It's been quite a roller coaster.
A ride with
anticipation
laughs
screams
and relief.
And I don't want to get off.
Happy Anniversary, Pat!
I love you!
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Fourteen
This was me fourteen years ago today...
It's been quite a roller coaster.
A ride with
anticipation
laughs
screams
and relief.
And I don't want to get off.
Happy Anniversary, Pat!
I love you!
It's been quite a roller coaster.
A ride with
anticipation
laughs
screams
and relief.
And I don't want to get off.
Happy Anniversary, Pat!
I love you!
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Belated Birthday
I let Biscuit’s birthday pass last week without much fanfare. She turned two on the second. It was late in the day before I realized it and we were iced in most of the week, so I didn’t make it out for the new squeaky toy I had planned to buy her. Pat pulled out a big rawhide bone so she could have a special treat that evening.
I’ve never been big on celebrating pets’ birthdays. Partly because I never knew their actual birthdays, only a guess at which month they were born based on the vet’s estimate. Even so, I felt bad about almost missing Biscuit’s b-day this year. I feel like she’s gotten the short end of the stick, and I’m to blame.
She was a few weeks old when we brought her home, only a couple months after our beloved Clyde passed. I wrote about it on her first birthday last year, so I won’t bore you with the details again.
I don’t know if Biscuit came to us too soon, while my grief was so raw I was tender to the touch, but she and I have never completely meshed well.
I hate to say it, but “the dog” grates my nerves, and I think it’s all because I compare her to Clyde, two totally different dogs. Clyde was small, sweet, and obedient. You could pet him without getting smashed in the nose, although he did lick a lot. He greeted you at the door with a smile and a wag of the tail, and he was a perfect leash walker, walking with an heir of dignity about him and showing off for the other dogs locked behind fences. And last but not least, he lived peacefully with our cat Gilligan.
Biscuit, well, she’s insane. Of course she’s two, which calculates to fourteen, a horrible year for hormones. I remember my fourteenth year, except I didn’t follow people around licking at their heels or stretching my tongue to eat meat off the counter, though I did bark at quite a few people.
But I digress…
A complete opposite of Clyde, Biscuit is tall and muscular. She goes nuts whenever you try to pet her. I’ve had many a sore chin and nose just for trying to show her some love. I’m greeted by 60 pounds of dog pushing me down when I walk in the door - and that’s just coming back from getting the mail. You can’t walk her on a leash without having to drag her or her dragging you. And I’ll certainly never be able to own another cat for fear she’ll eat them for breakfast.
We should have named her Marley...
(Yes, we’ve had to replace our bedding because of Biscuit.)
but I thought I was getting that sweet, cuddly dog from the vet’s office. Man, she pulled one over on me.
Pat likes to remind me that Clyde was mischievous when he was young, too. I guess I have selective memory. There was that one time he slid down the roof of our house from the second story and landed in the bushes. And it took him a few months to catch on to the leash and pooping outside. And he used to run around the living room in lightening-fast circles leaving cushions in the dust.
I try to remember that Biscuit is young. No, she’s not Clyde, but she’s a good dog, a sweet dog, and she deserves just as much love as Clyde.
I guess I just need to buy a hockey goalie’s mask to give it to her.
I’ve never been big on celebrating pets’ birthdays. Partly because I never knew their actual birthdays, only a guess at which month they were born based on the vet’s estimate. Even so, I felt bad about almost missing Biscuit’s b-day this year. I feel like she’s gotten the short end of the stick, and I’m to blame.
She was a few weeks old when we brought her home, only a couple months after our beloved Clyde passed. I wrote about it on her first birthday last year, so I won’t bore you with the details again.
I don’t know if Biscuit came to us too soon, while my grief was so raw I was tender to the touch, but she and I have never completely meshed well.
I hate to say it, but “the dog” grates my nerves, and I think it’s all because I compare her to Clyde, two totally different dogs. Clyde was small, sweet, and obedient. You could pet him without getting smashed in the nose, although he did lick a lot. He greeted you at the door with a smile and a wag of the tail, and he was a perfect leash walker, walking with an heir of dignity about him and showing off for the other dogs locked behind fences. And last but not least, he lived peacefully with our cat Gilligan.
Biscuit, well, she’s insane. Of course she’s two, which calculates to fourteen, a horrible year for hormones. I remember my fourteenth year, except I didn’t follow people around licking at their heels or stretching my tongue to eat meat off the counter, though I did bark at quite a few people.
But I digress…
A complete opposite of Clyde, Biscuit is tall and muscular. She goes nuts whenever you try to pet her. I’ve had many a sore chin and nose just for trying to show her some love. I’m greeted by 60 pounds of dog pushing me down when I walk in the door - and that’s just coming back from getting the mail. You can’t walk her on a leash without having to drag her or her dragging you. And I’ll certainly never be able to own another cat for fear she’ll eat them for breakfast.
We should have named her Marley...
(Yes, we’ve had to replace our bedding because of Biscuit.)
but I thought I was getting that sweet, cuddly dog from the vet’s office. Man, she pulled one over on me.
Pat likes to remind me that Clyde was mischievous when he was young, too. I guess I have selective memory. There was that one time he slid down the roof of our house from the second story and landed in the bushes. And it took him a few months to catch on to the leash and pooping outside. And he used to run around the living room in lightening-fast circles leaving cushions in the dust.
I try to remember that Biscuit is young. No, she’s not Clyde, but she’s a good dog, a sweet dog, and she deserves just as much love as Clyde.
I guess I just need to buy a hockey goalie’s mask to give it to her.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Time to Bloom
I have a bouquet of flowers sitting on my table that’s eight days old. I’ve removed a few wilted blooms, but it still looks beautiful. Usually by now most of the flowers would lie limp and pitiful and I would be forced to throw them out, even though I don’t want to. Fresh flowers are a rare treat for me. But this particular bouquet is still standing tall and showcasing lavender lilies, white daisies, and pink mums. I think they’re still thriving on the excitement I felt when I bought them.
You see, eight days ago I turned in my resignation at work after three years of growing increasingly unhappy with the leadership. I was at the point of dreading Mondays…and Tuesdays…and Wednesdays….and, you get the point. But it was more than just dread.
I grew increasingly tense the closer my car came to the building. By the time I drove into the parking garage I was throwing curse words at anyone and anything I saw. Okay, maybe I didn’t literally yell profanities at innocent co-workers who happened to cross my path – I still had to work with them, you know – but I certainly thought them. I also grew resentful of meetings (especially those at 4:00 on Fridays – I mean, seriously!), and colleagues that expected me to work with the detail that used to come natural to me. I blamed my lack of that detail on having a third baby, when in actuality my morale had tanked.
The culprit: the organization I used to be so proud to work for has changed, and what used to be a friendly environment has become quite toxic, and I've grown bitter.
The worst of it all, I brought my unhappiness home. I tried to nip my bad mood in the bud when I walked in the door, but many times I was unsuccessful. And honestly, no job is worth having an unhappy home.
Pat and I discussed the possibility of me leaving for the last few months, but fear always kept me tied down and just when I didn’t think things could get worse, they did. I had no idea how I was going to drag myself into that office every morning without imploding. I was getting headaches, I was physically and mentally exhausted, and I had chest pains. My body was trying to send me signals, or giving up on me.
When I didn’t act on my body’s message, I received it from another direction: church. Two weeks ago the topic was to trust God enough to take a leap and know that He will lead you where you need to go. All of the songs I sang were speaking to me:
Precious Lord, take my hand. Lead me on, help me stand.
I’m tired, I’m weak, I am worn.
One of my band mates sang a song titled “Word of God Speak.” It’s all about shutting up and listening. As I stood waiting to sing harmony with him I had this feeling of something surround me. It was like I was in this warm pocket and I could feel the music envelop me.
Afterward I talked with a close friend about my feelings during the service and she pulled out a quote that she just happened to have with her. She said it helped her while she was having difficulties and she had thought of me recently when she ran across it again.
What was it about? Taking a leap and trusting that there will be a net to catch you or you will be given wings to fly.
I don’t know how it sounds to you, but I feel like I was getting all kinds of messages that day.
After much discussion and many freak outs with Pat, we both decided it was time for me to get out. I had one final meeting with my superiors that confirmed everything I was feeling and the next morning I plopped my resignation on my supervisor’s desk.
I. Am. Done.
And I couldn’t be happier.
Except when my doubts creep up, and fear settles in, and I think that I was crazy to believe I was receiving messages.
I think that’s why the flowers are still flourishing. They thrive as a reminder of the confidence and joy I felt that day.
I’ve taken the leap and hope there will be a net to catch me, or better yet, I’ll be given the wings to fly.
You see, eight days ago I turned in my resignation at work after three years of growing increasingly unhappy with the leadership. I was at the point of dreading Mondays…and Tuesdays…and Wednesdays….and, you get the point. But it was more than just dread.
I grew increasingly tense the closer my car came to the building. By the time I drove into the parking garage I was throwing curse words at anyone and anything I saw. Okay, maybe I didn’t literally yell profanities at innocent co-workers who happened to cross my path – I still had to work with them, you know – but I certainly thought them. I also grew resentful of meetings (especially those at 4:00 on Fridays – I mean, seriously!), and colleagues that expected me to work with the detail that used to come natural to me. I blamed my lack of that detail on having a third baby, when in actuality my morale had tanked.
The culprit: the organization I used to be so proud to work for has changed, and what used to be a friendly environment has become quite toxic, and I've grown bitter.
The worst of it all, I brought my unhappiness home. I tried to nip my bad mood in the bud when I walked in the door, but many times I was unsuccessful. And honestly, no job is worth having an unhappy home.
Pat and I discussed the possibility of me leaving for the last few months, but fear always kept me tied down and just when I didn’t think things could get worse, they did. I had no idea how I was going to drag myself into that office every morning without imploding. I was getting headaches, I was physically and mentally exhausted, and I had chest pains. My body was trying to send me signals, or giving up on me.
When I didn’t act on my body’s message, I received it from another direction: church. Two weeks ago the topic was to trust God enough to take a leap and know that He will lead you where you need to go. All of the songs I sang were speaking to me:
Precious Lord, take my hand. Lead me on, help me stand.
I’m tired, I’m weak, I am worn.
One of my band mates sang a song titled “Word of God Speak.” It’s all about shutting up and listening. As I stood waiting to sing harmony with him I had this feeling of something surround me. It was like I was in this warm pocket and I could feel the music envelop me.
Afterward I talked with a close friend about my feelings during the service and she pulled out a quote that she just happened to have with her. She said it helped her while she was having difficulties and she had thought of me recently when she ran across it again.
What was it about? Taking a leap and trusting that there will be a net to catch you or you will be given wings to fly.
I don’t know how it sounds to you, but I feel like I was getting all kinds of messages that day.
After much discussion and many freak outs with Pat, we both decided it was time for me to get out. I had one final meeting with my superiors that confirmed everything I was feeling and the next morning I plopped my resignation on my supervisor’s desk.
I. Am. Done.
And I couldn’t be happier.
Except when my doubts creep up, and fear settles in, and I think that I was crazy to believe I was receiving messages.
I think that’s why the flowers are still flourishing. They thrive as a reminder of the confidence and joy I felt that day.
I’ve taken the leap and hope there will be a net to catch me, or better yet, I’ll be given the wings to fly.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Am I Still in Texas?
Where do I live?
In Texas, right?
Down south where the winters are short and you rarely get below the 30s?
Isn’t that why I love it here?
Or I used to.
But the last two years have been rather freakish.
We typically have one snow/ice day a year when school is out and you stay home from work with a fire in the hearth and jaunts outside to build a snowman; a snowman that used up all of the snow in the yard. He looked like Pig Pen from Peanuts with patches of brown grass stuck in his snow body.
Now, and I mean this very minute, we can build a family of snow people and still have enough powdery stuff left to trudge through.
I don’t know if I like this. I admit that I don’t like having to wear shorts on Christmas Day, as we’ve had to do occasionally, but this is getting ridiculous.
Remember December of 2009? We had a White Christmas. And last February we had two separate winter “events.” One was known as a Mini Snow-pocalypse, which only lasted a couple days. Not too bad. The other was the Texas snowstorm from hell that knocked out our electricity for 40 hours. We had to keep our milk and eggs in the foot of snow on our deck.
I thought that was just a freak winter for us Texans, but oh no. I had to be proven wrong. We’ve had about an inch of ice on the roads since Monday night, temps in the teens and single digits all week, and then I woke this morning to 6” of snow. School has been closed for an unprecedented four days straight, and I’ve been working from home just as long. I do love being home with my family, but my toes are cold.
I think Mother Nature’s trying to tell me geography no longer matters. I’m trying to make a deal with her, though. If I now have to live with these wickedly cold February months, she should drop the temps down at least a little bit in August.
It’s only fair.
In Texas, right?
Down south where the winters are short and you rarely get below the 30s?
Isn’t that why I love it here?
Or I used to.
But the last two years have been rather freakish.
We typically have one snow/ice day a year when school is out and you stay home from work with a fire in the hearth and jaunts outside to build a snowman; a snowman that used up all of the snow in the yard. He looked like Pig Pen from Peanuts with patches of brown grass stuck in his snow body.
Now, and I mean this very minute, we can build a family of snow people and still have enough powdery stuff left to trudge through.
I don’t know if I like this. I admit that I don’t like having to wear shorts on Christmas Day, as we’ve had to do occasionally, but this is getting ridiculous.
Remember December of 2009? We had a White Christmas. And last February we had two separate winter “events.” One was known as a Mini Snow-pocalypse, which only lasted a couple days. Not too bad. The other was the Texas snowstorm from hell that knocked out our electricity for 40 hours. We had to keep our milk and eggs in the foot of snow on our deck.
I thought that was just a freak winter for us Texans, but oh no. I had to be proven wrong. We’ve had about an inch of ice on the roads since Monday night, temps in the teens and single digits all week, and then I woke this morning to 6” of snow. School has been closed for an unprecedented four days straight, and I’ve been working from home just as long. I do love being home with my family, but my toes are cold.
I think Mother Nature’s trying to tell me geography no longer matters. I’m trying to make a deal with her, though. If I now have to live with these wickedly cold February months, she should drop the temps down at least a little bit in August.
It’s only fair.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Mac and What???
I tried an experiment last night and, oh, how successful it was.
Let me take you back to the beginning of my research…
When Pace was just a couple weeks old he turned into a crier. We thought he would grow out of it in a few days like Savannah did and just have a brief spell of colic. No such luck. It was hard to soothe him for several weeks and we were at each other’s throats due to lack of sleep.
After a little Googling and reading and talking (to myself usually – I do that a lot), I decided to cut out dairy and see if it would ease our baby boy. Of course almost everything I love contains some kind of dairy, so following some very frustrating days I found a couple of books on Amazon to see if I could gain some tasty recipes to help me through this “sacrificial” time. Yes, I’m wringing this out for every bit it’s worth, and, yes, I’ll remind Pace what I did for him when I need an upper hand.
I purchased a dairy-free book. It was pretty much soy replacements everywhere. Not quite what I was looking for, although I don’t know why I thought it would be different. And then I found a vegan cookbook. The Amazon reviews raved about it, especially over the “Mac & Cheeze” recipe, stating that recipe was worth the price of the book.
I used some of her soup & Mexican recipes (no soy in sight - yeah!) and all have been delicious, but because it was summertime I used that as my excuse not to try the Mac & Cheeze. I didn’t want to heat up the kitchen...plus, I feared the gag reflex: my families and my own.
With a resolution to make my family healthier and to incorporate more vegetarian & vegan meals in our weekly diets I decided to give the Mac & Cheeze a try last night. To my delight it didn’t have any soy cheese or milk in the ingredients list. Instead it was nuts & veggies that made the “cheeze” sauce. I have to admit I did worry when I poured it over the macaroni and I was very hesitant as I dished it out on to our plates, even though it looked exactly like mac & cheese as we know it.
The first test – Savannah: "Mmmmm. This is soooo good!" as she stuffed another bite in her mouth.
(She still has no clue there was no cheese in it, so sssshhhhh!)
Next up – Sarah: "I no want it!"
(She wouldn’t want it even if it had real cheese in it, so no surprise there.)
I had the next taste: "Wow!" Seriously! It was so good. Not cheesy and gooey, but moist and very tasty, and it had a slight sweet flavor to it as well from the pureed onions & carrots.
Then came the big guy, the carnivore, the past Atkins follower: "Oh man. What a great meal!"
That’s right folks, the vegan Mac & Cheeze was a hit in the home of a meat-loving, dairy-guzzling family! I’m so impressed I have to tell you the name of the book:
“Quick and Easy Comfort Food” by Alicia C Simpson.
She seriously rocks! Check out her book. You won’t be disappointed.
You can always do what I did and serve your vegan side dish with pork chops & and green beans cooked with bacon. Kind of an oxymoron, right?
I know what you’re thinking…
Who the hell are you? And why are you coming back so nonchalant, like you haven't been missing for weeks???
I realize you were tempted to put my face on a milk carton, but just trust me when I say that things have been crazy and pretty much hellish.
I sure did miss you, though.
Let me take you back to the beginning of my research…
When Pace was just a couple weeks old he turned into a crier. We thought he would grow out of it in a few days like Savannah did and just have a brief spell of colic. No such luck. It was hard to soothe him for several weeks and we were at each other’s throats due to lack of sleep.
After a little Googling and reading and talking (to myself usually – I do that a lot), I decided to cut out dairy and see if it would ease our baby boy. Of course almost everything I love contains some kind of dairy, so following some very frustrating days I found a couple of books on Amazon to see if I could gain some tasty recipes to help me through this “sacrificial” time. Yes, I’m wringing this out for every bit it’s worth, and, yes, I’ll remind Pace what I did for him when I need an upper hand.
I purchased a dairy-free book. It was pretty much soy replacements everywhere. Not quite what I was looking for, although I don’t know why I thought it would be different. And then I found a vegan cookbook. The Amazon reviews raved about it, especially over the “Mac & Cheeze” recipe, stating that recipe was worth the price of the book.
I used some of her soup & Mexican recipes (no soy in sight - yeah!) and all have been delicious, but because it was summertime I used that as my excuse not to try the Mac & Cheeze. I didn’t want to heat up the kitchen...plus, I feared the gag reflex: my families and my own.
With a resolution to make my family healthier and to incorporate more vegetarian & vegan meals in our weekly diets I decided to give the Mac & Cheeze a try last night. To my delight it didn’t have any soy cheese or milk in the ingredients list. Instead it was nuts & veggies that made the “cheeze” sauce. I have to admit I did worry when I poured it over the macaroni and I was very hesitant as I dished it out on to our plates, even though it looked exactly like mac & cheese as we know it.
The first test – Savannah: "Mmmmm. This is soooo good!" as she stuffed another bite in her mouth.
(She still has no clue there was no cheese in it, so sssshhhhh!)
Next up – Sarah: "I no want it!"
(She wouldn’t want it even if it had real cheese in it, so no surprise there.)
I had the next taste: "Wow!" Seriously! It was so good. Not cheesy and gooey, but moist and very tasty, and it had a slight sweet flavor to it as well from the pureed onions & carrots.
Then came the big guy, the carnivore, the past Atkins follower: "Oh man. What a great meal!"
That’s right folks, the vegan Mac & Cheeze was a hit in the home of a meat-loving, dairy-guzzling family! I’m so impressed I have to tell you the name of the book:
“Quick and Easy Comfort Food” by Alicia C Simpson.
She seriously rocks! Check out her book. You won’t be disappointed.
You can always do what I did and serve your vegan side dish with pork chops & and green beans cooked with bacon. Kind of an oxymoron, right?
I know what you’re thinking…
Who the hell are you? And why are you coming back so nonchalant, like you haven't been missing for weeks???
I realize you were tempted to put my face on a milk carton, but just trust me when I say that things have been crazy and pretty much hellish.
I sure did miss you, though.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
Mama
I admire my mother for many reasons.
She’s immensely talented in music and word.
She’s highly intelligent.
She can laugh at herself.
She found her calling after having kids.
She’s a pioneer in her career.
She‘s given several of the best sermons I’ve ever heard.
She’s a calming presence.
And one thing that gives me hope: she found a way to live out a dream after she qualified for a Senior’s Blue Plate Special.
My mother has had a love affair with England for many, many years. Throughout my childhood and teen years Sunday nights were reserved for British comedies. There was no getting around it, no matter how badly I tried.
She wanted to travel to England throughout her life, but first came college, then came love, then came babies, and then came a career with a not-so-high salary. Dreams of travel drifted further and further away.
Then one day after retirement she heard of a program that sent retired preacher’s to the UK. She applied and, of course, was accepted. A year living in England followed. And she had the time of her life – aside from all of the amazing times she’s had with me, of course; frustrating teen angst and all.
Being a tall, elegant, American lady, she was treated like the Queen herself. Who wouldn’t love that? She lived by the Black Sea, whipped around the roundabouts (going the wrong way, I might add!) in a Mr. Bean car, developed many lasting friendships, and fell in love.
Of course her favorite time that year was when Savannah and I came to stay with her for two weeks.
(I love this picture of Savananah @ 4!)
She’s given me hope that those dreams I’ve yet to accomplish may still come true.
One other thing - she’s showered me with love my entire life.
I love you, Mama.
Happy birthday!
She’s immensely talented in music and word.
She’s highly intelligent.
She can laugh at herself.
She found her calling after having kids.
She’s a pioneer in her career.
She‘s given several of the best sermons I’ve ever heard.
She’s a calming presence.
And one thing that gives me hope: she found a way to live out a dream after she qualified for a Senior’s Blue Plate Special.
My mother has had a love affair with England for many, many years. Throughout my childhood and teen years Sunday nights were reserved for British comedies. There was no getting around it, no matter how badly I tried.
She wanted to travel to England throughout her life, but first came college, then came love, then came babies, and then came a career with a not-so-high salary. Dreams of travel drifted further and further away.
Then one day after retirement she heard of a program that sent retired preacher’s to the UK. She applied and, of course, was accepted. A year living in England followed. And she had the time of her life – aside from all of the amazing times she’s had with me, of course; frustrating teen angst and all.
Being a tall, elegant, American lady, she was treated like the Queen herself. Who wouldn’t love that? She lived by the Black Sea, whipped around the roundabouts (going the wrong way, I might add!) in a Mr. Bean car, developed many lasting friendships, and fell in love.
Of course her favorite time that year was when Savannah and I came to stay with her for two weeks.
(I love this picture of Savananah @ 4!)
She’s given me hope that those dreams I’ve yet to accomplish may still come true.
One other thing - she’s showered me with love my entire life.
I love you, Mama.
Happy birthday!
Saturday, January 1, 2011
The Year of No Fear
Happy New Year!
It’s another beginning.
Another clean slate.
Another chance to make lifelong changes.
At least that’s what millions like to believe.
I’m no different. Every year I make new resolutions, with the exception of last year, and I didn’t accomplish much in 2010 except for managing to hang on to the baby weight after Pace was born.
Now that I think about it, though, dealing with a demanding baby, a preschooler who’s stuck in the Terrible Twos, and a tween filled with attitude, not to mention my demanding full-time job with a boss I can’t stand, and not killing anyone by Dec. 31?...that’s quite an accomplishment!
This time next year, however, I’d like to be able to say that I have a busy toddler, a sweet preschooler, and a teen whose attitude I can deal with a little better, AND a job I love, plus a book that’s ready to be considered for publication.
The secret to the last two, or three?
Conquering fear. Or at least not allowing it to block me. I don’t know that I, or anyone, can actually conquer fear, but we can find ways to push past it. Me being the Self Help Queen should be able to manage that.
According to the hundreds of books I’ve read on career changes, living a more creative life, conquering clutter, getting fit, looking younger, being a better mother, being a better wife, being a better employee, being a better writer, and on and on and on (Yes, I do a lot of reading and not much doing, but I can coach anyone to almost anything they want to accomplish. Hmmm….maybe that’s a possible new career!), one of the first things you need to do is find support. For me, that would be my husband, my great friend Crystal, and my family – my mother, my sister, and my aunt.
You also need to make yourself accountable to someone so that you’ll work to keep from embarrassing yourself. Looks like that’s you guys!
Next, you need to have some kind of map. I’m working on monthly goals and at the end of each month I’ll check in with myself to see what I’ve done. For instance, by the end of January I hope to have applied for three positions (God willing there’s three I’m interested in) and my updated resume posted on a career website. I also want to have two more chapters completed for my book.
Those are completely doable goals that will help move me forward. I just need to make the time and push past my fear of getting a new job (What if it’s worse than where I am? What if I hate it, too? What if I’m no good at it?), or the fear that I constantly battle in my writing, both my book and my blog. (I have nothing to say! Is this any good? Did I ever learn proper grammar?)
Are there any changes you’ve wanted to make, but have allowed fear to stop you?
Join me on my quest this year. Let’s battle fear together and make 2011 the year we conquered those HUGE goals.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go do a little decluttering.
Did I mention I’m a procrastinator?
It’s another beginning.
Another clean slate.
Another chance to make lifelong changes.
At least that’s what millions like to believe.
I’m no different. Every year I make new resolutions, with the exception of last year, and I didn’t accomplish much in 2010 except for managing to hang on to the baby weight after Pace was born.
Now that I think about it, though, dealing with a demanding baby, a preschooler who’s stuck in the Terrible Twos, and a tween filled with attitude, not to mention my demanding full-time job with a boss I can’t stand, and not killing anyone by Dec. 31?...that’s quite an accomplishment!
This time next year, however, I’d like to be able to say that I have a busy toddler, a sweet preschooler, and a teen whose attitude I can deal with a little better, AND a job I love, plus a book that’s ready to be considered for publication.
The secret to the last two, or three?
Conquering fear. Or at least not allowing it to block me. I don’t know that I, or anyone, can actually conquer fear, but we can find ways to push past it. Me being the Self Help Queen should be able to manage that.
According to the hundreds of books I’ve read on career changes, living a more creative life, conquering clutter, getting fit, looking younger, being a better mother, being a better wife, being a better employee, being a better writer, and on and on and on (Yes, I do a lot of reading and not much doing, but I can coach anyone to almost anything they want to accomplish. Hmmm….maybe that’s a possible new career!), one of the first things you need to do is find support. For me, that would be my husband, my great friend Crystal, and my family – my mother, my sister, and my aunt.
You also need to make yourself accountable to someone so that you’ll work to keep from embarrassing yourself. Looks like that’s you guys!
Next, you need to have some kind of map. I’m working on monthly goals and at the end of each month I’ll check in with myself to see what I’ve done. For instance, by the end of January I hope to have applied for three positions (God willing there’s three I’m interested in) and my updated resume posted on a career website. I also want to have two more chapters completed for my book.
Those are completely doable goals that will help move me forward. I just need to make the time and push past my fear of getting a new job (What if it’s worse than where I am? What if I hate it, too? What if I’m no good at it?), or the fear that I constantly battle in my writing, both my book and my blog. (I have nothing to say! Is this any good? Did I ever learn proper grammar?)
Are there any changes you’ve wanted to make, but have allowed fear to stop you?
Join me on my quest this year. Let’s battle fear together and make 2011 the year we conquered those HUGE goals.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go do a little decluttering.
Did I mention I’m a procrastinator?
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