I’ve been experiencing a dose of the attack of blahs lately. I just don’t feel motivated to do anything. And, trust me, I have stuff to do. Maybe it’s time to shake things up. But, of course, this is exactly when I get worried about shaking things up and making decisions that come from a misplaced emotion.
But maybe it’s time.
Maybe I need to change my routine. Maybe I pick up something new and drop something old. Maybe I take a break (though I’ll admit this rarely works for me.) I’d sign up for a class and there are a few that seem to interest me but I promised myself that I wouldn’t take any new classes (though I have one starting in a week or so) until I am done really absorbing the content in the ones I’ve already taken. I took some amazing classes in the last 8 months and I really want to sit and do a lot more practice and homework before I just sign up for more and more art classes.
I won’t lie: I am a bit lost.
I still love the sketching. Though I hate the time I spend every morning choosing which one to do. It feels like such a waste do have to pick each morning. But the sketching itself, I adore. I also still like the Art Journaling but I do want to change that around a bit. Maybe have it be more painting, and more drawing, so I can combine it with the art classes that I’ve been taking. I want to work on the lettering too but that’s so so time consuming and I need so much work.
While I still love the savor project, I am not creating that many layouts anymore. I know this is a known side effect of PL. But it still feels odd. I feel like the stories I want to tell are told. I feel like I don’t have the energy and desire like I used to.
I’ve been reading a lot lately. Reading has always been my most treasured escape. It never lets me down. And I’ve been doing it more lately. Quick/easy books. Different genres. Classics. Whatever I’m in the mood for, without judgement. Saving a few favorites for the long plane ride coming soon.
It just feels like I’m biding time lately but I am not sure why. Maybe it’s cause of the upcoming trip. Or the stressful work that I know is coming upon my return. Or the pain that doesn’t seem to want to leave my body. Or summer coming. Or being burned out from the stress of the Spring. I really don’t know and I want to find a way to get out from under it. Especially because the trip, the stressful work, and the summer are all coming. Schedules will change. Routines will change. These things always throw me off, even when I am at my strongest. So I want to get ahead of the whole thing.
I just don’t know how.
Is it time to shed or to pick up new stuff? Or both? Or time to just rest and percolate but not do anything rash? Is this maybe just going to go away on its own?
Very soon after I started dating Jake, he gave me a book by the amazing Richard Feynman. I fell in love immediately. I have since read just about everything he wrote (except the hard-core physics lectures) and even some books written about him. His approach to life and science is magnificent. It makes me want to wish I knew more science.
I feel tired and worn out tonight so I thought I would share this beautiful video with you:
A little glimpse into the extraordinary human that he was. I am grateful for people like this. For people with passion. Any kind of passion. It lifts my spirit.
I hope you enjoy it as much as I have. And, thank you, Jake for bringing this gift, any many others, into my life.
ps: I have some articles coming up for write.click.scrapbook, is there a subject you might want to see me write about?
This morning, after Jake came home from dropping off the kids, he was chatting with me about the wedding he went to this weekend and asking me how I am doing, etc, when I had one of those I-think-I-might-be-losing-my-mind moments. I started telling him all the ways in which things were falling apart and then got myself more and more riled up as I talked. It wasn’t pretty.
And, to add insult to injury, after having just yelled at him for a while, when he tried to kindly help me, I said “I don’t want to waste my time talking about this stuff.”
Right. Not pretty.
Instead of getting mad or upset, he just hugged me and let me go on with my day and went to work (as I asked him to so I could be alone and calm down.)
Typically, I would spend the rest of the day trying to explain what happened. I am hormonal. I didn’t get enough sleep. Feeling a lot of pressure. Blah blah blah. Looking for excuses. Looking for things to fix. Looking for things to blame. We’re meaning-making machines after all. So when something like this happens, I try to immediately pinpoint the cause so I can either absolve myself or fix it (or both.)
Instead, I did neither today. I just let myself feel bad for a while. I did my sketch (which always makes me feel peaceful.) I then focused pretty hard at work and got a bunch of stuff done (which also has a tendency to make me feel better.) And when it was time to pick up Nathaniel, I walked instead of driving to his school. The school is about a 7-minute walk and he loves it when I come on foot. I went a little bit earlier than usual so I could sit with him for a few minutes cause he likes it when I am there with him.
On the way there, I called Jake and thanked him for being so nice to me and told him not to worry about my craziness this morning. I told him what makes me happiest is seeing him and the kids happy. And it does. It truly gives me a deep sense of peace.
When we came back home, Nathaniel went down for his nap, and I worked more. I even spent twenty minutes on an art journal page. I then had food, worked more, etc. until David and Jake came home. Since it was nice out, I decided we should all go have a bite to eat. Which we did.
And then I worked a bit more and now I am off to spend some time with Jake and then David. Then I will read some. And then my day will be over.
So, in the end, I will have done a bunch of things I love (spend time with family, do art, read), a bunch of things I need to (work, exercise, walk outside), a bunch of things I shouldn’t have (eat chocolate, not do strength exercises, oh and scream/cry). But what I won’t have done is spend any more time or energy on today’s outburst.
I didn’t make up reasons for it. I didn’t look into why it happened or try to solve it. I didn’t wallow. I didn’t make it bigger. I didn’t look for meaning. I just let it get lost in the events of my day. I took opportunities to make myself happier and to savor the things that do bring me joy so that the frustration and sorrow naturally took a back seat.
I am not saying that it’s not important to stop and think about what might be making you sad. Or making you cry. There’s a time and place for that, too. And if you’re regularly upset, of course you should figure out why. Of course you should get help.
But, sometimes, you just have a crappy day. A crappy moment. And giving it more attention than it deserves can make that worse instead of better.
Sometimes it’s better to just not look for meaning but, instead, take steps to turn it around. To run (or at least walk) in the direction of joy and let that be the solution.
Slow down and be aware: I tend to be an over-achiever which is great but because I am so task-oriented and accomplishment-focused, I often rush through things. I am focused on the end and I don’t enjoy the journey. I don’t slow down. I don’t take my time, explore, learn, grow as much as I could. So my plan this year is to slow down considerably. Take my time drawing. Take my time reading and thinking. If some things don’t get done, that’s ok. I think that much more growth happens when we slow down and approach things mindfully. Since my word for this year is savor, this is something I plan to pay extra-attention to. One change I made from last year was to aim to reduce some of my daily tasks. My goal is to do 4 sketches a week and 4 art journal pages a week instead of doing 7 of each. This way I get a few days off and if I want to I can complete a sketch over two days.
We’re now into the fifth month of the year and I don’t know if I’ve done this. There are definitely moments when I have. And, other times, I’ve rushed through the art just to “get done.” However, there’s a part of this that I’ve been working hard on: not working ahead.
I have a tendency to work ahead. This way on any particular week, I don’t have any tight deadlines. So if my layouts are due in a month, I will do them right now and be done. I used to do that for the blog, too. Create a bunch of art journal pages so I have a bunch of posts lined up. But one of my goals this year was to do this less.
I feel like consistency helps me with my creativity. When I work ahead and pile a bunch of art/layouts, I then take a long break. During this time I don’t feel like doing art. I don’t scrap. I have no ideas. I get rusty. I get lazy. I’ve learned, over time, that what inspires me most is doing. When I am creating regularly, ideas come to me. I feel more inspired. I feel more driven to create.
And when I take a long break, I get lazy.
This year, I’ve been trying to scale down the art but also keep it more regular. I actually do two art journal pages a week. If I am super-inspired I might do one more but it’s rare. I do one collage a week and then the savor project and the daily sketching. It would be nice to add one layout a week, too because my inspiration on creating layouts has waned a lot (especially since I do the Savor Project). I try not to overdo it. (At least for me.) I don’t sit and create ten pages in one sitting. If I’ve filled my goal for that week, I stop.
I save some for next week.
I take small breaks instead of feverishly working ahead and then burning out. If this means some weeks I have no art to post, I prefer that to taking a long break. This also keeps me more in the present, I think. I was ahead on Art Journal pages and Collage pages from early on in the year so I have a little breathing room on those if I have a dry week. Savor is always running one week behind, so that gives me time to catch up, too. But, honestly, I just try not to stress about it. I feel like the discipline and presence makes it work better for me.
This way, I have some art to do each night of the week. I try to collage on mondays, art journal on tuesdays, do my savor prep on wednesdays, do another art journal page on thursdays, and then finish my savor project on friday. the weekend is my backup for whatever’s not finished. And maybe I can scrap a layout each weekend, too. I don’t schedule these thoughts posts either. I want to make them about “now.” About how I am feeling in the present. It’s all part of being more aware. Being more here.
This does not come naturally to me. My instinct is to work ahead, get done, have it off my list. But I am learning that there’s something to be said for slowing down and creating something every single day.
So here’s to not working ahead. Here’s to being present. Here’s to controlling instinct and tying to be more aware.
I’ve been thinking about planning vs not planning. And while I’m generally a huge fan of planning (as I am sure you know if you read here at all) I’ve also become a big believer in nonplanning at times, too.
So for things that are hard and require motivation, you want to plan. For example, things like exercise. At least for me. I’ve noticed in the last month that if I don’t have a plan (however small) for what I will eat during the day, I either eat garbage all day long or I eat nothing and then find myself completely famished at the end of the day. Neither of which is healthy or sustainable. I need to plan the food better.
Same goes for things that you know you love to do but don’t tend to prioritize. For example, I need to plan going out with friends. I always seem to enjoy myself when I have a nice chat with a good friend. Or even with a new friend. I feel energized (and, yes, a bit spent, too) the rest of the day. My head is filled with ideas. My spirit is renewed. And I got to go out and have some sunshine. All of which is good for me. But I rarely make time for this. It seems like too much work. And since I am almost always perfectly content to be home, it just doesn’t get prioritized. So, it needs to be planned out.
And finally, new traditions I am trying to start need to be planned out. At least in the beginning. Creating a habit is often about creating a pattern. And plans work well for creating patterns. David and I have weekly date nights and we plan each of them out. Otherwise we’ll show up and there’s nothing to do. I want to make sure the first few are structured so that we have momentum. Then it will go where it goes.
But then there are other areas where I am trying to not worry about having a plan. For example, I try to create two art journal pages a week and a collage page once a week. I rarely ever have a plan for what I will actually create. For the daily sketches, I keep a pinterest board for inspiration but for the art journal pages and collage pages, I rarely ever have something to draw inspiration from. So I just sit at the table and start pushing paint around. I make one decision. To use a product or to pick a color. And then one more decision building on that one. And let it take me where it does. Often times, by the fourth decision or so, I have some kind of direction. And the lack of planning is not a good reason not to sit and try.
Same goes for short vacations. For us, the best ones end up being the ones with the least itinerary. We get in the car, check in, and then just relax. We walk and explore. We relax some more. We don’t stress about not following a plan, cause there is no plan. This helps us get rid of the feeling of “missing out.” Which, to me, defeats the purpose of vacation anyway.
I am learning that there’s a time to plan and a time not to plan. And I want to add some more spontaneity to my life. I want to be ok with a little of the unplanned and unexpected. I think it will make me happier and lighter.
What about you, what do you plan vs. not plan? Any advice on how to roll with the punches?
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a worrier. I also was pessimistic. Sad. Always felt like I just didn’t belong and something terrible was just about to happen. I spent my whole life waiting for the other shoe to drop.
I still do.
If Jake pings me during the day, I instantly think “what’s wrong?” or if the phone rings, I say “everything ok?” before I even say hello. If someone at work is looking for me, I know it must be cause I did something incorrectly. I read into a received email and a lack of reply. I read into it if my manager creates a meeting for us to chat. And I read into it if he cancels a meeting.
It’s a skill I have.
This was one of the biggest reasons I didn’t want to have children. I was worried that they would see me sad/worried all the time and either they would become that way, too, or they would think it was because of them. I don’t ever want my kids to think they cause me any kind of sorrow. Ever.
So when I got pregnant with David, I put this huge sign over our bedroom door. This thing was more than seven feet long. It said “give up that there’s something wrong.” It was a phrase from a class I took a long time ago and it stuck with me over the years.
That’s what I want to be able to do with my life. Not just look for the good, but also stop worrying about the potential bad. Stop making things up. Reading into things.
When David was born, despite the rough newborn life, I remember feeling a deep sense of peace and belonging. I remember letting go of the need to look for the wrong. I remember feeling that so much was right with the world. And with all the wonderful changes we’ve had in the last few years, I’ve been feeling more and more of that sense of deep gratitude and peace. I can see all the good in my life so clearly.
But I think I’ve taken a few steps back on “giving up that there’s something wrong.”
Maybe it’s the fallout of the tough times during March or it’s just cyclical or maybe I need to just be working on this regularly. Either way, I need to make another sign. I need to remind myself that not everything points to a potential problem or mess up. I need to stop looking for the bad. I need to give it up.
Give up that there’s something wrong.
It’s the same thing I want my son to do. I notice that sometimes he looks for the bad. He notices the bad so much more than the good. When I call him, he worries something is wrong. I don’t want him to end up like me. Constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. Feeling that it’s inevitable.
Cause you know what? It’s been almost forty years and the other shoe hasn’t dropped.
Ever.
This is not to say that it might not. This is not to say something terrible might not still happen. In fact, I am sure some bad things will indeed happen. But I look back upon the millions of times I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. The hours of worry and stress.
What a waste.
So tonight, I will make a sign. In my bedroom, so I can see it every single night last thing before I go to sleep and first thing when I wake up.
It will say: Give up that there’s something wrong.
How about you? Will you make a sign with me too? What will your sign say?
I’m tired and in quite a bit of pain today. I’ve had back and jaw pain for two weeks now and it seems to be regressing instead of improving, so as I sat down to think about what I want to talk about today, nothing came to me. I’ve been feeling like no one is here lately, too. I hope that’s not cause I am disappointing you. It’s been a rough spring here and while I am a little worried about the summer, I am also hoping things are improving now.
So since I didn’t have much to say, I went into my archives. I’ve been writing here since 2000. That’s a long time. I thought maybe I can dig up something pithy for you from the vault. But it turns out I am too tired even for that. As I visited the archives, however, I realized how many things happened in the last ten years of my life. Ten years ago I was:
working on Wall Street
living in New York City
engaged (a month away from getting married)
volunteering at the New York Society for the Deaf
taking classes at NYU and the New School and learning Japanese
accepted to Teach for America
volunteering at Housing Works Used Book & Cafe (still love that place)
visiting museums, the opera, and walking a lot
reading voraciously, writing novels
And my life up until then had been quite amazing. I’d accomplished most of my life goals already. I’d moved to the United States, graduated from the college of my dreams with honors, met the man who would become my best friend and, later, my husband. moved to New York City, lived in London and Tokyo, and finally gotten my green card. I was about to leave a seven-year career on Wall Street to teach in the South Bronx. I was about to get married to my best friend. I felt like life was pretty magical.
What I didn’t know then was that there was so much more to come. So much more magic that I couldn’t even fathom it. In the last ten years, in no particular order, I:
started and quit being a 5th grade teacher (hardest year of my life, bar none.)
got married
took 3-months off to travel across the country with Jake
visited almost every National Park in the continental US.
went to the Cayman Islands and went diving
visited the Seychelles
moved to San Diego and then to the Bay Area
took some interesting but crappy jobs
went camping for the first time
had my first son
and then my second son
accepted a job at Google
learned to take photographs, started my own photography company, took hundreds of thousands of photos
learned to scrapbook, got into it quite a bit
started doing art. drawing. art journaling.
started exercising
learned to drive (still working on the freeway)
made friends, lost friends
kept reading and reading and reading
transitioned to work from home full time
became an American citizen
owned a first car and then a first home.
And much more. It might not seem like a lot but it is. I got married. I had kids. I moved to the West Coast. And I became a citizen. All of these changed my life in ways I couldn’t have predicted. My husband and kids have given me a deep sense of belonging. My home has given me an opportunity to finally lay down some roots. Even on my worst day, I now feel a sense of peace and belonging in ways I never could have imagined in 2002.
Had you talked to me in 2002, I would have said I’ve already accomplished all my personal goals by then. And maybe I had. I’d moved here, gotten my green card, held a steady job and found a solid partner. What I didn’t know then was that, for me, peace came from a much different source. While all of those things mattered and created the groundwork, my family is what gave me my biggest sense of purpose in my life. Not just being there for them, but also wanting to be the best version of myself around them. They are the source of my drive, joy, and peace. And I am deeply grateful for them. For Jake, without whom none of it would ever have been possible.
And I am grateful for this little slice of the web that’s been with me for the whole journey. The audience and the contents have changed a lot over those twelve years. But I love that I have bits and pieces of my life, my thoughts, my feelings preserved here. I love that I can go back to April 2001 and 2002 and see what I was writing about then. I can see all the high points and the low points and everything in between. It’s magical.
Which is why I write here so often. Even when you’re quiet. Even when I get no comments. Even when I am tired and in pain. Because it feeds my soul to see it, to read the traces of my life. Because I can’t wait to see what the next ten years will bring. And see what new hobby I will tackle next. What I will be thinking about. What joys and sorrows I will face.
When I was little, on the rare occasion I had to borrow a book from my sister, she always made a point to tell me not to crease the spine. You could clearly tell the difference between her books and mine. Not only did I crease my spines but I folded the edges of my pages and did whatever else I wanted with my books.
I’ve come to realize they are a representation of how I like to live my life. I am not one to keep things tidy and on the surface. I want to get my hands dirty. I want to experience it deeply. I can’t do that if I am worried about creasing the spine. Just like I can’t really have fun in the rain if I am worried about getting dirty. When we’re not running away from it, rain can be so much fun. Puddles, splashing, licking, dancing, letting the water wash over you. It’s exhilarating.
That’s why kids seem to enjoy it so much more than we do. They don’t worry about getting messy. They look at rain and see joy. We look at it and see mud.
Sometimes I am so worried about mess, dirt, imperfection that I miss out on so many opportunities. I miss out on experiencing joy and adventure and euphoria. I miss out on having fun with my kids. I miss out on having fun in general.
That’s the thing about life: it’s messy.
You can’t really experience it without creasing the spines. Without letting go every now and then. I am one of those people who’s constantly scared to let go. What if I stop doing so and so and it all falls apart? I don’t want to be scared to let go. I can start with occasionally and with small things. Take one unabashed step. Without abandon. Something small. Maybe it’s going out in the rain. Or getting in the car and driving nowhere. Or having ice cream for breakfast.
Small steps lead to big steps, so I have to take those first.
Small steps show me that I can get messy and let go and the world doesn’t fall apart. Everything doesn’t come undone. If the foundation is there and it’s solid, I can take risks. I can get messy. I can dive in. I can take chances.
I don’t seem to hesitate when it comes to my books. I love a well-worn book. It’s a sign that the book was read, loved, cherished, carried around, and deeply used. That’s what books are for.
And that’s what I want to do with my life: when I come to the end of it, I want to have it be well-worn.
We didn’t make a very big deal about it. Like David’s third birthday, we got a few mini brownies and lit some candles and that was mostly it. He had a small present. We will have a bigger celebration on the weekend with a cake and everything (but will still be pretty small.) As I was reflecting on the last three years, I realized, once again, that the moments that are deepest in my heart and the little, ephemeral ones. The way he hangs on to me when he wakes up from his nap. The way he laughs with all of his face. The way he opens his arms way way wide open as he comes in for a hug.
Maybe I can focus on the little things because the big things are ok. I will never take for granted that he is fully healthy and seems to be a very joyful boy. Every single night I pray that he gets to have a healthy, lucky and peaceful life. I know, for me, those are the big three.
I think we as humans tend to always normalize our life. So even if there’s something big, good or bad, we eventually tend to assume it’s just the way it is. So the big stuff seems to fade somehow. Or at least seem less big.
But the tiny moments tend to stick with me. Especially cause they are often unexpected little gems. Extraordinary moments in an ordinary day. An unexpected hug. Even a one-line email can totally turn the day around. And it’s the stuff that seems to stick. At least for me.
This is why I like to take pictures. It’s why I like to scrapbook. It’s even why I like the blog. To remember the ephemeral moments. To try to freeze a little bit of the magic so I can tap into it again and again. So I can have that wash of joy when I see the photo years later. So I can remember how lucky I am. Especially when I am busy beating myself up. Or feeling down.
To me, keeping the gratitude journal is also about that. Remembering the small moments of magic that happened today. Because taking a moment to remember is almost like the photo or the layout. It allows me to stop and pay attention. That etches it deeper into my memory. So then recall becomes easier. And then I can tap into it more often. So it’s like this gift that keeps giving.
All this is to say, I’ve been trying to pay more attention to the small moments. I’ve been trying to really, really pay attention. Because when I do, I see so much good. So much joy.
So much magic.
Happy Birthday, my son, thank you for all the magic you bring into my life every single day.
Last week, in one of my book clubs, we were talking about compassion. One of the women in my group was saying how she’s working actively on trying to become more compassionate towards everyone. How’s she’s been working on this for a long time and still struggles with it occasionally but she is not giving up.
As always, it made me think a lot about my relationship with compassion. If you read here with any regularity, you know that compassion towards myself is something I struggle with consistently. But, in this case, I was thinking about compassion towards others. Towards my kids, my husband, friends, strangers. Was I doing a good job? How could I do better? I try to be open-minded and be kind to most people I encounter, but was that enough?
The thing is, anyone who judges herself, clearly judges others too. But, yet, judgement requires knowledge. For me, judging someone comes down to two things:
1. Thinking you know them well enough to know exactly why they’re behaving the way they do
2. Thinking you know what the “right” way to behave is
But the fact is, you don’t know either. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the years, it’s that we don’t know those around us nearly as well as we think we do. We have no idea what they’re going through. Even the people we’re close to don’t always share their situation. As we grow older and have lives intertwined with husbands, significant others, children, etc. there is more and more that’s private to a certain relationship. Your friend might share her personal issues with you but she might not be able to share issues she’s facing with her kids or husband. So, at any moment in time, you know a lot less about someone else’s situation than you think you do. Which means you have no idea why they are making the choices they make or behaving the way they do.
The second one is more obvious to me. You clearly don’t know what the right thing to do is. You barely know what might be right for you. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the right thing in a marriage, to ensure both parties are getting what they need. And this is the person who’s theoretically closest to you and shares your days and nights. When it comes to friendships, it’s really hard to tell what the right thing for that person, for that situation might be. And who are you to know exactly what’s right in every situation? Or for every person in that situation?
Nobody, that’s who.
I was reminded again last week that there’s so much I don’t know about the people in my life. So many assumptions I make. So much filling in the “blanks.” And the way I fill in the blanks is often wrong. The assumptions I make are incorrect. Even with my husband, whom I’ve been with for almost twenty years, I have a hard time guessing exactly what he’s thinking and why he’s behaving a certain way. He is another human being. He has his own fears, worries, shortcomings, etc. Not to mention his own set of assumptions for situations and people in his own life. When you think about it more and more, you can clearly see how complicated this is. How little we really know. How many assumptions we make about others.
After the reminder last week, I am trying to keep this at the front of my mind. When I look at others (even my kids) I remind myself that I don’t know the full story. I don’t know what he’s reacting to. I don’t know what else she might be suffering from. I don’t know about the worries and fears he’s carrying with him.
And I will stop thinking that I know. Instead, I will be open. So I can listen. So he can share if he wants to. And if she doesn’t, I can just be there. To lean on, to forget, to hold his hand. I know it’s hard but I am hoping that if I raise my awareness and practice as often as I can, this will allow me to move from judgement to compassion.
And, maybe, just maybe, I can slowly find some compassion for myself, too.
Yesterday, I saw an article on a blog my husband reads. It was talking about a powerful career woman who lives around here (whom I’ve met) and she was saying how she works 9-5 and gets to pickup her kids from school everyday, etc. And the article made me incredibly mad. I know for a fact that this person has several nannies and a lot of other help. She also works a lot more than 9-5.
It wasn’t just the lying that made me mad (which, of course, is terrible on its own) but the message it was sending.
It was implying that you can be a super-successful career woman and also a great mom who’s consistently there. You can have it all and do it all.
Which is deeply, profoundly untrue.
It’s not just untrue but it’s damaging to those of us who are trying so hard to keep up with things and not drop all the balls in the air. To look at her and have her make it seem like she can just do it all and that if I can’t, there must be something wrong with me. It’s giving a false impression of what’s possible and doing my life, struggles, psyche a huge damage in the process.
I feel like we do this a lot by being inauthentic and by making it seem like things are “breezier” than they are. As it is, we already seem to have a tendency to compare the worst of ourselves to the best of others, so there’s no need to add to that by just lying (or omitting facts.) I feel like we would do everyone a LOT better service by just being honest. I feel like people who are struggling and not ashamed to say it actually get a lot more empathy, sympathy and much less judgement. We all feel inadequate here. All of us. Some of us hide it better. Some of us aren’t even willing to admit it to ourselves yet. But we all just feel “less than” in some areas of our lives. And the first step to healing that, in my opinion, is just saying it. So that others know it, too. So that others feel it’s ok to be courageous and share their truth, too.
To me, misrepresenting the truth in this way is no different than photoshopping a model’s body. It’s distortion of facts. It’s covering up what’s real.
What’s the point?
Ok, I understand. The point is that *you* look good. This person looks like a superstar. She’s amazing. She can do it all. She’s supermom and super career woman. So let’s all give her a pat in the back. And then what?
The cost to her ten minutes of feeling good about herself is that tons of other women who are now trying to juggle work and home feel terrible. The cost is that the issues for women who are trying to make it work are not acknowledged now and will never be discussed or resolved. Cause clearly if she can do it, it can be done, right? It must be a problem with me, not with the situation. Now there’s a public article/example that shows someone who can juggle it all perfectly.
It makes her look unrealistically successful at doing it all. It makes me look and feel terrible for not being able to do the same. It makes the hardships of trying to balance home and work seem nonexistent or devalued. And now the important discussions that could happen to resolve real issues will never happen. Cause clearly there are tangible examples of those who can make it all work. So we don’t need to talk about it cause there’s nothing to talk about. And not talking only leads to more damage. Like photoshopped images and eating disorders.
All so she can look good for an article.
This is not just a case of covering up a few truths so you look better than you are. This is something that’s going to cause tangible damage in the worlds of many other women.
I haven’t been updating my left-side column with my daily gratitudes since the work craziness. David’s still writing his in his notebook and I am planning to put them back here starting this week. In honor of all the missed days, I thought it would be a good idea to make a gratitude list. Many studies show that happy and wholehearted people have a regular gratitude practice.
So let’s give this a shot. I am going to try to be very specific, I hope you can join me and leave your list in the comments. It would make my day, even if it’s just one item.
Things I am grateful for right now:
Nathaniel’s laughter and how he says “byeeee” to his classmates when I go to pick him up from school.
David’s little front tooth that’s still hanging in there despite the non-baby ones that are already broken through.
The fact that the date for our trip to Turkey is approaching and will be here soon.
Jake’s deep affection towards me and how very loved he makes me feel.
Jake’s hugs. (they’ve been my favorite for almost twenty years.)
That the sun is out and the kids can play in the backyard now.
All the sketches I’ve made this year.
A wonderful package of templates that came to me in the mail. (Thank you Jaime.)
Startbucks lattes and raspberry chocolate cake pops.
That I am still running 2.6 miles despite lack of desire. That I have exercised every single day since October 2, 2010.
For both my book clubs.
A few new friends.
Friday morning coffee dates with friends.
That Nathaniel and David both give me kisses and hugs whenever I ask for them.
My watercolor pencils. I love them so much.
Learning new things at work.
Getting stronger thanks to regular strength exercises.
Finally catching up on some of the videos from the classes I was taking online.
Getting to watch some TV.
Scrapbooking. Even though I whine as I do it, I love telling our stories.
That the days are getting longer and it’s not pitch black when I wake up.
That summer is coming soon and I won’t be setting the alarm.
For awesome stash of books that are waiting to be read. Quick ones and ones to savor.
Date nights with David — a new tradition.
My friend Caroline and chatting with her online.
A warm tea and some blankets when I feel like snuggling up.
Yogurt with granola and fruit.
And, of course, my health, my family’s health. And all the millions of little and big things we have that make our day to day life so much more joyous.
