Stress Is Curling My Hair

OK, no, but seriously now...

It IS making me do really crazy things. Like trash a 5-mile run because I was so distracted I wasn't pacing myself effectively and checlked them up to "junk miles". Like try to go to bed earlier, wake up earlier, do more things earlier. Like getting in some strength training here and there. Becoming better friends with one of my neighbors who likes to run at the rez (and even attempting to keep up with him during our first outing together! And I did! But I think he was probably being nice to me...) and even agreeing to a--gulp--7:30 a.m. Sunday morning run. No going out after closing up the shop for me; I'll be heading home from Origins Saturday evening to some kava kava and an early bedtime. For an early run. On a Sunday.

Not that I was a partier (party-er? somehow, partier never looks right to me...) in my previous life or anything. But work has stressed me to the point where I am running for the sheer relief of being consumed by an activity that isn't work. Call it escapism. Call it whatever you want...I call it sick. Pathetic. A bit frightening.

But, also...strengthening. Renewing. Reinforcing. Quieting and, incredibly, slowing. Reassuring and peaceful. And as a result of this insanity, I'm growing, and changing, and realizing I am capable of extraordinary things. Like trying to hear more of my friends' stories. Listening to their laughter. Trying to contribute instead of overtaking. Maybe it's progress, maybe not. But it sure feels good. When I'm at work I feel exhausted, faded, washed-out, done. Tired. Weary. When I run, my heart, my eyes, my smile is open. I'm laughing out loud (much to the dismay, no doubt, of the pros running circuits along the same bike path) and my faith in the world is renewed.

Enough that with registration for the 2007 race filling, I stake my claim by registering for the Boulder Backroads Marathon again. Finishing is still the only real goal. But...could that be New York, gleaming in the distance? Or is it...Boston?

...just sweet...

Edie seemed a little unsettled when i put her to bed the other night after I tucked her in, so I sat with her and stroked her hair and sang to her until her eyes started to fall heavily closed all on their own. I was singing Jack's adaptation of "The Song of the Wandering Aengus", by William Butler Yeats, and my voice does neither the poem nor the song Jack created from the poem justice, but it seemed to calm this beautiful little girl and begin to put her to sleep...

...sweet...

Bitter...sweet?

So my director, who I think is on my side, calls me into her office this afternoon for what I think is a routine update meeting, which actually turns into a "you're going to get fired in two weeks if you don't shape up" meeting. And all I can think is, this is SUCH bullshit.

First of all, I've been busting my ass on this project. I have the permanent marker marks all over my hands to prove it. But instead of getting recognized for my productivity, I get, "You had that dentist appointment Monday," and "You were on the phone with a vendor who called you on your cell during your lunch break," and that's just not okay. So, the appointment that was scheduled two months ago I should've rescheduled because my boss--who is out of town--has too much testosterone to admit that this is a personality conflict and I'd be better placed in another department? Wha...?

And so I just nod and grimly smile. What am I supposed to do at this point? Leap, and the net will appear? Or the void will swallow me...at least then I'll get some quietude...

Baby-sitting

I met Howard and Jen through Jack, and my life has been infinitely more blessed because of them (and him, for that matter, but that’s another blog for another day…) and their unique and beautiful presences. What an honor it is to allow me to care for their children.

Jen and I have the same conversation every time I baby-sit for her children. I think she overpays me, and she explains that she couldn’t possibly pay me enough. Round and round we go. One of these days, she’s going to get genuinely pissed off at me. At least that’s what I worry about.

But how can I tell her what an honor and joy it is to take care of her two lovely lovely little ones, what beautiful children they are, what peace and calm and absolute joy I get from cuddling with Edie, putting her to bed, knowing that she knows me and feels safe with me. How it feels when Gabriel lets a bit of his guard down and curls up with me for storytime, how cool it is that I can talk to him at some level about Star Wars, enough, at least, that when it’s time for bed and the stories have all been read he tears out of his shirt and indiscriminately requests that I scratch his back while he drifts off. How much joy comes out of that moment for me, that he feels safe (enough), loved (enough), protected (enough), secure (enough) to ask me to stay, to love him a little, in whatever way he’ll let me? How can I tell her what an honor it is to be with her children, know that she and her husband can go out and enjoy an evening together, alone, as a couple, as themselves, really get to enjoy each other, knowing—really knowing—that their children are safe and loved and adored and protected, how do I tell this woman who in about the first seven minutes of knowing her had already stitched her family into my heart: Howard, Jen, Edie and Gabriel. Assorted pets (Lucy and Willy, the dogs, Annie, the cat, Gup-gup, the fish, Coco, the guinea pig…am I missing anyone here)...how can I tell her how much I love them all?

Most especially, these two precious little gems. One eleven, one seven. Dark, dark hair and blue blue blue eyes. Sprinkles of freckles on their noses. Children are easy to love; they're also easily detestable, but Gabe at his worst with me is just a notch or two on the wrong side of hyperactive and Edie...you can't help but love Edie. You can't help but love Gabe for that matter; even when he's acting out he's still a good kid (this is, of course, based on my knowing this family for less than a year and no doubt missing a substantial majority of Gabe's less-than-promising moments...but you just know he's a good kid, just occasionally acts rotten to keep me on my toes, it seems). These children are so beautiful and so loving, how could I possibly not love them?

When I carry Edie to bed and get her settled in, she coos and smiles at me, and it’s as if she can see right into me, right through me. Her eyes flutter when I kiss her forehead and tell her good-night, tell her to have sweet dreams, tell her I love her. Because I do. When Gabe pulls the blanket over his head as I try to drop a kiss good-night onto his forehead, then lowers it, his eyes dancing, both teasing and imploring. So I kiss him good night and tell him to have sweet dreams, smiling, tell him I love him.

Because I do. And so they sleep snuggled warm and tired in their beds, and I head down to hang out with the menagerie that will now keep me company, until Howard and Jen come home.

How did I get so freakin BUSY???

Monday: Double shift (Oats 8:30 to 5:45ish, Origins 6-9:30ish)
Tuesday: Oats til 5:30; Bikram's 6:30 to 8
Wednesday: Double Shift
Thursday: Oats til 5:30ish; running with Rick at the rez
Friday: Double shift
Saturday: Origins 10-4, baby-sitting for Howard and Jen 6:30ish til...
Sunday: long run at rez...and maybe...stillness?

You know it's getting bad when you're wondering when you can possibly fit in meditation...

"Leap and the net will appear..."

It's a nice idea, as a testament to your faith. A principle by which one tries to live. A notion that in and of itself comprises part of your belief system, or just a phrase you try to keep in mind, to give you a bit of perspective.

When it dictates your life and rules over it like a fascist dictator, on the other hand, it's absolute torture. When it means you don't have any firm ground to stand on, that every component of your life is in limbo all at the same time, that you've leapt and now you're in a state of freefall and can't see the net and can't see the net and can't see the net...well, it becomes increasingly difficult to believe it will appear.

Please, please, please let it appear...