Getting Over Him

Posted on by stilllearning2b

The photos of my ex-husband are not on my walls. Nor are they in albums on my shelves or in files on my computer. The pictures I have of him and the life we shared are contained safely within a sealed box that resides in my mother’s attic halfway across the country. I do not want to gaze upon them or interact with them in any way but nor do I want to dispose of them completely.

My ex’s place in my mind is similar to that of his pictures. He is there, but he is tucked securely away. He is not at the forefront of my thoughts. I do not want to gaze upon him or interact with him in any way but nor do I want to attempt to erase him completely.

Read the rest on The Huffington Post.

Childhood Lessons From Unlikely Teachers

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Childhood is a time where every encounter and every experience contains a lesson. Here are ten of my favorite childhood lessons and the (sometimes shocking) teachers that related them.

Lesson: Acceptance

Teacher: Selling shampoo to naked people

How it went down: I grew up in an environment where nudity was acceptable. From a young age, I learned that the human body, in all its variations, was natural. I was taught that nudity could exist apart from sexuality and that an unclothed body was not a source of shame or embarrassment. I first appreciated this lesson one summer in early high school when I spent a few days selling shampoo to patrons at a nude sauna at the Oregon Country Fair. I was at the height of teenage insecurity about my appearance and my body. Yet, when standing alongside hundreds of other exposed bodies, my anxieties about my own form dissipated. I realized that I had been accepting others yet judging myself. I have generally had a positive relationship with my body and my weight and I believe that it is because of my early experiences with nudity. On a side note, somehow people wearing nothing but socks appear to be even more naked than those entirely in their birthday suits:)

Lesson: Tolerance

Teacher: A variety of churches, synagogues and temples

How it went down: I was raised in a fairly liberal Methodist church yet I had friends from just about every religious background imaginable. I spent many a weekend at their houses and would attend religious services with their families. It was not uncommon for me to attend a youth group activity with my own church on Friday, visit the synagogue on Saturday and end the weekend with a Catholic mass. As a child, I was accepted at each church and my questions were welcomed and answered thoughtfully (I always had plenty to ask!). I was probably one of the only kids to go to catechism and Hebrew classes even though I was not Catholic or Jewish:) Later on, my mom’s experiences led me to be exposed to the wisdom from the East as well as from the Native Americans. I had friends that were Buddhist and friends that were Baptist. I learned to respect the beliefs and I learned something from them all.

Lesson: Patience

Teacher: Two very different parents

How it went down: My parents could not be more different. My father is an introverted engineer and my mother, an extroverted counselor. And me? Somewhere smack dab in the middle. As a kid, it was sometimes difficult trying to be understanding of each of their temperaments when they were so different from each other and from me. I had to learn (yes, kicking and screaming!) that my way was not the only way and that I needed to be patient with each of them. My mom often says that we choose the parents we need. Yeah, I certainly needed lessons in patience and often still do!

Lesson: Curiosity

Teacher: Books

How it went down: I was an only child who didn’t need much sleep. To preserve their sanity, my parents instituted an “off duty at 9:00 pm” rule when I turned three. As a result, I needed to find a way to entertain myself alone in my room before I was ready to go to sleep. After learning that a xylophone is not an appropriate nighttime toy (who knew?), I turned to books. I started out reading along with records (dating myself here!) until I could read independently. I soon discovered that entire worlds were available to me through the pages of books and that I could discover more with every page turned. I also learned that the Pizza Hut reading incentive program could earn me a free pizza a week:) I’m still an avid reader and questioner, always on the lookout to learn something new.

Lesson: Consequences

Teacher: A hippie music festival

How it went down: By the time I was in high school, many of my friends and classmates had begun experimenting with alcohol and drugs, often to tragic ends. I was never tempted because I had seen the reality. For most teenagers, they only see the glamorous side of drinking and drugging – the movies, the ads, the parties. Because of my time spent camping at a hippie music festival every year, I was exposed to the realities from a young age. I saw the fun parties but I also saw the effects the next day. I witnessed lives spin out of control from one summer to next as festival-goers fell to addiction. The lesson went beyond the effects of drugs and alcohol; I learned that there is no such thing as a free lunch and that every choice has a consequence.

Lesson: Goal setting

Teacher: A Cabbage Patch Kid doll

How it went down: Like many children of the 80s, I was enamored with Cabbage Patch Kids. I was given my first as a gift from my mom, but I soon lusted after a second. My mom smartly chose to make me purchase this one on my own. For months, I saved my allowance while visiting the intended purchase on each trip to the store. I would be tempted by cheaper toys that I could purchase with the amount I had saved yet I was encouraged to hold out until I had reached my goal. That lesson has served me well in life. Although now I see that doll as a waste of money, the ability to work towards a goal is priceless.

Lesson: Compassion

Teacher: A young girl with a profound disability

How it went down: I spent two summers in middle school volunteering at my church with a group of preschool-aged children with special needs. One little girl was the most severe. She had PKU, a genetic mutation that prohibits the body from breaking down an amino acid correctly (this is what the doctors are checking for when they do that heel prick at birth). Her abnormality was undetected and, as a result, she had a very high fever that caused extensive brain damage. I spent two years paired with this child. She was difficult to work with. She would screech and kick. She ripped my earring from my ear and left scratches on my arms. She would hit herself repeatedly and fail to make any eye contact. Even through all of this, I connected with her. Over time, she began to show signs of interaction with me and with her environment. To this day, one of my favorite moments is when she gave me a hug on our last together. She taught me to respond with compassion and empathy rather than fear or aversion.

Lesson: Imperfection

Teacher: An art teacher

How it went down: I was always a high-strung student with perfectionistic tendencies. I would cry when I received a 98, berating myself for failing to earn the final two points. I had an art teacher throughout much of high school that had a policy of never giving a grade higher than a 95. His rationale? Art can never be perfect. True. And neither can life. There is a freedom in embracing the imperfect that I first learned in that tempera paint scented classroom. Of course, I would still cry if I didn’t earn a 95:) After all, I’m not perfect…

Lesson: Adaptability

Teacher: My many “adopted family members”

How it went down: After my parent’s divorced, my mom and I were the only blood relations in the entire state of Texas. Instead of bemoaning this fact, we simply made family. We have a friend who joined us for holidays and trips. I would assimilate into other households for other celebrations. Our definition of family was flexible and fluid. I have used that lesson in my own life, not only with family but with adapting to any situation. You can complain or you can change your perspective and your circumstances. The latter seems a lot better to me.

Lesson: Perseverance

Teacher: A bicycle

How it went down: I’ve shared before about my struggles with riding a bike. Even with my father’s expert tutelage (he was like the Lance Armstrong of the neighborhood, only without the performance enhancing drugs), I didn’t learn to ride a bike until I turned 10. Go ahead and laugh, I know you want to:) My parents would not let me weasel out of this task, even though I tried. It took tears, threats and bribes (two banana splits!), but I finally learned how to pedal without falling over. Even more importantly, I learned the value of hard work and determination and that true failure only comes when you do not try.

I am thankful for these childhood lessons and childhood teachers. It’s amazing what we can learn from others even when they may not know that we are studying.

Are You Pot Bound In Your Life?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

When I first started gardening, I was timid with my new plants. I would very gently ease them out of their nursery pots, cutting away at any plastic that was bound too tightly. I would carefully tease apart the roots, unwinding them from their circular pot-shaped path and tenderly place the new acquisition in its meticulously prepared hole. Then I would water and wait, assured that the foliage would soon attain the glorious heights featured in the magazines.

Sometimes I lucked out and the plant survived.

But, more often than not, those early attempts at gardening failed. The plants would appear to thrive for a period of time and then they would begin to wither and die.

I didn’t understand. After all, I had selected the right plants for the conditions. I prepared the soil. I watered judiciously. I babied the plant.

I thought I was doing everything right.

But still they failed to thrive.

Throughout this time, I kept trying. New plants. New locations. And finally, a new nursery. I discovered a discount seller that offered small plants at amazing prices. I made a shopping list, covered the interior of my car in blue tarps and came home with over 100 individual plants. It was impossible to baby them all. There was no way I could gently tease the overgrown roots from the plastic pots without damage. My new strategy was to squeeze or thump the pot to release the soil and then to slide the new plant on its side on the bare soil. Then, instead of carefully unwinding the roots, I would use my trowel to quickly make four clean, vertical cuts along the root ball before placing the plant in its new home. The tender loving care was replaced with a quick message that the plant was no longer bound to its pot. The roots were told to spread. To explore. To anchor and find sustenance from the surrounding soil.

I watered and I waited. And the plants grew. And grew. Not one fell victim to the precedent of early growth followed by slow death. Just to be sure that the results were not due to some factor related to the nursery, I applied that same planting technique to plants acquired from other sources and the results were equally as positive.

I came to realize that my early attempts were misguided; the gentle unwinding of the roots was not a strong enough message to the plant. When I pulled up the struggling foliage, I found that the roots had resumed their former pot bound growth pattern, becoming a congested gnarled cylindrical knot, incapable of providing the plant with the nourishment it needed. The boundary was no longer present, yet the plants acted as though they were still constrained.

Do you ever feel stuck?

Do you feel constrained by perceived boundaries?

Do you ever feel like you’re growing in circles?

Are you pot bound in your own life?

In retrospect, I can see this pattern in my former marriage. My world became too small, too constrained. I was looking for nourishment and support within a small space. The divorce was more battle axe than trowel upon my exposed roots, but it certainly served to send me the message that it was okay to spread. To grow. To leave the perceived security of the known.

We are only pot bound when we believe that we are limited by our perceptions and beliefs. When we are afraid of growing too far and too fast. Sometimes it takes a strong message to release our roots from their accustomed path. Sometimes it takes some injury and pain to shock the system into a new way of being.

Don’t fear the cut of the trowel; it’s just the universe sending you the message that it’s okay to grow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Playing House

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I’ve been playing house lately. The hunt for a home has continued and we are currently in negotiations on another house. Chances are, we won’t get it because we are willing to walk instead of paying more than the comps suggest.

That doesn’t stop us from playing house, however. We’ve talked through how each space would be utilized. We’ve computer shopped (the new version of window shopping:) ) for new furniture. The desired updates are planned and priced. We’ve even discussed the feasibility of having a get together there during our wedding celebrations.

When I picture life in that space, it is a romanticized version of daily living. As though somehow the toilets in the house would be self-cleaning and the floor would somehow repel wayward socks. There are some very tangible benefits to this home as compared to our current rental: usable outdoor space, a working stove, screens on the windows and no moisture problems. Yes, those factors can lead to a slight improvement in quality of life. For a time. And then, like any material object, we will become used to them and their influence will no longer be as appreciated.

But our minds have trouble accepting that. We fall prey to the “life is greener” fallacy, expecting things to somehow improve after some benchmark. I have been guilty of that bias time and time again.

“It will be better when I am done with my master’s and have more time and money.”

“Once the divorce is final, I will be free of him and all the mess.”

“Once I have a home, I will be more peaceful.”

Those expectations always fall short. After my master’s, the raise didn’t seem to buy any more and the extra time was easily filled with other (pointless) things. The legal divorce only marked the beginning of my healing and I am still dealing with the mess. Once I have a home, my life will not be automatically more peaceful just because there are screens on my windows (but I will have fewer moths in the house!).

Some people play house by envisioning a better life after marriage. Or kids. Or an empty nest. Or a new job. Or a new pants size. Or new shoes.

The list is endless.

The possibilities tantalizing.

The reality, often humbling.

It’s hard not to play house, to envision an idealistic future. There are ways to use this tendency that can help you be happier.

– Use your house playing daydreams and visions to help identify areas in your life where you are feeling unfulfilled or that need change. And then do something about it now. For example, I can tell that I am feeling disconnected from the outdoors in my current house. I am making more of an effort to use the outdoor space I do have rather than wait for something better to take advantage of nature.

-When you find yourself engaged in future dreams, turn it around and think of what you have now in your life that you can be thankful for. Going along with the house theme, I was in a 10×12 room for a year in a city I didn’t love. Now? I have all the space I need and I love my current location.

-Research shows that experiences provide more long term happiness than things. When you are playing house, focus your thoughts on the experiences and the interactions with others. Work towards making those happen. I will be happier if I have lots of friends over to the new home than if I spend that same time trying to find the perfect couch.

-Rather than have vague ideas for how you want things to be different after your benchmark is reached, script tangible goals and hold yourself to them. Since I want more peace, I am going to make setting up a yoga/meditation spot with plenty of room and no view of my workstation a priority. I’ll post pictures to hold myself accountable:)

I just received word that the sellers are holding out for a better offer. The house hunt continues. If you hear of one with self-cleaning toilets and sock-repelling floors, please let me know.

Celebration

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Today marks four years since I received the text message that ended my marriage. I’m celebrating – not the end of the marriage but the life and love that I have found since. I used to mark July as a disaster, now I can see it as a beginning.

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