Tag Archives: daughter(s)

Can You Hear Me?

I’ve almost entirely lost my voice. I can whisper or I can squeakily force a few words out. But, ultimately, I can’t effectively talk.

Getting two little girls awake and out of bed, dressed, breakfast eaten,  medications taken, hair brushed, shoes on, coats on, hats and gloves on and out the door with everything they needed (backpack, snacks, homework, etc) with limited ability to verbally direct them was a challenge. Calling my doctor on the phone to make an appointment was also a challenge.

I could get upset. I could get mad. I could get frustrated that I essentially cannot communicate in my usual manner. It wouldn’t do any good though. It wouldn’t change the fact that I’ve lost my voice.

And, looking back, it’s not the first time it’s happened to me. At least once a year, usually during the cold season, my voice disappears. The majority of the cold season I’m fighting some kind of sickness. Colds go right to bronchitis for me. Flus stick around longer than they do for others. And my throat gets “messed up.” (I’ve been told by my Ear, Nose and Throat doctor that I will need to have my tonsils out, though the connection to my lost voice is weak.) Every year I get upset that these things happen. I get angry and mad and frustrated. I fall into beliefs of “it’s not fair” and “why me”.

Billaday: Flickr

Why? All my resistance and beliefs have never shown even the slightest change. In fact, in behaving in that manner I likely prolong my sickness. Negativity is a sickness all on its own.

Of course I don’t want to be sick. Of course I’d like to be able to talk and communicate. Over-focusing on all the things I want and don’t have doesn’t propel me forward. Instead I become entrapped in the black-and-white, pity thinking of how horrible it is. I get lost in the darkness.

There is another side to the darkness. To the negativity. In every situation, regardless of how dark and desolate it is, there is some light. It just needs to be sought out and discovered. If this sounds like a load of bullshit, I hear you. I’ve been there. I’m still there somewhat. I won’t tell you how to see the world or what to do, as we are each in control of our own lives and our own choices. Only you can decide if you wish to seek out the positives that lie within the negative experiences in your life. It isn’t always an easy task to take on.

For myself, there is no longer another choice. The journey of self-discovering is never-ending and there is no map. Navigating through the darkness and negativity to uncover light and positivity is exhilarating. Especially when I realize it was only hidden and always present. Expanding how I view the world, how I perceive experiences and how behave in relation to both is amazing. The paradigm shift that is occurring for me leads to growth in my life I previously had not thought possible.

How I have reacted and viewed losing my voice today is an example of that. The ability to speak only a few words is an opporunity for me to decide what is most important to be communicated. While I was initially nervous and predicting chaos for the morning routine with my daughters, quite the opposite happened. I framed the morning for them by telling them that I was losing my voice and couldn’t speak loudly. I then asked for their help in doing a good job listening and accomplishing what needed to be done. If I found myself needing to repeat myself so they could hear, I would motion for them to come closer to me so I wouldn’t strain my voice attempting to speak louder.

Early into the morning routine they both began to whisper as well, matching their volumes to mine. With the three of us all whispering, we needed to pay close attention to listening. By having limited vocal ability, I had to constantly choose if what I wanted to say was important enough to warrant depleting some of my voice. Surprisingly, in many cases, it wasn’t! The girls were both excellent at listening to directions and getting ready this morning. No one screamed (certainly not me!), there were no temper tantrums (even from me!) and we were out the door, well prepared, in better time than the rest of this week.

Perhaps I should lose my voice more often! Being required to continuously allow only statements of absolute importance to be spoken is a task I’d like to attempt to continue. How often we let everything we think become verbalized. How much of what we say is actually needed to be said? I’m grateful for the ability to discover the positive in this situation. I’m even more grateful for my daily ability to speak and communicate with my voice. For the moment, my lack of one will be viewed as a reminder of such gratitude.

Slow Down, Start Over

Yesterday morning I was already running late. Wednesdays are my busiest, craziest day of the week and I somehow always manage to fall behind. I went upstairs to wake my daughters, only to find E, my 3 year old, standing in the bathroom with an exploded pull-up. An exploded poopy pull-up. Now, if you haven’t ever had to deal with this (and I truly hope you’ve been spared!) let me tell you, it’s…disgusting. Not only did the pull-up explode but there was poop all over her pajamas, her legs and the floor. E needed a shower (which is what you get when you live in a house with no bathtub, but that’s a different story). I got Z, my 7 year old, downstairs to get dressed and ready (not an easy solo task for an easily distracted little girl) and went back upstairs to give E a shower. Of course, E didn’t want to take a shower. After much pressuring, she got in the shower and, 20 minutes later than expected, we all made it (somewhat) ready to the dining room table.

At this point we weren’t just a little late anymore, we were really late. And I still needed to feed them breakfast, put dinner in the crockpot and finish getting ready. I gave them breakfast and started on dinner. When I looked back a moment later, the girls were fooling around and not even at the table. I’m not going to sugar coat it. At this point my patience snapped and I raised my voice to tell them to, “sit at the table, be quiet and eat your breakfast.” One of them started to say something and I cut her off saying, “if it isn’t an emergency, I cannot hear it now.” They sat. They were quiet. And they ate their breakfast. But I felt like shit over how I had handled it.

As I began putting the chicken in the crockpot, piling ingredients on top, I took the moment to slow down and really process what had just happened. Was it worth damaging my relationship with my children to avoid being late? We were going to be late either way. Did it really matter (why I was upset)? Or could I let it go?

I thought it over and, quickly, decided that my relationship with them was of #1 importance. I sat down at the table with my daughters and apologized for raising my voice and being snappy. In doing so I owned up to my mistakes and modeled an appropriate method of resolving them. I asked them if we could all start the morning over, because I didn’t like how I acted and how it went (again, taking responsibility). Unprompted, they both apologized for not listening to instructions and said they would also like to start over and try again.

I work very hard not to raise my voice with my children, as I realize what they must feel when I do so. I don’t like it when someone raises their voice to me. It makes me feel horrible. And small. On the occasion that I slip up and do raise my voice (and, who are we kidding here, it does occasionally happen as stressed out parents) I like to use the Slow Down, Start Over model. It acts as a reset button. And you can use it anytime you wish.

Slow Down, Start Over

  • Slow down. Take a moment by yourself (go to the bathroom if you have to!) and take a few breaths to calm down. Then, process what just happened. Reflect on your own actions. Determine what your priority in the situation is (for me, it was my relationship with my daughters).
  • Own up to your mistakes/behaviors. Take responsibility for your actions. And then apologize.
  • Ask to start over (try again, reset, etc).
  • Let it go. This is important. You really need to let it go and move on. Holding on to feeling of guilt and the like will only cloud the rest of your day. Which you are starting over.
  • Start again, being cognizant to behave as you originally wished you had.

The process of doing this shows kids how to take responsibility for their actions, that mistakes are ok (AND that moms make them too!), to apologize/make ammends, and to let it go so you can try again. It frames mistakes as a method of learning and growth. It can be parent or child initiated. And, many times, it works. After our morning start over the remainder of yesterday went quite well. Yes, we were late, but my children were able to see me as human (instead of the supermom I try to be) and we were able to use it as an opportunity to learn.

Me, Ever Evolving

I’m (still) working on staying in a positive place. In a positive state of mind. In a positive perspective.

I cannot change the world around me. I cannot change the way other people choose to act. Or not act. I cannot change who my family is. Or which of them are alive to be here with me. I cannot change what people think or say about me. I cannot change how the driver on the road in front of me drives. I cannot change the teachers my daughter or I have. I cannot change the weather. I cannot change where I live. I cannot change the bills I have to pay or the things that need to be bought. I cannot change the work I have to do. I cannot change the chores that need to be done. I cannot change the way my kids react to situations. I cannot change the choices of others.

I can change how I deal with it. And how I view it. And how I react. I can change what I do. Nothing more.

“Life is not a matter of having good cards, but of playing a poor hand well” – Robert L Steve

I’m working consciously every day to do this. My world isn’t going to change any other way. And in doing so I am starting to see things as looking up.Last week the home daycare my girls go to needed to close for the day last minute, due to the death of a family friend. In the past I might have gotten worked up and anxious about it, jumping ahead to all the what-if’s without even allowing myself to process. Instead, I looked at my calender, saw I didn’t have anything I had to do sans children and simply told the provider that I was sorry for her loss. No panic. No worry. That day I kept E, my 3 year old daughter, home with me and we watched a movie and painted our nails. Later she helped me make bagels into pizza for lunch and chili for dinner. Nothing had changed except how I chose to look at the situation.

On Saturdays the girls take swimming lessons at the Y, with a 1/2 hour break in between the timing of their lessons. It’s usually a struggle and quite stressful. But last week I brought coloring books, workbooks and colored pencils.  Z, my 7 year old daughter, and I walked down the street to get some coffee/steamed milk for everyone while B, my partner of almost 7 years, stayed at the Y with E while she swam. It was the last class of the session and E did so well in the Pike level of swimming that she was been moved up to the next level (Eel) for the next session! This will work out much better for us because now their lessons will be one after another, instead of a 1/2 hour break in between. Instead of what could have been a stressful morning, I was able to feel more relaxed due to planning and going into the situation positively.

I’ve been thinking more about what I need and want. It still feels really selfish most of the time but I need to take care of me in order to begin feeling like I’m moving in some direction (hopefully toward happiness!). Currently I’m in the Human Services Social Work transfer program at my community college. I’ve already completed an AA in Early Childhood Education. I want to transfer after graduating to earn my BS but hadn’t really looked too deeply into it. Mostly out of fear. This week I met with the transfer counselor to find out when Elms College (where I’d like to transfer to) is sending a rep to the community college so I can meet with them. I’ve also been looking into financial aid and scholarships, since Elms is expensive. I was looking through the Elms website and noticed that Elms College offers merit-based scholarships to transfer students, noticeably the Elms Phi Theta Kappa Scholarship that is offered to students that have been inducted into the Phi Theta Kappa Honor Society (the scholarship is pretty hefty at $8-10k a year!).

In further researching Phi Theta Kappa I learned you need a 3.6 GPA to be invited to join. So I am now working to get my GPA up to a 3.6 (from a 3.549) so I can get admitted to Phi Theta Kappa. This means I need a 4.0 from here out at the community college, though if I retake a class I previously had earned a C grade in and received a B+ or A, that would significantly help my GPA. I likely will retake that class since it’s a 100 level class and I took it in 2002 when I honestly (and unfortunately) didn’t care much about my education.

I’ve been attending a weekly DBT class since the beginning of 2011. It’s structured in modules, each covering two topics and lasting 11-12 weeks. I’ve found the class itself and the skills taught to be quite helpful and very likely helping in my growth. I was upset that I had to drop out of the last module due to time constraints but I’m really glad I could take this current module. I hope to begin sharing some of the skills I have learned in DBT here.

All in all, I feel better. It’s not perfect. I still cry when certain songs come on the radio. Or when I’m watching sappy kids movies with the girls. Or when I think of my dad (who passed away in November of 2010). I don’t know that those things will ever change though. But I’m choosing to look at them differently. It is what it is and nothing more. Making it anything more than me crying at a song (etc) just makes that feeling bigger than it truly is and allows me to get stuck in it. I don’t want to get stuck feeling like that. Instead I will try to ride it like a wave, to just let it come and wash over me, to experience it, to acknowledge it. And then to let it go.