Can Someone Please Make a Voodoo Doll of me and Kick My A__?

I am bored to tears at work. I am grateful to have a job, yes. But cannot help but feel irresponsible for not doing something else ( I was going to say "more" but it's not more I need, it's different). I know all about the need to take action. Take Action! Now! Your time is NOW! Shouting doesn't help matters because clearly I am still sitting here, typing this blog. I am like my young son who often tunes me out when I shout. Can't say I blame him. We shout when we are exasperated. When we feel we have no other tools to use.

It's the quiet subtleties, the undertones, the wily inspiration that stays hidden from our everyday focus. This is what drives me crazy. I feel lazy and lethargic and tired of myself. But I feel this way because I get jolts of optimism. And then crash, and then back up again. It's not healthy.

I sit in meetings and have to be prodded to respond to some inane question that is asked of me. It's not fair to them. I just don't belong here yet I sit here and type? Productive I am not.

I am reading Margaret Roach's "and I shall have some peace there". I found it at the book store the other day while shopping for my daughter's SAT book. I sat down and read 20 pages of it. The book is about her leaving a high paying corporate job to live full time at her farm house and tend her garden. She did not have some big epiphany (thank goodness because I would be furious if she did, so jealous would I be!) or experience any kind of crisis such as a layoff or health scare. I have not gotten to the core of why yet as I am still reading the beginning stage where she is explaining how she had to try and separate from her old identity. The woman who always worked for someone else, always had a title and there she was- untethered. No job and a fear of prying open her "real" self. I will let you know how it goes. I like it so far.

So I am going now. Poke me a few times today, will you? Remind me that I need to be doing something else, anything else than what I am currently doing.

Thanks a million.

Happy Friday

Man, am I glad it's Friday! The weather is getting so much better here in Florida. It's making me restless and wanting to head to the beach, which we may do tomorrow.

My oldest daughter is sitting for her SAT's tomorrow. I remember doing the same thing more than 20 years ago on a breezy Connecticut morning, feeling nervous and anxious. My grades were always very good but I was not a big reader back then. As a result, my English scores were not a high as they could have been. I still got into a good college.

I question the point of college these days. If this last few rough economic years have taught us anything it is that now more than ever, we need to become more self reliant. Self employment to me, is the deal young people should strive for. But let me qualify that. If what they love to do does not require a traditional employer, then they should seek self employment. If, however, they fell called to serve the public, then they should pursue that. My point is that college should not be a requirement for success. It often isn't.

So, my daughter is applying to colleges. Not for a career, not for a future, not for any of the old reasons. She's applying because she just wants to. She has no major in mind, is not overly social, she just wants to study. I believe that was the original purpose of college- higher learning. And I really admire her for that.

My growing up experience was that you had "better to this or bad things will happen". You will end up living in a van down by the river, or if you live in Florida you will don a orange reflective vest and pan handle for change. Not without it's ingenuity or charm I might add. Now a days, she could live on an organic, self sustaining farm....in a solar powered van, down by the river. Or she could be an entrepreneur and vie for angel investors in the form of kind souls who deposit change in her jar as she stands on the medium in her signature orange vest. I am kidding, but only kind of. My goal is for her not to buy in to the false promises I bought into at her age. I wished I had worked less and had more fun. Traveled more, studied less and loved more. It's about richer experiences rather than a richer bank account.

What say you?

Coming Alive

There is something in me that is starting to unfold. At times, I feel as if there is a novel waiting to be written by me, or a short story or a play. Something. These thoughts come in flashes. It's the muse, (my muse?) whispering past me or through me. I am alert but never take action. If I do decide to write something, I know it will be quick. I will have to sit and write it all out, at once. This is how good writing comes to me. In flashes. And when I use the qualifier "good" I mean writing for me that is focused, instead of my normal, random ramblings which are usually grounded in some form of self pity, unfortunately.

I have a friends tell me they enjoy receiving my letters. That I am funny. I do like to write. As an introvert, it's the most supreme way of communicating for me. My husband, on the other hand hates the hand written letters from me. He considers it impersonal. He would rather I talk things out with him. He's a talker and I am too to a degree. I believe I am more of a debater though. It can be exhausting dealing with me because I cannot help but pick apart and drag up memories to make my point or provide context so that I am not misunderstood. It comes across as self righteous and I am really working on that. Trying to be more open and less judgemental.

I am sitting here at work writing this when I should be working. There is lots to do and I don't want to do any of it really. When I am driving my son to school, I sometimes feel hopeful that I will be able to create a more flexible lifestyle for myself and my family. I really want to be the mom that volunteers at school and picks up her son from "pick up point" instead of having him ride the bus to aftercare and is often, one of the last kids to get picked up.

I had a conversation about this a few weeks ago with a good friend. I have created this situation. And instead of getting depressed, I am committed to creating a better situation. That's all I need to do- is just commit to making things better. Don't think about the how or the why, just the belief that I have the power to make things better and I can start in small ways.

I believe I have it in me to adjust my life in a way that creates both flexibility and opportunity for me. I am striving to be more aware... so that next time, I can recognize the muse as she comes, instead of realizing that she's just left.

Today

As I drove to work today, I had those same thoughts again. Thoughts about quitting my job.

My plan is to actually make a plan and follow it. Sounds simple right? If I let fear control me instead of harness me, then I will not be able make the progress that I need to. No "goals" really just a deep desire to change, radically. To say "why not?" instead of "how?".

My thoughts are to quit and withdraw my small pension to pay off some debts. It's not pragmatic, certainly not responsible in the traditional sense. So far, nothing else has worked for me. I read and plan and scheme. I even say it out loud but I seem to just talk around the edges of what I want to do instead of just doing it. I have already posted about wanting to take better care of my family and myself. I still do. Part of me believes that if I take good care of my home it will take care of me. I really believe that. Why not? (I really want to say how....)

Another police officer was shot and killed last night. This after two other officers died last month. I worry so much for my husband, now more than ever. It makes me question what I am doing with my life.

I Said, In October....

That I would stop writing here. In a quest to find my true writer's "voice". I have tried with another blog, to be more "authentic". The fact that I put the word authentic in quotes demonstrates the futility in that exercise. Authenticity by definition is not planned. It just is. So. I am back.

What I want is to keep writing freely, without too much hesitation.

I came back to write, once again what I want.

I want a warm, safe home for my children.

I want to spend more time in my home, taking care of my home and my garden and my plants. Cleaning and weeding and pulling and tending. I want to take more time to care for my family. To prepare healthy, thoughtful breakfasts instead of rushed, routine meals that end up half chewed and swallowed in the desperate haste to get dressed and rush out the door. I want more peace, more quiet. Less internet, less blogs, less stimulation, less frenzy.

I want to no longer be jealous, of all things.... the dishwasher when I leave the house. Jealous because it gets to whir and hum and clean and care for my family while I am away, while I am not here. Away when I should be here. Tending.

I no longer want a rushed life. My children and family should not be an after thought, a to do list item. This includes myself. I must tend to myself as well. I feel good to know that I have begun to take better care of myself. Because I deserve it.

I will keep moving toward the light even in the uncertainty of what I am supposed to be doing. I keep waiting for answers, for help, for guidance. Instead I need to just tune out as much noise and stimulation and anxiety as possible.

Daybreak

If I could. No, I don't want to start my sentence like that.





I am able to stay home. It's a miracle. I do not have to work for anyone anymore. I work for myself, make my own money and have built something really special, something I am proud of.





It's 7:05 am and my children are eating breakfast. The oldest has already left for school. Next, I will get in the shower, apply makeup, hair, and then dress. I drop off one child at the busstop and one at elementary school. I then return home and clean up the kitchen, start a load of laundry, water my flowers and plants outside. I check on my garden, weed and inspect the stems and leaves. I watch the peppers, cucumbers, tomatos, squash, garlic, basil, thyme, scallions, spinach and lettuce blossom and grow into bounty stippled with dew drops warmed by the morning sun.





Next, I drive to the local small coffee shop and sip a hot cup of coffee and eat whole grain bread with jam or peanut butter. I read magazines or a newspaper. I pause, look around the shop, at my hot cofee sweetened with milk and organic sugar and pause. I look inward and give thanks for all I have, all of my blessings and contemplate the thoughts in between. My thoughts grow less frenetic and I bask in love and gratitude. I feel so grateful, so peaceful. I remember that I led myself to this place, shephered by love and grace. Because right now, this thing, these feelings are here and I am present in them. I open my laptop and read my email, update my blog.

Change

I think I am going to retire this blog and create a brand new one. I have struggled to find my "voice" here. It's been a good outlet, a good start to write and get myself out there a bit but now I feel like I want to do something else, create something else that is more reflective of who I am.

The next blog will have lots of pictures and feature all the things I love, food and cooking, design, books and music, family and friends, beautiful things. One thing I know for sure is that I do NOT want anything to do with life coaching or coaching or consulting. Blech. Just writing those words makes me ill. So, I will take down my other coaching blog and twitter account since no one reads them anyway. Why would they? They are boring and really inauthentic. This is what happens when I try and force something into being instead of allowing my higher, creative self have at it.

Work does not have to be dreary does it? Making money should and can be fun, I think. Trick is to figure it out without getting too stressed out. Letting it flow, as they say. I am not sure what this will entail but at least I finally figured out what it should not entail and for me that's a huge step!

Once, I was an artist. I had a wonderful art teacher named Ms. Stannard. She was so kind to me at a time when as a teen, I felt so insecure and hopeless. She encouraged my art so enthusiastically and genuinely that it made me feel so good however briefly. Thank you Ms. Stannard for your caring soul and kind words. I was often baffled by her enthusiasm. Other kids made fun of her eccentricities but they could not see that it was she who had a wider, holistic view of things. She had the gift of seeing beauty in things.