At some point, very early on in my life, I decided that I didn’t belong. I was different from just about everyone around me. Different from the rest of my family members and different from all the kids I was surrounded by. (Which sort of makes sense since they were the kids of my parents’ friends. Not a direct indicator but there’s probably correlation there.)
Remember how I talked about stories yesterday? I created this story about not belonging way back then and I just fed it pretty much my whole life. This morning, while I was exercising and listening to Christy’s words in her new class, it sort of came to me that I had never managed to shed this particular story.
Even though my whole life has centered around trying to get rid of it.
Thanks to the initial seeds of this idea of being different, I decided pretty early on that I would not stay in Turkey. I would grow up and go to America where I could be anything and anyone I wanted and it would be ok. I was in elementary school when I first decided to leave home for college. And I stuck with it all the way through middle and high school. I left as soon as I graduated and I never looked back.
While there are many reasons why I am grateful to be here in the U.S. and why it was the best choice for me, the one reason that I think originally propelled me to it didn’t actually get resolved. Yes, it’s true that you can be anyone you want to be here. And it’s true that there are parts of me that are more accepted. But the fact remains that I still feel on the outside.
Every step of my life, I’ve found a reason to think that I didn’t belong where I was. When I got into college, I got in through the wait-list. So when I got there, I had the nagging feeling that I just didn’t deserve it and had gotten lucky. Even as I graduated with honors, made a lot of good friends, had several great positions, the nagging feeling stayed there. As I went to Wall Street, the feeling continued. I always felt like everyone around me knew what they were doing except for me. And that I would just get caught at any moment and it would all be over. I didn’t really belong there. I better not get comfortable.
Of course same for being in the U.S. Until I got my green card, I worried about not getting it. When I got it, I worried about not getting citizenship. Being deported. Mind you, there never was any reason for anything to fear, but I did. It’s what I do best.
I worried all through Goldman. Even through promotions and special work arrangements to make me happier. All through it. When I quit that and did Teach For America, I worried about not belonging there. Being too old. Not good enough. That I got in by chance. Not hard work. And, of course, when I quit that before my term was up, it was a clear sign of what I knew all along: I didn’t belong. I couldn’t cut it.
And then through the next job and even now at Google, I always think of myself as an outsider. The outlier who got lucky.
It’s not just work, of course. My son changed schools at the beginning of this year. So we came in at first grade and I’ve spent the whole year thinking I don’t belong. I am the outsider there. The latecomer. I didn’t go to most of the events, and if I did, I sat on the corner, quiet, and like I didn’t belong. Same for my reading groups. Even as I talk (i am very talkative in person so not talking, especially about books, is not an option) I feel like I am on the outside. Like I am observing, being a guest. Not one of them. It probably doesn’t look like that to the people around me because I do talk and I do participate. But the constant feeling I have inside is of not belonging.
I noticed this morning that I do this all the time. I am not in the “in crowd.” Ever. And I always assume there is one. Everyone is friends with each other but me. This is how the tape in my brain goes.
But what I also realized this morning is that this very story is what stops me from being able to belong. This very story causes me to play it safe, to sit on the sidelines, to not try. A part of me thinks that if I did belong it would just happen naturally. Automatically with no effort. But I realize now that it’s not true. There’s a difference between making an effort and faking it. I can make an effort to reach out to people more, to connect, to sign up for things, to show up more and I can do all of that while being the authentic version of me.
Like I said yesterday, everything changes with perception so I can change my perception of who I am and where I belong. I can belong because I say I do. I can stop waiting for others to deem me worthy. And just deem myself so.
I can stop feeling like I am on the outside of things. Give up that there’s something wrong with me. That I need permission from some person. Some undefined person.
I can be the person who gives me permission. I can belong because I say so. And maybe by saying it I will finally realize that I do belong.
I always have.
This weekend, as I exercised, I watched a TED talk on perception and there are so many things I loved about it that I don’t even know where to start.
The first thing that struck me as “good to remember” is a little similar to the bit I wrote about choice. He talked about how having control makes such a difference. More importantly, feeling like you have no say in how things work out is really really bad for humans. So it’s important that we think and reframe a situation where we feel like we’re in control of it. Like it was a choice.
I had this experience quite a few years ago with someone I was close to. I felt like this person wasn’t behaving the way I wanted her to. After a lot of struggle and frustration (and anger towards her) I realized one day that she was just being who she was all along. I had unrealistic expectations of who she could be and if I wanted to continue to have her in my life, I was going to have to reframe my point of view. Suddenly, it felt so much easier to deal with the same problem because I felt like I was actively making a choice to have this person in my life despite her “faults.” The reigns were in my hand. And it, literally, changed our relationship in a fundamental way.
So I’ve been thinking a lot about this since the talk. About how I should work on areas of frustration in my life and see if I can change my point of view so I feel more in control and not like it’s happening “to me.” I think this is one of the biggest keys to feeling more content in life.
The other part of the talk that really resonated with me was how perception and reality are really intertwined and how our perception of something is sometimes even more powerful than the reality of it. This course I took a long time ago talked a lot about how facts happen and then we create stories around it. And the stories are never true because with stories there’s no “true or untrue” they are just made up. Facts are facts and everything else is a story. That’s how it is with perception. The perceptions of the events in our lives (the people in our lives) are what shape our stories about them. And then we feed those stories so they get bigger and deeper, until we can’t even see the facts anymore.
Our perception becomes the truth.
Since perception is leaky and tends to affect the way we live in the world, I think it’s really worth working on changing my perception on the things that I struggle with. Things that I have negative stories around.
Had you told me in 2009 that I could run almost 3 miles a day, I would have laughed at you. My story was that I had never exercised and couldn’t run a block. My story was that it was too late. My story was that if I had to lose weight, the only option for me was dieting. I had a huge story around this. But seeing Donna and then Cathy do it changed my perception. I don’t know why that did it and other examples hadn’t done it but I do know that my perception is what changed first. It suddenly felt doable. And once it felt doable, I was willing to give it a try. And once I tried it, I was able to do it. And once I saw how much I could do, my perception of myself changed. And then I did it. I lost the weight almost totally due to exercise. The weight I’d been carrying around since 1993. 20 years of weight.
My perception changed my reality.
So it worked in what I considered to be the most unlikely part of my life. I could have believed many many other things before I believed I would be the kind of person who runs daily. And I know that if it worked for that, it can work for anything. Truly. Anything.
So my goal is to make a list of the challenging areas of my life, the negative stories I have, the repeated frustrating conversations in my head and start tackling them. See if I can change my point of view. See if I can take charge. See if I can start by changing my perception.
And then just let it leak into my reality.
Last week, I had the privilege of being on the Paperclipping Roundtable. I’ve been on the show twice before and have enjoyed every single time. I also listen to the show pretty regularly and always find it enjoyable. So when they asked me again, I was honored and excited.
I think the conversation was interesting and thought provoking. At some point, I said something that I didn’t think was controversial but I guess it was. There were comments on both directions and I’ve been tempted to respond a few times but never managed to do it. So I thought it might be good to share some of my thoughts with you.
Let me give you a short bit of context. The show was about how to get started. Staring at the empty page and getting blocked. We each talked about our process a bit and then some about what helps us unblock. There was some talk about design principles which is where I said that I was worried about the focus on design principles and perfect photography lately. Here’s what I meant:
I feel like sometimes we tend to over-stress ourselves and add a lot of restrictions to our art. If it’s your job or a service you provide, I totally understand the need to strive for perfection (or at least excellence) but since scrapbooking is a hobby for most of us, I feel like we should try to lower the stress-bar on it. And we should do whatever brings us most joy. For some people that’s learning design principles, for others it’s photography. For others it’s playing with paint. For others it’s just having fun with product. And then there are those who love journaling.
In my opinion, there’s nothing wrong with any of these. I am not interested in telling others what they should or should not do. That’s exactly my point. Only you know what part of the process brings you joy. All I was saying was that instead of focusing on what others are doing/saying, you might want to find out what brings you joy and do that since, theoretically, that will mean you feel happy doing it! I hope this makes sense.
If design principles give you joy (like it does for Noell) then go for it. Learn all there is to learn. Use them. I specifically said in the show that I learned them too and use them and love them. I was just saying that I worry some people who might not care for them are feeling pressured to do what everyone else is. That people sometimes worry about looking good. Doing what others say is the right thing to do. And I was just encouraging people to remember that this is their hobby and they should find what gives them joy about it and that, finding that, will likely overcome the stuck feeling.
When I did my LOTD, I realized what matters most to me is a combination:
1. Find the story you want to tell
2. Come up with a representative title (generally a sentence)
3. Use small photos
4. Use white background
these are what set me on fire. Having my small photos, white cardstock and title, I am all set. I am happy. I am joyful. And the process goes smoothly (for the most part) for me when I have those.
So my point was that each person should figure out theirs. If you don’t know, you can try learning design principles, or photography or journaling or different products or whatever. There’s no one right thing, in my opinion. We’re all different people.
So I wasn’t saying “it should be fun and design principles aren’t fun!” or that “It should all be fun and don’t worry about your page looking pretty.” I was just saying that I am worried that everyone seems to be emphasizing design principles and perfect photography and if these aren’t what excite you, it might cause you to struggle more. And that you should make the pages for you and your loved ones, not for the internet. That’s all.
It’s totally ok if you don’t agree with me. But I wanted to be clear that I wasn’t bashing anyone’s system or way of doing it. I was just saying that I want some pressure off since it’s a hobby and something we do for fun. If doing an excellent job and focusing on design and photography is fun for you, that’s great. These things *are* fun for me. I have a photography company. I take professional photos. I studied design at school. I even have a minor in Art from college. I work for a few manufacturers and take the scrapping seriously. I do try my best. I try to do right by the people who were kind enough to offer me opportunities. I don’t take any of it for granted.
But I also try to remember that it’s a choice. I chose to do this hobby. I chose to tell our stories. And I want to make sure, for me, it stays fun and joyful. So finding the part that gives me most joy and focusing on it is a priority for me. And since doing that made me happier and less stuck, I was suggesting maybe others can try it too.
And, for me, these thoughts are not specific to scrapping. It’s for any hobby. Anything we choose to do with our free time. Ideally it would apply to work, too but that’s more restrictive and might not always work out. But, with the little time we have in this world, I try to make sure that things I choose to do in my free time bring me joy.
Maybe I wasn’t clear enough in the show. Maybe I am still not clear. I hope I am. Either way, I am totally ok with each person doing whatever they want.
As long as it makes them happy.
I was watching Dan Gilbert’s TED talk on Happiness this morning while I exercised. There are a lot of interesting tidbits in the talk but the one that spoke the most to me this morning is about choice. And how having more options makes you unhappier.
It’s also interesting how adaptable humans are. How we always seem to want to regress to the mean which is why, I assume, happiness levels normalize after a major change on either direction. And I guess it’s another example of less choice leading to just adapting and readjusting happiness levels.
But the idea that if we’re given fewer choices and fewer options to change our mind, then we’re happier with the outcome we had is quite fascinating and one worth thinking about. It means that, for the harder things in my life, if I don’t look at them as options but as irreversible decisions, I am more likely to be happy with them. That sounds counter-intuitive but maybe that’s why it’s worth extra attention.
I know Dan talks mostly about how we inadvertently just think we made the better choice when we have no opportunity to change our mind, but I was thinking more about situations where we think we have a choice and how we might be able to use this knowledge of “fewer options, more happiness” idea to our advantage. I think that if I am struggling with my marriage and think of divorce as a non-option, I am more likely to try harder to make it work. Either by overlooking the small things, or actually dealing with the bigger issues, etc. (Barring severe cases of legitimate reasons for separation, of course.) Same for work or other commitments. If getting out of the situation is a non-option, it makes it clearer in my mind. Cause I am not questioning whether I made the right decision anymore. The decision is made, it can’t be changed, so the only way to move is forward.
So we move forward.
We go through.
And we come out on the other side. Adapt. Change. Make it work. Find a way to be happy with it.
Because when there’s no other way out, we know we have to do the work.
So I decided today that I want to use this as a way of thinking for myself. It sort of connected with Tara’s post from yesterday for me. Less pining. More making it work. I decided that I won’t worry about routes I didn’t take, options I don’t really have. I won’t second-guess my decisions, my possibilities. I will just think of my decisions and choices as final (at least for now) and move forward. And I will have faith that the lack of dubiousness will result in happiness.
It seems at least worth a try.
David came home today and he was sad. He had a rough day at school and had some negative thoughts about some of his friendships. I had a talk with him so I could understand what happened and so he could share his sadness. We decided on a possible next step and then he started his afternoon schedule (chores, play, dinner, etc.)
While he was gone, I called one of the parents of one of his friends and asked if she could maybe talk to her son to see if he felt the way David thought he might and if he didn’t mind, would he maybe call David to let him know things were ok. I insisted that she not force him to call if he didn’t feel up to it.
I didn’t tell David in case his friend didn’t want to call. And, after I hung up, I worried maybe that I did the wrong thing. Maybe I shouldn’t have interfered. Maybe this kid will dislike David cause his mom will force him to call. I wasn’t sure.
But what I did know is that if David’s anything like me, he’s going to chew on it all night. He’s going to blow things out of proportion in his head. He’s going to feel sad and alone and worried until it’s resolved. I went back and forth on it.
Maybe he won’t: He is just seven, after all.
But maybe he will: He has a lot of my genes after all.
So I wasn’t sure.
What I did know is that if I could stop him from agonizing all night, I wanted the chance to do it. I have been there before. I am really, exceptionally good at creating worst-case scenarios. When I don’t resolve issues, I can make them huge in my head and heart. I can have them swallow me whole and deeply upset me. In my life when there’s an unresolved issue, I make an effort to reach out immediately now. I apologize. I listen. I talk. Whatever it is. I just try not to put it off. This is not about “cooling time.” I do believe for some people giving them time to cool off is helpful. Or maybe even necessary. But this is more about not clearing the air. I find that the longer I put off clearing the air, the more muddled things get. And the more upset and carried away I get.
So I just try to do it. I try to remember what matters and let go of the noise. Which is the same thing I was trying to let David do. I asked him what mattered most. And he thought about it and told me. So we decided to let go of the rest and share with his friends what matters most.
I am grateful that his friend did indeed call and they talked and it seemed to have gone well. David went to sleep feeling lighter and happier.
Here’s to hoping tomorrow is that way, too.
People often email me or leave comments about how I am so willing to show my vulnerability. The thing is, I am a firm believer in sharing vulnerability. I think that’s one of the only ways in which we connect with others. When we throw “looking good” and “being fake” out the window, then we’re left with just the bare bones of who we actually are.
And, let me tell you, we’re all flawed beings. We just are. And life complicated. It’s messy and difficult and challenging. Throw a bunch of flawed people into a complicated world, and things get even messier.
For me, this is just the reality of life.
Just like the fact that we are each magnificent and wonderful. And that life is a gift full of new surprises every day.
I think the deep lows and the huge highs are both there simultaneously for both life and for each human. There are things we are great at and things we suck and and a lot in between. And there are parts of our life that are deeply challenging and other parts that are magnificent beyond our dreams. We don’t always notice all of these things simultaneously but I truly think they are all there at the same time.
So at any moment in time, we’re struggling with something. And my bet is that someone, somewhere is struggling with the same thing. Maybe not in the exact same way, but with the same issue. And feeling crappy, worthless, and alone. Just like I am at that moment. And I find that, often times, when there’s no cure for my problem, the first thing that helps me feel better is being vulnerable. Admitting my sorrow. My weakness. I feel like as soon as I put it out there, I already feel a little better. My urge is usually to sit with my sorrow and wallow and feel alone. But it never works. It just perpetuates the thought that I should be perfect. That my flaws must mean I am unworthy.
But they do not.
Let me say that again:
my flaws do not mean that i am unworthy.
Each time the conversation in my head goes in this direction, I remind myself that I believe we’re flawed. I believe all humans are flawed. Some of us might hide it better. But it doesn’t change the facts.
And I also believe that humans are good in their core. We all wish to connect and be acknowledged and seen. So I don’t believe that my showing my weakness is going to make someone take advantage of me. Instead, it will allow someone else feeling the same way to connect. To feel less alone. To realize that there are others struggling in the same way. And if there are many of us, we can help each other. We can be strong together.
We can lift each other up.
We can remind each other that we are all worthy. All of us.
And it all starts with being vulnerable. Someone, somewhere has to take the first step.
I don’t mind doing that. I am always grateful for those who are brave around me. Those who pave the road for me. Those who stand up for things. And I think being vulnerable is one of those things. Something we all need to show more to the world. Something we all need to be more comfortable with. So that we can all realize we’re in it together.
Maybe it starts here cause I feel like people here are kind to me and don’t know me in real life so it’s safer.
Either way, a step is a step. And each step makes you braver. So I take my first steps here.
And hopefully create an environment where you can be vulnerable with me.
Together we can forgive each other, give each other strength and remind each other that we are worthy.
No matter what.
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.
Today, for me, was one of those times.
Back in December, one of the goals I set for myself was this:
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.
So far, so good.
But, always a work-in-progress, of course.
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.
And I can’t wait to capture it all here.
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.
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projects for twenty twenty-four
projects for twenty twenty-three
projects for twenty twenty-two
projects for twenty twenty-one
projects for twenty nineteen
projects for twenty eighteen
projects from twenty seventeen
monthly projects from previous years
some of my previous projects
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