Be present

Another post I wrote, but never published. This one from 5/18/11 at 12:05 AM ---------------------------- Eight years ago, a counselor suggested that I read, "Wherever you go, there you are," by Jon Kabat-Zinn to help me reduce my stress level.



Now, I'm the kind of girl who has two speeds: Turbo and sleep. It's not a super healthy way to live but for most of my life - with the exception, I would suspect, of when I hadn't started crawling - I lived it in this way.



So, at the advice of my counselor, I read the book. Then I read it again. And then I read it again.



I didn't understand a lick of it.



"Wherever you go, there you are" is a book about being present. Who can be present when you are either moving at the speed of light or comatose? My being was completely wrapped up in titles, jobs and doings. What was my title at this job or that? What kind of job did I have? What did the outside see and think of me when I was a teacher, journalist, and even a daughter and mom? Most importantly, was I doing such an amazing job in these roles that I was indispensable?



This is how I measured my life.



A few weeks ago I left a job that I loved. I just up and quit. After 20+ years of working my ass off to move up in titles, jobs and doings, I had enough.



And I owe it all to a person who I would never want to be.



Without getting into specifics, I'll just say that I purposefully chose to walk away from toxicity.



Let me tell you something. I've been "being" for three weeks now. No title (unless you count trophy wife), no job so to speak (and I do not believe being a parent, wife or daughter is a job - it is a privledge),

and no particular need to "do" anything.



Guess what!?



There is a speed between turbo and sleep! And it is euphoric! I don't even know if you could call it a speed - because it is just a being. It is the "wherever you go, there you are" speed.

Walks with Mollie

I actually wrote this post at least 8 years ago, but hadn't published it. Mollie is now in puppy heaven. I miss her every day. A while back, I wasn't working outside the home. The part I loved most about being home was my morning walks with Mollie - our golden doodle.

Once the kids and husband were out the door, Mollie and I would take a 2-mile walk around the neighborhood. She loved it. I loved it. Toward the end of our morning journey, we'd make a pitstop at my parent's house (Mollie knew the spot well - about a block away, she'd start looking at me questioningly as if to ask, "We ARE going to stop, right?) We'd always stop. My mom would make me her "special coffee" and she, I and my dad would visit for a half-hour. Mollie would get a bowl of water and lots of lovin', and then we went on our way back home.

The freedom to take a leisurely walk each morning with a creature that found joy in every step down to her doggie soul was such a blissful feeling. I didn't worry about anything. I didn't think about anything troublesome.  I let my ADD mind jump aimlessly from one thought to another - how cute Ethan looked when he hopped out of the car to go to school, the funny thing Zayd said, how much I loved Paul, how big Zach had gotten, and how thoughtful Evan had been -- dotted with thoughts like, "The sun feels great, the air smells so energizing, I can't wait to have my mom's special coffee and I wonder if I should try knitting?"

I loved it. But I had this nagging feeling that I shouldn't. I should have a career shouldn't I? I should contribute to the family income, shouldn't I? I should set a good example for my children by being an empowered and upwardly mobile working woman, shouldn't I?

I should.

I took a job. And what a primo job it was! Challenging, lots of responsibility, diverse, educational, great colleagues, an excellent career move and good pay and benefits.

For a year, each weekday morning I said goodbye to Mollie. At first, she would get excited as she watched me put on my shoes and coat - thinking "We are going for our walk!" Then, after a while, she would stand about four feet from the doorway and look at me with the saddest look - knowing there would be no walk, and she would be alone all day.

I too would leave thinking -- No walk. Just a cubicle with no windows, no energizing fresh air, no wandering thoughts, no special coffee, no chats with my parents and no Mollie.

I quit almost a year to the day I started.

I am very happy.

So is Mollie.

Hello again!

After the last post on Najmania featuring my boys - I realized that I couldn't share the conversations I had with them with all of you anymore. I needed to keep those conversations private - not that it wasn't hard to keep away from typing them up! (I really should have at least typed them up for myself). 

So... hello again!

The boys have grown up! They are now 28 (married), 25, 23 and 20. We are living now in Colorado...

AND... get this...

Three of the four boys are here with us! Not like living with us, but within 10 minutes of us. 

WHAT?!?!

I know. According to my mother, I have controlled their minds and their lives. (IF ONLY).

According to one of our boys of whom shall remain unnamed...

"We like being around you guys."

OH. MY. GOD.

WIN WIN for parenting! 

And we really like being around them!

Anyway - the hubby, Paul, (you remember Paul?) and I just moved into our new house (well not a "new new" house - but new to us) about three weeks ago. I've learned a few things about myself in that time...

1. I do not know how to be content. I wasn't taught that concept.

2. I am a nester. I need to have my house feel like my home before I can move onto anything else... and

3. I fixate on things I don't like.

Oh... and BIG NEWS! I was diagnosed earlier this year with ADHD. 

I mean, knowing that at 55 is great, however, that might have been helpful to know when I was like... 10. It explains a lot. 

Okay. So, I decided I'm going to write again for anyone out there in the cyber universe who is interested in hearing from another 55-year-old woman. 

I might talk about my ADHD, or being 55, or my house and my plans for it, or occasionally about my family (without naming names, of course). Or I may talk about being raised by two narcissists! It's all game!

Stay tuned...