Climbing back on board

Confession: I went on a trip to Utah and my whole routine got mashed. I haven't entered a post since January 22nd.  BUT! I did make notes along the way, capturing thoughts and ideas, SOOOO....I will use those to back-construct those missing entries. That's not cheating.

Mashing up a routine is something I love -- I get stale very easily. Treadmills are NOT my thing. So the change of scenery and getting to see the face of a dear friend and meet her fun friends was absolutely nourishing and helped me stir up some stuff. Stuff that needed stirring. Like, gunky stuff glomming to the bottom of the pot stuff.  I have notes that include grimy things like envy, like feeling suffocated and trapped. And stuff that I am looking forward to exploring more, like really digging into the meaning of abundance (because, apparently I completely abandoned my centering word and slunk back into the narrow shadow of scarcity).

I'm rockin' in my 40 Days of Transformation with FlyDog -- at least in terms of the yoga/exercise portion. The meditation, meh, not so much. No surprise there. And the journaling I'm totally getting back on the wagon for. I did yoga on my mat that I lugged to Utah - and got to gaze out into the towering snowbanks as I worked my asanas and tested my balance and got a pretty good sweat on.

So I don't feel too much like I have a HUGE climb to get back on track.

It's funny how taking that first step to attempt filling the hole can seem overly daunting, and so we procrastinate and let another day go by without tackling it, so it gets a little bigger...and a little bigger...and we end up ditching the whole thing because it's just too much. It got out'a hand. We could have just rolled up our sleeves for a short while to make up for a little lost effort and gotten back on the smooth path again.

That climb sucks. But yeah, gotta jump back in and suck it up. I'm doing this for a reason. And I'm trusting it will lead me where I want to go.

Play

I'm visiting a friend who has it all figured out. And for most of our friendship we were both in the corporate sector, which, by it's nature, drove a bit of seriousness in both of us. But she always kept it real, and it was a great example for me to aspire to.

Today, she has more play in her daily life - even her ring tone has an element of fun (a sing-song robot). And I believe this is such a key part of enjoying life: the little things, the attitude we approach each day with, will either keep us young, or make us old.

My parents have always been old. I knew them as a child, who saw all adults (even teenagers) as old. But there's an element of old that I'm only now really starting to be aware of. Seriousness marked my impression of my parents more than anything. A strong sense of duty, of responsibility, of what was proper and appropriate. There was always a heaviness. A sense of burden.

The opposite of playful and carefree.

I want to lighten my days. Explore with curiosity and take some risks. Risks of being silly, of being a little scared, of making a mess. I want to bring more play into my days, and carry a sense of youth into the next half of my life.  My instructors at the yoga studio encourage this all the time, "Smile! If it's perfect, so what? If you're wobbling all over, so what? Enjoy this process and embrace the joy in it.You're all being too serious."

My kids need me to be youthful. It's time to play.

Abundance...I forgot

Abundance means there's enough for everybody. And I think it also means appreciating what we have, not seeking "more." It isn't a quest for more. It's the ever present sense of being enough. Having enough. Scarcity says, "I need that and then I'll be happy. Because I don't have enough right now."

I have been measuring myself, my life, against other people, strangers and loved ones, and I come away feeling less than. Envious. Jealous even. Not living in abundance.

This is a tough one. I picked a tough word this year.

Meditation is probably the thing I desperately need, but I tell you, I fight that whole deal. Can't settle into it. I haven't even really challenged myself to do it. My head says, "Nah. You don't need that."

What I think I'm gonna do is this: I am going to ask the universe how I can be of service. Every day. Giving will help me to operate from a place of abundance. And if I put that out there, the opportunities are just going to COME pouring in. I believe that.

Living abundantly is an important goal for me. And I'm not programmed for it. I have to change my programming. That takes daily focus and intention. Meditation? Maybe... but I'm not going to assign myself that yet. I'm not a monk, geez. Just a woman waking up to possibility and getting fired up about feeling all the things and embracing all the awesome.

Transitions

My favorite yoga instructor reminded us today that our transitions are just as important as the goal, the destination. It's the cliche of enjoying the journey. But really, I need reminding.

In yoga, the transitions set you up for success in the next pose. Where is your Drishte? How are you planting your feet? Where are you centering? Is your core engaged? If you look to where to want to go, then the transition to that next pose is far smoother. 

So it's important to focus on the goal, but if you are mindful in the transition, the pose emerges more fully, more powerfully. I don't know why that is, but it absolutely does. Rushing to the pose doesn't work. You falter or you fall, you don't find center. Flowing there with intention works (almost) every time.

So what is my next big thing? Where do I want to get to? Am I enjoying the transition to get myself there? Am I being intentional and staying in the mindful flow?

(the answer is Nope).

This Bloom Quest is to help me better articulate where I'm going. And I can also use it to help me enjoy getting there. Enjoy this transition process. Because where I am is exactly where I am supposed to be. The tension is teaching me. The struggle is strengthening me. If I fight it, I lose Drishte. Sthira Sukha. Again and Again.

Being present in the transitions can not only help me with acceptance, but also help me with awareness -- staying present with those I want to connect deeply with. Those I want to share this journey with. Those who are teaching me.

Transitions are tough -- the goal can make me lose patience (especially if I feel like I'm slow to develop the goal! Gaaaahhh!!!) -- Adam's reminder to respect transitions was what I needed to hear today.

The Truth Is

I feel washed up.

Adjustments

When you decide to shift inwardly and do some heavy self-reflection, there are implications for the team around you. It's a juggling act for me to manage this consultancy thing (get it off the ground? build a pipeline? what?) while really wanting to focus on being there for my littles and keeping the house peaceful and running smoothly -- and I steal moments for me. In the evening after the littles go to bed I like to use the quiet time to journal, to read, maybe binge watch a show, and just be still.  And it's causing issues. A person very important to me feels a bit abandoned.

So I am going to make adjustments. (starting tomorrow, since today got a bit messed up and here I am sitting next to him typing away instead of being present with him...).  I will get back to earlier wake-ups and use those amazing morning moments to reflect, to journal, to walk the dogs, and to just be more efficient. Leaving my evenings more free to be present. Productive mornings seem to set a whole day on the right track. I've lost that habit.

We do have a trip coming up, just the two of us. (my yoga/journaling dedication will be challenged...not bringing my laptop but I am bringing my mat). That will be an awesome reset opportunity. The holidays were hectic and overwhelming. The start-up back to work was a shock to the system. So now things are evening back out and the sensitivities are exposed, no chaos to hide behind.  Time to adjust and make sure connection is a priority.

40 Days

Oh hell what did I just do.

I signed up for my yoga studio's program from Baron Baptiste, 40 Days to Personal Revolution. It's a 40 day commitment to practice yoga, meditate (?!!), journal, and eat healthy. Every. Single. Day.

There's going to be a chart up on the studio wall with my name on it, along with all my other masochist friends, tracking our progress publicly.

The eating thing I feel like I have down. Good there.

The journaling, I mean, like a BOSS.

The yoga is tough because -- UGH it takes time and energy and doing it every day is going to make my family hate me unless I can really get on the ball and keep up with everything.

The meditation...yeah, I might have to futz that. No good at that. Maybe for a week.

Not Forty Days.

We'll see.

I thought I was all set -- thought, there's no "perfect" time so let's do this. I didn't want to hear about other folks doing it again and miss out. I want to add another layer to my practice. This is a great way to do that. It forces growth. And it's winter and the kids are in school so, good time.  But my main squeeze is giving me vibes that he's not cool with it. And I'm not sure why yet...so that's stressing me out. Giving up Sunday afternoons for meetings might be not a great idea -- we have lift tickets to use up and Sundays are good ski days....

So I gotta work through those pieces.

Other than that. Day 1: CHECK ✔︎

Miracle of Round Two

Being a mom almost didn't happen. I had this belief that I'd never end up having children of my own. Covered this in an earlier post, so I won't belabor it. But I had a conversation with my hair stylist earlier this week and the immensity of that discussion is just now hitting me.

She is having the same conversation with herself that I had with myself over ten years ago. I was in my early thirties, like her. I was in love with a man who'd already had a "first life," like her. And I was debating what to do about it. Just. Like. Her.

I hope I said the right things. I hadn't had any breakfast, went to an early yoga class, tanked up on a venti latte and rushed to my hair appointment. She probably thought I was on speed. So I might not have been as present as I could have been.

What I hope she took away was that mid-thirties is absolutely an amazing time to have children. That the fear and guilt of "putting him through" another round of littles ended up, for me, being the most incredible miracle ever. That Round Two can be magical.

I was so wracked with fear that my guy would be resentful. That he would always feel the anchor of these kids and what his life could be like if he'd been able to just enjoy the glide of empty nest freedom. Oh my GOD was I afraid.

But he was willing. Carefully and thoughtfully willing. So I went for it. And got nothing but love in MAGNIFIED form.

So she is weighing her future. Her options. She was brave enough to ask. Because asking makes it real. Puts light around it.

If he's the right guy, if he loves her heart and her soul and makes her feel like nobody has ever made her feel before, then she might have a shot at the same miracle that I got.

Smitten

Today I saw, yet again, the love of my life living his amazing joy and giving giving giving so much to our family that I thought my heart would explode in the middle of Costco.

He called wondering if he should pick up E on the way home, and I told him, "Hey, we're all here at Costco - let me know if you need anything." He said, "Why don't I meet you there?" Which is so typical for him. He just had a long office day, ran out to get in some much needed stress-relieving exercise, is hungry and ready to go home, but checks to see if he should pick up E and then opts to drive over and join us on a little shopping venture, because, well, he wants to be with us.

Costco is a big place. So he calls again when he gets there because he doesn't see us right away. As I'm answering he says that he spots us and I find his familiar form at the far end of the main aisle. I turn around and say to E, "Hey look! There's Poppa - go get him!" And to my delight, he takes off running in his green rain boots with a huge grin on his face, and my Love starts waggling his arms over his head as he watches E approach, drawing the attention of nearby shoppers. The gap closes between them and in one big swooooop, T swings E up into his arms and targets several kisses into his neck, both of them laughing and smiling and making my heart push grateful tears into my eyes.

My God he's a good man.

In The Grip

My littlest is in a phase where the world can be exasperating because he envisions a certain course of events, but many times that course simply does not end up being the actual progression of things. He falls apart, frustrated by his inability to control the sequence, feeling lost and powerless.

It's a tough phase. My daughter still struggles at times and she's a few years older.

I try to remember that - to empathize - and allow him the space to vent his frustration and try to show him some understanding that I know it's hard. But when I'm in a hurry and he wants to "start over" the leaving-the-house-routine because I didn't give him the chance to put his socks on upstairs instead of downstairs, I don't always make myself proud. Actually, I am guilty of often just becoming my own version of exasperated and pushing him along with threats or simply picking him up and "overruling" him by physically moving him where I want him to be.

This results in a big meltdown of tears and "I hate you momma," and an awful, stressful, angry scenario that I pray doesn't imprint on his forever memory.

I took a course, back in my early career days, on Meyers Briggs. We had a consultant in who spent many days coaching and teaching on communication strategies. She explained what they call being "in the grip." This is when things get tough, and stress levels peak, you're under pressure, and you're not doing your best thinking because you are on lockdown.  This is what happens to my sweet little one when he's freaking out about how things are supposed to be because they aren't going his way (plus he's tired, or he needs affection, or he's hungry, or....). If I push him to "just put your socks on right now" that only builds more pressure. Makes it worse. It will explode if I keep going. And that's when the total fit happens and I end up with the Meanest Momma Award.

I'm supposed to be the adult. I cannot get caught in the grip when he's stressing out. I have to breathe, consider the real context of why he's stressing, and try to give him some release, an outlet, a soft landing. Not end up in the grip myself, plowing forward leaving destruction in my path just so I'm not late to something. Who the hell cares?! This is my child. These are my children. Focus on what's important.

Release the grip.

Friends with Myself

Got hit with a couple messages today, and I found them very synchronistic with the post I put up 2 days ago. When I was challenging myself with what this is all for, this blogging thing.

The first message I heard today was during a podcast that I randomly selected from Lewis Howes (love his episodes) called "Small Changes for Lasting Results." It was a short one, just long enough for me to listen to in the shower. The message? "Journaling is a cleansing process. It's a get-to-know-yourself process."

How's that for a fast answer from the universe?

Lewis went on to share that "if you take time to write, reflect, and learn about yourself, you can learn to celebrate what makes you great." And the guest of the episode highlighted a key takeaway from his work: You can't be anything you want, but you can be everything you are. - @jayshettyiw

Okay, so this "journaling" on this blog is helping me sort out who I am, what I think about, what I care about, and eventually, get me to my why - which is my purpose. It's a good darn plan.

The second message I heard today was during a webinar from the guy who founded Elephant Journal (which I adore). I signed up for this free lesson on becoming an independently published author (baby steps) and he (Waylon Lewis) said this:  Make Friends With Yourself.  Figure out your voice, what you care about, what your intention is. Because when we are genuine, we are credible. When we are genuine, we connect with people. He quoted Robin William's character in Dead Poet Society, "What will your verse be?" He was also explicit at one point and said to use a personal blog for yourself, to explore your interests. The other blog is for promoting and sharing. But the personal one, that's for you.

So what does it mean to be a friend to myself.

“A friend is someone who gives you total freedom to be yourself.” – Jim Morrison.

So all of this, it's all the right thing. At the right time. I am finding what my verse will be. And everything is okay.

The Shoes I Wear

I spend most of my days now in "soft clothes" - clothes that are fine for kid drop offs, for grocery shopping, yoga practice, and working in my home office. When I head out for networking sessions or meetings, it feels like a dramatic makeover - my hair is styled, my pants have a zipper, my sweater is knit, and I'm not wearing clogs. And I walk taller. I have a bit of a strut as I head down the street after parking my vehicle.

The click of dress shoes on pavement brings me a crisp sense of purpose.

Dressing for success has always been something I've taken to heart. Not the fanciest dresser in the room, no, but always a bit of polish in the work setting. It feels good. It feels organized and assertive. Even when things started getting more and more casual at work, I was never the one in jeans or cargo pants. It didn't feel right. When I go to an office or a presentation or a conference, I dress like I run the department. And when the CEO drops by, I never feel like I'm under dressed.

So, earlier this week I started the normal routine of work, kids to school, work, and then I gifted myself with 45 minutes of yoga on my mat at home. It'd been several days since I'd had the chance to go to the studio, so I was desperate for some yoga therapy. I took a shower, and then for some reason I opted to put on a real pair of pants (with a zipper ya'll) and a decent sweater. I felt so....fresh. So trim and tailored. It was more the contrast, probably, to my usual uniform. But I felt great.

When I left to pick up the kids later, I wore a nice pair of boots. And my stride was long and deliberate. I felt masterful. Steady. Smooth.

My lovely friend L told me she feels better in a good pair of shoes. She has a smoother stride and better posture. I completely get that. The shoes I wear, the way I connect myself to the earth, sets the mood for the way I present myself to the world.

What's It For?

I've published 70 posts so far. 19% complete to the goal.

Nobody is reading these. They sit here as a collection of daily thoughts, like a diary.

I haven't missed a day. So this must be important. Something drives me to make the entry every day.

I thought it was time to pause and think about what this is doing. What it's for. Is it meeting expectations? Is there a course correction needed?  My goal is to open up my thinking and spend some healthy time reflecting on who I am, what I'm struggling with, what I want in life, and where I'm going. The intention is to use that opening, that remixing, that airing out of the cluttered space to create opportunity. Clarity. Peacefulness. Calm. A soft blooming effect that will take all the crap that I have built up and carried around and use it to feed the birth of something new. Something full of possibility.

The things I found to be super helpful over the last year - particularly 2018 when my word was Bloom - were as follows:

Yoga. Eating vegetables. Finding and repeating my mantra (I am loving, calm and relaxed). Breathing. Believing. And writing.

I thought this writing journey would create more clarity around what I want to say. What I want to focus on. But I'm still rambling, wandering, meandering around feeling clumsy. No clear message yet.

There's some fear. Some topics that I dare not get too honest about. What if "they" read it? I don't want to upset anyone. And I don't want to put something out there that might damage my future possibility. So there's been some censorship, some cageyness. But not a whole lot. I'm not a closet full of secrets.

So what is this for? It's a commitment, put out there into the clutter of the internet, creating a moment for me, each day, to find my thoughts and drag out the stuff that weighs on me, and revel in the stuff that lifts me up. Nobody's watching or tracking this commitment except me, but there's a record of it. A published record that somehow makes this more real.

294 posts to go...let's see if this road starts leading somewhere.

Hustle

https://www.proposify.com/blog/hustling-grinding-working-smart

How can you tell when you're working hard enough? Or maybe smart enough?

How do you balance all the other stuff that you want to spend energy on, the stuff that doesn't earn a paycheck but keeps the household running, or keeps your body humming, or makes your heart happy?

I'm not a lazy person. I have trouble sitting still. Depression rolls in if I don't feel productive. And yet. Part of this Bloom Quest is to grow in my career journey. And I don't feel like I've been hitting on many cylinders with that. I feel like I'm leaving stuff on the table. Like I'm not hunting it down.

Is that because I don't love what I'm doing enough? Because when I love doing something it's hard to keep me from it. And I'm very task oriented. I own it. Tackle it. Move on to the next.

So why do I feel like I procrastinate on getting marketing done for my consultancy? On creating business leads?

I want to be found. I want to do my own quiet thing, and then have people knocking on my door, standing in line to work with me. Like my idea to author a killer book, and then get asked to be a speaker and maybe get a movie deal. YAAAAASSSS - this is the path that gets me torched up.

The business world, the world of make this and sell that, is a big, looming, spiky metal sky scraper with revolving doors that spin frantically with all of the people coming in and out, and there's no sense of rhythm for me to step into that fray and sweep into the rush of round-about progress. I don't fit that rhythm.

Or maybe I don't want to fit that rhythm...

Unease

I wish I'd gone to yoga today. It would have been a more productive, focused day. This is why routine and ritual is so helpful. Keeping things moving forward.

Instead, I had what I'll call a stagnant day. A lost day. Wasted. And full of unease because of it.

Unease. I looked it up and it's basically anxiety. I'm panicking over this consultancy I've launched. I don't have a pipeline of projects and I'm still far too broad in my interest areas, not having set a specific focus and speciality. I'm scared that the work won't come. That it won't come at a good enough pace. That the work I have will dwindle away as my clients run out of project funds.

None of this serves me.

I have a quote on my wall in front of me right now:

Worry invests in something you don't want to happen. Invest in something else.

Tomorrow there will be exercise to focus my brain and find my breath. Tomorrow I will make a plan for the week ahead - one that is immediately actionable and will lead to future projects. And tomorrow I will enjoy the snow day with my kids that it seems we're going to wake up to.

Suck it Unease. I don't have time for you.

Battle of the Brain

I fell apart today.

My hubby asked, innocently, whether we would want to put the kids back in their old Montessori school. He didn't know it was a trip-wire question.  I didn't know either. But I immediately started crying. Ugly crying. And struggled to get my words out, that yes, I would absolutely do that given the financial resources, that it's my goal and personal failure and I believe Montessori is fundamental to a successful education and better to invest in that foundation in the early years than to throw money at a private high school later on.

This is a bigger burden on me than I've been admitting to myself. It hurts that I can't send my kids to that school. I feel like I send them to an educational parking lot each day. Which isn't fair, but it's how I feel about the [rudimentary] education they're receiving right now at their respective schools. It hurts that I can't afford the private school. Which sounds absurd. Elitist. Spoiled. But it's my kids, and it's the schooling they need, and I believe in the curriculum. I believe ALL schools should follow a Montessori curriculum, ESPECIALLY public elementary schools.

But they don't. Not by a mile. And I lost my job so I can't afford to pay the private tuition. And it ain't cheap.

The plan is to make enough that I can pay it all upfront for the year, and then work on the following year so that I have it ready to go and not have to risk a yo-yo scenario where I pull them out again. It's a big goal. And it's my most important one.

Lately I debate though, in my mind, whether just keeping them in public school is the better play, giving us money for investing in family stuff - new furniture, fun trips, a build out of the backyard... It would be nice to have that flexibility and freedom. I tell myself, since E has finally emotionally adjusted to her new classroom, that she's fine. That it will be fine. That other kids do great in public school. It should be okay. It isn't a failure. Look at all the other parents sending their kids there. Dedicated, adoring parents. This is a normal thing. Let it ride. Be glad for the time they DID have at Montessori. Let that be enough.

And then my left brain gets stormed and overrun by my right.

Riches

I was lying in bed last night, getting my brain ready to fall asleep and suddenly I felt this overwhelming sense of peace. I was thinking about the sound of my spouse's sleeping, his soft breathing, and I was thinking how warm and safe I felt. Then I considered my children sleeping nearby and felt a flood of relief that they are healthy, safe and resting peacefully.

Why was this such an event? It really was -- I was absolutely flooded with gratitude and comfort. It was beautiful. Why don't I have this every night? I have all of these incredible blessings in my life, and I can count them anytime I want or need to. Everything is enough. Completely, totally enough. More than enough.

I am wrapped up in riches.

Softening with Age

I can be hard. Much too hard. And I regret it afterward. That's not how I want to be or be seen. Why I'm so quick to that, I'm not sure. So harsh. So much anger directed at whomever has offended me. The dogs, my lovely children, my partner in life. Why??? Where does this come from?

I think back on my childhood and I remember harsh. Hard words. Hard discipline. Hard edges and firm lines. No discussion. Black and white. Is that the truth of it? Or was that my experience as a tender child? I look at my parents in their later stage of life and see such tenderness with a pair of small dogs. So much patience. Such compassion, even for bad behavior. Their grandchildren misbehave and they gently remind. Kindly redirect.

They are softer.

This comes with age and experience? With tiredness? With dampened expectation? What? Where was this gentleness? This softness, when I was 5, when I was 10, when I was 16...?

I have high expectations. I do. I know this. Softening this will be immensely helpful. I am loving, calm and relaxed. Don't make it such a big thing when something unwanted happens. It's all part of it. I want my children to remember the time they knocked down the lamp and it shattered into pieces, and I didn't yell, didn't shame them - I saw their shock and dismay at the accident and I held them, told them I understood, told them they were more important than a lamp, for sure. No worries. It will be okay.  THAT is what I want them to remember. That I am steady and soft. Sthira Sukha. They can trust me, come to me, rely on me, share with me, and I will listen, I will support them, I will understand as best I can. I want to be that parent.

Those harsh, scary, judgmental words...I don't want my children to remember that.

Holding Space

This keeps coming up in my life, everywhere I listen, so okay why not. Let's explore this.

From the Elephant Journal article I read today:

While you hold space, you hold your tongue so as not to make light of it.And you hold your hands behind your back so you don’t rush forward and fix it.And you hold your feet down so you don’t march forward, trudging and trampling through it.You hold yourself accountable to witness and silently acknowledge.You sit in the struggle with your child.
You offer your presence and nothing else.This is what it looks like when you can do nothing for your kid: you hold on to everything.

I am a proponent of Being With my kids, not Doing For. So this excerpt resonates strongly with me. It isn't easy to watch them struggle. To watch them wrestle with disappointment or pain or sadness. But holding space, being present, empathizing, this is what I try to do so that they can practice the struggle knowing I'm there to support them. They are not alone. And they are strong enough, capable enough, to work through it. To struggle and learn. To struggle and expand. To trust themselves through it.

Holding space for myself is something I'm getting better at, since I'm paying more attention lately. And in yoga it certainly comes up a lot. Sthira and Sukha - breathing, opening, lifting - wringing it all out to burn off the stuff I don't want to carry anymore and make space for new. Effort to create ease. Steady to soften. 

I'm learning to make peace, make space, and then hold that space. That's intentional, and it requires devotion. Making space is static. Holding space is active. And space creates potential. Space creates opportunity.

Brave Balance

Oh here we are again with the battle of the shoulds. The productivity shame that your guilt teases out of you when you're not earning the income that you used to. When you stay in your soft clothes all day because you don't have a meeting to go to in a stuffy office.

It's the quest for careering and financial gain versus being home with my kids and being present with them. My kids deserve the best of me, not the remnants, not the leftovers, not the stressed out frazzled unfocused bits of me. My kids are my purpose right now and I want to be their roots and their wings. I want to help them see what they're capable of and I can't do that if I'm not around. I was gone for so many years. And now I'm home.

So, this shame of not being in a full-time professional role, of not having a regular paycheck and a boss to be accountable to, it's not going to win. I have an amazing opportunity to pursue flexible projects that I can charge a nice fee for (a professional fee), and balance that with the privilege of getting to live my BEST life and see my kids every morning, every evening, every weekend, and be a consistent and dedicated MOM.

I need to ENJOY this to the fullest and appreciate it for the gift that it is. It's amazing. I will not muddy it up with guilt about "should" in the career category. My next career venture will come. Now I will embrace the chance to be the mom that I always wanted to be.

Stop the second guessing. Stop the guilt-tripping. Brave this new balance -- wrap up in it and revel in the timing and the perfection of it. It is all as it should be.

Arguments

I love being married. I love that I get to be married to the person that I'm married to. Total spouse jackpot. He makes me a better person. He inspires me to be better. He encourages me. He's so quiet and easy going most of the time that I forget that he's really a Buddha in sporty clothing.

But we argue. Oh yes we do.

Yesterday, as a matter of fact, was the latest one.  And I caught myself with honeymooner shock. You know, that feeling when you're first married and you believe everything is soooooo perfect and you're sooooo in love but then somebody screws up and expectations are dashed and ego gets in the way and suddenly you're plunged into OMG My Marriage Is Jacked panic shock.

I had been humming along in blissful self exploration, feeling so great about my partnership with my man, that when he threw emotional daggers at me I was totally hurt and disoriented and wrote a whole story in my head about how we've been faking it and things aren't safe and how can I possibly trust that we have a strong foundation when the walls are crumbling?!?!  We both were suddenly vulnerable and hurt and disconnected. There was pouting. And some silent treatment. And a little bit of icy artificial conversation.

But then the benefit of 18 years of marriage kicked in. And the kids were zoned in front of a tv show, so we had a few moments to lay bare our offended viewpoints. And we centered in on the fact that we care deeply for each other; that when we feel disrespected it really hurts but that doesn't mean the bridge back isn't still intact. Our bridge has gotten a lot shorter actually. That's taken a ton of work, and growing up (especially on my part), and being willing to be vulnerable and share what we really feel, not just the angry hackles.

So while arguments are exhausting - and temporarily unsettling - the reconnection always seems to make us stronger. Like when a bone fractures and heals itself back up again. Maybe a cliche, but in my relationship it's absolute truth. And I'm so grateful for that.

Vision

http://brookeshaden.com/gallery/?title=paper_wings

Art is fascinating. Believing we have something to say, something to share, that's the way to create a vision, an intention. Staying open to the possibility that I might have something to say, and that it has a right to be created, that's the hard part for me.

I'm a great mimic. Well, to an extent. What I mean is, I can happily copy the idea that some other artist came up with and put my own amateur spin on it. But to come up with my own idea and to believe in it enough to allow it to fully be created? That's what I'm struggling with. What do I want to say? And then, how can I say it?

Where does inspiration come from? Where is my well of insight? I don't have dark thoughts that I am bursting to express. I am generally a happy person, optimistic and pragmatic. Pretty conventional. I tend to be sort of shallow in my thinking. Corporate. Academic. Basic. Boring. (bluuggg!)

If I were to paint about something I LOVE, I might paint flowers -- riotous flowers like Carmelo does. I had so much fun painting my kiddo's portraits, and the faces of my friends. I love painting expressions. I love cooking, but I don't want to paint food. I love gardens, but I don't think I want to paint landscapes...but I've never really tried. Maybe I should try that for a bit?

I love the idea of independence and strength. Powerful softness. Organized chaos. What would that manifest as on a canvas? How do I channel that and create flow -- trust my vision enough to let it flow -- to create something that I'm really proud of.  Something original, of my own making. Something capable of moving people to an emotion.

Step Family

I think this is a topic that I could write a whole book on. Because I feel so many things about it, and experienced a lengthy (this is relative) step-parenting chapter in my life.

And there's a ton of touchy stuff to tiptoe around. Because it's not pretty. And people could get hurt. People who have already had enough hurt. So the telling needs to be done properly, and in a way that delivers the message I want to deliver, which is: Being a step parent is lonely, but you're not alone in feeling that way.

I read book after book. I went into it with what I believed was the right attitude. I tried what I knew to try with the tools that I had. And I sucked. There wasn't a book that made sense of anything. There were tons of "do this do that" and things will be great - all putting a frigging smiley face on something that was awkward and painful and exasperating. Nobody understood. And I was marinating in guilt and self-loathing. And anger.

Blending families can be great. I'm sure of it. I have a lovely bit of evidence in my neighborhood - they are poster-ready blended-family happiness extraordinaire. That wasn't my experience. It almost broke my marriage. It almost broke me. And the kids didn't end up in a great place either.

So I want to write a book that shares my story, and offers perspective that I might have benefited from during that confusing time. Perspective that I might have been able to lean on, giving me strength to try maybe a different tack. Or maybe just breathe. Breathing would have been good.

One thing that I know resonates with some other step moms is the conflicted notion that I both loved and resented my step children at the same time. [Oh the horror! You can't admit that!] But truly, it's tough because on one hand (if you're like me and you didn't believe you could have children of your own) you're so glad for the opportunity to be a "mom" and you love those kids because they're HIS kids, yet at the very same time, you deeply resent them because they are HIS kids and they don't really feel any connection to you. You're always on the inside doing the heavy lifting, yet you're always on the outside looking in. It's exhausting. And if you don't have the right expectations, it can be downright depression-inducing.

Maybe there's a book out there that does a better job today. But I still think sharing my personal story will help somebody. Even if it's just to commiserate a bit so they don't feel so desperately helpless.

Promises Promises

I've made several declarations along this blogway. One of which was to make January a vegan month.

Mister Bloom Quest is none too happy about this. But to his credit, he devoured a couple falafel pitas for dinner tonight and went on about how good they were. Tomorrow he's cooking lamb chops. I'll be making a chickpea curry to go with them. And we'll meet in the middle somewhere.

I tend to be more of a middle ground person, in general. Bandwagons turn me off. And I'm not one to rock the boat in the other direction because, frankly, logic doesn't support the extremes. Take veganism. I believe it's important to shift our typical American diets to be more healthy. Veganism wins on all fronts: better for our bodies, better for our planet. Logic wins there. But am I determined to shift the food system through vegan activism?  Sorry, but nope. I'm not that dedicated. I think reducing consumption of animal products is awesome. And I think every now and again an egg or some meat is okay too. Balance is my motto. And in this case, it takes a whole lot more fruit and vegetable to balance out the animal scale.

That's an interesting thing I've noticed about myself over the years. As emotional as I am, I am definitely swayed by logic. Strongly. And I find that the middle tends to balance the emotional aspects that define the context, with the logical aspects that give an idea traction. I like the middle.

Taking it back to topic (Promises), I declared veganism for a month. And I'm going to do my best to keep to it. Not on principle, but on the challenge that I think I will see a real difference in how my body feels if I can stick to it for a whole month. And I'll learn some cool new recipes and how to use some new ingredients (had to learn today what the heck garam masala is).

Other promises made were around Adventure, Gratitude, Abundance, Writing a Book, Reconnecting, Sketch Journaling, Painting, Scheduled Focus... Man, I'm going to be busy!

Adventure

What if each month this year I make sure a fun (scary?) adventure gets marked into the books?

Doesn't have to be daring or expensive, right?  Could just be something new that takes me someplace - literally or otherwise. What a great Hindsight 20:20 that would make.

This month I'll be skiing Park City, Utah for the first time. For me? Yes, this is Adventure. Some thrill, some bravery (!) and some fun with amazing people I get to call friends. And I might get to ride a snowmobile for the first time ever.  ✔︎ Check!

Paris will be an adventure in March, with my daughter.

What about February? Maybe Old Rag again - that's a great challenge, and my hubs and I are stronger this year than last, so we'll have a great time.

May could be a juried application to McGuffey Art Center....(scary!)

April?  I need to come up with a list, a plan. Schedule classes and trips. Buy train tickets. Make it happen. Italy for Christmas? OMG would that be amazing?! That will take planning.

It's amazing how Adventure needs to be created. It doesn't really just happen on its own. You have to wander off in a new direction. Or plunge. Either way, you have to ACT. I want stories, experiences. So I'm going to create them. And maybe if I keep doing it, I will just get better and better at it.

I love a journey into the unknown (maybe because I have such a great known to come back to afterward).  #blessed

Journey Into Power

90 minutes of power yoga to kick off 2019. Hell YES.

I was a bit afraidy when I saw my name came off the waitlist and I had a spot in the class today. 90 minutes? Make sure you hydrate? Oh yes, I was intimidated. Butterflies were kickin' up on my way to class.

But I did it.

And I didn't cheat, didn't take a break, didn't fall away from any challenge -- in fact, I did my first forearm wheel, EVER.

I don't think I've ever started a brand new calendar year with such strength. In my marriage, in my home with my kids, in my career with a big healthy project, and in myself. I've never felt stronger. More powerful and empowered. I have made such progress this past year, and now I get to build on that. I get to LAUNCH BIGGER. I get to LOVE DEEPER. GIVE MORE. I am on a journey and I love the road. I love the people on the road with me. And I am excited to meet the people and the challenges ahead.

Let's rock this.