were home sick with strep throat.  I said, “I got the job of Executive Director of the center and will be making $500,000 a year!” 

 

They replied, “Really?”

I said, “Of course not, but it was a step in the right direction.”

It’s beneficial for them to witness me completing my degree and embarking on a new career.  It’s good for them to see me nervous, see me prepare, and see my reactions after interviews.  I’m a role model, I know it.  And when I do it right, it feels good.

Wonder Woman beware.