What about that wind and the red shovel I left out which now
clatters against the porch?
Last week a foot of snow spent my back and this week I laid low.
Contentedly.
Until this noisy wind reminds me I am alone.
Like jet plane rising and constant.
Then silent.
A capricious personality.
Needs to be known and then slips away.
For my house to creak the force is strong.
This house, big, and somewhat new, took so long to feel familiar.
Too clean and modern.
Like a fancy hotel room. Comfortable but lacking.
But always warm even when the wind growls.
Like tonight, a wet melty December day when
Snow should be blowing
But the climate shifts and hooks my children's anxiety inside me
And the hot tea tries to comfort a loneliness
And remnants of fall leaves sound against the clapboards.
And I think of no one. 

2016?


WIND
Does it roar? Whistle. Growl. Knock on the door? Scare me? No

"I am here for you"

I know you are there for me"

"I know that you suffer"

"I suffer.  I try my best--Please help me"

Thich Nhat Hanh

I think yesterday was a shift for my relationship with Ron.  He accepts me in a way that no one other has.  He is here for me.  He will still irritate me by who he is....but I cannot overlook his acceptance for me and many others.  Everyone loves Ron.

Dinner with my sister and her husband.

Condense is my only recourse.

A wave of meaningless words push me into anger.
Blather and blab with no watching where the words land.

And there are no questions.
No curiosity.
Nothing exists except ones own blab.

Us at the the table nod.
Look at Tv or phones.
If the thought bubbles could speak there would be far flung entries into this one-sided lecture that never resembles a conversation.

Conversation? Nope. Not for a second.
A lecture.
A lousy lecture.
'Stupid people' says my building anger.

Yet she is my sister.  And I adamantly believe that there is someone IN there who can relate to me.
We had some shared experiences.
I refuse to give up.

I head into the night optimistic that I can make conversation that will have meaning.
Ron says forget it.
I say NO....But can't think of anything to talk about.

Should I quit?

And we sit in a mess with cell phone for light looking at page upon page of photos.
Sex museum
Penis bowl
Him on a phallus...be it a child's riding toy or a cannon.  giggle giggle.

I'm almost nauseous.
Let it go?
sad

Darling I am here for you.

Fuck I hate these people.  I am not them....  Yet she is the closest thing to my past and she is useless.  She cannot link me to myself or my past.

Let it go.

Poetic style perhaps can condense all the words, feelings and thoughts that course through.

Robin Williams kills himself.  This should not have to be.  We are smarter than that. Meds or help should exist.

I make a blueberry peach pie and lap up the warmth and sweet and tang off my finger swabbed across the plate.  Tongue lick too.  More later.

DOUGH
1/3 cup unsalted butter
1/3 cup coconut oil
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups sifted flour
5 T cold h2o

Cut butter and coconut together with the salt/flour.  Pea size. Add water.  Gather up into ball and refrigerate.

Roll.

2 pints blues
1 yogurt container of peaches defrosted from last years harvest

add 2T of cornstarch to a bit of the peach juice and then mix all together.  (I left some of the corn starch liquid out....shouldn't have.  Too juicy of a pie....but delish nevertheless.

Rain rain rain.  Green.
Full belly
Empty heart.
Thirst for something.

Thoughts ramble over the past few weeks. Seeing Aaron and his heartbreak.  His first big love and first big 'break'.  Yet I see how Aaron and Jenna and Ali can practice their emotional intelligence!  Especially with each other.  I'm impressed.  I joked as Aaron and Jenna talked in his room, he laying on his bed and she sitting vigil with him.  They talked about having feelings.  Being and feeling the 'fool' if necessary.  Moving through the feelings will lead you out.  I joked....feigned rising and leaving...."my work is done here...you two have what it takes"  Emotional intelligence!

Next Aaron goes to Argentina.  Jenna back to Brandeis.  Ali back to Connecticut College.  I finish up the land sale to the town and then the next project begins!  May go back to a career counselor.  So wonderful to have her hold the space for me to make these next steps.

Aunt Marilyn:  spent the day with her yesterday in RI.  She is fun and lively.  Great to talk with.  I often have an slightly empty feeling as I leave.  I notice that when I bring up the juicy emotional stuff....she moves on quickly.  It's ok.  She is old and of another generation.  She does what she knows.  Stays in her comfort zone. It's like being with my mother (gogo) but better.  Cuz she doesn't really push my buttons.  And then there is a sad feeling cuz perhaps I may even miss my mother, as limited as she was.

You are not special.

I think, maybe I hope, that I worked this into the raising of my children.  Seems odd.  Of course I told them they are special. Yet I pray I taught them that they were also as special as the next kid.  Sure, my kids got all the good stuff. Love and equipment for sports and dance and skiing. (ha) Oh and food and shelter. Isn't that what mattered. Yet I always let them know that just because we could afford something it didn't mean that we would get that something.

And now my children are careful.  They understand money and responsibility. They, all 3, are hard workers.  Phew.  I didn't fuck up.  I can barely remember what I said yet I hear my words coming back to me through their voices. I can't wait to have grandchildren to hear the voices of my children as they parent.  I have total faith that they will do fine.

Photos on the fridge

When one project winds down a funny feeling arises.  Pretty simply: Anxiety. What's next?  I avoid.  I think about meditating in hopes to focus and tackle my new open time. But I don't meditate.  Prioritize then.  Make lists.  Or...click email again.  Check FB again.  Freecycle more plastic shit.  Everything that permanently leaves the house makes me feel lighter. So far with all that has gone out the door never have I thought about the THINGS later and wish I still had them.  Bye bye.

"If it's not beautiful or useful get rid of it".  (Martha). That's the extreme end of the purge.
"Have everything in your visual field be something that pleases you".  That's the dream.

So I'm a box-method purger.  If I can't get it out the door, then I put it in a box destined for the basement.  Once it's been there a few months or years...when I come across it again, with full knowledge that I haven't missed it and I can't even remember what's in it...then I off load it.

Today I'm thinking about clearing off the fridge.  Not a big task.  But the visual chaos needs some calming.   When I write something like this previous sentence....then I really know I have to get a job/life.  My life is reduced to clearing off the photos on the fridge!

Mothering differently

March 25, 2014

How many 'real' conversations did I have with my mother?

I'm chewing on celery with pb and raisins....ants on a log.  As I put away the pb I look at the photos on the fridge.  My aunt and mother, (sisters) stare at me. They look so alike.  My aunt will be 85 this year.  My mother, now gone for 5 years.  She was about 80 when she died.  I was about 54. I'm guessing; close enough.  (I eschew numbers at ever turn and at all costs).  Yet I always want to quantify.  It hits me.  If I lived at home for 18 years and was the youngest of 3 children then how many REAL conversations did I have with my mother?  How much time did she even have for me? How many times did my mother kiss me goodnight?  Goodnight kisses ended when I was probably 8. That'd be 2,830....if I got one every night.   But conversations?  Maybe 5.  Maybe 10.  Maybe a dozen.  My mom wasn't a deep person. She didn't ask questions.  Her life was to be lived as a picture.  You live the image and you have attained the image.  Suddenly I think of how little I understood my mother.  I barely think about her now. I don't remember being mothered by her. Though perhaps her version of mothering me was to get me to act and dress as she thought I should....like her.   I do remember fighting her at every turn.  I didn't make it easy for her to mother me....but I also knew that her 'mothering' was limited and I was fighting for her to show up in a way that perhaps just wasn't possible.

My relationship with my children is so entirely different than mine was with my mother.
And for that I am so grateful.

TO DO list: 2/8/14
Hair cut...finally.
Van inspection....  No surprise.
                                               
Chicken soup on.  Pretty much best smell other than cookies or garlic.
                                                                           
Compost...tromp thru snow.
                                                                                                                       
Check on Chickens.
Figure out how to attach a photo to blog.

Another day filled with nothing, yet got a fair amount done.

Today: 2/16/14
Laundry
Short x-country ski
Read newspaper
Relished being home.

CHICKENS:
Shoveled out the poor chickens, fresh water, new pine shavings.
I'm a composting kind of coop-keeper.  Just pile the shavings onto the poop until spring. Keeps 'em nice and warm.

Shoveled out the front of the garages. Been away for 5 days and 14 inches of snow.  The plow gets up the hill but can't seem to drag the snow away from the garage doors.  Life is exercise.

BLOG:
reviewed old entries. Seem incredibly boring to me.  I doubt I'll ever show anyone this blog.

Living in a mechanical world.

For the past week the temperature has hovered at night at a chilling 4 degrees or lower and my first floor heat was just not making it.  Mornings inside were 64 - 65- 66 degrees! Sure once the sun hit the south side of the house the temperature could rise to 70 but with the gray skies of winter something was not right.   My super amazing insulated house has saved me from freezing a number of times....but ultimately because my heating system has a fatal flaw...this heat shut out has happened before....once in February and now in January.  Ah New England in winter! But the full story can be told at another time.  Suffice it to say my heating system acts possessed. Kicks off at random times with valves corroding from within which employs my plumber to replace everything with brass. But we are learning that there are different qualities of brass.  But I digress.   So my mechanical world...What else? The electricity to the chicken coop died.  In the nearly zero temperatures I tromped into the night to hit the reset.  I played with the circuit breakers in the basement. Wasn't til the next day that my fingers were able to actually push the reset fully to reengage the electricity; the water heater and the light came back on to keep the 3 hens comfy.  Other misfortune hits.  My fancy baffled window blinds (Hunter-Douglas) are slowly all crapping out...now 5 busted shades...which I depend on to keep the warmth in at night.  As my house ages (22 years old?) I see, things once was pristine, degrade in front of me. The white walls have NEVER been painted.  Kitchen cabinet screws loosen.   Knobs break off the stove.  Windows warp.  I have a fairly high tolerance for breakage and fixing...but have hit a low point. Grrrrrr.  A call to Jason my heating guy and he's been here since 11am.  It's now 3:30!  Ah the mechanical world.

The upside of the mechanical world that I find appealing is the gathering and navigating new information.  I love fixing things. I ordered the 'tape' to restring the blinds.  NO WONDER they broke. The tape seems to be nothing more than fancy dental floss.  After a few hundred lifts and lowers, it frays and breaks.  I removed one of the smaller blinds to a table in the back room.  By midday I don't have the patience to watch the YouTube to learn how to fix it.  So there it will lay.  Most likely I'll enlist someone to help. Maybe my BF.  But that's another story too.

All my posts are too long.
Short today...maybe.

TOPIC IDEAS:
-Becoming Gogo (my mother)
-Back to gray hair
-Skiing
-Food=Love
-Getting rid of plastic
-Getting rid of junk in general
-My new boots!


Ok. Boots win.  Bought low cowgal boots. Ariat brand.  Ohhhh so so nice.  Now at the cobbler.  Couldn't get the right foot in...unless it was already in a ski boot from the morning and was being skinny squished.  Tried all times of day. Forget it.  High arch and higher instep.  So sad. Could have returned em.  But decided to make a go of the cobbler's stretch.  Can't wait to pick them up on Tuesday.  Sad thing is that all the 'cookies' on my computer are popping up BOOT ads on the right side and I WANT THEM NOW>

How's that for a short, albeit pretty useless and boring post.

This is me with white/gray hair. About six years ago.

Gray hair obsession.  So easy to dye it brown.  So hard to get back to gray.......I would like to get back to white.

My hair is currently 'dye every two weeks' brown.  It looks great.  And I'm entirely sick of the dying.  I've searched and questioned many sources. The truth is... dyed hair doesn't 'go back' to gray. At least not easily.

When I asked the 'head' hair clinician...he said..."if you come here every two weeks to do your roots, you will not be patient with doing a highlight".

You see you can't bleach hair that has been dyed.  Well you can....once. After that the hair just breaks apart.  And the orange color that reveals from under the brown is massively unappealing.  Ugh.  So I either dye.  Tolerate some unsightly roots for a few weeks or cut...wear a hat....or continue to obsess.

Funny what one obsessed about.

Latest obsessions:
-Get all the plastic out of my house.
-Go back to gray.
-Throw out junk
-Fair traded chocolate.  80%.
-What I'm going to do after the land project is fully complete.

My 20 year old daughter thinks I'm amazing.  I think that's weird.  I never thought my mother was amazing.  To be honest, if I had to choose my mother as a friend perhaps we would go on occasional walks together and probably gossip about our golf and tennis friends....of which I have neither.   But this entry isn't about my mother. (I'll save that for another time).  It's about my children and me.

"Mom, you should do a blog". (uck....I think...Blog and Brag seem so synonymous.) "Dad and Aaron (my son) have one".  "You are amazing and should have one".  "You do everything that bloggers love: Craft, raise chickens, cook, make mittens out of sweaters...." she continues a litany and my head is shaking from the inside out.  What the hell is she talking about?!  Sure I cook. That's easy. I like to cook and I have to eat.   For the most part I prefer my healthy cooking to restaurant food. So I cook.  As for crafty? I'm a descendent of a depression era family so saving, scrimping and crafting mittens out of old shrunken sweaters just seems big-time right!  Though sadly my last project remains attached the sewing machine in a near permanent manner.  The fabric was dragged into the feed dog (love that word!) and a pin is wrapped around the bobbin case.  It's ugly and I can't see how to get it out without destructive force. Is this blog worthy? Nah.  But little does she know I've already started a blog.  WarmChai.  Nothing else.  A name.  I think I even wrote a first entry but can't find it.  Never posted it.  Eh. 

Yet, I'm intrigued.  I'm as insecure as the rest of most humanity. Or at least the humanity I hang with.  I spend a lot of time wondering why there is so much anxiety today.  Panic attacks.  Pills and huge variety of treatments.  I have a masters degree in expressive therapy (dance concentration) and this gives me no leg up on understanding why everyone has somatic troubles (stomach, head, neck) and anxiety and depression and sometimes rage.  I watch and listen to people.  A lot.  I'm intensely critical and mostly work very hard to not be...at least out loud.  My boyfriend takes the brunt of my criticism and accepts me.  I have most definitely crossed the line with him and he has pulled me back to reality.  Yet thankfully I get to see what it means to truly accept someone else with all their quirks and differences.  (He accepts me more than I accept him). My bf is a great guy.  Everyone loves him...as the joke goes....except me.  But I am learning to love him....and that is huge.  To let someone in, for me, is to be vulnerable. And when a lifetime of being strong has been my MO....(or the pretense of strong)....then being vulnerable can be terrifying!  But I digress again.  This entry is about my children and me.

So I will write a blog entry. One a week was my daughter's suggestion.  And here it is: #1.  And all I can think about is writing #2!  Psyched. Is it a brag or a blog?  Doesn't matter.  It's an excuse to put into words the unspoken of my day.  To highlight what really happens in a human's life.  I'm a very energetic person who does a thousand things a day, as most of us do. And at the end of the day I feel I have done nothing.

So today:

Up at 7am via alarm and do my pseudo yoga routine: Shavasana (corpse pose ha!) in bed.  I think of it as yoga in reverse.  I start warm and relaxed.  I love envisioning every joint getting greased up for the day. I imagine that I can draw circles with my toes against the sheets.  As if my heel and every toe can leave a mark. I must be sure to feel each toe touching the top and bottom sheet.  Moving very slowly, the circles get smoother and my ankle becomes more mobile. Today impatience and boredom creep in and I only do one foot.  Next: Imagine mobilizing each spinal vertebrae with minimum effort, starting with the hips I work upwards.  I pay special attention to my lower back.  I have a torn disk between L4 and L5...but no one really knows this. Or have forgotten. If I had to be honest with myself I think I function more like a 35 year old.  I'm 58 and proud.  And I get up.  I don't finish the luxurious stretching that my bed-yoga usually includes.  Jenna my youngest, or is she my middle*? daughter needs a ride to the 8am train.  She has had increasing anxiety lately.  Her semester in Paris is a month away.  Weighing her heart down is the pain of leaving her first real, and already long-distance boyfriend, for an even longer distance.  And transitions and travel are challenging.  Where most people find adventure exhilarating, she and her sister and I, find travel stressful.  I check in on her and ask if she would like breakfast.  "Yes".  The pumpkin cottage cheese pancakes that I froze last week.  Good choice.  Hi protein, hi fiber, beta-carotene and yum.  I pull together a fast breakfast.  And she enters the kitchen with a stern admonishment before I speak.  "Mom, before you say anything, I can't eat, I know what you're going to say, but don't say it."  Ok.  Later I google "Anxiety and inability to eat".  I am both validated yet see she is correct.  I cannot force her, though I also know the downward spiral that not eating can have on anxiety. She spun out yesterday prior to her Boston French Consulate visa appointment.  So I pack a travel lunch...for her train-subway-bus adventure. Boston to Philly.  Probably 8 hours.  And for a kid who gets motion sick:  I pray the bus doesn't smell of diesel.  I know motion sickness all too well.  And that smell will set you in motion...in the wrong direction. 

So my day begins:

-shovel out front of garage

-make Jenna food to go

-drop Jenna off at 7:50am 

-purchased heater for chicken waterer at 8am.

-2 cups of tea. Green with ginger. Throat Coat with honey.

-Toast with cottage cheese

-Blog writing til 11am

TO DO:

-Laundry

-defrost solid frozen waterer

-install new chicken waterer heater

-make Ali's bed for her return from school tonight.  (Next semester is a GAP semester.  Wahoo for more anxiety...hopefully hers, not mine.)

-Grocery shop for upcoming 4 day ski trip. Want to skip the enchiladas that I have made for the past 10 years!  Maybe chicken soup with matzoh balls....except what about the vegetarians?

-purchase extra long underwear and socks for the newbie skiers.  Jenna's boyfriend and my boyfriend!

-post this entry.

*Jenna is an identical twin.  "Who is older?" That question has always bugged me. From their birth I obfuscated, to such a degree, that I seriously can't answer it anymore.  If asked "who is older?", I would say...."Ali. She waited for her sister to get out safely before she came out".  So I believe Jenna came out first.  So if that makes her older, then she is the middle child. Aaron is 23.  Jenna 20 and Ali 20.  And the girls birth was via a C-Section so they were was sort of plucked out anyway.

Why call my BLOG: FactsFeelingsConsequences?

QUESTION

Why call my blog "FactsFeelingsConsequences"?

ANSWER:

Because "Warm Chai" wasn't available.

BUT 

Why? Facts/Feelings/Consequences (aka FFC) anyway?

I perseverate on this concept!  Because so many people DON'T know it or how to use it.

This is Assertiveness Training 101. 

Let's break it down

STEP 1:  You have a problem.  Pretend this is your 'problem': Your partner picks his nose and it really bothers you.

STEP 1A.
Whose problem is it?  Yours or his? This can be tricky.  IF your partner picks his nose in the privacy of your house....it may just be his problem.  BUT if he picks in public or if his picking totally makes you nauseous then you probably can say it has become your problem.

If it's your problem...then you get to practice Assertiveness... FFC.
If the problem is his....then move along honey and let him pick away.

It all boils down to this. 

FACTS~FEELINGS~CONSEQUENCES

 There are irrefutable information nuggets that becomes the tools for communication.  

• Need to talk with your children: Use FFC.  
• Talk with coworker:  FFC.   
• Talk with your partner/wife/husband/lover:  FFC.

I have noticed that when people come to me with a complaint about someone else, they often describe their difficult situation with amazing precision.

STEP ONE:
THE FACTS are right there.  So let's cherry pick 'em.

1. -"...my girlfriend didn't remember my birthday"
2. -"...my daughter left the sink full of dishes"
3. - "...my co-worker's breath is terrible"

Simple.  "Just the facts ma'am" says Joe Friday of Dragnet fame.


STEP TWO:
The FEELINGS...They are usually right up front too...on the surface.

1. -"I'm disappointed"
2. -"I'm angry"
3. -"I'm offended"

STEP THREE:
The CONSEQUENCES:
This is slightly tricky...Ask yourself..."What do you DO after the FACTS are followed by your FEELINGS????"
1. -Consequently, "I pull away..."
2. -Consequently, "I build up resentment and yell at you as soon as you enter the house"
3. -Consequently, "I don't want to talk with you...I actually leave the room when you enter".

Match up the #1, #2 and #3 and you have a perfect assertive statement which can begin a communication revelation/revolution.

FOR EXAMPLE:
Birthday forgotten:
"You forgot my birthday and I'm disappointed.  When I'm disappointed I pull away."

Sink full of dishes:
"You left the sink full of dishes yesterday and I am angry.  I find I build up resentment about this and as soon as you enter the house I end up yelling at you."

Bad Breath co-worker:
"I need to tell you that I've noticed your breath is really strong at times.  This is hard for me to say because I find it offensively strong.  Sadly when you come around I find that I avoid you."

WOW  those are pretty on point....yet possibly really tough to say.  Truth here.  I did do the Bad Breath Co-worker assertive statement a long time ago.  I carpooled to work with a lovely woman.  We were both therapist at an outpatient mental health facility. Her breath was very strong and unpleasant.   I prefaced my comment with "This is really hard to tell you...." I was very nervous.  I told her....and she was so grateful!  My only mistake was that after about a month she came to me and asked "How has my breath been?".  I had neglected to tell her that she had remedied the problem and all was fine....she was still worried.  It's so important to give people the positive feedback if they have worked to do things differently.

Communicating on this level with the people we love and care about has immeasurable value.  Try it. I promise the results can be profound.

Back to problem of the boyfriend who picks his nose.

If you decide it's his problem....then there is nothing for you to do. If you decide it's your problem then you can go to therapy and discuss it!  Ha.  OR you can talk with him and see if there is some middle ground.

It might sound like this.

"John, I've noticed that you absentmindedly pick your nose when we are out in public. (FACT) I am slightly embarrassed to be with you at those moments (FEELINGS) and find myself distancing myself from you.  I love you and don't want this distance between us. (CONSEQUENCES) Is this something you are aware of?"

Ok...not bad.  He can come back with "YES" he knows he picks.  And thoroughly enjoys it thank you very much.  And he may say that it's your problem.  Then you get to decide if you can overlook this.  Or if not, try again.  Fact~Feelings~Consequences.  The Consequences may be more intense than you (or he) realizes.  You may not want to spend time with someone who can't curb this.  Seems a bit petty...but at least opening the conversation will help you to know if this person is someone you can have this sort of honest and necessary communication with.  Good Luck!