Think Like An Ant

I find that I'm less and less happy with my current quality of life. And it's not one person, job or thing that is making it negative.

What I've decided is that it's my own non choice. My non-choice to prioritize my time makes me feel like a victim to my own schedule. And a victim to my own expectations and the expectations of others. Scratch that, make it the expectations that I perceive others to have on me.

In short, I can't say no. I don't say no enough to the wrong things, and don't say yes enough to the right things. My dad tells me that's the difference between having a job and having a position. You have to work at leaving work at work -- and work on getting actual work done at work.

I have spent a year living like this...and I think this is the point where I raise my hand up and say no more. It's not good for my health. It's not good for my family and not good for me.

I'm thinking like an ant as Dr. Cloud says in The 9 Things You Simply Must Do. The small goal to making this change is to stop working every night from home and start taking a lunch hour.

I'm traveling this week. Heading to Atlanta for a gathering of other child advocates. It's always a great time, but at the same time very overwhelming because there is always so much more I could, should, ought to be doing. I will be thinking of those ants again and hope to at least being doing SOMETHING.

My short term goal this week is to work out or doing something active while I'm out of town. And continue that pace when I come home. My body cannot continue on this diet rich in cortisol.

Back Again

I missed writing. I missed balance and I missed being creative. So here I am again. Don't judge.

A few things I'm working with this week:

Time management: I realized my life is somewhat out of control. I'm spending a lot of time letting other people vent to me, or sort things out verbally. It's all good. Just not sure how it gets me to Friday, or reinforces what I say is important to me. And isn't that the true test? How are you spending your time? Does it reflect what you say is important to you? It's an experiment I'm starting and will probably spend a great deal of time on this blog chronicling. Consider yourself my new accountability partner.

Finding new music: Today on the drive home I discovered Joe Henry on NPR. His latest album was recorded with the windows open, and microphones in the windows. Quite a concept. He says, "Music doesn't happen in a vacuum." And then I think nothing really happens in a vacuum. Henry is also Madonna's brother-in-law.

Priorities: Working at a non-profit must be code for work till your burnt out. There is always an unclear division of labor...and sometimes if you care it becomes your job. That doesn't feel very intentional.

And a confession...I didn't know what iTV was...I'm getting old. And Appleless.

Reciprocate, once more -- with feeling

Maybe years of training as a journalist is to blame. My new profession is full of passionate and emotional people and sometimes I wonder if I'm acting sympathetic enough..or emoting enough.

It's silly really. Blame journalism. You are trained to ask questions and not pass judgement. You are trained to that conversations are for a purpose: gathering essential information. You know when you have "the quote," in an interview. Once you get that nugget you stop listening. You start formulating a way to seem sincere, but wrap up the conversation quickly.

Working in the world of social workers is different. Very different. And it is good.

It's good to stretch and maybe see that the world of newspapers is quirky and dysfunctional. You can't expect a group of people who work in constant stress and thrive on chaos to chit-chat about the weekend or what you did for your birthday. Exchanges are more like this:

Editor: What's your plan today?

Reporter: Checking some things out, doing a little research.

Editor: Make something happen by 10:30 a.m. I don't care what it is. Make it a front page story.

Probably in the rest of the world things don't always happen that way. In my new job, work exchanges include discussion about fears, validation, appreciation and positive reinforcement. I'm not sure I'm entirely comfortable with that, but I'm learning. And trying to reciprocate. Sometimes I just wonder if it sounds sincere...even when I mean it.

Introverts among men

An update: I've left the world of newspapers. In October, I became the policy director for the Oklahoma Institute for Child Advocacy. Using my communication skills, wits and know how for the children. I'm back at blogging...because I will always be a writer.

Networking is a sport. Sometimes a full contact sport. You have to know people, know of a few good topics to talk about that don't polarize those around you the point of awkwardness and you've got to know when to move on to the next candidate.

Writers/journalists/scribes (whatever name you chose) either excel at networking or suck, to put it bluntly. If you're a journalist, you've spent countless hours in awkward interviews asking people tough questions or very personal questions. Sometimes the frivolity of polite conversation is too much. If you're like me, you've also studied body language and know when someone isn't paying attention and perhaps making a mental grocery list. (That means it's time to move on or head to the bar in the networking world.)

If you're a writer, like a "writer" with a capital W -- your brain is probably too busy to be trifled with. That also makes you seem very antisocial, aloof and maybe mysterious. You know ladies, the "brooder" type of guys you dated in your early 20s..or at least I did.

There is a place for networking. But I prefer to call it what it is. It's relationship building. It's meeting people, getting their names or business cards with the understanding that at some point in life, you will be calling on them for a favor...and it won't seem so outlandish because "Hey didn't we meet at the (INSERT ORGANIZATION HERE) mixer last month." It's important, necessary and all part of the grown up world.

But it only works when everybody at the event has the same understanding and the same purpose in mind. Mixers are not for catching up with old college friends or long lost colleagues. That's what drinks after the event are for, otherwise being deep in conversation means there are bunch of people standing around waiting to meet you (because you are after all fabulous) that have to listen to every detail of your child's latest developmental milestone.

If everybody knows the rules, nobody gets left out.

Shrinking me

A reporter at work is shaving a few pounds off his frame. He's been writing about it as he goes through the process. This past Sunday he included the stories of people who have lost weight and kept it off. Me and two other reporters contributed to this report.

Today I weigh less than I did in high school. I started Weight Watchers in anticipation of my 30th birthday. All my life I used excuses like big boned, hour glass or curvy to describe my body. The fact was...I was overweight. I was healthy, active and my blood pressure wasn't through the roof. Yet my BMI score had me at obese. I decided that if I didn't lose weight and adopt healthy habits at 30, I would never do it. I kept a food journal. I kept track of points and worked out nearly five days a week, sometimes for more than an hour. I was also getting married that spring. My husband and I had taken engagement pictures a few months before I started my weight loss plan. I didn't like how my arms looked puffy and my rump round and out there. I was going to pay a lot of money for wedding pictures. I wanted to love the way I looked in them. Not look at them and say, "Well, my hair looks good, but look how fat my arms are." With that in mind I stayed motivated and lost 25 pounds on Weight Watchers.

Since then, I've kept it off for the past three years. In that time, I've had a baby and gained 50 pounds. But now, I'm proud to say I'm back below my target weight. It feels good to finally have control of my body, my weight and my self esteem.

The next challenge is finding time and resolve to workout when I really just want to sit and relax. Relaxing is what got your rear so wide, is what the voice inside my head says. Maybe if I just quit eating cookies or an afternoon sweet everyday and upped my water intake I would feel a little less like I'm cheating.

Fact is, I haven't really worked out very hard since my son was born. I do a lot of baby carrying, but I haven't had a workout when I've been solo and lost in my thoughts. I had hoped to run a 5K this fall, but it doesn't look likely. I haven't trained and don't see my free time opening up anytime soon.

So the small, short term goal for now is start keeping a food journal again and lay off the daily cookies. We'll see if I can make that happen.

When I started Weight Watchers I weighed 170 pounds. I'm not sure my diet was all that bad, but it was ill informed. I didn't realize I could eat a chicken breast and consume less calories than eating a handful of Wheat Thins.

I don't remember where I was the moment I realized I had made a substantial change in my life. I remember walking past store windows and seeing my reflection. In the past, I would focus on the roll in my midsection. Once I lost weight I stopped. I didn't look at my reflection with excuses ready and platitudes to encourage myself after the critique. I was happy with myself, just as I was. That feeling, and the feeling of trying on jeans at a store and not having to jump up and down to get them zipped up keeps me focused on what I put in my mouth.

I stopped thinking about food as something to bring me joy three times a day. Food became fuel. It's what powered me through the day, so what was the most efficient way to consume calories and still get all my nutrients. It's not that I don't eat desserts or fall off the train. I just know that when I indulge in a piece of cake or a cookie, I wait for the next train and hop on again.

The secret life of 20-somethings...

I must be getting old. In fact I know I am. I'm working my way through a lengthy piece on the lives of 20-somethings that appeared recently in the New York Times. The reporter looks at the growing trend of people in their 20's avoiding the milestones of "adult life," marriage, career, family, etc.

The article wonders if special protections should be given to 20-somethings and if that time period should be thought of as a new stage in development. Leaving adolescence...not quite making it to be a full-fledged adult. Studies have shown that the frontal lobe of a person's brain (the thing that keeps you from screaming every curse word that comes to mind when standing in line at the grocery or in other polite company) doesn't fully develop until the mid 20s.

But here is what irks me. I get the feeling that this notion of the 20's as some other stage of development operates on the principle that all parts of adult life should be enjoyable. That following your bliss is your main goal in life. I don't disagree with that. But I offer these little nuggets of wisdom...work is work. That is why you get paid to go there some days. Some days it is the only reason I show up. Other days, I would work for free. That's the nature of the game.

And then my question is, how did a generation of people begin to think this way? Is this a result of something Baby Boomer parents did? Is this a function of living in the richest country in the world and simply having too many options? In the past, people left their homes because their parents needed them to work, or start paying their own way and ease the burden. But what now? Are economic pressures driving people back home?

And then from a psychological standpoint: At what point does your life become your own? When do you begin to take pride in what you have earned, independent of your parents or whatever support network you cling to?

To be fair, I must disclose this: I have not lived with my parents since I was 19 years old. Sure, they helped me out, generously paid for my college so I wouldn't have student loans and would have gladly me offer a place to crash when times got tough. I fall into that rare 20-something who was a homeowner before 30. I had a college degree and a job in a related field by 23. That's what I was taught to do. I didn't think that there was an option that included not doing those things.

In my senior year of college after spending a semester in Europe I wanted to go back. I didn't want to go work for the "man" and blindly stumble into the role of an adult that my parents represented: Hard-working, with at the time, seemed like little joy in their lives.

When did the rubber meet the road? When I realized I had a medical condition that would be considered a pre-existing condition if I didn't have health insurance coverage always. I remember a very exasperating conversation with my mother in which I said, "People don't get jobs just to have health insurance..." From the mouths of babes. Life it turns out, is quite the opposite. People take and keep jobs for the benefits.

My solution to this cruel reality: Move far away. If I had to work in the U.S. and had to have health insurance I wanted to do it someplace that felt faraway. So at 22, I packed up my stuff and moved to McAllen, Texas, on the Texas-Mexico border. It was in the United States, but a world away from home. A world away from what I thought my parents wanted for me and all mine. It was extended college...but guess what...I was paying for it.

So in all this, I guess I'm saying to the 20-somethings....suck it up. I know the economy is bad. Living in a "cool" city is expensive. College loans are massive and unfair. But we all make choices and maybe you give up a cosmopolitan lifestyle to play music and live in a cheaper location. Or you work a job that's tough and not your cup of tea because you need health insurance.

Working for a living doesn't mean you don't have time to pursue your passions. We all make choices about how we spend our time.

As a parent, the idea that my son could move home after college for an extended stay with no plan is unsettling. Of course I would welcome him back and provide stability for him to get off the ground, or whatever...but the point of raising a child is that they leave and give back the world.

Yes...I'm getting old. I get the angst, the artfulness, the desire to pursue creative endeavors that drive some from a "traditional career path" But I'm not that old and that far away from it all. Yet, at some point, don't we all have to figure out how to match our monetary needs (bills, bills, bills) with our creative needs....

Nine months ago today...

I became a mom, my husband became a father. I hope we are wiser, stronger and better nine months later. We've learned how to sleep with a baby in our arms. How to work as a team changing a diaper in the middle of the night.

Our house has been transformed. We no longer have a dining room with a cabinet full of wine glasses. We have a playroom complete with a plastic fence to keep the baby in and the dogs out. We've learned just how little sleep we can survive on. We've learned to multitask at everything. Above all, I've learned to slow down, live a little and trust my husband completely.

Nine months ago today, probably about this time of day, I looked down at this little boy who grew inside of me and wondered how old he would be when he stopped thinking his parents were the center of the universe. I looked at his perfect ears and ear lobes that formed in my belly. I hoped that he never pierced them. As I touched them, fresh newborn skin, I prayed that he would never turn into a bratty teenager I wouldn't want to be around. Most of all I prayed that I wouldn't screw this little human being up too much. I prayed he would love being my son as much as I loved being his mother and someday he would know what it was like to spend the first night as a parent. Bleary-eyed, filled with love, grateful for life and ready to learn.

My little man.