I accidentally dropped my tea bag down the kitchen sink this morning which meant that I had to stick my hand down the garburator to fish it out. There's nothing much worse than feeling last night's dinner of beef and barley soup squish between my fingers while the blades' sharp edges threaten me with bloodthirsty possibilities. My body's physiological signals got crossed between fits of nausea (caused by the idea that I'm palpating vomit) and heart-pounding fear (of getting my hand shredded to bits). For the sake of the kids, I held it together just long enough to drag the tea bag out into safety at which point I collapsed from the sheer energy expense of it all.
I really miss my coffee.
Our cell phones are like garburators. Except not really at all, but I really want to talk about both, and I'm going to make this work. Both are functional and practical, taking in substance from one side and processing it through to the other side. But if used haphazardly, can chop us up to bits. Texting is the worst for this! How many times have each of us had one of those miscommunication moments where what we typed into our phones came out the other side looking like puke? And how many times have we found that the miscommunication has nearly chopped up a perfectly good relationship?
There have been many times in my life when I've decided to just toss my cell over the bridge but then clutched onto it in fear of missing out on something. Or maybe I could get rid of the texting feature and just use my phone for talking. I'm chewing on the idea, procrastinating as best I can as I know it will be a tough swallow.
A cup of coffee would sure help it go down.
Monday, October 21, 2013
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Baby Steps
I'm sitting at the Water Shed in Langley, one of my favourite coffee shops. They make the wickedest Americanos; the espresso is dense, practically beckoning to me in Italian prose while the crema on top swirls me in and dunks me under its healing waters. It's decaf of course but even its decaffeination loses not its potency.
Six-books-deep into my must-read pile, I decided to use my morning off to make a dent in the stack. However, my brain had other plans. What should I bring to work for lunch? I have to go pee. The baby kicked! Then this lady teetered into the coffee shop in a pair of high heels, reminding me that I need to practice wearing mine for next Friday, when I marry my love.
Several weeks ago I bought a fabulous dress. I was pleased to find something to wear in advance so as to have one less thing to worry about, until I tried it on again a couple of nights ago and now I most definitely have something to worry about. I'm trying to work with the new developments, but they seem to have a mind of their own. At this point, I'll be lucky to even see my shoes.
A couple of years ago I had to dress up to go to an awards ceremony with Andrew. I nailed down a dress but hadn't worn heels since my dear friend Renata's wedding in 2004. Jane came over with a bottle of wine and several pairs of shoes. I put on my dress and, attempting to showcase the first set of heels, I stepped gingerly down the stairs, wine glass in hand, to show Jane. I had only taken one step when my heel slipped and to catch my balance, I threw my hand against the wall only to realize it was the hand that held the wine glass. I smashed the glass into a million pieces, sprayed red wine all over the walls, railing, stairs, my dress and legs, and proceeded to tumble head-over-high-heels down the entire length of stairs.
We can alter what we look like on the outside to make everyone believe we're something that we're not but as soon as we start to move about and live our lives, we showcase the truth of who we are. We all get judged from the outside looking in, but if those people lived and walked with us, they'd know something very different.
Shouting our truths from the treetops will only make us look like assholes but quietly living them out, day by humble day, will grow our truths to the point that who we really are will be obvious to everyone around us. Even if we look down and can't see our own shoes.
Six-books-deep into my must-read pile, I decided to use my morning off to make a dent in the stack. However, my brain had other plans. What should I bring to work for lunch? I have to go pee. The baby kicked! Then this lady teetered into the coffee shop in a pair of high heels, reminding me that I need to practice wearing mine for next Friday, when I marry my love.
Several weeks ago I bought a fabulous dress. I was pleased to find something to wear in advance so as to have one less thing to worry about, until I tried it on again a couple of nights ago and now I most definitely have something to worry about. I'm trying to work with the new developments, but they seem to have a mind of their own. At this point, I'll be lucky to even see my shoes.
A couple of years ago I had to dress up to go to an awards ceremony with Andrew. I nailed down a dress but hadn't worn heels since my dear friend Renata's wedding in 2004. Jane came over with a bottle of wine and several pairs of shoes. I put on my dress and, attempting to showcase the first set of heels, I stepped gingerly down the stairs, wine glass in hand, to show Jane. I had only taken one step when my heel slipped and to catch my balance, I threw my hand against the wall only to realize it was the hand that held the wine glass. I smashed the glass into a million pieces, sprayed red wine all over the walls, railing, stairs, my dress and legs, and proceeded to tumble head-over-high-heels down the entire length of stairs.
We can alter what we look like on the outside to make everyone believe we're something that we're not but as soon as we start to move about and live our lives, we showcase the truth of who we are. We all get judged from the outside looking in, but if those people lived and walked with us, they'd know something very different.
Shouting our truths from the treetops will only make us look like assholes but quietly living them out, day by humble day, will grow our truths to the point that who we really are will be obvious to everyone around us. Even if we look down and can't see our own shoes.
Friday, October 11, 2013
"What's On Your Mind?"
You know how some people post their status on Facebook ten times a day? I have to admit, it's something I love to hate and hate to love. When I'm stuck in bed wearing fat pants looking like I just got washed up on the banks of the Fraser River, I like to read these statuses and imagine my life as:
"lunch at the Cactus Club in Langley"
or...
"on our way to the Justin Timberlake concert!!!"
I'd even take...
"stuck beside man doing hot farts on flight to Calgary."
I'm not picky.
Now, if I were to post my statuses on Facebook for a day it would go something like this:
"accidentally brushed my teeth with Katie's toothbrush"
and...
"made a healthy kale and avocado wrap for lunch and then ate food court Chinese food instead"
which would be followed by...
"mistakenly covered my stretching belly skin with a lotion that I am severely allergic to and am now covered in a rash."
Obviously, this is why most people don't post stupid stuff like that on Facebook, but rather nice, pleasant updates. Their children say the sweetest things, their jobs are rewarding, their skin glows with vegan health, and their significant other is selling his dirt bike collection to buy her diamond earrings and a Bikram Yoga membership.
Nobody wants to know that Katie screamed, "don't TOUCH ME!!!!!!!" when I tried to brush her hair or that I ate half a jar of nacho cheese dip only to find the lid covered in mold once I had polished off the last drop.
I know that I post nauseating lovey-dovey posts about how much Andrew and I love each other. And that I'll write about how much I love my kids on their birthdays. I paint my life (we all do) a certain way but I do it with the assumption that you all know me well enough by now to know that my life is not perfect. And not only is it not perfect, but that I thrive in the mess because that's where love is found, and that grace grows in the cracks, right? Grace grows in the cracks.
Andrew and I adore each other enough to make everyone around us a bit nauseous, but don't get the bucket yet because we are well aware of our imperfections. The two of us have been through more adversity in our two-plus years of togetherness than a lot of lifetimers. We've had our share of rashes and moldy nacho dip. We take great pictures, but we don't post the ones where he's sitting broken and defeated at the end of our bed with his head in his hands, or the one of me after I got a piece of my nose burned off from potential skin cancer. Or when we're in the hospital being told that we're losing our baby.
We all want everyone to like us, right? To think we're not fat and ugly and that we don't yell at our children or eat carcinogenic hydrogenated oil and drink crown and coke with hardly any coke in it. What we have to remember is that no matter what we do, even if our pictures are cute and our kids are lovely and our husbands are charming, there will be a whole bunch of people who think we're idiots. And we have to just accept that.
The only people who matter (in our lives) are the ones who stand next to us. They don't have to like us all the time. They can find us annoying and frustrating and downright maddening but they see our rashes and our mold and our tears and scars and they love us anyway. Right here, right now. Day in, and day out.
And for them...
"I am thankful."
"lunch at the Cactus Club in Langley"
or...
"on our way to the Justin Timberlake concert!!!"
I'd even take...
"stuck beside man doing hot farts on flight to Calgary."
I'm not picky.
Now, if I were to post my statuses on Facebook for a day it would go something like this:
"accidentally brushed my teeth with Katie's toothbrush"
and...
"made a healthy kale and avocado wrap for lunch and then ate food court Chinese food instead"
which would be followed by...
"mistakenly covered my stretching belly skin with a lotion that I am severely allergic to and am now covered in a rash."
Obviously, this is why most people don't post stupid stuff like that on Facebook, but rather nice, pleasant updates. Their children say the sweetest things, their jobs are rewarding, their skin glows with vegan health, and their significant other is selling his dirt bike collection to buy her diamond earrings and a Bikram Yoga membership.
Nobody wants to know that Katie screamed, "don't TOUCH ME!!!!!!!" when I tried to brush her hair or that I ate half a jar of nacho cheese dip only to find the lid covered in mold once I had polished off the last drop.
I know that I post nauseating lovey-dovey posts about how much Andrew and I love each other. And that I'll write about how much I love my kids on their birthdays. I paint my life (we all do) a certain way but I do it with the assumption that you all know me well enough by now to know that my life is not perfect. And not only is it not perfect, but that I thrive in the mess because that's where love is found, and that grace grows in the cracks, right? Grace grows in the cracks.
Andrew and I adore each other enough to make everyone around us a bit nauseous, but don't get the bucket yet because we are well aware of our imperfections. The two of us have been through more adversity in our two-plus years of togetherness than a lot of lifetimers. We've had our share of rashes and moldy nacho dip. We take great pictures, but we don't post the ones where he's sitting broken and defeated at the end of our bed with his head in his hands, or the one of me after I got a piece of my nose burned off from potential skin cancer. Or when we're in the hospital being told that we're losing our baby.
We all want everyone to like us, right? To think we're not fat and ugly and that we don't yell at our children or eat carcinogenic hydrogenated oil and drink crown and coke with hardly any coke in it. What we have to remember is that no matter what we do, even if our pictures are cute and our kids are lovely and our husbands are charming, there will be a whole bunch of people who think we're idiots. And we have to just accept that.
The only people who matter (in our lives) are the ones who stand next to us. They don't have to like us all the time. They can find us annoying and frustrating and downright maddening but they see our rashes and our mold and our tears and scars and they love us anyway. Right here, right now. Day in, and day out.
And for them...
"I am thankful."
Tuesday, October 1, 2013
Swerve
I used to have huge anxiety problems. It peaked when I was in grade 5 after I spent a week throwing up in an outhouse at camp. It triggered in me this irrational fear of puke. I spent a year eating toast and honey, convinced that it was humanly impossible to throw that up. I didn't exactly Carpe the Diem in grade five, but I also didn't throw up toast and honey. Mission accomplished.
My anxiety seemed to disappear for a while and then pop back up like hammer pants and acid wash. Equally unpredictable and frustrating.
Everyone obviously deals with anxiety in some capacity or another, and most times it's manageable. We get cut off in traffic, we panic, and then self-regulate back to normal once the coast is clear. Sometimes, though, we need to adapt to a "new normal." Say we blow a tire, and instead of driving away in the same condition as we entered, we need to self-regulate while we balance on three wheels long enough to come to a safe stop. We then figure out how to fix the problem and before too long we're back up and running on all four wheels.
For me, the key to managing anxiety is self-regulation. It's like a head-check. Fear is just an emotion--it's not a truth. Just because we feel something doesn't make it true. Right now, I can make a list of a hundred things I'm afraid of, no problem. But my list of truths exceed this list by a million.
Focusing on the truths in my life make them grow. Acknowledging my fears and then balancing on three wheels to drive through them makes them disappear into the distance. And once I come to a safe stop, I can only hope I'm not caught on the side of the road needing a tire change, wearing hammer pants.
My anxiety seemed to disappear for a while and then pop back up like hammer pants and acid wash. Equally unpredictable and frustrating.
Everyone obviously deals with anxiety in some capacity or another, and most times it's manageable. We get cut off in traffic, we panic, and then self-regulate back to normal once the coast is clear. Sometimes, though, we need to adapt to a "new normal." Say we blow a tire, and instead of driving away in the same condition as we entered, we need to self-regulate while we balance on three wheels long enough to come to a safe stop. We then figure out how to fix the problem and before too long we're back up and running on all four wheels.
For me, the key to managing anxiety is self-regulation. It's like a head-check. Fear is just an emotion--it's not a truth. Just because we feel something doesn't make it true. Right now, I can make a list of a hundred things I'm afraid of, no problem. But my list of truths exceed this list by a million.
Focusing on the truths in my life make them grow. Acknowledging my fears and then balancing on three wheels to drive through them makes them disappear into the distance. And once I come to a safe stop, I can only hope I'm not caught on the side of the road needing a tire change, wearing hammer pants.
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