The reality is I've been exercising grace. (Kind of.)
Or well, that's how I like to think of it.
Mr Lannis would claim I'm babbling myself silly, ranting about our current provincial government's stellar ability to fuck up All The Things in the name of their bullshit election agenda.
Self-appointing as the educator of all the idiots every misinformed person you encounter will burn you out quickly.
Trust.
Hence this was a good thing to (re)discover on my Pinterest board...
Because it's true.
There are wrongs in this world. There are idiots spreading stupidity. Yes, you can change the world, yes, you need to speak up for wrongs.
But if it's becoming toxic? If it's controlling your days, beating through your veins, and making you miserable?
Forget it.
Just because someone doesn't agree with you and is clearly itching for a lively debate doesn't mean you need oblige them. The subtle pressure in your chest? That tick tick tick on the side of your throat? That's your blood pressure rising.
Step away. Exercise grace. Breathe.
You don't always have to have the last word, and I don't believe there's ever been a documented case of someone changing their mind because some random person on the Internet debated a subject so skillfully their opposition magically transformed into rational sense.
[Note: This post was originally published on The Mrs on December 17th, 2011.]
Okay. I don’t have an anecdote or silly story to tell today, but I have a present for everyone just the same.
Wisdom. Perhaps a touch of much-needed mental breathing room?
Regardless of whether you’re decking your halls in anticipation of a
birthday that happened over two thousand years ago, or (secularly) for a
fat guy to break into your house because he’s been watching your kids
all year (yeah, because that’s not creepy at all), or well... I’d
touch on other celebrations but I’m going to err on the side of “I
don’t celebrate it, so I won’t mock it” because I’m friendly (read:
ignorant) like that...
Anyhow, point being: for whatever reason, there seem to be plenty of
reasons for people to get-together this time of year. In Canada we call
it “keeping warm.”
A lot of us will be seeing family soon, be it our family by blood, or
the one by choice. And we all know what happens when you get a lot of
people together with different opinions, philosophies... perhaps a
little alcohol poured in there, too...
Yeah. Shit show, ahoy.
So. In the interest of keeping our lovely family here at The Mrs
aneurysm-free over the holiday season, I give to you some words of
wisdom.
This is in our main floor bathroom. Because everyone needs to see it.
Everyone.
Everyone who comes into my house long enough to use the bathroom, that is.
I’ll admit I need the daily reminder. Thanks to the copious amounts of tea I drink, I receive this reminder often.
My sanity — and my blood pressure — are much better since I hung this handy sign. (Psst — someone posted it on Pinterest and you know how we feel about Pinterest around here.)
But, if this mental mantra doesn’t work — because not everything works for everyone — I give to you —
Or, well, pieces of people, I suppose... written in zombie font.
And if visualization’s your thing, might I suggest imagining any
aggravating offenders (offending aggravaters?) you meet over the
holidays as participants in said font?
Yep, it's an almost-but-not-quite-perfect implementation of this pin.
Almost-but-not-quite-perfect, but not train wreck enough to qualify for the nailed it Pinterest meme.
Boo. (Boo... Hallowe'en... heh.)
But the boys like it.
Okay, so... any guesses?
Despite the Sharpie scrawled faces, this is the Lazy Mom's contribution to the classroom Hallowe'en party.
My kids are fixated on the healthy food propaganda going around--and that's a good thing--so they were thrilled when I suggested I buy clementines and draw Jack-o-lantern faces on them instead of bake cupcakes for the class shindig.
Yes, my kids would rather mini oranges than cake.
I'm on the fence as to whether they're actually mine--Mr Lannis' for sure, as he's a health nut, but there's never a day I'll take fruit over cake... fruit AND cake, and (perhaps) we're playing ball...
But the answer to the riddle? Those're bags of laziness. Which is fine by me.
With all the other stuff I'm up to these days, taking a moment to scrawl triangle faces on clementines is less time than that needed to bake and decorate cupcakes...
And besides, it's Hallowe'en. There's going to be enough sugar floating around tonight that my hipsI don't need leftover cupcakes kicking around... heh.
Lately I’ve noticed a trend in conversations, one that I think is happening in some circles but perhaps not others.
Multiple people around me are voicing how negativity sucks them down, and that hanging out with negative people makes them feel... deflated.
Several people I know have actively chosen to disconnect with particular friends because of continued negativity dragging them down.
I’m sure just about everybody knows what I’m talking about. That acquaintance you bump into in the grocery store (or wherever) and after a few moments of chitchat—which on their part tends to be a giant list of complaints delivered with a defeated sigh—you leave the conversation with lower energy than before you’d seen them.
They’ve figuratively sucked your energy with their negativity. It happens.
And everyone can have their moment when they are that negative energy-sucking person, but the trick is to not always be that person. Bounce.
[Note: I’m not knocking anyone with depression or mental illness, here—being positive isn’t some magical bandaid solution to mental illness. Go. Get help. Please be the hero of your story, not the victim.]
I like to think I’m a pretty positive person.
Sure, I have good days, and sure, I have shitty days—we all do—but what you have to remember is that without a spectrum you have no basis for comparison.
They all can’t be good days—if there weren’t bad days there would be no good days.
Labeling myself a terminal realist means I’m definitely not an optimist—though it’s mistaken for that often, to be sure. Terminal realism isn’t about being so bloody positive that you burp sparkles and piss rainbows (though that would be cool for a short while, it would quickly get old... or so I imagine).
No, it’s about being realistic about life. It's about laughing off the ugly stuff and moving on.
I rant. I rant a lot, everyday, enough to warrant having my own blog (heh). But I hesitate to call it negative.
Rather, I like to think my hair-pulling frustration with the epidemic of stupidity is entertaining to some. Perhaps even amusing. Droll, shall we say?
So it’s not about walking around with a smile plastered on your face and ignoring life’s bumps—by all means, get that frustration out.
It’s the way you do it, though.
Life’s thrown me plenty of shit sandwiches, and I've choked them down. Not always with a smile in the moment, but afterwards. It's the afterwards that matters. It’s not a scar to pity—it’s a story to tell. And if I can’t get someone to snort a laugh while I do the telling, well, I haven’t done my job.
Mind you, being a self-proclaimed storyteller will do that.
Point being: positivity isn’t about never exalting in those bad things. It’s about perspective, perseverance, and recognizing the humour that can be found within any situation.
(Seriously, I wrote a post about my cat dying. To this day I think it’s one of my funniest posts ever. Yes, I’m twisted.)
Anyhow. It’s been a while since I’ve done a Lesson from Pinterest, so I figured I’d reflect on positivity.
When you’re actively trying to be positive, it changes your brain. Positive begets positive. The same goes for negativity, too, which is the danger of being in a slump for too long—it’s difficult to dig out of it.
Like anything, exercising positivity takes practice. Finding the—admittedly nuanced— humour in the shitstorm life throws at you is a twisted sort of talent, but I like to think it’s attainable by everyone.
A lot of it is just realizing that the universe has a sick sense of irony, and graciously letting it go.
We have a tooth pocket. I found the idea on Pinterest (thank everything holy and magical in childhood).
It's not fancy, but it serves an important purpose.
Yes, it's where the boys (or boy, as we've only had one lose teeth so far) put their teeth for safekeeping next to their bed so the Tooth Fairy can swap it for a toonie (translation $2), but I'm speaking about its indirect purpose...
Specifically that this teeny pocket I scrambled to zip together on the sewing machine out of felt (applique included) serves a far greater purpose than simply holding teeth.
It saves my sanity.
Yes, it keeps me from digging underneath boys' pillows while they're sleeping, searching for a chunk of nasty white pebble beneath their light-sleeper heads.
By using this tooth pocket the first time one kid lost a tooth, we set a precedent—one that thrills me—teeth go in the pocket, not under the pillow(!).
What were my parents thinking?! Hunting under pillows in dark rooms... pfft... there's no way my silhouette can be mistaken for a fairy's... ::snort::
It’s surfaced in my Facebook news feed a few times, and it’s always popular when it does. I know I enjoy it.
I pointed it out to Mr Lannis (he’s not online much), and he enjoyed it, too—watch it if you haven’t, it’ll brighten your day, for sure. Go ahead... I’ll wait.
Did you watch it?
Okay. Because I’m about to dissect why it’s such a hit. (Note: this is my opinion only—I have no background in psychology.)
It’s very simple, really...
This guy? This random dude and his wife at the pumps? They say yes.
To elaborate: when the gas pump newscaster interrupts his day, this random gentleman not only partakes in friendly conversation instead of being too cool to play along, he also embraces the moment and plays.
Crazy concept, right?
He volunteers that he sings karaoke (when asked if he sings professionally), and then goes ahead and sings karaoke on the spot.
He says yes.
He is joyful.
He is playful.
He doesn’t treat the newscaster as a fixture, which the man very literally is—a fixed, though playing, screen at the pumps. And one would not be remiss for never noticing that the newscaster were attempting to interact with a gas pumping bystander. It’s okay to be lost in one’s own thoughts, especially in an instance such as this which is so out of the ordinary, but much can be said about treating others as human beings and not backdrop in our own personal play.
This man, this random karaoke singing gentleman, though, is at first unobservant, but not entirely so. More importantly, he’sinteractive.
And why is this video such a viral storm of joy?
Because he gets into it. He sells it. He’s clearly enjoying himself.
He may momentarily look a fool, but he doesn't care, and his fun is infectious. His wife is just as game to play along (she’s her own sort of fabulous—seriously, watch the video if you haven’t already).
They are not afraid to be themselves and are not too cool to show it.
They have personality. They cheer each other on, and sure, it’s a spectacle, and an odd scene to witness at the gas pumps—but one of harmless delight.
They say yes.
And I’m pretty sure we all get a snapshot view of exactly why this couple is married—they’re not afraid to have fun, or to have fun together.
Playing is not something we should discard as we grow up.
Because I’m no expert, and this is simply my deconstruction of the social response to this video (a video which has over 12 million views and counting after a week online), but I’m going to throw this out there for everyone anyway... we, all of us, are a little enamored with the courage shown by this random guy, and the clear pleasure he exhibits while enjoying his moment.
And I’m pretty sure that a lot of us, even though we might not have the guts to put on the same display—and a part of us might be appalled at creating such a spectacle—well, I’ll bet we’re all thinking the same thing: he must be a great guy to hang out with.
I'm trying to slip back into blogging mode after JordanCon. I'm not going to lie, everything posted since that trip—with the exception of the Con recap—was scheduled way ahead of time because I knew this would happen.
It's part exhaustion, part mentally remaining in a moment that's passed, and all Con Depression.
(But it's oh so good!)
It got me thinking, though, that every year in the aftermath of JordanCon weekend, within the flurry of photos posted to Facebook and Flickr, amidst the oohs and aahs of costume pics, souvenirs, and anecdotal brushes with author and artist celebrity, there's always someone saying they wished they'd attended, too...
Hey, that person used to be me. Three years ago was my first JordanCon, and I knew immediately it wouldn't be my last.
If you're dying to step out of yourself for a day, do it.
Because one day you'll reach a point where for whatever reason you truly can't, and you'll regret that you didn't take the chance when it was available.
And that's the thing: you need to make the chance available.
I save my pennies all year to make the trek to Atlanta without tossing it on credit card, and damn, is it worth it. JordanCon has enriched my life. I have made amazing friends, discovered unknown ability, and simply stepped out of the everyday routine—something that is oh so important to my psyche.
Yes, stepping out of the everyday and satisfying your seems-unreachable-goals is good for mental health.
Recently I had a messaged conversation with an old friend via Facebook (hi, James!), and he said something that rang deeply with me... he considers "dull" to be one of the worst-offending sins out there.
It didn't take a lot of thought before I agreed.
When we're kids we (generally) all want to be older so we can have the freedom to do whatever we want. So if that's the case, why are we living for work? Why are we slaves to money?
There's so much to do in life, how can you fall into the eat-sleep-work routine? Go out and LIVE!
And do things for yourself, because you've always wanted to do them, not because it's "cool" to do those things...
Sure, my thing is JordanCon (and costuming, and let's face it: all things Wheel of Time), but yours doesn't have to be.
You may have heard this before (and my cheeseball alarm is blaring in my head), but...
Follow. Your. Dreams.
I'd bet there's something you're itching to do. Do it. Push yourself out of your comfort zone and be surprised at your courage.
I bet you'll learn a bit about yourself, build remarkable memories and meet incredible people, and live those dull everyday moments a bit happier for it.
In my endless travels of cyberspace, I’ve met up with some pretty great people over the years, and one of the more recent would be the courageous and honest Kelly, over at The High Flying Adventures of Captain Grief. She’s lost her spouse, and her blog is where she and her alter ego (Captain Grief) share the pitfalls, trials, and humour that comes with the territory—a place where she can vent, and celebrate, and heal. She’s funny, and sincere, and real, and doesn’t sugar-coat life.
In short: she’s awesome.
Having been forced to eat a couple of life’s shit sandwiches, I have a good understanding of where she’s coming from. Our journeys are very different, but the territory that is grief and coping are the same.
It’s why I’m a terminal realist, after all.
And she’s reminded me of one of my favourite quotes I first discovered on Pinterest.
Guess what? Sometimes the universe shits on you for no reason. It just does. Shocker, right?
Not everything that happens to you in life is by choice, and yet how you view those events certainly is.
Do you want to be that person who is pitied by everyone because you’re perpetually dwelling on how horrible things are? Or do you want to admit life never goes as planned, be honest with yourself and retain your ability to laugh?
And screw other people and their projected opinions—ask yourself what you want to model for yourself... for your children.
None of us choose the nasty trenches we must wade through, but we can choose to be survivors.
Life is messy, and it’s never perfect. Anyone who says otherwise is lying.
It’s okay to find humour in unexpected places.
It’s okay to rationalize and realize that there are others who are worse off than you, even though it’s difficult to imagine at times.
It’s okay to grow stronger, and know that you will be okay no matter what.
I’m not saying you can’t have bad days. Definitely have bad days. Own them. Wallow in them from the depths of your soul to the edge of your fingertips.
For sure, immerse yourself in them when you need to—it’s an integral part of coping—throw yourself into self-pity and craptastic ugly, get it out of your system, then remove yourself from it with the same force, because you know: this will not last.
Dabble in self-pity, then choose to discard it. Renounce it for your own health.
Be strong. You have the ability to surprise yourself. Trust.
I have no idea where people come from on Pinterest.
Seriously. It's like they trickle out of nowhere and suddenly I have a flood of people following my boards. I'm on Pinterest, like, twice a week. Maybe. And usually just to pin PostSecret postcards, because I plan to use them as creative writing fodder.
See, the secret with PostSecret is that it changes every week—but if you pin the image on Pinterest, you get to see it weeks after it's been lost to the rest of the Interwebs. Nice, eh?
Anyhow. Overall I've been too busy lately to actually peruse the Pinterest marketplace or even just check out what the people I follow are pinning... it's been that busy around here.
But people keep following me... and I have posted some odd shit in the past (still do, to be honest). At one point I was pinning stuff from a Tumblr blog (it's since shut down) with a highly inappropriate name just to see if anyone noticed...
Stuff like this (I'll let industrious individuals go on the hunt for the site name if they choose... ha!):
Inappropriate site names or not (or more likely: unobservant people, ha!) I only gained more followers.
(Well, I can hardly blame them. Tie + light saber + kissable lips does equal win...)
These followers have taught me something, though. I haven't censored myself on my Pinterest boards. I've been as weird as I want to be; my boards are as obnoxious or as idiosyncratic as I choose... Something something be yourself... ? (Nah, that's not quite right...)
Something something the energy you put out into the world returns...? (Hm... closer...)
Something something like attracts like...? (Yeah, that sounds more fitting.)
It's rather reassuring to know there's a lot of weirdos out there... heh.
I’m a worrier. Or at least, I am innately—I've worked very hard to suppress that tendency.
As a terminal realist, I've taught myself to look at situations with objectivity and gallows humour, and worries tend to dissolve when you add a dose of quirky perspective.
I never use to—suppress worry, that is—until I had kids. Any parent will tell you worry can be overwhelming when you’ve got a new baby, and having older kids doesn’t quell the brooding—it just changes the subject matter.
It doesn't help that Mr Lannis has the same anxiousness bred into him. We'd circled through digestive-related spirals of doom because there was sand in our firstborn's diaper—OMG! His intestines are dissolving into grit! How do you shit sand WHEN YOU'VE NEVER BEEN TO A GODDAMN BEACH?!—only to realize a day later that it was the byproduct of a newly added dietary staple: Cheerios.
Surprise! ::headdesk::
I never used to worry about my worrying (heh), until my son was diagnosed with mild anxiety. He’s a worrier, too.
Fucking lovely.
(Heh. The kid comes by it honestly.)
So I started analysing the world and our inherent worries in order to better prepare him. He's now seven. He needs to be a kid and enjoy his life, to let go of those concerns and actually live.
We’ve developed a couple of coping strategies, and one of our repeated exchanges goes like this:
Me: Who’s job is it to worry?
Him: Yours.
Me: What’s your job?
Him [occasionally said with dejection]: To go to school and learn and have fun...
It’s laughable, to hear him grumble that reply, but it works. Soon after this reminder his shoulders will lift and he’ll bounce away to play.
Since he’s a perceptive little guy, he latches onto the serious subjects around him. Birth. Death. Poverty. You name it. It’s not that he’s exposed to any of this on a regular basis, but he’s a solemn kid, and thinks a lot. Considers. Asks questions.
Naturally, we discuss his concerns.
And since he carries so much so heavily with his anxiety, I regularly have to remind him it’s not his job to worry about things—that’s an adult’s job.
This is where Pinterest comes in again, with its snapshot of wisdom...
I’m debating putting this on a canvas and hanging it in my house. It illustrates exactly what Mr Lannis and I are trying to teach ourselves and our boys.
There’s no point in worrying because it’s energy wasted. If there’s something bothering you, there’s either nothing you can do about it—in which case no reason to worry—or there is something you can do, in which case there’s also no reason to worry... you just need to go do that thing that’ll fix whatever it is.
So many people need to learn this. Kids and adults, alike.
Yes, I’m one of those crazy ladies on Pinterest. And since my filter’s broken, I occasionally pin inappropriate stuff. Truth.
This post isn't about that. (Sorry to disappoint.)
One of my favourite boards, though, is titled Things To Keep In Mind. It’s usually safe.
All it is, really, is a bunch of sayings. Tidbits of wisdom pared down into concise messages... some of them have become my mantras of sanity.
Like this one:
And we all know that person who needs a good smack upside the head because they just don’t GET it—that happiness is a choice; that just because bad shit happens to you, you don’t need to let it win by tainting your life with such negativity and victimhood.
Seriously, there are days where I wish it is kosher to blurt out, “No wonder your life is such a drag, you have so much shit weighing you down! Let it GO!”
And I don’t mean pretend it never happened—learn from it. Move on.
Sometimes the bad things that happen to us are due to personal choices, and sometimes it’s the universe shitting on us for no good reason. It doesn’t matter either way—pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and grow.
In short: I have no patience for victimhood.
And somebody out there who knows me in real life is going to gasp and be mortified and assume (wrongly) that this post is a reaction to them. No.
No, no one did anything to spark this post. When I was considering blogging again, the idea of discussing Pinterest swirled within the brainstorm, and that's where this comes from. This is easily one of my top five favourite quotes I've come across on Pinterest, so I thought it would be as good a place to start as any...
