L'Shana Tova

I read my friend Leah's blog tonight (see This Mama's Dharma -- Grandparents' Day, on the right). It really touched me, particularly her quote about "trudging solo up a hill with a battle ax and full body armor, fighting off my own demons." There's nowhere to share these feelings but here, so here I am. I'm writing as my husband struggles to sleep. Our relationship can certainly be described in terms of fighting our demons, or perhaps by using a desert metaphor -- hard, dry, and lonely. It's hard to say where and how our dysfunctionalism started, because I think we both had the best hopes when we started off on our journey together (other than our unhealthy fear of being alone...but I'm sure that's a force that compels many other wise and unwise relationships). I've struggled and struggled with my marriage for years. I've tried to find an external reason for our problems -- ie, my husband. Granted, he certainly has his own challenges, but deep down inside I feel like my focus on his behavior -- no matter how messed up it may be at times -- is just an excuse to avoid taking responsibility for my own decisions.

Tonight I'm feeling lonely. It's the holiest day of the Jewish year (or is that Yom Kippor? So sue me, it's one of the two holiest days anyway.), and I'm with a partner with whom I simply cannot share this holiday. It's not that I'm going off to temple or anything, but it would be nice to share a spiritual connection. But we simply don't have that, not for my want of trying. So, instead I invited my parents over, and we had apples and honey by candle light. (I lit a candle shaped like sushi that my mom gave me for Christmas years ago...talk about multiple influences.) As I write this, I feel like I'm reconnecting with the world, and I feel less lonely. That's part of the magical nature of writing. But even though I'm not feeling so much like bitching and whining anymore, I'm going to share the song that's been going through my mind, by the Police. (Isn't Sting lovely?)

I wish I knew more about this holiday. Maybe someday when I can afford tickets to a high holiday celebration, I'll eventually know more (snark snark). Obviously, it's the new year, and there's the idea of starting again and taking stock of things. As I take stock, of course I'm grateful for my kids, my parents, my job, the fact that I'm living in a peaceful place (although the world isn't peaceful), and even for my husband, messed up as our situation is. I'm grateful for my health, my mind, the beauty of nature, and for common and random acts of kindness.

When I was in Croatia, my boyfriend at the time, a local guy who had a broad view of the world, got his hands on a video about a group of black southern gospel singers. We watched it together, and the images that stuck in my mind are of a bunch of overweight people eating Chinese food and singing beautiful songs. It somehow overlaps with a visit I made to my husband's cousin near Lynchburg, VA, when we went to what passes for a Chinese restaurant there on a Sunday morning. But one song in this video still stays with me. In it, men and women are singing, "We're blessed, we're blessed, we're blessed," over and over. It was pretty amazing to me, because aside from their singing talents, these were just regular people with -- I assume -- regular problems. They weren't especially blessed or lucky, but actually they were, simply because they acknowledged and affirmed it. It's amazing how uplifting something like that can be. I want to continue to keep our blessings in mind this year, because I think it puts me in a better place.

Another thing I want to do is to try to be honest with myself and others about my feelings and also about my marriage. I think being in this dissatisfied, ambivalent place isolates me and also protects me in a bad way. It makes me hold back from potential friends, because I feel like I'm not who they want me to be. I'm not happy in my marriage, but I'm also not in the process of separation. In a word, as stated above, I'm struggling. I'm in this in-between place, and I need to accept myself where I am. Acknowledging this reality will hopefully help me move forward in one way or another. So, I'm not going to hide it anymore, although of course I won't go blabbing about it either. I'll just try to work things out on these virtual pages, and hope that someone is actually reading them.

I wanted to share two great quotes here, just because they both touch me. The first is a poem from Spoon River Anthology called "George Gray," by Edgar Lee Masters. I remember reading it in 11th grade when I was 17, and feeling like it could apply to me if I didn't act. Basically, Spoon River anthology is a collection of gravestone etchings from a fictitious town called Spoon River. The one that resonated with me goes like this:

George Gray I have studied many times The marble which was chiseled for me -- A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor. In truth it pictures not my destination But my life. For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment; Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid; Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances. Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life. And now I know that we must lift the sail And catch the winds of destiny Wherever they drive the boat. To put meaning in one's life may end in madness, But life without meaning is the torture Of restlessness and vague desire -- It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

I fear that I'm a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid. I've traveled and worked in far-off places on my own, building a life wherever I am. I've made the courageous decisions to get married and have 3 kids. Nonetheless, I still feel like I'm running away from my feelings and myself. When I was a kid, I was taught that expressing and even feeling my feelings was wrong. When I was a teenager, I tried to use food as a drug to drown my feelings. (Indeed, I think that addictions of various sorts run on my mother's side of the family.) Starting in my 20s, I sought to "settle down" in a "relationship" to prove that I belonged, eventually ending up in my own highly productive but sadly dysfunctional marriage. Even now, I feel that I overschedule and immerse myself in loving my kids partly to escape my own feelings and fears. I'm sure that this is all normal to some extent, but it doesn't feel that healthy to me.

When I was in Bosnia, my first interpreter said to me, "You're scared, aren't you?" He didn't mean I was scared of being in Bosnia (which I wasn't) or scared because I locked the doors of the car (a habit from living in DC). He meant I was scared overall. He meant I was scared of life. And he was right. I've been very good at moving forward and taking the plunge even though I'm scared. I effing amaze myself, in fact. Nonetheless, I'm still running away from myself. I want to turn myself to face me. I want to catch up with myself, take a deep breath, look into my own eyes, smile, and chill. I want to put on my big girl panties and say, "Eff this, it's all okay." I want to be able to face the future without being undermined by anxiety or fear. And sometimes -- like now -- I think I can do it. I think it's a work in progress, and it's a long-distance endeavor rather than a sprint. Perhaps putting the words down here will help make it happen.

The second quote I wanted to share is by one of my favorite authors. I had this quote read aloud at my wedding, and it continues to resonate with me. It's from Barbara Kingsolver's High Tide in Tucson:

"Every one of us is called upon, probably many times, to start a new life. A frightening diagnosis, a marriage, a move, loss of a job or a limb or a loved one, a graduation, bringing a new baby home: it’s impossible to think at first how this all will be possible. Eventually, what moves it all forward is the subterranean ebb and flow of being alive among the living.

"In my own worst seasons I’ve come back from the colorless world of despair by forcing myself to look hard, for a long time, at a single glorious thing: a flame of red geranium outside my bedroom window. And then another: my daughter in a yellow dress. And another: the perfect outline of a full, dark sphere behind the crescent moon. Until I learned to be in love with my life again. Like a stroke victim retraining new parts of the brain to grasp lost skills, I have taught myself joy, over and over again….

“We hold fast to the old passions of endurance that buckle and creak beneath us, dovetailed, tight as a good wooden boat to carry us onward. And onward full tilt we go, pitched and wrecked and absurdly resolute, driven in spite of everything to make good on a new shore. To be hopeful, to embrace one possibility after another–that is surely the basic instinct…If the whole living world has to turn on the single point of remaining alive, that pointed endurance is the poetry of hope. The thing with feathers.”

When I was in Bosnia, glad I was there but feeling scared of life, I remember an image that came to me. I pictured myself as a scull (ie, a boat used for crew). As we all know, a scull has a board in its center that juts down into the water and stabilizes it. A scull can skim over the surface of the water but not tip over, thanks to this center board. As I pictured this scull, with its stabilizing center board, I felt a sense of calm and confidence. I will keep this image in mind in the New Year as I move forward in my struggle to leave my safe harbor and travel full tilt ahead in my blessed life.

L'Shana Tova, everyone!

A.M. Chaos

I really don't know how I do it. Somehow, some way, I manage to get 3 young lively kids and myself off to our respective destinations every day, with teeth brushed, faces wiped, stomachs full, and clothes and diapers clean. Each morning when I get to work, I want to either collapse with exhaustion or release my breath in a long, slow, grateful exhale. Wow...here I am. I don't know how I managed to do it again. And all around me, people younger and older than me, people with dogs but no kids, people who spend their nights out on the town, arrive at work fresh, unrumpled, and set to face the day.

It reminds me of the two donkeys Stephen King wrote about in The Dead Zone. King described a town donkey and a prospector's donkey who are tied up next to each other outside a bar. The town donkey looks at the prospector's donkey's huge load of picks, axes, and other mining equipment, and says to him, "Wow, that's quite a load you've got there." The prospector's donkey answers, "What load"

That's how I feel sometimes, like a heavily loaded workhorse, day in and day out.  For me, each morning is a juggle of skillful negotiation, logistical mastery, compassion on tap, and well-managed chaos.  

Sofia, do you want to wear your red shoes?  No?  Your purple ones? How about your blue ones?   Okay, no socks, freeze your feet if you want to.  Philip, what do you want for breakfast?  Cheerios with raisin bran in the same bowl but not all mixed together?  Okay. Sofia, you want little frozen berries but not big ones? No problem.  Philip, yogurt with a "ton" of honey?   Okay.  Angelina, wait 2 minutes and then we'll nurse.  

Must unload a few dishes from the dishwasher, but it's hard while I'm holding Angelina at the same time. Philip, go get your pants from the tv room.  Philip, please get your pants from the tv room.  Philip, will you please get your pants?  Philip, get your pants!  Oh forget it, I'll get them.  

Must make Philip's lunch.  No, you can't buy pizza today!  I need to take the doctor's bill with me to argue with the insurance company.  Oh no, I have a stain on my jacket.  I'll carry Angelina upstairs so I can see if I have anything else that matches, is seasonally appropriate, and doesn't need ironing.  Then I'll nurse her after that.  No, Sofia, you can't come upstairs with us.  You need to eat your breakfast, we're late.  No, Sofia!  Oh, okay, come upstairs.  

I need to put Philip's homework in his backpack.  And he has soccer after school.  Must call my neighbor and make sure she'll pick him up.  Oh God, I need to make my lunch too.  We need to save money.  And Zoki the cat needs food and water.   Which kid can feed him without making a mess?  Angelina, I need to remember pull-ups for your daycare.  Oh, we're low on milk...must remember to put it on the list.  

No, Philip, you can't eat your Halloween candy for breakfast!   Oh no, Zoki the cat is eating Philip's yogurt!  Zoki, go to the basement!  Sofia, stop climbing on the couch!  Yes, Philip, you can have a playdate with Chase, but his mom needs to call us.  No, Sofia, you can't have a sleepover with Ellie, you need to wait until you're older.

Angelina, please keep nursing and stop paying attention to all of the noise your brother and sister are making.   Oh God, I need to get the alarm system fixed.  Angelina has a poopy diaper...I don't think I can send her to daycare and "pretend" I didn't know, so must change her quickly and keep her from rolling off the couch.  The garbage is full...must find room for a few more dirty diapers.  Pelvic floor, squeeze (my tribute to Kate Reddy)!  

Need to find husband a new doctor who takes our insurance and uses Quest Labs.  Put dirty dishes in sink...God forbid, hopefully it won't attract bugs.  Guys, get your socks on!  Get your jackets on!  Put them on, you'll be cold later. Okay, okay, I'll carry your jackets.  

I'm so sad to leave my kids...what if there's a terrorist attack on the Metro?  No, wait, I shouldn't worry about that because then the terrorists will have won. Oh no, where are my socks?  Where are my shoes?  Is Angelina okay in her baby gym while I get my shoes on?  What do I have to do at work today?   Philip, Sofia, out the door! No, you can't bring all of your necklaces to daycare! Stop fighting, guys!

What time is it?  How late are we?  Wie spat ist es?  I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date!  Argh....

And it's pretty much this chaotic every morning. My feeling upon arrival at work also reminds me of the Shehechiyanu, a Jewish prayer that thanks God for bringing you to this moment: "Blessed are you, Lord our God, who has kept us alive and sustained us and enabled us to reach this moment." In other words, wow, thank God, I'm here again in the quiet of my office and I have a moment to breathe...until the stresses of work start up.

I remember in college I heard a speaker named Carol Gilligan, a renowned psychologist who studied ethical decisionmaking, among other things. She sat with us in the Winthrop House Common Room and asked us a simple question, "What's the opposite of losing?" "Winning," we all answered without hesitation. Then she asked it again: "What's the opposite of losing?" We struggled to find another answer, wondering what we had gotten wrong. Losing, winning -- what else was there? Then one guy finally said, "Finding." That was Dr. Gilligan's point -- that there are different ways of viewing the world, and you might not even realize it. She also asked us about the 2 different ways we could view the proverb, "A rolling stone gathers no moss." The answer was that the moss could be viewed as something bad, so it was good to be a rolling stone, or it could be viewed as something good that the rolling stone was missing out on. I think about that now, in my very busy life. My kids are definitely the good kind of moss, even with the daily struggles and longer-term burdens.

In her book Her Mother's Daughter, Marilyn French describes the life of a female midge, whose offspring somehow eat her from the inside out, or maybe they grow and grow and grow until they burst out of her. I feel that way sometimes. I look at the circles under my eyes, my unbrushed hair, the clothes I don't have time to mend, my unpolished shoes, my wavering bank account, and I wonder if I'll just be an empty shell after I've raised my kids.

But the thing is, I want to give them all of me. I want to struggle with my son over his homework every night because I know it will help him for the future. I want to fund my kids' educational and athletic activities to make them happy, healthy, and learned. I want to read to them every night, as my eyelids droop and I stumble over words. I want to search thrift shops to find clothes that they like and that make them look well-cared for. I want to laugh with them and love them and help them feel cherished and secure. I'm never bored with them, and I would give them my blood to drink if I had to.

Maybe this commitment and certitude are evolutionary. I don't know. It's just there. I feel so well-used. I may be exhausted and nervous at times, but I also have so much positive energy. I'm doing the right thing in my life, even if I don't go out on the town drinking mojitos or resolving international crises (or resolving international crises while drinking mojitos). I guess the bottom line is that the kids are what give my life meaning and shape right now and for the forseeable future. I need to enjoy the ride I'm on, even if it's a roller coaster at times. I need to hang on tight, open my eyes, and shriek with glee from time to time. I love my load and my lot in life, and I'm glad I'm here at this moment.