Being over qualified for the measure of your creation

So many places to go. So much to see. to learn. to feel. to explore.
People to meet. to nurture. to love.
Create. write. sing. dance. act. cook. love. hold babies. float. laugh.

Work. bills. responsibilities. age. work. work. work. drive a lot. doctors. work. and work even more

Daydreaming about those places to go, to see, to learn...and so on

Restless. bitter. jealous. confused. depressed. anxious. or is it anxiety first. who knows

I have recently spent time listening to, reading about and contemplating ideas that center on living a full life. a creative life. a peaceful life. A centered life.

The measure of your creation. It's a phrase I love and have a new fascination with.

What is that? How do you know? On a spiritual level...that's easy. or is it?

Finding joy in the journey when the days are filled with mundane, daily living tasks that offer no personal fulfillment or creativity whatsoever is draining. Breathe, they say. Yes. Breathe. Take time for yourself. Exercise. Eat right. Take your vitamins. Drink more water. And breathe.

Yes. Breathe. The fascinating thing about life is that we are all, in many areas, overqualified. We take jobs that pay bills. We buy homes in cities because of good schools and low crime. We live our lives based on what we feel is best for everyone at the moment. And then we ask ourselves whose lives we are living? What did we do with our dreams? Where did that girl go? We hit our forties and there is this mad pause, just long enough to realize that it looks different, somehow, than the plans you had in your twenties. Not bad, just different. You look at yourself in the mirror and see age. You see tired. You see the pain that has happened over these forty some odd years. You also see the smiles. The age shows experiences. Some of them you didn't expect or even ask for but weathered, beautifully you might add. And you did. If you have been so blessed you see that younger face in the faces of your children who are now dreaming as you once did. And you are jealous. A little.

We call this a midlife crisis for some.

But wait...just breathe. Accepting that we are overqualified for our lives is freeing in some way. Are you capable of being a respected author or well respected scientist? I could ask that question about every possible scenario so which one is yours? Which life do you dream of?

The measure of your creation is, in my opinion, far grander than job choice or home address. More than the daily tasks. More than the mundane. More than all of it. You are created for something so much bigger than we ever give ourselves the space to consider. What do we fear? What excuses do we grant ourselves, a bit like the child throwing a tantrum is really "just tired". (no he's not, by the way. he is being a brat) So many excuses... and we eat it up. We crave that because it is exponentially easier than giving it a try. Stop it!

Good news...being overqualified means that you have more to give. more to learn. more to see. more to love. more to grow. That is something you can hold on to and look forward to the next forty years with eager anticipation or what's next. Who will you be next year? Five years from now? Twenty?

So dream. smile. love. breathe. vitamins. eat right. work out. all of it matters. But above all else...find the measure of your creation and strive diligently to live up to it. You won't because you will never really know just how important you are but try. Always.

Come on woman, DANCE!

I am a people watcher by trade. Always have been. Started many years ago in theatre classes when we were told that one of the best ways to research a character was to watch other people in their "natural habitat". That is a habit that has never gone away. When I had the chance to attend a large scale concert this past weekend I had some prime people watching opportunities. Prime.

So I watched. I watched a seasoned performer brought to his knees by the excitement and energy in a packed arena. I watched back up singers shine, even in the back! I saw young men with wild mohawks singing every word of every Garth Brooks song. I saw women, old and young, sway to old songs that carry similar memories from different eras. I watched as they danced. Nearly every person in that arena danced.

One particular woman caught my attention. I watched as she slowly swayed at first. Then as the night went on she began to clap. Sway and clap. Smiling the entire time. Looking around her, maybe out of insecurity? Maybe to see what else was happening around her. As the night went on I saw her come out of her shell and I felt myself clapping for her a bit. Excited to see her discovering that she was having more fun that she thought she might. By the end of the night she was singing and clapping and swaying and smiling and even dancing! She was thoroughly enjoying herself and I could tell that she had not expected to feel quite so free.

As we walked away from that concert I realized that I had not expected it at all. That woman was me. For the rest of the night I felt slightly giddy that I had let go just a little, just enough to really have fun at an amazing concert. It's always been a little harder for me to just let go like that...to feel free enough to dance like no one is watching, as they say.  I did sing every word to every song and by the end...and I most definitely danced!

Find your song. Find your freedom. Paint. Sing. Write. Shine. Whatever it is that makes your heart flutter just a bit more. And for the love of all that is good in the world, make sure you dance!

Never Underestimate the Suburban Housewife

Had an interesting chat earlier this week that has left quite an impression on me this week.
With the start of a new school year we always get the chance to make new friends. As we get to know each other we share little bits and pieces about our lives. Now I am not one to share a whole lot, especially as I get older. Not sure why that is but because I have managed to find lasting friendships with a few dynamic women who carry a special place in my life I have not gone out of my way to make new friends, as they say. That's a different discussion. Back to this one...

So as we chatted I shared a little bit about my history, which includes acting and singing...again, I don't usually talk about that stuff. Bear in mind, this was a short chat, maybe 5 minutes. This incredibly sweet girl said something to the effect of "you can do all that and you are here?"  So... I have no doubt that her intention was to be wowed by my suggested talent and to suggest that I could do more than what I am doing...and that is true. I know that. But it also felt a little bit like "why in the world would you have talent and not use it?" (also a fair question)

Then a couple of days later I had the opportunity to watch my youngest daughter learn choreography for a new dance from a woman I have great respect for. A woman who has had an incredible career but now works her days from home taking care of her family in a beautiful Suburban home here in our town, which as a description far underestimates what she does every day. If you didn't know that; however, you might look at her and assume she is just another busy mom who has surrendered her life to her kids and family. You might never realize the talent that she is. And then that chat came to mind again. "You can do all that and you are here?"

As I thought about that I thought of all of the amazing women that I have the privilege of working and serving with, passing every day in the carpool lane, all of us tired and overspent and desperately underestimated. What do you assume when you pass her in the carpool line?

Here is what you should assume...

She is talented, intelligent, stunning and graceful far beyond what you see of her today. She is educated. She is a writer, a dancer, a teacher, a philosopher, an actor, a pianist, a sculptor, a vocalist, a scientist. She is many things. She will hide behind her task lists and children, her tired eyes and lonely nights waiting on everyone else to be home and in bed before she can actually rest. Some of us have jobs, maybe beneath our talents but they pay bills or provide insurance or time with cherished friends. That woman, every single one of us, is more fabulous than you can fathom. We are here because we choose to share our awesome with our families and communities and schools, which would all be far less incredible without our level of awesome.

And let's be clear, we are awesome.

I am that awesome.

So when you see one of us in the carpool lane, applause would be deserved but a smile or a wave will suffice. And if you are one of us...I see you! Don't hide your awesome! EVER!

And don't you dare...ever for one second...underestimate the Suburban housewife.

Screaming in silence

Sitting in enough water to hold your breath and scream so that no one can hear you. Or covering your face with a pillow just to get that sound out without alarming the entire household to an issue they can neither fix nor help with. And you can't really explain it anyway. 

It's just a need. 

I am a strong person with deep convictions and opinions, even when I am wrong. And I am often wrong. I don't take well to being told no, or being quieted in any way. It goes against everything I am...on a cellular level. Always been that way. It's not fair to others sometimes and I know that. 

I try to quell my curiosities and need to explore and change. I attempt to divert my attention with activities and tasks. But when something is on my mind I find that it is simply best for everyone to allow me to voice that which will undeniably consume me if I don't. Sort of like children who just need to be heard...I contend that it simply never goes away. I stand on a stage and play a character with a voice. I sing the song of a writer who had something to say. I read a book with page after page of an author's barrage of thoughts that found their way to the binding of a book that made it to my desk. Facebook. Bloggers. Twitter and her finite characters. We all have something to say and a need to be heard in one way or another. I don't have a play to write, or a song or a book...well, maybe a book but that will come later. I am not fighting for a cause or an agenda. I am just fighting to be heard. And maybe even understood. Not by many, mind you. Or maybe I am and I just don't realize it yet. 

What would you say if you had a captive audience? What is your voice trying to say? Of course we can keep our pillows on retainer...screaming when no one else is listening is often therapeutic. 

Truth is...I don't know what it is that I am trying so hard to say. I don't remember. That's how long I have been fumbling to steady my voice. But I know it's there. Simmering. 

Gratitude

I have simply GOT to stop and express my gratitude for a few things tonight. One is my crazy family. This past two weeks has been a whirlwind of activity and water logged kids with tan lines and wet hair. We have had more fun in two weeks than I have had in a long time. Having a large family is work, there is no doubt, but they are my favorite people who have given me even more amazing little people to love and hug and kiss and torture. Those babies are everything and restore me in ways that I can't quite explain. 

And the other is for some very special friends. I cannot imagine my life without a few incredible friends who have seen me at my worst and still believe in me. Who still cheer me on no matter where they live or how much time has past. Getting older (and busier) has meant less time making those lasting friendships so I hold on to these friends for dear life. 

I am also reminded of the energy and love and commitment shared on behalf of my children by selfless leaders and friends who are always aware of each of these children. I have seen some of these leaders stumble through days of rain in camping adventures, flat tires on road trips, physical and mental exhaustion, all for the love of teaching these children. I am in awe of their selflessness and seemingly unending charity and strong sense of humor! 

In all of that I am reminded of the grace and beauty of having a testimony of Heavenly Father's love for me. And for my children. I have strayed from that knowledge and lost sight many times in my life but I can always look back and see a fine, distinct thread that has kept me close to the faith of my childhood. Raising a family in faith gets harder every day with distractions and guilt and expectations. It isn't "cool" to be faithful. But I know the feeling I have when I sit with my family in a room with hundreds of other families doing their best to serve the Lord and grow closer to Him no matter what else may be going on in their lives. I am grateful for those examples of men and women and children who keep trying. That's all we can do really. Keep trying. 

There are so many of you I count among this insufficient list of all the people I am grateful for. Your love and kindness and example means more than I can say. Thank you for continuing to be amazing, even when you don't realize just how amazing you are.

Long time no talk...

It is interesting. It really is. I can go for months on end without feeling a need to write, to share, to remember. And then...it happens. It pops back up and begs to be said, shared, immortalized. Oh that's a big fancy word that means nothing when it comes to the musings of a tired mother of 4. Musings. Yes, that fits. I have found myself musing over things that have left me feeling anxious, depressed, frustrated and tired. Can you be all of those things at once? I submit that you can.

Too much has happened to try to go back and recount the past 8 months. School, work, family, house, puppy, weather, injured child...a lot. What I can speak to is today. Right now.

***I started that post a while back. I never went back to it. I wonder what I felt the need to muse about that day. Must have gotten lost in the shuffle. Or it has compounded.

June 16, 2015
It is summer vacation here. Kids are out of school. I am off work. Husband is not traveling. No one is quite relaxing just yet though. We have had the great pleasure of spending some amazing time with extended family this past week or so. OH...I have already forgotten! We graduated our first child from high school. That baby boy that sang "Toy Story" songs over and over has grown up. Relatively speaking. Now we move into college days and growing pains. (for us more than him, no doubt)

DISCLAIMER
I have so much to say. So much it hurts sometimes. Things that I have had in my head for some time and may not need to be heard by anyone but my own conscience so if you think you might be put off by any of that, please stop reading. Judgement is not something I take lightly, though I don't take it too seriously either. I am a scattered mess it would seem. What to do?

Therapy. Counseling. Girl time. Me time. Quiet. Prayer. Scripture study. Work out. Eat right. Read a book. Paint something. Do nothing. Write. Run away. No, not that. But it's there. Scream. Maybe just run. But I hate running.

What do you do when the thoughts crowd out reason? Where do you go? Do you acknowledge it? That would be healthy. That would be sane. I think. Do you have a corner of your mind that absorbs and allows you to carry on as if everything is ok? And the thing is...everything is ok. Or it will be. Some would argue that it's just hormonal. It's age. You are in your forty's now, changes happen. Get used to it. Do they? DO THEY? And do you get used to it? Ever?

Ok. Here is the thing. THE thing. I am stuck and it has rendered me relatively unhappy. Am I back to being depressed? I don't know. Anxiety? Age. maybe that. Midlife crisis at 41? I suppose that our life spans have changed and it could be that. A funny thing happened not too long ago and I suddenly realized that the person I have been trying to be when I grew up has already happened. I saw images of myself at 18 and I thought...I want to be her! I didn't know it then but I was amazing. Ok I remain amazing. Who am I kidding? I am; however, a more cynical, lumpier, achier (not a word but go with me) more lonely version of that girl who could have been anything. I think I want that again. The ability to be anything and do anything I want. Now, I know, of course we can always make that choice. You are never too old to start over or whatever they say. But that isn't as true as it sounds. Kids. Marriage. House. Dog. Family. Responsibilities. That has layered over the years until the notion of starting over feels more like trying to move a mountain across the continent with a wheelbarrow and a deadline.

My husband believes this is a genetic trait shared by my siblings. A need to start over. To move. To reincarnate. In any capacity. Sometimes it is as simple as rearranging a room. Or a new hair style. But I have progressed to that of a locked up junkie with no hope of scoring a painfully needed high. What can be changed when change is denied? In my world, it makes me want the change even more. I am sure that there is some kind of psycho babble that would explain that tendency in me. Sounds like therapy may be the answer.

Or maybe just some extended beach time.
And therapy.

Parenting Measuring Stick

This was not a good parenting morning.  At all.  I got angry.  I slammed a door.  I reacted poorly.  I had listened to all the excuses I could listen to and I got mad.  Was I right to get mad?  Is it acceptable to show kids just how upsetting they can be sometimes?  YES!  Was I right to be so upset?  What was the infraction of the morning?  Some of them were just too tired to get up and go to church…didn't go to sleep until 3 (playing video games) and just couldn't do it today.  Whose fault is that?  Is that a reason to let them skip church?  Again?!?  This is not the first time I have heard this.    

As some of you know I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  With that comes quite a lot of expectation…especially of our youth.  Well, of all of us really, but we do focus on the youth and for very good reasons.  It's hard to grasp what they are faced with on a daily basis…I don't mean war or famine, that's different though still dealt with in some parts of the world.  I am referring to the temptations that are literally everywhere.  I could launch into a diatribe about that but I won't…for now.  Back to the morning, being a member of this church means going to church on Sundays…every Sunday.  It means that we go at an assigned time based on where we live.  Our current time is 8:30am but that will change when we hit 2015 and it will be a little bit later.  8:30 isn't my favorite time but it's doable…unless you are a teenager and you stay up until 3 in the morning and then it's tragic.

As I have worked through the frustration of the day I have realized something much bigger and it's kind of hard to express but I will try.  You see, in our home only one parent is actively engaged in any attempt at being part of church.  The other parent chooses to abstain, for many valid and personal reasons that I have come to accept. (mostly)  As in any faith, one parent involved is only half the team.  We stand together in everything else.  It's hard to grasp unless you have worked through something like this…and it isn't just religion that divides people.  It can be anything.  When you want a baby and the other one doesn't, or one wants to move for a job and you just can't even consider it…I know well that this is a universal challenge.  What our particular challenge implies is a murky gray area where we are neither too religious nor too apathetic.  We are in the middle.  Here's where the realization came for me.

I have often felt inadequate as a member of this faith based on my willing participation in the gray zone.  Much counsel has been given clarifying that there is no gray area.  Only the black and white.  Those are the talks that are hard for me.  I have sometimes prided myself on my ability to walk this gray line and keep my family together and support my husband in his own beliefs.  What I know now is that there was nothing noble about it.  My immersion into the gray area is self preservation.  The truth is that every time I find myself merging out of the gray, attempting to present definition for our family and raise the expectations for all of us I find myself quite sad…sometimes heartbroken.  See in our faith we believe that families are forever.  We believe that we have the divine responsibility and privilege of sealing our families together for time and eternity in sacred ordinances in the Temple.  We want that for everyone.  We know that not everyone agrees with this idea and that's ok…that whole free agency thing and all.  It is; however, a fundamental tenant of our faith.  Having grown up LDS I knew that my only path to real happiness was to marry a nice Mormon boy and be married in the Temple.  Well…that theory has been proven and disproven many times over.  It is sometimes difficult to maintain the faith when I will not be allowed to perform this sacred ordinance with my own husband and children.  It also means not participating in the daily rituals that come with this faith.  So, I wade in the muddy waters…I allow mediocrity because it, in some small way, diffuses that disappointment for just a little while.

I do believe in a loving Father in Heaven who knows better what to do with me than I do.  I believe that families can be together forever and that sometimes those ordinances aren't done for some time….but at some point, they will be done.  The problem is that while I do believe that, the moments of disappointment are still real.  So today I reacted poorly.  I am still reacting poorly actually.  I tried communicating with all of my children a little while ago and felt quite defeated by the end, wondering why I tried at all.

So why did I say anything about a parenting measuring stick?  Because in spite of this very personal frustration I have great kids.  I know that.  I don't measure them against anyone else or what others might expect of them.  I want them to be the very best versions of themselves, no matter what that looks like.  I heard a brave woman talk about her desire to impose her own maternal will on her children today in church and that she wished that she could have done so to prevent the loss of her oldest child nearly a year ago.  Wouldn't that be nice?  Just to tell them what to do and they do it…because we said so.  That isn't the order of things though.  Agency is the thing that allows us to fail and succeed and it is up to us to determine which way that falls, even if the results are devastating.  The beauty of the results potentially being positive is enough to make us carry on either way…gray area, muddy waters, divorce, suicide, job loss and any other manner of tragedies and disappointments notwithstanding.  We keep getting up.

In a funny way this realization makes me slightly less upset with my kids about the morning.  They have no idea what it all really means to me and that's because they have only really known the gray.  So I try to explain…and then the cycle starts all over again.