Mountain Mama

Who I am is enough

I've been feeling the need to further explain my comments in this post and, although I've been thinking about it since, I still don't have clear in my mind exactly what I want to say so I've avoided writing anything about it. But I'm a little worried that I may have insulted or alienated folks or somehow taken sides in some mommy wars when I did not mean to in the least. So, if you'll bear with me I'd like to just work it out here, as I write this.

First off, by commenting about being a working mom and not having time for certain pursuits, I do not mean to make any sort of statement about working outside the home versus working from home versus being a stay-at-home-mom. I've spoken of this before--I can't find where or I'd link to it--that I choose to work because I don't do well as a stay-at-home mom. I don't. Many women do and I so admire and applaud and support that. For better for for worse, for whatever reasons, I tend to eventually feel bad about myself when I am not working somewhere for someone else for some pay. I am a good worker. I am a good professional. I am great at helping people, at teaching, at getting things done on a job. And I am a good mom. I am a good wife. I am just not good at being exclusively a wife and mom.

I do, however, hold my family among my greatest priorities. I deeply value my family life. And I wish to live a life that reflects my values. That was, after all, one of our major motivations for moving away from the city and back to the mountains. It remains our motivation for trying to live a simpler life--so that we can have a richer family life centered around our higher principles.

I happen to believe that we can have a simpler, richer, family- and value-centered life within the framework of regular jobs and public schooling and beyond-the-parent child care. We do make sacrifices (for example, I work part-time and we both make less money than before) and we do sometimes have to be creative in how we work it all (especially with child care) and we do rely heavily on help from our families (which is actually one of the desired outcomes--being able to be closer to and interdependent with our extended families). But I believe it is possible, and worth it, to do.

The truth is that whenever we make choices for our lives, there are always choices that we don't make, as well. I wrote about that last summer, here, that for all the things I choose to do, there are more that I choose not to do.

All of which is great to say and something I know on an intellectual level and something I would counsel others to realize.

And yet. Yet...

I am still subject to great stabbing feelings of incredible guilt for the things I do not do...and some that I do. And those deep painful feelings of inadequacy are sometimes increased as I read more and more and more blogs. Especially the blogs of women who are--or seem to be--the kind of person I want to be. The kind of person I wish I could be.

But the thing is, the thing is: these women who write these blogs, these women to whom I compare myself, these women to whom I feel less than--they are not who I imagine them to be. They are not who I want to be. Not really.

I have struggled my entire self-aware life with accepting myself, with loving myself. With acknowledging that I am lazy and self-centered and selfish and sometimes mean and boring and a whole lot of other not-so-attractive qualities while I am also generous and loving and intelligent and good at heart and a whole mess of attractive qualities. At the same time that I tell my students about the wonderful uniqueness and individuality and inherent value of each person, I do not give myself the same encouragement. The truth is that I am not like anyone else, nor am I meant to be. Nor do I truly wish to be.

Who I am is enough.

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Okay, Wow, I so didn't realize I was going to go there with this post. I just started writing and have wound up here spilling my heart and my tears to you. Thank you for taking the time for pay attention to it.

One of my intentions with this post was to give you links to a few blog posts and bloggers who have made me feel a little better over the last couple of weeks. Mostly because they are so real. I do also want to acknowledge that I myself am guilty sometimes of not writing about the uglier, messier parts of my admittedly great life. I do love my life. (It's my self I have a problem with, but then I always have). Although I have always tried to be honest in this space, I do also try to put a positive spin on most of it and I do leave out much, presenting to you only a fraction of my experience.

Anyway, I found much comfort lately in the following  very real blogs and blog posts:

Sweet Mess: the flip side

Momalom (in general), specifically these posts:

    Mid-Disaster

    10 Things That Happen at My House Almost Daily

And, of course, I love Momalom's !!! posts, but especially love this one, as she used the word "craptastic" in the title: !!! can be a bitch when you are having a craptastic week , but that's exactly why you have to keep searching for it, intentionally

Also, I found Momalom through Gretchen Rubin's site (who I found after reading her very real and yet very positive book, The Happiness Project). Gretchen is, of course, a well-adjusted, accomplished person, and she, too, keeps her writing realistic and honest when speaking of her own experience. The James Hillman passage quoted by Tony Schwartz in this interview was especially timely for me.

Another of my favorite bloggers, and someone who "keeps it real"  while striving to live a simpler, richer life is Mary Beth at Salt and Chocolate. She is trying her own Happiness Project and has been honest about her accomplishments and setbacks in doing so. See the latest update on her project here: May Happiness Project Update

If you made it to the end of this ramble, I thank you. Heck, if you skimmed this far, I thank you.

My wisdom

In March, Kate Swoboda at Your Courageous Life made  a video that swept through Facebook and around the Internet. (You can find it here). After receiving many comments from people all over the world, she had an idea for another video, one in which other women shared their wisdom. So she sent out a call. I answered. I submitted a photo and a few words of my own wisdom.

And she used my submission. Which is pretty cool and empowering.

But you know, even if you don't watch it for my contribution (about 3+ minutes in), the whole thing is pretty darn inspiring anyway.

What's Your Wisdom? from Kate Swoboda on Vimeo.

Last year at this time...

I was taking photos of blooming trees. Receiving bouquets of daffodils.

This year the buds are just now starting to appear, the jonquils barely popped.

Last year at this time...

I was making summer plans, had signed Owen up for summer camp.

This year we have a beach house booked for early August with friends; I just scheduled Owen's summer camp last night; and the rest of the summer, well, I have no clue what it holds and have no current designs on it.

Last year at this time...

we already had some barefoot days.

This year not so much.

Last year at this time...

I had seeds started. Sunflowers and kohlrabi.

This year we didn't get the garden space cleaned up and tilled until just this weekend,

in time for a round of freezing temps, flurries, and sleet.

2010 certainly has its own mind.

But hey, at least the peepers know it's spring.

Long week

It's been a long week. In more ways than one. And I have had much practice letting go. In more ways than one.

So here I am at the end of my work week, ready for a long weekend ahead, and I am too tired to do the things I want to do: my collage that you so kindly helped me with, my posts on "letting go", even taking new photos. And the things I need to do are looming: planning the week's meals, groceries, household chores, work I've brought home.

But I am letting all of it go for now and going to bed early. Over the next four days I will work on the things I want to do and the things I need to do and somehow find a balance between the two. 

Or I'll continue to let it go and make Molly's banana bread instead (which I made over Christmas for my brother's birthday cake and...yum!...but now I'm thinking of trying this recipe or this one. I really can't go wrong with Molly, hers being the best of the many food-related books I read last year). Cooking has become somewhat of a comfort for me of late.

Please, though, check back with me, will you? I do hope to have something to say here.

My word

After some thought and deliberation, I have chosen as my word of the year not one word, but a two-word phrase:

                                                Let Go

For 2010, I resolve to do my best to Let Go...

of old ideas

of old resentments and hurts

of anger and pettiness

of perfectionism and control

of old ways of doing things

of old habits that hinder more than help me

of beliefs that limit me.

While I think this is perfect for me for right now, I didn't realize just how perfect until I was talking to Paul one day and I told him that I was considering "Let Go" as my word of the year. I was thinking of all of the above, but Paul's immediate interpretation of the phrase was a little different. He said "I'd like to see you Let Go this year and just be creative: Write that book, explore your photography, see where it all takes you." I had not looked at it that way, but I immediately thought "Yes! I want that too!"

So, I will also Let Go creatively, let go of those voices in my head that say I'm not good enough, let go of that part of me that holds me back, let go of the thought that I have to be "in the flow" to do anything at all, let go of the thought that everything has to be perfect the first time, let go of ideas of what it means to be creative, let go of fear.

I want to stop holding on to the rocks where the current batters me about. I want to Let Go and let the stream carry me along to new places and new perspectives.

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So, to that end, I am issuing a challenge to you, my readers and friends. I want a visual reminder for myself to "Let Go", a collage of images and words to put on my desktop or print and hang at my desk. I had some difficulty coming up with a photo I liked for this post and so I'm not exactly sure of what images to include in my collage. It occurred to me that so many of my bloggy friends are creative types and maybe I could ask you to send me images for my collage.

So, here I am asking. If you have a few minutes in your day to create a little something for me that says, in your own way, Let Go--something that to you represents those words--please take a photo of it (or if your creation is a photo, just send that) and send it to me at [email protected]

I will gather all of the images I receive, add a few of my own, and create a collage, a sort of vision board. And yes, of course, I will share the final product with you on this blog.

So, think about it, for me and answer visually: How would you tell me to Let Go?

Thanks! Oh, and can you try to do it by Friday? That would help.

Reflections on the Journey (Part 2)

I've been thinking a lot about the question Meredith asked...about how we were able to find the courage to pick up, move, and start a new life for ourselves. And I think there were several things that helped to facilitate such a leap.

1. A lot of years of visualization. We had been dreaming of it for a long time. Since we first got together. Heck, I think we may have even talked about it on our first date. With every visit home, we would discuss it more, adding considerable detail to our vision over the years. At one point we even fleshed out a fantasy of the day we would leave Raleigh, our belongings on a U-Haul, happy and free and headed to our beloved mountains. Of course the reality of that day--and of everything else since--did not exactly match our vision for it, but, wow, much of it was awfully darn close.

2. Paul getting sick. I know I mention this all the time, but I really believe that Paul's illness is an integral part of this story. Without it, we may have floundered in our fantasies for many more years, become entrenched in a life we couldn't leave behind, one that needed more and more money to feed. Paul's illness had the effect of stopping us in our tracks. His getting sick showed us just how short life is, just how quickly everything can disappear. It showed us what is truly important and what, quite simply, is not. It began a conversation between us about authenticity and values and meaning.

3. A strong marriage. We are not in any way perfect. We have our stressors, our fights, our triggers that we revisit over and over. But we also have this incredible connection between us--something a friend of mine once referred to as "the sweetie factor". We have a solid commitment to one another and to this family we have created. We share our dreams and support each other in realizing those dreams. We treat each other as a best friend--talking, sharing, laughing, playing, supporting, encouraging. Believe me, changing your life like this is stressful enough. I can't imagine making it through if we weren't solidly together.

4. Good financial planning. I must credit Paul for this. I grew up without the best money-management skills, but Paul has taught me so much and has kept our family on solid financial footing since we first joined households. The biggest factor in our favor is the fact that we do not carry debt (beyond our mortgage). We use our credit cards as true "charge" cards, paying them off every month. We do not buy cars, furniture, anything unless we can pay for it. In the early years this was a source of struggle between us, but I have grown to see that this one practice is what has given us the freedom to make this leap. Yes, we did make good salaries when we were first married, and over the years Paul's work in telecommunications has been lucrative in terms of stock options, but we were also in danger of building a life around something as frivolous and fleeting as money. It was Paul's insistence that we always live within our means that allowed us to move toward using the money we have to create a life that reflects our true values. It has also given us the savings that we are now using to invest in his graduate education, buying him a PhD without a huge debt hanging over his head at graduation.

(Note: I don't mean to imply that we are in any way independently wealthy, or that we aren't making sacrifices of several of our future financial goals--retirement, the children's college savings, to name a few areas of concern. As our income has been reduced to half what it was before, we face tougher choices in order to continue each month to live within our means and without debt. It's not easy to find ways to live frugally and we--mostly I--have a lot to learn. We just happen to think it's worth it to be able to live the life of our dreams.)

5. The support of our family and friends. One of our reasons for making this move was that we wanted to raise our children close within the circle of family. Our families have been wonderful in this regard--supportive in emotional, practical, and material ways.

Also, only one person in our circle of family and friends actually told us not to do this. While they may have thought it, none of our friends actually said out loud to us that we were crazy to try it. As scared and unsure as we were, it really helped to not have to fight the battle of others' ideas for our life.

6. Faith. Paul and I don't really discuss our faith publicly. We are decidedly not evangelical in our Christian beliefs. We do, however, try very hard to live our beliefs. Both of us have had experiences in our lives where we have felt an outside influence, a guiding hand. The year or so leading to and following our decision to move, we felt that influence very strongly--together. There were many times when what happened to us was completely beyond our control and yet unfolded in such a way that felt as if we were being led. A series of improbable events like runway lights, showing us the way. It was our faith in these events, in the Divine Intervention behind them, that allowed us to heed the message and to follow.

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So that is my list. These are the elements of our supposed courage, the determinants of our decision-making. I hope it helps.

Next (and last) in this reflection: What we've gained.

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Today I am thankful for...

all of those factors I've listed above...how they came together perfectly to change the course of our lives together

the opportunity, the blessing of this beautiful life.

Reflections on a journey

In thinking about this major change in our lives I find myself torn between the idea that what we did was remarkable and the thought that what we did was nothing much. Was it really a leap of faith? Was it something that took courage?

Maybe it would help for me to list the changes we've made.

1. We both quit our jobs. I stepped away from a career that was just beginning, from my first professional position, the first job after receiving my Master's degree, the first job in which I was paid more than a pittance. Paul stepped away from a 15-year career in telecommunications, from a job in which he knew what was expected of him. A job that supported his growing family, provided retirement income, excellent benefits, college savings for our children, investment funds. We both stepped away from all of that to careers that meant a complete shift in focus, that required us to learn something new. For Paul it was a career that depended upon his pursuit of further education at a time when he wasn't even sure he could get in to graduate school.

It also meant that our family income would be cut by 50%. Between the reduction in his salary (academics pays much less than industry) and the loss of mine completely (at first--I do work now but for about a third of what I made before), we would be bringing in half what we were before. Add to that more expensive (and not as good) health insurance and the loss of stock options, plus the additional expense of out-of-state graduate school tuition.

2. We sold our house. Our first house. A house we loved in a neighborhood we loved. A house in which we had invested considerable time (and money). A 2000 square foot brick house with an acre of woods, mature landscaping, big kitchen, fireplace, three bedrooms plus an office, all within walking distance to the grocery store, close to everything we could need.

3. We moved across the state. From a region with a population of close to 1 million people to a region with a population of fewer than 50,000. From a region filled with diverse and educated people (the Triangle region boasts the most PhDs per square mile than anywhere in, what?, the Southeast?) to one that is...well, largely white, Christian, heterosexual, working class (not that there's anything wrong with any of that). From an area replete with opportunities to shop-o-tain (from Whole Foods to Saks to Target to whatever one would want) and dine-o-tain (from California Pizza Kitchen to PF Chang's to Macaroni Grill to whatever one would want) to a town where there is one Chinese restaurant, one Mexican restaurant, a spate of fast food places, two grocery stores (one of which is a nasty, depressing Food Lion, the other the only one of the local chain that has not been remodeled) and one Wal-mart. Only.

4. We left our friends. We left our church. Skilled doctors (and pharmacists) who knew us. Routines. A network of familiar faces and places.

5. We bought a new house in a rural area. A drafty not-very-well-built log house which has a significantly smaller kitchen, smaller living space, fewer overall square feet, very little storage, no landscaping, a dirt road and driveway, a hay field on one side and corn field on another.

6. We started trying to live more simply--eating at home more, shopping less, being more frugal with our money overall, growing more of our own food, living closer to our genuine values, spending more time with family, spending more time together, getting outdoors more.

7. We went from a regular 9-5 (plus overtime) schedule with two weeks of vacation a year to a much more flexible and varied schedule that includes summers off, Fall break, Spring break, and three to four weeks at Christmas. 

Is that it? Is that all? Looking back on all of this, listing it out in such a way, I can see that we did was pretty remarkable, it was a leap of faith, a leap into the unknown, a huge change in very nearly every aspect of our lives. We really did something here. I'm proud of us for that.

Tomorrow: How were we able to do this? What helped us to make such a change?

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Today I am thankful for...

Paul. For taking this leap with me. For making our lives an adventure.

For making sure that whatever happens, whatever we do--it is together.

30 Days of Thanks :: 3

Today I am thankful for...

blogging.

In trying to answer some of your requests in the comments of this post, I've been searching through my archives (and those of my old blog). I spent the last hour re-reading all of those posts from the early days, the days in Raleigh after we had made the decision to move but before we actually did move. I won't say they were my best writing (although I am quite proud of several of them), but it's interesting to read--and remember--what we were going through, what we were feeling and thinking and doing.

Meredith asked me to talk about the courage it took to make the decision to change our lives the way we did, and I've been thinking about that, too. For the longest time I thought what we did wasn't all that courageous at all--it seemed simply to be something we had to do. Call it Divine Intervention. Call it destiny, call it purpose, call it what you will, Paul and I felt almost as if we had no choice in the matter, as if there really was no other choice to make. Neither of us have ever been more sure of anything in our lives (with the exception of the decision to marry each other). Even today we have no idea why we were so certain, or where that feeling originated.

Looking back through the blog and watching (again) our life unfold in that first year, what strikes me most is how afraid we were. Absolutely terrified. Yet we moved forward anyway. We moved forward because we had to.

Now it's four years later and here we are, living the answers to some of the questions we had back in the beginning. Our life is not perfect. It's not even exactly as we imagined.

But it's pretty darn close. And I don't think I would change one thing about this journey.

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Here again is the link to the very beginning of this story: (Parts 1, 2, 3, 4). For those of you who know it all, who have been following me for all of the four years I've been living/writing this story, forgive me the repetition.

I do still intend to write more about how our lives are different now, lessons I've learned, lessons I still need to learn, and more about our journey. This post is just the start of processing my thoughts on the matter. So, stay tuned for more.

30 Days of Thanks :: 1

 

Today I am thankful for...

An fun, spontaneous night out with my sweetie before the evenings out with my parents.

A message in church this morning that was exactly what I needed to hear, added to a conversation with Paul that reminded me of Divine intervention in our lives, both helping me to reflect further on this journey we are sharing (more on this another day).

Going off daylight savings time...and the feeling of more time in the day (yes, I know it's a false feeling, but I really needed a slower-moving morning today).

My little Boo Bear, who, since this weekend, almost daily revisits the "What are you thankful for?" line of question, causing us each in turn to pause and remember our blessings.

Weekend

Saturday began as an off day. Paul made our ritual pancakes, but the girls were grumpy, which made their mama grumpy, and little irritations seemed to accumulate throughout the morning. Soon we were off to Asheville to visit with the in-laws and attend a pumpkin-carving party at the home of some long-time friends. I had ideas of doing something autumnal and fun with our little family--corn maze, pumpkin patch, hayride, etc.--but it was clear from the morning mood that we needed something a little more low-key.

As we rode over the mountain the fall colors grew more and more vivid and spectacular. In just a matter of days the leaves have made a dramatic change which, at our elevation means everything turned brown or dull yellow and fell at once. In Asheville,  however, this was peak weekend--reds and yellows and orange and blue blue sky. Paul and I found ourselves drawing deeper breaths, feeling a peace fall upon us.

By the time we arrived in Asheville, had lunch, and set out again on our errands before the party, Paul had formulated a plan to take a brief escape drive along our beloved Blue Ridge Parkway. Tourists at every turn-out and overlook, traffic steady, but we didn't care as we gawked like flatlanders and reminisced to Owen ("Look, sweetie, down in that valley is Mommy's childhood home, the ball field and pool where Mommy and Daddy used to spend summers, our elementary school!").

We turned around after a few miles, the Parkway having worked its magic on our collective moods, and even had time to stop at my old home church (the one in which we were married) to visit, at last, a pumpkin patch before the party.

The night was difficult. The girls and Paco crammed in bed with me, sleeping fitfully, Paul stuck on the couch, Molly feeling out-of-sorts in a strange place and driving us crazy, our allergies acting up. MY mind started racing and I was unable to sleep at all until the wee hours of morning. BY dawn it was a race to get everyone out to early church, which was one of those not-fun outings (Barrett completely intolerant, Owen not very helpful). It seemed as if our Sunday would start much as our Saturday did--on edge, irritated, everyone unhappy.

So we tried to carry yesterday's magic further and decided to drive the Parkway all the way home. Alas we were thwarted (a rock slide has closed a section between Asheville and home) and had to take the highway home. Still we couldn't resist a detour on our end and wound up with a short sojourn up to Waterrock Knob.

Standing on the mountaintop looking out on this place we love, my sweetie and girls beside me, the grouchiness and minor frustrations of the weekend fell away and all was right with our world.

  That's what these mountains do to us...what they do for us.