Today

I think I've reached the point of burnout.

Although I'm not quite sure if its that time in my life where I am allowed to say that. Am I saying it too early? Is there a timeline for a quarter life crisis? Is it really a crisis?

I'm contemplating all this constantly. Every waking minute I am attending to my mind and body and asking WHAT? What do you want of me? What can I do to make you happy? At this moment they are in agree  that coffee is the answer.

They also request things like running and hiking and yoga (which I have neglected the last few years), clean food (because extra weight tends to depress one's mind and body), spiritual study (when you are without belief in something other than yourself you are just setting yourself up for unhappiness), and please please just take us out in Nature.

When viewing it from a distance I can see no, its not crisis, its not end all, it is just burnout. Burnout is not so bad. Being burned out means you can take a break, reset, rest your weary mind and body, find a place or some space in your life to take time for you and your needs. And if you can't? Forget that...you can. You must. It's that worn out advice to affix the oxygen mask to yourself before anyone else because you aren't' doing any good flailing around on the floor like a fish out of water. Grabbing your neck because you are drowning on air.

No worries. I'm not drowning anymore.

It's a new season in my house. Yesterday all three of the little darlings were shipped back to school. Yes, homeschooling is over for now. I believe in doing what works for you at the time. Right now this is what is working for us.

And now...time for that coffee.

News To Me

    One of my most favorite things is discovering something new about myself. This little bit of previously unknown personal trivia is like an unexpected present. It can be something simple: liking a food you were sure you wouldn't. Or it can be much bigger and deeper. Something about your personality you were unaware of.

I read 23 Signs You're Secretly An Introvert on Huffington Post a few days ago and sat there nodding my head nearly the whole way through. I'm sure I looked like one of those bobbing dogs on a dashboard. It honestly blew my mind. Now I am not one to normally put a lot of stock in those articles that have SIGNS YOU'RE XXX in the title, but this one hit the mark. I have always, and I mean always thought of myself as an extrovert. If you were to ask me, that is how I would describe my personality.

I casually mentioned this to Warren and he laughed. Laughed because I had always identified myself as an extrovert. According to him I am a textbook introvert. But as he said, "It's not big deal, I am an introvert too."

I spent a good deal of time thinking about this, as it was really and truly having an affect on my perception of myself. Wasn't I always outgoing? Confident and never shy? I have never had a problem meeting people or mingling at a party. I'm downright boisterous at times.

But then there were the 23 signs. Plus a few others I recognized on my own. Like the fact that I prefer to dine in small groups at the time when a restaurant is likely to be the quietest. Or how about that I am always lugging about a book to fill any spare time instead of talking to people.

Some of the signs that brought this realization about were:

I don't do small talk. They called it cumbersome. I find it unnecessary and annoying.

I often feel alone in a crowd. So true. That's why I have the aforementioned book on hand.

Networking feels phony. Totally. Why do I need to connect with people to further myself?

You're intense and prefer deep conversations. Not all the time, but those are my favorite.

You're easily distracted so you need a environment with less stimuli. So true! I need calmness and simplicity to work.

Downtime doesn't feel unproductive. This is true and false for me. When I really and truly need it then I can take it. But everyday laziness I just cannot bear.

Giving a talk in front of 500 people is less stressful than mingling with those people. I did a lot of public speaking in high school and was very good at it. But just talking to people I don't know is weird.

In public places you sit at an end or corner chair instead of the middle. Always always always. I don't want to be surrounded by people!

I shut down after I have been active for too long. I have a expiration time every day. I need to be in my house in the quiet or my brain just fizzles out.

You screen all your calls. Oh yeah. Totally guilty. Not that I don't want to talk. I just have to mentally prepare myself to talk. Give me a half hour and I'll call you back.

You notice details that others don't. I do like to really look at my surroundings.

You have a constant inner monologue. Yeah and I wish I could get it to shut up sometimes.

You alternate between phases or work, solitude, and social activity. I do get in a groove sometimes where I really want to hang out with people but it never lasts very long. Most of the time I would rather be home reading a book.

Example- This evening I took the kids to soccer practice. While Cash practiced and Stella dominated the playground, I took up residence on a grassy piece of Earth with my giant glass of water, iphone, and knitting. I played music softly to focus my mind and knitted on a scarf for Stella. My feet were bare and I wiggled them in the grass as often as I could. There were people here and there that I knew and I would speak to them if they spoke to me, but I am pretty sure every single thing in my setup and body language shouted that I wanted to be left alone. Sometimes I feel bad for being like that, but honestly small talk with acquaintances drains my energy. It leaves me feeling anxious and tired. I'm much happier to say hello or nothing at all and resume whatever I was doing.

So this new bit of knowledge about myself is taking some time to sink in. I'm not really sure what I will do with it in the long run. But for now I'm going to use it as  reason to not be hard on myself for being a homebody and keeping my inner circle very small.

But if you see me knitting barefoot on the ground at soccer practice, feel free to say hi!

Sushi

My mother used to bring home copious amounts of Chinese food when we lived in L.A. (Lower Arkansas). Rare trips to Texarkana meant a visit to a very special chinese restaurant where we ordered double of everything and breathed in the amazing smell of their egg drop soup. The best shrimp fried rice, and sweet and sour broccoli, lovely peanut chicken. We crunched on icy Diet Cokes while we waited for our huge order. They gave us little plates of eggrolls and rangoon.

Now I am the one carting home a ton of foreign food. Enough so we have leftovers for days. But... I bring home sushi.

Wine or Whine?

Loveliness floods my mouth,

instant relaxation from the days stresses.

Sad that it takes fermentation

to loosen the anger,

shake down

the frustration,

transform a screaming banshee

into a role model TV show mother.

Embrace you every evening,

whilst cooking nourishment,

bathing the small children,

falling down the technology hole.

Miss you when you are gone,

every morning curse your aftertaste,

i like you better in your organic all natural state,

red is my favorite color in a glass.

Just Listen

I'm searching for my voice. Have you seen it? No, of course you haven't, because I'm not sure I ever had it to lose.

Discovering one's voice is tough work. My inner monologue is a chameleon, constantly changing and shifting to suit my dialogue partner or my current mood. I'm sitting very still these days, trying to hear, straining for a syllable of my voice. Is it catty? Sarcastically biting reaching hard to be witty, when indeed I am not? Do I wax sentimental too much, caught in emotions that you, the audience, find dull?

In The Treehouse, Leonard Wolf demands you to speak in your own voice otherwise you're work is meaningless. It is not you. He also says we are all artists. That our art is our life's work. Be it in the traditional art forms, or in a less conventionally thought of method. Bringing happiness to those individuals around you, fixing an engine, fishing, campaigning for a cause, recording history. Whatever it is that you contribute to this world, that is your life's work.

I desperately want my contribution to be words. Solid, tangible things, printed and saved for all time. Life stored on dusty shelves to be flipped through periodically at whim. This has been a dream for a long time, but put on hold for my true life's work. Reading this book, I had a revelation. I am a mother. Nothing new there, I've been one for over 5 years. That makes me a baby in the land of motherhood, but my revelation was this. No matter what I write, or submit, or have published, I will not have made an impact.

But in another arena, my mark is already deep. It shows in the politeness of my children. It shines in their deep bear hugs and whispered I love yous. It blazes across the sky with each new milestone Sugarbaby accomplishes. It is there, it is real, it is tangible. It hurts. Pain is real, pain is an impression not soon forgotten. Art is pain. Motherhood is pain. An ache so deep, so pressing that you might explode from the sheer amount of love contained in your heart. Heartache is real, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

A Hallmark card I am not. Mistakes, I have made them. But my babies? My darling children. The flesh and blood that I would lay my life down for? They will remember me. And in the end, that is all I could ever hope for.

My voice might be eluding me right now, it might take years to find it. Maybe when I am older, wiser, and my beautiful babies don't need me quite so much, I can work on another avenue of my life. Until then, I'm going to be still, as best I can, and listen. Just listen.

Right Now

I'm highlighting inspirational phrases in The Treehouse. I promise, promise, promise there is a relevant post coming up on this. I'm also knocking back shots of butterscotch schnapps listening to the siblings catching up in my kitchen. In addition I am contemplating being able to write like Susan, and thinking I've got a long way and a long time to go. This post of made me rethink my direction and might have possibly given me the kick in the ass to start writing for real.

Not a lot for this evening, but its a post, so it counts. Back to the book and the schnapps.