I chatted with a good friend of mine today about women and how some of us seem to have taken on a new way of thinking in regards to staying at home with young children. There's this idea that we are entitled to be spoiled rotten with our expensive yoga clothes and lattes, toiling away the day at the gym doing a downward dog while some 14 year-old girl with braces and zits looks after our babies, and then when we finally come home to our 4000 sq foot houses, freshly cleaned by someone else, we plunk down into our brand new plush leopard print chaise lounge, feigning exhaustion so as to get out of making dinner for our husbands who have been busting their asses all day out in the real world. Phew! I'm tired just typing that out! Someone please pass me a triple grande four pump sugar-free vanilla nonfat extra hot no foam latte in a platinum-lined cup. And I could really use some fresh highlights.
Please don't think that I don't get what it's like to have young kids. I barely remember those days for the sleep deprivation except, as in most traumatic memories, I will from time to time have vivid flashbacks of pukefests in the minivan or a kid doing the gingerbread man in my arms while screaming in the middle of a public place and then headbutting me in the face just to punctuate the moment. There's nothing I'd rather do in that situation than head to the gym and hand them over to someone else while I lick a yoga mat for an hour and a half.
There's nothing wrong with that, either. I'm not saying we can't have breaks, that we can't sip stupid lattes or go to the gym or get highlights. It's a matter of the heart though, and a lot of women seem to think that they're entitled to this stuff as a way of life rather than a nice treat. And then what happens is a big pile of resentment starts to form, where the dude comes home from a long day at work and the only person he has to connect with is busy in the bathroom staring at her own reflection in the mirror. She can't see past herself to see the hunger in his eyes.
There's so much more to this subject and I know I'm not doing it justice, so I apologize for stirring it up and then jumping ship. But I think it's worth thinking about even if we don't like what we see.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Monday, November 19, 2012
Day Thirty
This is my last day of my thirty days of writing! It was such a great experience for me as it was really helpful for me to purge my brain fog rather than just keep it swimming in there for eternity. I would like to keep writing.
I went for this most amazing run yesterday with Lora. It was a 12-miler, starting and finishing from Andrew's house. He wasn't at all thrilled about the ripeness of our post run smells when we stumbled back through his front door so we made sure to shower soon after and then the three of us headed to Red Robin's for some lunch.
So, Andrew's the kind of person who is quick with the spoken word. The speed of his wit can take me aback sometimes. We were walking along White Rock beach in the summertime and there was this cute little family playing together on the grass. I guess their son's name was "Marco" as at one point the dad exclaimed to him in a bit of a shout, "MARCO!" and before the sound of his name even had time to hit my nervous system, Andrew replied with a "POLO!" He has a gift.
Andrew, Lora and I sat and ate our lunch and talked about a guy Lora knows who is taking steroids. I had written a paper on steroid use when I was in university so I was listing off the side effects, one of which can be impotence. So we discussed the irony of it all, how a guy can be so obsessed with looking hunky on the outside but then once he gets the girl, he can't do anything with her. It's a paradox of a hard body and limp junkitalia.
Lora said, "he told me that one day he's going to be the most amazing man to ever walk into a room" to which Andrew wisely replied, "that's his sex--his orgasm is walking into a room and having everyone look at him." Lora and I both looked at each other in shock, realizing just how true that is! That some people can be so insecure in who they are that they so desperately need everyone else to accept them at first sight but then that's as far as they can go. They're unable to connect at a deeper level. They get off before they are even touched.
I went for this most amazing run yesterday with Lora. It was a 12-miler, starting and finishing from Andrew's house. He wasn't at all thrilled about the ripeness of our post run smells when we stumbled back through his front door so we made sure to shower soon after and then the three of us headed to Red Robin's for some lunch.
So, Andrew's the kind of person who is quick with the spoken word. The speed of his wit can take me aback sometimes. We were walking along White Rock beach in the summertime and there was this cute little family playing together on the grass. I guess their son's name was "Marco" as at one point the dad exclaimed to him in a bit of a shout, "MARCO!" and before the sound of his name even had time to hit my nervous system, Andrew replied with a "POLO!" He has a gift.
Andrew, Lora and I sat and ate our lunch and talked about a guy Lora knows who is taking steroids. I had written a paper on steroid use when I was in university so I was listing off the side effects, one of which can be impotence. So we discussed the irony of it all, how a guy can be so obsessed with looking hunky on the outside but then once he gets the girl, he can't do anything with her. It's a paradox of a hard body and limp junkitalia.
Lora said, "he told me that one day he's going to be the most amazing man to ever walk into a room" to which Andrew wisely replied, "that's his sex--his orgasm is walking into a room and having everyone look at him." Lora and I both looked at each other in shock, realizing just how true that is! That some people can be so insecure in who they are that they so desperately need everyone else to accept them at first sight but then that's as far as they can go. They're unable to connect at a deeper level. They get off before they are even touched.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Day Twenty-Nine
Humans by nature are control freaks. We can jump out of airplanes, eat fried chicken from KFC and touch the door handles at WalMart but as soon as we get stuck in traffic we totally lose our minds. We'd rather stand in a lit room filled with snakes than stand in a dark room filled with god-knows-what. As long as we know what the fuck is going on, we will be okay.
Why?
It's the fear of the unknown, and that fear is persuasive.
How do we deal with the unknown so that we don't totally fall apart whenever life gets convoluted? I'm not sure. When you figure it out, will you let me know?
I think if I'm honest with myself, when I lose control over one aspect of my life, I over-control everything else to make up for it. Like, I run 100 miles a week because running has cause and effect. I run, I get tired, I eat, I sleep, I wake up and run some more. I also make lists of things to do like take my van for an oil change and buy cat food from Costco so that I can go do it, and then cross it off the list. Seeing it there written down "to do" and then physically putting a big black line through it is so satisfying. I also love to sit on my bathroom counter and tweeze out all my white hairs.
So maybe I don't know if Freddy will need a blood transfusion or what city I will be living in, but I'll know for damn sure that I won't need an engine flush for another 10,000 km and that my cat won't starve.
We are all control freaks in our own way, too. Some people are outwardly obvious with their controlling nature, while some people white-knuckle their lives in the more hidden parts. What do you guys do to maintain a sense of control? Eat? Pluck hairs? Exercise? Wash your car 800 times? Scrub the kitchen floor until you've taken off the finishing coat?
Let me know! I need some fresh ideas.
Why?
It's the fear of the unknown, and that fear is persuasive.
How do we deal with the unknown so that we don't totally fall apart whenever life gets convoluted? I'm not sure. When you figure it out, will you let me know?
I think if I'm honest with myself, when I lose control over one aspect of my life, I over-control everything else to make up for it. Like, I run 100 miles a week because running has cause and effect. I run, I get tired, I eat, I sleep, I wake up and run some more. I also make lists of things to do like take my van for an oil change and buy cat food from Costco so that I can go do it, and then cross it off the list. Seeing it there written down "to do" and then physically putting a big black line through it is so satisfying. I also love to sit on my bathroom counter and tweeze out all my white hairs.
So maybe I don't know if Freddy will need a blood transfusion or what city I will be living in, but I'll know for damn sure that I won't need an engine flush for another 10,000 km and that my cat won't starve.
We are all control freaks in our own way, too. Some people are outwardly obvious with their controlling nature, while some people white-knuckle their lives in the more hidden parts. What do you guys do to maintain a sense of control? Eat? Pluck hairs? Exercise? Wash your car 800 times? Scrub the kitchen floor until you've taken off the finishing coat?
Let me know! I need some fresh ideas.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Day Twenty-Eight
Last night's visit with friends went well. It never ceases to amaze me how we all have a story to tell. The more people I meet, the more I realize that nobody has a boring life story, you know?
I remember growing up in the church (you church peeps will totally relate to this, I KNOW it) and from time to time people would give their "testimony." Now, the term testimony is a Christianese word for "life story." Christianese is a fancy language spoken by Christians including but not limited to the terms "blessings" and "born again." The Urban Dictionary describes Christianese as a manner of speaking within the American Christian subculture in which the speaker cloaks the words being said under the mask of 'love' but in reality, is saying it for the sole purpose of hurting you.
Christianese: "I really feel that God is telling me to say this to you..."
Translation: "I am going to hurt you now... in Jesus' name, Amen."
Anyway, okay so when Christians would give their testimonies, more often than not they would go like this: "I grew up in a Christian home but then I backslid (Christianese for "I smoked a cigarette and littered my McDonalds napkin") in my teen years but then I gave it all up for the glory of God (Christianese for "as long as God doesn't ask me to stop masturbating, I won't smoke or litter ever again.")
I have to add here though that I HAVE heard many people give amazing stories of their lives, in church and not, that have rocked my world in every way possible. It's truly incredible how many people have horror stories, and how their faith has helped them not only live through it all, but live well. I love hearing those stories because they inspire me and they inspire me because they are real. Tangible. Applicable. An imbecile can shit the bed, but it's what we do with our mess after that makes all the difference. It takes guts to get back up, clean up the mess and move forward. When people share their stories with me about how they messed up, how the pain felt, and how they are moving forward, I get humbled that they'd trust me with their vulnerability. I feel honored, I do.
That's what life is about, right? Vulnerability, trust, making mistakes and cleaning the mess up together. Arm in arm, linked together connected by the bridges of our imperfect humanness and the tight ropes of faith. Sharing our hearts, our testimonies, our stories.
In Jesus' name, Amen.
I remember growing up in the church (you church peeps will totally relate to this, I KNOW it) and from time to time people would give their "testimony." Now, the term testimony is a Christianese word for "life story." Christianese is a fancy language spoken by Christians including but not limited to the terms "blessings" and "born again." The Urban Dictionary describes Christianese as a manner of speaking within the American Christian subculture in which the speaker cloaks the words being said under the mask of 'love' but in reality, is saying it for the sole purpose of hurting you.
Christianese: "I really feel that God is telling me to say this to you..."
Translation: "I am going to hurt you now... in Jesus' name, Amen."
Anyway, okay so when Christians would give their testimonies, more often than not they would go like this: "I grew up in a Christian home but then I backslid (Christianese for "I smoked a cigarette and littered my McDonalds napkin") in my teen years but then I gave it all up for the glory of God (Christianese for "as long as God doesn't ask me to stop masturbating, I won't smoke or litter ever again.")
I have to add here though that I HAVE heard many people give amazing stories of their lives, in church and not, that have rocked my world in every way possible. It's truly incredible how many people have horror stories, and how their faith has helped them not only live through it all, but live well. I love hearing those stories because they inspire me and they inspire me because they are real. Tangible. Applicable. An imbecile can shit the bed, but it's what we do with our mess after that makes all the difference. It takes guts to get back up, clean up the mess and move forward. When people share their stories with me about how they messed up, how the pain felt, and how they are moving forward, I get humbled that they'd trust me with their vulnerability. I feel honored, I do.
That's what life is about, right? Vulnerability, trust, making mistakes and cleaning the mess up together. Arm in arm, linked together connected by the bridges of our imperfect humanness and the tight ropes of faith. Sharing our hearts, our testimonies, our stories.
In Jesus' name, Amen.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Day Twenty-Seven
Yesterday's post blew. I made it sound like I'm like, super popular and everyone is waiting with baited breath for my Friday night dinner plan commitments. Totally not the case at all. I'm such a dork.
Sometimes my posts kinda kick ass, but quite often they don't.
I ate toast and pancakes and eggs for breakfast, grazed throughout the afternoon on 754293003 chocolates from the bottom drawer at work, and spent the day wiping blue ultrasound gel off of hairy backs and bra straps. Now I'm heading out the door to meet some old friends for drinks in Fort Langley, so it can only go up from here.
Sometimes my posts kinda kick ass, but quite often they don't.
I ate toast and pancakes and eggs for breakfast, grazed throughout the afternoon on 754293003 chocolates from the bottom drawer at work, and spent the day wiping blue ultrasound gel off of hairy backs and bra straps. Now I'm heading out the door to meet some old friends for drinks in Fort Langley, so it can only go up from here.
Day Twenty-Six
I think I have caught up to the right number of days, no? Yes? Who cares.
I have this problem that when someone asks me if I'd like to do something with them, I say yes right away, and then end up canceling later and totally pissing them off. But you see to me, it sounds like so much fun! So of COURSE I want to! When I say yes, I'm saying "that sounds awesome!" but what the other person hears is "yes that is exactly what I would like to do and I am putting it in my day planner right now with permanent ink."
I guess I didn't really realize how much I was affecting people when I'd turn them down at the last minute. They'd text or phone me or whatever to confirm that we were doing such-and-such and I'd be like, oh. NO. Oops. And you know what I found out? That my friends and family started to make backup plans because they knew I would probably bail. When Tracey told me that, my heart sunk.
But my turning point was in early 2010. I was running a long training run with Lora one Saturday morning. She was training for Boston and she had invited me to go with her for practically free! So we were discussing the trip during that run and she nervously brought up a conversation she had had with our friend Alain. He warned her that just because Suzy told her that she's going to Boston with her doesn't mean she really is actually going, and that I'm notorious for bailing at the last second.
Lora wasn't telling me that to make me feel bad, she really was simply concerned that she'd have to go to Boston by herself.
I was horrified. It was like when I gained a bunch of weight when I was pregnant with Freddy and then all of a sudden one day caught a glimpse of myself in a mirrored window. I was like, whoa, something needs to change.
So I stopped saying, "that sounds awesome!" and started saying, "I'd love to do that, but I need to check my calendar first. Can I get back to you?" And what essentially ended up happening was all of a sudden had no life because I was too afraid to commit to anything for fear of bailing at the last second. Kinda sucked. But as time went by I figured it out, and people started trusting me and the plans I was making with them. But boyyyy, was that a humbling experience.
I have this problem that when someone asks me if I'd like to do something with them, I say yes right away, and then end up canceling later and totally pissing them off. But you see to me, it sounds like so much fun! So of COURSE I want to! When I say yes, I'm saying "that sounds awesome!" but what the other person hears is "yes that is exactly what I would like to do and I am putting it in my day planner right now with permanent ink."
I guess I didn't really realize how much I was affecting people when I'd turn them down at the last minute. They'd text or phone me or whatever to confirm that we were doing such-and-such and I'd be like, oh. NO. Oops. And you know what I found out? That my friends and family started to make backup plans because they knew I would probably bail. When Tracey told me that, my heart sunk.
But my turning point was in early 2010. I was running a long training run with Lora one Saturday morning. She was training for Boston and she had invited me to go with her for practically free! So we were discussing the trip during that run and she nervously brought up a conversation she had had with our friend Alain. He warned her that just because Suzy told her that she's going to Boston with her doesn't mean she really is actually going, and that I'm notorious for bailing at the last second.
Lora wasn't telling me that to make me feel bad, she really was simply concerned that she'd have to go to Boston by herself.
I was horrified. It was like when I gained a bunch of weight when I was pregnant with Freddy and then all of a sudden one day caught a glimpse of myself in a mirrored window. I was like, whoa, something needs to change.
So I stopped saying, "that sounds awesome!" and started saying, "I'd love to do that, but I need to check my calendar first. Can I get back to you?" And what essentially ended up happening was all of a sudden had no life because I was too afraid to commit to anything for fear of bailing at the last second. Kinda sucked. But as time went by I figured it out, and people started trusting me and the plans I was making with them. But boyyyy, was that a humbling experience.
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Day Twenty-Five
I thrive in chaos. I had breakfast with my dad this morning and he described me as having too much on my plate, some by choice and some by chance, but too much nonetheless. It's like I need a challenge of some sort just to keep life exciting.
If I know I'm going to be 20 minutes early for something then I will almost always attempt to squeeze in a little extra errand of some sort on my way there which almost always makes me late. It's a bit like a game to me to see how much I can fit into one day.
My kids are with their dad in California until Monday night so I have been cramming in as much "Suzy time" as possible. I'm having overdue dinners and coffee dates with my friends and family and just spending some quality alone time with myself, writing on my laptop or reading books. It's been blissful, but it also feels so foreign.
Two weeks ago I was strung out from too little sleep and too much work. I was getting up at 3:30 am to work a Starbucks shift until 1pm and then working at the physio job from 2 until 6. Then I'd get the kids and schlep them to soccer practices, guitar lessons, and church groups while making dinner and doing laundry. I was exhausted. I phoned my mom from the side of the road bawling my eyes out about how I was so overwhelmed.
And then there's now, where I'm home from a relaxing trip to Arizona, with so much time to myself that I can barely stand it. I met Lora for a run out in Chilliwack but I was 15 minutes early to her house so I sat in my van and texted Andrew: "I'm bored." I don't think I've been bored since grade eleven when I solved the boredom problem by throwing Jeremy Eccles' binders and pencils out the second story window.
Instead of fighting the silence, I opened myself up to the stillness and let go. I chose to be comfortable in my own body, being "okay" with everything in the world at that precise moment. There was nothing to do but wait, and I didn't want to lose those 15 minutes to the torturous game of "if only." I imagined my body storing up a peace reserve for the upcoming days of juggling school, work, sports, and Christmas shopping. And since I was in the mindset of storing up things in my body, I decided it would be an appropriate time to consume some cranberry bliss bar and a Starbucks coffee. It was just the right thing to do.
If I know I'm going to be 20 minutes early for something then I will almost always attempt to squeeze in a little extra errand of some sort on my way there which almost always makes me late. It's a bit like a game to me to see how much I can fit into one day.
My kids are with their dad in California until Monday night so I have been cramming in as much "Suzy time" as possible. I'm having overdue dinners and coffee dates with my friends and family and just spending some quality alone time with myself, writing on my laptop or reading books. It's been blissful, but it also feels so foreign.
Two weeks ago I was strung out from too little sleep and too much work. I was getting up at 3:30 am to work a Starbucks shift until 1pm and then working at the physio job from 2 until 6. Then I'd get the kids and schlep them to soccer practices, guitar lessons, and church groups while making dinner and doing laundry. I was exhausted. I phoned my mom from the side of the road bawling my eyes out about how I was so overwhelmed.
And then there's now, where I'm home from a relaxing trip to Arizona, with so much time to myself that I can barely stand it. I met Lora for a run out in Chilliwack but I was 15 minutes early to her house so I sat in my van and texted Andrew: "I'm bored." I don't think I've been bored since grade eleven when I solved the boredom problem by throwing Jeremy Eccles' binders and pencils out the second story window.
Instead of fighting the silence, I opened myself up to the stillness and let go. I chose to be comfortable in my own body, being "okay" with everything in the world at that precise moment. There was nothing to do but wait, and I didn't want to lose those 15 minutes to the torturous game of "if only." I imagined my body storing up a peace reserve for the upcoming days of juggling school, work, sports, and Christmas shopping. And since I was in the mindset of storing up things in my body, I decided it would be an appropriate time to consume some cranberry bliss bar and a Starbucks coffee. It was just the right thing to do.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)