Nurture or ... nurture.

This week I've explored nurturing ourselves with my clients. Most of them had a really hard time identifying how they nurture themselves, and it was even harder to remember how they did so as a child. My childhood was free of the trauma and violence many of them experienced, and I never pretend to have similar experiences as they do, but I've noticed how I currently nurture myself and how it's similar and different to how I did so as a child.
When I was a little girl, grama could fix anything. This is still the case, and when I'm sick, lonely, tired, or experiencing any negative feeling I know talking to grama can fix it. Likewise, when there is something great going on I love sharing it with her to hear the excitement she shares with me. I'm so blessed to have had her as a constant in my life. I've added a closer relationship with my mom and aunts as well as one of the best ways I know to nurture myself.
I'm happiest when I'm cuddling, whether it's sitting on the couch with the dogs and Craig, the doggers surrounding me in the easy chair, or holding hands with my mama. My sister was a source of nurturing when I was a kid - she's 10 years younger and the love I had her for her filled me with happiness - and when she stays with me, Craig gives up the bed because he knows cuddling with her is going to make me happy for days to come. Again, this is a nurture-skill that I've always relied on.
I know that a good book or funny show will nurture me and wrapping myself in blankets. Creativity and showing off is nurturing to me, something that I could rely on as a cute kid who got lots of attention more than is possible now. Sweating it out at the gym is nurturing body and soul, and I am a firm believer that you have to work out when you least want to because it'll feel so damn good after. Being outside and listening to music, writing (sometimes) and long hot showers with millions of creams and gels are all the keys to feeling better for me. Prayer nurtures me, although it may be among the least-used skills I have. And my friends nurture me, just by being my friends. That's really cool.
And then there's food. My relationship with food, as dysfunctional as it may be, has always been one that works for me when I really need it to. Tonight, a cup of hot chocolate and piece of peanut butter-toast (grama's homemade bread no less) and the stress and aches of the day moved from the forefront of my mind. I looked for other options to nurture myself out of a blue mood, but no one answered the phone. Proving, to my chagrin, that food is the tool that I can turn to when I don't even have the energy to find other sources of nurturing.
This goes to show, I think, that the ways we nurture ourselves can also be the ways we hurt ourselves. Drugs, alcohol and sex were named by several clients as ways they've made themselves feel better, even if the end result wasn't a nurturing effect.
It's so interesting to think of all the ways people nurture themselves, healthy and unhealthy. I'll be sure to notice all the ways that I am nurturing to others, because that's the best way to nurture myself of all.

Within these sacred halls

I went to church with my mom today for the first time in more than a year. I likely went on Christmas Eve 2008 but every time she's asked since I pretend I can't hear her.
Zion Lutheran is where I learned about God, Jesus, forgiveness ... and fear. The God preached to me in confirmation class was one of fear - I was in my 20s before I concluded that I might just not spend eternity in a firey hell.
My own faith was influenced heavily by my time at Holden Village (holdenvillage.org), where I learned that not only am I loved and forgiven but so is EVERYONE ELSE. For most of my life that God only loves people who worship Jesus and live the Bible word for word. Being part of a community that explored and loved God as more than a mostly-punitive, distant parent was pretty liberating.
When Craig and I church shopped in 2006, we found a place where the sermon not only *addressed* the ongoing war but the preacher was so bold as to say that God wasn't on anyone's side and might even not want war to happen. Again. Mind blowing. Our most recent church, the now-defunct Well, met at a church and most of us had a pint of ale with our gospel. I'll always remember a relative's condemning gasp when she found out that we drank during church, even though Jesus himself was a pretty big fan of wine, it seems.
So Zion, in so many ways, has represented a message that was limiting rather than freeing. Last night, when I agreed (forced?) to go to church with mom, I added to my prayers that God really be with me today during worship, that my fears and anxieties be relaxed and I just absorb His love.
Coincidentally, church today was all about love, featuring Corinthians 13 - "the greatest of these is love" verses. The pastor, who was new to me (a small, rural church with plenty of in-fighting=high turnover of clergy), shared stories of people who dedicated their whole lives to love - the founder of Habitat for Humanity and Mother Theresa among them. At one point during the service, a woman with four kids took two of them to get a bottle, and left one of the infant twins with his older brother - who was quickly losing his grip of the squirmy boy. My mom quickly moved to get the baby and held him for the remainder of the service. I couldn't help but think that this simple act of holding and cuddling a little boy was the best example of love I'd experienced in the church during service. Even if it wasn't love that affected millions, it made a difference to a mom and her baby.
So yes, God was with me at Zion this morning. I often forget that She is with me ALWAYS, regardless of where I spend my Sunday mornings.

Starting Monday ...

It's often that the changes we want to make in our lives are put off. Usually, put off until Monday. I've recently seen people make some amazing changes in their lives - working out and eating better, facing the demons of their pasts, talking about feelings in a way they've rarely done - and I'm always amazed. Those kinds of life changes are HARD. But I've never found anyone who put the work in and wasn't grateful for it afterward.
I've been thinking about what, exactly, I want my life to look like. I know I want to have kids and a healthy marriage, close relationships with family and friends, be part of a community, impact others in a positive manner ... and no where on the list does it say 'be a size 6'. Weight loss has been a major issue of my life for the last 18 years, and will likely be one for another 18. I may never feel confident and strong in my body regardless of what it looks like, but my mind and my attitude and my psyche are confident and know exactly who I am.
One thing that's always been important to me is empowering women. This year I get to be an active partner in that goal by participating in The Vagina Monologues. It will be cool, fun, exhilirating, difficult, emotional and potentially painful. But if nothing else, I'll get to see a fantastic show come to life and share with others what my version of an angry vagina looks like.

Grumbling on the way

Motivation is something that comes from within, something I know all too well. Only I could force myself through the hardest semesters of grad school, only I could get out of bed on the darkest days, and only I can choose not to stuff my face with pizza.
And so, too, it's only I that can tie up my shoes and hit the pavement. For the last three months, that is what I have been doing. Initially, I was seeing great gains, and losses. Down 11 pounds on the scale in 6 weeks. I went from barely eeking out 2- and 3mile walks to pounding four twice a week. The first 8miler I did was the hardest of my life; the second: a piece of cake.
But now that I'm not seeing progress, it's hard to make myself tie up the shoes, and it's even harder to convince myself I want to. When there are dogs to pet, books to read and sun to soak, why separate myself from those I love to sweat on the asphalt?
The first leg of my journey, always, is the hardest. My daily route consists of the two miles to work and back - through downtown, past the mission, up one of the most beautiful streets in Billings, halved by a plenty hard hill. The blocks barely eek by - 3rd is the longest ever, no 4th, then 5th ... 9 blocks seems like pure trudgery.
But then I hit the top of the hill - and I speed home. There's a spring in my step, I race the beat of my iPod and *am* the epitome of groove. Today, as I lept closer to home, I figured out why.
The first half of my trip is where I get used to thinking. And because lately, the first thoughts that come to mind aren't very happy ones, I have about two miles to sort through those before I get to let my mind wander away from dogs and pains and fights and conflicts and troubles and worries. On the last two miles, I've done my daily allotment of worrying, so I get to think about the future, and how much I love my husband, and how lucky I am to have my family, and how wonderful my friends are, and how I have the cutest dogs in the world. The last two miles more than make up for the first two, in happiness and speed.
I've been able to shave about two minutes off my mile time - not all that impressive, as I'm still at a solid 18. But I have to hope that as my tan gets frecklier and the days get longer and the sun shines for days on end, the happy thoughts will take up more than just two miles. Two really FAST miles.

The Economic Truth

The economy sucks. We know. Pretty much every American knows. Pretty much everyone in the world knows. What we don't know is how to make it better.
In our house, the budget has gotten tighter. I can't insist on natural/healthy dog treats that cost thrice the price, because the dogs would rather have cheap something than expensive nothing. And my love for shoes/clothes/purses/makeup has been conducted at an adoring distance. A $20 purse is equal to a tank of gas. The gas is much more of a necessity than the purse.
And at the grocery store, I make sure to not buy what we won't eat. I stock up when stuff is on sale (see: million boxes of spaghetti in pantry). I buy NO name brands. And this juice I love, which is about $3/40 oz. is something I save for a special occasion. The costs of living, it seems, is too high.
And so we try to find lower costs. We try to find low low prices, even. Yes, our family is considering shopping at WalMart. And it's a decision that actually haunts my thoughts. For us, not shopping at WalMart has been personal. It would be like forgiving the guy who killed your puppy.
Because, in some ways, WalMart has destroyed a part of our lives. Growing up, Craig saw the WalMarts raise along Texas highways. But off the exits, he saw towns crumble around the flourescent lights. The MO was this: WalMart comes into a town, beats the prices and wages of competition. Competition flounders, goes out of business. WalMart hikes prices and lowers wages. Just because they can.
Too often, as a result of this snazzy trick, WalMart becomes the only option. It certainly is in Williston, where my aunt lives and just 30-some miles from my hometown. It's the only place to buy a CD or tv. Has the largest selection of clothing. And no where else in that part of the world can you find ANYTHING open 24/7.
That was not always the case. There was a KMart, and hardware store. A Payless and other shops downtown that thrived. The grocery store suffered, the eye glasses clinic suffered, the local jeweler suffered. Now that there was a cheap place to buy jewelry, why go to the guy who grampa bought grama's wedding ring from? WalMart wipes away tradition, but my sister in law got a wedding band for 100 bucks.
I've not shopped at WalMart for several years, before Craig and I joined forces. Mostly, I have thought it's a dirty, crowded place and I didn't care to mingle among the shrieking throngs. But when I was in "Nickel and Dimed" at Venture, and read the book by Barbara Ehrenreich (I am sure I butchered that name), and watched "The High Cost of Low Prices," WalMart became a place I couldn't get behind ethcially, not just germaphobe-ly. Most of their full time workers get health care coverage - but full time is 32 hours there. So it's not actually as much money as people need to cover the costs not paid for by insurance. Most of their paychecks are spent right at the store. Workes are required to clock out when their shift is over, yet expected to stay until their tasks are completed. They create a monopoly on prices, lowballing companies and threatening them with refusal to deal. As a result, big companies have to give them 100 widgets for $1, but because this cuts into their own profit margin, end up charging everyone-but-WalMart $2 for the same amount of widgets. Their customer service is atrocious, and their once proud declarations of "Made in the USA" is now written in Thai. Execs forbid unionization, and as we learn more about this store people once loved, it's become one we love to hate.
The thing is ... they really are cheaper. A bag of tangelos at the grocery is $7. At WalMart, it's less than half that price. When I bought breakfast makings on Saturday at the grocery store, I shelled out $40. Hubbie bought pretty much the same thing a few days later when he took his dad to WalMart for his groceries ... and again, half the price. Meat is alot cheaper, as is produce. Since that makes up most of what we eat, we would save some serious cash. Is that worth our principles, something we've not been willing to compromise on in just about any circumstance for the last 3 years?
It's all about bottom line, and ours would certainly look better if we were saving money at WalMart. So this should be a clearcut answer, right? Go to WalMart, have more money for purses. Hell, buy purses at WalMart! They're cheaper there!
But as we hear more about the economy, become more desperate for a solution and try to make our salaries add up in any way possible to meet our bills, I can't get beyond the biggest concept that stops me from walking through the sliding doors: As the economy crashes and tumbles, I'd hate for WalMart to be the only one that comes ahead in all this.

Work: The good, the bad, the boring.

So I've not blogged for a long time. So what? It's not like you were waiting with baited breath.
Oh? You were? Hmm. Sorry about that.
If you're wondering then, I'm working now. I'm also still alive, still married and still have two dogs and a great family and amazing friends. Those are the important things in my life, but work is generally what people want to hear about. Generally, to feel good that they're not hating their life/work, or to feel jealous that someone else has it better. Believe me - I have been on both sides of this fence.
I'm at Gateway House, the YWCA's domestic violence shelter. And it's FAB. Seriously. I work 4-12, the same as Craig. And that means we generally get to see each other without it causing planets to spin in opposite directions, and get to go to bed together most of the time. That never happened when I was at Alternatives, and rarely in the last year of our relationship. My requirements for 8+ hours of sleep, and his requirements for 6-or-so mean that I'm generally earlier to bed, later to rise. I'm just happy I have cuddle happy dogs ... and now get to cuddle with my husband with less effort required.
The clientele at Gateway is often cause for me to want to take up smoking again. They can be dysfunctional, chaotic and dramatic, pains in the ass, stubborn, immature ... and wonderful, open, heart-warming and generous. It's kind of like anyone else who has good and bad days - but also throw in the stress of community living, being homeless (and broke, without exception so far), an addiction or two, low self esteem and often patience-trying children, and their bad days can be REALLY bad. There's the loneliness of being without their partner (even a hellish life can be comfortable, and thus the act of leaving is not only physically dangerous but emotional hell) and uncertainty of what's next (we give them 6 weeks to start) and the various groups, chores and meetings required of them to stay here ... and I'm exhausted thinking about it. I've often expressed that the act of leaving, of coming to shelter, of making a step toward change and doing it (life, parenting, paying bills) on your own must be the scariest thing imaginable. I know that I would have no idea how to pay for the house or car, balance the various responsibilities of life, but more than anything I would miss my best friend and partner. Even if he were a dangerous maniac who tortured me emotionally and physically. There's something that makes us fall in love with each other, and most women -but often, especially abused women - hold on in the hopes of finding that again.
There are a lot of kids in shelter right now, and I'd take just about any one of them home with me. I LOVE holding the babies ... and the older kids can be the best part of any given day. Hell, there are some moms who I'd take home and raise as my own, 5-year age difference be damned. Most of our clients have never been told they have any worth to the world, and they believe it. When their young lives (most of them are in their 20s right now) have consisted of crappy parents, crappy schooling and crappy boyfriends, it's no wonder they end up here. Add in some sexual abuse, living in the foster system, addiction and abject poverty, and the odds are so stacked against them ... their day to day survival is often all they can consider when they arrive. Feeling good is such an odd feeling that when it happens they can't recognize it. Helping them realize their own strength, empower them to see they are worth something, and guide them toward change that matters in their lives and the lives of their kids is the big picture. Sometimes we get only a glimmer of what could be, but that glimmer is like the sunshine in December - so worth it.
Unfortunately, we have trouble makers too. They feed off of chaos and drama, affecting everyone around them - even staff. And so too often this place can be a bad reminder of high school. Lots of finger pointing, manipulation, lying ... ok maybe not high school so much as prison.
I work with a former classmate, Erin. I'm amazed at what a great boss she is. And no, I'm not saying this to kiss up. It's such an amazing change having a boss who empowers and appreciates me, instead of belitting, devaluing, criticizing and basically making me furious and/or cry. She's really smart about pretty much all domestic violence/sexual assault things related, and her ability to live and let live is one that is really good for me. Basically because that attitude allows me to express frustration when something/someone doesn't work, and then move on. We don't dwell on the negative. Clients are in and out pretty quickly, and though there have been the longest nights I've ever experienced, I know that this place really does matter to people, even years after they've been here.
The work is pretty dang easy too. I am pretty much a speed demon with paperwork (and a good speed demon at that) so I can interact with the ladies a lot more - whether it's playing with them and their kids, having dinner, dying hair ... or holding them while they cry or listen to thier stories or whatever they need. I really do *live* with them for pretty much 8 hours a day. There are some who I know I will miss when they're gone and even wish could be friends ... and some that I would pack their bags for them!
The easiness has a couple pros and cons - one, I get bored when it's slow. As a result I've become REALLY good at computer solitaire. So good, in fact, that the cascading cards that are the reward for victory is not really that exciting anymore. On the other hand, I'm not exhausted (though I've had to put myself on a wak-up-at-10 regimen) and have time to ... of all things ... exercise! Yup, I'm at week-9 of 6-day-a-week work outs (though this is an 'off week' because of fun things going on) and just finished week 8 of marathon training. I'm going to walk the Montana Marathon in September, and I'm terrified and thrilled. When I did my 8-mile walk a couple weeks ago, I was BEAT afterwards. But you know what? When I started, 4 miles did that to me. Now, 4 miles is nothing. I can do it in 52 minutes on the elliptical (dang snow, still can't log a lot of miles outside) and I've lost 11 pounds. Granted, I gained 11 from November to January, but those suckers are GONE! It's pretty cool being able to see it for myself. I've never had such success with losing weight, and to see results as a direct consequence of doing something is great motivation to keep it going. Whenever I think of moving on professionally (I have *should* feelings, that I *should* be working on my license, *should* be earning more, *should* have something more prestigious) I realize that what I can offer in this job, and what it can offer me, is not easily replicated. I'm satisfied ... and not going to broke what's not fixed.
So, that's work. It's certainly not life. But it's part of it. And since I'm sitting at work at 4 a.m., it's definitely on my mind. My very happy mind. I think I'm so lucky.
My last thought ... when I was let go from Alternatives, it was about 2 weeks after I approached my boss and his boss to express lingering upset-ness that he made a pretty inappropriate joke about domestic violence. Now, they didn't see it my way, but I just can't think of any time that DV is funny. It's the very picture of irony that I was fired for speaking up about the NONhumor of DV ... and now I'm working in DV! Take that B/G! I'm with the good guys now.

Reflecting ...

I spent the 22-29th at my parents' house. It was a pretty good time, complete with sister drama, Bodie peeing on the floor and great quality time with mom and aunts and grama. I got to see my brother for the first time in ages, and get a look into what my family's life is day-to-day. Spent time with old friends, and lots of carbs and napping.

It was great :)

But then I came back, to the reality of a stack of bills and no money to pay them. I am trying to be patient about not having a job, but the stress it is putting on me and on Craig makes it hard not to lose it. Lose my mind, lose my motivation, lose my faith.

In many ways, I am in the same place I was a year ago: jobless and fretting. But the in-between of Jan 1 and Dec 31 is what matters. The big things like finishing my masters', our honeymoon, Craig's accident and adding Bo to the family ... and the little things, from grocery shopping and watching The Wire and learning day-to-day how to keep going.

Our relationship certainly had some transition this year, for the better - we are better at talking to each other, at being partners. Marriage is certainly a forever work-in-progress, but we put a lot of work into ours in 2008. I'm sure it will mean a better 09 and thereafter.

These last two days, I've barely been awake. I'm overwhelmed with what I think qualifies as hopelessness, and I retreat to the safety of slumber. It feels like a waste of life, but when I'm awake *I* feel like a waste of life. I did leave the house today - took CL to work, went to Off the Leaf - and tonight we are making dinner and watching movies to ring in the new year. I'm not feeling well, and neither of us very festive. But having each other, and kissing at any time (midnight or not) is reason to celebrate.

Craig told me last year that in 09, he hopes that we can expect goodness by being good to others, ourselves. That hating is a waste of energy and stunts our growth, not that of the one we are focuing our emotions on. And while yes, 09 will likely also feature the financial struggle that most people in our class are experiencing, that needs to take back burner to joy and celebration and enjoying our lives.

We only get one life, one year at a time.