A gift of words

I received this via e-mail from a colleague this morning.  Sharing it seemed like a good idea; sitting with it throughout my life will be a good practice.

Dear Human:

You’ve got it all wrong. You didn’t come here to master unconditional love. That is where you came from and where you’ll return. You came here to learn personal love. Universal love. Messy love. Sweaty love. Crazy love. Broken love. Whole love. Infused with divinity. Lived through the grace of stumbling. Demonstrated through the beauty of… messing up. Often. You didn’t come here to be perfect. You already are. You came here to be gorgeously human. Flawed and fabulous. And then to rise again into remembering.

But unconditional love? Stop telling that story. Love, in truth, doesn’t need ANY other adjectives. It doesn’t require modifiers. It doesn’t require the condition of perfection. It only asks that you show up. And do your best. That you stay present and feel fully. That you shine and fly and laugh and cry and hurt and heal and fall and get back up and play and work and live and die as YOU. It’s enough. It’s Plenty.

— Courtney A. Walsh

The space between...

     Space is a beautiful thing, occupied by potential above all else and we frequently speak of the "potential" a space has.  I recently found myself pondering one space I often observe but rarely consider the potential of...the space between breaths.
     Initially I am aware that there is potential for another breath; it is in fact highly probable that a breath will follow, but it is not guaranteed.  A breath can carry the words or actions of a given moment, providing the flow of air that energizes or releases the potential that is held within that breath.  And what energy do we place into a given breath?  Where does it come from, and what determines how that energy moves out into the world?  Well of course the breather/actor/agent does, but the question struck me more deeply than that.
     For me this line of pondering lead me to attending to what I notice, or what is present for me in the space between breaths.  If that space if filled with all the potential of a single breath, it seems that what I do with that breath will be determined in large part by what I hold in that space. Maybe it simply begs the question of who I am, who I aspire to be, and how I move through the world. Perhaps this is why I am drawn to Metta Bhavana as a practice. 

Three Teenagers!

I always have the expectation of scary music accompanying those words; for some reason it never does, but you should see the looks on peoples faces when I say "I have three teenagers."  The music must be in their heads.

I officially have three teenagers as of earlier this summer.  I think I'm "supposed" to feel old, tired, and very afraid.  Not happening...in fact I am feeling pretty darn happy about the whole thing.  I wonder why?

Well, I'm not old; actually I am relatively young*.   My kids are fantastic (knock on wood).  No behavior problems, only developmentally appropriate attitude problems, good grades, mostly nice friends (they are teenagers after all), goals and plans for now and the future, hobbies, chores that they actually do, some common sense, and healthy doses of humor.  Somehow this combination just doesn't inspire fear, dread, or an impending sense of doom.  Something must be wrong with me... 

Oh, ya...I am a little tired. Maybe I will come to my senses after a good night's sleep :-P


*Please understand that the definition of young shifts relative to my age, and will likely continue to do so.

Simplicity according to...Shampoo???

Moving again; the very thought of it sends alternating waves of excitement and dread through me.  This should be no problem for me, I am an old pro.  I grew up in a military family; we moved every few years for all of my childhood and I have moved several times since.  It is just a part of life; packing, simplifying, cleaning, saying goodbye, and departing yet again.  Still, there is a trick to it.  Moving is about saying goodbye, but also about saying hello.  It is about balancing the reality of knowing what you leave behind with the excitement of the unknown, the future.  It is also about simplifying your life (my favorite part).

So how does one simplify and when does one start?  How do you know it is time to begin sorting, packing, selling, and donating?  How do you use up the last of the pantry items while still enjoying dinnertime?????  OK,  sometimes you just have to wing it.  You will find your own way.  But simplicity is my favorite, and my guide on this path is....shampoo!?!!

Seriously, shampoo.  Now every family is different, but in mine there are several bottles of shampoo in the shower at a given time (I do have 2 teens and a tween plus myself, and there are "preferences" amongst the populace).  As the time of our move drew closer, I stopped accommodating "preferences."   Funny how as the ledge in the shower cleared, I began to clear other shelves, cabinets, closets, drawers, and corners of the house.  The whole odd  relationship between the two has been amusing, proceeding in tandem in this surreal reflection of gradually moving a life (or 4 lives) from one region of the country to another. 

Now we are down to 2 partial shampoos, 2 partial conditioners, and 3 partial body washes (don't ask.....).  Most of what makes my house "homey" is hidden in Bacardi or Jameson boxes, waiting to be loaded onto a truck in a couple weeks.  The big attic if full of things that will be going to a garage sale and the local women's shelter; the small attic contains what is moving with us.  We might have to do this again in a year; its easier if you start with less...I wonder if I can get everyone to love the same shampoo???

Frustration, your name is Dragon!!!

OK, so I am just posting to randomly make fun of my general inability to get my transcription program up and running....  At what point do I scrap it and transcribe the interviews by hand...it is 6+ hours of audio... that's a lot of typing, rewinding, pausing, and typing...

Anyone who knows me can tell you that I am not the most tech savvy individual out there, but when I follow the step by step instructions 3 times, try 2 or 3 alternative routes, and remember to check for updates and then try again and something still doesn't work, I begin to wonder if it is me or if there might be an error in the instructions or maybe a problem with the installation or program...

I guess the logical solution is to call the tech support people...they are so much more knowledgeable than me, and they deal with frustrated non-tech folks daily.  As far as frustrated folks go, I am pretty easy to deal with; I am usually laughing at myself before I call, which sets the tone for a pleasant session of helping and being helped...At least they will have another story to share at the water cooler about how this lady missed this crucial but obvious step...glad it's not video; the world doesn't need another blonde joke running amok in someone's office...

Crazy, Wonderful Week

OK, so I am back for an update, but life is soooo busy right now and I don't know when I will post next.  Can I just say that this has been an amazing week.  You know, the kind of week where great things are happening, problems arise but are all solved readily, and most things on the "to do" list are accomplished.

Last Saturday I watched some of my friends walk for their PhDs and MAs.  Two of them had family in from out of town and small apartments so I got to host a double Grad Party on Sunday, complete with bocce, cake, a fire, and s'mores - so fun hanging with everyone's family!  Monday was a clinic day and an evening rehearsal for my oldest daughter.  So far, so good; but that's inevitably when the crazy sets in...The neighbor needed to go to the ER, so we watched her kids.  My son and youngest daughter worked together to keep it sane while I picked the oldest daughter up from her rehearsal (I love having teenagers!), then my kids got themselves ready for bed while I took the other two home and put them to bed.  They were just tucked in when their mom got home, and she had already arranged to have some of her other friends help out over the next couple days while she recuperated. 

Tuesday at 8AM I headed out of town for two days to collect dissertation data; our tutor was going to spend the night with the kids.  I was halfway to my first destination when she texted me...poor thing had come down with the flu!  Well, 2 lane winding roads through the mountains are no place to make a phone call, and there were no places to pull over...so I let it go for the moment and enjoyed the beautiful drive.  There is nothing quite like the view when you crest a mountain pass and look down at a huge lake with a quaint little town on the shore, tall, jagged, snow capped peaks in the background, and morning mist still rising off the lake...too bad I couldn't stop to take a photo.  At least I was present in the moment to appreciate it.  An hour and a half later I got to my destination and started contacting friends to fill in.  By the time my meeting started I had a volunteer (it honestly didn't take much effort, I have amazing friends)!  The meeting was fantastic, and I got to know a colleague a little better in the process.  (Did I mention I think I work with truly excellent people)?  I headed back to town to take care of a couple things to make my friend's evening easier; the few hours of extra travel time were worth it.  It also helped me to slow down again and enjoy the pace of the day; I guess I had a more settled feeling having navigated the "worst case" scenario and ending up with a "best case" solution.  Of all my local friends, the kids know her the best and she has a great relationship with them. 

That was the end of crazy (by my definition).  There is a value to not being in a rush; focusing on the journey rather than the destination.  As I was driving to my second destination I saw big horn sheep in the mountains and deer in the fields, sang as loud as I wanted, and stopped to enjoy a beautiful sunset on a back road out in the middle of nowhere.  When I finally arrived I slept like a baby, which I almost never do in a hotel...go figure.  The next day I went to the final meeting, collected the last of my dissertation data, and met some wonderful colleagues in person (after a year or more of knowing them only as voices on the phone).  We finished up early so I stopped at a few interesting places on the way back and still got home in time to have dinner with the kids and spend time together.  All in all, it turned out to be a fantastic trip.

Thursday was consumed with data; updating files with errors in the archival data, re-analyzing the data and creating graphs that reflected the corrections, creating a new spreadsheet to gather some additional information for a different (but related) project, and spending time talking through each task with the RA who is working with me on the projects (who happens to be a brilliant and hard working single mother).

Today was another clinic filled day, followed by an evening concert for my oldest daughter.  Sounds like Monday but with a concert instead of a rehearsal; kinda like the bookends that held this crazy, wonderful week together.  She had a solo and did beautifully.  I got to see some of her friends and my friends who had solos as well (there were adult and child performers), saw colleagues and their families (including my RA and one of my committee members) at and in the event, and spent an evening taking in some live, fun local music with my youngest daughter.

The weekend is looking busy; I really need to go to the grocery store again, drop off the glass recycling, and take the kids to get summer clothes.  And my youngest has a friend coming over to play and work on a school project (I expect it will turn into mostly play).  I would really like to do some writing of my dissertation results.  I already know I am going on a hike with a couple friends Saturday and having a group of friends over for lunch on Sunday.  I guess that looks like balancing housework, family, professional work, and friends.  And just like Tuesday, if something goes a little crazy I will slow down, look at what I need and what my options are, and adjust accordingly.  Maybe sometimes the key to juggling is knowing which ball to set aside or switch, and when to do that (or when to stop and take in a sunset, because juggling can cease and life is still working just fine).

Oh data collection!

I am happy to report that my data collection will be complete as of next Thursday!  Between the IRB and competing demands, it has taken a while to get things moving again, but moving they are.  I ran analyses on my archival data, too, so I am well on the way to the write up phase.  Granted, all the transcription, coding, and qualitative analysis must come first... Still, YAY!  No, not all PhD candidates are this geeked out by this phase, I just have such a short timeline... moving in 8 weeks, still need to finish packing and have a yard sale, transfer the kids school info to the new community, etc.  SO I am celebrating this one tiny but important development, because I need to re-energize.  How to celebrate?  Liberal amounts of chocolate and dancing around the living room with the kids.  That makes any day amazing.

Accountability (an opinion)

I recently participated in my community's first SlutWalk.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with the event, more info here.  Essentially it is an organized nonviolent way to come together and visibly protest rape culture and the institutionalized, pervasive societal practice of victim blaming in relation to sexual assault.  Our local SlutWalk may not have been so well attended without the recent media attention on our University's inadequate and uncoordinated response to sexual assault, or Rush Limbaugh's latest bout of abhorrent and irrational prose, in which he called Sandra Fluke a slut for publicly advocating for women to have access to affordable, reliable, responsible birth control. These things are occurring amidst a rash of other misogynistic legislative acts in which ultra conservatives are back tracking and proposing legislation that will undermine the strides our nation has made toward gender equality.  Collectively these actions are being referred to as the "War on Women" and include such items as GA Rep Terry England's H.B. 954 (aka Women as Livestock); the infamous all-male panel on birth control; bills that falsely link abortion to breast cancer (KS & NH); granting doctors legal right to withhold medical information from a patient if they believe the patient will then seek an abortion (KS and AZ; this also includes protection from malpractice suits associated with such withholding); mandatory but medically unnecessary ultrasounds before abortions (VA, AL, PA, NC, TX, NH, KY, & IL); proposed bills in AZ and MT defining personhood as the first day of the mother's last menstrual period or the moment of conception; de-funding of Planned Parenthood (despite that fact the most of what they do is breast cancer and cervical cancer screenings for low income women); and the contentious struggle over passing the Violence Against Women Act, which finally made it through the Senate (the trip through the House is expected to be much more challenging).  All in all, over 900 bills that are "anti-women" in nature have been proposed already this year, and traditionally supported bipartisan legislation that facilitates gender equality has taken a beating.  I am baffled; what is going on?  I don't believe for one minute that all those subscribing to a conservative political ideology are anti-female or anti gender equality.  Perhaps there is simply a failure to recognize the broader implications of the pattern when observed in its entirety.  Focusing on one small part is like looking at a Monet up close; you have to back up to find a coherent image.  The problem is that collectively we don't tend to back up.

At the most basic level, we have a biological reality that has reinforced a societal notion of female accountability; there is no corresponding requirement for male accountability on a biological level, and often not on a societal level either.  Because of this, women have long born the burdens of their actions as well as the actions of men.  We have developed a culture where "boys will be boys" is so ingrained that we fail to examine our assumptions or to respond appropriately to behavior.  More often we look to women to fix the problem or to accept blame for it.  If a little boy shows off his penis on the school playground, his mother is called (and he usually gets scolded) - but we laugh "Oh, boys!"  If a little girl flashes a peer on the school playground the response is much swifter, more punitive, and more shame focused when responding to both the parents and the child.  Have we ever stopped to ask why that tends to be true, and to examine the assumptions behind it?  What about when an adolescent or single female becomes pregnant?  She is often labeled, shunned, or devalued.  Why?  She didn't get pregnant by herself, but in all likelihood she will shoulder both the social and practical accountability.  When a woman is being abused by her partner as a society we ask why she stays, rather then addressing the partner's decision to be violent.  There is a marked lack of honesty when our society examines violent relationships.  The multitude of barriers to leaving - both practical and societal - are ignored.  Thus we turn away, holding her accountable for her partner's violence when leaving truly might not be a viable option. 

No where is this misplaced notion of accountability more striking than when we approach the topic of sexual assault, which brings me back to SlutWalk.  SlutWalk is, at its core, a march to protest rape culture.  Rape culture refers to the social, political, and institutionalized beliefs and systems that maintain the victim blaming paradigm.  To deny its existence would be monumentally naive.  When a woman is assaulted, people (including other women) automatically begin to examine her behavior.  This is a natural reaction to vulnerability and fear; what can I do differently to make sure this does not happen to me; how am I different so that I know I am safe.  OK, I get that; but the implicit message in such dialogue is that what she did or failed to do makes her responsible for the behavior of the rapist.  It reinforces the fundamental belief  that she should have predicted it and could have prevented it.  News flash, folks ~ none of us can see the future and the only person whose behavior we can control is our own.  We are all potentially vulnerable, and that is just a reality.  The knowledge that 25% of women are sexually assaulted in their lifetime is frightening to face.  The knowledge that the average acquaintance rapist has about 6 victims deflates the notion of "poor guy, falsely accused".

SlutWalk has a motto or mantra of sorts that seeks to address some common myths:
We demand that our bodies and all bodies be respected.  Our worth as human beings is not determined by our sexuality.
No matter what I wear; no matter what I look like
         (This refers to our scrutiny of a victim's physical appearance.  So why are victims assaulted while wearing jeans, jogging clothes, or business suits?  Why is it that most men would not commit an assault? Revealing clothing or remarkable physical beauty may encourage looking but that is all.  We go to museums to look at beautiful, unique, or compelling works of art; we do not touch them.  A person's body should be no different.  Un-coerced permission is mandatory.)

No matter what my gender expression is; No matter how much, how little, or what kind of sex I have
      (This speaks directly to the problem of "corrective rape" as well as our habit of questioning a victim's sexual history.  Having had a variety of sexual partners before, in any number or configuration, does not imply openness to to all potential partners, in all circustances, or at all times.  Again, un-coerced permission is mandatory.)


 No matter what I've done before; No matter where I come from; No matter how my body has been "devalued" by others; No matter what I have been called
      (Having said yes to a particular partner before does not mean yes every time.  Each instance of sexual contact is an opportunity to choose to give consent or to decline.  Dating, living together, or being married is not automatic consent.  Using guilt, coercion, name calling, badgering, threats, consciousness altering agents, or waiting until she is asleep is not seeking consent; it is manipulation at best, and it is always sexual assault.)

The bottom line is that we fail to hold those committing sexual assault accountable for their behavior.  We certainly protect our mini-stars; athletes, politicians, entertainers, the wealthy.  It is easier, less vulnerable, to blame the victim.  By holding perpetrators accountable we come face to face with our own vulnerability to being harmed.  Simultaneously we are also faced with our own propensity to cause harm.  By holding those with power and privilege accountable for their choices, we risk the start of a paradigm in which we all might lose the advantages afforded us by our own power and privilege.

So at the cost of women's well being,we cling desperately to the status quo and even publicly backslide as a nation.  A woman who is held down - verbally, socially, financially, politically, academically, or professionally - cannot effect change.  Someone who is constantly under threat of some kind, and scrutinized and blamed if she is harmed, often will not seek attention or recognition.  The collective conservative position appears to be aimed at making progress more difficult for women.  Is there a fear about what women are capable of?  Maybe there is a fear that women will misuse and abuse power as men have.  Perhaps there is fear that women will reflexively oppress men, a retribution of sorts.  Is there indignation that we are still seeking equal pay for equal work?  Perhaps it is facing the loss of a convenient scapegoat; there is a historical trend to blame women for the ills of the world and for men's poor choices (i.e. Eve, Pandora, Helen of Troy, Guinevere).  It could be any of thousands of reasons, and likely is different for each person.  What matters is that decision makers become honest enough with themselves, and we become honest enough with ourselves, to explore the reasons behind our beliefs and behaviors.  Do they make sense?  Are they balanced?  Are they harmful?  To whom, in what way, and what makes that acceptable? 

Many of the current dots on the social and political canvas of our nation coalesce into a picture of threat to women. So for me SlutWalk became more than just a protest against rape culture.  It was an opportunity to visibly and peacefully disagree publicly with the political and societal attitudes that threaten to undermine and oppress women, simply because we are women, mothers, partners, and still every bit as capable and remarkable as men.

Ask yourself...

If you are considering tackling any graduate program, it is vital to reflect on how (and if) this endeavor will help you achieve your goals, both short and long term.  Another important query to sit with is whether or not you have the capacity to delay gratification and the drive to keep going when things are overwhelming and the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel is ridiculously distant.  The journey is a difficult (and expensive) one even without children; if you cannot answer these things you may want to wait.  At the risk of sounding cheesy, you may want to ask yourself "what is my motivation?"

Research on creativity suggests that intrinsic motivation holds you longer and will see you through the difficult periods more effectively than extrinsic motivation.  This is true for artistic creativity, but also for intellectual endeavors.  Basically, if you are in this for extrinsic factors such as $$ or status you are less likely to persevere or be as effective in your work.  Even worse, you are more likely to get burned out and disillusioned, which partially accounts for the relatively high rate of non-completion in PhD programs.   Intrinsic motivation, however, is fueled by a sense of passion; it inspires curiosity and creativity not only in your work but in how you manage to navigate the challenges along the way.  This is the stuff that moves you forward.  So you have 200 pages of highly intellectual and technical (and probably dry) reading for 1 of your 4 classes this week... no problem, the discussions with your classmates are very stimulating and there is an underlying desire to share perspectives and ideas that makes most of the reading feel worthwhile on at least some level.  A 20 page paper... can do; you wanted to look further into the relationship between two constructs and this is a great excuse to go there in depth.

One problem inherent in graduate study, even for those whose primary motivation is intrinsic, is the unavoidable evaluative component.  Evaluation is a necessity, but it adds an extrinsic motivational factor.  The natural flow of the process is altered, anxiety rises sharply, and the directions you go in may look different because you are meeting the demands or expectations of evaluators.  I am not saying that it is necessarily a bad thing, but research on creativity clearly shows that the evaluative component has a negative impact on quality, productivity, and enjoyment of any activity - even the one you naturally gravitate towards.

Whether you create poetry, sculptures, mathematical equations, or original research projects there is an element of creativity that drives the process.  In order to remain creative and manage the high demand and pressure while maintaining buoyancy and flow you have to return to yourself.  There are countless questions you can ask in order to explore this. What drives you to engage in a project?  What does it mean to do it?  Where does it stem from? Where might it take you?   The point of these questions is not to look at external factors (i.e. I might get a cool publication out of it), but rather to look inside yourself.  Academia is inherently evaluative, and naturally gives rise to the challenges associated with extrinsic motivation.  Intrinsic motivation requires nurturing in this environment.  Balancing the two demands finesse.  Know your professors expectations and demands (as well as their quirks), but also know yourself. 

So, what is your motivation?

Busy

One of the inherent challenges in deciding to do something completely for personal reasons while being in graduate school is that the moment competing demands begin squeaking too vociferously, we drop all the extra stuff (like blogging).  I have been having a wonderful several weeks filled with success and mobility both at school and at home.  My dissertation is moving again, my client work is challenging but very positive, my family is busy with exciting things, I matched for internship and am preparing to move to a new state in 2 months, I am working to dedicate free time to my friends who I will miss greatly, and my activist project is inching along (who knew how long editing a PSA would take)...  Throughout this, I have had so many ideas for blog posts, and no time I am willing to free up specifically to write them (I have learned over the last several years that cutting into the little sleep I get is a very bad idea).  Oh, the nature of prioritizing!  One of the most important things I can do at times like this is to remind myself that I am only one woman, and have a good laugh about it.  I enjoy this activity, but it is an "extra" and has to take the back burner; accept and love what is.  But I am pouting about it a little.... so I write a short post tonight about being dissatisfied about not posting.  Funny how the silly little things make me feel better sometimes!

A matter of perspective

I felt like a crappy mother yesterday.  Expect these days in grad school.  I felt like a crappy friend the day before that.  Expect those days too.  In fact if you plan to attempt to be a grad student while you simultaneously have children, friendships, and other non-academic commitments you will inevitably have days or weeks where you feel like you suck at everything.  (If all you are is a grad student, you will have times where you feel like you are terrible at that, so make sure it isn't the only thing you are doing). 

So what makes me a crappy friend?  The day before yesterday I had a friend text me to express high levels of exasperation with her husband, who also happens to be a good friend of mine.  He forgot to take care of an errand.  This was not the first or second or even twentieth time, and that is a difficult pattern to accept sometimes.  As she vented herself into a frenzy, I simultaneously sunk into empathic failure.  Her concern and frustration were valid, and I could acknowledge that.  Where I got stuck was the presentation she gave of having to do "everything".  I happen to know he helps around the house, is a great parent, and earns enough that she doesn't work outside the home but still gets to have a cleaning lady. Seriously? Everything?  That is what I do.  I don't have a cleaning lady.  I don't have a wage earning partner, or a co-parent, or someone I can ask to run an errand, or someone I can get a hug from at the end of the day.  Don't get me wrong, I am not feeling sorry for myself; I just didn't have enough "give a damn" left for the drama.  I chose this path for very good reasons, but that doesn't mean it is easy.  And even I have days where I am wiped out and there isn't enough empathy left in my cup to share with my dearest friends.  So instead I called her on her drama, validated her feelings of frustration, and told her I would be in touch later when I could participate in the conversation in a more loving way, because I do get it.  I just sometimes don't get how people can be so blind to the gifts in their lives.  Maybe that is because I am so unaccustomed to the things she takes for granted, and I take for granted my freedom from the frustrations that she faces being in a partnership.  So I felt like a crappy friend...

Then what makes me a crappy mother?  Yesterday I spent the morning with a client at the inpatient unit, then saw clients at one clinic all afternoon, followed by a late client at yet another clinic.  I did not get done until 730 in the evening, and I was completely exhausted.  I had a text from the kids waiting for me; no one had eaten yet.  OK, so now I was anticipating arriving home at 8 to three hungry birds, having to decide what to cook, preparing that, and all of us eating at 9ish. I just didn't have the energy in myself to do this.  So I called the house "choose where you want me to get dinner from and text me what you want so I have a list when I get there."  I cringed, knowing what was probably coming...and true to form, the choice was Taco Bell. OK, look for the positive; at least I don't have to cook, they get to eat sooner, and we'll crawl into our beds at a semi-decent hour.  They were so excited when I walked through the door with "toxic hell" that they all hurried into the kitchen, set the table and poured milks, and we had lively dinner conversation.  They had even fed he dog before I got home!  As much as I dislike it, feeding such questionable ingestibles does not plummet me to the level of "crappy mother", nor does being hard working and occasionally absent in the evenings.  But I don't like it, and when it happens I feel like a lousy mom...

Well, this gave me an opportunity to call myself on my own drama as well.  I DON'T do everything.  I have three wonderful children who I love spending time with.  My not-so-little darlings are full participants in this busy life; one loads the dishwasher, another unloads it, and the third sweeps the kitchen.  They do their own laundry for the most part.  They help with taking care of our geriatric pooch.  My son enjoys mowing the lawn sometimes, and my youngest daughter likes digging in the garden.  They usually remember to write stuff on the grocery list when they notice we are low.  Sometimes they need reminders and sometimes they function more independently, but they rarely fuss or complain (especially compared to the average teenagers).  And they sometimes even enjoy hugs.  With 2 on the spectrum and the other a 14 year old there are fewer hugs than I would like; but this isn't all about me, its about our family.
 
Another thing I have learned from experience is not to believe everything I feel. Feeling like a bad mom or friend doesn't  mean I am a bad mom or friend.  It just means I am human.  I suppose I better get used to that, because I expect it won't change any time soon.

How it comes together sometimes

      Sometimes a series of coincidences with the right timing provide just the nudge I need to try something new.  Somehow the pieces fall into place; currently this feels a bit surreal.  I got all fired up about the reauthorization of VAWA (S.1925) for very good reasons.  Lo and behold, when I began to talk about it with folks, they actually agreed that this was a problem!  So I started musing about how best to make a difference, and several ideas began to coalesce in conversation with various friends and colleagues.  Three major projects grew from those ideas, all connected, all trying to accomplish the same general goal; mobilize public pressure to ensure the reauthorization of VAWA.
     It started as simple blog post idea, but quickly evolved to be a letter to Senators and Representatives.  I asked a couple friends to read and provide feedback on the letter, having never done anything like this before.  I also asked a couple agencies if they would provide support statements with a letter of their own.  Some responded favorably, others failed to respond.  In talking with a colleague, we developed the idea of filming a public service announcement to circulate online.  She is an experienced videographer, so she told me what she needed to make this happen and I got to work organizing the people and details, writing a script, and seeking help and feedback as needed.  I connected with our campus Women's Resource Center.  They were immediately on-board and have been vital in this becoming a successful endeavor.  We will be filming this Thursday during International Women's Day!  I also opted to start an online petition.  I talked with a couple folks who are more connected within an activist community, and I learned several great options to proceed.   I also received some wise advice, which I appreciate immensely.  I got a few friends as readers again and got that up online yesterday.  Much of the petition and the PSA script came from the original letter, which made this series of projects less overwhelming.  What did my one friend say when he read the letter?  Oh yeah, he saw three parts to it.  I guess I figured out what to do with each one...
      The timing and salience of events in the political world and in my life gifted  me with space, energy, and passion for this particular cause at a time when it feels possible to facilitate positive outcomes.  I hope I am approaching it in ways that are impactful beyond my small circle.  Somehow this petition, PSA, and letter grew out of my connections with the most amazing folks, and I am thankful I was able to reach out to them as readers, writers, creative artists, activists, friends, and colleagues whom I trust. I love that it mostly developed during casual coffee shop chats, breakfast meetings, long phone calls at odd hours, and one crazy girls night at my house.  I do highly recommend neighbors, kids, margaritas, guacamole, hair dye, and activism all in the same evening!

Not being the quiet gal

      Most of the time I am a fairly quiet person.  I am busy with my family and friends, my work, my studies, my research, etc.  I tend to fly under the radar, get my stuff done and move on to the the next task without generating much notice.  And then there are times that something happens where I feel moved to open my big mouth...
      I already outed myself as a survivor on my blog post "Happy 10th," then the next day I read an article in the NY Times about the reauthorization of the Violence Against Women Act.  Are we still this archaic?  I answered yes, and counted myself as culpable.  How many times have we heard that there is dignity in silence?  Don't believe everything you hear.  Silence is the domain of isolation, shame, and fear; these are the same wardens that keep people in violent relationships and prevent them from reporting assaults.  Yet until recently I have been remarkably silent, and just kept moving forward to do right by my own little family. 
      Now I am doing something different; I am trying to do something right on a much larger scale.  I want to go back to being silent, but my growing realization of mass disempowerment is more unsettling than the intensity of facing the wardens.  I just need to stay connected as I do this.  The next 2 weeks should be one heck of a roller coaster ride, but ultimately I think this is a good thing.

Scientific Shennanigans

      It is science fair time at the middle school again, and that means a world of crazy around here.  Everyone's data tables and results graphs are due next Friday, so guess where some extra kids are coming to conduct their experiments...here of course!  I am so glad Monday is a Holiday!  It looks like we have 4 lined up so far; Lydia is looking at what wakes people up, Allie is seeing what berries make the best natural ink, Maika is looking at which types of building materials withstand earthquake, and Rhiannon is checking out what brand of popcorn leaves the fewest un-popped kernels.
      I was Lyd's guinea pig for the first part of hers; it involved falling asleep on the couch and getting ice to the face to see how long it would take before I fell asleep again...twice since one data point alone is meaningless.  She'll finish torturing me tomorrow night. The other two IVs involve sour liquid and peppermint extract (both should be preferable to the ice).  She is lucky to have the friends she has, because they have volunteered to let her wake them up (or torture them depending on your perspective) at a sleepover.  We will see how much love there is in the room come morning!
     Allie's should be fun; she has pomegranate seeds, blueberries, and blackberries. She even collected feathers to use as quills to be "authentic."  I am not sure what her DV is, but it should at least be a fun mess to make.  Mental note - make sure no one is wearing white tomorrow....  
      I am not sure what we are doing with Maika's ... putting her constructions onto the kitchen table and shaking it vigorously... putting them in the car and driving on a dirt road... running them through the dryer on air fluff for 10 minutes....  suggestions are welcome!
      Rhiannon's should rock, and buy me forgiveness points (Katie and I were scolded by the girls last night for eating the last of the popcorn).  We have 3 brands of popcorn to test, which means the kids better be hungry.  They can get their popcorn fix, weigh the leftover kernels, and eat in the name of science (I wonder if they'll get extra credit for watching a sci-fi film while eating)?    
      I wish dissertating was this much fun :)

Getting in my own way

      One of the things I like best about self-reflection around a particular experience is the opportunity to see both where I am engaging well and where I am either avoiding or getting in my own way.  This week's frenzy prompted some exploration of all three things; lo and behold, I found ways to increase mobility.  Funny how that works (and it works best if you are willing to be honest with yourself about both the pretty things and the ones that feel icky). 
      I am happy with the emphasis I am keeping on my kids and my friendships.  The kids are a no brainer, and parenting them is easily what I love best about my life.  It helps that they are bright, fun, reasonably balanced, and well rounded youngsters; and I was afraid teenagers would be horrible!  My friends are also important.  Having grown up in a family that moved frequently, it became easy to not get too close to others or to not let them know you are going to miss them; proximity was always a temporary thing.  Being older, and having a few friends who have been around long enough to be historians in my life has impacted that perspective.  I have always valued my friendships and I will always hate goodbyes, but that doesn't stop me from connecting with people.  I feel the pressure of leaving soon, and my initial reaction is to pull back and just be busy (I wouldn't even have to fake it).  Instead I am leaning into those connections, choosing not to disengage from folks, and acknowledging that there will be a feeling of loss because there was relationship.  I like that in the sense that connection does not end when proximity changes; those we are closest to remain present in our thoughts and hearts (and on our phones and facebook). 
     OK, so I am happy with that, but what about the rest of the stuff?  Well, I made progress there as well.  It took looking seriously at what I was avoiding and why to solve my dilemma.  I cannot make my kids not get sick, so in reality I will miss school and work sometimes.  But there is more to it than that.  I have been stuck in the hell of screwball archival data for several weeks without progress.  I was stymied and had not received much from my chair (its his data set).  I knew he needed to take care of some things that were outside my ability to fix, and he had not yet done that.  And he needed to merge the files and find the missing data from one of the sets.  And we talked about before Thanksgiving, at the end of the semester, and via e-mail over break.  OK, enter avoidance.  I was avoiding talking to him about it again.  I hate confrontation, I hate nagging, and I completely identify with competing demands so I don't like to pressure people.  But I REALLY need this stuff fixed so I can do the first phase of analysis for my dissertation, select the target cases for the second phase, and go collect my own data set to wrap it all up.  Did I mention that the semester ends in 13 weeks and that means I will no longer have any undergraduate research assistants to help with transcription and coding after mid May?  My challenge to myself on Wednesday was to talk with my advisor, while looking at the data set together so I could show him exactly what I needed.  In the process of identifying exactly what I needed to make clear to him and how I intended to do that I solved my IRB trimming issue as well (phase 1 will be IRB exempt which saves me from writing about 2 hypotheses in the "500 word only" description section).  Once I got over my avoidance and spoke with my chair, he was on it.  I have one set of tasks he demonstrated how to address; he set himself a deadline of next Tuesday for the other work.
     Now comes the hardest part; admitting where I am getting in my own way.  In addition to working on (or trying to work on) my dissertation, I was doing some extra work for the agency where my dissertation research is housed.  They had data to collect, inventory, correct, clean, and enter, but they were short handed because a colleague was on maternity leave.  I was offered a comfortable hourly rate to help fill the gap, so I did.  I do have 2 teenagers, a tween, and a $1200 per month grocery bill after all.  But it was not leaving me enough time to work on my material.  I had to talk with my chair (as he was the one who wanted me on this other project) and tell him the ways in which my time was being spent and the ways that choice was contributing to my dissertation situation.  Until my own data collection is done, I just cannot spare the time to work on this other project.  It is disappointing for my chair.  It is disappointing to me as this means tightening my belt a bit more, but I need to get as far on my dissertation as possible in the next 13 weeks.  I needed to adjust my expectations and priorities to stop getting in the way of my progress by being over committed, even if the overcommitment developed for good reasons. 
      So its onward and upward, I guess (or maybe forward or sideways)?  I am sure there will be plenty of other opportunities for self reflection as I hiccup my way through this project and the rest of my crazy, busy, joyful life.  Hopefully each time will yield similar results that help me keep it all together and mobile while retaining some semblance of sanity  :-)

Sitting with the mirror

      I hate to admit it, but even this supermom gets overwhelmed sometimes.  Last week was zany from the beginning; my youngest got injured in Gym class (first hour on Monday) and I had to rearrange the day to accommodate a visit to the doctor and still see my clients.  It all worked out, which basically means that I did not fall behind, but I only maintained.  The rest of the week felt much the same - sitting with a friend in the ICU, attending a training, shifting client schedules, sleepovers, kids activities, my neighbor backing into my car, comps help for a friend -extra stuff came up that needed to fit in around an already packed life.  All of it was important, and I was happy to do it (except the car thing) but I am tired.  This week started the same way; by 10 AM Monday I had a sick kid needing to come home from school and a full client schedule; sacrifice another lunch break to the Gods of Juggling. 
      As I was running back to the office at 1245 yesterday, I passed one of my girlfriends.  The proverbial "How are you doing," was followed by honesty this time.  I dropped the Minnesota nice "Oh fine" long enough to tell her that I wanted to run away and cry for about an hour and then I would be fine.  She's another single mom / grad student, so she knows what I mean when I say this.  It means there is too much going on, it does not seem likely to change any time soon, and true respite feels light-years away. So what did she do?  The angel picked up dinner and came over at 6, we plunked our kids in front of a movie picnic style and then we sat at the kitchen table discussing our philosophies of life, transition, and why the world is so damn crazy.  We also spent some time wondering what insanity could possibly drive 2 otherwise intelligent and rational women to engage in this academic pursuit.  I think the most important thing we did was laugh together, though.
      I realize that what I need is to sit with everything that is happening in my own world, but I just cannot seem to carve a space to do this. I have been trying to, but interruptions are inevitable, competing demands create a cacophony in my daily life.  So today another kiddo fell to the bug and had to get picked up from school, no dissertation work happened, and I am missing an afternoon meeting (now the feeling of being behind is creeping in)... some weeks are just like this if you decide to climb the mountain of academia pulling a little red wagon with 3 kids. 
      I wish it were warm; I would go back country camping where cell signals are nonexistent and no one could find me for a while.  Even better, I wish I could find an island out in the middle of nowhere and pitch a tent for a few days.  But I want & I wish never got me very far on the road to "here", and I seriously doubt they will get me far on the road to "there" either.  They are part of the illusion and I am a reality kind of gal.  So when the wind blows the smoke away, I am left with the mirror.  My favorite thing about a good mirror is that it provides the opportunity to see more honestly.  Clearly, I am tired and busy and the Gods of Juggling have been exceedingly demanding lately.  I also have amazing family and friends in my life, and we come together in various ways to share whatever might be happening.  Many of us are in the middle of really big, exciting, and somewhat stressful transitions which gives us plenty to talk about - most of it quite positive.  It is also important to admit that when there is a lot of uncertainty, even positive events can feel scary to me.  Despite this I have to find a way to provide a sense of calm and stability for the kids while we wait to see what happens next, and that means finding a grounded and solid place for myself in times of uncertainty, even while having weeks like this.
      OK mirror: you, me, and some quality time once the fry guys are in bed.   I can sit with this, but I am going to studiously ignore any wrinkles or gray hairs that might have appeared - just sayin'.  Even supermom can only take so much reality in a given time frame!

Trimming for the IRB

      I need to trim some words - 238 of them to be exact.  This whole endeavor is ridiculous. The instructions say to "briefly summarize the overall intent of the study...include ... a statement of the objectives and the potential benefit to study subjects and/or the advancement of your field.  Generally included are literature related to the problem, hypotheses, and discussion of the problem's importance."  Oh, and you only get 500 words. (Insert frustrated face here).  Fitting internship essays into that length was a bit challenging.  Now I have to cram the description of a complex study with 5 separate hypotheses, a lit review and commentary on why my project matters into 500 words.  I am going to hate the number 500 by the time I graduate.
      I am glad it's Sunday morning; I am going to warm up the car and go  meet some friends for brunch.  Trimming will resume when I get back; I expect I will have a better attitude about it if I let myself step away for a while.

Happy 10th

      Tonight I find myself considering what 10 years looks like.  For me it has been an interesting decade; where it started is such an incredible contrast to where I am today.  It was a lot to hold throughout the day; this is not the traditional kind of milestone that I celebrate with others, and I would certainly not celebrate it in a way that is visible to my children.
      It was 10 years ago today that I dropped out of college and drove away from an abusive marriage with a minivan full of whatever fit that I thought would be important and $50 in my purse.  My parents had come a week earlier and taken the kids and some household stuff in their Jeep.  I had spent the week afraid that I would become another shirt on the clothesline project, but I had given notice at work and felt obligated to stay until that date.  Looking back, I cannot recall what could have possibly been that important there, but who thinks clearly under such stress?   Obviously not me.  When I hit I-94 I started to breathe again; the farther I went the easier it got; Highway 10; Highway 64, and so on.  When I arrived at my parent's house 5 hours later I realized that I had done it, finally.
      OK, now what?  It was time to put on my big girl panties and deal with my reality.  I knew what my goals were: be a good mom, get a job, and to finish my education someday.  Luxuries like school seemed so unattainable at that time, but I never took it off the list.  In the meantime I worked and adjusted to parenting alone. I swallowed my pride and accessed public assistance, lived with my parents, and saved enough to put a down payment on a house.  I was that exhausted mom in the grocery store at 6PM toting three kids (who were sometimes whining or screaming).  Eventually my youngest started kindergarten, so I finally went back to school.  Over the course of 4 years I completed 2 Bachelors degrees and a Masters degree - still working on the PhD.  Luckily I am not anticipating any major road blocks at this point; the hardest years are a decade behind me and I have gotten pretty good at managing the hiccups that appear. 
      Don't mistake my track record as the most important source of my confidence; I would not have accomplished any of this in isolation.  On average, women leave and return to an abusive relationship 7 times before staying away.  I never understood why this statistic was so surprising to folks given how stigmatized victims of intimate partner violence are in our society.  This was my third try, but I had the right supports and opportunities in my life this time.  What stands out most clearly to me is the people who have been present in my life, and the ways in which they have helped me to accomplish what once felt impossible.  Much of the inspiration, courage, and strength I found was renewed within the context of my relationships with family, friends, and mentors.  There are so many people who have been witness to and part of my journey, most never realizing what that journey actually was. 
      It was with the people in my life that I learned to begin living again, to love the ordinary, every day in my life.  OK, so I worked all day and came home and worked all night until I fell into bed.  So do a lot of other people, and it was worth it to do it well whether I was tired or not.  Making dinner became less of a chore and more of an opportunity for getting creative, having fun, and bringing people together (which subsequently made grocery shopping more enjoyable).  I sang while I washed the floors and danced while I dusted. Spelling practice became kinesthetic silliness with my son and math was a great excuse for popcorn.  My homework was forward mobility in APA format.  I hosted sleep overs and movie nights, scout meetings and BBQs.  I had late night phone calls with friends and still got up at 6 because both things mattered.   
      I try to find small ways to celebrate the everyday, and I intentionally make time for people and activities.  My friends marvel that I can manage to find time and energy for side projects and hosting get togethers; I can't image not doing so.  We only have one life.  It is not going to finally be happening in 10 years, it is happening in our everyday moments. So this 10th looked like late nite nachos and tequlia shots with Katie after the kids were asleep; 10 years could look like any woman, but tonight it looks like me.

The Story of a Song

      I love children's music (I guess I am that kind of woman).  I love other music as well, but there is just something special about children's music.  I used to sing to the kids I babysat, then to the kids I nannied, the kids at the childcare, and eventually to my own children.  I love the variety of ways in which music can enter into the everyday moments of a child.  We had hello songs, cleanup songs, learning songs, playing songs, celebration songs, and goodbye songs.  My all time favorites, however, are the lullabies.  They are the places in which children learn what academics refer to as the co-regulation of emotion.  But music is a feelings thing for me, and there are not always words to express clearly what is present in some of the shared experiences around lullabies.
      There is one lullaby that has a special place in our family.  It's funny, but I don't even know the name of it, only how to sing it.  I used to drive from Minneapolis to Prior Lake to nurse my youngest daughter when I had a long enough break between classes.  Sometimes it would play in the crib room where we sat, and I would rock her and sing softly.  After she weaned, I rarely sang that particular song.  After we moved I didn't sing at all for a while.
     When she was about 4 her favorite blanket finally disintegrated in the wash machine.  Any parent who has witnessed this understands what I mean when I tell you she was devastated.  There was no anger or frustration, just a deep and profound sense of sadness and loss in her eyes and her voice (she really loved her bunny blanket).    As I was tucking her in that night, I agreed that extra lullabies were in order; one was not sufficient for a day like this.  So we went through every lullaby I could think of.  As I was getting ready to leave the room she begged for one more; she insisted that there was a special one I did not sing for her.  I couldn't remember anything else, and was dismayed as she became tearful.  I asked her if she knew what it was called. "No."  So I asked if she could hum a bit. "I can't remember."  Did she remember any of the words? "Hearts and cheeks," she sobbed.
      There was a hint of a memory, so I started humming.  After a few notes, it was a tidal wave; lyrics from one verse, the refrain, music, images, and the profound sense of peace that I felt in those moments we shared.  I don't know what the lullaby evoked for her, but whatever it was, she needed it that night.  My memory was imperfect, as all memories are, but it was good enough to help her get through the demise of bunny blanket.  

The other pillow

My friends and family know I don’t date – in fact it has become something of a joke because it has been so long.  There are two recent experiences that have brought this reality and its complexities into a sharp focus over the past couple months.  The first was a humorous observation that I was fortunate enough to be able to share with the young woman who tutors my children.  The second was a visit with a dear, old friend who made time while I traveled through his community.

                The first happened on a typical Wednesday evening – about as busy, boring, and ordinary as it gets.  I had been running all day with my usual Mommy- soon to be-PhD stuff; working on internship applications, dissertation, seeing clients, running a parenting group, and finally stopping at the grocery store on the way home.  After the scramble of unloading the car, passing out “hello” hugs, listening to the day’s escapades, and putting away groceries I headed to my room to hang up my jacket so I could start making dinner.  As I walked into my room I happened to glance at my bed, and burst out laughing.  I mean full bodied, tears in my eyes, lose my breath kind of laughing.  Katherine walked around the corner to see what the great joke was – so I pointed to my bed “No wonder I don’t date: if it ever gets serious I have no where to put him!” 

                It was true, and was clearly illustrated in that one image.  My laptop sits on the other pillow; texts on child psychopathology and treatment, statistics, mixed methods research, and attachment were stacked neatly below that; then journal articles on trauma and related topics; followed by a small set of sewing projects I want to finish (in all my spare time); and finally a couple CDs, my journal, and the kids school pictures I still needed to mail to folks.  The image was incongruous, a neatly made bed that I only have to fold the covers back a little to crawl into, with a line of work down the other side where a partner would be in another life.  The space in my life is occupied both literally and figuratively; that ordinary Wednesday evening provided a much needed laugh as well as a visual dose of the reality of the choices I have made. 

                I won’t lie, this reality has a bittersweet quality.  I have never dated much, in fact I have only had 2 partnered relationships in the past 20 years, and briefly dated a couple guys in the years between.  One thing I have been told, and do believe, is that I am not an easy woman to be in a relationship with.  I am goal oriented, driven, intelligent, and assertive.  While women may find these qualities attractive in a man, in my experience men rarely find these qualities attractive in a woman.  The contrast is perhaps too sharp alongside my nurturing, gentle, homey, flirty side (that fits the feminine image beautifully, though).  The men who have been interested in me historically are drawn to the feminine aspects of me, but I am a package deal.  If I cannot be my driven, ambitious, successful, silly, sappy, hippie-esque self with a partner I would just as soon be single.  I have amazing and rich friendships, so I am not lonely for company.  If all I missed was sex I would simply turn to the single woman’s most trusted small appliance, the B.O.B.  I can honestly admit to myself that I miss the close companionship of a full relationship, though. 

                I may not have admitted that as readily in the absence of my second experience.  While I was traveling to interview for internships I was able to spend some time visiting a dear friend who I hadn’t seen in nearly 20 years.  There were a few moments that reminded me somewhat of a date.  He was charming, thoughtful, attentive, and kind – essentially the good friend he has always been.  I think the contrast to my current life, as well as my past relationships, was a bit disorienting.  So I had a lovely evening and had to admit to myself that perhaps I should re-evaluate my single-ness soon.  

                I have been home for several days, and I must admit I am somewhat conflicted by my awareness of the two experiences.  I can honestly say that I have not “tested the waters” for quite a while.  Perhaps it is time to think about it.  Still, I am a middle aged, single mother with 3 kids (and I talk about them a lot), finishing my PhD, moving to an as yet to be determined location in less than 6 months.  I am full of excuses, and most of them are things I choose actively because they matter that much to me.  Ultimately though, I think I am afraid that I would have to make myself less for a partner to want to enter my life and I do not intend to do that ever again.  Perhaps after I defend my dissertation and move I will be more open to dating.  So my laptop is still on the other pillow, but I have cleared some of the other stuff out of the way. Its a good thing I have lots of time!

Snow Day!

     We were gifted with a snow day Thursday.  I mean a real one… we had 14 inches before morning, school was at first delayed and then cancelled, and I couldn’t even drive half a block towards work without getting stuck (4 times I might add).  And 6 hours later, it’s still snowing… Needless to say, I called it good enough, had the receptionist reschedule my clients, and stayed home with the kids. 

     Now this could have been a frustrating experience.  I have a lot to do (clients, dissertation research, projects I am working on, etc) and having a day where I cannot accomplish what needs to be done definitely increases my anxiety level.  But today was different.  The giant, wet snowflakes were clinging to every surface, giving our community an almost whimsical appearance.  This is the winter wonderland my mind conjures when I listen to holiday music, and I am in it today.

     Another beautiful thing about snowy days (at least the reallllly snowy ones) is the way people come together.  When I was warming up the car to go to work, my neighbor was stuck.  So she, two other neighbors, and I were digging.  Then my son came out to lend a hand.  Then another motorist stopped and offered assistance.  She got going, and I went to leave.  My parking is off the back alley, and I got stuck before making it to the road.  Then I got stuck turning onto the road.  A neighbor I had never met came over with her shovel and my kids brought ours from the house.  We dug the car out, I turned onto the road, and got stuck 100 feet away at the stop sign.  And two guys drove up to help, my car got turned around, and stuck again.  We managed to dig a path to the nearest driveway where I could turn around and head for home.  And guess what, I got stuck trying to pull over to the side of the road in front of my house!   The neighbor across the way was trying to leave for work at this time, and she got stuck too, so we all grabbed our shovels and dug her out since we had become so proficient at it! 

     Driving is out of the question and we ran out of milk and bread (oh reality, I love you).   Luckily I have an occasionally adventurous son, and he decided it would be cool to walk a mile to Albertson’s in the snowstorm with his mother to acquire said items.  It is not too often that an autistic adolescent decides to indulge in a bit of an adventure, so this was a rare opportunity.  We got to chat about school and his friends, college aspirations, fears about our upcoming move, and what he plans to do next time he plays his favorite game.  He flitted from topic to topic, just letting himself say what came to mind.  We walked, plodded, stumbled, and laughed.  For the time it took to walk there, shop, and walk back I was listening to and being present with his world, with no distractions or competition for my attention.  

     As my son and I were walking to the store we saw others digging each other out.  We stopped and chatted, learned that a guy in the apartment building down the street is excited to celebrate his dog’s first birthday next month.  We learned that the lady at the corner is a graduate student as well, and is getting ready to start her thesis proposal.  And coming home, I learned that some neighbors complain when Terry or Bob get out their 4 wheelers and plow the parking lane on the street.   So Terry said he does not plow much these days, but he cleared the area in front of my house and in front of Mandy’s.  I cannot make it back to my alley parking space, but she and I both have plenty of room to share.  And now I get to bake a loaf of bread, because I do appreciate Terry and his snow plowing 4 wheeler.   It’s the small things people do that connect them, despite our busy and canalized every day worlds; sometimes it takes a snow day for us to share those every day moments with each other.

What is this all about, anyway?

     This is not a blog for people who want to read the fabulous and exciting stories about the moments that light up the sky.  There will be those moments here, but this is about a real life.  It is woven from those ordinary moments that come together to create the brilliant flashes for which others express admiration or wonderment.   My CV is rather impressive by most standards, as it should be since I am only a dissertation and internship away from my PhD.  The fact that most of it was accomplished while being a single mother of 3 children lends it a different weight.  One of my kids is a gifted singer, another is a mathematical wiz kid, and the third an aspiring chef, so there are plenty of mom’s taxi moments, as well opportunity seeking for the kids.   After people get to know me a little, they eventually discover that my oldest and youngest have special needs, and then the questions start.       

     It is funny how people often ask “how do you do it” with bewilderment or comment that they could never do the things I do.   I don’t believe it for a minute, partly because to me what I do is second nature.  This frequent line of questioning has led me to wonder how it is that I actually accomplish living my life with such a degree of success, Yeah, I suppose when you just put it on paper, my CV is impressive.  Seriously, I am only human, and a relatively simple creature at that.  I love my crazy family life, I struggle with the positive and negative sides of flying solo, I cycle through mobility and feeling overwhelmed, and I remain a driven woman in both my personal and professional life.   This has been a journey of both heart and spirit, and you are invited to walk with me for a while.  It won’t all be pretty, but it will be real.