I see that some of my friends and family have perused my blog. I think it is great and terrifying-I am locked in now, and must write 363 more times about blessings in my life and in the world or I will fail to meet this expectation of myself in front of the world.
Already I see that this is harder than I thought. I have always considered myself very aware of goodness in my life, but I have missed so much! This exercise has me hunting for the blessings in the most trivial moments of my day. It will hopefully forever change my outlook on life.
Today it is simple. The other day I took a meal to friend who suddenly lost her husband. It is so hard to see friends hurt, and you wish you knew the right words to say but can't really, because there are no right words. But isn't the empathy that we are capable of marvelous? We can genuinely love a person and hurt when they hurt. Even mourning, while hard and lonely, is proof of the depth of our ability to truly love another human being. To me that is a bold, beautiful, and hopeful expression of the Divine spark in each of us.
Blessing #3, April 30th, 2010
I am so grateful that I have in me the capacity for love and empathy. It allows me to connect with others and to experience God in that connection. No where is this more obvious than with my husband--I am so lucky to have found him and I will work to remember on each of our days together that my love for him and time with him are gifts from God.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Thursday, April 29, 2010
day 2 of my gratitude journey, April 29th
Day 2.....my entries are short, but already I've written more this week that I've written all semester. The commitment to write this blog is going to help me notice what I am thankful for, but I can also see that it is going to be a challenge. I mean what to say next? Today I am exceptionally thankful for Gluten Free Waffles by Van's, but a whole blog about that? Or my love affair with Diet Dr. Pepper? It is fabulous, but worthy of 1000 words? No matter, have to keep going. I fear failure more than anything in the world. So, I've said I will do it, now I have to follow through.
Fearing failure. There's a place to start. I was always a good student, always well-behaved. If I got into trouble it wasn't the bad kind. My Dad used to say to me, "There are degrees of trouble. Trouble I can help you out of, and trouble I can't--don't get in the latter kind." I pretty much followed that as I was making choices--still do. Even as a child, the thought of disappointing my parents was upsetting. Later, I held myself to an even higher standard than they did. Good grades, success in a career, in friendships, and love, success in motherhood, success in life. Failure wasn't an option for me.
In many ways my obsession with success has been a great thing-but in others I wonder if it's made me afraid to take risks. My husband and parents have been saying, "write a book! start a business!", but I am paralyzed by fear of failure. It seems too scary to put yourself out there--no matter how educated. The truth is the more I've learned the more I realize I will never understand about the world or the human race. So what would I have to say in a book? Funny, considering I had to write a dissertation and defend it.
The hardest part of that process wasn't the data collection, or the writing, it was the fear that what I was writing about didn't matter. Even though the committee thought it did, I was riddled with what we call an impostor syndrome--thinking it didn't matter, it wasn't good enough, I wasn't smart enough, I didn't belong in the higher education arena. See, I had always excelled in school, but the Ph.D was a whole new level and I was afraid every day that I didn't have what it takes. Now I've got the degree, and I'm still not sure. It was the scariest and hardest thing I've ever done--and I was successful, but the fear and anxiety, the fatigue and the self-doubt were so hard on me that I found myself unable to tackle a new challenge.
But, I also learned that no one else has it all figured it out either. Even the Ph.Ds who were on my committee--sure they're smart. Sure they're famous scholars. But they are also just people. Maybe what I need to do is stop trying to be perfect all the time. I can't know everything, I can't win at everything, I can't be a perfect mom, wife, sister, daughter, and I certainly can't be a perfect teacher! But who can? And what is the matter with me--and plenty of my female friends, that we think we have to be amazing at everything? So today is about going easy on myself. I need to allow myself to fail, to go out on a limb, and to remind myself and my sisters, and my girlfriends that we shouldn't expect perfection all the time. All we can do is our best--and if we fail, we fail. It's not the end of the world.
So, Blessing #2, April 29, 2010
This blog is a risk for me. I don't really expect that folks will be reading it, but just knowing that I have agreed to post everyday, makes it so that I'm risking failure if I can't meet that expectation of myself. There is evidence in this risk, that I am coming around to the notion of just being me and NOT being perfect. My mom, a talented physician with her own host of perfection issues, has battled this too--and she says, "The "S" on your chest will get awful heavy if you let it." So today I'm going to let up-I'm going to stop being afraid of failure, and I'm going to be thankful for my absolute inability to be perfect. After all this is pretty much a license to mess up. I'm throwing off the "S".....So here's to messing up and letting the world follow it if they want to!
Fearing failure. There's a place to start. I was always a good student, always well-behaved. If I got into trouble it wasn't the bad kind. My Dad used to say to me, "There are degrees of trouble. Trouble I can help you out of, and trouble I can't--don't get in the latter kind." I pretty much followed that as I was making choices--still do. Even as a child, the thought of disappointing my parents was upsetting. Later, I held myself to an even higher standard than they did. Good grades, success in a career, in friendships, and love, success in motherhood, success in life. Failure wasn't an option for me.
In many ways my obsession with success has been a great thing-but in others I wonder if it's made me afraid to take risks. My husband and parents have been saying, "write a book! start a business!", but I am paralyzed by fear of failure. It seems too scary to put yourself out there--no matter how educated. The truth is the more I've learned the more I realize I will never understand about the world or the human race. So what would I have to say in a book? Funny, considering I had to write a dissertation and defend it.
The hardest part of that process wasn't the data collection, or the writing, it was the fear that what I was writing about didn't matter. Even though the committee thought it did, I was riddled with what we call an impostor syndrome--thinking it didn't matter, it wasn't good enough, I wasn't smart enough, I didn't belong in the higher education arena. See, I had always excelled in school, but the Ph.D was a whole new level and I was afraid every day that I didn't have what it takes. Now I've got the degree, and I'm still not sure. It was the scariest and hardest thing I've ever done--and I was successful, but the fear and anxiety, the fatigue and the self-doubt were so hard on me that I found myself unable to tackle a new challenge.
But, I also learned that no one else has it all figured it out either. Even the Ph.Ds who were on my committee--sure they're smart. Sure they're famous scholars. But they are also just people. Maybe what I need to do is stop trying to be perfect all the time. I can't know everything, I can't win at everything, I can't be a perfect mom, wife, sister, daughter, and I certainly can't be a perfect teacher! But who can? And what is the matter with me--and plenty of my female friends, that we think we have to be amazing at everything? So today is about going easy on myself. I need to allow myself to fail, to go out on a limb, and to remind myself and my sisters, and my girlfriends that we shouldn't expect perfection all the time. All we can do is our best--and if we fail, we fail. It's not the end of the world.
So, Blessing #2, April 29, 2010
This blog is a risk for me. I don't really expect that folks will be reading it, but just knowing that I have agreed to post everyday, makes it so that I'm risking failure if I can't meet that expectation of myself. There is evidence in this risk, that I am coming around to the notion of just being me and NOT being perfect. My mom, a talented physician with her own host of perfection issues, has battled this too--and she says, "The "S" on your chest will get awful heavy if you let it." So today I'm going to let up-I'm going to stop being afraid of failure, and I'm going to be thankful for my absolute inability to be perfect. After all this is pretty much a license to mess up. I'm throwing off the "S".....So here's to messing up and letting the world follow it if they want to!
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
I used to journal all the time!
Growing up I wrote in my journal nearly every day. Pages and pages of me trying to make sense of my feelings and of my experiences. Why did I stop? I suppose it just became one of those things I felt I could push aside to focus on graduate school, family, sleep, and if I was lucky exercise. Lord knows I did enough writing to kill a small horse in graduate school, and I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss it.
But who am I kidding? Do I really have time for this now? I've sat down several times and tried to rekindle the journaling flame. Nothing comes, or I get so lost in reporting the minutia of the day that nothing real manifests. I went here, then here, bought this, bought that, had a flat tire etc, nothing that really means anything. What is the matter that I have so much going on that I don't feel I can focus even for a second on making sense of it all? I am so covered up with anxiety about work, finances, family, and health that I need more than ever to be looking at the big picture, at what really matters. The best way to do that for me has always been writing.
I need to write, but I don't have time or I feel guilty taking the time--so what's the solution? Maybe it is to sit down each day and just do it. Maybe it is to put in on the computer so that I can't brush it off--this machine or cyber-space will hold me accountable in some way. Maybe it's to stop trying to make it perfect and just write what I feel and what I need to say.
But what prompt? I have struggled with anxiety, panic attacks, and depression. Few people know this about me. Most of the time I am happy and engaged, friendly and funny. But my anxiety is a real demon. And in the past, the best way for me to battle it has been to focus on what is good in my home, my world, and my life. So, here it is. I am committed to writing every day for 1 year, on good days and bad days, finding the blessings. A sort of meditation and self-help exercise all in one. I'm already nervous. I hate to commit to anything and then fall short-but this is good for me. I need it. 365 days of finding blessings. How hard can it be?
So blessing #1--April 28, 2010
I am tired at this point in the school year. It is hard to get up and get myself dressed, my children dressed and fed, and get out the door to the school. When I get to school I catch myself distracted by the beautiful day, blue skies, the green trees, and warm breeze--and I just want to get outside. Plus, I teach science to high school students. They feel the pull of the nice weather too, and several of them have already sent 1/2 their mind on to summer break.
But then, I am teaching science. I get to sit with my students and discuss topics like evolution, global warming, sustainable living practices, photosynthesis, and stem cell research. How silly that I would feel anything but fortunate. On my first trip to teach in Haiti, I felt like such a snob--here I was worried about covering the curriculum and these wonderful, resilient people have to worry about feeding their family. There was a smell of smoke from clear cutting to make charcoal-the main source of energy sold by and used by Haitians. In the States, we have rules about burning to regulate air quality--inspired by our knowledge about health of our bodies and of the ecosystem.
Not that we have to go to Haiti to find students too hungry or too poor to focus on learning. I've had students right here in the States who were afraid of their parents or siblings or gang members, too hungry to concentrate, or unable for some other reason to engage in school.
What a luxury that I even know about current research on the above topics. What a luxury that my students, as teens are learning about them. What a luxury that my own children are well fed and able to attend to school, learning to read and write and study. It implies that we are living a life of safety and that our critical needs are met. I may feel tired, but look what I've had access too. Food, water, safety, health care, education galore--What a privileged life I am leading. In the words of my Mom, "I am most blessed among women."
But who am I kidding? Do I really have time for this now? I've sat down several times and tried to rekindle the journaling flame. Nothing comes, or I get so lost in reporting the minutia of the day that nothing real manifests. I went here, then here, bought this, bought that, had a flat tire etc, nothing that really means anything. What is the matter that I have so much going on that I don't feel I can focus even for a second on making sense of it all? I am so covered up with anxiety about work, finances, family, and health that I need more than ever to be looking at the big picture, at what really matters. The best way to do that for me has always been writing.
I need to write, but I don't have time or I feel guilty taking the time--so what's the solution? Maybe it is to sit down each day and just do it. Maybe it is to put in on the computer so that I can't brush it off--this machine or cyber-space will hold me accountable in some way. Maybe it's to stop trying to make it perfect and just write what I feel and what I need to say.
But what prompt? I have struggled with anxiety, panic attacks, and depression. Few people know this about me. Most of the time I am happy and engaged, friendly and funny. But my anxiety is a real demon. And in the past, the best way for me to battle it has been to focus on what is good in my home, my world, and my life. So, here it is. I am committed to writing every day for 1 year, on good days and bad days, finding the blessings. A sort of meditation and self-help exercise all in one. I'm already nervous. I hate to commit to anything and then fall short-but this is good for me. I need it. 365 days of finding blessings. How hard can it be?
So blessing #1--April 28, 2010
I am tired at this point in the school year. It is hard to get up and get myself dressed, my children dressed and fed, and get out the door to the school. When I get to school I catch myself distracted by the beautiful day, blue skies, the green trees, and warm breeze--and I just want to get outside. Plus, I teach science to high school students. They feel the pull of the nice weather too, and several of them have already sent 1/2 their mind on to summer break.
But then, I am teaching science. I get to sit with my students and discuss topics like evolution, global warming, sustainable living practices, photosynthesis, and stem cell research. How silly that I would feel anything but fortunate. On my first trip to teach in Haiti, I felt like such a snob--here I was worried about covering the curriculum and these wonderful, resilient people have to worry about feeding their family. There was a smell of smoke from clear cutting to make charcoal-the main source of energy sold by and used by Haitians. In the States, we have rules about burning to regulate air quality--inspired by our knowledge about health of our bodies and of the ecosystem.
Not that we have to go to Haiti to find students too hungry or too poor to focus on learning. I've had students right here in the States who were afraid of their parents or siblings or gang members, too hungry to concentrate, or unable for some other reason to engage in school.
What a luxury that I even know about current research on the above topics. What a luxury that my students, as teens are learning about them. What a luxury that my own children are well fed and able to attend to school, learning to read and write and study. It implies that we are living a life of safety and that our critical needs are met. I may feel tired, but look what I've had access too. Food, water, safety, health care, education galore--What a privileged life I am leading. In the words of my Mom, "I am most blessed among women."
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Mom, is there a Devil?
Today I picked my 7 year old son up from school and the first thing he said was, "Mom is there such a thing as the devil?" Earlier in the day I taught high schoolers about ALD, action potentials in the nervous system, and evolution. So, how is it my son offers the hardest question I've gotten all week?
Speaking of him, we spent Spring Break together in Northern Haiti in a little town of Terrier Rouge. I led a group of 17 travelers down to stay at St. Barholomey's Episcopal School. Several worked in the clinic next door, Clinique Esperance et Vie, and others worked on carpentry projects, providing food to refugees from Port au Prince, and teaching students and teachers. All of the work was done with Haitians through Bethlehem Ministry.
My son routinely offered the most perspective on our work. When we first crossed the border from the Domincan Republic, he looked at me and said, "Mom, I can't believe that this is real, I mean that people live like this." He was shocked by the hunger, lack of adequate clothing, and the sense of desperation. There was an odor that only comes from raw sewage mixed with exhaust from engines in poor repair. Yet, he took it all in stride.
When we arrived at the school, the Haitian children surrounded him. They had never seen a white little boy before. He made lots of friends right away, and spent his afternoons playing soccer, chase, rock/paper/scissors and learning Creole. The night before we left, as we sat on our porch and reflected with the travelers, there were lots of tears as folks tried to articulate what they had learned. Chip, again, said it best. "Basically, in America we have everything and we aren't really happy. In Haiti they have nothing and they are happy." What a blessing to see things with the clarity only a child's eyes can offer.
Speaking of him, we spent Spring Break together in Northern Haiti in a little town of Terrier Rouge. I led a group of 17 travelers down to stay at St. Barholomey's Episcopal School. Several worked in the clinic next door, Clinique Esperance et Vie, and others worked on carpentry projects, providing food to refugees from Port au Prince, and teaching students and teachers. All of the work was done with Haitians through Bethlehem Ministry.
My son routinely offered the most perspective on our work. When we first crossed the border from the Domincan Republic, he looked at me and said, "Mom, I can't believe that this is real, I mean that people live like this." He was shocked by the hunger, lack of adequate clothing, and the sense of desperation. There was an odor that only comes from raw sewage mixed with exhaust from engines in poor repair. Yet, he took it all in stride.
When we arrived at the school, the Haitian children surrounded him. They had never seen a white little boy before. He made lots of friends right away, and spent his afternoons playing soccer, chase, rock/paper/scissors and learning Creole. The night before we left, as we sat on our porch and reflected with the travelers, there were lots of tears as folks tried to articulate what they had learned. Chip, again, said it best. "Basically, in America we have everything and we aren't really happy. In Haiti they have nothing and they are happy." What a blessing to see things with the clarity only a child's eyes can offer.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)