That funny feeling...again...

So I have that funny stomach-buzzing, tight-chest/heart anxiety feeling again. It's not a physical problem like I am going to have a heart attack or be sick or anything. I know what it is. It's anxiety. I can't pinpoint what caused it (causes it) but I can give some details on a bunch of little things that I think contribute to it...maybe.

I think it's at it's height right now because I need to run or do some exercise to burn off a bit of the frustration I've been feeling—except I can't because I have a client call in about 35 minutes (well, I did, til she postponed it another 15 minutes, and will probably then also be late, which means I could have ran or done some exercise and alleviated myself somewhat of this feeling, but now I can't because I'm on to writing to fill the time til the client call...ugh).

It may have started yesterday when I took my kid to this fancy-pants playground. She'd been there before and then she's been seeing it in a video she has and she kept asking to go. School was out yesterday, it was unseasonably warm, and so, we went. I was glad to take her somewhere special that she wanted to go, but I myself am not super crazy about the place. It's nice that it is 100% handicapped accessible, that's great. But it's, like, a 30-minute drive away and it's kind of in a shi-shi "neighborhood" (you can't really call it a "neighborhood" exactly because it's in a suburb with rolling hills and multi-acre lots, but anyway...) and there is always this weird mix of "the beautiful people"—moms with $700 riding boots, Chanel sunglasses, blown out hair and makeup—and then the nannies. Of course, there are "tourists" like me who go there, too, sometimes...and like this mom of a kid from my kid's old preschool who I saw and was trying to avoid.

So, I was having some fun walking around, following my kid around as she played "Froggy Fairytale Land," pretending she was a frog and leading me on a tour of her homeland, avoiding some bad guys here and there, achieving some little adventure goals along the way. Being with her lights up my heart I love to watch her facial expressions when she talks, love to hear her voice, her ideas.

I have to admit sometime I grow weary of her fantasy play, though, and I have to tell her so, now that she is getting older. She had woken up wanting to play mommy and baby animal, so we were hyenas. Then she wanted to be a pet cat that I was adopting. In the car ride to the playground, she was a dog who was going to marry our real dog. I couldn't take it anymore. It takes a lot of effort for the adult mind to engage in imaginative play like this while at the same time being grounded in the real world, taking care of the adult things that need to be taken care of like making and cleaning up breakfast, responding to emails, and...driving! I told her I feel kind of lonely sometimes and really would rather just talk to her as her real self. I told her I like her, I don't want to talk to a bunch of different pretend animals all day, that I want to talk to her. She seemed a little disappointed, but she "got" it and then I engaged her in a real-life conversation.

Back to the playground. After indulging in some fantasy frog play, she wanted me to play hide-and-seek. I generally don't like to play hide-and-seek at playground (or places other than our own yard) because after all, it's my job to watch my kid and know where she is and it makes me nervous to not know where she is. But, I gave in. The first couple hides I cheated and watched her, doing that thing all parents do where they pretend not to be able to find the kid and then they pop out and laugh and it is all so cute. The final hide, though, I actually lost track of her. It's a sprawling playground with lots of structures. So, I was wandering around looking for her for what felt like quite a while. I was a little panicky, but not extremely so. She's not a baby or toddler anymore. When I was her age, I probably went to the corner playground all by myself, so was it really a big deal that I couldn't find her for a few minutes? But, then I started to get a little panicky and mad. And to boot, the children of that mom from the preschool that I was trying to avoid were following me around. I don't know if they recognized me or my kid. I do know that they know I was looking for my child and they were tailing me, in a way I felt pretty sure was mocking or making fun of me. Maybe I am too sensitive or reading too much into it, but to me, it is rude and disrespectful to follow someone around this way. I never did like this mom (or her friend who was there with here awful kids too). It was so infuriating. I told the kids after several pauses and dirty looks to stop following me and that it was rude what they were doing. The friend of the mom collected them shortly after that, not acknowledging me, and it's not clear whether they noticed me or not. And shortly after that, I found my child. I scolded her mildly, but didn't want to take my frustration out on her. I just told her we weren't going to play hide-and-seek at playgrounds anymore and I told her about the awful children following me and she said "I'll protect you from them!" She is the best.

So, that caused me anxiety. Then, coming home, I had to make sure the child did her homework —which I'd lost cleaning off my desk of the gazillion papers the school sends home. Since I lost her homework, I had her make her own little booklet. All they do is color pictures and identify words with certain letters in them, a task which is far beneath my kid's level anyway, and I always make her do some element of extra work, like actually writing out the sentences in her own hand on lined paper, or something like that. While supervising her homework, I have to field a bunch of emails from an annoying person about issues that are really beyond my purview. But, I have this thing where I try to please and look like I am doing all I can to help. Still, when asked about things I don't really understand or control, it makes me very anxious.

Now, though, today, I am also feeling anxious because I miss her. Days when it is just me and her are even better sometimes than weekends with all three of us because they are like the golden baby days of..."just us"... I love having my husband home, too, and the time for myself that having him also parenting allows, but there is a different dynamic when he's home that's sometimes more chaotic (read, less under my control) than when it's just me and her. Now it's just me, alone, with my work and I miss her face and her words.

Kind of comforting, but not really

I recently finished Comfort, by Ann Hood, that I'd set out to read as maybe a bit of a lesson on how not to be so anxious about my own child—losing her, either through death (kind of an irrational fear for every day) or through just her simply doing what kids do and growing up.

I learned about Hood through an essay she wrote following the Newtown, Connecticut, tragedy in December where young schoolchildren were gunned down and killed.

Hood writes really well. She captures the love of a mother in beautiful detail. I felt like I could really identify with all the things she notices and loves about her daughter. Many of her daughter's quirky qualities reminded me of my own child. I found myself sobbing in the beginning, wondering whether it was really a good idea to read the book, as I was getting really emotional. I thought of my parents. They'd lost a child, just a little baby. She was not even one year old. I don't remember her at all.  I just remember getting swept up by some friendly paramedics as they rushed us...somewhere. Really, that's all I remember. I thought that any shortcomings they had as parents are just totally forgiven because they'd lost a child.

My connection to Hood kind of ended, though, in her coping. I guess that is OK. We all have to find our own ways to cope and of course hers would be different from mine and, of course, I don't really know what mine would be til it would happen. I do know with a good amount of certainty, though, that I wouldn't adopt another child, and I don't already have that other, other child (her older son) that Hood had.  Aside from the other children, Hood seemed to be quite comfortable financially. Writer job. Big house. Ability to take really great vacations. She'd had a nanny before for her children (including the daughter who'd died), too. I think having other children probably makes a big (the biggest) difference and is something I would not have.  This scares me, and so my takeaway is that I just have to be present and savor life as it is and try not to worry. I'm not a huge worrier, compared to other women, based on things I hear from people and things I read, but still, it's easier to tie that concept up in a little concluding sentence than to actually live it...

A great week!

Just wanted to take a minute to note how good I am feeling right now.

I've been doing pretty clean eating this week, sticking to my 30-40 minute, but intense, workouts and I actually lost a few pounds this week.

But that's not all. I had a really good week work-wise and kid-raising wise.

An annual report  I did for a client has gone in draft from the VP to the president and he said: "Haven’t read the Annual Report carefully yet, just flipped through it for “look” and “feel.” The verdict?  I LOVE the look and feel this year. It’s unique and creative and seems to give off a lot of energy – like we’ve really been busy doing something. Can’t wait to get the hard copy and read it more carefully."

The VP said: “I agree it's an amazing look. And I think the print version that [me] envisioned will be very unique and very classy. So glad you like it. [Me] did a great job.”

I suck up praise like a sponge and live for it. (LOL? Need to read and re-read my last post? Or maybe that is just how I am going to be...) So I was really glad to get these comments. And I did all this work (well, not all of it, the design ideas have been several weeks coming, but the crunch work) at the end of this week amidst shortened school days because of snow. And concurrently with my biweekly newsletter writing and publishing for this client.

Meanwhile, my kid had many happy times and fun activities as I juggled snow play amidst my consulting work. She is so happy, healthy and smart and I wake up regularly to her saying "Love you!" I don’t pat myself on the back often (I don’t think) but I’m going to say it: I rocked this week!

(And I'm writing it so I can look back and remember...)

Stop trying to impress everyone

Last week I came across this article in a print magazine at the hair salon and it really struck me. I cried. "My Boss Taught Me to Stop Trying to Impress Everyone" it said, and went on to tell the anecdote of a former outgoing, overachiever who'd always reach out to people. It reminded me of someone. "Why don’t you try sitting still and letting other people come to you? That way, they can discover the real, wonderful person you are for themselves," the boss tells her.

Now, I'm not an overachiever in the true NY/DC sense. I'm not a lawyer or lobbyist. I don't have an advanced degree. To many, I'm probably small potatoes. But, I am always on it. I'm the one who picks up the slack. I'm the one who never forgets something. I'm the one who never misses a deadline. I make mistakes now and then, so I'm not saying I am perfect, but I am dogged and always trying very hard to please. It's not just because I am self-employed and have clients. I was this way at work when I was an in-house employee, too.

So, I get an email from my big client/former boss that "I'm probably not going to get edits to you on the annual report til Tuesday, and am going to ask for it back by noon Wednesday, do you think that's doable?" She admits jokingly it may be hard to say given I don't know what the edits are, and I agree, also pointing out I don't know when on Tuesday she's getting back to me. "But, I usually have a way of getting you what you need when you need it!" I replied, cheerfully.

Well, it's 5:30 Tuesday and still nothing from her. I'm not going to work on it this evening, so whatever I can get done from 9:00 am til noon tomorrow is what she is getting. I actually think she'll be fine with that. She's never been unreasonable. It's me who has had a way of setting myself up as some kind of superwoman. I'm tired of it, though, and slowly, I am going to change.

I don't want to end up like this (overworked and underpaid in the "great speedup").

We have to strategically make our boundaries and protect them.

In a mood

Posted this on Facebook yesterday—made it myself : ) Yesterday I actually also made myself that kind of smoothie, departing from the usual, based on stuff I've been reading in the Conscious Cleanse book (I am taking the book with a grain of salt, as a whole, but there are some useful points). I felt amazing after drinking it, for real. I got a flash of sun and air when I took out the trash, too, and was immediately compelled to go for a run, when minutes before I'd been kind of lumbering around expecting to do yoga in the basement. It was powerful.

(Hold on, being interrupted by kid now who wants to show me a book she just made and feel like I do actually have to stop what I am doing and pay attention. This is my life...)

Anyway, the day yesterday had its ups and downs, but overall was OK. I did my run, I ate healthy the whole day. I took my kid to the library and the nature center (which included a mini-hike in the woods). I made a perfectly lovely and healthy meal for my family—ginger-garlic wild salmon and veggies with brown rice. Read lots of stories to my kid and fell right to sleep with her.

Then, I was supposed to wake up and go spend some time with my husband. But I just didn't want to get up. We were supposed to have sex. It's been a while—over a week. He's been sick. But last night I was just flooded with such exhaustion, I didn't really know why. I tried to figure out why, in addition to being so physically tired I felt awkward and weird about having sex (I sometimes feel this way other times) and gravitated toward the fact that so many women and raped, bullied, abused—in the U.S as well as all over the world. And that in television, movies, even music, sex is portrayed as something I can't really say I like. Lots of domination, violence, women made to look very typecast either as just pretty and empty or sexy and dangerous, I can't pinpoint it, but it goes on and on (my husband, I think, thinks I am crazy, as I tried to explain this to him yesterday and he thinks maybe I consume too much media—and he may be right, but his focus was on the serious rape media, not the cheesy mainstream media that might actually be the problem).

(Hold on—just ran outside twice. The first time to ask my husband why he was taking the crappy car on his outing today when he could be taking the nice car, with heat and a decent stereo—me and the kid weren't going anywhere this morning. Whatever. Then, after coming back inside and noticing he left his credit card on the table, I ran back outside AGAIN, I ran all the way down the block in the street screaming at him, hoping he would notice so he would have his card. If we were normal people who BOTH had cell phones, I could just call him up—I guess that's another story. But, yeah, this is my life...)

So I woke up this morning generally OK. I woke up in bed with my kid. I started in the bed I share with my husband, but I went to bed before him (remember, I was exhausted) but my kid woke up sometime around an hour after I'd drifted to sleep (and it was a really, nice relaxing sleep I'd been in) to pee and I don't know, when she wakes up to pee, I guess I am programmed from when she woke as a baby to go lay down in her room with her, so I did. So we woke up together and we cuddled and she took me through the multiple "I love you mommys" and "You're the best mom evers" and I returned her admiration, sincerely, looking at her beautiful, beautiful face with its big green yellow eyes (almost the same as mine, but darker), marred only by one slightly pink eye from a little cold. She tells me she "just wishes we could get a cat now" (we cannot, my husband is allergic, she will have to wait til she is on her own)..."I wish I could make a big dinosaur" and she means like a larger-than-human-size structure she can go in, replacing her previous desire for a large, walk-in, "hippo robot" she wanted to make before, this new idea prompted by one of the books we read last night.

(Hold on another interruption..."I wish I had glitter..." said in a long, wistful whine...to which I reply, "No. I am not getting you anything or doing anything for you now. I am writing and having my coffee, then doing my exercises and making my breakfast and then, only then, will I do things with you, get things for you or play with you. You have a house full of toys. Go play with your dollhouse, build with your legos, play with your tiles, your k'nex...anything. I am not getting you anything right now... She had now moved on to playing with some tangrams blocks repeating 'Theo, Theo, pumpkin Leo' again and again, then asks me if I like what she is building...)

As I was saying, I woke up generally OK. Most always happy cuddling with my child and seeing her beauty, being grateful for her health, my health, the warm house. But there is that pink eye of hers. I will have to put drops in it from the last time she had it back in November. It's always a struggle. Who likes having something put in their eye? I like doing it even less than she likes getting it, though. And the struggle marks the bad turn for the day.

As I get up to get the medicine and face the day, and the tasks ahead—make breakfast, hope she will eat it, continue to hear and try to follow a barrage of demands for play and supplies, maybe get some client work done, while my husband lumbers around, hopefully playing with her a little bit, as he often nicely does, but leaving messes and getting in the way, too...and I just become overwhelmed with the sense that I don't really get to have a lot of fun or freedom in my life. I bitch and moan. I slip into a really bad mood really quickly.

But now, of course, typing this, I feel like an ass. "I don't get to have a lot of fun or freedom...? Really?" Asshole! Seriously.

(Mommy! I thought we were going to play dress-up dolls!—I am not making this up...)

Seriously, though? This is what I tell myself: "Bitch, you have a motherfucking DAY OFF. And every day is kind of a day off for you right now since you work in yoga pants and each nachos at all hours of the day (that latter bit is changing) watching Girls (or Cosmos, as your intellectual level fluctuates). Anyway, you have a day off today because your big client is off and so they won't be emailing you with stuff. You basically can do what you want all day everyday and so if, intermittently, you have to answer your child's request or pick up after your husband and then suck his cock at night, you better just do it and like it. You know, some women have to walk five miles dodging militant rapists just to get murky water for their starving children to drink? So, STFU."

OK, going to play dress-up dolls now. Hopefully I will get that workout in shortly after. I will, too, be interested to see my husband's reaction when he comes home from his errand and I tell him (and child corroborates) how I ran down the street waving his credit card and screaming.

Identifying feelings

Part of my meditation and mindfulness training involves recognizing a feeling you may be having and letting yourself feel it. I am doing that, but the feeling I have right now is so intense, I'm compelled to record and try to analyze it, at least just a bit.

I just dropped my kid off at school. I have the "nice car" today, so I should feel a little happier. I suppose I do, but I still feel a strong sense of anxiety. I feel a tightening in my chest and a seed of sadness right above my belly. I have this awful sense of loss I have most days when I drop my child off at school. I've cuddled her upon waking, talked to her, cuddled her some more. All this cuddling might sound weird, but I assure you, it's not, just basic mom cuddling, a hug, a squeeze. But I notice things. I smell her hair, my face feels the softness of it. I am very aware of the feel of her small, soft-skinned, so new hand in mine. This hand that draws so much, plays so much. Always with marker inks on them.

I am so scared of moving on. I am so scared of the days where I drop her off then have to rush off to an office, not seeing her at 1:20 or 3:50 (still so long), but maybe by 6:30. I know that is ridiculous. I know it would probably be better for me to rush off to an office than sit around here all day doing just little bits of work amidst my emptiness. I know it would be good to fill my day with someone else's bullshit and get paid for it. I have to let go of the fear. I'm afraid of work becoming untenable. Taking over. I want to post this article about the need for flexible work schedules, on Facebook, but I am afraid of future employers seeing it and seeing me as a less than dedicated worker—even though I do think the job I potentially have lined up (several months away) will probably be fairly flexible.

Let's see. What else am I afraid of? I am afraid of doing the workout I know I have to do. I am afraid of feeling the pain. Afraid of facing that I am not what I once was, while being nagged by the idea that I could be what I once was, and better, if I only pushed myself. This one's easier—just do it, as they say. Maybe the exertion will push out the anxiety—the endorphins Jackie Warner will talk about at the end of it. Then I go get my haircut. Then I volunteer at the school. I will just take it one step at a time.

Fucking off, just one more day

So yesterday and today I was a total lazy fucking loser. I ate a lot for pleasure and watched lots of TV. I've been doing a Girls marathon. After seeing (being reminded of...I'd heard of her before, certainly) Lena Dunham on the Golden Globes and thinking, ugh, she is so awful, what is the appeal?, and then finding out I could get season one on Amazon instant, I bit. Thing is, I actually like the show. I feel like since I am so old, so removed from these people, I don't really have to relate to them, I can just be entertained. I do actually like some of the characters (not so much the Lena Dunham character, she just seems so desperate and wrong). It feels not wholesome to watch it, somehow, maybe it is because the characters themselves don't seem particularly healthy, and I will say, I felt better when I was watching Cosmos.

Anyway, I can only do this one more day (today) before I worry about myself. I worked a lot last week and had this hard thing with the husband this weekend and so I feel like it's OK if I fuck off a day or two, but yeah, halfway through day two I start to worry. Why isn't my boss/client emailing me with shit to do? (So I email her.) Am I ever going to be able to go back to work full-time in an office and survive after all this lazy hanging around at home? (Even when I log a lot of hours, I am still at home.) Will I ever get over missing my daughter? Will I ever get my act together and lose those last 20 pounds?

Well, I have to. I want to be one of those really fit older women. And I have to get my act together on the other stuff. And I will. Tomorrow. (I will actually work out today, though, even if it is just a walk in the woods I've still got that.)

Also, I love the Grumpy Cat. It exemplifies how I feel about many things. Yes, I am overall a happy person, but that cat says it straight, things I can't say.