Haiku Friday: Anxiety and Sunshine

wind etches the cliff
like lines of worry on the
face i hold so dear

I don't totally know why I wrote this haiku. It came to me last night as I lay in bed. Husband and I are anxious about several things (not the least of which was my Masters of Client Attraction call yesterday, which went really well, and his today!); maybe that's why.

Dear Internet, I love you too much to end on this downer. So, part 2:

Happy sunshine warms
wings and beaks, arms and noses --
chirps and smiles emerge.

Want to play along on Haiku Friday? You know what to do: Write haiku, any theme. Put the post url into Mister Linky here, then please leave a comment after linking.

And be sure to have a great weekend!

Where the H*ll Did All This Shame Come From?

While Husband and I were having our regularly scheduled chat with a professional friend this week, I discovered that I feel very ashamed at not being able to figure out what I want to do with my life. It was amazing how much better it felt just to have someone --practically anyone! -- tell me that it's OK, normal, to need time to figure it out. What a concept!

And of course my father's voice pipes up then -- steps to the microphone at the Everybody Committee meeting, as it were -- and intones, "There is no figure it out, just do."

Yeah.

Which brings us to BlogHer '09, and the post I've been putting off for over a week. I've been having trouble articulating how I feel about BlogHer, because like many attendees --as the posts about the conference I've read so far indicate-- I have a mix of delight and disappointment, good and bad.

I had high hopes for coming away from it with a Plan. MY Plan. A way to move forward in a way that would be monetarily fulfilling and personally gratifying.

Holy Grail, anyone? OK, so I'm a dreamer. And just when I thought I didn't have any dreams!

But I didn't get anything that specific from the weekend. Lots of good contacts and ideas. But I feel even further away from Getting Anything Done (see Dad's voice, above) than before.

Which makes me feel like I have to run faster and succeed quicker and better.

Which just makes me tired and want to surf the web and watch TV.

Hence the lack of a BlogHer post or any pictures up yet.

That was very helpful, thank you for listening! Your check for this session will be in the mail!

Kitchen Lesson

Making lunch for Husband, DB and myself today, I learned the following important electrical fact about my kitchen:

Having the kitchen light on while simultaneously heating up the Foreman grill and the oven, running the microwave, and making toast ... overloads the circuit breaker.

Okay! Let's move on!

I leave for BlogHer tomorrow night, and haven't even gotten.the.suitcase.out.yet.

In fact, I'm taking Db with me this afternoon to shop more! I thought I'd be all set but alas, it finally got hot and summery and I discovered that no bottoms fit me except ripped jeans. So, although I am taking dresses to BlogHer, I am not a dresses-all-the-time kind of gal, so I need capris or SOMETHING.

Wish me luck at Coldwater Creek...

A Nice Remark

I got a nice treat this morning. DuckyBoy was in the kitchen and noticed two aging bananas hanging from their stand. He said something like, "Mom, you could make great banana bread from these. I love your banana bread."

Wasn't that nice? He's come so far so fast.

So, guess what I'm doing right now!

Zoloft Day 9, still upping my dose every 4 days. I feel a little dizzy today, day 1 of 37.5 mg. And I just needed the calculator to figure that amount out. But otherwise I feel really good, more positive about life than in a long time.

Zoloft Day 1

This title reminds me of the "Special K Diet, Day 1" post I put up awhile back.

But hopefully this one will do more good.

DB has been the nicest kid lately. I'm still chalking it up to the week spent with Grandma and BonePa.

I'm imagining it's hard to generalize if you only, ever interact with the same 2 caregivers, right? So I think living with other people for a week, trying out various behaviors and seeing the reaction that's received, helped him somehow. He's more polite, grateful, and even less freaked out about various situations like a dodtor visit and the end of the school year.

Last night when I told him we were having chicken burgers for dinner, do you know what he said? "Yay!"

I'm tearing up just thinking about it! That's the first "Yay" I ever got for any food other than for nuggets or fries. And we all 3 ate and enjoyed them!

When Personal Writing Meets Business Writing

One of the reasons I enjoy blogging is that I can write from the heart. Or the head. Or whatever body part is speaking that day, haha.

For the projects Husband and I work on, I recently started (yet) another blog for business related topics.

I spent many years writing no-first-person-needed, simple how-to or informational articles, and I enjoy that. Yet I find myself drawn to include my opinion, my stories. Maybe just because now I can.

Or maybe it's because I don't have an editor to chop them out. I wish I had someone like me!

Oh, picking tags for this post made me think maybe it's anxiety that makes me such a timid writer; I'm so anxious it will be wrong that sometimes I don't even start!

Argh.

I post this and then, irony happens. Alba posted the piece I wrote for her delightful blog, Bright and Spacious, and even complimented me on my writing! Now that's a boost. Thanks much!

Anxiety Issues

Since Husband and I have been talking with someone about our issues for a few weeks, I can really notice my own anxiety level.

Not that it's significantly different due to the talking, just that I've become much more aware of it ... and how constant, pervasive, and intrusive it is.

I know one of the reasons my sister smokes is to calm her anxiety. I would certainly drink more to calm mine if it weren't for that whole not-able-to-function thing, both day-of and, now that I'm in my 40s, the whole day-after thing. I've made an appointment with my MD for a prescription for Zoloft-- legal and (we think) non-deadly -- but my appointment is mid-June (and, I have to move it because I picked a day with a conflict that just hadn't been put on the schedule yet).

How do I call back and explain that I'm counting down the days till I can see her and get a new prescription? It's been a couple of years so I understand I need a whole physical, but do I need to keep feeling like this in the meantime, now that I know I need it??

I only went off the medication when we were unemployed and since I was feeling so good (classic, right?), all I could think of was, $1 a pill!

Now we're self-employed. That's different. And we're both home together. I need backup.

Personal Peace Project

Last night I met the impossibly adorable Ira Dressner and got to see some coaching in action, which was interesting. Husband has some coach training but I do not, so it was enlightening to see some "mock coaching" which Ira was then evaluating how the coaches did.

Also, very exciting, I was one of 2 raffle winners of a piece of Ira's energy jewelry. I am supposed to wear it for the next 30 days or so, and it will remind me of what it is that I want ... when Ira asked me, I said, Peace.

I was supposed to talk to the bracelet and ask it to help me, but I prayed instead that God would help me use the bracelet to help remind me of what I may need to do to find peace.

Ira has a process where he holds the item and charges it with energy; as he began he stopped suddenly and said, "You have something you need to take care of. Take care of it first."

I've got such a list I'm not even sure what that boils down to. Another baby? Working from home with Husband or not? Getting back on Zoloft? Visiting my mom? Moving (somewhere, anywhere)? Whew. But an intriguing statement, huh? What would you think of first if someone said that to you?

Why I Overeat

Eating more food can't
fix my inner hunger for
love, validation.

Yet I've been trying
every day, stuffing my face,
trying to feel "fed."

But at last, a shift --
Now a weekly meeting
helps me to feel heard.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *
And, surprisingly, it has made a huge difference. I can stop eating. And I feel less empty. Amazing how a psychological reason can have such an impact on the physical body. I've never been an emotional eater quite like this before. Only recognized it a few weeks ago, and at that point I felt powerless to stop it. Now that Husband and I meet with a sympathetic ear once a week, not only do I feel more able to control my eating, I'm also exercising!

That's right, Internet, you heard it here first, I've racked up a whopping 15 minutes on the boo-boo machine, I mean, the elliptical machine, this week!

Plus a day spent lugging plants around at school, that counts as exercise too.

I'm not quite on the level of the Hot By BlogHer ladies, but I'm happy to aim for "Better By BlogHer."

For more haiku, visit A Mommy Story.

Coming Apart

Looking at my blog reminded me of what I wanted to share about selling the Eames chairs.

The guy we sold them to proceeded to take them apart in our play room so he could take the pieces on the subway. (FYI, he had to make 2 trips and had people with him to help.)

Husband was somewhat distressed by the turn of events -- after all, these were authentic Herman Miller Eames lounge chairs that had been lovingly cared for and were in mint condition. To take them apart is something of a sacrilige. But, he made the highest offer, called first once Husband sent out his phone number, and once he gave us the money they were his to do with as he pleased.

But that night, or maybe it was a few nights later I can't remember, I woke up in a panic. What had he done to our chairs? How could he do that? What had we done?

Clearly I was overwhelmed with anxiety, because after an hour or so of insomnia I started to worry about the chirping birds! It was 5 am, so not dawn yet, but (I guess) because of all the streetlights there were a number of birds cheeping away. What are we doing to our world? The birds are screwed up! And the bees, the dying bees!

And then, trying to figure out what specifically I was so anxious about (it's so hard to pick...), I realized that the chairs were a metaphor for ME. Particularly as a wife and of the past 6 years since we had DB:

I had been carefully chosen and lovingly "maintained."
Then systematically dismantled in what felt like an instant.
With no information about how or when I'd be put back together.