There are so many blogs out there. This is mine. I don't expect it to be particularly good, but it is my life and my thoughts on life and the world as I see it.
I’ll tell you the more I grow the more I am okay with accepting the “Let Them” in my own life and relationships. Even family can mistreat and disrespect you.
This is something that took me a very long time to learn. I used to tolerate a lot because I didn't want to lose people. I learned the hard way if they were really my people they would never treat me like that. Don't make the mistake of being so understanding and forgiving that you overlook the fact that you're being repeatedly disrespected.
Let them be upset.
Let them judge you.
Let them misunderstand you.
Let them gossip about you,
Let them ignore you.
Let them be "right."
Let them doubt you.
Let them not like you.
Let them not speak to you.
Let them run your name in the ground.
Let them make you out to be the villain.
Whatever it is that people want to say about you, let them!
Kindly step aside and LET THEM.
The hard truth is they know how much they are hurting you. They just simply don't care. They did it knowing it could cause them to lose you. They did it anyway. People that love you care about how they make you feel.
The end.
Let them go.
There will be people that would rather lose you than be honest about what they've done to you. Let them go.
The lack of respect was the closure. The lack of apology was the closure. The lack of care was the closure. The lack of acountability was the closure. The lack of honestly was the closure. Let them go.
Make the decision to no longer sit at tables where you might be the topic when you get up. Let them go.
You can still be kind. You can even still love them deeply. But do it from the distance they created in their words and actions. Access to you is a privilege they have proven they can’t be trusted with. Let them go.
You don’t need to tell your side of the story. God already knows. Let God fight the battle for you. Let them go.
It’s taken me a long time to get here. Sleepless nights, countless tears, managing a range of emotions filled with anger, disappointment, confusion and deep hurt. Lots of self reflection, self preservation, deep prayer and seeking wisdom from those much wiser than me.
If you are struggling with this please know you are not alone. We will never understand why hurt people hurt people. But we can do the hard work to grow ourselves. Because healed people do in fact heal people.
Don’t you dare let them steal your joy.
Don’t you dare let them steal your light.
Don’t you dare let them steal your peace.
You are in control of that.
Hold tight to what you can control and release your grip on what you can’t control.
It is the hardest thing you will ever have to do, and it will also be the most important: stop giving your love to those who aren’t ready to love you.
Stop having hard conversations with people who don’t want to change. Stop showing up for people who are indifferent about your presence. Stop prioritizing people who make you an option. Stop loving people who aren’t ready to love you.
I know that your instinct is to do whatever you can to earn the good graces of everyone you can, but that is also the impulse that will rob you of your time, your energy and your sanity.
When you start showing up to your life wholly and completely, with joy and interest and commitment, not everyone is going to be ready to meet you there.
It doesn’t mean you need to change who you are. It means you need to stop loving people who aren’t ready to love you.
If you’re left out, subtly insulted, mindlessly forgotten about or easily disregarded by the people you spend the most time with, you’re doing yourself an incredible disservice by continuing to offer your energy and life to them.
The truth is that you are not for everyone, and everyone is not for you. That’s what makes it so special when you do find the few people with whom you have a genuine friendship, love or relationship: you’ll know how precious it is because you’ve experienced what it isn’t.
But the longer you spend trying to force someone to love you when they aren’t capable, the longer you’re robbing yourself of that very connection. It is waiting for you. There are billions of people on this planet, and so many of them are going to meet you at your level, vibe where you are, connect with where you’re going.
… But the longer you stay small, tucked into the familiarity of the people who use you as a cushion, a back burner option, a therapist and a ploy for their emotional labor, the longer you keep yourself out of the community you crave.
Maybe if you stop showing up, you’ll be less liked.
Maybe you’ll be forgotten about altogether.
Maybe if you stop trying, the relationship will cease.
Maybe if you stop texting, your phone will stay dark for days and weeks.
Maybe if you stop loving someone, the love between you will dissolve.
That doesn’t mean you ruined a relationship. It means that the only thing sustaining a relationship was the energy you and you alone were putting into it.
That’s not love. That’s attachment.
The most precious, important thing that you have in your life is your energy. It is not your time that is limited, it is your energy. What you give it to each day is what you will create more and more of in your life. What you give your time to is what will define your existence.
When you realize this, you’ll begin to understand why you’re so anxious when you spend your time with people who are wrong for you, and in jobs or places or cities that are wrong, too.
You’ll begin to realize that the foremost important thing you can do for your life and yourself and everyone you know is to protect your energy more fiercely than anything else.
Make your life a safe haven in which only people that can care and listen and connect are allowed.
You are not responsible for saving people.
You are not responsible for convincing them they want to be saved.
It is not your job to show up for people and give away your life to them, little by little, moment by moment, because you pity them, because you feel bad, because you “should,” because you’re obligated, because, at the root of it all, you’re afraid to not be liked back.
It is your job to realize that you are the master of your fate, and that you are accepting the love you think you’re worthy of.
Decide you’re deserving of real friendship, true commitment and complete love with people who are healthy and thriving.
Then wait in the darkness, just for a little bit…
… And watch how quickly everything begins to change.
It's funny, isn't it, how a day you do nothing but thinking, can make you feel totally worn out. If you can't even imagine, it feels like a never ending bad day. deadlines combined with being worn out is a bad combo ah yes, I can understand that you just have to keep it together for a few more days there is light at the end of the tunnel have to set the grades tonight/early morning so a few more hours you're working late? yup this is why you get stressed - you need a regular sleep pattern. true and get into bed at a proper time yeah yeah you know.... I wouldn't know how to survive then. I need a couple of hours when I can choose my own sounds can't you get those hours in the comfort of your bed? I am so tired of hearing people eat.... the spoon and bowl, the slurp, chew, swallowing... I have come to hate the sounds, and it is never ending. then drift off to sleep the boys eat all the time, and it's almost like as if they have set their sound stuck in the walls. stick an ipod in your ears I fall asleep with it on every night it's very relaxing the neverending replay of cartoons with screaming characters.... characters in children's tv don't talk anymore, they scream and yell but that must have finished by now and the pointless calling for the dog. LEAVE HIM ALONE! don't make him walk across the floor, clicking his claws against the wooden floor, just because you like to make the whistling sound I use when calling for him petty, I know... and that makes me feel even worse oh no, cartoon network has broadcasting 24/7, and my son just went to bed you defiinitely need some me time you have your own study? or your bedroom they should be your places of retreat not my own study, but I do have a bedroom that's where I would be nature of my job and my coworkers don't really help either you have to find your own way your own space (easier said than done) yes I have been thinking about writing my way out The desperate Teacher Mum inc well, it might help to get it all out there is an "and" there cheap therapy it's not easy finding a healthy life balance heh... I probably should have taken the hints before the sound of someone eating a grape too loud makes me go nuts!
so, why was your day so close to perfect? because I live alone I do what I want and I have satin sheets
And to you who read this: Thank you. Thank you for stopping by and read what I write.
It's close to midnight January 7, 2019. Already week 2, and it is clear I failed my resolutions with splendour this year as well. I didn't do too good, before I went to bed on new year's eve I had already failed on at least three of my resolutions by watching a movie with my son, eating crisps, at 5am. Before I went to bed that is. It was a nice bonding moment, but not good for sleeping habits, nor was it good for my plan of eating more healthy and less calories. By the time I should have gotten up, I went to bed, and missed out on percious me-time.
So another year was completed in history, another year was welcomed by bringing bad habits into the future. New Year's Eve is always a day filled with serious thoughts. The year which passed by... How did I spend my time? Did I bring joy to anyone? Did I hurt anyone with my words? What did I do? What didn't I do? What should I have done? The last day of the year is like an annual report on me to myself. Maybe not the best reference, but nevertheless food for thoughts.
2018 was a good year filled with really good experiences, celebrations, moments and days with family and friends. I cherish the ones I get to keep, and mourne those I have lost. I have found joy in things my friends on social media have shared of their lives, art, photos, quotes and handcrafts. Stories and pictures from travels and everyday life. Discussions, both trivial wordings and more profound controversies. There is a silent satisfaction in knowing we can disagree and still be friends.
The year has given us sobering news and events from all corners. Disasters, war, misery and other alarming states we have inflicted on ourselves. I try to do my part when it comes to environment, but there is always a doubt in the back of my head: "Does it even matter?" We try to look away as we say someone else is to blame, but the truth has a way to make eyecontact, and I know that it all starts with us, not the politicians or important leaders of multi national companies. I am responsible for behaving in a manner which will make my world a better place. I am the one who needs to spend less, consume less and make sure my plastic and cans are disposed in a safe manner and not in the sea or the mountain.
Why must people fight and create war? Noone lives forever, what drives some to spend that measured time on finding enemies and inflict as much hurt as possible? What makes people capable of crushing people, cities, historic sites which has been standing for a thousand year? When did we lose the respect and knowledge of history?
The last of the year makes me think thoughts I wish I didn't feel I have to think. And yet, my thoughts wander and makes me look forward, to the future, and hopes and beliefs of new beginnings and other possibilities.
My hope for the New Year: “For attractive lips, speak words of kindness. For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people. For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry. For beautiful hair, let a child run his fingers through it once a day. For poise, walk with the knowledge you’ll never walk alone. We leave you a tradition with a future. The tender loving care of human beings will never become obsolete. People even more than things have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed and redeemed and redeemed. Never throw out anybody." ~ Sam Levensen
HAPPY NEW YEAR, I HOPE IT WILL BE YOUR BEST YEAR YET!
Michael Jackson - Man In The Mirror (Official Video)
Together with family and friends, my nephew now just started a fitness center.
In the past, we called them health clubs, and I rather liked the idea of going to a health club, I certainly liked it a lot more than the idea of entering a fitness center. There is something overly ambitious about a fitness center, something I can't quite feel comfortable with.
To put it bluntly: my body was not meant for display in revealing lycra. My body has been through decades of hard work and three pregnancies. Age and gravity have had an impact as well.
I no longer feel comfortable jumping and do sqats, certainly not in public. My body lands long before I intend, and keeps bouncing long after I make a new move, much like a dog shaking off water in slow motion.
A few years ago my nephew suddenly became sporty and fit. He didn't just pick up jogging or go for a ride on his bike. No, it was like a determinated force driving him to enter competitions like "strongman" and "triathlon" and other extreme competitions. He and his wife, along with the rest of her family, and friends, got so involved with this new lifestyle that they wanted a fitness center that had every workout option all the other gyms had combined, plus everything they felt they missed in other gyms. Now they got that. They do not have is a mezzanine with a runway, but that's not that common here in Norway anyway. We, Norwegians, run outdoors, using nature for challenge... or a treadmill.
I have great expectations my aging body will benefit from this. However, I do not expect to become fit, firm and fabulous, but it would be nice to go on regular basis, just to slow down the inevitable decay my age and diet cause on my body. On that note, I also feel I should give the impression I try to get ready for spring and milder climate, hence less clothes on my body.
I read a headline the other day: "No thanks to New Year's Eve. Get started with a healthier diet and more exercise now!" I think they put it so accurate and great, because new year's resolutions do not work for me.
And, yes, I think it's boring to run. Sorry, but I'm very outdated that way; I don't ride my bike to work, even though it's "only" 13 km, and I do not exercise in wild and fancy garments so expensive you have no other option but to use them all the time, and soon you wear them to the grocery store and make others feel guilty for buying steak and not lean fish or vegetables, just because you look like an impudently surplus of energy.
But now, now Level Up Treningssenter AS is established, and they are open for membership and they have Bodybalance!
An old friend and I sat down on opening day and had a cup of coffee. We did not try out any of the work out machines, but we had a look, and decided that we should also be able to do this. Just because we are past our youth doesn't mean we are ready to pack it in. The 40s is the new 30s, some say, but we need to make an effort to stall. An effort based on more than great tips about good foot creams, silk spray and tiger balm.
In the past I have tried most; Jazzerzise, Zumba, Pilates, Weights, Jogging, Swimming ... But my hips are not entirely Latin, and all the aggressive, loud shout outs from the instructors make me so stressed out that I forget in which order I am to jump left or back and I cause a lot of chaos in the lines and involuntary outbursts of laughing. Instructors do not like that, at all.
But this time I found Bodybalance on the schedule, and it just hit me that this is it!
Now, Bodybalance does not promise calorie burn, better fitness or better mobility, but it promises to reduce stress levels and make me concentrated and calm. I do not really need to be calmer, because my girlfriend sometimes pulses me, just to check that I'm still alive and kicking, but I can clearly stress less.
I just hope it will not be difficult to help me up off the floor, that would have been a bit boring, in a room full of conversations. I hope I will not be the only "old person" there.
Body Balance is Yoga, Tai Chi and Pilates at once, and with carefully selected motion combinations, you'll exercise strength, balance and mobility, and while struggling to fold yourself while standing on one foot you'll hear beautiful and customized music. I am very fond of music!
All in all, this will give you a physical workout and inner balance and harmony, and it suits ALL! Therefore me included!
My goal is that I will be able to continue to tie my shoelaces without having to sit on a chair or heave for breath. I think that's a fair goal.
In spite of age and size, I now have a young hope of having a beautiful interior in full harmony and a smoother outer .... in new premises.
I don't know what 2018 will have in store for me, those I care for or anyone else for that matter. Only time will tell. It is like as if the thrill and the fright of the unknown future kicks in, just because this is the time of year that we stop and think about it. This is not just another day, this is when we enter the unknown future. Of course future is always unknown, noone knows what it will be like, but that is just life, right? Tonight we say "Thank you for the old year, and happy new year". I have no definitive resolutions. Can't say I'm going to do anything wonderfully different or magical. I can't promise I will be extraordinary or anything. I'm going to simply be a better me. To the best of my abilities I will keep doing the right thing, and live up to the values I admire in others. I wish for others the same I wish for me. That you somehow, through any challenges, heartaches or obsticles you may have, be a happier and more successful version of yourself. Make an effort to be the best version possible of you.
Life is both amazing and pretty cool sometimes.
Because as disappointing it may feel, we can not know true content or happiness until we get a taste of sadness, anger, grief, frustration, disappointment and failure; all of the tough emotions that shape our daily lives.
The good, bad, ugly and beautiful. Roll with it and enjoy the ride. And when things get rough you find that core of inner strength you need to overcome.
And yet I wish for you that 2018, this New Year, brings you real happiness and joy.
I am getting old. It is inevitable; it's happening, so I might as well admit to it.
It's not something I dread or anything; as a matter of fact I actually feel more liberated the older I get. My eccentric strike is more approved of, and the demands society has on my looks and appearance are more agreeable with my own standards: I don't have to be stylish and/or groomed, as long as I am clean.
Part of getting old is becoming more grumpy and annoyed at things which really should be trifle details, but which is actually worth giving a more profound thought. Because I am old, and all, you know?
One of the things which annoys me, and this is becoming more and more of an issue, is cats' droppings. Cats have a way of leaving behind all kinds of repellant stuff, like hair, catch of the day like mutilated birds and mice, and yes: poop. Cats dump their filthiness on the most strategic places, and that really doesn't suit me. I don't like it one bit.
My son is allergic to cats, and the hairs on our garden furniture is really unfortunate. Whatever furniture I keep outdoors, will soon be a preferred hangout for the cats living in the hood. It's like a headquarter for the cool guys. Often they don't even care when they see me charging them, broom, high heels, crazy hair, and all. They probably know me too well, by now. They know I won't hurt them. I just want them away. I can want all the way to China, they don't give a toss about me and what I want.
Every morning when I am off to work, I see the the rear end and a dishvelled tail of a cat rushing off in sheer panic. I know he sleeps in the doghouse, I just never can catch him red handed. The thought he is afraid, very afraid, of me, gives me a much needed psychological barrel over him. It is war. A war between me and the unwanted, stinky sleepovers.
Even though I have had cats before, I am not a cat-person. I have a dog. Having a dog in the house it is infinitely annoying to have cats with self-proclaimed permanent residence permit in my yard. The catty smell of what they leave behind when they do what they do, is really annoying. Even more so when I find it in my flower jars (!) and beds.
It is extra annoying as I, because I am a responsible owner of a dog, am expected to pick up after him, which I do, but catowners don't have that duty. Catowners are exempted that nasty obligation. Cats are, after all, stray animals, and they got rights! They need to wander about where ever they choose to wander in order to be happy. At least that is what I am being told when I moan and mope.
To me it is self evident that cats should be under the leash law, just like dogs, but somehow most people don't see that.
Unfortunately cats don't read signs, and folk remedies like
orange peel, black pepper, garlic, grind coffee and
anti-cat remedies bought at the store, really don't work.
I've even heard that cat's do not litter on their own turf, unless they are forced to. They my have 9 lives, but some time they will have to go do their business, just like any other creature. They can not hold it in for days. And when they go, they prefere doing it elsewhere, which makes sense: If I could deside wheather to stink up my own house or the neighbor's, I would not choose my own house and garden.
Some will say I am pretty crazy for bothering making a fuzz about cats on the loose pooping in my garden. To be honest I don't find it to be a trifle thing at all.
It is my honest opinion it is way too easy to get a cute kitten, and you get it for free, and you adore it while it is small and adorable.
You let it out to do its business, and one day it is too much trouble to let the cat in and out, so you put the bowls with water and food outside as well, and suddenly you haven't actually seen the cat for weeks.... but the food is gone, so you are sure it's around. Somewhere.
So these stray cats keep their house, which they no longer actually live in, clean. And they do what cats do in my garden.
There is a reason we have a dog: We are not catpeople! We don't like cats! And my son is allergic! So why would a neighbor want to be our bad neighbor, and make their animal our work? Why do my kids risk stepping into a stinky poop in our garden? We are not talking about one or two; in the course of a week I am sure we get at least 40 droppings strategically placed in our garden. No kidding! And they place them where I can't see them, but I can smell them, and then have to look for them.
I like cats. I don't hate them. I just don't want to be burdened with them. I want people to let the cat in at night so it doesn't keep me awake with its flirting and fighting. I wish cats were more expensive. I wish all cats got a yearly checkup with a vet, shots, cures and dental treatment and castrated. Yes, I do not want more unwanted cats in my neighborhood. I wish cats had to be kept indoors at night.
I want to stroll about on my own land without fear I'll get smelly, nasty stuff on my shoes or between my toes. I want to open my windows and doors to let fresh air breeze through my house, without getting uninvited four-legged visitors who enter my castle for the only reason to fight my dog.
And I want to sleep at night. I want to sleep at night without wondering is that a baby? or a cat? probably a cat.... but what if it's a baby?...
I want not to worry about animals I never wanted to worry about.
My this year's 40 bags in 40 days decluttering mission, is over. By defenition, that is, but far from in reality. Just like every of the previous years I stay on the mission of getting rid of yet another bag every day.
Just in case you have missed out on what 40 bags in 40 days is about, here is the challenge ecplained:
The 40 Bags in 40 Days challenge typically happens during Lent, but you could do it any time of year. For 40 days, you commit to decluttering one bagful of stuff from your home each day. After 40 days, you will have decluttered a ton of stuff!
For 40 days I follow fellow declutterers on facebook, blogs and podcasts, and pat myself on my shoulder for beeing good too. Some times I brag about my progress and tell them I am pleased. Other times I just post a sigh.
Although... some of those women, and a very few men, go bananas and hire crazy big containers and attack their long protected and designated clutter like nuts.
They post before and after photos of their house, and get feedback from strangers, who in a strange way become an allied cheering squad, friends and supporters. We follow eachother's ups and downs in all kinds of everyday happenings.
I have cleaned up, and sorted out, my wardrobe, pretty OK. I still have lots there I never wear, but there's no longer fear involved when I need to find something to wear. I used to be afraid piles of folded clothes would fall and bury me.
I have rearranged my furniture, and I think my new arrangement has created a tiny bit of more space. More floor to move on, easier to clean. and shedded fur from my dog can no longer hide... it's all good. Not only does it look better, but there is something calming about knowing my house is a better place than it used to be. Better in the sense of not overwhelming to take on when I tidy up or have to clean.
Cleaning is a constant struggle because of furniture and their legs. Chairs and odd bits of furniture skattered about, really hinder my mop. But not anymore.
Anyway. My 40 days, through lent, have yet again been good to me and my house.
Only... do you find that in the middle of tidying up and cleaning, the house looks worse than ever?
I look around and find complete chaos. Even now, months later.
In my head I have this vision of what it will turn out to be like, but somehow I just can't get to the point when things just land in place
I am not a hoarder, but I have never been able to throw perfectly fine things away. I might need them, some day, and in my head I have this idea it would be really stupid to throw something away, and then go buy the exact same thing, only new.
I've not yet needed anything I've put away, though. I am soon 47 years old, and it may be time for me to accept that every thing had its time and use.
There is a good chance the thought sneaked upon me when I last week discovered I have no more room in my storage upstairs the carport.
And why would I want to keep a mattress which was never comfortable? I have 4 of those. They take up a lot of space.
My biggest trouble is my clothes. I have printed checklists on how to do it, but never can bring myself to really, truly, devote myself to execute.
I have hardly ever thrown away attire... which means I have even 30 years old garment in my wardrobe, which never looked good in the first place.
In every other aspect of my life I am a pragmatic. And it hurts I have not yet learned to be, and act, logical about clothes. I never wear most of what is in my closet, nor do I think about it a lot, but when it comes to getting rid of it I can stand in front of this insuperable mass of fabric and colours and I can't find anything to get rid of.
Paradoxically I always have problems what to wear. I usually blame my body being too big, too curvy, too pale... but it's not the case, really. It's more a question of how the amount makes it a hotchpotch, rather than a lucid selection of items to wear.
I really want to dress and accessorize, and apply the philosophy to my personal appearance that my family can feel proud I belong in their pack. I don't feel they can now, even though I know they are generous enough to do so.
It has come to the point I understand this affects my family, my house and my state of mind. I understand there is a need I become an Upholder. I need to stay tidy and cut back so we all can feel that the effects ground us all and allow our home to spark joy for my family and me. I have friends who would really like to take on some of it. Friends who can't afford to just go out and buy a new outfit. I have a friend I would trust to go through it all, leaving only what she thinks becomes me, but it is hard to ask for help. In a strange way that makes me even more vulnerable.
It is hard to be a strong person when it comes to that: being exposed. Even when it comes to friends you trust.
I read an article about Marie Kondo where she stated: “Tidying is the act of confronting yourself; cleaning is the act of confronting nature.”
I think I just have to do just that. Soon. Sometime in the near future.
On January 9, 2007, the late Apple CEO Steve Jobs walked on stage at the Moscone Center in San Francisco to introduce the first iPhone. "Today, Apple is going to reinvent the phone," Jobs proclaimed. The message was heard, but I am not sure they all understood.
It took a bit of glitches and crashes. It took some time, but Iphone shipped June 29, 2007. And Jobs was right: The smartphone changed everything.
"In 2001, we introduced the first iPod, and it didn't just change the way we all listen to music, it changed the entire music industry. Well, today, we're introducing three revolutionary products of this class. The first one is a widescreen iPod with touch controls. The second is a revolutionary mobile phone. And the third is a breakthrough Internet communications device. So, three things: a widescreen iPod with touch controls; a revolutionary mobile phone; and a breakthrough Internet communications device. An iPod, a phone, and an Internet communicator. An iPod, a phone...are you getting it? These are not three separate devices, this is one device, and we are calling it iPhone. Today, Apple is going to reinvent the phone, and here it is. No, actually here it is, but we're going to leave it there for now." 10 years later things have gone so far that many people I know, most of them, actually, check their phone so often it is quite annoying to others. Every 2.6 minutes I check on my own phone, it is just a swift discretion, but when others do it... well it feels very impolite as if I am the one to interrupt. I feel less important, I feel I bore whoever I talk to.
The phrase: "I have to take this", has become so common, people think it is quite acceptable. When they say it themselves, that is. Back in the days, 10 years ago, evenings and weekends were time for family, friends, fun and relaxation. Those times have drastically changed with smartphones. Laptops, even, are old school. Now, we take our work (and problems) home with us where we continue working in between social media entertainment, dates, work outs, apps and games, and meals. We keep track on work late into the night, even when there has been no updates for the last 5 hours. It's gone so far they in France found grounds to make a ruling: France gives workers 'right to disconnect' from office email. They found it necessary to protect people from their own madness. Working as a teacher I see young people adopting the smartphone lifestyle even more intense than my own generation, who grew up knowing other values.
It's a habit, a bad habit, people think everybody else has, and a lifestyle to a large extent expected in people who take their work, their distant and close friends, and leisure time, seriously.
To put the phone away is so difficult it hurts. We have mobile hotels in our school. Designed safekeeping boxes where the phone should be placed during lessons. My students never get used to it. They keep trying to not hand the phone in, making all kinds of excuses, just to keep the phone near. They tell me they will keep it in their pocket... when I tell them that since they are not going to check on it, or use it, it might as well be kept in the mobile hotel. They are very reluctant, and not happy about it at all. It has gone so far our comfort zone depend on knowing where the phone is at all times, and to really know where it is, it has to be so close you can see it and hold it at all times. It seems like our phones are attached to our hips and hands at all time, or put next to the laptop or dinnerplate on the table in plain sight. We reach for our phone when we’re bored, busy, waiting in line, sitting at a stoplight, on the bus, or pretty much whenever we have a free second. Not only that, but to watch a movie with family and friends is just a lost cause. The cozyness is taken out of the experience by their multitasking on their phone and tablet while watching the movie. Or at least care enough about the movie to ask what happened every ten minutes. According to a study by MobileInsurance.com, the average person spends 90 minutes a day on their phone, which equals to 23 days a year and 3.9 years in their lifetime. 90 minutes we refuse to acknowledge being disconnected from the present realtime. After all, a snap, a message, a quick scroll takes no time at all. We check our mail and social media in fear of what we might find, and even bigger fear of what we might miss out on. Actually we don't miss out on anything, but we are afraid that if we do not respond in expected or appropriate way within really short time, somebody might get insulted, and we could suffer consequences.... like less likes next time we post one of our 15 selfies the next day. We check our email and social media even if we know there is nothing new but we do it anyways to find that quick shot of dopamine to make us feel temporarily better. Resent research found we get a kick out of We open another game of Candy Crush so we will look busy and not lost. We pretend to be with friends while looking at some stranger's new posting on instagram or flickr. Maybe the innovation of the smartphone was a good thing. It is a handy tool for communication, that's for sure. You can even call someone with the device. But when I scroll through my phone, and look at my apps, I realize my entire life is tracked and evaluated. My recipes, my alarms, my game score, my calendar, my work out, my work, my music, my money and my spending... The apps launched feed the development of 10 new apps we really need to download. I think it's time to get real. To cut back on the infatuation and obsession, and return to real life with real friends. Friends with bad breath from today's garlic lunch and the most catching laughter there is.
It's time to reduce the smartphone to what it is: marvellous, handy and diverse, but seriously getting out of control. We need to take back control of our time. We need to set our priorities straight; at the end of the day decide what is truly important to us, and then spend our time accordantly. Yes, happy birthday smartphone. You really changed everything, indeed.
It has happened that I, during a conversation, fall into thoughts about what it is we really speak about. It's a lot like:
- Do we speak? I mean; really speak to one another?
- Yes, of course! What is it you want to say?
- I know we hear eachother talking, but do we really listen? Do we answer to the questions we are afraid to address? Or do we dismiss them as insignificant, because it is more comfortable?
In all the relationships we keep, and claim we nurture, there has to be trust that the other one will never intetionally hurt us, or expose our weak moments.
It's a lot like marriage; both partners have that need for security: the undisputable guarantee of time set aside, acceptance, of love…especially from one another.
Psychological abuse is just that: exposure of our weak moments... whether it's feelings we thought we once had, or traits, and then taking advantage of them to break the other person into dysfunctional dependency. It's just plain cruel.
We
need to know we have worth as individuals; that our lives as a man or as a woman count for something, that there is a purpose for our
existence, that we are significant and a pillar for our relationship. Not just our role or function, but that we count and are important to eachother.
And to have that, you need to listen. You need to take an interest in your partner or friend.
I have heard men and women explain the failure in fidelity by saying: "It didn't mean anything!"
I don't think people who say that fathom the second betrayal they commit the instant those words are uttered. By admitting to breaking the trust, for something they discard that easily; as not important, is really harsh.
(Unless the agreement of an open relationship is settled, of course). Fidelity is the core in a couple's synergy. Which means you break out by doing something insignificant, when it is obvious to everybody you should have known that to the other person it means everything. You just didn't listen and understand.
I have heard people say that it wasn't the cheating itself, in the physical sense, which was the worst. What really bothered them, to the extent of breakdown, was the thought of the pillowtalk. The risk they have been exposed. You know... the conversation that happens after, or before, being intimate. It's infinitely better than normal conversation because there's touching involved. There is presence. And what lies in the nature of pillowtalk is the life-support system of the strong and unshakable relationship we desire to a partner.
But how do we affirm true connection to one another?
I would say the sure confirmation is when you bother talking to eachother. By listening.
By caring enough to communicate.
After all we communicate in so many different
ways. Sometimes with a look and other times with a touch. Yet in our
relationships, there need to be words. We need to hear each other’s voice,
what the other is thinking, feeling, dealing with, dreaming of.
True connection also include disagreement and arguing, not fighting, but to feel safe when you speak up and state your mind. To feel it is ok to have different opinions.
I told a friend that I tell the people I love I love them. He just looked at me with a blank gaze, then shook his head and said "the people I love know, without me saying". I'm not convinced we do.
The way we communicate with one another can make a difference. Relationships differ; Some are strong, some weak, some have joy and others have pain, some are blessed with good health and wholeness, some bear nothing than destruction.
The thing is: communication can ease hurt, and enforce happiness.
It is all in the art of
communication, and it literally permeates every aspect of a relationship.
Maybe one of us loves to talk, while the other is quieter. However, because
healthy communication is critical to our relationship, we need to do
whatever it takes to learn to communicate in an effective way. Nothing
else shows more clearly that we truly care for and value our loved one
above ourselves. It doesn't cost a lot to say hello and smile. It is easy to just stroke an arm or a back as you pass by. Easy to do and important signs you care and know the other person is there.
We need to learn to listen to one another: to allow and
encourage honesty, openness, vulnerability. To exchange thoughts, ideas,
hopes, dreams, fears, and failures with one another in such a way that
we break even and share life without fear of rejection and judgment. Then you can truly claim you have a true and healthy relationship.
Lately I have found myself trying really hard not to remember my days as a student, from middle school through high school. I didn't mind my teachers, but I can't remember I, at any given time, was given extra attention, either. I did well in school, and the extra exercises just kept coming my way. I remember both my teachers and the extra work very well.
I thought I had friends, not many, but I thought at least a few liked me. Now that I am an adult I fully understand how mean the other kids were. Never in an obvious or physical manner,
even though I did get into a fist fight with a boy I thought was my best friend.
I remember being tough and calling him a silly name trying to punch him in his stomach, but when he couldn't see me anymore I cried.
Somehow I think the teachers knew, they just didn't know what to do. I never got into any trouble for standing up for myself, even in desperate ways.
One time we had a party at school for 5th and 6th grade. We were 18 students in total. Only two of us were an audience when the other 16 gave a performance miming with playback, to one BoneyM hit after another.
I remember middle school being confusing, and hard. My life was challenging to begin with, the talking behind my back, their planning parties in secret and then let me know in detail after, the grown ups' indiscressions... it was all more convenient to ignore.
Some time in my late teens I tried to go see the worst rumormonger as much as possible, hoping it would limit her. It didn't. It got worse. On New Years Eve, she invited a lot of friends for dinner, and I was supposed to show up after they had finished eating. Unfortunately dinner wasn't finished on time, and I arrived in the middle of their dessert.I remember being blamed for ruining their meal. I just didn't know I wasn't really invited for the party.
There was this understanding between them to operate on the fine line between friendship and excluding me from the special events.
One time the conductor for the tensing choir introduced a new song. He played the song "Love of another kind" by Amy Grant, then asked who was brave enough to be lead singer. I was pushed forward, and I heard them giggle. So I decided not to make a scene, but to prove them wrong. And I did.
I have recordings, and know I am right when I say I did a good job.
Every day I am grateful we moved away and let our children grow up surrounded by nontoxic people. Even though it was work situation which caused the move, it was a blessing. I was so nervous thinking about my oldest son maybe should go to the same school I did, I often felt trapped, just like I did when growing up.
I can't remember anybody ever asking me if I was ok, if I felt sad, or if I needed anything. They never encouraged me... they weren't up front and told me not to bother them again, either. Guess they needed me to blame, perhaps. Or for conversation material.
As we all grew older and called ourselves adults, one should think the story would end. It didn't.
I was chairman of the board in a kindergarden, and had to tell one of the staff (who happened to own the facility) she could not arrange a party in the kindergarden serving alcohol, but she could arrange a party in her private basement (yes, same location) after working hours.
I felt like such an idiot after, when I was told I was petty and jealous, just because I was the only woman between 20 and 30 in the village not invited.
Eventually I stopped trying and just accepted they didn't want me there. I did both them and myself a huge favour getting out of there. Moving to a place with true people, who accept you are what you are, and you do what you do, and you are still worth getting to know.
I have a lot of issues, but I realize more and more how I am not the only one.
My friend (yes, I have a friend I trust) says it is funny we became such good friends, because during the first three years of our friendship I never shared anything personal
with her. She didn't know anything significant about me, and that is
what she took to in me, because that is what she is like too.
We both have issues from decades back.
So, getting older, mature and work for years and years in your field of profession as teacher, nurse, AD, secretary or.... or.... whatever profession you may think of, one should think the story ends, right?
It doesn't.
When I go to see my parents in the village where I grew up, nobody greets me or stop to chat or catch up. It's like the notion of exaggerated rumors and talking behind my back hovers over me like a dark cloud of guilty silence.
A couple of months ago, my husband received a message on messenger. The message was (translated): "Could you tell her we are having a reunion? 30 years since we completed secondary school. (The name of a different classmate) is arranging the event."
I thought I had forgiven and forgotten. But getting this message from my husband made it all come back to me. I have forgiven. Nobody asked my forgiveness, but to me it was important not to let hurt feelings run my life... and yet they do. The insecurity and hurt I remember from back then, rushed over me before he had even read the message through.
I can't say I felt invited. I felt as if he was told to inform me they were having a reunion.
He replied by sending her a message giving my contact information.
A few weeks ago, my husband received another message saying: "The reunion will be September 24. Enlist ASAP."
No information on to whom or how to give notice.
I still don't feel invited... perhaps even less now that I know they have my contact information.
There is no attempt to get in touch with me. There is no hint I will be welcome if I go.
If anything, it feels worse now, because this time they know what they do. This time there is no question about the deliberate thought behind their way of conduct: They chose to not contact me or really invite me, in spite they have no clue who I am, how I am or what I am today.
I will never know the extent of the stories and characteristics given of me. I can only speculate, but I know some, and that some is more than enough.
It's like a snowball impossible to slow down or crush, because it feeds off how words and stories catch the next even more scandalous one.
Then again: remember this is my side to the story. This is how my memory brings back thoughts on my past.
Maybe I was the terrible one, the one impossible to talk to or go on trips with.
Regardless my flaws: feelings can not be argued, because they are real. Your hurt and misery can not be disputed.
The nights I stayed awake, or cried myself to sleep, they happened.
And some day, maybe, I will be as strong about this as I am about everything else in life. I will do what I today do on behalf of others and confront them. Ask them what I did wrong.
But not this reunion.
This time I was caught off guard. I forgive, but won't forget. And I will be prepared and ready.
Maybe it turns out silence is the best defence and payback after all.
Or maybe I should just write about it.
When all is said and done, and the ring has come completed; we are ready for a new school year.
Grades have been set, we got the results of a long season's hard work and the only thing we look forward to is the vacation we get, knowing no long list of handed in files will have to be graded during nights and weekends.
This is when we fall apart, regain composure and slowly find the excitement to get started anew.
We have exams every year, sometimes it is more draining to us, than it is to the students.
Hope, nerves, excitement and disappointment, all at the same time, do take its toll.
To celebrate all of this, and to celebrate those of our coworkers who leave, for whatever reason, and those who have had an anniversary, we have one last gathering and then a big lunch.
The fun, unexpected twist this year, was a concert by the artist Tommy Fredvang. We knew he had been entertaining at the graduation ceremonies, and rumor had it he was ever so cheeky about our principal's red pants. Which we love!, by the way, but which we understand can catch anybody off guard. (I love that even more!) To me, those pants represent us as a school and staff. We are teachers.
Anyway, we understood fairly early on that this was going to be a concert with the theme "love lost".
Which could have become a mushy seance, but added a healthy portion of irony, sarcasm and jokes became a rather enjoyable time.
I just couldn't stop myself from thinking how young he is. Quite pleasant to look at, and fairly well dressed always helps. He appeared not too flamboyant, and not too sincere... just a healthy combination of the two. But to me he was first and foremost just very young. And funny.
Love takes many forms. Some times we mistake other affections and excitements for a romantic kind of love.
This summer I have been married for 24 years, to the same man. (Maybe he being away so much has something to do with that. Maybe it is all his credit, but we are still a couple.)
Back then I was young, and perhaps funny. And I thought that love would stay young, and new, as well. I thought that as long as I chased for forever living in delightful bliss, our sensation of being in love would be kept alive.
It doesn't.
I was fortunate to fall in love with my future husband in spite of a lot of things: it was 1986 and the cool guys had long hair with perm... among other strange fashion features. His hair was down to his waist, and yes: he, unlike me, had hair which took to perm very well! Today he has no hair at all... it is safe to say he has nothing but improved with age.
Through time, changes, weight and sickness he loves me. Some days in the quiet way, which holds no other joy than the assurance he accepts I have major flaws. Other days he is proud to be at my side.
Anyway, Tommy (I find that someone trigging that kind of soulsearching pondering must accept being called by his first name) sang and played one cheesy, sad lovesong after another. Very sentimental, and as it turned out fit for food for thoughts.
It was a great concert, regardless his theme.
Maybe it was his ongoing comments about our principal's pink pants. Maybe it was his honest sound with vocals and acoustic guitar, no room for hiding any notes out of key(... he had very few).
Perhaps it was his cover version of Ed Sheeran's Thinking out loud, maybe it was "Vampyrane", "Love is running low" or maybe it was my slight disappointment he didn't perform any Justin Bieber song... I mean, anyone who can bring Wham's old hit "Careless whisper" into a new and enjoyable era, can make decent music worth listening to, of anything musical, which has been wrecked before.
I would rather enjoy that, I think.
There is a good chance he thought we would be square and boring. Well, for anyone who hasn't encountered a crowd of teachers outside the classroom, I tell you a secret:
Square and boring just doesn't cut it. If you want to be a good teacher you need to be a bit of everything and everybody.
We were so happy it's last day at work we laughed just he asked how we were doing.
But on any everyday we are updated, easy going, good... no: great! at what we do and how we perform our work. We are firm, yes, yet we listen, show respect and show lenience. Our best feature is variety, and down the list of character treats you should have as a teacher you will find: remember variety is spice of life.
We deal with both hard working, serious students who strive to get good results and achieve both understanding and knowhow, and we deal with rascals who have spent years of their life to learn how to appear careless.
No day is boring, even though some days are hard.
(Some days, I admit, I hope one or two don't show up, just because I am tired... but they always show. And I love that about them.)
At one point Tommy wondered what we did to our students, who chose to stay behind, talking for hours, after the graduation.
We put on a show every day, and in that respect we are much like artists. The core is: We care. We show them that it matters to us they do well. And by doing well, I don't mean they should get top grades; I want them to become the best version possible of themselves. That is a form of love as well.
And we are not afraid to dress accordingly our job. With flamboyant sincerity.
My story this time of year is end of term, end of schoolyear, exams and lovely weather.
It never fails: when it is time for exams, the weather is at its best. This is the season for lovely, hot weather and sunshine from blue, blue sky. Not a cloud in sight, and barely any breeze.
Exam really means sweat and tears around here. In buckets!
It is time to sum up everything done, everything left out, everything missed and everything we never got time to get done.
This is the season for the feeling of shortcomings. There are no good hairdays.
For my part, it's not only true for work, even though I may feel it more, as I am a teacher, but I have kids in school as well. And to be a parent these days means you need to be forever young, otherwise you have lost on behalf of your kid.
My 15-year old has finished junior high school, and now is on the threshold of making the choice which to a large extent will decide which occupation he will have for the rest of his life.
Well, it's not really carved in stone, but very few take the extra burden it is to start anew to get the education they discovered they actually really wanted.
Although... my oldest son is unsure of his choice and is playing with the thought of continuing school and get a higher education. He has an education, and is very good at it too, but he struggles to face doing it for the rest of his life.
I can only ensure him he will get my entire support, whatever his decision will be.
Apart from all of these lifechanges my kids are facing, which takes a lot of time and conversation, every activity they participate in has some kind of summer celebration, marking end of season.
Barbeques, games, hikes, sleep overs... and at work it is the same. All the teams and departments I am a member of, as well as the entire staff combined, invite me to pubs for a beer or a glass of wine, barbeques, boat trips... lovely, adult unwinding. I never get to go to any of them.
Through out the year I used to rush home from work to get dinner finished in time for whatever was on today's schedule.
This time of year I rush home to avoid those last minute's tempting invites, put on my running shoes and play with kids, engaging in water fights, throwing darts at ballons and treasure hunts.
And then the obligatory barbeque, which involves hotdogs, buns, ketchup, mustard (for those a bit daring) and crisp fried onion.
Kids are not very adventurous when it comes to barbeques, or maybe they are just not patient enough to wait for that perfect, marinated steak with baked potatoe.
Anyway, by the time the schoolyear is over, the end of season gatherings are as well.
My 9-year old's soccer team announced a game between the boys and the mothers.
I had every intention to participate, but... my body ached, my head was spinning, my feet felt like soar concrete... I didn't have a crumble of energy in me, and all I could think about was the neglected mountain of laundry at home.
So the mums played a heroic match with me on the sideline. And they won. Mums 5- Sons 4.
My son asked me why I didn't play.
I didn't know how or what to answer him, and that's when I lost.
Only for a brief second, though; He was generous enough to give me a second chance, and his reply was swift and obviously prepared:
"That's ok, you'll be on the team when season starts, and the mums play against the dads".
Israel is the only country in the world where patients visiting physicians end up giving the doctor advice.
Israel is the only country in the world where no one has a foreign accent because everyone has a foreign accent.
Israel is the only country in the world where the leading writers in the country take buses.
Israel is the only country in the world where people cuss using dirty words in Russian or Arabic because Hebrew has never developed them.
Israel is the only country in the world where the graffiti is in Hebrew.
Israel is the only country in the world that has a National Book Week, during which almost everyone attends a book fair and buys books.
Israel is the only country in the world with bus drivers and taxi drivers who read Spinoza and Maimonides.
Israel is the only country in the world where no one cares what rules say when an important goal can be achieved by bending them.
Israel is the only country in the world where reservists are bossed around and commanded by officers, male and female, younger than their own children.
Israel is the only country in the world where "small talk" consists of loud, angry debate over politics and religion.
Israel is the only country in the world where the ultra-Orthodox Jews beat up the police and not the other way around.
Israel is the only country in the world where bank robbers kiss the mezuzah as they leave with their loot.
Israel is one of the few countries in the world that truly likes and admires the United States.
Israel is the only country in the world where everyone on a flight gets to know one another before the plane lands. In many cases, they also get to know the pilot and all about his health or marital problems.
Israel is the only country in the world where people call an attaché case a "James Bond" and the "@" sign is called a "strudel".
Israel is the only country in the world where the coffee is already so good that Starbucks went bankrupt trying to break into the local market.
Israel is a country surrounded on all sides by enemies, but the people's headaches are caused by the neighbors upstairs.
Israel is the only country in the world where people read English, write Hebrew, and joke in Yiddish
I am sorry I don't know who wrote this, but it illustrates the arrogance and total lack of respect both public and private services have for their paying customers.
Below is an actual letter sent to a bank. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York Times.
Dear Sir:
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire salary, an arrangement which, I admit, has only been in place for eight years.
You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $50 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank. My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways.
I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, prerecorded faceless entity which your bank has become.
From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will, therefore and hereafter, no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.
Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete.
I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.
In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Let me level the playing field even further. Press buttons as follows:
1.- To make an appointment to see me.
2.- To query a missing payment.
3.- To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
4.- To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
5. -To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
6.- To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
7.- To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated at a later date to the Authorized Contact.
8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
9. To make a general complaint or inquiry.
The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service. While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.
Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.
May I wish you a happy, if ever-so-slightly less prosperous New Year?
Last Monday, was one of those days when I just should have
stayed in bed. Not because I was tired or anything, but simply for the sake of
others.
I was in such a terrible mood, annoyed at everything and everyone,
and it's so easy to find defects in everything from the fruit basket in the
kitchen, to the boss at work.
And no, I couldn't blame it on "the time of month",
which funny clowns at work suggested. They won’t do that again, as I gave them
an excessively loud and lengthy discourse about gender discrimination, and modern
feminism; Fully deserved! (Oh, yes! did that ranting off feel good!)
It's just that some days everything’s just wrong. You just
know it before you uncoil from the sheets, and get up.
Mood, and state of mind, was close to depressed, my body felt exhausted, my hair looked like a haystack seriously neglected and I suspect I was wearing an uneven pair of socks. They were both white, but one reached a little farther up the leg. It's
possible it happened during laundry, but I think I just slipped up when I
sorted, paired and folded them.
Even the coffee on Statoil tasted wrong. The cup of coffee I refill at the gas station every morning, on my way to work, usually is pure elixir of life. Monday it was just like an acidic brew.
The only revigorating happening was that the car started.
My son's car didn't even though we started it on Sunday ...
with cables, and with the neighbor (a mechanic) as delighted spectator. He thinks that my great fear of being electrocuted is hilarious! I am happy to amuse him, but I must say it felt somewhat humiliating when he pulled out his cell
phone to film me putting one clamp on the battery and the other one on the chassis.
Anyway, I came to work in a terrible, lousy mood, and while
I was at work waiting for internet to work, so I could get some reviewing done,
unsuccessfully I may add, the notion came over me that there is a good chance the whole world is against me.
Sun made an appearance and showed off the winter dirty
windows and lit up a sparkling ray of dust that hung in the room.
I daydreamed about a walk in the woods.
It was like nothing got done, so I figured that to cheer myself
up, I should write a list of everything I have to be thankful for. Had I been
in a good mood, the list would have been long and creative, now there was only one statement: Weekend is coming up soon! And this optimistic and motivational phrase I wrote down a Monday!
There are many reasons why days sometimes feel off and louse, and strictly speaking it is quite normal to have bad days.
It doesn't have to be me there is something wrong with, sort of. Life is, after all, a
rollercoaster of impressions and feelings, so things goes a little up and then a little down. You know, like it should. You can't taste the sweet if you don't know the sour or bitter.
It's just that... sometimes the lows are just overwhelming and feels neverending, the bad days come around more often and last longer. Eventually I somehow don't hold any big expectations
that something good will happen.
Therefore, I have compiled some great tips online about what
one can do when one is in a bad mood, to get in a better mood:
to socialize > meet friends
Excellent tip! If you have friends who are patient enough to bother try cheering you up at all hours. I have such friends! but I get
so guilty knowing they are wasting a whole lot of time and energy thinking about me
and my petty issues, I just crumble up inside.
So I spend the last two hours we are together apologizing I am such a bad friend. And then I feel even worse because the longer I listen to my own voice, the more excruciating I know my friends' night gets.
They're going to have a lot to talk about tomorrow
... and thinking about that doesn't make things better ... I know they will text each
other, and others, with sighs and groans and the lamentable story of my puny person.
think through why you are in a bad mood / rectify the
situation which causes a bad mood
If I knew why I'm in a bad mood, it wouldn't be a problem. Then I could have dismissed the whole thing as not important. In many ways I'm lucky
to have my priorities in order. I know what's important in my life, and
strictly speaking it's certainly not often important people in my life
makes me crabby.
Things and situations, the yearning for a dream or
memories I never got to experience; Those things can make me despondent and yes, straight out sulky.
training / go for a hike
Of course I know that you have to eat right and stay fit in
order to be a healthy person. It's of crucial importance for state of mind and mood to get out and
exercise; however, time is an issue here.
That said, I'll be honest. Last Saturday there was glorious
weather. The sun was shining and the temperature outside was not pleasant, but
quite nice. There was no wind and the whole atmosphere was like a touch of
spring. Marvelous!
I did not go for a hike.
I could and should have gone for a ride on my bicycle with my son, I
should have gone for a long walk with the dog, I missed the opportunity to post
gorgeous pictures, like most of my facebook friends did.
But I didn't.
Instead I charged the scary, enormous pile of dirty clothes,
towels and sheets with purposefully stifled; clothes were sorted, washed,
tumbled, hung, folded and put in place, gradually, throughout the day
and evening. I made a great Sunday dinner and cleaned the kitchen. I sat
nestled in the new, yellow IKEA chair and read a book, and then it was suddenly
evening and dark and the glorious day was over.
There was time to exercise, I had the opportunity too, but
it was just that other stuff was given priority. Chores that otherwise in a
week is not done as systematically and thoroughly as I would like. I just needed to get rid of that dark
cloud of guilt which hovers over every day. Reading fiction I take almost no time for, even
if it is pure mental hygiene.
At work, even if
I depend on being present in the present with the students, my working day is so
full of moments that go snowballed, that much of the time my mode is on autopilot.
There are always new classes, rooms and time. Here the classes have their own classroom, and teachers move between classes. I wish I had my own classroom.
Some days just flies by, with the help of nice and funny
teenagers. Other days, like today, there is only negativity. Everything is
"crap" and analysis of the short story is a true ... well, nothing good anyway.
It takes so
much energy and effort to not be angry and mad at the wrong person.
It's not their fault that I'm not in a good mood, but their unwillingness to work in class on the tasks given does
not exactly help my mood. Maybe it was me who ruined their
day. I can never know, but no, it does not help to be officious today. It
only adds reasons for my bad mood.
Listen to music
Later. On my way home I listen to the radiostation P4 and the show "King Of
Pop" and laugh at the participant who fails the three artists. I will go shopping for groceries, and
go home and make another 20-minute dinner while playing music full blast. Then I
think I'll be happy again, maybe.
Music tends to help with anything that is not in order. The
best therapy in the world is to lie on the floor while the music is pounding,
and feel the rhythm, tones, words and mood wash over me.
cry
I rarely cry. Most often it is when I see or hear something
that moves me. It has almost never happened that I've cried because I have hurt
or feel sorry for myself. Guess I have
a good life.
Oh, now I think about what a good life I have, and how difficult
many others got it, and it makes me feel unreasonable for not being
satisfied. You know, happy and satisfied because life has actually given me
gifts like a good man, fine children, a good home, love, laughter, arranged finances
... everything just adds to the favorable feeling of having accomplished something.
Gratitude gives happiness and better handling of stress,
they say.
comfort food
I belong to the club who believe that chocolate helps heal everything! Absolutely everything! But after eating lots of chocolate I feel so
guilty that I put unrealistic plans on how to jog down the sidewalk
with a happy dog ...
And then I remember that I do not exercise ... and then I
think about how the scales never really has been my friend, and I turn both
untrained and friendless with a guilty conscience ... inside my head, mind you, but that's where I feel the mood best, after all.
... And then days passedby, and every time I opened my
blog to complete this post, I was totally disheartened and uninspired, for whom bear
to just focus on the negative all the time?
To just see problems instead of challenges is not really me!
Actually, I'm the one who has realized and
live by the rule: Wherever you are in life, thatit is the right place to start
the continuation. It may be something better, different, new or something you
put aside, and planned to pick up again later, sometime long ago.
Sometimes it just requires a little more planning, or
willingness to implement even though you really do not have the energy. That's
actually when you really need the satisfaction you feel afterwards, when you took that 40-minutes walk around the block.
Okay, so the sun shines out there today, and things
got a little brighter (apart from my windows, I honestly am really
disgusted by them!).
It's Sunday, and I'm thinking that Monday morning is quite
OK, after all.
And now I'm humming as well. Guess internet was right: music did do the trick!
