Perspective

Even in the smallest things
is the possibility of tranquil
knowing and absolute joy:

The sparrow happily
bathing with unapologetic
fervor in midday,

a rippling laugh
of clear and open childhood -
innocent perfection,

the simple smell
of rain and dirt...
trees whirring like bells.

If I could breathe
that beauty into
your sleeping,

kiss you with
the joys hidden
in each jeweled hour,

perhaps our sadnesses
would fade - leaving
peace between us.

Yet each day waking
is a trial, each new measure
a test of strength.

Pain is pain, and each
life may be changed by
the angle of expression;

but for you, today,
I close my eyes and
grasp at faith in tiny spaces.

Flashy Floaty (Silly) Owie

I've had ocassion in the last few weeks to run into people who have not seen me in a while and inquire as to how my eyes are doing. It's interesting primarily because I have finally gotten to the point where I do not think about my eyes all the time every day. I have kind of forgotten - at least in small to largish spurts throughout the day - that anything ever happened, that I could have gone blind, that there is still the possibility my left retina could detach some time in the future, that this is the reason (though not the sole reason) Andy and I feel another pregnancy would be a bad idea.

Yet, those worries are not entirely erased due to an increase in severe headaches for the last 2-3 weeks. I'm not sure if it's my new contacts or something to be worried about with my eyes... or maybe just spending too much time in front of the computer. Hard to say.

What I can say is that I've noticed something in the wake of this event, which is my own ego and vanity. Despite the headaches and a sneaking suspicion my new lens is too overcorrected for astigmatism (the optometrist said it shouldn't matter), I have continued to wear them somewhat stubbornly because I feel more like myself with them in.

I'm not sure I can explain what that means, exactly. Just that the self I imagine... the self I am used to... the pre-pregnancy and pre-retinal-detachment self... the 20 pounds thinner, strong, sexy, independent, unafraid self... she has contacts. She can wear sunglasses and does not feel hidden behind thick, heavy lenses that smack of middle school and years long forgotten.

So... here I am somewhere between legitimate practicality and downright vanity. My eyes are bad, my glasses are heavy, and they give me headaches to wear them. But so do the contacts at this moment, and the only reason I persist in wearing them in spite of a gut-based sense they are slightly "off" is ego, ego, ego.

I wish I had a wise lesson or enlightened insight to share as a result of all this thinking. But perhaps my awareness of frailty and imperfection is enough. Maybe there's purpose in recognition and solidarity as we acknowledge our faults - or collective strength in saying them aloud - whatever the context might be.

Said, and Done.

One of the several reasons Andy and I chose to move down into my grandparents' home was to take part in an effort to restore an historic home and to convert the dwelling back into a single-family residence so that - no matter what might happen - it would not simply become rental property for undergrads.

We had a romantic notion, I think, of what it would be like to renovate and restore an old property, and we had lofty dreams of uncovering the original hardwood floors, discovering long-forgotten treasures, and putting in place all the lovely details and beauties we had seen in magazines like Old Home and This Old House.

Now, three years later and several projects behind, we both feel ready to leave this type of living behind and commit to a structure more recently built and less in need of structural, foundational type work. We'd be willing to paint a wall here and there, redo a kitchen after a few years, or take up carpeting to expose original floors - but we're pretty much hoping to find a move-in-ready home in need of a few cosmetic touch-ups and built with an eye toward energy conservation and green philosophies.

Sometimes I think you have to follow those dreams embedded deep within your heart. They may be attached to childhood fantasies or aspects of an uncelebrated personality trait... but whether a good idea or bad, it's important to pursue the aims others may think folly.

If for no other reason than to know, truly know, within your heart when you reach the other side. I never need to do that again. Or... I was right! This is just what I wanted to be doing. Sometimes the only way to put those deeply ingrained questions to rest is to commit to the pursuit and fulfillment of the potential life we imagine, in order to better define our dreams for the future.

The Buzzing of Serenity

We went to Bandy's Pumpkin Patch in Johnston City with Papa Roman today. We had beautiful weather and picked out three gorgeous pumpkins for carving. This will be Ari's first experience with carving, so we're hoping she gets a big kick out of it.

We had gone to the same place a year ago, and it was strikingly similar to our last visit. We rode the hayride, we ate some burgers and pizza, we let Ari ride in the cart bag to the car - pumpkins in tow. The only added fun was playing in the barn where several child-friendly activities were set up (a bouncy castle, some corn bins, and a big slide).

The thing that caught me today, along with the gorgeous weather, was how peaceful it was on this farm. Despite the crowds of people, the tractors going back and forth to the adjacent fields, multiple children and families and dogs and workers... it was still amazingly calming and peaceful to be tucked among the trees surrounded by bright orange orbs and wrapped in the smell of hay, hotdogs, and the leafy, earthy scent of sunshine hitting an autumn day at just the right angle.

Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. And smile.

Restaurant Realization with Long-Term Ramifications

One of the concepts emphasized in my counselor education program is the idea of accepting people (students, clients, colleagues, etc.) where they are. It's a focus that requires an awareness of one's expectations, values, assumptions, needs, likes, and dislikes, etc.

In my understanding of this principle, my goal in interpersonal communication and counseling strategies is to remain open to what that person may be thinking, feeling, or doing... and nonjudgmental in my approach to identifying concerns or providing constructive feedback.

This same principle can be applied in non-counseling situations. It's something I've tried to incorporate into my general awareness and personal perspective daily. Of course, some days I'm more successful than others.

Today, for example, I was not successful. Andy, Ari, and I had lunch together in between my morning and afternoon school obligations, and Ari was immediately elated to see me. (And I her.)

We chatted happily, gave each other kisses, and talked about how much we missed one another. We talked about what she and Daddy had done that morning, and she excitedly tried to tell me all the things she had saved up in my absence in which she wished I could have been included or that she wanted to be sure I knew about.

We sat down in the restaurant and colored, talked about what she might want to eat for lunch, and played and snuggled as Ari bounced around from activity to activity - clearly motivated by happiness, excitement, and the desire to explore.

All was going well until the food arrived. It was at this point Ari's enthusiasm and my desire to stay stain-free for my return to school collided. (And, as often happens, each of our perspectives/behaviors were based on past events: Ari had been struggling with sadness all week and was truly thrilled to see me in the middle of a "work day;" I had been peed on a week or two prior during a similar lunch date and had to return to a professional development conference with urine-stained pants.) Our past was influencing our present. This is where we were.

Ultimately, Ari did a better job accepting me where I was than I did for her. She wasn't angry about my absence throughout the week. She wasn't sad, sullen, or withdrawn - despite having missed me so desperately. She simply wanted to be close - to talk and interact - and to suck up every possible moment of our time together.

I, however, began to get frustrated by her excited and increasingly spastic energy. We told her to use an inside voice; I warned her to be careful on the bench lest she fall down; I asked her to be careful when eating food off my fork, to wait for me to help her with getting food and ice; etc. I noticed my happiness wane and my anxiety increase every time she jostled my arm, the food missed her mouth and fell down toward my lap, or she played with her environment... afraid her bouncy state might leave me stained or somehow marred.

I prioritized my clothing above my daughter... and I did not accept her where she was. Rather than noticing how gleeful and filled with love she was to see me, I instead worried about a potential accident and what affect it might have or how others might see me upon my return to school.

Silly. Unfair. And kind of a waste of time and a lost opportunity to revel in the unbridled excitement of a 2-year old who still thinks I'm one of the most important and special people in the whole world.

My task now: To accept myself where I am, rather than beating myself up about it. To learn from the situation with gratitude and humility. To use this opportunity as a means to growth, allowing me to hopefully change it in the future.

4 Haiku on the Issue of Absence

I miss my fam'ly
Each and every day aching
Always wanting time

My daughter's sadness
Makes my chest collapse with doubt
Will she be okay?

And then my husband
Supportive and amazing
Too few our moments

It has an end though
At least, that's what I cling to
And we: unbroken

Cyclical Survival

I've been thinking about relational aggression lately. Some of my cohorts in the Ed Psych program are really interested in this area for potential research/theses/papers... and I also find it incredibly interesting and important, though my research interests still lie in more creative/expressive arts directions.

BUT... I was reading a link today in trying to track down more info on the phenomenon and came across something that was discussing the many roles that typically exist within groups/cliques of girls. I was trying to figure out which role(s) I held... and realized it definitely changed over time.

Elementary, middle school, and high school were all very different. Elementary school was the time I occupied the role of the "Target." I was the one being bullied.

Until Shannon showed up. She was a new student who arrived in 5th grade and provided an escape for what had become a daily hell for me. She became the new target; and I, relieved to finally have the focus off me, jumped on the teasing/bullying bandwagon and was just as mean to her in school as everyone else.

It's something I still grapple with, in terms of my self-identity and reconciling my actions across my lifetime. From a rational standpoint (and having a lot more theory and background in psychosocial development under my belt now too), I can understand why I behaved the way I did. It could be considered a normal and understandable reaction based on defense mechanisms and survival instincts and whatever beliefs I held about myself and my ability to attain safety at that point in time.

Yet it's still something I have trouble fully accepting emotionally. I feel guilty that I behaved one way with Shannon outside of school and another way inside of school - following the script and pattern I had undergone as the target for several years... but now on the side of the aggressor, acting as a sidekick and following the leaders of the crowd.

If I were to look for a silver lining, I would say it taught me a very good lesson in cruelty... about my capacity to be cruel and the danger of being too afraid to stand up to those who are hurting me to do what I know is right.

And now, approximately 25 years later, I intend to dedicate myself to helping create school environments wherein all students feel safe, respected, and accepted. To put into place preventative programming emphasizing tolerance and respectful communication in the hopes we can make children more aware of those patterns and the power they have.

Perhaps then more students who feel stuck to the point of desperation will instead be able to write a new story with a much happier ending... for everyone.