Amazing, aka Great Things

[Note: I don't normally put another post up so quickly after a big post like yesterday's, but this one needs to go up and I don't want to wait. And there are lots of italics and all caps, so be warned. And yes, others have told me; I had to see it myself.]

Finding treasures comes from looking

This journaling-in-the-morning thing is so cool! This morning I woke up after 6 hours or a little more and decided to write for a bit before going back to sleep. I didn't end up going back to sleep. The journaling brought me to such an amazing place.

At first, all I could think of writing about was the changes in my medications. That led to thoughts about managing my brain chemistry and a wonderful vision of an orange-robed monk on top of a terrifyingly high, narrow cliff. He was sitting cross-legged, his hands dangling loosely over his knees, his eyes closed, and a wide, serene smile on his face. Every line of his body and face spoke of serenity and peace. And while I know that it's easier to achieve such things when you are not in the world, certainly exceptional people like the Dalai Lama and Thich Naht Hanh are able to be serene and peaceful while interacting with the world at large. I figure I should be able to achieve some level of serenity and peace and have in fact achieved them at times in my life. I want them again.

So I explored what might help me manage my brain chemistry other than drugs: meditation, exercise, visualizing happy things, visualizing actually changing the chemistry. Diet would probably help, too: Sabine read something about how anti-inflammatory diets can reduce depression in women by a significant amount (30%? 40%?), or in a significant amount of women. Today she began researching such diets and ran across articles about a local woman who has developed such a diet and who gives classes about the diet. Honestly, the classes seem to be long-drawn out lectures, one a week for five weeks, explaining the science behind the diet. Given that she's also written a book, I'm pretty sure we will be able to get everything we need out of the book, without paying the $180 per person to take the class. And, basically, it's just another version of the Mediterranean diet, so it's just another reminder of what healthy eating consists of.

A Long Way

Two years ago tomorrow I checked myself into a psychiatric hospital because I was planning — very rationally and practically — to end my life. Just days prior to my checking myself into the hospital, my mom's 72nd birthday came and went. Because I am a fair and practical person, I told my therapist about my plans. And at her urging, I went to the hospital.

After a couple of weeks of almost constant tears and almost complete immobility, it felt good to let someone else make the decisions for a while.

One of the things about being in a psychiatric hospital or ward is that they assume that you will try to hurt yourself or someone else. By assuming that, and guarding against it, they probably save themselves and others a lot of unnecessary grief. Of course, they should have taken away my pen, but they either missed it or pitied me and let me keep it.

I was quietly and calmly matter-of-fact about why I was there when I checked in on Thanksgiving Day. I had missed lunch, but they arranged to get my a turkey lunch anyway. I talked to a psychiatrist and a nurse and filled out forms. I was searched to make sure I wasn't bringing in anything they didn't know about. They took virtually everything. I kept most of my clothes (those that either had nothing overtly dangerous to them or that I was willing to allow to be "adjusted"), my shoes (sans laces) and slippers, a couple of books, my toiletries, and my pen.

For the first two days, I stayed in the room I shared with another patient, except for meals and when I needed to take my meds. I wouldn't even go to Group sessions those two days. I slept, I cried, and I read The Goddess is in the Details by Deborah Blake, which was a comfort to me. I didn't have to prepare food, think about when and what to eat, or clean my dishes or my living space. It was a relief.

Powers of the Mind

Lately in therapy, my therapist has been guiding me through imagery scenarios to address specific emotional situations. They've been enormously helpful. She also helped me address the difficulty I've been having with using affirmations and creative visualization on my own.

The guided imagery we've been doing in sessions has taken me to where in my life it seems the feelings originated. Once there, she has led me through asking myself questions, connecting to feelings, connecting to myself at those ages, and providing myself with what I seem to need at that point. These sessions are very powerful emotionally and mentally — I usually need a long nap afterward! It's so different from the therapy that I did with Karen, and equally powerful.

The difficulties I've been having with affirmations and creative visualizations stem from the standard instructions for doing them: to say things like "I have a great job" when I know I am unemployed, for example. My rational mind cannot buy into the part where you feel like you have this thing NOW.

Michele offered me an excellent way to do this. "Imagine your life on a timeline," she told me. "Put yourself on the timeline in a past time when you felt confident and happy in your job and really be there, not just seeing yourself there. Add in as much sensory detail as you can. Then put yourself on the timeline in the near future, where you want to be, and imagine having the job, the living situation that you want. Be there completely. Feel everything." This sounded like something I could definitely work with.

Three times this past week I've done this visualization, with varying levels of success. I know that the varying levels are due to how distracted I am and that I need more practice, so I'm not letting them bother me. I feel each time has been successful. The scenarios I've started with are having a great job that I love and that pays me lots of money, and having a place to live that I like very much and making it be the home I want (including the living room furniture I found that I WANT!). It amazes me how real I can make these visualizations. I know I need to do the work, too (keep job hunting and networking, for example), but I feel that the visualizations add a great deal of power and energy toward getting me what I want and need, sooner rather than later.

I know the mind is very powerful. There are been many studies about the benefits of visualizing success in sports; professional athletes use this technique to increase their abilities along with doing physical practice. I think I remember reading about how many successful business people also use these techniques. So there is some strong science behind them. And doing them in a way that doesn't cause my literal mind to pop up and say "no" allows me to benefit from the techniques.

Obviously, you need to really, really want the thing you are visualizing yourself having. The strong emotional content is essential. I really, really, really want a good job that I love and a home that I enjoy living in. Really.

How about you? Do you use mental techniques to help you achieve things? What do you use?

Sunshine Lentil Soup and Stock Recipe

Soup Fixin's!

Lately I've shared this recipe with some friends. I recently made a pot of it for my housemates and myself and they loved it. I just made a pot of stock so I can make the soup tomorrow for a friend who is enduring some major life crises right now. So I decided to make the recipe my post for tonight!

I don't cook much, but when I do, I tend to go all out. So I make my own vegetable stock from scratch; that's what we'll start with. And this is one of the things that I do while being entirely mindful and in the moment.

I was given the basic outline for the stock by a friend many years ago. Originally I used it with a soup using standard brown lentils that you can find anywhere. I don't know where I first learned about red lentils, but I assumed they behaved just like brown lentils when cooked. They don't. When they are cooked, they turn a sunshiny yellow and break up; I like to use enough of them that they make the soup thick. I don't even remember how I came up with this recipe, as I am not much of a cook, but I did make up this recipe myself.

I call the soup Sunshine Lentil for its bright color and its bright flavor. And it tastes much better the second day! (It also freezes well, as does the stock.)

Power, Protection, and Progress

So. Therapy today was powerful. We talked about a major theme in my life: power and powerlessness, authenticity and invisibility. I came away with my mind spinning, feeling full to the brim, and feeling good. I even turned off my radio so my mind could keep resonating with what we talked about and when I got home I wrote the important bits down so I'd remember them.

It started off with me talking about the TED Talk by Amy Cuddy about body language and using it to change your own perceptions and feelings and behaviors. About the "Wonder Woman pose" that the media has played up and how to use it. (And I have used it, and Amy's other suggestions, and they seem to actually work.)

From there we went into how I diminish my own strengths and talents and accomplishments, and why I do so. I tend to have "don't look at me, I'm no threat" submissive and powerless postures: head or eyes down, shoulders hunched, arms and legs drawn in. I have often thought that I don't deserve as much space as other people, as much air as other people.

Then we went to why. Mostly self-protection, plus a lot of being squashed so much I've just given in and stayed squashed most of the time. Because of being molested, and from such a young age. Because my parents were always telling me "don't show off" (my intelligence and vocabulary), "don't brag," even while encouraging my little brother to show what an exceptional athlete he was and revolving our lives (mine included) around his sports. Because at a job I stayed at for six years (four years longer than I should have), my boss and co-workers treated me worse and worse the more authentically I lived my life and the more I threatened their world view: I both worked AND wrote (and published a story); I took a month off and went to Britain; I took six weeks off and attended a full-time writers' workshop (that you have to apply and compete for). Some people can be downright hostile if you do what they have told themselves they cannot do because that is How Things Are.

I have often in my life felt that The Universe hates me. It has seemed as if, just when my life was going particularly well, the Universe has reached out and slammed me, with moving when I was 16, with the deaths of my father and my brother and my mother, and with other things. And that has happened a lot, but there are times when I've been slammed while things were going very badly, and I'm sure there have been times when things have been going well and I haven't been slammed (I just have to remember them!).

Confidence Falls

Y'know, when I first set out to move back to Seattle, I was full of confidence about finding work back in high tech. I had a long history of high tech and I'd done a lot of extreme editing of scientific materials and I'd broadened the types of writing I've done with my various projects in Houston. Fantastic, right?

So now I am in Seattle and I've settled in and begun networking and looking for work. I've joined meetup groups in Content Strategy, Information Architecture/User Experience (IA/UX), general technology, and so on. I've gone to their meetup events. And my confidence has been pouring out of me like blood from an open arterial.

For example, last night I went to a Content Strategy meetup with my friend. The first presentation was fairly basic and I didn't really find it that informative or interesting, but the presenter was pretty excited about it so that made it okay. The second presentation was exciting, entertaining, and … confusing. I may have taken in about 10% of what the guy was talking about. The fellow to my right, an engineer and writer, had the opinion that the presentation was fairly content-free. I felt like I was too stupid to understand it, because everyone else seemed to really like the presentation. On the way home, I expressed my feeling and the other guy's opinion to my friend and he asked me what points I was confused about or what questions I had because maybe he could answer them. I only had one basic question because the rest of the presentation didn't make enough sense to me for me to even have questions I could articulate. I know I've been out of the high-tech biz for a while, and that things that used to be just what tech writers did are now their own professional niches with their own jargon, but I expected to be able to understand a hell of a lot more than what I did last night!

Secondly, I am not getting responses to job applications, other than the one where a friend submitted me via his company's employment referral system, probably because I've been out of high-tech for so long. There's a lot of jobs I'm not even applying for because of not having a few of their Required qualifications: specific programming languages, specific tools. I'm very happy to be here, but maybe I'm too out-of-date, too old. But if I'm not writing and editing, I don't know what else I can do. And honestly, I need to be working a professional job in high tech to be able to afford a decent apartment now and a decent house someday in this area. Besides all the other typical living expenses.

Yes, I have found a part-time freelance job, or rather, it found me. But it's taken me three weeks (okay, three part-time weeks, but still) to truly get up to speed on the information and how they want it presented for this first project and I've just been revising the existing stories written by someone else. I haven't even begun to write original text yet and I'm as nervous as my housemates' cat about doing so. What if I can't do this anymore? What if my work sucks?

A Body at Rest Tends to Stay at Rest

Inertia. Newton's First Law: a body at rest tends to stay at rest, unless a force is acted upon it. And I haven't been enacting any force upon myself since I arrived in Seattle. Well, not much.

As a result, I've lost the muscle tone I'd gained by doing exercises in the apartment. I have barely blogged at all. I haven't even been doing my therapy work, and I did my therapy work in Houston even when I was at my least functional! I have disappointed myself. My confidence has ebbed even lower than when I was in Houston.

However, I've had one phone interview for a full-time job and have another scheduled for next week. (According to my friend who works there, they screen very thoroughly so they get people who will work well with the team.) I think I have a shot, as long as I can convince them I am technical enough.

I've also acquired a part-time freelance job! They contacted me out of the blue: they'd found my profile on LinkedIn, then through that found my web site, which was unfortunately unchanged since Houston and they could only access one link to my work, but they still contacted me and by the time we talked in a two-hour meeting, they had decided upon me. It pays lower than a for-profit company would pay, naturally, but the work is very meaningful, challenging, and varied. Not only can I feel good about my contribution to this organization and the work they do, but I will not be bored and I will be stretching myself. Just for your info, this organization facilitates collaborations between researchers at small to large companies and institutions with other institutions and large pharmaceutical companies to address neglected diseases in the developing worlds and poor populations the world over. These diseases are not high-ticket items in terms of money-making, so the big companies don't pursue them. But the big pharmaceutical companies who have joined this consortium are committed to providing information — even about their compounds — and expertise to other researchers in this sphere. It's amazing!

So, this week my new therapist and I addressed my inertia. She asks good questions, such as when did I live my life more like I wanted it, when was I happier, when was I more active. We went all the way back to childhood for the answers. Among the answers we found was that I need to create for my mental health. I used to write and draw and paint all the time as a child, and even in my 20s. It began to taper off in my 30s, especially as my depression worsened. I developed the thought that I needed to write toward publication, rather than simply write the stories I want to tell. After taking my Scientific Illustration courses and doing beautiful work, I seemed to feel that I could no longer just mess around with my drawing and painting like I did before, but that I had to create at that same high level, so I stopped drawing and painting at all. And I really haven't crocheted a lot since creating a very intricate and difficult doily for my Grandma (which I now have framed).

Days 3 and 4: Still Alive — Both of Us!

When last we left our intrepid heroes, they were contemplating doing away with one another. I'm happy to say that hasn't happened. Yet. But it's still on the table.

The first part of yesterday (Monday, Day 3) we spent in the Las Cruces area, in Old Town Mesilla. The buildings, even many of the residences, are either original or reproduction adobe-style, and the center of town has a village square with a Catholic church on one side and shops and restaurants along the other sides and down the side streets.

One thing I've regretted since I drove through New Mexico on my way eastward four years ago was that I didn't buy any turquoise jewelry, particularly that made by locals and nearby Native Americans. So this time I bought a turquoise and silver pendant and a silver chain.

I couldn't believe how much time we spent just walking around the square looking at the shops and occasionally talking to shopkeepers! We had lunch next to the square at an outside cafe and we didn't get back to the room until around 3:30. I was hoping for a nap yesterday, but instead I got kitted out and went to the White Sands National Monument with Steve. He was hoping for some good late-afternoon and early-evening photos of the dunes. (He hasn't looked at them yet to see how he did, so I can't tell you yet.)

I took photos, too, but when the sun was getting low over the mountains and we were walking up the ridge of a dune, I'd had enough. Not only was the ridgeline of the dune triggering my edge phobia, I don't have very good night or dim-light vision, so I knew I'd better get back to the car. So I walked back out to the car and waited until Steve returned from taking sunset photos. Then we drove back to Las Cruces, stopped and picked up some things from a store, and by the time we got to our room it was late (again) and we were exhausted (again). So I didn't even write anything for the blog.

Today (Tuesday, Day 4) bloomed brightly and even though we tried, we still didn't get out of town until 10:30 am. Then we drove onward across New Mexico and Arizona.

We'd planned to stay at a nicer place in Blythe, California, tonight. Unfortunately, we are staying in a not as nice place just outside Blythe, still in Arizona, for two reasons. The first reason is that the Blythe Best Western was booked by the time I got around to making reservations. The second reason is the way this spring-time promotion of BW's is handled. The promotion states: stay three separate times and get one night free! I figured that meant that, since we've stayed at BW hotels three different times before today, that tonight's stay would be free.

Doesn't work that way. You stay three different times during the specified period. Then, a week or two later, you get a coupon in email that is good through June 30. I call shenanigans! The likelihood of my going on another trip before the end of June is low; I imagine it would be for most people who had managed three different stays during the spring! Stoopid corporations!

Today we mostly drove, stopped at rest areas to take walks, and stopped to eat. We did stop at one rest area so Steve could take pictures. The area is called Texas Canyon (it's in New Mexico) and the geological formations are fantastic! The rock is split horizontally and vertically, and sometimes diagonally, and it's all rounded on the edges. I don't know what caused such formations, but they were wonderful to see. When I eventually get some pictures put up, I'll include one of those, too.

By the time we got to Tucson, it was HOT. The weather app on Steve's phone said it was only 76, but I'd say high 80s or even 90.

By the time we got to Phoenix, it was rush hour. We made it through alive.

It was around 7:30 when we arrived at the hotel. The first room we had didn't have a working fridge, and we use our fridges to refreeze the blue ice and to keep other things cold. So they changed us to a different room. The fridge works, and it has a truly separate freezer compartment. The rest of the room is not so good, but we are here and checked in and tired. Steve has problems logging in to the wifi at the BW hotels, so he's informed me that we are staying at a different brand of place tomorrow. I pointed out that for what I'm willing to pay, we aren't going to get great internet access no matter what, but we'll see. He and I are kind of not talking tonight. We'll see how that goes tomorrow, too.

I really want to get more rest, but that isn't possible given our travel needs. So I will rest when we get back to the Seattle area. I may sleep for the entire following week. But that would be just fine with me!

I will get pictures for y'all as soon as I can, but it's possible that won't be until after the trip. If that's the case, I'll just do a couple of posts that are predominantly photos! That should be fun.

So, hoping tomorrow is a good day for us all, I am signing off now. Good night!

Another Year

Well, another year has passed and I have to ask myself: what have I accomplished and how have I changed in the past year? 

In some ways the answers are easy. I turned a corner in my grief/depression/therapy and began to mend. I met therapeutic goals. I decreased medications. I became happier and healthier. I began to exercise. I wrote a novel! And I made the choice to move back to Seattle, foregoing sunshine and heat for close, long-term friendships.

In other ways, it's not so easy to see changes. Once I decided to move, I was finally offered a full-time job here. Instead, I am back on the networking and job-hunting wheel. That leads me to feeling stressed. Or rather, it triggers my fears and insecurities that then cause me to feel anxious and stressed, afraid that I won't be able to find work, that I will run out of money, etc. Which are the feelings I've been living with for much of the past four years.

But I will not allow them to control me any longer. I know I will find a great job in Seattle, sooner rather than later. I know I will find a great place to live that is affordable and has all that I want and need, including parking space and being within walking distance of a dependable and useful bus line. I know that I will be able to bus to work easily and painlessly. And I know that I will be able to cope with the weather up there because I have my light box, I am much further along in my journey to happiness than I was when I left, and because my friends and I have committed to spending time with each other. Much is different now, twelve years later.

I still have a lot to do. I need to practice my cognitive skills more because I'm still getting caught up in my irrational thoughts. I need to continue on my quest for a healthier lifestyle, which includes cooking real food and getting aerobic exercise frequently and regularly. And I need to get back to my creative work and revise my novel and return to drawing and painting.

Following Through

It was a good therapy session today. My therapist detailed the ways in which I've improved from last year and even from a few months ago. The main thing she pointed out was that not only do I have ideas and plans, I actually follow through with them.

The thing is, this isn't just different from last year or even the year before when I was completely paralyzed with grief. Following through on intentions is something I haven't been doing reliably for years due to the depression and anxiety and the bad habits I developed (or the good ones I lost).

For example: I do a set of exercises and stretches every morning. Every. Morning. Even when I don't feel like it. I let myself skip the Saturday before last, but last Saturday I decided that taking a day off from my exercises wasn't doing me any favors, nor was it getting me closer to my goal of fitting into my "fat" Levis by the time I go to Seattle for the holidays. (I have to lose weight to fit into them. I have two other pair that are smaller than those.) So I didn't skip. I can't remember when I last performed exercises on a regular basis, much less an every-day basis. And I'm not even giving into to the "I don't feel like it"-itis that has been my typical behavior for years.

Other examples of my following through include my job hunting activity (applied for two jobs just this morning), and the activities I have to do in order to do a desired activity — my reward/contingency tasks.

I've still got a lot of work to do. I need to develop a habit of eating healthy (that's for November), but I refrained from buying any sweets today (including the fresh-baked pumpkin pie ... sigh) and I'm full from a late lunch so every time my mouth prompts me to get up and go find something to eat in the kitchen, I turn myself around (might as well get up off the couch and move a little) and walk back into the living room. No eating if I'm not hungry and give my sugar cravings time to die off.

I need to develop the habit of paying my bills on time. I need to clean off my desk so I can actually do work at it. And I need to start doing cardio exercises (that's December's habit to learn, even though I'm going to be out of town for several days).

Even though I still have much to do and change, I know I'll get it done. Why? Because I'm developing the most important habit of all, the habit of follow-through. And with that habit settling into my bones again, I know I can do anything.

You Probably Want to Know

"So," you've probably been thinking. "How is Skye doing on her new program?"

Well, I'll tell you. I started out strong last week then completely stopped it when my period started and I just wasn't going to exercise. I don't exercise during "that time of the month" because it makes everything worse: heavier, more crampy, more bleah. I did accomplish my Tuesday task so was able to watch Castle, and I accomplished my next two tasks and watched both Project Runway and MythBusters. But the exercise went to hell.

Now I am back on with the exercise as of this morning, plus I walked in the park this afternoon. I have a task to do tomorrow and I have, thanks to the creative spark from Deb, created a chart with tasks prioritized and sorted, with different sets of contingents/rewards attached to each priority, and color-coded and printed so I can keep track without having to open the spreadsheet any time I need a reminder. 

The tasks I have to do for any given contingent or reward (yes, I put ice cream on there a couple of times, and yarn) are not difficult or even terribly time-consuming. Later, as I get better at this and am able to sustain greater efforts using self-discipline (or being less self-indulgent), I can pursue bigger tasks or sets of tasks.

My BFF commented on the previous post that it would be better to do these tasks due to rational cause-and-effect or cost-benefit analyses, but I'm not up to that level yet. I'm kind of at toddler or young child level when it comes to personal self-discipline (I'm still fine with professional self-discipline), so I have to start with what works. 

I Wrote A Novel!

I've been writing my own things since I was seven years old, when I wrote my first poem that wasn't an assignment for class. My father took that funky little poem with it's not-always-exactly-rhyming lines and called each of his six siblings and read the entire thing to them over the phone.

This, I thought, was powerful. This is what I want to do. Nothing else I did ever brought me that kind of reaction from my dad or my mom. So my future was chosen.

Of course, I mostly wrote short stories growing up, and the beginnings of novels. In college it was all short stories and expository pieces. When I went back to school to get my technical writing degree, what I wrote was even further removed from my dream of writing a novel.

What Have I Accomplished?

My BFF tries to help me be more positive and become healthier. He worries, oft times for good reason. Right now he wants me to put together a list of all my successes and I'm having trouble doing it. My list of accomplishments seems so short for having lived 51 years. Some of the things on my list are that I've crocheted some beautiful doilies. That just seems like I'm reaching for the bottom of the barrel with that one.

This list has two purposes: 1) remind me that I can accomplish notable things; and 2) help decrease my anxiety over being able to accomplish things ever again, or basically, my anxiety over everything.

There are things I'm very proud of that I think are quite notable, such as teaching myself to ride a two-wheel bike when I was five years old, or buying my first house all by myself and with all my own money when I was 33 years old.

Then there's the doilies. They are pretty doilies, but not exactly notable.

Part of the problem may be that I generally think that if I can do it, it's not such a big thing then. It's taken me the over 3 years that I've (mostly) lived in Houston to accept that my just getting up and taking off for destination unknown IS a big deal.

A sub-purpose of this list is to help me regain my confidence and lose my anxiety over looking for and finding work. It was so nice to be working and making some money. I feel so worthless when I'm not making money, because I don't want to end up having to depend upon others to get by.

So, I'm having difficulties putting together my list. My BFF said he'll help me brainstorm and as much as he gives me crap a lot of the time, he does think very highly of me. 

He may even think that the doilies count. Not that he wants one.

How do you build your confidence? Do you know what your successes are? Share a few here!

When I Did It Myself

When I was five, I wanted a two-wheeler bike. It was time to be done with my big tricycle and be a big kid. 

But first there is something you need to know about my parents: they weren't the kind of parents who thought through any aspect of their parenting. Mom was only 21 when I was born and Dad was 27. They liked to do what they wanted to do, and they did love my brother and me and enjoyed doing things with us, but they tended to parent on the convenience plan: if they felt like putting out the effort they did. If it seemed inconvenient, they found a reason not to do it.

So when I wanted a two-wheeler bike, they apparently weren't in the mood to be bothered with it at the time. They were both working, which afforded us luxuries that other kids with a cop or a secretary as a parent didn't, so it wasn't the cost. They just didn't apparently feel like it right then. So instead of the usual thing, where you buy your kid their first two-wheeler and teach them to ride it, they told me they'd buy me one when I was able to ride one. 

Hell, I was five. What they never understood was that I was an extremely bright kid, more than they realized, and logical, too. I wanted my bike, so I was going to learn to ride one.

Zenhacking My Life, 2012

I don't make New Year's Resolutions — never have succeeded. I tried a few times when I was younger and I had the success that all articles about the futility of resolutions predict: zero. But there are a couple of sites I follow — one always and one sometimes — that have ideas for changing one's life without resolutions or goals. One of the sites is zenhabits.net; the other is LifeHacker.com. and both offered up a true gem for me to use to change my life into what I want and need it to be.

What I need in order to change my life (YMMV) is new habits. And among the ways to help me make the changes is to implement the placebo effect.

NaNoWriMo, Day 1

I'm engaging in National Novel Writing Month. The first question I have to ask myself is this: is it counter-productive to write blog posts when I'm also trying to write 50,000 words of an incipient novel?

The second is this: can I make it all the way through this time?

And the third is this: what am I, crazy?!

This is my third or fourth attempt at NaNo. The other attempts ended within the first 7-10 days. I can write 1666 words a day, no problem. But creatively, while under pressure? Okay, the pressure is self-induced. It's not really a competition; it just feels like one. And if I don't reach 50,000 words by the end of the month, guess what? Most of the other people doing NaNo probably won't either. So there is no external pressure.

In addition, I haven't written creatively in what, a year and a half? And that was only on a novel that I'd written off and on for two years. For perhaps a decade and a half before that, my creative writing endeavors were just so much tumbleweed-strewn desert. Blog posts feel different from fiction. I know they both come out of me, but blog posts are more like conversation. Fiction, now, is work.

I'll report as I feel able throughout the month. If I can find a NaNo widget for the blog, I'll use it so you can see my running word count — LIVE! As for today, I worked for half an hour and wrote 392 words, including title and byline. It was difficult for me, that half an hour and nearly 400 words. I wanted to whip myself along to that 1666-word goal, but I decided to be good to myself instead and celebrate the fact that I wrote for half an hour on a brand new story that is just coming out of my head, no pre-plotting, no backstory other than half a dozen paragraphs of notes. So yay for me! I wrote! However many words I manage to write, I'll write, and I'll celebrate each and every one of them as bringing my creative side back to life. This, my friends, is Me coming back to life. Perhaps, even, my sanity.

Ms. X and the Storage Bins of Doom

The morning dawned bright with promise, so I was told when I wandered over to my neighbors' at 10 am. The morning was still bright, but dawn was long gone, and so soon would be my neighbors. We were still yelling our good-byes as I clawed my way through the short path between our houses (Note to self: tell the yard lady to trim back the hedge). 

And there she stood by my front door — Xatrax, come all the way from her hidden compound near Portland, to help me store irreplaceable items inside inconsequential-seeming plastic bins. We were continuing the work begun by my previous assistant and myself just days before. With the preternatural intuition that she is known for, Ms. X knew that without her help, my project was poised for failure. I beamed with gratitude so strongly that Ms. X had to bat it away from her face like a fog of gnats.

"Yes, yes, you're welcome. Shall we get down to work? Your project is too vital to let it fail," she said. Grabbing her ever-present gear bag, she ushered me into my house, letting the screen door slam closed behind her. From the tips of her dark, skull-hugging 'do to the soles of her history-encrusted boots, Ms. X radiated "can-do" ... and the super-secret power of the FGB vibe.

Our first forays showed that my assistant Kem had gone further toward my project's end than I had first thought. Areas of action were sharply defined by lime paper and cobalt ink — both highly necessary ingredients in my plans. Leaving me to my mumbled thoughts — No, this stays here, right? Oh lordy, we never even looked there — Xatrax efficiently collected what I pulled out of nooks and crannies and gathered it all in the staging area.

Then it was time. I whipped out the bubble wrap and Xatrax slid free her lethal knife and we threw ourselves at the suspiciously innocuous-looking plastic bins in red and blue. By tag-teaming, a little cutting, some tight wrapping, and a lot of re-positioning, we filled those bins efficiently and effectively. As for the infamous Dancing Ladies, a little bright yellow duck tape from Ms. X's bag was enough to hold them where we wanted them. And thanks to her magical sparkly silver pen, we know what is in which bin. No surprise is a good surprise, is what I say.

There remain a few outliers lying low about the house that don't fit in a bin or were forgotten during the choreographed mayhem of earlier, but we did a lot of work and I rewarded us both with a leisurely, talk-filled lunch of BLTs from Subway. 

After our energizing and nutritious lunch, I discovered that there was no work remaining to do at this stage. This left us with an unanticipated significant amount of time left before Ms. X had to return to her home in the wilds of a Portland suburb. So what to do with all that time?

THE BEACH!!!!

Yes, it was another perfect day at the beach and I so wanted to impress the great Xatrax with my physical strength as well as my mental prowess that I poured my remaining energy into keeping up (mostly) with Ms. X, even tho' I've spent most of the last year hanging out on a couch. I don't know for sure how far we walked, only that it was a really, really long way great distance and my legs ached. A lot. (I know I would have to pay for this unaccustomed physical activity tomorrow, but I conceived the plan to just walk again on the new day and the new pain will simply blend into the existing pain so I won't notice it. Brilliant!) It was awesomely fun a tremendous experience, even when I got my shoes, socks, and the bottom four inches of my jeans wet because it turns out I can't actually jump anymore. (Gotta fix that before the Zombiepocalypse!) Xatrax cheated: her boots are Goretex.

Talking for hours with a girlfriend another super-power is a comfort I've missed, comfortable even if the friendship is still new and there is so much initial stuff to learn about each other. We packed. We talked. We ate. We talked. We walked down 137 steps and across a wide expanse of soft sand and we talked. 

We walked and talked (except when I was stopped and panting) all the way down the beach from 21st to the Wayside, which Google Maps says is approximately 1 mile. When you are walking on mostly soft sand in one direction, it's more than one mile. When you are walking uphill in the other direction, it's more than one mile. Those are my rules. So by my rules, we walked at least 3 or 4 miles. Ms. X very kindly lounged on a park bench with me as I regained my strength, commenting that she, too, needed a rest. The woman's legendary graciousness is a truth.

We looked at kites and tacky souvenirs, then I bought chocolate and Xatrax bought caramel corn and we carried our treats and our weary bodies uphill back to the house. After a too-brief leave-taking, the amazing Ms. X, woman of mystery and a really great hat, swept away in her little Black Soul, bearing sand and caramel corn to the incomparable Mr. X, and leaving me nursing sore calves, sore thighs, sore feet, sore achilles tendons, sunburned cheeks ....

Thanks to Xatrax, I now have no worries. My plan will succeed. It will change lives and turn around economies. Most importantly of all — it will finally be all over.

Territorial

I spent today marking my territory. Instead of pee, I used lime green post-it notes and a blue gel pen.

The friend who was helping me suggested I mark items before beginning The Great Adventure in Packing. Smart woman, that Kem. So we wandered thru much of the house marking stuff to be sent to me in Houston, to go into storage for me (and a couple of things for my aunt), and then marked things for the estate sale as $ for Skye or $ for Carolyn. It was a useful day, complete with lunch from Subway and lots of talking. 

All that remains are the two smaller bedrooms, although there is a lot of stuff in one of the closets. Once all the marking is complete, then the packing can begin!

I imagine I'll begin some of the packing tomorrow, after a break and perhaps a walk on the beach. Then my friend Glynis will be here all day Monday; I imagine we will finish most if not all of the rest. Plus a walk on the beach.

The movers come Tuesday to swap stuff in and out of storage. Then Wednesday I begin to go thru my own storage unit so I can make room for whatever is left in the second storage unit.

Universe, please give me enough money so I can afford a larger living space and be able to move the things in my storage unit in Oregon to my home in Houston. Really, I've spent more than enough money on storage. And, no, getting my portion of the estate will not be the money I'm asking for. See yesterday's post and my comment for why.

I'm tired and should consider going to bed very soon. I imagine I will feel like this most days that I am here. (Hey Merry! Come join me at the beach!) But it's a good kind of tired. It's a "I've been on my feet almost all day and accomplished a lot" kind of tired. And I am very grateful that I had help; I couldn't have accomplished half of what I did without it.

Winging It

I don't plan my life out: not my days, my weeks, my years. I have some barely defined goals or desires in my mind, but no defined stepping stones for how to reach them.

I used to define goals. I was an awesome project manager at various jobs in the past: if I said I'd hit a deadline, then as long as nothing major like a complete set of new features or a new product module got in the way of it, I hit that deadline with a quality product. I wrote out all the steps required to meet the goal, all dependencies and other resources needed, and could sync of my schedules in my project management software with the schedules of other people. I had one of those personal and professional organizational systems with all the pages for purpose, personal mission statement, and so on.

Then I burnt out of my industry and my career. None of my goals and schedules and mission statements contained burn-out as an action item, nor did they leave room for it. Suddenly, none of that mattered.

After I moved to Oregon and slowly got over being ill and burnt-out, I chose to free myself from goals and organizers. I managed without them (except for when I needed them to remodel the house I bought) for several years. 

When I moved again, this time to Houston and to beginning a new phase in my life, and found myself in the position of needing to perhaps return to my old career — certainly I was in a continuing trajectory of unemployment and willing to do whatever would pay me good money — I began setting goals and creating mission statements and defining my purpose all over again. I bought an organizer and all the internal components. As someone who adores papers — stationary, specialty papers, notebooks, and even nice printer paper — organizer packages are a bit like crack cocaine: sparkly, desirable, and ultimately my downfall. Because defining my purpose in life and creating a mission statement have always "blocked" me from getting completely into an organizational system. How can you ensure that your tasks and objectives are in line with your purpose and mission if you don't know what they are? I'm neither a product nor a corporation.

I don't think that goals and purposes and missions (oh my!) got me the work I had last year before I had to go take care of my mom. No goals would have included "return home to care for Mom with cancer," although doing so is within my values, just not specifically stated in any mission or purpose statement.

One of my favorite blog authors, Leo Babauta, who writes zenhabits, wrote a post on "achieving, without goals." It makes sense to me, to do and pursue what you are passionate about, what makes you happy (which, hopefully, is more than TV and beer), without creating goals and objectives and tasks on how to get there.

Babauta wrote: "Goals keep you focused on something in the future, instead of being present and enjoying what you’re doing right now. Goals keep you fixed on one path, which might not be the best path in a week or a month or a year." And goals don't take into account changes you might choose to make regarding direction or simply giving up that goal entirely. 

Outside of my phases of over-organization in both my professional and personal lives, I have done what Babauta suggested in his post and pursued what I was passionate about. True, a lot of what I did was externally decided upon — go to school, work some kind of job to have money, etc. — but if something I was doing made me unhappy, or even better, if I spotted something that I wanted, something that lit a spark in me, then even if I couldn't pursue it immediately, it kept calling me. It was sparks like these that swayed me away from teaching, for the good of generations of children, and toward the career I followed for over two decades.

Nowadays, I am winging it. I've been working on becoming clearer about my core values and what creates my center, what grounds me in my life (especially as I had made my mother those things). I'm opening myself back up to my passions. I'm giving myself permission to pursue what I'm passionate about, rather than what others might think I should pursue. 

I'm not pursuing my old career in my old industry (even though at this point I wouldn't turn it down because I do need an income Right. Now.). Other work strikes my passions: the volunteer work I'm doing (which has brought me into a chairmanship in the overseeing committee!); the smaller, more varied, and infrequent freelance gigs I'm doing for very small businesspeople; and the ideas and work that those I've been working with and for have been encouraging me to do, such as teaching writing seminars to teachers and possibly schoolkids (but not in such a way that will damage their school experience for decades to come). 

Not having a defined and concrete path laid out in front of me instead leaves me with an entire world to explore, from horizon to horizon. I'll probably end up at the dead end of paths from time to time, but I'll have learned a lot on my way there and I won't feel guilty for not being able to continue on a specific path toward a specific goal. I'm perfectly able to pursue my passions without a roadmap, thus allowing myself to be caught by "oooh, shiny!" Turns out, "oooh, shiny!" feeds creativity, or is at least associated with the creative mind. None of the pages in my organizers had a bullet item for "oooh, shiny!"

Now I'm flying and floating and running and skipping my way through and toward my desires and passions. Already it feels better than the three-piece Goals suit I used to wear. I feel almost like a kid again, in tee shirt and shorts, creating detective-kits out of flour and paintbrushes and making up my own stories complete with illustrations and cover art, reading in trees and painting with color combinations not considered compatible by most other people. I've earned my wings and I'm not giving them up, ever again. 

Anyone have a barbecue grill or an outdoor fireplace? I have some pages I need to burn.