Every time I start blogging, or have some magical push of creativity, I always say that I'm going to blog more. That I'm going to do it with relative consistency.
That has happened zero times.
I don't know what it is. I mean, I like to write, I like to talk... I like to talk on the internet (aka writing) a lot more than I like talking in person, so one would assume that a blog would be the perfect medium for me.
It's not like I don't have time to do it - I have a relatively fast typing speed (although it could be improved seeing as I haven't really used it as much as I used to), so churning out a blog post once a day or once every couple days should be easy.
Maybe I'm just lacking in subject material and/or I don't want to bombard the three people that read my ramblings with stories about my kids or my husband.
I actually think that the problem is that I'm just aiming a little too high. It's like every time I say I'm going to start a weight loss plan. Rather than starting small and giving myself little goals, I'm like "OKAY ALL THE EVERYTHING STARTS NOW" and then two days later I'm crushing a pack of timbits in my car en route home so that it "doesn't really count"
Shut up, you know you've been there.
So my short term little goal is to write another post this week. Here's hoping I can finally follow through!
Sunday, March 27, 2016
Monday, March 14, 2016
For the Love of God
For once, I'm not using that phrase blasphemously.
I'm honestly confused and confounded by those who have a relationship with God. It's not that I don't believe in Him, I just don't understand the innate love that some people have for Him.
I was brought up a Roman Catholic. A "only practicing when we have to" Roman Catholic, but RC nonetheless. I attended Catholic schools, went through all the sacraments, even got married in a Catholic church. But that was more about just following the path, less about choosing it myself.
I have friends - good friends - who are Christian and proud. They shout it to the world - both literally and figuratively - about their love for God and how he has set out this plan for them. How can they know? How can they just blindly believe that "everything happens for a reason" or that their faith is being tested or, or, or.
It's not that I'm trying to argue with their faith. If anything, I'm proud that they believe in something/someone so fully that they will tell everyone and anyone about it. Maybe I'm mildly envious that I don't have that same sort of belief system in place.
Or maybe, just maybe, this is my call for help in understanding.
I'm honestly confused and confounded by those who have a relationship with God. It's not that I don't believe in Him, I just don't understand the innate love that some people have for Him.
I was brought up a Roman Catholic. A "only practicing when we have to" Roman Catholic, but RC nonetheless. I attended Catholic schools, went through all the sacraments, even got married in a Catholic church. But that was more about just following the path, less about choosing it myself.
I have friends - good friends - who are Christian and proud. They shout it to the world - both literally and figuratively - about their love for God and how he has set out this plan for them. How can they know? How can they just blindly believe that "everything happens for a reason" or that their faith is being tested or, or, or.
It's not that I'm trying to argue with their faith. If anything, I'm proud that they believe in something/someone so fully that they will tell everyone and anyone about it. Maybe I'm mildly envious that I don't have that same sort of belief system in place.
Or maybe, just maybe, this is my call for help in understanding.
Monday, February 1, 2016
Self-Love Month - Week 1, Day 1
Finally I'm following through with blogging! Everybody say hooray!
Today is day 1 of week 1 of both the month where I find something to write about (hopefully positive). It's also day 1 of week 1 of my 21 Day Fix round.
I didn't realize that in a month off from working out, I'd be starting back at the beginning. I basically was at the same point of disrepair for the first workout as I was at the very first time I worked out. I couldn't one move entirely, I bowed out halfway through of a couple of them. I couldn't do the ab work because of my back. So I have learned my lesson that I shouldn't stop exercising, I should just keep plodding through. Or at least don't take a month-long break.
I'm actually, legitimately, at a loss of what to talk about. Hopefully tomorrow I can think of something, but today all I can think about is relaxing in my bed and zoning out playing the Sims.
Sunday, January 24, 2016
Fatboy Slim Reflections
"We've come a long long way together,
Through the hard times and the good,
I have to celebrate you baby,
I have to praise you like I should"
-- Fatboy Slim "Praise You" released 1998, from the album "You've Come a Long Way, Baby"
I know that it's been awhile since I've posted, despite all of my promises and intentions of posting more. I've been in a rocky place mentally & emotionally, so I haven't felt like writing much. Although that in itself is a lie because I keep thinking of nothing BUT writing. I just can't seem to drive myself to do so, which in turn makes me upset that I'm not writing more... It's the most vicious cycle and I hate it.
When I sat down tonight, I had full intentions of turning on Sims 4 and making my puppets dance.
What's that? You want to eat? Maybe you should finish studying cooking first!
But then I got the above song by Fatboy Slim stuck in my head. And things just kind of starting rumbling and rattling around in my brain, and I felt the actual urge to write a blog post.
A few days ago, at a very low point in the week, I posted on Facebook that I was having a rough day and that PPD was kicking my ass. Up until then, I think I've posted maybe once about my PPD issues and it was most of the same people saying how "brave" I am for talking about it and how they're always there for me to chat with/to/at. The thing about my version of PPA/PPD is that I really do not want to burden other people with my problems. I know that they're my problems, and I don't really feel like dumping them on other people.
"But we're friends!" they say "That's what we're here for!"
Sure. That's true. And when you've cultivated online friendships (a lot of them, in my case) it gets even easier to chat with them because you're hiding behind the anonymity of the Internet. But honestly, at some point, they're all going to get fed up with me complaining and/or sadding (is that even a word? Can I turn an emotion into a verb?) about the same thing all the time. And that's where my PPA/PPD kicks in. I'd love to talk out my problems before they turn into me being a lump of sadness. But the little part of me, the part that is clinging to the Zoloft, is telling me that it's not fair to expect people to listen all the time.
And I kind of believe it.
I've been a lump of sadness for too long, and where I would love to say that I'm going to do better and I'm going to change myself... I can't really guarantee that. Once I start putting definitives down, then I'm just setting myself up for disappointment and failure. That sounds harsh, I know, but honestly I think I know how my brain works. This happens every time I set out to lose weight. I'm sick of disappointing myself because I always assume that I'm disappointing others at the same time.
February 1st, I start a new session of 21 Day Fix. I'm going to adhere to the food plan this time instead of cheating pretty much daily. I'm going to push myself in the workouts. I'm going to start writing again. I'm going to start praising myself for what I have done each day - maybe that can be my February writing goal, to write a post daily (even if it's just a little short one) - and accepting that I am flawed, but that's okay.
Paige, we've come a long long way together. Through the hard times and the good. We have to celebrate us, baby. We have to praise us like we should.
Through the hard times and the good,
I have to celebrate you baby,
I have to praise you like I should"
-- Fatboy Slim "Praise You" released 1998, from the album "You've Come a Long Way, Baby"
I know that it's been awhile since I've posted, despite all of my promises and intentions of posting more. I've been in a rocky place mentally & emotionally, so I haven't felt like writing much. Although that in itself is a lie because I keep thinking of nothing BUT writing. I just can't seem to drive myself to do so, which in turn makes me upset that I'm not writing more... It's the most vicious cycle and I hate it.
When I sat down tonight, I had full intentions of turning on Sims 4 and making my puppets dance.
What's that? You want to eat? Maybe you should finish studying cooking first!
But then I got the above song by Fatboy Slim stuck in my head. And things just kind of starting rumbling and rattling around in my brain, and I felt the actual urge to write a blog post.
A few days ago, at a very low point in the week, I posted on Facebook that I was having a rough day and that PPD was kicking my ass. Up until then, I think I've posted maybe once about my PPD issues and it was most of the same people saying how "brave" I am for talking about it and how they're always there for me to chat with/to/at. The thing about my version of PPA/PPD is that I really do not want to burden other people with my problems. I know that they're my problems, and I don't really feel like dumping them on other people.
"But we're friends!" they say "That's what we're here for!"
Sure. That's true. And when you've cultivated online friendships (a lot of them, in my case) it gets even easier to chat with them because you're hiding behind the anonymity of the Internet. But honestly, at some point, they're all going to get fed up with me complaining and/or sadding (is that even a word? Can I turn an emotion into a verb?) about the same thing all the time. And that's where my PPA/PPD kicks in. I'd love to talk out my problems before they turn into me being a lump of sadness. But the little part of me, the part that is clinging to the Zoloft, is telling me that it's not fair to expect people to listen all the time.
And I kind of believe it.
I've been a lump of sadness for too long, and where I would love to say that I'm going to do better and I'm going to change myself... I can't really guarantee that. Once I start putting definitives down, then I'm just setting myself up for disappointment and failure. That sounds harsh, I know, but honestly I think I know how my brain works. This happens every time I set out to lose weight. I'm sick of disappointing myself because I always assume that I'm disappointing others at the same time.
February 1st, I start a new session of 21 Day Fix. I'm going to adhere to the food plan this time instead of cheating pretty much daily. I'm going to push myself in the workouts. I'm going to start writing again. I'm going to start praising myself for what I have done each day - maybe that can be my February writing goal, to write a post daily (even if it's just a little short one) - and accepting that I am flawed, but that's okay.
Paige, we've come a long long way together. Through the hard times and the good. We have to celebrate us, baby. We have to praise us like we should.
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Reflection
As we near the end of the year, there's a lot to sit back and think about. It's usually the time when everyone thinks about what they're going to do differently next year, what their resolutions will be, and what were the highest points of their previous year.
Highlights - by order of appearance
1. House being completed before baby was born.
2. Baby being born.
3. Turning 30.
4. Getting mostly settled, mostly organized, and mostly level.
5. Being able to spend time with my children.
Lowlights - by order of appearance
1. Yet another major abdominal surgery due to a stubborn little baby being breech, followed by 10 days of absolute agony because of a lovely gastro bug I picked up either while in surgery or in the hospital in general.
2. The terrible feeling of not being in control of myself - aka post-partum depression.
3. Mr. M getting so sick for such a tiny human.
4. Money. By god, money is the root of all our absolute shitty fights.
5. Realizing how few close friends I have, and how hard it is to make more.
What are my resolutions for next year? To be better in general. A better mother, a better wife, a better person to myself. If nothing else, I just want to be content.
I did one round of 21 day fix from December 1 - 22. I lost 3 lbs and 19.5 inches, which is a huge motivation for me to do more. I want to be able to keep up with my kids this summer, even if Mr. M is going to have extremely limited outside time because of his antibiotics.
Another thing I'm reflecting on is me. Who am I? Who do I want to be? At 30 years old, I feel like I should have the answers to these questions, and I really don't.
So small goal will be to figure out my place. I'll be home for at least another year, possibly more, depending on when Mr. M's surgery is and how we fare financially. But I'd like to find my place beyond that. Determine who Paige is underneath the layers of blond hair, boobs, and Frappucino's. And hopefully once I get down to the base level, I can build it up stronger and better than before.
Highlights - by order of appearance
1. House being completed before baby was born.
2. Baby being born.
3. Turning 30.
4. Getting mostly settled, mostly organized, and mostly level.
5. Being able to spend time with my children.
Lowlights - by order of appearance
1. Yet another major abdominal surgery due to a stubborn little baby being breech, followed by 10 days of absolute agony because of a lovely gastro bug I picked up either while in surgery or in the hospital in general.
2. The terrible feeling of not being in control of myself - aka post-partum depression.
3. Mr. M getting so sick for such a tiny human.
4. Money. By god, money is the root of all our absolute shitty fights.
5. Realizing how few close friends I have, and how hard it is to make more.
What are my resolutions for next year? To be better in general. A better mother, a better wife, a better person to myself. If nothing else, I just want to be content.
I did one round of 21 day fix from December 1 - 22. I lost 3 lbs and 19.5 inches, which is a huge motivation for me to do more. I want to be able to keep up with my kids this summer, even if Mr. M is going to have extremely limited outside time because of his antibiotics.
Another thing I'm reflecting on is me. Who am I? Who do I want to be? At 30 years old, I feel like I should have the answers to these questions, and I really don't.
So small goal will be to figure out my place. I'll be home for at least another year, possibly more, depending on when Mr. M's surgery is and how we fare financially. But I'd like to find my place beyond that. Determine who Paige is underneath the layers of blond hair, boobs, and Frappucino's. And hopefully once I get down to the base level, I can build it up stronger and better than before.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Ups and Downs and In-Betweens
I don't know if you realise this, but making new friends as an adult is HARD. Especially once you're into your 30s. Interests have changed and/or blossomed, and it's a little less likely to find a friend that you just click with despite having nothing in common. Throw in some kids and a marriage or a long term relationship, and that makes everything so much more difficult.
One of my online mom friends has been campaigning to set me up on a mom-date with one of her friends who moved out here. She had mentioned this woman several times before, but it was only after I was having a really bummy day that she took the initiative and sent this woman my information. And I'm grateful because I feel like we definitely could be friends going forward.
The hardest part for me is that I'm so much better online or via text. I'm so awkward in person, never quite knowing if I'm crossing a line with my sarcasm or cussing. When I am able to edit myself, that's almost better.
Now what does that tell you? That I'd prefer to edit or censor myself rather than be real? Maybe I really should try to get in with a psychologist/psychiatrist. Get them to Freud me up and figure out just what is so broken in my brain that I don't like being organic.
Am I even using that phrase correctly?
This week has been both good and bad. Mr. M is teething and we're all STILL sick from whatever plague it is that has taken us over. So he's been waking up at night again, Miss O needs more sleep but she just won't take it, and both T and I are coughing and sniffling and phlegming all over. It's just a great place, this house of sickness.
I had a really horrible realization this week, and I honestly don't know how to tell T about it. We were having our annual family pictures done on Wednesday, and they just weren't going as planned. Mr. M was hungry but there was nowhere around that was open for us to heat up his bottle. Plus he was tired so he just didn't want to eat somewhere new. Miss O was refusing to smile except when her cousin (our photographer is our sister-in-law) was in the pictures with her. T was just getting so frustrated about everything - and I mean EVERYTHING - and I was getting terribly embarrassed by how he was reacting.
We were in the car on our way home and he says to me "I hate pictures. Have I told you how much I hate pictures?" and I just kind of gave him a side-eyed look and say "Yes. Your hatred of pictures is noted, seeing as you tell me every single time that I mention pictures how much you hate them". And then it hit me. When is the last time he's said that he likes something? When is the last time he was excited about something that involved all of us? When did he last offer me a compliment or a nice comment in general? And all of these questions boiled down to - If he hates/doesn't like so much stuff in his life, when is it going to come to him hating/not liking me? When will I evoke the same feelings as pictures?
I mentioned this to the friend I was talking about above, and she just straight up said that T loves me. End of story. But I can't help having this tiny fear in the back of my head that it's only a matter of time. And that's terrifying to me.
One of my online mom friends has been campaigning to set me up on a mom-date with one of her friends who moved out here. She had mentioned this woman several times before, but it was only after I was having a really bummy day that she took the initiative and sent this woman my information. And I'm grateful because I feel like we definitely could be friends going forward.
The hardest part for me is that I'm so much better online or via text. I'm so awkward in person, never quite knowing if I'm crossing a line with my sarcasm or cussing. When I am able to edit myself, that's almost better.
Now what does that tell you? That I'd prefer to edit or censor myself rather than be real? Maybe I really should try to get in with a psychologist/psychiatrist. Get them to Freud me up and figure out just what is so broken in my brain that I don't like being organic.
Am I even using that phrase correctly?
This week has been both good and bad. Mr. M is teething and we're all STILL sick from whatever plague it is that has taken us over. So he's been waking up at night again, Miss O needs more sleep but she just won't take it, and both T and I are coughing and sniffling and phlegming all over. It's just a great place, this house of sickness.
I had a really horrible realization this week, and I honestly don't know how to tell T about it. We were having our annual family pictures done on Wednesday, and they just weren't going as planned. Mr. M was hungry but there was nowhere around that was open for us to heat up his bottle. Plus he was tired so he just didn't want to eat somewhere new. Miss O was refusing to smile except when her cousin (our photographer is our sister-in-law) was in the pictures with her. T was just getting so frustrated about everything - and I mean EVERYTHING - and I was getting terribly embarrassed by how he was reacting.
We were in the car on our way home and he says to me "I hate pictures. Have I told you how much I hate pictures?" and I just kind of gave him a side-eyed look and say "Yes. Your hatred of pictures is noted, seeing as you tell me every single time that I mention pictures how much you hate them". And then it hit me. When is the last time he's said that he likes something? When is the last time he was excited about something that involved all of us? When did he last offer me a compliment or a nice comment in general? And all of these questions boiled down to - If he hates/doesn't like so much stuff in his life, when is it going to come to him hating/not liking me? When will I evoke the same feelings as pictures?
I mentioned this to the friend I was talking about above, and she just straight up said that T loves me. End of story. But I can't help having this tiny fear in the back of my head that it's only a matter of time. And that's terrifying to me.
Thursday, November 5, 2015
What Now?
Apathetic. It's a word that I've always used to describe other people, like my brother, but never for me. I've always been kind of all over the emotional scale, highs and lows and rarely the in-betweens.
But for some reason, in my journey with depression and anxiety and all of those fun things, apathy has reared its head.
It's not that I'm apathetic towards everything. Far from it, in fact. I get excited about things, I get sad about things, I get really happy about things. But when it comes to thinking about myself, I just don't care. When did I last shower? Who knows, and who cares because it's not like I ever leave the house. Do I look like a hot mess? Probably, but no one will judge and if they do I just don't care.
I spent two solid days in thermals from Old Navy because oh well. Every time I looked in the mirror, in the loose and unflattering lounge wear, I just didn't care. My kids aren't going to tell me I smell; my husband isn't going to comment on it, just to be polite. And let's be honest - I see him for roughly an hour or two on weekdays. He leaves for work before we wake up, and gets home shortly before bedtime.
I know that I need to kick this apathy. My bestie has been great, suggesting things to help me kick my own ass. Hopefully tomorrow the kids and I will get out for a walk. Even just a short one. Something to get us out of the house, and kick me out of this funk.
I'm not going to hold my breath though.
But for some reason, in my journey with depression and anxiety and all of those fun things, apathy has reared its head.
It's not that I'm apathetic towards everything. Far from it, in fact. I get excited about things, I get sad about things, I get really happy about things. But when it comes to thinking about myself, I just don't care. When did I last shower? Who knows, and who cares because it's not like I ever leave the house. Do I look like a hot mess? Probably, but no one will judge and if they do I just don't care.
I spent two solid days in thermals from Old Navy because oh well. Every time I looked in the mirror, in the loose and unflattering lounge wear, I just didn't care. My kids aren't going to tell me I smell; my husband isn't going to comment on it, just to be polite. And let's be honest - I see him for roughly an hour or two on weekdays. He leaves for work before we wake up, and gets home shortly before bedtime.
I know that I need to kick this apathy. My bestie has been great, suggesting things to help me kick my own ass. Hopefully tomorrow the kids and I will get out for a walk. Even just a short one. Something to get us out of the house, and kick me out of this funk.
I'm not going to hold my breath though.
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