Why is Negativity so Loud?

I only have one surviving grandparent. It's my mom's mother, Ann. She is bat shit crazy. I know I'm a Christian and I know I'm not supposed to say that kind of thing about people but in this case, it's absolutely true.

She and I stopped getting along when I turned 11. She has only ever been interested in my weight. Literally, that's really the only thing about me for which she expresses concern. She used to sit me down to try to express to me how concerned she was about my weight. It always came off as condescending, especially because it was usually right after she had goaded me into eating some dessert. She even went out of her way to comment on my weight when I was four months pregnant with Bekah. I mean, c'mon. Really?

Right after I ran my first marathon, she flew in for my parent's wedding. (They are remarried to each other after a period of having been divorced. A whole book wouldn't cover the entire subject.) I was the thinnest I had been for a long, long time. She fawned all over me because of the weight loss and had nothing to say about the major accomplishment of having run 26.2 miles without stopping.

She has never really been the warm, fuzzy grandma that is so idolized in our culture. I've never been ladylike enough, petite enough, thin enough, anything enough to get real approval or accolade from her. I have tried to love her as she is but she's incredibly prickly, especially as she has gotten older.

The point I'm trying to make is this woman is crazy but not in a packing the cat as a present, including cat food in the jello kind of way. She's crazy like "I-need-to-tell-everyone-how-I-feel-regardless-of-whether-they-want-to-know" crazy.

Now I have a wonderful husband, three beautiful kids, friends of every shape, size, kind, religion, etc. There were gobs of people cheering me on at that first marathon. I have had people show up to celebrate birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, milestones, etc with me. My kids tell me almost 10 times a day that they think I'm beautiful. My husband has always thought I'm beautiful.

I have posted my weight on Facebook pretty regularly since I started on this current weight-loss journey. Not a single soul has had anything negative to say about it. Once in a while someone will tell me to take it easy on myself, but otherwise even perfect strangers have been supportive of my efforts.

It's this strange phenomena, really, that the voice(s) I hear in my head, the ones that I give the most credit to, are negative. I could have a day that only happens in movies, where everything happens as I think it should, something I was worried about paying for gets paid for magically, Jeremy has a banner day at school, I've lost weight, my business has a great day....and yet one negative comment and all of that is undone.

Just one e-mail, comment on Facebook, off-handed remark, sarcastic reply to something and my mind wraps it in neon lights, sets an alarm off and suddenly, that's all I'm able to consider.

Today has been one of those days. It doesn't help that I am fighting either a cold or an ear infection. I'm still sleep-deprived from the other night, when Jeremy was ill. I am overwhelmed with a volunteer position I hold. I am on the precipice of hitting a good stride with my business, but I'm still climbing the hill that looks over the valley of success. I know it's just over the hill but I'm tired from all the climbing. Emotionally, I'm drained from so much. Physically, I'm drained. Mentally, I've got nothing. Really, nothing--aside from the huge, flashing Broadway-type negativity sign dominating my brain.

I am generally a positive person. I really do look for the silver lining in situations. I want to try to help people accentuate the positive. I love November because even though I refuse to join in the gratitude game on Facebook, it helps me get on a path of remembering the good stuff in life (however small it may be). I know when I am focused on what I have--versus what I don't have, how much money aren't making, what things we still need to buy--life is really pretty good. I am Peter walking on the water toward my best friend.

If I'm standing staring at the flashing Broadway sign of negativity, I am suddenly being swallowed whole by the waves that have been at my feet the whole time.

I wish I was the person who let things run off my back like a duck. I think I was never a popular kid in high school because everything hurt so much. I had such a tough time letting things, people, situations, bad interactions, go. To my credit, it all became fodder for my writing and I won a few awards for it all. Maybe there's something there, huh? But my point is, I always took myself and my life way too seriously.

I wish that there would be a day that I could just accept Ann Shannon (my grandma) for who and what she is. I wish I could just internally chant "what she says doesn't matter, what she says doesn't matter..." and it would form a barrier of protection around my heart and mind. I don't know why I'm so bothered by her but I'm sure it's because I'm like her; not in the oversharing, bitterness and craziness but in that I'm trying to recover from that and so I'm even more acutely aware of it. It's like when I quit smoking. Toughest thing I have ever done. I don't judge anyone who smokes because I've been there and I get it.

At the same time, cigarette smoke gives me a headache every time I'm around it. I hate the smell and do everything I can to stay away from it. I want to be the cool friend who says, "no, that's okay, you can smoke around me," but honestly it's just a migraine waiting to happen.

In the same way, I have worked hard to learn how to keep my mouth shut, to keep thoughts to myself, to keep advice to myself, etc. I think part of me is pissed that my grandma gets to do, act and think however she wants. Granted, she's miserable, no one wants her around and she literally is pissed at my grandpa for dying and leaving her alone. I'm not joking, she wishes she was dead. Like I said, bat shit crazy.

So she's not getting away with it but she's also not bothered by it and that bothers me. I don't know. It's so screwed up that I am so hyper-focused on the 0.1% of people who feel I'm failing on many fronts. I wish I could call that a margin of error and be done with it. My life would be so much easier. Then, though, I wouldn't need to lean on God so much. And there's the rub. If I'm not struggling, God is an afterthought. If I'm in a season that's tough or dealing with difficult people, God and I are best buds. I can see why he'd want to be my best bud. I am pretty awesome.

Yeah, I think I'll start chanting that tonight.

Stomach Flu

Jeremy came home from school yesterday seeming fine. He was upset because he got sent home with a yellow card. He called a friend a "butt." There's a part of me that thinks it's extreme to punish for something obviously so juvenile. Then there's the part of me that was called names and I totally support the teacher.

He didn't run out to see me as he usually does. I think he had some remorse about what he said. This is actually encouraging as it's something we've struggled to instill in him. He is six years old and doesn't always understand that his words have impact. To see him ashamed to talk to me about his day is confirmation that we are getting through to him. I didn't rejoice in it but I was happy about him making a connection.

He went to my parent's house, as he normally does on Tuesday nights. We went to pick him up and everything seemed fine. It's funny, though, as a mom there are just noises I know are not good. Brian and I were watching Conan and I heard Jeremy. I knew it was Jeremy and not Bekah or Doug. I knew he was probably not feeling well. Not sure how or why I need to have a part of my brain responsible for this but I'll accept it.

Sure enough, Brian went to go check on him and he had thrown up in his bed. I retrieved the puke bucket (it's a pink bucket you receive when you are in the hospital--we've all been in the hospital so much we have several just lying around), grabbed his sheets, his Star Wars blanket and prepared myself for a long night.

It was 3 AM before his stomach had emptied and he was able to (fitfully) sleep. Every 45 minutes or so I was jolted awake by the sound of dry heaves. It was enough to make sure I got no restorative sleep. Luckily, I am pretty good at making swift decisions. I knew the parents at preschool would not want me exposing their children to Jeremy's germs. It was a no-brainer to keep Bekah home. I knew Jeremy would have to stay home as well.

We designated it a pajama day (an extremely rare occurrence in our house anymore) and worked hard at watching every show Disney Junior and Nick Jr. had On Demand.

I have been fighting achy joints, a headache and fatigue all day, even after a nap this afternoon. I am glad we are past this illness. I am glad it doesn't seem to be jumping to anyone else. I am a bit disappointed but for an odd reason. See, I just had the thought that it would be so cool if Jeremy could have perfect attendance this year. He hasn't had the stomach flu since January of this year and he's not needed to be on antibiotics for over a year. I knew it would be something he could strive for and appreciate.

Now I'm bummed that he can't achieve it. His only comment about missing school was "she [Mrs. Martin] is going to mark me absent." He was pretty worn-out from a sleepless night--I think if he was in his right mind he would have been upset about missing school.

I periodically messaged with another mom throughout the day. Her son and Jeremy are friends and both were out today with the flu. She found out from Mrs. Martin that 7 (of 24) students were absent today because of this. We are both a bit leery of sending the boys back tomorrow for fear of them being re-infected. This bug has been making the rounds and I'm just afraid it's going to double back.

Ah, well. The washing machine is empty and stands at the ready. Me? I could always go with another pajama day.

**I do understand that by discussing the lack of illness Jeremy has experienced, I have guaranteed an awful winter health-wise for him.

Flat Monday

I am not a huge fan of Mondays. I have a fabulous husband who gives me a lot of latitude on the weekends. I get up early on Saturday, on purpose. Other than that, I try to nap both days, run errands by myself, go out with friends, basically I'm on furlough. 

There is a buffer for me with the kids. I have to cook still, but I don't have to make sure the kids aren't killing each other or climbing into the oven while I'm doing it. It's a beautiful thing, the weekends. 

I used to have panic attacks, mild though they were, on Sunday nights. The overwhelming feeling of being out back in the driver's seat would sit on my chest like an elephant. It felt suffocating and I would cling to the vestige of the weekend. My version of that was to stay up late and get no sleep. 

It guaranteed that I would be cranky on Monday morning. It guaranteed that I would be short with the kids, that we would rush like crazy and run late. 

Coming into this school year, I changed that habit. I have, until last night, made sure that I'm in bed at a reasonable hour. I have started setting two alarms on my phone, to make sure I'm up in time. I've done everything I can to cage the elephant, to bypass that crushing feeling. 

I am sure that the lack of sunlight contributed to my flat feeling today. I felt like one of the balls my kids have had-slightly under-inflated, a lack of bounce to it. The headache I ended up with didn't help either. 

I went through the motions today. I did everything I should do. I cleaned the house, decluttered, did laundry, read to Bekah, made bread, vacuumed. I exercised. I didn't get to run like I wanted to but I still worked out. Usually this pries me out of my funk but today it didn't. I am better now because Monday is almost over. I am better because I will soon crawl under the covers and say goodbye to the beginning of the week. 

Let's talk more tomorrow. 

Up to Speed...

I have been so inconsistent this month with writing. There has been a lot of mental conflict. I haven't been able to decide if I should write about my family or my business. It's meant that I just don't write at all. 

Things have been going really well, honestly. I started beta-testing a strength-training routine last week. The first few days were hell. I was sore beyond belief, could barely move and was still getting over bronchitis. 

I fought like hell to get through the first week. I went running two days, both short distances. The first time I really hobbled but by the end of the second run, I found my legs. Today, I started the second week. It was the same exercises (reps, number of sets) as last week. I am happy to report that I was able to complete it all--last week I had to truncate some of the sets--without resting as much and without any soreness. 

It feels great to make my body work harder. I am glad that I am fully over my illness. I am looking to start my training again, through the app Running for Weight Loss. I am at the beginning of week 7 (of 8). I am contemplating doing a half-marathon in the early to late spring. The problem is my mileage is nowhere near where it should be before I start training. So we'll see. 

The other issue working against me is the cold. I have no performance wear for the winter. I went out last week and wore a sweatshirt and sweatpants. It kept me warm but I know it's not a long-term solution. 

I am hoping maybe a local consignment shop may be of assistance. Or I will have to do the sweatpants thing until after Christmas. We'll see.

In other news, we had our pictures taken today. We had been using a photographer who had moved in a few doors down. Her pictures were great but her attitude wasn't. Jessica Martell, with Studio Pop Hair and Photography, friended me on Facebook a year or so ago. I always admired her work and she has always been easy to talk with and kind. It was kind of a no-brainer. 

She organized a mini-session at a local tree farm. She and another photographer worked together to conceive of 7-8 vignettes. We were able to do three of them-one in the back of a red pick-up truck, one near a sign saying "joy" and a present, and one where the kids held a banner saying "Merry Christmas." 

I knew Doug was going to be the least cooperative and he was. He has not napped well enough the past couple of days. Plus, he's 2 and always on the go. Even with these things working against him, Jess was able to capture some really great frames of my little man. 

The surprise was that the big kids were terrified of Santa!! He was there as a bonus (it was a secret). They were initially excited, but when he appeared out of the trees they were terrified!! He even offered to take their gift requests from a distance, but they both flatly refused. (They did acquiesce at the end with some prodding.) 

All in all, a fantastic experience. She even convinced me and Brian to jump in on a few shots. I was nervous because I'm not where I want to be with my body. It went really well, though, and honestly it was awesome because it was our first family picture. 

The other reason I was happy about today is that Jess let me promote my business. I made cinnamon rolls for everyone getting their picture taken. I wrapped them up, included my name and business info and got them to Jess's house. It remains to be seen if it will result in new business, but I'm trying to do my best to think outside the box when marketing myself. 

That's it for now. I'm glad it's Monday tomorrow because it means I get to run tomorrow night. Dinner is already figured of and I'm mostly caught up on laundry (even putting it away!). I could actually get some other projects done this week, yippee!

Getting Back

I have had a busy few weeks. After a triumphant return to racing, which included a recent 5K PR of 29:40, I came down with bronchitis. I am happy to report that it seems to have left completely. I am hoping to get back to running in the next few days. 

Meanwhile, I've had very little energy for anything else. I've of course not had any true days off. I will say, though, that Brian is great about letting me rest on the weekends. I have spent the last couple of weekends resting as much as possible. 

Last weekend, though, I spent Saturday trying to grow my business. My kids attend preschool at a local Lutheran church. I serve on the preschool committee (think PTA) and we decided to hold a vendor fair/craft bazaar as a fundraiser. 

I have been milling my own flour for the past year. In the past few months, I decided to start demonstrating it for other people. I wanted to do the vendor fair to raise awareness, network and make some money. 

I have to admit that I was fairly terrified in the days leading up to the event. There is a part of sales that I struggle with and that's rejection. It has gotten easier to accept it as part of the business. I just was worried that all the hard work leading up to the even would be for naught.

I shouldn't have spent so much time worrying. It went quite well. I struck up a conversation with the vendor sitting across from me and she had a lot of wisdom to share. I was able to network with some people, talk to others about my products, promote myself and make some money. All around, it was a successful event. 

I am hopeful that this holiday season will be busy for my business. I love being able to earn some extra money and doing it while baking-one of my absolutely favorite things.