It all began with Andrea plopping down in her chair behind me and asking, "How would you
feel about not working a game day this fall."
"Sure! Which one?"
"No, I mean, how would you feel about not working any game days this fall?"
How would I feel? Is now a bad time to mention that I have plotted waiting until two weeks before football season begins to give my notice, willing to reconsider only on this very stipulation? Granted, it would have been a gamble. I am not looking to quit for real just yet, but I have honestly doubted my abilities to make it through another football season, despite my life plan and budget.
"What's the catch?"
"That you commit to work through football season."
...
"We are bribing you not to quit."
...
"We can't do without you."
And there it was. More than an acknowledgement of good work, more than gratitude. Begging. Negotiations. Bribes.
Kevin and I made a plan that included me working through this coming December. As I get paid better and have better benefits where I am than anywhere else I could find, I will be staying with my current company. I have it in the budget. The fuzzier end of that plan is when I will be quitting. Sometime around a year from now, I think. Unless I can't get Christmas off again, because then I will be giving my notice two weeks before Christmas. I am going to Illinois this year. I have given my word.
Anywho, I have made many plans in my head for negotiating a better situation, all of which negotiations involve my threatening to quit. I know they need me, and I had day dreamed about telling them so.
Turns out, they already knew it. Kris has heard that Kevin and I are looking at houses further North. She has heard the interns ask me when I plan to have a baby. And then she was denied her request to hire a new buyer. That leaves her doing two people's work for over an entire year. The one concession she was given was that she could hire "another Audrey," to supply the defunct department with some stable employee, as opposed to the intern it had last fall. Kris responded that an assistant doesn't do her any good if he/she is not as well-trained as Audrey. That's where the bribes come in. They need me. Desperately. If I quit, there are two people to run the entire show, with no time to train anyone. Kris can't help our department if she is running another. So, they need me to stay. They want a commitment. They want me to stay through football season to train and oversee the "other Audrey." Even better, if I would give them enough notice of when I choose to leave so that I can also train my replacement.
There’s a raise in it for me, as well as the game days off. I even made the offer of staying an entire year if I can be guaranteed the week off between Christmas and New Years. I think I should have made higher demands, because Andrea actually rubbed her hands together gleefully in imitation of Kris’s reception to the news.
Oh well. I’m content with my lot: weekends and holidays off, a hefty raise, and eternal gratitude from Kris. I’m okay with that.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Limit
I have officially hit my weight limit. No more vague promises of eating "better" and working out "more". Full diet and exercise regime goes into place right now. I will lose 15 pounds in 30 days. I have planned my new menu--which includes changing my whole egg each morning to egg white only, and eliminates all sugary foods--and my return to The 30-day Shred.
I will not be uncomfortable in my own body.
I will not be uncomfortable in my own body.
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Sickbed Manners
My doctor wants me to be sick and depressed.
This morning during our 3-month follow-up (to the six-week follow up to the appointment where I wanted to switch birth control and she wanted to put me on antidepressants) she seemed to think I was lying when I gave her answers more positive than I did last time, which were more positive than the time before. Her probing follow-up questions had tones of skepticism. By the time I left, my legs were crossed away from her and my arms were folded across my chest as tightly as they would go. I was done.
All she did was make me feel bad about myself, the way I'd expect a dentist to if I didn't have perfect teeth. During the first meeting, she criticized me for not exercising regularly. So, the next time I reported, and truthfully, that I was walking once a week with a friend. This time, I said I was up to 20 minutes of cardio twice a week, stretching every day and weights once a week. She actually gave me a "hmmm" and frowned, suggesting that I work on bettering my routine and making exercise more of a habit, so I don't slip again.
Is nothing good enough?! I'm improving, damn it, and I am doing better than most Americans. I made diet changes, I set aside time to relax, I cut major stressors, I am in control of myself and my environment.
"Too much control?" she asked. "Do you have any little habits that you fall back on when you don't have control, things that seem a little obsessive compulsive?" I said no. So she enumerated for my benefit things I might be doing: cleaning compulsively, growing angry when others don't clean to my specifications, biting nails, etc. I again said no. I've never been that way. When I get most anxious, I pick up a book and sit down. And despite my budgeting of time, I do not freak out when something throws off my plan. My nails are too long (but they grow like weeds, so don't assume I am ignoring hygiene). And if you saw my kitchen most days, you know the cleaning thing doesn't apply to me. I am fine.
"What percentage of time are you in control of your thoughts? What do you do when you have negative thoughts?" Well, I try to think about or do something else. Or I reason against those thoughts, pointing out to myself why they are irrational or damaging. "So...you...distract yourself or argue?" She smirked.
Hells Bells, woman! Of course I do. What else is there, besides dwelling on them and crawling under the covers hoping the sleeping pills you gave me will kick in soon? I have not taken those pills, by the way, in over three months. I am not withdrawing from friends and family. I no longer display any of the symptoms of depression, except perhaps headaches. But those, I attribute to my 3-year-old glasses prescription.
Yes, sometimes I still feel afraid. Sometimes I still feel sad. I am convinced that any emotionally-tolling event will leave scars characterised by recurring intrusive recollections, emotional numbing, and a decreased sense of security. This is typically called "baggage." And, sure, I've got some.
But, really, I am doing just fine.
This morning during our 3-month follow-up (to the six-week follow up to the appointment where I wanted to switch birth control and she wanted to put me on antidepressants) she seemed to think I was lying when I gave her answers more positive than I did last time, which were more positive than the time before. Her probing follow-up questions had tones of skepticism. By the time I left, my legs were crossed away from her and my arms were folded across my chest as tightly as they would go. I was done.
All she did was make me feel bad about myself, the way I'd expect a dentist to if I didn't have perfect teeth. During the first meeting, she criticized me for not exercising regularly. So, the next time I reported, and truthfully, that I was walking once a week with a friend. This time, I said I was up to 20 minutes of cardio twice a week, stretching every day and weights once a week. She actually gave me a "hmmm" and frowned, suggesting that I work on bettering my routine and making exercise more of a habit, so I don't slip again.
Is nothing good enough?! I'm improving, damn it, and I am doing better than most Americans. I made diet changes, I set aside time to relax, I cut major stressors, I am in control of myself and my environment.
"Too much control?" she asked. "Do you have any little habits that you fall back on when you don't have control, things that seem a little obsessive compulsive?" I said no. So she enumerated for my benefit things I might be doing: cleaning compulsively, growing angry when others don't clean to my specifications, biting nails, etc. I again said no. I've never been that way. When I get most anxious, I pick up a book and sit down. And despite my budgeting of time, I do not freak out when something throws off my plan. My nails are too long (but they grow like weeds, so don't assume I am ignoring hygiene). And if you saw my kitchen most days, you know the cleaning thing doesn't apply to me. I am fine.
"What percentage of time are you in control of your thoughts? What do you do when you have negative thoughts?" Well, I try to think about or do something else. Or I reason against those thoughts, pointing out to myself why they are irrational or damaging. "So...you...distract yourself or argue?" She smirked.
Hells Bells, woman! Of course I do. What else is there, besides dwelling on them and crawling under the covers hoping the sleeping pills you gave me will kick in soon? I have not taken those pills, by the way, in over three months. I am not withdrawing from friends and family. I no longer display any of the symptoms of depression, except perhaps headaches. But those, I attribute to my 3-year-old glasses prescription.
Yes, sometimes I still feel afraid. Sometimes I still feel sad. I am convinced that any emotionally-tolling event will leave scars characterised by recurring intrusive recollections, emotional numbing, and a decreased sense of security. This is typically called "baggage." And, sure, I've got some.
But, really, I am doing just fine.
Tuesday, February 08, 2011
Shopping is
shopping is shopping is shopping.
It does not matter whether it is for jeans, swimming suits, wedding dress fabric, cars, houses, or granite counter tops. It is the always the same: physically and emotionally draining.
So, the design center was totally over rated. Most builders have a design studio with samples of everything for you to choose from. Lennar, our builder, had one room in their model home. One. It had carpet, tile, granite, and cabinet door samples. We had to go look at houses being built to see doors, plumbing fixtures, lighting fixtures, crown moulding, brick, etc. Vinyl flooring comes standard in all wet areas, but they didn't even have pictures of it. Other things they had to email to us. So instead of walking in and piecing together a home and making an offer on it, we ran around for hours and then returned home to look at emails of other options. Seriously, how hard would it be to print out colored pictures of all this stuff and put it in a three-ring binder for prospective buyers to flip through? I am half-tempted to make one myself!
Plus, the seller tried to use scare tactics on us, talking about upcoming price increases. Kevin and I were both ready to wash our hands of the entire thing. We have since calmed down, but we will wait until next weekend to revisit the options.
It does not matter whether it is for jeans, swimming suits, wedding dress fabric, cars, houses, or granite counter tops. It is the always the same: physically and emotionally draining.
So, the design center was totally over rated. Most builders have a design studio with samples of everything for you to choose from. Lennar, our builder, had one room in their model home. One. It had carpet, tile, granite, and cabinet door samples. We had to go look at houses being built to see doors, plumbing fixtures, lighting fixtures, crown moulding, brick, etc. Vinyl flooring comes standard in all wet areas, but they didn't even have pictures of it. Other things they had to email to us. So instead of walking in and piecing together a home and making an offer on it, we ran around for hours and then returned home to look at emails of other options. Seriously, how hard would it be to print out colored pictures of all this stuff and put it in a three-ring binder for prospective buyers to flip through? I am half-tempted to make one myself!
Plus, the seller tried to use scare tactics on us, talking about upcoming price increases. Kevin and I were both ready to wash our hands of the entire thing. We have since calmed down, but we will wait until next weekend to revisit the options.
Monday, February 07, 2011
Snow Day
Friday felt like a day out of the past. Not my childhood, however. College.
The snow and ice guaranteed me a day off work, but Kevin was working from home, so my exuberance caused too many distractions. By nine in the morning, I couldn't be contained anymore, so I put on my puffy down coat, a bright red scarf, and ran across the lawn to Audrei's apartment. I tippy-tapped at the door, in case she had slept in, so she wouldn't hear me from her room. However, she and Christa had spent the night in the living room, and I woke them up. Bleary-eyed, they let me come in, and we spent a pleasant ten minutes before another knock came at the door. Tamara, who moved into the apartment complex in January, had come, too, freed from work and looking to play.
Together, the four of us trooped out into the snow, stomping all the while in order to savor the delicious crunch beneath our boots. I had the idea to fetch Tiffany, and Tamara ran to another apartment for Jodi. By the time we stood at the door of Brittney's apartment, I began to realize something. I have neighbors whom I know. Lots of them, in fact. And I can run across the lawn at any time to drop in and say hi. The homeyness of it made me as nostalgic as did the snow.
I have friends again.
The snow and ice guaranteed me a day off work, but Kevin was working from home, so my exuberance caused too many distractions. By nine in the morning, I couldn't be contained anymore, so I put on my puffy down coat, a bright red scarf, and ran across the lawn to Audrei's apartment. I tippy-tapped at the door, in case she had slept in, so she wouldn't hear me from her room. However, she and Christa had spent the night in the living room, and I woke them up. Bleary-eyed, they let me come in, and we spent a pleasant ten minutes before another knock came at the door. Tamara, who moved into the apartment complex in January, had come, too, freed from work and looking to play.
Together, the four of us trooped out into the snow, stomping all the while in order to savor the delicious crunch beneath our boots. I had the idea to fetch Tiffany, and Tamara ran to another apartment for Jodi. By the time we stood at the door of Brittney's apartment, I began to realize something. I have neighbors whom I know. Lots of them, in fact. And I can run across the lawn at any time to drop in and say hi. The homeyness of it made me as nostalgic as did the snow.
I have friends again.
Wednesday, February 02, 2011
Playing with Options
On Saturday, Kevin and I are going to the design studio for our builder to play with options on our potential future house. I am giddy with excitement. Just looking at the floor plan, I have been decorating in my head. Now I can play hands-on!
Things I already know: I will paint the master bedroom blue damask; Kevin and I will put in our own crown moulding (or make Joyce do it, since I can't do anything in a straight line), ceiling fans, water softener and garage door opener; and we want the gas range.
We will be looking at cabinet colors, granite counter tops, tile flooring, carpet samples, hardware, blinds and doors. I am going to try to toe the line between economy and extravagance. I simply must remember that I will live in this house for the next 30 years, God willing. Some upgrades will be worth it, while others will not be.
Carpet, for example. Kids will ruin carpet, no matter what kind. So, we do not need to upgrade it. The standard stain-resistant stuff is good enough to be replaced in ten to fifteen years. Carpet in the dining room is another issue entirely. Food falls (or gets thrown) and I have had it recommended to me to tile the dining room for this reason. However, I don't really like the look of that in my head. Maybe one of those big plastic mats for the carpet during the food-throwing years?
Another dilemma I have revolves around a fireplace. To build or not to build? Practical me thinks of the cost, initial and over the years. Heat escapes through a flue, pests enter through the chimney, etc. Then the other side of me argues that fireplaces are pretty and romantic. What about Christmas? Won't somebody think of the children?!
After Saturday I will have a much better idea of what this house will look like and what I can do with it. If options really are running half-price this month, then I might have some real fun with this.
Things I already know: I will paint the master bedroom blue damask; Kevin and I will put in our own crown moulding (or make Joyce do it, since I can't do anything in a straight line), ceiling fans, water softener and garage door opener; and we want the gas range.
We will be looking at cabinet colors, granite counter tops, tile flooring, carpet samples, hardware, blinds and doors. I am going to try to toe the line between economy and extravagance. I simply must remember that I will live in this house for the next 30 years, God willing. Some upgrades will be worth it, while others will not be.
Carpet, for example. Kids will ruin carpet, no matter what kind. So, we do not need to upgrade it. The standard stain-resistant stuff is good enough to be replaced in ten to fifteen years. Carpet in the dining room is another issue entirely. Food falls (or gets thrown) and I have had it recommended to me to tile the dining room for this reason. However, I don't really like the look of that in my head. Maybe one of those big plastic mats for the carpet during the food-throwing years?
Another dilemma I have revolves around a fireplace. To build or not to build? Practical me thinks of the cost, initial and over the years. Heat escapes through a flue, pests enter through the chimney, etc. Then the other side of me argues that fireplaces are pretty and romantic. What about Christmas? Won't somebody think of the children?!
After Saturday I will have a much better idea of what this house will look like and what I can do with it. If options really are running half-price this month, then I might have some real fun with this.
Tuesday, February 01, 2011
Can-do
I have taken an inventory of all our food storage, and my project for February is to get it canned. Alas, monthly budget only allows for 22 #10 cans, so in February, I can can half of it (using January's and February's allotment). I'll finish it in April. And I have learned my lesson: for the rest of the year, while I complete our supply, I will can on site before bringing it home. Or better yet, buy the pre-canned stuff.
Progress Report
Here is my progress report for my New Year's Resolution of better time management.
I told you my Focus for the month of January was scripture study, and my project was finishing my photo albums.
Here's how I did.
This is my ideal weekly schedule. Orange is working out. Green is scripture reading, with Kevin and by myself. Red is writing. Light blue is cooking. Purple is errands and chores. The slashes are times to use productively on things like Book Club, Visiting Teaching, going to the temple, and working on my monthly projects. White is for my use, to relax, read, etc. The light gray chunks are work and church, and the dark gray perimeter is sleeping. If I were perfect with my time management, this is what my schedule would look like.
This is what my time does look like. There is definitely more sleep happening. And much more time wasted. The bright yellow represents time spent watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Netflix. An episode a day makes my nightmares much more interesting, and with wittier dialogue. Okay, so I made that last part up.
I wasn't super great at keeping my time organized, and I hardly ever exercised, but I definitely did better this month than in December. I did set aside three Wednesdays for writing, even if it wasn't terribly productive. I did schedule with Audrei our weekly exercise. I did not Visit Teach. I did write in my journal. I did email friends and call family. I did blog slightly more. I did not get chores done by noon on Saturday. I did not go to Book Club.
As far as scripture study is concerned, I very rarely studied for 30 minutes at a time, which is my ultimate goal. This month, I felt content reading a chapter a day, and I did read 25 days out of 31, which is 240% better than last month. I only got one photo album out of two pieced together, but I did spend my time on projects, mostly regarding the future house (see turquoise slashes). I twice spent an entire Saturday on that project. I also began some on my food storage, technically February's project. In the scripture reading category, I give myself a B- for the month, and in projects an A, knowing that I am going easy on myself in light of how new I am to this whole self-discipline thing.
I created a complicated grading sheet for my overall grade, which compares my actual time use to my end-of-year goal. In twelve categories, I scored myself out of 100% and averaged them for a grade of 54%. This is half of my score. My Focus is another 25% of my grade, and my projects round it out. I then gave myself an 11 point bonus (which will decrease by a point per month, thus making an identical performance worth less as time passes).
Yes, I am a freak.
But the point is that my final score for the month of January is a B- .
I told you my Focus for the month of January was scripture study, and my project was finishing my photo albums.
Here's how I did.
This is my ideal weekly schedule. Orange is working out. Green is scripture reading, with Kevin and by myself. Red is writing. Light blue is cooking. Purple is errands and chores. The slashes are times to use productively on things like Book Club, Visiting Teaching, going to the temple, and working on my monthly projects. White is for my use, to relax, read, etc. The light gray chunks are work and church, and the dark gray perimeter is sleeping. If I were perfect with my time management, this is what my schedule would look like.
This is what my time does look like. There is definitely more sleep happening. And much more time wasted. The bright yellow represents time spent watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer on Netflix. An episode a day makes my nightmares much more interesting, and with wittier dialogue. Okay, so I made that last part up.
I wasn't super great at keeping my time organized, and I hardly ever exercised, but I definitely did better this month than in December. I did set aside three Wednesdays for writing, even if it wasn't terribly productive. I did schedule with Audrei our weekly exercise. I did not Visit Teach. I did write in my journal. I did email friends and call family. I did blog slightly more. I did not get chores done by noon on Saturday. I did not go to Book Club.
As far as scripture study is concerned, I very rarely studied for 30 minutes at a time, which is my ultimate goal. This month, I felt content reading a chapter a day, and I did read 25 days out of 31, which is 240% better than last month. I only got one photo album out of two pieced together, but I did spend my time on projects, mostly regarding the future house (see turquoise slashes). I twice spent an entire Saturday on that project. I also began some on my food storage, technically February's project. In the scripture reading category, I give myself a B- for the month, and in projects an A, knowing that I am going easy on myself in light of how new I am to this whole self-discipline thing.
I created a complicated grading sheet for my overall grade, which compares my actual time use to my end-of-year goal. In twelve categories, I scored myself out of 100% and averaged them for a grade of 54%. This is half of my score. My Focus is another 25% of my grade, and my projects round it out. I then gave myself an 11 point bonus (which will decrease by a point per month, thus making an identical performance worth less as time passes).
Yes, I am a freak.
But the point is that my final score for the month of January is a B- .
Friday, January 28, 2011
So Sew
I bought a sewing machine last week! It is pink (partially) and I can't wait until I know what the instruction manual is talking about, so I can get to learnin' to sew.
My ambition is to learn to alter clothing. While making dresses and skirts for myself would be extra nice, given how hard it is to find things long enough for me, that goal is secondary. First, I want to learn altering, so that Kevin and I can "settle" for clothing that we like in theory but doesn't fit perfectly. Let's face it, store bought clothing is going to be more fashionable overall, better made, and cheaper when mass produced. So, I won't outfit my future family is homemade wardrobes, but I can make sure that the cheap stuff we buy with our budget fits like the higher end goods we are foregoing.
My ambition is to learn to alter clothing. While making dresses and skirts for myself would be extra nice, given how hard it is to find things long enough for me, that goal is secondary. First, I want to learn altering, so that Kevin and I can "settle" for clothing that we like in theory but doesn't fit perfectly. Let's face it, store bought clothing is going to be more fashionable overall, better made, and cheaper when mass produced. So, I won't outfit my future family is homemade wardrobes, but I can make sure that the cheap stuff we buy with our budget fits like the higher end goods we are foregoing.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
House Smitten
Kevin and I have found a house with which we are (in theory) in love! On paper, everything is what we need, though not without some sacrifice, and I am already painting and decorating it in my imagination. We go to see the builder on Saturday. I hope it is everything I have dreamed. Building takes 4-6 months, and we only have 4, so it had better be what we want!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Gifted
For Christmas this year, Kevin set up my iPod for me. I have had it for two years and have never changed the songs from the ones programmed onto it by my mother, its first user. Kevin saved those songs to my computer, downloaded iTunes, ripped all of my CDs to my computer and uploaded a play list of Christmas songs to my iPod. He then taught me how to do it all, too.
It was the perfect gift! It was something I had wanted for a long time, but hadn't done. It was an act of service that required time and thought, not money, and we even spent time together while he instructed me in the ways of iTunes. It was exactly the way Christmas should be.
Kevin has been routinely good at giving presents, consistently topping me in the gift arena. I just panic until it's too late to do anything. I skipped his 30th birthday entirely. What a wife! I am determined now to be better, to be more like he is, showing thought and care with gifts. And I face my next challenge in March for our anniversary. Unless I am expected to do something for Valentine's Day. Yikes!
It was the perfect gift! It was something I had wanted for a long time, but hadn't done. It was an act of service that required time and thought, not money, and we even spent time together while he instructed me in the ways of iTunes. It was exactly the way Christmas should be.
Kevin has been routinely good at giving presents, consistently topping me in the gift arena. I just panic until it's too late to do anything. I skipped his 30th birthday entirely. What a wife! I am determined now to be better, to be more like he is, showing thought and care with gifts. And I face my next challenge in March for our anniversary. Unless I am expected to do something for Valentine's Day. Yikes!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Depression Threshold
I have a theory that everyone has a "depression threshold" similar to an allergen threshold. We can take so many factors that cause depression before symptoms show or begin to take hold. If we can reduce those factors below our threshold, then we can control our moods. Chemical imbalances are one of those things that will overcome our threshold almost guaranteed, and medication is the way to decrease that factor.
For me, I could not change the source of what ailed me, but I could decrease all the little things that hurt my mood and increase those that helped, to better get my net depressive intake below threshold.
And it's working. I think sometimes I am right at that threshold, and one sad movie will push me over the edge (e.g. Kevin made me stop watching Everybody's Fine, when I began sobbing on his lap). But as long as I am below my threshold, in control of my mood, then I can be in control of my thoughts and actions.
I take special care to get enough sleep. I should take care to get enough water, but I am usually tipped off by grouchiness when I have not done this diligently. I try to stay productive and mentally engaged. I listen to music every day, thanks in large part to Kevin's wonderful Christmas present!
I felt, at first, like I was simply waving something shiny in front of my eyes, constantly distracting myself from dark thoughts of worthlessness and those fearsome monsters that lurked under my bed. I put on blinders and kept focusing with all my might on the shiny thing. If I got tired and dropped my guard, then I felt bombarded by the waiting fears. I wondered if I was practicing avoidance and not actually accomplishing anything productive. But that was at first.
Now, I am not constantly on guard, and I don't have to wave something shiny to keep myself distracted. I have filled my home and life with shiny things, small but pleasant, that genuinely make me happy. And if I come across some trigger that brings on depressive thoughts, I am not drowned in sorrow. I ache still, but I am strong enough to challenge the thoughts that I had to avoid at first.
I am strengthening my emotional muscles using very little weight but constant repetition. I keep it at a level where I can stay in control. And then, when I have those heavier burdens to carry, I believe I will be able to do so a little better for a little longer. And with a little better attitude.
For me, I could not change the source of what ailed me, but I could decrease all the little things that hurt my mood and increase those that helped, to better get my net depressive intake below threshold.
And it's working. I think sometimes I am right at that threshold, and one sad movie will push me over the edge (e.g. Kevin made me stop watching Everybody's Fine, when I began sobbing on his lap). But as long as I am below my threshold, in control of my mood, then I can be in control of my thoughts and actions.
I take special care to get enough sleep. I should take care to get enough water, but I am usually tipped off by grouchiness when I have not done this diligently. I try to stay productive and mentally engaged. I listen to music every day, thanks in large part to Kevin's wonderful Christmas present!
I felt, at first, like I was simply waving something shiny in front of my eyes, constantly distracting myself from dark thoughts of worthlessness and those fearsome monsters that lurked under my bed. I put on blinders and kept focusing with all my might on the shiny thing. If I got tired and dropped my guard, then I felt bombarded by the waiting fears. I wondered if I was practicing avoidance and not actually accomplishing anything productive. But that was at first.
Now, I am not constantly on guard, and I don't have to wave something shiny to keep myself distracted. I have filled my home and life with shiny things, small but pleasant, that genuinely make me happy. And if I come across some trigger that brings on depressive thoughts, I am not drowned in sorrow. I ache still, but I am strong enough to challenge the thoughts that I had to avoid at first.
I am strengthening my emotional muscles using very little weight but constant repetition. I keep it at a level where I can stay in control. And then, when I have those heavier burdens to carry, I believe I will be able to do so a little better for a little longer. And with a little better attitude.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
The Incredible Edible Egg
Since my refusal to take medication for depression, I have been eating eggs for breakfast every morning, instead of the decades-long habit of cereal. The reason for the change? Several articles citing food allergies, more specifically dairy, as causes of depression. Then there were articles on foods that aid moods. Folic acid is more effective in treating mild depression than anti-depressants and placebos. Granted, this only holds true for mild depression, not moderate or severe. Magnesium is good, sugar is bad, and omega-3 fatty acids are great. Thus the great breakfast swap of 2010.
For the first month, I had two eggs and two pieces of toast for breakfast with a glass of orange juice. When my weight started slipping upward, I reconsidered. I had, after all, exchanged 110 calories of Special K and almost no fat for roughly 350 calories and over 16 grams of fat. I may have thoroughly enjoyed toast with butter and jam, but I was eating too much. When I had eaten eggs only rarely, I didn't much notice how much larger my breakfast was.
So I cut back. I eat one egg, runny, with a pieces of whole-wheat bread, plain, and a glass of orange juice. My intake is about 210 calories and 8 grams of fat.
I did not notice the effects of the eggs, at least not as such. I did notice that I am in general in better control of my moods. Granted, I instituted a great many changes, all of which have helped. I also noticed that my monthly was getting lighter and lighter. But I did not attribute any of this to the magic of eggs. Until I ran out.
I ate cereal two days in a row. My stomach rebelled. My energy lagged. My mood soured. My body had been healing from repeated exposure to an allergen, and then I reintroduced it. I now know that I am not equipped to consume dairy the way I had been. I am now sensitive to a glass of milk. Occasionally, I will still eat a bowl of Quaker Oatmeal Squares for dessert, but I notice the negative results now.
I also recently read this article on CNN that explained my lessening symptoms.
And so, I have become converted. An egg a day keeps the blues away. And I just can't get enough of runny yolk.
For the first month, I had two eggs and two pieces of toast for breakfast with a glass of orange juice. When my weight started slipping upward, I reconsidered. I had, after all, exchanged 110 calories of Special K and almost no fat for roughly 350 calories and over 16 grams of fat. I may have thoroughly enjoyed toast with butter and jam, but I was eating too much. When I had eaten eggs only rarely, I didn't much notice how much larger my breakfast was.
So I cut back. I eat one egg, runny, with a pieces of whole-wheat bread, plain, and a glass of orange juice. My intake is about 210 calories and 8 grams of fat.
I did not notice the effects of the eggs, at least not as such. I did notice that I am in general in better control of my moods. Granted, I instituted a great many changes, all of which have helped. I also noticed that my monthly was getting lighter and lighter. But I did not attribute any of this to the magic of eggs. Until I ran out.
I ate cereal two days in a row. My stomach rebelled. My energy lagged. My mood soured. My body had been healing from repeated exposure to an allergen, and then I reintroduced it. I now know that I am not equipped to consume dairy the way I had been. I am now sensitive to a glass of milk. Occasionally, I will still eat a bowl of Quaker Oatmeal Squares for dessert, but I notice the negative results now.
I also recently read this article on CNN that explained my lessening symptoms.
And so, I have become converted. An egg a day keeps the blues away. And I just can't get enough of runny yolk.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Vin
I have a new car! Her name is Vin, named after the heroine of the Mistborn trilogy, not to mention a clever car pun. Get it?
I was asked at work what my favorite feature is, and I felt momentarily stumped. When I think of features on a car, I think of things that my reliable little Corolla does not possess. Sun roof, six CD changer, blue tooth, GPS, etc. After my brief pause, I answered, "My favorite thing about my car is that I don't have to spend 15 minutes waiting on the corner before I can go anywhere."
I guess that would be the ignition. My ignition is my favorite feature of my car. Followed by the steering wheel. I love that I don't have to follow a predetermined path to and from work. I can go wherever I want in my Vin. I am also quite fond of the accelerator. I don't have to stop every block, and I can go upwards of seventy-five miles per hour to get home at the end of the day. And I love my CD player and pre-programmed radio.
But mostly, I love it because it is mine.
I was asked at work what my favorite feature is, and I felt momentarily stumped. When I think of features on a car, I think of things that my reliable little Corolla does not possess. Sun roof, six CD changer, blue tooth, GPS, etc. After my brief pause, I answered, "My favorite thing about my car is that I don't have to spend 15 minutes waiting on the corner before I can go anywhere."
I guess that would be the ignition. My ignition is my favorite feature of my car. Followed by the steering wheel. I love that I don't have to follow a predetermined path to and from work. I can go wherever I want in my Vin. I am also quite fond of the accelerator. I don't have to stop every block, and I can go upwards of seventy-five miles per hour to get home at the end of the day. And I love my CD player and pre-programmed radio.
But mostly, I love it because it is mine.
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
New Year's Resolution
My New Year's Resolution is to be better at time management. I have so many things that I want to do and cannot find the time for, whereas I do very little that I actually enjoy with the time I have. I determined, in getting a car, and thus more free time, that I should make the most of it. That I should use most of it. No more time wasting for me. That's my resolve.
This entails dozens of smaller goals.
I compare it to money management. If I had resolved to manage my money better, I would have started by making a budget, reviewing necessary expenses, typical uses of money and where I can save and what the savings should be used for. A budget leads to dozens of little goals: spend less on eating out (which leads to making food at home), save this much per month toward a new car, set up weekly transfers to my savings from my checking, etc.
The same it true for my time management goal. I started with a budget. Where does my time go? Is it necessary? Is there something of higher priority that ought to use that time instead? My little goals became daily scripture study, daily exercise, saving Wednesday evenings for writing only and reallocating the typical use of it to another evening, etc. I have a color-coded schedule of my ideal week, how I would use my time to perfectly reflect my goals were I to possess the self-discipline and no distractions--though, I did include room for unforeseen events.
The task looks impossible. I do not spend my time like that now. But I hope to be much closer by December of this year. That's the point: it's a goal not an immediate transformation. And like with a budget, I will not throw the whole thing out the window if I slip up and clean the kitchen tonight instead of writing. I will do better tomorrow.
As part of good goal setting, I have constructed a plan to meet this goal. I have selected a focus for each month, a sub-goal that I will dedicate my attention to fitting into place, even if the others slip a little. Hopefully, each month will build a habit that will continue to the next; but if not, I have selected only six focuses, so I will come back and repeat the experience within the year. This month I will focus on making sure I read scriptures daily. It is a priority goal for me that I never seem to have time for. This month, it will happen. Daily.
I also have a project this month: to edit and print the pictures we've taken since the cruise and put them into an album. This way, when I come to some free time and consider wasting it because I haven't made a plan for how to best use it, I can fall back to editing pictures.
Next month my focus will be on exercising, and my project will be working on food storage.
This entails dozens of smaller goals.
I compare it to money management. If I had resolved to manage my money better, I would have started by making a budget, reviewing necessary expenses, typical uses of money and where I can save and what the savings should be used for. A budget leads to dozens of little goals: spend less on eating out (which leads to making food at home), save this much per month toward a new car, set up weekly transfers to my savings from my checking, etc.
The same it true for my time management goal. I started with a budget. Where does my time go? Is it necessary? Is there something of higher priority that ought to use that time instead? My little goals became daily scripture study, daily exercise, saving Wednesday evenings for writing only and reallocating the typical use of it to another evening, etc. I have a color-coded schedule of my ideal week, how I would use my time to perfectly reflect my goals were I to possess the self-discipline and no distractions--though, I did include room for unforeseen events.
The task looks impossible. I do not spend my time like that now. But I hope to be much closer by December of this year. That's the point: it's a goal not an immediate transformation. And like with a budget, I will not throw the whole thing out the window if I slip up and clean the kitchen tonight instead of writing. I will do better tomorrow.
As part of good goal setting, I have constructed a plan to meet this goal. I have selected a focus for each month, a sub-goal that I will dedicate my attention to fitting into place, even if the others slip a little. Hopefully, each month will build a habit that will continue to the next; but if not, I have selected only six focuses, so I will come back and repeat the experience within the year. This month I will focus on making sure I read scriptures daily. It is a priority goal for me that I never seem to have time for. This month, it will happen. Daily.
I also have a project this month: to edit and print the pictures we've taken since the cruise and put them into an album. This way, when I come to some free time and consider wasting it because I haven't made a plan for how to best use it, I can fall back to editing pictures.
Next month my focus will be on exercising, and my project will be working on food storage.
Costco
Yesterday, I had to stop by the store on the way home. I had to, if I wanted breakfast the next morning. I also had a hefty stack of coupons in my pocket for Costco, so I decided that I would go there, even if it was more out of the way, and stock up on paper towels and other bulk non-perishable items. Truth be told, I was a little distracted by my phone call with Emilie, with whom I talked as I roamed the aisles. When I got to the check-out stand and placed by coupons on the conveyor belt, I got a look of deepest contempt.
"The coupons start Thursday," she said...and rolled her eyes.
Sure enough the date was right across the top of each in bold green letters. I sheepishly told her to remove several items from the cart, pocketed the coupons, paid my bill, and planned to return Thursday. To a different check-out lane.
"The coupons start Thursday," she said...and rolled her eyes.
Sure enough the date was right across the top of each in bold green letters. I sheepishly told her to remove several items from the cart, pocketed the coupons, paid my bill, and planned to return Thursday. To a different check-out lane.
Friday, December 24, 2010
friends
I went through my Facebook account and removed friends that I do not know/like. Today, Beulah apparently noticed and requested my friendship. I hated to be passive aggressive and ignore her, but how to tell someone, I just don't want to be your friend!
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
changes
I need to make changes. Again.
I managed to create for myself a working structured environment while Kevin was gone, but his return has shattered it completely. Don't get me wrong: I would rather have Kevin home. Nevertheless, I have several more distractions, and several fewer freedoms than when he was overseas.
Basically, everything I had hope for in "on the plus side" played out as I foresaw, or better. I slept 9 hours every night. I watched less than 2 hours of TV/movies a week: 40 minutes of Castle, 40 minutes of Glee, and 20 minutes of Psych. Once there was 20 minutes of Community, but that was it. I studied scriptures regularly. Driving made the most difference, doubling my lunch break (during which time I caught up on phone calls or naps), providing an environment in which to listen to music, and getting me home and hour and a half early.
My challenge is how to continue on with all the good changes I made now that Kevin is home and I am using my more limited free time to pursue activities that I didn't while he was gone: such as talking with him, cleaning the kitchen, and showering. I have taken to skipping lunch entirely just so I can take an earlier bus and get home before six. I found it too demoralizing on my first day back on the bus to get home only two hours before bed. I am feeling too stretched, and my continued work on a Relief Society planning committee is overwhelming me.
I need a car, for its magical time-granting powers, and I need to make the time I have more productive. That is my project: to find ways to maximize my time.
Wish me luck.
I managed to create for myself a working structured environment while Kevin was gone, but his return has shattered it completely. Don't get me wrong: I would rather have Kevin home. Nevertheless, I have several more distractions, and several fewer freedoms than when he was overseas.
Basically, everything I had hope for in "on the plus side" played out as I foresaw, or better. I slept 9 hours every night. I watched less than 2 hours of TV/movies a week: 40 minutes of Castle, 40 minutes of Glee, and 20 minutes of Psych. Once there was 20 minutes of Community, but that was it. I studied scriptures regularly. Driving made the most difference, doubling my lunch break (during which time I caught up on phone calls or naps), providing an environment in which to listen to music, and getting me home and hour and a half early.
My challenge is how to continue on with all the good changes I made now that Kevin is home and I am using my more limited free time to pursue activities that I didn't while he was gone: such as talking with him, cleaning the kitchen, and showering. I have taken to skipping lunch entirely just so I can take an earlier bus and get home before six. I found it too demoralizing on my first day back on the bus to get home only two hours before bed. I am feeling too stretched, and my continued work on a Relief Society planning committee is overwhelming me.
I need a car, for its magical time-granting powers, and I need to make the time I have more productive. That is my project: to find ways to maximize my time.
Wish me luck.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
what kevin doesn't know won't kill me
Kevin didn't know that I was already having a bad day on Tuesday, that I was tired and that the book I was reading made me sad. He didn't know that I cried in the car that night on the drive back. He doesn't know why I wept on his chest when we got home. I was too tired to tell him, and feminine throat cutting is too subtle for men to appreciate. Likely he didn't notice Beulah being mean, and he definitely couldn't have anticipated the plummet of my thoughts from there to the little mush of sadness I felt myself afterward.
He did know that I had a bad day yesterday, one that--now rested--I want to write off as being the result of two bad nights. He doesn't know, however, that I sobbed myself to sleep when I got home. He bought me flowers and encouraged me to talk, but I was cried out and mostly asleep even while he spoke. And then, this morning, I was not sad: I had done my crying and had a full night's rest. My inadequacies, my fears, my insecurities, my sorrows, were held at bay again by a good mood. And that makes it all the more likely that Kevin will never know what set me off on Tuesday and why it brought me down.
I have a habit of viewing everything through the lens of my current mood, which rather invalidates past emotions. Today I am not sad and Beulah's pettiness is reason for pity not anger: perhaps she is trying not to be antagonistic, but to be important; perhaps she is lonely and overlooked. So, today, I find ridiculous and weak my sorrows of last night. I feel I have gotten over it, and the reasons why I felt that way to begin with are of no more value. I am embarrassed that I fell apart, so I don't want to dredge it up and tell him why I hurt; I am ashamed.
He did know that I had a bad day yesterday, one that--now rested--I want to write off as being the result of two bad nights. He doesn't know, however, that I sobbed myself to sleep when I got home. He bought me flowers and encouraged me to talk, but I was cried out and mostly asleep even while he spoke. And then, this morning, I was not sad: I had done my crying and had a full night's rest. My inadequacies, my fears, my insecurities, my sorrows, were held at bay again by a good mood. And that makes it all the more likely that Kevin will never know what set me off on Tuesday and why it brought me down.
I have a habit of viewing everything through the lens of my current mood, which rather invalidates past emotions. Today I am not sad and Beulah's pettiness is reason for pity not anger: perhaps she is trying not to be antagonistic, but to be important; perhaps she is lonely and overlooked. So, today, I find ridiculous and weak my sorrows of last night. I feel I have gotten over it, and the reasons why I felt that way to begin with are of no more value. I am embarrassed that I fell apart, so I don't want to dredge it up and tell him why I hurt; I am ashamed.
Wednesday, December 01, 2010
kid gloves and retractible claws
The intent of this post is not to gossip, therefore I will give the subject a fake name. Let's call her Beulah, my father's favorite made up name for women of a certain calibre. Because I'm feeling mean.
Beulah and Kevin became friends during 2008, the year in which I returned to Utah to finish my degree. When I moved back, Beulah treated me like the latest fling of her life-long best friend. I was a temporary distraction who could never know him like she did. Of course I took issue with this. Not only had I been around for over four years before her, but also I did not move there without certain promises of a future. I wasn't new, I wasn't leaving, and I was not playing second fiddle.
From the start of our acquaintance, she talked about how much Kevin confided in her and how she'd love --if she could ever get his permission-- to share with me what he said. There it was, her line the sand: Kevin and Beulah on one side, me on the other. She likes to say that she was on my side, angry at Kevin for not proposing and ready to spill all his secrets to me, but that wasn't the case. Never was she rooting for me, and what she failed to grasp is that Kevin and I were on the same side of any drawn line. One was either with or against us, but never in between.
There were enough people opposed to Kevin and me getting back together that I have learned not to hold a grudge for that. But I do still resent Beulah. I have tried not to. I am grateful to her for rides from the airport, taking our engagement photos for free, and for being a familiar face on days when that is what is needed most. But my gratitude is insufficient to make up for her continued possessiveness of my boyfriend, then fiance, and now husband.
Last night, Kevin's friend from BYU, Michelle, came into town and Kevin, Beulah and I drove an hour to go have dinner with her. I had never met her and found her delightful. Energetic for so late (8:30 p.m.) but pleasant.
(Side note: she lives in San Diego. I should set her up with Nora.)
Beulah was not delightful, though she started out innocuous enough. She told several entertaining dating stories, including one with the moral that you shouldn't judge a boy for not calling, because he just may have cancer. Kevin then gazed mournfully off into space and lamented that he didn't have any dating stories this year. I laughed.
Then Beulah said Kevin used to have some pretty interesting dating stories but she isn't allowed to tell.
I did not laugh at that. I couldn't: my head had just exploded. Her little comments infuriated me: about not hanging out with Kevin as much anymore, about how watching "How I Met Your Mother" after FHE was their thing, how she heard his side of the story, how long it took him to propose, etc.. They built up in my head until I was ready to scream.
Get your claws the hell out of my husband! Stop flirting, stop staking claim, and stop pretending you were on "my" side when I know very well that you told him to move on. You wanna-be home wrecker, wake up to the fact that he chose me, will always choose me. I was there first; I know him more intimately than you do; and our thing on Monday night is not watching TV.
But I said...
"Beulah, do you really think that he hasn't told me everything he ever told you?"
I said it politely, with kid gloves on, so no stunned or awkward silences followed; but I said in it all the things I was thinking. It said, I will not pretend that I didn't win.
Beulah and Kevin became friends during 2008, the year in which I returned to Utah to finish my degree. When I moved back, Beulah treated me like the latest fling of her life-long best friend. I was a temporary distraction who could never know him like she did. Of course I took issue with this. Not only had I been around for over four years before her, but also I did not move there without certain promises of a future. I wasn't new, I wasn't leaving, and I was not playing second fiddle.
From the start of our acquaintance, she talked about how much Kevin confided in her and how she'd love --if she could ever get his permission-- to share with me what he said. There it was, her line the sand: Kevin and Beulah on one side, me on the other. She likes to say that she was on my side, angry at Kevin for not proposing and ready to spill all his secrets to me, but that wasn't the case. Never was she rooting for me, and what she failed to grasp is that Kevin and I were on the same side of any drawn line. One was either with or against us, but never in between.
There were enough people opposed to Kevin and me getting back together that I have learned not to hold a grudge for that. But I do still resent Beulah. I have tried not to. I am grateful to her for rides from the airport, taking our engagement photos for free, and for being a familiar face on days when that is what is needed most. But my gratitude is insufficient to make up for her continued possessiveness of my boyfriend, then fiance, and now husband.
Last night, Kevin's friend from BYU, Michelle, came into town and Kevin, Beulah and I drove an hour to go have dinner with her. I had never met her and found her delightful. Energetic for so late (8:30 p.m.) but pleasant.
(Side note: she lives in San Diego. I should set her up with Nora.)
Beulah was not delightful, though she started out innocuous enough. She told several entertaining dating stories, including one with the moral that you shouldn't judge a boy for not calling, because he just may have cancer. Kevin then gazed mournfully off into space and lamented that he didn't have any dating stories this year. I laughed.
Then Beulah said Kevin used to have some pretty interesting dating stories but she isn't allowed to tell.
I did not laugh at that. I couldn't: my head had just exploded. Her little comments infuriated me: about not hanging out with Kevin as much anymore, about how watching "How I Met Your Mother" after FHE was their thing, how she heard his side of the story, how long it took him to propose, etc.. They built up in my head until I was ready to scream.
Get your claws the hell out of my husband! Stop flirting, stop staking claim, and stop pretending you were on "my" side when I know very well that you told him to move on. You wanna-be home wrecker, wake up to the fact that he chose me, will always choose me. I was there first; I know him more intimately than you do; and our thing on Monday night is not watching TV.
But I said...
"Beulah, do you really think that he hasn't told me everything he ever told you?"
I said it politely, with kid gloves on, so no stunned or awkward silences followed; but I said in it all the things I was thinking. It said, I will not pretend that I didn't win.
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