(I will try to) Fix You

I've realized that I do a lot of fixing.

At home, I fix breakfast.
I fix what hurts.
I fix hair into high ponytails and intricate french braids.
I may not fix the backwards D or misplaced comma myself, but I damn well stand over her shoulder until she fixes it.  
I have been known to take an appliance apart and spread the parts out on the floor until I can find the way to fix whatever ails it. 

I fix things. It's what I do. 

At work, I fix problems.  My title may sound fancy and academic, but basically I fix problems when they come up.  And they always come up.
Sometimes I fix money.
Sometimes I fix projects that have gone awry or are headed in that direction.
Sometimes I fix a colleague, mop them up,  put them back together because, after all, that's my job.

I fix things.  It's what I do.

I fix the people I love.  I help them examine their situations, offer new insight and sometimes I even walk them directly into the answers they are searching for when they can't seem to find them on their way. 
Sometimes I fix the people I don't love.
Sometimes I fix the people I don't even like.  
Today I found myself outlining a four step solution for a problem that had nothing to do with me for a woman I actively and honestly dislike.  She asked me because she knew I'd have a solution.  Because I fix things.  It's what I do.

I don't mind being the fixer.  I usually find great satisfaction in finding a solution that works and in using my analytic and intuitive mind (because yes, I am both analytic and intuitive) to help others live their best life.  I like finding the answer.  I like solving the problem.  I like finding ways to make the pieces fit.

I like fixing things. It's what I do.  And I'm damn good at it.

And yet, on nights like tonight, when I am exhausted from a day (ok, let's be honest, from weeks and weeks and weeks) of fixing hair, fixing breakfast, fixing problems that I created and fixing ones that I didn't, fixing errors, fixing a smile on my face and fixing to get yet another thing done.....

On nights like tonight, i can't help but wonder if maybe I'm going about this all wrong. 

I know I can't fix everything, so maybe I should not try to fix anything. 
Maybe some problems are best solved by leaving them on the ground until they are ground to dust by so many heels trampling thoughtlessly across them.
Maybe leading the people I love into answers deprives them of the experiences of failing and trying again.
Maybe insisting she fix her backwards D only solves the problem on this go-around and tomorrow it will be Bog instead of Dog, yet again. Maybe there is a bigger problem to solve here.
Maybe my time and attention and considerable efforts would be better spent on fixing me, rather than you. 
Maybe there is truth in the tension and maybe there is beauty in the broken pieces.
Maybe the way is to only fix what truly needs to be fixed, to fix only what is truly mine, and let the rest just....rest.

This feels so little and big, all at once.  This feels like some cosmic lesson I am given to learn over and over again.
Maybe the answer really isn't about fixing at all, but instead about enjoying the cracked open parts that, as Leohard Cohen so famously puts it, let in the light.

What I want to tell you about 5th and G

I want to tell you so much about this beautiful space, now that I've said goodbye and moved on.  I want to tell you how it held me through some of my darkest trials, it's walls providing refuge from the storms I faced outside.  I want to tell you how I learned about my own unexpected talents and strength through my efforts in making it beautiful; how my hands placed the floor boards and the tile, how my arms and shoulders ached after scraping and patching and repairing the walls and ceilings.  I want to tell you how the colors on the walls reflected so much of what was in my heart at the time - red when I was aching and bleeding.  Yellow when I'd spun into crazy happiness and a type of manic joy. Blue when a peaceful calm had seeped and spread it's way into my soul.

I want to tell you how the walls held my daughter's laughter and the sounds of new friendships being born.  I want to tell you how those happy sounds chased away the heartache that was held there.  I want to tell you how I opened my windows every night, no matter how cold or hot the outside temperature, because bringing the outside in felt critical to my comfort.  I want to tell you how much I grew to love some of the people who lived around me, their friendships crossing boundaries into family.  I want to tell you how those bonds are still strong, long after we've all moved in different directions.

I want to tell you how I loved to watch the morning light spread over and around the various rooms.  I want to tell you how I will always picture my sweet dog wandering through the house, chasing that light so he could lie down and sleep in the sun.  I want to tell you how many nights the dark held a kind of refuge for me, a place where I could finally, finally give in to whatever emotion had been too long inside - worry, anger, grief or when I simply needed the oblivion that sleep would bring.  I want to tell you that I loved there, I laughed there,  I ached there.   I danced there, I cried there, I grew there.  I was broken open and I healed there.  I lived there.  And I loved living there.

I want to tell you that although I loved living there, when it was time to go, the Universe moved me along in a hurry.  I want to tell you that the perfect home showed up for me and my Girl almost immediately, and despite the hurried move and a couple of minor inconveniences, everything pretty much fell into place in exactly the time and way it needed to.  I want to tell you that I left our 5th and G home with no strings to hold my heart there, no regrets and no reason for any wishing or wanting.  I want to tell you that I got what I needed there, and when our time there was done,  I was ready to find our next home.  I want to tell you that when the time came, I moved on in simple and very sweet gratitude for the comfort, the peace and the home it was for us and excitement for our new place to be in this world. 

Last day at 5th and G.  Leaving with the peace that came after saying "thank you."

Sick and tired of being sick and tired.

The day before my Dad's birthday party (Mid May), I started to feel sorta under the weather.  Nothing major, just a bug.  Then it got worse.  Coughing, fever, chest congestion.  After a week, it required antibiotics.  After two weeks, it became apparent that it required different antibiotics.  My doctor actually wrote "The mother of all sinus infections" on my medical record as a diagnosis the second time I went in to see him.  Awesome.  A few days later, my doc added "in-office"breathing treatments, a steroid and an inhaler to the mix because the coughing was making my breathing wheezy and labored.  Not so fun.  And when I was heading out of town for work and knew I'd be kid free and able to get four really good nights of sleep, he added a strong nighttime cough medicine in hopes that some solid zzzzz's would help knock this out.  (and oh, did I enjoy those drugged up, out cold nights!)  It's been another two weeks, and the antibiotics and steroid are finished.  I'm still using the inhaler more than I'd like, and I'm still coughing a lot.  I'm still wiped out easily and early.  I'm better - much, much better than I was -  but i'm still not feeling great.

Suffice it to say, it's not been a whole lot of fun. 

 I wrote today in my morning pages about just how fed up I am with being sick and tired.  It's interesting to me that, during all of this, I've only missed a couple of days of work.  I still took my daughter to Disneyland and had a dang good time doing it!  I still completed a trip to San Diego for a work conference.  I've still cleaned my house and folded laundry and handled all the things that single mama hood throws into the mix.  I'm not trying to claim superhero status - all of these things needed to be done and so I did them - sometimes you have to just push through.  And oh yes - forgot to mention - on top all this off,  I've also been dealing with the sale of my condo and purchasing a new house during the last month as well.  So yeah...it's been a crazy, fun, eventful, exhausting month even without the added burden of a lingering illness.  And so yeah...I'm ready to be done feeling sick and tired.  

Part of my reflective journaling while recovering from this has been about knowing what other little things are showing up in my life and stealing my focus and energy, and how am I handling them?  Do I ignore them and hope they'll go away, while I continue to try to do all the things that have to be done?  Or do I do a good job of investigating and understanding them and taking time out to deal before some wicked combination of issues becomes critical and requires major intervention.  I wish I could say that it's the latter, but my default mode is to keep going and keep doing until I just can't anymore.  It's a sticky balance to find, because I really don't believe in dropping everything and going to bed when things aren't going right.  I do believe that a sense or order and structure are helpful for me to feel good about how my life is going.  I do think that a clean house -not perfection, but clean dishes, floors and laundry- is as important as brushing your teeth.  Still,  this past month has been teaching me a great big lesson in the importance of self care and the need to build in some room for recovery and rest. 

For me, this is part of authentic living - knowing yourself well enough to know where that balance is.  What must be done and what can wait?  What is necessary and what is "nice to do?"  What is self care and what is selfish?  I'm still working through those details for myself and trying to find some basic guidelines, but one things is for certain - I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired.  I can't do this again. 

A blog tour (a week late)

Well, as usual, I seem to be running about a week late with things that aren't on my "must do to stay alive" list, so I'm about a week late in getting my blog post up for a blog tour I am part of.  I suck.  I know.  I'm ok with it.  Anyway....

I was asked to be part of a blog tour by the lovely and talented Eileen Nishi.  I met Eileen at Serendipity last October, and although we didn't really spend a lot of time together there,  any time we did interact I thought "this chic is just cool."  Since then, we've become blog/instagram/facebook friends and I admire her eye for  photography, her laid-back-mama-of-boys parenting style and her funky fashion style (her glasses! Her shoes! swoooon.)  You can check her out at www.westofwhimsy.com.  She's awesome.  Go see for yourself.

Anyway, on with my blog tour interview. 

What am I working on?
Most of my writing and photography these days is about capturing memories for my family and my daughter.  I burned out of scrapbooking in a very big way before Riley was even born, but I have been really diligent about taking photos and writing in my journal all along,  and I'm currently working on curating some of that into what I hope becomes a personal history of my life as a mother.  It's a very private undertaking, which is why I haven't talked much about it, and it's turning out to be deeply healing.  Besides that, I'm working on some other writing projects (fiction!  short stories!) and also working on a photo project that I hope to turn into something awesome someday.   

 How does my work differ from others of its genre?
I'm not even sure what my genre is. Blogger, I guess, although that feels more defined and real than I consider myself to be.  Writer is more accurate, because although I write all the time, 95% of the stuff I write will never show up on my blog.  I write about being me, being a mom, being a sister, daughter, aunt and friend.  I write about what's happening in my world and I write about how it makes me feel.  I write a lot of poetry - some good, some really, really bad. Character sketches.  Essays.  Lists.  Random crap.  I write a lot for no major reason, which perhaps is unique in and of itself.  I'm just trying to get the words out. 

Why do I write/create what I do?

Quite honestly, I write to stay sane.  Because there is not better way for me to work through an experience or process what I am feeling.  Because once I can lay down the words that are bouncing around my head into some sort of cogent structure, I can start to bring them to center and integrate them into my life story.  Simply put, if my words can't come together to tell the story, I know I have more soulwork to do.   My reason for my inteest in photography is also simple.  I take pictures because I want to remember things.  I try to learn about technique, composition and form because my life continues to offer up beautiful moments and I want to capture those in a way that reflects that beauty when possible.   It's that simple. 

How does your writing/creative process work?
One of my New Year's Intentions was to be more conciously and consistenly creative.  Althought I am constantly writing in my head, I am not the best about getting words down in a meaningful form unless I commit to it. So a few nights a week, I've been setting my timer for 30 or 45 minutes and just working on something.  Anything.  My photos, my writing, a jewelry piece, a sewing project or the Project Life Album Riley and I are keeping this year....whatever.  Something. I do something creative.  It sometimes feels forced, but when the timer rings, I'm always glad I did it. 

So, I had three people who agreed to take part in this tour, and for different and valid reasons, all three were all unable to do it.  So, how about some of my readers take over?  Anyone want to help continue this blog tour?  Shoot me an email and we'll get you going.  And thanks, Eileen, for the invitation to join!  

Rainy nights and HELLS yes!

I am stretched out on a squeaky twin bed in a rental house in St. Simons Island, GA.  My little girl is in the twin bed beside mine, having finally exhausted her seemingly endless stream-of-consciousness chatter and dropped into an even-breathed sleep. The rain is hitting the rooftops of this old, charming house in a steady, solid rhythm that I find soothing and sleep-Inducing.  Our friend and her dog are both asleep in the other room, their presence a reminder of the lovely people we are lucky to have in our world.   The four of us piled in the car and drove a rainy five hours from Atlanta to the Georgia coast hoping for sunshine, but it looks like we may only have tiny slices of that particular commodity.  That's ok.  Rain or shine, I'm grateful for the time away from my day-to-day and time to spend with my little one and my friend.  And rain or shine, I'm certain some small adventures will be found this weekend, in this beautiful coastal place. That seems to be what happens with this particular cast of characters.

On the drive here, and more so tonight as I sit listening to the rain, I've been thinking about what it takes to say "yes" to living the life I want for myself and my Girl.  About how I've had to say no to some things in order to say yes to something I want more or be strategic about where I put my energy so there is enough to carry me through the yeses.  I've been thinking about those times the yes was hard to hear and about the other times it wasn't just a yes, but a loud, deep and resounding " oh HELLS yes!"  I love the HELLS Yeses. The chance to travel, especially when it involves seeing friends and family and exploring new places is almost always a "HELLS Yes!" for me.  And even when if doesn't go as well as hoped, I've found that when I'm answering the call of yes, the rainy drives and cold ocean water don't disappoint me as much as ignoring what I truly desire would. 

So tonight I'm making a promise to myself to keep finding ways to say yes to the big yeses, the real yeses, and most certainly the "HELLS yeses."  I'm not sure what that means yet, but that's ok.  It's enough to know I'm working on setting up camp permanently in the land of yes.   It seems that, for me, it's the only place to live. 

Reset

Lately, I've had an irrepressible need to make everything feel cleaner and lighter.  I've been purging all sorts of stuff from around the house and spending time organizing and deleting documents and photos on my computer. I've opened windows to coax the spring air inside and moved heavy winter coats and clothing into storage.  I've brought in more plants to help the air quality in my home, and more flowers to help my mind focus on the coming spring season. 

With all this emphasis on "Clean" and "Light" in my home, I've been forced to take a hard look at the way I'm treating my body, the flesh and bone house that keeps my brain and soul and heart in one physical place. 

Guys....It's not pretty.  

I'm usually pretty good and living a healthy, clean lifestyle, but Holy Wow!  I could do with a little spring cleaning of my own. The past few months have not been easy in so many ways, and the fallout has been in the ways I care for myself.  I've not been eating well; not exercising nearly as much as I require.  I've been going to bed very late then getting up very early.  My days are fueled with caffeine and chemicals (Diet soda, guys.  Nothing more interesting than that, but honestly, that's bad enough.) My stress level is climbing.  I'm both exhausted and wired at all times. 

It's time to hit the reset button. 

I believe in moderation in all things.  I have tried hard core cleanses and crazy intense workouts, and while I love the idea of that kind of dedication and intensity, I know myself and my current lifestyle won't support it. 

So what will my life currently support?  What does "Clean and Light: 2014" look like?  Here's what I'm thinking for now:

• Open windows
• Lots of water (a ridiculous amount lately - I think I've been seriously dehydrated.)
• Plenty of greens and my favorite "whole foods knockoff superfood salad" 
• Fruit, especially citrus
• Sleep.  As much as I can get in. 
• Walking.  Again, as much as I can. 
• Weight training and strength work and lots and lots and lots of yoga.  
• Stronger boundaries- helps limit the drama that feels so heave to me (there's another blog post on this topic soon.) 
• Limit the bad sh*t (I mean that mentally, physically, socially, emotionally, spiritually, etc.  I'm getting rid of as much bad sh*t as I can.) 

It's not rocket science, but this is what works for me.  I'm sure that there will be slip-ups and let downs and days when I'm too tired to do anything but the basics and takeout is inevitable.  But it's a process, a work in progress, and will never be perfect. And that's ok.

Practicing Gratitude. Again.

I am at my happiest and most authentic when I'm consistently and openly counting my blessings.  It's a practice that I really worked to cultivate years ago, and one that I blogged about pretty regularly.  Although the formal practice has waxed and waned over time,  I always come back around to it when I am trying to shift into a more positive, motivated, mindful place.  Which is exactly what I am doing now.  So,  here we go...

 Tonight, I'm grateful for:
*My family and friends, who are always willing to listen and to help me out when I need it.  This single, working, trying-to-have-a-life parent thing would not work as well as it does without them behind the scenes.
*Afterschool care that keeps Riley active, engaged and learning.
*Upcoming travel plans.  We have a Spring Break trip coming up in a few weeks, and I'm planning an end-of-school-year Surprise vacation for the Girl.  (Shhhhh....) It's nice to have something to anticipate.
* Reruns of "The Office" and Pinterest Humor Boards.  As silly (lame, pathetic, whatever) as it sounds, these two things have saved my sanity the past few weeks.  Whenever things get to be just too much, a little humor break brings me back to calm.