Mooooving On

I’m moving. I’m moving for the first time in almost 4 years. I’m moving from the place that I’ve lived the longest in my entire life, other than my childhood home.

People move all the time. Heck, fellow dissident daughter Jill moves entire houses almost every year (Haha, sorry, J, I had to go there!) Indeed, I am only moving 5 blocks from my current apartment, so not much will change in terms of neighborhood, work commute, etc. However, for me, moving is a big deal. Let me explain.

I’ve written a ridiculous number of blog posts about my current apartment. Click HERE to read about my adventure in painting it from top to bottom. Click HERE to read about my final project this summer. You see, I write about my apartment often because it essentially became the most concrete symbol for ME and my journey. It was at this apartment that I would say that I REALLY grew up. I don’t mean to imply that I was not an adult prior to moving into this apartment, nor do I mean to suggest that I will stop growing once I leave. But it was THIS apartment where I had to confront some of the darkest forces of life, and those tend to age someone in a way that no other experience can. I moved here right after losing everything that I had once held so dear, and I was forced to embrace the ubiquitous snares of grief- the devastating loss of meaning, dreams, and faith.

My apartment became the most concrete symbol for this journey. I moved in, and the apartment had the ugliest green trim and carpet everywhere. I had almost no furniture, save for a 1980’s box TV and a futon that resembled a car seat more than a cozy place to relax. And for almost a year, the apartment remained stagnant because I didn’t have the energy, creativity, or desire to make it better. But slowly, I started to pour myself into the apartment. I started to find interesting secondhand pieces and fix them up. I bought new furniture. I started painting the ugly ass walls. And it became a self-perpetuating effect. The better I started to feel, the more I was able to give to fixing my apartment. And the more I fixed my apartment, the better I would feel because I felt pride in the work that I was doing.

I started to feel so proud of my work that I would tell everyone that I planned to stay in my apartment as long as I could- I would only move if 1) I got married; or 2) I suddenly decided to move out of state. But life just doesn’t work like that, and we are usually led to where we need to be, which is often different than what we expect. The signs start slow, and then they start to build until we finally get the clue.

This past August, I wrote this grandiose blog post about the meaning of finally painting over all of the green trim and feeling “finished.”  The VERY SAME day that I published that blog post, a mouse got into my apartment. It turned into a huge debacle (it’s a funny story, ask me if you want to know more!), and I briefly wondered if there was some sort of deeper symbolism to the fact that it happened on the same day that I published my blog post. I had just finished writing a post about my love for the apartment, and that same day, I started cursing my apartment because it failed me- it let in a disgusting rodent. However, I brushed those feelings aside. I found out that my neighbors had accidentally left their door open for over an hour, so of course a mouse got in. I let it go.

Let's be real- this is what my version of moving looks like. #clowncar

But over the course of the next couple of months, the signs kept coming. Someone ran into my lovely purple car in the middle of the night and left me to wake up to the damage.  Additionally, I found out that my landlord was selling my building, and the fate of what would happen to the building was uncertain. I also just started to feel different inside. The economical DIY upgrades that I had been sooo proud of started to just feel…temporary and unsustainable. Moreover, I started to feel less passion about upgrading the apartment in general because I had done everything I could as a tenant, and anything else would be a massive overhaul. I even started to resent vacuuming because even when the carpet was freshly vacuumed, it still looked nasty because the carpet was green and old and ugly. One Saturday in January, everything culminated together, and all of the sudden, I literally said out loud, “I’m ready to move. It’s time.”

It seems like it came out of nowhere- all of the sudden I just snapped to the realization that I wanted to move. But it really had been building for 5 months. God is funny like that- I think that we are often given clues about where we are being led, and they keep building and become louder until we are able to hear.

I’m so excited for my new place- it’s an upgrade to my current one, and it has a lot of old house charm with upgraded appliances. I knew as soon as I stepped into it that it was “home.” I had looked at a bajillion other places prior to this one, and I just knew that this one was right.

Because I’m so ready, my grief over leaving isn’t very intense (which is significant for someone that is ridiculously sensitive!) If anything, it feels more like…I’m leaving my grief behind. Not that you ever ‘get over’ grief, but I’ve integrated it as much as I can, and the rest of it is staying in my apartment. If anything…the feeling I feel most right now is fear. You see…after the turmoil and growth of the past 4 years…I’m now at one of the happiest phases of my life. I’m so content with the people in my life and the opportunities I’ve been given that I feel like I could burst. And because of that joy, I’m terrified. I am overly cognizant of the fact that I could lose any (or all) of these things, and it’s almost paralyzing.

I’m still not sure what to do with that fear- I think that may be my journey for my next apartment.

Until then, know that redemption and creation are real. And the best way to know what they are is to live it.

Disney!

The Alesch/Finken Crew at Hoop Dee Doo Revue!

I’ve been reflecting a lot lately on the kind of parent I want to strive to be- what values, traditions, etc. do I want to try and make a part of my child’s life? What kind of example(s) will Larry and I intentionally and unintentionally set for him or her? While I can think of many things that I have learned from my own parents, sisters, in-laws, cousins, aunts/uncles, friends, coworkers, etc. that I would hope to teach to my child, there is a particular value that I observed in my sister Jill that I would like to discuss for the blog. Side note: It also happens that I observed this during our recent trip to Disney, which I also wanted to document on the blog so it works out great!

A couple of weeks ago, the Finken family, accompanied by my father, sister Anne, and me, were fortunate to spend almost a week at Walt Disney World. One of the main reasons we went there was because Jill was running the Disney Marathon for the second time (she also ran in 2014).  However, most of our time was spent not focusing on running but on enjoying the parks and our vacation time together.

If you have ever hung out with one or more Alesch family members at a time, you may know that when we get together, we tend to bumble around, not really have an agenda, and slowly make decisions. However, this trip, we managed to avoid any excessive bumbling and maximized our time together in the parks. Sister Jill was the main reason everything went so smoothly. For one, she LOVES Disney. Ever since she went there for the first time in her late twenties/early thirties (NO Alesch sister had been there before their mid-twenties by the way, ha!) she has loved the place. When she decided to take her family with her for the first time, she had a little anxiety because she wasn’t sure she would love it as much if she couldn’t ramrod to all the rides by herself. So, she bought some Disney Guide Book and has been obsessed with it ever since. You won’t catch her in park without the current year’s Guide Book in her hand and you won’t catch her in the hotel at night without a paper and pen planning out the next day’s “must see” attractions. I could go on and on about Jill’s love for Disney and her precious Guide Book but suffice it to say, it was what kept us from bumbling around and hesitating to make decisions.

Now, the aforementioned is not the value I observed and admired in my sister Jill that I would hope to also instill in my child. What I observed about Jill over the trip besides her love for her Guide Book, was that she always wanted to make sure everyone was comfortable and having a good time. This wasn’t being done in an unhealthy way because we know that you can’t please everyone at the same time and we also know that you can’t try to please others to the extent that you forget about taking care of yourself. Although I do have to admit, walking around the park for an entire day and closing it down after running 26.2 miles might have been a little foolish on her part. :) However, she really was the glue that held everyone together over the trip and she made sure that throughout the duration, everyone was able to do some of the things that they wanted to do or experience or something she thought would be special for them. For example, I had never been to SeaWorld but was leaving a day earlier than everyone else so Jill made sure to rearrange the entire schedule to make sure we visited that park before I left. For my niece Brooklyn, she made sure to schedule plenty of character visits with the princesses. For my nephew Trevor, she went on all the rides with him that nobody else could stomach at the very end. For Sister Anne, she made sure she had time to get her picture taken with Anne’s favorite character and idol, Ariel. And for all of us, she planned something she thought we might like to do and something we would never plan for ourselves- a dinner show at one of the longest running dinner shows at Disney World (see the awesome picture above!).

The examples above may seem trivial but the bottom line is that Jill planned that vacation for her entire extended family- her running of the marathon was merely a blip on the radar. Right from the beginning when she started planning the trip, she booked a suite with way more room than her family of four needed because she WANTED others to join her family adventure. Some might not think this is such an incredible act. After all, you may know plenty of families who still take extended family vacations together. You may know plenty of families with someone who acts like the glue and selflessly makes sure everyone is comfortable. True. Fortunately, I still know families like that as well. However, I also know plenty of families who have been ripped apart by silly feuds and would never imagine vacationing with their immediate family, never mind their extended family! I also know plenty of people who forget about their other relationships once they are parents. They focus solely on what their kids want and need and forget that they are also a sister, daughter, wife, etc. So I guess the value(s) I observed in Jill that I hope that I can emulate and exemplify for my child is selfless love and a constant, deliberate emphasis not just on family but on extended family relationships as well.

One of our many character meetings!

 

Sculpting Our Own Lives

              Although the concept has apparently been around since at least 1999, the concept of job sculpting only recently came across my desk.  The entire premise of job sculpting is that unless a job is matched to a person’s “deeply embedded life interests,” he or she will become dissatisfied or uncommitted.  Deeply embedded life interests do not determine what people are good at.  Instead, they drive what kinds of activities make them happy. The challenge, however, is that most people are simply unaware of their own deeply embedded life interests.  This happens for many reasons—some people take the path of least resistance (i.e. my dad was a lawyer); others are lured simply by the prospect of financial gain or prestige; still others follow the career advice of simply going into what they are good at and some are simply fulfilling others expectations of them.  However, choosing a profession based on these reasons alone will not translate into job satisfaction (although they may help the person tolerate their own dissatisfaction for long periods of time).  The article I read, which is available here, https://hbr.org/1999/09/job-sculpting-the-art-of-retaining-your-best-people/ gave a couple of poignant examples that resonated with me personally.  First, one manager in the high-tech industry went through three companies before realizing it wasn’t the company he needed to change but his work.  The article discusses that often times, an employee will attribute their unhappiness to their managers or organizations and so they will leave the company, only to find similar dissatisfaction because the root of their “career malaise” has not been identified. 

If I’m honest with myself, I’ve had my fair share of job dissatisfaction ever since becoming an attorney.  Whenever I have alluded to not being happy as an attorney, I usually get the same response, “But you are so good at it.”  I have never really been able to internalize how it is that I can be so dissatisfied with something I am good at.  We are trained, from an early age, that if you are good at something, you do it.  If you are good at basketball, you play it.  If you aren’t good at something, then let’s be honest, most of us don’t pursue it.  So it makes sense that I chose a profession I was good at without fully realizing I might not like it.  After reading the first half of the article, I stopped, looked up and had that “aha” moment where I finally understood how I could be dissatisfied with something I was good at.  Maybe it was obvious to everyone else, but it never truly made sense to me.  If I was good at something and had success at it, it seemed axiomatic that I should like it.  And yet, ten years later, I still did not and was unable to truly grasp the why behind that reality. 

I have wrestled with the thought of leaving the law for a great deal of time now.  When my back is against the wall or I am challenged, I can be a real asshole and that makes me a great attorney.  But I don’t like feeling that way, I don’t like the adrenaline rush that sends blood pumping into my temples, and I don’t like feeling that out of control anger that is a result of my fight or flight response in battle.  Big surprise (said sarcastically) it is always fight to the death in my case.  The other aspect of being an attorney is that I don’t like to pontificate over the meaning of a single word.  I make decisions quickly, easily, effortlessly and find discussions about whether we should use “a” or “the” to be a complete and utter waste of time because I recognize immediately there are arguments in favor of both and further discourse will not necessarily result in a clear winner.  I also don’t like that much of the law assumes the worst about people and you have to constantly be thinking in terms of “when this is litigated,” not even “if this is litigated.” 

This article, is pretty basic and after thinking it through, it all seems so obvious that I am a little ashamed to be writing this.  At the same time, if I didn’t put two and two together, it is possible others haven’t either.  At the end of the day, I feel better knowing that it’s not abnormal to not like something you are good at. Having the understanding of why and how this could have occurred is the first step to changing things, which gives me hope.   I think it is beautiful how sometimes life brings us these little surprises when we need them the most. 

In the bigger scheme of things, because I always have to take my analysis to the next level [#Aleschproblems] it was a good reminder for me as a parent.  As adults, we can inflict incredible damage upon our children when we force our own wants, interests and desires on them.  If the child spends his or her life fulfilling other people’s expectations of them, we are committing them to an adult life of potential dissatisfaction.  There are parents who tie money to their child going to a certain college or pursuing a certain career.  There are parents who pressure their children to take over the family business or continue the family legacy.  There are parents who simply have expectations of their children that they will excel and so the child naturally gravitates toward those activities in which he or she does excel, which leads them to choose a career based on what they are good at.  As a parent, my only goal for my children is that they find happiness, whatever that looks like for them.  I don’t want them to fulfill my expectations or meet my needs or simply choose a career path because it is expected or demanded.  I have always believed that my job as a parent is not to prepare the path for the child, but rather to prepare the child for the path.  I have written about this somewhat before but our culture has a tendency to tell us to choose safety instead of risk, sameness instead of diversity.  Resist the urge to place these shackles on yourself and your children.  This plague of sameness is killing not just our own ability to experience joy but also our children’s.  I can only hope my children are bold enough to use their voice, brave enough to listen to their heart and strong enough to live the life they have always imagined and re-imagined as opposed to the life someone else has dictated to them intentionally or unintentionally.  And for the rest of us, it is never too late to try.      

         

Err on the Side of Love

Almost every Saturday when I lived in El Paso, TX, my boyfriend (henceforth in this blog referred to as Boyfriend) at the time and I had a cozy, fun ritual of making the what were quite possibly the best egg sandwiches ever made and picking out muffins or donuts to go with them at the local bakery. Every Saturday, this felt like a very special and fun way to start the weekend together...except one. This specific Saturday, during our trip to the store to get eggs and bread and, of course, the requisite hot sauce, a man approached us in the store parking lot. He told us that his car was just off of the interstate (I-10 runs east and west through El Paso) and he had run out of gas. His wife and two kids were in the car waiting for him and he didn't have any money for gas. He asked us if we could spare any money to help him out. Boyfriend thought the guy was scamming us and got somewhat pissy with him and of course shot down his request for money. I didn't have any cash on me at the time and was embarrassed by Boyfriend's reaction. We continued into the store, picked up our items and I took out $15 to give to the man on the way out. He was still in the parking lot asking for assistance so I went over to him and gave him the money. He was very grateful. Boyfriend and I proceeded to have a disagreement as to the true intentions of the man and whether I'd been foolish to give him the money. Though it's been nearly ten years since then, this memory continues to stick out in my mind and resurface. I've thought about it enough to know why and that brings me to the title of this post.

In my life, I would rather err on the side of love. Maybe that guy was scamming me and he ran off with my $15. But if he was telling the truth and in need, I would not be comfortable turning away from him. I would rather be generous and compassionate than suspicious and judging. I can only choose and manage my own actions and behavior and I am not responsible for someone else's...and I choose love. That man is responsible for his actions and if he was lying, that is his to deal with, not mine.

This specific story stands out for me because I think it was one of the first times I put this feeling into words. During the argument with Boyfriend, I had to figure out why it bothered me so much that he was suspicious and seemingly uncaring to someone who was possibly in need. I also had to figure out why I'd rather be potentially scammed out of $15 than be the person who denied someone help because I presumed to know someone else's intentions, situation and life. And that's the other part of this...I don't want to view the world that suspiciously or negatively. I don't want to think that everyone is out to get me or that everyone is out to fuck everyone else over for their own benefit. To me, that seems like it would be a miserable way to live and I don't choose that for myself...so I choose to err on the side of love. Make no mistake...this in no way means that I don't have boundaries. I have worked very hard at establishing those for myself. Boundaries are a part of love (aside: boundaries can be an uncomfortable part of love and it is why they are often missing). What I am saying, however, is that we are able to choose the energies we allow into our lives.

I had originally planned to post on a different topic...the other Dissident Daughters are aware of it, and trust me, the topic pisses me off so it will be posted at some future date. However, I wanted to share this post in honor of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., as we celebrate his life and legacy this week. Dr. King is credited with the quote, "I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear." My way of sharing this same sentiment is to "err on the side of love" and my reasoning for working toward this in my life is just what Dr. King said...hate IS too great a burden to bear. Hate brings along with it the burdens of judgment, suspicion, self-righteousness, punishment (which is a completely different mentality than preserving boundaries), distrust...and in my life, when I have embraced these aforementioned burdens, ey have brought with them unhappiness and misery. Dr. King definitely knew what he was talking about regarding love and hate...and it does not only apply to the most famous of Dr. King's passions, civil liberties. This concept applies to peace within our own lives and selves. This is why I choose to err on the side of love...and my wish for myself is that I continue to make this choice, even when I am in places in my life that require me to be even more calm, patient and self aware...with others and with myself.

The Dark Side of the Light

Early last fall I was staring at the stars on a cloudless night, far away from the dulling effect of city lights.  The stars shone brilliantly.  They made me think of the vastness of our universe, and even the vastness of our own earth, and how small our problems are compared to the greater whole, and how many opportunities are available to each and everyone of us.  You might say I was in my own little happy, comfy place.

But my little happy, comfy zone was shattered by a phone call early the next morning with the stark realization that not everyone was seeing life the way I was seeing it at that time.  Someone very close to me called, having a complete meltdown and crying out for help.  It wasn't "the boy crying wolf" kind of thing.  Some nasty, life-threatening shit was going down.  Luckily, a few close friends and family were able to get this person to a hospital right away and a life was spared.  The root cause of the issue was a cascading assumption of what this person was convinced was reality, which was dark, lonely and hopeless, instead of seeing the true reality for what it is:  one of hope, love and acceptance.

Following was support from other friends, even from one who has never met this person, and the healing and monitoring process has been ongoing from there.  I was wracked with guilt for not being more present in this person's life and for not recognizing the signs I was shown. I vowed to change.

Two months later, I received another phone call about a young man I have known, and been very close to, since he was born.  He was a great kid and had grown into a fine young man.  Unfortunately, he got in with the wrong crowd and became addicted to heroin.  His brother, who lives in the same city, pulled him away from the bad influence.  His mother traveled from Des Moines, and together, the two of them got him into a rehabilitation center.

What a huge sigh of relief until someone came for a visit to the rehab facility and slipped him a dose of heroin.  It was some bad stuff and he had a horrible experience.  Older brother back to the rescue.  He got this young man to a detoxification center.  Time to step in again.  After a frantic series of events, we got him onto a plane to Des Moines to be in the loving care of his mother and other family members.  I saw him several times over the course of the week that he was here.  I didn't realize how bad it was and won't go into the details, which are horrifying, but the transformation of this young man over the course of the week he was here with his mother and other family members was nothing less than amazing.  He is now in a rehabilitation center in another city, far away from where he lives.

When I was invited to write a guest post for the Dissident Daughters blog, I wrote something. After I re-read it, I didn't like it.  I didn't feel like I adequately expressed my feelings, emotions, or even my message.  I shared these thoughts with my good friend, Amy Sue, one of the Dissident Daughters, and she suggested that I write my message in the form of song lyrics because that is who I am and how I best express myself.  So that's what I did.

I have been writing song lyrics most of my adult life.  Many have become actual songs through collaboration with a number of musicians, while others are simply therapeutic memoirs.  I'm not sure what this one will turn out to be.  It isn't presented in the standard lyric sheet format.  This is simply how it came through my mind and onto paper.  In part it is my story and in part it is a message I hope anyone reading this post will take to heart.  Be there for others, but also be there for yourselves.  The more you love and forgive yourselves, the better able you are to love and help others.

The Dark Side of the Light

Starlight from heaven

How bright that it shines

The way we receive it

Is all in our minds

The future is endless

Or so it may seem

'Til the demons of life

Have shattered your dreams

Convictions, addictions

Are powerful things

That tighten their grip

When the morning bell rings

They grab you, they hold you

And won't let you go

Pull you into the darkness

Where the light doesn't show

They take you, they rape you

They capture your soul

You no longer run

When there's nowhere to go

You know there's a bright side

You've lived it before

You left it behind

When you opened that door

You fell to the darkness

You thought you could hide

You run from yourself

Feeling empty inside

And now it seems like nothing's going right

Your strength is gone, you've lost your will to fight

The hope you had is nowhere in sight…

On the dark side of the light

There may be an answer

Take hold of my hand

Please just let me help you

Help you understand

Love is all around you

It's waiting here for you

Standing at attention

To help you make it through

Life can be a battle

Not meant to fight alone

Open arms of others

Can help you make it home

You know there's a bright side

You've lived it before

You left it behind

When you opened that door

You fell to the darkness

You thought you could hide

You run from yourself

Feeling empty inside

And now it seems like nothing's going right

Your strength is gone, you've lost your will to fight

The hope you had is nowhere in sight…

On the dark side of the light

Life can be a battle

Not meant to fight alone

Open arms of others

Can help you make it home

Come on baby, come on baby back home!

Intricate and Intimate

Hola Dissident Followers and Happy New Year from yours truly! Sooo I'm really in a quandary of what to write about this week. It's been about three solid weeks since our last post becacuse of the holidays and a lot has happend in the past three weeks which gives me a lot of blogging ideas. I'm just coming off of a much needed two week break from school and am about to start the second semester of my teaching career. I've really debated about writing a reflection of my semester one experiences, however, I think I will save that for maybe a year reflection after I complete my first year of teaching in May. I've also debated with writing about a stereotypical reflection of my experiences of 2015 in general. 2015 was a big year for me because I graduated college and ventured out into the world of adulthood, however I think I will decided against the typical New Year reflection.


As mentioned before, since my Christmas break is coming to an abrupt end, last night, my roommate and I decided to be spontaneous and try out a free salsa dance lesson at the Rumba Bar downtown near our apartment. We stumbled across this hidden bar while we were walking downtown this weekend and saw that they were advertising the free dance lesson on their window, so we figured we may as well take advantage of it beings we teach Spanish and all. Payton, my roommate, loves to salsa dance and went dancing quite frequently when she studied abroad in Mexco. I on the other hand am quite terrible at organized dancing and have the bare minimum experience with it. I was a little nervous, but I wasn't going to pass up this fun opportunity.

Around 9:00 p.m. Payton and I began walking to the Rumba Bar. Both of us were pretty tired so we went there without consuming a drop of alcohol which only added to my nerves. We got there right around 9:30 and they hadn't began the dance lesson yet so we waltzed on up to the bar and tried one of their mojitos since that seemed to be the drink of choice there. I really liked the vibe of the bar. It was dark, there were plenty of lazer lights and the tables  and couches were set up in a way that allowed you to actually hear and talk with your friends. We talked and drank for a little bit, until the instructor finally announced that the class was going to begin and called for all interested in learning the dance to the dance floor.

Payton and I set down our drinks and bumbled out onto the dance floor. The instructor first taught us the basic salsa step. This step required no partner and was very simple. It was simple enough that even I thought I was a pro at it haha. After the instructor went over the movements of the basic step, we then did the entire dance to a song. It was really fun, but that was only the beginning. After the song ended, the instructor got us all into a circle. The people who already came with a dance partner stood next to their partners and for those of us that didn't come with a partner, stood in between the couples. The instructor then taught us how to partner salsa dance! Ahhhhh! You mean we'd actually have to dance with someone we didn't know when we weren't completely obliterated? Yepp. We danced with one partner for a few steps, then when the instructor said rotate, we all rotated to the left and danced with a new partner. Some of the men I danced with had no idea what they were doing while others could have been on "Dancing with the Stars." It was okay though because at the end of the day, all of us were there to have fun. I messed up multiple times, felt completely embarrassed with a complete stranger and yet wasn't bothered by that.

After the lesson was over, they continued to play Latin music and if you wanted to stay out and dance you could, otherwise you could go sit and drink or do whatever else you wanted to do. Payt and I got another drink and then went back to our table. We only sat there for a solid ten minutes until Payt and I both got asked to dance by what appeared to be 40 year old men. We didn't care though because we both wanted to dance. I actually danced with 3 different 40 year old men that asked me to dance and although I may have felt awkward or self conscious at times, I also felt very satisfied and at peace with myself, my partner and life. Why?

Dancing is a very intimate activity. The way your bodies are so close and move together. The way that every movement has a reaction to it. The awkwardness of accidentally stepping in opposite directions or maybe in the same direction at the wrong time. The utmost terrifying fear of gazing into your partners eyes. All of those things make dancing very scary, but oh so very intimate. I was dancing with a 40 year old stranger (I actually still don't know his name) and at that moment I have never felt so close to someone. That being said, feeling intimate with someone does not mean that you necessarily want to fuck them. I in no way, shape or form had any sexual interest in my 40 year old dance partners. I did, however, feel very private, personal and closely acquainted with them.

All this being said, I think this is a crucial piece of what my generation is missing. My generation is missing intimacy. Our feelings of intimacy are masked with social media such as Facebook, Tinder, Plenty of Fish, etc. We talk without even meeting and we fuck without even knowing a person, and although the talking and screwing temporarily put a band aid on our longing for human feeeling and interaction, it does not satisfy our human need for intimacy. One cannot be intimate behind a screen, nor can one be truly intimate behind 7 shots of Whiskey. True intimacy comes from stone cold sober conversation, touch, gaze and feeling. This is not something my generation forgot how to do; it is something my generation has never learned how to do.

A Holiday Plea

It’s that time of year!!! It’s the holiday season!!! Time for family, friends, food, fun, and festivities!!! (Do you like the alliteration I used there?)

Here’s the thing. I love the holidays, AND I also find them to be overstimulating/stressful. I’m guessing there are others that also strongly identify with this sentiment.
Let me explain.

I DO love the holidays. I love that I am able to be with my entire family all at the same time- both my immediate and extended family. I love all of the holiday parties- just yesterday, I had a cookie exchange with a group of friends, and then I went to a work party afterward. I love all of yummy food- I ate puppy chow for the first time in a year yesterday, and it was positively delightful. I love all of the fun decorations- I put fake snow all around my apartment, and I feel like I’m living in a idyllic winter wonderland. I love that I am able to catch up with some of my long-term friends as they come to Des Moines to visit over the holiday season. I love the holiday music- seriously, is there anything better than jamming out to Carol of the Bells?!

I love the holiday season. And yet- it is certainly overstimulating and stressful.

It’s difficult to try and schedule everything that you want and need to do. Two of the fellow Dissident Daughters (Molly and Kristen) do not live in Iowa, and they are coming back to Iowa for Christmas. I want to see them as much as possible while they are home since I do not see them very often. I also want to try and see one of my best friends that is home for the holidays from Switzerland. I have another college friend that currently lives in Colorado that will be visiting Des Moines. And of course, there are the usual life events and gatherings that continue on in the midst of the holidays. Cookie exchanges, newborn babies, birthday celebrations, etc. There is SO MUCH going on. And to try and keep working out, doing laundry, and maintain a household as well? Ohhhhhhhh buddy.

I start to feel stressed because I want to be able to see everyone and do everything. And it’s…it’s so hard. You have to take into account other people’s schedules, context, unique needs, etc. And the fact is- there is just TOO much going on this time of year to be able to do it ALL. And you will NOT have enough time with the people you do see. You won’t have enough time because there is NEVER enough time with the people we love, and this is especially true when you are trying to cram so many things into a short time period.

What do we do with that? Here’s the balance that I’m trying to maintain. I WANT to affirm and validate these feelings of stress- both in myself and others. These feelings of stress are coming from a place of valuing our time with other people and feeling stress when it is not enough. Additionally, these feelings are also coming from a desire to BE valued by other people. Affirming other people’s worth- as well as our own- is one of the most important needs we have as human beings.

And yet. I also want to remind everyone that these problems- these stressors- they are incredible gifts. It is a precious gift to have so many people to love and cherish in your life. I am reminded of that EVERY day when I talk to people in their grief. This is particularly hard time of year for people who have had their loved ones die; they don’t feel like celebrating, their traditions are broken, and the people they most want to be at their celebration- they are not here. I have talked with some people that are so lonely at this time of year that they have asked me to accompany them to their holiday traditions because they do not have anyone else. I have had people beg me to hold my parents as tight as I can because there will be a day when I cannot.

It is difficult to see and do everything we want during the holidays. It is difficult to communicate our needs and schedules with others. I definitely feel the weight of that stress. My plea to myself- and everyone else- is to work with that stress. To realize that having this type of stress is one of the best types of stress to have. The stress is going to happen, you aren’t going to be able to do everything perfectly, and there will be tension. Try to do the things that are most important to you AND the things that are most important to the ones that you love. Let go of some of the routine and everyday stuff, and embrace the moments that you are able to spend with friends and family.