The Warrior Dash

A theme in my general dissatisfaction with life centers on a lack of a sense of accomplishment. I married a great guy, graduated from college, took care of my college math requirement with my SAT score, got more scholarship money for my college than it cost two of my siblings to go to their college of choice, was captain of my high school's colorguard; I've become a professional-grade bellydancer in three years, making my own costume pieces; I can eat fresh veggies out of my garden any week of the year; I landed a generous job with a completely unrelated degree because of my voracious learning style on the job. But I have no sense of accomplishment. It feels like all those things I've done are things I should have done earlier or better (except for the marriage thing, but that's a love I fell into because my guardian angel pushed me.)

So, I need a victory to jump start things. I've decided that I'll be running the Warrior Dash when it comes near. What is the Warrior Dash?It's a 6k obstacle course. And by 'obstacle', I mean a field of junk cars that you have to scramble over or a 30' tall pyramid of round hay bales. I've given myself a generous (or at least realistic) amount of time to train, and I believe I'll have the training planned out within a week or so. I just hope the Warrior Dash weekend doesn't collide with the schedule for the yoga teacher training I'm planning on, which starts in the same month. It's possible, because they're yoga folks, that they would see what this victory represents in my life and would let me complete that weekend of training in the following term, or its possible that they would say any attachment I have to this competition is just causing me to suffer so I should sacrifice that attachment to my true path. But you know, either way I won't have to make that decision for a few months. Maybe the training will nudge my brain into a better place and my desire to have a single capstone victory experience will fade. Or maybe I need to decide to do something that happenstance hasn't guided me to, to see my own heart. I'll go with that theory for now, because 30-some years of happenstance just isn't working yet. (except for my Knight in Shining. And no, he won't be running with me.)

living the change

College promised me that doing the smart thing would set me up for happiness. I look at my dropout friends, and heck my cousin who was given a social graduation from high school, and I gotta say -- Liars! These folks have kids. Sure, they can't drop cash to replace the car when it slips a rod on the freeway, and they've never been to Disneyworld, but those seem small potatoes in comparison.

The most recent expression of "the smart thing" is what we're doing now: staying in Small City rather than potentially moving to Big City in the middle of Nowhere. The potential new boss was not forthcoming with enough information to let us decide for ourselves what kind of a lifestyle change this would be, and we figured out that dropping out before the offer was better for company politics than rejecting an insufficient offer, so here we are.

And where are we? Safe, in Small City, still dreaming and still risk adverse. But slightly more curious about our current ability, with no promotion, to change our lives. It's a good place to be in. It's a smart place to be in.

Now, if only my employer would decide they don't need as many of me, and give me a month or so of unemployment benefits so I could change my career. . .

I need to stop hoping for externals, and hope for courage, resolve, and valor. It's time to really be smart.

to go, or not to go

My Knight in Shining was told about a promotion opportunity at work that would take us far away from our comfy location here in Small City to a big city in the middle of nowhere where the cost of getting a comparable home would be more than 4x our current mortgage. As extra spice, there's almost a guarantee I would not be able to find comparable work because we are members of a marginalized race there, and because it's very much in the middle of nowhere and so expensive to live there, jobs are pretty much the most desirable commodity. Therefore they pay less, not more, than jobs here. In doing some research on things like cost of living and commute time and other basic quality of life questions, we discovered that things having to do with the natural world (hours of sunlight, climate, places to hike, etc) are wonderful, but the things having to do with people (economy, politics, traffic, etc) are . . . disgusting.
Basically if he were offered this and the promotion quadrupled his paycheck we'd be able to squeeze out something resembling our current lifestyle, and maybe in 5 years we'd be able to move back to a place with a more rational take on life and get on with the Big Plan of Kids. And in those five years I'd have sunshine support like I'd never had before, so the lack of garden or belly dance simultaneous with a lack of job might end up working in my favor. At least, it's a prospect I'm having a hard time ignoring now with winter setting in.
Would you trade in a pear tree in your front yard for an avocado tree in a large pot on a condominium deck? Hmmm. Will it actually get us closer to the goal? Ideally, we'd look at the salary they offer, notice that we could live on that in Big City, but decide to live that frugally here in Small City instead. I used to have frugal instincts. I need to find them again.

. . . is the only thing that matters

So, I was reading Hyperbole and a Half the other day, watching Allie recount a story of determination outweighing good sense in the very young, and I (as many of Allie's readers do) saw much of my adult self in her childhood. How many times do I fixate on something that's going to ruin the rest of my day? As an adult it's much worse -- not only should I know better, but usually the object of my fixation isn't even something with immediate gratification. It's not delicious cake with marshmallow animal sculptures, but it's the horrible, horrible fellow commuter who didn't use a turn signal to warn me I was about to be cut off. It's the fact that I slept in again rather than going to my yoga mat. It's the new facebook video game. I don't usually tolerate video games, but for some reason if you make it look like a medieval castle and imply I'm responsible for the well being of hundreds of nameless peasants, I'm liable to try it (and feel guilty if my peasants get raided later on when I inevitably abandon the game.)

So this week I'm trying something different. I'm taking a full break from the video game, I'm deliberately sleeping in and shifting my workout to after I get home from the office, and I'm re-opening this blog to the public. After all, there's a particular brand of complaint that you just can't share with people you know, and your only options are to hire a therapist or write a blog.

I make no pretensions that I will be posting regularly or interestingly. I will share my failures more often than my victories, and some day (when I get more victories) I'll open a completely unrelated blog and probably never tell anyone here about it. I am about to see if there is healing to be found in anonymity, and low expectations.

money isn't everything. . .

Yeah, well, neither is oxygen. Just because something isn't sufficient, doesn't mean it isn't necessary. You just have to figure out what's the best way to get it, and whether you're over-efforting the getting of it.
I could go after a master's degree. That should increase my ability to earn a salary on my own terms. But -- financially, temporally -- would it be worth it? Is there an even exchange there, or is there something other than advanced education that's holding me back the most?

My new mantra for the next few weeks is "it isn't supposed to be easy". I need to better acclimate myself to this one.

what do you believe

I've decided my calling is not to be employed full time outside the home. Really, I'm called to be a parent. There is no justification for the distraction of me working here, except for the mortgage and the cushy lifestyle we've desired and become accustomed to. And he and I have talked about it: if we had a kid, it would be financially irresponsible of me to quit. I'm not going to be an irresponsible parent, either, and I'm not going to pay a stranger to play peek-a-boo with my baby because I didn't figure out how to get this done right.

I hate spring. I can ignore this calling at other times of the year. But really, should I? I mean, my mom was right. I feel like crap in the springtime, and it's because I'm a married 33-year-old Catholic woman with no kids. In fact, deliberately medicating myself to keep from having kids. My life is wrong, fundamentally. And there's no easy way to make it right.

It's not supposed to be easy, is it?

flat on my face

Man, and I thought I was doing well. Nothing like a stomach flu to rip me away from the exercise and diet I've devised to keep me emotionally stable. So I was crying at mass on Easter Sunday (the 2nd time this month; at least I was able to keep it together enough to stick around this time), and again listening to "Defying Gravity" on the drive up to the in-laws. When it hurts, it hurts every time my spirit stirs, like it's trapped among broken glass. And I forget or ignore the things that sweep the glass away. I'm smart enough, at least, to recognize what's going on and not do anything stupidly drastic . . .
Wow, did I marry the right guy. I fell in love with him in the middle of an emotional identity crisis (to study abroad in Paris, or to stay and find out if he was the One?) -- he didn't freak out, and he never has. He reminds me how useful it is to think rationally, and that I *can* think even when my feel is so off.
I am sincerely looking forward to bellydancing tonight, and hoping for Silver Creek Falls this weekend. Gotta get out of this cage.