The Fog Lifted Today

Today was a good day. A happy day. The fog lifted today and I felt like myself for the first time in a long time.

And I think I'm ready to tell you all about it.

In my last post I mentioned that something happened last fall that rocked my world, and not in a good way.

Last October, the day after Homecoming for all my marching band friends, I began experiencing some... symptoms. Within a few days I realized I was pregnant. Unexpectedly, surprisingly, ridiculously, pregnant. I was 41 years old, with a history of infertility, on birth control, and pregnant.

But at our first doctor's visit they told us things weren't looking good, and there was only about a 50% chance of survival for my babies. I did, in fact, miscarry 10-week-old twins, but my body did not cooperate and on November 7, 2018 I had a D&C.

And I grieved. We were not planning on ever having more babies. If you would have asked me I would have said I didn't want any more children. But oh! My babies. How I wanted them after all! And so I grieved the loss of babies I never knew I ever wanted.

I have lived in a fog since then. I debated whether what I was experiencing was just part of the normal grieving process, after all I don't remember being like this after my other miscarriage. Maybe I was depressed? Maybe it was anxiety?

I don't know. Still don't. I know I haven't been myself since. Responsibilities fell to the wayside and I thought about quitting, well, just about everything.

Last year, because we had planned on doing much more traveling this past year, we signed the girls up for online homeschool and intentionally didn't sign up for any co-ops or community groups. The travel plan fell through, but I am so glad we'd done those things. So many days just getting them to sign in and listen to someone else teach felt like more work than I could do.

I'm still the VP of my Alumni Band, but I've scraped by this year, feeling like I'm doing the bare minimum for my office and I've debated resigning, for the good of the organization as well as myself, pretty regularly since last November.

I'm still the Team Manager for Jena's soccer team. I've missed deadlines, and squeaked in paperwork at the last minute more than once.

My house, always a struggle for me to keep tidy as I've mentioned many times before, reached probably the worst state it's ever been in.

Everything, everything, felt overwhelming. I don't know how to explain this in words, but absolutely everything was TOO MUCH. Leaving the house was a struggle. Every. Time. My kids asking to go the park was enough for me to feel it in my chest - the stress, the overwhelm. I have to do what? They want to go where? I can't do it! It's just too much!

Every little thing felt so big. Overwhelming was the only word I can think of to describe it. I didn't feel depressed. I can't even say I felt anxious. But overwhelmed. Everything was just TOO MUCH. The littlest thing - going to the park, or responding to an email, or sweeping the floor - anything and everything just absolutely overwhelmed me.

Then comes the reasoning. In my mind, I knew these were all small things. I knew I'd done all these things before. I hadn't taken on anything new, and in fact with the online homeschool and no community groups this year, I actually had less commitments than in the past. I felt like a failure. Sure, I was managing, but I wasn't managing well. I wasn't doing anything well. I was squeaking by in every area of my life.

Ugh. As I re-read what I just wrote I realize how inadequate it is to really explain what was going on inside me. I don't know how to explain it. I wish I could say it better.

But about a month or so ago, I started to feel a little better. And with it, I cautiously started doing more, worried I was making a mistake and wouldn't be able to cope.

I still felt completely overwhelmed and stressed out at the littlest thing, but I slowly started to purge things from our house. In the past few weeks I've given away, donated, or sold probably 20 or more boxes and bags of items. And probably thrown away at least as much. I've made a concentrated effort to work on tidying up and cleaning the house, and while we are far from where I'd like it to be (I'm still not inviting anyone over), it's the cleanest it's been in months. And I have to give a shout-out to my girls, especially Jena, who has joined in my efforts and helped me clean as well. Last month I went to a Symposium for college alumni bands, and this week kicked off registration for fall soccer.

But today... today... unexpectedly, unexplainedly, without notice... the fog lifted.

I feel like myself again. It was a good day. It was a happy day. Not because anything in particular happened, but from the moment I woke up I could feel the difference in myself.

Now like anyone who's struggled with depression, or anxiety, or whatever-this-was, I am well aware that the fog could show up again tomorrow, or next week, or maybe it'll hold off for a year, or maybe just maybe it'll stay gone forever.

But I've enjoyed today. I'm looking forward to many more days. I'm looking forward to getting caught up on a to-do list that desperately needs my attention, and yes, even cleaning my house. I took my girls out to a restaurant and two stores today, and you know what? None of it felt overwhelming. Or stressful. It felt good, and happy, and I enjoyed it.

I don't really know where I'm going with this. Mostly I just wanted to tell someone. So... as always, thanks for checking in!

I can't sleep

So I'm sitting here at 1am* on my 40th birthday and I can't sleep. And now my Netflix isn't working. And my phone is on the charger. But my mind is spinning, spinning, spinning, so... perfect time to blog, right?

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Right now at the top of my mind is an unpleasant topic, at least for me. Have you ever seen a woman with a man, or listened to one of your girlfriends talk about a guy, and you just know they have a crush on him, even if they haven't told you yet?

Yeah. Right now there are two women in our circle who I'm pretty sure have crushes on my husband. Now, I have no flat out evidence, nothing's been outright said (obviously), and no, I don't think anyone has done anything, but... you know that feeling. Not even the gut feeling of the wife, but the feeling when you see your (hopefully single) friend crushing on a (hopefully single) guy and there's just something about the way she talks, or how she is around him that tells you how she feels before she actually tells you how she feels. That. Except instead of being happy & giddy & nervous for her you're kinda ticked off and a little sick to your stomach because she's in your circle and both of you see her regularly and this is a little close to home for your taste. But you kinda have to be nice, or at least cordial, to her, because there is absolutely no evidence that she (or he) has done anything wrong, so for you to just become a complete b**** would be social suicide, and possibly give her reason to feel no regret or guilt over pursuing what is yours, so you're nice. Even though you want to not be nice. And did I mention there are two of them? Ugh!

So... that. That is on my mind a lot lately. And it's not fun.

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The topic second-most in my thoughts lately is someone else in my loop who is, quite frankly, driving me crazy with the way they are twisting Scripture.

Here's the deal: I was raised with certain Christian beliefs. Thru the years and my own journey to know God better I have come to realize that some of those beliefs were not biblical. Thru the years I have gone to churches of varying religious denominations, talked with believers with a multitude of differing views.

And here's the thing. If someone can show me in Scripture why what I have believed might be wrong, I have no problem accepting that I need to either change my beliefs, or dig deeper into the Word and into prayer and figure out what's going on. I have done this more than once. On some issues I now believe completely differently than how I was raised. On other issues digging deeper has done nothing more than to show me how biblically sound my beliefs were to begin with.

But if you can show me in the Word, if it is not only in the Word, but makes sense in the entire context of the passage, in the historical context of the day, in the sociological context, etc. If it all fits and makes sense, then we're good. We are open to considering it.

This person? Ugh. Pulls individual verses out of context constantly. Has been called on this repeatedly by several other believers, including myself, and still does it. When challenged they tend to either change the subject to another verse altogether, change the subject altogether, or shut down the conversation.

For whatever reason, they have come across an idea that they want to hold on to, they have found other likeminded individuals, and have made their minds up. No matter how many Scriptures you show them that contradict what they are saying, no matter how many times you explain that if you put that verse back in the context of the entire passage, then it doesn't really say that at all, if you usual actual historical fact to explain to them why what they are saying is just not factual... doesn't matter. Their mind has been made up and there is no talking to them.

And it frustrates the crap out of me. It bothers me. I have been talking to them and praying for them for months and it seems to be no avail. I just keep trusting that the Word of the Lord will not return void (Isaiah 55:11) and one day they will see the Light. It's just really hard for me to see them going down this path, because I know them. I know how they were raised. I know their parents. For some years we attended the same church. I know that they were raised in biblical Truth. So to see them turn their back on it, and pervert the Word of God and twist His Word... oh, it gets to me, right in the heart. It saddens me, and angers me, and worries me all at the same time.

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Lastly, the thing that's been on my mind is my recovery from vertical sleeve gastrectomy. I was five weeks out yesterday. The number everyone wants to know: I'm down 34 lbs. I've dropped one pants size and am on the verge of dropping another.

I feel better than I have in a long time, and I feel like I'm getting my life back.

I'm still on a restricted diet. I started on clear liquids, then pureed foods, and now I'm on soft foods. I will be on soft foods for another three months.

This topic needs its own post, so for now I will leave it at that.

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Hoping all of you are well! Thanks for checking in!




* I schedule out my posts to be published at 12noon, and have for years. So now ya know.

Tools (or on my OCD tendencies)

** this was originally posted in 2012, but I thought it was good enough to share again. Enjoy! **

First of all, let me be clear that I have never been diagnosed with OCD, nor am I really sure that the tendencies that I have would even be classified as OCD, but that's what I call them, and that's what I've been told by others, so until I get another explanation, there ya go.

I've always enjoyed a good list. To do lists are my forte. At work, I'm known for "the list". At home, I have a chore list, a grocery list, a meal planning calendar, a daycare planning calendar, expense tracking worksheets, and even gift giving lists. All tracked on Excel.

Oh, how I love Microsoft Excel.

They all started innocently enough. Other than the To Do List (which I've used since I was way younger than anyone should use To Do Lists), they all came about after Jena was born, as tools to help me manage what seemed like an overwhelming amount of responsibility.

I love a list. I believe lists can be invaluable tools.

And I've been thinking a lot about tools lately.

You see, a few months ago, on a Friday, I had brought my chore list to work for some reason. When I left that evening, I accidentally left it on my desk. I remembered just as I pulled in the driveway.

And nearly had an anxiety attack.

I mean, how would I know what chores to do if I don't have my list?!? How will I know what needs to be done?!?

My list, it's organized by regular chores & special one-time chores. It's a matrix in order by date-last-completed, so I know exactly how long it's been since I've done what. I check them off as I go. It tells me what to do next.

And here I was, on a weekend where Jason wasn't gonna be home, and I would have all kinds of time to get housework done, and I didn't have my list.

I can't explain to you the kind of panic that set in. I can also tell you that I knew exactly how crazy that sounded. But it didn't change anything. I was completely hobbled without that list. I think I did manage to put one load of laundry in that Friday night, and Saturday morning I took Jena and drove to my office to get the List.

And yes, I knew exactly how crazy that was. But it didn't change the fact that I needed that list.

And I've been thinking about tools ever since.

Okay, not like constantly ever since, but... you get the idea.

And then, a few weeks ago... I did a load of laundry, and didn't check it off on the list. And unlike my usual remember-within-a few-minutes-and-run-to-the-kitchen-to-mark-it-off, I didn't even remember until the next morning.

I can't tell you how big that moment was, when I realized that I wasn't having anxiety over not recording the fact that I did a load of laundry.

Yes, I know exactly how crazy that sounds.

I never did check that load of laundry off.

I did check off the next load. And the next. And various other chores.

But it was different. I felt different.

I felt... like I was on the edge of something big. I was either going to have a breakthrough, or a breakdown. And in those moments, it felt like it could go either way.

Next thing I know, we needed groceries. But I didn't have time to get my grocery list together. You know, put it together in Excel, in order by aisle, look thru my paper coupons & mark the list accordingly, look for online coupons & mark the list accordingly, check the flier for discounts & mark the list accordingly... it takes time, and I hadn't had time to do it yet. But we needed food.

So I went grocery shopping.

Without a grocery list.

Without one single coupon.

Without knowing what was on sale.

There was something liberating about that trip to Kroger.

Like, really, actually freeing.

I felt free.

I was lucky enough to be by myself, and I dawdled in each aisle, perusing items & prices for what my family would want versus what was reasonably priced. It was probably the least draining shopping trip I've ever had. I dare say I felt energized leaving that store.

And I haven't marked a single chore off my chore list ever since.

Now, granted, there are times when I worry that I've missed a chore, when our house is a mess and I think "maybe I really did need that list".

And then I remember that our house was a mess before, and maybe it's a teeny tiny bit messier than before, but... if so, not by enough to really notice.

I can see when the hamper is full and laundry needs to be done. Or the sink is full and dishes need to be done. Or the garbage is full & needs to be taken out.

Mental note: clean the bathroom.

Why? because it needs it

It's not that I didn't see these things before, it's that I was handicapped by the very tools I created to help me. Or rather I was handicapped by my dependence on these lists.

Example? Sure.

Let's say the living room floor is dirty.

my reaction then: "yuck. The floor is dirty. I need to do laundry so we have clothes to wear, and then if I have time, I can probably do one or two more chores. But I can't sweep the floor until I straighten the living room and pick up toys & things. I'll have to see if anything is higher on the list than "straighten the living room" and "sweep floors"."

my reaction now: "yuck. The floor is dirty. I need to do laundry first so we have clothes to wear, but then I should have time to do one or two more chores. Maybe tonight I'll pick up the living room & sweep the floor."

See the difference? Of course you do.

Tools.

I'm thankful for my lists. I think when I started using them, when I was truly overwhelmed, when I was fighting PPD, when I was struggling with so many issues, I needed them. I needed tools to help me handle the everyday tasks that others take for granted.

Tools are great like that. Tools are meant to be used when one is lacking in the ability to complete the task by themselves.

Think about it. I mean, if you could hammer in a nail with your bare hand... would you ever buy a hammer? Probably not. You need the tool.

But somewhere along the way, my tools became my crutch.

I am better now. I am stronger. I am healed.

I am not perfect. Far, far from it. But I am ready to stop depending on my tools, and start depending on myself.

I am free.

Right now, I am not using any of my lists or calendars for home. None of them. I may reinstate one or more of them in the future (after all, I am a little concerned I'll forget to buy laundry detergent on my next grocery trip), but for now... I'm content to toddle into the world, finding my way again, figuring out how I'm gonna do this, how am I gonna manage these tasks. I'm happy to be in a new phase of home management, redefining how I will manage my home. I will make mistakes along the way, I am sure, but I also feel quite confident that in the end I will be doing a better job than I ever was before.

As always, thanks for checking in.

Man! I (don't) Feel Like a Woman

About a week ago, as I made my way to the couch for one of my regular pumping sessions*, Jason jokingly asked if I felt sexy. I answered, seriously, by telling him that not only do I not feel sexy, I don't even feel like a woman.

And it's the truth.

* I am breastfeeding & pumping, but supplementing with formula as my supply is only enough to provide roughly half of Jillian's needed feedings.

The irony is I'm doing what might actually be the most feminine, most womanly thing possible: I carried and then birthed a child, and I'm feeding her from my breast - yet I don't feel feminine at all.

It actually started towards the end of my pregnancy, and hasn't changed yet. I feel like some androgynous lump filling some basic natural need in procreation. Like a machine or something. My gender, my sex seems irrelevant.

I think it probably originated from all of the issues I had with this pregnancy. Not only did I have much higher priorities (ie. the health of my child & myself), but I was horribly uncomfortable during pretty much the entire pregnancy. My body was not my own.

While we still had sex on a fairly regular basis, it wasn't with near the frequency as pre-pregnancy, and quite frankly I don't even remember the last time I enjoyed it. Let me be clear though, that it's thru no fault of my husband's. As previously mentioned, my body was terribly uncomfortable & sometimes painful, my belly was so large so early on that it was difficult to maneuver, and sex was just awkward for me.

I wanted to. My husband was terribly patient and understanding, and to do so was usually my idea. But again, there was no enjoyment for me, and I often felt more like some androgynous being simply filling a purpose.

And while I think it's born out of respect for me, and trying to give me and my body the space it needs to heal, plus the fact that he's been super-busy with his business, the fact is my husband now doesn't seem interested in me at all. Not even a little bit.

Why tell you about my sex life? Because I think it has a direct affect on how I currently feel about my gender identification, or lack thereof.

As did my wardrobe. I know this seems all over the place, but bear with me.

Finding plus size maternity clothes that fit my every-growing gigantic belly was hard enough. Finding clothes that looked cute became near-impossible. My belly grew thru three different sizes of maternity clothes during my pregnancy. Not only was 'cute' hard to find, but our budget couldn't handle much more of these complete wardrobe changes. Nor did I have a lot of time to search near & far for the perfect clothes.

Eventually I stopped trying for clothes that I looked good in, and settled for anything that fit my body, covered all the necessary parts, and bonus if it met my employer's dress code.

Weeks post-partum I still wear maternity clothes the majority of the time. Sometimes paired with one of Jason's shirts. I have so far found one of my pre-pregnancy t-shirts that is large enough for me to wear comfortably. One shirt.

Why tell you about my wardrobe? Because I think my difficulty finding clothes that I felt looked good on me has a direct affect on how I currently feel.

I wish I knew how to explain how I feel. Sure, plenty of times in my life I have felt unattractive, but this goes beyond that. I honestly don't even feel like a woman. Whether or not I am attractive hasn't crossed my mind in months, except for the purpose of working out how I'm feeling about these issues. Which also didn't even cross my mind until recently. It just was what it was.

And so I sit here, bathed in androgyny, waiting for something, someone to help me feel like a woman again. We can work on 'attractive' later. Right now I just want to feel like a woman.

As always thanks for checking in.

Kinda Sucks

Kind of a spinoff of my last post, although it wasn’t intended to be, this one is about the pain of breakups.

When the Ex & I broke up, as painful as it was, the pain that was totally unexpected was how it altered, and eventually (pretty much) ended the relationship I had with his family, and he with mine. It also altered our relationships with various friends.

It seems that most people (friends anyway) feel this need to pick sides. As if they can no longer be friends with both of us. So I became estranged from friends who chose him. And was pleasantly surprised when some friends I thought would choose to remain closer to the Ex, instead chose to stand by my side.

Honestly, guys, I would have been fine if you’d stayed friends with both of us, it would have been okay.

There are a few who managed that balance. But for the most part it seemed as if lines were drawn.

I think that’s something that most people don’t think about when a significant relationship is ending.

Two members of our family have recently gone thru / are going thru breakups of varying degrees. As painful as  I know the experience is for them, I’m also having a pity party for myself.

Because I’m losing two “in-laws” that I love dearly, whom I connect with, whom I don’t want to lose touch with.

But whom I also realize I probably will see less and less (if at all) as the years go by.

And I feel confident in saying that they feel the same way. They aren’t just losing their partner, they are also losing part of their family.

In one way, it’s beautiful how one relationship can branch out and flower into multiple close friendships & relationships. But when that relationship dies, it’s painful how the branches & flowers of extended relationships die with it.

Kinda sucks.

As always, thanks for checking in.

Putting it out there

Once upon a time I had a college sweetheart whom I was with for four years.

Once upon a time we broke up. Long story short, I’ve come to realize it’s because both of us were young & stupid. Mostly. And mostly me.

Once upon a time I loved Tom’s* family as my own. His mom & dad were like a second mom & dad to me. I loved his brother and sister-in-law, and their three kids. Family.

But then we broke up.

I kept in touch with his family for years after. In my mind, I saw no reason to end that relationship, just because my romantic relationship with him had ended.

I saw them several times a year. Usually in the Summer & Fall. And always at Christmas. We sent cards, exchanged cookies, had dinner. He never came, his parents always did. Sometimes my parents would join us.

And then we didn’t.

One Christmas I was moving out of my apartment, busting my butt to try to get everything packed & moved and the apartment cleaned all while navigating the normal holiday busy-ness. I was swamped, and so I politely declined the invitation.

As the next year approached, I didn’t see them during the Summer as usual. And I didn’t force it, or push the issue, even though I missed them terribly.

I chose to let my relationship with his family end, based on two reasons, both of which were directly tied to my new relationship with Jason:

1) I didn’t want to ever give Jason a reason to worry, or to think there was anything going on with my ex.

There wasn’t. Never was since the breakup. But I understand that me seeing his family regularly is a little… odd, and from experience I know that it’s easily misinterpreted. I wanted my new relationship to succeed, and wanted to stay away from any appearance of me not being over the past.

2) With Jason’s ex-wife still butting her head in the picture at that time (phone calls, texts, invitations to dinner, etc) I realized how I was probably making my ex’s then girlfriend (now wife) feel.

And it’s not a good feeling. That was never my intention, and I didn’t want her to feel the way I did when Jason’s XW came around.

And so I let my relationship with the family fall by the wayside.

But I still think about each of them regularly. Kay* & Frank*, my second mom & dad. Ed* & Cathy, their kids, Laurie, Kate*, & Carl*. I even think about Ed & Cathy’s dogs. Truth. I wonder how they all are doing, what they’re up to.

I wonder if they think of me.

I also carry a lot of guilt.

You see, Frank, someone who for so long was like a dad to me, passed away last year. Maybe you remember this post.

I wonder if he knows that I still loved him like family. That I still thought of him often, that I never really wanted to stop seeing everyone.

And so for the past year I have been carrying this guilt. I have contemplated contacting the rest of the family on numerous occasions, particularly Kay.

But… first I think I need to ask my husband’s permission, to avoid any issues. And how do you ask that question? Hey, you know my college sweetheart? I’d like to contact his mom.

And if he says okay, how do you start that conversation? Hey, I know we haven’t talked in seven years, but I really miss you? Awkward.

Oh, and because of other things that have been said in the past, I am 99% sure if I contacted the family this would totally piss off my ex’s wife. So there’s that to consider.

But at the same time, how do I not? Knowing, having seen firsthand, that we don’t have forever. Knowing that Frank died without me ever telling him how sorry I was that we lost touch. How can I not let the rest of them know what they mean to me?

So there’s really no point to this post. I’ve just been carrying around a lot of emotion surrounding this situation, especially for the past year. And I just wanted to get it out. Put it into the universe. So there it is.

As always, thanks for checking in.

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Names changed to protect the innocent. Or just the mentioned.

Words & Answers

Listening: to Strawberry Shortcake on Netflix

Eating: chicken wrap

Drinking: water

Wearing: frilly blouse, skinny slacks, boots

Feeling: tired

Weather: beautiful, unexpected, snow

Wanting: time, money, & skill to finish a few projects around the house

Needing: nothing at the moment

Thinking: about next week - what needs to be done, what wants to be done, how to work things around to manage

Enjoying: leading our small group. I generally feel completely incompetent in re: leading the course, but we have a great group and I enjoy the discussions each week.

Loving: my family

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this post inspired by this post

Surroundings

I keep thinking about my previous post, and the related one following, and my thoughts have led me to the topic of the people with whom we surround ourselves.

It seems like something that most people don't put conscious effort into, yet maybe we should. Because the truth is that the people who surround us do have a direct effect on us personally.

If we spend enough time with someone, they often rub off on us, good or bad.

And of course there's the obvious fact that everything we do affects others, so it is even moreso for those with whom we spend large amounts of time.

I keep thinking about my first post, and I do think it's straw-that-broke-the-camel's-back sort of thing. After nine years of not "fitting in", it was just too much. I broke (I'm better now, no longer irritated by it at all, thanks for asking :)

And isn't this true of everyone we allow into our lives? Sometimes they break us.

The friend that just takes too much energy to be around, eventually gets to be too much - a drain.
The relative that constantly complains, is repeatedly negative, never anything good to say - a downer.
The spouse that betrays our trust - a heart breaker.

Eventually, we break. The more we've let them in, the more broken we are.

Likewise, there are those who lift us up.

The friend who quietly trudges along in her workouts, and her body transformation comes to mind every time we drag ourselves to get some more exercise - an inspiration.
The relative who always has a kind word, is always happy to hear from us, no matter what - a solace
The same spouse, who does tasks that we don't - a helper.

Can we avoid being influenced by those around us? No, I really don't think so.

But we can guard our hearts and our minds. We can be aware of how others influence us.

We can gently speak to those who upset us, trying to ease the burden of being with them. We can choose to back away from relationships which repeatedly drag us down.
We can be appreciative of those who influence us for the better. We can choose to spend time & effort building up relationships which leave us feeling lifted.

But maybe more importantly, we can look inward. We can examine our selves, our lives, and make a conscious effort to be an uplifting, encouraging, positive influence on those around us. We can be someone's refuge, someone's joy, someone's friend. We can be the good influence on the world.

And isn't that what we all should try to be anyway?

Inside the Mind of Depression

This article articulates so well what I have been unable to. The following paragraph particularly speaks to me, and my past experience with depression.

"Everything is irritating. Work is boring and unbearable. Any activity takes many times more effort, as if every movement requires displacing quicksand to make it. What was challenging feels overwhelming; what was sad feels unbearable; what felt joyful feels pleasureless—or, at best, a fleeting drop of pleasure in an ocean of pain."

Read full article here.

Everything was irritating - yep

Work was boring & unbearable - I myself struggled to understand why a job I once loved suddenly became so dreadful. In tears, can barely force myself to go dreadful

Any activity took many times more effort - oh my goodness, yes

What was previously challenging felt overwhelming - can I get a witness?

What was previously sad felt unbearable - check

What previously felt joyful felt pleasureless - numb was more like it

It is only with the hindsight of healing that I can look back on the 2+ years I spent under the cloud of depression that I can see how the depression itself colored my world.

Exacerbating Discontent

So my earlier post reminded me of something that had been on my mind before.

The part about how I work in a culture where the vast majority of the wives (because I work with primarily men) are SAHMs / housewives.

There have been times in the past when I was lamenting about having to work (particularly when I was struggling thru my depression), when it did occur to me that what if part of the reason I was unhappy in my situation had more to do with the people I was surrounded with, than with my actual situation.

Does that make sense?

Because for 40 hours a week I am surrounded by men who do not seem to comprehend the idea of a wife  (especially a mom) working because her family needs her income.

Now, if I were a high-powered career woman, maybe. There are a very few men here who are married to executives at other companies, doctors, lawyers, etc.

But a "low" paying (it's decent pay, but I'm saying from their perspective) job, not a career? Unheard of.

They simply do not comprehend the struggles of a working mom. They can't. Not only are they not working moms, their spouses aren't either.

These are people who have SAHMs who put their kids in daycare and have a cleaning lady.

The idea of a mom who works full time outside the home, is the primary caregiver of the children, and who handles the household chores is not in their realms of comprehension.

Oh, they know it, as in they know it on the surface. But they have no real understanding of it.

I've been told that leaving to pick up Jena from daycare (because I refuse to leave her there for 10 hours on a regular basis) was at first perceived to be a lack of dedication to my job. Until I explained it to them.

I don't have a spouse or paid nanny to pick up my child. Leaving work after putting in a full day is what I have to do, it's part of my life. I'm not lacking in dedication to my job, I just have a stronger dedication to my child.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I've sometimes wondered if I instead worked with a group that was primarily working moms, would my outlook be different? Would I feel more support, and therefore be happier with my situation myself?

In the end, while I don't think you can fully explain my dissatisfaction at working FT outside the home by the co-workers I am surrounded with, I do think it's an environment that exacerbates existing discontent.

What do you think?

I'm Mad at a Luxury Vehicle

I'm in a funk. Actually, I'm really irritated about something. Something stupid. But I haven't been able to shake it, so I'm writing about it here in hopes to get it out of my system.

One of my co-workers bought a new Lexus. And it ticks me off.

For no reason at all. I mean, why should I be in a funk because someone else bought a car? Makes no sense, right? Exactly! That's why I have to get it out my system. Hence, the writing.

This is not an unusual development. Stuff like this happens all the time. So maybe it's just a straw-broke-the-camel's-back sort of thing.

For the past nine years, I've worked with people who make (in my perspective) a lot of money. Co-workers just one level above me make about what Jason & I make combined. And it increases the higher on the totem pole you get. Understandably.

And since I work with a lot of men, this means that with few exceptions, their wives are all stay-at-home-moms. Most of them live in nice houses in nice subdivisions and drive nice cars. They wear name brand clothing (Polo Ralph Lauren seems to be the brand of choice). They go on vacations that are on my "dream" list. With few exception they all belong to a gym. The children attend private schools and take dance / gymnastic / karate classes at expensive private studios. Many of them have cleaning ladies that come weekly. Because I am friends with several of the wives, I know that they shop for... whatever... pretty much whenever they feel like it, with little worry for the budget. They buy ridiculously expensive dogs from "breeders". They pay for doggy day care. The list goes on & on.

And for the first time, possibly in my life, this bothers me (see camel-back reference above). I don't know why it bothers me, I can't even tell you how it bothers me. I wouldn't classify it as jealousy (the obvious answer), or resentment, or... anything but just being irritable about the whole thing.

I have worked with these people for nine years. I like them. We are friends. Some of them I consider almost as extended family. I know their wives & children. We hang out. They are nice to me.

But when I pulled up to my co-worker's house, and saw the brand new Lexus SUV sitting there, it pissed me off. I knew he was trading in his vehicle. I kind of assumed maybe for a minivan, since they recently had another child. But a luxury SUV?

I think in a way it's a feeling of being left out. Maybe.

Because in my group, in the 50 people sitting nearest to me, I am the only one not at this financial level. Sometimes it feels like an exclusive club to which I will never belong.

I don't want to come across like I'm whining, although maybe I am. It's just... like I said it's like they all belong to this club that I just can't get into. When it comes to anything financially speaking, we just can't relate to one another. Nine years later, this is one area that we cannot connect thru.

At best, I stand there and smile during their conversations, pretending like I know what it's like to have problems like "having" to replace all the furniture in your house because you moved into your brand new custom built giant house and now nothing "goes".

At worst, I've actually manage to end conversations by saying things like how we altered travel plans because of the high gas prices. Why? Because this would never occur to them. And now they feel bad. And then I feel bad for making them feel bad. And... insert awkward silence until someone has the presence of mind to change the subject.

And I don't want it to seem like I think they don't deserve it, or anything. I am not a punish-the-rich type of gal. I'm happy for them. I'm glad that they have that type of financial freedom. I know them personally, so I know that they've worked for it. Hard. They've gone thru add'l schooling, all of them have bachelor's degrees, many of them have their masters. They put in long hours. They spend numerous nights away from their families. They have earned every dime.

I just... I just feel like an outsider whenever these things come up, and I'm tired of it, and Jason & I work hard too, and maybe I want to buy a luxury vehicle without sacrificing our mortgage payment or not have to argue about whether or not we can afford the YMCA or maybe I freakin' wanna be able to buy one stinkin' outfit without worrying that I'm busting our budget!

I'm sorry. This is such a long & rambling post. Maybe I thought about deleting it. Maybe I decided I won't because surely someone else out there can relate. Maybe I think everyone can relate at some point in time, not necessarily about the money issue, but about another way they feel like an outsider and they can't break thru and it just gets to be too much.

So that's my long rambling post about being mad at a luxury vehicle. Thanks for checking in.

Today is the hardest

Dear Friend;

It has been hard. So hard. I know. As much as I can know, I know.

But if my family's experience at the loss of my father-in-law is any indication, today will be the hardest day.

Today will be long. The visitation, while healing in its own right, is also grueling. Too many hours, too many people, too much standing, not enough water, need-to-pee grueling.

Too many tears, too many hugs, too many loved ones you won't remember tomorrow grueling.

I imagine you awoke early, making final preparations, rushing last minute items to the funeral home, spending a last few moments alone together as a family, getting ready, paying your own respects, before the public arrives.

It will be a long day. A very long day.

And at times it will feel like you can't take anymore, can't hug one more person, can't be there anymore.

And at other times it will feel numb, like your father isn't lying behind you in a casket.  You will shake hands, and hug people while they are crying, and for a few moments you will feel nothing.

And then a glance to your dad, or catching eyes with someone across the room, or a brief clip of music catches your ear, and the tears will come again.

It will be a very long day.

But there is tomorrow.

Tomorrow you will have the funeral service. Tomorrow you will bury your dad.

It will be quieter. Fewer people. More private. There will be time for you to speak, to say your peace, to say your good-byes.

It will still be hard, but unlike the grueling nature of today, there is peace in the quiet of tomorrow's ceremony. There is a strange sort of peace at the finality of it.

And the next day... the next day, for the first time in a long time, you will be able to breathe.

Oh, don't get me wrong. It still hurts. I wish I could tell you it gets better, it gets easier. But it doesn't. You just become used to it and learn how to move on.

But the day after next, you will be able to breathe. Finally. You may not realize it at first, but it's there, the breath in space now unknown to you.

You will move on. You will get down to business. Helping your mom navigate life insurance policies, and joint accounts, and wills. It will hurt, badly at times, but you will begin moving on.

And months from  now, maybe even years from now, there will still be times when you are overcome with emotion, when you miss your dad, when it hits you once again. There will still be days when you succumb to the tears.

But today, today is the hardest. I promise.

You can do this. You can get thru today. And then, you can find a bit of peace tomorrow, and then... then, you can breathe.

You are on my heart today, and I am praying God holds you tightly, that you feel His presence in your time of need.

God bless you.

One Word

Last year, when I was deciding on my word for 2012, I decided on "hope".

It was a good word. It was a fitting word.

Indeed, 2012 was full of hope.

However, at the end of the year, I'm gonna choose another word to describe 2012. I started the year with hope. I ended it as a year of rebirth.

In so many ways, 2012 has been a year of rebirth. And as any mother knows, birth is not always easy.

There were the major events:

- my father-in-law passed away, leaving behind his earthly body and being reborn into his heavenly body

- my nephew nearly died, and since has left behind his old ways, and has been reborn into a new reality

- a dear friend passed away, leaving behind his earthly body and being reborn into his heavenly body

and personally, for me, I feel reborn, new, ready to face the new life ahead of me.

And so for 2013 I choose the word growth.


I look forward to continued growth in many areas. Growing in my service to the Lord and to the community. Growing in our marriage. Growing in my career. And maybe, just maybe, growing our family.

In every area of my life, I look for, and choose to strive for growth.

What word did you choose?

Second Chances

This is something that's been stirring around in my brain for a while. Time for it to come out.

Ya'll remember my nephew, right? (short version - overdosed on drugs, almost died, medical miracle)

For more details read here & here for the short-story explanations.

Let me preface this by saying that I already said that I don't know why God spared him. And maybe more importantly, why God doesn't spare others. (crap, I swear I already blogged on this, but now I can't find the post. If I do, I'll insert it here).

Anyway, there are some things that happened surrounding my nephew's incident that left me (us) troubled.

Like... people from my sister's and BIL's church, which they were very active in, people they were close to, shunning them after they heard about their son's overdose.

Like... when I initially went forward at my church to pray for my nephew, and the "prayer partner" there stared at me and stumbled thru a prayer that seemed anything but sincere (thank God my pastor didn't act this way or I might not go there anymore).

Like... my nephew's doctors seeming to try to rush his parents into deciding to pull the plug. From the beginning I felt like he was getting less-than-stellar treatment because of why he was in that condition.

Like... other people. Random people. Friends reacting to the news of his condition with a well-he-did-it-to-himself laissez-faire attitude.

This all bothers me.

And not just because it's my nephew.

Did he make a mistake? Yes. A huge one. There's no denying that. He admits it himself.

Do we all make mistakes? Yes. Sometimes little ones. Sometimes big ones. But we all do.

Does he deserve to be dismissed, written-off, uncared for, left-to-die, because of his mistake? Does his family deserve to be shunned because of a mistake their son made?

Not unless we all deserve it too.

Everyone messes up. Some bigger than others. Or maybe it's that we all mess up the same, just in different ways. Some are obvious (ie. drug overdose that almost kills you), some are not so obvious (IDK... that's why they're not obvious, I suppose).

But the thing is that we all screw up at one time or another. We all do. And while I can't change how other people react to mistakes, I can do this:

I can not judge people by one mistake in their past.
I can not treat people differently because they made a mistake that I didn't make.
I can love everyone to the best of my ability.
I can show others the grace that I have been shown. Or that I wish I had been shown.
I can support people thru their mistakes, and thru the consequences of their actions, whether society judges them or not (because there are always consequences).

I can try to do all these things and more. Maybe I will succeed. Maybe sometimes I will slip. I am human after all. But I can try to make the world a better place, one second chance at a time.

**********************

For anyone who's interested, my nephew is doing well. To the best of our knowledge, including those who live with him, he has not taken any illegal substances since returning home. My understanding is that he is unable to work (ie. not released by his doctors to work), but is currently attending a local community college (I don't know why school is okay, but not work - ask his doctors). He really seems to be trying to make a better life for himself, and understands the gravity of what happened. As much as he can, since he doesn't remember any of it. His memory of the incident goes from feeling sick, then jumps to doing physical therapy in the hospital. Everything in-between is lost to brain damage. You can see a renewed interest in family, as he has attended more family functions in the past few months than he has in the past 2 years combined.

Physically / medically speaking, he is severely hard-of-hearing. He hates to admit it, but it's obvious that he's getting most of what is being said from reading lips. The hearing loss is considered permanent, and hearing aids do not help, as the loss is due to brain damage, not an ear problem.
His brain damage is still considered severe, and permanent. He has been warned that one head injury could kill him. So when he stumbled down some stairs and bumped his head, what would have been a no-biggie to the rest of us, landed him in the hospital for some testing (he's fine).

And... I think that's it. For now. As always, thanks for checking in.

Overwhelmed

I have been feeling quite overwhelmed lately.

Not just busy, but... sinking beneath everything kind of overwhelmed.

Work is insane right now. Instead of my normal 40 different hats to wear, now I have around 60. Every day is a struggle to juggle it all, and I'm barely scraping by. At this moment I'm still managing to accomplish the needed, must-do tasks, but barely. And I can't shake the feeling that I'm always forgetting something.

With the holidays coming up, our lives have been jam-packed with event after event, plus there's shopping & wrapping & cooking & card sending & decorating to get done as well.

Our home looks like a disaster area. Only a slight exaggeration. I'm staying up late & getting up early. Averaging maybe 5 1/2 hours a sleep a night. And still barely managing to keep on top of the necessities (laundry, dishes, groceries).

I know my lack of sleep is probably contributing to this feeling of being beaten, but at the same time I don't see how getting more sleep and getting even less accomplished is going to help anything.

Besides all the things to do, all the stuff, I have a lot of praying to do. Join me?

My dad had surgery on his back.
Surgery & recovery are going well.
However, they still cannot watch Jena. Which means that for the past few Friday's we've had to make alternate arrangements.

My brother had surgery on his adenoids, throat, etc. (severe sleep apnea).
Recovery is not going well. Not sure of all the details, but he still cannot swallow. Everything he tries to take in, comes out his nose. Apparently this is normal for a day or two past surgery. We're on Day 5. He has also ended up in the ER once because he tried to swallow his liquid pain medication, choked, ended up coughing & gagging, and... he coughed up two of his stiches.

My uncle has been diagnosed with lymphoma.He started chemo yesterday. Eight hours.
They've also done some biopsies because they think it may have metastisized to his pancreas & bones.

My great uncle has been diagnosed with cancer.He has decided to forego traditional Western treatment and is using some alternative treatments to ease his discomfort.

A very dear friend, like family really, has been diagnosed with colon cancer.It has spread to his liver. So far treatments have not changed his condition or prognosis. But he is persisting. For now.

Jason's grandmother is very ill.She has been in & out of the hospital for the past few months. I don't know all the details, but I do know her last hospitilization was for a severe kidney infection. She was on IV antibiotics for four days, and was released to a rehab facility. As of right now, doctors will not release her to her home.
This may force her into a nursing home. Which, quite frankly, is what she needs. Her health has deteriorated and she really needs 24/7 medical care. Two of her daughters (including MIL) have been trying to take care of her, going to her home daily, administering medication, fixing meals, and taking blood pressure & blood sugar readings. But they still get phone calls during the day, during the night, whenever her illness strikes again, and they're back at the hospital. I really believe it is in her best interest to be in a home, but she is very adament that she does not want to go, and her daughters I think feel guilty about it, so aren't pushing the issue.

Each & every one of those weighs heavy on my mind & heart daily.

This is also our first holiday season without my father-in-law. I'm sure there will be some tears, but we'll get thru it okay. My mother-in-law? Not so optimistic.

So we are walking on eggshells (did we every stop?), answering her calls for help, trying to just be there for her. I'm not gonna lie, we could do better in this area. But I also couldn't tell you where we'd find the time either.

And while part of me says this is all just life, get over it, it happens, I also find myself feeling so very overpowered by it all. Sinking. Stressed out. Scattered. Unfocused.

And unable to pull myself out of the pile.

I also find myself wondering why.

I don't recall ever feeling so overwhelmed in the past. Even when life crashed down around me, this sense of losing control was never there.

I know that statistically, women who have PPD or other Post-Partum mental disorders are more likely to develop other mental illnesses in their lives.

I find myself wondering if this is me. If the reason I feel so steamrolled by life has less to do with how much is going on in right now, and more to do with my mind's ability to handle it all. Anymore.

Is this just life for me now? Will I become more easily overwhelmed by life as time goes on? Am I destined to become scattered & unfocused & overcome at the first sign of difficulty? Is that who I have become?

Maybe more importantly, is that who I have to be? Is there a way out? I certainly haven't found it yet. Is there even one to be found?

******************************

I feel like this post is a bit... detached. Several topics not quite meshing together the way I'd like. But I've been holding on to it for several days, and keep re-reading it, and am not finding the way to make it all flow a bit better, so... here ya go. As always, thanks for checking in!

There are no winners here

source

There are no words.

At the same time, there is something to say.

What do you say when there are no words?

***********************************

When I heard the news, I cried. Then I wanted to get my Jena, before realizing my parents were watching her yesterday. Safe, visiting a Christmas display in Cincinnati, they may not even know the  news. I refrained from calling. No need to destroy their afternoon.

My mind wandered to the children. A freakin' KINDERGARTEN classroom, for pete's sake. Four- and five- year olds. WHY?!?

And then I realize, there is no reason. There cannot be any reason. I've heard people mention insanity. Mental Illness. Demon possession. And I understand why. Because there cannot be any reason for anyone to do this. Ever.

I pictured Jena's preschool. Thank goodness her classroom is towards the end of the hallway. Thank goodness for security measures taken at the school. And then I feel guilty for being glad her class isn't at the front of the school. Because what about those kids? And I also realize that Sandy Hook Elementary had security measures in place as well. Similar to many schools. And I realize that if someone wants to commit that kind of carnage, there is little that a security system will do to stop them.

I thought about the teachers at Sandy Hook. Those brave teachers and administrators, doing what they could to protect the children. We don't give our teachers enough credit for the work they do, but rarely do we also realize what they would do, should tragedy strike. Thank your child's teacher next time you see them.

And then I dared to think about the parents. The panicked parents. I cannot truly grasp the kind of terror that must have gripped each and every parent as they rushed to their babies. A terror that is either relieved when your child is in your arms, and immediately replaced with survivors' guilt, or is replaced by a grief no person should ever experience. There are no winners here.

And the children. The poor, terrified children. To think that the last few moments of your child's life were filled with such horror... and then the surviving students. What an impact this will have on their lives. Their view of school, of humanity in general, forever changed by this day.

Now to the first responders: police, SWAT, fire, EMTs/medics, probably more. I imagine my own Jason responding to the scene. I have to think it would change him, maybe forever. There will be some that will not return to this career. They all will forever carry those heinous images in their minds. Thank a first responder at your next opportunity. They do what the rest of us could or would not. They go in when the rest of us are trying desperately to get out.

Lastly, my mind turns to the shooter. I cannot rejoice at a life lost, any life lost. But I can be grateful that he cannot do it again. His family must be devastated. To deal with the grief of losing mother & son in one day is difficult enough, but to deal with it in this fashion, facing interrogations, media speculations, public scrutiny, all while trying to make sense of it yourself... I cannot imagine how difficult this is for them.

Last night Jena got a little bit spoiled. She doesn't know it, doesn't know why. In exchange for doing one tiny little chore she should have done anyway, I let her stay up "as late as Mommy". I let her play on the computer for hours. And then I let her sleep in my bed. Three things I never let her do. As much for me as it was for her.

Tonight we will take her to see the Elves at a local Christmas display. We will have dinner with family, then enjoy a little holiday spirit. I will do my best to pretend nothing bad happened. Not because I have become "desensitized to violence", as one of my friends suggested of anyone who moves on quickly from such a day, but I will do it for my child. At four years old my daughter has no need to know what happened today. And so I will go thru the next few days as if nothing happened, as if nothing is wrong, as if my mind weren't wandering to that horrific incident time and time again. I will hold back the tears as best I can. I will be forever grateful for my daughter.

And should she overhear anything, from anyone, about what happened, I pray that God would give me the words.

****************************

Dear God,

Lord, we come to You today and ask that You be with the people of Newtown. We ask that You comfort all those directly and indirectly involved with the shooting. We don't understand why these things happen, nor how anyone could ever be comforted in such tragedy, but we do trust in You to do the impossible. Hold them close in their time of need.
Lord I also ask that You guide all of our minds, especially those in law enforcement and education, to find in this a way to protect our children in the future. Let this be used as a learning experience, let some tiny bit of good come from this.
Father, there are not enough words, not the right words, to express what we are all feeling, even thinking. But You know our minds and our hearts. Hear our unspoken.

Amen

Holidays as an Introvert

One of the simplest explanations for the difference between introverts & extroverts I've ever heard is that while being around people energizes the extrovert, it stresses & drains the introvert. And vice versa.

A bit simplistic description, but it's the one that resonates the most for me, helping to underestand the difference between my husband (extrovert) and I (introvert).

Over the next eight days, we have seven holiday get-togethers, one volunteer activity, and one class. In the next 13 days, we have 18 different activities scheduled.

This rolls right off of Jason's back. He knows we'll be busy, but no biggie. In fact, though he won't say it, I think he loves it.

The mere thought of it stresses me. Not the busyness. I can handle busy. The thought of all those social interactions, one after another, with no rest or alone time in sight.I know it will stress me.

I also know it will stress my daughter (also an introvert).

Over the past four years I've learned that to keep Jena on a happy balance, I need to watch how much we do outside the home. She needs time at home. She needs time in her room. She needs her "rest time / quiet play". Her alone time. If we have too much going on she becomes easily agitated and extra whiny until she gets that time.

And so I've learned to watch our schedule. Tonight we will eat out and rush her to gymnastics class. So tomorrow we will eat in and have no plans. An every-other-day schedule, when I can manage it, seems to work well. Gets Jason out of the house enough to keep him energized and focused, gets Jena back in the house enough for her to re-energize. And keeps me sane as well.

The holidays make that type of schedule incredibly difficult.

It makes me wonder if extroverts are just naturally happier around the holidays than introverts. The extra parties and family gatherings, all these social events... they nourish the extrovert personality. But they also drain the introvert. The holidays, at least in our society, seem to be built for the extrovert.

But then again, so many things in our society are, aren't they?

Put on your big girl panties and deal with it

Remember when I vented about how my upper management needed to rip off the bandaid? Well, I eventually did express my thoughts to them. Even made a few suggestions about how to go about it.

But did they listen to me?

Noooooooooo.

And guess what happened this morning during mandatory division-wide training?

It blew up.

You know when managers start arguing loudly with each other in front of the entire division, things aren't going to go well.

Blah, blah, blah. It basically comes down to a bunch of whining. Emotion. My feelings are hurt. You aren't doing things the way I'd like.

I've been listening to it since February, from every side, every angle, and every level (I'm one of those people that other people feel they can talk to and trust - which I am - so tend to hear everything). And quite frankly, I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of hearing it. I'm sick of Group #1 whining that we do everything Group #2's way. Which is funny, because Group #2 is venting about the same thing. I'm tired of one group complaining that they have no input into the division-wide training, when members from their group make up 50% of the Training Committee, and nearly 2/3 of the presenters have been form their group. I'm tired of it. I'm sick of it.

The perception of each group is that they aren't being heard.
The perception of each group is that the other group is being favored.

The reality is that both groups are being heard.
The reality is that both groups have to give up things for the merger to work.

The truth is our management team has been put in an incredibly difficult position.
And the truth is that even though we have some fantastic managers, right now no one is emerging as a leader.

And right now we need a leader.

Over six months later, and people still aren't sure about their jobs, are uncertain about the division's future direction. Over six months later, and people are still quibbling about stupid stuff.

We need someone to stand up, take the reins, communicate a clear direction to the entire team, and then sit everyone down and say something to the effect of:

"We are not Group #1. We are not Group #2.
We are a new organization, Group A.

Those are the facts. They aren't changing. We all will have to make compromises to make this organization into the strong, influential place in the company in which we rightfully belong.

We are Group A. Period.

Now put on your big girl panties and deal with it."

And the longer upper mangement puts off taking that determined lead, the longer our group is going to flounder. And the more public flare ups we're going to experience.

The point of me posting this is to say this:

If you're in a leadership position - be it in a company, community organization, or the like - then lead. You are going to upset people. Maybe a lot of people. You will not please everyone.

If you're considering a leadership position, before you accept it ask yourself this question: is it more important for me to be liked, or for me to be respected? Because if it's more important for you to be liked, then either you will not succeed as a leader, or you will be miserable at it.

Perspective

I've been thinking a lot about perspective lately. Specifically how one's perspective on something greatly helps to shape their thoughts, feelings, and reactions to that something.

*******************

First, in relation to work. Maybe you remember my post asking my co-workers to stop whining. In that post I explain that everyone feels like they are getting a raw deal. And maybe some are. But from what I can see, what makes them feel this way is less what is actually going on, and more their perspective on what has occurred.

Because most of our upper management came from Group B, Group A feels like the org change has been a "takeover". From Group A members I've heard repeatedly "why do we have to do everything the way Group B did it?"

At the exact same time, our mgmt has taken pains to try to make Group A feel included, I've been in the meetings where they refused to change something just to not offend Group A. These actions lead to me hearing from Group B members "why do we have to do everything the way Group A did it?"

If it weren't so annoying, it's kinda funny. Members of both groups feel like "everything" is being done the way the other group did it, and their ways of doing things are being tossed aside.

*******************

Next, in relation to the SAHM vs Working Mom thing. I'm sure my last post on the subject may have ruffled a few feathers. I even debated not posting it, for that reason. But it's my blog, and it articulates well how I feel, so I kept it.

But I kept asking myself why it bothered me so much. And I finally realized. I feel like it's lopsided.

From my perspective - what I see, hear, and deal with on a daily basis - SAHMs get more support than working moms. That's what it boils down to. I'm hurt, upset, and a little angry that working moms aren't given the same support & respect for the job they do as moms.

I hear SAHMs complain about how busy they are, how much work they have to do, how their houses are messy and they can't find the time to get anything done - and I hear others telling them that oh, yes, you do hard work, it is hard to stay home, you do do a lot of work, no one can expect you to keep a clean house all the time because of everything else you have to do, can I babysit for you sometime so you can get something done / have some time to yourself.

I've heard it verbally, I see it posted on someone's wall or on a mommy message board probably weekly.

At the same time, if I say something about how busy I am, my house isn't clean, I can't find time to cook, or grocery shop, etc.... well, from my perspective instead of understanding and support, I get told (nicely or not so nicely) that I need to manage my time better.

I mean, if only I managed my time better, I would be better at meal planning, and could pre-cook all of my meals on Sunday to be re-heated during the week, I could cook more.

If only I managed my time better, I could follow FlyLady or Organized Home or Martha Stewart and my house would be clean.

If only I managed my time better, I could clip coupons and maintain a good grocery list, and zip thru the grocery store in no time, and still spend less money.

Oddly enough, I get more criticism from fellow working moms, and the understanding I do get usually comes from SAHMs.  Honestly, I would think it would be the other way around.

At the same time that my perspective tells me SAHMs get more understanding & support than WMs, I also acknowledge the perspective of a lot of SAHMs feel exactly the opposite. And maybe if all of us could somehow take a step back and see things from a completely objective third-party position, then maybe all of our insecurities, and hard feelings, and emotional ickiness would just fall away.

*******************

Those are just two issues, but this idea of perspective has infiltrated my thoughts on nearly every topic over the past few weeks. From Entitlement, to Presidential Debates, to Volunteer Work, to Religion, to Infertility, and so much more... perspective.

Gratitude

Kinda random, but tonight as I was putting away the dishes, and lamenting how I hate putting the dishes away, and how I would rather wash 3 loads of dishes, than put away 1, it dawned on me...

We have food. Not only do we have food, we have enough food that FireMan & I are both overweight. Not only that, we have nice dishes to put them on.

The dishes. Nothing fancy, but nice. Not as nice as others, but... there are others who don't have food, let alone dishes.

Perspective.