Thanks to BLW for pointing me to this NY Times article titled The Power of Negative Thinking. No, it's not my post, just shares the same name.
Of course, the NY Times piece goes into more scientific evidence, but again, this is a personal blog and my own personal experience. I'll admit, though, it's nice to finally have some validation after being bombarded with the positive thinking mantra.
I'll say it again: if positive thinking is working for you, that's great. Enjoy.
What bugs me is this mindset that if positive thinking isn't working for you, then there's something wrong with you. I don't agree.
It reminds me of what we have heard from Olympic medalists and reality show contestants: that all your dreams can come true if you just want it bad enough. I'm sure there are many sitting at home who didn't make the cut who believe that they wanted it just as much as those who won the awards.
I have actually done that walk across the hot coals in a Tony Robbins seminar (and in San Jose, of all places) . And, no, I didn't pay for it; my boss at the time did. I made it about 3/4 of the way through before I felt them. And, yes, I thought it was my own mindset that made it burn. And so did many of the participants. I'm embarrassed to even write that now.
When things get rough, some people like to say, "well, at least things can't get any worse." "Oh, no," I say. "Things can always get worse."
For me, that attitude helps me to appreciate what I have now. Because even though my cat died and some aspects of my life aren't going exactly the way I want them to, some other things haven't fallen apart yet. The girls and I are having a fantastic time doing the musical together, I still enjoy the company and support of my colleagues, and every good laugh makes for a better day.
Whenever I need a little perspective, imagining how much worse it could be is what gets me through. That, and the knowledge that nothing lasts.
So if you find yourself feeling worse after your best efforts to think positively, you might want to try negative thinking on for size. And hey, if it doesn't work for you, then at least you weren't expecting much in the first place!
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Child Support Awareness Month
I've been a single parent for 9 years, and I never knew that August was Child Support Awareness Month. The article and comments have some interesting statistics (29.2% of custodial parents receive none of the child support due), but this is a personal blog so this will be my personal story.
I have been in that 29.2% for most of these 9 years of single parenthood. There were some occasions here and there where I would receive a hundred dollars here and there, but nothing consistently; nothing that I could count on to pay a bill.
Child support is just part of the story, actually. According to our paperwork, I am also owed for half the debt incurred while we were married, half the girls' medical bills until they're 18, and half of any amount I've spent on their education. But I gave up on all that a long time ago.
I can't believe I'm writing what I'm writing, but for three + months now, I have received the full amount of child support due every month and on time. I never thought I'd say that.
I am told that he's finally getting his act together. So far, this is the most evidence I've seen of that since before I divorced him.
I have no expectations that this will last, I will not rely on it, but it has already made such a difference.
It's back to school shopping time, Sylvia needs a lot of art supplies for the new school year, and of course, there are always unexpected expenses to try and squeeze into the budget. When the money is actually in my bank account, I can revise my budget and keep us on track.
I have previously relied on my credit card for those unexpected costs, and I still can't believe that I haven't used my credit card in over a month now. I have been able to cover everything with cash in hand.
To be clear, paying child support isn't just about the money. It is about freeing my personal resources to focus on the girls, and not on the bills. It is about being able to spend time with them, and not hovered over my spreadsheet, trying to make the numbers work. It is about giving the girls opportunities that they deserve. Sylvia was able to take a Master Musical Theatre Dance class this summer thanks to that money.
And money, of course, can't buy parenting. While he is working on rebuilding his relationship with the girls, no one can close their eyes to how much he has missed. (He hasn't seen them in two years.) The money doesn't bring them closer, but it is a tangible effort that enhances the other efforts he's making by calling and texting them more regularly.
It's not even a huge dollar amount, but it's enough. It's enough to make me breath easier, to enrich the girls' lives, and it's enough to show us that he even thinks about them.
And now for my disclaimers. I don't believe in sending deadbeats to jail for not paying their child support. I don't see how that does anything but continue to deprive the kids and their custodial parent. And, if a parent is unable to find a job, then the custodial parent should work with them to find other ways to make it up; letting the kids stay with the parent (if they aren't drug addicts, abusers, or otherwise incapable) instead of going to child care, being a coach for their child's soccer team, helping with homework, driving them to school, being engaged in their child's life. There are plenty of ways to actively parent.
But there is no getting around the fact that raising children costs money. It takes two to make a child, and both parties should be actively responsible for that decision.
I know that there are stories of all kinds out there. This is ours.
I have been in that 29.2% for most of these 9 years of single parenthood. There were some occasions here and there where I would receive a hundred dollars here and there, but nothing consistently; nothing that I could count on to pay a bill.
Child support is just part of the story, actually. According to our paperwork, I am also owed for half the debt incurred while we were married, half the girls' medical bills until they're 18, and half of any amount I've spent on their education. But I gave up on all that a long time ago.
I can't believe I'm writing what I'm writing, but for three + months now, I have received the full amount of child support due every month and on time. I never thought I'd say that.
I am told that he's finally getting his act together. So far, this is the most evidence I've seen of that since before I divorced him.
I have no expectations that this will last, I will not rely on it, but it has already made such a difference.
It's back to school shopping time, Sylvia needs a lot of art supplies for the new school year, and of course, there are always unexpected expenses to try and squeeze into the budget. When the money is actually in my bank account, I can revise my budget and keep us on track.
I have previously relied on my credit card for those unexpected costs, and I still can't believe that I haven't used my credit card in over a month now. I have been able to cover everything with cash in hand.
To be clear, paying child support isn't just about the money. It is about freeing my personal resources to focus on the girls, and not on the bills. It is about being able to spend time with them, and not hovered over my spreadsheet, trying to make the numbers work. It is about giving the girls opportunities that they deserve. Sylvia was able to take a Master Musical Theatre Dance class this summer thanks to that money.
And money, of course, can't buy parenting. While he is working on rebuilding his relationship with the girls, no one can close their eyes to how much he has missed. (He hasn't seen them in two years.) The money doesn't bring them closer, but it is a tangible effort that enhances the other efforts he's making by calling and texting them more regularly.
It's not even a huge dollar amount, but it's enough. It's enough to make me breath easier, to enrich the girls' lives, and it's enough to show us that he even thinks about them.
And now for my disclaimers. I don't believe in sending deadbeats to jail for not paying their child support. I don't see how that does anything but continue to deprive the kids and their custodial parent. And, if a parent is unable to find a job, then the custodial parent should work with them to find other ways to make it up; letting the kids stay with the parent (if they aren't drug addicts, abusers, or otherwise incapable) instead of going to child care, being a coach for their child's soccer team, helping with homework, driving them to school, being engaged in their child's life. There are plenty of ways to actively parent.
But there is no getting around the fact that raising children costs money. It takes two to make a child, and both parties should be actively responsible for that decision.
I know that there are stories of all kinds out there. This is ours.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Halfway Through the School Years
As I drove Riley to her first day of 7th grade, I realized that she's now halfway through the mandatory years of schooling. Of course, we agree that she will be going to college, but she's got more school years behind her than she has to go until that momentous occasion of high school graduation.
I think we think about these things differently when it's our youngest child. While we've been there and done that, we know that this is our last time.
It doesn't quite feel like the beginning of the end, or anything that momentous, but it does feel like the end of something.
Maybe it's just a matter of being able to enjoy where we are, but I love having older kids. I love their original thoughts, their senses of humor, their ability to comprehend more abstract concepts. I love that I can send one child to one end of the grocery store while I grab what we need on the other. I love getting their texts. I love when their eyes sparkle with pure joy.
I have no delusions that parenting is any easier the older they get. I often say that their younger years are physically exhausting, and it becomes more intellectually and emotionally exhausting the older they get. Their negotiating skills are more honed now; their descriptions of their days are edited for parental consumption. It takes finesse and timing to have heart-to-heart talks.
While I certainly have my concerns, I have no problems boasting about how great I think they both are. They are loving, happy, funny and capable.
I know I'm only halfway through their schooling years, but I think we're off to a good start.
*I wrote a little more about the joy of firsts with older children on Moms LA.
I think we think about these things differently when it's our youngest child. While we've been there and done that, we know that this is our last time.
It doesn't quite feel like the beginning of the end, or anything that momentous, but it does feel like the end of something.
Maybe it's just a matter of being able to enjoy where we are, but I love having older kids. I love their original thoughts, their senses of humor, their ability to comprehend more abstract concepts. I love that I can send one child to one end of the grocery store while I grab what we need on the other. I love getting their texts. I love when their eyes sparkle with pure joy.
I have no delusions that parenting is any easier the older they get. I often say that their younger years are physically exhausting, and it becomes more intellectually and emotionally exhausting the older they get. Their negotiating skills are more honed now; their descriptions of their days are edited for parental consumption. It takes finesse and timing to have heart-to-heart talks.
While I certainly have my concerns, I have no problems boasting about how great I think they both are. They are loving, happy, funny and capable.
I know I'm only halfway through their schooling years, but I think we're off to a good start.
*I wrote a little more about the joy of firsts with older children on Moms LA.
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Empty
Jessica said it best: it's an empty house indeed without our Bobbie in it. Last night, after a great rehearsal with a lot of laughs, coming home hit me like a ton of bricks and I started bawling again. Riley gave me hugs and saw me through it. She said softly, "I miss her, too."
The girls have taken it better than I have. They understand why it's so hard for me because they saw our lives together.
Bobbie would stand just outside the kitchen while I made dinner; she'd been trained to stay out of the kitchen. She was actually a pretty well-trained cat. She had her song, and back when she could hear, she would come when we sang it.
She'd wake me up in the morning, I'd feed her, and she'd sit in the hallway while we all got ready. When we came home at night, she'd greet us loudly, and sit near us while we ate dinner. While I did dishes, she would take her place outside the kitchen and wait for me. She'd snuggle with me on the couch. She'd yell at me when I was in the shower, seemingly afraid I'd drown in there. She'd follow me around the house as I locked up for the night and, prior to her arthritis, she'd lay down with me at night. And then she'd wake me in the morning, with a cry and sometimes a scratch or two if she felt I was taking too damn long to get out of bed.
Being home without her doesn't feel like home at all. The silence makes me ache.
When I see people walking their dogs now, all I can think is that their dogs will die, and those people will be very sad. Why do we do this? Why do we fill our lives with these creatures that we know we'll outlive?
Sylvia gave me the answer. Our pets have happier lives because we were in them. Bobbie most likely would not have lived to be 21 without me. She loved her life. She loved us and we made it all worthwhile for her. And she certainly made our lives better.
Thanks to all for your support and thinking of us. I'm learning to live with the empty. It's a testament to Bobbie's life and her love. And a reminder of what a beautiful, rare and precious thing unconditional love is. I was lucky to have hers.
The girls have taken it better than I have. They understand why it's so hard for me because they saw our lives together.
Bobbie would stand just outside the kitchen while I made dinner; she'd been trained to stay out of the kitchen. She was actually a pretty well-trained cat. She had her song, and back when she could hear, she would come when we sang it.
She'd wake me up in the morning, I'd feed her, and she'd sit in the hallway while we all got ready. When we came home at night, she'd greet us loudly, and sit near us while we ate dinner. While I did dishes, she would take her place outside the kitchen and wait for me. She'd snuggle with me on the couch. She'd yell at me when I was in the shower, seemingly afraid I'd drown in there. She'd follow me around the house as I locked up for the night and, prior to her arthritis, she'd lay down with me at night. And then she'd wake me in the morning, with a cry and sometimes a scratch or two if she felt I was taking too damn long to get out of bed.
Being home without her doesn't feel like home at all. The silence makes me ache.
When I see people walking their dogs now, all I can think is that their dogs will die, and those people will be very sad. Why do we do this? Why do we fill our lives with these creatures that we know we'll outlive?
Sylvia gave me the answer. Our pets have happier lives because we were in them. Bobbie most likely would not have lived to be 21 without me. She loved her life. She loved us and we made it all worthwhile for her. And she certainly made our lives better.
Thanks to all for your support and thinking of us. I'm learning to live with the empty. It's a testament to Bobbie's life and her love. And a reminder of what a beautiful, rare and precious thing unconditional love is. I was lucky to have hers.
Monday, July 30, 2012
Bobbie
She was there waiting for me when I came home. She was always so happy to see me. She was feisty, but so loving to me always.
She jumped across the room the first time she felt Sylvia kick in my stomach, but it was her favorite place to be when I was pregnant. She was so good to the girls. She loved them as much as she loved me.
She was a playful kitten, and a faithful friend. After 21 years, I kissed and held her for the last time. I told her I loved her as she found peace after a rough few days.
I could barely walk in the door to come home for the first time, knowing she wouldn't be there to greet me. I don't know when I'm going to get used to that.
She's been getting me ready for it. She stopped sleeping with me a couple of months ago. Her arthritis made it hard for her to jump on the bed. But I knew she was there, not far. She woke me up this morning with a cry. I can't imagine not waking up to the sound of her voice anymore.
As I held her for the last time, I thanked her again for being there for me. For everything, she was there. I hate that she won't be here anymore. I know she'll live on in my heart, and the girls' hearts forever. And I know I was lucky to have her as long as I did. And I was grateful to be there for her last moments.
But I am grieving right now. And I don't think I'll ever stop missing her.
Bobbie, you were the best cat ever, and I'll love you forever.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Balancing Strengths and Weaknesses
I was watching a single mom freak out at a "surprise" twist on a cooking reality show. She said she had everything timed perfectly in her head, and the twist threw her for a loop. Cut to after commercial break and she had it all figured it out again. Such is the life of a single mom.
The girls would completely agree with me that in the moment where my perfect plan falls apart, I too freak out. Yes, I am calling that a weakness, but of course, I have to defend myself!
There's a lot to think about every day. There's a lot that has to get done. There have been mornings when I get to work, I'm completely exhausted before I walk in the building; after getting up and getting the girls up and getting ready and telling the girls to get ready and finding another pair of pants for Riley because she's outgrown them overnight and getting dinner in the slow cooker and just getting in the car feels like a major accomplishment, and making my way through the hour and a half commute without an accident feels like a complete miracle.
Then there are the fire drills at work and the doctors' appointments to make, and the thing I forgot to tell Sylvia and trying to figure out how I'm going to remember to tell her, and the paying of the bills and the worry over that unexpected car repair bill, and wanting to talk to my sister and hoping to just be for a few minutes at the end of a day. So you get through it by making plans, by making a priority list and trying to knock things out only to get a phone call from the school that your kid is sick or discover that your recycling bin wasn't emptied. And it just keeps happening over and over.
Yeah, sometimes it gets to me.
The girls are kind of used to it by now. They know to just give me a minute to clear my head and revise my plan and then we'll keep going. And most of the time, what gets me through is one of my greatest strengths.
I was hoping to take the first crack at something at work, but didn't have the time, and the lawyer I was working with pointed out that it was something I had never done before. My response: "that's never stopped me before!"
While I have been lucky in many instances to have great opportunities, I do give myself credit for taking advantage of them. I plunge myself into things, and even more so when it's something new to me. Come to think of it, that must be where Riley gets her fearlessness.
It also started for me in childhood, where everything is new and the lack of expectations is part of what makes it so exciting. By now, I have a plethora of memories that I know I wouldn't have had I not tried, and that keeps me motivated to keep going for it.
Call it stubbornness or optimistic or just plain stupid, but the failures don't stop me from trying again. Because I know looking back, I will still be proud of myself for trying.
As I told Riley, I put safety & security first, but everything else is fair game. I know I'm a better parent for it, and it makes the most interesting highlights of my journey on this earth.
The girls would completely agree with me that in the moment where my perfect plan falls apart, I too freak out. Yes, I am calling that a weakness, but of course, I have to defend myself!
There's a lot to think about every day. There's a lot that has to get done. There have been mornings when I get to work, I'm completely exhausted before I walk in the building; after getting up and getting the girls up and getting ready and telling the girls to get ready and finding another pair of pants for Riley because she's outgrown them overnight and getting dinner in the slow cooker and just getting in the car feels like a major accomplishment, and making my way through the hour and a half commute without an accident feels like a complete miracle.
Then there are the fire drills at work and the doctors' appointments to make, and the thing I forgot to tell Sylvia and trying to figure out how I'm going to remember to tell her, and the paying of the bills and the worry over that unexpected car repair bill, and wanting to talk to my sister and hoping to just be for a few minutes at the end of a day. So you get through it by making plans, by making a priority list and trying to knock things out only to get a phone call from the school that your kid is sick or discover that your recycling bin wasn't emptied. And it just keeps happening over and over.
Yeah, sometimes it gets to me.
The girls are kind of used to it by now. They know to just give me a minute to clear my head and revise my plan and then we'll keep going. And most of the time, what gets me through is one of my greatest strengths.
I was hoping to take the first crack at something at work, but didn't have the time, and the lawyer I was working with pointed out that it was something I had never done before. My response: "that's never stopped me before!"
While I have been lucky in many instances to have great opportunities, I do give myself credit for taking advantage of them. I plunge myself into things, and even more so when it's something new to me. Come to think of it, that must be where Riley gets her fearlessness.
It also started for me in childhood, where everything is new and the lack of expectations is part of what makes it so exciting. By now, I have a plethora of memories that I know I wouldn't have had I not tried, and that keeps me motivated to keep going for it.
Call it stubbornness or optimistic or just plain stupid, but the failures don't stop me from trying again. Because I know looking back, I will still be proud of myself for trying.
As I told Riley, I put safety & security first, but everything else is fair game. I know I'm a better parent for it, and it makes the most interesting highlights of my journey on this earth.
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Life Well Lived: Dealing with Disappointment
BlogHer asks: How do you deal with disappointment, and what lessons do you have to share from those experiences?
Long-time readers will know my answer, and I don't tire of repeating it:
Every emotion has a beginning, a middle and an end. That goes for disappointment, too.
I don't believe in denying it. I don't think it helps to seek out the silver lining. I think you just have to get through it. The lessons, the silver lining, and the new opportunities will come after the feelings have subsided.
After about a year of single parenting, I knew I needed help. When I first started going to therapy, I wondered just when I would stop crying. It was draining. Even with all that I buried during the week to be there for my girls, to do my job, I took full advantage of those fifty minutes once a week to let it all out.
There were times when I felt bad about crying, as I knew there were so many people much worse off than me. My dear friend and colleague assured me that my pain was just as real, and I just needed to "empty my bucket." She was right.
It doesn't help to play the comparison game. We feel what we feel, and denying ourselves that usually just makes us feel worse. We have to feel it before we can move past it.
Eventually, I emptied my bucket and used those sessions to talk about my concerns for the girls, and get some professional insight on how to best parent them. Eventually, the weekly sessions were no longer necessary.
As often as I feel happy now, as content as I am in my life now, I know that it, too, is just one emotion that I experience every day. I know I appreciate them more than I did prior to the rose coming off the bloom, and interestingly, I smile and laugh a lot more now. I hold on to those moments for as long as I can. Knowing that nothing lasts forever helps me cherish the good, and get through the bad.
I'm sure I'm in for more disappointments. I'm also sure that I will laugh again, that I will smile again, and that I will feel happy again.
Join the discussion at BlogHer's main post on dealing with disappointment. And enter their sweepstakes to win an iPod Touch.
Long-time readers will know my answer, and I don't tire of repeating it:
Every emotion has a beginning, a middle and an end. That goes for disappointment, too.
I don't believe in denying it. I don't think it helps to seek out the silver lining. I think you just have to get through it. The lessons, the silver lining, and the new opportunities will come after the feelings have subsided.
After about a year of single parenting, I knew I needed help. When I first started going to therapy, I wondered just when I would stop crying. It was draining. Even with all that I buried during the week to be there for my girls, to do my job, I took full advantage of those fifty minutes once a week to let it all out.
There were times when I felt bad about crying, as I knew there were so many people much worse off than me. My dear friend and colleague assured me that my pain was just as real, and I just needed to "empty my bucket." She was right.
It doesn't help to play the comparison game. We feel what we feel, and denying ourselves that usually just makes us feel worse. We have to feel it before we can move past it.
Eventually, I emptied my bucket and used those sessions to talk about my concerns for the girls, and get some professional insight on how to best parent them. Eventually, the weekly sessions were no longer necessary.
As often as I feel happy now, as content as I am in my life now, I know that it, too, is just one emotion that I experience every day. I know I appreciate them more than I did prior to the rose coming off the bloom, and interestingly, I smile and laugh a lot more now. I hold on to those moments for as long as I can. Knowing that nothing lasts forever helps me cherish the good, and get through the bad.
I'm sure I'm in for more disappointments. I'm also sure that I will laugh again, that I will smile again, and that I will feel happy again.
Join the discussion at BlogHer's main post on dealing with disappointment. And enter their sweepstakes to win an iPod Touch.
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