Friday, January 31, 2014

Genetics Are Cool.... Mostly.

So I have an adorable little spawnling known on the interwebs as Monkey. (And yes, he earns that name every day of the year) His father and I have been very proud of the fact that he seemed to inherit all of our good traits and none of our bad. Like check this out:
On the left: my son's ear notch birthmark; on the right: MY ear notch birthmark
Pretty crazy huh? (you might have to actually click on the picture to see my notch because of lighting and the angle) My Monk has the same ear notch on both of his ears, just like my ear notch. Apparently when I was born my mom first thought I had my ear attacked by the doctor. Later, in my "Let's pierce anything and everything as many times as possible" stage I seriously debated piercing through my birthmark. I don't know exactly what changed my mind, but when my son was born I was extremely grateful I hadn't gotten it done. 

So. I have a mostly mild case of OCD. I have the cleanest email boxes you will EVER see, I am constantly organizing and reorganizing things so my brain doesn't explode, and when I'm stressed I get to a point where I am OCD about how I eat and move around in my life. It is VERY mild, and even when I get to a manic point in it, it's still hundreds of times better than what some people have to deal with on a daily basis. Yesterday I almost got pulled into an OCD moment, where my brain was SCREAMING at me that I needed to fix something right then and there and make it nice and neat and perfect and ::just:: so, but I had a friend who probably didn't even realize what was going on snap me out of it with a simple smirk and "I already did it. It's fine." I was kinda frantic (and probably crazy eyed for a moment) but that simple it's no big helped me push it down and move on from it. This friend in particular has unknowingly helped me not get pulled into a handful of cycles by that exact method, and it's nice to know how long I've gone without going into one of my spins. (I've learned it's easier to avoid getting into a spin than to get out of one so that's what I try to do)

My son. My beautiful Monkey, has inherited my OCD. With all the changes that have happened these last few months, he has been clinging to small rituals he can control to maintain his sanity. When giving him a hug or a kiss he MUST have 2 hugs and then 2 kisses. If you deviate you must start over or even it out. (A big thing with me is numbers too, and I can easily get hung up on odd numbered things) Also, I live in a second story apartment, so when he's getting stressed he CANNOT share the stairs with ANYONE. So he'll get to the half way point and then let the other person meet him there, then continue on alone. I have been stressing out about how to deal with it. I don't want it to get worse and I don't want him to feel like there's anything wrong with him and feel shame. I've been at a loss on how to deal with this, especially since he's almost to the age where he'll need to be around kids his own age, and I don't want this interfering with.. well.. anything.

I kinda had an epiphany when choosing (forcing) to let my brain be soothed yesterday. I could freak out about this, or coddle my son when he's insisting OR. I can gently re-direct him and prevent him from getting in a spin. Before we reach the stairs I can ask him to either hold his hand or carry him and let him feel the love of those acts instead of the urge to control something. I can give him extra hugs and kisses and not recite the "poem" of his pattern. And when he is stressed and ::needs:: those patterns we can embrace the familiarities of them, but then add to them to break the cycle. Gentle redirects work. And hopefully he can change his brain patterns. (Me too. I like feeling sane versus slightly insane.)

Saturday, January 18, 2014

How I Feel...

Life is different now. All sorts of changes and adjustments happening around me, and for the most part life is good. There's always room for improvement, but for the majority of the time I am feeling positive emotions.

I have some people in my life that love me, and as such they've been worried about how much laughing and smiling I've been doing. By all accounts I should be a curled up ball of mess, but when you run into me at the store, or by the mailbox, on the surface all you see is smiles. Apparently that means I am completely falling apart and just need someone to ask me if I'm ok. I love that my loved ones care enough to ask me, and when asked I do honestly answer. But just because you don't like or understand my answer doesn't take away from the truth of how I'm feeling.

So, let me explain a few things to hopefully clarify my position.

I had a "traumatic childhood experience" that resulted in EIGHT years of consecutive therapy. Now, we could debate on the pros and cons of having 8 years of my life over-analyzed not just by me, but a rotating door of therapists, but we will save that for a different time. Point is, after 8 years of being taught how to examine how and why you feel certain ways about the color orange, you do pick up some useful life tools. (Deciding to use them came MUCH later) So what does that mean? That means that I can look at a situation, acknowledge HOW it makes me feel, and let myself just feel for a while. That also means I can properly detach myself from the situation long enough to figure out how much time I need to grieve and where the appropriate times will fit into my life, and then when to let the emotion go.

Basically; I am feeling what I need to feel to properly process the changes happening in my life, but not dwelling on the bad. It's none of anyone's business but my own to count my tears, and if I am choosing to look at the light of the tunnel and smile instead of concentrate on the spots of dark that are being traveled through then shouldn't that be enough?

Everyone is always looking to focus on the bad in any and every situation. I'm not. I don't want to be a bitter ole hag that hates the world. I want to have a happy, peaceful life. And I want the people in my life to be happy, peaceful people.

Easy peasy?

Friday, January 3, 2014

Isn't it Ironic?

Man, how I wish it would have started pouring rain as I typed that, then I could've pretended I'm psychic... ;)

So, growing up I was a Huge Tomboy, and in some respects I still am (see favorite comics, movies, video game and collectables as examples). In jr high and high school I refused to carry a wallet (because then I'd need a purse and I had a hard enough time dealing with my backpacks) so I had things organized by pockets. Money in one back pocket, notes and important papers in the other, one pocket for my chapstick and the last for my keys.

I hated coins. They clanked around, made me sit funny and were just all around obnoxious. I'm a little (a lot) stubborn and I became extremely annoyed at the existence of non papered money, so I found a solution... I tossed the coins. In the trash. Every time I was given some.
Mind you now, money was in very short supply growing up so this wasn't some flippant act, this was hatred pure and simple.

Fast forward to today where my apartment does NOT have laundry on-suite, but instead I must go down a flight of stairs and over into the laundry room and pay $2.50 a complete load, in quarters...

Sometimes life teaches you lessons by making you re-examine past decisions, because being a grown woman now, I can tell you with complete confidence: I was a dummy literally throwing money away. I bet The Universe is chuckling at me right about now. Bonus? I can chuckle now too and realize what a bonehead I was... ;)

A Little Blasphemy as a Literal (and Figurative) Sign of Progress

 Hello there, it’s been a while, and in true returning from ghosting fashion, I am here to either share something vapid and meaningless, or ...