Mama Bean shares her deep thoughts about driving with you

"Every time I get behind the wheel I give away a part of my life in order to get where I need to be to live. I act as if I’m not living now, but if I could just arrive at my destination, I could finally exist. I give away all the potential of travel’s fleeting yet fulfilling moments in order to have some static, stolid existence at my journey’s end."

I have a future-dated post (like 2046 future-dated) where I blurb out ideas I have for blogging some magical day when I have all the time in the world. The above is one such blurb. I have no idea what prompted this thought, or how I thought I'd tease out a whole post about it. 

To be honest, I'm not sure I totally agree with myself anymore. I seemed to be saying that time in travel was being wasted, or un-valued. Maybe I was going to write a whole post about how I should somehow make travel time productive, use it for something (deep thinking, prayer, Kegel's.) (Well, I do use it for Kegel's, so there's that.) (Did that qualify this post as  TMI Tuesday? And it's Saturday? For shame!) (Ooh it's been so long since a good old-fashioned Bracket Train - complete with unnecessary capitalizations! It's a good day!)

Today, I would say travel is time I treat out-of-time. I suspend many normal thought processes, primarily via radio or music, and exist in car-time. I like car-time. Even with kidlets in the car, I feel like my world is only as big as the road, and nothing beyond those boundaries can impose on me unless I allow it to. I feel very powerful in my car. 

Anyway, I no longer begrudge the part of my life I'm "giving away" while driving. I have found a way to live now while I'm behind the wheel. Thank goodness, eh?

(btw Re: the post title, I have plenty of deep thoughts about driving. They mostly surround using turn signals, merge lanes, and left-turn lanes properly. Another day...)

Mama Bean finds it's not enough to be a jaded adult

During my 20s, with each passing year, I found myself mourning lost opportunity. With each decision I made (what course to take, what major to declare, what job to stay at, what career to choose, what date to call again) I mentally flipped through pages of all the other things I now could not do, or be, or choose. Kinda like when you decide what you're getting at a restaurant, and realize you won't be eating the rest of the menu.

I thought this was the Great Depressing Fact of Life. Not that I didn't enjoy the choices I made, often enough. Not that I haven't, in fact, built myself a lovely wonderful little life over here :) This is not that.

But it does seem to be one of the harder truths of life that you cannot, really, do it all. That picking one path, generally speaking, precludes plenty of others. "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood" and all that, except it's infinite roads diverging between infinite trees, with each new morning.

Here's the mommy-blog moment: children are so flippin' full of potential. They have all their choices ahead of them. The most monumental thing Bean decides in a day is whether to finish his breakfast or not. He doesn't get too broken up about it, either. And I marvel at it, how they can Do or Be so much, still. It's so cheesy, but seriously, they have their whole lives ahead of them. 

(I understand now the parental urge to live vicariously through your children's potential. And I only have a few years to curtail my desire to fix all my mistakes via their choices before they're old enough that it'll do real damage lol.)

There are two connecting points in my life for these thoughts. First, the discussion about Women In Ministry, that delicious beast, is being bandied about in my offline and online worlds. And I feel the responsibility of ensuring my children know, in very real tangible ways, that their potential is not limited by their gender. It is not enough for me to settle these abstractions in my head any longer. I have to live them out, in a meaningful way -that is, as an example to the Next Generation. I am realizing how internal and kind of inert my feminism has been. I am realizing that will not suffice.

**********

Second, and this is what this post is really about, today I sang a small butterfly song into the whipping North wind, over pink roses falling on a casket far, far too small. Our friends' daughter died before coming Earthside, before the Dream-of-her could became the Real-of-her. She will always exist, in the hearts of her family and their friends, as her Purest Self, which is simply Infinite Possibility. And my eyes look differently on the children that are here, these Pure Beings living out their Dream-to-Real right in front of my jaded, adult eyes. And I feel differently, the wonder of their potential, and of my own.

Indeed, I feel a new responsibility, and I wonder if all those touched by her life might feel it too, to somehow Be the Possibilities she cannot be herself; to somehow live out the pureness of her potential, and make this world as beautiful as possible, a world worthy of the life she'll only have in dreams. I feel a responsibility to shake off my cynicism, and know, really know, the blessing of Possibility. And as I live it out, to offer it up to Heaven, proudly but gently, "See? We are not wasting it. We can be the hands you cannot, we can be the choices you cannot, we can be the Love."

The only redemption for this tragedy is love. It's not good enough to roll over under the Great Depressing Fact of Life, to let it make me complacent. Parenthood, and childhood-cut-short, tell me complacency is no longer acceptable. 

We can be the Love. We must.

 

Mama Bean is writing for Lent

I'm going to write forty posts for Lent. Ash Wednesday was yesterday, so this is post number two. It took me awhile to decide how I wanted to Do Lent this year, because we are, frankly, very busy Doing Church in so many other ways, I had trouble dedicating some space for the discussion to take place.

Every year, I think about Lent differently, what's it really for, what does it mean, why do we give things up or take things on, what's the point? And, just like a Bible passage speaks to you differently each time you return to it, so too has my understanding of Lent's meaning adjusted and flowed into the new experiences of my life.

For example, last year I had a newborn baby, and though I didn't do anything formal about Lent, I did find my thoughts dwelling with Mary, and her experience of Jesus' death as a mother. And my experience of his death as a mother. And how my need for a Saviour, and my gratitude for that Saviour has changed, now that I am responsible for these little lives, and discovered this ferocity of love for these little lives, and will somehow introduce what this Saviour has meant to me to these little lives. It was a heavy Lent, as I recall. I was a bit delirious, yet, so my recollection is hazy at best.

This year, PB is working on a sermon for this first Sunday of Lent using the OT lectionary reading, the story of Noah and The Flood. So I've been preoccupied with this image, this idea of The Flood paralleling Lent.It rained for forty days, Lent is forty days. At the end of the flood, God had cleaned the world, at the end of Lent Christ cleans the world. After the flood, God made a new covenant; Easter is the ultimate covenant to end all covenants.

Here's my thought: Noah and his family knew the rain was pouring down because God was sad with the way humanity had turned out. Every day of rain was a new day of his sadness and disappointment and judgment dripping from the sky. Every day was a fresh awareness of how bad it really was, how big the injury, how dirty the mess. They were being flooded in a very real, tangible way with this physical representation of their need for God's cleansing. And each night they must have thought, surely this will be it, this is enough. Only to wake to that familiar sound yet again...

How does Lent look like a Flood in my life? How can I prepare my heart for forty days with a fresh realization each day that I need Easter? Not in this self-shaming, soul-crushing despairing kind of way, because that's not really useful. More like... well, can you imagine how they felt that morning when it finally wasn't raining?

Can you imagine the relief, the joy, the gratitude?

Can you imagine how Easter could feel like that?

I'm not going to write forty posts about how I Need Easter. That would get monotonous. (Tomorrow, for example, I may write about farts. Won't that be fun?) What I want is for the act of writing to flood my life, for the activity to trigger my thoughts in the direction of Easter, I want to put myself on a metaphorical Ark, and I want words to drip like rain. And I want each post to be a morning-still-raining.

And after that fortieth post, I pray I'll discover Easter in a new way.

Mama Bean feeds her self-esteem (her low self-esteem)

When I was younger, I developed an unhealthy eating pattern - spending irresponsibly on large quantities of nutritionally-poor food in a compulsive way to quell bad feelings. I did it secretively, hiding the food and the spending, though I could not hide the effect, primarily weight gain. And, as I was consistently told how unacceptable my weight was, the bad feelings remained. So the eating pattern remained. 

The cultural lexicon calls this Emotional Eating, which reduces the phenomenon to something trite. "Oh, yeah, whatever, I 'eat my feelings.' Just like everyone, haha..."

I thought, when I moved out, the pattern would go away. And in a sense, it did. It wasn't a secret anymore, because it was just me living by myself, and what did I have to hide from myself? I wouldn't say my spending got much more responsible, or my food much more nutritional. But I was happier being independent, because a large chunk of the bad feelings were related to self-autonomy and feeling personally in control, and living on my own provided that control. So the Emotional Eating certainly became less frequent. But it didn't go away - I distinctly felt a regression with every visit home.

When I got married, I really expected the secretiveness to completely go away. I had moved into the mature, adult, married and parenting part of my life - who or what would I be hiding my "bad food" from? And yet, built into our financial marriage is a trapdoor - a portion of funds we call "allowance" I am free to spend independently. And guess what I spend it on? Lattes, chocolate bars, cheezies, slurpees - and then, junior chicken burgers and fries on the way to work 4 days a week, and probably on the way home a couple times, too. And I had the perfect excuse, pregnant from January 2009 to October 2009, breast-feeding from then to July 2010, pregnant again from then to March 2011, and breast-feeding from then to December 2011.

I have run out of excuses, because my last baby is done feeding from me. But the secret eating continues, and because I have committed to my husband that this is Our Year (to get fit, to get skinny, to get healthy, etc...) well, I have to stop expecting this pattern to stop, and I have to actually DO something about it.

I have to acknowledge that this is not about my childhood or how I was parented or any of that shit. Not anymore. This is something about me, in my brain and my soul, something about the things I believe about myself. My worth. My goodness.

The thing is, I lost 12 pounds in January. I followed the diet (we're doing the old version of WW). I counted my points. I exercised. It was working. And then I was pulling into a McDonald's, justifying my french fries because, I don't know, I was pre-menstrual, the baby wouldn't let us sleep, my toddler was on my last nerve, pick a reason. And it tasted so fucking good, I cannot even describe. And then, I felt so fucking awful, I cannot even describe. I felt shame. I felt weak. I felt all those things that our thin-obsessed culture has taught me to feel. So I hid the bag and I didn't put those points on my count for the day.

And once I'd done it once, it was really easy to do it again.

My husband is not my parent, he's not a boss of me, he's not someone I need to hide my eating from. There is no one in my life I need to hide my eating from. So why am I doing this?

It is not only that I am sabotaging my success, it is not only that internally I don't believe I deserve to lose weight. I think I am creating shame, I am misbehaving to confirm my belief that I am someone who misbehaves. I am someone who is bad, who does bad things. It's not the food that makes me feel better, it's doing someone wrong - it's the sin of it.

Twisted, right?

I have got to, somehow, resolves the cognitive dissonance between my belief that I am a bad person, and my desire to behave in a right way. I don't know how. I am trying to continue following WW and supporting myself via supporting my husband's efforts (because he is doing so so well and I am so so proud of him - and because I want to join him, eventually.) I even exercised last night! But I don't know how to change my thinking. So let loose with the advice in the comments, folks, and any books or resources you've found helpful. I'm not looking for weight-loss resources, we have all the plans and apps and charts and equipment we need for that. I'm looking for emotional resources.

As with spiritual practice, Confession has an important role, and that is what this post is about. Confession is different from Shaming. So. This confession was the first step. This is still Our Year. And I thank you for being part of my process :)

Mama Bean wrote a song

O, where the little feet run,
                where the little feet run so far

O, my heart is heavy, low
                the weight of life, it keeps me from your side

O, my soul will sing to you
                will sing to you as far as it can fly

(but)

O, I cannot see you dance, see you dance under the sun

(no)
                where the little feet run...

(for R, her O, and their family)

Mama Bean has some more thoughts on introversion (or: the drunkenness of being your Self)

I was commiserating with my guitar teacher, after my busy overly-social weekend, about burning out my introverted resources. I made an observation I've been mulling for a few months now - sometimes, it seems like an extroverted person, deprived of social stimulation, can then get a bit abandoned in a vibrant social setting (their! favourite! thing!), and it's almost like they're drunk - they're just a bit more punchy, a bit less inhibited, saying or doing things they might not otherwise, or might think better of outside of those circumstances. My teacher agreed with the analysis. I don't actually have many extroverts in my immediate circle, so I've been piecing this observation together for a while now.

But then I took the next thought-step which I had not previously considered: well, what about an introvert, deprived of time alone, suddenly gifted with solitude? Would they do the same? And my teacher kind of joked, "Yeah, that's why I stay up all night by myself." And he's right! The corollary for introverts exists: with an abundance of solitude, we will likewise get drunk on it - get punchy about the tasks we undertake, lose inhibitions on needing rest or other sustenance. Because it just feels so damn good to be alone :)

As I thought about this later, I wondered if it applied to other aspects of the MBPI categories. For example, I myself get a bit punchy and "social-drunk" in certain circumstances. Friends from real life might recall some sugar-fueled moments near the end of a recent day-long scrapbooking event, which involved many repetitions of the phrase, "Up your bum!" Yeah.

(Well, and I'm not claiming to be a paragon of self-control on the best of days, regardless.)

I was thinking this might be explained by the Feeler aspect of my personality sort of reveling in a surplus of Relationality. Social situations with an abundance of people I know and trust and love surrounding me provide a lush environment of friendly, relational thinking and interacting, which is my natural state, the way my head works (albeit, not always healthily.) And so, in those circumstances, I get similarly trippy and uninhibited, my brain skips some steps between The thoughts in my head and The saying them out loud.

In a way this is almost doubly dangerous, because at the same time the social-ness is depleting my introverted resources, it's potentially uninhibiting my feeler sensibilities, making for some very goofy, sometimes ill-advised behaviours. It's like simultaneously acting against type and acting totally within type. Yikes.

So what would be the "drunken" situations of the Thinker? Unlimited opportunity to sit and be logical? lol. Or for the Judger/Perceiver pairing? Or the Intuitive/Sensing pairing? 

You know, I think this just underscores the effects of trying to live a lifestyle which too often demands you behave against type. Under those circumstances, it's not surprising that the opportunity to behave as your inner being desires, as it most naturally is wont to do, will result in some relaxation, like your Self just breathing a sigh of relief, "Oh, thank goodness I can just Do Me now." 

And I think I'm going to become a bit more observant of when I feel this sort of personality-drunkenness (hopefully I can be self aware about it...) Because I think it will point out to me what parts of my current priorities are depriving me of the chance to be my most natural self.  I realize we can't get too entrenched in our Type - because there are weaknesses/challenges to every aspect of the Index. Life won't allow us to Never Act Against Type, and it is important to be flexible. However, I do think this phenomenon exists when I've been acting against type for too long, and that's a good reason to make some changes to lifestyle, so it's most in line with creating situations that don't constantly over-tax and over-stress the natural resources of my personality.

Just thinking about it now, I think this might be why I've been staying up so late at night, despite knowing a baby is going to wake me up several times during my sleep, despite knowing the toddler is going to wake up at 8 no matter what, despite knowing I'm sick and need rest, despite knowing what responsibilities face me the next day. It's because this is the only chance I get to be alone. And I relax a little desperately into it, trying to squeeze as much downtime activity into these brief hours as I can. I think it's also why I've been so frustrated with Sprout's unwillingness to go to bed at the same time as Bean. This is a good revelation for me to have. It will help me release the frustration, and help me go to bed at a reasonable time, instead of unreasonably indulging in meaningless, not terribly exciting late nights that only make the next day harder to get through.

Mama Bean is so utterly introverted

I've been musing lately that nothing demonstrates your introvertedness quite like becoming a parent. Introverts find social interactions - being with people - uses up energy, instead of giving it. They prefer being in small groups, because it uses up the energy less quickly. But ultimately, an introvert requires time alone, to rebuild their resources. Stock the reserves.

Children are people, too. And when they live with you, they are, like, always there. And chances are, they need something from you. If only your attention. In a small family, like mine, they use up my introverted energy less quickly than a large family would, but they use it up, nonetheless.

I think, before kids, I convinced myself I wasn't really all that introverted. Compared to my husband, I'm a veritable social butterfly. And you know, it is possible to behave "against (personality) type", to be extroverted in some situations, on purpose or otherwise. But behaving against type uses up resources - so, in an extroverted moment I might find myself energized by the party, as it were, but I have to have mental and emotional stockpiles available to make that possible. 

Guess what I don't have. Mental or emotional stockpiles. I mean, whatever, this is parenting, this is what we sign up for. So yes, I'm sleep deficient. And low on patience. And lacking compassion, many days. So, behaving against type? Ain't. Happening.

In fact, it's quite fascinating to see how having low resources highlights my personality, and really shows me the strengths in it, and also its challenges. Being Introverted when there's kids buzzing around all day is a challenge. Being Intuitive when there's clutter and toys and general disarray all over my Big Picture is a challenge - I can't just brush it to the edges and ignore it so long as it's not directly in my way or affecting my convenience (as PB does. And that's not an indictment. I often wish, these days, that I could just function through the chaos. But I can't.) Being a Feeler when my responsibilities to my relationships with my kids often feels like it isolates me from relationships with anyone else (including my husband) is a challenge. If I could be more logical about the division of my time and efforts, I might be more emotionally efficient, and have some love left over for myself at the end of the day. I don't know a mom who can do this. If you know one, or are one, tell us all your secret fortheloveofGod. Being a Judger when any given task may go four times faster, or (more likely) a thousand (million kajillion) times slower than you expected, or a tandem poop might upset your baby and your nostrils at any given moment, or your best intentions to always carry a snack for your unpredictably hangry toddler have once again gone awry - it's a challenge, friends. I am not so good at changing course on the fly. I like to know The Map. Parenthood is like a magical map that never looks the same the next time you look at it. It is unknowable...

Anyway, I'm just saying parenthood has taught me a lot about myself. What a cheesy thing to blog about. What has parenthood taught you lately?