This week, I started my new job. It’s a welcome change, and I’ve been allowed to acclimate slowly (which is my very favorite way to acclimate). I even got to choose the office music yesterday (Ingrid Michaelson playlist, so basically we’re listening to the Grey’s Anatomy soundtrack. You’re welcome, office mates.). In mid-June, I move to my new home across town. This is also a welcome change, and I have a whole month to move. Change – even good change – stresses me out, but I am making these changes in the least stressful way possible.
This is a kindness and a blessing. There’s a lot of hope around lately.
Because I gotta be me, though, I still have anxious moments. I have gotten clutchy with the purse strings in the last couple of years, so dropping deposits and knowing my rent is going to increase so much *cough*notreallythatmuch*cough* in a couple of months is disconcerting. I couldn’t keep much of anything down and didn’t get much sleep the week that I signed the lease and gave notice that I was moving out from my current apartment. In the midst of immense relief, there still was anxiety. It wanted to be my best friend.
One night as I was watching the light on the ceiling change with the hours, exasperated, I breathed to God, “I’m going to trust you. I’m going to believe you that nothing has been forgotten or overlooked. I’m going to trust me. And I’m going to trust you to back me up.”
This is not the most faithful prayer I’ve ever prayed. It’s not quite the flying leap I used to make when I knew I had not thought the decision through and went ahead and made it anyway. I’ve thought this one through. I know it’s not all faith and hope. It’s mostly common sense and careful planning.
But the hope is important. The hope is what is making it possible to sleep and eat again.
Hope* kicks anxiety’s tail.
Hope is becoming my favorite change of all. I’ve missed it. I’m glad it’s back.
*and also the appropriate professional help and possibly meds. Get help when you need it. /public service announcement
April was a month of celebrations and change. I typically am opposed to changes, but I like these ones.
Mom and Dad, my brother-in-law, and several friends all have birthdays in April. I didn’t get to see my parents on their birthdays, but we talked on the phone. I got to go out to dinner with several friends and my brother-in-law on their birthdays, though. I forget how expensive going out to eat is. How did I do that so often when I was in college? Mystery.
I did get to deliver good news on my parents’ birthdays, though. On Mom’s birthday, I got to tell her that I got a new job (which started today!). And on Dad’s birthday, I got to tell him that I found a new place to live (moving in June). I think they’re even more excited than I am. Mom broke out that chipper, squeaky voice that she usually reserves for babies and feral cats she’s trying to woo.
I’ve been binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy. This show has taken over my life. I’m on season five, and I already know the terrible thing that happens toward the end of the season, and my heart is angry already.
Most of my reading has been cookbooks. Simple Food, Big Flavor by Aaron Sanchez makes me want to roast all the things and make them into sauces. I don’t like the way he writes, but the food makes up for it. Simply Done Well Done by Aaron McCargo, Jr. also had some great food ideas. There was a lot of deep-frying and heavy cream involved, though, so they’re going to have to be sometimes-food. My favorite cookbook I read this month was Sunny’s Kitchen by Sunny Anderson. I appreciate her stories about how her travels have affected her cooking. I also appreciate that she cooks exactly the way I do. Usually when I read a cookbook, I find myself saying, “That’s a good idea, but I would change this and substitute that.” Not on hers. I will follow those recipes exactly.
In March, I started a new health plan that basically involves drinking more water, eating better, and exercising regularly. At the beginning of April, I had already lost 6 pounds. Now I’ve lost 3 more pounds, even though I have eaten luxuriously and only completed about half of my exercise days. Yippee!
“The truth is a vast thing. I see that now – just how much truth there is. Where would we even begin?”
Root – Person of Interest
My word for 2016 is “true,” and it is indeed a vast, vast thing. I made a list of 20 goals as part of Beth Morey’s Your Fearless Year 2016 mini-course, and every one of them falls under some aspect of uncovering, discovering, or staying true.
And ever since I said yes to this word, I’ve had this song running through my head:
But that will go away soon. I hope.
Honestly, the word is a little overwhelming. What in the world have I gotten myself into?!
This year, I resolve to be true…
…to my calling. I will endeavor to act out of conviction and purpose rather than out of what someone requests or thinks that I should do. For example, there is a fine line between being a true support/accomplice to those who are oppressed, and performing for ally cookies like a pampered dog. There were a couple of times early last year when I crossed that line. It was gross. I still feel dirty and appalled at my behavior. I am offended to discover that this self-involved motivation is part of my personality, and I want to avoid such mistakes this year.
You may be disappointed if you don’t see me saying or doing everything you think I ought to say or do. If you know me in person and thus have the benefit of seeing me in multiple venues, talk to me about it.
If you only know me online, I ask you to keep that in mind. What I say, share, and like here and on social media is true to who I am, but it only represents a small percentage of my time. It is not my whole person. It may be easy to assume that if you don’t see it, it’s not happening, but that assumption is usually inaccurate.
Of course, you are also welcome to ask/confront me about it, and I am happy to hear you out. But hearing you out does not automatically mean compliance. I hope that I will not merely pander to your wishes just to placate you and get a pat on the head. Because ick. Please expect better things of me.
…to attainable expectations. I have noticed a pattern in which I will start out with completely rational goals. Then something triggers some type of excitement explosion, and suddenly my vision becomes completely irrational.
Part of me really likes this about myself. May I never become so dull and stodgy that even my wildest dreams fall completely within the realm of reason.
Another part of me needs me to calm the hell down and stop being so hard on myself.
A couple of months ago, I took my first Pure Barre class. I went into it eager but relaxed (well, as relaxed as I ever get about new social situations). I was just going to give it a try and see how far into the hour I got. I met some people, and Jessa, who had invited me, showed me around a little.
Then I walked into the class. I saw the barre and the mirrors and watched people stretching to limber up, and two of the gnomes who live in my head – Ms. Perfectionist and Ms. Competitive – perked up. Somehow, they must have convinced me that I was still 19 and a size six and dancing ten hours a week, because that’s the level of intensity at which I started the class.
Of course, about 10-15 minutes into the class, my body revolted and reminded me, “Nope – you’re forty. Here – have some dizziness and nausea!” I actually had to leave class for a while. I came back and finished, but I didn’t get out of it what I could have if I’d paced myself.
I want to have fewer of those experiences this year. I want to be better at setting goals that I can actually achieve. It’s not as if I’m giving anything up. After all, there’s no rule that says I can’t work back up to dancing ten hours a week if I decide that’s what I want. I just need a better assessment of how much work it will take.
…to my strengths. * sigh * This job of mine. Sure, the pay could be a lot better, and the job description could be better defined, but other than that, there’s nothing inherently wrong with it. It’s just not in my wheelhouse. I’m competent, but it’s not what I’m best at. It neither excites nor challenges me. I am nagged by this persistent sense that my talents and strengths would be better utilized elsewhere.
I want to find my elsewhere. Maybe it’s a different position in the same department. Maybe it’s in another department on campus. Maybe it’s not in higher education at all. But I want to find it. It’s hard to be truly myself when I spend 40 hours a week doing something that’s not.
…to my life in general. In Poemcrazy, Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge talks about looking for a place to live – “I look for places made of poetry for me, places alive with history, wildlife and mystery. Then I move in if I can.” Well, she can keep her wildlife, but otherwise, that quote is a punch in the gut. As many things as I like about my apartment and neighborhood (the multiculturalism, the…nope, that’s it), it’s never really felt like home, at least not in the way that other places have. I want to live somewhere I feel at home again. Of course, I have some ideas about how it will look – a place for a small garden, an area to sit outside with a glass of wine or cup of coffee, an extra room for books – but mostly I just want to walk in the door and sigh with relief instead of resignation.
That room of books needs to have room for some pretty serious writing to get done, too. My writing goals this year center around publication. Something’s getting published this year, even if I have to publish it myself.
…to delight. I will always be a student. I don’t ever want to stop learning new things and actively seeking out things that move me. I want to read 100 books. I might take a cooking class or tap lessons. I might even try PureBarre again, only with the appropriate respect for the work and my current body. I want to embrace music and dance and poetry – as practice, as art, as essentials.
A true life is one that is lived, not just endured.
Now it’s your turn. What are your goals for the year?
In no particular order, here are the highlights of my December.
1. Advent –
Quite possibly my favorite season of the liturgical year. Or maybe it’s just the only one I’m good at. I understand what it’s like to wait. Oh, how I understand waiting and all the complications that go with it. I put journal prompts in the pockets of my Advent calendar, and I got to go to mid-week services this year, which at least made the waiting less lonely.
2. A lesson in carols –
Our choir prepared extra songs for one of the services. It reminded me of being part of Christmas cantatas when I was younger. I didn’t even know I had missed doing that until this month.
3. Person of Interest –
I LOVE THIS SHOW. I have watched through Season 4. If I cave and get cable, this show might be the reason.
4. Holiday snacks –
Another great thing about this time of year is the delicious snacking. I have had a ridiculous amount of sugar this month.
5. A finals week without finals –
Finals week was pretty much just another week at work. It was a little busier with people handing in their keys before they left for the break, but no classes meant no grading, no constant barrage of emails from students who waited until the last possible moment to care about their grades, and no voice messages from the department secretary telling me that a student called because I hadn’t answered their email (that they sent an hour ago) and could I please call them back. It was such a peaceful week. I could get used to that.
My friend Steph got married! I am so happy for her and thrilled that I could be there for her special day.
8. Spending time with family –
Growing up, the picture you see above never would have happened at my parents’ house. Animals belonged outside, and if you wanted to play with them, you would just have to go outside, too. Now, Lola has her own special spots in the house where she likes to sit. Dad’s lap is one such spot.
I went shopping with Tammy yesterday and found all sorts of treasures (Christmas tree – $20!). Then we spent the evening watching Once Upon a Time. We’re almost through season three. I cannot handle how much I like this show.
9. Two weeks of vacation
I’ve had a restful (well…more restful. My neighborhood is loud and obnoxious) two weeks. Monday, I go back to work and have a little over a week to ease back into being there before the residents return.
10. Not putting up a Christmas tree –
Apparently, I used all my decorating energy on the Advent calendar, because I could not get motivated to put up a Christmas tree this year. About a week before Christmas, I finally admitted that it wasn’t going to happen. The candy canes on the curtain rods would just have to do.
I am just as afraid as anyone about violence happening at schools. I work on a college campus. You better believe we’re suspicious and on high alert all the time. But when you make that big and that public a mistake, you admit it and apologize for it, no strings attached. It’s embarrassing enough for an institution of education to have made the mistake in the first place. It’s unconscionable not to follow up with just as big and just as public an apology.
A friend once said that one of my strengths was “unlocking a conversation and cutting right to the heart of a matter.” Years later, these words still stick out in my mind, because I needed to hear that back then. I always worried that, in my concern with details, I talked around everything too much, causing people to lose interest before I ever got to the point. It was nice to hear that at least one person was able to stick it out until the end.
Then I became a public speaking instructor, and it became my job to get to the point. I became good at it, and I became good at teaching other people to do it. The fear subsided.
Now I work with college students all the time. I still teach part-time, but even in the full-time job when I’m not officially an educator, I am surrounded by people whose focus (for the most part) is processing information and figuring out how they fit into the world. As the token adult in the room (although technically, the term “adult” applies to everyone), I am often a sounding board to help them gauge how well they’re doing it (and whether they are crossing lines). There are also whispers and low voices in corners that they think I can’t hear, but they are not good at being sneaky yet, so that often becomes a learning opportunity, too.
They are used to me having something to say when issues of oppression arise. They expect me to be Supermouth. This expectation is both welcome and terrifying. I’m glad to do it, but it’s a big responsibility, and I’m not always great at it. Sometimes, we stumble through together. Mostly, though, they just listen. This is another thing that is both good and problematic.
I have a new fear.
When something happens on campus or in the world that demands notice – a rape, a suicide, irresponsible political statements about immigration, a collapsed mine or sweatshop factory that killed underpaid workers, a black girl thrown to the ground by someone she should have been able to trust to respond better, nine black people gunned down in their place of worship – they are learning to have conversations. But when someone in the room talks about something controversial or says something off-color, they all pause and look at me. I am happy to speak, but I am concerned that they are relying on me to do the speaking. I am afraid they are letting things slide – you know, the way my friends and I at that age would often let things slide – when I’m not around.
Because that’s a big part of the problem. We – both historically and currently – let things slide when there’s not a Supermouth present to confront these events and call them what they are –
Racism.
Sexism.
Heterosexism (and, um, WordPress, I’m gonna need you to recognize that as a word. It’s not new.).
A small part of me wants to remind myself that I did the same thing when I was their age. A larger part of me wants to add “…but that doesn’t make it okay.” A larger part of me is both guilty of allowing important words to go unsaid and sorry that I can’t take it back, and I don’t want that to be their story twenty years from now when they’re the Supermouth in the room. I want them to succeed where we have failed. I want to believe that it’s not too late for us to change.
I will still speak up, but I am also learning to ask the question, “What do you have to say about that?”
Well, hello! I am coming to you halfway through my decadent two weeks off from work. I’m actually sitting in the office now, but I am not above crawling under the desk if I see someone peer in.
(Just kidding, Housing. I’ll go see what they want and direct them accordingly.)
Unpopular opinion of the month: I’m totally into this rain. Yes, it has mosquito-ed up the joint, and it has been dangerous in places. It was actually flooding so much that my mom called the Thursday before Mother’s Day and said, “Don’t come home this weekend. We’re flooded in.” I do hate when my plans are thwarted, but I love the rain. I’m going to be sad to see it go, for it will be replaced by a heat that rivals the pit of Hell.
May is always a weird month.
The first part of the month is crazy – last two weeks of school, closing down the building, etc. Our hall won Hall of the Year. I’m so excited for them. They worked so hard; I’m glad it was recognized. I also won an award at the final staff meeting – Best Sarcasm. Heh. They know me well. We also decorated mason jars. Mine became a vase:
The last half of the month? Awesome and easy. We got everything filed away last week, trained for summer, and made the summer schedule. Then I got to hang out with some Story Sisters and drink wine with Michelle.
This week? Staycation. Happy. I have made four (four!) trips to the recycling bins. I feel very productive. Also, I have not gotten out of bed earlier than 9:00 any day this week.
This week and next are the last two weeks of the semester (praise the lord hallelujah amen). This is what my free time looks like:
Grading
Cleaning to procrastinate grading
Putting on an episode of Big Bang Theory so that I can stay awake long enough to eat and then falling asleep on the couch in a weird position in the second half of the episode, causing me to wake up disoriented and sore an hour or so later
Grading some more
Daydreaming about all the things I will get accomplished when I am down to just one job for the summer
Making lists so that I don’t forget all the things I want to accomplish when I am down to just one job for the summer
Adding things like “eat snow cones” and “give myself a weekly pedicure” to the lists, because priorities
More grading
Frozen pizza, sandwiches, and cereal
Daydreaming about the food I’m going to make when I have time for more than frozen pizza, sandwiches, and cereal
Thinking, “Surely I am almost finished with grading…oh…nope,” followed by having a sad moment.
My book bag runneth over.
Another thing I’m doing is taking a two-week break from the Invitation Series. It will return on May 19.
Ah, May 19. What a glorious day that will be. Sun shining, birds chirping, no classes. I’m so ready for the break.
I have mused often about what I want to be when I grow up. The answers I come up with are usually pretty vague – “a writer” or “someone who feeds people” or “professional student.” On the one hand, I know what I love. On the other hand, I don’t always know how to turn desired work into desired pay. There are a lot of jobs that involve a great deal of my desired activities, but I view most of them with a general attitude of “meh.”
The Friday before Spring Break, however, I got a taste of what it would be like for my loves to come together.
Part of the resident assistant job in Housing is to put on programs to foster hall community. One of the RAs wanted to have a cooking program, and she invited me to be a part of it. We decided that I would teach people to make a basic risotto. I took them through the process, showing them what it was supposed to look like at every step and giving them options they could add along the way. Then I gave them a one-page handout with the recipe and a summary of what they had learned at the end. It was a great afternoon.
The experience of actually enjoying these hours at work helped clarify some things for me.
1. I like teaching. I often get bogged down in the issues that plague our educational system, such as the red tape and the funding issues and the general lack of public understanding about what education is, but I like teaching. I like guiding people into learning something that they are interested in learning.
2. I like public speaking. I like finding ways to connect to an audience. Positive audience response is gratifying, and negative audience response is informative. When the audience doesn’t see the value in what they’re learning, though, it’s a rough day for both of us.
3. I like helping people discover what they have to say. Whether it’s in writing or in speaking, I love that moment when people hear how their voice sounds for the first time – not the snarky defense mechanism that often makes up a big part of their social selves and thus their first attempts at expressing a viewpoint – but their real voice. I like teaching them how to turn that voice into a force to be reckoned with.
4. I like writing. Sometimes I feel like I don’t like writing. Usually when that happens, though, it’s because I’m trying to make what works for other people (Write every day! Have ten minutes – do some writing! Always, always be thinking about it!) work for me. I am an efficient writer, but I am not a multitasker. If I can do one thing at a time, I can get a lot done, but trying to juggle multiple things tends to derail all of them. My most productive writing structure requires me to set aside specific writing time. Handouts, blog posts, short essays – give me an hour or two, and I can sit down and churn one of those bad boys out, all the way from conception to a second or third draft (which is what you get from most of my blog posts). I can do that almost daily, but I need to find a space for it on the calendar. Longer works, like novels or longer essays/essay collections, don’t just take longer to write but also require longer stretches of time for me to make progress. There’s no sitting down to write for an hour on Fishbowl. All that’s going to do is give me just enough time to get a good writing pace going, and then I have to interrupt it to do the next thing in my schedule. Very frustrating. Small pockets of time are better used brainstorming writing ideas or art journaling. I need writing blocks, not writing moments. And as I am single with zero children, I have the ability to schedule them with relative ease.
None of this is brand-new information, but it helps with my weekly goal-setting. It reminds me what the good life looks like for me and how easy it would probably be for me to make it a habit.
M. Suzanne Terry 