I don't consider myself an angry person but recently I started piecing together a number of experiences when I've completely lost my temper (which is an odd expression because I didn't lose it, it actually overtook me. It's more like finding your temper right?) Usually I'm just going along with normal, everyday disappointments or frustrations but every now and then it just gets too much. I probably justify losing it (or finding it) by telling myself that any sane, rational person wouldn't be able to keep their cool in this situation. In fact, I should get really angry and gnash my teeth and yell and stomp to get my way. That's often what happens when I get really angry, it's because I didn't get my way (I know it sounds so childish) but it can be overwhelmingly frustrating to me to not be able to make things happen. Two experiences come to mind in which I felt my anger had transformed me from a slight and even-tempered person to a hulking, possibly green, maniacal fury-filled creature. The first occasion was while we were building our very first home, a stressful undertaking granted but I really handled myself well through living in a trailer parked on our muddy lot, last-minute trips to Home Depot 4 or 5 times a day, and laying our own hardwood floor in the heat of July. Maybe it was all the buildup from these experiences that caused me to go insane one day. We had stayed up until 2:00 in the morning laying hardwood, then I had gone to a training for work all day. Trying to pay attention to the presentations and fielding phone calls about the house during breaks. Trying desperately to move into our home before the school year started in August. This idea became an obsession of mine, there was nothing that could possibly stand in my way, come hell or high water I would be moving into my new house before the first day of school. So I clamped down and did everything I could to make it happen and it was going according to my carefully calculated plan when the carpeting went haywire. I can't believe this, but my pulse is actually quickening just thinking about this day. Residual anger from that very frustrating day. I had ordered the carpet and pad from Home Depot in plenty of time for it to arrive and be installed according to schedule. Although we had hired a general contractor to build our home, we really ended up doing most of the scheduling, planning and preparing that I have since come to understand is really the responsibility of the general contractor. I don't remember all the details of what went wrong, they've been blocked out by periods of pure fury, but I do remember talking to customer service at the dreaded Depot in exasperated expletives. They had the carpet but not the pad and didn't know where the pad was or when it would arrive. It was the last straw. I had put my blood, sweat and tears into this house and I was moving in over the weekend and I HAD to have carpet in on Friday! I wasn't waiting another second to move into my new house and I couldn't believe I was being delayed by this incompetent system/person/whatever! Overwhelming amounts of frustration in situations like this cause me to swell and yell and stomp and act like some kind of monster. That customer service rep owes her life to the fact that I couldn't reach through the phone and throttle her. I was so mad! Blinding fury at their mistake and what it might cost me. I could not believe they had messed up. How dare they! Didn't they know how much this meant to me? I've heard anger is often a top layer emotion brought on by deeper emotions like frustration, exhaustion, or disappointment. I was feeling all of these powerful emotions and expressing them in a torrent of fiery words hurled over the phone. Somehow I fired Home Depot from installing our carpet, vindictively I'm sure, and after several dead ends found padding and a new installer who would work all day Saturday and Sunday. He did it, we did it, and we moved in Sunday night just in time for me to start work Monday morning.
I'm exhausted just from recounting that whole experience. I guess it worked, I got what I wanted but I'm so very ashamed by how I handled it. I got what I wanted but at what cost? I freaked out, my fury scared me. I'm not even sure why I'm blogging about this. I think I just want to understand why I acted this way and change my response to similar situations in the future because I recently freaked out just like this and I don't want to accept the idea that I turn into the hulk whenever I'm confronted by a really stressful situation. There's go to be a better way. Does anybody else feel this way? Have you been in a situation when you felt so totally overwhelmed by anger, fear, frustration, etc. that it consumed you? How do we handle anger? How should we handle anger? If nobody comments I'll just have to assume you're all closet psychopaths like me.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Saturday, May 18, 2013
mine, all mine
I know, I know, I said/typed I would blog everyday well, I'm not. It's too much, I don't want to blog everyday. I'd like to blog more often because it clears my head and helps me understand myself but everyday was too much pressure. Sometimes I clear my head by watching Netflix with my husband or by going to bed early since my babies are stretching me to the max! And, anyway, it's my blog. I can do whatever I want! If you like reading it, that's great! but I really do it for myself. I hope you are not shocked/embarrassed/amazed by what I blog about, or maybe I do...
Gender roles
I believe a woman can be a very distinct influence on those around her. As a budding adolescent, it seemed a woman's power or influence was based mainly in her sex appeal; what she could accomplish by compelling or persuading men to do her bidding, by blinding them with her beauty or distracting them by how much skin she was showing.
Having two baby girls has given me reason to ponder womanhood and how I view my power or influence; I've become more sensitive to promiscuous behavior and sexual innuendos in music, television and movies, often objectifying women as sex symbols. I want to clarify my own understanding of womanhood and the wonderful experiences and roles my gender provides in an effort to fortify my daughters against the onslaught of influences they are sure to encounter by adolescence.
I believe women too often bare their beautiful and alluring bodies to all instead of honoring themselves and saving those parts that are most precious for one who will earn the right to their intimacy. There is an attraction between the sexes that is wonderful and very desirable in a loving and committed relationship.
I feel womanhood is full of beautiful and unique experiences to be cherished by mothers teaching their daughters and sisters sharing feelings, a feminist movement among us would have women believe that they are just as good as men, they can work just as hard, earn just as much money and have the same jobs as men. Which just isn't true, men are endowed with distinct abilities and responsibilities separate from but equal to those of women. We are torn between feeling our only worth is found in the bedroom and being treated exactly like a man, ignoring the sweet and sensitive differences that are our god-given gifts. Well, I'm here to say I am not a man and I never want to be. My husband is a scruffy, charming, muscular mystery to me and I like it that way. I read an interview once where Goldie Hawn rejoiced in the differences between her and her husband and cautioned wives everywhere to do the same. She said something like "I wouldn't want him to be just like me, I'm a woman and he's a man, that's how it's supposed to be." Of course I enjoy having an intimate relationship with my husband but I also need women in my life, my mom, my sisters and friends who understand me in a way he just never will. Nor should I expect him to.
I relish the relationship between men and women; we teach and love and inspire each other to become better and more complete. I embrace my womanhood, my tenderness and kindness, my role in my home and family. Fresh flowers, sweet-smells, loving smiles and kindness, these are strong feminine traits.
Having two baby girls has given me reason to ponder womanhood and how I view my power or influence; I've become more sensitive to promiscuous behavior and sexual innuendos in music, television and movies, often objectifying women as sex symbols. I want to clarify my own understanding of womanhood and the wonderful experiences and roles my gender provides in an effort to fortify my daughters against the onslaught of influences they are sure to encounter by adolescence.
I believe women too often bare their beautiful and alluring bodies to all instead of honoring themselves and saving those parts that are most precious for one who will earn the right to their intimacy. There is an attraction between the sexes that is wonderful and very desirable in a loving and committed relationship.
I feel womanhood is full of beautiful and unique experiences to be cherished by mothers teaching their daughters and sisters sharing feelings, a feminist movement among us would have women believe that they are just as good as men, they can work just as hard, earn just as much money and have the same jobs as men. Which just isn't true, men are endowed with distinct abilities and responsibilities separate from but equal to those of women. We are torn between feeling our only worth is found in the bedroom and being treated exactly like a man, ignoring the sweet and sensitive differences that are our god-given gifts. Well, I'm here to say I am not a man and I never want to be. My husband is a scruffy, charming, muscular mystery to me and I like it that way. I read an interview once where Goldie Hawn rejoiced in the differences between her and her husband and cautioned wives everywhere to do the same. She said something like "I wouldn't want him to be just like me, I'm a woman and he's a man, that's how it's supposed to be." Of course I enjoy having an intimate relationship with my husband but I also need women in my life, my mom, my sisters and friends who understand me in a way he just never will. Nor should I expect him to.
I relish the relationship between men and women; we teach and love and inspire each other to become better and more complete. I embrace my womanhood, my tenderness and kindness, my role in my home and family. Fresh flowers, sweet-smells, loving smiles and kindness, these are strong feminine traits.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Picture Perfect
my life has gotten very messy. I used to feel that I had it all together, but 2 babies in 2 years, a husband who travels for work, living far from family, and belonging to a very involved church all equals a very busy, messy life for me. The only problem is I thrive on order, on predictability and control. I can identify with Kate Gosselin and her down-spiraling life, a Type A mother of 8 small children would be exhausting. I read in her book, pre-Dancing With the Stars and all Hollywood drama, that she wanted to parent a certain way and she didn't think it mattered whether she had 1 kid or 100. I can be a high-strung, great expectations, I-can't-believe-you-would-wear-that-in-public thinking girl. As a kid, my mom was always telling me to relax, enjoy life, take a risk, have fun. But my idea of fun was perfection. Perfection in a dress, perfection in a date, perfection in what I said and who I was with. I've been chasing this Perfection all my life. It's just so damn elusive. I had a mental breakdown after my first baby was born. (most women do in some form or another) I was broken. For the first time in my life I realized Perfection was not attainable. I was devastated. What was the purpose of life if not to become perfect? To never say anything stupid or mean and to always choose the right, to get straight A's and remember everyone's birthday and never lose my temper. This is what I was striving for and when it all came crashing down around me, I was mad. So, so mad. I felt God had set me up. Had sent me to earth and taught me to strive for this perfection and I was never going to make it. I would never be good enough, smart enough, strong enough. I would always be lacking in one area or another. Even my accomplishments were slippery; I might be really good about reading my scriptures for a whole month but then the baby would start teething and I would lose the habit. I felt my efforts were all in vain. I would never be perfect, I couldn't be perfect so why even try? It was especially crushing that I felt so inadequate to be a mother. I had been groomed and prepped and taught that being a mother would be the full measure of my creation, everything led up to bringing spirits into the world to have bodies and experience mortality. To teaching them the gospel and cultivating their testimonies of Christ by singing Primary songs to them and having meaningful Family Home Evenings where we told Old Testament stories with felt characters. But this screaming banshee of a baby was a far cry (literally) from any of my expectations of motherhood. She was so needy and so insistent with the crying and I never knew if she was hungry or tired or mad or dying! I felt like such a failure. And I was so mad at the Lord for setting me up. He knew I couldn't do this! He knew this would be so hard for me and He asked me to do it anyway. So, although I was steaming mad, I felt I really had no other choice but to ask for His help. He had sent me this squalling little bundle after all and I knew He wanted me to take care of her.
I just want to segue for a moment: I love, love, LOVE my babies. Both of them. I literally want to eat them up they are so adorable and fun and precious and the most perfect baby girls EVER! But you probably already know that, everybody talks about how much they love their kids, how wonderful they are, kids really can be a joy, you are so incredibly proud of them and I don't think you love anyone else so unconditionally, even your spouse. But nobody talks about all the hard stuff, the late nights, the midnight runs to Wal-Mart, the desperation you feel as a new parent (or maybe just as a parent in general). At least no one talked to me about it before I had kids. Maybe they did and I just didn't listen. I remember talking to my cousin's husband before I had kids. He said having kids is like getting the chicken pocks, it's going to happen sooner or later, you may as well get it over with. So, at the risk of sounding incredibly negative, I am choosing to highlight or perhaps elucidate the challenges of being a parent. A good parent that is, anybody can be a crappy parent, it's easy, the news is full of ideas on how to screw your kids up. Anyways, back to how I crawled out of that deep, dark hole I found myself in after my daughter was born.
So, not only had I looked forward to this day my entire life, but I also believe being a mother is one of the most important responsibilities I will ever have, ever, like forever, ever. It's a partnership with God and has everlasting consequences and lots of other incredibly overwhelming ideas. So here I am, a new mom, recovering from the traumatic experience of having something that was inside of me come outside of me, dealing with these feelings of inadequacy as hormones rage within me. Hardest time of my life. I really hope it stays that way too.
You may be wondering what helped? How did I make it through without hurting myself or my very vulnerable baby? Is there a light at the end of this long, gloomy tunnel? I don't know. Time, medication, my mom living with me for a few weeks, bolstering my confidence as a mommy (she's a great mommy so I just did whatever she told me to do) lots of praying and crying and sleepless nights. Talking to other moms and realizing they had had similar experiences was my solace. Even if I was going crazy, at least I wasn't going alone. It is very normal for a new mom to feel inadequate, isolated, defeated. I think especially for a Latter-day Saint mom who sees other amazing moms that seem to be able to do all this so effortlessly. I'm here to tell you it isn't effortless, it is effort-full! (You really can make any 2 words one if you use a hyphen). And anyone who tells you differently is lying through their teeth! If someone seems to be great at everything, you probably just don't know them very well. And if you ever need a strong dose of reality, I'm happy to oblige. I've made it a personal goal to blog every day, there, I said it/typed it so I really have to do it now. Wish me luck! Till tomorrow,
Chazlyn
I just want to segue for a moment: I love, love, LOVE my babies. Both of them. I literally want to eat them up they are so adorable and fun and precious and the most perfect baby girls EVER! But you probably already know that, everybody talks about how much they love their kids, how wonderful they are, kids really can be a joy, you are so incredibly proud of them and I don't think you love anyone else so unconditionally, even your spouse. But nobody talks about all the hard stuff, the late nights, the midnight runs to Wal-Mart, the desperation you feel as a new parent (or maybe just as a parent in general). At least no one talked to me about it before I had kids. Maybe they did and I just didn't listen. I remember talking to my cousin's husband before I had kids. He said having kids is like getting the chicken pocks, it's going to happen sooner or later, you may as well get it over with. So, at the risk of sounding incredibly negative, I am choosing to highlight or perhaps elucidate the challenges of being a parent. A good parent that is, anybody can be a crappy parent, it's easy, the news is full of ideas on how to screw your kids up. Anyways, back to how I crawled out of that deep, dark hole I found myself in after my daughter was born.
So, not only had I looked forward to this day my entire life, but I also believe being a mother is one of the most important responsibilities I will ever have, ever, like forever, ever. It's a partnership with God and has everlasting consequences and lots of other incredibly overwhelming ideas. So here I am, a new mom, recovering from the traumatic experience of having something that was inside of me come outside of me, dealing with these feelings of inadequacy as hormones rage within me. Hardest time of my life. I really hope it stays that way too.
You may be wondering what helped? How did I make it through without hurting myself or my very vulnerable baby? Is there a light at the end of this long, gloomy tunnel? I don't know. Time, medication, my mom living with me for a few weeks, bolstering my confidence as a mommy (she's a great mommy so I just did whatever she told me to do) lots of praying and crying and sleepless nights. Talking to other moms and realizing they had had similar experiences was my solace. Even if I was going crazy, at least I wasn't going alone. It is very normal for a new mom to feel inadequate, isolated, defeated. I think especially for a Latter-day Saint mom who sees other amazing moms that seem to be able to do all this so effortlessly. I'm here to tell you it isn't effortless, it is effort-full! (You really can make any 2 words one if you use a hyphen). And anyone who tells you differently is lying through their teeth! If someone seems to be great at everything, you probably just don't know them very well. And if you ever need a strong dose of reality, I'm happy to oblige. I've made it a personal goal to blog every day, there, I said it/typed it so I really have to do it now. Wish me luck! Till tomorrow,
Chazlyn
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