Deconstructed Resolutions

Have you ever watched the show The Biggest Loser?  If you know me, you might be aware that I love this show – especially the couple’s edition – and watch it every season.  This is mostly because I believe that, although some of the in-show advertising is ridiculous and the methods are sometimes silly, at the end it really does change a lot of lives in a really positive way.  I know a lot of people talk about how unhealthy it is for the contestants to lose that kind of weight in a matter of months and I get all of that.  However, despite all this, I really like the idea that they are really changing, not only their lifestyles, but really tackling some of the core issues that got them where they are in the first place.  I love to see the emotional and psychological transformation more than anything and, to me, it feels like one of the most honest reality shows out there – for the most part.  Over the years, I have laughed at myself for watching it, because I am usually sitting on the couch and eating while I do – I mean, talk about the peak of hypocrisy.  But, I think that’s the idea – it’s on primetime TV, 60% of people who are into this show are doing the same thing.  (I fully believe that the others are like me, DVRing it and watching it later.  But, I do secretly wish that most of these people are watching it while on their treadmill or something.  I’ve read reviews that people do that.  I, however, still sit down and watch it with food, just with my lunch rather than my night time snack…)

The reason I am telling you this is really in tune with my New Year’s ideas.  The new season of this show is about to begin, probably in an effort to maximize everyone’s newly made resolutions.   Recently, of course, I have been talking with my friends about resolutions and have declared that I no longer make them.  I stopped doing it a few years ago, actually, in a bout of self-reflection when I realized that I have never actually kept any resolutions that I have made.  Not really, anyway.  These days I make only one “resolution:” to continue setting small, achievable goals either daily and/or weekly.  I have found, by doing this, I have taken a lot of the stress out of my life caused by feeling like I’m never getting things on my to-do list done.  I have created a more productive environment for myself where I also celebrate my small victories.  This is actually a lesson I have gleaned from having a 1 year old: small achievable goals and small victories. You learn to really live in the moment and celebrate the little things when you are with a 1 year old all day, because that is the sphere in which they exist.  I put the block on that stack successfully: round of applause!  I put the book back in the basket: round of applause!  I washed the dishes AND showered during her naptime: mini dance party!  Small achievable goals have changed my way of thinking about my life.  I don’t feel bogged down by my to-do list anymore, I often just feel motivated to see what I can accomplish in a one or two hour span of time, depending on how long naptime lasts J

In terms of weight loss, though, I will say that this was a drag for me for a while.  Although I have never been overweight per se, after I had the kiddo, I definitely felt like I would never look the way I used to.  I didn’t show a lot of my weight gain until after I had kiddo and, I guess, everything kind of took its time to settle in. It didn’t help that I had to have a C-Section due to Savannah’s size and breech position, destroying any and all of the core that I had spent so long developing in my Pilates training.  My surgery not only destroyed my core, but between that, the nursing, and my tendency to hunch over due to my large bust, I had developed a lot of pretty detrimental back issues.  It took over 4 months of chiropractic rehabilitation and physical therapy to help me get back to place where I could begin some meaningful physical activity.  After several months, even though I was eating pretty well, I still wasn’t doing enough exercise because I was at home alone with the baby, often for weeks on end, just trying to get a shower and a meal in when I could.  I began looking for a job to break the monotony, then getting very frustrated that I couldn’t find anything over the course of many months.  The quiet I found on the job front really deflated my sails and made the weight gain feel like an even bigger problem.  I hated the way I looked both in and out of clothes, I actually hated it when Ryan told me how sexy he thought I was, and I dreaded the idea of going anywhere where I might see people I knew because I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin.  Even then, I knew that these feelings were fueled more by where my head was and less by what my body actually looked like.  I just could not get out of that negative space that was telling me I didn’t have control over anything and I cursed our social culture for contributing to my sense of physical discord.

Then, one day, cruising the Facebook walls during one of Savannah’s naps, I stumbled upon this blog post that a friend of mine had shared.  It totally changed my perspective and snapped me out of my funk, so to speak.  I don’t always take the time to read the articles or posts that are shared on Facebook – sometimes I put a mental bookmark in the posts that look particularly interesting to me, because I simply don’t have the time to read them at the moment.  But something about this post felt different, so I clicked the link right then and read on.  By the end, I felt so silly and wasteful about the way I had been viewing myself.  The author speaks about how after the birth of her second child, she found herself avoiding pictures with her kids because she didn’t like the way she looked, she hadn’t lost her baby weight yet and it felt more important to document her children’s experiences than to get in the pictures herself.  At another child’s birthday party, her daughter begged her to get into the photo booth and Mom immediately felt uncomfortable.  She realized, that day, that she was being selfish by excluding herself from pictures with her children because she was robbing them of their ability to have keepsakes and visual proofs of their childhood moments with her.  As an adult, I don’t know many people who don’t cling to pictures of themselves from their early childhood, especially with their parents in the picture.  My favorite pictures include my mother, who also was sometimes shy about being in a picture because she has always been self-conscious about her teeth.  I am so grateful for the pictures I have with her in them and always wished there were more of them.  I immediately flashed forward to my own life, where I am continuously avoiding pictures with my kiddo because I can’t stop thinking about looking back at these pictures and loathing the way I look.  What a selfish thought, when compared with the idea that my daughter could have pictures of the two of us together, especially at a time when it is just her and I 100% of the time.  Being a daughter, I know how vitally important it is as the mother of a little girl to create positive and realistic views of ourselves as women.  I have a responsibility as her mom and as an independent, free-thinking, bad ass woman to demonstrate and exemplify healthy images of myself that she can mirror back on her own self.  If you’d have asked me even just a couple of years ago, I would have said this same thing – but somewhere between going into labor and the present day I kind of lost my way. 

In that moment, I felt this release.  It almost felt like a physical reaction.  It’s difficult to describe, but my skin prickled by the end of the article and I felt, all at once, lighter.  Like that figurative weight was lifted – only literally.  That day, I took a series of pictures of me and the kiddo and felt so good about it.  And I really noticed her looking at me like I had never seen before.  I was changing my clothes for the day as she sat on the floor just watching me, with this look of awe and pure love on her face.  It was like I was finally seeing myself in the mirror as she has been looking at me all along.  She doesn’t see love handles, surgery scars or cellulite.  She sees her Mama, a vision of womanhood,  all that is represented by having those X chromosomes.  In that moment, I felt both pride in her and my realization and shame at having missed this all along.  Never again – only positive images and definitely no more thinking out loud about how I don’t like how these jeans fit here or how this shirt doesn’t hang right there.  After a couple weeks passed, I noticed that my pants were starting to get looser and I was now able to finally fit back into my pre-pregnancy pants.  I immediately stepped on the scale and saw that I had lost 6 pounds!  Since reading the article, I have lost a total of 11 pounds.  I have, of course, changed my diet and started doing Pilates more regularly.  Plus, being a single mom, trying to keep the house together, the yard work done and chasing a very busy 15 month old girl who never stops moving doesn’t hurt.  But, really, I have been doing a lot of these things all along.  It really has felt like once I let go of the thoughts and feelings that were weighing me down, I started to drop the weight.  I started focusing on my small, achievable goals, started thinking more realistically about my lifestyle and have really tried to do something active every day, even if it’s just taking 20 minutes to rake the yard.  I feel so much more confident and motivated!

Once I really started thinking about all of this, I realized that I suppose this is sort of my pattern.  Several years ago, I had just gotten out of a really toxic relationship that had gone on for too long and created a lot of deep scars…for both of us, I’m sure.  By the end of it, I had gained about 10 or 15 pounds physically and felt at least 150 pounds overweight emotionally.  We spent a lot of time dragging each other down, degrading one another and just emitting nothing by negative energy.  Once it was over, and it took a while to really be over, I went through several days where I just didn’t feel right.  I kept rethinking my decision, scared about the future because I had spent so many years with this person and didn’t know anything else, but also scared about what might happen to/for him.  Fortunately, I lived with two of my best friends in the world, who really helped drag me through those days.  One day, after a night out and a cathartic reconnection with an old friend, I came home and had an emotional outburst during which I sobbed uncontrollably.  After that, I felt that same skin-tingling, lightening sensation.  It was like I pulled the trigger on the last 6 years.  I felt that weight lift.  Within about a month, I lost all of the weight I had gained – and hadn’t changed a whole lot about my lifestyle.  I was pretty broke back then, so overeating was definitely not an option J  I felt then the way I felt after I read the article – like I had a new lease on life, like I had discovered a confidence I never knew I could inhabit, like I was becoming the best version of myself. 

Discovering all of this over the last several months has really given me insight into why I really get into The Biggest Loser.  Maybe 6 months is too short a time to lose 100 pounds.  Maybe working out 8-10 hours a day in an enclosed environment where a diet is provided for you is an unrealistic way to change your lifestyle.  But what those people learn about themselves, their demons, and the things that are REALLY weighing them down?  That is for real and, I swear, is the real secret to their success.  If you happen upon the show this season, or if you are already a fan, think about past seasons or watch this season’s contestants.  There is always at least a few, if not most of them, that experience that initial big loss because of the simple change in lifestyle and then they plateau.  Notoriously, weeks 2 and 3 are the hardest on the scale because of this huge loss.  It is my belief, though, that these weeks are the hardest because that first week represents their physical weight – their surface level weight.  Because they haven’t started chipping away at their emotional weight, they come to a stand-still.  Once they have that first breakthrough moment with their trainer, though, they miraculously lose a big chunk of weight.  I’m no therapist and, in no way, have the authority to hand out advice or instructions.  Also, in no way do I submit this as a true weight loss plan – you still have to do the physical and dietary work.  But, for what it’s worth, here’s what I have learned for myself.  Until you take hold of, recognize, vocalize, and call out the heavy things you are clinging to with white knuckles, real change can never happen.  Once you are aware of those heavy things, loosening your grip and ultimately letting go is the hardest but most necessary part.  We can’t all have a Bob/Jillian/Dolvett in our corner, telling us to pick up the speed on our literal or figurative treadmill.  Sometimes we can find that in the people around us and sometimes we just have to be that for ourselves.   And sometimes it shows up in the form of a toddling, 15 month old girl with wide eyes and expectations of her Mama.  Either way, set your first small achievable goal today and see how it feels.  And really, start small.  Put the laundry away straight out of the dryer instead of waiting; walk up the two flights instead of taking the elevator; show up early for one appointment or date.  Whatever it is, immediately after, celebrate.  Look in the mirror and smile, give yourself a hug, do a 10 second dance party – whatever rocks your world.  Just take a cue from my daughter and take a second to enjoy the moment.  It’s addictive.  Trust me.   

The Language of Love

**Wrote this post a few weeks ago, but only just polished it up for posting.  Lots of irons in the fire this time of year, so look for more to come soon.  Enjoy!**

So, in an effort to maintain some sort of interesting repartee with my husband while he is gone, I came up with, what I think is, a brilliant idea.  Several months ago, while surfing the Pinterest wave – yes, I am an avid follower – I stumbled upon this “30 Things” list.  The blogger who posted it here did so in an effort to boost her own blogging efforts, sparking in me a similar inspiration.  But, I didn’t want to just outright steal her idea, so I pinned the site, marking it for future considerations.  Fast forward to just before the deployment, a lightbulb *bing!*  I proposed the idea to Ryan that maybe, since we would be mostly sustaining on emails alone, that we challenge ourselves a little bit.  I proposed to send him one question a week for every week of the deployment and we would each have that entire week to formulate and send a response to said question, in the hopes that maybe we would have at least something to write about when the mundane details of everyday life got a little boring to explain.  He was thrilled with the idea, as he too was looking for a little inspiration to boost his writing sensibilities, so we began. 

Well, it has been going great!  We have both found that this has been an incredibly easy and focused way for us to isolate some of the minor little nuances of our life that we might not have otherwise ventured into discussing.  It has brought up lots of questions and sparked conversations that have carried our emailing to a much more interesting place.  We keep marveling at how much we have been learning about each other, after we had gone along thinking we knew so much!  Oh how much the “newly” married have to learn. 

At any rate, this lengthy discussion brings me to the purpose of this post, which has much more to do with the greater good.  Or so I hope.  The most recent question Ryan and I spent time answering was “What is Your Love Language?”  This is actually a question that I had wanted to look into more for quite some time now, as someone had enlightened me to this idea and book a long while ago.  As it turns out, Ryan had also heard about it and had secretly wanted to discuss it as well.  Weird.  The basic premise is that a psychologist who had been seeing clients over the course of 20+ years started to notice a pattern in the couples he had been counseling.  It seemed to him that, in general, people tend to express or “speak” their love in a small variety of ways.  He narrowed these “languages” down to 5:  1) Acts of Service; 2) Receiving of Gifts; 3) Words of Affirmation; 4) Quality Time; 5) Physical Touch.**   According to the good doctor, everyone has one “language” which they speak to other people more than the other 4.  And, maybe not necessarily the same, they also have one that they need spoken to them in order to feel loved.  It is possible to have 2 tie for first, as I did, but generally one outweighs the others.  What is most interesting is that the language you think you speak is sometimes not the one that ends up as your actual first language.  The fascinating part comes when you try to compare your own language with those who you love, to see where there may be some kind of disconnect.  And there typically is.  There is a quiz here that you can take to determine where you stand in the love language realm, but allow me to tell you a little bit about the revelations I discovered for myself.

So, as I have few secrets, here is how I scored on the assessment: 9 Acts of Service; 9 Quality Time; 5 Words of Affirmation; 5 Physical Touch; 2 Receiving Gifts.  As you can see, I had two languages duking it out for first place, but once I saw the results in black and white it was like another lightbulb went off, *Bing!*  Of course!  Why could I never put that together?  I am a total and complete Acts of Service lover!  I mean, so many things clicked in my head in the moment I finished the quiz, namely the fact that I felt like an idiot for never having put this together before.  The reason I sometimes seem like an overachiever to others and why I sometimes feel undervalued, and ultimately at times, underloved, is because I both give and expect to receive love through Acts of Service.  I like to make people things, do for others, cook them meals, bake them treats, etc, etc, etc.  Talk about an epiphany.  Around our house, I am always acting out this language with Ryan and am always disappointed when my efforts are not reciprocated.  As it turns out, Acts of Service fell last on Ryan’s survey with a whopping 2 points – yikes.  Not yikes in an “I’m judging you way,” yikes in a “wow, we are on completely other levels sometimes” way.  So, you can imagine that our conversations revolved around the ways in which we could work on bridging the gaps between our languages. 

In terms of the other results, at first I was really surprised that Quality Time beat out Words of Affirmation.  In terms of my relationship with Ryan, I value our time together so much and I think that is one of the most valuable lessons I have learned from our military life: how to truly value each and every day that we spend together.  I just also know how lucky I am to be married to someone who is so forthcoming with his feelings about me as well as his constant declarations of my beauty and his words of encouragement.  On that scale, he definitely gets a 10 – he knows exactly what to say when I need him to say it and even when I don’t know I need it.  As a matter of fact, in our discussion we figured out that he has a keen ability to know when I am feeling a little less than supported through his lacking Acts of Service and makes up for it by speaking more Words of Affirmation, which ranked higher on his list.  He admitted that he realized through this activity that he does that, but also made the startling realization that I have been speaking my Acts of Service love to him from our very beginning and he, like me, felt like such dope for missing my sometimes very obvious pleas to fulfill that need.  Instead of thinking that I just wanted help with mundane household tasks, he saw that really I was subconsciously pleading to be recognized and acknowledged.   This is starting to sound a little too “shrinky,” I know, but honestly, it has given us both a great deal of insight into our understandings of each other as well as our relationships with those around us.

When I started to think about these results in broader terms, it began making more and more sense to me.  Because, I grew up in a family where words of affirmation and physical touch were not really highly used or regarded, these are languages that I didn't become versed in "speaking" until much later in my life.  I think I am still learning how to feel comfortable expressing them in some ways.  I have never been a person who could always verbalize how I felt very well or even say the right thing at the right moment.  Believe it or not, in a lot of ways I have always been a relatively shy person when it comes to verbally expressing these things - I've always been better in writing J  Spending time together, just hanging out and doing things, that's how my family has always communicated love.  That, and doing for each other.  I mean, when I really go back and think about all of this, which I have - at length - it really brings together a lot of ideas about me, my family and the ways I have viewed our relationships up until this point.  Receiving Gifts was so very low on my list, which was not a shock either, because honestly, I haven’t often been on the receiving end of many gifts and therefore it has never been an important thing in my life.  Growing up with limited means often put the focus either on other things or just made the one or two gifts we did get that much more meaningful.  This was a big lesson for me growing up that I intend to carry on – no 50 present Christmases in our family.  I have a solid understanding of why this is so important for some people out there, who maybe speak the Receiving Gifts languages more than others, but for me it is the thought or the act behind the gift that means the most.  That isn't to say I don't love receiving gifts, it really does always make me feel special and communicates a kind of love I often overlook.  I also definitely love giving gifts, but really, in the grand scheme, that could fall under Acts of Service J  When put up against other things, for me, gifts tend to fall to the wayside in terms of importance because so many other things took a focal point throughout my childhood and adolescence. 

So, is this test foolproof, definite or conclusive?  Probably not.  There is a chance you could take the quiz and find out that it doesn’t factor out for you.  The key is definitely to be completely honest with yourself when you answer and don’t try to give the answer that you think you’d prefer to give – like in those magazine article quizzes.  You know who you are!  At the very least, by just reading over the Love Languages and thinking about them in terms of yourself and your relationships with others, can offer a great deal of insight into why things don’t tend to go your way or work out like you plan.  It offers a crucial insight that could be a good jumpstart to any New Year’s resolutions you might be thinking about.  I have always found that the New Year is a great time, maybe not for overhauling your life, but maybe just taking stock of what’s going on, what you’re feeling and what changes you might need to start making for yourself or those around you.  (An interesting note, too, as I just discovered by returning to the website after not having seen it in a while, he's added some profiles for apologies and appreciation that I intend to explore, as well as information about a child's languages.  Could prove to be an interesting insight into your parent/child dynamics...).  If nothing else, it’s just a fun quiz to take and keep in the back of your mind.  It might also help you understand why your significant other refuses to put their socks in the hamper or keeps forgetting your birthday – it might not be because they don’t love you enough, it could just be that you aren’t speaking the same language.   

 

**From the Website before he changed it - I just like these explanations better.**
#1: Words of Affirmation

Actions don’t always speak louder than words. If this is your love language, unsolicited compliments mean the world to you. Hearing the words, "I love you," are important—hearing the reasons behind that love sends your spirits skyward. Insults can leave you shattered and are not easily forgotten.

#2: Quality Time

For those whose love language is spoken with Quality Time, nothing says, "I love you," like full, undivided attention. Being there for this type of person is critical, but really being there—with the TV off, fork and knife down, and all chores and tasks on standby—makes your significant other feel truly special and loved. Distractions, postponed dates, or the failure to listen can be especially hurtful.

#3: Receiving Gifts

Don’t mistake this love language for materialism; the receiver of gifts thrives on the love, thoughtfulness, and effort behind the gift. If you speak this language, the perfect gift or gesture shows that you are known, you are cared for, and you are prized above whatever was sacrificed to bring the gift to you. A missed birthday, anniversary, or a hasty, thoughtless gift would be disastrous—so would the absence of everyday gestures.

 #4: Acts of Service

Can vacuuming the floors really be an expression of love? Absolutely! Anything you do to ease the burden of responsibilities weighing on an "Acts of Service" person will speak volumes. The words he or she most want to hear: "Let me do that for you." Laziness, broken commitments, and making more work for them tell speakers of this language their feelings don’t matter.

#5: Physical Touch

This language isn’t all about the bedroom. A person whose primary language is Physical Touch is, not surprisingly, very touchy. Hugs, pats on the back, holding hands, and thoughtful touches on the arm, shoulder, or face—they can all be ways to show excitement, concern, care, and love. Physical presence and accessibility are crucial, while neglect or abuse can be unforgivable and destructive.

Mission Complete!

Well, here I am – post # 2!  How proud are you?!  I am pretty excited.  Ever since I posted the first one, I have been thinking and planning the next ones.  I have been spending some time working on a couple of other posts, but in the meantime, I didn’t want to leave you hanging thinking I am a) never coming back and b) laying about eating bon bons, drinking margaritas, reading magazines and wasting away the time I have to accomplish things around my house.  Just a sidenote  -but where did that saying even come from.  Do people eat bon bons?  I wouldn’t even know where to get them.  I’m more likely to be laying around eating popcorn or dark chocolate powerberries, but I suppose that doesn’t have the same catchy ring…but I digress.

Anyway, I accomplished a huge project this weekend that I am dying to share with you all!  With the free time I’ve had these days, I have been trying to conquer a lot of household projects that I have been keeping on an ever increasing list.  One of those projects has been the kiddo room.  When we first moved into this house, I put all of her things in one of the 3 bedrooms with a vision in my head of what it could look like if I ever summoned the gumption to make it happen.  I knew the exact color, decorations, and set up.  When she was about 6 months old, I finally decided to tackle it.  Ryan was gone on one of his many 2 week long trainings, I had already finished the living room and now I was ready to move on.  I bought the paint, draped the furniture, and taped the creases to get started.  I finished the painting in 2 days over the course of the kiddo’s nap times and night time sleeping.  Thankfully she was taking nice long naps twice a day.  Once I got the whole room painted with two coats, I put up some of the wall appliques that I found and put the furniture where I wanted it.  I was so excited, but I didn’t want to get too happy yet, I still had things I wanted to do. 

Well, wouldn’t you know, it took me another six months to finally complete the project.  I have been staring at the one large blank wall in her room for months trying to decide what to do with it.  I have been looking for the right set of shelves to put up against it, but nice shelve pieces are stupid expensive and I’m really not interested in putting a lot of money into kiddo furniture; God knows what is in store for it.  Well wouldn’t you know Pinterest saved the day!  A while back I saw a posting ofor using rain gutters as shelving to create a little book nook in a kiddo room.  Brilliant!  I pinned it for a rainy day and have had it in the back of my mind for weeks now.  Well, last week I was so over the kiddo’s books being strewn all over her room, as she is obsessed with reading every single one and then just dropping it and moving on to the next.  It was time to execute the plan!

Taking her books to read under the tree

This past weekend the Munchkin and I set out to Home Depot to gather supplies.  I found the perfect vinyl rain gutter in a beautiful shade of brown to match some of the furniture and some drywall screws.    The rain gutters are sold in ten foot lengths, so I carried one down to the front of the store and asked one of the orange apron wearing men types if a hacksaw would be the best way to cut this gutter down.  I don’t want to say that there was any eyelash batting or sweet smiling happening, but it was a Saturday at Home Depot and without it I was probably just some clueless chick with a kid wandering the aisles.  They were more than obliging to my request and said, well, I guess we could just do it for you miss, right this way.  Bing bang boom, 10 feet of gutter becomes 3 equal length gutter shelves. I walked out of there for approximately $9 with my three pieces and 12 drywall screws.  Sweet!  Munchkin and I headed home for naptime and I planned my attack.  When she woke up, I taped the walls where I wanted to hang the shelves, measured for the screws, drilled the wall and the gutter pieces and screwed them into the wall.  Done and done.  It was so exciting!  I moved a chest into the room next to the shelves for the animals to have a home, put the remaining Eric Carle animal appliques up and marveled at my handiwork.

Ta Da!

The last step in the process was hanging the picture string I made for her first birthday.  At her party I hung a collection of pictures from her first year, hung them from string with ribbon so people could look at them as they meandered around throughout the day.  I really liked how it turned out, so I figured why not get two uses out of it?  I strung the pictures up above the shelves and now that whole space looks purposeful.  The room is complete.  It is the first room in the whole house, in almost a year of us living here, that is finally complete and Savannah is obsessed with it.  She is constantly pointing and laughing at the pictures, which she has been studying as they’ve been lying on various surfaces around our house since September.  She can’t get enough of taking the books down and putting them back up and she is loving the space that has been made available to play by getting everything off the floor and out of corners.  Yay for me!  Check out the pictures for yourself.     Since there is no one here to revel at my creation in person, you all get the joy of seeing it here.  I don’t know about you, but for me there is something about finishing a major project that inspires me to get started on another one.  Seems counterintuitive, but it’s true.  Wait till you see my garage...

She's Baaack...for reals this time.

Wow.  How is it even possible that over a year and a half has passed me by without even one iota of a posting to my own blog.   It’s funny, because I think about this blog at least once a day.  Once a day for probably 21 months – that’s a little more thought and a lot less action.  Disappointing, I know.  Ryan even asked me several months ago why I hadn’t posted in such a long time.  After a long pause and a brief amount of thought, all I could come up with was “I just don’t feel like I have anything to say.” 

I have always prided myself on my ability to transfer thought to written word in somewhat of an eloquent fashion.  It’s always been my source of salvation when the thoughts in my head get too jumbled, unorganized, or riotous.  And it isn’t to say that I haven’t had thoughts, because where would that leave me?  I just have also always prided myself on the notion that “if you don’t have anything useful to say, don’t say anything at all.”  I suppose I just haven’t felt like anything I have thought in these last almost 2 years has been useful.  After some consideration, I’ve come to realize that maybe this is just an extension of my feeling of uselessness which has grown out of my lack of resolution on the job front.  After almost 4 years of searching and waiting, much to my own chagrin, I have yet to step back into the classroom as a full time teacher.  This has definitely taken its toll on my confidence, patience, surefootedness and resolve.  For a brief time, I was teaching jewelry making to elementary students which was, in its own way, educationally fulfilling.  But, as is wont to happen, that opportunity became unavailable as the business owner relocated.  Currently, I am employed by a school in more of an administrative role than anything else, which is definitely a step in the right direction, but still not quite on point.  At least I’m in the building, right?

More space in my brain is taken up with thoughts about “did I do the right thing in pursuing education” and “how am I going to make this work” than anything else, therefore leaving me feeling like, since I have no answers to these questions, maybe I should just keep plugging away at them until I have something useful to say.  Again with that word.  Useful.  All I’m left with is the questions upon questions that multiply out of the one that started it all: “what am I doing?”  I got nothing.  I started out down this path that seemed so clear more than 10 years ago.  Every step along the way has been taken in the direction of a specific goal – one that was clear, visual, and attainable.  But now here I am, looking around at the dirt path ahead of and behind me and I see that it’s all just a wide open desert wasteland of what was once a forest of my flourishing career goals.  Maybe that’s an exaggeration, maybe it’s not all a wasteland as I’ve met some amazing people along the way and was afforded time to have my first baby.  But who would have believed that education would NOT have been a safe career bet?  Surely not me, as one of the things Ryan and I laughed about in terms of having to move every other 6 months/year was “they need teachers everywhere, so we’re all set.”  I am a big believer in the whole “it happens for a reason” mentality, and I do fully believe that every step taken thus far has not been in vain.  However, as I look forward, my vision isn’t as clear as it once was.  30 is walking down the sidewalk to my doorstep and will soon be knocking and asking, “what now?”  So, indeed, what now?

Well, to start, I have a full blown family now with a tiny human and an adoring husband.  That has become my focus, especially as more children may show their beautiful faces in our near future (not yet, don’t get excited, just more near than far).  With that in mind, along with my hiatus from the educational community, I think I am also shifting my teaching beliefs and philosophy.  What was once a hard and fast rule about sticking by the public school system and supporting that which so many people have neglected has become more of a wavering idea that leans toward homeschooling and charter school education.  As I’ve said, every step has meant something and many of those steps have been taken outside the public school system, in other domains that have not only opened my eyes to the flaws of our public education system, but also to the amazing opportunities that have blossomed in the charter school/homeschool sector.  It really isn’t what it used to be – in a good way. The school I currently work in, specifically, has really broadened my scope for what education can really look like and how much was missing from my public school teaching experience.  More on that in a later post…

With all of that said, I am trying to commit myself to my writing again.  I know, I’ve said this before and I am a terrible personal rule breaker.  I don’t mean to do it, it just happens.  Don’t point the finger at me – I’m sure you’ve done it too.  Just not on a public forum where people can look at the date of your last post and say, “aye, what a slacker.”  Believe me, I feel it more than you think it.  But I’m making a comeback!  Refueled by my recent acquisition of free time in my husband’s absence, I am determined to continue my quest toward career/maternal/personal enlightenment.  Bushwhacked as it may become, the path will be forged.  I can’t say that I know what the theme of this blog will be going forward.  Honestly, I don’t know that it had an actual “theme” to begin with.  At the heart, it is still all about a small town girl just trying to figure it all out; but even more, it’s about a once focused yet wandering educator who is redefining herself and her life’s mission.  Stay tuned, it should get interesting…

Dedicated To The Ones I've Loved

**Just a note, this entry was written several months ago. However, in the spirit of new beginnings and the start of a new year, I stumbled upon it, deciding it was definitely something important to say.

I have been thinking a lot about old friends lately. This whole year, really. As 2010 speeds quickly by and leans into the holiday season, I have begun thinking about what I’ve really accomplished this year. I know, it’s a little early for New Year’s reflections, but I have been trying to really live in the moment this year and value what all of my time has gotten me so far. I’ve decided that this has been the year of destinations and reconnections.

I have done a lot of traveling this year, mostly because living on the West Coast has caused me a lot of longing for places and people from whom I feel furthest. The thing about traveling, especially to places of your past, is it lends itself to a lot of nostalgic undertakings. I can’t help but reflect on the experiences and people of my life up until this point, especially as they coincide with a particular place. After I leave a place, I inevitably yearn for those times that have long past when I bonded with different people as we shared that place. I wish I could reach back and reconnect myself with them to be as close as we once were. But, alas, such is life, is it not? No matter how many people we come into contact with and promise to not let go of, it happens, inevitably.

I think this has always been the hardest fact for me to grasp in my life. In middle and high school, I had a lot of friends from all over. Summer camps, retreats, clubs, sports, and any other variety of activities that link us from one person to another dominated my life. In a lot of ways, these activities, and these people especially, kept me afloat. The friends I made at Tanager Lodge, in the FFA, at Guggenheim, and even at college are the reasons I am who I am today. They are a large part of the reason I was able to survive my very rocky and sometimes traumatic adolescence. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts or intentions, I lost track of many of these people. Never leaving them far from my mind, though, believe me. I continue to tell stories, to this day, of late nights with my OG’s, creeping through the woods, or early morning dipping in monsoon conditions. I sigh aloud when I see anything corduroy, especially if it hints in hue to National Blue and how I used to savor the chance to don that beautiful blue jacket with the Corn Yellow lettering. I think reflectively on all of the lessons I learned from the people who shared these experiences with me and feel a lurch in my heart and my stomach when I realize just how far I’ve drifted from them. I gaze out on still lake waters in the summertime when I visit the Adirondacks and wish I could somehow rewrite the last 10 years to change how my relationships morphed; how I could get back to looking out over those waters with the people I love, to this day, because they helped shape who I have become.

But then I remember. We all made choices that led us in different directions. No matter how I could have tried to change it, I still wouldn’t be able to reach out and touch some of these people. That’s life, right? A constant cycle of movement, change, and progression. You go on to meet new people, who become part of your current reality. Maybe these new people catch the light a certain way or glance in your direction with a familiar look on their face and you remember someone who looked in a similar fashion at you 15 years ago. Someone hands you a slice of watermelon and as you reach out to grab it, looking them in the eyes to thank them, you see, just for a second, your best summer camp friend on the other end of the rind. You lie in a patch of grass in a park half way across the world, but when you close your eyes and listen to the birds and the trees you find yourself drifting back to a similar day when you laid on the grass holding the hand of a boy who you thought you’d love forever. What do we do with these moments and how do we rectify that these people, who held such an important place in our hearts and lives, are somewhere else barely remembering your name?

I’ve had a lot of trouble and sadness in my life. I’ve always struggled with goodbyes because of that sadness and, to this day, I have a lot of trouble and awkwardness around that part of a visit or trip. Call it abandonment issues, call it trouble coping, call it whatever you want. The truth is, as much sadness as I’ve had, I’ve had 10 times more love. I’ve been hugged and smiled at by some of the most amazing people on this planet. People I thought I’d be in touch with forever; who’d be my pen pals and who I’d honor by keeping up my end of the bargain; who I swore I would never forget. Every tear I ever cried during every goodbye I’ve ever said felt honest and real. As silly as I felt crying them, sometimes, over people I knew I’d see again, never stopped them from falling. I realize now that I was crying those tears because of the fears I held. What if I don’t see them again? What if something happens and I can’t come back to this place? What if they don’t come back? Even as a kid, I embraced an awareness of the very real fact that things don’t always work out the way we hope or think they should. Even though I planned on going back to camp to work, life happened. Even though I intended on going to State Convention every year I lived in New York, life happened. Moms get sick, people move, relationships get in the way, life happens. You can’t change it. I couldn’t change it. But, I could look back on those tears and be thankful that I cried them. Those tears were real for every person I cried them for. Those relationships were real every minute I was a part of them. Those people were, and are, important to me every day, even if I don’t see them very often.

So what’s the take away here? You got me. I am still trying to figure it out. I have done a lot of reconnecting over the course of this year. Some of which has been very spontaneous and unexpected and some anticipated and planned, but each one always welcomed. As I continue on my cosmic journey, trying to understand what all of these connections mean in my life, I continue to be thankful for them. I feel blessed to have known the people I have known in my life, so far, and know that I was introduced to them for a reason. I have lost a lot so far, but I have loved a lot too. Faded as some of these relationships may be, they have not tarnished in any way. I’d like to take this opportunity to thank all of those people I have met and loved; some of whom I hope read this posting and know I’m talking about them. I apologize for not being a better friend or a more attentive pen pal. But I do think of you often, even laughing out loud when I do, remembering the crazier days of our lives. I believe it is never too late to reconnect and we are often better for it. I got together a few weekends ago with several of my best friends from college, some of whom I hadn’t seen in 5 years and it was just the elixir I needed to replenish my spirit about friendship. It was so refreshing to jump right back in where we left off, laughing and making asses of ourselves, but being there together. I can’t even relate how good it made me feel to have that connection or how stupid it made me realize I’d been to think that it may have been lost. I felt blessed that weekend by those people and they are definitely included in my thanks. I love you penguins! So, I guess the take away is just that: it’s never too late. If you had a connection with someone or a group of someones, that connection was meant for a reason. It doesn’t just happen. There is always a meaning for it. So, don’t ever let yourself believe that you’ve lost it – chances are the other person is feeling that way too. Reach out, say hello, get a drink and catch up. Or, if distance is your enemy, thank Mr. Zuckerberg for giving us an outlet for outreach – despite all its many misgivings. Whatever your method, resend your friend request. I know I will.

Epic Fail

To all of you, albeit few, readers who once enjoyed my lengthly ramblings, I sincerely apologize. As so many who have gone before me have done, I fell out of touch with my blogging. I could blame time, or life, or the cats - but who wants excuses? I've thought about writing a lot, but just didn't bother sitting down to record any of it. Unfortunately, because of my neglect many interesting thoughts have been lost; however, on a positive note, there will be more to come, I swear! Although I'm not one for New Year's resolutions, I have sort of made just one: commit to my writing in one way or another. Thinking thoughts, as a writer, is pretty much a moot point if you don't commit them to paper. As the brilliant Lucas once said, "Who knows where thoughts come from? They just appear." Well, that may be true, but honestly, at least in this brain, they appear and then evaporate quickly while new ones take their places. So many great thoughts have been lost over the last months that could have been wonderful pieces of writing. Epic Fail.

I know where it started. I can pinpoint the moment when the failure began. I will preface by stating this is not an excuse, merely an exploration of where I went wrong. Back in the spring when I was posting my travel journal, I had an epic computer failure. I contracted an evil virus which I had to have wiped from my hard drive. This kept me away from my trusty keyboarded companion for a little while. That was just before I posted the last entry. THEN, I had a reoccurence of the virus. Well, at this point, I just turned off the internet on my laptop, which is where the problem was emanating from, and, irresponsibly, continued to type on the computer. Well, unfortunately all of my pictures are on that computer and, without internet, could not be posted to the blog. This led to a thought process of how complicated it would be to transfer them to the husband's computer to upload, etc. etc. I.E. Heather got lazy and uninspired. And so it began. I felt like I couldn't continue writing until I finished the project I had begun. I am a stickler for finishing what I start. I created excuse after excuse and before you know it, here I am, admitting to my Epic Fail.

Well, now that I've gotten it off my chest and broken the barrier, I'm here to tell you that I will be better. There are a lot of things that will hopefully be on the horizon for me that I'd like to share, so by busting the ugly cycle I've created we'll be able to do so. I will say, I am going to begin by finishing what I started back in the Spring. Even though the trip was so long ago, I feel I need to finish writing about it, if not for any other reason than its own posterity. I promise, fun stuff happened in the end of the trip and there are only a few more days to write about ;-) After that, plenty of interesting topics will follow. I must admit, I really need this more than anyone out there could need to read it. The failure has been more epic for me and my sanity, than anything else. Writing is who I am and the fact that I neglected it for so long is embarrassing. Thanks for checking in to see if I've posted anything. If you're still out there, I may ask for your encouragement to keep writing. Sometimes we all need a little boost, I know I sure do. I refuse to start this year out with the beginnings of another Epic Fail. Here's to a Grand Success!

On the Road Again: Chronicle Part 8

Friday March 5th

Well, sad as it is to admit, today marked the final day of “Phase 2: Napa Valley” on our journey up and down the West Coast. It was definitely a bittersweet moment, as we had to say goodbye to The Lavender Inn and Napa but also looking ahead to an exciting trip down the coast with MUCH more to see! Checkout time was at noon, so we didn’t have to race around to get ready to go this morning, which was a relief. We slept in a little, rose for our last deliciously free breakfast, and thought about how the day would play out. After some discussion last night, we decided that we wouldn’t try to see any more wineries today, even though there were still two or three that we both really wanted to visit. It seemed like the right thing to just let go of Napa and enjoy the fact that we had a lot left to see in our last days of vacation. Packing more into today would have just been too much. Plus, we had a deadline – we wanted to be able to see as much of the coast before the sun set as possible. We had to get on the road soon to ensure that happened, especially if clouds rolled in and stole some of our light earlier than we anticipated.
After breakfast, we packed up pretty quickly. We took one last look around the room, waved goodbye to the amazing outdoor Jacuzzi, and sighed with regret as we loaded our suitcases into the car and put the key in the ignition. Although we were sad our right hand woman Marion wasn’t at the front this morning to say goodbye, it made leaving a little easier since we didn’t have an excuse to stand around and chat. We grabbed a soda from the fridge and rolled out of Napa.

I remembered that I never picked up any postcards during our time in Napa. So, before we exited the area, we agreed to stop and pick some up in town. I also needed to find the perfect magnet for Kelly, whose only request while I was away was to find her a cool magnet from somewhere on the journey. A wine related item seemed obviously appropriate for some reason. You would never imagine how difficult it is to find postcards in such a place. For a tourist town, I was shocked at how few places had them at all, and how expensive they were in the locations I’d seen them. Luckily, I stumbled upon a great deal in the third place we tried, and we got on our way.

We got as far as Oakland (just outside San Francisco) when we realized that we should probably stop for gas and lunch before we jumped on the 1. There’s no telling when your rest stops will be once you venture onto California’s Highway 1. Ryan spotted a Chevy’s from the highway, which, I have to admit, was not my first choice for food. But he seemed so excited about it and we needed something close and quick to stay on schedule, so I agreed. It turned out to be nice, as the restaurant’s bar and patio looked out over the bay toward San Francisco, so even though the food was less than mediocre, the view was nice. We fueled up and headed toward the 1 with Half Moon Bay as our first destination.

Before getting on the 1, I tried to shape what my expectations were for this part of the trip. I’d heard so many things about journeying up and down this famous stretch of highway and images of it are synonymous with ideas and movies about Californian life. Anytime a movie takes place in California, the director always finds a reason for a driving scene along the high and winding cliffs of the Pacific Coast. It does make for a dramatic effect and the images are part of what make California what it is. It was a little cloudy on this day, so I was worried that our views of the coast would be marred by the lack of sun. This was one of the very few times I ever found myself disappointed in a consistent cloud layer. When we finally reached the highway, though, it was more than I could have imagined. Describing the views and the way the road lays out so unexpectedly before you is futile compared to the real life experience. Shame on me for worrying about the clouds – our view wasn’t marred in the slightest. The first stretch of highway wasn’t as dramatic as I had imagined, but it was no less beautiful. I kept trying to capture it on my camera, but found my efforts impossible because every picture just looked so bland in comparison. There were so many hills and valleys in the road and around us, while off to the right the coast appeared so sharp and within arms reach. There was no gradual development of the view, either; it was very much a now you don’t see it, now you do kind of thing. Not until we reached the 1 did we see any of the coast, but once we breached the highway and got past the trees, it appeared like it had always been there on the right side of the car, just below the guardrails. It was calm here on this part of the higway; calm but expansive. It started where our car gripped the road and extended out to the right for as far as I could see. I kept having to remind Ryan to keep his eyes on the road, because each time I felt a jerk, I’d look up to see us swerving back onto our side of the road from somewhere else. I offered to drive, knowing his obsession with looking out at the waves, but of course was assured that he was fine and would learn to control his urges to stare out my window. I had to give it to him – it was hard for even me to not stare out the window, and my fascination with the sea is no where near the vast nature of my husband’s.

As we continued on, the scenery grew more and more beautiful for each of us, with Ryan’s waves to the right and my beautiful rolling hills of green and wildflowers ahead and to the left. The land became far less populated as we drove, which was reflected in the radio stations being few and far between. We found a really great oldies station, a perfect soundtrack to this part of the journey, turned it on low, and continued to enjoy the surroundings. Ryan started to worry about the time, fretting that we wouldn’t have enough time to see much of Half Moon Bay, but I assured him that everything would work out as it was supposed to and we would see everything we could fit into daylight – no worries.

We got to Half Moon Bay around 4:30 and were surprised at how little there was of the town when we first entered. Our very first stop, and the one Ryan had been excited about the most, was Maverick’s. This is a world famous surfing spot and is a mecca for anyone even mildly interested in the sport. Basically, this spot is at the end of a beach that you can only get to after following this long and windy walking path from a pot hole filled dirt parking lot. Once you get to the other end of the beach, marked by large boulders and jagged rocks, you have to paddle out into the water about a half mile to even get to the spot. The spot itself is marked by these enormous rock cliffs that jut out of the sea and are the tip of the iceberg, so to speak, of the rocks that exist below the water’s surface. These underwater rock formations cause an interesting break that promotes enormous waves at least 4-6 times overhead; basically Hawaii sized waves in northern California – previously unheard of and hence why this is a mecca for big wave surfers. There is this guy named Jeff Clark who has lived in Half Moon Bay all his life; he actually has a surf shop just a quarter mile away from the beach at Mavericks. Jeff Clark watched these waves from the shore for years before one day deciding to paddle out to them in an attempt to surf without getting smashed up against the rocks. He surfed these immense waves for years before anyone figured it out, after which point he became a surfing icon and the spot became a place of worship for big wave surfers worldwide. Needless to say, it’s a pretty intense place to see firsthand and something Ryan was dying to witness for himself.

We strolled down the walkway and across the beach, which was surprisingly full of people for how late in the day it was and how chilly it had gotten with the clouds that had rolled in and the winds that brought them. We wandered down as far as we could go safely and I watched Ryan gaze in awe at the historic sight. Sadly, the waves weren’t nearly as massive as they tend to be, but even for an off day the scenery was still very impressive. We took some pictures and hung out for a little while, playing with a couple of dogs that belonged to a few girls who were sitting nearby on the rocks, passing around a joint. When Ryan had seen enough, we started to head back in an effort to get to the car and see some more of the coast before dark. On our way back to the car, we stumbled across some pretty Californian behavior, watching a man who’d brought his gong to the beach and was doing yoga and praying with a few of his friends.

We continued on our way, watching as the cliffs along the road got more dramatic before our eyes. As this happened, Ryan couldn’t help himself but to pull over at every available vista point to snap pictures of the rocks, the waves, and the sights as they never ceased to be impressive. We also stopped to investigate Pigeon Point Lighthouse, as it was just south of Half Moon Bay. This landmark was very eerie from the highway and definitely seemed like the perfect setting for some kind of scary sea themed film – Ryan wanted to check it out immediately. As we found out when we got closer, the lighthouse also serves as a popular hostel – even more perfect. We continued on our way to Monterey.

The next major town along the road was Santa Cruz. I had marked this on the map as an interesting place to stop, unfortunately we just didn’t have the time. We rolled into Santa Cruz around 6 or 6:30, while we still had a fair bit of daylight left, which offered us just enough time to poke around for a few minutes. There was a surfing museum and boardwalk that I was interesting in checking out, but both of which we closed by the time we arrived anyway. We drove down to the boardwalk, watched it from the car, and continued driving in an effort to get to our resting place in Monterey at a decent hour. I longed to hang out on the boardwalk as it has been an embarrassing amount of time since I’ve been on a rollercoaster or fair ride. I dare not tell my brother, who is my theme park partner, how long it’s been; he’d certainly shake a disapproving finger and scold me appropriately. Nevertheless, the boardwalk was closed and moving on was the right thing to do. Monterey, here we come.

Once the sun went down, the scenery became less interesting. We did open the windows for a little while, though, to listen to the waves crashing on the shores nearby. After another hour and a half or so, we breached a hill over which the lights of Monterey could be seen in the distance. We found our exit around 8:30 and drove toward our resting place at the Naval Postgraduate School in Monterey. I was definitely excited to see our digs for the night, after having spent the last week in the same place. I think that’s one of the most exciting parts about traveling on a vacation like this one – experiencing all of the different kinds of lodgings and restaurants out there. Ryan and I really love seeing different, unique places to stay. We’d never be happy staying in a Holiday Inn every single night of a trip. The Naval Postgraduate School definitely fit into our need for a unique experience. In case you didn’t already know, most military bases not only have housing for officers that work on the base full time, but they also often rent rooms to those who are visiting. A lot of times these lodging options are called VOQ’s (Visiting Officers’ Quarters) or something similar. We have definitely taken full advantage of our ability to stay at any and all VOQ’s along the way, both on this trip and during other trips we’ve taken around the country. Because these rooms tend to only cost between $25-$35 per night, we have been able to see a lot of really interesting places by staying in them. The Naval Postgraduate School was definitely an interesting place. Driving up, the building had a very Colonial Spanish feel to it. The inside lobby, however, felt much more like the lobby of a university – grand spaces, marble floors and walls full of military décor. Down the corridor, out the back door, and up to the tower where our room was located felt like a much more historic building, again in the Spanish Colonial style. The rooms, though, were those of standard VOQ’s. Large living areas with a small kitchenette, walk in closet and bathroom. It was kind of dreary in the room, although we were glad for all of the room as well as the kitchenette to store the leftovers we’d accumulated over the last few days.

Once we got our bags up to the room, we plugged the computer in and tried to find a place to eat. It had been many hours since our last meal, way back in Oakland, and after all of the driving, sightseeing, and picture taking, we were famished. I had a strong craving for Greek, so I set out to find a fun spot. We picked out a little place called Petra Cafe that seemed to have some great reviews. We jumped back in the car and headed in that direction. Turns out the place was quite literally little, just a counter with a see through cooler and a few small tables with chairs. I ordered the gyro special while Ryan ordered the falafel special. Let me tell you, this place did not disappoint and it kept my average for choosing the best spots really high! Especially for food that arrived on Styrofoam, it absolutely hit the spot and was some of the best gyro I’ve ever eaten. We stuffed our faces, then proceeded to order three different flavors of baklava. Ryan seemed to think it would be excessive to get all three but realized the necessity of judging the flavors against each other after we started trying them all. We both loved the pistachio, but I thought the original was amazing as well.

On our way back to the car, Ryan and I decided that we hadn’t had enough relaxing nights with cocktails on this trip. We noticed a liquor store just outside the gate to base, so before we pulled in for the night we stopped in for a bottle of Captain Morgan and a 2 liter of Diet Coke. We settled in to our room nice and early, Ryan played bartender, and I sat down to write in the journal and plan our day. We didn’t plan out this part of the trip in as much detail as the first two thirds, mostly because driving on the 1 can be so unpredictable. In the spirit of this idea, we also didn’t book a hotel for tomorrow until today, so I needed a drink to help me make it through the search for a hotel that wouldn’t drive our budget off the cliffs. Luckily, I was able to find a deal online for a place called The Castle Inn in Cambria, a suitable stopping place after a nice day of driving the coast. We booked the hotel for the next two nights with the understanding that we would drive up and down that part of the coast doing as many of the things on our list as possible. With that accomplished, Ryan and I continued to finish the bottle of rum and laughed ourselves silly watching ridiculous t.v. on our small hotel television screen. A perfect nightcap to the first leg of this part of the journey.