I is for Introspection

I haven't blogged in over the week.  I was all prepared to blog an "I is for Ink" post and showcase/discuss tattoos, but I just couldn't get up the inspiration.  There we go, another I word.  Inspiration is certainly something I'm lacking.

What has brought on my uninspiring attitude?  What else but a big, nasty case of random clinical depression.  It probably has something to do, in part, with my lack of sleep, but other than that I have no reason to be depressed.

It pisses me off when people tell me (because believe me I'm aware) that I have no reason to be depressed.  Work is silly at times and stressful, but not too bad.  I have an understanding and supportive husband and two marvelous, happy kids.  Friends are plentiful.  Autumn is my favorite season.  I've baked, knitted, embroidered, written in my journal, read some fantastic books and have so many good projects going on.

I've tried to explain to folks before that I've had what I like to call Reasonable Depression (aka that depression that stems from a specific cause be it a death or sad experience, ill health, tough times, etc) and Stupid Ass Depression (the depression that shows up for no reason whatsoever).  Personally, the Stupid Ass Depression is worse; after all, I end up feeling like a screwball wondering "what the hell is wrong with me" rather than having the safety of blaming my pouting on a damned good reason.


An analogy:
On my good, normal days I feel like one of those relaxing fountains everyone has in their office.  I bubble up and give give give give give and it all cycles back.  For everything I let go of and freely give: love, time, energy, work, hugs, words, baked goods, friendship... it all comes back to me.

My depression wipes that out and leaves me feeling like a sieve: I give give give give give and .... nothing.  I'm drained, disconnected, tapped-out.  I've nothing left to give and what others try to give me:  love, time, energy, work, hugs, words, baked goods, friendship.... it slips away from my grasp.

Now we dust off those old "coping skills."  The Old Me would quit bathing, working, sleeping, communicating, and functioning and engage in the bad I word:  ISOLATION.  Isolation is when I completely shut-down and give-up on life and any chance at happiness.  The New Me engages in a completely different I word:  INTROSPECTION.

i·so·late:  to set or place apart; detach or separate so as to be alone.

in·tro·spect:  to practice introspection;  consider one's own internal state or feelings. 

To me, these two words may easily be viewed as twins; but I consider isolation as being alone and introspection as something that can be done around others, but works best (at least for this introvert) when one has solitude.

Introspection means that I am constantly striving to think about ME.  Not in a selfish Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous sort of fashion, but rather I'm very attuned to what I'm feeling physically, emotionally, intellectually, etc....  Essentially, I want to fill fill fill fill fill that sieve up so much that even though things are draining away I have something to fill me back up.

Several ways I engage in my Introspection:

• Walking:  I went for a walk -- alone -- to the coffee shop.  On my way I noticed everything; the smell of earth, crisp leaves falling, fabric softener wafting out of a dormitory.  The leaves crunched under my feet, I found a pretty bird feather, I noticed that sometimes pavement looks a bit like the cracked, crusty top of bread.  I didn't hurry, or glance at my phone, or think of my to-do list.  I just observed, noted, squirreled away all of those bits of tangible life I tend to take for granted. 
• Writing:  I'm back to journaling nearly every evening.  It is a nice end to the day, to look back on everything I accomplished, to reflect on the importance of my family, to plan my future -- even it is only one day at a time -- gives me a sense of purpose.
• Hobbying:  To sit by myself and do something I love is magical.  Sometimes all this girl needs is to sit in my room alone with an owl mug filled with warm milk listening to Wait Wait Don't Tell Me and organizing embroidery floss. 
• Sleep:  Not the dead to the world terrible sleep of depression where I just sleep on and on and on and am never rested, rather it is constructive napping.  If I'm tired and Sam and the babies are amusing themselves then I dive into cool sheets and sleep a solid hour and a half.  No more, no less.  One solid REM cycle seems to set the world right.
• Thinking of others:  I almost always think of others, but it is thinking of what I can give (what to cook for dinner, contemplating Atticus's birthday party, signing band forms for Hope, working out my schedule so Sam can tattoo).  Instead I think of what everyone gives me:  Atticus freely cuddles, Hope tells me her aspirations, Sam arranges time for me to be alone and helps around the house.....

Looking back on this post, before I hit the publish button, I find myself dissatisfied.  I don't think I can adequately explain my need for meaningful, thinking, solitude and how much it pulls me out of a depression (slowly, but effectively).  I'm resisting the urge to prattle on, or edit down, or delete all together, because, frankly, it has really helped me to write this all out in a place other than my journal.  I believe it is time to grab that cup of warm milk, cozy-up in bed, and think on that. 

G is for Good Friends

One of my closest friends, Catherine the Cakewife!

For the past few days I've been mulling over friendship.  What makes a true friend.  The difference between an acquaintance, a facebook "friend", a frenemy, a friend, and a good friend.  This introspection has led to several conclusions; one is that there are varying degrees of friendship.  It isn't that I like people any less, but friend A may be someone I can talk to and lunch with or merely facebook chat and for whatever reason it doesn't bridge to Good Friend status. And then friend B is a Kindred Spirit. The other thing I learned is that friendship -- even close friendship -- can fade and die. 

So what makes a good friend or a strong friendship?  In thinking of my closest friendships, those that are strong and those that have ended for whatever reason I came to several conclusions on what makes a strong friendship:

Common Interests:  This may seem like a "duh" type statement, but I really think this is what makes one want to be friends with another person.  I work and interact with a number of Nice People, but I don't have anything in common with them.  I may have a quick chat or a conversation over a cup of coffee, but it never goes anywhere.  We eventually run out of things to say.  I need for someone to have an interest in the things I love (not everything, but maybe a thing or two).  For example if you hate Charles Dickens and would rather watch Fox News I may still be able to have a great friendship with you if we both love thrifting and Arcade Fire.  We Have Common Interests.  I won't babble about Bleak House and you won't babble about Sean Hannity and we can both score kitschy vintage owl swag at the Goodwill and listen to Funeral on repeat. 

Communication:  Some people I don't understand.  Maybe I don't "get" their sense of humor or maybe every conversation leaves me confused and wondering "I wonder what she meant...."  Communication means that we understand one another and we can talk things out from which movie to watch to settling differences to letting the other person know when we are hurt, angry, joyous, or lonely.  It also means that we TALK.  I have many friends that I don't even talk to on face book.  They are all lumped into the category of People I Admire, but we never really converse. 

Courtesy:  I try to be careful to not take advantage of my friends. It is easy to relax around people we love, but I firmly believe that basic courtesy should always be in place.  This means returning borrowed items, maybe putting off that 3am phone call when you know the other person works the next day, showing up to planned activities on time or at the very least not habitually showing up very late, not talking over the other person or attempting to "top" stories.  Basic basic basic courtesy goes a long way.  I would say that a lack of courtesy is the first sign that a friendship may go sour.

Constructive Criticism:  Now to some meaty stuff.  I've constructively criticized when asked ("no, I wouldn't wear the yellow Charlotte Russe jumpsuit and booties") and I've given unsolicited criticism ("cheating is wrong" or "I'm worried about your binge drinking").  Friends should be the ones to challenge you and let you know when you're doing wrong.  Tough love all the way.  And then there is petty criticism.  I've had "friends" comment negatively on my thrift store wardrobe, my desire to use tote bags for everything, my parenting choices, my hair, my music and my life. There is a big difference between not liking something and expressing that opinion and belittling someone because of a choice they've made. 

Caring:  A certain amount of selflessness goes into being a friend.  I will bring you chicken soup and lend you $20 bucks.  I'll be happy for you when you're happy and supportive when you're down.  Time, energy, love.... all of those things go into being a great friend. If there isn't love there isn't a friendship.

Core Ethics:  I disagree with many of my friends on politics and religion and I'm fine with having a difference of opinion. However, I CANNOT be friends with people who are homophobic, racist, misogynists, or people who are ridiculously shallow.  Try as I might, I cannot get along with someone who believes a $600 Burberry handbag is an investment worth making.

Compromise:  Okay, I'll watch your silly anime and I'll endure the Lady Gaga CD (maybe).  But then you might have to sit through a BBC drama or listen to my litany of "that's what she said jokes."  That's the true test of a friendship, liking some one enough to endure annoyance, boredom, or being outside of one's comfort zone now and again.  

I love my friends and I cherish each memory we have together.  Cheers!

For Alicia Hope

This morning you were grumpy.  You stayed in your room for a solid half-hour after waking.  I heard drawers opening and slamming shut.  You stomped around your room in one new tennis shoe and the boot for your foot contusion.  Doors opened.  Bathroom door slammed shut.

After the 900th outfit change you sat at the table glumly stirring your bowl of Cream of Wheat.  Amidst the eye rolls and dramatic sighs you played with your little brother, you hugged your Dad, you nervously asked me if I liked your shirt.

Then you were out the door with a well-stocked backpack:  money for a school locker, lip gloss, bracelets, school supplies, lunch... you walked with head down to the school bus.  Nervous and excited.  Your ponytail bounced as you walked and yes, your shoes match your backpack perfectly.

I can't believe you're starting the sixth grade.  MIDDLE SCHOOL.  You'll be playing the trumpet, keeping up with class changes, and joining clubs.  I know it is clichéd, but honestly I feel like it was just yesterday I dropped you off for your first day of daycare yesterday when you were 18 months old. Now you're 11!   The time is going by too fast.

I wish I could say that this will be the best time of your life and with only good: friends, band practice, clubs, first crushes and most likely first boyfriends..... But I also know that my middle school years were harsh:  bullies, gossip, body changes, heartache, school stress....  There will be plenty of tough times mixed in with the good and exciting.

Already you're forming your own opinions and ideas.  I watch you planning and dreaming and wishing things for the future.  I want so badly to jump in and plan, dream, and wish with you.  I want to be right there to celebrate the joys and wipe away the tears and hurt, but I know that you are forging your own path.  I must strive to offer you support and space.

When you were in the womb I thought about what I wanted for you in life and how I viewed my role as a parent.  More than anything I want you to be independent.  I want you to be your own person and know your own mind.  I've spent the last 11 or so years letting you pick your clothes, express your mind, and make choices.  I haven't given you blatant independence.  You've also had responsibility: chores, consequences, and more than a few disappointments.

Now its time for this Mama to take a deep breath and step back.  I'll help with homework, I'll answer questions, I'll offer my counsel, and (of course) there will still be discipline and rules, but I promise, Alicia Hope, to resist my urge to helicopter, to let you wear your mismatched socks without comment, to curb my snarky reactions to Selena Gomez music, I won't forcibly hug you in front of your friends....  I promise to let you be you and part of that is letting you experience those joys and hurts without me sheltering you.

You are simply the most marvelous young lady I know.  You are my first baby and I love you with a love that is so fierce.  You are my Peanut and I am so proud of you.


I hope you are having a wonderful first day of school and I hope to hear all about it soon.  Remember to be yourself, do your best, and that I'll always be here.  I love you.