Quo Vadimus

If you haven't already, you really need to watch Sports Night.  Aaron Sorkin probably has his issues, but he gets it right so very often.  In this episode, Quo Vadimus , the staff are forced to consider the questions of "where are we going?" and "where am I going?"   It isn't always pretty, but it is always powerful.

And, that's the question that confronts me.  What's next?  Where am I going?  The universe is giving me sign after sign that I need to answer these questions.  I know that I need new challenges, and yet, I feel like I have boxed myself in.  Or perhaps I need new challenges, and I am adequately rooted that I can take risks.  Or something in between. 

Is this the same question as "where do I belong?"  Perhaps moving on is more like moving forward, and does not require leaving. (She said, with hope in her heart.)  I do know a few things.  I love academia, even though it will drive a person right 'round the bend sometimes.  I love philanthropy and nonprofits and people who work to change the world. 

I want to live in the south again, I'm pretty sure.  I definitely -maybe- want to be out of DeKalb.  it certainly wouldn't pain me to never again experience a midwestern winter.  And yet, it's not that simple.  I also feel rooted here.  I love my house.  It's in no shape to be left, at this point.  But more importantly, leaving it would feel like unfinished business.  I have friends and commitments here.  But the friends I would carry with me, right?

How do you know when you're rooted and how do you distinguish that from being stuck?  The first must come with a feeling of peace and contentment, and the latter must come with a feeling of frustration or at least resignation. But these feelings aren't binary; that's the facile dream of self-help books.  This is real, and the feelings are mixed.

In the meantime, I am proceeding as though I am both staying and leaving.  THIS is a little crazy-making!

Leave the Light on.... for myself when I come home

It's a song.... but it's something I'm trying to remember

My house can feel more like a pit stop than a home.  It's lost its grace and warmth and welcome, and it stresses me out to be here.  What's worse, is that it looks kind of scary.  I noticed this morning.  I walk with the dog very early in the morning, while it's still dark.  In the dark, the human eye can not register color.   So, all I could see of my house was the shape, the windows, and the trees and plants in silhouette.  It sits rather far forward on the lot, which made it seem not just dark, but looming.  And the image made me think of a witch's house, and not in a comforting earth-mother-witch sort of way. 

I don't want to live in THAT house.  I want to live in a graceful, welcoming, warm house.  A house with soft edges, if you will.  So, even though it's not the most environmentally friendly decision, I'm making some changes around here.  I'm going to leave some lights on for myself.  A friend sent me a smart outlet to try out, which has convinced me to buy more.  It's easy to have the lights turn on and off at certain times, and it's nice to come home to a house that appears to be lived in.

I've thought a lot about using smart home technology to feel safer, or to be more organized, or to have more privacy.  But to welcome myself home, that's new territory.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

I do this thing.  I tell lies - to myself.

Sometimes the lies are comparatively small.  For instance,  even when I was quite athletic, I told
myself that strength training was not for me.  I tried it, and never saw improvement.  I see now that I wasn't willing to work hard enough.  And I know now that "hard enough" is plenty darn hard.  It turns out that when I train correctly, my body works like everyone else's.  I get stronger.

I tell myself that I can not run - roughly for the same reasons.  I don't try hard enough.  And I suppose that I don't have to; there are plenty of other forms of cardio that do the same thing and that I do like.  It's the language of "can't" that's worrisome here.  Wouldn't it be much more powerful to say "I choose not to."?

Sometimes the lies are more profound.

I told myself I should stay with my husband - that he didn't intend to be so casually cruel.  I worked hard at this one, and I was almost successful.  But, he did intend to be that cruel.  That much is obvious now.  What's worse, I didn't even know that I was lying to myself, although on some level I knew that my emotions and my words were not in alignment.  I could have put it all together, but I endured the life I had because I was afraid I couldn't withstand what was on the other side.  And, by the by, what was on the other side was hideous.  I wasn't wrong about that.  But it is becoming wonderful.  I'm almost handling it  Wonderful is becoming visible on the horizon.

I told myself that I could not manage life on my own.  I continue to tell myself that one, I suppose.  I have stumbled in spectacular ways.  This is undeniable.  But is it really true that I can not manage?  On some level, it doesn't get to be true.  I have to figure this out - and all the options are still in front of me.  And what on earth am I getting from continuing to tell this story?

I think my new favorite is that I am "at capacity-"  that I can't do more.  So, I can't get my eating under control, for instance.  I can't turn my house into the welcoming and calming space it has the potential to be.  I can't be a star in my profession.  I can't keep all the balls in the air; there just isn't enough time.  OK, any person should be selective about the number and general worth of the balls she is juggling.  And I do come home from work plenty tired, but so does everyone else.  But perhaps my dreams need to become more important than TV time.  I need rest and down time, right enough, but seriously.... how many episodes of "This is Us" do I need to watch in one sitting?

The list goes on and on.  But here's the thing.  This incessant chatter of "can't" and "shouldn't" and "nice girls don't," that's the talk of the super-ego.  The super-ego's job is to protect us and to keep our behavior in line with social norms, and what is known is almost always safer than what is unknown.  So, it starts doing its job when change is on the horizon or lands, unwelcome, in our laps.  But the super-ego can be wrong.  There can be false positives, and your whole self -not just your nervous-Nellie-ego- can be brought into a decision.  There's a frontal lobe for a reason ;)

So, from time to time, I need to gently thank this important part of my personality for its interest in my protection, but also tell it to hush for a minute while I think.

Eat, Bake, Nourish

So, I've been struggling with my eating for a long time now.  It's had terrible consequences for my weight, but now it's also having some consequences for my workouts.  I noticed that days after a strength workout, I was still sore and still exhausted.  I expect exhaustion during and just after a

workout.  (It's not at all uncommon for me to sit in my car for several minutes before I feel like I can safely drive.  That's the level of exhaustion we're talking about here.)  But, workouts are supposed to lead to increased energy, and being tapped out for days felt like something was off.

So, I had three theories.

The first was my favorite.  I thought perhaps I was working out too hard for my current fitness level.  Two birds with one stone.  If I could convince my trainer to pull back I'd have easier workouts AND I'd feel better.  I was fond of this theory.

The second theory didn't feel right, but was a possibility.  Maybe I wasn't sleeping enough, or well enough to support my workouts.  I have been sleeping a lot, but often the dog and cats interrupt my sleep in the night. Maybe I was literally too tired to work out at full capacity.

Or, third - and I hated this one- maybe I wasn't adequately fueling my workouts.  Maybe up until now, I could fake it because my fitness level was so dismal.  But as I get stronger and more fit, I need actual fuel - actual food.

I ran these theories past my trainer, but also past some physiologists on campus.  They rejected #1 out of hand.  They considered #2, but ultimately felt like I was getting enough rest, even it it wasn't perfect, blissful sleep.  They landed solidly on #3.  Darn it.

Here's what I've done so far - and it's helping, I think.  Three days a week, I drop Finnegan off at either daycare or his job.  On the way back to campus, that's when I usually realize that I am suddenly quite hungry.  Enter the drive-through, and the start of all my problems.  But I also pass this "wellness bar" place, where they make a variety of low-calorie meal replacement protein shakes.  On those three mornings, I have replaced the drive-through with this drink.  Almost immediately, I lost some weight AND I have been feeling much better.  Crazily better. 


That's it.  That's as far as I've gotten.  I just wanted to mention it, in case anyone is wondering if it works.  It works and it works fast, apparently.

Next up, I will add oatmeal on the other two work-days.  I can eat that at my desk or I can get it at Starbuck's drive-through.  It doesn't matter.  At least it will be healthy, and it's likely to keep me from eating a huge and inappropriate lunch.

It's not much, but it's a start.

My Soul is Tired

I feel depleted of energy all the time.  I feel like I'm swimming through molasses.  And yes, I do see that these are signs and signals of clinical depression, but that doesn't ring true as an explanation - for me, at this particular moment.  You do you.  Seriously.  But I did realize that something else had to be in play when taking vacation days and mostly sleeping through them did not help anything.  I didn't end up feeling refreshed; I still just woke up heaving a sigh of exhaustion and resignation.

I think my soul is tired.  I can't yet speak publicly of all the reasons that might be true.  I can, though, say that pretty much every area of my life (not all, but most) leaves me with a sense of not being true to my best self.  If one area is out of whack in a life, we can mostly cope.  When most things are out of alignment, that is soul-damaging.  It is time, and past time, to take action.

And yet, this situation is considerably bigger than my personal challenges.  Those are legion, right enough.  But this effort I'm making, to have a big shiny life, is also happening in the context of a world gone mad.  Or mostly, the United States has gone mad.  Personally and in the culture, I can no longer plug the holes in the dike.  I am officially out of fingers.

Moreover, I have UTTERLY lost patience with the platitude industrial complex.  Please, for the love of all things holy, stop slinging pinterest-worthy memes about wildflowers coming back in the spring at me.  I might just lose it.  Susan Sontag calls it "the free-hanging laziness of aphorism."  Lord, I wish I could turn a phrase like that, but that's another post.

I don't, in fact, know what to do about this situation, but I'm leaning in the direction of "witness," by which I mean standing-with, standing-by, standing-for.  Sometimes that means sitting in silence with a friend or family member wracked by grief.  Sometimes that means standing up, as in "no, you may NOT bring that vitriol into my space."  Sometimes it might mean standing with and for, as in "if you even nod toward voting for that bill, Mr. Representative, I will make it my life's work to get the most progressive person I can find elected into your seat this spring."  And in my personal life, it might mean standing up quite literally.  Get up.  Move.  The cure for exhaustion might be action, in this case.  Don't look away from your problems.  Witness.  Challenge. 

And get the hell out of this chair.....

Confident Creativity

My life is full and past full, and - lest anyone worry- all the categories of activities are great.  Seriously, there is an embarrassment of riches when it comes to the opportunities that have come to me.  In fact, managing them all has become more of a problem than seems plausible.

Here's what is happening.  I work on my regular research development job.  I teach graduate students.  I have some ideas for expanding my (as yet minuscule) national presence in my career.   I have a personal trainer, and I am getting stronger.  And I take somewhat haphazard but enthusiastic care of my dog.  So, work, working out, and dog.  That's what I do.  And I can't even keep all of that organized and together, truth be told.

And yet, it feels like there is no creativity in this abundant life - and that feels like an empty space in my heart.  It used to be true that a large portion of my creativity was being used in my job.  That's no longer true.  Long story.  No resentment.  But true. I used to knit, sew, bake, write....  I used to create whole agencies and programs.  Most of that is gone, as well.

I had a disturbing but also fascinating chat the other day with the new-ish Dean of the Visual and Performing Arts.  We had never met before, and I half-fun and full-earnest identified myself as the least creative person on the planet.  He's a Director-turned-Dean, and directors are used to looking intently at a person and seeing, well, the resources they have to work with.  A little like the work a social worker does, and yet entirely unlike it as well.  In any event, he said no.... your creativity is ....here.... here.... and here....  And he was mostly right.

The Dean had known me for half an hour.  He didn't see me entirely clearly; he's not THAT good ;)  But he did give me the nudge to see things differently.  If, as Elizabeth Gilbert says, it's important to create beauty with every day that you are given, then I not only need to name creativity appropriately but to nurture it appropriately.   

This blog could be creativity.  Book club inspires a kind of creativity - and not just because I'm making things up because I didn't finish the book.  Remodeling my house and gardens is a kind of creativity.  Non-blog writing is a kind of creativity, even though it is emphatically non-fiction that I am creating.  These are all things that move me toward the life I want, but also ARE the life I want.  (The process and the outcome are the same.  Does that make sense?)  

What's a little uncomfortable is that there might not be room for the activities that used to be my creative outlets.  I love to knit.  I flat-out love it.  In very many ways, it brought me here - and that's not hyperbole.  But maybe it's ok that it's on hiatus in my life.  I won't forget how to do it.  It will still be there should more time become available.

I wonder how I didn't notice that creative outlets can change over time.






 

These are my Teachers Now

So, I have whined about being afraid, sung the "somebody done somebody wrong" song until my throat is hoarse and the audience is dead-bored, and fretted that my new life is hard and that I am unskilled.  Even I am sick of this.  There must be a better way - or a different bad way.  Honestly, I'll take anything at this point.

I think we have agreed that everyone is afraid - that no one feels safe enough.  Most people, I suppose, consider fear a necessary part of the success story they will be able to tell later.  I wish I were like that.  Some other people utterly defend themselves, wearing their protections like an exo-skeleton.  That, I don't want even though I understand its temptation.  What I am is a really good student;  I like figuring out what people and the universe are trying to teach me.

So, insecurity, unwanted independence, trying and failing and trying again at home remodeling, struggling to manage all the things....these are my teachers now.  Could it be that it's a little like weight lifting?  I started (anyone starts) with really light weights.  Honestly, I still lift really light weights, a lot of the time.  But they are less light than they used to be.  And recently, when I needed to pick up my 80-pound injured dog and carry him to the car, I could.  And muscles get stronger through micro-tearing.  You lift a weight almost to failure, there are teensy tears in that muscle as a result, and a day of rest means that the muscle has time to grow back stronger. And soon you can lift slightly heavier weight before experiencing failure.  Strength required brokenness and time.

So, micro-tearing and rest.  If we use this as metaphor, the tearing hasn't been so "micro" and I forget to rest altogether.  But here's the bigger thing.  I don't have to have this all figured out in order to start.  Start now.  Start where you are.  Start with fear.  Start with pain.  Start with doubt.  Start with hands shaking.  Start with your voice trembling, but start.  Start and don't stop.  Start where you are, with what you have.  But start.