On Anxiety and Introversion

Y'all, I hate being an introvert. I want to be the person to start conversations or join in one. I hate sitting on the sidelines observing others chatting away. But that's what I am: an observer. Because of my empathy, I find it overwhelming to talk to so many people, so I observe. Because of my introversion, I am exhausted after being surrounded by a large group, but I don't mind. Because of my anxiety, I'm constantly questioning what I want to say or what I did say. I am the kind of person who will be anxious over something I said that I thought was weird for days. I will ask myself why I say or do things that can be construed as creepy or weird or annoying and chastise myself for continuing to do so. What that leaves me with is nothing to say.

This week, I have found myself in multiple situations that call upon my above flaws. I feel these things over social media as well. If I message someone that I don't have their number and they don't give it to me, I think they obviously don't want to interact with me. I will reach out to moms on Instagram and if they don't reply, I question if I came on too strong. IRL I hate walking around large groups of people basically waiting for a conversation I can join in and I just seem to be lurking. And the worst is when you're talking to someone and someone else comes to talk to them and they start having a conversation completely irrelevant to you so you just turn around and kind of disappear.

What it boils down to is my brain. That sounds weird but let me explain. My thoughts run at 160 miles/minute. As I am in these social situations, I remember times that I've embarrassed myself or heard of an embarrassing situation and I try to avoid that. I think back to 3rd grade when I was told at a sleepover that I was too loud, so I try and speak quietly. I think back to Kindergarten when I was told, "If you don't have something nice to say, don't say anything at all," which I've translated to, "If you don't have something constructive to say, don't say anything." I think back to sometime in elementary school when I tried to tell my church leaders I had a wedgie but said "hickey" for some reason, and they obviously gave me a weird look. I think back to every whisper in my direction, every strange look, every denied text or turned shoulder, and I get anxious. My husband and I have a routine that when we go out, he is the ice breaker and I hit the home run. It's not that I won't talk, I'm just too nervous to start the conversation. So Stephen will introduce us, do the small talk (oh, the agony!), find some common ground which is when I step in and knock stout of the park. But he isn't home a lot so I find myself growing in situations I'm sure are a million times worse in my head, but I have no one to ground me. Another part of this feeling is this generation. We are so used to instant gratification that we freak out when someone doesn't answer our text within 5 minutes. I know my love language is Words of Affirmation, and I need people to verbally quell my anxieties and fears in order to stop them. If I make a big purchase and I'm nervous about Stephen's reaction, the minute he blows it off or justifies it, my heart stops pounding and I can breathe again. When I get verbal feedback on my work, I am always so relieved to at least know what the other person is thinking. Anytime I'm asked which superpower I would want, I always say to read people's minds. I wouldn't need to fish for verbal confirmation. I hate fishing, but I don't have the confidence to ask outright if someone could help me get a job or to tell me how my work is improving.

Even now as I type, I am wondering if I should even continue this post. I ask my self what the purpose is for typing this. Am I even going to publish it? Sometimes I just have to do it. I just have to suck it up and start a conversation. Sometimes I have to bite the bullet and make the difficult phone call (anyone else have a hard time talking to some people on the phone?). So I hope this crazy mess of word vomit can help someone somehow just know they're not alone. If anything, it was a nice venting session.

On Gender Identity

So the other day, Hubby was loading D in the car and I was in the passenger seat. I heard the woman from the car next to us ask if D was a boy or a girl. Stephen politely responded and finished buckling D in. When he joined me in the driver's seat, I told him, "Man, I really hate it when people ask that." He asked me why because he didn't mind answering, so I thought about it. I didn't really mind answering either, but I knew it was something deeper. The issue is two-fold: the identity factor and the societal factor.

First of all, D looks like a boy. To me (and my friends and family) he has some distinctive boy features. But that isn't the issue. For the first question to be about his gender is to prioritize that over anything else. His being a boy is more important than his name or age. A more appropriate question might be "What is their name?" which will usually tell you if they are a boy or girl. And if it doesn't, what is so important about a stranger knowing the gender of my baby? Once that becomes an important identity factor, it can become easy to adhere to society's "rules" about that specific gender, which leads me to the second factor.

God dictates gender. Some of you may disagree and that is fine, but I believe that it is up to God to form us as He desires. He gave me a male baby, and he will always be a male. But society decides HOW that gender is defined (http://thebringitonmom.blogspot.com/2017/03/on-gender-stereotyping.html). If a girl is going through a phase when she likes race cars and playing baseball or whatever typical "boy" interests are, it doesn't mean she identifies as a boy; she is just a girl who likes race cars and baseball. If D decides he likes princesses and playing with my makeup, I'm not going to jump to the conclusion that he was supposed to have been born a girl, because God would have handled that. I will support him whether he wants to be a drummer, a football player, a broadway star, or a ballerina. I will tell him that boys can dance just as well as girls and girls can play baseball just as well as boys. If D is wearing his amber necklace and a bonnet, I am not dressing him like a girl. I hope Daxton never feels like  he can't do something because of how he was born. And he doesn't need to change; he is perfect how God made him. 

No person is going to tell him he can't do something because he is a boy, and if they do, well they will really regret it after talking to me. When I was younger, my family went on a camping trip with other families from our church. I was DEEP in my tomboy phase, climbing trees and running around with the boys. One of the dads was leading a hike, and I went along. When we got to the end, the tip of the mountain we were hiking, I was told I couldn't go all the way to the top because I was a girl. I was dumbfounded and still scarred to this day. Obviously, Dax will know he can't go in the girls bathroom, dressing room, etc., but anything society deems just for girls or just for boys will not be a thing in our home. I like dressing Dax in gender/color neutral clothing, and I definitely regret painting his room blue. I am so excited to see what truly interests him.

On Baby Led Weaning

So I have been receiving a LOT of interest regarding my baby-feeding methods, so I thought I should address it widely for future reference. This is my take and opinion on baby-led weaning (BLW). There are a ton of other sources to get info from regarding this method and other baby-feeding methods. The book I read and will reference is Baby-Led Weaning: The Essential Guide to Introducing Solid Foods and Helping Your Baby to Grow Up a Happy and Confident Eater by Gill Rapley and Tracey Murkett.

First, I need to thank Georgia for telling me about this book and then dropping it off at my doorstep. You are so amazing and you've done so much for our little fam! Ah my mind is so excited to talk about this, I feel like this is going to be the most disorganized post, so bear with me. I am going to try to break this up a lot.

BACKSTORY
We started feeding D at 4 months. He was grabbing for our plates and succeeding because he is so dang strong! We knew he wanted food and he wanted to eat with the big kids. So we gave him purees, because that is what I thought we were supposed to do. My father-in-law would joke around asking D if he wanted some of his food when he was hungry and we were all trying to eat and we had to pass D around and eat dinner together. I was horrified at just the thought of a baby getting real food. He can't chew that! While I do think 4 months is too early to have started BLW, I didn't know it was a thing until my friend, Georgia, said something to me about it when D was 5 months, 3 weeks. I COMPLETELY changed my way of thinking and am literally never going back. BLW does not promote purees, but I actually like the way we did it, since D was early on the desire for food and clearly showing all the signs, but his stomach was not ready. I feel the purees was a good way for him to begin to explore taste. We never regarded the purees as a "meal" rather and "adventure". I think BLW is more than a method, it is a mindset.

BABY-LED WEANING?
Okay, so what the heck is baby-led weaning. It is NOT weaning your baby off anything. It is simply weaning your baby onto solid food. The "baby-led" part means that your baby is in control (for the most part). This is a method of introducing solid foods into a baby's life and allowing them to learn to feed their self. So what ever you choose to feed baby, you won't actually feed him. It goes on his highchair (or a plate if you hate yourself), and he can pick and choose what goes in his mouth, hence the term "baby-led". If you put quinoa, banana, and eggs on your baby's highchair and you notice all the banana and eggs are gone, but the quinoa is just there (probably all over the highchair), chances are baby didn't like it. But don't fret, try again! Because baby will keep wanting to explore food, he will keep tasting what you give him. If he continues to refuse quinoa every time you put it down, then he for sure isn't into it. But you know this because HE TOLD YOU. Also, BLW skips the rice cereal. I don't know about you, but I usually prefer Honey-Nut Cheerios to regular Cheerios, or BBQ chips to regular ones. As adults, we crave flavor. A baby is no different. Baby's are born with more taste buds than an adult. If rice cereal is a first food, they will come to learn of flavorless foods and prefer a bland diet. This is how BLW diversifies food for a baby and produces less picky eaters.

BABY EATS WHEN YOU EAT
BLW allows you to eat at the same time as baby so there is no hand-off, first mom eats, then dad eats. This is probably one of my favorite things now. I used to be petrified at the thought of taking D to a restaurant. When we did, we had to bring toys and pray that he wouldn't fuss, because then we would end up holding him in our lap while we tried to eat. In fact, my sister and I once went to Smoke BBQ and had to take turns feeding him while the other ate. She ended up taking him outside so he wouldn't disturb the other patrons. I felt so embarrassed! Now, we put D in a highchair and give him some of our food. Last week, I took D out and asked the server to bring us extra peppers for D to gnaw on. It was perfect! He ate, I ate, we were happy. Also, I love when people are stunned by how well he eats and behaves. When someone asks "Won't he choke, I am more than happy to explain to them that he is equipped with the knowledge to spit out his food once it gets too far back. All babies are. Babies intrinsically know how to latch onto the breast when they are born, just as they know to spit out a piece of food that they cannot swallow. This allows them to learn to chew, a complex motion if you think about it. Watching D learn all of this and figure it out brings my such joy and pride! I look forward to our meals together now. I love being able to eat with my baby. We eat breakfast in the kitchen every morning and lunch and dinner in the dining room. It is our time to spend together and as he gets older, this will already be something he is used to and it will be our norm. We will discuss life and friends and what we are doing/have done that day.

NO PUREES
What do you feed baby? Solids. Not purees. True "what Mama is eating" solids. Baby eats what you eat which allows baby to feel included. There is no mess or planning as there is with making or buying purees. You don't even have to worry about stages. Baby is capable of putting food in his own mouth. Baby will gnaw on whatever you give him. Any pieces that come off will most often be spat out. D has come to be able to chew and suck on his food enough to swallow it, but most of the time he spits it back out. When D eats peppers (I'm convinced these are his favorite) he is able to break apart pieces, but he still doesn't swallow. Choking hazard? Well, apparently babies gag reflex is closer to the front of their mouth when they are born and slowly moves back as they develop. Whether you want to trust/depend on this or not, babies automatically spit out food when they start to gag on it. The gaging can be scary at first, but watching baby learn from it is amazing! Just now, D was gnawing on an apple slice. He was able to break a piece off (he doesn't have teeth, how the heck does he do it?!) and I was SO nervous, watching him with unblinking eyes as he sucked on this bit that ended up in his mouth. Watching his eyes as he tried to figure it out was so cool. I could see his emotions and I could tell he was learning something new. He knew not to swallow it and to keep it away from the back of his throat, but he was having trouble getting it out of his mouth. He looked at me and started to cry. I took it out for him, and he put it back in! He was determined to master the apple! The key to BLW is (obviously, I should HAVE to say this) DO NOT LEAVE YOUR BABY UNATTENDED. Really, when your baby is eating anything baby should not be left unattended. Especially with solid food, please watch your baby. Especially because its fun!

We LOVE banana pancakes!

Banana pancakes-1 banana, 2 eggs. Mash, whisk, cook, cool, serve.

FOOD EXPLORATION
The best part; baby is STILL BREASTFEEDING! I know Daxton is getting all the nutrients he needs from me, I don't have to obsess over how much he is eating and I can allow him to decide when he is done with a meal or when he wants more. This allows food to be fun. He won't get upset when I try to feed him and he won't eat anymore. As he continues this BLW journey, he will learn that food is something that makes him feel full. He will then slowly want to breastfeed less and less and want solids more and more. Again, refer to the term "baby-led". If I have learned anything from my 6 month journey of motherhood, I have learned that life is so much easier when you follow your baby's cues. In no way am I saying do what baby says, baby is boss; I am simply imploring you to watch your baby and see what their preference is and maybe work with them. Let your baby tell you when they are ready for certain foods and they will be much easier to feed in the future!

THE MESS
The downside to BLW? Holy cow, it is SO messy! I feel terrible because of course I am the one who began our family down this BLW journey, and my oh so loving and devoted husband quickly learned how messy it is and is now, he is always ready after a meal with the broom and WetJet. We realized it would probably work in our favor to get a less bulky, easier to clean high chair and a mat for under the high chair so that messes would be a breeze to clean.

So this is my take on BLW. I know there is so much more I didn't talk about, so ask questions! I really feel like I should stress the importance of checking ingredients in foods and buying organic, especially produce, eggs, and dairy. Check out the EWG's list of top dirty foods to buy organic (https://www.ewg.org/foodnews/dirty_dozen_list.php). My family is adamant about only buying organic or not at all for the dirty dozen. I HIGHLY RECOMMEND the book I mentioned earlier for any mommas or dads wanting to venture down this road! Oh no, D is crawling now and getting into the tissue box. Gotta go. Enjoy!

On Other People With My Baby

Everyone loves babies! Even the coldest person's heart will melt when a baby giggles and coos. But just because everyone loves babies and wants to see or play with them, doesn't mean I'm obligated to allow it. Now I may be the one to sound cold by not putting on a show anytime someone says, "Oh! A baby!", but I know I make a valid point and I hope others will agree. 

First things first, I have GAD, or Generalized Anxiety Disorder. This will manifest itself in many ways and different times, and not every situation is created equal. Growing up in LA, I was very much used to going somewhere, getting done what had to be done, and moving on my way. Git. 'Er. Done. But in the South, there is a completely different way of getting things done. A 20 minute LA Target trip may equal a 40 minute Southern Target trip, once you account for letting people park ahead of you, nodding to the cart guy, waving to the car letting you cross, saying hello to at least two other customers who you may or may not know, completing a conversation with your checkout clerk, and passing your cart to someone else coming in or putting it in the cart return, rather than leave it in the middle of the parking spot next to you. My social anxiety is on red alert every time I go out, and it's a bit higher with a baby. If I seem to be moving quickly and as if I don't have time, it's probably best not to stop me and try to rally me into a conversation. 

Second, if I look like I'm struggling and you want to help, then that would be awesome. But the way to help is NOT asking if I need you to hold my baby. This is not just a "first time mom" thing. This is a Stranger Danger thing. Do I believe that my neighbor is going to run off with my kid. Well, it's highly unlikely, but I'm definitely not going to roll the dice on that one. If someone reeks of cigarette smoke, I'm not going to judge you, but I'm not going to let you hold my kid either. And if you've just walked up to me out of nowhere, why on Earth would I just hand over my baby to load groceries! I can do about a million things with just one hand, so please don't "offer" to hold my baby.  

Third, small talk has never been my forte. As I said earlier, I'm a person who gets stuff done. I always have a million things to do and NEVER enough time to do them all. When people try to make small talk, my mind is already thinking of a million other more productive ways to spend my time. I don't have to sit in the middle of the frozen aisle listening to you tell me about how much caring for a baby has changed. I really would rather spend those 5 minutes of you repeating how beautiful his eyes are or how big he is on something like completing my grocery list so I can get him home for nap time. And what am I supposed to do when you tell me what is best for my child under the guise of "advice". Please be respectful of my time and my child's schedule and don't follow me around the store because I won't stop to listen to you. 

Fourth, of my baby is covered, it's for a reason. He's either cold, or it's too sunny, or he's sleeping, or I want him to sleep. I don't think it's polite to ask someone to lift the cover so you can see. If you say, "Oh, a baby!"  I'm invited to ask you if you would like to see, but I have no obligation to let you see my baby. Too often people have asked, and it constantly baffles me. I have never and would never ask a mom to do something that could potentially make her uncomfortable or annoyed. If my baby is covered, leave him be. 

Also, please, please, please do not remind me how quickly my son is going to grow up! I am very aware that my days with him as a baby are limited, and you drawing attention to that does the opposite to help that situation and makes me super emotional. Every morning, I stare at my son in melancholy knowing that all too soon, he will be too big for me to hold on my hip or to pull into the nook of my arm. Every morning, I fight tears because I don’t want him to grow up and deal with the terrors of the world, but to stay young and sweet and innocent forever. Please do not bring those emotions to the surface, because there is a strong possibility I will start crying, and being your fault, you will have to deal with it. 

Kids: you gotta love ‘em, you gotta have ‘em, but you also tend to get annoyed of them. My husband and I just went to a restaurant to eat tonight. Being a Wednesday, kids ate free. We immediately regretted our decision to visit on a Wednesday night, which is unfortunate because it is really our only night for date night. There were kids yelling at my baby, kids running into our car seat Daxton was sitting in, kids trying to touch Daxton, and kids just all around getting involved in ways they really shouldn’t. Yes, I know my baby is adorable and I also am aware that he looks like such fun to play with, but it is disrespectful to do so without permission. “But they’re just kids, they don’t know any better!” You’re right! It is the job of their parents or present caregiver to teach them respect as it pertains to their self and others. I will always make sure my son is completely respectful of all people to the best of his ability. If a child came up to me and said, “Oh, your baby looks so sweet, can I say hi?”, my heart would melt of joy and happiness. I would feel so respected and my heart would be touched. Of course I would say yes! But when a child just comes up and yells, “BABY!” to my son, I will roll my eyes in annoyance and think that his parents really need to teach him a thing or two about respect.

Finally, I have nicknames for Daxton; my husband has nicknames for Daxton. If you hear us call him something, WE ARE NOT INVITING YOU TO AS WELL. There are the typical nicknames like "Bubba" or "Dax" that are obvious for everyone to call him. My husband sometime calls him "Bug". One time, someone else called Dax "Bug", and it really hurt poor hubby's heart because it was no longer just their thing. I call Dax "Chunks" because, well, he's a chunka chunk. If everyone started calling him Chunks, it would stick and I really don't want him being called "Chunks" when he's 18. The biggest one is "Mr. Sweetface". I know, super cheesy, but my husband and I were OBSESSED with Jane the Virgin, so we stole it from there. But it's ours and it's special and one day, when he goes off to college or gets married, I'll call him "Mr. Sweetface", and he'll get annoyed and whine, "Mooooom!" That is ours and I would appreciate that it stays that way. 

I know I just complained this whole post. I stood on my soapbox and had my moment. All I'm asking for is the same respect I've always given moms and that moms should always receive. A mom usually knows what is best for her baby, and for the most part, the family dynamic needs to be respected and is not public business. So please, don't disrespect me. 

-T

On Anxiety and Emotional Maturity

ANXIETY DOES NOT LIKE TO BE WRITTEN DOWN!

A celebratory post because I have officially been clinically diagnosed with anxiety (GAD). This is a big deal because I had been self-diagnosed until this point and it was important to me to justify my worries with a doctor's word. Even though I'm pregnant, that anxiety is different than the hormonal bouts of emotions I experience, and I am AWARE of the difference.

My therapist commends me for my emotional maturity and awareness. She often tells me what would normally be a revelation, and then finishes her thought with "...but I'm sure you figured that out already." What that means is that I know what causes my anxiety attacks and how to take preventative measures to ensure that I have less worries and more joy, but I still can't stop the emotional overload I face daily. If you've ever experienced an earthquake, you know what this feels like; knowing what is going on, but being completely powerless to stop it. Some "earthquakes" are stronger than others and no matter how hard you will it to be over, it isn't up to you. Maybe that sounds really scary, like for some dads in the birthing room knowing your wife is in immense pain and there is nothing you can do. Or perhaps you find the knowledge that there is nothing you can do to change the circumstances is calming and you just have to wait it out. In my personal experience, it's both calming and frustrating.

There was an instance a few weeks ago when my poor husband and I laid in bed in the morning while I had a minor panic attack. We were supposed to go to an 8 hour birthing class with 16 other couples thirty minutes away for $60, but I truly didn't see how I would actually be able to go. I am AWARE that I had not been getting much sleep in the days leading up this class, which leads me to have higher emotional and anxiety levels. I also was AWARE that being pregnant causes higher hormone levels--aka more worries and stresses aka higher anxiety. I was AWARE that my social anxiety would be WAY turned up due to the 16 other chipper pregnant women wanting to discuss cloth diapers vs disposable and what our son's name is and what type of crib we had decided on (which at that point wasn't even assembled). On top of these three emotional enhancements, my MIL was visiting, I didn't know when we would be eating that day, and it was my day off, which I truly cherish! The last point to make me not want to go was that in today's technologically advanced world, I could easily look up whatever information I need online; I was AWARE that taking a class could lead me to be more anxious when I was actually delivering, trying to remember the specific breathing exercise I learned and how to feel when to push and feeling overwhelmed trying to remember everything I learned.* I knew I didn't need it, but I still felt that since we had made the commitment, we needed to follow through. I also felt that maybe I was setting myself up to be the flaky mom who didn't care enough about her child's well being. I laid in bed crying because I knew I shouldn't go, but I also knew I would be judged if I didn't, by society and by myself. With the hubs gone every weekend, we wouldn't have another chance to take this class; it was now or never. Hubs was very understanding and after listening to all my reasons for going or not going and reading the class description, he said, "I think what is best for us right now is that we don't go." At that point, I realized I had been completely incapable of making the decision myself and I would have had a full out panic attack just contemplating whether I should go or not. What a freaking nightmare!

I was fully aware that I was having a minor attack while it was happening, but I couldn't talk myself out of it. I felt my mind racing with my thoughts and emotions. I told myself that I was being irrational and overreacting, but I couldn't stop it. I felt the storm inside of me, but it was completely beyond my control. The worst part about being emotionally aware and having anxiety is the guilt that comes after an irrational reaction or an attack. I felt terrible for dragging my husband through my emotional mud puddle. I felt so guilty for not being able to control myself and almost submitting myself to an anxiety attack that definitely would have not been good for my growing baby. I felt guilty explaining our choice to our friends and fmamily, though I know I shouldn't. Amidst feeling all this guilt, it was further felt by simply knowing I shouldn't be feeling that way.

(continued 2 weeks later because I'm too busy for my own good)
Decision making is rough y'all! After speaking to my therapist, I realized that my anxiety doesn't allow me to find a middle ground. Though I see it and encourage it in the lives of others, adopting and implementing it into my own doesn't work out. When I was young, I heavily weighed every decision I made, whether the decision merited such contemplation or not. I now find myself doing this in deciphering which career path would make me the happiest. It is for this reason I was incapable of making a decision in the aforementioned scenario.

So I guess my purpose, other than venting, for writing this post is that I think it is so important for the who have anxiety to acknowledge that they sometimes are incapable of making a decision so that they can find someone to help them when they need it. For me, my husband and my mother are typically the people I call upon when I need help making a decision. They will either tell me I am overthink a situation or give me advice that may help guide me to a final answer. Also, those of you who have a person in your life who has anxiety, know that they don't TRY to make life more difficult when they can't make a decision. Every decision they make takes so much energy, time, and effort, that at a certain point, it is someone else's turn to stand up and take the reins. Good luck to all you decision makers!

-T

On the Nanny Life

Being a mom can be such a rewarding, yet trying, part of life. There is so much to consider, appointments to attend, paydays to receive, practices to get to on time, nap times, homework, and meal prep. I am not a mom, but I still live this life as a nanny for four. This is an equally trying and rewarding experience, complete with the silver lining of being able to go home and get my alone time every night. My time as a nanny has completely prepared me for motherhood, and I have been told I should recount my experiences on my blog.

My four kids, two big kids and two toddlers (when did they grow up!), are all super sweet and loving, but still navigating life and testing their limits everyday. 9GoingOn19 is responsible and helpful, but definitely needs to get her priorities in check! ConstantlyActive is 8 and he is CONSTANTLY ACTIVE, which is great, and also...not. SweetAndSassy is 2-almost 3-and definitely testing her limits, but always minds her manners. BlueEyedBeaut is 2 in a few days, and constantly trying to keep up with her older siblings, meaning she has developed quickly, but also pushes her limits as much as her siblings. I love each and every one of these kids, and each day they teach me while I (hopefully) teach them. I have learned patience on a level I never knew existed, how to manage picky eaters, the best way to plan ahead, and that things don't always go according to Plan A, B, C, or K. No matter how miserable you feel the day is, the sweet smiles that cross the faces of these kids make everything worth it. 

So no, I'm not a mom--yet. But I have dealt with cribs full of exploded dirty diapers, doors slammed in my face, ER trips, crazy days carting kids to and from school, cheer, baseball, playdates, and whatever else life throws out that day. To say I am prepared for motherhood would be an understatement. To say I must really know what I am doing would be a terrible exaggeration. I am learning as I live each day and really trying to fit in with the daily rhythm changes these kids experience. We have all gone through a lot together, and I have taught them life lessons just as much as I have learned a few of my own. 

Lessons I have taught:

Make choices that reflect the kind of person you want to be.

No one else is responsible for the choices you make.

Friends come and go, but your family will always be there for you.

Trust isn't given easily, rather it is earned.

Bullies need help.

Rightfully prioritizing your life leads to happy days.

Responsibilities first, play later.

Lessons I have learned:

Plans change. Figure it out.

There is no perfect family.

Eating healthy is great; junk is okay too, in moderation.

Life gets complicated.

Your level of patience depends on the day of the week, how much coffee you have inhaled, and how many kids are in your house.

The house will get messy. It is okay.

Today was definitely one of the more trying days I've had, but I am living to tell the tale. No matter how tough life may seem, others have it worse. Ultimately, nothing can replace the joy I feel when I watch these kids accomplish something or create something great. I am blessed by the job I have and I cannot wait to tell my tales.

-T

On Maturity

Lately I have come across a lot of instances in my life that have made me inflect on the idea of maturity. Defining maturity is just as difficult as it is easy. There are different measures of maturity, different types of maturity, and various things can be assigned a maturity level: cheese, people, wine, video games. I know this may seem like a very random or vague topic, so please bear with me as I write and try to make sense of my own thoughts as well!

When it comes to wine and cheese, maturity is measured by age. When determining the maturity of a person, I can assure you, age has nothing to do with it. I have met the most astonishingly mature ten-year old and a very immature person of fifty-five. One could say that the person who acts childish is the less mature. When we see a child acting not like a child, we praise him for being "mature".

I believe true maturity is when a person is able to act in a manner that is truly reflective of who they are. Basically, when you see guys being complete tools in the manner they treat women, that is honestly not who they are, but they are deflecting some other emotions or feelings in an unhealthy and immature way. When women are full crazy drama psycho maniacs who have no regard to other people's feelings, they are masking their true self and guarding their feelings and emotions in an unhealthy and immature way. But the minute a person decides to fix that, to right their attitude and own up to their emotions and feelings, no matter how irrational or flawed, is the minute that person truly matures. On a much smaller scale, looking back to myself just one year ago, I think how immature I was; I was forcing myself into a career and a lifestyle I was not happy with (this change is reflected in my design style, as illustrated in my previous post "On Starting Over" http://rosemaryandjames.blogspot.com/2015/11/on-starting-over.html). Recently, I began a journey on identifying my true self. In doing so, I have been able to feel more and more like I am truly acting in a way that is reflective of who I am. I find myself slipping and saying or doing something that is immature, meaning a way that is not reflective of who I am, and I always try to catch myself and use it as a springboard for growth.

Maturity in a person has little to do with age and a lot to do with experiences. If a person has been in a situation where they have been encouraged and allowed to be true to their self, they will often be much more mature than someone who has not. Perhaps that is why tweens (hate that word) and teens are usually seen as immature; they are finding identifying themselves while they are often trying to graduate, pick a career, struggling to make their parents happy, make good grades, stay involved, and just have fun!

So basically, if you're reading this and hoping to take something away, remember that life is too short to be anyone but yourself...I know I heard that somewhere so I just looked it up. Thank Anne Hathaway for that advice. But really, seek true maturity and you will find yourself; seek yourself and you will find true maturity.

Au revoir!
T

On Living With Anxiety

When I tell people I have GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder), they usually assume that I get stressed easily and I don't know how to handle it.

Yes, I get stressed. I get stressed under any number of circumstances. Unfortunately, this extends to many aspects of my life. I have claustrophobia, social anxiety, trouble sleeping, extreme dizziness, heart palpitations, and shortness of breath on a daily basis. These symptoms are before and after a panic attack. During a panic attack, all these symptoms are elevated, with the addition of new ones. Now if I could cure it, handle it, or help it in anyway, I definitely would. This is not something I wish to experience. I promise I do not do it for attention, nor do I use it as a way to cope. There is no way to "cure" or "prevent" anxiety or anxiety attacks, and don't even try to argue me on this one--controlling or lessening attacks is possible, but not the same thing.

Fortunately, early on in life, I was very self aware of my symptoms. I was the kid who would get $5.00 from the tooth fairy and go to the grocery store with my mom and freak out over what to spend my money on. I couldn't decide if I wanted gum, which would last me a decent amount of time, a toy which would last 'forever', or chips, super delicious but wouldn't last long. When my parents would take me to get ice cream, I was always the last to order because I couldn't decide. I would consider all my options with a ridiculous weight. What if I tried a new flavor and think I like it, but it gets old quickly and I can't finish it? What if I try my sisters and realize I want hers instead? What if I stick with my regular Mint Chip and regret not trying something new? (This has by no means changed at all, but if pressured, I can easily make last minute decisions...don't give me too much time to consider my options is my advice!) I learned how to stay strong and smile through the pain. I believe I can control my anxiety, and I have not given up hope that I truly will one day.

I remember when I was in third grade, I went to the nurse's office with the worst headache my seven-year-old self had ever experienced. I was crying, holding my head, shaking, shivering, sweating. My mom picked me up and took me to the ER. I had just experienced my first panic attack. By that time, the doctor classified it as a migraine, which still was a lot for my little body (y'all, I was really tiny!) and from that point on, my doctor became my closest confidant, seeing me regularly to monitor my migraines and other symptoms. I didn't have another major panic attack until senior year of high school--my parents were great at helping me calm down when I started to get crazy. I was driving home, completely satisfied with my life, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. I felt dizzy and couldn't see straight. Luckily, I snapped out of it quickly, and immediately made a doctor's appointment. I had two more that week. My doctor realized I have GAD. He told me to limit the stress in my life and stop spreading myself so thin. If you know me, you know that is impossible. I am a yes person through and through. If someone somewhere needs my help, I am there! I also have OCD, and these two things combined with my raging migraines makes my life a bit of a challenge. I am on medication for it and I am totally not ashamed. A huge thing many people with anxiety deal with is shame, which I have none of. I don't know how I got this way, but I am able to logically walk away from my panic attacks at times (see my blog about balancing logic and emotions http://rosemaryandjames.blogspot.com/2015/11/on-controlling-your-emotions.html). I definitely know my parents helped me get to a place where I am healthy enough to handle myself, but there are times that I just can't. I was just in New York, in the middle of Times Square, and I couldn't control myself when a panic attack hit. I am definitely an extroverted introvert (I can totally talk to people and speak up for myself, but I gain energy from being alone) and I had not been alone for almost a week. I was in the throes of hundreds of tourist families and creepy Elmos. It all became too much; I had been too strong for too long and I broke. It can happen anywhere, anytime! This makes my life one that is hard to share and I am a lot of work.

I call this post "living" with anxiety, not "suffering" or "dealing with" because suffering is not living and dealing with yourself is not necessarily a healthy way to go about living with your flaws or feeling good about yourself. I embrace my downfalls so that I can work with them and control them. Owning up to me flaws allows me to feel more self-confident when I am really down on myself. I have spent my whole life getting to this point. It is not impossible. Whatever your downfall, your flaw, your negative aspects, I promise you there is a line of people waiting to help you! I have been blessed with so many people in my life who have not only helped me, but inspired me and pushed me to better myself even more. The only people who have no hope are serial killers and pervs. Those are not downfalls to embrace. Please don't. Otherwise, wear your heart on your sleeve and be honest with yourself and everyone in your life! It not only hurts you when you keep your flaws to yourself, but it hurts those around you. Believe in yourself and in your loved ones. If they don't stick around to see you through your worst, they don't deserve you at your best! (Someone else said that, but I can't remember who, so don't give me credit...I wish). If you say you can't find anyone to accept you, you aren't being honest enough.

Here are 6 articles that I have found to be helpful in many ways:
~31 Secrets of People Who Live With Anxiety http://themighty.com/?p=37087?st=pinterest
~Anxiety Facts: 12 Important Ones You May Not Know http://www.heysigmund.com/anxiety-facts/
~24 Things People With Generalized Anxiety Disorder Want You To Know http://www.buzzfeed.com/annaborges/hello-anxiety-my-old-friend?crlt.pid=camp.GoOtMTZDS3tK#.clNPnLyd0
~ A Letter to Husbands: Three Ways To Help Your Wife With Anxiety http://www.nittygrittylove.com/a-letter-to-husbands-3-ways-to-help-your-wife-with-anxiety/
~Supporting a Loved One Through PTSD or Panic Attacks https://sometimesmagical.wordpress.com/2013/10/26/supporting-a-loved-one-through-ptsd-or-panic-attacks/
~20 Struggles You Go Through When You Date Someone With Anxiety http://elitedaily.com/dating/dating-someone-with-anxiety/907721/

Au revoir
-T

On Controlling Your Emotions

From a very young age, it was obvious to my parents that I was a very emotional child. I have anxiety, which I dealt with throughout my childhood, and I would feel for everything. It wasn't just that I cried a lot (though if you ask my sister, she will definitely say I was a crybaby), but that I cried for so many things. My mom is the similar; we both have a lot of feelings and we both feel deeply, often personally, even if it isn't logical. My dad is the opposite. He doesn't have a lot of feelings...or so I thought...

Somehow, by the grace of God, my dad learned to control his emotions. He definitely has them, and he definitely feels them, but he controls them. I am sure it has to do with his childhood, being the oldest son of two with a single mom. No matter, he is a straight up G. He taught me everything I know about controlling my emotions. He made me aware that I was emotional. He questioned me when I got emotional, so that my logos could fight through for balance. He would assign me Bible verses to study at a young age that had to do with self control (you know the one...fruits of the spirit...love, joy, peace...), controlling your anger, and wearing the armor of God. The best thing he ever did for me was teach me to think before I act. I heard that at least three times a week, if not once a day. He was always like, "What do I always say? Think..." My impatient seven-year-old self would retort, "I know, I know. Think before I act." I would follow that with an eye roll, to which he would say I probably didn't think that one through. He was right.

I learned and practiced how to feel something, and then logically think through what my next move would be. All my life, I have been practicing a careful balance of pathos and logos. Little did I know how much all the annoying phrases and verses would affect me as an adult. Here I am now, contemplating some very serious life-changing decisions, trying to figure out what is best for me. Were I to act purely on pathos, I would end up wondering why I made decisions without thinking. If I make a decision based on logos, then I will surely regret following my instincts, even if they didn't make sense at the time. 

Unfortunately, not everyone is lucky enough to have a superhero for a dad, or such a great role model for a mom, so they have to learn things the hard way. People make mistakes, and people have regrets. There is absolutely no reason to cry over your mistakes or question your choices. Absolutely everything that happens in life is a lesson. All experiences in a persons life shapes who they become.

So go out in the world! Live life. Make decisions based on your guts, the heart ones and the brain ones! Always learn from your experiences. But don't sit back and wonder. Dreams are so wonderful when you can pair them with action, otherwise they become nightmares. Go fly to the moon or sing on Broadway, but please be logical about it too. Like if you really can't sing, then don't sing on Broadway. Please.

Au revoir!

-T

On Following Your Dreams

If someone were to open my yearbook from my senior year of high school, most messages concluded by reminding me to follow my dreams. I never thought much about it until now because it is a perfectly acceptable thing to wish on someone; why would anyone not want to follow their dreams? Dreams make you feel happy and hopeful. Not having a dream to achieve seems terribly depressing, as if there is no hope or happiness in life, no goal to work toward. What is the point of going though life without an ultimate goal that seems slightly unattainable, but knowing you can get there with enough hard work and dedication?

What no one told me is that dreams change. There are many reasons a dream can change and it happens to pretty much all of us. Every five year old dreams of being a superhero, a princess, or some other fictional character (but really one of my Kindergarteners wanted to grow up to be Elsa), which many adults condone because it’s cute at the time. But at what point does someone tell you that the chances of you becoming a pop star or Elsa are pretty much slim to none. These dreams are sent to some unseen graveyard by every child when they realize there is something they want that they cannot attain. Has anyone looked into the idea that maybe those attitude-filled adolescents are so mean is because they are at the point of realizing they need to figure out a real goal in life? Poor kids know that they won’t be the next Avengers character or Hannah Montana. They're stuck waking up every morning wondering what they are working toward and why school matters, being told one day they will hopefully graduate college and go off into the real world.

Perhaps we are at the point where I explain why this all pertains to me, and why anyone should care what I have to say on the subject. Growing up, I was the ultimate dreamer. I mean, any childhood dream to be had, was, and all by yours truly. I went through my princess phase (i think I still am, actually), and then after turning into a Kindergarten know-it-all, i realized I was going to be a ballerina. Third grade saw my cosmetologist phase, and fourth grade brought my big screen dreams. In middle school, I wanted to be a fashion designer, which was a bad idea from the beginning, so thank you Mom for not supporting that one! When I made high school cheer, I thought I could make a career out of that and be an NFL cheerleader. Tenth grade gave way to me becoming an aspiring photographer (no really, this was a good one), and high school concluded with me deciding I had the vocals enough to do something: Broadway, big screen, solo artist, all girls pop group (Hello Spice Girls cover band!), even backup! But alas, I went to school to become an educator. All the dreams i dreamt were sent to the graveyard to be buried until I had kids and could dream vicariously through them. 

Unfortunately, I didn't really explore these dreams. I knew my parents wanted me to be successful, but I knew they would not be able to fully support me in my artistic endeavors at the time, since most of them did not require me to attend a four-year university. All my life, my parents warned me I have freedom in all I do except the choice of attending college. The one thing I could see myself doing that wouldn't be terrible that I could go to a four-year uni for was teaching(everyone always told me I would make a great teacher one day)--looking back, I now know there were many options, but I had no way to work those out for myself in my 18 year old brain. I knew I would still get to exert my creativity in my classroom and I was always great with kids. My mother is an educator and I was excited to follow in her footsteps. College began and I was a History major, ready to teach history. I was so happy with my decision for about 5 months. I changed my major to general education so i could teach elementary school. I was genuinely happy with my decision. I couldn't wait until I got my own classroom and had the power to inspire young minds. These kids would be the first victims of my dreams dug up from beyond. I would let them know everyday that they could truly be whatever they wanted to be, if they never gave up. I truly believe that, but who would I be to tell hundreds of kids this over the years when i couldn't even follow my own dreams (which are at this point of my story is to be an event coordinator)? My senior year of college brought on a lot of doubt. I had a lot going on, but I was really depressed. I realized i had put a lot of money, time, and soul into an education i didn't want anymore. But alas, I pushed on, and at the end of the year, I moved to North Carolina, knowing I could teach anywhere. After moving, I didn't start work right away; I knew i would be entering a doomed future. 

This past February, I started teaching at a private daycare. Half my class was comprised of adorable fresh-faced kindergarteners, and the rest were pooled in from surrounding schools for the after school program. I felt so confused every day upon waking and upon sleeping. I absolutely adored these children, some of whom i still keep in touch with (their parents of course, I'm not a creep!). But I got burnt out absolutely way too quickly. Having spent about a fifth of my life learning what to expect when I finally begin teaching, I knew I would experience burnout; I had also learned ways to avoid it. No matter what I did or who I confided in, I could not get over the sinking feeling that i was wasting my time and the time of my employers and my students. After six months, I left to pursue my newfound ultimate dream: interior design.

Dreams instill a drive deep in the soul that gently warns us if we fail, we’re screwed, so we have no choice to succeed. To recognize and follow a dream has got to be one of the scariest and bravest acts a person can commit. Some people are lucky and have a multitude of supporters to call on when they are feeling a lack of drive, while others have a select few, if any, people they know they can count on. I unfortunately am one of the latter, which makes this whole process that much harder. 

Ultimately, i want everyone to know that dreams are truly 100% attainable! If Kate Middleton could become a modern day Cinderella, you CAN become a superhero! I know people who have succeeded the only thing they ever wanted, and those people are true visionaries, and are really out there. Maybe you won't have a straight path to fulfill your dreams, and maybe you will have to work a little harder than others, but once you're there, you can look back on all the haters and wave at them from the greener grass. But the key is having the strength to recognize what it is you want and finding the drive to succeed in your wildest dreams. The minute you know you're ready, go for it! Don't let anyone stop you, even if they carried you in their womb for nine months. You owe nothing to anyone but yourself, so you do you and let everyone else watch and learn.

Au revoir!

-T