Identity Crisis

I’ve had many identity crises in my life. The worst was when I became a mom. I just didn’t know who I was anymore and it took a good long time to settle into this mom role. Eventually I sorted it all out. I know who I am. I don’t need my name sewed into my underwear. Nope.

But I don’t think I want to be IzzyMom anymore.

Is that weird?

I feel hemmed in by it. I feel stifled and just, I don’t know…

Anyway, not sure what to do about this, if anything. I tried a couple years ago to transition to The Caffeinatrix when I was tired of being a mommyblogger but then I realized there is value tied to this name. People know it. It’s heavily linked (only because I’ve been blogging since late 2005, not because I’m completely awesome. No. I’m really only a little awesome).

So yeah, there’s also what one of the bazillions of social media experts on Twitter would call “brand recognition” and when I kind of impulsively jumped ship here to start The Caffeinatrix, someone at a conference asked me point blank why I was abandoning my “brand” that I’d worked so hard to build (I did?) and then I kind of freaked and was all  “Nooo…I want back in! I want my mommyblog back!” mostly because it felt safe and comfy and familiar.

But you know, I don’t write about being a mom all that much, or my kids really at all. What business do I have even having the word “mom” in my name?

Like my before-babies clothes, it just doesn’t fit anymore. But if I leave again, will I be able to come back when I panic and need my mommyblog woobie?

Will anybody even care if I move again?

Would I even care if they didn’t?

Do I even need a personal blog?

Do I even like blogging anymore?

I do have things to say. I just feel like none of it fits in this space anymore.

And the most important question of all, because I’m all about the depth, folks…

WHAT WOULD I CALL IT???

Braindump

The feeling. It’s subtle but it’s there…quietly threatening.

The only way to describe it is to say that I’m starting to feel disconnected from everything around me…again. I hear you, I see you, I talk to you—but it’s like there’s glass between us; between me and the world. It’s like a…precursor to depression; not as bad as the real thing but not so great either.

It could just be hormonal mood swings that will be gone as quickly as they came.

I hope.

I’ve been weaning myself off Wellbutrin realllllly slowly and it’s working out okay. I just hate being beholden to medication. I know if you need it you should take it but there’s this nagging voice in the back of my head that always reminds me that this is my BRAIN we’re tinkering with and that being on any brain-tinkering drugs long term might be bad for you and really, who’s going to tell you that? The drug makers? Pffffftttt. RIGHT.

So anyway, what I think I really need right now is to TALK, with actual spoken words (as opposed to emails and IM’s) to someone who isn’t my husband or children. I’ve been isolating myself….burying myself in new projects and hiding from the world. That can’t be healthy *sigh*

/braindump

Life, the Universe and Everything

life_the_universe_everything2I recently removed myself from a situation that was making me really unhappy. Actually, it was making me more than unhappy. I was stressed all the time; I felt distrustful of the people I was involved with and constantly felt enveloped in negativity.

I had originally entered this situation at a friend’s request. It seemed like it would be fun and at first it was. But after a while, things changed and I realize now that I stayed in this situation out of a sense of loyalty and duty far longer than I should have, even though I was totally miserable.

I had begun thinking of getting out of this situation but wasn’t sure how to go about it. Then one day, the opportunity to peacefully but honestly speak my mind and make my exit presented itself. I took the opportunity and have never regretted it. In fact, I’m amazed at how much happier and more positive my life is since leaving.

I’m a firm believer, though I seem to have forgotten it for a while, that the universe knows exactly what you need and will show you the way when the time is right.

It took me a while to realize how unhappy I was and for the longest time, it never occurred to me that I. Could. Just. Leave. I was so busy trying to do my part, meet my responsibilities and deflect the negativity that I forgot that I had the power to change the situation by removing myself from it. Once the universe showed me the way out, I took it and did it with dignity, self-respect and a good amount of restraint.

I’m not going to lie and say that I wasn’t bitter about certain things. I was. But I’ve worked hard at taking the high road and taking my ego out of the equation and that has helped tremendously. Sometimes it’s difficult to resist the urge to say or do something nasty and petty. Sure, it would make me feel better in the moment but in the end, it’s totally ego-driven and ultimately, it would hurt me more than anyone else.

I’m a sympathetic person most of the time but I’m not an overly empathetic person. I really do have to work on it every single day but by putting myself in other people’s shoes, the hurtful, thoughtless and rude things they do bother me a lot less. That’s not to say I don’t feel annoyed or irritated or insulted at times. I do. Frequently. I’m human. But being able to look at something from THEIR perspective and cutting them some slack because maybe they’re having a bad day, or they chose the wrong words or simply didn’t think before they acted makes me a happier person. I have to work at it because really, it’s a lot easier to carry around resentment and hold on to it, as if that will somehow make the other person sorry or make them pay for what they did to me—but it doesn’t. It just makes me dwell on it more and attract more negative energy into my life.

To be clear, I’m not a model citizen by any means and I don’t fancy myself to be any more enlightened than anyone else but in my opinion, what they say about forgiveness is true. It’s a gift you give YOURSELF. It’s not letting the other person get away with something bad that they did to you. It’s giving yourself the gift of letting it go and moving on. No, it’s not always easy and yes, there are some people in my life I still haven’t forgiven or even attempted to make amends with, mainly because I’m just not ready. That’s something I will carry around with me until I make it right and it is a burden.

As I said, I forgot all these things for a while—I was just too caught up in my situation to see clearly—but I’m making the effort to re-acquaint myself with these beliefs because they work for me.  Trying to live and make choices and act without my ego calling the shots is really hard sometimes, but when I do it, I consistently see positive results.

One notable change is how people act towards me when I’m operating in such a manner—they are simply nicer, kinder and more helpful. It’s the weirdest thing but I swear it’s true. The only conclusion I can come to is that I am giving off a more positive energy and people, even total strangers, respond to it. Maybe I smile more. Maybe I have a happy vibe. I really don’t know. All I do know is that when I’m not weighed down by my ego, life is just better and easier and the universe seems to respond to my needs far more.

Example? The other day I was worrying about money. I know worry is a useless emotion but things have been really tight lately and I was feeling really strapped financially. I tried some positive affirmations about abundance and prosperity and thanked the universe for all our blessings, of which there are many. Two days later, a former client from over a year ago came to me and proposed a situation that would give me some needed financial relief. I was happy and grateful. But when the money came into my account, it was double what we had discussed. My client wanted to do expand his original request and had gone ahead and paid me for it, which I was not expecting. The universe was listening and brought me exactly what I needed and had asked for.

Please know, when I say universe, that’s my catch-all term for all things divine. It can be God or Goddess or the divine creator or the Flying Spaghetti Monster, if you wish. Names are irrelevant. It all comes from the same place.

And why am I prattling on about all this? Because I hope it can help someone else. And really, it’s never a bad thing to put more positivity into the world—it all comes back to you eventually :)

*I never actually read The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy OR Life, the Universe and Everything but the title of the latter is so befitting this post, I had to reference it. I’m a book poseur. *shameface*

Gawd Mom, That’s SO Dumb

When I was about eleven, a dog inadvertently came into my life. It was one of those things where a kid got a dog from God Knows Where and brought it home and their mom was all NO WAY! And then that kid had to find a home for the dog and asked another kid, who asked another kid (that would be me) who, in turn, begged her mom to keep the dog and quite possibly threw in some emotional blackmail to seal the deal.

And that? Is how I got the dog—a small, snaggle-toothed, white fluffball of unknown origins who was aptly named (wait for it)…Fluffy!

Fluffy was the only dog we ever had that liked me better than my mom but she was a wily, spunky little thing and one day when I let her out into the backyard, she squeezed her way through the small gap where fence meets gate and she was gone.

When I realized Fluffy had outsmarted our high tech security (read: chain link fencing) and breached the backyard, I was, of course, distraught. My friend and I combed our suburban neighborhood calling for her, “FLUFFEEEEEEEE! FLUFFEEEEEEEE!” but she was nowhere to be found.

I called my mom at work, something I did much too often, and reported to her, with great distress in my voice, that I couldn’t find the dog.

And she told me?  To call the police department and ask if anyone had reported finding a dog.

PFFFTTTTT!

I gasped! I sputtered!

I was all “Moooo-oooom, that’s SO dumb! Nobody calls the police to report finding a dog! GAWWWWWD!!!” Because when you’re eleven, you know EVERYTHING.

I’m not sure what I expected her to do from 25 minutes away, at her job, but I remember feeling irritated that my #1 problem solver’s only suggestion was calling the fuzz.

Annoyed, I got off the phone and after brewing on it, decided I would call the police department (probably just to prove that my mom clearly didn’t love me because if she did, she wouldn’t have given me stupidest, most unhelpful idea EVER and would have dropped whatever she was doing to come home and make everything okay).

Annnnnd, as luck would have it…

Someone DID file a police report about finding a small white dog the day before, about a half mile from my house.

I called the people and a nice lady told me they had found Fluffy soaking wet and shivering under a tree, in the rain, and took her home.

Long story short, I got my 20 yr old sister to drive me over there to pick up Fluffy, who had clearly been well-cared for by her kindly benefactor.

She yelped and cried with excitement when she saw me…and then very promptly peed and pooped on the woman’s kitchen floor.

I cleaned up the mess, thanked the lady profusely for taking care of Fluffy and we headed home.

Later, I told my mother, mumbling no doubt, that we’d found the dog after calling the police department. She must have bitten her tongue pretty hard to keep from saying “I told you so…”

I don’t think I ever apologized to my mom for insinuating that she was a total idiot and I’m also pretty sure I never thanked her for helping me find Fluffy.

I’m sorry, Mom. And thank you.

If You’re Going to BlogHer, You Should Read This

powertothe

Click Me!

Okay, you’ve arrived at TEASER #2 and you should go on to TEASER #3

If you arrived here randomly and have no idea what’s going on, start at the beginning and hopefully it will make more sense.

And if it still makes no sense..well, that’s normal around here. Come back tomorrow or the next day and I’ll try to explain :)

The Truth MAY Set Me Free. Or It Might Just Make People Hate My Guts.

Can you even imagine being 100% honest ALL THE TIME?

It’s been reported that 93% of Americans surveyed admit to lying on a regular basis.

And yes, I lie, too.

I lie about why I’m late picking my kids up from school; or why I haven’t returned phone calls from someone I really don’t want to talk to; or what I think of a friend’s unflattering new haircut; or why I’ve not gotten my cat’s shots updated in two years—I’VE BEEN REALLY SELF-ABSORBED BUSY, DAMMIT!

DON’T JUDGE (you know you do it, too)

Now picture yourself NEVER telling any lies at all—no white lies; no half truths; no sparing someone’s feelings; no little fibs to make yourself look better—or less bad.

This is the premise behind Radical Honesty. No lies. Ever.

Most of the time, we don’t lie to deceive others so much as we do it out of fear that we will lose something…be it love or respect or status or control or any number of other things we simply DON’T want to lose.

Of course, sometimes we DO lie specifically to deceive but it still, oftentimes, comes back to preserving or stopping the loss something important to us.

So. Could you stop lying, say, right now?

Every time I think about pursuing a life of Radical Honesty, I respond like a junkie—it’s going to be hard. And unpleasant. I’ll quit tomorrow.

I know for me, one of the hardest things about Radical Honesty would involve being honest about letting people know how I feel about something they have done or said that has upset me, or offended me or just plain pissed me off.

Women are socialized to be nice, to not rock the boat too much and to generally strive for harmony; being liked by others is most important.

Those things do not mesh well with being radically honest and thus, women tend to not let others know what they’re really thinking or feeling.

Instead we act angry or behave passive-aggressively but when the person with whom we are upset asks us if there is a problem and we often respond with faux innocence and perhaps a little shock.

“What? Nooooo! I’m not mad at you” except they really are and frequently, everyone else knows why EXCEPT  the person they are upset with.

This is a generalization and of course, every situation will vary to a certain degree but this is classic female social behavior. Instead of confronting the source of our ire, we claim everything is fine while we seethe, brew and talk about the situation with everyone BUT that person.

Why? Because we are not raised to be honest. We’re raised to be nice. We’re not comfortable saying “Hey, I resent that” or “I think you’re wrong” or “You hurt my feelings” or any other expression that isn’t “nice” because being “not nice” = being potentially “not liked”.

I know there times, nearly every day of my life, that I’d like to call someone on something that they’ve done or said but I don’t. I don’t want to provoke anyone. I don’t want them to do what I would fully expect them to do which is listen to what I have to say and then go and tell everyone I’m a bitch and organize some kind of ridiculous campaign against me because I’ve broken the cardinal rule of being female and was honest instead of nice. It happened in 7th grade when I was honest about something and insofar as I can tell, things haven’t changed much. We women still act a lot like 7th graders.

But ohhh if we COULD be honest without fear of loss or retribution… Imagine how freeing it would be to say what you feel and mean what you say. Yes, people’s feelings will sometimes be hurt. And sometimes people will be shocked or angry but honestly, I think I’d rather deal with the truth and all that comes with it, then deal with the landmines and bullshit that come with untruths any day. Can someone REALLY fault someone else for being truthful?

I wouldn’t go so far as to say men are more honest than women but I do think men are much more free to be honest with each other and if bad feelings result, it’s usually resolved quickly and they move on.

Does this mean men never lie? No, of course not. *coughtigerwoodscough* *coughgeorgewbushcough* But they’re not socialized to choose harmony over honesty and I do envy that.

So…I’m still pondering Radical Honesty as a way of life—but something tells me I would have to preface EVERY conversation with a reminder that I’m no longer pulling any punches because the idea of hurting someone’s feelings is extremely disturbing to me and I would want them to understand before I say anything that it’s not my intention, but rather a potential side effect of the NEW! ME!

What do you think? Is Radical Honesty something you would every consider?

Anyone up for a Radical Honesty challenge?

This article was the inspiration for this post and I’m considering buying this book. Or at least checking it  out from the library. And in the interest of honesty, that’s an Amazon affiliate link.

NOTE: I will NOT be attending any Radical Honesty seminars or what have you, because, honestly, I hate stuff like that.

An Easter Confession

I have a confession to make.

I’ve never dyed Easter eggs with my kids.

Yeah…I know.

When my kids were younger and at the right age to be introduced to the spring ritual of gaily dying Easter eggs at the kitchen table, I was like “Noooo effing way! Toooo messy! I’m not some kinda crazy masochist!” and that line of thinking has worked quite nicely for me until about five minutes ago when I got an email touting a NEW!!! egg dying kit.

And suddenly I’m all “WHY HAVE I NEVER DYED EGGS WITH MY KIDS?” and serious mom guilt naturally followed. But as I sat here and pondered this massive parental and possibly cultural failure of mine, I realized, it’s not really the dying that bothers me. No. That was just an excuse I made up. It’s actually the eggs.

Seriously… What the hell am I going to do with a dozen hard boiled eggs after we’ve dyed them? I can assure you I’m so NOT going to eat them because I think hard boiled eggs are the food of Satan. I mean really…THEY SMELL LIKE FARTS. If that’s not the devil’s handiwork then I just don’t know…

I continued to ponder the egg/fart thing for a moment and then SHAZAAAM! I have an epiphany. It’s not the fart smell that keeps me from dying eggs. No. That was just another handy YET VERY VALID excuse.

The real reason I’ve never dyed eggs with my kids?

*whispers* I don’t know how to boil eggs.

There. I said it.

And I’m pretty sure I can feel you adding me to your “Big Fat Losers” column in Tweetdeck RIGHT NOW.

*sigh*