Hey, blogger friends, regular friends, and creatives behind the scenes at WordPress 🙂
The timing of this writing prompt is weirdly perfect for me on this calm Tuesday morning here in Minnesconsin.
I haven’t published a blog post in a couple of weeks or so for a million good reasons, none of which are that I haven’t wanted to.
But right now, in this moment, I feel at peace. The house is quiet, the doggies are too (which is liable to change any second now).
The only sound I’m hearing this morning is the soft snoring of the little babe right next to me.
Yes, I’m watching our 6-week-old grandbaby Levi today while his Mommy goes to work (her second day back after maternity leave) and his Daddy attends to some important personal business until later this afternoon.
Watching him is absolutely mesmerizing to me. Those little fluttering eyelids and occasional smiles as he enjoys his sweet baby dreams. The little bit of drool escaping his perfect little rosebud lips. Those soft cheeks that are getting chubbier by the day.
Any thoughts I had upon waking this morning about what needs to get done on my ever-evolving “to-do” list have evaporated. This babe with spit bubbles forming on his lips is all that matters right now, and I’m going to soak up this beautiful peace this morning and let things be.
Like many of my fellow bloggers, I declared a WOTY for 2024. I chose the word “growth”.
I started out like gangbusters. I read the book “Atomic Habits”, which led me to affix happy little stickers onto the frame of my vision board each day that I met my goals (like writing daily and eating vegetables every day). I made progress, and I felt good about it.
This new habit lasted about 2 months, give or take.
I honestly can’t say what happened that threw me off course. Yet, it’s not like I completely abandoned my attempts at growth in these areas; I just neglected to track it daily with my stickers.
This is not to say I didn’t manage any growth this year. It’s just that the growth I achieved was less measurable. It was more on the inside.
I attribute my growth largely to my mission of reading daily. I didn’t reach my true goal of reading 24 books in the year 2024, but I don’t really care about that. It’s completely beside the point.
My reading obsession opened up my intellect and my imagination. Some of the books I read left me awe-struck, and some of them taught me new tricks. Many of them inspired me and some confused me. The more I read, the more I wanted to read. Let’s just say I’m going to keep it up.
In 2024, my thoughts about and relationship with money grew into something healthier (bottom line: it comes and it goes, and it’s all okay). I got smarter about how I spent it which sparked my creativity. With the help of a therapist, I gained more self-awareness. The vision of what I want my life to look like when I’m retired came into sharper focus this year. I have a bit more clarity about how I want to define myself as a writer who blogs. My hope going into the New Year is for that clarity to be evident in the stories I tell and the thoughts I share in this space.
It was also very much a year of strengthening relationships and learning to appreciate the differences between me and the people I am close to. An epiphany I recently had is that while I accept that I am not everybody’s “cup of tea”, whether that be IRL or on social media…neither are you. Nor is anyone else. Kind of takes the pressure off, don’t you think?
It’s good to remember that each of us has the power to choose how we frame things in our mind.
So, let’s turn the page to a new year. I’m planning to move through 2025 as intentionally as possible.
How about you?
To cap off the end of 2024, here’s a song with an inspiring message to carry us all into 2025.
After much deliberation, I have decided not to participate in this year’s April A-Z blogging challenge.
How about the rest of you, my blogger friends? Are you participating?
I realize I may regret it, especially once I start reading all the creative posts from others that come out of it.
But the thing is, I cannot commit. I’m seeing that right now, getting stuff done has got to be a bigger priority than a fun blogging challenge.
I just am not in a position to give it my all. And I’ve got shit to do.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t play around a bit with the alphabet, following my creative whims.
That is why you are reading this post from me today about accountability.
It’s a big, important word, right?
It’s so satisfying to see others who have done wrong being held accountable for their dirty deeds, isn’t it? Like what is just now beginning to happen to our former president.
In “Atlas of the Heart”, Brene Brown describes that feeling of satisfaction when someone gets what’s coming to them, as “schadenfreude”. It’s defined by her as “pleasure of joy derived from someone else’s suffering or misfortune”.
It’s not necessarily satisfying though to hold ourselves accountable, or God Forbid, to be held accountable in other people’s view. It’s hard. It’s fucking uncomfortable. You might worry that you are over-promising (which I would have been doing if I declared I was participating in the A to Z challenge). You might struggle with determining what it is exactly that you personally need to be accountable for. You might be overwhelmed by it. You may let yourself and others down in the process.
Like I said, it’s a big word. Maybe I should have gone with my second choice: “A is for Asinine”. That certainly would have been easier.
I think the word “accountability” goes hand in hand with the word “character”. It’s all about holding ourselves as well as others to a certain standard of decency. It means holding others responsible for ethical missteps, and holding ourselves personally responsible for ours.
One thing that I am currently holding myself accountable for is my garage sale project. Thankfully, I got myself some reinforcements with this (reinforcements would certainly be my “R is for” post if I did the challenge this year) project. I learned last weekend that my next door neighbor just retired. And she’s eager to find things to do with her time, even asking me if it’s “ok” if she helps with it.
So, “doing” is the bigger priority for me now.
Excuse me while I take the rest of the day to resume my journey of going through more of my worldly possessions to determine what’s going up for sale next month.
The level of clarity I have about life, mine of course, but also general life, if you know what I mean, has increased significantly in the last year.
This is on account of all the changes. The cross country move, the new lifestyle and routine, our daughter and grandson overcoming so much and blossoming in their new environment.
I’m feeling settled in here now. At a point of reflection, just gobsmacked over the changes that had to occur and the choices that had to be made to get me and (most of) my beloved crew here, living 15 minutes from each other in this 4 season wonderland that is Minnesconsin.
Not that life is perfect; I’m just marinating in this feeling of being “settled”.
However, I know I can’t marinate indefinitely. Nor do I want to.
Paid employment is beckoning me at the moment. I’m itching to get back at it. But I’m still in charge of the now 9 year old at least a few afternoons per week, and I’m seeing that this might continue through the school year.
So, paid employment for me is kind of on the back burner for now.
That’s ok however, because I have yet to figure out what it is exactly I want to or can do and be paid for it. This the one big thing I don’t yet have clarity on.
Example: I opted for a free upgrade recently on LinkedIn. I thought it would be helpful for me to engage more on that site. However, when I went to update my profile, I was prompted to describe the kind of job I am looking for.
I blanked. I literally didn’t realize until that moment that I don’t know exactly what kind of job I want. So, I stopped right there and shortly after canceled my upgrade to prevent myself from being charged a monthly fee.
I might go back to it, upgrade it again. Once I figure out what kind of job I’m looking for, that is.
In my fantasy life, the job of my dreams (you know, the one that allows me to work part time writing and supporting others in various ways to move forward and achieve their hearts desire) just shows up. It appears out of thin air and I gratefully latch onto it and thank my lucky stars.
But that is not how it works. Ever.
Not that I’m not a believer in manifestation, but I know I’ve got to put some work into it. Take some action.
While I ponder paid employment, I’m hell bent on being more active. Physically, mentally, and intellectually. What’s cool about this for me is that I’ve got a sidekick. My grandson needs to be engaged in learning so he can move forward and so do I.
That means my “job” right now is to learn and grow with him. I refuse to put on a teacher hat when he’s here because it’s important to me that my role as his Grandma remains intact for him.
That compels me to think outside the box. To figure out how to engage him without saying words like “learn” or “teach” in his presence. He balks when those words are uttered. So I have to be a little sneaky about it, kind of like those parents who whirl veggies in a blender and put it in the muffins they’re baking for the kids.
I like the notion of being the “liberal arts” Grandma. She who engages her grandchild’s artistic and creative tendencies in a way that sheds new light into his brain and heart.
One thing I did recently with him is to ask him to teach me how to do oragami, something I know he’s good at and likes to do. As a kid with ADHD, he needs to keep his hands busy pretty much all the time. He was very receptive to it and seemed to appreciate my suggestion that one of the pieces of oragami I created could be turned into a piece of art, like a picture frame.
So, my new theory is that both he and I can learn together via arts and crafts projects. That can be my contribution to his education.
My take on self-compassion (aka self-care) is that it’s all about being the mother to yourself that you need in the moment.
The moment when you feel exhausted but don’t want to quit working on the current task because you feel you didn’t get enough of it done.
Or the moment when something you planned didn’t pan out the way you intended and you’re disappointed in yourself.
Maybe your mother is still alive and you have a wonderful relationship with her. Maybe you think of her as your best friend. Or maybe that relationship is the opposite of that. Maybe your mother is no longer here, like mine.
Either way, your mother can’t perform self-compassion activities for you. That’s your job. If you do this job well, the rewards are plentiful.
From my perspective, the biggest reward is feeling more relaxed and centered. My head is more clear. Mothering myself combats my anxiety. I’m better able to enjoy the present moment as a result. To be there for the ones I love.
Sometimes my mothering self is who reminds me that I need to get up early tomorrow so I better cease my late night Twitter scrolling and get to bed now so I feel rested when I wake up.
Sometimes my mothering self is who whispers “this too shall pass” and reminds me of all the obstacles I’ve overcome to get to the place I’m at now.
Other times my mothering self fixes a hot cup of peppermint tea and gives me permission to lounge on the couch, looking up at my knotty pine ceiling and just breathing, slow and steady.
In the mornings, my mothering self urges me to not skip doing my stretches and yoga that centers me and reduces my aches and pains.
Sometimes my mothering self takes on the role of cheerleader, giving me pep talks and saving uplifting images like these for me to contemplate.
Which one of these images speaks to you the most?
So, I say to you all: make an effort to mother yourself. You’ll feel so much better for it. And of course, you are more than worth it.
It’s Sunday morning and I’m in the camper (aka our current home) with Hubs and Radar.
Radar is sitting across from me at the dinette, thoroughly engrossed in licking his nether regions. He’s on the bench seat that I keep covered in a beach towel for his comfort each night.
The summer is almost over.
The summer of 2022 has been a little wild for me. Certainly strange. There’s been some surprises (of which I am generally a fan), good and bad in unequal measure.
What’s your take on life’s surprises?
This summer has also been invigorating: the fresh and clean breezes, frequent deer sightings, the birdsongs. Stimulating but also grounding for me. Radar making new friends.
Radar with the neighborhood pooch, Maya
It’s been a memorable season of our married life for sure. Living in a 21 foot camper for more than 2 months has been interesting, to say the least. We’ve joked that moving about the camper simultaneously is like playing “Twister”.
This upending of our lives to move back to Wisconsin has made me more acutely aware of a slew of things; namely the things, ideals, and people I will die on a hill for. It’s solidified my priorities. Given me more clarity.
I can now see more clearly how I want to live. I’m devoted to learning and growing, from my creative writing habit to gardening to grandparenting. My MIL has offered to teach me how to can, using the vegetables in our new-to-us garden. And I’m eager to get back to learning how to play my ukelele.
I think I just seriously aged myself in that last paragraph.
Whatever.
Maybe I will learn how to play and sing along to this lovely medley:
Isn’t this fantastic?
We are now less than 2 weeks out from moving into our sweet new house.
I’m aiming to do more of the enjoying of the present than wishing the time away.
But. It’s. Hard.
Because my head is swimming with ideas about what furniture is going to go where in the new house. The color schemes in each room. Where that beautiful new art piece with the lillies is going to be hung.
I’m missing our youngest, who has remained in Colorado. Though I am a bit less worried now about how they are going to fare without us a half hour drive away than I was when we arrived in Minnesconsin land in June. They now work at a place where they get to provide direct support to a very marginalized population. I am incredibly proud of them and hopeful they will persist, as I’m certain that workplace is better with them in their presence. And vice-versa.
While his mom’s at work, I’m taking care of our 8 year old grandson for several days between now and when we move into our house. 3rd grade in a new school starts right after we move in.
I think it’s fair to say that as a grandma, I’m a work in progress. I continue to learn as I go. But I’m up for it. The kid is so worth it. He’s been through a lot. So many changes in a short period of time.
My grandson is very bright, but also quite oppositional and reactionary. He’s also very funny, but sometimes gets carried away with it physically and ends up accidentally hurting himself or wrecking something. Suffice it to say, he requires a lot of energy from me.
Note to self: schedule a massage, STAT!
As you can see, I’m also a work in progress when it comes to self-compassion. I suspect many of you are too.
I have probably said this before in one of my blog posts, but I know for sure that writing these personal essays and getting them out there in the world is, for me, part of my self-compassion practice.
Anyone else feel this way about blogging?
Let me leave you, dear patient readers, with this creative rendition of a classic, feel-good Beatles song. Because life goes on. And as a tik-toker I came upon recently said “we’re not here for a long time, but we’re here for a good time”.
I feel all of this, written by Rachel Hackenberg for the United Church of Christ’s daily devotional on 12/28/21:
“If you are eager to throw your 2021 calendar in the trash, and you have all of your incense and candles and rituals prepared to sweep out 2021 and bless 2022, remember that even when the year is new: there is still rage and death and dreadful absence that haunts our collective spirit and needs to be healed.
Make room for the rage.
Welcome it like a weary traveler who can’t find a room in the inn.
Give it space where it can cry and groan.
Light a candle if it labors through the night.
Do not be quick to console it, only keep it company to be sure it doesn’t harm others.
Amplify its voice.
Let it be messy and imperfect”
I appreciate this devotional because 2021 threw me for a loop (especially that last month or so). The events in my personal orbit as well as events in this country and world in 2021 have left me feeling older, feistier, and tired.
I don’t know of a better way of putting it, but I feel messy. I need time to process it all because of the emotional whiplash. I need time to recuperate.
There were happy moments for me, however. Photographic evidence:
My “Elfie Selfie” at my employers “Santa Shop” this year. Rabbie and I at ThanksgivingMe with my favorite 7 year old in Wisconsin on Halloween weekendThe Hubs and I in our finest at my employer’s “Adult Prom” fundraising gala
A truly inspiring and prolific blogger who I follow, Jenny, of Jenny’s Lark, asked a question on her blog recently. I have been pondering it ever since.
Here is my paraphrased version of it: if there is ONE lesson you learned in 2021 that you can keep for yourself, while all of the other lessons disappear into thin air, what would it be?
A tough, yet interesting question to consider, don’t you think?
I’m going to make a list of the lessons I’ve learned in 2021 right now. I will edit this down to just one however.
I realized in 2021 that my life was out of balance: too much working in all it’s forms and not enough writing and publishing.
And this is exactly why, for me, 2022 is going to be all about one word.
BALANCE
Here’s the song of the year for me. I’m pretty sure you all will appreciate it, going into the new year.
In years past I have ushered in the new year with gusto. With great big plans, ideas, intentions. Not so much this year.
That said, I do remain an optimist. I don’t foresee that ever changing. However, after 2020, I’m a little wiser. More cautious. More realistic. More measured in how I approach things.
So I’m not going to tell you all about the 4 things I intendam determined to do wish to have the time to master in 2021. I’m keeping that to myself for the moment.
I’m going into this year with my head on straight. As if I’m walking into a dark room I am unfamiliar with. Keeping my wits about me. Taking careful, slow, steps. Lowering my expectations to prevent disappointment. Using all of my senses to navigate this new year.
The one thing I am going to be intentionally focusing on now that the new year is upon us: doing my best each and every day (from the book “The Four Agreements” by Don Miguel Ruiz, which I wrote about here but not about this particular agreement, but whatever).
I think it’s worthwhile, as one who is taking the agreement of “doing your best” seriously, to ponder what that looks like. What does it mean for me personally?
One of my most inexcusable faults is that I am rarely on time for anything. I consistently fall into this weird mind trap, when I’m getting ready to go somewhere, of believing that I have time to do just one more thing before I hit the road. And I’m wrong about that 99% of the time. So I’m ‘fessing up. I know it pisses some people off when I waltz in 5 (or more) minutes late. It calls negative attention to myself and I need to Cut.It.Out. I’ve started focusing on getting places on time for real in the last couple of weeks. I think thus far I’ve made it on time about 25% more frequently than before. Give or take.
There are other areas in my life, well really all areas in my life, where I must do my best each day. Like putting in my best effort at work. Not putting any tasks off until “tomorrow” that I have the time and energy to do today. Listening to others when they speak and not hesitating to ask for clarification to ensure I understood what they meant.
Thing is, doing my best each day is within my control. And if I can look back on my day and agree with myself that I did my best, regardless of my mood, if I felt rested, or if I was tested-well, then I won’t have any regrets. And peace will reign within me.
At the tail end of 2019, I submitted in this post that 2020 ought to be my year of “Clarity”. I won’t presume that any of you fabulous readers will hold me accountable for this declaration, so I will do the deed myself.
I’ve gained much clarity in my work life in this new year. The dynamics are changing (new boss) and the expectations my employer has for me in the coming year have been clarified. I’m feeling enthusiastic about the new changes to come and the support that I’m experiencing.
I’m also feeling more clarity in terms of what I am paying attention to. As well as what I’m not giving my attention to. For instance, I’ve decided that for Lent, I’m giving up on stalking a certain state’s court website for updates on the legal status of a person who has wreaked havoc on the lives of my family (for the last 6 years, give or take), specifically it’s most beloved members. I’ve come to realize that this stalking I’ve been doing is draining my mental and emotional energy. Not to mention it’s completely pointless. What happens, happens. Checking it obsessively is not going to impact the outcome.
A musical “epiphany” I had recently drives this realization home for me. It’s from the momentous song we all know by heart: “Let it Be” by the Beatles. The line after “Let it be” is “there will be an answer”. And all this time I’ve been focusing on the “let it be” part. I have faith that there will be an answer, not only in this wretched aspect of my family’s life, but in all things. It’s about faith; letting go and trusting the answer will come.
My 2020 soundtrack is providing me with clarity in how I approach things these days. “Listen as your day unfolds”. That is a great line; the first in “You Gotta Be” by Des’Ree. I see it as a directive for me to pay attention to my environment in the day to day. To pay attention to the people I encounter. The feelings I’m feeling, both emotional and physical. The media I consume.
Clarity with what my writing process is happening as well. I’m honing in on what works and what doesn’t. A prime example is that, per David Sedaris’ suggestion, I’m jotting down my daily observations. I find it to be a sort of therapy in that after I’ve done it, I feel refreshed. It’s helping me sort out what it is exactly that I have to say and how I want to say it.
A rare moment in time with pretty kitty Karl and Radar-ling napping peacefully together.
Before I sign off here, I have a question for you all: What are you clear about in your writing and/or personal life? Right here and right now-in the current?
Recently I changed my primary work password to “GOODJuJu!!”
And I don’t care that you all know it now. What on earth would you do with it anyway? Break into my office, type it in and read my totally uninteresting emails? Go ahead, knock yourself out.
I think this is the best password I’ve ever come up with. Every time I type it in, I remind myself that my daily goal is to spread light in all my interactions with others. Not like I achieve that goal on the regular. But I try nevertheless.
Since I’ve shared my work password, it makes sense to follow the thread of spilling secrets. Tell you about the stuff that I’ve been doing to gain clarity for myself as an ambitious and creative writer.
Don’t get too excited. It’s all really just baby steps. But I think they still count for something.
First secret: I partook in David Sedaris’ Master Class online for Storytelling and Humor. Truth be told, I signed up for this class because of the “storytelling and humor” part-not so much for David Sedaris. I can’t say that I don’t like him, I do; it’s just that I knew of him but hadn’t read anything he has written. Still haven’t, actually.
Signing up for this class was something I did to help me learn in more detail how I can improve my creative writing. My ability to tell humorous stories that people can relate to and appreciate. It was a purely selfish investment that I decided to make in myself. And I have no regrets.
I had have great interest in interacting with the “community” within this online class. I’ve introduced myself, entered a piece of my writing in a contest even. The prize in this contest is David’s feedback on your piece. I think it’s safe for me to assume that I’m not going to win. And this is not me feeling sorry for myself or me being fake humble. My life is too good and blessed for that shit.
I’m not a great writer. I might be, someday. Or not. Either way, the joy writing gives me will not be overtaken by feelings of self-doubt about my ability to grow my readership on this blog or elsewhere.
I would estimate that it took me 3 hours, within the span of 5 days, to decide which piece I should enter for this contest. That’s how I found “Grammerly”, because in order for my piece to be accepted for consideration, it had to be under 600 words.
“Grammerly” also informed me that my piece was at an 11th to 12th grade level. So clearly, there’s room for improvement.
After doing a bit of editing on the piece I chose, I gave it a couple of days, then went back in to see the one comment made on my piece. It was “I feel like there’s too much information in this piece. I’d like to see it pared down to it’s bare bones”. He was spot on. I veer into the rabbit hole of verbosity in both my speech and my writing.
Whether or not I go back in, make some major edits and re-submit is up in the air. I honestly don’t know if that’s even allowed or appropriate. Or maybe it’s expected?
For now, though, I just want to share what struck me most from being a student of this class. The following is taken directly from the notes I made to myself as I participated in this class and worked through the accompanying workbook.
David’s “work spaces”. Loved the imagery. Made me think that I could write about my ideal work space. Like a “she shed” type deal.
Tuning into your surroundings will open you up to moments that could become stories and the parts of your world that belong in your writing.
“I don’t like to write about people I don’t like”. I concur, David. Neither do I. So I won’t. Period. Hopefully this declaration doesn’t come and bite me in the ass later.
David has a conversation with every person in line at his book signings. He also writes thank you letters. He’s such a nice boy.
Take incidents and stitch them together for a story. I love the creative reference of stitching. Also, following threads. And rabbit holes.
Paint a mental picture in a readers head. Go to readings?? David said he learned a lot from doing this. A lot about what not to do, that is.
Now onto my second secret (or is it my third? That’s subjective, I suppose): During the time I was taking this class, I received an email announcing spring 2020 dates for the Listen to Your Mother shows.
Let me back up for a sec: I first heard about this annual event in 2016 from a local-ish “mommy” blogger named Stephanie. Essentially, LTYM is a franchise that is locally produced in various cities in the U.S. Primarily women get up on a stage and read original pieces on the theme of “Motherhood”. A percentage of the proceeds from ticket sales goes to charity.
I instantly loved this whole concept. The idea of others sharing their personal stories about motherhood, a topic dear to my heart and which I have much to say about, really intrigues me. I knew I wanted to be a part of it, someway, somehow.
So, with David encouraging me to do readings, I started considering applying to be part of the cast. I congratulated myself recently when I realized that I could simply click on the “word cloud” I have featured on my blog’s front page and read all the posts I have written on one particular topic.
But then after reading the few posts I have published that featured “Motherhood” and then proceeded to view video clips of past LTYM speakers, I was overcome with self-doubt. I mean, if this is is all I’ve got to offer and these are examples of my potential “competition” why the hell should I proceed?
Now is the part of this post where you might expect me to say something along the lines of “Nothing ventured, nothing gained” or “What’s the worst that could happen?”. Both of which are 100% true.
However, while I’m not closing the door to auditioning for LTYM, I’m also not necessarily doing it this year. At least not with any of the pieces about motherhood I have published on this blog.
I think it’d be wise to heed David’s advice: attend readings. For me, it’ll be the LTYM show this spring. See what it’s like. Take notes. Make some connections.
Pollyanna's Path 