Some Lessons from 2012

Everything has their own season, this blog included.

I'm preparing to move into a new phase of my writer's voice, so I'm getting ready to take this blog down and spend more time blogging about things that really excite me: writing, movies, and music. I've used To Someone Likeminded to hash out my own feelings and opinions, and this has been invaluable to me. I have changed a lot during the past four years I've had this blog going. My sentiment is such that I now value myself and my talents more. I don't need to grope my through my insecurities and beliefs so publicly. I don't think this blog is my format anymore; despite the openness, I feel constrained. Despite the ability to recreate, I feel stuck to voices and thoughts I've had before. I feel a certain expectation and weakness that sounds a lot like apology. The things I know about, I know about, and do not feel inspired to share with just anyone.

That being said, I am inspired to share a list of things I've learned this year! ("Do I contradict myself. Then I contradict myself.") This has been a year of growth, even as all the days this year have felt like one big day wherein not a whole lot has happened. But a lot has happened and I am thankful for this time and for this space to feel more like myself than I have ever felt as an adult. I am thankful for the strongest friendships and relationship I have ever had as an adult. I am thankful for this body I have, which lets me enjoy this world. And, more than ever, I am grateful to have the best kitties, which remind me, more than anything or anyone, that the world is not made solely for my head. It is made to experience. I am grateful to my cats as a gateway to see outside of myself and see this world around us for what it is. (And I don't care if loving cats is cliche!)

Some Lessons from 2012:
7. When people talk about money, they are usually talking about something else. This year brought us a Mitt Romney presidential candidacy and continued discussions of the 99 and 1 percent. I have had conversations with people who tell me what wage they cannot afford to work for. I talk to people who have dated or whose friends are dating people who are wealthy. I have seen people fall onto hard times and come out of hard times. I have seen people make bad choices and see situations that I never thought they'd be in. I have seen my circumstances change and have tried on new definitions of myself based on class that I never thought I would use.

I have been solidly middle-class and have relied on this definition. It meant something for me to use this definition when I was going to a private college, for example. It has meant something to me when I struggled financially and when I list the pros and cons of my profession.

Yet money is not who I am. It is not what makes Mitt Romney who he is. It is like any other neutral thing we load with meaning--it is what we make of it. I happen to think that being middle-class has given me a fluidity that I possibly couldn't have if I first had to deal with crushing poverty or the stiffness that can come with maintaining upper-class. Yet, for some, crushing poverty and stiff upper-classhood is a choice. For most of us, how we deal with money is a choice. Wanting more money is a choice and is not bad in and of itself. Worshipping money, however, is bad in and of itself. Viewing wealth as power is a great falsehood that this country lives under.

6. Consider that all heroes have failed while pursuing a passion. This is something I like to think about when I feel down about myself. I imagine what a great back story I'm going to have someday! Trials that I've gone through have made me a Aguilaran fighter ("Makes me that much stronger! Makes my skin a little bit thicker!"). And the hard times, even at their hardest, seem to vanish quickly in my memory. There is nothing like the myth that as soon as we know what we are meant to do that we will not only do it expediently and flawlessly, but will also achieve much fame and fortune for it!

Many people lead ordinary lives full of mundane pleasures. But their place means something to someone and it usually means a lot to them. We all deserve a place--and this can be difficult for some of us to justify--where we can pursue a life of our own meaning. I think such a life happens in small steps, but that in taking a step we are finding a richness that brings out who we are and how we relate to our world.

5. That being said, I also think there is something to be said for leaving other people alone. Most people are hot, holy messes who cannot see past their own eyelashes. It is good to befriend these people and to have their friendship, in return. Yet we cannot change them. There are times for words of wisdom; these words, depending upon the person or circumstance will remain unheard until the right time. Friendships have changed me, yet I know now that they come and go in waves. I'm not one to let friends go, but that doesn't mean that all times are ripe for any given friendship. Sometimes, for example, I might have years' worth of anger and confusion to work through. I retreat in these moments and I am starting to realize that if I stay in hiding, then that may be exactly what I need. I figure I can always stay put and see what happens, get closer to a confusion and see if that can allow for insight, or withdraw and take care of something I need. All of these are great options, I think, when it comes to dealing with any relationship. It's ok, for example, if things are not bubbly and cheerful at this moment. I refuse to be the one taking all of the responsibility in a relationship just like I would not place the responsibility on another person and create a sense of burden or guilt for someone else to bear. This is something, anyway, that I am learning to do.

4. Part of learning how to do this is learning to trust intention. I know my shit stinks. I can't really apologize for that, try to cover it up, nor never shit again. But I can go forward with my actions knowing that I have good intentions to make the world a better place and to learn what I need to learn so that my life reflects joy and love--so that I can love myself and others.

I feel stronger when I look on the past, which is something I think happen almost always out of guilt, and say that I never meant to cause pain. This helps me trust myself. I make mistakes, yet I can also learn from them and not repeat them. This is an ability most everyone has. And when we own up to our mistakes, we can also see the good parts of ourselves. And even if there are many things outside our control on a given day, we can control our intention.

3. Giving good thoughts and breathing for others helps. For years now, I have been a big fan of breathing. When I am doing something that I don't like to do, I think, Give it five more breaths and then see what's goin' on. When I am trying to build up to do something I don't want to do, I just try to breathe.

But one of the most powerful things for this year has been to breathe for people and situations that most upset me. I do this through

2. a gratitude box. I created this from Melody Beattie's suggestion. (I blogged about this, too.) I picked up a thin wooden box and a couple of acrylic paints from the craft store and painted my gratitude box. Then I made strips of paper and listed everything and everyone that was causing me grief. Than I listed everyone and thing that I wanted God to bless. Then I listed things that were a problem for me. I put them all in the box and then I try every day to pick one thing out of that box. I send some peace to what is on the slip of paper. I give some intentional breathing. Then, as I go through my day, if I feel anxious about something or get caught up in my head about something, I remember that I've already put it in the box (or remember to put it in the box) and I go back to breathing for the one thing that I drew from the box. When I'm breathing for someone I don't really like, I remember that it's best for all creatures to be happy. And it makes it more exciting to breathe for someone that I do like.

1. Because, in the midst of all this breathing, is the deep understanding that we work to end fear through the process of gratitude. My job has brought me to many people that I really can't stand--all in one town!--and many people who are inspirational and, if not inspirational, then at least a pleasure to be around. Without my struggles, I would not have the stronger boundaries and deeper insight that I have today. There are a handful of annoying people I know who I've breathed for and they, eventually, have turned out to be less annoying and, at best, have become problems that no longer bother me. Being grateful for these people and experiences helps me understand that I am human and that I am having a breadth of experience. I know that I can open myself up and take in what I never thought I could or would have to handle. And I can do this by choice.

I have realized that all of my negative feelings about myself and about the world tend to arise out of fear. I am afraid of messing things up (perfectionism), of being not good enough (insecurity), of not having enough (greed). I have been afraid of my emotions and talents and how these emotions and talents do and do not manifest. But this is the human experience. This fear signals lessons to learn. It shows me what I have inherited and what I have acquired. Gratitude towards my triggers helps me calm down and it places me inside myself. I am a person with a personality. I need to pay attention to that. Gratitude helps me realize what is around me; it is a way of taking stock, even when the inventory seems overwhelming or junky. And the benefit of gratitude is understanding that there is always more to be seen and more ways of understanding.

Whew, this has been a lot to learn! (Especially in the midst of current events, most of which have been tragic and painful this year.) In the year ahead, I have many wishes. But mostly I wish for more art--more beautiful ways to relate to ourselves, our world, and each other.

Much love and peace during this season!

New Writing Philosophy

My new writing philosophy is: If it's boring, then writing something different. But keep writing.

What the Laundry Taught Me

I remember one morning when I was about four or five sitting at the breakfast table on a bright Colorado day with the sun shining through the small window above the kitchen sink. I had a bowl of Lucky Charms that had gotten to be rather unbearable with the last wheat pieces slogging along in the gross, clumpy milk. I hear my aunt say, "You need to eat more than the marshmallows!"

Obviously I was because you can't reach the remaining wheat pieces without eating the first ones first. I think my aunt even praised my sister as an example; she was one who could save the marshmallows for last. Just like she could save the bubblegum pieces out of her bubblegum ice cream. (Save it for a day when they got thrown away! I scoff, twenty-five years later.)

I took this moment to heart. "Don't eat the best things first" came to mean "Don't let there be best things." Conventionally good, nice, or pretty things became objects of scorn yet secret desire.

My politics are larger than materiality, yet material concerns are part of my politics. This is similar to how I feel about my hair; I generally feel better after a haircut, yet it bothers me that I am faced with hair decisions every so often.

I used to take a load of laundry out of the dryer and fold whatever I grabbed first--ignoring my burning desire to fold thin, long-sleeved shirts first or dig through and grab all the underwear instead of the socks. This has been my system for years--the years that I haven't just kept piles of clean clothes in the dryer or in laundry baskets--and I have replaced it by a system of preferences.

Last week I took laundry and folded all the like things first and then moved on to the next set of like things. This got the laundry done a lot faster, and I was happier. I marveled at the way choosing things actually made things easier.

Choosing things! This is what I have always done, but has always been difficult for me. I am trying to practice Martha Beck's advice--move to what you like and move away from what you don't. I am trying this in a conscious way, especially since this place in my life is relatively calm and drama-free. I am seeing how when I act on my preferences, I feel better about myself. I feel powerful, and this is something that I think helps to ward off my anxiety and depression. And as no small bonus, there's some happiness in it!

Sittin' on top of the world

After such amazing of being productive and losing weight and feeling attractive, I slipped into a slump and was lazy, gained five pounds, and can't even find reprieve from my gross self during the night due to waking myself up by smelling my own farts.

I am freaking out just a bit by how quickly time passes and what if I spend my whole life trying to put together a retirement plan only to end up shot to death by Oklahoma's new open carry law? I'm just a little on the neurotic side, one thing playing into the next until I see myself on the hamster wheel.

Yet there was a break this last week as I realized that I wanted to write again. And I had been ignoring my car maintenance, but was able to afford some repairs. And, come to find out, the car is in great shape. I slowly pull out and take a look at the things I had been ignoring. I am learning that this is better than remaining ignorant and powerless.

I'm trying to give myself a break is what I'm trying to learn to do. I'm trying to let go of my neurotic plans when they get to be too much and embrace them when I think they will help and when they make me happy. I am just trying to let myself be happy while also facing reality. It comes in waves, and I hope this wave will be a good one and that I will see many friends riding high, too.

The Winnebago Man

Bill and I just watched the documentary "The Winnebago Man." I hadn't seen the Winnebago Man before--I guess that's just a part of my education that fell through the cracks. I enjoyed this!

Words from the Wise

William Q. Boyfriend has been in the role of therapist for the past 24 hours. (It's a temporary gig.) I have been struggling with the idea of life and how it passes and how if someone has a few years on you, then that might not mean that you are forever young but rather invariably infantile.

Yet Bill says that you cannot compete with someone's history (no doy) not even your own (holy shit!).

I have been feeling insecure and thinking of what I can do for myself. I was thinking that probably as life goes on I'd be happy just to have a cup of coffee be able to linger where I leave it for a couple of hours. Or I'd be happy to have salt and pepper shakers in the shape of my favorite animal. I was thinking that life would get increasingly complex and I would be happy just to have one material pleasure, however in poor taste, that would be truly my own.

I guess I'm afraid of losing myself as I get older. As I see how my beliefs change and sometimes harden. I cling to distinctions as a way to remind myself how I am not naive, simplistic, uncaring and how I am . . . multi.

I get sad thinking that my good qualities, the very best of myself, are things that remain unrecognized. To pull off what I have pulled off . . .! [Self-pity! Unattractive.]

Tangible example: I was going to celebrate a personal milestone with a little vacation. Yet events in my personal life dictated that this vacation be postponed and since it's been put off, I'm finding it difficult to make reservations and create the trip I had in mind. I could do a half-assed version, but that feels really uncomfortable to me. So, instead, I've decided to put that money towards some car repairs. Pragmatic.

Bill is very pragmatic, and I hate succumbing. I just do. It's just so obvious. Yet I realize the thrill of driving around waiting for a belt to snap is not the type of unobvious adventure I really want to have in my life.

I ask Bill whether postponing a vacation is just like when I set aside the trillion other things I say I'm going to do and want to do. My distressing example: the mom of a character in a young adult novel I'm reading who is an adjunct professor because she has a hard time finishing things, like a PhD.

Bill says I need to give up the guilt. I search the library for books on guilt and get pissed off because most any guilt advice is also connected to being a woman, mom, white, German or not German, and/or a Christian.

I don't have guilt related to any of those things! I just have guilt because I'm full of potential (that's probably wasted) and because I can't save anyone let alone my own dumb self because there's not much that I need to be saved from. Other than this guilt, probably.

Bill says just because I put something off (at this point in our conversation, my planned trip the gym becomes a distant memory and something else to demonstrate how I don't do what I say I'm going to do) doesn't mean that I've given up.

I think, "Oh, yeah. I don't really give up." I have the distant realization that all the preposterous things I believe in I really do believe in. I guess it's just hard to look at my life and see how any of those things can come into being--it is disjointed.

However, I look at the different periods in my life and see how disjointed they have been so far. Each different time seems to have its own tone or color--a certain timbre. Each time I have felt certain about where I was going or where I have been. This is perhaps the first time where I don't have a particular storyline for myself and this may be what scares me the most. That sense that nothing could happen to me in my life.

But this is a sense of despair and it's not one that I subscribe to. It has just come over me lately and I have felt bewildered by it.

[And as Mitt Romney's dad once told Mitt Romney, keep working through despair. (He just could have amended the advice to say that despair is in order if you are mostly a total liar and socio-economical elitist.)]

WWMCD

I don't know whose joke this is, but I heard this week that Curiosity found metal on Mars and that it could be a buried city . . . or just some metal.

I like the idea of a buried city. I like when Bill sees a different model of his car and says, "There I go. Funny to see string theory work right in front of you." I like the movie Another Earth.

So when I'm really moody and I'm thinking, "This is not my beautiful wife" and I don't know who anyone is or what my story is or what I think of someone that I have thought a lot about before and I'm wondering, "Do I do this or do I do that? Is my problem this or is my problem that?" When I don't feel despondent but I don't feel fabulous, when I feel muddy and like my insides could and should be excavated, then I think, "What would Mars Courtney do?"

If I were multiple and living out as many stories as I imagine others have, if I were as interesting as others (always there's this comparison, which is what is actually driving my madness, which is my madness), then I would not get so wound up.

I imagine that others see me, who is actually me but only shows up as a version of myself, as a Mars Courtney, and I think maybe they think that I am a certain person--a certain person who has features that could be considered attractive or maybe features that would lead one to think that I have a much more interesting life than I really do. I imagine they create a Mars Courtney and if I get a positive feeling from someone, then I want to be that Mars Courtney for them.

This is what I do to people all the time. I create stories about people, and the less I know, then the more grandiose the story. It's the mystery of people, but it's not necessarily the personality I care about so much any more or why someone would have certain attitudes, emotions, or beliefs. It's more like the details of someone's life. Why do I feel differently about someone's exes or current partners if I think the other person is attractive or unattractive? Or has a fascinating job or a menial job? Or if that person faced a tragedy? Because it gives me a sense of control. It calms the fear inside of me.

Mars Courtney lives out a bunch of lives because she has time and a bunch of good starts to many stories. Real me is pretty much solely motivated by fear and I get a fear ball that manifests as anger. Real me is very boring and real me is stuck by the term "beginner's mind." As in, "Oh, shit. I know nothing." As in, "Oh, shit. I guess we are starting this again." As in, "I still have these thighs? This ugly morning look? This ordinary life? This wardrobe?"

I can take care of this self. I've gotten a lot better at this over the years, but I still get scared that maybe I will regress. I get scared of not being by myself, of letting myself trust others, especially when my deepest and safest retreat has been inside of myself. I am trying to let myself grow, which is what I think Mars people do naturally. They live. All the stories of people are purely one version and there are more. There are more versions of me, somewhere. I just cannot be all of them myself.