It's a beautiful Spring day in Albuquerque.  The temperature is warm, the birds are singing, the sky is that impossible blue color that's only seen in the high desert West.  I insisted that the boys turn off the television and go outside to enjoy it. 

Not wanting to be open to a charge of hypocrisy, I put on my patio shoes, grabbed an apple, a diet coke and a book and headed out to read.  Ten minutes later, I was debating whether I could stand to finish my apple before I came in for the broom to sweep the corners.  (I did).

After I swept, I settled back down and read another section.  I pretended that I wasn't distracted by the bird songs and the wind chimes, but told myself that the material I was reading was too deep to read quickly. 

The boys blew bubbles, bounced the basket ball, and created art with sidewalk chalk ($1 at Walmart).  I came inside for the camera.  Then I had to fuss with the batteries.  Then I went back out to read some more. 

I've been back and forth to the patio about 10 times in the past hour and it's becoming clear to me that I don't know anymore how to just sit and enjoy nature. 

I don't trust nature.  After all, where do most manhunts for serial killers begin?  Exactly - in the woods.  I like my nature to come to me via photographs taken by other people. 

Sigh, I'd better get back out there.  This book isn't going to read itself.  And it's become something of a quest.  I will sit still and enjoy myself - on the patio - for at least 15 uninterrupted minutes.  I will. 

I have a new amusement.  I've noticed that when people become upset, its way more fun for me to respond in a "zen-like" manner than to join them in their upset. 

So this week I've had opportunity to "bend like grass" and allow the blustery wind to pass.  I've practiced being water all clear and free flowing.  I've counseled my co-worker along these lines.  (And tried to stop just before it became annoying.)

I say Zen-like because for me the whole thing is a game.  Although as I'm thinking about it now, maybe that's more Zen than I've been thinking.  But with the application of "fake it til you make it" theory, I can see that this week has been much less stressful and much more fun regardless of my motivation. 

The boys are well into their Spring Break attitude now.  Tucker's friend has already called to see if Tucker can come over to play.  I'm going to pry Michael off the couch later to make sure that he doesn't become attached to it.  And I'm going to conduct a leisurely errand to the bread store later.  I may not be on vacation, but a still pond has no need to hurry. 

I slept again last night.  Sometimes medication is a good good thing.

The boys are out of school.  Starting tomorrow they have a week and a day of Spring Break.  They are already celebrating by lying around like slugs in the living room and demonstrating a general unwillingness to do anything that might involve labor.

*****

I slept last night. 

In fact, I fell asleep last night about 9:30 and if my best friend hadn't text messaged me this morning at about 6:55 (I have to log in to work at 7:00) I have no idea how long I'd have slept.  As it was, I spent the first hour of work answering emails and responding to clients in my pajamas. 

Working from home has it's advantages!

My friend Bill and I had a discussion today about Depression.  How do you know whether you're depressed or just in a very bad mood.  For me its a pretty easy stroll along the checklist.  He asked me on a scale of 1-10 how depressed was I and I have to say that compared to the worst I've ever been it's maybe a 6-7.  I'm proud of myself for recognizing what was going on and seeking help before it got truly bad. 

When I used to work in the hospital, one of the things that Dr's would say (this isn't 100% infallible, but medicine is more art than science in spite of what we'd wish) that a depressed person would respond to antidepressants and if a person wasn't depressed they'd have no affect.  This contributed to my panic when I woke up a 2:00 Tuesday morning and couldn't go back to sleep.  I couldn't figure out what else it might be. 

Well, sometimes it also takes a while for the effect to become visible.  I've had three days of medication, and I believe I can identify a significant improvement.  If I keep sleeping, we'll know for sure in a week. 

  This morning when I opened my door I saw ...

Apparently my neighbors (the same ones who have the screaming kids) didn't feel that the parking lot was adequate so they brought their bike to the front door.  It's hard from this photo for you to have a really good idea of just how close this was to my front door, but I'll tell you I was standing several feet back into my apartment to get as much of it as possible in the photo. 

At 9 am the maintenance manager came by to tell them that they had to move the bike.  At 2 pm he came back.  He was firm but kind this morning.  He was still firm but less kind this afternoon and the gentleman of the house resorted to yelling, screaming and slamming the door in response. 

I slipped over and made sure my door was locked.  I'm not much interested in having someone duck for cover in my apartment.  About ten minutes later the neighbor came out and moved the bike. 

Maybe he could benefit from reading Eckhart Tolle's book?  Chapter 3 ended with a discussion of how we are deceived when we think that we want peace.  There is a part of us that wants peace, but another part arises from our ego seeking drama and conflict. 

It's the part that would rather be right than be at peace.  It's the part that rises up when it's threatened, willing to go to war.  Something that wants to survive at all costs, even the cost of relationships.  This something will defend its position, justify, attack and blame. 

I get that, I've been there.  It wasn't as much fun as being Zen about things.  For a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that it's really annoying to people who want to provoke you when you aren't provoked.  These days, I'd rather go shoe shopping. 

I broke out the green shoes on Monday in honor of St Patty's day. 

I love the green shoes and every time I wear them I get comments.  They are striking and sexy.  And I feel striking and sexy when I wear them.  While I was strutting my stuff at a business luncheon, the box they came in attracted Joe's attention.  He has a tissue paper fetish ...

 

Over his shoulder you can kind of see the stacks of books beside my bed ... someday I'll read them all.

The boys took the camera out to play, and brought back some interesting shots including this one of Tucker ...

Michael's hand

Tucker in the grass.

 

 

 

UPDATE:

Cool Mary has placed a very nice Liz Claibourne bag on eBay. Lots of pockets for organization, or just playing like organization.  The hyperlink I tried to embed was messed up somehow, but you can see the purse at www.ebay.com if you search for item 300208374766.  Thanks

**********

So I took my first dose of medication last night and I had very high hopes.  Because see, I haven't been sleeping very well, I had this wild idea that being on medication would change all that.  So I climbed up onto my bed,  tucked my thick comforter around my shoulders, and smiled. 

At 2 o'clock this morning I was sitting in the center of my bed huddled under my thick comforter completely freaking out.  It was not a good thing when I was waking at 2 for the past eight weeks, but I very grumplily would either roll over and try to go back to sleep or get up and read, or make a cup of tea, or kick the cat or something.

This morning, since I knew for certain that I was medicated, the fact that I woke up anyway absolutely flipped me out.  I was sitting there terrified that the institution in which my meager savings reside was at that moment being bought out in a secret 2 am deal with chortling people from some obscure little nation grown fat on the fortunes made from almonds or sexy shoes, or something else completely incomprehensible but nonetheless wealth generating enough to swoop in and take it all. 

After minutes and minutes of terror, I got out of bed and read the next Chapter in the Tolle book which as anyone who's read this stuff can testify should put anyone in their right mind to sleep, only it didn't.  I was interested.  I was AWAKE.  And thus it continued. 

This morning after it wasn't dark anymore, I explained to my best friend what kind of night I'd had and how panicked I was because it's one thing to be anxious and sleepless but to still be anxious and sleepless while medicated, that's just wrong.

After a quick trip through Googleland, the report came back, "It takes a few days for it to build up to a therapeutic level.  Relax."

This afternoon, I inexplicably went off line for two hours.  There's a chance that I was kidnapped by purpelians, or that I felt a need to leave the task at hand and cook a 12 course meal.  There's a chance that the roof caved in and trapped me beneath tons of rubble, or that I'd had a heart attack, or that I had suddenly hit the eHarmonious jackpot and run away with Prince Charming to a life of bliss.  OR, there was a chance that I fell asleep in my chair and didn't hear the phone.

In the meantime, my co-worker noticed my absence and lack of response to her ever increasingly concerned attempts to reach me.  She saw my sister online and mentioned my disappearance.  So my sister being a level-headed and slow to react sort of person only called EVERYONE WHO KNOWS ME, just in case I might have mentioned to them that I had plans to be hit by a bus this afternoon.

I spent the rest of the afternoon putting out the fires and assuring people that I'm not dead yet.  Or even Missing.   

Well, I feel better, but as I climb onto my bed tonight I'm eyeing the pillow a bit warily and keeping my expectations in check.  I'm praying that I will get enough sleep that I can remain awake through the day tomorrow and avoid the unpleasant side-effect of inadvertently worrying half the country.

(There was talk of an ankle bracelet and low voltage but nasty little shocks ... )

And seriously, I'm glad that people care enough about me to go to the effort of a full scale panic attack every now and then.  It reassures me.  That's probably not a good thing.

 

UPDATED:

I got a phone call yesterday while I was on the other line.  Checking the message revealed my sister singing, "If you're nekked and you like it slap your cheeks ... If you're nekkid and you like it then you prolly don't go bikin', if you're nekkid and you like slap your cheeks."

*****

I called my cousin and asked if he could prescribe medication for me.  I wasn't sure if he could since I'm now in a different state, but it turns out that since he's the only doctor who has actually seen me for this condition, and has prescribed medication for me before, he can.  He's calling in a prescription to a pharmacy there that will let me pick up the medicine here.  Ain't that cool?

See it's true ~ I really am better about asking for help when I need it.  And I do need it right now.

*****

A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose

If Eckhart Tolle were a little more confrontational and a little less awakened himself, he might have entitled Chapter 3 "Get Over Yourself".  We are getting to the core of what he means when he says "Awakening" and it's striking me again as good psychology wrapped up in a new age package of butterflies and world peace. 

As a culture, we took a sharp left turn in the 80's with our focus becoming narrow and fixed firmly on pursuing materialistic pleasures.  It makes a lot of sense, the humanistic vision of the world as being a purely material phenomenon firmly took hold of public policy.  It's taught in school.  It's believed so widely that anyone who espouses a spiritual nature is almost viewed with pity.  But the natural result of a belief system that says, "this is all there is, and you only get one shot at it" is for people to do everything they can to make sure their one ride through the theme park has as many thrills as possible. 

Although every major wisdom tradition teaches that enlightenment, salvation, freedom, peace, love ... are not to be found while we cling to our ego and desire for private fulfillment, we have spurned that way of thinking.  We are modern, we know better.  Just look at our world and all we have accomplished!   Look at us.  Admire us.  Acknowledge us.  Heed our advice because we have arrived and we can show you how to get here as well. 

The only problem is that we haven't arrived any place that a sane spiritual person would want to go.  Modern life is marked by six specific conditions: 

1) anxiety beginning with the trauma of birth (Freud in the end called birth trauma with the discomfort, pain, sensation, uncontrollable life-threatening circumstance the prototype of all anxiety that comes after it)
2) the pathology of sickness
3) fear: fear of failure, fear of financial dependence, fear of being unloved and unwanted, fear of illness and pain, fear of rejection, fear of dependence (which might also be termed fear of intimacy)
4) phobia of death, existentialists tell us that in the end it is this fear of death which opposes healthy living.
5) to be tied to what one dislikes.  Sometimes it is possible to break away but not always.  I downloaded and watched an extensive interview with the author of "Eat, Love, Pray".  I realized about 15 minutes into the story of her incredible journey through Italy, India, and Bali that I was so completely distracted by wondering how she could have afforded to walk away from her life to take this journey that I was missing the point of everything she was saying.  I automatically assumed that such a journey would not be possible for me because I'm so tied to my need to be safe and stable and above all protect that savings account for "just in case" - I'm not sure in case of what.  And it was this realization that prompted me to start calling to find help with the depression.  If my cousin had not been able to write the prescription, I was and am prepared to find a doctor here and write a check.
6) separation from what one loves.

At the root of these six issues we find, the self.  Human ego. 

Jesus said that we must deny ourselves, take up our cross and follow him. The apostle Paul wrote that we must be living sacrifices, daily die to ourselves.  Buddha said that when we are selfless we are free ... but it is precisely this difficulty, to maintain a selfless state which is at the core of all spiritual teaching.  The problem with living sacrifices is that they keep crawling off the altar.  And what does that look like?

It looks like a person consumed by the private fulfillment of his or her desires.  It looks like someone who has an "I" problem, everything is about me, mine, my ... Tolle calls this an "egoic" state and describes what that looks like.  The person wrapped up in her or her own ego complains, nurses resentment, reacts to circumstances, holds grievances, is upset, is angry, is determined to be right, and takes everything personally. 

To be awakened is to leave behind the ego.  To remain as we are ... well, I'll quote Tolle directly, "The ego always either wants something, or if it believes there is nothing it can get from the other, it is in a state of indifference.  It doesn't care about you.  And so the three predominant states of egioc relationships are: wanting, thwarted wanting (anger, resentment, blaming, complaining), and indifference."

And that's just chapter three.  I'm hoping that now that we all have a clear understanding of the mess, the rest of the course can be a matter of picking our way out of this swamp.  But I have seen the title to chapter 4, so I suspect that its not going to be that easy. 

I'm not happy about facing these egoic aspects of myself and I'd just as soon get back to feeling right and superior and resenting anyone and everything that interferes with my comfort. 

*****
Tucker and friend ate 2 pounds of jellybeans yesterday.  Just so you know that he's not being deprived ...

I learned from television home decorating class that patterns begin to emerge when you stop and squint your eyes just right. 

I had a two and a half hour meeting with the school psychologist on Thursday regarding Tucker.  We went through everything that might possibly be relevant to figuring out whether he's presenting with a neurological condition (autism).  As I would answer the questions the examiner would mark the answers and as we reached so many indicators in one section she'd flip to the next section and ask less general questions. 

By the end she had narrowed in on what were unmistakably questions designed not to determine whether there is a disturbance but the depth and degree of the problem.  And close to the end she looked at me and asked, kindly, but still asked, "Given all that we've discussed and the degree of the problems that have come up over the years, why are you just now seeking a diagnosis for this child?"

Well, 1) in comparison, to Michael, he didn't look that bad, and 2) I didn't want there to be anything wrong.  I have been heavily invested in my hope that Tucker would have a "normal" life. 

It shook me up going through that process.  The way the interview was designed, there was no escaping the conclusion.  There really wasn't.  And I know it's not about me, but I feel like I've let my son down.  I think that if I'd been responding properly, I'd have caught this years ago and we'd have gotten help. 

After that meeting I called my best friend and said, "I've just been through a wringer, can we get together for lunch?  I need some support."  So we did meet, and it was good to be able to talk about it.  As we were leaving the restaurant, a vehicle in the parking lot began to back up quickly just about the time I stepped behind it.  Although I was lost in the clouds, my friend recognized the situation and literally yanked me out of the way. 

That shook me up too. 

It was a little frightening to realize that I'd been completely oblivious to the danger.  And it unnerved me to be rescued.  I don't get rescued.  I really don't.  I'm a rescuer.  I HAVE learned over the past several years to ask for help when I need it.  (And because I know that Cool Mary would tell you that I don't ask as often as I need - I'll just go ahead and admit that I'm still not very good at it.  I not only prize my independence and ability to stand on my own, I'm afraid of anything that feels to me like it might undermine my feeling that I can do it.  So I do things for myself.)

This morning, I had a conversation in which someone who loves me laid out some concerns about the ongoing issues in my life. 

1) I'm settling for less than what I need.
2) I will never win.
3) I deserve to have what I need (which is more)
4) I'm going to be hurt.

And I can't deny that everything on that list is true.  Dammit.  Except nothing is ever that easy.  The boss we have today, the kid we gave birth to, the results of the choices and commitments don't turn out to be what we've dreamed we'd have.  But they are what we have. 

I love my kid so much I'd die for him.  But that fact doesn't stop it from hurting when I've let him down.  I know that things aren't wonderful with my work, but at least I have a paycheck.  I'm wrestling now because I probably have enough money in my square feet account that unless the lack of child support for a month knocks me out of it, I'll be able to get a house this summer, probably ... but will that be a good decision?  Or will that tie me down and tie up the few assets I have in something that I could lose if things go sour at work?

My answer this morning was that even though I can see clearly the logic applies and there is unavoidable pain ahead of me, there is pain in every thing.  You don't get to escape pain just because you wish you could.  Maybe the fact that I can see what's coming and avoid being surprised by it is a blessing. 

I'm not fatalistic, I believe that we all have real choices to make every day.  I can also see patterns.  I don't see what I don't want to see for as long as I can avoid seeing it.  Then I deal with it. 

"Mom, have you noticed that Joe can't help himself?  No matter what he's doing, if I rub his back, his butt goes up in the air." Michael

It's been a long and interesting week.   So far I'm still employed, "Good night, Westley, I'll most likely kill you in the morning ...", I had a 2 1/2 hour interview with the school psychologist on Thursday, and Tucker's class is doing sex education.

Joe was caught using the carpet under Michael's bed as a litter box so he's been expelled from his favorite room in the apartment until I can figure out some way to keep him from getting under there.  It's hard on a cat when his boy is on the wrong side of the door. 

I'm taking the boys to see "Horton hears a Who" this afternoon, in spite of the fact that I've heard that it sucks.  They will like it. 

Happy Saturday everybody!

This is a test of the Protected Posting System.  I think everyone who wants to be on my protected list, IS on my protected list, but if you can't see the post below and you would like to, let me know.

We've eaten 3 pounds of jelly beans since last Friday night when I brought them home from the store.  Tucker came home fron school and noticed immediately that the bowl is empty so he made out a grocery list to assist me in my motherly duties:

red jelly beans
grape jelly beans
orange jelly beans
white jelly beans
pink jelly beans
lemon jelly beans
green jelly beans