Dark Gloomy Start to 2013

Here it is almost the end of January and I’m STILL UNINSPIRED to write, share, remember or connect with others.

I am lost, struggling, uninspired, and angry.

I don’t know who I am anymore. 

I don’t know how to find my way back to Self.

Thirty-something Mother of 2.  Military Spouse. Unaccomplished.  Unfocused.  Without a vision.

I’ve stopped dreaming of the future.  This is disastrous for my psyche. For my marriage.  For my sanity.

Not that nothing makes any sense.  I am still functioning.  I am not so depressed that I’ve lost interest in all things.  I find joy, delight and meaning every day .  In the short-term.  In the present.  Mostly through my children.  But when I think of the future, I become angry.  I want my life to be different. A bouquet of flowers at HIS retirement will not be enough.

Frankly, after twelve years, I am tired of the military lifestyle. But what I think I want, I am too afraid to initiate.  What I want currently seems impractical and unrealistic. Either way, someone will be unhappy.  I have spent most of my life chasing happiness. I am afraid to walk out to the unknown when the chance of success and happiness are not guaranteed.  And so I sit, in my comfortable life, getting more and more miserable, as the dreamer in me disappears slowly.  To pursue what I want means to not follow his career and to follow my own path, which would certainly diverge from his.  I am too risk-averse to take the plunge and I hate myself for my own shortcoming.

His next assignment makes me feel trapped, even before I set foot back in the State.

“You knew what you were getting into when you married the military.”  Each and every military spouse has heard this from military and non-military alike.  But I wonder, did I really know?  And even if I did know, and accepted its challenges, am I not allowed to falter? To have doubts? Or must I be totally committed to the ups-and-downs 100% all the time?

This time I know exactly what I am moving back to, having been there before, and it’s nothing short of stagnation.  Hubby reminds me of all the good.  But it’s the bad that left the bigger impression.  The old but tried-and-true tricks of mental preparation for the upcoming move aren’t working any more.  I am not looking forward to recreating myself.  Or raising my children there.  Hubby is getting exactly what he wants (other than a happy wife).  He is successful. I feel like I am getting handed a big bag of nothing. I feel like a failure.

I am tired of trying to find something that’s just mine, and mine alone, that fits into the military lifestyle.  It’s hard enough to re-create myself after being a Stay-at-Home Mom for 7+ years, wanting a complete career change from the pre-kid version of myself and starting completely from scratch.  Add the military challenges, and I’m starting to get worn down before I even begin.  I just don’t bounce back quite as easily as I used to. The idealism of youth is fading.

I feel as if I can’t talk about my dissatisfaction with my fellow military spouses, who I swear are programmed to be positive and uplifting all the time.  I know I am not alone in my feelings of dissatisfaction with this lifestyle and the resulting inadequacies it can produce, but I do think military spouses, in general, follow a pragmatic, no-nonsense, git-r-done  attitude.  “Oh?  You don’t like where the military is moving you?  You knew what you were getting yourself into when you married the military.”  Read:  Quit your bitchin’ and figure it out.  

Plus we all know that we never want to be the first to admit our own weakness.  Ever.  It’s hard enough to ask for help when we genuinely need it.  Asking for help usually revolves around the logistics of living with kids, with a spouse out of the picture--Sick kids, broken down cars, scheduling.  But for me to admit an emotional weakness? My mental anguish? Or god forbid, marital stress?  It’s nobody’s business but mine.  Until I can’t keep up appearances anymore.  

It’s time to call in the professionals.  To help me find me way back onto the path.  Or perhaps to help me draw a new map for a new path.

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 [V1]

Ordinary Moments with Diva Darling

Diva Darling and I had to pass the time while Pride & Joy was at a birthday party.  I didn’t want to drive back home only to turn around again.  Instead Diva and I went to the grocery store and then sat in the car eating Oreos.  Diva was most pleasant, ecstatic to be allowed to sit in the front seat.  I was most pleasant, not fretting about Oreo crumbs. (I didn’t post about it but in the 3 days prior I already dealt with projectile vomit and 2 canisters of baking sugars, thankfully not together, all over Diva Darling’s car seat.  Oreos seem rather innocuous at this point.)

A calm, ordinary, but joyous moment with my child.  No resentment.  Or wishing I was doing something else.  Or rushing here and there.  Just in a state of being.  I’m glad I snapped a picture.  I want to remember that there should be moments like this every day (and there are but I don't appreciate them nearly enough) when I am enjoying the moment, living the moment, not distracted.

What’s In A Morning? (Or How I Know I Have Embraced Suburban Mama Lifestyle)

I am breezing through life today in a velour lounge suit with ballet flats.  This attire signals a true embrace of all things Suburban Mama.  I’m not even trying to fake anyone out (or myself) by wearing running shoes, as if I already did or am going to do my workout at some point today.  Some days elevated heart rate results only from over-consumption of coffee or having Diva Darling scare me half to death with her Near Miss Catastrophe of an Inquisitive Toddler Brain.

What I am really trying to embrace is taking my day slow, let it unfold, not having my mind racing, accepting the Now and relishing in its moments.  Letting go.  Letting go of Facebook updates and email checks, letting go that I wish I was doing something else, letting go of trying to be the perfect mama, letting go that I will never have “House Beautiful” while I’m living in it 24-7.  Embracing that my life is about Diva Darling, Handsome Little Man, Incontinent Dog #1, and Neurotic Dog #2.  Embracing that there is A LOT OF LOVE every single day, but there is A LOT OF CLEANING every single day, too.  They just go hand-in-hand.  And the sooner I accept it, the less frustrated I will be.

So as I write this, Diva Darling naps.  The dogs nap.  The washing machine is whirling. I can’t check Facebook or email because the Internet is down, which is a good thing.  I also can’t check Craigslist, which I also check daily about employment opportunities, thinking that the perfect job will appear for which I am the perfect candidate, and accepting it will be worth the juggle.  Please note that actually submitting a cover letter and resume is an entirely different subject.  But in my head, I have the job! 

So my morning:

• Boy up.
• Diva Darling up.  Diaper Change.
• Boy & Diva Darling fed.
• Snack/lunch made for the Boy.
• Barked at the Boy to hurry it up.
• Walked Boy to the bus stop with Diva Darling in tow (Carried).
• Let Diva Darling walk back to the house ever so slowly.  Up the stairs.  Down the stairs.  Explore.
• Walked Neurotic Dog to do her business, while keeping an eye on Diva Darling.
• Walked Incontinent Dog to do her business.  Had help from Diva Darling.
• Diaper Change.

• Diva Darling Captivated by Potty Trainer & Toilet Paper.  This is a surprise since I have not even introduced this concept to her.  She does tell me when she has soiled her diaper and wants to be changed right away.  But today she was watching me on the toilet (yes, yes.  There is no privacy.  Ever.  I know.  TMI.).  And I showed her the potty (which doubles as a step stool), which has been the bathroom all this while.  And she sat on it and “practiced” with toilet paper. Hmm.  I do know they say girls pick up on this earlier than boys.  We shall see.
• Chased Diva Darling around to change her clothes and get ready for class.
• Diva Darling & I attended a Mommy & Me movement class.  Skipped out early because Diva Darling is not playing nice.  After redirecting her a gazillion times and telling her to use “Gentle Hands”, I reached my limit.  We went outside to the playground instead.
• Ran to the drugstore for envelopes (Room Parent responsibility) and milk (Errand for my neighbor).
• Home.

The only time I write is when Diva Darling is asleep.  I write at naptime or late at night.  So as I type, I now have a slumbering child, and then soon it will be time to feed the well-rested Cyclone.  Chase the Cyclone.  Diaper Change the Cyclone.  Play with Cyclone.  Meet the other Cyclone at the Bus Stop.  

Let’s not even discuss the 4pm to 8pm After-school Duty.  That’s a whole post by itself!

And there’s my day.  But I’m wearing my velour lounge suit and therefore, I can do all things!

Slim & Trim - Day 1, aka Sweaty Mess

Who starts an outdoor workout regimen in the dog days of August?  A highly motivated mama who is hoping to not keel over anytime soon (Spoiled Wifey Aside:  although my new unease is that I’m going to be knocked off by some random driver, distracted by texting.  Damn you, Smart phones!).

Do I look “hot” in my post-workout photo?  Um, yes, hot but not in the beautiful sense.  I definitely look hot, as in a sweaty, hot mess. Yup, so I decided to take a jog around the block, which happens to be a half mile.  And then I got overly ambitious, or perhaps I was lacking adequate oxygen to the brain to make lucid decisions, and decided to do it again.  My first baby steps and I felt terrible.  Sucking air hard, extremely sweaty, and not enjoying it one bit.  Where was my endorphin rush?!  The only highlights were (1) stopping and (2) coming inside to the cool air conditioning.

I am using RunKeeper to keep track of my “progress”, which is entertaining in a self-deprecating way, when a few minutes after my first run I get an email notification that states “Congratulations!  You have run your farthest distance to date.”  Seriously?  I get an electronic fist bump for moving all of 1 mile?  I won’t bother to share my pace.  Or how many times I walked.  I burned enough calories to think about consuming a glass of red wine, but to think about it only.  I can’t actually enjoy a glass of red wine until my calorie burn equals consumption.  It could be a while.  At least two more electronic fist bumps, for sure.

GOALS

(1)    Oct 1:  See progress in all my numbers:  Cholesterol.  Blood Pressure.  Whatever else they are testing me on and using their scare tactics for healthy behavior modification.

(2)   Run/Walk/Crawl a 5K on Sep 22.  In my 20s, I used to run long distance races frequently, albeit slowly.  My knees have never forgiven me.  I neither have the time or desire to run half or full marathons again.  But certainly, I can run a 5K and think it’s fun. 

(3)   ZUMBA!  Not one, but two classes a week, starting in September.  Do what you love, and then it doesn’t feel like a workout.  I can swing my hips with the best of them!

Note that I am not making a weight loss goal at this time, because surely if I am moving and not stuffing my face with comfort foods, the pounds will drop.  I also note that I need to add strength training.  But right now my focus is to just start moving, on a regular basis, without bitching about it.  Strength training is intimidating to me.  So we will save that when I am a bit farther down the road and committed.

FOOD CHALLENGES

I can already feel myself getting agitated as I think about this.  I think making good food choices consistently will be the most difficult for me.  I am not a gal who likes to deny myself of anything.  Willingly cut back on dessert?  Are you serious?  I have decided to cut back on cake (bye-bye, tiramasu. *sigh*) and only indulge when I dine out, which isn’t often.  I still have snack size chocolate popsicles, and I do snack on chocolate & almonds.  I can’t make too many draconian cutbacks all at once. 

I am already losing interest in my own post about food, as I am sipping my red wine.  Don’t judge.  This is my first glass of wine in over a week.  And it’s only one glass.  Ok, maybe two.

Wish me self-discipline!

Discipline & Health (Or in my Case, Indulgence & a Fat Belly)

I like to think about things for a long time before I ever lift a finger to do them.  I have also been characterized as a dreamer or a schemer.  Sometimes, I motivate and actually put thoughts into action.  However, rarely, do I actually complete a task or chase a dream or initiate a scheme.   Hubby recently told me he finds this trait quite annoying.  I’m not sure why I am like this.  Sometimes it annoys me, too.  Something always holds me back.  Fear of failure, Boredom, Attention Diverted, A New Dream.  I don’t know.  But I have recognized this lack of initiative and follow-through for awhile now.  

Now that I have an awareness of this, how do I move past it in order to accomplish things that I know will make me happy?  And healthy? And energetic?

*Baby steps*  

My friend reminded me of this well-known but never-the-less true idea of baby steps.  Start out small.  Just a little bit at a time.  Manageable chunks.  With a goal in sight.

This friend is very disciplined in life, in diet, in fitness.  Well, just about everything.  Frankly, I think it sounds boring.  No alcohol.  No desserts.  The same foods day in and day out.  (Think protein.  No caffeine.  Water, water, water.)  On the flipside, my friend is very healthy with a smokin’ hot body.

I want a smokin’ hot body.  I just don’t want to work for it.  In my mind, enjoying a variety of foods is a joy of life.  Feasting sounds fabulous.  Deprivation does not.  Working out every day sounds exactly that – working out.  Ugh.

And yet, as Little Man and I are watching the Men’s Synchronized Diving Competition on the Olympics last night, Little Man made a cutting comment to me, cutting only because of the innocent observation in which it was made of the undeniable.  Little Man noted that the men were wearing tiny swim shorts. I was explaining that the divers were very muscular and had very little fat on them.  To which Little Man replied “Mama, you have a little fat on you.”  No kidding, he pats my belly as he says this, but in an innocent way.  Ay!

This conversation does go further as it is begging to be a teachable moment.  I agree with Little Man.  Yes, Mama does have a “little fat”.  But I remind him to be careful about what he says about other people’s body.  Why, Mama?  Because people can be sensitive about their bodies.  He gets it.  We have talked about fat bellies before (Grandpa is currently a robust Santa lookalike right now).  We have discussed good food choices and moderation.  (Which seemed like a good discussion until he pointed out rather loudly one day on an errand run that the woman with a belly over there was obviously drinking too much juice. Ay!)

So back to my lack of initiative and turning it around.  How do I develop self-discipline?  How do I develop a love for fitness? How do I change my attitude about food moderation without feeling deprived?  I really like my coffee with cream and sugar.  Red wine at night.  Cheetos.  Desserts. Late night snacking.  I’m already feeling stress as I type, thinking about future deprivation.  I’m starting to feel pissed off that I have to hold off.  I am a hedonist.  I almost always go for instant gratification. (Let’s not even begin discussing the credit card.)

However, I’m also unequivocally feeling the stress of my doctor’s remarks earlier this week about my elevated numbers.  If vanity doesn’t motivate me, longevity or lack thereof just might be the right motivator.

In the next few days, I will post my goals.  My toughest challenge will be making the time to work out, to make it a priority, and to not hate it or be resentful about it. 

And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to drink a big glass of water before bedtime to trick myself into thinking I’m full and not eat the little bag of chips that has been whispering sweet nothings to me for the past 30 minutes.

 

[Aside: Clearly, I should follow my friend’s example of not inviting temptation into the kitchen by not buying questionable food in the first place.  I don’t know.  The love affair with my salty succulent little bag of chips has been going on for quite some time.  I’m not sure I have it in me to quit him just yet.  Could I ignore his advances if I am armed with a higher purpose? I'm holding steady right now with my cool, refreshing glass of non-caloric water.]