I find myself wishing recently that I could withdraw or rewrite some of my Grandfather's eulogy.
In the eulogy I wrote, I talked about him being a man's man who loved his family deeply and who held the women in his life in the highest esteem.
And that's all very true, and I certainly felt that way at the time I wrote it. The man was 150% all about his family. Through and through - he provided for them, taught them, raised them, had fun with them. Gave them things his parents weren't able to give them. And he saved. My God was he a saver. But he also had problems that I was blind too - sort of.
1) when it came to loving everyone equally, I'm not so sure he did that.
2) when it came to mental health, I believe he often suffered with what we now understand to be mental illnesses of depression and at times anxiety, but he would have fought you to the death to be labelled as such.
3) he thought the best way to make you strive for more or better was to help you see the worst possible options as a means of driving you to be better than that. Let me explain, because these are truly the reasons that I wish I could re-write it now.
I've spent many years trying to figure out "how I got to be the way I was." There were lots of great things he taught me. For example, he taught me to save at least 10% of my salary from day one. I did, and it's saved me more than once in a crunch, and I have a real shot at retiring by the age of 55 and living pretty modestly and comfortably throughout retirement despite any of the set backs I've had. He also taught me that the day I stop learning would be the day I died. I am surrounded by people who I am often envious of, because they just go about their lives without seeking the meaning of everything, but I am plagued by this innate need to peel back layers, understand, learn from my mistakes and others, while others just simply move from one mistake to the next, No worry, no dread. Just meh - and on they go on their merry way. I learn which is wonderful. But it also means I've got anxiety at times that can be very debilitating.
But I also beat myself up in insane ways over my weight. I brood over every piece of food - the good and the bad. I've done diet after diet and exercise after exercise. I've done weight loss surgery, plastic surgery, taken pills, and done everything short of actually take myself out of the equation entirely...and even that, well, I'd be lying if I didn't say I hadn't actually tried dismally at that once even.
And when I've thought back trying to pin point who in my family had actually reinforced that I was physically beautiful, or otherwise even Just fine the way I was, I could pinpoint exactly who said what and when. Because clearly my self esteem or lack thereof had to have come from something I was hearing or seeing regularly enough to warrant it becoming a self fulfilling prophecy. I can look at a photo of me as a teen, and while maybe I did mature early, I was smoking hot and slim and normal and nothing near what I envisioned myself to be back then. I am certainly bigger than I ever imagined being possible now. And the only voices that I remember hearing that countered those other voices were my mom's and a cousin's husband. I can tell you exactly when each reinforced the good in me, because it was so infrequently heard, and so precipitated likely by a frenzied experience of hearing how horrifyingly fat and worthless I was, that they needed to be loud enough to be heard.
The voices who made me feel worthless, and horrifyingly fat and destined for a life of vomit inducing profiles, hiding from the world or putting myself on display at the circus? My grandfather's. My brother's. In some ways my mother too who tried simultaneously to use similar tactics to my grandfather's and only countered the arguments when I would hit a breaking point, and who I believe tried desperately to overcome those feelings herself.
It makes me wish that the counter voices, the voices who reassured me of my worth and my beauty were louder, more frequent and more relevant than all the other voices. It makes me wish I'd seen my mother stand up to my grandfather on my behalf, in front of me to stop him dead in his tracks. It makes me wish our baby boomers didn't respect their elders to such a degree that they'd at least call them out on their bullshit.
And so when I find myself struggling with the decision about whether to reinforce my daughter's beauty or her brains, I try my damnedest to reinforce both at the same time. At 5 she has already told me how un-pretty she feels. And this is despite me trying desperately to model body positive behaviour for her even when it's not natural for me to do so. And I wish I could find the right words, that would be the loudest of them all, that would tell her not to listen to other stupid and jealous people. Words that would scream from the highest monuments, that other people's jealousy means absolutely nothing and that I've never seen anyone so beautiful as she is.
She stops the world, quiets a room, commands attention in every single way. And it's her beauty inside and out that does that. How do I make her believe that...? How do I believe that for myself now that all the damage is done?
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Showing posts with label depression. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 7, 2015
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Tide Shifting
So I done got told to update this blog for goodness sakes. The last thing I had up here was so depressing.
Well, it rightly was. I have depression. I have anxiety. Hello - means often times my thoughts are actually depressing. :) Fancy that.
What had precipitated the last post was the fact that my brother, whom I knew had been looking for reasons to fully distance himself from the family, finally found what it was he needed as an excuse and decided I was no longer a good enough influence on his child and therefore he wouldn't be bringing her near me again. Now let me assure you that what he found pales in comparison to some of his nasty habits, and it's not even my habit that has him making this decision...but whatever. I'm tired of clawing at things that would eliminate his excuses. I don't want him in my life if he doesn't want to be in mine. With that realization, which admittedly came AFTER the last blog post, I found a liberating peace in my life. While it's been painful to have to tell my mom that her kids won't likely be in the same room for a good many years, she's had her own similar experiences with her own brothers, and I think she understands. Besides which, she's good at staying out of things...so there's that.
But after that moment of liberation, I started to plot a course to better things, and the tide is finally shifting in my favour. I've been offered a new job with more money and better title and better learning opportunities. It's a really exciting change that I think will be better for our family in the long run.
It's not coming without it's fair share of anxiety. At the moment I feel like a great big bungled up ball of whoa...and there's no way to release it because I can't submit my resignation for at least 1 more week. The biggest anxiety I'm having though is putting my daughter back into a daycare situation. There's no way to make it work with commuting to stay home til she goes to school, and be home in time to collect her from school. They don't give parents 5 hour workdays and pay them this great. SO, we're trying to lock down on a sitter that makes the most sense, but it's breaking my heart already. She's been in daycare before. But it seems like I'm giving up the cup of christ by handing her over. It's no easier than when I did it the first time. That's because no matter what job I do for another company, it will always be at odds with my baser instincts of being a mom first.
But onward and upward. In 20 years, when my daughter heads off on her own path, she'll have seen an example in her mother of a woman who stopped at nothing to ensure her family was well provided for, and who broke herself in two trying to be everything to her and her daddy. Not such an awful legacy to leave behind. She'll have witnessed confidence in the face of adversity, and thoughtfulness in a woman who truly looked for every possible way to make the best decisions for her family each and every single day. She'll see a woman who spent as much time with her child as humanly possible, playing, engaging, and caretaking...and she'll see a woman who hopefully made the world outside our home just that little bit better.
Right?
The big job changes come at the end of the month and hopefully keep me busy and engaged and inspired for a good number of years to come. I'm beginning the second half of my work journey - and I'm hoping it's a wild and woolly ride!
Onward and Upward.
Well, it rightly was. I have depression. I have anxiety. Hello - means often times my thoughts are actually depressing. :) Fancy that.
What had precipitated the last post was the fact that my brother, whom I knew had been looking for reasons to fully distance himself from the family, finally found what it was he needed as an excuse and decided I was no longer a good enough influence on his child and therefore he wouldn't be bringing her near me again. Now let me assure you that what he found pales in comparison to some of his nasty habits, and it's not even my habit that has him making this decision...but whatever. I'm tired of clawing at things that would eliminate his excuses. I don't want him in my life if he doesn't want to be in mine. With that realization, which admittedly came AFTER the last blog post, I found a liberating peace in my life. While it's been painful to have to tell my mom that her kids won't likely be in the same room for a good many years, she's had her own similar experiences with her own brothers, and I think she understands. Besides which, she's good at staying out of things...so there's that.
But after that moment of liberation, I started to plot a course to better things, and the tide is finally shifting in my favour. I've been offered a new job with more money and better title and better learning opportunities. It's a really exciting change that I think will be better for our family in the long run.
It's not coming without it's fair share of anxiety. At the moment I feel like a great big bungled up ball of whoa...and there's no way to release it because I can't submit my resignation for at least 1 more week. The biggest anxiety I'm having though is putting my daughter back into a daycare situation. There's no way to make it work with commuting to stay home til she goes to school, and be home in time to collect her from school. They don't give parents 5 hour workdays and pay them this great. SO, we're trying to lock down on a sitter that makes the most sense, but it's breaking my heart already. She's been in daycare before. But it seems like I'm giving up the cup of christ by handing her over. It's no easier than when I did it the first time. That's because no matter what job I do for another company, it will always be at odds with my baser instincts of being a mom first.
But onward and upward. In 20 years, when my daughter heads off on her own path, she'll have seen an example in her mother of a woman who stopped at nothing to ensure her family was well provided for, and who broke herself in two trying to be everything to her and her daddy. Not such an awful legacy to leave behind. She'll have witnessed confidence in the face of adversity, and thoughtfulness in a woman who truly looked for every possible way to make the best decisions for her family each and every single day. She'll see a woman who spent as much time with her child as humanly possible, playing, engaging, and caretaking...and she'll see a woman who hopefully made the world outside our home just that little bit better.
Right?
The big job changes come at the end of the month and hopefully keep me busy and engaged and inspired for a good number of years to come. I'm beginning the second half of my work journey - and I'm hoping it's a wild and woolly ride!
Onward and Upward.
Thursday, January 8, 2015
Lost
Lost in my job.
Lost in my home.
Lost in my family.
Lost in my soul.
Feels like no one is knocking on my door, but some how there's so much to be done, to be said, to be felt from so many angles and people that I'm tripping over...and I'm lost. Like I'm invisible to everyone around me. My feelings mean nothing - they're easy to be trampled on. As long as I don't infringe on anyone else's inalienable rights to be assholes, I should be able to survive and be happy right?
It makes me want to shut the world right off. Makes me want to take my child and live in the smallest cabin I can find in the woods, and become a homeschooling hermit. Makes me want to not speak to anyone...anytime...account for anyone else's feelings but my own and my daughter's.
Makes me want to hide and tell the world to just Eff Off. If the world needs to be filled with and run by assholes, who am I to fight that? I'll just find a small slice of something the furthest I can get from anything otherwise labelled as "civilized" and live off my own resources.
I'm close to a breakdown. Maybe this is it already and there's no turning back.
Truth is, the people you love and who supposedly love you should be trying to be with you any chance they get. I seem to be surrounded by people who are trying to stay away...so maybe I'm the problem here. Maybe I need to just go away to make people happy.
Maybe the world would be a much better place if I weren't a part of it for all of those people. I clearly don't bring anything worthwhile to the table that would make anyone want more.
Lost. Invisible. Alone in a sea of needy, greedy, fucked up people.
Stop. I want off.
Lost in my home.
Lost in my family.
Lost in my soul.
Feels like no one is knocking on my door, but some how there's so much to be done, to be said, to be felt from so many angles and people that I'm tripping over...and I'm lost. Like I'm invisible to everyone around me. My feelings mean nothing - they're easy to be trampled on. As long as I don't infringe on anyone else's inalienable rights to be assholes, I should be able to survive and be happy right?
It makes me want to shut the world right off. Makes me want to take my child and live in the smallest cabin I can find in the woods, and become a homeschooling hermit. Makes me want to not speak to anyone...anytime...account for anyone else's feelings but my own and my daughter's.
Makes me want to hide and tell the world to just Eff Off. If the world needs to be filled with and run by assholes, who am I to fight that? I'll just find a small slice of something the furthest I can get from anything otherwise labelled as "civilized" and live off my own resources.
I'm close to a breakdown. Maybe this is it already and there's no turning back.
Truth is, the people you love and who supposedly love you should be trying to be with you any chance they get. I seem to be surrounded by people who are trying to stay away...so maybe I'm the problem here. Maybe I need to just go away to make people happy.
Maybe the world would be a much better place if I weren't a part of it for all of those people. I clearly don't bring anything worthwhile to the table that would make anyone want more.
Lost. Invisible. Alone in a sea of needy, greedy, fucked up people.
Stop. I want off.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
The Single Way to be the Best Spouse
Something I've learned is that marriage is not a competition, but when it hits rough patches as they ultimately do, competition seems to be the way discord manifests itself as a symptom.
I'm not a marriage expert. Unless you call being married enough qualification to be an expert - which, honestly, might just be enough in most circles.
The biggest thing I've learned in my 41 years on this planet and in the 8 years of my marriage is that respect, loyalty, love and honouring your vows are the ONLY ways you can be your best version of the spouse you intended to be the day you got married.
And the single most important thing I've learned is never to click on some crazy person's blog about how to be the best wife, or best husband.
While the husband ones aren't so bad, the wife ones are truly abhorrent and derived straight from the pages of a book that's so antiquated that it forgot to let people who pour over every letter within it, that the world moved on, women wear pants and work bloody hard. In many cases it forgets to remind those crazy ass women that it's their turn to be the bread winners, so racing home at night to get the house cleaned, dishes done, meals prepared and the beer chilled, just in time to paste a ridiculous frigging smile on your face as your hubby walks through the door, is bloody insane. It's forgotten that the virtues of feminism and equality prevail in a modern world, and no person with half a brain in their head is wearing the goofy smile anymore.
You can't be a better wife by doing all that - all that can do is make yourself depressed, anxious, constantly on edge and looking for what you might be getting in return AND that's what gives rise to competition and discord in a marriage.
SO - the best way to be your best version of the spouse you always intended to be, man or woman, is to share equally in the work of daily life, without grumbling and begrudging every second of it, recognizing that your spouse is devoting as much or more to the same ugly tasks of day to day life, and revel in the few and rare opportunities you get to be free of those encumbrances. Respect your partner for all that they bring to your day to day life. Fawn over meals even if they're dismal attempts and massive failures, with immense praise, knowing how many planets and stars had to align for your partner to even get as far as they did with it. And be loyal. Look past the disgruntled face, the worn out sighs, the disheveled hair...pour your martini and hers. Bring them chocolate and flowers, beer or movie passes. Get the sitter all lined up in advance, and ask them out on a real date - the way you did before you were married. Show your partner, that through thick and thin, you see how beautiful they are, you love them, and you respect them.
Marriage is never perfect. And there's no simple checklist to make it better. Do what your mama taught you and just be a decent human being. Everything else will work itself out.
I'm not a marriage expert. Unless you call being married enough qualification to be an expert - which, honestly, might just be enough in most circles.
The biggest thing I've learned in my 41 years on this planet and in the 8 years of my marriage is that respect, loyalty, love and honouring your vows are the ONLY ways you can be your best version of the spouse you intended to be the day you got married.
And the single most important thing I've learned is never to click on some crazy person's blog about how to be the best wife, or best husband.
While the husband ones aren't so bad, the wife ones are truly abhorrent and derived straight from the pages of a book that's so antiquated that it forgot to let people who pour over every letter within it, that the world moved on, women wear pants and work bloody hard. In many cases it forgets to remind those crazy ass women that it's their turn to be the bread winners, so racing home at night to get the house cleaned, dishes done, meals prepared and the beer chilled, just in time to paste a ridiculous frigging smile on your face as your hubby walks through the door, is bloody insane. It's forgotten that the virtues of feminism and equality prevail in a modern world, and no person with half a brain in their head is wearing the goofy smile anymore.
You can't be a better wife by doing all that - all that can do is make yourself depressed, anxious, constantly on edge and looking for what you might be getting in return AND that's what gives rise to competition and discord in a marriage.
SO - the best way to be your best version of the spouse you always intended to be, man or woman, is to share equally in the work of daily life, without grumbling and begrudging every second of it, recognizing that your spouse is devoting as much or more to the same ugly tasks of day to day life, and revel in the few and rare opportunities you get to be free of those encumbrances. Respect your partner for all that they bring to your day to day life. Fawn over meals even if they're dismal attempts and massive failures, with immense praise, knowing how many planets and stars had to align for your partner to even get as far as they did with it. And be loyal. Look past the disgruntled face, the worn out sighs, the disheveled hair...pour your martini and hers. Bring them chocolate and flowers, beer or movie passes. Get the sitter all lined up in advance, and ask them out on a real date - the way you did before you were married. Show your partner, that through thick and thin, you see how beautiful they are, you love them, and you respect them.
Marriage is never perfect. And there's no simple checklist to make it better. Do what your mama taught you and just be a decent human being. Everything else will work itself out.
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Good Grief
I just had a big cry. Well a big"ish" cry.
It seems like the loss of Robin Williams has hit me harder than even I would ordinarily wish to admit. There are several reasons for this. I never met Robin Williams. I only ever watched him on television. I'm sure I watched every single one of his works from the comfort of my living room. Otherwise known as the best seat in the house.
I don't ordinarily get choked up at the loss of a celebrity. Seems this year though, we lost some of the biggest talents I've ever been privileged to witness. From Maya Angelou to Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and finally to the effervescent Robin Williams. And I'm dealing with several impending losses of my own - a dear friend is battling a terminal illness and is struggling, my mother in law is terminally ill and just days away from moving on in her own journey, which makes my heart break for my husband. We're dealing with a lost job, and just generally the day to day angst of how difficult parenting and marriage and the life domestica can truly be.
And despite it being 20 years since I lost my father and 6 since I lost my grandfather, I realize almost daily that the men in my life who made me laugh, smile, buck up and get over my own crap, leave. They leave. They just go, never to come back. And Mr. Williams is now one of them.
Since losing my father, my life has been a roller coaster. Not a single day of it do I regret, however, so much of it has been spent overcoming that grief. Living up to impossible ideals imposed on me by myself, and some projection of what I believe would make my parents (both of them) eternally proud. I'm not one for organized faith, but I do believe in supernatural phenomenon that gives me solace that somewhere out there there are little souls of great people past who shepherd me through each stage of my life's journey out of love.
When down and dealing with my mental illnesses, I could usually find a run of Mrs. Doubtfire, Jumanji or one of his stand up shows on tv, and it wouldn't be long before Mr. Williams cracked the smile on my face. Even if it was barely present I could feel the monstrous weight of whatever I was being held down with, lift ever so briefly. Allowing me to breathe, cry, release the intensity of my muscles which had been tightened to the point of painful finger nail imprints in the palms of my hands. And I guess that my weeping is now because there will be no more "drive by fruitings" or brilliant head sitting. No more Nanu Nanu's or Russian characterizations of baby delivering doctors to distract me. Just like my father will no longer challenge me unconditionally to be whatever I want to be, or like my grandpa will never grasp my head in his bear like hand with such firm gentleness that it helped exorcise the demons out for me without even being on purpose.
I hate my demons. I hate living with them. I hate having to figure out on a daily basis how to embrace them, just to remove any minute amount of their power over my mind and my heart. And it breaks my heart more so that my husband can read these demons. When learning about Mr. Williams suicide, he came up to tell me of his passing (like by some incredible feat of mind reading to know that this would be important), and pleaded with me to "please don't ever do that to him". My husband knew that in a split second this could be our reality - even likely before I'd have ever been able to truly admit it.
I don't know how to purge the demons. I try my best to adapt to them. Manage them. Rise above them. Function despite them.
I'm devastated that others like myself, suffering with depression and mental illnesses are still isolated, left to despair. Mental illness is as physical an illness as any cancer, broken limb or ailment that needs a bandaid, antibiotic or tender loving care. I wish to god there was a way to make this universally understood. If a man who is brilliant, a giant ball of energy and exuberance, can be devastated enough by the demons within him to take his own life, how in the world can just anyone overcome it? I guess if you're reading this, and you're down and not feeling right as rain, I'm begging you to please talk to someone. Anyone. Talk to me. Let's save each other. Life is so hard. We don't have to be alone to live it.
It seems like the loss of Robin Williams has hit me harder than even I would ordinarily wish to admit. There are several reasons for this. I never met Robin Williams. I only ever watched him on television. I'm sure I watched every single one of his works from the comfort of my living room. Otherwise known as the best seat in the house.
I don't ordinarily get choked up at the loss of a celebrity. Seems this year though, we lost some of the biggest talents I've ever been privileged to witness. From Maya Angelou to Phillip Seymour Hoffman, and finally to the effervescent Robin Williams. And I'm dealing with several impending losses of my own - a dear friend is battling a terminal illness and is struggling, my mother in law is terminally ill and just days away from moving on in her own journey, which makes my heart break for my husband. We're dealing with a lost job, and just generally the day to day angst of how difficult parenting and marriage and the life domestica can truly be.
And despite it being 20 years since I lost my father and 6 since I lost my grandfather, I realize almost daily that the men in my life who made me laugh, smile, buck up and get over my own crap, leave. They leave. They just go, never to come back. And Mr. Williams is now one of them.
Since losing my father, my life has been a roller coaster. Not a single day of it do I regret, however, so much of it has been spent overcoming that grief. Living up to impossible ideals imposed on me by myself, and some projection of what I believe would make my parents (both of them) eternally proud. I'm not one for organized faith, but I do believe in supernatural phenomenon that gives me solace that somewhere out there there are little souls of great people past who shepherd me through each stage of my life's journey out of love.
When down and dealing with my mental illnesses, I could usually find a run of Mrs. Doubtfire, Jumanji or one of his stand up shows on tv, and it wouldn't be long before Mr. Williams cracked the smile on my face. Even if it was barely present I could feel the monstrous weight of whatever I was being held down with, lift ever so briefly. Allowing me to breathe, cry, release the intensity of my muscles which had been tightened to the point of painful finger nail imprints in the palms of my hands. And I guess that my weeping is now because there will be no more "drive by fruitings" or brilliant head sitting. No more Nanu Nanu's or Russian characterizations of baby delivering doctors to distract me. Just like my father will no longer challenge me unconditionally to be whatever I want to be, or like my grandpa will never grasp my head in his bear like hand with such firm gentleness that it helped exorcise the demons out for me without even being on purpose.
I hate my demons. I hate living with them. I hate having to figure out on a daily basis how to embrace them, just to remove any minute amount of their power over my mind and my heart. And it breaks my heart more so that my husband can read these demons. When learning about Mr. Williams suicide, he came up to tell me of his passing (like by some incredible feat of mind reading to know that this would be important), and pleaded with me to "please don't ever do that to him". My husband knew that in a split second this could be our reality - even likely before I'd have ever been able to truly admit it.
I don't know how to purge the demons. I try my best to adapt to them. Manage them. Rise above them. Function despite them.
I'm devastated that others like myself, suffering with depression and mental illnesses are still isolated, left to despair. Mental illness is as physical an illness as any cancer, broken limb or ailment that needs a bandaid, antibiotic or tender loving care. I wish to god there was a way to make this universally understood. If a man who is brilliant, a giant ball of energy and exuberance, can be devastated enough by the demons within him to take his own life, how in the world can just anyone overcome it? I guess if you're reading this, and you're down and not feeling right as rain, I'm begging you to please talk to someone. Anyone. Talk to me. Let's save each other. Life is so hard. We don't have to be alone to live it.
Monday, February 10, 2014
Time Flies
The past week has been quite the emotional roller coaster here. My husband has been violently ill, to the point of scaring me, and it's looking more and more like the reason for it is stress. I'm afraid of how much of the stress he's feeling is my own doing, but am also afraid not to intervene and try as hard as I can to pressure him to let up at work and let things start really breaking. I mean for real, break til they can't legally enforce any more.
I want to beg him to take a leave of absence, knowing that might cause him more stress than not doing it, and I want to beg him to put this house up for sale and start looking at trailer park solutions. I know we can't keep going the way we're both going forever.
Which brings me to my own work. It's making my eyes twitch and giving me a chronic migraine. Yep. I've inherited quite the crap storm and I'm left trying to sort it out, streamline it, fix it just so I can figure out a way to co-exist with it...all before I lose my own marbles, and need another crazy sabbatical of my own.
Add to this that last week I registered my baby girl for junior kindergarten and I'm left emotionally drained as a dried up grape. Only the raisin that's left is pretty bitter. She is sooo very excited to be going to big kid school, she even started doing her letters and numbers in high gear. She's already told me she wants to wear a dress on her first day of school, and daily she checks out their progress on her new school. You see her school is being built right at the end of our street, and that means she can watch as construction progresses...many days she can't understand why it's just not done already.
I on the other hand, as excited as I am to see her happy and diving in with both feet, am emotionally devastated at the thought that my last chances to be a stay at home mom have come and gone. Literally, there's no way, unless I was choosing to home school her, that I will have that "opportunity" to be the kind of mom I always wanted to be. I used to dream that I'd stay home with my kids til they were in school full time. Then I'd go back to work. And that was when full time school didn't start til kids were 6 years old. She's just going to turn 4 in June and will be going to school full time in September. Unless I win millions so that I can take the summer with her, this is never going to happen for me at all. It makes me all the happier that I was able to take the full maternity leave. It was worth chewing up 6 years of my retirement to take that year. Thank GOD I did that much. She still snuggles with me, and holds my face in her tiny hands and tells me that I'm a good mommy. And that fills me. And her stellar behaviour, politeness and caring for others shows me every single day that I'm doing right by her. But my god how I wish that I could have done this for her. Been a 100% visible, dedicated and fully attentive mommy.
Every kid deserves that. And every mom deserves to be able to do that for their kids without pushing themselves to the brink of death trying to be super mom, breadwinner, housekeeper, and CEO. Exhaustion kills...My husband and I, and our grey skin tones are virtual proof of this. I guess at least if we keel over tomorrow, our child will remember snippets of awesomeness, and will hear the stories of how we killed ourselves trying to give her the best we could. That's reassuring for kids, right?
In the meantime, my little monkey has become a butterfly ready to leap off the leaves and float through the sky. She's buoyant and light, and graceful, and sweet. This world is changing because she smiled at it. And she's about to be let loose, to get her footing and show the world what she's capable of. I'm infinitely proud of her. Of the person she is and the woman she will become. I'm so terribly sad I've not been able to soak up 1000% of her moments the last 2 years. And so thoroughly grateful for the hundreds of moments I've been given in place of them.
I want to beg him to take a leave of absence, knowing that might cause him more stress than not doing it, and I want to beg him to put this house up for sale and start looking at trailer park solutions. I know we can't keep going the way we're both going forever.
Which brings me to my own work. It's making my eyes twitch and giving me a chronic migraine. Yep. I've inherited quite the crap storm and I'm left trying to sort it out, streamline it, fix it just so I can figure out a way to co-exist with it...all before I lose my own marbles, and need another crazy sabbatical of my own.
Add to this that last week I registered my baby girl for junior kindergarten and I'm left emotionally drained as a dried up grape. Only the raisin that's left is pretty bitter. She is sooo very excited to be going to big kid school, she even started doing her letters and numbers in high gear. She's already told me she wants to wear a dress on her first day of school, and daily she checks out their progress on her new school. You see her school is being built right at the end of our street, and that means she can watch as construction progresses...many days she can't understand why it's just not done already.
I on the other hand, as excited as I am to see her happy and diving in with both feet, am emotionally devastated at the thought that my last chances to be a stay at home mom have come and gone. Literally, there's no way, unless I was choosing to home school her, that I will have that "opportunity" to be the kind of mom I always wanted to be. I used to dream that I'd stay home with my kids til they were in school full time. Then I'd go back to work. And that was when full time school didn't start til kids were 6 years old. She's just going to turn 4 in June and will be going to school full time in September. Unless I win millions so that I can take the summer with her, this is never going to happen for me at all. It makes me all the happier that I was able to take the full maternity leave. It was worth chewing up 6 years of my retirement to take that year. Thank GOD I did that much. She still snuggles with me, and holds my face in her tiny hands and tells me that I'm a good mommy. And that fills me. And her stellar behaviour, politeness and caring for others shows me every single day that I'm doing right by her. But my god how I wish that I could have done this for her. Been a 100% visible, dedicated and fully attentive mommy.
Every kid deserves that. And every mom deserves to be able to do that for their kids without pushing themselves to the brink of death trying to be super mom, breadwinner, housekeeper, and CEO. Exhaustion kills...My husband and I, and our grey skin tones are virtual proof of this. I guess at least if we keel over tomorrow, our child will remember snippets of awesomeness, and will hear the stories of how we killed ourselves trying to give her the best we could. That's reassuring for kids, right?
In the meantime, my little monkey has become a butterfly ready to leap off the leaves and float through the sky. She's buoyant and light, and graceful, and sweet. This world is changing because she smiled at it. And she's about to be let loose, to get her footing and show the world what she's capable of. I'm infinitely proud of her. Of the person she is and the woman she will become. I'm so terribly sad I've not been able to soak up 1000% of her moments the last 2 years. And so thoroughly grateful for the hundreds of moments I've been given in place of them.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
I'm a Good Mommy
It's true. My husband has said so more often than I can count recently...but best of all, my three and a half year old bundle of perfection just told me so!
We seem to have what many would consider a "tough year" most years in this family. It all simply amounts to being the stuff of life that all the good moments happen around, but this year in particular, we started with close to $100K in consumer debt (not counting mortgages and car payments), and we are now exiting the year with half that problem. While we started out fighting every unknown bug that could affect a tiny little human, we are now exiting with very distinct bugs and we've not had too terrible a time of it since tonsils and adenoids were removed in February.
And while we're much, much, much happier than we were last January (anti depressants and half the debt problem with limited illnesses is the magic answer), we're sending 2013 out with what appears to be a flaming stake up the arse hole. In our general geographic area, the kids have been plagued with an outbreak of gastroenteritis in epic proportions, and now we're dealing with one hell of a head cold, which is robbing people of their will to live. And I without a sick day left to my name, my grandmother has had an accident, my mother has needed help taking care of her, and I have been trying to be the model parent of a sick kid at the same time that I'm trying to be a model employee and model grand/daughter. Them's the breaks. I always told my mom I wanted to be supermom...now karma's kicking me in the teeth...asking me how's that feel?
But I'll tell you, the suffering, the sleeplessness, the emotional binge eating and general slavery for others is worth it, when your husband hollers from the rooftops how much he loves and appreciates everything you do. And when in a moment of pure perfection, your sick child looks over at you, strokes your cheek gently and whispers "you're a good mommy".
I wish we could ring the bells on 2013 right this very second. I want to leave it feeling like this. I want to greet 2014 with more optimism, hope and energy than I had last January. God I hope nothing else tries to kill the holidays for me between now and then.
We seem to have what many would consider a "tough year" most years in this family. It all simply amounts to being the stuff of life that all the good moments happen around, but this year in particular, we started with close to $100K in consumer debt (not counting mortgages and car payments), and we are now exiting the year with half that problem. While we started out fighting every unknown bug that could affect a tiny little human, we are now exiting with very distinct bugs and we've not had too terrible a time of it since tonsils and adenoids were removed in February.
And while we're much, much, much happier than we were last January (anti depressants and half the debt problem with limited illnesses is the magic answer), we're sending 2013 out with what appears to be a flaming stake up the arse hole. In our general geographic area, the kids have been plagued with an outbreak of gastroenteritis in epic proportions, and now we're dealing with one hell of a head cold, which is robbing people of their will to live. And I without a sick day left to my name, my grandmother has had an accident, my mother has needed help taking care of her, and I have been trying to be the model parent of a sick kid at the same time that I'm trying to be a model employee and model grand/daughter. Them's the breaks. I always told my mom I wanted to be supermom...now karma's kicking me in the teeth...asking me how's that feel?
But I'll tell you, the suffering, the sleeplessness, the emotional binge eating and general slavery for others is worth it, when your husband hollers from the rooftops how much he loves and appreciates everything you do. And when in a moment of pure perfection, your sick child looks over at you, strokes your cheek gently and whispers "you're a good mommy".
I wish we could ring the bells on 2013 right this very second. I want to leave it feeling like this. I want to greet 2014 with more optimism, hope and energy than I had last January. God I hope nothing else tries to kill the holidays for me between now and then.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Frying Pan Meets the Fire
So, I've been frazzled, and busy, and talking on and on about
feeling depressed, anxious and teetering on the way less than awesome quotients
I impose on myself. And now there's pile on happening at work.
It's a classic case of the guy who makes more money, hasn't been
able to do what's required AND he's drowning, so the shit flows downhill, lands
in my lap because well, I can manage it - but it comes without any additional
money, no atta girls...just a "got this? Thanks." and a whole
bunch of high tailing it to the rear corners of the auditorium so they can
watch in near absolute darkness.
mmm Yeah. Alright. So I've let people know I have
concerns absorbing someone else's 50% of work load and trying to fit it into my
20% available time, when all the projects that he's downloading are high
profile, high stakes, highly volatile, and totally cluster fucked.
And that was met with abject silence. I guess in silence I
have my answer. And to be honest, with just 2 weeks left of the work
year, I'm less than energized, motivated or proactive to be jumping in and
throwing anyone a life raft. I got my own shit to worry about yo.
So now I guess it's a waiting game - I almost don't care that when
it blows up, it will be on my watch. Maybe then, they'll think twice
before ignoring an email.
Tuesday, November 26, 2013
The Beasts Beckon
The thing about depression and anxiety is that no matter what triggers them, you have to accept them and embrace them as living and breathing and almost as if they are a separate but intrinsically connected division of yourself.
It is the Hap Happiest Time of the Year...I know it is. I just wrote about it last week. But it seems that the beasts within me are very in tune with that and like to challenge it every time I acknowledge my contentment. My happiness is therefore dependent on how responsive Depression and Anxiety are within me.
Sure enough, the nightmares are back this week. Disrupting sleep, and well, just plain invading my life. And with as much as I have going on (the trigger) the absolute last thing I have time for in this life are the anchors which are depression and anxiety. Still here they are. Screaming loud and clear for only me to hear. Last night the dream was so vivid I cried out several times in my sleep and woke up the husband.
It's not fair. And it's just that simple. But it's my cross to bear and I have to figure out how to battle it back just a little while longer, then it can have me for a week or so in January...hear that depression - can you just hold out til then? Actually, let me get through the rest of this fiscal quarter, til I can haul in a good performance review and (fingers crossed) a decent raise for next year. Really need the reprieve buddy. Just a year - please? Pretty please? I'd like to feel happy and enjoyment in my marriage, in my home, in my limited parenting skills...just for a while. I'd like to get just a quick taste of liking my job for just the briefest of moments...you know, to remember what it was like to enjoy working.
Please - just back off a while.I need at least a short period of forgetting what it's like to live with you both. Maybe I'll come to appreciate the grounding in reality that I get from carrying you both around all the time...Maybe then I'll come to want some of the whacky "unreality" of what you want me to believe. But right now - I just want a bit of naivete back. A little bit of "ignorance is bliss"...please. Pretty please.
It is the Hap Happiest Time of the Year...I know it is. I just wrote about it last week. But it seems that the beasts within me are very in tune with that and like to challenge it every time I acknowledge my contentment. My happiness is therefore dependent on how responsive Depression and Anxiety are within me.
Sure enough, the nightmares are back this week. Disrupting sleep, and well, just plain invading my life. And with as much as I have going on (the trigger) the absolute last thing I have time for in this life are the anchors which are depression and anxiety. Still here they are. Screaming loud and clear for only me to hear. Last night the dream was so vivid I cried out several times in my sleep and woke up the husband.
It's not fair. And it's just that simple. But it's my cross to bear and I have to figure out how to battle it back just a little while longer, then it can have me for a week or so in January...hear that depression - can you just hold out til then? Actually, let me get through the rest of this fiscal quarter, til I can haul in a good performance review and (fingers crossed) a decent raise for next year. Really need the reprieve buddy. Just a year - please? Pretty please? I'd like to feel happy and enjoyment in my marriage, in my home, in my limited parenting skills...just for a while. I'd like to get just a quick taste of liking my job for just the briefest of moments...you know, to remember what it was like to enjoy working.
Please - just back off a while.I need at least a short period of forgetting what it's like to live with you both. Maybe I'll come to appreciate the grounding in reality that I get from carrying you both around all the time...Maybe then I'll come to want some of the whacky "unreality" of what you want me to believe. But right now - I just want a bit of naivete back. A little bit of "ignorance is bliss"...please. Pretty please.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
30% Awesome
So, I've been bad about posting, and that's probably because I've felt crummy. I've felt so up and down over the past couple of months, that I'm afraid I'm back on my meds and I don't think I'll ever come off them now.
I struggle daily with feeling like I'm supposed to be sooo much more awesome than I actually have turned out. Could be that Pinterest is responsible for me feeling so much the failure - there aren't enough hours in the day to learn and make all the things that inspire me on that site - but more than anything I think it comes from the execution or lack thereof of day to day tasks that seem to escape my capabilities.
My 3 year old challenges me at every single step - getting out of the house in the morning's is like trying to change the weather (in other words, it's impossible to leave on time). Getting her to eat a meal is a never ending fight, and it's only because she's not willing to do as she's asked or expected. Then she advises that it's "killing her" because well, she's repeating what I'm saying - her snail pace and her stubborness are often what I decry are "killing me".
Then there's work, and it's on one hand something I appreciate whole heartedly. On the other hand, my ability to climb or move or change things up is extremely limited. They want someone who can travel. They want someone who will sing their praises. They want someone who has already drunk the special koolaid and well, I'm afraid I tossed that cup before it even hit my lips. And that means rot here and be happy about it, or find something else, and since finding another job is like well, trying to grow a new limb, I'm really trying hard to swallow my pride and rot with a smile on my face. I'm not sure how long that will appease the powers that be, but it's my only game plan. And even I know it sucks.
Which leaves me to wonder if I'll ever feel more than say 30% of the awesome I instinctively feel I'm supposed to be? I'm less than the average person, in twice the average person's body, which brings me to the other thing I fail miserably at - weight management. Add mood management to that I I feel about as infinitesimally small as a tick.
Which means I don't have a lot of wisdom to espouse at the moment. I also don't have a lot of time. I'm failing at all these things because I'm trying to make our Christmas gifts - my list is long, and I'm trying desperately to manage the hits to our pocket book this year by making as many gifts as I can. I'd say roughly 50% will be handmade goodies and crafts...but all this takes every single spare second, and I started back in August. I'll be working it right down to the wire. It's keeping me awake at night. The lists. The lists of commitments made, the lists of things left to do, the lists of how I'm failing my kid, my husband...then the worries kick in, and it's about why my daughter does what she does, and am I handling it the best possible way - the answer of course is always no but I'll be damned if I can find something better. AND then there's the millions of ways I'm failing my husband. I want so much to make things better with him, and I'll say we're stronger than we have been in our relationship in over a year...but I have no drive, no interest and no time to invest and he suffers from it.
So when in doubt, give in right? I guess I'll try to find a way to lower the bar of my own expectations and be satisfied with my 30% awesomeness. Maybe one day, I'll come into my own all by a surprise. I'll wake up one day and never look back because each and every day won't be the drudgery of same old same old...it will be one more day of freaking fantastic, or as my daughter says "it was a perfect day today"...well, maybe one day in the far off future, I'll feel that way too.
One day.
I struggle daily with feeling like I'm supposed to be sooo much more awesome than I actually have turned out. Could be that Pinterest is responsible for me feeling so much the failure - there aren't enough hours in the day to learn and make all the things that inspire me on that site - but more than anything I think it comes from the execution or lack thereof of day to day tasks that seem to escape my capabilities.
My 3 year old challenges me at every single step - getting out of the house in the morning's is like trying to change the weather (in other words, it's impossible to leave on time). Getting her to eat a meal is a never ending fight, and it's only because she's not willing to do as she's asked or expected. Then she advises that it's "killing her" because well, she's repeating what I'm saying - her snail pace and her stubborness are often what I decry are "killing me".
Then there's work, and it's on one hand something I appreciate whole heartedly. On the other hand, my ability to climb or move or change things up is extremely limited. They want someone who can travel. They want someone who will sing their praises. They want someone who has already drunk the special koolaid and well, I'm afraid I tossed that cup before it even hit my lips. And that means rot here and be happy about it, or find something else, and since finding another job is like well, trying to grow a new limb, I'm really trying hard to swallow my pride and rot with a smile on my face. I'm not sure how long that will appease the powers that be, but it's my only game plan. And even I know it sucks.
Which leaves me to wonder if I'll ever feel more than say 30% of the awesome I instinctively feel I'm supposed to be? I'm less than the average person, in twice the average person's body, which brings me to the other thing I fail miserably at - weight management. Add mood management to that I I feel about as infinitesimally small as a tick.
Which means I don't have a lot of wisdom to espouse at the moment. I also don't have a lot of time. I'm failing at all these things because I'm trying to make our Christmas gifts - my list is long, and I'm trying desperately to manage the hits to our pocket book this year by making as many gifts as I can. I'd say roughly 50% will be handmade goodies and crafts...but all this takes every single spare second, and I started back in August. I'll be working it right down to the wire. It's keeping me awake at night. The lists. The lists of commitments made, the lists of things left to do, the lists of how I'm failing my kid, my husband...then the worries kick in, and it's about why my daughter does what she does, and am I handling it the best possible way - the answer of course is always no but I'll be damned if I can find something better. AND then there's the millions of ways I'm failing my husband. I want so much to make things better with him, and I'll say we're stronger than we have been in our relationship in over a year...but I have no drive, no interest and no time to invest and he suffers from it.
So when in doubt, give in right? I guess I'll try to find a way to lower the bar of my own expectations and be satisfied with my 30% awesomeness. Maybe one day, I'll come into my own all by a surprise. I'll wake up one day and never look back because each and every day won't be the drudgery of same old same old...it will be one more day of freaking fantastic, or as my daughter says "it was a perfect day today"...well, maybe one day in the far off future, I'll feel that way too.
One day.
Monday, October 28, 2013
ebbs and flows
Life is full of ebbs and flows. Jolts and lurches forward. Screeching stops and gradual accelerations. Depression, mental illness for that matter, is really not very different.
When I'm at my worst, it's usually because I'm dealing with a perfect storm, and I've forgotten in the midst of trying to balance a million fire balls in mid air, to take a breath, take meds, do yoga or invest in the silencing of my brain. And when I'm sniping and snapping at the smallest things, and I can even feel my face showing complete and utter disgust in the world, what hurts the most is knowing that the recipients of my ire and the pain and despondency of no hope are all in my own head and are at that moment, uncontrolled. I had a moment like that briefly yesterday. We've all been sick, and stressed and running a mile a minute and when we went to my mom's for dinner yesterday I struggled to lug all our crap into the house, had to call my husband back to help me heave crap in, then couldn't get in the door without fighting a million hurdles and it just felt like I was trying to navigate a medieval gauntlet from hell. "Jesus H Christ!" I snarked. "One of you kids come and deal with this ball! Get it out of the road!" I looked up to see my mother and my step brother looking at me like I'd walked into the room breathing fire. I wasn't, but that's how it came out. I was mildly frustrated, but at the brink of my perfect storm, that's how I look to the world at large. Mild frustrations are treacherous climbs the likes of Mount Everest. And a smile looks like Satan has usurped my body for his own and my possessed spirit is seething it's disdain.
If I could change these moments, you best believe that in a New York City second I would change them. I'd do a 180, slap a happy ass smile on my face and act like I'd just been through the sexcapades and taken home the bronze, (cuz you know if you win the gold you were trying too hard to have any fun). And I'd give absolutely anything not to let my daughter or my husband see or feel them. It breaks my heart when those moments overtake me - for that reason more than any other. I'm living with the knowledge that my child will have to say one day "there was a time when I didn't know what would greet me when I got home. My mom or the evil doctor inside her."
But the moments of happy are sheer, exquisite joy. That's the trade off. You can never be normal - well I can't. And that's probably because there is no such thing as normal. But you can be your best sometimes, and you can value that above everything else, because that's what separates us from the beasts inside us. And while you live with the moments where your body feels like it's going to explode into a million little bits and with their own wings, fly away so you can never put them back in place...you can let one little teeny weenie tiny voice in the back of your mind, shout out as loud as it can that it will all be better in the morning. A good sleep, and some peaceful quiet will help you to put the pieces of you back together, and you will have a better day tomorrow if you just persevere through this one.
Even Wil Wheaton knows what that's like. It just gets better.
When I'm at my worst, it's usually because I'm dealing with a perfect storm, and I've forgotten in the midst of trying to balance a million fire balls in mid air, to take a breath, take meds, do yoga or invest in the silencing of my brain. And when I'm sniping and snapping at the smallest things, and I can even feel my face showing complete and utter disgust in the world, what hurts the most is knowing that the recipients of my ire and the pain and despondency of no hope are all in my own head and are at that moment, uncontrolled. I had a moment like that briefly yesterday. We've all been sick, and stressed and running a mile a minute and when we went to my mom's for dinner yesterday I struggled to lug all our crap into the house, had to call my husband back to help me heave crap in, then couldn't get in the door without fighting a million hurdles and it just felt like I was trying to navigate a medieval gauntlet from hell. "Jesus H Christ!" I snarked. "One of you kids come and deal with this ball! Get it out of the road!" I looked up to see my mother and my step brother looking at me like I'd walked into the room breathing fire. I wasn't, but that's how it came out. I was mildly frustrated, but at the brink of my perfect storm, that's how I look to the world at large. Mild frustrations are treacherous climbs the likes of Mount Everest. And a smile looks like Satan has usurped my body for his own and my possessed spirit is seething it's disdain.
If I could change these moments, you best believe that in a New York City second I would change them. I'd do a 180, slap a happy ass smile on my face and act like I'd just been through the sexcapades and taken home the bronze, (cuz you know if you win the gold you were trying too hard to have any fun). And I'd give absolutely anything not to let my daughter or my husband see or feel them. It breaks my heart when those moments overtake me - for that reason more than any other. I'm living with the knowledge that my child will have to say one day "there was a time when I didn't know what would greet me when I got home. My mom or the evil doctor inside her."
But the moments of happy are sheer, exquisite joy. That's the trade off. You can never be normal - well I can't. And that's probably because there is no such thing as normal. But you can be your best sometimes, and you can value that above everything else, because that's what separates us from the beasts inside us. And while you live with the moments where your body feels like it's going to explode into a million little bits and with their own wings, fly away so you can never put them back in place...you can let one little teeny weenie tiny voice in the back of your mind, shout out as loud as it can that it will all be better in the morning. A good sleep, and some peaceful quiet will help you to put the pieces of you back together, and you will have a better day tomorrow if you just persevere through this one.
Even Wil Wheaton knows what that's like. It just gets better.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Call to our Crusaders
Be loud. There are people struggling with mental illness this very moment who need to hear they are normal. That they are strong. That they can cope with what ails them and come out victorious.
Be supportive. Lend them a hand. Help them pull themselves out of the pits and show them a light. Any light.
Be there. Day or night. When they call on you, answer. Be positive. Share.
We have mounting needs for crusaders in the area of mental health. I've long known about organizations that work with the health systems to process people and get people help, but there aren't nearly enough forums that reach out to individuals or where individuals who need a hand can turn to without stigma, without launching into a very cold and clinical system or without having hundreds of dollars to spare on out of network therapists, in a seriously underfunded portion of the health care programs.
In Ontario, I know this is changing, albeit ever so slowly. And the fact that it's changing at all is a true testament to all of the crusading men and women in the clinical and non-profit programs who made it happen. BUT, with the numbers of new people being included in the list of highly stressed, highly depressed and functionally living with the diseases growing each and every day, we really need to make our voices heard.
Let them ring clear.
Let me be the first to sing it from a roof top.
If you need me, I WILL BE HERE!
You are strong, you are normal and nothing you're going through right now is insurmountable.
I LOVE YOU! And YOU ARE WORTH MY TIME and everyone else's...including your own.
Be supportive. Lend them a hand. Help them pull themselves out of the pits and show them a light. Any light.
Be there. Day or night. When they call on you, answer. Be positive. Share.
We have mounting needs for crusaders in the area of mental health. I've long known about organizations that work with the health systems to process people and get people help, but there aren't nearly enough forums that reach out to individuals or where individuals who need a hand can turn to without stigma, without launching into a very cold and clinical system or without having hundreds of dollars to spare on out of network therapists, in a seriously underfunded portion of the health care programs.
In Ontario, I know this is changing, albeit ever so slowly. And the fact that it's changing at all is a true testament to all of the crusading men and women in the clinical and non-profit programs who made it happen. BUT, with the numbers of new people being included in the list of highly stressed, highly depressed and functionally living with the diseases growing each and every day, we really need to make our voices heard.
Let them ring clear.
Let me be the first to sing it from a roof top.
If you need me, I WILL BE HERE!
You are strong, you are normal and nothing you're going through right now is insurmountable.
I LOVE YOU! And YOU ARE WORTH MY TIME and everyone else's...including your own.
Problem Solving for Dummies
One of the most integral pieces of learning we do in our childhood development is to solve problems. It teaches us to look at problems from different angles, to deconstruct and rebuild so that we can perfect our outcomes as best we can.
We teach our children as toddlers that if something doesn't work, take it off/apart or turn it over and try again. When you do, and apply what you've learned in the first attempt, you're going to have a better result. As grown ups, we seem to forget this rule, or lack trust in the outcomes it will produce. That's because it means in some cases we have to give something up, or risk losing something we have for the promise or hope that it will be better once we've tried it a different way.
Example. If you're job sucks, after a certain point, it's not so easy to just quit your job and change careers. You have to plan that kind of transition or risk being homeless and hungry or worse, putting your family through some degree of hardship. In other cases, your government physically demonstrates it's no longer working for the people who elected it, and you would think that would clearly be a sign that a tear down or rewrite of the current infrastructure is in order, but people are afraid that will lead to lawlessness, disorder...perhaps there's fear that the people we put in power are actually too powerful and stronger than we are. In still other examples, when a business has an operation that makes them a little bit of money and keeps things balanced but doesn't grow or show the ability to make more money, the people who manage it are scared to expand scope and change tactics to do it smarter, better and perhaps more ethically because well, there's a chance it will cost more, and potentially won't make as much profit and therefore it's better to maintain a broken status quo.
So I imagine trying to explain this to my 3 year old, who get's incredibly frustrated when her foot gets stuck half way into the leg of her pants, or when her sock goes on upside down, or when she can't quite tie her shoelace or fit a puzzle piece into the picture...It's impossible to explain this in a way that a 3 year old would understand because at it's core, it's wrong. And I think that's why I find it a lunatic thing to NOT deconstruct problems and start again at any age.
It's no wonder we're all on antidepressants. We're not governed by our liberty and capability. We ARE governed by fear and shame.
We overlay the words and concept of "risk assessment" on our decision making process as we grow older and wiser. It's still a critical part of our decision making process and has a viable and legitimate place in our world. Doing something that will compound the world's problems is definitely the wrong choice even when the short term benefits are so appealing.
That said, there becomes a point where you get stuck in "analysis paralysis", and that risk assessment phase overcomes you're ability to take important risks because the overall longer term benefits of it so outweigh the short term pain we'll feel to re-frame or re-build the solutions.
If you are fundamentally unhappy in your work, but you risk having to live in a trailer versus the nice executive home you've built for yourself so that you can keep feeding your family and go back to school to learn the trade that will inevitably make you happier than you are today, is it worth it? It would certainly solve the immediate problem, AND would make it less painful to work until you were of ripe old retirement age, AND would show your children/family/self that you value your happiness above a paycheck. It demonstrates that sacrifice is often the price you pay for success, and that success can't always be measured by a dollar sign. Not at all the kind of lessons you try to AVOID teaching your children, so how can that then, be a wrong choice? Well, no one likes poverty. No one wants to live pay check to pay check. Does that (or better yet, Should that) prevent you from trying?
Similarly, when resources are constrained at work, and doing things more ethically, or increasing scope will increase costs and labour investment, does it really make that the wrong choice? I'm thinking this is a prime example of when you should turn it over, flip it around, tear it apart and start from scratch. And when your government shuts itself down and act illegally, well then it seels like it's time for some sort of reform, reconstruction, rethinking.
We have to let go of the notion that tearing it apart and going back to the drawing board is a bad thing. "The purpose of this meaningless and empty shell of life is (as Tim Minchin has said) to learn as much as you can about as much as you can, and to fill it". I see that as the best justification of all for turning things over, starting from scratch, embracing change and taking the risk.
Not taking the risks are, too often, the riskiest choices of all.
We teach our children as toddlers that if something doesn't work, take it off/apart or turn it over and try again. When you do, and apply what you've learned in the first attempt, you're going to have a better result. As grown ups, we seem to forget this rule, or lack trust in the outcomes it will produce. That's because it means in some cases we have to give something up, or risk losing something we have for the promise or hope that it will be better once we've tried it a different way.
Example. If you're job sucks, after a certain point, it's not so easy to just quit your job and change careers. You have to plan that kind of transition or risk being homeless and hungry or worse, putting your family through some degree of hardship. In other cases, your government physically demonstrates it's no longer working for the people who elected it, and you would think that would clearly be a sign that a tear down or rewrite of the current infrastructure is in order, but people are afraid that will lead to lawlessness, disorder...perhaps there's fear that the people we put in power are actually too powerful and stronger than we are. In still other examples, when a business has an operation that makes them a little bit of money and keeps things balanced but doesn't grow or show the ability to make more money, the people who manage it are scared to expand scope and change tactics to do it smarter, better and perhaps more ethically because well, there's a chance it will cost more, and potentially won't make as much profit and therefore it's better to maintain a broken status quo.
So I imagine trying to explain this to my 3 year old, who get's incredibly frustrated when her foot gets stuck half way into the leg of her pants, or when her sock goes on upside down, or when she can't quite tie her shoelace or fit a puzzle piece into the picture...It's impossible to explain this in a way that a 3 year old would understand because at it's core, it's wrong. And I think that's why I find it a lunatic thing to NOT deconstruct problems and start again at any age.
It's no wonder we're all on antidepressants. We're not governed by our liberty and capability. We ARE governed by fear and shame.
We overlay the words and concept of "risk assessment" on our decision making process as we grow older and wiser. It's still a critical part of our decision making process and has a viable and legitimate place in our world. Doing something that will compound the world's problems is definitely the wrong choice even when the short term benefits are so appealing.
That said, there becomes a point where you get stuck in "analysis paralysis", and that risk assessment phase overcomes you're ability to take important risks because the overall longer term benefits of it so outweigh the short term pain we'll feel to re-frame or re-build the solutions.
If you are fundamentally unhappy in your work, but you risk having to live in a trailer versus the nice executive home you've built for yourself so that you can keep feeding your family and go back to school to learn the trade that will inevitably make you happier than you are today, is it worth it? It would certainly solve the immediate problem, AND would make it less painful to work until you were of ripe old retirement age, AND would show your children/family/self that you value your happiness above a paycheck. It demonstrates that sacrifice is often the price you pay for success, and that success can't always be measured by a dollar sign. Not at all the kind of lessons you try to AVOID teaching your children, so how can that then, be a wrong choice? Well, no one likes poverty. No one wants to live pay check to pay check. Does that (or better yet, Should that) prevent you from trying?
Similarly, when resources are constrained at work, and doing things more ethically, or increasing scope will increase costs and labour investment, does it really make that the wrong choice? I'm thinking this is a prime example of when you should turn it over, flip it around, tear it apart and start from scratch. And when your government shuts itself down and act illegally, well then it seels like it's time for some sort of reform, reconstruction, rethinking.
We have to let go of the notion that tearing it apart and going back to the drawing board is a bad thing. "The purpose of this meaningless and empty shell of life is (as Tim Minchin has said) to learn as much as you can about as much as you can, and to fill it". I see that as the best justification of all for turning things over, starting from scratch, embracing change and taking the risk.
Not taking the risks are, too often, the riskiest choices of all.
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
How Food Becomes Addictive
So this is not a clinical diatribe. I am not a doctor. But I have to admit that weight issues have plagued me much of my life and I've spent at least 30 of my 40 years worried about every bite of food I took, and every muscle movement I've made, so I think I've been learning a little bit about myself and my addictions along the way...enough at least to share with you, and enable you to either connect and feel a little less alone in your own sufferings, or to help you find something you resonate with, enough to better understand something you're dealing with...and most importantly so that I can break things down to biteable and learnable chunks for my own learnings.
So, I have an addiction to food. Food for me is so much more than simply a means of fueling the fun stuff you see in crazy ass photos they mass produce to sell you a frame at Christmas.
Food for me is all of these things:
Food is how I deal with life. It's how life is represented for me. It's what I do, it's what I consume, it's what I give of myself to the people that matter.
So just as it would be with any crack addict, smoker, or alcoholic, when you take that source of the addiction away, it hurts. Viscerally. But more than what I imagine it would be with any other type of addict, it's laced with fat shaming, competence shaming and very little of it is the same kind of "awe inspiring" concern or compassion or even tough love for the addict. Moreover, bullet number one there, is "fuel".
You can't simply take food away. You can take yummy food away, but the replacement is often tantamount to taking it all away and thus begins a terrifying out of control spiral into any number of other food related anxieties and disorders that are even more health and life threatening than obesity.
And finally when memories, and family and the love of the most important people in your lives is also then thrown into the mix, the psychological damages of removing those very comforting things that food provides, well, puts everything else out of balance. And if you were to take the brush out of an artist's hands they would struggle emotionally with how to express their innermost thoughts and feelings, and the same is true for someone who's day revolves around meal planning, preparation, and execution...even if they never partook in the results removing the ingredients that invoke all those inspired memories, thoughts, feelings and communications all need some other form of balance.
A smoker who quits the cigarette finds comfort in replacing their addiction with something less traumatizing like cooking/eating. A crack addict finds something to replace their demons with in crochet or art...when you take someones canvas away - how do you replace it? With what? Find a new canvas you say? Like needle point? Not nearly as satisfying. With cigarettes, well after a certain point of time, you're right, that would be equally satisfying for many more of the items on my list - I know because I smoked once for a lot of years, and food was my cigarette replacement.
There's not much in this world that will replace food for an addict. Anything else that replaces food in the same volume, velocity and intensity will never, ever, ever, be healthy in the same measure.
So I ask you the great void of the blogiverse, what singular thing can we replace food with that will deliver all of these 16 things for me in equal measure? I'm really hoping to find a good answer in this.
So, I have an addiction to food. Food for me is so much more than simply a means of fueling the fun stuff you see in crazy ass photos they mass produce to sell you a frame at Christmas.
Food for me is all of these things:
- It's fuel
- It's yummy
- It's memories
- It's family
- It's celebration
- It's comfort
- It's love I give to others
- It's love they give to me
- It's love I provide myself
- It's a mask
- It's a mute button
- It's a thinking tool
- It's a good day
- It's a bad day
- It's art
- It's a coping mechanism for stress
Food is how I deal with life. It's how life is represented for me. It's what I do, it's what I consume, it's what I give of myself to the people that matter.
So just as it would be with any crack addict, smoker, or alcoholic, when you take that source of the addiction away, it hurts. Viscerally. But more than what I imagine it would be with any other type of addict, it's laced with fat shaming, competence shaming and very little of it is the same kind of "awe inspiring" concern or compassion or even tough love for the addict. Moreover, bullet number one there, is "fuel".
You can't simply take food away. You can take yummy food away, but the replacement is often tantamount to taking it all away and thus begins a terrifying out of control spiral into any number of other food related anxieties and disorders that are even more health and life threatening than obesity.
And finally when memories, and family and the love of the most important people in your lives is also then thrown into the mix, the psychological damages of removing those very comforting things that food provides, well, puts everything else out of balance. And if you were to take the brush out of an artist's hands they would struggle emotionally with how to express their innermost thoughts and feelings, and the same is true for someone who's day revolves around meal planning, preparation, and execution...even if they never partook in the results removing the ingredients that invoke all those inspired memories, thoughts, feelings and communications all need some other form of balance.
A smoker who quits the cigarette finds comfort in replacing their addiction with something less traumatizing like cooking/eating. A crack addict finds something to replace their demons with in crochet or art...when you take someones canvas away - how do you replace it? With what? Find a new canvas you say? Like needle point? Not nearly as satisfying. With cigarettes, well after a certain point of time, you're right, that would be equally satisfying for many more of the items on my list - I know because I smoked once for a lot of years, and food was my cigarette replacement.
There's not much in this world that will replace food for an addict. Anything else that replaces food in the same volume, velocity and intensity will never, ever, ever, be healthy in the same measure.
So I ask you the great void of the blogiverse, what singular thing can we replace food with that will deliver all of these 16 things for me in equal measure? I'm really hoping to find a good answer in this.
Monday, September 16, 2013
Where the buck stops
The last couple months of high stress and low self esteem have taken it's toll. I'm now back off my meds which is awesome. I think that transition is going quite well in fact, but the vacation my brain took, has left me back to where I was weight wise, the day I had my surgery.
At least it's not a full 40 lbs I have to take back off, but still. The level of disappointment I have in myself for slipping can barely be described.
This morning however, I'm 100% back on track...and I'm looking forward to 2 more years of cottage cheese, fish and salad greenery if that is what it will take to put this battle behind me.
No matter which tool I have chosen to use to help me moderate the volumes of food for the intake, it is my choice full stop, what those will be volumes of.
I've enjoyed every single bite, and I'm very lucky I enjoy every single bite of the good foods too.
Here's to onward and upward...one more time. And when I need a shove, a kick or a fire lit, I'll circle back here to remember just how deflating it was this time, stepping on the scale and realizing I really had checked out for far too long.
:) All the best, and here's a cheers to you for listening.
At least it's not a full 40 lbs I have to take back off, but still. The level of disappointment I have in myself for slipping can barely be described.
This morning however, I'm 100% back on track...and I'm looking forward to 2 more years of cottage cheese, fish and salad greenery if that is what it will take to put this battle behind me.
No matter which tool I have chosen to use to help me moderate the volumes of food for the intake, it is my choice full stop, what those will be volumes of.
I've enjoyed every single bite, and I'm very lucky I enjoy every single bite of the good foods too.
Here's to onward and upward...one more time. And when I need a shove, a kick or a fire lit, I'll circle back here to remember just how deflating it was this time, stepping on the scale and realizing I really had checked out for far too long.
:) All the best, and here's a cheers to you for listening.
Friday, August 16, 2013
Dear Mental Illness - you moxy son of a bitch
Dear Depression:
You lie to me.
You belittle me.
You take away the pleasure in even the simplest things.
You fuel anxiety.
Dear Anxiety:
You scare me.
You terrorize me.
You paralyze me.
You trigger depression.
For fun? What pleasure is there in ripping apart a person's brain, self worth, their heart?
Well, I hate you both. Loathe and despise even. You are cowardly assholes in a world that is already difficult enough to navigate without your nagging and pestering.
I'm asking you to please, just run off back to your own little corners. Take the nightmares, sleepless nights, and constant second guessing with you. They have no place in my beautiful life.
You have no place here. You are not welcome. Please listen carefully, I hate you both.
Thank you for your efforts.
Now fuck off.
Happily.
Me.
You lie to me.
You belittle me.
You take away the pleasure in even the simplest things.
You fuel anxiety.
Dear Anxiety:
You scare me.
You terrorize me.
You paralyze me.
You trigger depression.
For fun? What pleasure is there in ripping apart a person's brain, self worth, their heart?
Well, I hate you both. Loathe and despise even. You are cowardly assholes in a world that is already difficult enough to navigate without your nagging and pestering.
I'm asking you to please, just run off back to your own little corners. Take the nightmares, sleepless nights, and constant second guessing with you. They have no place in my beautiful life.
You have no place here. You are not welcome. Please listen carefully, I hate you both.
Thank you for your efforts.
Now fuck off.
Happily.
Me.
Thursday, July 25, 2013
Evolution of a Work Place Bully
So while bullying may start in childhood, the behaviors follow people throughout their adulthood too. Especially if they've been rewarded early on as signs of strength, ability to influence and individuality.
Fast forward to being a grown up, and holding down jobs, and the bullying culture is ever more present. It evolves from hair pulling and name calling. It gets so much dirtier. So much more tainted and passive aggressive. I'm beginning to think the use of social media in bullying for teens is going to make this even more impossible to overcome when in adulthood, they've already honed the passive aggressive mob approach to bullying. It scares me. It really does.
My own experience with grown up bullies hasn't been a happy one. I'm a strong and intelligent person, and as I've recounted before, I've always been the one to stand up and put a stop to bullies. But at the same time, I've been brought to my most vulnerable by 2 major factors of adulthood: Becoming a parent and dealing with a workplace bully.
See, on the playground, the only real difference between a bully and his or her prey, is age, size, and whatever social/physical quirks are visible. It's very much a visual connection that drives a bullying situation to open up and take root.
At work, it's beyond the visible. It's about inferiority of the mind, inferiority of public persuasion and political influence. They say preschool is a dog eat dog kind of world. But the workplace is as cannibalistic as it comes without being you know, a real cannibal.
If someone perceives you to have different methods, ideals or communication styles...you're a potential target. If that person holds a position of authority, they have the added bonus of the big stick, without having to work hard to use it. If that person has direct authority over you, they have the big stick, they use it, and it takes an awful lot to get them to put it down. OH, and the whole time you're being bullied at the office, the one thing they can take away from you, means almost more than any amount of pride stinging or self esteem bashing they could have done as children. They stand between you and your livelihood. They stand between you and putting food on the table for your children to eat. They stand between you and your next rent payment, electricity bill. They stand between you and the necessities of life which let's face it, is the ultimate blow to a person's identity and pride.
So while there were outlets for handling bullies in your childhood, now you have to figure out how to beat the assholes at their own game, and if you thought the mob mentality of the internet was difficult to deal with...try looking at your HR rep, the group benefits guy, and the "employee assistance representative" who are all paid by the same guy who's paying your bully. Oh - and their job, first and foremost, is to make sure you're "OK enough" to keep going and making the biggest guy richer...so the bully, really has you over a barrel, and he or she has the most layers of protection a bully could ever wish for. That is all to say, in the work world where people have the power to affect change, there really is no such thing as allegiance for the victim. Any way out means you have to find a new way to earn your living, redefine yourself and re-establish new street cred. You need to remove yourself from the situation, which you know, just doesn't mesh with the golden rule and the social mores of fairness and justice.
My workplace bully was promoted and rewarded despite the many reports HR, the ethics team and the ombudsman received from several sources. He was highly scrutinized and his reputation was tarnished, and he STILL came out ahead. My reputation was tarnished, the perception of me was that I was weak, evasive, incapable of managing my work. I got punished for being the victim. In many ways, I'm still being punished through his legacy. Ever tried rebuilding street cred when nothing else in the environment has changed? On the playground, one did this by actually fighting back and laying the bully out. You gain credibility, when the other's perceived superiority is diminished. In the workplace however, the only way to escape and change this is to literally quit your job, and branch out into a new industry. Start over. Let me tell you how impossible that is. My livelihood is still at stake. Food on the table for my child is what keeps me in what amounts to an abusive situation. Supporting my family is what keeps me from doing what is right - standing up for myself and for others, because it's bitten me in the ass once already...who does that twice?
So if bullying takes this route to stardom, and simply not being one makes you the perpetually opportune victim, what's the right answer? I wish I knew it. My only advice is to stop it in it's tracks early. Be less attached to your earnings and earning potential, maybe? This is one of those things that's easier said than done. I've been trying to escape this situation going on 10 years. My bully has moved on, but another one is surely following him. The pecking orders of a work environment breed and thrive on bullying culture. The only way to really escape it is self employment, and as a friend once said, then you have the world's worst bosses to answer to...yourself and your customer.
Fast forward to being a grown up, and holding down jobs, and the bullying culture is ever more present. It evolves from hair pulling and name calling. It gets so much dirtier. So much more tainted and passive aggressive. I'm beginning to think the use of social media in bullying for teens is going to make this even more impossible to overcome when in adulthood, they've already honed the passive aggressive mob approach to bullying. It scares me. It really does.
My own experience with grown up bullies hasn't been a happy one. I'm a strong and intelligent person, and as I've recounted before, I've always been the one to stand up and put a stop to bullies. But at the same time, I've been brought to my most vulnerable by 2 major factors of adulthood: Becoming a parent and dealing with a workplace bully.
See, on the playground, the only real difference between a bully and his or her prey, is age, size, and whatever social/physical quirks are visible. It's very much a visual connection that drives a bullying situation to open up and take root.
At work, it's beyond the visible. It's about inferiority of the mind, inferiority of public persuasion and political influence. They say preschool is a dog eat dog kind of world. But the workplace is as cannibalistic as it comes without being you know, a real cannibal.
If someone perceives you to have different methods, ideals or communication styles...you're a potential target. If that person holds a position of authority, they have the added bonus of the big stick, without having to work hard to use it. If that person has direct authority over you, they have the big stick, they use it, and it takes an awful lot to get them to put it down. OH, and the whole time you're being bullied at the office, the one thing they can take away from you, means almost more than any amount of pride stinging or self esteem bashing they could have done as children. They stand between you and your livelihood. They stand between you and putting food on the table for your children to eat. They stand between you and your next rent payment, electricity bill. They stand between you and the necessities of life which let's face it, is the ultimate blow to a person's identity and pride.
So while there were outlets for handling bullies in your childhood, now you have to figure out how to beat the assholes at their own game, and if you thought the mob mentality of the internet was difficult to deal with...try looking at your HR rep, the group benefits guy, and the "employee assistance representative" who are all paid by the same guy who's paying your bully. Oh - and their job, first and foremost, is to make sure you're "OK enough" to keep going and making the biggest guy richer...so the bully, really has you over a barrel, and he or she has the most layers of protection a bully could ever wish for. That is all to say, in the work world where people have the power to affect change, there really is no such thing as allegiance for the victim. Any way out means you have to find a new way to earn your living, redefine yourself and re-establish new street cred. You need to remove yourself from the situation, which you know, just doesn't mesh with the golden rule and the social mores of fairness and justice.
My workplace bully was promoted and rewarded despite the many reports HR, the ethics team and the ombudsman received from several sources. He was highly scrutinized and his reputation was tarnished, and he STILL came out ahead. My reputation was tarnished, the perception of me was that I was weak, evasive, incapable of managing my work. I got punished for being the victim. In many ways, I'm still being punished through his legacy. Ever tried rebuilding street cred when nothing else in the environment has changed? On the playground, one did this by actually fighting back and laying the bully out. You gain credibility, when the other's perceived superiority is diminished. In the workplace however, the only way to escape and change this is to literally quit your job, and branch out into a new industry. Start over. Let me tell you how impossible that is. My livelihood is still at stake. Food on the table for my child is what keeps me in what amounts to an abusive situation. Supporting my family is what keeps me from doing what is right - standing up for myself and for others, because it's bitten me in the ass once already...who does that twice?
So if bullying takes this route to stardom, and simply not being one makes you the perpetually opportune victim, what's the right answer? I wish I knew it. My only advice is to stop it in it's tracks early. Be less attached to your earnings and earning potential, maybe? This is one of those things that's easier said than done. I've been trying to escape this situation going on 10 years. My bully has moved on, but another one is surely following him. The pecking orders of a work environment breed and thrive on bullying culture. The only way to really escape it is self employment, and as a friend once said, then you have the world's worst bosses to answer to...yourself and your customer.
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
Keeping Tabs
So, I'll admit, I have a great memory. I never forget those who have wronged me or done right by me for that matter. It's not because I can't forgive...but not forgetting means that hopefully next time I make better choices. I also keep friends close and enemies at arms length. I keep my eye on their weapons, and watch with a cheshire grin when their just desserts are eventually served. I wouldn't say I'm keeping tabs. It's not a points system that I work on - it's more like an over-site or governance thing. I watch Karma because she is the epitome of justice. And when something goes wrong, I look again to Karma to understand what I've done to precipitate any misfortunes I perceive.
And it's happened again. I've survived once more to watch someone who once wronged me greatly, be handed a hard dose of Karma because apparently, some people learn some lessons the really hard way.
My old boss, the one who bullied me and put me out of commission for 14 months, has been served another helping of just desserts. I'm left pondering however, if he's really gathered the lessons he's supposed to have learned. I had already thought his penance had been served once. While on my medical leave, the entire team I left behind took issues regarding his treatment of them to HR. He was hauled over the coals, put on watch, and then the entire time I was out on maternity leave, things got tougher for him still - the coals turned into a laboratory table and he was scrutinized as though he were a dead fly under a microscope. When I came back to work from medical leave he punished me in more passive aggressive ways than he'd previously punished me, but when I got pregnant things changed. Like we're talking, he did a 180 degree about face, and began treating me gently, with respect, even what some could envision as older brotherly kind of love. He was suddenly good to me. Perhaps because he no longer viewed me as a threat because he was busy fighting the foes who attacked in my absence. Who knows.
(I have just realized that this is the first time I have ever explained the work situation in any detail - I imagine this means it's appropriate then to do an article on how workplace bullies make their mark.)
When I returned from maternity leave, this didn't change. BUT, I noticed through conversations with other team mates over the past year that he had simply changed the direction of his bullying. I could write the scripts for some of the things reported to me. He was dreadful to one of my colleagues, and I realized that perhaps he was being good to me, because he had a new victim. After all of that, he'd not learned a single lesson. At least not the right one.
Fast forward to April of this year, and that same boss announced that he got a great new job as CEO at another company and bailed ship. I'll admit to feeling a bit lost and forlorn - after all, bully or no, I've worked for this man and learned to survive his ways over the course of 9 harrowing years. Nevertheless, he moved onward and upward, and skipped about 3 levels of professional management statuses to go from a Manager with a Director's title, to CEO. HUGE step. Some may have wondered (ehem) if he were ready for such a step.
Fast forward once again to yesterday when Karma showed me I was wrong to have been feeling this way about the change his departure had introduced into my life. In a flash he emailed the old team letting us know that after a whirlwind 10 weeks in his new job as CEO, his entire management team resigned effective immediately, and well, that left him with no new job. Seriously. 10 weeks as a CEO has to be a new record. The tone of his email was upbeat, crisp and simple. Didn't go into details, but he noted that a lot of lessons were learned. My goodness, I lasted longer as CEO of my own company and never got to sell a damn thing before calling it quits! And I dealt with months, no years, of regret and pangs of wanting to reinvigorate and start it all up again and do it right this time. He seems chipper. Ready for the next challenge, and is seeing humour in the amount of free time he has available suddenly.
Which leads me to two independent conclusions:
1) Not a bad attitude to have if you can afford it. Job markets being what they are, he's still too young to retire and too old to bounce back quickly...I hope he can afford it.
2) When after your entire staff has taken you to HR, and you've survived to play another day, and your approach to that new opportunity leads your next entire management staff to actually coordinate a mass resignation to occur on the same day in a job market where many people are lucky to find anything that will pay them a livable wage, what lesson has been learned? Especially if you nonchalantly announce it by email to your old team, with a positive, upbeat attitude?
Honestly, that's where my analysis of it ends with a shaking head, confusion evident in my brow, because the truth is, this is the type of person who repeats bad behaviour because he never learned the good kind. BUT, it's ability to baffle me so made me re-examine things in my own life.
Living by a mantra of dying without regrets, and knocking as much off my bucket list as I can as evidence that I've lived a life worth living, also means learning lessons. By doing and by watching others in every single way I can. So I pulled out the bucket list to see if I'd made any progress. It's been a year or so since I checked in on it. I was able to edit it a bit (the beauty of making your own bucket list is that it's your prerogative to update it). And I knocked a couple other things off too! WoooHOO!
This is a list I don't mind keeping tabs on.
ü Decorate a professional looking tiered cake
And it's happened again. I've survived once more to watch someone who once wronged me greatly, be handed a hard dose of Karma because apparently, some people learn some lessons the really hard way.
My old boss, the one who bullied me and put me out of commission for 14 months, has been served another helping of just desserts. I'm left pondering however, if he's really gathered the lessons he's supposed to have learned. I had already thought his penance had been served once. While on my medical leave, the entire team I left behind took issues regarding his treatment of them to HR. He was hauled over the coals, put on watch, and then the entire time I was out on maternity leave, things got tougher for him still - the coals turned into a laboratory table and he was scrutinized as though he were a dead fly under a microscope. When I came back to work from medical leave he punished me in more passive aggressive ways than he'd previously punished me, but when I got pregnant things changed. Like we're talking, he did a 180 degree about face, and began treating me gently, with respect, even what some could envision as older brotherly kind of love. He was suddenly good to me. Perhaps because he no longer viewed me as a threat because he was busy fighting the foes who attacked in my absence. Who knows.
(I have just realized that this is the first time I have ever explained the work situation in any detail - I imagine this means it's appropriate then to do an article on how workplace bullies make their mark.)
When I returned from maternity leave, this didn't change. BUT, I noticed through conversations with other team mates over the past year that he had simply changed the direction of his bullying. I could write the scripts for some of the things reported to me. He was dreadful to one of my colleagues, and I realized that perhaps he was being good to me, because he had a new victim. After all of that, he'd not learned a single lesson. At least not the right one.
Fast forward to April of this year, and that same boss announced that he got a great new job as CEO at another company and bailed ship. I'll admit to feeling a bit lost and forlorn - after all, bully or no, I've worked for this man and learned to survive his ways over the course of 9 harrowing years. Nevertheless, he moved onward and upward, and skipped about 3 levels of professional management statuses to go from a Manager with a Director's title, to CEO. HUGE step. Some may have wondered (ehem) if he were ready for such a step.
Fast forward once again to yesterday when Karma showed me I was wrong to have been feeling this way about the change his departure had introduced into my life. In a flash he emailed the old team letting us know that after a whirlwind 10 weeks in his new job as CEO, his entire management team resigned effective immediately, and well, that left him with no new job. Seriously. 10 weeks as a CEO has to be a new record. The tone of his email was upbeat, crisp and simple. Didn't go into details, but he noted that a lot of lessons were learned. My goodness, I lasted longer as CEO of my own company and never got to sell a damn thing before calling it quits! And I dealt with months, no years, of regret and pangs of wanting to reinvigorate and start it all up again and do it right this time. He seems chipper. Ready for the next challenge, and is seeing humour in the amount of free time he has available suddenly.
Which leads me to two independent conclusions:
1) Not a bad attitude to have if you can afford it. Job markets being what they are, he's still too young to retire and too old to bounce back quickly...I hope he can afford it.
2) When after your entire staff has taken you to HR, and you've survived to play another day, and your approach to that new opportunity leads your next entire management staff to actually coordinate a mass resignation to occur on the same day in a job market where many people are lucky to find anything that will pay them a livable wage, what lesson has been learned? Especially if you nonchalantly announce it by email to your old team, with a positive, upbeat attitude?
Honestly, that's where my analysis of it ends with a shaking head, confusion evident in my brow, because the truth is, this is the type of person who repeats bad behaviour because he never learned the good kind. BUT, it's ability to baffle me so made me re-examine things in my own life.
Living by a mantra of dying without regrets, and knocking as much off my bucket list as I can as evidence that I've lived a life worth living, also means learning lessons. By doing and by watching others in every single way I can. So I pulled out the bucket list to see if I'd made any progress. It's been a year or so since I checked in on it. I was able to edit it a bit (the beauty of making your own bucket list is that it's your prerogative to update it). And I knocked a couple other things off too! WoooHOO!
This is a list I don't mind keeping tabs on.
·
Show
Maggie Aurora Borealis
·
Take Mike
to Asia
·
Take Mike
to the Rocky Mountains
ü Write a book
ü Be paid to write
·
Have another baby Love another baby
·
Retire early Retire
with time to spare
ü Own a cottage Rent a cottage
·
Weekend
in Paris
·
Vacation
in Italy
·
Vacation
in London, Eng.
·
Travel
all over Europe
·
Weekend
in New York City
·
Eat at
the Russian Tea Room
·
Shop at
FAO Schwartz
·
Shop in
Greenwich village
ü Learn to cook like a chef
ü Visit a town called Rebecca Find
a street named Rebecca
ü Diners, Drive Ins and Dives Road
Trip
ü Host a fabulous cocktail and
dinner party catered by professional chefs and wait staff
·
Custom
build my own house
·
Got to
the ballet or the opera
·
Watch
Maggie graduate university
·
Give
Maggie away with her dad at her wedding
· Watch my
first grandchild be born
Friday, July 12, 2013
Accepting Inadequacies
It takes a lot of introspection for people to even recognize inadequacies. It takes frail self esteem and a biochemical problem for people to take those inadequacies and explode them to unrealistic perceptions of ones capabilities.
I have long wished I could be one of those people who don't even think of themselves in terms good enough at something or not even. One of those people who are great at everything they try.
I wonder if those kinds of people even exist? If they do, what do they do for a living? Do they have families? Are they taking some other kind of medication that I am not even aware of? How easy is it to get your hands on such a drug...cuz let me tell ya, I could do with a healthy dose of "I'm fucking awesome thank you very much and every thing I touch turns to fucking gold." Yes sir. I could do with that right...about...NOW.
So for someone who struggles in dealing with significant change like I do, I have to admit I love it at the same time. I can't imagine a life wherein each new day was remarkably similar to the last. I can't stand monotony. Love adventure. But I have my limits, and I fear I may have opened up flood gates to where I've invited more than I can control into my personal space at work.
My old boss (the one who once represented most of my trigger issues that related to a 14 month stint on medical leave) was also the one who took it on the chin hard enough, that when I returned from Mat leave and was dealing with a sick child, he stood up for me, and protected me, and basically made things much better for me. He got hit from all sides while I was out on medical and maternity leave, and well, I guess he realized I wasn't his worst enemy - and that meant I was no longer his victim. I never fully trusted the man again, but I think the best reasoning for that was that I now knew where he kept the knife he'd use to stab people in the back. You live, you learn is the expression...and I learned to watch the knife closely. I learned how to duck and weave, like any good boxer. I studied my opponent so I could better succeed in going the next round with him in the ring. At the same time, his level of protection was leaving my days pretty empty and unfulfilled. After a while, this gets dreadfully boring, empty and meaningless...I get restless and need visceral change to keep me focused/interested. So...
Well, he's left the company and moved on to bigger/better things. And that means I've been re-aligned to someone new. My first order of business was to beg "Please God, give me something cool to do!" Historically, she and I have been very friendly, but it's a completely different management style. I know there's a knife in her arsenal, she's not afraid to use it, but I have no idea where she keeps it. Seems too, that several of the people on her staff also have them, and use them often. They're sharp, miniature knives, and their particular brand of torture is more like leaving little nicks in your soft side as you walk by through the veils of their cloaks. Make it worse, these people are smart...in many cases, smarter than me. So I need a new survival mechanism, and I'm floundering with not having figured it out.
In the old arrangement, my strengths were noticed, and accepted, and my weaknesses were noted without being highlighted, as were everyone else's for the most part. You had to be REALLY annoying to be called out for your inadequacies, and generally, if they were that obvious, they were likely related to communication skills or poor etiquette.
In the new arrangement, it seems as though everyone may be aware of both strengths and weaknesses, but they are far more likely to point out the weaknesses. Whether this is in the interest of assisting others to grow, or to take advantage of the opportunity to shine - I think the jury is still out. And so, the more I try to better myself and elevate my once dumbed down and severely softened communication style to something more direct (what I was accustomed to doing say 15 years ago) to meet with the communication style largely in use by my new teammates, the more I seem to recognize that I've allowed myself to "dumb down" full stop. I feel absolutely out-shined and overshadowed by others ability to communicate, process information, and poke holes in "everything". And the fact that "everything" is up for grabs and "everything" is scrutinized with a fine tooth metal comb, is wearing on my nerves. Probably because I'm rusty from being bored for so long, and likely too, because I've signed myself up for stuff that's a bit outside my comfort zone already. Add scrutiny on top of that and well, it's making me feel absolutely inadequate, in way over my head, and wishing I had a Joe Job...you know, one where very little thinking is required - one that requires repetitive action and minimal focus. One that I can shut off at 4 pm without giving it a second thought.
I just wish I knew what parts of my perception were physically real and what parts were fictitious strings of brain chemicals and anxiety based coping mechanisms making everything seem a million times worse than they potentially are. I think it's time to make a dr's appt before it goes too far. Anxiety attacks are on the rise for me...and time to meditate and exercise have been absorbed by new projects at work...bye bye coping mechanisms, hello depression.
I have long wished I could be one of those people who don't even think of themselves in terms good enough at something or not even. One of those people who are great at everything they try.
I wonder if those kinds of people even exist? If they do, what do they do for a living? Do they have families? Are they taking some other kind of medication that I am not even aware of? How easy is it to get your hands on such a drug...cuz let me tell ya, I could do with a healthy dose of "I'm fucking awesome thank you very much and every thing I touch turns to fucking gold." Yes sir. I could do with that right...about...NOW.
So for someone who struggles in dealing with significant change like I do, I have to admit I love it at the same time. I can't imagine a life wherein each new day was remarkably similar to the last. I can't stand monotony. Love adventure. But I have my limits, and I fear I may have opened up flood gates to where I've invited more than I can control into my personal space at work.
My old boss (the one who once represented most of my trigger issues that related to a 14 month stint on medical leave) was also the one who took it on the chin hard enough, that when I returned from Mat leave and was dealing with a sick child, he stood up for me, and protected me, and basically made things much better for me. He got hit from all sides while I was out on medical and maternity leave, and well, I guess he realized I wasn't his worst enemy - and that meant I was no longer his victim. I never fully trusted the man again, but I think the best reasoning for that was that I now knew where he kept the knife he'd use to stab people in the back. You live, you learn is the expression...and I learned to watch the knife closely. I learned how to duck and weave, like any good boxer. I studied my opponent so I could better succeed in going the next round with him in the ring. At the same time, his level of protection was leaving my days pretty empty and unfulfilled. After a while, this gets dreadfully boring, empty and meaningless...I get restless and need visceral change to keep me focused/interested. So...
Well, he's left the company and moved on to bigger/better things. And that means I've been re-aligned to someone new. My first order of business was to beg "Please God, give me something cool to do!" Historically, she and I have been very friendly, but it's a completely different management style. I know there's a knife in her arsenal, she's not afraid to use it, but I have no idea where she keeps it. Seems too, that several of the people on her staff also have them, and use them often. They're sharp, miniature knives, and their particular brand of torture is more like leaving little nicks in your soft side as you walk by through the veils of their cloaks. Make it worse, these people are smart...in many cases, smarter than me. So I need a new survival mechanism, and I'm floundering with not having figured it out.
In the old arrangement, my strengths were noticed, and accepted, and my weaknesses were noted without being highlighted, as were everyone else's for the most part. You had to be REALLY annoying to be called out for your inadequacies, and generally, if they were that obvious, they were likely related to communication skills or poor etiquette.
In the new arrangement, it seems as though everyone may be aware of both strengths and weaknesses, but they are far more likely to point out the weaknesses. Whether this is in the interest of assisting others to grow, or to take advantage of the opportunity to shine - I think the jury is still out. And so, the more I try to better myself and elevate my once dumbed down and severely softened communication style to something more direct (what I was accustomed to doing say 15 years ago) to meet with the communication style largely in use by my new teammates, the more I seem to recognize that I've allowed myself to "dumb down" full stop. I feel absolutely out-shined and overshadowed by others ability to communicate, process information, and poke holes in "everything". And the fact that "everything" is up for grabs and "everything" is scrutinized with a fine tooth metal comb, is wearing on my nerves. Probably because I'm rusty from being bored for so long, and likely too, because I've signed myself up for stuff that's a bit outside my comfort zone already. Add scrutiny on top of that and well, it's making me feel absolutely inadequate, in way over my head, and wishing I had a Joe Job...you know, one where very little thinking is required - one that requires repetitive action and minimal focus. One that I can shut off at 4 pm without giving it a second thought.
I just wish I knew what parts of my perception were physically real and what parts were fictitious strings of brain chemicals and anxiety based coping mechanisms making everything seem a million times worse than they potentially are. I think it's time to make a dr's appt before it goes too far. Anxiety attacks are on the rise for me...and time to meditate and exercise have been absorbed by new projects at work...bye bye coping mechanisms, hello depression.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Developing a Child's Self Image
There are no easy answers to what ways are the best ways for us to help our children develop a healthy self image, or to help them achieve a strong and confident sense of self ability.
I got a screaming view into this conundrum just the other day when I tried to explain (the way you would to a 3 year old) that my little girl didn't always need to wear a dress to feel like a princess. My goal was to reinforce that she is awesome just the way she is, and that she may be missing something by doing things (wearing a dress) that prevent her from really getting dirty and enjoying the grittier side of life (climbing tress and playing in the sand).
ehem...and then after losing the fight to get dirty and love grit, wearing her dress and snuggling into my bosom the way any awesome, snuggly 3 year old can, daddy came up the stairs and commented on her pretty dress.
My daughter's response? "Mommy said I'm not pretty."
In no way ever, did I say this. It never even entered my mind. My thinking was, be strong and capable...not wishy washy and wasted.
So where in the world did this view of herself come from? I've never said this. In fact, I can assure you I've done absolutely the opposite, and have been extra conscientious to reinforce it regularly.
I always knew I had an intuitive child. But for the life of me, I'm half ready to shut off any Disney movie that involves depictions of princesses or fairies full stop. Somehow, somewhere in my child's wee brain, there is an interpretation that princesses wear dresses and glass slippers, and that princesses who wear such accouterments are the "pretty ones". How in the world do you combat these impressions when they are so relentless?
I recall once writing about the fact that without even having seen ANYTHING princess related, my daughter was able to pin point the Disney Princess pink colour from across the Walmart. It's that pervasive in our culture, and there's simply no avoiding it. How do you consistently tell a 3 year old that the characteristics of "most" Disney princesses are tolerable at best in the real world? What if she really is that wishy washy and gut wrenchingly in need of saving all the time - if that's truly her character, can that be so bad? Certainly not simply because I wish it to be different. She's perfect no matter how she chooses to live her life...which then leads me back to the beginning of this circle of insanity - does it matter then if she wants to be a princess all the time?
Well ultimately, yes. Because we are neither royalty, nor do we hang in those circles. My child has to be prepared for the real world, and I know all too well that the real world crashes in on us far sooner than any of us would prefer.
We named her for a strong leader. Her namesake was highly criticized, even burned in effigy. And while I've been clear that my choosing this namesake had nothing to do with her politics, it did have something to do with her will, her umph, and her tenacity. She was a trailblazer and marked the shift in our western world for women in positions of power. Her namesake was known as the "Iron Lady". If I were to desire something more than mere contentment and happiness and safety for my child for her whole entire life, I'd only wish this:
I don't wish her to be hardened, or mean or resentful and aggressive. But I do want her to fully comprehend her potential to turn things on their end, shake them out and make something new from the pieces. Can she do this in a ballgown and high heels? Of course. I just want those fashion statements to be just that - fashion statements. They should make herself feel that her outside matches the opulence of her inside, but not that they define or help her divine what she is supposed to feel on the inside.
I've spent so much of my life grappling with the issue of self image and how disconnected it has always been from my self confidence.
How in the world does someone as broken as me, figure that out for her very impressionable child?
I got a screaming view into this conundrum just the other day when I tried to explain (the way you would to a 3 year old) that my little girl didn't always need to wear a dress to feel like a princess. My goal was to reinforce that she is awesome just the way she is, and that she may be missing something by doing things (wearing a dress) that prevent her from really getting dirty and enjoying the grittier side of life (climbing tress and playing in the sand).
ehem...and then after losing the fight to get dirty and love grit, wearing her dress and snuggling into my bosom the way any awesome, snuggly 3 year old can, daddy came up the stairs and commented on her pretty dress.
My daughter's response? "Mommy said I'm not pretty."
In no way ever, did I say this. It never even entered my mind. My thinking was, be strong and capable...not wishy washy and wasted.
So where in the world did this view of herself come from? I've never said this. In fact, I can assure you I've done absolutely the opposite, and have been extra conscientious to reinforce it regularly.
I always knew I had an intuitive child. But for the life of me, I'm half ready to shut off any Disney movie that involves depictions of princesses or fairies full stop. Somehow, somewhere in my child's wee brain, there is an interpretation that princesses wear dresses and glass slippers, and that princesses who wear such accouterments are the "pretty ones". How in the world do you combat these impressions when they are so relentless?
I recall once writing about the fact that without even having seen ANYTHING princess related, my daughter was able to pin point the Disney Princess pink colour from across the Walmart. It's that pervasive in our culture, and there's simply no avoiding it. How do you consistently tell a 3 year old that the characteristics of "most" Disney princesses are tolerable at best in the real world? What if she really is that wishy washy and gut wrenchingly in need of saving all the time - if that's truly her character, can that be so bad? Certainly not simply because I wish it to be different. She's perfect no matter how she chooses to live her life...which then leads me back to the beginning of this circle of insanity - does it matter then if she wants to be a princess all the time?
Well ultimately, yes. Because we are neither royalty, nor do we hang in those circles. My child has to be prepared for the real world, and I know all too well that the real world crashes in on us far sooner than any of us would prefer.
We named her for a strong leader. Her namesake was highly criticized, even burned in effigy. And while I've been clear that my choosing this namesake had nothing to do with her politics, it did have something to do with her will, her umph, and her tenacity. She was a trailblazer and marked the shift in our western world for women in positions of power. Her namesake was known as the "Iron Lady". If I were to desire something more than mere contentment and happiness and safety for my child for her whole entire life, I'd only wish this:
- That she be confident in recognizing her ability and her capability, for driving change and doing incredible things
- That she be energized and edgy enough to try almost anything once
- That she be willing to get her hands dirty and driven enough to make them clean again.
I don't wish her to be hardened, or mean or resentful and aggressive. But I do want her to fully comprehend her potential to turn things on their end, shake them out and make something new from the pieces. Can she do this in a ballgown and high heels? Of course. I just want those fashion statements to be just that - fashion statements. They should make herself feel that her outside matches the opulence of her inside, but not that they define or help her divine what she is supposed to feel on the inside.
I've spent so much of my life grappling with the issue of self image and how disconnected it has always been from my self confidence.
How in the world does someone as broken as me, figure that out for her very impressionable child?
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