A Quiet Mind
Over the past several weeks, I seem to have forgotten that I write a blog. A blog that - since it’s inception - I have tried to update weekly. A blog that has been instrumental in helping me declutter my brain, just as I decluttered my house with ten bags of household nonsense that I dumped in the yellow donation bins at Mast Way Elementary School earlier this week. A blog with posts that have become less frequent as the last few months have passed.
It would be so easy to attribute this infrequency to my chaotic calendar. My last post was November 29. Since then:
I traveled for work for the first time in three years (and forgot my notebook and business cards, while simultaneously bruising and blistering my feet by wearing the trendy and work-appropriate chunky loafers that TikTok told me I needed);
We traveled to Florida to visit my parents for a hybrid Thanksgiving/Christmas celebration (returning with both a wrist rocket and train whistle);
I performed the annual make-the-holiday-season-bright-and-shiny-and-full-of-cheer! ritual for my children (that felt very much like the time Curious George used toy cars as roller skates);
We survived the first three days of the holiday break with no electricity (and worse - no internet! GASP!);
We celebrated Christmas with the Celtics (where Luke was most excited to consume popcorn and Sprite and Max spilled orange soda all over his brand-new white sweatshirt then burst into tears);
We managed not to murder each other during the span of quality family time between Christmas and New Year’s Day;
I nursed Max back to health from a nasty flu bug; and
Luke and I celebrated our 4th and 44th birthday on January 4th.
So, yeah. I have been busy. But that doesn’t explain my lack of posting. Want to know what does? My mind has been quiet.
As it turns out, a quiet mind does not perseverate on concepts by recirculating them like water in a Jacuzzi filtration system. A quiet mind can think about a single idea and then discard it. When a quiet mind releases a thought before allowing a new one to enter, there is no over-crowding. When there is no over-crowding, there is no feeling of overwhelm. Did you know? Did you even know that?! 🤯 The result of the quiet, I have learned, is that I don’t feel the need to publicly process any awakenings in writing.
There’s this John Lennon quote that really resonates with me: “Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.” As THE ultimate planner, I have learned over and over and over again, that plans don’t always transpire as you might like them to, despite deploying the newest version of Microsoft Project to execute said project (on time and under budget, obviously). For example, I have never once used the spontaneous swimming towel I kept in my car to do any spontaneous swimming. I planned to be spontaneous, but life just didn’t present the opportunity on a silver platter with a neon SWIM HERE! sign on the side of the road, when I had nowhere else to be. But I digress. There’s a point here. For two+ years, I have worked tirelessly to become this quieted version of myself. Somewhere along the way, however, I stopped being conscious of the choices I was making to become this me. It just kind of happened, like the autopilot feature in my car that I refuse to use. So while I planned, and attended therapy, and listened to the podcasts, and read the books, life took hold. My brain became quieter. I didn’t even notice it was happening.
But alas, all good things come to an end. Isn’t ironic that your reading pleasure comes at the expense of my unrest? We all have our super powers, I guess. Are you not entertained?! Today’s blog is different than my typical thinking-out-loud posts. It’s not anxiety-fueled. In addition to this mind-blowing revelation about a quiet mind, I have a few tires to kick, that I think could evolve into really great pieces of writing. I don’t want to forget them. I reserve the right to release them to outer darkness, though, so don’t get excited, okay? I promised myself when I started this blog that it would be something I enjoyed, rather than another item on my multi-paged list of obligations. Here is my list:
Here’s the biggie, and the impetus for today’s post. My mental health is struggling a bit. Nothing is wrong, per se. In fact, I suspect it’s pretty normal at this time of year. I attribute it to the grey and chilly days, lack of sunshine, low vitamin D levels, and the emotional hangover from a busy December. I compare it using a small Boston Whaler to pull a really, really large human up onto water skis. The engine is working so hard, but accelerating is taking longer than it should. I know everyone is familiar with that analogy, right? 😉 I started taking a vitamin D supplement and I’m forcing myself to spend time outside every day, in addition to eating veggies and prioritizing sleep.
I started taking Spanish classes online in preparation for our trip to Puerto Rico next month. I’m using Babbel to refresh my memory of what I learned in six years of high school and college Spanish classes. It’s really fun and I’m surprised at how easily it’s coming back to me.
I just read an entire book with my eyes. Usually I devour novels by listening through the Audible and Libby apps on my phone, while carpooling kids and dogs, folding laundry, and cooking dinner. I decided that I would start reading in the evenings, before I settle into endless hours of TikTok, and I’m pretty impressed with myself for actually doing it. I like hard copy books, with pages I can turn. My favorite part of reading is when I open my book, only to find that little fingers have relocated my bookmark so I have no idea what’s happening in the plot line.
My sweet Maxwell has an angry case of Achilles tendinitis that’s raging through his calves and into one knee. It started in the spring and comes and goes, depending on how consistent he is with stretching, mobility work, and strengthening his posterior train. It’s frustrating to me because Maxwell knows exactly what he needs to do to care for his body. He just chooses not to do it until the pain is so unbearable that he limps around the house, can’t run, and has to miss out on practices and games. During a particularly rage-y episode, a menty b settles in, anxiety spikes, and he isolates in his room. His big, sensitive heart is his greatest strength and his downfall. It’s so challenging, as a parent, to know whether to push him to leave his comfort zone or to let him hibernate in solitude. On Sunday, hubs and I forced him to attend lacrosse practice to support his team, even though he couldn’t play. Max was so pissed off, but when all was said and done, and he returned home, he expressed feeling proud of himself for attending. High five! Parenting win. This time. You know how when you need to check out at the grocery store, the line you choose doesn’t matter because it will always be the wrong line? The slowest line? With the most annoying cashier? That’s my new parenting approach. If something works out, high five! If not, there is just so much opportunity for improvement next time. 😳
I love working from home. LOVE IT. I also love that on most days, I leave my house only for preschool and doggy daycare drop-off. Last week, I decided to swing by Starbucks to grab a coffee before heading home. And it was magical. I realized that leaving the house for things I want to do isn’t happening much these days. The basic bitch in me is going to institute a weekly Starbucks run. Taking some time for myself outside of the house feels luxurious and only costs me $5 (because I enjoy a very simple venti hot dark roast with extra cream and not something fancier).
In my last post, I wrote about how flamingo parents lose their pink color during the phases of their lives when they are raising babies. It’s a perfect analogy of what happens to human parents, as their needy little babies literally suck the life out of their creators. As babies of all species become more independent, parents regain a sense of self. As Luke has become older, and more independent - more independent than any parent ever needs or wants - I have begun thinking about how I want to get my pink back. In recent months, I have thought about making a big change - a new job or going back to school - but not cutting my bangs. I have come to realize in the last week or so that maybe becoming pinker can happen without committing to something substantial. Maybe a series of small acts will do the trick. Maybe Spanish classes, reading, or trips to Starbucks will achieve the same result.
When we lost power at the beginning of the holiday break, I had to call in reinforcements. We showered at our friends’ house. We had to borrow a second generator to keep our sump pump from crapping out. And we had to ask friends and family to supervise our generator(s) so we could get to the Celtics game to achieve a normal semblance of a Christmas plan. (See above RE: life and plans. Yikes.) We were so appreciate of these angels, who came out of the woodwork to pitch in. BUT IT WAS SO DIFFICULT FOR ME. I hate asking for help. I hate feeling like a burden. But you know what’s weird? I would quite literally give any one of my people the shirt off my back, assuming I’m wearing an opaque bra beneath. Why is it so hard to accept help?
I listened to a We Can Do Hard Things podcast this week with Tracee Ellis Ross. It was a great listen, if you’re interested. Over the course of the conversation, Tracee introduced this idea of cauldron sisters. The idea is that a grouping of souls are created at a single time, in a large cauldron. When the souls are fully formed, the souls are sprinkled throughout the world. Each soul then spends its lifetime searching for its cauldron sisters. Have you ever met someone you instantly connected with? Maybe you felt like you have known each other for years, despite just meeting? Or your friendship develops deeply in a short span of time? That’s a cauldon sister. I have several. Do you?
Luke. LUKE. I don’t know where to start. He started speech therapy last week. He struggles with S and L sounds and his sassy little mouth isn’t outgrowing it. I’m fairly certain his impulsivity and hyperactivity is becoming ADHD (a subject of my expertise because it seems all of my gentlemen are afflicted), and not just him being a wild man…although, to be clear, he is with 100% certainty a wild man. He is in a sleep regression now, though, which could be partly to blame. Last weekend alone, he disassembled our sump pump drainage pipes, impaled a baby watermelon with a pair of scissors, attempted to walk down our busy road alone so he could visit the cows at the farm down the hill, began climbing our kitchen drawers and counter like ladders to reach mugs on the very top shelves of the cabinets, refused to nap and instead put on his dog Halloween costume to read books and sing; and called me a pain in the ass. In all fairness, I am a pain in the ass, so he’s not wrong. He’s independent, clever, curious, and leans towards risk-taking behavior. He’s going to do something extraordinary with his life once he learns to harness his energy.
I just hope he doesn’t start a cult… 🧡
