Work In Progress

I read something this morning that resonated with me so I want to capture it here (though my blurry eyed typing tends to slow this whole process down). It is from a handout I received in MAG called " Learning to Cope with Stress " by Ed Beckham and Ceceila Beckham as found in A personal Guide to Coping. (which you can find online by clicking the title---good read!) The article talks about how if throughout your life, you have received positive feedback or praise for your intelligence or talent, you may feel that your inability to tackle new tasks means you believe you are not smart or able, and therefore will never succeed. However, if you are praised for your hard work, you may be more likely to believe that if you fail, it just means you need to try harder. "When facing a difficult problem, it is important not to view success or failure as proving that you are smart or stupid, strong or weak. Instead, look at the difficult situations as requiring more p

  One of my all time favorite kids books was “The Monster at the End of thisBook”  (now available in ebook format--such great news for kids everywhere!) I remember I was with my Nana--somewhere--and saw it and begged her to buy it for me.  Books were and are, in my world, something hard to deny kids.   Grover the monster reads a text balloon that says that there will be a monster at the end of the book.  He begs you, the reader, not to continue to turn pages.  He ties pages together. He builds brick walls.  He begs. He is afraid of what he will find at the end of the book. He is scared.   The last page finds the reader alone with Grover, who suddenly realizes HE is the monster at the end and he is a lovable furry guy with nothing to fear. Everyone goes away happy and content because the answer was in the book.  And it took some work to get there---some obstacles to overcome—but when we got there---we were rewarded with a laug

When I look up from my computer, I am greeted with the graduation smile photos of the boys.  The Youngest is dressed for SK, The Middle for grade 8 and The Oldest for both grade 8 and high school.  On the same sideboard is the digital photo frame, that flashes the more casual moments of a few years ago.    Often, as I try to fit life into my viewfinder, I get told to put the camera away and enjoy the moment.  I get it, I do and I try.  I am the photographer of the family so if I don't take the pictures, no one will.    Smartphones now have such fabulous resolution, it seems silly to take my giant camera bag places.  I can upload immediately, save, share and Ka-POW.   But what I am enjoying most this morning, is looking at the smiling faces of the boys (the oldest smiled for his grad photos as his gift to me---grade 9-12---he looks like he will beat you to death with his indifference), and the rotating pictures of our trip a few years ago.   The moments were

    Seems like a no-brainer right?  (Oh man I am on a roll today!)  Posed with almost ANY questionnaire about zombies I would be  the person viciously checking off the box beside Blood Thirsty Undead---over and over and over while looking around nervously, evaluating the odds of shoving  the pen into a zombie's brain without getting bit myself.    I like to read or watch fiction about vampires, werewolves, witches, angels, daemons, jinn and other sorts of FICTIONAL creatures.  But for some reason, I don't lump zombies in there. To me, zombies could be real.     Yah, yah, I know.  Stop laughing.   Or getting indignant.    It just is.   Yes, this is my sword.  One minute they are human, the next minute they are walking human flesh eaters.  And no, I don't think it is odd that we have a sword on our wall in the living room (thank you Michonne).  And yes I thought World War Z was terrifying (even though my MOTHER, who t

I spent most of yesterday with my Sista Perfectionista.  It was awesome! I don't know why, but this is what I think of when I think of perfectionistas everywhere.  A FANCY HAT.  Perfectionistas can carry off fancy hats--strut--and make them look good.  This is odd because I have a GIGANTIC head...(no seriously--it is huge) so I am not likely to be found wearing a hat.  I will not analyze it too much.  For now it is a hat.....(maybe I will go get one.....) The week started out with a list of reasons why she felt it would be difficult for us to get together. You know---life gets in the way with swimming lessons, library story time and getting ready to go to a wedding and kids with colds.  I know how it is. I don't judge.  We squeezed in a long nap-allowing phone call (nap provided by her 2 year old) and a couple of long, self reflective texts and were pretty happy with that.  Yeah, that is me.... Next week, my mom is coming for a visit, Halloween is happening, The

Yesterday in class, the therapists asked if there was anyone there who felt like  they had an excessive need for control.  My hand shot up---stayed up---and started to wave around.  It was a bit like it wasn't attached to me.  I didn't even look up from what I was doing.  I expected that there were a few of us since perfectionism and control go hand in hand, and we were all self-confessed perfectionistas to some degree.   Oddly enough (read...embarrassingly enough), when I looked up, it was just me.  (Wacky, inflatable, arm waving, tube man!  Wacky, inflatable, arm waving, tube man!)  "That's it?  Just one person?  Okay--tell us what it is like, what you think about as someone who wants that much control." It poured out of me:      Well, I plan things. So like, I plan my day, dinner, what I have to do, what needs to get done.  I am not a list person---I know people who are--and swear by them.  But I plan out how I expect things to go---and I do

Since I love to dance, one of the ways I have chosen to help get fit and meet my dancing shoes need is to get back into Zumba at the gym.  So for the past month, I have been going to a yoga/tai chi/Pilates class on Mondays, a yoga class on Friday mornings and Zumba Gold on Wednesday mornings.  Zumba Gold is a "lite" version that includes a bit more instruction and more low impact moves.    When my oldest was home last week for Thanksgiving and his subsequent reading week, I took advantage of him being home and booked him in for all the dental, doctor, hair, driving lessons I could which ate up my morning gym time.  Feeling guilty, I thought I would go to an evening of "real Zumba".     I didn't think much of it as I had previously done "real Zumba" to the point where I became pretty good at it (or at least I could keep up yet felt tired but energized by the end of class). What occupied my mind prior to going that night was that one of my di

I recently saw my psychiatrist.    For the first time, I told her      I          was                  feeling                         better. It was true.   I couldn't tell her why or how or what happened.  It just seemed like I had a good day. And then another. Then another.  I told her like it was a secret.  I didn't want to jinx it. She was the first person I had told.    I can still catch glimpses of the darkness if I turn fast enough.    But it has no hold on me.  It moves over and through me.   I guess a few weeks ago, I had a good day.  I think it started with my crown.  I had heard horror stories about crowns---but I felt ok about going.  And it turned out ok.  So much so, that I agreed to see a specialist about some tricky root canals I had been putting off, since I was TEN.  We talked, he was concerned I may loose a tooth.  One at the front.  But I booked the appointment anyway.  I felt ok.  I felt like this was the time to look after me. 

I am back at the Leaning Tower of Pisa that started this whole blog over 80 posts ago (and yes that is me in the foreground).   Back then, I was an observer; intellectualizing the Tower and the path in my head as I took a few steps in the general direction to  plant a shovel here and there, probing the soil for a good point of entry.  Work in Progress signs were hung and after a few weeks the digging began.  And like any project--there were delays--and unexpected circumstances which allowed me to emerge from the musty subterranean tunnel to gulp down the fresh air I didn't know I was missing while searching for the broken part in me that made me so off balance.    But it's been months and months and I am far below the Tower, digging; the cool dampness compressing my lungs; words and thoughts  absorbed by the loamy damp earth; each shovel exposing more and more of my damaged spirit.  It has been heart aching work.  But I have reached the foundation.    Tuesday's cl