69 Days.
I just counted them. Exactly 69 days of summer vacation.
A wild idea hit me as I realized today is officially the last day of school... Well it was more like a "what if?" rather than a full blown idea, actually. What if I finished my novel and what if I shed those annoying 28 pounds by the end of summer vacation on September 5 when school begins?
I know it's insane. Advertiser's like to paint summer as a time of relaxation- lounging by the pool, sipping lemonade on the swing porch or reading novels on the beach. Who are these advertisers? Obviously none of these people have been home or on vacation with children who lack any understanding of the concept of relaxation. Summer vacation, no matter how much you love your children, especially if you are home with them, can be as relaxing as preparing for root canal.
So why would I choose this particularly busy period of time to take care of two massive goals I've been spending years trying to accomplish?
Because I relish taking on ridiculous challenges. Because I think this time it will happen. Because... because... because this time I feel like I can do it. I can feel the spark of motivation. It's the same spark I felt when I declared I would run the NYC Marathon. At the time the idea was beyond ridiculous. I had never even run an entire mile. But that spark ignited and suddenly I was waking up at dawn to run. And that spark led me to cross the finish line of the 1997 NYC Marathon.
The spark has been ignited. Time to GO!
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Facing Down the To-Do List as Part of A Year Project
I love lists. I love the idea of lists. I love their order and formality. I love their optimism; it takes much strength to believe order can be forced from chaos. But lists can often be a doubled-edged sword. On the one hand they can help to organize but on the other they can overwhelm. Unfortunately my relationship with my to-do list has been a perfect manifestation of this duality.
I start out with the best of intentions. The cacophony of demands needing my immediate attention threatens to deafen me. I attempt to silence these demands by starting a list- simple. I think about the most important demand of that day and then list them accordingly. It starts off small but then before I know it the list has grown to two or more pages.
Now see this is where delusion enters the picture. I'm the product of 80's culture that indoctrinated me into believing I am a SuperWoman. I can do it all- "I can bring home the bacon, fry it up and in the pan" kind of thinking. So I look at his multi-page list and think if I just move fast enough I can get it all done.
And I make a great start... I might actually make it to 10 or 15 things marked off of the lists but the costs exacted for these accomplishments is too high. I'm exhausted. I race around like a blur. I try and continue the list the next day, trying to achieve even more "Mission Accomplished" success but it's impossible because more has been added and I see no end to the exhaustion and the frenzy of activity. Then I crash and burn and enter I period where I get things done in a random haphazard manner.
Today, I'm bringing back the "New User-Friendly" To-Do List. It has a reasonable limit of 5 things. Anything I get done beyond those 5 things is just icing on the cake and definitely requires a treat. At least one of these things has to be from my "Big Scary To Do List" I keep in a word document. These are all those things that hit you in the middle of going through life (make a doctor's appointment, call the plumber, take the car in for an oil change, etc.).
But more important than instituting a limit is allowing myself room to stretch out a task as needed. It's incredibly comforting to know that some tasks don't have to be finished in just one day. For instance, it took me two days to clean the inside of my car. I could have done it in one day but I wouldn't have been able to clean it as thoroughly or take-care of my regular workload which goes beyond the to-do list (cooking dinner, laundry, picking up and transporting, dishes, etc.) Now I can take one more thing off my "Big Scary To-Do List."
So far I'm moving along smoothly and relaxed. Is anyone else struggling with their to-do lists?
I start out with the best of intentions. The cacophony of demands needing my immediate attention threatens to deafen me. I attempt to silence these demands by starting a list- simple. I think about the most important demand of that day and then list them accordingly. It starts off small but then before I know it the list has grown to two or more pages.
Now see this is where delusion enters the picture. I'm the product of 80's culture that indoctrinated me into believing I am a SuperWoman. I can do it all- "I can bring home the bacon, fry it up and in the pan" kind of thinking. So I look at his multi-page list and think if I just move fast enough I can get it all done.
And I make a great start... I might actually make it to 10 or 15 things marked off of the lists but the costs exacted for these accomplishments is too high. I'm exhausted. I race around like a blur. I try and continue the list the next day, trying to achieve even more "Mission Accomplished" success but it's impossible because more has been added and I see no end to the exhaustion and the frenzy of activity. Then I crash and burn and enter I period where I get things done in a random haphazard manner.
Today, I'm bringing back the "New User-Friendly" To-Do List. It has a reasonable limit of 5 things. Anything I get done beyond those 5 things is just icing on the cake and definitely requires a treat. At least one of these things has to be from my "Big Scary To Do List" I keep in a word document. These are all those things that hit you in the middle of going through life (make a doctor's appointment, call the plumber, take the car in for an oil change, etc.).
But more important than instituting a limit is allowing myself room to stretch out a task as needed. It's incredibly comforting to know that some tasks don't have to be finished in just one day. For instance, it took me two days to clean the inside of my car. I could have done it in one day but I wouldn't have been able to clean it as thoroughly or take-care of my regular workload which goes beyond the to-do list (cooking dinner, laundry, picking up and transporting, dishes, etc.) Now I can take one more thing off my "Big Scary To-Do List."
So far I'm moving along smoothly and relaxed. Is anyone else struggling with their to-do lists?
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
A Year
I've decided to give myself a year.
A year to get through all those desires that seem to stretch off into the infinite. As long as time stretches out before me and there is no sense of urgency. I just keep plodding along.
This morning I had this EUREKA moment. The light bulb turned on and suddenly I realized what I needed to do.
I was in one of these depressingly circular conversations my newly diagnosed depressed husband and I have been having for the last month or so and I realized how much these conversations have turned into my life. All movement happens in the same loopy progression. I want to write. I write a little. I don't write. I want to write. I write a little. I don't write and so on and so on. I feel like every area of my life is stuck in this kind of loop.
I've been doing a lot of soul-searching lately and what I have seen hasn't been pretty. I can blame my husbands depression for some of this but ultimately, I have not been handling my life well at all. So instead of firing myself which would involve a lot of bureaucratic paperwork and pose a real hardship for the whole family, I've decided to give myself a year to get my shit together.
I know a year seems, as my teenage daughter would say, so random but I like the idea of a deadline. I also thrive on challenges. Whenever I've had a challenge placed on me and I only have a certain amount of time added with the responsibility of accountability, I always thrive. Well now I'm doing it, I'm standing up, clearing my throat and making a public statement before the universe.
A year or bust. A year or admit I am a miserable failure who needs to rethink her entire life. A year or admit to simply being nothing but a fraud. A year or continue to feel powerless.
I'm betting on the year. I'll post updates and tweets about my progress.
Bear with me as I'm making it all up as I go along.
A year to get through all those desires that seem to stretch off into the infinite. As long as time stretches out before me and there is no sense of urgency. I just keep plodding along.
This morning I had this EUREKA moment. The light bulb turned on and suddenly I realized what I needed to do.
I was in one of these depressingly circular conversations my newly diagnosed depressed husband and I have been having for the last month or so and I realized how much these conversations have turned into my life. All movement happens in the same loopy progression. I want to write. I write a little. I don't write. I want to write. I write a little. I don't write and so on and so on. I feel like every area of my life is stuck in this kind of loop.
I've been doing a lot of soul-searching lately and what I have seen hasn't been pretty. I can blame my husbands depression for some of this but ultimately, I have not been handling my life well at all. So instead of firing myself which would involve a lot of bureaucratic paperwork and pose a real hardship for the whole family, I've decided to give myself a year to get my shit together.
I know a year seems, as my teenage daughter would say, so random but I like the idea of a deadline. I also thrive on challenges. Whenever I've had a challenge placed on me and I only have a certain amount of time added with the responsibility of accountability, I always thrive. Well now I'm doing it, I'm standing up, clearing my throat and making a public statement before the universe.
A year or bust. A year or admit I am a miserable failure who needs to rethink her entire life. A year or admit to simply being nothing but a fraud. A year or continue to feel powerless.
I'm betting on the year. I'll post updates and tweets about my progress.
Bear with me as I'm making it all up as I go along.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Putting BenGay on My Bruised Ego
All this time I've been walking around believing I was in great shape. Yes, I'll even confess to being a bit smug about this. "Ha! I can go out and run five or six miles, easy-peezy." I've patted myself on the back as I run by darkened houses first thing in the morning or when a driver stares at me in surprise on frigid mornings or when the rain is pouring down and I'm running.
Then I met Shaun T... Well, I didn't actually meet him. To my amazement, one morning I was sitting and watching an informercial about the Insanity Workout. Usually I laugh at these kinds of things but then there were these people who kind of looked like me, in relatively good shape but soft and a little flubby around the edges and I was sitting on the edge of my couch.
Here's a bit of background: I was that woman other women hated. I could eat like a truck driver and never gain a pound. Four weeks after giving birth to my daughter, I went to my high school reunion and no one believed I had been pregnant. I had to show them pictures. Two years after she was born I ran the NYC Marathon.
The weight didn't leave me as quickly with my second child but he was a giant baby. At my highest, I was 180 pounds while carrying him. This was more than 60 pounds over my normal weight. But the weight did come off.
At 39, giving birth to my youngest, I discovered my body just wasn't rebounding with the same quickness and I have to admit I slacked off. Living in the country, I found myself not getting outside and walking the way I did with my other two kids. I didn't run with any regularity. I didn't do anything with any regularity but I could still look at myself and feel I was in great shape compared to most people living around me. Sure I could stand to lose some weight but I can still get out there and run miles or kick butt on the elliptical machine at the gym.
But something was missing.... I didn't have the same power. My body wasn't as lean as it was and there was this annoying little pooch in my mid-section. And that's when Shaun T came in with his promises of strength and power. The brilliance of this informecial is that the producers didn't decide to only focus on overweight people to show the transformative powers of their fitness system but showed people who were obviously athletic and active people, like me. I closed my eyes and made the purchase.
Of course I sat with the DVD's hidden for two weeks embarrassed to admit I purchased something from an informercial (I still hide my LintLizard after each use). Then I put in the first DVD with the fit test and I scoffed- actually scoffed at it. Nothing seemed particularly challenging- squats, jumping jacks, ha! Then I did the Fit Test on Saturday and it kicked my butt hard. I haven't made sounds like that since I was giving birth. The next day, I could barely walk I was so sore. I skipped the next day DVD because of scheduling conflicts and the fact that I couldn't lift my leg without wincing. Yesterday I did the first Plyometric/Cardio DVD and had to scream uncle- I am not in shape!!!
Today is DVD #2. Hopefully my dog won't need to come over and lick my face as I lay prone on the floor unable to move. Thank goodness I can curl up in a fetal position in the luxury of my own home.
Then I met Shaun T... Well, I didn't actually meet him. To my amazement, one morning I was sitting and watching an informercial about the Insanity Workout. Usually I laugh at these kinds of things but then there were these people who kind of looked like me, in relatively good shape but soft and a little flubby around the edges and I was sitting on the edge of my couch.
Here's a bit of background: I was that woman other women hated. I could eat like a truck driver and never gain a pound. Four weeks after giving birth to my daughter, I went to my high school reunion and no one believed I had been pregnant. I had to show them pictures. Two years after she was born I ran the NYC Marathon.
The weight didn't leave me as quickly with my second child but he was a giant baby. At my highest, I was 180 pounds while carrying him. This was more than 60 pounds over my normal weight. But the weight did come off.
At 39, giving birth to my youngest, I discovered my body just wasn't rebounding with the same quickness and I have to admit I slacked off. Living in the country, I found myself not getting outside and walking the way I did with my other two kids. I didn't run with any regularity. I didn't do anything with any regularity but I could still look at myself and feel I was in great shape compared to most people living around me. Sure I could stand to lose some weight but I can still get out there and run miles or kick butt on the elliptical machine at the gym.
But something was missing.... I didn't have the same power. My body wasn't as lean as it was and there was this annoying little pooch in my mid-section. And that's when Shaun T came in with his promises of strength and power. The brilliance of this informecial is that the producers didn't decide to only focus on overweight people to show the transformative powers of their fitness system but showed people who were obviously athletic and active people, like me. I closed my eyes and made the purchase.
Of course I sat with the DVD's hidden for two weeks embarrassed to admit I purchased something from an informercial (I still hide my LintLizard after each use). Then I put in the first DVD with the fit test and I scoffed- actually scoffed at it. Nothing seemed particularly challenging- squats, jumping jacks, ha! Then I did the Fit Test on Saturday and it kicked my butt hard. I haven't made sounds like that since I was giving birth. The next day, I could barely walk I was so sore. I skipped the next day DVD because of scheduling conflicts and the fact that I couldn't lift my leg without wincing. Yesterday I did the first Plyometric/Cardio DVD and had to scream uncle- I am not in shape!!!
Today is DVD #2. Hopefully my dog won't need to come over and lick my face as I lay prone on the floor unable to move. Thank goodness I can curl up in a fetal position in the luxury of my own home.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Camp NANO
I'm cheating big time now. As much as I would like to stay focused on the collection of connected short stories, this novel that's been with me for seven years is dying to be written. I can't get the characters out of my head.
It's like being in the heady early period of a romance. I can't think about anything else. When I'm not thinking about these characters I feel lost and irritable. Other characters just can't compete with these characters and the creative world is just hazy outside of this novel. I've got it bad.
I'm taking the month of June to finally write this story out of my system. Now that I have the beginning, I feel like I can go all the way. I'm stretching my fingers, ordering more ink for the printer and opening a new ream of paper. Ooh, I'm excited!!
It's like being in the heady early period of a romance. I can't think about anything else. When I'm not thinking about these characters I feel lost and irritable. Other characters just can't compete with these characters and the creative world is just hazy outside of this novel. I've got it bad.
I'm taking the month of June to finally write this story out of my system. Now that I have the beginning, I feel like I can go all the way. I'm stretching my fingers, ordering more ink for the printer and opening a new ream of paper. Ooh, I'm excited!!
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Whose Depression Is It Anyway?
So for years I thought I was simply dealing with a moody spouse. My husband's moodiness was often the subject of light-hearted teasing. I picked up a Good Mood/Bad Mood button years ago so that he could give all of us a little heads up on which person we were dealing with at any given moment.
I bought into the whole idea of moodiness going hand-in-hand with creativity. He was an artist who needed lots of head space. I could relate as a writer. There are definite times when I need to be alone and think. This is why I prefer to run alone and am fond of the long hot shower.
But unlike me, when my husband was involved with his art, there was no joy in the act of creation. I thought this was just the normal frustration that comes from trying to marry the desire to create with living in the real world. There's nothing worse than being right in the middle of some creative burst and then having to stop to take care of something outside of this creative haze.
I have always tried to make certain that my husband had room to work. I appreciate the fact that he is the one who is working at a "real" job to sustain our life. I encouraged him to carve out time even when I desperately needed time to write myself. It was important for me to feel that he was fulfilled. It seemed simple but little did I know I was dealing with an unknown foe.
Moodiness was simply a cloak covering up the depression that has always been present. I was spending a lot of time and energy trying to make everything as perfect as possible for him without understanding the ground rule: satisfaction does not exist. I've been running like a hamster on a wheel trying to please him while my husband's been emotionally checking out of our life.
Over the past year the depression has gotten worse. My children have been affected by my husband's moods. It's been very difficult for my two oldest children since their father is not involved in their lives. My husband is unable to engage or be involved with anyone other than his daughter from his first marriage. It has been most upsetting to watch him explode at our youngest son when he behaves in the same way as my step-daughter did when she was the same age. My children feel I am their only parent. My daughter once described my husband as "just the guy who lives in the house."
After my husband's depression led him towards a self-destructive act, I've had to put a magnifying glass up to my life. What I've seen is that my husband's depression is a weight my whole family is bearing. My children and I have been experiencing the fallout that comes from living with some one who has been in denial about their mental state for a very long time.
My husband is making a start. He has begun seeing a therapist but he is still having a difficult time understanding the impact he has had on us. For him depression is still a "me" disorder but from here we're all going through it.
I bought into the whole idea of moodiness going hand-in-hand with creativity. He was an artist who needed lots of head space. I could relate as a writer. There are definite times when I need to be alone and think. This is why I prefer to run alone and am fond of the long hot shower.
But unlike me, when my husband was involved with his art, there was no joy in the act of creation. I thought this was just the normal frustration that comes from trying to marry the desire to create with living in the real world. There's nothing worse than being right in the middle of some creative burst and then having to stop to take care of something outside of this creative haze.
I have always tried to make certain that my husband had room to work. I appreciate the fact that he is the one who is working at a "real" job to sustain our life. I encouraged him to carve out time even when I desperately needed time to write myself. It was important for me to feel that he was fulfilled. It seemed simple but little did I know I was dealing with an unknown foe.
Moodiness was simply a cloak covering up the depression that has always been present. I was spending a lot of time and energy trying to make everything as perfect as possible for him without understanding the ground rule: satisfaction does not exist. I've been running like a hamster on a wheel trying to please him while my husband's been emotionally checking out of our life.
Over the past year the depression has gotten worse. My children have been affected by my husband's moods. It's been very difficult for my two oldest children since their father is not involved in their lives. My husband is unable to engage or be involved with anyone other than his daughter from his first marriage. It has been most upsetting to watch him explode at our youngest son when he behaves in the same way as my step-daughter did when she was the same age. My children feel I am their only parent. My daughter once described my husband as "just the guy who lives in the house."
After my husband's depression led him towards a self-destructive act, I've had to put a magnifying glass up to my life. What I've seen is that my husband's depression is a weight my whole family is bearing. My children and I have been experiencing the fallout that comes from living with some one who has been in denial about their mental state for a very long time.
My husband is making a start. He has begun seeing a therapist but he is still having a difficult time understanding the impact he has had on us. For him depression is still a "me" disorder but from here we're all going through it.
Monday, May 14, 2012
To Cheat or Not to Cheat
I made a commitment last summer. I swore I would be true. I would forsake all others... But now temptation is pushing me hard to ignore any pledge I might have made in the heat of the moment.
I've always struggled with creative monogamy. One idea will seize me and I am all aflutter. My heart races and I'm in love. I have goose-bumps and I can't concentrate on anything else until.... that next idea comes along.
I'll try to stay focused on my current love but then that new idea starts calling to me. The next thing I know, I'm journaling about my new idea- the characters start to take shape and plot lines start to connect. But I'll resist entering the story. At this point, it's just a harmless flirtation.
Then I take those furtive first steps- just a sentence, then a paragraph, and before I know it there are pages. The first story is tossed aside. It might linger around for a while. I'll write a line or two but the magic is gone.
I don't want to go through this cycle of falling in love with the newest and shiniest idea again, leaving a string of unfinished, unloved stories in the dust behind me. But...
I'm diligently working on Project #1 but then recently an old love appeared to me. This story has been playing around my head for years. Every time I thought I got close, things didn't work out, until now... I always had this inkling that the story wouldn't flow until I could work out the beginning. Now I have the beginning and the characters are demanding to be written.
So what do I do? Leave one story for the other? Stay with one but keep the other on the side? Or do I practice creative polygamy?
I've always struggled with creative monogamy. One idea will seize me and I am all aflutter. My heart races and I'm in love. I have goose-bumps and I can't concentrate on anything else until.... that next idea comes along.
I'll try to stay focused on my current love but then that new idea starts calling to me. The next thing I know, I'm journaling about my new idea- the characters start to take shape and plot lines start to connect. But I'll resist entering the story. At this point, it's just a harmless flirtation.
Then I take those furtive first steps- just a sentence, then a paragraph, and before I know it there are pages. The first story is tossed aside. It might linger around for a while. I'll write a line or two but the magic is gone.
I don't want to go through this cycle of falling in love with the newest and shiniest idea again, leaving a string of unfinished, unloved stories in the dust behind me. But...
I'm diligently working on Project #1 but then recently an old love appeared to me. This story has been playing around my head for years. Every time I thought I got close, things didn't work out, until now... I always had this inkling that the story wouldn't flow until I could work out the beginning. Now I have the beginning and the characters are demanding to be written.
So what do I do? Leave one story for the other? Stay with one but keep the other on the side? Or do I practice creative polygamy?
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