More on Lying

Recently my three year old son has been talking to himself and when I try to jump into his world he says, "mom, i'm not talking to you." He thinks out loud, so I don't have to guess what is going on. On the flip side, I have a close friend whose boyfriend is abusive and I skit around them, like we are sand crabs jumping into our separate holes to avoid the truth. 

Another friend and I are the exact opposite. For some reason I tell her how I am lying to my therapist, so she will think she is doing a good job and she says, "why don't you tell her that." I get quiet, feeling panicked at the thought. Telling her I am lying feels like taking a weapon and harming her to the point she is devastated. It speaks to my ultimate fears of rejecting others and them rejecting me. 

My final thought about truth is in my sister who can't live without seeking wholeness and restoration. She confronts her past, issues within the family, abuses and she does not stop hoping for healing. When we all jump into our little holes and try to hide from her quest, she waits at the entrance, ever wanting to move through the pain to something better! 

Early in my relationship with my spouse, he would constantly read my emotions and encourage me to spill my guts. The truth is that over the years, that game put all the work on him to draw me out. I am thankful that we both evolved to a place where I can communicate independently of waiting for him to ask. 

This week as I have worked on truth, I went to my last session and told my therapist that what I need to work on going forward is telling the truth. I told her that the pressure to say what I think she wants clouds my work. She was quiet and I am not sure she heard me, but maybe it gets me closer to the practice of honesty.

Her last suggestion to me was that any change has to be a daily practice. Overcoming fear of your rejection, like a phobia of spiders, should be treated with continuous exposure. I attempt to risk judgement in this blog, to see if I can live on to do it again tomorrow. If I can spill open a little more every day, you will know me and I you in a way that is honest and far reaching.

Add I-phone to the budget?

So I am getting ready to switch to an i-phone. I have been waiting for a year, watching my t-mobile plan run out. I got a free I-touch that I use for listening to books, but recently cracked on the sidewalk. When it happened, I was almost relieved, thinking, now I have a real justification for a new purchase. I wonder at my desire for what everyone else has. The commercials make me wonder if everyone in the world will have to have one in order to breath. The apple bug crawls in my ear and tells me that I need an ipad or anything they are selling to live a better, more "simple" life.

T-mobile sales reps know that I want an i-phone and have been calling incessantly to try make their plan so good that I will change my mind. The irony is they have no better rates to offer. They suggest different plans for more minutes, but nothing is cheaper then what we currently have, which is the 750 minutes family plan. The truth is that I hate talking on the phone, so I don't do it much!

I am on my third pre-paid phone, because I lose them or accidentally drop them in toilets on a regular basis. The trap is that there are always better versions of the phone coming out, so to buy now means missing out on the next version. My tech friends tell me the 5G is coming out in September, which could mean a better deal on the 4G. Everyone with a phone says the 3G is terrible and you have to wait. Does it matter if I have a phone with cameras pointing both directions? Do I want to spend more and will it get me more. My husband says he doesn't need one, but I think he secretly wants one and that it might distract him further than his blackberry, which is mostly used for email. I the crackberry for his birthday long ago and still wondered what I was thinking.

My conflicting goal is to not overspend. The question I face is to consider if and when new phones will fit the budget. I wonder about how others budget for the random wants of life. In my world, budgets have felt like parents telling you not to buy the toy you covet. At 35, I still feel like defined dollar amounts to groceries, entertainment, gas, clothes all secretly make me want to defy them. Rules and limits, like bosses, are hard for me.

Question for you: [PLEASE COMMENT] - What allows you to live within limits that support financial freedom and personal enjoyment? (or conversely, what constricts you from financial freedom)

Christian Censorship

I have not let many people read my work outside of classes. People ask to read repeatedly and I hesitate and then say sure, but never send anything to them. I wonder what people will say about my work, both about the writing and the subject matter.

I remember the first paper I wrote in AP English at a public HS. I ended my essay with a Bible verse and testimony. Three days later my teacher stopped me in after class and said, they may have wanted that stuff in your Christian school, but I don't want that here.

Now in a Christian writing group I keep saying I will send my current story, but I wonder how they will respond to the title, "Intercourse." It is not a story about sex, but what censors or expectations do my readers have, especially high schoolers. What will they think of me if I write anything not explicitly about faith.

I think my real concern is what will the parent's think. Those are the people I have always catered to, tried to read so I could gain their approval. Maybe I will end up being one of those people who get read after they die, when someone else can share my work for me. I hope over time that I will figure out how to be brave and say what I believe to be most important, even if it starts with a word like, "Intercourse!"

Internal Poetry

I have been reading Mary Oliver poems because two people have mentioned that they liked her. I received her first volume of poetry several years ago as a Christmas gift from my sister-in-law. Not knowing a thing about her, I carried the purple book from house to house almost discarding it with each move. This week I found myself scouring the house to find it, as if it would instantly connect me with others who seem to like her.

Because others tell me she is good, I am reading about Goldfinches and enjoying her simple way of of watching the world. There is a sense that nature will spill open to reveal: your soul, bleeding heart, this moment, and the possibility of breaking free. I wonder if I love her for being short, readable, a distraction from other noise or because someone told me they liked her. Another friend mentioned that she was just ok and it made me wonder if she wasn't that good. How do I listen to my own thoughts and decide for myself if I should keep reading, or discard for something else?

This is the challenge with writing as well. Before even showing a word to someone I wonder how they will rate me. If they say it is good, I will wonder if they are telling the truth. If they say it is bad, I will abandon the effort. So like my post on telling the truth, I need to listen to my gut. To read on for what is to be found. Not looking at if it is good or bad, but experiencing visions that make me want to live bigger.

Pulling an Allnighter

My sister bought an amazing house in the heart of a hopping city and is in process of renovating it. As I wondered through the big rooms with large windows looking out on tall trees, I focused on the layers of pealing wallpaper and long cracking ceiling. She was full of joy and possibility, as if this were a place she could really settle with her new baby. I was stuck in the stress of the work, like I had to complete a 20 page paper by tomorrow morning or clean a storage locker in order to move. You know it will all be great, but the first box or scrub or word is the hardest.

With kids, I feel that my belief in accomplishing the impossible in a night has diminished. I have no desire to live through an allnighter, run five errands on Christmas eve or host a neighborhood party. I struggle to make a meal, manage groceries to include protein or wipe down the counter. Tonight I am going to the Townie Party in Ann Arbor to avoid having to think about cooking.

I wonder about how my sister can give her energy to this house, wonder how my mother managed food for ten every day, wonder how anyone managed with more than two kids. So many enjoy the process of eating and prepare ingredients beautifully as if every day is bountiful and special. I want the life where I too am immune from the exhaustion of beginning and the potential to fail, so I can celebrate the tastes and textures and magic of survival.

Belonging

Coming back from a family reunion in Connecticut, I spent the week thinking about my family. Each of my six siblings are married, many have kids and all have faith. In our days together we went to the depths of our relationships with our spouses, selves and God, answering questions like what first drew us to our spouse and what are the hot buttons in our relationship. We talked of cleaning quirks, the Frito question (see post of Fritos) of what we changed after getting married, and sharing thoughts on what we love.

The eighteen cousins said they loved things like, ice cream, playing with their Cousin Chloe, swimming and video games. What I loved was having my older sister to run with, stroke my head and tell me she loves me for being me. I loved how one of my sister-in-laws masterfully engaged our hearts while managing the food, the activities and ensured everything happened. I loved the intensity of a brother-in-law who challenged our patterns and tried to get at what was behind choices; to be in the work of observing why we do things.

It felt satisfying to see everyone belong to our family. The kids played, the men drank beer and the ladies bustled in the kitchen and I didn't worry about who was included, if someone would be offended or what I looked like. I wonder if this is what heaven might feel like, just sitting around pondering who we are in a space where we are unconditionally loved.

Christian Women Are Good at Housework

There is a sense that Christian women are organized, good cooks, helpful, planned, put together, etc and I am not. All my sisters appear to be pretty amazing in that regard. My therapist says everyone hates the grocery store, but I don't believe her.

For today, I feel content in how much I am enjoying my kids and our days together. We have a rythm and unlimited space to explore our closets and basement, because it is 100 degrees out. Maybe it is the anxiety meds talking, but I will take it! 

Please comment on  your idea about this: Is everyone is good at house management? Do you like or hate the grocery store! (I am curious about the real story here - and am ok if you enjoy it. I envy and wish I could be a better planner, because it feels like magic when I watch people managed things seamlessly!)

The People Pleasing Saga

I am a people pleaser. I lie to make you feel good. I apologize for taking up space. 

To do things together feels tricky because it means working with others. It means wanting them to believe I like them, so they will like me. This often translates to how can I drop everything to solve their problems and be available. I realize that it does create lasting connections, but since I was a child, I have thought that if I "do enough" people will acknowledge me as a somebody.

So the alternative to fooling you is deciding what I want and showing up as me. I choose not take on your burdens so you will like me. I will pray and help, but not be consumed by my impulse to fix it. I want to find what matters to both of us and share it with you. It means believing others are honest in choosing to be my friend, so we can be ourselves together.

The work of being "good enough" or not embarrassing myself too badly is hard. I look at anyone and see the ten things they have that I don't. I wonder why I can't get my kids outfits coordinated, do my hair, carry the right snacks and instantly engage you about something you have done or care about. 

I even went through Dale Carnage's 12 week program on Winning Friends and Influencing people and it backfired. It taught me how to get people to talk, but not me how to speak. My goal today is to stop and listen to what I want so I can relax. I will tell my guests my schedule, my family members what I can commit to, and overall let go of the conflicts within myself.  If I want to hang out at home all day, I can declare my plan with confidence. 

Further, my stretch for this week is to deal with the anxiety of working with a therapist. The conflict is between seeking change or attempting to make her feel good. To pretend I am "bad enough" to justify her time. To do what I think she wants in order for her to feel good. And my pattern continues. 

How do I break this habit? Decide to say what I want to myself before entering the scene. Then I don't have to live in dissonance when I am around you. 

God, help me to speak my heart so I can experience real relationships.

Passive Characters

As I begin to write about my middle aged woman living in NYC,  I have to force her to act! The word on the writer's street is that no one is interested in passive characters. A deeper question this morning is if people are interested in passive people, i.e. myself? The best fictional example of a passive character is Muriel's mother in the movie Muriel's Wedding. This woman is flat, large, and does not react to anything happening around her, even her husband's affair. We keep watching because the tension of the story is that something big is going to happen to change her and are not disappointed. When feeling like a nothing to her own daughter pushes her over the edge, we see her finally wake up and respond.

When I think about my own life, I find that action is the most energizing thing to contemplate. I love to run and talk about running. I love to relay what is happening in my kids brains and with their friends around our Co-housing neighborhood (always dramatic). I love to write. The act of pen to paper gives voice to what I care about, on days I am not stuck behind a Muriel's Mom complex of ennui or thoughts that I am powerless to choose my own adventure.

So it is Friday morning and I have two hours to write about anything. I wonder what my characters want? What they must go through to frustrate the hell out of all of us to the point that we jump out of our beds in the morning to respond to what our dreams tell us need our attention.

My dreams were about transvestite clowns running around an apartment complex while a camera followed them in hopes of capturing humor. Nothing funny was happening which created a lot of tension for the audience, i.e. me.

My morning conflict is this, pray that I can stay in bed for as long as I want or respond to the yells of my one year old in his crib saying, "Ma ma ma ma ma," on repeat from six thirty am on. [Special note here: If you ever want to come to my house and take my kids at 6:30 am, I will do almost anything in return!] Do I write about this character who ignores a baby for her sleep? I think my answer is to let her snooze for 5 minutes, scream in her head about the competing screams, then get up and respond. The action could be drinking the coffee, burning the grass in the backyard, running around our little road two times like it is the last chance you will ever get, and then snuggling all my guys and letting them into the spaces that make me come alive.

I would like to take my love of great conversations, good dark chocolate cocoa and tickle wars and combine them with a ten mile run in the woods or a sensual story I will write down later. To push the insert button and let those moments override my house chores and grocery trips to prepare for a house full of guests. I want to be the freedom girl who welcomes strangers, lets them rummage through her cluttered closets, without apologizing. I want to sweep out the passive work of solving everyone's problems and being the proper friend so I can freely "chew on pomegranate seeds" for ten minutes without caring that I am different.