Treading Water

So it's been forever and a day since I last wrote. I have been absent longer than I have even had a blog. I have no defense but to just say that life happens, and if you're not prepared for what it has to hurl at you you end up like a deer in the headlights.

We have all been through trials in our lives, and my experiences are no more tragic than yours. Perhaps I don't have the life experience to put these events in their proper perspective; but nonetheless, I should have never stopped living.

Becoming consumed in regret and sadness is natural when it comes to facing fears and coming to terms with reality; but it's the length of consumption where we must set a limit for we tend to give up what we love. Treading water in our sorrows won't help pave the road of life that's before us; only cause us to become stagnant in our quest to become better than what and who we already are.

I guess what I am trying to say is that I am back, for better and for worse.

http://thewellwrittenwoman.com/2011/09/10/anatomy-of-a-miscarriage/

http://thewellwrittenwoman.com/2012/01/05/anatomy-of-a-miscarriage-part-2-the-double-whammy/

The Absence of Guilt

I have been on an unplanned hiatus. I thought I would get right back into the swing of things as soon as I returned from vacation. Turns out life had other plans. 

I was raised a lackadaisical Catholic; and while church was never a regular occurrence for me, guilt certainly was. Even as a housewife I often feel guilty for not getting a household chore done, taking a nap with the dog or getting my homework done 3 days before it is due instead of 5.

Last week was a different story.

I found myself forgoing my daily vacuuming obsession, putting off my homework until the day before it was due (GASP!) and not writing a single sentence. What could have possibly kept me from all that keeps me sane?

As it turns out I like spending time with my husband; much more than gluing my butt to a sofa and cranking out an essay or painstakingly going over every piece of furniture in my house with a lint roller. Throw in some really good friends and you have the recipe for a guilt-free week of, dare I say, fun.

While the daunting tasks I forwent piled up inside my head I told myself I would not forsake quality of time for quantity of task. And I have to admit, it felt a little naughty to rebel against my own stringency.

I will also admit, however, that I find comfort in routine; so going back to the grind this week brings me great solace; but I will try and remind my slightly OCD side to lighten up just a wee bit. I may even put the lint roller back in the closet....at least until tomorrow.

Gimme a Break

Being a housewife should be a vacation, right? I get to do whatever I please on an everyday basis; so why would there be a need for a getaway?

Turns out housewives do need a break from the everyday. I am finding that out as I spend a week away from the house, “kids” and ‘ol ball and chain.

Do you know what happens when you don’t have to wake up to take care of the pets, make it to your 6:30AM yoga class and complete the 436 tasks you assigned for yourself?

You don’t wake up.

For four days I have enjoyed waking after the sun has already risen, not having to take the dog out or trying figure out what to cook for dinner with the three items left in the fridge. And it’s not like I am basking in the sun on some white sandy beach or exploring new and exotic lands; but you would be amazed what a few days in the country in the good old U-S-of-A will do to recharge your battery.

I realized how exhausted I was a couple of days ago when I could barely lift my head to hold a conversation. Physical and mental stress will follow you if you let them. I made a conscious decision to leave them at home - and my body is thanking me for it.

Turns out, however, four days was about all I needed because guess who was up before the sun rose this morning wondering what in the world I was going to do?

Now I look forward to getting back to my life with renewed vigor - my pre-dawn “me time”; the wet noses that excitedly greet me every morning; and my loving and supportive husband I promise I’ll take with me next time!

The Juggling Act

“I can’t. I have homework to do.”

Never in a million years did I think I’d have to say those words again; but I find myself juggling homework, household duties, volunteering, writing and everything else in between. While my husband would most certainly tell me that my household duties are optional and my standards of cleanliness a little high, a cluttered house equals a cluttered mind.

I struggle keeping up with one class and can’t help but wonder how I will manage when my course load doubles in the Fall. (Yes, all of 2 classes.) I am working hard to keep up with my writing deadlines; deadlines I have made for myself but feel necessary in order to nourish my passion for the craft. Don’t get me wrong, I have an end goal in sight; it just seems quite far-sighted at this point. I am just dipping my feet in the shallow end of the pool waiting for the steep slope to carry me to the deep end.

Floaties anyone?

Perhaps some of my stress comes from the fact that I parlayed my first 2 1/2 years of college back in the olden days (the 90’s) into less than mediocre grades, 50 extra pounds and a penchant for skipping class in order to rack up credit card debt. My 37 year-old self is looking at my 19 year-old self thinking, “Oh no you didn’t!”

Could I be a victim of my own overcompensation?

But isn’t that what we’re supposed to do when we get a chance at a do over; make up for the fact that we blew it the first time?

I can’t really blame myself for stressing, but as a wise Mr. Miyagi once so wisely said, “First learn balance.”

So while yes, it’s okay to be committed; I have to be wary I don't end up committed!

Reunited - Does it feel that good?

My 10th year reunion almost a decade ago brought excitement and anticipation. What was everyone up to? Did everyone still look the same? What did I miss being out of the loop for so long?

My questions were quickly answered upon my arrival:

Not much.

Pretty much.

Not missing much.

NOTE: High School Reunion + Alcohol = High School

I recently received an invite via Facebook for my 20th high school reunion. Wasn’t Facebook created so we can find people from our pasts, see what they're up to and move on; a sort of passive reunion if you will?

Don’t we already know all there is to know about one another from our regular status updates and uploaded pictures from family vacations, weddings, births, etc.?

Perhaps my hesitation stems from the fact that I am so past high school I don’t feel the need to revisit. I am at a place in my life where I don’t have anything to prove to anyone anymore. Maybe I did at the last reunion. I had this gorgeous date (who I eventually married) by my side and was eager to show people that Pam is no longer the insecure theatre geek she was ten years before, a sure sign I was still somewhat insecure.

At 37 I am in a peaceful place where the only person I need to prove anything to is myself. I am a writer, a student, a volunteer, a wife and a secure theatre geek - and I‘ve never been happier! 

From On Line to Online

On the eve of taking my first college class since I went through my Winona Ryder hair phase I can’t help but feel somewhat out-of-step with modern collegiate life. No newly sharpened pencils as all my work is done on a computer. No new textbook smell as I purchased one used on Amazon.com. There won’t even be any teachers’ dirty looks because I won’t ever see them face-to-face. In fact, I won’t even have to leave the sofa in my house.

Welcome to the world of online learning, a concept so foreign when I was in college as email had barely come to light the last year of my studies. Yes, gone are the days of waiting on long lines to register for class as everything is now done online.

While I do appreciate not being married to a stringent class schedule and the convenience of not having to schlep to class two hours early just to find that last parking space on the complete opposite side of campus I need to be on, there is something lost in not having that camaraderie you share with your fellow student. Perhaps if I weren’t such an extrovert this online concept wouldn't seem so foreign.

For now, however, I wonder if I can get new textbook scent in a spray.

My So-Called Adult Life

I watched the show My So-Called Life religiously as a college senior. Even though the show centered around a high school student, I could relate to the central character’s experiences and often found myself in tears remembering how hard high school was and that college wasn’t much better.

The advent of Netflix has allowed me to revisit this one season classic; only now I find myself relating less to the main character, Angela, and more to her parents. Sure, I love getting lost in in Jordan Catalano’s eyes and remembering just how ahead of his time Ricky Vasquez was; but now I find myself cringing when Angela’s mother makes a backhanded remark to the father or nags him to get him to do some menial chore around the house. Why? Because I have said and done some of the same cringe-worthy things.

Around mid-season Angela’s father, Graham, quits the family printing business in order to take some time for self-discovery and pursue what truly makes him happy.

Was it God nudging me when I decided to revisit this show at this particular transitional time in my life?

As I watched the only season of this show tick away to its end, I never would find out if Graham’s foray into the restaurant business panned out; if he ended up truly happy. I want to contact the writers of the show and ask them what would have happened if the show went on for another season - another episode. Would Graham get his happy ending?

I guess that’s the advantage to existing in the real world - I get to write my own happy ending.