It has been a long week. My sleep has been very disregulated. The constant level of stress I've been under has wrecked my immune system. I am fighting a cold and low-level feeling of physical yuck.
It's like I'm a hardboiled egg that hasn't been cooked long enough. Someone is trying to peel me, but the shell is only coming off in small chips. The whole process ends up with the egg looking mangled. That's what my immune system looks like and that's how I feel.
Holy Week creates for me an unrealistic level of expectation for myself. I had a conversation with my 10-year-old daughter last night and it sparked inspiration for this post.
My daughter was a middle child for a few years, until my youngest came along. She struggles with feelings of injustice. She is painfully shy and sees everything through a warped lens. Last night, we were chatting about a bevy of things. I talked with her about HALT and how that can impact our feelings.
At 10 years old, but really at any age, feelings can be so tricky. I don't want to dismiss how my daughter is feeling. There's really nothing worse than someone (actually or metaphorically) patting you on the head after you've expressed a feeling. More than once, I've had people ask me (usually when I'm angry) if I'm PMSing. It is condescending and reductive and it drives me nuts.
So I have to acknowledge how she is feeling. I have to tell her that how she is feeling is a valid way to feel. I also have to explain that sometimes, feelings can lie to us. Feelings do not always equal reality.
For years, I did everything I could to NOT feel. I used food, I used alcohol, I used anything I could get my hands on. I lost the privilege to use alcohol because I wasn't good at it. Ultimately, it stopped working in helping me to not feel.
The problem becomes putting feelings in a proper perspective. It is helpful for me to run things by another person who can be objective about reality. This is what I tried to do for my daughter last night.
I don't want to divulge what she and I discussed because she would be mortified. I will say, in general, that I tried to dismantle what she was saying. I tried to hold it up to logic. That's especially tricky with a 10-year-old girl. Logic can be so fixed and the moods of a 10-year-old girl can be as capricious as springtime weather in Chicago.
There is, however, application between how she process emotions and how I process them.
You see, Holy Week carries (for me, I can't speak for other believers) a heavy weight of expectation. I enter into this week carrying a bag full of shoulds. (E.g., I *should* feel contrite, I *should* feel grateful for Jesus' sacrifice, I *should* feel like I'm looking through rose-colored glasses.)
It's a very heavy bag. It ends up weighing my spirit down. I feel battered by the time Good Friday comes along, like I've been actually punching myself (not in the way an older sibling would torture a younger sibling). It takes me farther away from the cross.
The thing is, I end up feeling like I don't even deserve to celebrate the holiday. I feel like there's no way I can prepare myself enough to approach the cross. I've been reading the Bible using a program in the Bible app. I'm behind in the readings (we will read through the Bible in a year), so the point I'm at is where the Lord is explaining all of the different sacrifices and the procedure for each one. It's interesting.
I do feel grateful that I don't have to go through all of the steps laid out in the Old Testament. I feel grateful that Jesus came to be the perfect sacrifice, that stands in place of all of the rituals.
The thing is, just like Bekah, I can't trust my feelings. Even though I feel inadequate and unprepared, that doesn't prevent me from meeting Jesus at the cross. It's not a black-tie optional invitation, it's a come-as-you-are invitation. Yoga pants are completely acceptable. It doesn't matter that I have gained weight (thanks constant stress and depression), don't have a pretty dress to wear or a sense that all is going to be just fine, thank you very much.
I hope this encourages you, if you are someone who celebrates as I do. even if you don't, please just keep in mind that feelings aren't always telling the truth. There is a children's book by Sandra Boynton called "Happy Hippo, Angry Duck." Toward the end of the book, she writes; "and a difficult mood is not here to stay. Everyone moods will change day to day. (Unless you're that duck. He's always this way.)"
Take heart, dear reader. Though there may be cloudiness today, find a friend who's able to help you focus on the bit of sun in the distance. That, in the end, may just end up saving you.
Saturday, April 20, 2019
Monday, April 1, 2019
Manager at Large
I wasn't sure I was going to have something to write about today. There are days when I have a very definite idea of what I want to write. Other times, I just have the first thread of an idea. I am not sure what the finished product might look like, but I know what might be incorporated into it.
It's been sunny here in my neck of the woods for the past two days. On the whole, I am emotionally better when there is sun. I try hard to get outside in the sun, even if it's just for a short amount of time. I plan on training for and running a half-marathon in September. The start of training season is just around the corner.
As the temperatures dropped into the negative numbers, my desire to run also dropped. There are a few people in my area whom I've seen running when it's that cold. They have all the gear necessary to ensure they don't freeze their butts off. I, on the other hand, do not.
I love running. I didn't intend to end up as a long-distance runner, but it turns out I prefer running 13.1 miles quite a bit. I have run in three full marathons. I also love that distance, but as a busy mom of 4 kids, it's tough to incorporate the midweek longer runs. I am perfectly content with running 13.1 miles and knowing my limits.
In preparation for the formal start of training, I have been tackling hills. There is a sledding hill attached to the back of the kids' grade school. I met my friend there a couple of weeks ago and we just walked up and down.
Since then, I've been ramping it up. I've been pushing myself. I stopped weighing myself a few weeks ago because it was negatively impacting my mental health. I do, however, still have some weight to lose. I also want to improve my resting heart rate. In addition to the weight loss, rigorous cardio is going to help me achieve that goal.
Running helps, but I know that it isn't giving my heart the workout it needs. I tend to run an even pace and I know that, after a while, my heart rate doesn't get into the right zones to achieve the goals I want.
In any case, I've been trying to get outside. It helps me.
I talked with a girlfriend yesterday about my depression. On the whole, I'm better. I'm more focused, I'm able to complete tasks, I'm getting caught up on the housework. My house is not spotless and my to-do lists haven't been completely vanquished, but it's a vast improvement.
What happens for me is that, as the afternoon wears on into the evening, I find myself getting low. In speaking with this friend, she indicated that it could be a function of me just getting worn out. I can see that. I think I tend to start my day strong, meaning I hit the ground running. I try hard not to take a lengthy nap (anything longer than like an hour negatively impacts my nighttime sleep), so I have to do what I can while I have the energy. After school is done, it gets crazy in the house.
It's a lot to manage--four kids, a husband who works part-time in the evenings, activities, etc. I am not someone who excels at keeping a schedule. It's a point of contention with Brian and has caused a strain. I have come a long way, but there are still days that I struggle to know where someone should be at what time. If it's Nutcracker season, then it gets even more hectic.
There is logistics and then there are emotions. Scheduling and executing a schedule is pretty cut and dried. There usually isn't a lot of emotion attached to it.
On the other hand, trying to navigate the world of tween, autism and sensory emotions is much more amorphous and foggy. It requires more finesse. It's not just a matter of packing the kids in the van (which honestly is a monumental task some days) and driving them somewhere and dropping them off.
It's trying to figure out how to settle arguments. It becomes quite Solomnic. I've learned that however I settle a dispute, one of the parties is going to feel offended. From either perspective, I'm playing favorites. It is tricky.
I'll give a for example.
Jeremy, my oldest, loves his sister, Rebekah. He always has. They are only like 16 months apart in age, so they are adjacent in grade to one another. When Bekah started kindergarten, Jeremy was ecstatic that they were in the same school. For years, when he would see her in the hallway, he'd greet her enthusiastically.
Over the years, we've had to navigate that. On the one hand, it seems like a small thing that Jeremy wants to be able to hug his sister or say "I love you" across the hallway. Bekah, though, has a lot of anxiety about looking and appearing like every other fourth-grader. She doesn't want to have attention drawn to her by her brother. She knows her brother is different. Her classmates titter about Jeremy calling out to her, which causes her anguish.
So what do I do? I have to teach my son that it's okay for people to set boundaries. That's a tough lesson in general, but when you add in autism, it's even more difficult. He doesn't always get subtlety in social settings. He's aware of people not thinking he's cool, but on the whole, he seems okay with it. But having his sister say she wants him to ignore her? That's really hard to explain.
I also have to teach my daughter that her brother loves her tremendously. I have pointed to my own relationship with my little brother. He annoyed me for years on end, but he has turned into a wonderful friend. He has helped my family out of some tight spots. He has provided babysitting and lots of laughs. But if you would have told 11-year-old Sue that someday she'd be close with her little brother? Yeah, exactly.
I have done my best to teach my kids that everyone's brain is different. Everyone processes information differently. Everyone sees the world differently.
(As an aside, yes, Bekah's classmates shouldn't laugh at Jeremy, but look. Kids have a lot going on. They aren't always assholes and they aren't always saints. Like most people, laughter can be a coping mechanism for dealing with awkward situations. This isn't about how kids are mean. In broad strokes, the kids in my daughter's class are good eggs.)
So we've reached a point where Jeremy is allowed to wave. He no longer yells out to her, he doesn't hug her spontaneously, he doesn't call her his princess (yes, that was actually a thing). In the end, neither party is 100% happy. Jeremy doesn't understand why he can't express himself to his sister. Bekah continues to petition to be an only child.
And this is why I end my evenings feeling drained, depressed and hopeless. I am empathetic by nature, but handling that many emotions for that long is just too much. In the past, I've seen a therapist regularly. With Brian's current job situation, it's not a feasible option.
What I've tried to do is adopt healthier habits. I continue to abstain from sugar (not as strictly as I once did, but I've found a balance that works for me). I drink enough water every day. I have a set bedtime that I adhere to every night, even on the weekends. I stay away from movies, shows, documentaries that get me emotionally involved.
It's a lot of work, trying to maintain my own sanity while also trying to manage and help my kids grow into the people God wants them to be. I enjoy the brief moments where all four kids are playing together (even if it ends up with someone crying, which has happened).
I know it won't be too long before the older ones will be off to college or trade school or whatever. They will start to carve out their own lives. I do my best to treasure the moments I have with them. That doesn't mean, though, that it isn't also a lot to manage at once.
It's been sunny here in my neck of the woods for the past two days. On the whole, I am emotionally better when there is sun. I try hard to get outside in the sun, even if it's just for a short amount of time. I plan on training for and running a half-marathon in September. The start of training season is just around the corner.
As the temperatures dropped into the negative numbers, my desire to run also dropped. There are a few people in my area whom I've seen running when it's that cold. They have all the gear necessary to ensure they don't freeze their butts off. I, on the other hand, do not.
I love running. I didn't intend to end up as a long-distance runner, but it turns out I prefer running 13.1 miles quite a bit. I have run in three full marathons. I also love that distance, but as a busy mom of 4 kids, it's tough to incorporate the midweek longer runs. I am perfectly content with running 13.1 miles and knowing my limits.
In preparation for the formal start of training, I have been tackling hills. There is a sledding hill attached to the back of the kids' grade school. I met my friend there a couple of weeks ago and we just walked up and down.
Since then, I've been ramping it up. I've been pushing myself. I stopped weighing myself a few weeks ago because it was negatively impacting my mental health. I do, however, still have some weight to lose. I also want to improve my resting heart rate. In addition to the weight loss, rigorous cardio is going to help me achieve that goal.
Running helps, but I know that it isn't giving my heart the workout it needs. I tend to run an even pace and I know that, after a while, my heart rate doesn't get into the right zones to achieve the goals I want.
In any case, I've been trying to get outside. It helps me.
I talked with a girlfriend yesterday about my depression. On the whole, I'm better. I'm more focused, I'm able to complete tasks, I'm getting caught up on the housework. My house is not spotless and my to-do lists haven't been completely vanquished, but it's a vast improvement.
What happens for me is that, as the afternoon wears on into the evening, I find myself getting low. In speaking with this friend, she indicated that it could be a function of me just getting worn out. I can see that. I think I tend to start my day strong, meaning I hit the ground running. I try hard not to take a lengthy nap (anything longer than like an hour negatively impacts my nighttime sleep), so I have to do what I can while I have the energy. After school is done, it gets crazy in the house.
It's a lot to manage--four kids, a husband who works part-time in the evenings, activities, etc. I am not someone who excels at keeping a schedule. It's a point of contention with Brian and has caused a strain. I have come a long way, but there are still days that I struggle to know where someone should be at what time. If it's Nutcracker season, then it gets even more hectic.
There is logistics and then there are emotions. Scheduling and executing a schedule is pretty cut and dried. There usually isn't a lot of emotion attached to it.
On the other hand, trying to navigate the world of tween, autism and sensory emotions is much more amorphous and foggy. It requires more finesse. It's not just a matter of packing the kids in the van (which honestly is a monumental task some days) and driving them somewhere and dropping them off.
It's trying to figure out how to settle arguments. It becomes quite Solomnic. I've learned that however I settle a dispute, one of the parties is going to feel offended. From either perspective, I'm playing favorites. It is tricky.
I'll give a for example.
Jeremy, my oldest, loves his sister, Rebekah. He always has. They are only like 16 months apart in age, so they are adjacent in grade to one another. When Bekah started kindergarten, Jeremy was ecstatic that they were in the same school. For years, when he would see her in the hallway, he'd greet her enthusiastically.
Over the years, we've had to navigate that. On the one hand, it seems like a small thing that Jeremy wants to be able to hug his sister or say "I love you" across the hallway. Bekah, though, has a lot of anxiety about looking and appearing like every other fourth-grader. She doesn't want to have attention drawn to her by her brother. She knows her brother is different. Her classmates titter about Jeremy calling out to her, which causes her anguish.
So what do I do? I have to teach my son that it's okay for people to set boundaries. That's a tough lesson in general, but when you add in autism, it's even more difficult. He doesn't always get subtlety in social settings. He's aware of people not thinking he's cool, but on the whole, he seems okay with it. But having his sister say she wants him to ignore her? That's really hard to explain.
I also have to teach my daughter that her brother loves her tremendously. I have pointed to my own relationship with my little brother. He annoyed me for years on end, but he has turned into a wonderful friend. He has helped my family out of some tight spots. He has provided babysitting and lots of laughs. But if you would have told 11-year-old Sue that someday she'd be close with her little brother? Yeah, exactly.
I have done my best to teach my kids that everyone's brain is different. Everyone processes information differently. Everyone sees the world differently.
(As an aside, yes, Bekah's classmates shouldn't laugh at Jeremy, but look. Kids have a lot going on. They aren't always assholes and they aren't always saints. Like most people, laughter can be a coping mechanism for dealing with awkward situations. This isn't about how kids are mean. In broad strokes, the kids in my daughter's class are good eggs.)
So we've reached a point where Jeremy is allowed to wave. He no longer yells out to her, he doesn't hug her spontaneously, he doesn't call her his princess (yes, that was actually a thing). In the end, neither party is 100% happy. Jeremy doesn't understand why he can't express himself to his sister. Bekah continues to petition to be an only child.
And this is why I end my evenings feeling drained, depressed and hopeless. I am empathetic by nature, but handling that many emotions for that long is just too much. In the past, I've seen a therapist regularly. With Brian's current job situation, it's not a feasible option.
What I've tried to do is adopt healthier habits. I continue to abstain from sugar (not as strictly as I once did, but I've found a balance that works for me). I drink enough water every day. I have a set bedtime that I adhere to every night, even on the weekends. I stay away from movies, shows, documentaries that get me emotionally involved.
It's a lot of work, trying to maintain my own sanity while also trying to manage and help my kids grow into the people God wants them to be. I enjoy the brief moments where all four kids are playing together (even if it ends up with someone crying, which has happened).
I know it won't be too long before the older ones will be off to college or trade school or whatever. They will start to carve out their own lives. I do my best to treasure the moments I have with them. That doesn't mean, though, that it isn't also a lot to manage at once.
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