chaos

Sometimes smaller is better

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

Usually around this time of year I begin to compose a post that is an ode to my favorite holiday. I. Love. New Years. LOVE. It has always been my favorite since I became a “grownup”. There are the lights and fireworks, being with your loved ones, and of course, the idea that the very next day is a blank slate. A do over. A new beginning and a new chance for anything.

Like I said, usually this post would be about all of that stuff. But not this year.

As I sit here and write, my house is in complete disarray. It is a literal shit show. And for someone who has anxiety related to clutter and crap, this is not good. Two of my kids have been sick. One is under-medicated and annoyed by the very one that only wants to spend time with him. The ear infection/lose tooth kid has been a terror because she’s been getting up before the sun. They all have. Every morning at 5:30. I am on break. Please sleep. Or rather, let me sleep.

And this is why instead of cleaning my house, or writing about love and magic and second chances, I have mandated that everyone lay down for the next hour and nap. I’m not naive enough to think any of them are actually doing it, but the doors are closed and it is quiet for five seconds, so that’s good enough for me.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this year and all the goals I made for myself last year…and I didn’t accomplish a single one of them. Don’t get me wrong, I have accomplished a great deal. But just not what I set out to do 12 months ago. I’ve barely run, let alone finished a race. I’ve gone into more debt (hello lawyer fees). I’ve added more stress to my life. I’ve definitely gained weight, because see above.

But I learned how to fight. I learned how to stick up for myself. I learned how to surround myself with people who appreciate those things and say goodbye to the ones who don’t. I’ve complained less. I’ve appreciated more. And while I’m not living my life while working from home in my RV, where I am right now is pretty great.

So, as I sit here with a glass of wine at 12:52 on a Monday afternoon (again, see above), I’ve come to realize that big goals and big resolutions aren’t all they are cracked up to be. Sure, I accomplished far more than I set out to, but still, had I made more manageable goals, maybe I would have gotten even further.

I’ve decided to set 5 goals for myself at the beginning of each month and document them here. That way, not only can I keep myself accountable, I can also hopefully inspire someone to “play” along with me and be my hand holder and cheerleader (and warning giver should I stray).

January Goals

  1. Finish four weeks of Couch to 5K – Running at least 3 times a week. I just spent $215 to sign up for these races, so I better actually do this. I love running. It has helped me through the toughest times of my life. I know it can help me again. Along with this, I’m going to drink less and eat healthy more (just not making it a concrete goal yet)
  2. Go to the gym at least once a week…to actually work out. I know this doesn’t seem like much, but baby steps, y’all. I paid for Merritt for months and never used it. I’ll hopefully update this goal in February, but I need something attainable right now.
  3. Unfollow all toxic people on social media. And by this what I mean is toxic people to me. People that make me feel less than or unworthy. People that complain way too much. People that live negatively and miserably. These people may not be toxic to others, but as someone who feeds into the climate around them, they are definitely toxic to me. While I need to use my phone and social media less to begin with, while I’m on there I need to surround myself with people who inspire and uplift me.
  4. Start each day with a daily gratitude. Each and every day I will pick one thing that I am grateful for and hold on to that idea throughout the day when things get rough.
  5. Decrease my daily phone usage by 10%…and do the same with the kids’ technology. Enough said. I use it too much for stupid shit and I need to learn how to put it down and read or write or cross stitch or something.

I’m definitely ready for these changes. They’ve been a long time coming. I’m ready to make my 39th year the best one of my life.

Who we want to be…

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

It’s 3:46 pm on a random Wednesday. An insane thunderstorm just blew through so we are all stuck inside. I sit and write while the youngest two destroy the house I mean make a fort in the living room. I sit and sip a small glass of red wine to calm the anxiety I feel over the clutter and mess. I can’t count the number of times I have said “Please stop throwing the ball in the house” on both hands. Each time, there is a little less patience and understanding in my voice. I know if I have to say it again, I’m going to snap. And I also know that I really don’t want to do that.

I love my children, I do. Parenting is the most amazing I have ever done and, honestly, if I could I would quit my job and stay at home so I could have more time with my kids. And yet…it’s also the hardest thing I have ever done, each day bringing on new challenges that, even after three kids and teaching for over 15 years, I never feel quite prepared for.

I feel like I try my hardest, I really do, but it seems that each night I go to bed cringing at myself for some mistake I feel like I made and a prayer to have a better day tomorrow. For some reason, as confident as I am in my ability to be a teacher, I completely lack most of that confidence in my parenting ability.

Part of it, I know, is the custody struggle that I’m in. I constantly feel like I need to be on my game, radiating perfection 24/7 because someone is always watching. I feel like my parenting is constantly questioned and other people are trying to catch me “doing something wrong”. Let me tell you, this is exhausting.

The feeling of needing to be perfect doesn’t only come from there. It comes from inside too, of course. I have always had the need to control everything, it’s essentially the only way I feel safe and secure. Basically, I need to know it and I need to do it. The anxiety I feel when I am in a situation that I can’t control is palpable. So basically, since having that amount of control when you have kids (and especially when you SHARE kids) rarely happens, you can imagine how I feel almost all the time.

I know the kind of mom I want to be: the kind that is patient and not sarcastic. The kind that is understanding and helpful. The kind that remembers that kids are just that…kids. No one is going to listen all the time. Brothers are going to fight. Toddlers are going to tantrum. THIS IS NORMAL. And I feel like I’m halfway there. I’m more patient than I used to be. I have stopped expecting so much from them all the time. I’m learning to live with a little bit of mess and chaos without completely freaking out.

But I am still growing. I’m still navigating. I’m still learning to stop being a cruise director and let them set the rhythm for the day. And yes, I’m still trying hard to not make a big deal when there is a ton of grass covering the floor because they had an epic water battle outside and dragged it in when getting changed.

And I’m working hard to remember that even if today is a complete shit show, all they need at night is a hug, a kiss, and a promise that I love them.

The Elusive Other Shoe

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

Things have been good lately.  Really good.

Yes. I’m still annoyed by my job.  Yes.  My kiddos drive me insane.  Yes.  There is never enough time, or money, or resources, or sleep.

But yet, things have been good.

We took all three kiddos on a walk around the neighborhood today.  The boys ran ahead playing Pokemon Go and chatting with a neighbor friend who turns out to be in Ollie’s class at school.  Charlie toddled. And fell.  And begged to be picked up.  And begged to be put down. We, as the grownups, meandered slowly, relishing in the fact that we live in a neighborhood where it’s ok that the kids run ahead of us and Charlie walks in the middle of the road.

There was an instant that I realized this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.  Not days, not months. Years. Probably 5 years if you want to put a number on it. And it was the most amazing feeling.  Nothing extraordinary was happening at that moment or today, and yet, pure bliss.

And then after the bliss comes worry.  Because this kind of happiness doesn’t stay.  At least not for me.  I’m half enjoying the bliss and half waiting for the other shoe to drop.  That elusive shoe that’s always hanging in the background waiting.  Waiting to swoop and and remind you that you’re fallible.  That life is full of ups AND downs.  To bring chaos to the stillness happening around you right now.

So we enjoy the happiness, but on our tiptoes.  Scared to make too much noise.  Scared to make any sudden movements.  Because, as much as we want to believe that this kind of happiness, true and unadulterated happiness, is here to stay, we know that darkness is hiding in the shadows.

So we sit and wait until we hear it…the sound of that shoe hitting the ground.

And then we brace our selves.

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Just a Mile

/ Cassie / Leave a comment

“If you don’t take the chance to live life, what can you say at the end of it?” ~Naveen Andrews

Two years ago I went through something profound.  My world was complacent and in one day everything became something else.  It was almost as if I put my life into a blender and hit the switch on high.  My world became mixed, tangled, and unrecognizable.  And then the bottom fell out.  I couldn’t breathe.  I lost myself and I had absolutely no hope of salvation.

Then, for no apparent reason, at 7:00 at night, on a random Sunday in September, I decided to go for a run.  I was tired.  I needed to give the kids a bath.  The housework had piled up beyond belief.  But it didn’t matter.  At that moment I had to go running.  I put up my hair, threw on my shoes and headed out the door.  It was slow, it was messy, it could hardly even be classified as a run.

But that run saved my life.  I was able to crawl through the wreckage that was my summer and come out the other side breathing.  I kept running and eventually I was able to run a mile without stopping and that became the marker on which I base my life.

When I would fall off the running wagon, I would continually test myself by running a mile.  When I would fall into a deep depression, I would test myself by running a mile (when I finally emerged). When I drank a little too much wine the night before I would test myself by running a mile.  During my pregnancy I would continually test myself by running a mile.  And now, 4 weeks after having my baby, I tested myself by running a mile…and I was still able to do it.  I would tell myself if I could still run a mile all hope was not lost.  If I could still run a mile there was a chance…of something, anything.

These days, after finishing numerous 5 ks, a 10k , and a half marathon a mile might seem pretty insignificant.  Sometimes on my rest days I head out to run “just a mile”.  But in reality, to me, it was never “just a mile”.  It was so much more.  It was something I wanted for so long and I made a plan, put in the effort, and on the other side came out successful.  It was an accomplishment and it set the tone for the rest of my life.  It was something that could never be lost or taken for me.  It was my mile and I owned it.

Running a mile showed me that what I wanted was important.  Running a mile showed me what I wanted was possible.

It was never “just a mile”.  It was my life.  And with that mile I had saved it.