Just a little wallowing....

What a weekend! I know blog posts aren't necessarily just a journal of the day, but with NaBlPoMo, I'm trying to come up with something!

And right now, I'm kind of in "Wallowing Mode!"

Turning 50 has been a pretty momentous year for me. It's the year 2 of my 3 kids moved away. Not just down the road to college but AWAY. Katie to New York City, home only for holidays. And Michael, to Nicaragua with the Peace Corps, home in 2 years. Probably not before that. My baby ended her high school experiment and started in Cosmetology. What that means FOR ME, because I'm guessing by now you realize that I'm only focusing on what all this means FOR ME! When she went to high school, she really was just going for the experience, I think she had about a 60-70% attendance rate. If she was tired, she stayed home. If we wanted to go out to lunch, we did. If she wanted to leave early, I picked her up. Suffice it to say, our heart was not really "into" that experience.  But now that she's in this cosmetology program - something she really cares about - she has something like a 104% attendance rate!  I know, how can you have more than 100%? She goes early and clocks in. So she is there Monday through Friday 8-5. Plus one weekend per month of extra classes. How that all translates for me is that she's never around.  And when she is, she is with her boyfriend. And I love that for her because they both make each other happy, but I'm missing her.

I am missing all of them. So much. You don't even know. But if you were with me this weekend, you might have a clue by my red swollen eyes.

When I brought my kids home to homeschool, I knew I was going to be incredibly involved in their lives. And as they approached their teens, I knew that it would only be for a finite number of years.  So I set up some gardening, started some writing, even restarted NHEN.  And these are  all good projects, but I'm noticing that they don't keep my attention the way doing things with my children did.

This has left a pretty big void in my life. And I want to be careful about what I put to fill the void. I don't want to just fill it with any ole thing. Still, I'm looking for what that will be.

This year also, I made the decision that my mother was too old to drive. She was not happy with the idea. I'll write another post later about what led to that decision and how hard it was to make. But not here. But that means I drive her around a lot. And she's very forgetful. And repetitive.

But this my 50th year, I'm able to say that my friendships are good. I have been able to reconnect with those who are far away from me, and keep in touch with those locally. I'd like to do this a little bit more.

I've joined a gym and tried to do more vegan recipes. I have a daunting number of pounds to lose in order to get healthy. But I'd love to be able to do more hiking and outdoor activities. And I have a huge learning curve for figuring out how to cook in a healthy way. Tofu sits for months in my fridge staring at me, daring me to try a recipe. The bag of quinoa from Whole Foods, just gets pushed to the side of the counter. I know it's good for me, but what the heck do I do with it???

And today, at my workshop, we talked about many things. Lots of old griefs were stirred up. My eyes are very tired from some of the crying I did. But I'm so happy with the group of people at the Toci center. Even though they are all so different from each other and from me, being there, listening to them, sharing with them, showed me lots of insights. It was a good thing.



I'll be back to regular blogging tomorrow, but for now, this is me.

Holding onto the Side of the Pool

When I was little, I took a lot of swimming lessons. My dad was a great swimmer and I loved the water.  Still, like lots of kids, I lacked confidence. I would have serious doubts about my abilities to do things. 

So when I had to swim from the shallow end to the lifeguard stand as the "graduation" from Intermediate classes, I was nervous. My dad was a football coach, so he understood about breaking it into smaller steps and practice, practice, practice. Every night, we'd go to the pool. He'd have me swim along near the edgel while he'd walk along beside me, cigarette lodged in the side of his mouth. It was the 60's and everyone smoked - everywhere!  

At first, he'd offer encouragement, "You can do it Susie!" "Keep going!" "Push!" …things like that. But then he started to notice that when he did offer his cheers from the side, I'd grab the side of the pool and say, "What?" I was simply taking the opportunity to rest.  It wasn't long before he stopped trying to say things to me while I swam. Still, I could see his murky outline on deck as I turned to catch a breath. I'd stop and hold the side, "Did you say something?". 

"No! Keep swimming." He had figured me out.  I was probably 6 or 7  and, truth be told, he probably figured it out long before I realized he was onto me!  

Still, I would use this technique to try to interrupt my swimming workout, time and time again. He would continue to walk with me, shaking his head to indicate he was NOT speaking to me at this point.  His disappointment was palpable, even though unspoken. I really WAS trying to "cheat" on the swim. 

Years passed and he and I continued to use that phrase as a metaphor.  If I was taking the easy road, not challenging myself, he'd say, "Are you holding onto the side of the pool again?"  He and I knew exactly what that meant. He spent many a day telling me how I could do anything I put my mind to, and how some things are worth working for.  I was a true Daddy's Girl.  But he knew I had a tendency to go the easy way, or see if someone or something could rescue me from the obstacle I was facing. Less challenging might feel good at the moment, but overall, it's so unsatisfying.  Stagnating, even. And worse, it chips away at me. It only exacerbates any kind of low confidence moments I'm having. It's a negative cheerleader. It's the one saying, "Give up. It's too hard." "You can't do it anyway. Stop now." "How embarrassing."  

I don't know how I acquired it, but for most of my teen years I had a little decoupage plaque that hung on my wall. It was a picture of a setting sun with a small sailboat going out. It said, 

" A ship in port is safe, but that's not what ships are built for."

My dad has been dead for over 20 years, and I still have all these mental connections to water. When you're swimming and you turn your face to get a breath, if your eyes are open, you can sort of see through the pool water.  I can still see his blurry image as he walked along the side of the pool with me as if it were yesterday. Still I can hear his voice asking, "SusieQ, are you holding on to the side of the pool?" 

Every day brings some sort of challenge, small or large. And every night I can look back and see how I did with it.  I try hard to do my best. Well, sometimes I try hard. Sometimes I procrastinate.  And it's really just another way of holding onto the side of the pool, I guess.