Life

Boy, life just keeps going on, doesn't it? No matter how hard it gets, no matter how I respond to it - it just keeps moving on.

I think I am newly seeing my non-omnipotence. When I feel like stopping, quitting, picking up the pace, being someone else - whatever action I take on the basis of those feelings, life continues on its course in large part unaffected by me. I can change a lot of things in an attempt to control what I can't control, but ultimately I don't affect what comes my way - who comes into, or goes out of my life, or my kids' lives; what happens to my country's governance or economy; how the earth turns and groans under the burden of sin; or even the chemical and physical processes of my own body. The list of what I don't control is very, very long.

It makes me wonder what I could otherwise do with the energy I expend on attempts to control life. Especially if I put that energy toward changing something I could change - like me, or a situation near me that needs some working on.

I have often wondered about parts of the Bible that talk about helping the poor, caring for the needy, praying for everything, sharing the good news - who has time for all that? I feel I don't even have the energy to care for myself, let alone all these other needs around me. This could be because I am not aware of how much energy I'm spending fighting life, or trying to anticipate and affect what's going to come next in life.

I always thought I spent too much energy on myself - trying to understand myself, change myself, invent myself, love myself. I don't think I was trying to change me at all - I was trying to change life. Really working on changing me requires first accepting who I am, and I've never really done that.

Family

Wow - I've just had a defining moment.

I crept back to the old blog, head hung in shame because I've completely neglected it yet again, and re-read my last post. Following were two comments from my family - who love me, they really love me!

I hadn't been back to the blog and so hadn't seen these comments. I guess I never really expected to get something back from writing this blog.

But those comments really encouraged me to keep on being me, regardless of how frustrating it can be at times, and especially during those times when I feel I don't make much of a difference in this world.

To some people, I do. That makes me happy, and content to be me. Thanks, guys!

I'm thinking of starting a campaign to revert to the old name for ADD - Minimal Brain Dysfunction. Or, similarly, Minimal Brain Damage. I'm just not totally sold on the "Minimal" part yet.

This is day 2 of barely keeping it together. I seem to be experiencing almost total loss of brain function. Or at least the kind of functions that we've come to assume we can rely on in day-to-day life. I've been childless for 3 hours now. And all I've done, before starting this post, is sit and watch my mind jump here and there like I don't know what because I've lost the analogy I was going to use.

It's like my brain is moving so fast that it seems as if I'm standing still, but then suddenly I am somewhere else (thoughtwise) with no idea how I got there, and there's no time to try to rewind because, whoa, now I'm somewhere entirely different.

I've wasted yesterday and I cannot decide for the life of me what to do today. I have many things I could do - I just can't pick one.

So I think I'll do what I often do when I can't get anything done at home - go to the mall and spend some money. To give an example of how far I've come in managing my brain damage, I will point out that I am not going on a spree of indiscriminate spending. I am only spending money that has already been allotted on items I've already decided to purchase.

I can't stop my brain from going wherever it likes, but I can anticipate the destination and plan an intervention.

Hope

I am having this strange sensation, and I only just recognized what it is - it's hope! I don't know where it came from exactly, but that's what it is. It isn't like I've had some dramatic spiritual awakening. I've just started being more honest, and I guess along with that I've become more accepting - of the frailty of human beings, and of the sinful state of the world we live in, and, it follows, accepting of God's faithful love and grace. I was always kinda repulsed by my own sinfulness. I assume others would be repulsed as well. But somehow God is not repulsed. How did Christ draw near to the most unclean and degraded people around him? He honestly saw beyond their sinfulness to something more important. I don't end with my sinful nature; there's more to me than that. I think that's what God sees and I'm seeking to see that as well. And to see beyond others' sin and really be able to love them.

Starbucks, my Starbucks

While I maintain that Starbucks is my friend - their non-fat lattes will keep my bones intact til I'm 100 - I was, until tonight, blissfully unaware of the evil lurking behind the steamed milk and espresso.I was returning from dance class (for the children, not me) with plans to hit the drive-thru for a latte and 6 points burning a hole in my tracker and thought mayhaps I would have a cookie. Yes they're fairly big cookies, but I had 6 points. 6 points is a whole lunch entree - methinks it should cover a cookie.After consuming said cookie, I went online to track down its nutritional details. Why estimate when I can get the exact figures? This is where my rare pocket of food naivete meets cold, hard reality. This delicious cookie is ------460 calories-------, -------22 grams of fat-------, -------11 points------. It's a cookie, people!In shock, I stare at my computer monitor with sure and final knowledge, woefully laced with disbelief, that I will never enjoy this cookie again. Not the way I did pre-9/17. In the post-9/17 culture of my mind I will never again assume that an item's capacity to hold fat or sugar is limited by it's size or by ages old baking truths wherein flour + butter + sugar + eggs = cookies that wouldn't reach 460 calories if they were the size of your head.And the worst part? I immediately crave more. Not only is it the most calorie dense cookie known to man but it makes you crave more of whatever is in it that adds up to 460 calories.

Dimensional Displacement Study

Though I am not actually part of such a study, I feel I should be. I, in fact, feel I should be the focus of such a study. I seem to be shipwrecked in a concurrent dimension of reality, somehow straddling two realities. I am physically present in this one, but part of me is most definitely not here. I think some day this will become an important phenomena for someone to look at and so I've decided (at least for now) to chronicle this parallel existance. (Or maybe I am really, really stretched for something that will lend a sense of purpose to my days.)

Today I had 5 hours without children. I sat and stared (a lot, don't underestimate this), I wrestled with several schemes involving pop-tarts and chocolate, I read a 200 page magazine cover to cover, I napped, I put a couple of things away, I turned on my computer and read my email. Then I woke up. I had been trapped all day in this fog of boredom that I absolutely could not penetrate. I read an email that broke the boredom barrier and suddenly mind and body reunited and I became fully present in one dimension again. I don't now how long this unity will last or, more importantly, how to make this connection stable (kinda liking the Star Trek-wormhole analogy here). I wonder if I'm bored because my mind drifts off into another dimension or if it is the boredom itself that creates the schism.

I really don't tolerate boredom well. I wonder how many of my meds are made necessary by this extreme boredom. I know I sound like a pill popper, so there aren't that many, but for someone who didn't like to take tylenol, it feels like a lot. I did forget to take my ADD meds today, and that always leads to a lot of drifting in space.

So, tomorrow I will attempt to chronicle the experiences of an apparently-not-yet-middle-aged but hormonally challenged, attention deficit, artistically tempered, bi-polar semi-genius.

Jenea's exciting revelation

Making supper today my 3 1/2 year old suddenly yells from the bathroom - Moooooooom!!!!! My breasts are growing!!!

stay-at-home mom mistaken for homeless person

Seriously, has this ever happened to any of you? Have you ever run out of deodorant and actually just not bothered to buy any more? Today as I'm reaching up to put away the dishes I realize - I smell. I can actually smell myself. Gross! How did I get to this place where running out of deodorant is no longer condidered a state of personal emergency?

Next time you're talking to a young SAHM, compassionately listening, and she says (hypothetically) "why do we need to wear makeup everyday? who sees us anyway? maybe it's no big deal."; you need to immediately take her by the arm (forcefully), sit her down and tell her this story.

This is a path you do not want to go down. Listen to me!! First you're looking a bit pale, and the next thing you know people are moving to the back of the bus when you take your seat! Just say no, women (and possibly men as well). It sounds good - no putting your make-up on while driving, no poking mascara wands in your eye as your 2 year old repeatedly tries to jump on your back, no going to Safeway with a 4 year hootchie who's more made-up than you are! But it leads to ruin. Next go the daily showers. You think - how dirty can I get in a day? My kids only bathe a couple times a week and they seem clean enough. Then you're taking the kids to school (and yes, actually entering the building) with 2 day old bedhead because you convince yourself that you are going to the gym after you drop them off so why shower twice? And, ultimately, you no longer bother to make an extra trip to the grocery store for personal hygiene products. For milk you leave the house before dawn if there's not enough to cover 3 bowls of porridge, but if you are haggard, unwashed, and ultimately - bra-less.... - pardon? me? no, I don't need anything. I'm fine. Really.

Oh, the horror. The horror.

men

does the ego ever die down? with age, does the 2year-old mentality of being the actual centre of the universe get grown past? and, at the heart of today's tirade, will they ever notice a slight double-standard in the my-life-should-be-whatever-I-feel-called-to-and- find-fulfilling-and-asserting-to-my-god-given-place-as-a-man; and your-life-should-be-exactly-what-it-is? Cause, really, what more would you want in life than to clean my underwear and my house and my kids and the million other tasks that consume the best of your time and energy.

Okay, so I'm stuffing laundry (about 3 loads worth) into a basket. Laundry and me, we aren't really on speaking terms anymore. I ignore it whenever possible and shove it into whatever machine is available when it becomes absolutely necessary. I then proceed to dump it into whatever laundry receptacle (aka,chair) is available. When necessary I go downstairs and retrieve a desperately needed article. This is what laundry has degenerated to for me. I've tried the one day a week and found you can't actually do 12 loads of laundry in one day, unless you're at a laundromat. I've tried one load a day and come to the conclusion we must have somewhat more than 7 loads of laundry in a week. Don't even think of asking me why we have so much - I swear I will kill you. So as I'm stuffing this basket vowing I will not return for anything that doesn't fit in, my husband; who, incidentally, was left home for 2 hours, while I took the kiddies out, to paint the damn room in the basement that has been in renovations for almost an entire year (oh how I wish I could e-scream), returns from Cdn Tire and this and that, talking about something to do with a really good visit yada, yada, yada (truthfully, I'm not paying much attention, or maybe my rage has simply fogged out the memory of it)and he asks me "is something wrong?" Now, keep in mind, I am not mad at him at all at this point. But I am frustrated because the necessary chores of this life never end, and I say "yeah, I'm tired and my head hurts, and I haven't stopped sweating all day, and sometimes I wonder what's the point of decorating the house and planting gardens or any of the finer things of life when all there seems to be is laundry and putting away, and picking up, and feeding, and cleaning - all amidst the almost continual demands for attention from the other house inhabitants. Since when is this life? So what does my husband say as I'm trudging downstairs with my triple load of laundry? He says, and I am quoting, "I don't see what else there should be." It seems like such a small statement, but it fills my heart with rage. You don't see what else there should be.... for whom? For you? Because it doesn't seem to me that your life resembles this picture very much. So, logically, you must mean (or else are foundationally insensitive) that you don't see what else life should be... for me. yeah. this is where the screaming is happening in my head and the keys are crying out from the beating of my acrylic nails ( i got them done, I really like them, too).

I don't know what else to say, or do for that matter. As the anger ebbs I feel hurt down to my core. Why does it seem that we (I'm thinking the women, here, but maybe it's a gender-neutral thing) keep allowing ourselves to trust this person, let ourselves begin to believe that they do know us and appreciate the whole package of who we are (this feeling of being known is so fundamental to a woman - it's the basis of intimacy) only to have it all smacked down with one careless slap of presumption.

Okay, okay, okay! Goodness. What's all the fuss people? Actually I went back and read my previous entries and quite enjoyed them. I can see why you are all whining all the time for me to get blogging. (tee heee, I crack me up) Okay, so does everyone know - i have ADD. That isn't an award for basic math achievement, that is, indeed, Attention Deficit Disorder. K? All on the same page? Good. Really I don't see how anybody could understand a word I write without knowing that. But besides that, it is and has been the thorn in my flesh digging deeper, and deeper, through layer after layer of emotional flesh until I am ready to rip open my chest cavity to be free of it. But don't worry - I'm still fightin' the good fight and all that ... whatever.

I have talked about this A LOT with friends, hubby, shrinky - but it occurred to me that I sometimes feel I can't blog because I can't possibly explain it to everyone else. But I guess I don't have to. You all can research ADD if it so interests you, this is just so you know what the heck I'm talking about if I mention something relating in passing. I am quite good at math, so it isn't so far fetched to think of possibly being misinterpreted in that way... FOCUS! Just got slap myself out of it at times.

Anyway, I am inching my way through the excruciating process of building my own external structure. It is killing me. I am dying here. I am losing my mind, falling off the razor's edge, all out of metaphors, but - heehhh? Ya know? Sometimes all I can think is - aaaaaaaaaaaarghhhh! AAARRRRRHGHGH!!!!!! Aargh. I gotta go. My computer is being really stupid and slow. My husband is calling me from downstairs though he knows I can in no way hear or interpret his words. Why does he keep talking? My littlest is trying to make the expensive four lb. highly breakable music box work. i gotta go.

Luke....I am your father

So I'm in the kitchen, scraping the porridge out of the pot, and I can hear this heavy disembodied breathing, like Darth Vader. I can hear it, this is not my imagination. I actually stop scraping and listen - still there. I look over my shoulder with that "I know Darth Vader is not in my kitchen but I can still hear him" kind of look. (I know you know what that feels like - creepy) For about 2 eternal seconds I ponder the incongruity of the situation and it comes to me that the loud oxygen-mask breathing is mine. My head is so stuffed up it feels like I am under water. My ears are buffered by an inch or two of fluid, I haven't taken breath through my nostrils for so many hours that I've adapted to a Darth Vader style of breathing for the sake of survival.

My girls are playing pirates. As I finish styling my hair (wow!) and decide to apply makeup (unbelievable!!) I listen to their pirate-y type talk. Batten the hatches! Hoist the midsail! Ahoy, me hearties! I'm the flower pirate! And I'm the minty pirate! And I realize that yes, there are definite gender differences. These pirates have beaded necklaces and sequined shoes. And right now, on their pirate ship, in between commands of "Steer! Steer - away from the whales!" they are having detailed discussions of the finer nuances of color - pink, not red, green like a forest not like a frog, etc. If only I could find my camera I'd have a great scrapbook page out of this. In fact, I shall go seek it momentarily.

Worship

I'm wondering how corporate worship today relates to it's original counterpoint. Why were we followers of Christ to meet together in the first place? It was to bring our individual gifts together to build each other up, thus building the church, the body of Christ.

Thoughts to pursue: the "order" of worship; style;

It no longer feels, for me, that I go to church to participate in the edification of the body of Christ. I don't go bringing my gifts for congregate encouragement. 90% of the time I don't even expect to be encouraged by the gifts of others. That isn't because others aren't using their gifts - they are and I almost always do leave feeling edified. It is because I don't go to church with that expectation. Usually I go because I'm supposed to go. You know, "Do not give up (forsake) meeting together" in Hebrews somewhere. Going to church has become a rule we have to follow instead of what it was intended to be. Even that passage in Hebrews is talking about us meeting together for mutual encouragement - because Christ has made this great sacrifice for us, because we have this access to the holy of holies, because we have this great high priest we should draw near to God. And we should do it together, because the body is stronger than the individual parts. We can strengthen each other. When did this gathering together become synonymous with Sabbath-rest. We are commanded to rest, we are promised Sabbath rest (Hebrews 3-ish). Does it ever say this rest and the gathering together are the same thing? I'm almost inclined to think the Sabbath rest more instrospective, more conducive to quiet and solitude. Where we rest in God's presence. Is corporate worship, then, to be filled with times of reflection and silence? Is it for the individual to sit at the feet of God and listen? Couldn't we do that at home? Shouldn't we? Or is corporate worship a time to worship together, praise together, share joys and sorrows, share teaching and prophecies, remind each other of God's promises and His commands, work together to build and strengthen this body we are all part of? If it is the latter, then many of our discussions over worship "styles" and congregational "needs" would be affected. Is the church leadership there to provide an opportunity for Sabbath rest to the other members? Or do we all come as fellow believers bringing our gifts to bless each other? Leadership provides administrative support, pastoral support, connection, vision among many other things. Leadership provides this in order to nurture the gathering, to give it organization and direction. We are selling our church leaders short if we believe they are only there to give us our Sunday fix. Individually we need to seek the kingdom of God and His righteousness and we need to enter into Sabbath rest, so that when we meet together we can bring our anointed gifts to the mutual blessing and encouragement of our congregation.

Life from the Pit

Okay, obviously I'm feeling pretty good today. Good enough to poke fun at the pretty much un-funniest thing in my lifetime of experience. Believe me it has been a lifetime.
So, let's talk about depression. Why? Because I want to. I'm interested in knowing how others live with this giant gorilla on their back. It doesn't seem to matter how much I rest, destress, talk, read, ignore, research - I know that when the curtain falls again it'll all be gone. I may remember some of it, but I won't be able to use any of it. It all seems for nothing. Unless it's for the next good day. Can you build on something 1 day/month? 6 days/year? Am I completely hopeless to be hoping, today, that I'm making headway in my battle with chocolate, in my desire to add exercise into my life regularly, in my commitment to eat consciously. To think, maybe I'm getting it again and I'll be able to keep my head, at least, out of the hole for awhile? Will tomorrow be as black as last week? Will it be as bright as today? Do I need to control this? Do I feel I need to control my mood, which governs (usually) my choices and my productivity. I haven't really been able to say - to hell with productivity. Who cares what I accomplish, I'm just going to live. Quote, "Life is what you make it; always has been, always will be." Grandma Moses. So what is life if I'm not making anything? Not making the bed, not making supper, not making it to appointments, not making commitments, not potty training my almost 3 year old, not helping my kindergartner learn to write lower case letters! Nothing. Nothing. Just nothing. How do you do nothing? How is that okay? I don't know.

hey stranger, gotta light?

dark, dark, dark... so dark. could I get a light? anyone? hello?

I'm reaching out. I don't know where I am. It's dark. No one else is here. I don't know what to do. I'm waiting... for light, I guess. Someone has to bring the light. I'll wait.

the search for internet...

finally... computer...can I, does it....?? Here I am at Elkhorn resort and have finally found a window of opportunity with an internet connection! Man I'm weighed down. This week I've been feeling very close to an emotional precipice. I feel this lust for expression - I want to scream, and scream obscenities at that, and throw things and then walk away. I want to stop trying to be reasonable, and considerate, and loving. *$@! it! (I'm only censoring for the sake of those of you reading) I don't want to care anymore! and I feel very close to not caring. that is what is so frightening. I feel very close to some sort of break with myself; as in if I were to fall/jump over this edge I would not be myself anymore. I don't want to not be me, but I really feel it is just too unbearable. I've felt this way before and gotten through intact. But this time it isn't just the pain inside my head and my chest, it's the allure of freedom, of acceptance, of peace.

I also realize I've fallen back into that pit of thinking if I can only pull it together and stop being such a loser I'll be able to reconnect with God. that is such a crappy lie. He doesn't want me to do more - it's me, or someone else, or satan, who wants more than i have right now. God just wants me to be, and to be with Him.

I read an article this morning, an interview with Sheryl Crow, and she said after 44 years of work, work, work, she finally understood that "when there's nothing to do, do nothing". Maybe that's what I'm fighting here. Maybe being home for my children means I don't really have much to do. Maybe I should just enjoy doing nothing. I'm so sure I'm failing at life because I'm not accomplishing anything quantifiable in a day. I feel I'm wasting time all day long. But if I wasn't "wasting " that time, what would I be doing? Assuming I'm still home with the girls, I'd be cleaning, doing laundry, or playing princesses. None of those things are actually necessary to the work of loving my kids and raising them. (I mean the laundry and cleaning is getting done eventually) Maybe the "supermoms" clean all day to keep from losing their sanity. well I need to blog and read and do crosswords to keep mine. Why oh why am I so down on myself? Is it hopeless? Are we taught as children to either give ourselves a flipping break or break ourselves over our unreachable standards? I gotta go have a coffee.

busy, busy, busy. y'know how you're supposed to find ways to motivate yourself when you're at home? what if the only thing that motivates you to do "home" work, is being away from home? i gotta tell ya - it's got me stumped.

It's funny how i approach this blog as I do everyone else's, with some sort of expectation that something might be different today. I don't know who I think would be logging on to make changes while I'm off-line. Maybe I think my other personalities might start blogging thus giving some insight into my "lost-time" episodes and other unexplainable personality glitches. I think on some level we all wish we had multiple personalities. Integration is tough, man. It's tough.

So I'm feeling fairly accomplished this afternoon. This morning I had 6 children 5 yrs. and under in my care for 3 hours and we all survived. I think there should be some sort of formal recognition for this kind of thing. It's like some sort of "trial-by-fire" or something. Shouldn't I get a pin, or a sticker or something? Nah - I get the satisfaction of helping out a friend, which was what I wanted out of doing it anyway.

So - the topic of the year in this house continues to be - money!! I'm so sick of talking about money. My husband and I tried to articulate what each of our biggest concerns was regarding our money. He said he's come to understand that we have very different styles of managing money. I know what he really thinks is that I am a financial stump and think money just falls out of the sky from above me somewhere, but I applaud his restraint and tact in choosing nicer words. I don't think I was equally diplomatic. I think I said he justs wants to hoard his money so he can dream about spending it. The more you hoard, the bigger you can dream. Eventually he will dream us onto a Caribbean cruise and a houseboat in the Shushwap, a big house in the country and a BMW roadster to play with. I, however, will be cold because I have no winter jacket, bored because we can't get cable or satellite or something, and sitting on the floor for want of living room furniture!! I guess dreams are easier to take when you have a job that pays for your clothes and new vehicle and trips to fancy resorts in exotic locations. I wonder how I'll feel if my husband ever asks to read my blog. That's probably one of those foresight things. Oh well.

I guess, since my job doesn't have those perks, I'm going to have to be really clear about what I want and make it happen. Man - I've been way too easy-going all my life! I gotta get a little more demanding. Don't you think? That's not so bad, is it? Cause if that's not reasonable, you know, I'm okay without those things. I mean, really, I'm fine. It was just a thought.

language

Somedays language is overrated.
I would leave it behind,
just for awhile,
and just be.

My thoughts would sound like music
unbound from any score.
My soul would sink down,
embedding itself in soft, warm earth.

Language wants to take flight;
I want to dig down.
Down to where it is dark
and silent.

Where the word "silence"
need not be spoken.
Wh

tomorrow

I've no time for tomorrow
why is there tomorrow?
straining toward a tomorrow never gained
tomorrow is hope
tomorrow is hopeless
if I could take back from yesterday and borrow from tomorrow, would today be all I wish it to be?
tomorrow is blue, sheer, and frothy
why do we worry about spelling tomorrow correctly?
why do we discern between today and tomorrow?
who will I be tomorrow?
anticipating a tomorrow that will not come
I'll see you tomorrow.

Midlife Crisis or Genesis?

My husband thinks I'm having a mid-life crisis. This morning I told him I was going to be honest about my feelings, needs, wishes, and he asked me, "Is this a mid-life crisis?" Well, maybe it is a crisis - for him. No more 3rd and 4th arm to assist him, no more personal assistant to toss his leftover details on, and no more crutch for emotional and personal insecurities. He's on his own. To clarify, I will provide the best in love and friendship, help and support that I can - but his happiness, his effectiveness, his purpose in this world is all in his hands. It always was, but he thought my job was to help him carry it. Consequently neither of us were very happy with each other. I can see how this would constitute a crisis for him.

I, on the other hand, feel reborn. If it helps my husband accept it, he can label it as a mid-life crisis (I always was a little ahead of myself in personal growth stages). If I had to label it, I'd call it a re-genesis. But I don't have to.