It's Christmastime in Conway, and a couple of times recently Noel has reminded me what we were doing at this time last year. The forecast showed a snowstorm bearing down on us, and for almost a week ahead of time, I fretted and made contingency plans for our planned drive to Nashville and flight to St. Simons. Eventually we made the decision to open presents on Christmas Eve and drive to Nashville on Christmas Day, mere hours ahead of the storm which ended up dumping nine inches of snow on our empty home.
The contrast with this year couldn't be greater. With no place to go, we are baking cookies, watching movies, crafting with the kids, and paying attention to the weather only with respect to the best time to make a grocery run. Noel's folks are arriving on Christmas Eve. I'll play handbells at the midnight service. And we'll open our presents on Christmas morning, as the baby Jesus intended.
I'm highly aware of my stress level these days. Many of the big decisions I made about my future this year were based on observation of what stresses me out in bad and good ways. Whole-family travel is a high-stress affair for me. I worry and make multiple levels of plans and try to keep everything as under control as possible. It's not something I should try to avoid in order to make my life more relaxed, of course (although to my shame, I do). But when I am not obligated to trek with everyone to some far-off destination -- especially on a tight schedule at symbolically-charged and heavily-trafficked cultural moments rendezvousing with multiple branches of the family, like at Christmas -- my quality of life shoots through the roof as my level of stress stays comfortably low.
As the years go by, the kids grow up, and the parents get older, each year's holiday planning is haunted by the shrinking number of opportunities it's using up. A chance to see the grandparents. A chance to establish and reinforce traditions. A chance to give. A chance to enjoy. A chance to worship. A chance to reflect. With every chance taken, exchanged, or passed up, a chunk of our family's life slides into memory.
I know everyone experiences these tradeoffs at this time of life. I wish I handled them with more grace, less self-absorption, more generosity, less anxiety. What you don't expect, I think, is that these phases of transition just keep coming at you, at times when you once thought that you'd be settled and finished with all that. And whatever choice you make, there's no way to completely avoid regret.
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stress. Show all posts
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Friday, May 4, 2012
Are we there yet?
I don't usually complain about my life or my work. I have an amazing life, full of love and joy from those around me every day. My job is meaningful, my students are astounding, and my colleagues have so much to teach me.
But I've had a crummy week for a lot of reasons, and I'm ready for it to be over.
First, for exam week when classes aren't meeting and only grading is left to do, I've been incredibly busy. There have been meetings and presentations to attend. My students' projects generated stacks of data that I had to design receptacles for, and once those spreadsheets were prepped it was less work to do the entry myself than to train someone else to do it. I expect my pace to ease up a bit during exam week, especially given the exceptional grind I've undergone throughout April, but it seems like I'm still working flat out.
Second, I've been engaged in a knock-down, drag-out, slow-motion struggle over multiple e-mail threads with various segments of a group to which I belong. It's about process and principle, personalities and priorities. It's been ugly and frightening at times, frustrating and angry-making most of the time. I get sucked into composing extremely carefully worded messages, trying to say exactly what I mean and no more, expressing a dissenting point of view to keep it alive in the face of efforts to declare premature consensus, and then an hour later have to come back and do it all over again. It has left me exhausted, day after day. But it's trench warfare; I'm fighting as hard as I can just to stand my ground. It's hard to know whether any progress is being made.
And yesterday I was entrusted with a confidence I'd rather not have been given. It's a burden. I've done what I had to do with it, but every time it crosses my mind, I feel the heaviness. The world is sadder and more complicated than it was before I knew it.
I was looking forward to my first date night in months with my husband tomorrow night, and then I got the news that I was working all three commencements tomorrow instead of the one I had been previously scheduled for. I drew the line at working two and spending my whole day lining up and sitting in a gym, rather than my whole day and part of my evening, which would have entailed canceling my long-awaited dinner and a movie. Such a simple thing that I have wanted for so long, but for a moment it seemed the universe was telling me it was too much to ask for. An appropriate cap to a week that has piled on the stress. I'm still waiting for the payoff for what feels like some of the hardest work I've done in years.
But I've had a crummy week for a lot of reasons, and I'm ready for it to be over.
First, for exam week when classes aren't meeting and only grading is left to do, I've been incredibly busy. There have been meetings and presentations to attend. My students' projects generated stacks of data that I had to design receptacles for, and once those spreadsheets were prepped it was less work to do the entry myself than to train someone else to do it. I expect my pace to ease up a bit during exam week, especially given the exceptional grind I've undergone throughout April, but it seems like I'm still working flat out.
Second, I've been engaged in a knock-down, drag-out, slow-motion struggle over multiple e-mail threads with various segments of a group to which I belong. It's about process and principle, personalities and priorities. It's been ugly and frightening at times, frustrating and angry-making most of the time. I get sucked into composing extremely carefully worded messages, trying to say exactly what I mean and no more, expressing a dissenting point of view to keep it alive in the face of efforts to declare premature consensus, and then an hour later have to come back and do it all over again. It has left me exhausted, day after day. But it's trench warfare; I'm fighting as hard as I can just to stand my ground. It's hard to know whether any progress is being made.
And yesterday I was entrusted with a confidence I'd rather not have been given. It's a burden. I've done what I had to do with it, but every time it crosses my mind, I feel the heaviness. The world is sadder and more complicated than it was before I knew it.
I was looking forward to my first date night in months with my husband tomorrow night, and then I got the news that I was working all three commencements tomorrow instead of the one I had been previously scheduled for. I drew the line at working two and spending my whole day lining up and sitting in a gym, rather than my whole day and part of my evening, which would have entailed canceling my long-awaited dinner and a movie. Such a simple thing that I have wanted for so long, but for a moment it seemed the universe was telling me it was too much to ask for. An appropriate cap to a week that has piled on the stress. I'm still waiting for the payoff for what feels like some of the hardest work I've done in years.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Under the weather
I've been vaguely sick ever since I got back from Washington, D.C. It's just a cold, and not even a bad one at that. But it just keeps moving around, from the top of my head at first, now to just inside my throat.
When I have a cold, I get really, really hungry. I feel like eating all the time, and the only thing that makes me feel halfway normal is if I'm full. Not surprisingly, I get tired easily, and want to curl up in bed for long hours. And nothing feels better than a hot shower.
Thankfully, I haven't been so uncomfortable that it's stopped me for a second doing what my work, either here or away. But that in itself has worn me down. I'm ready for some down time. Yet I spent the day on stage, teaching my part-time Methodist pastors. It was wonderful, but I'm exhausted. My energy is drained.
It would be nice to have a sick day -- a "bed day," we call them in this house. If my throat and head feel any worse, I might find a way to take one. It's been ages since I've canceled class because of illness; I just don't get sick that often. But is that a license to take a mental health day when I don't absolutely have to? Additionally, Noel has been on point for more than two weeks, taking care of kids and home while I've flown around North America. He deserves a vacation more than I do.
But you can't always control where your stress comes from. I've enjoyed myself tremendously over the last few weeks, but it's as if I've had no days off; every day has been work. Yes, you could look at what I've done and argue that it shouldn't have taken so much out of me, but the fact is, I'm run down. How much relaxation and recuperation can I build into the next few weeks -- the last of the semester, and the beginning of the holidays?
When I have a cold, I get really, really hungry. I feel like eating all the time, and the only thing that makes me feel halfway normal is if I'm full. Not surprisingly, I get tired easily, and want to curl up in bed for long hours. And nothing feels better than a hot shower.
Thankfully, I haven't been so uncomfortable that it's stopped me for a second doing what my work, either here or away. But that in itself has worn me down. I'm ready for some down time. Yet I spent the day on stage, teaching my part-time Methodist pastors. It was wonderful, but I'm exhausted. My energy is drained.
It would be nice to have a sick day -- a "bed day," we call them in this house. If my throat and head feel any worse, I might find a way to take one. It's been ages since I've canceled class because of illness; I just don't get sick that often. But is that a license to take a mental health day when I don't absolutely have to? Additionally, Noel has been on point for more than two weeks, taking care of kids and home while I've flown around North America. He deserves a vacation more than I do.
But you can't always control where your stress comes from. I've enjoyed myself tremendously over the last few weeks, but it's as if I've had no days off; every day has been work. Yes, you could look at what I've done and argue that it shouldn't have taken so much out of me, but the fact is, I'm run down. How much relaxation and recuperation can I build into the next few weeks -- the last of the semester, and the beginning of the holidays?
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Rocktober
It's my favorite month of the year at last. Among the many great features of October: (1) Autumn, my favorite season; (2) My birthday; (3) Our anniversary.
I'd add Halloween to that -- I really enjoy doing Halloween with the kids -- but I won't be here for it this year. I'll be in Washington, D.C. at the National Collegiate Honors Council annual meeting.
All day I've been joking with the staff that it's too bad October is here, because now I have to do all the things I put off until October. And there's some truth to that. I've committed to doing a lot of things in October -- this weekend I'm teaching an Inquirers Class at church, next weekend I'm teaching Methodist pastors all day again, the following weekend I'm preaching. Noel is taking a brief trip to Chicago in a couple of weeks. At that DC meeting I'm doing a presentation and co-leading a workshop. Reports are due, memos await writing, and that's on top of the weekly round of teaching and writing.
It doesn't seem as overwhelming as September did. There's a mini-vacation in the middle of October. None of these little extra tasks will consume more than a couple of days of my time. At the end of the month, though, is a two-and-a-half week black hole. I'll be in DC for half a week, then three days after returning I go to Montreal for five days. The second trip, especially, should be therapeutic. I'll see lots of friends and colleagues, important work will be done, there will be time to immerse myself in my field and enjoy the city.
Every semester, one way or another, lurches from one crisis to the next. So right now I'm enjoying the relative normalcy of my days and trying not to anticipate the stress of what's coming until it actually hits.
I'd add Halloween to that -- I really enjoy doing Halloween with the kids -- but I won't be here for it this year. I'll be in Washington, D.C. at the National Collegiate Honors Council annual meeting.
All day I've been joking with the staff that it's too bad October is here, because now I have to do all the things I put off until October. And there's some truth to that. I've committed to doing a lot of things in October -- this weekend I'm teaching an Inquirers Class at church, next weekend I'm teaching Methodist pastors all day again, the following weekend I'm preaching. Noel is taking a brief trip to Chicago in a couple of weeks. At that DC meeting I'm doing a presentation and co-leading a workshop. Reports are due, memos await writing, and that's on top of the weekly round of teaching and writing.
It doesn't seem as overwhelming as September did. There's a mini-vacation in the middle of October. None of these little extra tasks will consume more than a couple of days of my time. At the end of the month, though, is a two-and-a-half week black hole. I'll be in DC for half a week, then three days after returning I go to Montreal for five days. The second trip, especially, should be therapeutic. I'll see lots of friends and colleagues, important work will be done, there will be time to immerse myself in my field and enjoy the city.
Every semester, one way or another, lurches from one crisis to the next. So right now I'm enjoying the relative normalcy of my days and trying not to anticipate the stress of what's coming until it actually hits.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Report from Hoople: Day 4 (Wherein I Apparently Reach My Limit)
Nota Bene: For the next six days, this blog will function primarily as a Remote Parental Communication Device. Do not expect reflective content. School behavior, potty-related issues, bathing schedules, and bedtime crying jags will be faithfully recorded for the benefit of the Temporarily Canadian Spouse. All other visitors should plan to read this instead, for the duration.
I always knew that today, Saturday, would be the hardest day of Noel's absence. Tomorrow my mother-in-law should be arriving, and all next week the kids and I are in school part or all day.
We had a pleasant enough morning. After breakfast and getting dressed, we went out to Laurel Park for some outdoor play before the day got too hot and sticky. Archer took along his "new" digital camera (kindly passed along by Uncle Dwayne) to snap some pictures. At this point most of his pictures show people's torsos or a generous helping of ground, since he tends to angle the camera down as he shoots to keep an eye on the viewscreen. But he very much enjoys taking pictures -- as he said with great delight, "Mom, you and I are both photographers!"
Back to the house by 9:20 to watch an episode of The Electric Company, while I gathered library books and made sure I had everything I needed to take to lunch. We arrived at the library at about 10:25, only to find that Ann, the storytelling lady, had been bitten by a spider (!) and was out of commission. It was like old home week in the children's book room, with at least four families there who count as our friends or acquaintances. We filled up a tote bag with books, checked out with some difficulty (the system was down), and headed off to Chili's for lunch. Although I got Cady Gray to use the potty there not once but twice, she still managed to have an accident; I'm starting to wonder if she's got some physical problem. Suddenly in the last week the girl can't go 20 minutes without wetting her pants. (Update: Since I typed that sentence, we have tried intervals of 20 and 15 minutes without success. We are now seeing if she can make it 10 minutes.)
Frustrated by the constant toilet troubles, I was snappish with the kids when we got home, and hustled them off to their naptimes early. Probably I should be working on the lecture I have to give on Monday, but mentally I've reserved that to be done after Libby gets here. I read blogs and websites for the 90 minutes they were in their rooms.
When they got up, we went to the grocery store. In normal life we've stopped taking them on grocery shopping trips together, because they inevitably get wild and uncontrollable before we're done. But there was no help for it today. For the most part they stayed on track, but by the end they were clambering around the cart and making insistent demands. The last straw was in the checkout line when Cady Gray -- you guessed it -- had an accident. This after we had had a looooong talk before leaving the house about our New Deal, wherein every time she managed to make it to the next potty time with her pants dry she would get two special stickers, and after we had just picked out said stickers in the store with her input. At the same time, Archer was telling me that he had to go, but in the checkout line it seemed impossible to go all the way back to the other end of the store with a paid-for cart of food and take them both in. I told Archer he needed to wait until we got home, and prayed he could manage it.
It was when I was pushing the cart full of kids and groceries briskly back to the car that I felt the sharp pain in the back of my left hip, right at the top of the pelvic bone. It stabbed with every step, just intense enough to make me say "ow" out loud and shorten my stride. What the heck was this? Suddenly terrified that this was the harbinger of some kind of debilitating pain that could get worse, I focused on getting the kids in the car and the groceries in the trunk, moving gingerly and slowly to try to avoid whatever had triggered the pain. While pushing the cart back to the corral, I carefully tested my limits. Slow walking -- fine, although I could still feel the twinge there just under the threshold of pain. A little faster -- oh, there it goes again. OwowowOW. OK, slow down, just get home where you can rest.
An hour of trying my best to relax and unkink all the stress seems to have improved the situation, although I'm still gunshy. One step at a time -- get the dinner fixed, get the kids in bed -- and I'll be able to see whether a more serious regimen of destressification puts me back on my feet in a normal fashion. Meanwhile, if you happen to be thousands of miles away -- don't worry about me. (Ha ha.) I'm sure it was a temporary something-or-other -- it felt pinched-nervy -- that will fix itself with the proper care.
What it told me was that I'm not immune to my own emotions ... that I need to not get upset and tense about stuff that doesn't matter while we're just trying to make it through the week. I tend to get very serious about setting boundaries and then taking it personally when they fall apart. None of that is as important as being 100% so that the kids are taken care of. I'll be working on my meditation techniques tonight and enjoying a novel and early bedtime, with the expectation that Libby's arrival will free me tomorrow to ramp up normal activity. Like that pesky lecture.
I always knew that today, Saturday, would be the hardest day of Noel's absence. Tomorrow my mother-in-law should be arriving, and all next week the kids and I are in school part or all day.
We had a pleasant enough morning. After breakfast and getting dressed, we went out to Laurel Park for some outdoor play before the day got too hot and sticky. Archer took along his "new" digital camera (kindly passed along by Uncle Dwayne) to snap some pictures. At this point most of his pictures show people's torsos or a generous helping of ground, since he tends to angle the camera down as he shoots to keep an eye on the viewscreen. But he very much enjoys taking pictures -- as he said with great delight, "Mom, you and I are both photographers!"
Back to the house by 9:20 to watch an episode of The Electric Company, while I gathered library books and made sure I had everything I needed to take to lunch. We arrived at the library at about 10:25, only to find that Ann, the storytelling lady, had been bitten by a spider (!) and was out of commission. It was like old home week in the children's book room, with at least four families there who count as our friends or acquaintances. We filled up a tote bag with books, checked out with some difficulty (the system was down), and headed off to Chili's for lunch. Although I got Cady Gray to use the potty there not once but twice, she still managed to have an accident; I'm starting to wonder if she's got some physical problem. Suddenly in the last week the girl can't go 20 minutes without wetting her pants. (Update: Since I typed that sentence, we have tried intervals of 20 and 15 minutes without success. We are now seeing if she can make it 10 minutes.)
Frustrated by the constant toilet troubles, I was snappish with the kids when we got home, and hustled them off to their naptimes early. Probably I should be working on the lecture I have to give on Monday, but mentally I've reserved that to be done after Libby gets here. I read blogs and websites for the 90 minutes they were in their rooms.
When they got up, we went to the grocery store. In normal life we've stopped taking them on grocery shopping trips together, because they inevitably get wild and uncontrollable before we're done. But there was no help for it today. For the most part they stayed on track, but by the end they were clambering around the cart and making insistent demands. The last straw was in the checkout line when Cady Gray -- you guessed it -- had an accident. This after we had had a looooong talk before leaving the house about our New Deal, wherein every time she managed to make it to the next potty time with her pants dry she would get two special stickers, and after we had just picked out said stickers in the store with her input. At the same time, Archer was telling me that he had to go, but in the checkout line it seemed impossible to go all the way back to the other end of the store with a paid-for cart of food and take them both in. I told Archer he needed to wait until we got home, and prayed he could manage it.
It was when I was pushing the cart full of kids and groceries briskly back to the car that I felt the sharp pain in the back of my left hip, right at the top of the pelvic bone. It stabbed with every step, just intense enough to make me say "ow" out loud and shorten my stride. What the heck was this? Suddenly terrified that this was the harbinger of some kind of debilitating pain that could get worse, I focused on getting the kids in the car and the groceries in the trunk, moving gingerly and slowly to try to avoid whatever had triggered the pain. While pushing the cart back to the corral, I carefully tested my limits. Slow walking -- fine, although I could still feel the twinge there just under the threshold of pain. A little faster -- oh, there it goes again. OwowowOW. OK, slow down, just get home where you can rest.
An hour of trying my best to relax and unkink all the stress seems to have improved the situation, although I'm still gunshy. One step at a time -- get the dinner fixed, get the kids in bed -- and I'll be able to see whether a more serious regimen of destressification puts me back on my feet in a normal fashion. Meanwhile, if you happen to be thousands of miles away -- don't worry about me. (Ha ha.) I'm sure it was a temporary something-or-other -- it felt pinched-nervy -- that will fix itself with the proper care.
What it told me was that I'm not immune to my own emotions ... that I need to not get upset and tense about stuff that doesn't matter while we're just trying to make it through the week. I tend to get very serious about setting boundaries and then taking it personally when they fall apart. None of that is as important as being 100% so that the kids are taken care of. I'll be working on my meditation techniques tonight and enjoying a novel and early bedtime, with the expectation that Libby's arrival will free me tomorrow to ramp up normal activity. Like that pesky lecture.
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