I can’t count how many times I’ve set it aside. “The timing isn’t right,” or “I’m out of ideas.” You know what it really was? Fear. I was afraid that I couldn’t do it. I watched my early blogging peers do it. When I participated in the This is Childhood anthology I still felt tickles of doubt. It’s been years since I’ve written about parenting with any regularity. It wasn’t a conscious decision, I miss it sometimes. Writing for clients at work is good, I love words being the thing that can help create the outcome someone needs. I’ve been having fun with TikTok. It’s a wildly different medium, but it’s giving me a place to experiment. Writing is still my true love. Last…
COVID hasn’t made anything easy. Things that we used to be able to crave—feeling attractive or desirable, cutting through responsibility with a spontaneous act, diving headlong into anonymity through travel, all seem too selfish. And yet, it’s almost more essential now. Our washing machine has been inoperable, with a one-week exception, since October. We are caught in a limbo of protection plan contractor requirements, labor shortages, and supply chain gaps. The girls and I had COVID over the holidays—we sweat through our clothes and bedding. The laundry piled up, tainted by the virus we had so assiduously avoided for two years. I’ve gone back and forth between doing laundry in the bathtub and taking it to a wash and fold place in town. I…
The world around me tumbles and crashes, the instinct I’ve been able to rely on for anticipating shifts is quiet. I can go back decades tracing the echoes of my complaints that I don’t have a skill. I’ve ached for an output capable of measurement. The voice in my ear has been relentless and unforgiving for so long. How strange that in this immersion into a life that is impenetrable for intuition, I am unexpectedly confident in my gift. I’ve known things on a cellular level about relationships. My way through has been knowing things were going to happen with people before they occurred. I have given my heart and gut a steady voice, and they have never let me down. Sequestered at home…
This morning was the day we were putting our boat in the water. The timing wasn’t the most convenient, this month is chock full of travel for work. As I write this Sean is wrapping up a presentation/event with our business partners in the City of Oneonta. We had about a two-hour window to get it all done. I love being in the water and on the water, but the boat aspect is Sean’s love. I was more swimming pools and tromping in rivers, while he worked at a marina and rowed in college. He grew up on Lake George, and for as long as I can remember, any chance he had to be out on a boat, he grabbed. After I relocated from…
Before conferences like Mom2 there are often posts and online conversations about what to do to prep for an experience like this. I’ve had my share of being nervous and intimidated, so I tweeted something I believe:
Then wouldn’t you know it, not 24 hours after getting here I had a moment that made me shrink. I had booked a massage for myself at the spa, taking care of the reservation ahead of time, and double checking in the morning that they would be ready for me. When I walked into the spa, the woman behind the counter smiled at me. Across the room, a door opened and a petite, blonde woman in her late 50s walked through it.
I stepped toward the counter and the blonde walked in front of me, the woman at the counter looked between us.
“Do you have a list of spa services I can look at?” The spa employee looked at me and then back to the woman, “Sure, right here.” She handed her the brochure and turned to me.
“May I help you?” I smiled and told her I had an appointment. “Ok, great, there is just a short form to fill out ahead of the treatment.”
The blonde cut in, “I’d like to go ahead with a hot stone massage.”
“Sure, I can schedule that for you,” the clerk said as she turned to the computer.
“You don’t have anyone here now?”
At this point, I was feeling very crawl-out-of-my-skin uncomfortable. “Actually we are quite busy with today’s weather. I could fit you in around 4.” The woman huffed and tossed a glance my way. “Whatever, that will have to be fine I guess.”
I felt myself holding my breath. Should I offer her my slot? I mean, I really thought that. What happened to ‘you aren’t less worthy’? This woman wasn’t even being respectful of the spa, let alone acknowledging that I had any right to be there.
The truth is I’m not a spa person, massages are an extravagance in my life on rare occasions. When I come to these conferences I try to build in things I wouldn’t normally be able to do—a treat that I budget for and look forward to. I was angry that this woman had threatened my enjoyment, but more than that, I was frustrated with myself.
How can I fall off a solid track so easily? Why would I consider this woman anything more than an entitled, rude person?
I once heard a person say that “meditation is an exercise in keeping yourself on task.” It shocked me, I thought anyone who meditated had achieved a focus and level of zen that meant they were meditating, not working on meditating.
It all takes work.
Confidence is something you work at.
Reverence is something you commit to working on.
Relationships are living things that require time, energy, and light.
Our reaction to situations, people, and stress are not finite, we work and grow. It’s ok to falter and rethink.
When I walked into the room for the massage I left the blonde outside. Her behavior lasts seconds, my response to it is what I risk being forever.
If you are trying at something do yourself the favor of acknowledging that it doesn’t end, trying isn’t failing, trying is the doing and the living..
