On feeling anxious

I have knots in my stomach.  Literal knots.  Loosening, tightening, slightly loosening, and really tightening.  I can feel them in there like tiny tumors.  Oh god, I hope I don't have a tumor....

I'm feeling a tad anxious, which is not uncommon because I get anxious and nervous about a lot of things.  It's just my nature, unfortunately.  In a way I've kind of learned to deal with it but that doesn't mean I have to like it.  Why the anxiety, you may ask?  Mainly it's because I'm traveling to Houston on Sunday with a colleague to attend a work conference, which in itself doesn't sound like a big deal but does in fact add to my nervous state of mind.  

For starters, traveling makes me anxious.  More specifically traveling on airplanes make me anxious.  It's not that I'm one of those people who fears every single plane I ride on is going to crash, it's just the whole airport scene and all the "Please take off your shoes, belt, jacket, oh, and we're going to have to screen all your internal organs before we will even think about letting you on this flight" nonsense that accompanies all air travel nowadays.  I think the lack of control I feel with flying is one of the things that just drives me crazy.  Because if your flight is delayed or canceled you kind of don't have any options.  Except to wait.  And wait.  And wait.  You are at the mercy of the weather, the plane, the airline, basically a ton of outside factors that you can do nothing about.  I'm just not flexible enough to deal with that kind of uncertainty.  On the bright side, I'm not traveling alone which is a huge plus for me because even though I can and do enjoy being a solitary person at times, going places on airplanes is not something I enjoy doing solo.  Plus, being in a new city with a familiar and favorite co-worker will help to loosen the knots a bit.  But airplanes aren't the only thing freaking me out right now.

To somewhat tie into the above paragraph, I'm feeling a tad anxious about upcoming events at work.  I'm feeling pressure on some things and while it's not to the point where I'm going to start ripping my hair out, I feel short of breath at times and am finding the environment somewhat stifling.  I realize that all jobs come with stress in some way shape or form, and to go even further living a life completely free of stress is almost impossible.  How one deals with stress is paramount and can essentially be the deciding factor in whether we succeed or fail at a lot of things in our lives.  I know this, and I try to cope with my stresses and anxieties accordingly.  But sometimes.....sometimes I just get tired of coping, of feigning calmness, of not freaking out.  Sometime I just want to cry it all out and bitch and moan.  In other words, I just want to throw a good ol' fashioned tantrum. 

On the personal side of things, feeling good about everything for the most part but am slightly terrified that I recently put myself out there and have kind of been asked to do so again because a final decision has yet to be made.  I know that probably doesn't make much sense because I didn't go into much detail on this subject, but essentially this new development is like drawing out the suspension which leads me to have second thoughts which means I am slightly in danger of crawling back in my shell and not taking a chance on myself.  Of course I know that happens it will have a horrible side effect in that I will end up feeling guilty and bad about myself, which probably would be worse than the anxiety I am feeling now. 

I need some confidence and I need it pronto.  I need a way to relieve myself without resorting to mass amounts of alcohol.  I just feel a bit detached from myself right now and I need to figure out how to reel myself back in. 

I really need these knots in my stomach to go away.      

Happy Birthday!

Today is my husband's birthday.  This is the ninth of Dean's birthdays that I have had the joy and the honor to celebrate with him.  Nine.  As in almost ten.  As in almost a decade.  As in where the hell as the time gone?

If you have been tuning into my posts on a somewhat regular basis you already are aware that Dean received his birthday present early, so alas, I am like the Little Drummer Boy with no gift to bring......except for the edible kind.  Last night I baked red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting, and tonight after we more than likely go out to dinner we will come home and feast on these sinfully sugary, delicious creations until we can stand it no more.  My sweet tooth can hardly wait.

Dean never gets too excited about his birthday, or at least not outwardly excited.  Of course, for those of you who know Dean this more or less describes his demeanor on a day to day basis.  In a way, my husband and I are like two sides to two very different coins.  He seems to wear a perma-Poker face while I am forever displaying my emotions.  Except of course when it comes to sports.  If you want to see emotion you should have seen his face last weekend as we were watching the Giants vs. 49'ers game.....now that really put him through the ringer.    

I for one see birthdays as a wonderful time to remind people how much we care about them and appreciate their role in our lives.  To celebrate them and all their wonderful qualities.  And when it comes to wonderful qualities, my husband has quite a surplus.

When I met Dean we were both just kids in college, trying to navigate our way through the chaos that inevitably comes with being a young adult.  I knew from the first night I met Dean that we were going to be together for a long time.  I also knew after that first meeting that he was one of the most wonderful, decent people I had ever met.  Maybe that sounds unconvincing, and maybe some of you out there are rolling your eyes, but it's the truth.   

I've loved Dean almost since the day I met him, for a lot of big reasons and for hundreds of smaller ones.  I love him for his honesty, his thoughtfulness, and his seemingly never-ending patience.  I love that when I am anxious and freaking out about one thing or another he is there to calm me down, to always keep his cool.   

I love my husband for not being afraid to speak his mind, for being someone who is not afraid to point out wrongdoing and work to make amends.  I love that when we fight he forces me to talk things out so we don't  go to bed angry, that he is always willing to go the extra mile, to lend a helping hand, to not shy away from something he wants just because it might require some work.   I love that he's not afraid to be silly and spontaneous, that he's able to admit mistakes. 

What I love the most, what I am most excited about, is that we are on a journey together.  We have come so far since that first night we met, and have grown together as individuals and as a couple.  We are building a life, a family, a home together that might not always be perfect, but that has been filled with so much happiness I wouldn't trade a single day for anything.  I am thankful for my husband because he makes me a better person, and instills in me a confidence that no matter what challenges we might face, we will come through it all still in love and still together. 

So happy birthday to my one and only.  Here's to you and everything you are and have yet to become.  I love you more each and every day.    

Follow me.....please?

Don't be shy.  Don't be afraid.  Don't worry about what might happen if you decide to click on the "Follow" button and officially follow my blog.  I promise, it won't hurt a bit. 

If there are any anonymous readers out there who drop in on this blog from time to time, go ahead and make my day by becoming an official follower.  Do your part in helping to abolish my insecurities. 

In all seriousness, what's it gonna hurt?  I promise this is the only time I'll ask this of you because I'm not prone to begging.....even though I am sorta kinda begging right now, but let's just set that aside for the time being, shall we?

This is my plea, my big ask for the day.  If you follow me I can't very well guarantee where we will end up, but I'm sure it will be an interesting journey.   

So let's get going, shall we?

On random acts of kindness

Winter finally hit the Palouse, and last week it bitch slapped up pretty hard.  Snow, wind, ice, all the fun weather that I wish we could experience year-round but that eventually gives way to sun, summer, and non-studded tires (please tell me the sarcasm was evident there?)

When the snow first hit my immediate thought was, "Damn!  Should have let Dean buy that snow blower."  But once I got over that I grabbed a shovel and headed outside to chuck the snow out of our slightly steep driveway.  For anyone who has never shoveled snow I can sum it up in precisely two words.  It.  Sucks.  I told myself that on the bright side I was getting double the exercise and keeping my arm muscles in prime condition, but even that wasn't enough to keep my spirits up. 

Fast forward to Saturday.  Dean and I are outside shoveling for the ump-teenth time trying to clear away all the snow piled up from the snow plow so I can get my car out of the driveway, when we are approached by one of our neighbors across the street who is offering to help us with the shoveling.  At first Dean tried to play the hero and said we could handle it, but the young man insisted and so the three of us began to shovel away.  And you know what I thought?

"What a nice guy."

I also felt a tiny pang of guilt, because I had definitely seen this particular guy out shoveling his own driveway on several occasions, and my thought hadn't been to go over and help him out but instead to go back in the house because it was freaking freezing outside.  Ouch.  I fail in the category of being a good neighbor.  

Unsolicited kindness always seems like such a surprise, probably because most of us go about our days and don't expect it.  In a lot of ways we have become a self-serve society, and we try not to depend on other people for too much if we can absolutely help it.  This also creates a counter effect in that we also don't expect much from the people around us.  Inevitably, our expectations of strangers and even people we know are slightly lowered.

I have always wanted to be the type of person who radiates kindness, who is always there to pick someone up and to lend a helping hand.  I've gotten better over the years but I'm afraid I still have a long way to go.  Most of the time with me it's not a lack of caring but a lack of effort, and I'm trying very hard to get over the idea that it's too exhausting to make these kind gestures, especially when they are least expected. 

I was and am quite thankful for the young man with the snow shovel who came to our aid this past weekend.  He inspired me to exhibit the same kindness toward someone I may or may not know, simply on the basis of being a nice person.  A random act of kindness should never go unreturned.  It's time to start paying it forward.   

On giving gifts

My husband and I agree on a number of things, but we are usually somewhat at odds on the subject of gift giving.  I am a big fan of giving gifts, big and small, for holidays, birthdays, or just for the heck of it.  I enjoy the challenge of finding the perfect present for someone although I will admit there are times when my mind is so void of ideas it can cause moments of frustration.  Of course when that happens I feel even better when I finally do come across a gift worthy of giving.

I was raised to believe that there are certain rules to giving gifts.  Not necessarily set in stone, but rules nonetheless.  For instance, you can't open gifts early.  Yes there are sometimes exceptions to this rule but for the most part you should wait until the given day of celebration before unveiling any gifts.  I have also always believed that gift cards should only be used as a last resort, or maybe as an addition to the overall gift.  I don't know where this idea stemmed from....maybe because I never really received gift cards as part of any regular gift cache, but I always want to hunt for any other type of gift before giving into the plastic cards.  Speaking of cards, I'm also a firm believer of including them (paper ones) along with the gift.  In fact, I have a card collection....so that I will hopefully never be caught in a situation where I can't produce an adorable greeting card for any given occasion.

This particular subject is on my mind because Thursday just happens to be my husband's birthday.  I actually got him a really fantastic gift this year (seat covers for his truck that he has been coveting for two years), but the manner in which he received his present was rather anti-climactic.  First of all, he knew what I was getting him because I had to consult him before placing the order to make sure I was getting the right kind of covers.  Strike one against the element of surprise.  Secondly, he saw the package after it had been delivered and was practically chomping at the bit to open up the box and put the covers to use.  Strike two against early gift giving.  I protested and attempted to put up a fight.  I wanted to wrap the box, give it to him on his birthday, and watch as he feigned surprise after opening.  That's another one of my rules, by the way.  Even when you know what you're getting, you damned well better act surprised.  It's just part of the song and dance. 

In the end I conceded.  The odds weren't in my favor.  Dean wasn't at all bothered by the lack of ceremony surrounding his birthday gift, but it's been lingering in the back of my head since last week.  No surprise, no wrapping paper, and he received his present over a week in advance.  Major fail.  

Does anybody else share my OCD feeling on giving gifts?  Does the process matter as much as the actual gift?  For me, the process is half the fun, so maybe I'm being selfish in my desire to stick to these "rules."  Then again, they do say anything worth doing is worth doing right.....

Oh, and by the way.  I didn't fail on all my rules.  Because my husband will still have one hell of a birthday card to open come Thursday morning.  So I guess I've got that going for me.   

On free days

I didn't have to go to work yesterday.  They closed down the campus due to severe winter weather, which meant I got to stay home all day long and do, well, whatever I wanted!

It was a free day.  Not a weekend, or staying home sick, but a day where I should have been at work but instead was told to stay put, stay in your pajamas, stay comfortable. 

Free days like this, little unexpected yet highly wished for gifts, are in a way better than the weekend.  They're better because they aren't routine, aren't supposed to happen, and when they do the opportunities seem endless.  It's like being in elementary school and instead of having to sit through a science lesson you instead are given "free time" to do whatever you want.  And because you have the teacher's (or in this case, your boss's) permission, there aren't any guilty feelings attached.  Win win! 

So how did I spend my free day?  I lay on the couch and drank coffee, I ran three miles on my treadmill while watching reruns of The Office, I played in the snow with my beagles and even did some snow shoveling, then I took a super warm shower and plopped back down on the couch with my pups to watch old episodes of Grey's Anatomy.  In between all of that I finished the second book in the Hunger Games series, did some laundry, and even cleaned the downstairs bathroom.  I topped off my free day by cooking some delicious manacotti for dinner.  I'm telling you kids, I could do this homemaker thing with absolutely no problems.

I know I have written before about time, specifically the time that belongs solely to us, where we have the freedom to do as much or as little as we want.  Yesterday was one of those glorious days where time that normally did not belong me suddenly was given back, and even though I still got up early like any normal work day, just knowing that I did not have to leave my house or that I was obligated to do anything at all the entire day was such an absolute joy. 

Do I sound lazy?  I sure hope not.  I personally believe I am the complete opposite of lazy.  I'm simply trying to drive home the point that free time is just as great as an adult as it was in elementary school.  Maybe even better.  

On putting yourself out there

Today I took a step.  A small step toward something I want to do, toward something that makes me happy.  I've opened myself up to rejection, to criticism, and to possible praise.  I have taken the initiative towards bettering myself as a writer.  I don't want to go into too many specifics because, well, I don't know anything yet and won't for a few more weeks.  But I saw a chance and I took it, hoping for nothing but the best. 

Honestly?  I feel a bit queasy.

I'm not good at putting myself out there.  Myself or my writing.  I don't share my stories with many people unless it is required of me, and when I think of people, of strangers, pouring over my words and my thoughts I feel a tad exposed.  

And yet I have this blog, where I do in face share parts of myself, of my thoughts, with who knows how many people on a weekly basis.  I guess I have always felt like on this blog I exist in the slightest form of anonymity.  I also tell myself that no one reads my blog, which adds a level of security to hitting the "Publish Post" button at the end of each entry.  And maybe it's true.  Maybe nobody reads these words except me.  

But then again, maybe people do.  Maybe my words are already reaching more people than I assume they are. 

Most of this is really a confidence issue.  I am my own worst critic and while sometimes I think something I write is good, when I think about someone else reading it or lots of someone else s reading it I immediately decide it isn't good enough. 

It's also a fear issue.  Writing is my "big dream."  It's what I aspire to do.  What happens if I'm not good enough?  If I try and try only to get the door slammed in my face time and time again?

I understand that I'll never get anywhere with this if I don't take chances and don't open myself up for failure.  But it is oh so very scary.  On a small level, on a big level, it is frighting.  I have always had trouble breaking out of my comfort zone, so I know this will take some getting used to.  I know I'm going to have to keep letting people in, letting my words get out, and hoping that they won't fall on deaf ears. 

I know that writing is a very conditional medium, and what is good to one person may be not so good for another.  So if I want to write I am going to have to get used to the idea that there will be pitfalls, bad reviews, and maybe downright rude responses.  And if I let that bother me then who am I really writing for?

Hopefully I will have some good news to share on here soon.  And if not, I will have disappointing news to share.  Either way I have taken a step.  And here's hoping I can continue to take a few more.

On being quiet

I get told all the time how quiet I am.  By friends, family, colleagues, and it's been this way my entire life.  At 27 I definitely feel that I am more vocal than I was at say, 13, but generally speaking I truly am a quiet girl. 

I get annoyed at times by this generalization.  How is one supposed to respond to this accusation?  Because that is what I usually take it as....an accusation.  There is no question in the statement "You sure are quiet", and yet I always feel my accuser is looking for some kind of response, some kind of explanation, and to be honest I usually find this annoying.  As a kid I would usually just shrug my shoulders, blush, and maybe mutter some kind of rebuttal.  As an adult, I smile, nod, and usually say, "Yes I am."

Am I too sensitive about this?  It doesn't bother me that I am a quiet person but is it a problem to the people around me?  I guess I'm just not sure if I should be insulted by this typecasting or take it as just a spoken out loud observation of one of my character traits.  

This quietness has been a trait of mine since I was a kid.  Sure, I could be loud and outspoken with the right group of people, but for the most part I liked to observe, to keep to myself, or to only indulge ideas and confidences with individuals one-on-one.  I had no qualms about speaking in class but it wasn't something I felt compelled to do all the time.  I also had no fear of asking questions, but again I preferred the one-on-one setting as opposed to a large group.  

I have to wonder if my quiet nature is somehow tied in with reading and writing, two things I obviously love to do but that are both very solitary acts.  Very quiet acts.  I have always felt most confident about speaking and expressing my opinions after I have had time to think them through completely and internalize my thoughts.  I am a person who needs that time to process, to analyze, before making a definite conclusion.  And again I ask, is this a bad thing?  

Sometimes I think people assume that because of my quiet nature I must not have any thoughts, opinions, or ideas.  Maybe they assume that by calling me out on my quietness it will prompt me to open up the floodgates and release a torrent of words that otherwise would have been hidden for all eternity.  But when someone says to me "You're so quiet" it truly has the opposite effect.  In fact, it usually adds a degree of pressure to future interactions, and I feel as if I have to say something, anything, just to try and prove them wrong.  But does saying anything take the place of saying something substantial?  Is an obvious and lacking statement better than saying nothing at all?  I for one don't think so.  

I know I'm not the only one out there who has been given the quiet girl label.  And while I realize that some situations more or less require me to break out of my quiet shell, it doesn't mean that I have to be that way all the time.  I consider myself a thoughtful person, but not all of those internal thoughts need to be shared and spoken aloud.  I derive great pleasure from solitary activities such as my reading and writing, and both of these activities for me are at their most wonderful when they can be done in a calm, quiet environment. 

Calm.  Quiet.  Maybe in this case beauty is in the eye of the beholder.     

They're back......

In case you hadn't heard, Jersey Shore is back for its fifth roller coaster season.  That's right, those guidos and guidettes you love to hate are back in the U.S. and still up to no good in Seaside Heights. 

I love me some good bad TV, and Jersey Shore is just one of those things that once you start, you just can't stop, even if you want to.  At this point the show is cruising along like a speeding train that doesn't realize the tracks are out up ahead.  Which means before too long the whole thing is just going to crash, and it's not going to be pretty. 

Not that things have been very good looking up to this point. 

For awhile all the clubbing, roommate drama, hook ups, and crazy pranks were kind of funny.  But after a few seasons of Ron and Sam screaming at each other, Snooki's drinking getting crazy out of control, and Mike continuing to act like the worlds biggest trash bag ever, it's all starting to get a bit old....and a bit sad.

Some of these case members are pushing 30 years old, which to my 27 year old mind translates to "maybe you're too old to be acting like you're on your 21 run every single time you go out partying."  Or, maybe I'm just a buzz-kill.

I have a theory that people (and by people I mean me) watch shows like Jersey Shore to make themselves feel better about their own lives.  Especially when the show passes that "fun" point and simply becomes a viewing area of total self destruction.  It sounds sick but I think there's some kind of reaffirming quality to watching shows where, to our perception, the people appear to be completely dysfunctional.  Ugh, yes, that does sound completely awful.      

Jersey Shore is just one more prime example of popular culture making celebrities (rich ones, no less) out of people who have not an ounce of talent and who have become famous for pretty much no reason at all.  But it's kind of a fascinating phenomenon, isn't it?  Within the span of a couple years phrases like GTL, grenade whistle, and t-shirt time have become commonplace and easily recognized by people everywhere.  Which means that this "reality" show has literally taken on a life of its own.  I suppose if I really want to complain about people like the Jersey Shore cast being famous I have no one to blame but myself, because like millions of other Americans I tuned in last night to see the beginning of what I pray will be the last season of this show. 

But as I mentioned above we all need a little bad TV in our lives.  And it looks like for the foreseeable future Jersey Shore will continue to be mine. 

On a new year

I know I'm a few days late, but welcome to 2012!  The start of a new year always makes me a bit giddy.  I get excited about hanging up a new calendar, seeing all the days yet to come, all the opportunity that lies ahead.  There's no reason not to feel this way at any other time during the year, but starting at the beginning of something just makes it all feel a bit more real. 

I haven't really made New Year's resolutions for a few years now.  Not because there isn't anything I aspire to change about myself, but because every year and during all the months throughout the year I am always trying to improve upon myself in some way.  But the start of a new year is also a good time to remind myself of those ongoing resolutions.....all those ideals I strive to incorporate.

Overall I am still trying to be a more forgiving person.  To be a more honest person.  And to be a less judgmental person.  I strive everyday to be the type of person that sees the good and the beauty in others, and to also identify those qualities in myself.  Sometimes I get too caught up in the little details that don't matter, and I lose sight of the big picture.  I hope in the year to come I can keep focus on the big picture and not worry about the little things that aren't going to matter a year or even a month from now.   

If I can accomplish all these things I'll be practically perfect, huh? 

It's kind of a running joke that most people abandon their New Year's resolutions by the end of January, some people even sooner than that.  This mostly applies to resolutions involving exercise, but I'm sure there are others that fall into that realm as well.  It's so easy, so refreshing to start the year off with a new outlook and a new routine.  Maybe that's part of the shine that January 1st evokes.  But it doesn't take long for that shine to wear off, does it?  It's a hard, hard thing to dedicate yourself to something for 365 straight days.

When our goals, our resolutions, are new it's exciting and challenging to think about tackling these new endeavors we set for ourselves.  But when certain things don't come to us as easy as we think they should, or when too much time goes by and we still aren't as far along as we want to be, sometimes we choose to take the easy way out and just....give up.  Then as more time goes by and another new year approaches we see another chance.  Another opportunity to try again. 

I'm not trying to be a downer.  I'm not trying to say that resolutions made at the beginning of a new year are a waste of time, or that they can't be accomplished.  I guess I'm just hoping that by addressing the new year's resolution phenomenon I myself can somehow avoid it. 

Ultimately it's up to us.  Whether or not we make our resolutions stick.  Sometimes I think that's where the letdown comes.  We say these things, these things about ourselves we want to change or improve, but then we don't take the actions, or enough actions, to make them happen.  

Determination.  Dedication.  Maybe I'll try to work on these qualities as well.