I Eat

I Eat.

Sometimes the best stories are the most honest ones.  The story I have written below is about my relationship with food.  Please feel free to comment and let me know if anything in the piece resonates with you or if you have any personal connections.

Thanks!

Sam

I eat.  I eat to suppress the loneliness that threatens to swallow me whole.  I eat. I eat to numb the aching pains in my heart. I eat. I eat to maintain control of some area of my life when everything feels like a tornado.  I eat. I eat because it bring me a joy that overcomes all feelings of depression. I eat and I eat and I eat. I eat in spite of the times I look in the mirror that leave me feeling disgusting or disappointed with the reflection.  No matter the end result, I eat.

I struggle to remember a time I didn’t feel loneliness.  That gut wrenching feeling that sucks you down a dark hole filled with thoughts of self deprivation and discomfort.  It’s comparable to that feeling you have when you have to walk all the way to your car at the edge of the lot in the dark.  You are hyper aware of every move you make. Fully conscious of the fact that you have no one to rely on in that moment. There is no one watching out for you or making sure that your mistakes don’t lead to demise.  Palms sweating, heart racing, you fumble to get your keys into the lock. As soon as you get in, you let out a sigh of relief heavy with the tension of what could have happened. This is my every moment. I have always felt out of place or awkward around other people.  Many of my “friends” would say that I am an excellent chameleon. I’m able to change or adjust to get by with those around me. I can fake it just enough to get along with anyone, but at the end of the day, I haven’t done enough to make a true connection. I’m your “work friend” or your “online pal,” but I don’t have the qualities that lead to hanging out outside of our shared location or that warrant conversations about deep topics.  I’m not the type of person that has a best friend or confidant. I am missing that person or that connection that provides the sigh of relief at the end of the day. I carry on through every aspect of life, just waiting to be seen. Waiting for someone to want to get close. Palms sweating, heart racing, I listen to the keys fumble in the lock as someone returns home. Ready to pour out my soul, but when they are standing in front of me I revert to “how was your day” and “fine.”  So I eat. The food becomes my friend as we create lasting memories together. We are able to share dark desires and light hearted moments together. It connects me to other people in a way I am unable to do comfortably.  Food pulls me out of the dark parking lot of life.

Has your heart ever been broken in a way that you feel the ache with every breath you take?  The kind of heartbreak that dulls your senses to the point that life has lost every ounce of vibrancy that it once held.  Maybe my heart was injured the first time and it has become too fragile. I’m like your favorite toy that is held together with glue, but the slightest bump and it is shattered worse than before.  I remember the first time my heart was broken. A boyfriend with a mouth full of insults and hands full of aggression. You place so much faith in your first love. To know that your have poured your soul into the hands of another who doesn’t treat it like a gift...heart broken.  After that, I was too sensitive, easily manipulated, at risk. Many years of loved ones lost too soon, close family members taking their last breath, relationships destroyed.  I am all too aware of every shard that threatens to pierce through the wall I have built up to protect myself.  With all this pain, it is easy to forget what it means to be fully human. So I eat. Food helps to create sensations and feelings that I worked so hard to bury in all aspects of life.  Each bitter morsel is an opportunity to feel all the anger, hurt, and resentment in a safe environment. Something sour or salty help to shock the system out of the numb and back into vibrant reality for just a moment.  The sweet delicacy is a reminder of all the joy that once existed and is a glimpse into what life looks like without sorrow.

Control comes in many forms.  Some people are able to control other people, they are manipulative at their worst and charismatic at their best.  Some people are able to control themselves. They maintain a stoic presence in the face of overwhelming adversity. Nothing fazes them because they know who they are, or at least have the strength to be who they want to be.  Some people are able to control their surroundings. They seem to have a gift for organizing their lives in such a way that everything falls into place. There are plans and back up plans that convey a sense of calm. I have none of these things, so I eat.  My life often feels like a huge storm of events that leave me feeling helpless or disoriented. I’m forever teetering on the edge of a cliff of emotion, that threatens to destroy everything that I work toward. When you live with a mental illness that affects your reactions to things, the pressures of maintaining control leave you ending each day exhausted and frustrated.  Why did I react that way? Why couldn’t I get it right? Why can’t I just be normal? Food is my normal. Eating is my control. My relationships aren’t working or my son isn’t listening...chips can fix that. I hate how I react to bad news...I’ll have some cake. Plans fall apart and now nothing is working out...I can stop for a milkshake. There is so much to control with food.  You get to decide what to have, how to have it, how much to eat, when to stop, and whether it stays in you. No one takes those things away. It is easy, so I eat.

Have you ever noticed that most of our best memories revolve around food?  My favorite experiences with my grandmother were when we would stay to visit and she would set my sister and I up at the table to decorate sugar cookies.  She would always say that we shouldn’t eat any raw dough because “it will make you sick.” Did that stop us? No! We snuck in bites of the dough here and there and she pretended not to notice when the cookie sheet wasn’t full.  As a child, my family went out to eat every Sunday after church with my best friend’s family. It was always an exciting event deciding where we would eat and talking about our week throughout the meal. We enjoyed this time eating together to the very end.  I remember bringing them a pie when their mom was very close to passing. We were eating the pie when they had to run to the back room to say goodbye. Eating is what made that day palatable. When my mom and dad would get into an argument, my dad used to take us to the grocery store.  My mom was very frugal, so my dad’s revenge was to make an extravagant meal for dinner that night. I had so much fun seeing the irritation, love of my dad’s sense of humor, and eventual forgiveness flash across her face as we ate delectable crab legs. When my husband proposed, he spent the entire evening preparing a seafood feast for us to enjoy.  When my son was born, I ate more hospital pancakes than I care to admit. Food is what ties every experience up into a pretty little bow. We associate food with the hurt, laughter, anger, and love that we feel for others. So I eat. It helps me to remember all the joy in the world. I eat, just in case that moment will become the new best memory that I hold on to when I’m feeling lost. I eat.

Brain Unzipped

Brain Unzipped

I am not sure how or why, but something about me feels off.  Throughout my life it has been described in many different ways: rude, brash, full of inquiry, awkward, nerdy, weird, gifted...none of them fit me quite right.  In an effort to come clean about a few things that consume my daily thought process, so that you may fully understand me, here is my brain unzipped.

Lately, I have become increasingly obsessed with soup.  What makes something a soup? Upon reflection, one may define soup as a liquid dish, typically made by adding solid ingredients to the liquid.  However, this leads to the inevitable conclusion that cereal is a form of soup. In addition to cereal, oatmeal and grits could also be labeled as soup.  Therefore, there may be a currently unexplored category of breakfast soups in existence. On the other hand, we could define soup as a liquid dish containing vegetables.  Unfortunately, this would eliminate one of the most delicious forms of soup, tomato. Tomatoes are definitely a fruit, so they could not be soup under this working definition.  At best, tomato soup would have to be labeled as a form of jelly. I would love someone from the food industry to clear up this soup confusion before I discover any other unsavory categories of soup that may ruin my breakfast.

Driving in a car is a terrifying experience for me that causes overwhelming anxiety.  Have you ever considered that the longer you are in a vehicle, the more likely you are to be in an accident?  Yet, we all continue to drive every day all over the world. Many naysayers will respond to me that research says that the majority of accidents occur within five minutes of our homes.  However, I don’t think of driving as separate events. When you add all the driving time together, we will spend an average of 37,935 hours driving. With all that time logged in a vehicle, we are bound to be in a few accidents.  I often find myself worrying more and more the longer I spend in a vehicle. This means that I must be close to an accident. I was recently in a car accident and, despite the danger and inconvenience, I found relief in this because it meant I would have a significant block of time to spend in the car until my next one.  Based on the data, it seems like we would be better off to only complete a minimal amount of driving and then swear off time in a vehicle forever.

Lunch meat is gross.  I don’t care who you are or what you say.  Lunch meat is one of the nastiest things I can imagine eating.  This all began when I was younger and realized that lunch meat has the slimy texture that I associate with the feel of a jellyfish.  You touch it and it feels cold and slippery. It touches your lips and it slides all around your mouth like meat jello. Then you have to consider the scent that emanates from a bag of turkey.  It can only be described as the same smell that comes when you open up a new bag of diapers. I cannot begin to fathom how anyone would get to a place where they could ignore all these atrocious qualities of lunch meat enough to put it between two pieces of bread and place it in their mouth.

The alphabet is completely ridiculous.  There are letters that make one sound, letters that make many sounds, and, sometimes, letters that make no sounds.  In addition, we have some letters that I think are utterly useless. For example, the letter “c.” This letter really has no place or purpose in the English language.  “C” is able to make two distinct sounds, hard and soft. I would propose that everytime “c” is making a soft sound it could be replaced with “s” and that every time it makes a hard sound, it could be replaced with “k.”  These two simple changes would not only make English make a little more sense, but it would also render the letter “c” useless. “X” is another letter that could easily be thrown out. Did you know that there are more uses for x in math than there are in English?  Why do we spend any time teaching this ridiculous letter? I spend more time than I care to admit hating the letters “c” and “x.”

Compliments are the most confusing social interaction to navigate.  I often find myself frozen with confusion over the idea behind a compliment.  My first thought to process is how genuine the compliment really is. People may want to get you to like them, they may feel like it is expected, they could be using sarcasm, they could have intention to sway you to do something they want, or they could really mean what they say.  With each compliment I receive, I have to thoughtfully consider the intent behind it in order to construct an appropriate response. The second thought process is to think about how to respond. I could just respond with a simple thank you. This may be considered the best response, but I disagree.  That thank you could be perceived as me being egotistical. Also, if I respond with only a thank you, then there is often an awkward silent moment filled with expectation of more. I have yet to figure out what that more is. I could follow up with another compliment; however, it may be disingenuous because it isn’t something I would have necessarily said unless I felt obligated because of the one they gave me first.  Or, I could give a brief history behind their compliment. For example, if they like my dress I can explain where I got it or how much it cost. Unfortunately, I may be providing information that they simply don’t care to know and they were just being polite. This means that I have wasted precious time. I wish there was some way we could communicate intent behind our social interactions to cut down on all this confusion and opportunities for multiple meanings behind our actions.

Many people may find my thoughts overly analytical.  It may make them uncomfortable to consider these things or they laugh it off as something strange.  I may come across better in a one on one interaction or small group because I feel more comfortable with my ability to read the situation and choose which things to share.  In a large group, it is much more difficult to pull from the threads of thought flying through my brain to determine which will be the most relevant or beneficial. One must consider the balance of the length of time spent talking about yourself.  Researchers have identified that individuals who spent an inordinate amount of time during an interaction are unlikeable or annoying. Therefore, keeping a mental tally of my participation helps to maintain a sense of normalcy.

Do these thoughts make me weird?  Maybe, but it’s me and my brain. I find that the more time I dedicate to analyzing and understanding these things, I am better able to “play” normal.  Then I also think, at what point does focusing so much attention toward coming across normal make me that much stranger?

I would love to dedicate this piece to my dear friend, Elizabeth Davis.  She highly encouraged me to write this piece as a way to better understand the way my brain works and thinks.  Have you ever felt like no one thinks the way you do?  Do you ever have crazy thoughts that send you spiraling down a rabbit hole?  Please leave a comment below and let me know your thoughts/reactions.

Thanks!

Sam

Loss

Loss

It has been a little while since I posted.  This is because I have been working hard at the Shenandoah Valley Writing Project.  As part of the project, I am required to complete some personal writing.  Therefore, I will be posting a few of my pieces to the site.  I would love to hear feedback from anyone.  Please leave your comments below.

The following piece was written directly after the death of my grandfather and is dedicated to his memory.

They say when you lose someone that it creates a hole in your heart, but I think it is more like a splintering in your soul.  Prior to the first time you lose a loved one, your soul is a smooth path.  There are twists and turns, ups and downs.  You carry on in that vulnerable optimism that we associate with youth.  The world is full of opportunity.  Then a fracture occurs.

Sometimes you lose someone quickly.  There is no reason for this type of loss.  A life cut short.  It is impossible to make sense of this type of thing.  No one around you knows what to say or do.  Awkward silences surround you and fill the air with a heaviness that makes it difficult to think or even breathe.  Everyone questions why and how such a thing could have happened.  I think back to the death of my uncle.  A slippery road, no seat belt, an ejection from the vehicle.  I remember the shock when we got the call at church.  I watch my grandmother as she lays a son to rest.  It is not the first child she has lost.  Her youngest was a man I never got to meet.  A child on a bicycle.  I cannot comprehend how she has carried on with the heaviness of that type of loss.

Sometimes you lose someone slowly.  This type of loss can only be described as a constant weight followed by an abrupt, guilt-filled release.  The heaviness comes from the days, weeks, months, and even years of watching someone full of life slowly lose themselves.  They no longer experience the wide range of emotions that make us fully human.  They are shells of the people they once were and we must be the witnesses to it all.  We must experience the grief for so long that we almost become immune to it.  Almost.  Then they pass and for a moment we find relief.  Relief from watching a vibrant being suffer in the monotony of sickness.  Relief from the constant worry and pain.  Overwhelming guilt for feeling the relief.  My grandfather had been sick for a long time.  He was a woodworker, a father, a follower of Christ.  He enjoyed spending time with family and building things for the people he loved.  We watched him slowly deteriorate.  In the end, he no longer looked himself.  He was vulnerable instead of strong and I know this upset him.  His passing was an act of mercy.

Fast or slow, loss splinters the soul.  It takes the smooth path of life and fractures a being off into a totally new direction.  You can never go back to the person you were before.  Grief changes you.  It hardens your heart.  It has to or we would all be unable to cope with the pain that never truly leaves us.  We learn how to take the heartache and make it become a part of the person we are, a new path our soul is on.  We push past the bad memories and try to look back on the good, but they are still twisted.  Never fully whole, because we are not fully whole anymore.  We tell ourselves that there is a purpose, a reason for loss, but this is not what helps us carry on.  We only continue when we embrace the new person that has been created as a result of the loss.  We appreciate how our loved ones impacted our lives and know that this new being wouldn't exist without them, or the emptiness they have created in our hearts.  It is this magical balance of good and bad, dark and light, that makes life worthwhile.  I know that I want to experience all of it.  For there cannot be pure joy without debilitating sadness, true love without anger fueled hate, or full life without devastating death.  

248.8 Mommy's Locked in the Bathroom

Mommy's Locked in the Bathroom

I am convinced that becoming a mom is synonymous with losing your sanity.  It starts with that ever consuming worry about how your little one is doing as they grow inside you, moves into the stresser of the quickly approaching and unknown experience of labor, and, just when you think it is over, the baby is born and the real crazy begins.  Every new stage of raising a child brings its own joy and wonderful experiences.  Along with these experiences, I feel like I also reach a new level of crazy that I never thought possible.  There is somehow more crying, more worrying, and more frustration.  It all leads me to thinking...what is wrong with me!

Perhaps my favorite part of this book is the fact that it exists.  It is somehow reassuring that there are enough moms in the world that are feeling this crazy insanity that they wrote a whole book about how to deal with it.  At the bare minimum, there is one other human being walking around feeling they are teetering on the edge of being committed, the author.  I know it is not this bare minimum though.  It is like the second you become a Mom you become part of this weirdly exclusive group that no one acknowledges or explains.  We are tied together by our crazy and that somehow makes me feel...a little less crazy.

The book is organized into chapters addressing common Mom problems.  Each problem includes stories of the author's own experiences, biblical scriptures related to the issue, stories about other women going through the same things, and tips to help you gain back just a little sanity as you face these problems in your own life.  I love the comraderie that is built by hearing true stories from others and the "Mom's Moments" action tips have been extremely helpful to me in dealing with my most pressing problems at home (don't worry, I'll go in more detail below).  But what I really love about each chapter is how it all relates back to faith.  As a christian, it was reassurring to know that my problems were addressed by God and that Jesus could be a model for what I should do to get the most out of life with my new little one.

My favorite chapter from the book is the very first one, "Getting Away from It All."  The whole chapter is about how moms never get time to themselves.  Our lives become so consumed with their needs and attention, that we get placed on the back burner.  We end up sneaking in precious "me time" by locking the bathroom door, volunteering for quick errands, or even playing hide-and-go-seek with the sole purpose of finding an amazing hiding spot that will guarantee at least 10 minutes of solitude.  What was so reassuring was that the author pointed out that throughout the bible, even Jesus set aside time to himself.  In Mark 1:35 it says Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place.  In Matthew 12:23 he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray.  In Matthew 14:13 he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place.  If Jesus, the model leader, needed "me time" then we do to.  

It is okay to give yourself a moment.  It is okay to ask for this time.  This chapter gave me the push I needed to ask my husband to give me some breaks.  This has helped my sanity, my relationship with my son, and my relationship with my husband.  I have found that everyone feels better when mommy feels better.  

Other chapter included amazing tips on issues like:

• Getting stuck in mommy talk- it seems like becoming a parent has made me unable to have conversations that don't center around a bodily fluid.  This chapter gave some great ideas on how to devote time to other topics and rekindle that conversation with your significant other 
• Guilt- there is plenty of guilt to go around the parenthood table.  We guilt our spouses, our kids, other parents, and, worst of all, ourselves.  It is okay to let go of perfection and just try your best and love you child
• Overwhelmed by Chores- Are you the only one in your house who knows how to change the toilet paper roll?  Is it slowly making you want to commit murder?  This chapter helps to vocalize these frustrations in a healthy way and to create some balance in your household
• Loving your body- Boy has mom life changed my body.  I am no longer the spunky, fit gymnast of my early 20s.  I got plenty of flab and jiggles to go around.  This chapter is wonderful for gaining a little self love and appreciation for the body that housed your precious gem.

If you are a christian parent, you should definitely check out this book.  It will give a chuckle, some time to reminisce, and some tips that really could change your life.  

If you liked this post and read the book, please let me know what you thought.  Also, any great mom stories or tips that may help me to feel better about my own abilities as a parent are greatly appreciated.  

158: Five Good Minutes in Your Body

Five Good Minutes in Your Body

Relaxed, comfortable, and nonjudgmental.  These are qualities that I often aspire to have, but fail at every day.  I often begin my days with the best intentions.  "Today I will be patient."  "Today I will do my best to support others in a positive way."  "Today I will view myself in a nonjudgmental fashion."  As the day goes on, I seem to falter.  The stress and worry of the day make it nearly impossible to keep these promises I have made to myself.  Then I am left lying in bed at night reflecting on all my failures.  

This book jumped out at me as a way to try to get back in tune with myself.  It promises a collection of practices to recharge the mind and body, as well as release some of the tension and stress I carry.  The recommendations from the author are to use one of the 5 minute activities any time you are feeling exhausted, burdened, or find your critical self coming out.

There are 4 categories of 5 minute activities: 

Inhabiting the Body

These are activities to help the reader reconnect with the body and take a few moments out of the day to appreciate all the things your body does well.  I found these techniques to be very easy to do.  I loved lying in bed at night doing all the breathing and reflection activities.  One of my favorite ones was where, once in a state of mindfulness, you thanked your body parts for the things they had done to help you during the day.  This positive thought really helped me to be less judgmental of my faults and to relax much of the tension in my neck and shoulders.

Mindful Movement

These activities were all about paying attention to your body and role in the world while you are in motion.  I noticed from these that I began to pay attention to my place in time and space and how important I am to the world.  This helped bring about a greater appreciation for myself and increase my self-value.  It was fun to appreciate the little moments of my day that I often forgot in the past.

Feeding your Body's Senses

This section was all about your body in relation to food.  I am currently working on a personal writing piece about my connection to food, so this section really hit home.  I am someone who often uses food as an emotional crutch.  It is my way to relax, my way to process hurt feelings, and my lens through which I view all positive events in life.  I find that I connect almost every important moment and relationship in my life to food.  The activities in this section helped me to put food in its place.  I was able to think about what food gives to me, and what it doesn't.  I can appreciate it's value, without it controlling my life.  I don't have to live with regret after a meal, I can just be happy.  If you are struggling with an unhealthy relationship with food, this section can change your life!

Wise Body

The last part of the book was a way to tie everything together.  Our bodies are beautifully made and we don't appreciate them enough.  They deserve grace and forgiveness as much as anyone in our lives.  When we are able to take a few moments each day and tell our body "thank you," we are really giving ourselves permission to live a free and wonderful life.

Although I can't promise to continue doing one of these exercises every day, I do know there are quite a few that I will come back to in those quiet moments just before bed time.  I have learned how to breath and relax in a way that I had never tried before.  And I have found the ability to appreciate my body for what it is and who I am.  There is nothing more beautiful than that.

Please feel free to leave a comment or let me know if you have ever tried any form of mindfulness.  

Sam

031: 1,339 Quite Interesting Facts To Make Your Jaw Drop

1,339 Quite Interesting Facts To Make Your Jaw Drop

Did you know that a moment is officially defined as 90 seconds?

Did you know that the Russian Olympic team arrived 12 days late for the 1908 Olympics because they were still using the Julian calendar?

Did you know a spermologer is a collector of trivia?

It is entirely possibly that no one loves random fact books as much as I do!  I love any type of book or magazine that is just filled with the most random tidbits of information that will peak your interest.  I am known to carry around the bathroom readers just to read the little lines at the bottom to learn something that I can share with my friends.  As a result, I have developed a rather wide, yet shallow, knowledge base about almost every topic known to the world.  Perhaps this entire project is simply a random fact book...on a large scale???

As far as random fact books go, this one is unique in how it organizes the information.  Many fact books either have no organization or topics are organized into general chapters.  This one was fun to read because it operates on the rabbit hole theory.  The first fact on each page is a starting point.  Then each fact builds by going deeper into the rabbit hole of things vaguely related to the fact above it.  It's almost like a fact version of being 6 steps away from anyone. 

In honor of this book I loved so much I have decided to create my own mini version of the book filled with facts I have found through my own research.  I will use a random fact about me as the jump off point:

• Sam Gates is an excellent (or at least passable) juggler.
• The earliest depiction of juggling is painted on an Egyptian tomb dating from almost 2000 years BC.
• The king of Egypt could be a woman.  It happened on at least 3 occasions.
•  The octopus has three hearts. Camels have three eyelids. 
• Octopus sometimes eat their own arms when bored.
• There are no strong muscles in the hand. When you grip firmly, most of the power comes from muscles in the lower arm, linked to the bones of the hand by long tendons.
• The duck billed platypus hunts by digging to the bottom of streams with its bill, then its electroreceptors detect tiny electrical currents generated by muscular contractions of its prey.
• Electricity can be made from wind, water, the sun and even animal poop

As you can see, we could keep going forever.  Do you all like random fact books?  I would love to see your own mini versions of the book in the comments.  I challenge you to go down the rabbit hole.

Happy Reading and Researching :)

Sam

Justice

Justice: A story about my first born self

If you read my post yesterday you know that I recently read a book that contained some information about how my birth order has affected my personality.  One thing mentioned in the book was the first born children have a strong sense of justice and law and order.  I'm also taking part in a writing class as part of the National Writing Project.  One of the assignments of the class is to produce personal writings.  The story you are about to read was my first personal interest writing.  I think it is an entertaining of example of how my beliefs of law and order have affected my life experiences.  

Enjoy :)

I'm Sorry Mrs. Hallam:

One of my worst elementary school memories is the time I forgot my homework.  As a child, I was very anxious and, as a result, very forgetful.  I struggled a great deal with anxiety and depression.  The smallest mistakes would set the perfectionist that lived in my brain into a tail spin.  It started with crying when I missed a question on a test, or hating myself when I didn’t know the answer.  This progressed to full on, body collapsing, meltdowns over a pencil that had dropped to the floor.  I remember getting physically sick at the thought of the stress that came with another school day.  My mind was constantly reeling about what things that I had or hadn’t done and this led to more mistakes as I had difficulty remembering everything I needed to do to have a “perfect” day.  

One night my teacher assigned typical homework; write one sentence for each spelling word.  As a people pleasing, brown nosed student I spent the evening writing and rewriting the perfect sentences.  The next morning when it came time to turn in my homework, I realized that my worst fear had come true.  I had left my work on my desk in my bedroom!  What would I do?  What should I say?  Instant nausea!  I told the teacher what had happened and received my dreaded consequence.  I would miss recess to complete the homework and, worse still, have my name on the board as a constant reminder of my failure.

I did my time without fanfare and completed the work.  I was able to remember pieces of the sentences I had done the night before and used some of that to finish just as recess ended.  Of course I wanted to turn my work in RIGHT THEN.  I didn’t want to take the chance that I could misplace it again.  Plus I had to get my name off the board.  Unfortunately, my teacher was busy and asked me to turn it into the homework bin the next morning.

The next morning came around and I bet you will never guess what happened…I LOST IT AGAIN!  Sick to my stomach, I rushed to the bathroom in tears.  What could I do?  I didn’t want to miss another day of recess.  I had done the work...TWICE!  I couldn’t leave my name up there on the board.  I was a good student, never in trouble.  When I got back to the classroom I noticed my teacher was distracted with a group of students so I did the unthinkable.  I walked past the white board, back to the slick white surface, and daringly erased my name.  No one saw me or noticed the red in my cheeks as my heart raced over what I had just done.  When my teacher went through the morning routine, she checked the board for names and mine was not there.  She never even noticed.

I never brought this moment up again with the teacher, but the guilt ate away at my soul.  Years went by.  Am I a bad person?  I’m a liar!  Did she know?  Was she disappointed in my?  Finally, I am an adult.  A college graduate who can hold this dark secret no longer.  I sat my family down in our living room.  They look suspicious.  What could this possibly be about?  My parents know that I am about to share some dark piece of me.  Finally, I confess.  I tell the whole story of my horrible decision to tell a lie.  I felt the sweet freedom that comes when an enormous weight has been lifted off your shoulders.  Everyone else thinks how silly I am.  My sister and father, notorious troublemakers, finds the whole event hilarious.   They cannot fathom why this minor event should continue to affect my life in such a momentous way.  What matters is that I finally feel a bit of peace and to Mrs. Hallam, wherever you are, just know...I’m so sorry!

155: Pleasers

Pleasers: why women don't have to make everyone happy to be happy

As I mentioned in a previous post, last year was not the greatest year so when I walked up to begin my journey into nonfiction on the very first aisle, this book practically jumped off the shelf and into my arms.  The book then sucks you in from the back page with three simple questions:

1. Do you have a hard time saying no to people?

2. Do you feel guilty taking time out for yourself?

3. Do you feel overwhelmed by responsibilities?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, you might be a pleaser.  How ridiculous!  Doesn't everyone feel this way sometimes.  I only have to feel one of these things and all of a sudden something is wrong with me.  Well, congratulation to the author, you have me hooked.  Now I have to figure out how to fix this...

Turns out...I am a pleaser.  The book was right.  But there are many different types of pleasers and not all of them are bad news.  I found that I connected most to the stories of the played out pleaser.  This was someone who is highly motivated and a perfectionist (which it turns out causes all kinds of problems).  Played out pleasers are willing to do everything they can, but rarely say they can't take care of something.  They hold it all inside as an angry and uptight person that erupts in private, but maintain a happy face for the world.  Boy if my husband could read that!  He often complains that I seem angry or unhappy when the slightest things set me off schedule.  I'm not actually angry...just tired.

How did I get this way?  Well, it wasn't because of a bad relationship with my Dad like the book tries to point out.  In fact, my dad is AWESOME!!!!! I believe it is a result of the second idea in the book...birth order to blame.  Here are some traits that I have as a first born:

• Perfectionist
• The author dedicates an entire chapter on how my perfectionism will eventually destroy me into a never ending pit of despair until I learn to let go of my crazy goals and go for mediocre...never happening.  I guess I will wallow in excellence forever :)
• Reliable
• Conscientious (try to be)
• List Makers
• I think the author visited my office
• Well Organized
• This led to a huge debate at my house.  Mostly because my sister...a raucous last-born took offense to the idea that I would be considered more organized than her.  She would be right.  She is often more neat and clean than I am.  I tend to twirl around in a mess that somehow manages to pull it all together when I get to work.  At work, I take all the organized energy I haven't been using and apply it at a frantic rate that leaves others stressed out by spending time around me.  Way to go!
• Critical
• Serious
• Scholarly
• I just started a blog that is about reading nonfiction so I guess I can't argue with this one
• Goal Oriented
• High Achieving (if you set goals...this is the result, come on)
• Self-Sacrificing (oh boy, I am a pleaser)
• Supporter of law and order (I'll share a story about this one)
• Loyal

Luckily for me, most of my traits are pretty good.  They just mean I have a tendency to want to follow the rules and not complain.  It also means I rarely say "too much" or ask for help from anyone outside my parents.  So the key to not being so much a pleaser...or to become a happier pleaser is to speak up.  It is ok for me to say "I can't do that" or to expect to be treated fairly.  I am allowed to have high expectations for other people (as long as they are reasonably)

Overall, I definitely recommend this book.  It is a fun read and it does make you think about yourself in a new way.  Let me know if you think you are a pleaser and how you are fixing that :)

Happy Reading!

Leman, Kevin. The Pleasers: Women Who Can't Say No and the Men Who Control Them. F.H. Revell Co., 1995.

Nonfiction Adventures

Nonfiction Adventures:

Google Dictionary defines a reader as "someone who reads or who is fond of reading."  Ever since I can remember I have been a reader.  In elementary school at would read and write at a voracious rate.  I would read books about gymnastics, fairy tales, books of lists, anything I could get my hands on.  As I grew older, I began reading many more books, but often about the same topics.  I focused all my gymnastics reading on blogs and articles.  I had refined my love of fairy tales to only reading books within an extremely large series (5 books or more).  And I would read all sorts of lists.  I loved nonfiction books because they offered an opportunity to learn about something totally new.  I would spend hours pouring over books of random facts, anxious to learn something, anything!

2017 was a terrible year for me.  I had drama in nearly ever aspect of my life.  My personal life and relationship was struggling and I had to put many pieces back together.  My work life was a mess.  I hated my job due to a variety of changes that had been made and didn't know what to do to fix things.  By the second half of the year, many of these issues were beginning to resolve.  My relationship with my family was improving.  This helped me to feel more valued and become a better mom.  I had changed jobs and was thriving in my new role as an instructional coach for a new school.  Despite these improvements, I still didn't feel like I was fully me.  That is when I came to the decision that I needed to make a change for 2018.

Many people make resolutions for the new year.  I don't have a resolution in the traditional sense.  I don't want to lose weight or start working out every day.  I just want to explore and discover who I am.  I want to peel back the tired and angry mask I have been wearing and find the explorer that once existed.  That is how the idea for Nonfiction Adventures began.

How it works: 

I am committed to finding the real me by going back to doing something that I once loved....reading.  I thought and thought of how to begin and decided to begin with EVERYTHING.  I am going to read a little bit of everything.

Step 1: I will head to the library to check out the book selection.  The picture above is of the library I like best in the neighborhood.  They have tons of books in the nonfiction section.

Step 2:  I will start at the first aisle of nonfiction and make at least 3 book selections from 3 different topics.  Each time I will start at a new aisle.

Step 3: I will read each of the books and take notes

Step 4:  I will post my thoughts and learning from the text.  Hopefully it will be interesting to you too.

*I may end up LOVING a section and want to know more.  If so, I may end up reading multiple texts from that section.  I'm open to learning about anything

How does this affect you?

Just as I am taking this reading challenge, I have a challenge for you.  If you are interested in learning more, I invite you to share in my nonfiction adventures and to share your stories with me.  Also, if a topic peaks your interest or you have a great story to share about that topic.  I would love to hear about it.  My goal is to connect to others through this journey.

HAPPY READING!