Respect Mother

First of all, if you find yourself yelling, "Respect your mother!" to your children, you have probably already lost that battle.

Second, I have been in a funk.  I have had the blues.  There has been a dark cloud over my head.  I have been residing in sadsville.  I am riding a segway, slowly, toward downtown Depressionland.

You get the picture.

This is because of:  salary negotiations, nuclear freak-outs in Japan, a weird sleep cycle, a cosmic energy force field belief monster out of whack, I am almost 36, the world is round, there was a cloud in the sky, nothing at all.

It lifted a little the last few days, thankfully, but it was not a fun place to be, for me or those around me.  I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry.

But I don't want to go back there for a while.  I don't like it.  None of my mind-melding ninja tricks work when I am in that place.  I am not in that place very often, but when I'm in it, it is deep and it is lonely and I will do just about anything to crawl out of it.

That sort of desperation isn't pretty.  Just ask the cheese fries, milkshake, and three beers I met on Tuesday night.

So, we'll try a little experiment here.  You know how I like the experiments:  the year without fried food, the "veganism" (with lots of enchiladas snuck in, hence the scare quotes), the No Impact project.  This experiment will be a simplified version of The Happiness Project.  It's also similar to my efforts with the joy jar, which you might remember from this 2009 post, when Eric was being laid off:

I spent the morning trying to get our landline number switched over to Eric’s cell phone, canceling the cable and the newspaper, cutting our donations, and calling my gram to see if she would pay for Addie’s ballet lessons for a while (praise Ruby, she will).

I don’t think I’ll miss the t.v. too much yet, plus we can still watch stuff on the computer, and we kept Netflix for now, so that we have movies to watch.  The girls will miss Noggin, but tv wasn’t good for them anyway, right?  They’d rather spend the time with us.  When I canceled the paper, I was told I could retain online access for six months for free.  Golden.  Better for the environment anyway.

We haven’t made any decisions about our biggest expense–the kids’ school.  We’ll do that when we know more about when, exactly, Eric’s last day will be (which could be anywhere from two weeks to three months).  That will be the biggest change, and I’m only beginning to get used to it in my head.

An awesome book I’m reading suggests this:  fill a jar with lots of things that you would like to do, and that are in line with your goals for growth.  Like, my goals have to do with giving myself some love without spending on material possessions, and with feeling more connected to family and friends, and also feeling the love of spirit.  So my jar has little slips of paper with things like, “learn the words to a good song and practice singing it,” or, “call a friend,” or, “meditate for 15 minutes.”  Whenever I’m feeling anxious about stuff, I get to pull a paper from the jar and take a mini-break, practicing something that keeps me in line with where I envision my life going.  I was feeling pretty down last night, and pulled the song one.  I haven’t decided which one yet to learn, but I’m excited about learning a new song on the piano, and practicing singing it.  I have something to look forward that is free and makes me happy.  It’s a gift to myself.  Cool, huh?

Eric put my hand to his chest last night–it was vibrating like a drum with anxiety.  “We have to remember we’re on the same side,” he said, after I said some not-so-nice things about feeling freaked out about his finding a job.  How could I forget that he’s human?  That he feels this more deeply than I do, losing his livelihood?  Shit.  Shit.  That sweet heart, pounding in that chest.  The most important thing is to believe in him now, and to trust (see Nanny’s post for a truly awesome example of how this works).

“What you need the most right now is each other,” says Toni.

“You can freak out if you want to,” my friend Ellen reminds me.  “But really, it’s all good.”

Sue:  “You and Eric have created a very solid foundation. Plant yourself there. And thrive.”

And you all called, and gave us virtual hugs, and laugh and cry with us.  Thank you for this love (and also, Rose, for the cookies, which make many things better).  It’s all good.

Anyway, I'm thinking I need to go back to the Joy Jar for a few weeks.  30 days, in fact.  And everyday I'll post my joyful thing.  I'll send my love and light and some money to Japan, and will go to work everyday, and raise my family.  And maybe my joyful things will be there, and maybe they will come from the joy jar.

So, check back in and see what's up and we can graph my progress together.  And if you have joyful things, tell me about them, or post them on Facebook, and we can share in it together.

My joy jar is still full from last time I used it, so here's the first pull:

"Go to the florist and buy one beautiful flower for your desk."

Guess what I'll be doing tomorrow?