Showing posts with label happiness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label happiness. Show all posts

Monday, March 8, 2010

Crap I Probably Should Have Figured at New Years

Okay, self revelatory posts are supposed to be written in January when everyone else is yammering on about making a fresh start. I know, but I am not everyone else. Actually, that is one of the shocking epiphanies to confront me over the past month.  I am different. Yes. I am ACTUALLY quite different and not in that self-soothing; "Oh, I just dance to the beat of a different drummer" bullshit that you tell yourself after your Flock of Seagulls haircut has failed to impress your peers.  I am made differently and in two important parts of life I have been passive-aggressively attempting to deny my true self, for a long time. I didn't even realize I was doing it. 

In the arena of all things religious, I have long labored under the notion that my atheism was entirely private. Don't ask, don't tell. I will deftly evade discussions of God and perhaps even nod in agreement when the situation paints me into a corner.  I am not going to talk about not believing.  Why rock the boat, right?  Well, I went and had myself a baby and all of a sudden that baby needs training up in the ways of relating to other humans and how to be nice and all that stuff you never think about until a tiny voice asks you, "Why did the bird die?" Shit.  I'm working on that question with the help of this book and I will probably be talking about this subject a lot more in the future.

Physical fitness is another phantom that I have long avoided making eye contact with. Until I had a baby all that was necessary for me to lose a couple of pounds was to will it into reality. Hmmm, I may have overdone it on the Christmas cookies this year. Well, I should probably eat more sensibly. Poof! Really.

I have never enjoyed organized sports. Okay, with the exception of theater I have never enjoyed organized anything.  I just don't. You can't make me. I'm gonna take this book and go read under a tree by myself. Don't follow me!  Junior high and high school gym classes were akin to the 9 circles of hell for me. I know that when it comes to kids and fitness, traditional wisdom suggests the promotion of sports and playing.  If they are having fun, they won't know it's good for them!  Once I reached puberty and my body sprout these comically disproportionate boobs and sent my hormones into dark places, I lost any joy I might have known for sports. I pouted. I protested the injustice of volley ball.  I purposely wore mismatched gym clothes and never took them home to be washed.  I was told on more than one occasion that my lack of participation would be reflected in my grade. I was not much more cooperative when I took phys. ed. in  college, where I was expected to be enthusiastic about learning to monitor my heart rate. Gah! I don't care about optimizing or maximizing or whatever. Is there an option for "feels good and keeps me from huffing on a flight of stairs"?

I am not lazy. I really like being outside and walking. I really wish I had a bicycle. My fondest childhood memories are of taking off alone on my bike and exploring. Are you beginning to see a theme here? When you look for fitness ideas as an adult, they all talk about having a workout buddy or using a video to encourage you to "reach your goals".  I struggle to plan dinner. Planning fitness goals is not in my nature.

My husband is currently devoting himself to something called P90X.  It is a vicious, video workout regiment, complete with smug muscle heads and incessant pep-talking.  Listening to it for even a few minutes causes my brain to itch. I despise a pep talk. SHUT UP! So, I have taken to leaving the house while Aaron tortures himself.  On the days when Violet does not accompany me on these walks, I take the ipod.  Aaron made me a snarky playlist of inspirational workout music (including the theme from Rocky, which only makes me think of Mr. Mom doing housework and NOT running) and although the music was nice it did not compel me to push myself. Today, I decided that I would listen to the stand-up comedy of Patton Oswald and you know what happened?  I had fun. I smiled and tried not to laugh like a crazy person, while I walked the neighborhood at a brisk pace.  It was a wonderful escape.  I got some exercise and I didn't have to follow anyone else's stupid rules about "working out" and using peer pressure to stay on track.  I didn't have to go to a class and no one chirped in my ear about what a great job I was doing. In fact, Patton Oswald talked about his own struggles to be healthy and then joked about putting french fries on top of his cupcakes. Hilarious.

I don't know. Maybe I am rambling. I feel like I just came to a crossroads and decided to jaywalk across the street to my true self.  There are way fewer people over here and I think I might keep walking.

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

What Makes Me Happy

Today I was prompted* to think about what makes me happy. There are lots of little things and I could list them here, but I won't because they are your garden variety joys.  Happiness, as a state of being,  is a much more interesting and ultimately more difficult thing to pin down.  My general contentment has a lot more to do with why I enjoy a morning cup of coffee than the quality of the beans.  If you know what I mean? No? Seriously?

Okay, so I could be eating lobster with hot drawn butter and a side of filet mignon and if a black cloud of blah and anxiety and non-specific ick was hanging over my head that food would taste like ash in my mouth. Conversely,  mac n' cheese straight from the box with a side of over cooked peas tastes like heaven when the sunshine is blowing directly up my butt and I've not a care in the world.  Pair up that first meal with a really great mood and I start to hallucinate unicorns and rainbows. 

My point?  Oh, yes. 

Attitude is everything and my attitude suffers mightily from being employed.  Yep, that is what ultimately makes me happy, giddy even.  I don't have a job.  I never get tired of being at home with my child.  Sure, I get tired of my child's behavior and the laundry and the dishes from time to time, but all I need to do is daydream for a moment about working retail and mopping the kitchen floor seems like a real privilege indeed.  My former co-workers teased me about getting bored and wagered I'd come back to them sooner rather than later.  As much as I wanted to stay at home, I did wonder if they were on to something.  If everyone says it, it must be true, right? 

People talk a good game about how motherhood / parenthood / fatherhood made them better, or happier or whatever and I can't disagree, entirely.  But, what has really made me more productive, more patient, more loving and more likely to see a rainbow in a shit storm, is being at home. Working drained me.  At the end of the day I was lifeless.  All my smiles and patience got dished out to perfect strangers.  By the time I got home, all I wanted to do was become one with my TV and cuddle up (silently) with my husband. I had no desire to socialize, at all. I was very isolated.  I can't imagine coming home in that condition and trying to parent a child.  

Of course, this has a lot to do with my hyper-sensitive, introverted personality.  I was really good at retail because I am extremely intuitive and observant of human behavior.  That combination of skills takes up a lot of energy.  Becoming a full-time parent made me realize that all that energy I was pouring into meeting the needs of customers could be used to make our life as a family better. At first, Aaron was terrified of being the sole wage earner, but my dramatic shift to an even-tempered, happy and productive human has eased his fear.  If Mama's not happy, ain't nobody happy.

*Lorry inspired this post and technically I am supposed to tag six more people, but I will leave it up you. What makes you happy?  I'd really like to know, unless it has something to do with competitive eating or not-liking baby kittens.  You can keep that to yourself.

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