Oceanic

The midst of summer brings for me some swelling:  "my, this beach trip is fabulous and swell," or "wow, those feet are feeling swollen."  As always, our range of emotions fluctuates in truth and fib, ebb and flow, maturity and informality.  As I realize and recognize the power of what 8 weeks left are like as a 'single-child' mom, and realize and recognize my gleeful outlook on the 6 or 7 weeks worth of full-time work pre-peanut, these summer swells of which I write are actually no different than any seasonal wave:  we are always in flux, and understanding life as such can be as irregular a process as the state in which I propose we are...


Forgive my first paragraph, as it stems from a blank, consciousness stream and not from (as my older sister would have it) any grammatical tact.  I think I've struggled this year in writing more (and more eloquently?) due to discrepancies in my certitude and confidence with regards to having anything of value to type out.  Of value.  What can this even mean??  I know (in the concept of 'knowing' re: knowledge, capacity to be aware of) that any blog-o-spheric tidbit I write offers, if only to myself, the very beauty of getting something off of my chest.  But I've found it hard to let go (in the concept of 'letting go' re: release, ease up) of any individual or objective judgments impacting that writing.  And for what?  For holding myself and mind hostage?  "If it's still on your mind, it's still in your heart."  And what a powerful statement that can mean.  I need to write these things out sometimes.  I need not be afraid of the value placed upon it.  I simply want to break open my heart and pour some of my love and personal convictions outward.  That kind of spirit helps me journey within.


I put pressure on myself not only to write well, but often to write big.  Long.  Purposefully.  What I note about other bloggers and persons in my life that I cherish, who express themselves through art/physical manifestations, are that their contributions are not always so grandiose.  My sister just recently proved this point in her prose and in the philosophy of her latest post.  I yearn to read her usual quips, and simultaneously get sucked into her lengthier tales of wonder.  She, along with many others that I read, stake a deft place in mindful thinking and living, so effortlessly it seems.  But, when I re-read the messages within such posts, I find myself, and perhaps the universality of it all:  we each live in admiration and fear, in linear and circular patterns.


I don't often revise much of my posts outside of spell-check (which may be pretty obvious!)  And as I review my prose for today, I wonder what message it holds for you.  I am still wondering what it holds for me!  I think my consciousness stream has returned (forgive me, Lissa).  Perhaps this post is nothing more than a virtual tide to be washed away among the other posts on my blog.  Not "good," not necessarily "bad," but indifferent and full of foam.  Not meaningful, but not inconsequential.  Not stuck...


...but not steady.  Content in having written.  And hopeful to write again soon.  I also just hope to quiet my mind the next time of any subliminal pressure to do any more than just be.

drousy but not lousy

Spring has settled in, and pollen has almost sunken in.  It gets harder each year to deal with allergies, and yet harder still while pregnant.  I try not to take much of anything regardless of being 'with child,' however I am even more strongly/medically encouraged not to with the bun in the oven.  And so, while weeding out some of our dandelion monsters on the side of the house this morning, don't you know that a sneeze or two pops up in my way.  I wipe the mess with my dirty gloves off my chin, and continue on.  But only for a minute.  Low and behold, my body has now met the threshold of all the pollen it can take, and I lost count after 20 straight sneezes.  Must be a record!  Had to come in, wash my face, and whip out the acceptable Neti Pot - but I actually denied myself the struggle of pouring water through one nostril in hopes that it would flow effortlessly out the other.  Over the sink.  While still sniffling.  Seriously, and folks think that pregnancy is a cake walk, with all the drama at the end of 9 months in delivery.  It's not usually pretty, let's put it that way!


Regardless of this dreary congestion, the weather has been lovely.  It's so nice to have windows open, not pay for the AC to be blasting surely in just a couple months, and appreciate the aromatic (at times erotic?) scents of spring flowers and neighborhood gardens.  Even the dandelion dander this morning had me exhaling nostalgic sighs of dirt and sunlight.  And as we enter the crux of this season, our own Bean seems to blossom ever so fervently, shifting from her babe-like self to a toddling tot, perhaps even "kid."  As we are happy to welcome the one on the way, this time also makes me sigh hefty breaths of contentment mixed with sadness to observe just how fast the time flies.  We are hoping to soak up the summer months of Elle's final "only child freedoms" by taking more beach trips, museum and zoo visits, etc.  It's in this way that I can see why the first child in any family often gets deemed and doomed the title of 'spoiled.'  Elliot will be the only "only" child of the kids we have.  Each of them surely to have some important 1:1 time with Mom or Papa, but never without awareness of their older sister, Elle.  It is truly a special moment in time right now.


In the mean time, graduation has passed, and onto work I wander.  The same schedule (minus Saturdays, finally!) is helping maintain some sanity until Peanut arrives.  And in the even more exquisite fall weather I will be home for maternity time, prior to heading back to ideally a focus on my counseling.  Internship proved many things, including my desire for the field, and I look forward to the niche of populations and styles to which I can work on my technique and frame of reference.  If anything, it helps me ponder relationships in my life constantly - while being acutely aware never to be the family or friend therapist - and I aim, as always, to grow in the process of becoming a practitioner who fosters a warm and safe space for my clients to envelop on their journeys of self-awareness and coping.


So hopefully all this sneezing and impending hormonal glitches of instantaneous crying doesn't get in our way in the meantime.

Memories of Egypt

Hard for me to believe that this is the first post of 2014.  Not an indicator that so much has happened that I haven't had the time to sit down and reflect.  Nor is it an indicator that so little has happened -- I would most certainly propose the former.  Our family has gleefully absorbed some spring weather the last few weeks, which truly has saved anyone's psyche after the bitter, cold, and snowy winter PA shook down on us.  We also have welcomed another "bump" in the road - baby bump that is!  Expecting #2 this September, and it will be the family's first boy.  Both families, actually.  I, with three sisters, and Mike with a sis of his own, my dad's first reaction was also that shocking realization:  "A grandson!!  Wow, what do I do with a grandson?!"


Mike's reaction was actually somewhat similar to Gramps' statement.  Contextually different, Mike wanted another daughter, to which most friends, peers, and colleagues scoffed, "Really?!  Don't fathers always want at least one son?"  Anyone who really knows Michael, however, could never dismiss his sensitivity and affection for his baby daughter (or, yes, his beloved dog and wife).  He's really surrounded by women most of the time, and so that was my understanding of his desire for another girl.


Hubs and I took the day off together to find out "Peanut's" gender and grab a late lunch to celebrate - whichever blue or pink bundle the stork was planning on dropping by.  So, as he deliciously dipped his roast beef Au Jus, I inquired tentatively, "You sure you're okay with a boy this time?"  The conversation, as rich as our desserts, was insightful for us both - more so than I expected having known the mind of this man for over a decade; his answer was surprising but sensible.  Thoughtful and rational.  But still a mystery to me somewhat.  I've never doubted Mike's capabilities to be a good dad, as I had seen the way he takes care of so many beings in his life - from friends to puppies to well, you name it.  And the way he is with Elle is authentic and genuine and proof of this philosophical pudding.  He will bring all that much more curiosity and love for our son, and I can't wait to see him have a 'little man' under his wing.  *Unfortunately, his reason is not mine to exploit, so if you'd like to know what his hesitation was all about you can ask him for the juice!

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So, why the 'Egypt' titular reference, then?  As I was on a glorious, breezy, sunny, fresh walk with Winnie and E this morning, my nose brought me back to childhood, raised in earlier years by the comforts of rural Maine.  We lived on Egypt Road, in a paradise of ferns, wild blueberries, deer, and moss.  My sisters and I were inseparable usually - with one another and Mother Nature herself - and the aromatics from today were reminders of all that exploration as a kid.  Today when we returned home, Windsor lay on the grass chewing a tennis ball while Elle and I played with sidewalk chalk, stopping only now and again to munch some goldfish.  Barefoot and boisterous, Elliot decided to take off under the front yard maple and feel the lawn under her toes.  Her inquisitive stares back caused me to think, was this what my mom experienced with her 4 wood nymphs?  I merely nodded with a smile to "okay" whatever question Elle was asking of me, and so she continued to roam the lot (albeit smaller than our kingdom on Egypt), picking up sticks and offering them for Windsor to chew on.  The moment was so peaceful and heartwarming.  It appeared like one of those full-circle moments under which I was spellbound, gazing upon my little own bean in a way I presume most mothers/parents do.  Today I saw myself within her, and writing about it now brings some small, happy tears to my eyes.


Hopefully more news and reflection will present here sooner rather than later.  Professionally, I am forging ahead, and I will be happy to share that news soon.  But, if you have the chance today - no matter the weather - get some air in your lungs and moss under those toes! 

the wholistic cleanse

Coming near the end of the year, the arbitrary culmination of a calendar to which we humans subscribe, though Mother Nature and her other creatures carry on seamlessly, it becomes natural for me every 52 weeks to feel the presence of an emotional purge and cleanse.  At times, yes, physical too - I have fallen into the trap of pressured resolutions including being another populate at the local gym on January 1.  Becoming more active, of course, is usually an "up" compared to wherever you were before, so I can't knock anyone's real hopes for increased health and well being.  But as I've noticed throughout 2013, my mentality (fluctuating as our recent weather forecasts in PA!) rules the power of my attitude and perspectives for upcoming goals.


I recently read someone pose the question:  What if, instead of crossing items off our bucket list, we work in general towards becoming a better human?  Much of what I found this year to be challenging my emotional and psychological harmony was that certain things, or certain events in my life were perceived to be "wrong " or "inopportune" along my path envisioned.  So, when confronted with the roadblocks, my brain started to scramble and tears began to unfold.  I truly believe in the universe giving us what we can handle, or at least, later on the lesson to what we might have questioned about a given experience; in the tough moments, however, this is difficult to remember.


Overall, I have fewer tough moments than precious and provocative ones.  Part of which, is due to the ability to frame positively the goings-on in my life.  Working with clients this year has significant challenged that, as I have written in other posts about comparing my work and my life, to their status and/or problems shared.  But, being a better human is not about being better than.  It's not about being "more" or "less" or even "equal" to the other.  It's relative to only yourself.  Just as we are responsible in our choices to be happy/sad/destitute/resentful/grateful, I will be better only by moving towards.


I deliberately say "towards" not "forwards," as I have found that progression in becoming better in anything includes some setbacks.  This mantra is also often applied to the physical - weight and energy and my liking for my appearance is an ebb and flow, too.  Emotionally and mentally, it doesn't seem any different.  I have a tattoo on my ankle, a Chinese symbol representing "knowledge," to engage my ambitions of persistently moving towards.  It reminds not only my right foot ;) but my soul that becoming better includes constant learning.


So, I hope this time of year brings as much joy to each of you as it does for me; I get all giddy in the nostalgia of family-laden festivities between Christmas and New Year's.  Each has always meant more to me than the presents and sparklers.  And I encourage joy for each of you, and to take hold of it wholly and purposefully when you get up every morning.  Being better, can mean simply to be self-aware.  Give yourself the choice and credit to own your feelings!  You will be amazed with where they take you...

Christmas cheer

Get here!!!!

paradoxical

Sometimes motherhood is damn hard.


Phew.  Like most tough things, but real things, this too can be good to get off the chest.  I never doubted it would come with challenges; I worked with children for years informally and professionally, but at the end of a long day, even the frustrating children went home with someone else.  And I can't deny that I haven't said it before - but more in passing or in jest, certainly not in such a serious tone that would identify deficit in one entity I was sure of all of my life.  A tone that would prove guilt or failure - two major themes of my personal self-destruction over the years, and to confess to it fully would generate a catharsis by which I might not be prepared to stand.


The pressure of the word is large in itself.  I actually just Googled "motherhood," and it includes the verbatim, boring phrasing: "state and/or quality of being a mother."  And then, just thrown in all casual, I see by the relative quotations section:  "The hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world." [William Ross Wallace]  Holy cheese, no wonder I am (and so many others) are in such a flustered flurry!  "...that rules the world." ???  Okay, so his poem is in praise, but, come on.  Us women - I, woman - fear most in life my own let downs.  *Note: yes, most of that is still on me, outside of this subject alone, and for another post(s)/mental health professional to help me work through*


This morning, over your homemade eggs and cinnamon rolls, dear Elliot, you decided I was not to be a part of what was intended to be a family breakfast.  Moreover, when I am struggling to put in your hair elastic - which, I'm sorry, may as well be an Olympic sport without the addition of you throwing your body around in the high chair like an ocean seal - you are also complaining to your Papa, trying to hit me, and sometimes bite.  And this is the hard part on which I am already ranting?!??  Crap.

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Cut to 5:15 pick-up time.


My heart mellllllttttssss.  With a knock-knock on the door to her classroom, I hear one of her teacher's sing, "Elllllee - who's here?"  Surely both of us with eyes darting, searching the scene for one another, only to embrace with the glimmers in our pupils, and cheeks raised in smiles, dear Elliot, you squeal with glee.  You sit kicking again in a high chair, although this time it is surely out of joy, and my body fills with it thereafter.


We sing together in the car ride home, talk and jibber-jabber about our days, like we're lifelong friends, and have escaped any sort of confrontation from the morning of (which perhaps, was in my own head).  Paradoxical, motherhood is.  On to a bath, splishin' and a'splashin', and finally snuggled up with some books to tuck her in.  Feelings overwhelmed and deep breathing continues from other daily missteps, but this journey of being a parent is at least more understood for tonight.

my neighbor's fence

"They bought what?!"
"She gets to stay home with her kids."
"Wow - they are going on another vacation!"


So easy to be a nosy nellie, a materialistic voyer sometimes.  Be it of your friends, colleagues, coworkers, neighbors - even your family.  Or is it just me?  No, I'm pretty sure part of our human instinct is to drive for more, and yes, sometimes at the expense of our own appreciation for what is right in front of us.  Maybe it's a survival method.  Healthy competition.  Striving to succeed by envying another's accomplishments.  Envy is supposedly a deadly sin, but if it eggs on your determination and desire, maybe a little isn't so bad.  But the thing is, how do you know when your envy has turned to jealousy, or turned completely to self-deprication?


Recently I (re)encountered a famous quote, with a unique and fresh twist applicable to today's lesson :)  : "the grass is greener where you water it."  I not only like this quote - I crave it and try to use it personally and professionally.  For so much of my own life, I didn't fully understand the concept of self-care, or even personal accountability for my actions and reactions to a given situation, or social milestone.  Being in love for the first time at 15 was the "deepest" love I would know, and then breaking up from him was my "most devastating" loss.  I wouldn't ever again find the kind of love I envisioned when I was young.


I gained a bunch of weight after that breakup, turning to food for comfort and fulfillment.  I began journeying quickly the defeating path of low self-esteem, poor body image, comparison.  Sara Bareilles sings, "Compare, where you are to where you want to be, and you'll get nowhere."  And so for almost four years that mindset kept me at a minimum.  I was able to wade in my misery and justify my deficits by looking forward to a happiness that no Carly really deserved.  Comparing brought on further sadness and pushed off any unattainable dream.  But was this truthful?  That kind of sentiment and self-loathing may feel valid enough to fill a void for a time, but I would gladly hug and tell that adolescent self with affinity and assurance now:  "the grass is greener where you water it."


Working more today in the field of psychology, I am consistently reframing the negative-feedback mentalities of clients who lack what is viably most important in progress - faith in oneself, insight.  Biologically, there is sufficient research supporting that depressed brains are different than non-depressed brains.  Psychiatry can initiate for some to help the self-regulation of healthier cognitions and maintain a stability, if not also improve.  Psychology can offer tools for clients to function in collaboration with the medication, and perhaps provide even more long-term effects of mindfulness through several modalities which stem from meditation, positive thought, and living presently.  How very Zen, no?  How very gracious and applicable to those seeking (or simply needing) empowerment by way of their own accountability.  Their very own grass watering.


I don't believe, as noted above, that comparison is necessarily a bad idea all of the time.  Like most things, moderation is a friend.  It drives us, it feeds that ambition for more and general greatness.  Mike (the forbidden love that I did not know I deserved as a ripe teen) will remind me that his actions and work for our family is to help us feel security and have the things he knows he wants to offer us.  That work becomes his drive.  In many regards, during our near decade together, I've acknowledged this quality about him, but did not mirror him in mindset.  Maybe it's our asymmetry and balance of ideas or values that helps us work so well.  But I've also noted our perspectives together act less like a see-saw, fluctuating between us, and more like a meeting of the minds.


Be it in your personal or professional realm, in your love life, your health, your wealth, consumption, or simple pleasures, do not fear the comparison or drive for more, but do remember you are where you are, and who you are only now.  Graciousness can go a long way.  It's not only the drive up or forward, but the reflection on those "below" or "behind" to appreciate my belongings and myself.  I aim to grow, and with that I hope to be watering whatever I can to nourish and quench this soul.