paper cuts
July 1, 2011 § Leave a comment
Recently a friend shared something powerful, a personal challenge. As she generously unraveled her story, I drew parallels between our lives. In sharing the burden of our challenges with the same support and kindness we celebrate accomplishments, there is a sameness that envelopes our unique differences. She is ever my friend, the same girl I met years ago, only now there is more to love.
As she has opened up I have come to wish her a place to share her story, to cast her challenges into inspiration; charting her progress and providing hope and comfort to others finding their way. It is a wonderful story and she is a talented woman.
I cannot ask another to go where I have not. It is joyful to write about beautiful moments with my children and overwhelming to share pieces of private pain. I hint at my old nemeses, body issues and self-esteem. Still uncovering private challenges leaves me feeling raw and vulnerable to air. My chest tightens and I want to shake the weakness away, disown those pieces of myself.
Paper cuts on our spirit. Wounds too small for others to see and painfully obvious to ourselves. Still, somewhere in the open air, healing begins.
settling in
June 26, 2011 § Leave a comment
It has become a routine in an unfamiliar space; I settle our hotel room. This simple act of unpacking and familiarizing creates a source of comfort that centers me for the unpredictable rhythm of days adrift in the boundless space of vacation. Last week, as my family explored a new city, I celebrated my children’s ability to settle naturally in unfamiliar spaces.
My daughter settled in water; her energy and frustrations seemed to wash away where the sky met water and she surfaced serene. Each day she woke dreaming of water and each evening she would center under water. Splashing or floating, each gesture seemed an artful expression of joy.
My son settled in exploration. Each new space created an opportunity for him to release his mind of the weight of questions and delight in new answers. He moved quickly from curiosity to curiosity, pausing to find the source of logic. The social norms that usually confine him fell away under the guise of “tourist” and his joy in the pursuit of knowledge drew other curious travelers to his side.
It was a beautiful week. As we settle back in to our normal routines, I am trying to find moments to capture our new memories in scribbles.
something new
June 17, 2011 § 2 Comments
In one of my earliest posts I acknowledged a need for an unidentified something new in my life. I remember quite clearly wanting to name it, but feeling more comfortable leaving room to change my mind. I am a bit of a not needer, compulsively attaching not to wishes or ideas, creating a paused possibility with a comforting cushion of permission to fail. Somewhere underneath my excuses though, is a frustrated perfectionist with poor self-esteem. Recently, I got tired of not trying and decided to take a chance. After years of excusing myself from efforts to run, I decided to try.
I began by making the committment to myself and then sharing my desire with a friend as a source of accountability. I identified a program that would help me take safe steps toward reaching my goal with clearly outlined daily objectives. Accountability and a program were the tools I needed to commit to running. I tend to create a goal without taking time to identify a plan; sabotaging my efforts and good intentions. Clear daily goals with a limited time commitment to running have created balance and focus for my efforts.
Accountability and a plan in place, it was time for action. The first few efforts were simply fun and encouraging. Small goals with brief intervals of running and comfortable periods of walking gave me the confidence to return each day to a new goal. Then came what I deemed an impossible day. The goal seemed outside the realm of my capabilities and doubt nestled by my side. I paused, but ever goal conscious, tried and succeeded. There is no greater feeling than doing something you did not think you could. I am still trying.
This is the lesson I have gained from this new challenge; make room for something new and create a place of possibility.
june
June 16, 2011 § Leave a comment
Sometime in December, perhaps even the First of January, I pause to note new goals that will inspire me through the cold, dreary months of winter. I nurture my mind and spirit with hope and possibility, something akin to resolutions. Last winter I began writing to no one in particular, but with a promise to myself to move forward. Today I am taking a moment to look behind me at where I began here (scribblechic) and where I stand.
First, when given the opportunity to define myself I remember feeling overwhelmed and unprepared. Without editing myself, I quickly and briefly stated: I am a woman, wife, and mother that finds beauty in simplicity. I am forever scribbling thoughts on scraps of paper and curious to share fragments of my life with others. The act of writing and sharing my thoughts has been both a gift and a challenge. I have gifted myself time in the space of my days to be still and document moments for another day. The piece of me that was curious to share has found joy in the process of sharing simple moments with others.
In my first post, I can feel myself grasping at the air around me trying to find direction. I love watching people with the same spirit I love setting pen to paper. Typing is simpler, but I love the feel of my pen sailing against the grainy texture of paper. In that first post I began with those basic self-truths. Three of my favorite ingredients to a beautiful moment are a pen, paper, and people. I am forever slipping into a stranger’s story and then longing to share my simple moment of humor, growth, or grace with another soul. I won’t pretend to know where to begin; instead, I will share these moments I scribble in my mind. I was trying to begin from a space that felt authentic. I remember expecting to share and reflect on others’ stories, but it was those of my children that have come most naturally.
In unlisted I tried to step away from an introduction by setting seasonal goals. I identified fitness, writing, something new (unnamed), and presence in each moment. There was also an early acknowledgment that I am organizationally challenged. I am still finding logic in my efforts to create order in my days, but I have recommitted to fitness in something new. I am going to return to this in a separate entry, but facing a new challenge and finding my way has given me great joy. Writing and being present in my days has balanced my joy keeping me conscious of my blessings. With each entry I am aware of the simple blessings of my life and the endless lessons my life as a mother has provided.
In looking back at these very first efforts to find a beginning in this space, I have found a sense of self and my voice. I am still learning, but the process has been a wonderful journey I do not wish to end.
skipping stones
June 15, 2011 § Leave a comment
Inspired by a friend’s photograph of a local forest preserve, I sought the picturesque backdrop of a small waterfall with my children tucked happily inside the frame of another’s photograph. I captured the requisite souvenir image of a happy family outing, but the smiles were inspired by moments of discovery that occurred between photographs.
Our first view of the waterfall, was of sunshine breaking through the trees and dancing over the water in harmony with the hum of rushing water. My children welcomed the moment with a hushed awe. I absorbed their broad smiles and fascination with joy.
They found their way first to the water’s edge, introducing themselves to the space like a new friend. Carefully and respectfully they felt their way further into the moment. Shoes cast aside they stepped into the water becoming a part of the space. Still and peaceful they absorbed the sounds while touching the rounded stones beneath the water’s surface. Small currents of water seemed to guide them towards the heart of the space and they stepped from stone to stone centering themselves. Here they settled like tiny explorers staking a claim to new land.
Skipping stones from stepping stones they paused in a moment of peace and savored a summer day.
body truth
March 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
I am not athletic. In my mind athletic women are fearless, confident, unabashed and in control. I am none of these.
My first true commitment to fitness was written on my heart. When my daughter was an infant I realized old ghosts of insecurity haunted my body. I wanted to create a stronger, more capable example for my daughter to learn from. Diets, medicating myself with food, and body shame were concepts I endeavored to face honestly and overcome. Old tapes of “not good enough” needed to be unwound and burned.
I began by learning how to eat. I remember the embarrassment that followed me to my first Weight Watchers meeting. The chairs felt like blinking banners highlighting my failure publicly. I decided to own my failure and create an opportunity for success. I kept my meetings faithfully and embraced a simple truth: I was an adult without any true understanding of what I was eating. With each success I felt stronger. Still each set back brought the taunting voices of criticism. When my body plateaued over balanced meals I turned to a new challenge.
My first trip to the gym I thought I would hyperventilate at the threshold of the fitness room; my athletic shoes heavy with the truth of my fear of public failure. Determined to meet my new challenge empowered by the concept of ownership I silently invited strangers to become my witnesses on this new journey. Individual efforts on isolated pieces of equipment crescendoed into a place in a classroom community, sweating and struggling together among my witnesses. I became proud of my body and I respected my newfound strength with every new challenge.
I have slipped out of practice these past two years. Excuses replaced effort and my spirit has been heavy for the loss. I am slowly working to substitute public commitment with private endeavors; creating space and time within the walls of my home for fitness. My new challenge is to honor my truth and commit to my fitness needs as my own witness.
unscripted
February 28, 2011 § Leave a comment
Planning a special moment I tend to orchestrate events based on a visualized physical manifestation of happiness; my desire to create something beautiful overshadowing the moment itself. This is a lesson I am learning to embrace after stumbling over disappointment only to uncover a simpler, less structured experience of happiness.
My lesson began with good intentions. My husband and I made reservations to celebrate our anniversary at the place we said I do. One of my favorite places, quaint and romantic, I was happy for the opportunity to return; creating new memories among cherished memories. This is where I should have paused. The space of our time together was enough.
Instead, I began making new plans and generating an expectation of indulgence. Specifically, I began to daydream about spa treatments. My husband never fought my plans, but his silence caught my ear. I didn’t hear his enthusiasm. I was making anniversary plans for one, rather than focusing on how I communicated love and respect. Scented candles and his favorite wine were simple edits to the script in my mind. I let go. Replacing exaggerated expectations with acts of kindness created opportunities for new moments of shared happiness.
I encountered an unexpected edit to another expectation upon our arrival. I assumed I would find my way to the same room my husband and I shared on our wedding night and first anniversary. Standing in an unfamiliar suite I pouted. My husband recognized my disappointment and offered to fix what wasn’t broken. The simple recognition of my feelings helped me let go of the familiar for something new. I unpacked our belongings along with my expectations. When I stopped looking for what I knew, I noticed the abundant beauty of my surroundings. A tiny shift in my perspective and I began to see more clearly.
Choices became occasions for opportunity rather than disappointment. I shifted my attention from planning the next moment to relaxing and embracing each moment as it unfolded. Our anniversary was filled with acts of kindness and conversation balanced with listening. We share a beautiful life and our ability to respect one another’s needs and let go of expectations was a gift I hope to apply in practice more often.
truths
February 24, 2011 § Leave a comment
I woke up today very conscious of two simple truths. First, other people’s opinions should not be the standard by which I judge my own accomplishments. More importantly, my children are not my accomplishments. There are a multitude of other truths, but these two were palpable in the early morning hours and I needed to create a space in which to better see them.
Even in adulthood I often pause and look to someone I trust to critique what I know. When their opinion validates my own, I feel a sense of accomplishment. On the occasion I find myself caught in disagreement, insecurity casts doubt. Right or wrong, so much of my own peace and joy rest outside my mind and heart.
My children bless me with countless moments of joy, intermittent with doubt. Am I doing my best? Could I have done something else, made a different decision? Are my children handicapped for my hindsight? I am learning that so many of their strengths and challenges are their own and my role as their mother is not to fix their world. Each accomplishment is their own, just as each challenge must be met with their determination not the momentum of my ability. I am trying to celebrate their stumbles as lessons and their success as part of their greater story. I am learning complexity offers a richness that builds confidence as much as character.
These words are my release; an effort to lay my early morning thoughts in an open space. Motherhood and friendship have given me a unique love that nurtures these moments of reflection. I am trying to own my challenges, find balance, and embrace joy.
less is more
February 16, 2011 § Leave a comment
I confess, I bought into glossy magazine images and clever advertising campaigns bearing false promises of happiness. Wish list items earmarked for special days, gifts for my children, were wrapped in anticipation of frantic hugs and declarations of love. A wish fulfilled gave an illusion of happiness. Suspended between perpetual anticipation and celebration, it took me a while to recognize disappointment beneath this exchange. The wish list items were quickly forgotten and momentary joy faded into new expectations.
When I stopped participating in this familiar pattern, my perspective became clearer and I saw my children more fully. My son finds joy using familiar tools in new ways. My daughter similarly seeks out creative expression with eclectic pieces of broken toys and art tools. Imagination is their greatest resource and their own standard of creativity priceless against the backdrop of mass-produced, commercial standards.
I must acknowledge there are pieces of technology, tools, and toys that spark new challenges and inspire unexplored story lines for imaginative play. These items I have begun to identify more clearly as items to anticipate, stretching out the wish to encompass the larger concept of earning; instant gratification replaced with an investment of effort that lends accomplishment to attainment. Sometimes it is better to want than to receive.
Wishing something bigger for my children than singular moments of temporary joy I am embracing the beauty of a dream. I am celebrating effort as empowering and nurturing independent definitions of happiness, my own joy unfolding as my children discover the lessons behind my efforts.
early bird
February 3, 2011 § Leave a comment
I wish I could paint the moment I met my son. He looked at me with large brown eyes and I could not speak for the overwhelming beauty of his tiny soul. I slipped my fingertip into his firm grasp and pleaded silently that he know what I could not say. It was a handshake of sorts, a new partnership in my endeavor as a mother. I promised to do my best if he could hold on tightly and know that he was loved.
I stumbled through my first months as a new mother. The book What to Expect When You’re Expecting was unfinished and my first Lamaze class a date yet unmet when my son came into this world prematurely. I was intimidated, unprepared, and overwhelmed.
I counted my blessings between emotional greetings and departures from the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit that was my son’s first home. Hospital visits were weighted with the worry of first time parents and magnified by monitors hovering over sleeping infants where musical mobiles ought to have been. Oblivious of our audience, my husband would sing What a Wonderful World in the gravelly tone of Louis Armstrong to the tiny bundle tangled in tubes and I would nestle our son against my skin feeling more complete with him near.
While I felt helpless and weary for my inability to make everything better, my son met his challenges with energy and strength. Tiny hands repeatedly removed the breathing tubes until doctors understood he could breathe on his own. My husband and I had sought his bedside hoping our love would give him strength, but it was his strength that gave us hope. It is this memory I recall each time he faces a new challenge. I watch my son and wait for signs that he is okay; eager to help, but aware of his strength.
scribblechic 