It's hard to believe that today is December 29, 2010. I'm not exactly sure what happened to September, October and November. I mean, really, it feels like school just started, and we're already looking at January. Even when I was little, I can remember worrying that time was going too quickly and that I would soon be old and die. Now, even though time goes even quicker, I'm confident that when my time is finished I'll be more than satisfied with the gifts I have been given.
Like everybody else, it's hard not to look back at 2010 and weigh the good and the bad. Even though the present moment is where I try to live, I think it's also important to take some time every now and then to celebrate those moments that were memorable and forgive yourself for those moments that you wish you could actually forget.
I've had a bunch of great things happen to me this year. I was able to vacation in Santa Fe with friends this summer. I grew flowers on my back deck. I spent many hours with Grace at the dog park visiting with human and dog friends. I walked countless miles, in good and bad weather, with my best friend at the end of the leash. I read tons, saw another ton of movies. I worked and played hard with my kids at school. I hung out with my own kids and my mom and dad.
I also struck out a few times. I struggled with taking my medicine on a daily basis, not making peace with that until mid-summer. I bought a scale, but never actually brought it home. I gave in to negative self-talk, and often felt like I was a failure as a hard-core anorexic. BUT, I kept moving forward and I did "the next right thing."
In July, I said a formal goodbye to Ed, even though, admittedly, I still dream about him from time-to-time.
Out of everything, my favorite month of 2010 has been December. This may have been my favorite December ever. I started off by putting up my tree (first time in three years). I had convinced myself that my zoo would destroy it, but I think they must have sensed that it was time for a tree. I mailed Christmas cards. I went to my school's Christmas party. I shopped. . . a little. I played Christmas music.
I took my mom and her friend to a concert of gospel music that lasted four hours. I loved how happy and excited she seemed to be. I sat the entire four hours, I sat still and calm and content.
On Christmas Day, my kids and parents all gathered at my home. My home, with a tree and stockings, and lasagna and rolls in the oven, with a dog on the couch and two cats on the bed. We laughed and cried (Well, actually, mom cried). We played games and Sam lost! Will and Dad took Grace for a walk. We took pictures and we didn't pretend to be happy. . we were. In blue jeans and sock feet, with paper napkins and mismatched plates, with cokes in plastic bottles and shampoo gifts in stockings, with a dog trying to figure out how to hold hands when we prayed. We were happy.
Never would I have thought that I would be in such a place. I think I'm starting to live well in spite of a mental illness. In some ways, it feels as if I've learned to live well because of a mental illness. If I had known this was possible, I would have embraced my craziness years ago.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Errands
I'm not a big fan of errands. Even as a kid, I hated them, riding with my mom after school to "run by" the post office, then the bank, the grocery, the drug store. I'm still not sure what Mom was always mailing and it seems like maybe we were rich or something with all the checks that seemed to be coming our way.
When I had to run my own errands, I hated them even more. Errands become full-fledged projects when three young kids are involved. In fact, some of my errands, like getting gas for my car and grocery shopping were run after the kids were bathed and in bed and their dad could stay with them.
During my biggest and final round with anorexia, I was down to one errand. If I couldn't buy it at Walgreens I didn't need it. I didn't even shop the aisles because I knew where the otc drugs, razors, laxatives and diet pepsi were all located! And when your brain is so impaired from lack of calories that you can't remember to pay the bills, who needs the post office.
Anyway, since I've been well, my errand activity has definitely increased, one of the few bad things about recovery, I suppose.
This morning I left my house to run errands, complete with list in hand. (Why is it so satisfying to mark things off a list? I've even added things to my list after I completed a task just so I can put a check mark next to it.)
My first stop was the cable company in Crestwood. I switched servers a couple of weeks ago and needed to close out the account. Check.
Next, I stopped by school to feed our class hamster. Since we had a snow day on the last day before our holiday break, no one had taken her home for vacation. I was afraid she would starve before we went back so my guilty conscience was how Hannah the hamster wound up on my errand list. Check.
Next stop, J. Crew to find a pair of 29X32 pants for my 130 pound 6 footer.
"Collins!" my principal hollered as I was walking out the door.
It turned out she had some gifts for a family in our school community whose house had burned just a week ago. Her car wouldn't hold everything and she needed an extra set of hands and a van.
Rewind. Next stop, 110 Lee Street, LaGrange.
We unloaded my van and practically filled their grandmother's living room with stockings, food and presents. Of course, that was after we ran another errand at Kroger to purchase a gift card for the family.
Naturally, we had to stop for lunch after leaving their house. Naturally.
Nearly two hours had passed since I took a detour from my original errand list. I stopped quickly at the Summitt to buy Will's pants. Check.
I decided to skip the rest of my list so I could take Grace for a walk in the all too fleeting sunshine. She's looking pretty sassy in her Christmas collar, and I like the way she walks like she knows she's beautiful. As we walked along, a friend driving by, rolled down her window and yelled "Merry Christmas, Gracie! You, too, Angela!"
As we continued to walk I realized then that errands aren't so bad. In fact, maybe life is just one big errand. I just need to be willing to take my eyes off the list long enough to notice just what a wonderful life it is.
When I had to run my own errands, I hated them even more. Errands become full-fledged projects when three young kids are involved. In fact, some of my errands, like getting gas for my car and grocery shopping were run after the kids were bathed and in bed and their dad could stay with them.
During my biggest and final round with anorexia, I was down to one errand. If I couldn't buy it at Walgreens I didn't need it. I didn't even shop the aisles because I knew where the otc drugs, razors, laxatives and diet pepsi were all located! And when your brain is so impaired from lack of calories that you can't remember to pay the bills, who needs the post office.
Anyway, since I've been well, my errand activity has definitely increased, one of the few bad things about recovery, I suppose.
This morning I left my house to run errands, complete with list in hand. (Why is it so satisfying to mark things off a list? I've even added things to my list after I completed a task just so I can put a check mark next to it.)
My first stop was the cable company in Crestwood. I switched servers a couple of weeks ago and needed to close out the account. Check.
Next, I stopped by school to feed our class hamster. Since we had a snow day on the last day before our holiday break, no one had taken her home for vacation. I was afraid she would starve before we went back so my guilty conscience was how Hannah the hamster wound up on my errand list. Check.
Next stop, J. Crew to find a pair of 29X32 pants for my 130 pound 6 footer.
"Collins!" my principal hollered as I was walking out the door.
It turned out she had some gifts for a family in our school community whose house had burned just a week ago. Her car wouldn't hold everything and she needed an extra set of hands and a van.
Rewind. Next stop, 110 Lee Street, LaGrange.
We unloaded my van and practically filled their grandmother's living room with stockings, food and presents. Of course, that was after we ran another errand at Kroger to purchase a gift card for the family.
Naturally, we had to stop for lunch after leaving their house. Naturally.
Nearly two hours had passed since I took a detour from my original errand list. I stopped quickly at the Summitt to buy Will's pants. Check.
I decided to skip the rest of my list so I could take Grace for a walk in the all too fleeting sunshine. She's looking pretty sassy in her Christmas collar, and I like the way she walks like she knows she's beautiful. As we walked along, a friend driving by, rolled down her window and yelled "Merry Christmas, Gracie! You, too, Angela!"
As we continued to walk I realized then that errands aren't so bad. In fact, maybe life is just one big errand. I just need to be willing to take my eyes off the list long enough to notice just what a wonderful life it is.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
That Girl
Carly came into the world loving most things; in fact, I could probably count on one hand the things she truly hates. In no particular order, I would most definitely include shoes, peacocks, bigots, injustice and math. And while her "despise list" is rather short, I must say that the hate is deep and intense and for always.
Unfortunately, her hate for all things math has continued into the final days of this semester. She finds herself caught between a D and an F in a class where she needs a C. Her professor has not been much help; her mother advised her NOT to drop the class when that was an option; the tests are on computer so she doesn't even know what she's missing.
To continue in her major towards a degree that will enable her to work with women who are struggling with mental health issues, she has to get a C in math, and unlike so many young women, she refuses to adjust her goal, settle for something easier just because she's hit a road block.
We talked on the phone this afternoon. She asked for my advice like we were old friends.
What she didn't say was even more impressive.
She didn't say,
Her telling me that she had aced the math class would not possibly have made me any prouder. It doesn't take much heart to get an A.
But to fail a class with dignity, with hard work, to know what really matters, now that takes heart. A heart that tries to rescue baby moles and broken hearted friends. A heart that will sit with her crazy mother when it should be the other way around. A heart that will stand up and speak when gays or blacks are feeling the heat of discrimination. A heart that loves carelessly and forgives too quickly. A heart that loves old people's stories and can pretend with any preschooler. A heart that hates shoes and peacocks and math.
I love that heart. I love that Girl.
Unfortunately, her hate for all things math has continued into the final days of this semester. She finds herself caught between a D and an F in a class where she needs a C. Her professor has not been much help; her mother advised her NOT to drop the class when that was an option; the tests are on computer so she doesn't even know what she's missing.
To continue in her major towards a degree that will enable her to work with women who are struggling with mental health issues, she has to get a C in math, and unlike so many young women, she refuses to adjust her goal, settle for something easier just because she's hit a road block.
We talked on the phone this afternoon. She asked for my advice like we were old friends.
- Should she keep working towards a D in math or concentrate on other classes where she can almost smell an A?
- Next semester, she'll get a tutor early in the semester,
- and she'll take the class as a 4-day three hour class instead of a 3-day three hour class.
- Maybe she'll look for a different teacher.
What she didn't say was even more impressive.
She didn't say,
- This is too hard.
- The teacher's not fair.
- I'm changing my major.
- Maybe I'm not college material.
- This is your fault. I told you I wanted to drop the class.
Her telling me that she had aced the math class would not possibly have made me any prouder. It doesn't take much heart to get an A.
But to fail a class with dignity, with hard work, to know what really matters, now that takes heart. A heart that tries to rescue baby moles and broken hearted friends. A heart that will sit with her crazy mother when it should be the other way around. A heart that will stand up and speak when gays or blacks are feeling the heat of discrimination. A heart that loves carelessly and forgives too quickly. A heart that loves old people's stories and can pretend with any preschooler. A heart that hates shoes and peacocks and math.
I love that heart. I love that Girl.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
A Boring Life
I like to think of myself as having a very simple life, what some people would refer to as boring. When I look at the big picture, I'm a mom of three grown children, I teach fifth grade, I'm a daughter to two great parents, and I'm not such a bad friend. It certainly sounds manageable and I sometimes actually wonder how I fill my days with so few "duties."
Today I woke up at 5:30 to walk Grace, my dog, and by 6:45 I was ready and off to school.
At 7:15, I was helping two kids drag in a huge barrel to collect shoes and blankets for the homeless. I then had a lengthy discussion (maybe it just seemed lengthy) as to what a Cheese-a-dilla actually was -- that was what the cafeteria had listed as a lunch choice.
I also timed Collin as he went to the bathroom because he has a tendency to lose track of time, a lot of time. Then noticed that Hannah the hamster's cage was a little stinky and suggested she might need a cleaning. During the day, I also helped a couple kids with long division, listened to someone's Christmas Wishes, which included a visit from his estranged dad, who happens to spend his holidays in prison. Believe it or not, the only college prep I had to any of this was the long division, and I'm not sure how important that is anyway.
I assisted Sean in drilling holes in a plastic bottle to make a bird feeder. He placed the hole too high from the perch in my opinion, but he insisted there were tall birds who needed to eat too. I read aloud from The Great Gilly Hopkins, then read it again to a couple of kids who are so easily distracted they need a private reading. I spent quite a bit of time playing with blocks trying to convince my kids that just because there are three pieces to a puzzle doesn't necessarily mean its divided into thirds.
Somewhere in there I ate Nachos (I opted out of the Cheese-a-dilla) and gave a few high fives in the hall to the kids who reassure me that they're going to be in my room next year.
At 2:30, I put the last kid on the bus and went to a faculty meeting. We talked about our Christmas party and the "dirty Santa" game we always play. It sounds quite provactive but it's actually very tame. Lori, our principal, then talked about a new nationally based standard curriculum, where 5th grade will be assessed in all subject areas. I said "Bring it on." (Actually, I don't think that was my exact quote.)
On the way home, I touched base with Carly, who was in a much better mood. Talked with my mom and dad. At home, I walked Grace, did a load of laundry, cleaned my living room floor (that's almost a daily chore when you live at a zoo.) Now I'm on my way to a book club meeting.
If my life gets any more boring, I'm going to have to start working weekends.
Today I woke up at 5:30 to walk Grace, my dog, and by 6:45 I was ready and off to school.
At 7:15, I was helping two kids drag in a huge barrel to collect shoes and blankets for the homeless. I then had a lengthy discussion (maybe it just seemed lengthy) as to what a Cheese-a-dilla actually was -- that was what the cafeteria had listed as a lunch choice.
I also timed Collin as he went to the bathroom because he has a tendency to lose track of time, a lot of time. Then noticed that Hannah the hamster's cage was a little stinky and suggested she might need a cleaning. During the day, I also helped a couple kids with long division, listened to someone's Christmas Wishes, which included a visit from his estranged dad, who happens to spend his holidays in prison. Believe it or not, the only college prep I had to any of this was the long division, and I'm not sure how important that is anyway.
I assisted Sean in drilling holes in a plastic bottle to make a bird feeder. He placed the hole too high from the perch in my opinion, but he insisted there were tall birds who needed to eat too. I read aloud from The Great Gilly Hopkins, then read it again to a couple of kids who are so easily distracted they need a private reading. I spent quite a bit of time playing with blocks trying to convince my kids that just because there are three pieces to a puzzle doesn't necessarily mean its divided into thirds.
Somewhere in there I ate Nachos (I opted out of the Cheese-a-dilla) and gave a few high fives in the hall to the kids who reassure me that they're going to be in my room next year.
At 2:30, I put the last kid on the bus and went to a faculty meeting. We talked about our Christmas party and the "dirty Santa" game we always play. It sounds quite provactive but it's actually very tame. Lori, our principal, then talked about a new nationally based standard curriculum, where 5th grade will be assessed in all subject areas. I said "Bring it on." (Actually, I don't think that was my exact quote.)
On the way home, I touched base with Carly, who was in a much better mood. Talked with my mom and dad. At home, I walked Grace, did a load of laundry, cleaned my living room floor (that's almost a daily chore when you live at a zoo.) Now I'm on my way to a book club meeting.
If my life gets any more boring, I'm going to have to start working weekends.
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