Teamwork

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Sometimes I want to smack myself.

No, really.

You see, I’m good at seeing patterns in other people’s behavior or actions, but always so good at spotting it when it hits closer to home.

Sort of a psychological case of farsightedness.

And when it finally comes into focus, it seems so obvious. So clear.

That it just about smacks me across the face.

 

The new patio table (to replace the one shattered by the neighbor’s tree) arrived on Wednesday. Even though we were both tired, Brock and I made the decision to assemble the table that afternoon so that we could finally put the tree event behind us. I changed into shorts while he cued up some tunes. Over the next hour or so, we unwrapped and untied. Carried and bolted. And, finally, just as the sun slid behind the tall trees, we placed the cushions on the seats.

And through it all, we barely spoke.

Not because we were angry. Or upset. Or distant.

But because no words were needed. We split up to conquer individual tasks only to reunite to tackle challenges that required more than two hands. We catered to strengths and anticipated needs.

It was awesome.

 

And it was also new.

 

I used to grow frustrated when undertaking a project with Brock. I remembered working smoothly, effortlessly with my ex and tasks attempted with Brock always seemed to take too long and require too much emotional effort. Of course, I attributed this to him. After all, I had been able to work in concert with someone else, so it couldn’t be because of any deficits or traits of mine. Sometimes I missed the easy nature of working on a shared task that I had with my ex, but I also accepted that this was not an area of strength for Brock and I.

But I made a mistake in my reasoning. I was comparing how my ex and I were after many years (and the endless projects of a fixer-upper house) to how Brock and I were after only a few years with fewer projects. And I had conveniently forgotten the frustrations that my ex and I encountered as we learned to work together. As with anything in a relationship, teamwork is formed, not found. The frustrations that Brock and I felt had little to do with our different approaches and unique perspectives and much more to do with a lack of practice.

And practice makes better.

Even in marriage.

 

 

 

Gut Check

Posted on by stilllearning2b

As awesome as the Alaskan cruise was, it has one lingering drawback. A solid eight days of eating food that your body is not acclimated to has certain…effects. Human stomachs are rather sensitive creatures, their flora and fauna well-aclimated to our usual diets. And when you take two people that generally eat healthy and at home and transfer us to a buffet for a week? Let’s just say that even the healthier choices still weren’t quite the same.

And as the environment changes, the gut flora change as well. I swear the little bacteria throw temper tantrums like two-year-olds when they are denied their favorite foods. At least that’s what it feels like.

It takes time to undo the damage. A steady diet of the usual foods supplemented with a truckload of probiotics (seriously, we are up to our eyeballs in pills, yogurt and kefir!) slowly restores normality again.

But here’s where it gets interesting. You see, nothing in our bodies occurs in isolation. Every system is connected to and influenced by every other system.

And that includes our thoughts.

Recent studies have shown a correlation between abnormal gut flora and poor mental health. We have evolved to play host to those helpful microbes and perhaps their absence impacts much more than digestion. Eating a healthy diet impacts more than just your physical health; it improves your psychological health as well. Hmmm…I wonder if I can blame part of my end-of-the-summer grumpiness on misbehaving gut flora? 🙂

It gets even stranger. It appears as though those little gut residents can even send out neurotransmitters.

Yes, that’s right. Our gut can actually “talk” to our brain.

Are you listening?

I know when I experience anxiety, it manifests as a collection of physical symptoms before it ever registers in the brain.

I used to ignore those feelings, dismiss them as primitive and erroneous.

Now I realize that I ignored the gut at my own peril. I may have been feeding it the right nourishment, but I downplayed its cries for help.

No more.

Now I listen to my gut and trust what it tells me.

Which right now is to enjoy another pumpkin brownie before I head to bed!

Which Pill Do You Choose?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My ex used to be obsessed with The Matrix. I think he somehow saw himself as Neo, an invulnerable character who was able to manipulate reality and was the one chosen to save the human race. I grew tired of the movie after so many repeated viewings and so, after my ex left, I pushed the series out of my mind.

Until today, that is, when an article referenced it in passing and made me remember one scene from the first movie in particular.

For those not familiar with the movie, the majority of humans are so-called bluepills who live their lives hooked up to a machine where a virtual reality is fed into their minds to keep them placid and peaceful while the machine uses their bodies for power. They are glorified batteries. Happy, but enslaved.

Some of the humans are able to break free from the illusion. These are the redpills. They are independent and aware, but also have to face the harsh realities of the world dominated by evil forces. They are fully sentient yet also fully responsible for creating their own realities.

In the scene above, Neo is given a choice: take the blue pill and re-enter the contented slumber of the ignorant or ingest the red pill and learn the entirety of the truth. Whichever choice he makes, there is no going back.

In my first marriage, I was taking the blue pill. I was as ignorant and prone to suggestion as those that are slaves to the Matrix. Within days of his leaving, it was as though a red pill was forcibly shoved down my throat, reality body slamming me to the floor. And there was no going back.

I’m not generally one for what-ifs, but I find it interesting to ponder what I would have chosen if I had been given the option at some point in my marriage to see the whole truth or to remain blissfully unaware.

Now that I’m a redpill, I can’t imagine going back. I want to live my own reality on my own terms and deal with the consequences.

But when I was a bluepill, I don’t know if I could have imagined the other option. After all, life as I knew it was good. Why risk it?

How about you?

Red?

Or blue?

 

 

 

Free Advice

Posted on by stilllearning2b

At some point in the past year or so, Brock and I (sometimes independently, but often together) have become the go-tos for relationship advice for our friends. It’s a bit funny, really – Brock with his later-in-life first marriage and alpha male exterior and me with minimal dating experience and a spectacularly failed first marriage – giving advice. But our Mutt and Jeff approach seems to work. I have a tendency to listen and gently probe into underlying themes while Brock has a good instinct and an ability to drive straight into the issue at hand. I think we’re good at it for the same reason I’m good at teaching math – we had to work to get to where we are. And there’s a lot of thought and intent that accompanies that struggle.

Here’s an assemblage of some of the dispensed advice over the past year or so. Maybe a piece will speak to you.

On Being a Knight

There’s a high that comes from being a recuser, from being needed. It feeds the ego and lends a sense of security born of dependence. For the rescued, it is a way to avoid responsibility and yet have ones needs met. A relationship founded on this dynamic will always have a power and responsibility imbalance. By all means, help. But don’t enable. Because when you help someone more than they help themselves, you end up hurting both of you. 

On Having the Right Friends

The people you surround yourself with matters. Not only do they reflect upon you, they shape you. Before you sign up for online dating or scour your networks for a potential partner, examine your social circle. Do they embody the sort of life you want for yourself? Are they helping you become the best you possible or are they holding you back? As Brock says, “I’m the bobber on the water and I refuse to attach to anyone who wants to pull me under.”

On the Oxygen Mask Theory

“I know she’s in a rough place and I don’t want to leave her knowing that it will get worse.” My response? “You are not responsible for someone else’s well-being. That’s her job. Your job is to treat the relationship with respect and to take care of you.” I then told him how I used to tell my ex that he made me happy. And why that was a huge mistake.

On Making Changes

Brock was the guy that nobody every thought would marry. And then he made some significant changes in his life that led him to where he is now. I’m often asked, “How did you get him to change?” I didn’t. He made that choice and started on that path before I was ever in the picture. You can’t change another person no matter how long you wait. If you don’t like them as they are, move on. They’ll change when they’re ready, not when you are.

On Trust and Honesty 

“Relationships are built on trust. How can you ever establish a relationship when it is built on lies?” questioned Brock. Lying has a tendency to become a way of approaching the world and attempting to solve (or avoid) conflict. If someone is dishonest to others, don’t assume they are truthful to you.

On Fear

Cutting straight to the heart of it all, “Relationships that are held together by fear will never last.” And Brock is right. Whether it’s fear of being alone or fear being abandoned or the fear of not being needed, it leads to grasping, not loving. It’s sort of strange that only when you are in a position where don’t “need” the other person that you can allow yourself to truly be with them.

 

 

I Hate Mums

Posted on by stilllearning2b

We walked into Home Depot the other day to buy a section of fence to replace the one that was splintered by the felled tree the other day (totally off topic, but you never realize how large those fence sections are until you try to carry one and you never realize how sail-like they are until they are trying to lift your CRV into the air from their position on the roof.) While walking in, a large display of mums (the fall flower, not the British mother) caught my eye. The flowers were a welcome sight of fresh color at a time when all the hue seems to drain from the other perennials as they succumb to the heat and decide to Rip Van Winkle for several months. I was admiring the diverse colors and full, healthy plants, when out of nowhere a voice in my head declared,

“I hate mums.”

It was a familiar sentiment; I remembered feeling that way and uttering those words. But I was confused. If I hated mums, why was I drawn to them? If I disliked their blooms, why did I have to resist the urge to gather some pots up along with the section of fence?

Perhaps my tastes have changed. After all, I now gravitate towards spicy foods when I used to prefer bland. I am more apt to don color now than the all dark tones that used to dominate my closet. Maybe I somehow developed a fondness for mums with my advancing age.

But I don’t think that’s it.

In fact, I have a very specific memory about mums.

My ex and I were walking into a house about twenty years ago. The front stoop was framed by two large pots of mums, their orange, yellow and copper blooms echoing the colors of autumn. They provided a welcoming, homey image and seemed to freshen the air with their presence.

Upon spying the flowers, my ex announced,

“I hate mums.”

“Me too,” I replied. But did I really have a distaste for the flowers? Or was I trying to show my allegiance to my mum-hating boyfriend? It’s scary to contemplate the latter. That I may have suppressed the urge to disagree with him on something so trivial. It makes me wonder what else I let him decide for me?

Maybe I never really hated mums.

I just let myself believe I did.

 

And now I’ve added them to list of plants to buy for the front of the house next spring. Because I’ve decided that I like mums after all. And, if I’m lucky, maybe they’ll have special ex-repellent properties:)