mental health, deconstructed

Today I decided I wanted to start yoga again. This is what that decision-making looked like in stages.

I awoke with 1st husband at 5:30 a.m. He told me to not let him back into bed because he had a lot of meetings today; I considered getting up with him to get some tea, write, and do some yoga but instead turned to diagonally occupy all bedspace and fell asleep again.

Husband woke me with a kiss when he left for work at 7:00. Imagined getting up to have tea, write in the quiet, do some yoga, then went back to sleep.

Awoke at 8:45 to text from 1st husband saying our new bathroom tile would be here tomorrow rather than the projected end of the month. Texted back "Wow, great!" and thought about going downstairs to do yoga. Ate some chocolate from my nightstand and perused Facebook instead. For two hours.

Got out of bed because back was aching, decided doing yoga would really help, went downstairs and poured a tall cup of ice water [after considering the merits and downsides of various other glasses and bottles in the cupboard]. Emptied CD player of other CDs to put in meditative CD of instrumental classic rock songs, wondered why we still own, alphabetize, and use 600 CDs instead of our 7000 hours of digital music. Cleared coffee table of last night's tea cup, wine glass, chip clip, empty Cheetos bag. Decided to vacuum coffee table drawer along with the impossibly plain always-littered brown rug where I then put my Wii balance board and yoga mat, instantly creating the need to vacuum again. Turned on Wii, discovered balance board batteries dead. Ate more chocolate, recycled old batteries, found new. Resisted urge to change from pajamas into yoga pants and sport bra, closed blinds, sat down to document this morning on the blog I've neglected for seven months.

Message : For any boys (or girls) from my junior high/high school days who lamented not getting any dates with me, thank your lucky fucking stars. Because sometimes this whole thing happens out loud.

Now, I'm going to do some yoga.

inscription

I think I think too much. See what I did there? I am grievously meta-metacognitive.

When I think about my blog and writing posts, I have high expectations and a million seemingly great ideas. I cannot stop thinking of things to write about throughout the days; sometimes I even compose paragraphs while driving or grocery shopping but then forget to jot down my best stuff and it's all gone by the time I get home and put away purchases, make tea, organize my laptop area, check Facebook, clean something in a different room, sort laundry, sit down, adjust my old telephone operator's chair, position hands above the keyboard.

I might also lack focus.

I often feel like I can't produce quality work if my space is not in magazine-photo-ready shape. Or at least Instagram-ready shape. So I get things "just right" (75+ minutes) then agonize over What To Write (75 seconds). Is it interesting? Am I getting the details precise? Is this relevant to anyone? Did I include everything that could possibly be related to the topic throughout the history of the world? And then I go finish the laundry.

I have had a great book with 100 ideas for blogging from a marvelous woman I met at BlogHer in 2008. In the five years I've owned this book, I have not written one post using her brilliant advice. This is a clear indication of something wrong with me that my counselor & I did not explore, but I am making amends starting now. My Big Plan is to use the time I have in the morning before my people wake up to write - I'm fairly certain I will be too groggy to worry about how pretty the dark little corner is, though I will brew a cup of tea - and if I don't immediately have a genius idea, I will choose a prompt from my book and compose something fine.

I think...I can.

emerging from the dark ages

I'm pretending that it's taken me awhile to write a new post because, before this one, I had 1066 posts and it was pretty exciting to be at that number. For you non-history geeks, the year 1066 is considered a major turning point in England's history; it felt like this 1067th post should be as significant at the Battle of Hastings. But as tumultuous as teaching high school can be, I doubt it really compares to the start of the Middle Ages.

This full moon week began with me feeling a bit dejected by my students' unrelenting cries of "Reading is boring!" and "How is this important to REAL LIFE?" and "Whyyyyyyy do we have a quiz on a MONDAY?!?" Maybe that is how King Harold II felt when Halley's Comet ominously appeared over England and William the Conqueror began marching into his country...Anyway. I trudged on, reading aloud and leading kids not too reluctantly through reasonably thoughtful discussions of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

Then, because I had another quiz scheduled for today, there came a storm of sadness from students planning Senior Skip Day impromptu family trips to the beach. There would be no taking the quiz early or later if they did not have an official doctor's note excusing them, per our school policy; every day can be Skip Day after June 15, young people. Gnashing of teeth and roaring laments ensued, much like the war cries of British and Norman soldiers, I'm sure. Yet I stood my ground.

This morning I found 2/3 of my students at school, ready for the quiz. I had cupcakes for all of them, and hearty thanks for valuing our time together. It was a fine day.

Keep calm and carry on, indeed.

hot purse-suit

I have been obsessing for a month about getting a new purse. Part of it has to do with my inherent need to simply obsess about something and since Anthony Ervin has apparently blocked me from his Twitter account/consciousness, I need a new focus. But another part of it is that I've decided my upcoming return trip to NYC will require something far more chic than my garage sale/thrift store bags [which I took last year but nevermind coherent thought] in order for it to be THE VACATION OF A LIFETIME (please be sure you say that in a booming voice, with reverb).

In shopping days past, I would see drool-worthy purses I loved but passed them by because a) didn't feel a real need for one at the time and b) they cost more than my wedding dress, even considering 20 years of inflation. So armed with the irrational belief that heading to NYC gives me permission to now spend upwards of $500 for just the right life-changing handbag, I figured I'd spy it within an hour's jaunt through the mall, earn some Disney reward points on the smoking credit card, and drive home in a heady stupor.

Of course not. When do we EVER find just what we want when we want it upon entering the most wretched place on Earth after The Store That Shall Not Be Named? And after weeks of looking (sometimes in the same stores, on the same shelves, as if The One will magically make itself visible to my faithful heart), I am ready to go all Christian Bale crazy on the clerks. However, since my stellar work in counseling, I can let it go.

For now.

My trip is still four months away.

frivolity

In case anyone thinks I am only blogging serious topics these days, here is a nonsequential list of Ridiculous Things I've Done in the past week that will disabuse even the most casual reader of such a notion.

1. Awoke at 6 a.m. on a weekend morning to watch [on my 3" iPhone screen] potential 2nd husband swim in Berlin
2. Spent multiple minutes in a row plucking wild silver hairs from my head
3. Composed pretend conversations with a certain World Cup swimmer/potential 2nd husband that always ended with us going out dancing
4. Had actual [mostly one-sided] Twitter conversations with the same World Cup swimmer/potential 2nd husband in which I am at my most witty & brilliant, but no one gets to go dancing
5. Shamelessly wore yoga pants & Fountains of Wayne tank, slippers, and fancy houndstooth coat to drive daughter to 7 a.m. stage band practice
6. Planned imaginary vacations to Disneyland, Hawaii, and Singapore
7. Planned imaginary move to London
8. Checked Twitter Interactions for a response from World Cup swimmer/youknow every few hours, every day
9. Sang along to Beyonce, with emotion; thought I sounded pretty ... irreplaceable
10. Forgot to drink water and/or eat for 5+ hours at school
11. Fed my family pizza at least 3 times
12. Watched no football games in their entirety
13. Experienced actual concern about who might be voted off Survivor
14. Considered an e-mail rumble with my son's English teacher for telling my kid he wasn't 'ready' to read Catcher in the Rye
15. Bought a bagful of Chanterelles but have not yet eaten them while watching The Walking Dead

Now, feel free to indulge in a superiority complex and question my role in shaping the future of our world.

This is just to say, however, I think we should all experience a little more ridiculousness every now & then.

Though I really am counting on dancing with youknowwho in real life sometime in 2014. Without bribery, drugs, or blackmail. Okay maybe some bribery.

inciting insight

I used to want to be a psychologist. My 9th grade me, in a "Labor Day 2000" essay I vividly remember crafting (mainly because I had specific visions of my grown-up wardrobe), saw this careerwoman of the future as a jet-setting, brown leather boots- & tweed skirt-wearing young mother of 2 traveling from Seattle to New York City for a National Psychologists of the World meeting (I don't think that even exists). All I knew was that I could see behind every teen magazine advertiser's attempts to get my hard-earned babysitting dollars, and I could overanalyze conversations with boys to decipher real meanings ("You're really funny" = "We should always be just friends" and "You're really smart" = "Please do my homework while I talk to this other girl").

That and wearing stylish clothes I could finally afford were all I really knew about being a psychologist; the minute I found out there would be SCIENCE CLASSES involved, I was out. Though in my teaching job, where I do get to wear stylish clothes [my Mechanical Engineer husband can afford], I do use those critical thinking & listening skills I developed back in high school, as well as questioning & observation. Every day.

But not with myself.

Anytime people recommended I see a counselor, I punched them in the neck felt tense. I always thought two things: First, counselors are a good idea for some people. Second, I am not some people because I know exactly what my issues are and amdealingwiththemjustfinethankyouverymuch.

But knowing one's issues and actually addressing them are very different things.  I finally decided to see a counselor after frantically texting my husband on the way to work about our need for my salary; I was hyperventilating about the last few weeks of school and could not convince myself that I was doing a good enough job at teaching + parenting + volunteering + friending + wifing.

Talking to a paid someone about my issues has been more than just terrifying (one significant issue is control & not liking surprises), it has been immensely helpful in relieving my crowded, spastic brain. The most interesting revelation is how unkindly I tend to talk to myself; I have actually thought kinder things about serial killers. I am learning to be gentler with myself, which is a little weird because it is essentially having arguments inside my head - admonishing the sardonic Me (who is responsible for many of my more hilarious Facebook posts, frankly) while soothing the belittled Me, without becoming a maudlin Oxygen Channel feature. I think we're doing alright so far.

All of this is to say: I want to write more here, more relevant & interesting & funny & possibly useful things; I also want to be present with my family, teach well, enjoy the company of friends, and indulge in a few shenanigans now & again. So here's hoping I can keep Me and Me working well together. I appreciate your support, People Who Like Me.

busy #photoadayjuly

I love these piles. Stockholm Syndrome?

71/365 "recreation"

August trip-planning
Big Apple with bff
Getting obsessive

19/365 "joy"

If you say so, cookie.

channeling sandy in 5-7-5

Too shy to convey?

Meditate my direction...

You better shape up.

I think I've gone slightly mad. Be back soon.

simple math

Freshmen + Full moon = 72-hour dull headache

Freshmen + Full moon + Happy Hour with Colleagues(x4) = Joy to the world

13-year old boy + Homework - Xbox privileges = End of the world

13-year old boy + Homework - Xbox privileges x Hovercraft idea for Science project = Life worth living another few weeks

11-year old girl + Middle School x Hormones = Mom is stupid

11-year old girl + Middle School x Hormones ÷ Mall Trip on School Holiday = Mom is awesome

High hopes for NaBloPoMo + Weekend Fun ÷ (Lesson Plans)(Feeding Family)(Sleeping) = Bittersweet fail

Writing - High Hopes + Occasional Inspiration x Life² = Satisfying enough

Test tomorrow. Be sure to put your name on your paper. 

gloomy with a chance of hopeful

I love being a teacher.

Love.

Truly.

But sometimes it feels so hard I can't help but imagine hopping a sleeper train to New York, pretending to be a fascinating incognito famous author writing poems about the scenery and short stories about the passengers while drinking wine and eating cheese, bread, & chocolate all the way across the country, where I will find a funky studio apartment to share with a Mad Menesque lover and send artsy postcards from.

Or, driving into Portland and shopping for six hours before collapsing at a Happy Hour bar with the new Chuck Palahniuk book and my iPod blasting Fountains of Wayne.

Teaching is not hard like laborious - sometimes I come up with a new way of approaching a skill or topic on the fly because what I've planned isn't working, but that doesn't make me sweat (usually). I don't pull muscles (unless I clumsily climb on a chair to make a point) or find myself short of breath (except for when I crisscross the computer lab 45 times in 90 minutes). And honestly, that would be about the only exercise I get so it would be welcomed. And these are the parts I handle pretty easily.

Hard like: After I have concocted 33 multiple-intelligence-friendly ways to say "Please use your time wisely because today is your last day to work on this assignment in class" including Pig Latin and animated PowerPoint slides (from atop a chair), at least six students will act dumbfounded and/or outraged when I ask for the assignment the next day.

Hard like: When I hand out sticky notes while explaining OUT LOUD IN ENGLISH their purpose, each individual student will ask me What is this for?

Hard like: I have had intelligent discussions with every one of my students and know for a fact that every one of them is capable of thoughtful analysis and synthesis of some sort, yet when I read a passage from a novel and ask specific questions about that exact passage within 40 seconds of reading it, I am met with blank stares. Sometimes sighs. Occasionally groans, as if I am expecting the impossible from their teenage brains.

I want to stab myself. Multiple times, every day.

But then. The most unlikely kid in the world - the one who announced loudly and with glee that he most certainly would NOT be doing homework over the long weekend thankyouverymuch - e-mails his research paper from home Sunday night then asks first thing Monday morning if I got it. Yes, thank you, it looks like you did quite a bit of work. He tells me he was up until 3 a.m. Wow. And, he read the novel but didn't finish all the questions, just 12 (out of 13). Wow again, impressive. Yeah, he says. It felt really good to do all of that work, actually.

Love.

magical thinking

I imagine by telling myself something often enough and with forceful enough thought-energy, I can make it so. By this reckoning, I am fit [without ever exercising; in fact I mock exercise] and healthy [without eating properly or drinking water unless there is tea or booze in it]; my house is reasonably clean [though I cringe at the clouds of cat hair swirling about me as I walk upstairs]; we will always have plenty of money [regardless of how often I splurge on manicures, cocktails, dinners out, and shoes].

I think my children are learning to do most things smarter than I do them.

I feel certain all of the Seniors who have passed through my classroom this year are going to ace the final board presentations they have continually put off organizing and I will weep with joy as I announce their names at graduation in less than 40 school days. Wait, I hate crying in front of people. I won't be gritting my teeth?

I like to believe in the best outcome but be secretly prepared for the worst - this makes me, what, a cautious optimist? Or a hopeful pessimist? Maybe just delusional.

I can live with that.

begin again

I tend to follow patterns in my life.

Sometimes they are useful, sensible patterns like eat, drink, then be merry or lather, rinse, repeat.  (Actually, I rarely repeat. Only when forced to camp and not shower for two days, then it takes numerous shampoos to recover).

Other times (more often), they are less sensible but still useful: Do housework diligently for weeks, grossly neglect housework for weeks, drive family away with mental breakdown and binge clean for 24 hours.

Regarding writing, I can identify at least 30 topics that would amuse or at least interest (sometimes horrify) readers every day. Often I mentally craft paragraphs during my lunch break or on the drive home; occasionally I remember to write things down. Then I promptly forget everything, collapse on the couch, and [insert mindless TV or laptop activity] until I am too tired to even be mindless anymore. Go to sleep, wake up, lather rinse repeat.

I know there are certain things I am supposed to do to help myself out of this rut. I have tried the Get Up Early, Force Myself to Write Something/Anything for 15 Minutes, Get Ready for the Day Feeling Accomplished pattern (it lasted about 17 minutes); the Write the Last Thoughts of My Day in a Journal, Go to Sleep Feeling Somewhat Accomplished pattern (lasted a few nights, with fitful sleep afterward); the Write Only in A Specific Space at A Specific Time Without Interruption, Crab at My Family for Invading My Space & Time, Get Massive Headaches and Hate Everyone pattern (overall unpleasant). I've had reasonable luck off & on with the Write Every Day According to NaBloPoMo or Something Like It, Enjoy the Diversion from Stresses of School & Family, Look Forward to People Looking Forward to My Writing pattern but it unfortunately ends more often with Getting Smug and Slacking Off than Getting Inspired and Keeping It Up.

I think I will mix & match, throw together a little plaid with polka dots, and see what happens. Check back often. (Please)

resolution-free zone

As a teacher, I often emphasize the necessity of setting goals. I talk about making them Achievable, Believable, and Controllable (get it - ABC?) and differentiate between goals and dreams (which do not necessary have to be any of the ABCs; witness my Potential Second Husband List[s]). It is important to know what you want and design some sort of plan for getting there; I appreciate the concept and attempt to sell it to the Youth of America.

However, when it comes to resolutions I am a non-believer. I think I psych myself out, setting these high standards that start to feel unmanageable, and also I get into a "Who am I to tell ME what to do? What's wrong with the old me??" state of insanity mind. So in order to affect necessary change in my life, I tend to go with the ignorance is bliss/fake out philosophy in which I don't consciously let myself know that I am trying new techniques; I just start doing whatever was going to be my resolution and hope it sticks.  As though I am actually schizophrenic and by not acknowledging the changed strategy, my other obstinate personality is unaware and doesn't protest.

Regardless, there is an element of me [perfectionist] that wants & needs to do things differently. Thus, at the start of this magical new year, I will write some *ideas* here in code so the resistant alternate personality doesn't try to sabotage my secret efforts to institute change.

• I am hoping to see more sunrises & enjoy more unrushed breakfasts with my children
• If I start to wear out my yoga pad, I can shop for a new one and possibly some more cute sweatpants
• I'd like to increase the need to wear the sweet apron my friend Sam gave me
• Writing detailed lesson plans farther in advance means a greater ability to attend author events and concerts mid-week, guilt-free

And I think posting on my blog every day will restore the peace of mind & balance I misplaced awhile back. That I will say out loud in clear language, because it is the key to all of the other parts coming together.

May you live all the days of your life. ~ Jonathan Swift

Happy 2011, friends.

fun facts about humanity

There are all kinds of people in the world. Let's look at how some people choose to behave.

• Some people invent new realities and are surprised when others become confused.
• Some people seem to be one thing but are really another far less pleasant thing.
• Some people make mistakes but don't realize they are mistakes and then burn bridges they wish they hadn't.
• Some people take their aggressions out on others and refuse to acknowledge this activity.
• Some people are offended by others' opinions and think it's okay to threaten those they disagree with. [Some people hate ending sentences with a preposition; surprisingly, I am not one of them]
• Some people need to remember that making threats is often against the law.
• Some people think everything is about them.

There are other people in the world who behave in very different ways. Let's look at their tendencies.

• Some people try to hope for the best in a horrible situation.
• Some people prefer not to dismiss friends just because of a disagreement, or even a horrible situation.
• Some people attempt to help others (maybe the kind of people mentioned above) even when it is difficult and those others continue to act like jerks.
• Some people eventually let jerks go their own way, and move on with their lives.
• Some people are stronger and more feisty than others (for example, above) apparently give them credit for [Another errant preposition; sorry]
• Some people respectfully* decline to give in to the demands of other (above) people. Particularly when the demands are essentially censorship.

I hope you live with and around more people from the second group because they are generally more enlightening & enjoyable and overall less tiresome. Peace be with you.


*Some people will, however, respond to profanity with a bit of their own. Oops.

tilt

everything feels wrong.
our world
has tipped off its axis.
we push and pull in opposite directions,
forgetting we're on the same side.

what we thought was real
exploded
what we knew was real
disappeared
our guides have been taken away,
and it's hard to think
with our hearts torn out.

I would pull our world back
singlehandedly
but I'd rather do it
with you.

for the man I cherish,
on the occasion of my most recent mental breakdown

please continue to hold, and thank you for your patience

sorry for neglect

school, camping, Vegas, bunion

stay tuned for these posts

mania

Sometimes a mile wide
other days only an inch
Damn fickle ego

make mine moody

I am, unfortunately, serious when I say that my premenopausal? Sorry, Jenn! mood swings are intensifying. The end of the school year often does this to me - summer so close yet so far, stir crazy underclassmen, seniors who no longer feel the need to learn things and/or follow rules - and I am also in the midst of recertification, which requires a head-pounding amount of organization & paperwork. And I wish the rain would stop finally, for the love of God; even a native Pacific Northwesterner like me is done with the gray for awhile.

So I have joyously discovered a new plaything [a sure sign that I have a million more important things to do, of course]:

At STEREOmood you can pick an emotion or activity and they will generate a playlist of appropriate songs. I love the variety and, unlike some other random music websites, it displays what songs are coming next and you can create your own playlists from what they've chosen. I am suddenly far hipper after just 30 minutes of listening to homework.

Rock on.

P.S. I have not been compensated in any way for this endorsement. I'm just a satisfied listener.