Back to Love

Four months.  That's dismal even by my often low standards of blog update timeliness.  Yeesh.

Suffice it to say that returning to work has proven to be somewhat of a brain-drain which has made writing a bit difficult.  It's not so much the time involved either – it's literally the brain power.  In the afternoon, when Grady naps and I could quite reasonably be expected to post here, I have instead been devouring book after book – resorting to a passive pastime rather than something active like writing. 

I knew I'd get back around in the circle eventually – once I gave myself time to figure out the work thing a little better, to get to where I could sleep a little more at night and to determine where in the world all this change has actually left me.  I'm not quite there yet – but I'm making progress.

While I mulled things over and read books like it was going out of style (which, sadly, it is), there have been several blog posts that have been written, rewritten and scrapped.  In my head.  I have a bad habit of 'writing' my posts mentally while I'm in the shower, or trying to fall back asleep after a bout with Grady at 2am.  Then when I go to actually write them out later they don't sound the same to me and I end up unhappy with the new end product – wishing instead for the one that seemed so well done until it disappeared in the shred bin that is my short term memory. 

One at least of those entries from somewhere in the vicinity of New Years talked all about resolutions.  I love New Years.  I'm a sucker for it every year.  It's like the same rush I used to get every time a new school year started.  The ability to, in some measure, start over.  Revamp, reinvent, refocus.  I loved the start of the school year for just that very purpose (well, that and the excuse to purchase loads of bright, shiny office supplies) and still, even now, I start each New Year with resolutions.

This year is probably the best I have ever done at actually keeping those resolutions.  I have six and of those six, I can honestly say I am currently still at a 100% success rate for two of them – and one of those is a DAILY goal!  (Albeit the oh-so-simple, 'Floss daily.')  Now granted, there is one goal where my progress is slightly-more-than-moderately disappointing and another where I have made no progress at all BUT – I have time.  Right now I'm just choosing to be proud of the success I have had and I take some comfort in the knowledge that at least some of the change I began this year hoping to find has, in fact, manifested itself in my life.

Another one of those entries was going to be a part-rant, part-rave about a long-in-coming realization I had that what someone else might think of me does not have to impact what I think of myself.  Sounds simple I'm sure, but to me it was a huge epiphany. 

It happened like this.  All of a sudden, one day, during a Weight Watchers meeting, I had this crazy thought.  I gave birth.  Sounds like a 'duh!' moment right?  But up until that point, in thinking of Grady's birth all I thought of was how grateful I was that he was safe and healthy, how glad I was that we had such wonderful nurses and doctors to care for us, how lucky we are that our parents could be here, how completely incredible my husband was.  I never once stopped to think 'I did that.'

But that day, as I thought about it, it struck me.  I did that.  Not any of those other people, despite the fact that their assistance was crucial as well as just comforting.  In the end, the actual physical act of bringing my infant son into this world – that was me.  All me.  I made that happen.

And what I then realized was this – I am not a quitter.  I have oftentimes in my life been told that I'm not very good at seeing things through.  That I change my mind, lose interest, move on.  And the sad thing is, what I realize now, that is just a pessimistic view of one of my favorite qualities in myself.

Rather than being a quitter – I would describe myself as curious.  I am endlessly curious.  I want answers to a thousand random questions and I want to dig around in piles of old books seeking the little trivia that will make the pieces of something-that-doesn't-even-really-matter click together.  I love to learn, I love to try things out, I love to stick my hands into just about everything and muddy the water a bit just to watch it churn.

And sure – one of the outcomes of this is that I know just a little bit about a lot of random junk.  I can knit – but not well.  I love to paint, but never mastered it.  I've got a whole collection of cookbooks but would be the first to admit I'd rather order in.  I've worked in a wide variety of industries and settings and in college ended up with almost enough credit hours to have three different minors that had nothing to do with my final degree. 

For years I have used all of that to guilt-trip myself about this difficulty I have with focusing on just one thing and seeing it through.  But in that moment of self-honesty, I saw it all completely differently.  In the hardest moment of my life – at 2am after a whole day without food (and those of you who know me know – I don’t do well without food), tired, in pain, scared and upset – I mustered up everything I had in me and I made something beautiful happen.  I did that.

And what I realize is – I've been doing that for years.  All those times when I dove into something headfirst – that was me, experiencing, learning, loving the moment.  No I never become a master knitter or painter or chef.  But that was never what I WANTED.  I only ever wanted to dip my toes in, learn the basic strokes and let them fill me up and excite me and carry me on to something new.

It's all about perspective and what I know now is that even includes how you look at yourself.  To someone else who might want more than that out of me – I am a quitter.  I'm never going to be master of anything.  But for me, personally, all of those little forays into new things are absolute success stories.  Because a chance to learn, but not to linger, was all I ever wanted for myself.

An interesting lesson to learn as an almost-thirty-year-old woman, that I don’t have to let someone else tell me who or what I am or assign value to my life, such as it is.  A good lesson, albeit a bit late.

So anyway – just a quick synopsis of a couple of the posts that you were denied (spared?) during my absence.  Some of you may be happy to know (others may be disappointed) that I've now added "Blog weekly" to the resolutions list.  Hopefully that'll keep me more accountable to those of you out there who actually care to read what goes here.

And since I know myself well enough to know I work well with bribes, my right to my next learning excursion (rowing lessons at the boathouse downtown) is now tied to my resolution success over the next two months.  So hopefully I can keep it up at least that long!