Being a Sensitive Adult (a.k.a. Getting Your Feelings Hurt)

I recently wrote a blog post called My Sensitive Child (a.k.a. "The Drama Queen"), and there was an incredible response to it, but not the one I expected.  I really thought that I would mostly hear from parents whose children share similar traits; but actually, a majority of the responses were from adults who identified THEMSELVES as "sensitive." 

I feel very strongly that the reason I can be patient with my daughter is because I empathize with her.  In addition to being awkward (as evidenced in Awkward Anonymous & Freaky Friday), I am also a sensitive adult...probably as an extension of being a sensitive child.  Do I sense another support group forming....anyone...?

Throughout my childhood and teen years, I had very little by way of self esteem.  I was an easy target who always felt ridiculed for being "different" or separated from the crowd.  I always felt like someone was mad at me (even if they weren't).  I can still FEEL the feelings that I experienced in certain situations.  Anything as simple as forgetting my homework or anything as drastic as getting into a fight - it has all stuck with me.  All of the times that I felt stupid for something I said or did, every instance of feeling betrayed or bullied, they all remain tucked away in the recesses of my mind.  You know those people who can't remember anything from their childhood, or stare at you blankly when you recount some shared experience from high school?  Yeah, I don't get those people...but I am jealous of them.  What I wouldn't give to block out middle school...*shudder*

As an adult, I definitely have a thicker skin.  I would no longer be described as "shy," "inhibited," or "timid."  I speak up a lot more often.  I am more confident, and less likely to put up with your crap.  I didn't choose to "grow out of" those sensitive traits...life's circumstances grew me and molded me into a stronger person (on the outside, anyway).  It took ALL 28 YEARS, however.  In high school, I was good at faking being confident, and in college I developed a little more self-esteem.  Within the last few years I have realized that I just need to own and get over my flaws....or else I'll die of anxiety.

That doesn't mean my brain knows I am supposed to be this newly "NOT sensitive" person, however.  I have relapses...and they are usually when I get good and pleased with myself about whatever I've got going on.  This is when things start stacking up and tear down my resolve to be "tough" as opposed to "sensitive."  This week?  It was just one big test of my "think skin."

I've written before about the conscience effort it takes on my part to not blend other people's feelings with mine (Don't Hide Your Feelins').  That's not because I am influenced by others' ways of thinking, but because I can literally absorb the vibes that people give off and their feelings influence mine.  ("Whoaaa...that's intense, man."  What a hippie, right?)  Thus, when someone is angry and being condescending towards me, it takes a lot of effort, sometimes, to maintain my super cool, "go with the flow" attitude.  For a totally random example: if your boss was being way negative and talking to you like a prison inmate while looking at you like something they just found stuck to the bottom of their shoe....it could require extra effort to not totally lose your religion, much less your job. 

Maybe that's not a good example, though.  I mean, who wouldn't be tempted to lose their cool with an angry person, right?  If you are a sensitive person, however, the whole thing will bother you for days...and you'll think of it at random moments...and it will distract you from other things....and you will be even angrier later than you were then.

Over analyzing can be something we sensitive folk do very well too.  Here's a snapshot of my brain from earlier this week while having to smile and play nice around someone that I KNOW doesn't like me....

"I can't believe she just TALKS to me all the time... I wonder if she knows that I know that she spread all of that mean stuff about me...  I wonder if she trash talks about me around our mutual friends... Hmmm...I wonder what my friends say when she does.  Wait....they must not say anything, because otherwise she wouldn't be mean in front of them.... Omg...everyone hates me.  I'm never leaving home again."

See how I took that from "level zero" to "level crazy" in less than 3 minutes?  Get over yourself, M, people have more than you to worry about.  Phew.

Not convinced that I am a recovering sensitive adult?  How about my reaction to someone not liking a Facebook post I made?  (I posted an e-card that made a joke about "who do atheists thank for it being Friday?")

"Oh, wow...that got totally misunderstood.  Wait...if one person misunderstood, then probably the whole world did.  Holy crap, someone just unliked the blog page.  That has never happened. I'm deleting the post.  Let me check the stats....ok, only 36 people saw my post.  2 of them liked it, so that means I could potentially lose 34 followers.... I'm just going to text the person that I pissed off.... Ok, now I'm going to wait until they answer... Ok, they answered... Oh crap, I  have really screwed up!  I suck at life and I will never post anything on Facebook again."

Then I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling for an hour trying to decide how to best win myself back into that person's good graces.  Yeah...I'm a real tough cookie.

But wait...there's more.  I had to witness two different friends get treated badly this week, as well.  I think I've already established how crazy this makes me (To All My Friends! (God Help You.))  My passion for preventing the pain of others was strained and tested.  In one instance, I was at least able to shoot off my two-cents - in the other...no such luck.  As someone who burns way more intensely over the injustices dealt to others than to myself, these were serious struggles for me.

And lastly, things go personal again.  I have spent the last week promoting the fact that I am staying home next year and have gotten some super confusing vibes about it.  I KNOW that I am making the right decision to stay home.  I have gotten great advice, a lot of interest from people who are interested in me caring for their children as well, but also some pretty strange reactions.  Most people have meant well, and a majority of the feedback I have gotten is both positive AND helpful.  I have done a lot of research and feel prepared for my adventure.  And yet...that sensitive part of me that I can't deny - it's tingling.  My feelings are trying to be hurt by the weird, negative vibes that some people are giving me about leaving teaching and staying home to be with my babies.  Nevertheless -  I WILL be staying home with my kids next year.  The part of me that can't help but to be affected by people's negativity is just really smarting from all of the questions and skepticism about how it will all "work out."

 As a "recovering" highly sensitive person, I know that I will have moved on from all of these emotional setbacks within the next week.  As a "relapsing" sensitive person, however, I know that I will both remember these events and draw from the experiences when making future judgement calls.  If there's anything us sensitive people are good at - it's limiting the opportunities of others to make us feel foolish or insecure.

Don't worry, though - as an awkward person, the sensitive traits will lose out and I will soon act foolish anyway...all on my own!

 "Unless you're ready to look foolish, you'll never have the possibly of being great." - Cher


♥M

THE Meltdown

Before you read - If you haven't already, reading the following posts will help make a lot more sense out of this one :)

Love...With or Without the Memories

The Greatest Love Story of [All] Time

Happy Valentine's Day!

A Day to Remember

 

*THE Meltdown*

So I finally had the inevitable tear-fest about my grandparents.  I knew I would get around to having a good cry about everything eventually, and I could feel it coming for a few days before it hit.  I had been cleaning the house like a maniac all week, and while I was ever so vigorously scrubbing the shower the other night, I broke a tile loose.  (Whoops!)  From there, I just pretty much immediately turned into a hot mess.  I cried and cleaned for another hour before I just sat in the the kitchen and sobbed dramatically all over the "was-clean" kitchen table.  The hubs knows better than to get involved when I build myself up to one of these doosies, so he just kept to the safety of the living room.  I was wearing one of his sweatshirts though, so he did request that when I was done snotting all over it, to please put it in the laundry room and not hang it back up.

After I finished crying and blowing my nose (on his sweatshirt, of course, HA!) I decided I needed to drag other people into my meltdown.  (Good grief, M.)  I did this by texting my immediate family and a few close friends and telling them that in light of everything going on and how crazy things had been lately, I felt the need to let them know I loved them and that they were important to me.  I did this for three reasons: 1) Because we don't really tell people how we feel about them very often. 2) Because it terrifies me that one day I might not be ABLE to tell people that I love them because I won't remember who they are. And 3) Because I was in a highly emotional state and didn't really think the whole thing through.

I'm not saying it was a bad idea, just that it might not have been a totally good one.  For starters, I really freaked a few people the hell out.  Not everyone is as "Hey World! This is how I feel!" as I am.  I sensed that those people were more annoyed and/or made to feel awkward by my declaration than anything.  Still, everyone but one said, "I love you, too."

Almost half of them, however, were alarmed that something was wrong.  Like that I was dying or something...I'm not sure.  (Possibly, because I am rarely very serious...)  This told me that maybe I need to "push pause" for the people that are important to me more often - SHOW them they are important,  not just TELL them.  Then they won't think I have a fatal disease when I tell them. 

What stops me from calling it a bad idea, though, is that a few of the messages I got back were things like "I had a really bad day and needed that!"  This reminded me that it's important to BE that positive boost, that pep talk, or that much-needed hug when our loved ones need it.  It's not hard to be there for people if we just SLOW DOWN and notice when they need us.  If I hadn't sent that message, then I never would've known my friend was having a rough time at work, or that my brother was feeling that same way I am about things. 

What started out as me being crazy upset and needing to reassure MYSELF that others knew I loved them, turned into a lot of little lessons about how I can do better at BEING a loved one.  My "loved ones" might be important to me, but that doesn't really mean much if I don't ACT like it...calling them that in my head, through a text, or on Facebook is just NOT enough.

So here's to slowing down!  Here's to letting the world rush by and just waving as it passes! 

(Disclaimer: This will NOT be an overnight process for me.)

♥M

Top Chef - Watch Out!

 

 

I'm feeling super proud and domestic tonight for 2 reasons:

1. I baked brownie bites AND cupcakes - on the same night.

2. Neither of them were horrendous disasters.

 

Don't get excited or be stupid - they were both boxed mixes.  I would never be so dumb as to bake from scratch and ruin that many ingredients and waste that much time in one fell swoop.  It's not my thing.  I accept that and it really doesn't bother me anymore. 

 

 

 

 

I used to be super jealous of my friends and family that could bang out awesome, homemade creations.  Now I just appreciate the stuff that they cook...and know my limits.  We all have gifts and talents.  Usually, they happen to coincide with what you really enjoy doing (not always...but usually).  Once it finally dawned on me that I wasn't even really ENJOYING cooking or baking, I got over the fact that I wasn't exactly on my way to winning any competitions.  Not that I'm a total quitter - I still cook.  Only as necessary, however.  You know, like, dinner...or if someone says "Hey, can you bring...?" 

 

 

 

 

Like I said, though - know your limits.  We all have them...especially in the kitchen. 

My process for evaluating new recipes:

1. How MANY ingredients are involved?  (My limit is 5.)

2. Can I pronounce all of the ingredients?  (No?  Forget it.)

3. Is the prep time longer than 15 minutes?  (If so, not going to happen.)

4. Will I spend more on the crap that goes in this, than if I just went to a restaurant? (Yes?  Then grab the car keys.)

5. Who is going to be eating it? (People other than the hubs and the kids?  Forget it - I don't need this stress in my life.  Or the lawsuits after I poison everyone.)

6. How complicated are the directions? (If I have to call someone for clarification, it's best to just move on.)

 

 

 

Rest assured that if you are invited over to my house for a meal, there will be no experimenting in the kitchen.  I will either be serving frozen pizza or something that I have made enough times (with positive results), that there is no way I'll screw it up (spaghetti, chili, FROZEN PIZZA...)

 

 

 

 

 

Before you think I'm exaggerating, or being too hard on myself, let me share some of my most epic failures with you. 

 

1. One year, for my daughter's Lalaloopsy themed birthday party, I attempted to make pink and yellow swirled sugar cookies.  The picture online was super cute.  I didn't even MAKE the cookies - I used a mix.  Somehow they all ended up purple.  And hard.  Oh, and I wanted them to look like buttons, so I used a straw to punch holes in them...before I baked them.  DUMB.  Hard, purple, blobs - THAT'S what went in the favor bags.

 

2. The next year, I kept it simple.  I sent cupcakes to the babysitter's house.  I iced the cupcakes too soon, though; so what I actually sent was soggy cupcakes in a sea of icing.  Good thing 3 year-olds don't care what their sugar fix LOOKS like.

 

3. I made deviled eggs for my grandfather's retirement party.  I even got fancy and used a piping tool for the filling....which DID NOT MATTER because I put too much mayonnaise in the mixture and it all bled all over the place by the time we got to the party.  They tasted great - but no one was brave enough to find that out.  (I don't blame them.)

 

4. I ruined Hamburger Helper.  I used spoiled milk and it tasted like sewage.  In my defense, I had just bought the milk that day, so that was their foul.  In my husband's defense, he ate half of his like a champ, not wanting to hurt my feelings, until I took a bite and screamed, "WHY ARE YOU EATING THIS?!"

 

5. And the most epic of all?  I left a pot of boiling water on the stove and forgot I was cooking.  I burnt the pot.  I screwed up boiling water.  Fail.

 

 

 

 

 So cooking isn't my thing.  That's Ok!  It actually works out well for me, because now that it's been pretty established by my "A for effort" failures, people know better than to ask.  I'm the person who brings chips & dip to parties, canned green beans to Thanksgiving dinner, and store bought desserts to baby showers.  Do they sell it at a bakery or deli?  Then I got it!

♥M

 

 

 

Freaky Friday

Today was one of those "Awkward Anonymous" kind of days that made me question being allowed in public. 

I was relatively well-behaved at work; but after leaving there, things just kind of went to crazy, quick.  I had my six-month skin cancer body-screen at the Dermatologist's office and was patting myself on the back for being so well-prepared for it.  I wore my sunscreen all summer, was only 5 minutes late (a real accomplishment for me when going to the doctor straight from work), and had even shaved my legs that morning. 

Normal chit-chat with the nurse, she hands me my gown, she tells me, "Ok, just take everything off except your bra and underwear."  I was all, "Okaaaa....*GAAAAASP!*

"What's wrong?!"
"OMG...I don't have any underwear on."
"Why?!"
"I got dressed really fast this morning...?"

She just kind of stuttered for a few minutes...and then offered me DEPENDS (that was "all she had").  I died laughing and told her I'd rather her see my naked butt than wear a diaper, but I sincerely appreciated her offer. 

In my overzealous effort to tuck the paper lap gown around myself, I tore it in about 4 different places.  I just gave up after that.  "You've had two children, for God's sake," I tell myself.  "HOW could this be worse than being naked in an operating room with a dozen people?!'

I survived that embarrassment just in time to make it to my sorority dinner....and go for broke in the Awkward Games. 

We played a fun game while we waited for our food - one woman called out letters of the alphabet and whoever could produce an item from their purse that started with that letter FIRST, got a point.  Being first meant being quick.  Being quick meant blurting things out.  Being encouraged to blurt things out is NOT ideal for an awkward person, such as myself.  It's like offering an alcoholic a drink, or inviting someone with a gambling problem to go to a casino.  It will not play out well.

I got too excited in the beginning and shouted "Examples!" for 'E' - but what I produced was a SAMPLE of eczema cream from the dermatologist's office.  (No, M. No.)  Other people were pulling out cool stuff, like a leprechaun ('L') and a tazer (T') and an iPad ('I').  I feel like they had played this game before.

I pulled it together and produced deodorant for 'D' and Mickey Mouse bubbles for 'M' (I KNEW those bubbles would come in handy).  I got some weird looks when I produced a chunk of Twizzler from the depths of my bag for 'T', but things reached a really new level when everyone was stumped by the letter 'X'....until I found some Xanax in a side pocket.  I attempted to play that off by announcing there would be an after party in the parking lot with that and the bubbles.  Polite laughter.  Ouch.  (Hey, next time you get nervous on an airplane or break out in hives over a dreadful event you're being forced to attend - you'll think of me and how wise I am to stash the stuff.)  Just stay home, M.  Just stay home.

Well, either they're as crazy as I am or the Xanax compartment of my purse didn't scare anyone too badly, because I was asked to consider being President Elect for next year.  That's what you want, ladies - an awkward president who forgets to wear underwear.  Maybe that will be my campaign slogan...

♥M

To All My Friends! (God Help You.)

I've been thinking a lot this weekend about friends... specifically, that I have really good ones.  More specifically, that I'm not always a great one.

I try.  I really do.  For some reason, I have been blessed with friends in my life that remember birthdays, anniversaries, and even if I mentioned having a doctor's appointment.  I suck at remembering my own birthday, anniversary, AND doctor's appointments.

You will tell me repeatedly when and where you are going on vacation and I will still call you that week and ask if you want to go to the gym or out to dinner because I have no idea where you are. I will probably forget to tell you when I leave for vacation and you will likely not know where I am because every time you asked me when I was going away I said, "I dunno...it's written down somewhere..."

I forget to answer texts, return phone calls, and always R.S.V.P. to things a week after the date on the card.  If you e-mail me and don't get an answer in 5 minutes, then it'll probably be 2 days before it happens.  If you tell me something and DIDN'T see me write it on my hand or put it in my phone, then expect to have to tell me again.

 I periodically scroll through my texts and find a bunch of "drafts" where I started to respond to people that had text me but didn't finish or hit send.  They never got answered and now that person thinks I have ignored them. Crap.

If I don't call you on your birthday, then please know I thought about you AND about calling you at least a dozen times that day....but became immediately distracted each time.  I will probably text you at 11pm and try to play it off.

Unfortunately, the thought doesn't always count. Right now there are two cards sitting on my kitchen counter - a thank you card and a sympathy card. They have post-its on them with the addresses of the people I got them for. It would take less than 5 minutes to mail them. They have been there for a month. The thought does NOT count because neither of those people know that I bought them cards. Epic fail.

Despite what all of this suggests, I am actually NOT totally disorganized.  I am just constantly distracted.  And I am not distracted because I don't care.  Quite the opposite.  I am distracted because I care SO MUCH, that I try to do it all and BE it all.  I try to be the perfect mom, wife, big sister, cousin, niece, grand-daughter, aunt, sister-in-law, teacher, co-worker, church member, sorority member, committee member....and friend.  I spread myself so thin that I end up neglecting everyone.  Except my kids.  They're the loudest, so they always get my attention first.

And yet, if you are my friend, know this:  I love you.  I will be honest with you (sorry about that).  I will FIGHT for you.  I will protect you.  I will give you anything you need - even as literal as the shirt off of my back (or my bra - I gave a friend my bra one time....it's a long story).  I will stop what I'm doing to help you.  I will come over and cook or clean for you if you can't.  I will babysit your kids, no questions asked.  (I will not get distracted and forget they're here, promise.) 

I might forget to call you on your birthday.  I might say something overly honest and offend you.  I might embarrass you in public.  (Don't worry - I embarrass myself too.)  You might have to convince me that you DON'T need me to put on war paint if someone does you wrong. 

Just know, however, that my heart is in the right place...and I AM trying. 

So to all my friends - love y'all!  (Poor souls.)

♥M

Why I Go To Church

I obviously go to church first and foremost because being a member of a community of like-minded believers is part of practicing my faith.  There are many other reasons I get out of the bed on Sunday mornings, however.  These are a few...

10 Reasons I Go To Church:

1. Being a mom is hard.  Being a Christian mom requires a support team.

2. I really want my kids to know more about Bible characters than Disney characters.

3. I would feel a lot better about realizing that the girls can sing along to risque Katy Perry or Kesha songs (that I didn't realize they had soaked up like little sponges - crap!) if they at least can remember the words to the worship songs on Sunday morning.

4. If we keep going, maybe ONE DAY my husband will stop saying, "Do we HAVE to go to church this week?!"

5. Everyone needs a time-out from life to put priorities back in place.

6. It feels good to be in a place where no one expects you to be perfect...because we've all admitted that we're not - just by being there.

7. Who doesn't like hearing about a man that loves you so much, he died for you?!  Seriously.

8. I want my kids to have a "safe place" where they can ask questions, go through awkward life phases, and have more than just Mom and Dad to hold their hand through it.  (Mom and Dad get super stupid when you're a teenager - I remember - and if they want to ask someone other than me questions about sex, drugs, and alcohol.... I'd vote youth pastor over the senior in high school that rides their school bus.)

9. Sometimes I get so overwhelmed by all of the things I feel like I can't do right, that I need to catch a deep breath and be reminded that everything's going to be OK.

10. Because God said so.  Sabbath and all that.  Not that I always do what I'm told, but I like to think I'm decent at choosing what (and WHO) I take on.

Am I embarrassed when my 4-year-old dumps a bag of goldfish all over the pew, or my 2-year-old leaves the Children's sermon to wander around the sanctuary, waving at people like she's in a Miss America pageant?  Yeah.  But we're there!  I might not be the best Christian mom, but I'm trying my best.  Most of the time.  Usually.

"Being a Christian demands constant progression, not perfection." - Unknown

♥M