Archive for November, 2009
Accepting disappointment
Posted by: | CommentsI received a group email on Facebook yesterday from my salsa partner, announcing that he’s quitting our group. He stated good reasons for quitting, reasons that beg empathy, which I extend to him. The end result for the moment at least is that I have no partner for our group performance on January 20. Our coach has already asked two people if they can step in–two people I’d be happy to dance with.
I thought my partner was my friend, and that in this circumstance he’d call or email me privately first. He didn’t, for whatever reasons he had. I expect that when I see my partner again, and I will see him again, I’ll pretend that he doesn’t exist. Or, I’ll smile and say hello and shift my gaze around the room as if I don’t know him. Because I am childish like that. He might apologize to me directly (although after the sharp email I shot off to him yesterday, I’m not expecting it), and if so, I’ll kindly accept it. But I won’t trust him again. I’m still angry, and highly disappointed, both in the breach of trust I feel and in the unexpected change.
I do not like change that I don’t initiate. It leaves me feeling panicked, twisty, dizzy and disoriented. I deal well in a world where I know what I can expect. My reaction to unexpected change usually follows this path: fury, disappointment, grief, whining, panicking, whining some more, taking it personally, whining again, calming down and then–and this is the kicker–distancing. Occasionally I reach acceptance, but distancing always peppers that stew.
I felt the same kind of disappointment two weeks ago when my mother announced that we would be, for the first time in family history, celebrating Christmas on Christmas Eve. During childhood, we’d often have friends over on Christmas Eve for chocolate fondue, caroling and drinking, but we’ve never opened gifts and had our big meal on that day. As a result, my arrangements with Lauren’s dad center on having Lauren with me for part of Christmas Day every year so that we can be with my family all together. This year, our kids won’t be with us until about noon on Christmas Day, spending the Eve with their other parents. When I told my mother, upon her pronouncement of this year’s festivities, that I felt very disappointed (to put it lightly) about her unilateral change, she replied, “Well, I don’t feel disappointed.”
I’m used to having all of my family together for Christmas. It wasn’t the date change that felt disappointing, but rather that my kids wouldn’t be there. Turns out that my sister and her family will be at her in-laws on Christmas Day, so if we have the gathering that day, they’ll be missing, which is not only disappointing but apparently was my mother’s (unstated) real reason for wanting to do a Christmas Eve gig. In the end, we decided to have our family celebration the week before Christmas, on my mom’s birthday, so we can all be together, and to go hang out and open stockings on the day itself. That’s better. I still feel disappointed in my mother’s lack of disappointment. It feels like a shun, like I’m not important.
I know it’s not about me. Change I don’t initiate rarely is but somehow, that kind of change feels most personal.
No one likes feeling disappointed. I’ve just noticed that I seem to take it harder than most. What is it that I can’t accept?
Days of Grace: 241/365
Posted by: | Comments- Steve made Lauren breakfast this morning: scrambled eggs, too, not just cereal
- We made it to school on time
- I had a good night’s sleep with no nightmares for the first time in several days
- Our new blackout curtains not only keep the room pitch black, but warmer, too
- Rechargable batteries
Days of Grace: 240/365
Posted by: | Comments- ferret playdates
- homemade macaroni and cheese
- sleep-in Sundays
- black nail polish
- lemonade in winter
What I get this time of year
Posted by: | CommentsI’m catching up on my Google Reader (only 150 more posts to go) after a several day hiatus, and I realized that I must be the only blogger in the whole of the Internets who didn’t do a Thanksgiving Thankful List. Maybe my (almost) daily lists seemed like enough. Or maybe, it’s that time of year when the dark blankets out the light in my life, and I don’t really feel much above flat. Thankfulness is definitely a higher vibration.
It’s been creeping up on me, and last night, after I had a particularly spectacular meltdown in response to Lauren stepping on (and crushing) my one-of-a-kind custom prescription sunglasses (by accident), Steve scooted over to me on the couch and wrapped himself around me and asked if I was OK. I remembered then that I never feel the depression until I’m crushed beneath it. That’s why it’s so hard for me to manage: I don’t see the bud to nip. The flower’s in full bloom before I even notice it’s there.
This morning, I got up and went to Nia, which is a wonderful form of exercise. Dana was the teacher today, and the routine was about being childlike again. I don’t think I’ve been a child since I was about 7, so I had to reach down deep to find her. Parts of the routine caused me to cry, others to laugh. That’s not unusual. I was short-breathed for minutes after class, when I met with a trainer named Clint for a free stretching session. I wish I could afford to see him a few times a week (at $45 a crack) because my body feels wonderful right now. But the elevated mood only lasts so long.
When I got home, I showered and used my lightbox for 45 minutes. Because I’ve been sleeping in, I haven’t used it since Tuesday. Not smart. I’m sure that’s why I’ve been so angry and agitated for the past couple of days. I have exactly one nerve left, I tell you. And it frayed today with Ryan, who was disrespectful and disobedient and made me so angry that I grounded him AND screamed at him (after he screamed at me, telling me I had ruined his life by marrying his dad, and he wished Steve had never met me, and that I am not his mother and he does not have to listen to me. I’m still seething). Steve was at work. It was not fun. I left him a message about what happened, and he texted back that he was disappointed in ME and that I need to learn to act my age. Icing on the cake I tell you.
Luckily, I had an escape plan. Steve’s Aunt Pat asked me to take her family’s photo for their holiday cards. So I took Lauren with me, and we stopped at Starbucks on the way to Englewood. I know I should find a healthier stress relief mechanism than sugar. But nothing–not a prescription, or a run, or a drink, or a hug, or crying, or shopping, or ANYTHING–feels better than sugar in terms of stress relief. I got the new Caramel Brulee Latte, and it was delicious. I petted Lauren’s hair as we waited in line, and she told me how much she loves me, which made me feel better. I think she tries to protect me from my own moods.
We then spent about 30 minutes taking photos of Pat, her boys and their crazy Wheaten terriers. I love taking photos, so I was up again.
Steve’s text made me not want to go home, but I told Pat I’d process the photos and send them to her tonight so she could order her cards tomorrow. Ryan was asleep when we arrived and Steve wasn’t home yet, I felt relief. I spent an hour processing and emailing. Steve came home and reiterated his disappointment in me, which I am choosing to ignore. I don’t care if he’s disappointed. He wasn’t hear to witness, and I know I was right. He had a long talk with Ryan in the basement, and Ryan kind of apologized. Kind of. I said thank you. I’m still angry, but no longer pissed.
At this point, I feel like the rollercoaster has cruised back to the platform. Today has been a wild ride of emotion, from the near-crying at Nia to the screaming at Ryan to the high of hugging Lauren in Starbucks (who told me she loves me as big as all the universes and galaxies) to the numbness from Steve’s text. If this day had happened in June, I would have handled it all without as much adrenaline or drama. But it’s not June, it’s the end of November. And this is what I get this time of year.
Days of Grace: 239/365
Posted by: | Comments- work holidays
- a decent, not-too-stressful Thanksgiving
- Aunt Carole’s mastery of Julia Child tarts (omg so delicious, especially the raspberry)
- a 70-degree day to put up the outside decorations
- Lauren’s back with me today
Big girl room
Posted by: | CommentsI spent eight hours this weekend cleaning and decluttering Lauren’s room.
Eight. Hours.
For the past year, I’ve let her clean her own room. As long as the dirty clothes get put in the hamper, the clean clothes get put away and any food/plates/glasses make it to the kitchen, I’ve been OK with letting her do what she wants. Then, the other day she complained she had nothing to wear, and I noticed she had worn the same pants three days in a row.
“Where are the five pairs of jeans I’ve bought you?”
“I dunno …”
So I went into her dresser and lo and behold, instead of jeans, I found a drawer full of Halloween candy wrappers, bits and pieces of toys, drafts of art projects, and single socks. Apparently, she’s been cleaning her room by stuffing everything that’s on her floor into every possible nook and cranny. I’d previously nipped in the bud her attempt to clean by shoving everything under the bed, or in the closet (as I did when I was her age).
On Sunday morning, I felt particularly energetic. She’s with her dad this week, which is good, because I knew I would be getting rid of a bunch of her stuff. If she were there, she’d protest every item. She’d protested this summer when I attempted to purge stuff. At the end of six hours of sorting, I had three lawn bags of donations and two of trash. I made some decisions for her, giving away almost all of her early-reader books and a few of her McDonald’s-style stuffed animals. I even gave away the toy guitar I restrung with real strings a few years ago (but don’t hold tune), which I’ve rarely seen her play but has lived in the corner of her bedroom for years. That was a tough call, and she may not appreciate that I let it go. I also culled almost all of her half-filled coloring books, all the broken crayons, all of the markers (dried out). I called her at her dad’s about one group of items: her babydolls.
“Do you want to keep them or give them away?”
“Only give them to Natalie,” she said. Natalie is her 3-year-old cousin, to whom we gave half of her babydoll stuff this summer. My sister’s house is small, and they don’t have room for more toys especially with a second baby on the way, I told Lauren.
“I’ll have to think about it for when I come back to your house,” she said after a long hesitation. I know why she’s torn: the babydolls are her last link to being a little girl. I’m torn too. The two dolls she’s had left were gifts at her first birthday party. She learned to walk by pushing her purple babydoll stroller. And her teddy bear, Clover, slept in the plastic crib when Lauren took naps. I don’t really want to see them go either, and with the rest of the purging, there’s room enough in one of her closets.
After a trip to the Goodwill, I tackled the actual cleaning part, vacuuming the whole room twice, rearranging her furniture, removing her dresser. Instead, her clothes now hang in a closet, and a rolling cart with plastic bins holds her socks, underwear and PJs. She can see her whole wardrobe, which is bigger than I realized, and hopefully will not come to me again with the complaint of having nothing to wear.
Her room sits above the garage and it’s always cold in the winter and hot in the summer. I bought her new thermal-lined curtains for her picture window and an induction heat standing heater. I also finally (after about 9 months–lousy mother!) hung up two posters and three framed prints we bought, as well as some cork squares to display her artwork and photos. We have a recliner in the basement that we’ll move to her room to fill a corner and give her a reading chair.
I also did away with most of the places she had to stuff things, and with less things to put away, hopefully it will be easier for her to keep it picked up.
Last year, we did away with her bubblegum pink walls and went with a white, seafoam, green and brown color scheme. When I closed the door last night, I realized her bedroom now belongs to the big girl she is becoming. It’s a bittersweet moment.
Days of Grace: 238/365
Posted by: | CommentsHappy Thanksgiving everyone!
- I have a job
- My brother Eric is spending Thanksgiving with us
- Steve
- Lauren
- I am healthy
