Sunday night, Chris and I went out to dinner for an early Valentine’s Day. We tried a sushi place for the first time and we were not disappointed. I think I ate my baby weight in sushi (only the cooked fish though – don’t worry!). It was delicious. We hadn’t had good sushi since we moved from Connecticut and though this place was worlds different than the hole-in-the-wall place we used to go to up there, the sushi was every bit as good and it was nice to feel like we had found one more thing down here that felt like home.
Only, there was a little hiccup in our romantic dinner.
We finished appetizers and six rolls of sushi in about 15 minutes. Seriously. We were seated, ordered, ate, and paid the bill in 20 minutes. When the check came to the table, Chris checked his watch and died laughing.
“What are we going to do now? We can’t go home yet. We just left.”
“I know. But we don’t really have the money to go do anything else.”
“Yeah,” said Chris. “And I really want to see the Grammy’s.”
“Good, cause I really want to read my book,” I said.
On the ride home, Chris and I tried to figure out how our romantic Valentine’s dinner had been so quick. We decided it was because when we go out to dinner normally with Bean, we have to hurry because we have approximately 15 or 20 minutes before he starts getting fidgety and antsy. So, we’re just in the habit of eating quick. It’s a necessity. Which is great, unless it’s Valentine’s Day and you’re trying to spend some quality time with your husband.
Then today in one of my classes, a student asked me what Chris had given me for Valentine’s Day. I looked around me at the room full of hopeful middle school students, all holding their teddy bears and roses and love letters and candy from significant others that they truly believe are the people they will spend the rest of their lives with. Their eyes looked at me with a romantic, whispy look that said, “Isn’t love awesome?”
“Uh…” I studdered, trying to decide if I should lie or be honest. I went with honesty. “He got me a SunPass.”
Total silence in the room.
And then from the back, some poor, lovesick 12-year-old girl quietly asked, “Is that what happens when you get married?”
Not wanting to burst their little pink and red heart-shaped bubbles, I quickly recovered with, “But he bought me a dozen roses and a sweet card, too!”
(That’s a total lie, by the way.)
They seemed to collectively sigh with relief and the happy hum of a classroom full of puppy love middle schoolers resumed.
Yes, it’s true. Chris got me a SunPass for Valentine’s Day. But it’s what I wanted!
Which begs the question…What the heck is wrong with us?!?! We finally – FINALLY – get time away for a romantic dinner together and we’re home in less than an hour. And we’re giving each other things like toll money for gifts. What the heck is going on? Don’t you think those things should raise some red flags about the state of our marriage?
Eh…not really.
I was a little worried about it until today. Monday. The Real Valentine’s Day. Around 10:30 this morning, I got an email from Chris at work. All it said was, “I can’t stop thinking about you today and how much I love you and our life together. Just wanted you to know.” I think I giggled like my students for about 2 hours and I must have re-read the email about a million times.
And then tonight, I came home and made a Valentine’s Dinner for Chris and Bean. On our romantic menu? Spaghetti and meatballs. Bean’s favorite.
And cucumbers in vinegar. Chris’s favorite.
I set the table with all the Valentine goodies the two of them had for the day. Cards from different family members, art projects that Bean had made at school during his Valentine’s Day party, cute little notes and odds and ends that people have sent us to tell us we are loved.
And while I finished cooking and dishing up dinner, the two of them got to sit in their seats and open all their goodies. We laughed and talked and made Bean sing the “I Love You” song over and over again. Finally, dinner was on the table and we all ate together, talking about our days and listening to Bean babble on about…well, we’re not really sure…
After dinner, we all helped put away dishes and clean up the kitchen. Which wore Bean out and so he laid down on the counter and talked to us while we cleaned.
So, Valentine’s Day was pretty much like any other day in our house. Except we all had candy. And you know what? It was one of my favorite Valentine’s Days yet. True, it was very different than past, over the top, romantic Valentine’s Days. True, there were no flowers or stuffed animals. But there was lots of love. You could feel it in our house. And that meant more to me than any dinner out or any gift Chris might have given me.
Marriage changes things. Kids change things. But those changes are sometimes the things in life that are so good, you didn’t even know to ask for them because you didn’t even know that kind of happiness was possible. That’s the change that marriage and children bring to my life. And not just on Valentine’s Day. Every day I find things in my life that are simpler, different, and worlds better than I could have even imagined.
*****
Today I am grateful for sundresses!
09Feb
This week, my sweet dad has been driving over an hour to my house every morning in order to stay with Bean during the day so that Chris and I don’t have to miss work to stay home with him. My mom came down today, too, and so Bean had twice the fun with Nana AND Granddad. And they’ve nursed him back to health. He is a little cranky, but I think mostly that’s from being cooped up in the house for five days straight. He hasn’t been running a fever and his chest is sounding much better, thanks to his nifty nebulizer. He’ll probably still have a cough for a long time, but at least he’s feeling better and seems to be on the up and up. We’re trying daycare tomorrow for the first time all week and I think Bean is really excited. He kept saying, “Shhhoooool! Shhhooool!” (School, School) over and over again.
This afternoon as I was on my way home from work, the weather was gorgeous. It was warm and sunny and there were a few beautiful, puffy, white clouds in the bright blue sky. One of my favorite songs came on the radio and so I rolled my windows down and sang at the top of my lungs.
And then it hit me.
I wasn’t happy because of the sunshine or the song on the radio. I wasn’t even happy because Bean was feeling better. For the first time since we moved to Florida, I was happy because I was here. Because my sick son was home with his grandparents. Because three nights this week I’ve gotten to see my parents and talk to them about how my day went. Because it’s February and 75 degrees and beautiful outside. Because our pool is warming up and we’ll be swimming soon. Because the house I was driving home to is safe, cozy, and feels like home. Because I love my job every day. Because Chris comes home loving his job every day.
Next month, it will be one year since we moved to Florida. One year. That’s a long time. A lot longer than I expected it to take before I understood why we were here. The thing about our move was that before we left Connecticut, I had a list of reasons that I thought we were moving for. To be closer to family being the top of the list. But what I’m learning about life changes and life-altering decisions is that we very rarely go into them knowing what the reasoning is ahead of time. And maybe that’s for the best. If we knew everything we were supposed to learn before an experience, what would the point of that experience be?
When we moved to Florida, I was so disappointed by everything that our move wasn’t. It wasn’t what I pictured. Nothing that happened to us was what I had planned. It wasn’t home. It wasn’t even familiar. But I’m discovering that when you’re so busy trying to make a situation what you expect it to be, you miss out on what it really is. And in the past year, what our situation has really been is a time of incredible growth, of incredible highs, and very dark lows. As much as I loved our life in Connecticut, we didn’t have that range of emotion and experience in our life there. And as happy as our marriage was in Connecticut, we have grown stronger, more confident, more secure, and more united in our marriage after what we’ve experienced here.
So, no. Moving to Florida was not everything that I hoped it would be. But that’s okay because what I was hoping for was the wrong thing. I hoped for it to be a better version of our Connecticut life. I hoped for it to be what we were doing and loving up there, only closer to our family. But that expectation is selling our move and our family short because our move has been so much bigger than that. It’s been a new place and a new start at a new life. Of course, then, it didn’t feel like home right away. Of course, then, it didn’t feel familiar. Because part of a move is creating a new home and a new sense of familiarity.
Today as I drove home, that’s the feeling that I had. Familiarity. I was going home to a life that we’ve created in the past year – not to the life we had when we married, not to the life we had when we lived in Connecticut. I was going home to my life today.
And there was no where else I’d rather be.
A little over two months ago, I shared on my blog that I was struggling with depression. 2010 was a rough year for my family and all the pressures and anxieties that come with a big move, unemployment, financial struggles, a home invasion, and an unexpected pregnancy came crashing down around me. I felt like I was spinning out of control and couldn’t find anything to hold onto to steady myself. Though I blogged about it in November, that was actually the beginning of the end of my season of depression. For months prior to that I was dealing with it by myself and hadn’t spoken to anyone about it. I say that because what I am about to say may seem premature and rushed had this only been a two month process and I realize that other people reading this and dealing with depression might feel like it would be impossible to make this next statement after only a two month period. But please realize that I was dealing with depression for many, many months before I wrote about it here, so this is a long time coming for me:
I can see myself again.
It started right around Thanksgiving. I would catch myself laughing and it wasn’t that forced laughter; it was genuine happiness. But at that point it only lasted for a couple hours at a time. But being around family and friends at Thanksgiving really helped me to sustain that happiness for much longer periods. Gradually, I started to feel more like myself for longer bits of time. And that made me even happier.
Over the Christmas break, there was not only genuine happiness and smiles, but gut-laughing and silliness and the ability to look beyond myself for a change. I spent time talking with family. I spent time listening to family. I relished the small things – church on Christmas Eve, Bean’s face on Christmas morning, Chris squeezing my hand when he brushed by me in the hall, spending time with my sister. In the hustle of the holidays, which had previously weighed me down and made me heavy with sadness, I found that by focusing on those small little joys in my everyday life, I was able to smile and laugh more. And I started to feel like myself for days. Even weeks.
Last week I had a really stressful time at work. Every day it seemed like something new was jumping up to complicate things. But I came home one night last week and gave myself time to think through what all was going on and I said to myself, “So what?” So what if I am being asked to do a few extra things in my day-to-day at work? So what if other people are frantic and stressed out? So what if deadlines are closer and expectations are higher? So what? I’m doing the best I can. I feel good everyday at the work I do. And aside from those things, everything else is out of my control. And with that one little thought, I let it all go.
That was a big turning point for me in my struggle with depression. Before, I would have worried and worried and worried some more about the changes at work (none of which are necessarily BAD changes, by the way, just a new way of doing things…). I would have stayed awake until all hours of the morning thinking about it. I would have lost interest in my job completely because it became a little more demanding. So the fact that I could tell myself I had to just let it go and then the fact that I could actually let it all go tells me that I’m coming out of this. I’m not letting that stress and worry hold me down or hold me back. And that is something I haven’t felt in over a year.
Today I had coffee with a new friend who I hope I get to know even better. She shared with me that she had been dealing with a lot of the same things I have been going through this year and that depression had crept into her life as well. Like me, she is on the upside of things and seems to be coming back to her normal, well-balanced self, but we talked today a little bit about what has helped us get through. And we both agreed there were two central things.
First, I gave myself permission to feel what I felt and then I gave myself permission to make myself happy. I have learned that ignoring what you’re feeling – sadness, depression, loneliness – only makes that feeling seem even more overwhelming. Like a monster in a closet to a child, when you drag it out into the light of day, give it a name, and really get to know those feelings, they feel much smaller and less significant. And once they are smaller and less significant, it’s a lot easier to deal with them. I made a few major changes in my life once I was able to identify and embrace what I was dealing with. I cut back on a few things, like writing and feeling obligated to make every single person around me comfortable and happy. I readjusted what a successful working pregnant mother of a toddler looks like by defining that role myself. Sure, I may only serve those steamed bags of veggies for dinner instead of cooking with a pot and a pan every night, but at least my family is being fed. And, yes, I occasionally pass my child off on Chris or whatever grandparent happens to be close by in order to take a nap or get a pedicure or watch a movie in peace. I do these things and I kick the guilt because I’ve seen what can happen to myself when I don’t get the time for myself that I need and I know that no shortcut will ever be as hard on my family as being in that low place was. They say a happy momma makes for a happy home. I’m 99% positive that phrase was uttered by the husband of a working mother dealing with depression. When I’m at my best, my family is happier and so if I have to cut myself some slack to get back to that place, then that’s okay.
I have also learned over the past year to ask for and accept help. A very humbling thing for a person like me who thinks they can do it all, all the time. Throughout the past year though, I have had to ask for help numerous times. With money, with finding balance, with rebuilding my faith, with setting priorities, and the list goes on. My Grandma told me one time that when you allow someone to help you, you are really giving them the opportunity to feel good and useful. And I’ve seen that firsthand in the past few months. At times when I really just hated speaking up and saying, “I’m not able to do this on my own right now,” I have been astonished at the sheer volume of people and in the ways those people loved the opportunity to stand up for me. From my sweet husband who lovingly told me that this would pass and until it did, he would be standing beside me, to my parents who seem to actually find pleasure in bearing my burdens, to my sister who just beams when she encourages me, to Chris’s family who has given as if there were no need to even ask in the first place, to friends who have smiled and hugged me when they were able to do things as significant as find me a job, to blog readers who shared some of the most heartwarming, heart-wrenching, wonderful stories of their own perseverance through similar situations… I have truly been astonished at what happens to not just the recipient, but to the giver when they have the opportunity to give. And as the recipient of those gifts, I cannot tell you what goodness that feeds my soul.
Through this experience, I have learned that I am not as strong as I thought I was. But I have also learned that no one will ever be strong enough when they rely only on themselves.  It’s not about doing it all yourself, just to be able to say that you do it all yourself. It’s not about being the perfect wife or mother or daughter or sister or friend. It’s not about smiling all the time. It’s not about what your life appears to be to others. That is not strength. Strength comes from the faith that fills my heart and from those special people – known and unknown – who are standing with their arms open long before I even have to ask for help. That’s what true strength is.
It is the ability to recognize that we can reach so much higher when we allow others lift us up.
One of my all-time favorite movies is Hook. And one of my favorite parts is when the Lost Boys are picking sides and choosing between their new leader, Rufio, and Peter. They almost all choose Rufio because he sees himself as the leader and Peter can no longer see himself for who he truly is – Peter Pan. Instead, he has become something unrecognizable to those boys he grew up with. But the last Lost Boy comes up to Peter before making his decision. He pulls Peter down to his height and looks into his eyes and he begins to pull and prod his face, studying every wrinkle, every freckle, every inch. Finally, after a long moment of studied silence, the Lost Boy recognizes his old friend. He breaks into a smile and says, “Oh, there you are, Peter.”
After months, almost a year, of feeling like I don’t recognize myself, I am finally able to say, “Oh, there you are, Katie.” And there were never sweeter words to hear.
*****
Today I am grateful for Chris and my parents for giving me a day to myself.
31Dec
Over the past couple weeks, my mom shared a big secret with me. Â So, I thought I’d share it with the internet. Â Seems only right.
She told me that for the past three years, she has had the same, secret New Year’s resolution. Â Three years ago, she decided that she wanted her New Years resolution to be to do a routine act of kindness. Â But she wasn’t going to tell anyone about it. Â She figured if she told people, she’d get praise for the act and that would defeat the whole purpose of being kind. Â So, in secret, she decided on a random act of kindness she could do routinely on a day-to-day basis that would help someone. Â She didn’t want it to be anything huge that she would have trouble fulfilling, but she wanted it to be something just inconvenient enough that she had to go out of her way to do it.
She decided that she would straighten the grocery carts in the parking lot stalls every time she returned her cart somewhere. Â She couldn’t just put her cart away, she had to straighten however many carts were there. Â She did it at the grocery store, Target, while out running errands… Â Everywhere she went, she’d put her cart away and then hook together all the other carts in that particular stall. Â She said it wasn’t a huge thing, but she was sure it made a difference to the employees who had to corral all those carts every day.
For three years, she made this same resolution and for three years she continued to silently straighten the shopping carts in parking lots.
“But,” she confided in my this past week, “I think I’m going to have to pick another task for this year.”
“How come?” I asked.
“Well, I have started to become a little obsessive about shopping carts. Â I’ve noticed that I’ve started sort of…well…yelling at people about putting their carts away!”
Turns out, my mom has grown tired of people dropping carts all over the parking lots because SHE’S the one who now has to go collect them. Â So whenever she sees someone drop the cart somewhere other than the stall, she barks out something like, “You know, someone has to clean that up!”
“It’s sort of defeating the purpose of my New Year’s resolution,” my Mom laughed.
I thought that was such a funny story! Â I hadn’t know any of that about my mom and I thought it was such a simple, sweet gesture. Â Normally, I don’t do a New Year’s resolution. Â I think they are kind of silly, really. Â But after hearing about how my mom had turned hers into a three-year habit, I decided that this year I wanted to try one. Â And I wanted it to be something that, like my Mom’s, I could do every day. Â Something small enough that I could keep it up, but something just enough of an inconvenience that I would be reminded each time of the act I had chosen.
2010 was not a good year for our family. Â Actually, I think it was the worst year of my life. Â And that’s not a dramatic statement. Â That’s the plain truth. Â But over the past couple months as I have been working to pull myself out of this season of depression, I have really tried to focus on all the GOOD things in my life. Â Things that I have to be grateful for. Â And, you know what? Â There are a lot of things in my life that I am thankful for. Â But I have the tendency to throw the baby out with the bathwater (as my Grandma says). Â When something goes wrong, I tend to think EVERYTHING has gone wrong and that NOTHING is good.
In 2011, I am going to make a conscious effort to be more grateful. Â To acknowledge every day things that are good in my life. Â I got the idea of a gratitude journal from my friend, Ann, who actually suggested it in a comment on my blog. Â When I first shared about my depression here, she suggested that I start keeping a gratitude journal to remind myself every day of the good in my life. Â I have tossed that idea around since she mentioned it. Â I love that idea. Â But I knew I couldn’t take on anything else in my daily routine. Â The idea of working, taking care of Bean (and soon Gracie), writing blog posts every day, and THEN keeping a journal was just too much. Â So, for the past couple months I have been trying to think about how I could incorporate a gratitude journal into my current daily life.
And here’s what I came up with…
Starting today, at the bottom of every Confessions post that I do, there will be one sentence in italics. Â It will say, “Today I am grateful for _______.” And that’s it. Â No explanation. Â No elaboration. Â Just a one-sentence, daily reminder to me of something I am grateful for in my life that day. Â Since I’m already posting every day, it won’t take any extra time for me to just stop and think for a minute about what I’m thankful for that day and throw it into a sentence, but it will make me stop and think about it. Â It may or it may not be related to the post I do that day. Â It may be something big, like God’s presence in my life, or it may be something small, like my dishwasher. Â But every day, there will be something listed that I am grateful for as a reminder to me of the good in my life.
2010 was rough. Â But 2011 already holds such promise for good things. Â But even if 2011 doesn’t come through – even if life gets EVEN HARDER for some reason than it has been, I know that there will still be things in my life that are good. And this year, I’m going to make sure a day doesn’t pass without me being thankful for those things.
********
Today I am grateful for new beginnings.
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