Today I am feeling a tiny bit lost.  I feel heavy and anxious and am rapidly examining my list of normal comforts. I suppose any number of them would work if I could just sit to one task without a million more intruding my sacred mental space.  I keep thinking that it's life's job to arrange things peacefully for me, that the decisions I make and the lifestyle I insist upon are obliged to make me happy.

I keep forgetting that happiness is my job.

Today, I want a team of people on it.

Elves to task.

I am not one to be easily overwhelmed.  I just really need to call in sick today.  I need someone to be Bowie's mum so I can go back to being the fabulous get-it-done-effortlessly girl. Though the work is not hard, it is constant.

I keep making lists thinking that once my brain has dumped these tasks and worries onto a piece of paper, it will finally know peace, it will finally relax into that sacred emptiness.  Nope.  It now only serves as a visual reminder of what I cannot do.

And yet it feels strange to crave peace in this environment of Bowie and I.  The tasks I create are my own.  I answer to no one. I wear what I want, sleep if I need, and bathe in silence (well, not recently as Bowie has decided to showcase her vocal skills).  My life is enviable.

Hell, I envy it.

I have toyed a while now with the idea of writing a "Fertility, Pregnancy, and Motherhood for the Type-A" book.  Today's chapter would be titled, "How to learn to endure mess."

I am visually stimulated.  I need chaos to be ordered before I can relax.  Pre-baby (and pre-baby stuff, geeze) I was able to keep things straightened enough to fulfill my needs.  It wasn't perfect, but it was enough for me.  Now, there are exponentially more messes and exponentially less time to straighten them.

This last Saturday, otherwise known as the only December day where Joel didn't work and we had no other social obligations, we were so glad to have a day to relax together.  I kept saying to myself, "Okay, just finish THIS and then you can go relax with Joel."  It just never came, and I spent the day in anxiety and irritation.

So I am realizing that I have a new challenge ahead of me.  I must instead learn to clear the mental clutter in order to rest, since there is no physical way to have visual order as often as I need it.  I cannot continue to allow these messes to rule my mood.

The next chapter in the "Type-A Mother" would be how to deal with travel anxiety.  We are taking Bowie to my home in LA for New Year's, and I can almost not focus on anything else for the fears I have about travel.  

Since life persists on being uncooperative, I shall endeavor to learn a new way to happiness.

The only thing that has worked thus far is deep, deep breathing.

And Christmas Lights.

And Snow Globes.

And Corny Movies.

And Eggnog with Cool Whip.

These things make me blindly giddy.

How much of this existence is the managing of time?  And time is such an illusion, a way to mark the turning of the planet.  It's panic upon our day is nothing short of self-inflicted. There is the negotiating with self for the permission to relax and the motivation to work. If there is too much to do and not enough time to do it, then you have too much to do...as in those tasks do not belong in your hands or mind today.  And so we must open our grabby little hands, those hands of hubris that demand we show people that we are more than we truly are, those hands must release time and tasks and duty and ideals.

How much of this existence is release of control?  And control is such an illusion, simple decision-making.  The panic upon this loss of control is nothing short of self-inflicted.  Even the comforts of control I can give myself are not true control.  The attempt to control items, people, outcomes, and situations were long-since established coping mechanisms for managing anxiety..that continued pit of knots in my soul's stomach that won't release unless I can somehow protect them from bad things.  Only this does not work anymore.  So what does one do when a once-working coping mechanism no longer performs its designated task?

How much of this existence is tasks? The living gets lost in the doing.  We do, but we cannot see.  We change diapers and forget to look into eyes.  We make love and forget to connect.  We pay bills and forget to see money for what it is instead of the power it has over our choices.  We attend holiday parties but forget to celebrate the magic of the season.  We read life-changing words but forget to let them penetrate our insides toward real progress. We bicker over holiday plans, plans intended to foster a connection with friends and family, but we forget to have generosity of spirit.  We purchase gifts for these people, often without deeply considering them.   We do and do and do.

Hello, hello, friends and lovers.  It's not even sunrise, and I am feeling particularly buzzy.  I have been feeling rather good lately, and since I eat a sugar/carb rich diet and poison my body daily with spirits, I am guessing it has to do with this, this, this, and this.  I suppose this doesn't hurt either.  I've never been on so many supplements, but my acupuncturist has me in her good graces and we are working closely with my massage therapist and chiropractor to get this body well.  

Did I tell you that I've figured out the secret to being happy at home?  Yes, the world's domestic mysteries have been unveiled to yours truly.  The key is to shower, but not only be showered and dressed before 9am, but to have hair, makeup, shoes, AND accessories all taken care of.  Simple though it be, I think it sends the psyche the message that things are happening all around us, and any number of those things could happen to us at any moment, so we had better be dressed and ready for them.  One of the beasts of personal depression is the outlook that everything is still, that no one anywhere is doing anything interesting, that life is dull and boring.  For some reason, having a quiet morning and being ready for the day, even if nothing but making dinner is on the agenda, changes my outlook on this.  This is also another reason I do not thrive in country living.  I need the hum and excitement of city life to fuel my love of life, just as others need the solitary mountain air to fuel theirs.

It was also a superbly fun weekend.  Joel's company hosted their annual party, and Bowie spent the night at Grandma's.  We felt so young again!  You will also notice that a certain couple attended the party because BC is a new Tableau employee!  What luck!  Anyway, we could stay out as late as we wanted, drink too much, fulfill a late-night craving for fried chicken and waffles, crash out (without even brushing my teeth! What! I NEVER do that!), and wake up leisurely.  All weekend I kept thinking about how grateful I am to have such support from his parents.  They are able to help us retain a small fraction of our previous selves, which I believe to be imperative in the transition to being parents. 

In fact, as I drove to pick up Bowie yesterday morning, fog and rain and winter gray all around me, I began to ponder my loved ones.  I was overcome with love for this human race, specifically the people in my tribe.  I thought of Joel's family, then my family, then some of the best friends I have because of blogs, then new friends I've made because of Joel's or my work, then the oldest of friends and their children...I felt the list never end.  I almost wanted to write down all these names so that if ever I again doubt my part in this human race, I can see those I love and who love me and send those lies of isolation back to the pit from whence they came.  It was a moment of somehow knowing what it all meant, this odd life on this old planet (like old! I learned yesterday that scientists believe that dinosaurs inhabited earth for 165 million years before they suddenly became extinct.  I had no idea it was that long!  Also, if you have never seen THIS, stop all viewing of guilty pleasures and addictive period pieces until you do.  Even if you don't agree, it will move you.  Well, I am hoping that you are able to be moved by things that challenge your thinking, dear reader.)