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The fallacy of getting organized

09/20/2011 By Robin Grosland 6 Comments

I need to get organized.  I need to develop a system.  I need a plan.

No matter how often I clean, the house still seems to always be a mess.  If I were more organized and we had a system, it wouldn’t get so messy.

I need to plan better and stick to a schedule.  There are so many things going on in my life that I can’t seem to stay on top of them.  Commitments are falling through the cracks.  I would be able to do all the things I want/need to if I just planned better.

There never seems to be enough money.  If I were just better at sticking to a budget, we could afford to do all the things we want to do.  I should be able to keep track and form a plan so that we are building up our savings while still living a good life.

Do any of these sound familiar to you?  If you haven’t said them you’ve probably heard them.  Everyone thinks that if they were just more organized everything in life would run smoothly.  That’s why there are so many products, TV shows, containers, books, and professionals to help you get organized.  Because getting organized is magical!  It will solve all your problems!  It’s pretty!

Sometimes, in some areas, this might be true.  But I would argue that in most cases no amount of organizing is going to fix the problem.  Organization isn’t the problem.  The problem is that there is just too much.

You own too much stuff.  There is a finite amount of space in your house.  It is filled with things you don’t use, don’t like, or are saving just in case even though you got a new one.  Unless you are going to stack things floor to ceiling so that your family and friends have to call Hoarders, you are going to run out of space.

You have too many commitments.  There is a finite amount of time in the day.  There are people in your life that you don’t enjoy.  There are commitments in your life that you feel obligated to do that someone else could take over.   You enjoy being everything to everyone.  You cannot do everything you want to do.  In fact, it isn’t healthy to be busy all the time.  And you know that.  But you can’t seem to bring yourself to turn anyone down or cut out those things that just aren’t fulfilling anymore.

You are living beyond your means.  There is a finite amount of money.  Rearranging it won’t mean there is more.  The only way to increase how much money is left over is to quit spending it on things that you don’t really need or want.  You’re going to the store hungry and buying snacks when you promised yourself you wouldn’t.  You’re rationalizing that Diet Coke everyday because it’s just a couple of dollars without considering that over a year it’s hundreds of dollars.  You’re going out to eat more than you are cooking and eating at home.  I’m willing to bet there is some way to trim the fat in your budget.  But you have to learn to give things up.

What area of your life feels like it is stretched too thin?  Examine it and decide if it really all must be done and must be done by you.  Is there anything you can let go?  Is there anything extra?  Or detrimental to you?  Are there things or people in your life that you just don’t like? Are there things you own or do because you feel like it is expected of you?  How much of what is in your life did you consciously choose and how much just kind of showed up?

When there is too much, it can be suffocating.  It is oppressive.  It weighs on you.  Whether you are consciously aware of it or not, your brain is tracking it.  Your mind is aware that it is still in your life.  It is sucking energy from you.

We pack our lives so full because society tells us we should.  You should have more.  You should have newer.  You should be more productive.  And everyone around you should be able to tell that you are working harder than them.

It gets so crazy that we start to feel like less.  All those things and commitments that we thought would make us feel better actually make us feel like failures because we can’t stay on top of it all.

Filling our lives, schedules, homes, plans, or budget with too many things is like constantly trying to wear your old pants after you gained twenty pounds.  Maybe you can get them on.  But even if you do, you are not going to be comfortable.  And you are going to look like a sausage.  And that’s not a good look on anyone.

Don’t let your life be a sausage.

Image created at Wordle.net.

Read more from Robin at The Mess that is My Life.

Filed Under: Motivate, Opinion Tagged With: , , ,

When I was the mean girl

09/07/2011 By Robin Grosland 7 Comments

Junior high is difficult; let’s not kid ourselves.  We are taking our first few steps on the bridge that joins childhood to adulthood.  And somehow we are expected to find our way.  All too often without much guidance.

I learned lots of life lessons in junior high.  Unfortunately, most of them were from making mistakes.

One lesson I learned was about being kind, especially in writing.  I wish I’d learned it better.

I was part of a group of friends.  I guess it would be called a clique today.  We just called it our group.  We’d been together for a couple of years.  We were tight.

And then something happened.  I don’t remember what it was.  I’m not even sure I knew at the time what it was.

One day we were all together (or most of us were) and everyone was saying that one of our friends could no longer be in the group.  I don’t remember much debate.  I don’t remember who started the discussion.  But soon it was decided that she would need to be told to leave us alone because she didn’t belong anymore.

What I do remember is my role.  I was just discovering my ability to write with cleverness.  Boy, could I turn a phrase.  So I was the one that wrote the note.  The note that told her she no longer had a place.  The one that said we didn’t want to have anything to do with her.  I only remember one line (because I thought it was so clever).  “Please stay downwind so we don’t have to smell you.”

If someone said that to me today, it would hurt my feelings but I could get over it.  If someone had said it to me then I would have been devastated.  At fourteen we just don’t have the tools we need to defend against something like that.  We just aren’t prepared.  And she didn’t know how to deal with it either.

The next day I was called to the Vice Principal’s office.  Several of my friends were there, but not the outcast.  The note was there.  My heart seized.  Time stopped.

I don’t remember much of what was said in that meeting.  I know she was refusing to come to school.  Her parents had contacted the school and were understandably upset.  My mom came and picked me up and I was suspended from school for one day.  (This may not seem like much, but I was kind of a goody-two-shoe so it stung.  I was mortified.)

And while I’m sure I got a lecture from my mother, the only thing I remember her saying was to “never put something like that in writing.”

I spent years thinking she meant that if it isn’t in writing you have deniability.  And maybe she did.  But there is another lesson to it.

Words have power.  And when those words are written down they can be read over and over.  And when they are hurtful they can hurt over and over.

I’ve received unkind notes.  I’ve read and reread them.  I wonder if she did that, too.  I remember many times people hurt me over the years, the times they made me feel worthless by rejecting me.  I wonder if she remembers that, too.

Recently I wrote something that hurt someone’s feelings.  Because it was clever.  I guess I still have a lot to learn.

Image by happykanppy at FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Read more from Robin at The Mess that is My Life.

Filed Under: MISC Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Who asked you?

07/20/2011 By Robin Grosland 3 Comments

Don’t you just love unsolicited advice?  The way everyone around you knows exactly how to fix your life?  No, me either.

Do I believe their intentions are pure?  Sometimes.  Do I think they are trying to be hurtful?  Not usually.  Do I find what they say to be helpful?  Very, very rarely.  Usually it comes across as self-aggrandizing, holier-than-thou preaching.  At least to me it does.  And sometimes it’s downright mean.  Especially if I am really having a hard time.

I am not going to tell you how to talk to someone who’s having a hard time.  That would be exactly the problem I’m talking about.  I am going to tell you how I would like people to interact with me when I am having a hard time.  (But I bet some of this will work for anyone who is struggling.)

1.  Don’t assume you know what the problem is.  My life is multi-faceted.  What bothers me one day doesn’t the next.  If you think that the one problem you know about is the only problem in my life then you are delusional.  One day it’s my health.  One day it’s my relationship with my husband.  One day it’s my past.  One day it’s hormonal.  And some days I don’t even know what it is, so how could you?

If you want to know what the problem is (because you are concerned, not out of a morbid curiosity or need to know for your own selfish reasons) then ask me.  Talk to me.  Express your concern and your willingness to listen.  And be prepared for a brush off.  If you are not a person that I am comfortable talking to in that moment, respect that.  These are my feelings and I get to choose who to share them with.

2.  Don’t you dare tell me that you know how I feel (or how I should feel).  You don’t.  Even if you’ve had a similar experience, your life up to and around that point are not the same as mine.  You do not have the same temperament as me.  You do not live inside my mind and body.  You do NOT know how I feel.  Nothing will alienate me from you faster than that.

But it will ingratiate you to me if you admit right up front that you don’t know how I feel.  Maybe you have an idea, maybe not.  Express your own personal sorrow at seeing me in pain.  Or express your frustration that you can’t make me feel better.  Or express your willingness to listen.  Again, listening is the key.  Which leads to number three.

3.  Don’t try to fix me or my life or my problem.  These are not yours to fix.  It is not your job to make me feel better no matter who you are.  And when you try, when you tell me how to fix it, you are saying that you have no faith in me to overcome it on my own.  You are saying that you know better how to live my life than I do.  I’m sorry, but there is no chance that when I reach final judgment I am going to be asked how well you lived my life.  It’s my life to live and I need to do it.  I need to figure it out for myself.

Listen.  Just listen.  Cry with me.  Hug me.  Comfort me.  Whatever.  But don’t try to take my problems away from me.  They are mine.  They are how I become who I am meant to be.  They are how I grow stronger.  They are mine and I will not surrender them.  They are a part of me and I am less without them.  I need them.  And when I don’t need them anymore it will be because I overcame them.  I chose to give them away.  I got everything I needed out of them and gave them back to God.

Read more from Robin at The Mess that is My Life.

Photo by Nutdanai Apikhomboonwaroot. Courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net.

Filed Under: MISC, Opinion Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

The glory of women

06/06/2011 By Robin Grosland 3 Comments

I want to sing of the glory of women.  But how do I do this without coming off sexist?  How do I do this without slighting or disparaging men?  How do I do this without offending those who have experienced life differently?

I speak from the heart, of what I know, and hope that my words are received with understanding.

To the men:  You are wonderful.  You have so many gifts and talents.  You have a presence that touches the heart of a woman.  You have a glory all your own.  But it isn’t your turn today.  Please forgive me for leaving you out and take some time to think about how blessed you are to have incredible women in your lives.

Many of the traits I discuss apply to men and to women.  There are many women who do not fit these categories.  I do not intend to generalize.  Generalizations just don’t work; there is always an exception.  Instead I will speak in specifics.  I will speak of women I’ve known.

I’ve known women who were tender.  They can reach my heart with just a look.  They can soothe my soul with their arms around me.  They can find the pain I couldn’t see and help me understand.  They can guide me to my own healing.

I’ve known women who were strong.  They can defend my right to be who I want to be.  They can stand up to abusive behavior to defend the defenseless.  They can rebuild families that have been torn apart by people who just didn’t care.  They can endure all that life throws at them.

I’ve known women who were brilliant.  They seek knowledge and truth.  They study human behavior so that they can meet the needs of others.  They look into another’s eyes and read their soul.  They learn so that they might teach.

I’ve known women who were generous.  They give their lives in the service of family.  They willingly sacrifice what they used to want for something better, the promise of tomorrow.  They serve in communities, families, churches, schools, non-profit organizations, and in all the areas we don’t see.

I’ve known women who were humble.  They take joy in the success of others.  They encourage others without feeling diminished by their accomplishments.  They listen to the cries of others who ask that they do more — and they do.

I’ve known women who were spiritual.  They listen to their hearts believing that wisdom will follow.  They trust in God believing that blessings are offered.  They connect with nature believing that there is more to this world than we can see or understand.

Biology aside, we would be lost without women.  There is something so inherently divine about womanhood.  So angelic.  So godlike.  It’s just that some of us don’t know it yet.

And, men, I think you’re really cool, too.

Photo by Graur Codrin.  Courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Read more from Robin at The Mess that is My Life.

Filed Under: MISC, Opinion, Spirituality Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Watching clouds dance

05/23/2011 By Robin Grosland 5 Comments

I haven’t been feeling well lately.  As a result, I have not left my house much.  It’s tough to be out and about when you don’t feel well.

But today I went outside.  It was a beautiful, warm day and I needed it.  I needed to feel the air and sun.  I needed to feel free.  I needed to feel small in comparison to all that surrounded me.

I had planned to read, but my vision was blurry due to a headache.  So instead I moved my chair to the lawn and just lay down.  And I breathed.  Deeply.  I haven’t done that much lately.

And I looked into the sky.  It was a brilliant blue sky.  Clear and solid.  Except for one small white cloud.  Fluffy with a few wispy edges.

As I watched this cloud I noticed it was changing.  The edges were curling.  It was tumbling across the sky.  I watched it work its way south, diminishing as it went.  I was sad to see it leaving.

But then I noticed another one following it.  Where had this one come from?  It wasn’t there a minute ago.  I watched as it too tumbled, only it grew as it did.  It reminded me of the time I worked a cotton candy machine.  As I spun the cone and twirled it around the machine the cotton candy became thicker, building on itself.  That’s what this cloud did.  For a while.  And then it started to disperse as well.

I looked at the spot it had come from and noticed another one forming.  I watched as it grew and changed and disappeared.  I watched as cloud after cloud appeared, seemingly from nothing, over the same spot on the mountain.  I watched as each of them took their turn dancing across the sky trying to catch the others.  And each vanished.

It was beautiful.

And that’s all I did.  For about an hour.  As the world passed me by.

I had so many other things to do.  So many productive and important things.  But were these things more important than watching clouds?  Nope.  Not today.  Today this was what I needed to do.  I needed to sit.  I needed to breathe.  I needed to let everything else go and watch the clouds dance.

Those other things will wait.  They will still be there when the clouds are gone.  Today I needed to feed my soul.  And I did.  I feasted on clouds.  And it was very satisfying.

Photo courtesy of Pixomar.  Provided by FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Read more from Robin at The Mess that is My Life.

Filed Under: MISC, Opinion, Spirituality Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Politics *shudder*

05/09/2011 By Robin Grosland 8 Comments

I understand that politics are a necessary evil, like gynecologists.  But it doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.

I remember my high school U.S. History class with Mr. C.  The U.S. Constitution was definitely the most intense section.  He felt strongly that we should not enter the world without a knowledge of our rights and responsibilities.  We pulled the constitution apart in that class, not arguing positions, just learning what it said.  I learned how the three branches of government are supposed to work together, how different people are elected, and so much more.  When it came time for testing, it was enough to make some people cry.  About 14 pages of fill-in-the-blank and essay.  We reviewed for two class periods in preparation.  We had to write word for word the oath of the President of the United States and the Preamble.  It was awesome!

I registered to vote as soon as I was 18.  I voted by absentee ballot my first eligible election.  I was in a political science class and was busy on election day doing exit polling for that class.   I was excited about politics; I was young and naive.  I imagined two good men (it was the late 80s; hadn’t seen lots of women in politics yet) running against each other, trying to do what they thought best.  I imagined a respectable contest of presentation and preferences.

That was a long time ago.

Today I see it differently.  I see so much deal making, palm greasing, and back stabbing.  I understand that sometimes you have to cut a deal to make something happen.  I’m okay with that.  Give a little to get a little.  Take the bill that’s less than perfect to get a step closer to what you’re going for.

But politics is so visceral today.  People get so angry with those of opposing opinions.  Blocking bills and appointments just to get more leverage.  Anything to win even if it means coming away with nothing.  Always running for something.  Always worried about public approval.  They spend so much time trying to keep everyone happy that they get paralyzed.  They go into politics hoping to change things only to find out that you play the game or you go home.

They argue their points vociferously.  With great volume and energy.  Rarely listening to each other.  And frequently in anger.  This is the part I really don’t like.  I do not like the arguing.  I do not like the anger and disdain with which politicians or their representatives so often treat each other.  I do not like it when politicians demonize their opponent rather than making their point.

And I do not like the way close friends or family members become enemies, shouting at each other, because they don’t agree.  Politics can be discussed passionately AND with respect.  It just doesn’t happen enough.

And so, while I have strong feelings politically, I generally don’t talk about them unless I am asked.  And sometimes not even then.  I do not feel a desire to convince others to agree with me.  I do not intend to defend my political positions to anyone.  I will use my vote as I see fit and let my vote speak for me.

If someone wants to have an open discussion with both of us honestly seeking to understand each other, I’m in.  If someone just wants to make their points, prove their own superiority, count me out.  I know my rights; I have the right to remain silent.

Image by digitalart.  Provided by FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Read more from Robin at The Mess that is My Life.

Filed Under: MISC, Opinion, Politics Tagged With: , , ,

Let’s talk about adrenaline

04/06/2011 By Robin Grosland 7 Comments

Adrenaline is a good thing.  Its purpose is to keep us safe.  It gives us that kick start we need to escape dangerous situations.  Nature protecting us from the big, bad world.

But what about when adrenaline isn’t our friend?  What about when it’s the attacker?  When it makes us feel unsafe?

I’m talking about panic attacks.  I’m talking about being held hostage by the chemistry within your own body.  I’m talking about being okay one second and so totally not the next.

I have traumatic experiences in my past.  Because of these I struggle with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  And part of that is panic attacks.  When something happens that is similar to what happened in the past, which is called a trigger, all of the emotions from that time come flooding back. 

Suddenly I am filled with fear.  I am on the verge of tears.  I have an overwhelming desire to run, to get away, to hide.  I am so scared.  I have to get away.  My life is in danger. 

Only it’s not.  I am in a safe place, with safe people.  There is no danger.  But my mind and body think there is.  My mind makes a connection between what happened before and what’s happening now and tries to protect me.  It sends signals to my body that there is danger.  And the body’s response to danger is adrenaline.

So suddenly, out of nowhere, I am afraid.  And I often don’t even know what triggered it.  Sometimes I can figure it out and other times I can’t.  It took me years to even recognize it as PTSD.  Years of sudden, overwhelming, unexplained fear before I understood that I was safe even when my body didn’t know it.

Knowledge helps.  Understanding that it’s simply a chemical rush and that it will pass in 10-20 minutes has helped.  I do deep breathing exercises.  I try refocusing.  I talk myself through it, explaining the physiological process.

But those 10-20 minutes are so much longer than you think.  It’s like staring at a gun and waiting to die.  Knowing there is nothing I can do but hope and wait.

And that’s if I recognize it for what it is.  Sometimes I don’t.  Sometimes I melt down.  Sometimes I pace or shake my arms trying to release some of the energy.  I want to climb out of my own body.  No one can come near me without making it worse, without seeming like a threat.  If someone touches me while I’m triggered it gets ugly.

Trust me when I tell you that this makes for difficult relationships.  My husband has learned to ask me if I’ve been triggered when I start pulling away and snapping at him.  My kids just don’t get it.  And I hate that everyone around me feels rejected because I run away from them.

While my recognition and coping skills have improved, I’ve been told by my therapist that it’s likely to be a part of my life forever.  My past experiences will always be a part of me.  There is always the possibility that something will remind me.  The panic attacks will diminish but may never go away entirely.

But these episodes are of shorter duration than they used to be.  It’s unusual for me to stay triggered for several days like I used to.  Usually my body recovers in about 20 minutes.  There is some residual emotion and tension, but nothing like the past.

There are so many people who struggle with the same thing.  So many people who are still victims of their own bodies.  I speak so that they will understand that there is hope.  They can get better.  They can feel safe again.  They have the power within them to find their way through.

Photo by Maggie Smith.  Courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Read more from Robin here.

Filed Under: MISC, Opinion Tagged With: , , , , , ,

The tease of spring

03/28/2011 By Robin Grosland 4 Comments

It’s spring!  No, it’s not.  It’s spring!  No, it’s not.  It’s spring!

But is it really?

According to the calendar, yes, it’s finally spring.  And for all those who eagerly anticipate her arrival it’s a day to rejoice.  The long, cold, dark winter is finally over.

But we all know that spring’s arrival doesn’t come like the flipping of a switch; one day it’s cold and the next day it’s warm for good.  Spring is a tease.  She knows we are waiting.  She knows the power she holds over our minds and bodies.  So she teases us.

Usually sometime in late February we have a glorious spring day (yes, I know it’s not really spring; I’m talking about perception here).  Maybe we have two or three in a row.  It feels so good to be warm.  Everything thaws.  Maybe we take the opportunity to get something done in the yard, a little winter clean up.  We walk around like we are in control because we don’t even need a jacket.  Some brave souls even venture to try shorts.

Then we are slammed with another snow storm!  Cold and more cold.  Back to the coat instead of the sweater.  Back inside.

But spring is not done with her little dance, so a few weeks later we get another false spring. She is totally toying with us and our emotions, but we give in and succumb to her lure.  We buy it.  We revel in it.  For a few days.

And then it hits again.  It seems like this storm is worse.  It’s like winter knows his time is almost past, so he has to give us one more big show.

But it is truly spring’s turn on the stage.  So she gets to decide when to push him off.  She’s here again.  But will she stay?

There’s a rule in my area that it’s not really safe to trust spring until after Memorial Day, at least not if you are a gardener.  There is still a good chance of another freeze.

But for now, I’ll take it.  I’ll trust her.  I’ll welcome her.  I’ll sit in my sun-warmed car and let her melt my bones.  I’ll throw on a light jacket or sweater and sit out on my lawn chair and read in the sun.  I’ll watch the daffodils push their way out of the ground to offer her their worship.

And if she fools me again, I’ll be okay.  Because it’s only a matter of time.  While she likes to tease, spring is too much the diva to give up the stage for long.  She’ll be back soon and she’ll put on a fabulous show.

And I’ll be watching.

Photo by Simon Howden.  Provided by FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Read more from Robin here.

Filed Under: MISC, Opinion Tagged With: , , , ,

Yes, dear

03/17/2011 By Robin Grosland 7 Comments

I would like to have a reverse image of those two words tattooed on my husband’s forehead.  That way, anytime he looked in the mirror, he would remember that listening to me would save him a lot of money and heartache.

I’m not saying that I’m always right.  But since I have a fear of failure I usually only voice my opinion if I am pretty sure.  I’d guess my accuracy is probably in the 80% range; when my husband disagrees with me, that brings it up to about 95%.  If I actually say it out loud, it is 99.99% certain to come true – kind of like a curse.

He knows this.  He will freely admit this.  However, in the moment, he still goes ahead with his choice instead of mine.

Early in our marriage we were driving up a mountain in a car that really wasn’t made for that.  It soon overheated.  We pulled over and he raised the hood.  Now, I don’t know a lot about cars, but I do know that when a car is overheated you DO NOT remove the radiator cap.  Especially when you can hear it bubbling.  How did he not know this?  He told me he would just loosen it to release a little of the pressure.  I said it was a bad idea.  He said it would be fine.  I took the baby and walked about thirty yards away.  Then I watched as he loosened the cap, jerked his hand back from the steam burn, and tried to escape the volcano of boiling water and antifreeze.  Good thing he was wearing his glasses.

Then there was the time he decided to put lights on the house for the holidays.  In the dark.  During a snowstorm.  With a staple gun.  On an aluminum ladder.  I suggested he wait until he could do it in the daylight.  He said it wouldn’t be a problem.  Since it was dark, he had the lights plugged in for extra illumination as he hung them.  All was going well until half of the lights went out.  Figuring he’d snipped one of the wires with the staple gun, he began feeling along the cord with his fingers to see if he could find the problem.  He found the problem – as his arm seized up gripping the live wire and pinning him to the ladder.  Luckily he was able to force his hand to release the cord, but not before receiving a nasty shock.

Which leads nicely to the story about when he had a heart attack (or not).  He’d slept in because he wasn’t feeling well.  I was out and about getting things done.  He called and told me he needed to go to the hospital.  He couldn’t seem to wake up.  He was having trouble breathing.  His chest was hurting.  He was sure he was having a heart attack.  I came home and did the traditional work-up.  What are your symptoms?  What were you doing?  Did you do anything different over the last few days?  He suckered me into taking him to the ER, even though I had this nagging suspicion there was something else going on (and he tends to be a hypochondriac).  When we got there they did the same work-up I did.  However, they also asked some other questions.  For instance, “What medications are you taking?”  He named one.  I asked about the other one – you know, the one I’ve told you over and over that you can’t stop taking suddenly, that you have to wean off of.  Yeah, he quit taking that a couple of days ago.   Suddenly.  Without weaning.  Nurses are wonderful people.  With a lot of self-control.  And the way I know that for sure is because the nurse didn’t slap him.  I could see on her face that she wanted to.  When the doctor checked him out I could tell he wanted to, too.  I definitely wanted to when we got the bill for $1200 for the ER visit and tests.  Wait, I might have actually done it.

But really, at that point, don’t you think you would, too?

Photo by Nutdanai Apikhomboonwaroot.  Provided by FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

Read more from Robin here.

Filed Under: Humor, MISC Tagged With: , ,

Hollywood has messed me up for life

03/02/2011 By Robin Grosland 9 Comments

Hollywood has seriously messed up my mind.  I’m not talking about the way it attacks my moral code with an abundance of sex, violence, and foul language.  That’s another matter entirely.

No.  I am talking about how Hollywood has changed the way I see reality.  It has created a world (or worlds) so real that when my life doesn’t go the way it looks in the movies, I am confused.  Suddenly things just aren’t right because they aren’t working out according to script.

When I have one of those moments, one of those DANG IT moments, when I do something stupid and would do anything to take it back I can’t figure out why it’s so set in stone.  Why is that thing I broke still broken?  Why can’t I wish upon a star and have it all better?  Why can’t I learn my lesson and have an angel or witch fix it?  Why don’t I get a magic remote to rewind my life or the ability to fly around the world and reverse its spin to turn back time?  These seem like completely plausible possibilities.  Why are they withheld from me?

Then there’s death.  This is something that is already tough to grasp, so tough it has its own cycle – the grief cycle.  Well, one of the steps in that cycle is acceptance and getting past that is nearly impossible when Hollywood rules are in play.  Maybe it wasn’t really my loved one that died; maybe he was a clone and my loved one is safe and sound.  Maybe he isn’t really dead; he entered the witness protection program.  Maybe he wasn’t really a living person; he was a robot.  Maybe there will be a twist in the space/time continuum and he will come back to me, complete and whole, from a time before the accident.  Or maybe it was all a dream.

And seriously, sex?  Hollywood sex is a lot like real sex except for a few things.  Only good and pleasing sounds happen during Hollywood sex.  There are only good smells present during Hollywood sex, like candles and flowers.  Hollywood sex is only messy in the good way, with clothes thrown all over in a passionate moment.  And only very attractive people have Hollywood sex.

Really, since Hollywood has become society’s teacher shouldn’t they be a little more accurate?  Or maybe they are accurate and I am just a minion of Big Brother come to challenge what you know to be true.  You never can tell.

Phot by Karl Binder.  Provided by FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

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Filed Under: Entertainment, Humor, MISC Tagged With: , , ,

I’m in love!

02/16/2011 By Robin Grosland 9 Comments

I am in love — that uncontrollable, undeniable, can’t concentrate, obsessed, just-want-to-be-with-them, always-thinking-of-them kind of love.

And *sh* don’t tell, but I’m not talking about my husband. 

(Okay, kind of.)

I’m talking about people.  People of all shapes and sizes.  All personality types.  All colors.  All walks of life.  The more, the better.

And I know that the phrase “in love” is generally used to describe romantic love but, with the English language being so imprecise, I’ve got to use what I’ve got.  And saying that I love people just doesn’t cut it.  It’s not powerful enough.

I am in awe of them.  I want to bask in their presence.  I want to soak up whatever it is that’s emanating from their souls.

I don’t get star-struck in the traditional sense.  I have no desire to meet famous people just because they are famous.  But there are people who come into my life, people who sometimes don’t even know I’m watching them, that floor me.

And there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason as to why I admire them.  Sometimes they have been through hard times and come out stronger and better.  Sometimes they are in the middle of hard times and are willing to show their pain.  And sometimes they make a comment that exhibits a depth of character that I didn’t know was there.

Sometimes it’s their mind.  They talk about things on a different level and invite me to come along.  They challenge me to be more; and I want to.

Sometimes it’s in their voice.  They speak with tenderness and a reverence that reminds me that I am from a higher place.  That there are angels with me.

Sometimes it’s their smile.  It’s not just a beautiful smile.  It’s warm and inviting.  It’s like hot chocolate.  Some people have a hot chocolate smile that they share with those they meet in this cold winter world.

Sometimes it’s in their handshake, as they look deep into your eyes and their eyes say that you are wonderful.  They’ve seen your soul and wholeheartedly approve.

Sometimes it’s in their hug.  A hug that gives and receives at the same time.  It makes you feel powerful.  It makes you feel humble.  It makes you feel you are more than before.

And sometimes it’s in watching how they interact with others.  It’s amazing what you can learn about a person just by watching them.

Those who inspire me the most, who give the most to me, are those whose souls are open.  They are secure in themselves spirit and body and want to share and grow together.  And they aren’t frightened if I openly love and admire them.

They are everywhere.  People who have seemed so two-dimensional for years suddenly blossom into three dimensions and beyond.  Flowers that radiate unimaginable colors.  Colors that warm and soothe and welcome.

Maybe they always were and I just didn’t see it before.  Or maybe it just took a while for them to find their wings and soar.

And you’re probably one of them.  Today, may you blossom and soar!

Photo courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net Admin.

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What they didn’t tell you about sex (but should have)

02/02/2011 By Robin Grosland 7 Comments

Do you remember when you and your parents had THE TALK?  You know, the one parents and teens dread in equal amounts?

If you’re anything like me the answer is no.  Not because I don’t have a good memory but because it never happened. 

My parents are conservative.  Not a little conservative, ultra-conservative.  Remember the two set of parents from My Big Fat Greek Wedding?  My parents are not the fun ones.

I’m pretty sure if any of us kids had ever asked my parents if they’d had sex they would have said no; even though they are the parents of four children.

This created some problems for me.  Some vacancies in my knowledge.

I got lots of answers from friends.  Lots from teen magazines.  Some from movies.  And some from boys.

But there was one area that never got covered.  There was information I desperately wish I’d had before I had any sexual experience.

I do not want my children to have the same problem.  We have been open and direct (and hopefully appropriate).  We answer questions.  We initiate discussions.  And we share information.

As each of my children comes of age this is what I tell them.

Sex is not something base.  It is not ugly.  It is not bad.  It is not dirty.  It is important.  And not just for procreation.

Sexuality is a vital part of human nature; it’s part of who we are.  Who we are meant to be.  And it is an important part of a couple’s relationship.

Sex is not something you owe someone.  Not anyone.  Not when you are dating.  Not when you are a couple.  Not when you are married.  Not because they spent a lot of money on you.  Not because it’s the next step.  Not because it’s your job as a spouse.  Not because it’s what they want. 

Sex is giving yourself to another person.  If it is taken from you or you give it unwillingly it will affect you negatively; I believe it will injure your soul.  It’s more than physical.  It’s more than mechanical.  It’s psychological.  It’s spiritual.  It’s a part of you. 

Sex should never be demanded.  It should never be coerced through force, manipulation, or guilt.  Persuasion, maybe sometimes.  Coercion, never.

Sex can be an incredible thing.  It is the ultimate physical bonding, becoming one.  When two people choose to be intimate in this way, it can be a spiritual experience.  It is powerful.

But like all power, it must be used wisely or it can be dangerous.  It must be respected.  Because it is a part of you.

And you are worth it.

Photo by Dynamite Imagery.  Provided by FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

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Filed Under: MISC, Opinion, Parenting, Spirituality Tagged With: , , , ,

Another reason to hate Stephanie Meyer

01/28/2011 By Robin Grosland 6 Comments

As if you needed another reason.  As if the swooning teen girls (and far too many of their mothers) were not reason enough.  As if rewriting the myth of vampires to suit her needs was not enough.  As if the fact that her shallow and salacious writing gets compared to — I’m so ashamed to even say this — Harry Potter with all its depth and development and, um, intelligence was not enough.

May I just say that even with all of that, I think there is a more important reason to feel disdain and loathing for the woman (or maybe it’s her people, but still her fault).

She and the Twilight franchise have completely and unabashedly hijacked the red-black-white color scheme.

These used to be classy colors.  Colors you wear to a formal ball.  Colors of a contemporary wedding reception.  Even really hot lingerie.

But not now.  Now red-black-white means vampires.  Mainly one vampire trying not to eat his girlfriend, the love of his life.

“When he looks at me with those eyes, and I know he wants to kill me but won’t, that’s how I know he loves me.”

Come on!  Really?  This is love?

I’m not going into a full rant about Twilight here.  There’s just not enough time or exclamation points for my true feelings.

But I will not surrender red-black-white to her.  I will not let those colors make me see the black cover, pale hands, and red apple (as in forbidden fruit — duh).

When I see those colors I am determined that I will see Victoria’s Secret on Valentine’s Day.  And I will feel good about it.  Take that, Stephanie!

***

Author’s note:

I have felt guilty since the moment I wrote this.  It’s been bugging me.  So I thought I should repent and say how very sorry I am.

In a moment of hyperbole, I implied that I hate Stephanie Meyer.  I do not.  I have never met her.  I am sure she is a very nice person.  A very nice, 14-year old girl stuck in a woman’s body, with a serious unfulfilled bad-boy fantasy, and in need of lots of therapy.  I apologize for judging her the way I did.  It was unfair.

There.  I feel so much better.

Photo by Clare Bloomfield.  Provided by FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

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My prayers are with you

01/24/2011 By Robin Grosland 12 Comments

My prayers are with you.

I wonder what you think when I say that.  Do you think I am a nut?  Do you appreciate my concern?  Do you shrug it off as meaningless and go on with your day?

I am a religious person.  I believe in God.  I pray and ask for His blessing to be upon those who are struggling, in whatever way.  I believe in the power of prayer.  I also believe in the power of people sharing their hearts and concerns.  Caring for others. When I offer my prayers for someone it is out of caring and concern.

However, I have recently found out that some people find it offensive if prayers are offered in their behalf.

I do not understand.  If someone of another religion prayed for me I would be grateful for their efforts even if I disagreed with their religious choices.  If someone who isn’t religious said they would keep me in their heart I would appreciate it.  I do not understand taking offense at someone offering support in the way that is meaningful to them.

I am afraid I have probably violated others’ feelings on this many times over.  I do not limit my prayers to people I know or people of my religion.  Often, as I read a news story, I find myself stopping to offer a prayer.  I pray for the families of those who have been killed.  I pray for the doctor who is performing a difficult surgical procedure.  I pray for the law enforcement officers that they might be protected and guided in their efforts.  And I wonder how many would be offended that I prayed for them. 

If someone asked me to not pray for them I wouldn’t.  I would respect their wishes.  But when those wishes are not known would they still find it offensive that I offered a prayer in their behalf?

And if it is offensive to some does that mean that I shouldn’t do it?  I sometimes think we have gone overboard trying to keep everyone happy.  There are some people who are just so easily offended.  Do I need to change the way I practice my beliefs to protect their feelings?  Should I change who I am so that they are more comfortable?

We still seem to struggle with religious differences.  People get angry when someone disagrees with them about whether God exists and what He is like if He does.  Or even if God is a he.  People seem to feel threatened that someone is challenging their beliefs.  I wonder if taking offense at my offered prayer is related to that.

I am not writing this to push religion or prayer.  I am seeking to understand.  Because I have tried to figure it out and I just don’t get it.

Photo by africa.  Provided by FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

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Filed Under: MISC, Opinion, Spirituality Tagged With: , , , ,

Who needs a sub?

01/13/2011 By Robin Grosland 3 Comments

A few weeks ago I was at my daughter’s basketball scrimmage.  Even though it was a scrimmage, they were playing hard.  The girls were getting winded, and there were a couple on the bench eager to get in.  The coach asked, “Who needs a sub?”

I was sitting right behind him and answered, “I do.”

He didn’t hear me.  And he didn’t have a sub for me anyway.  But it got me thinking — wouldn’t it be nice if life were a little more like sports?

There would be subs.  That alone makes it worth it.  After being up until 4:30am with sick and crying kids, what mother wouldn’t love a substitute mother to take over and get everyone up and off to school in the morning so she could recover?

There would be a clear definition of the goals.  In sports you work to score more points (less in golf) than your opponent.  But sometimes in life we work and work only to find out that we were working toward the wrong goal.  We thought we were headed in the right direction, but somewhere along the line we got lost.

There are also clearly defined rules.  Every sport has its rules and a governing body to set and enforce those rules.  Life can be vague.  Moral dilemmas occur in which we’re just not sure what the proper choice is.

You always know who your opponent is.  In football or basketball, you know who not to throw the ball to — their clothes are a different color than yours.  You know that they are working against your better interests.  Unfortunately, life isn’t always so clear about this.  Sometimes you spend a long time relying on and trusting another person only to have them turn on you and stab you in the back when it’s to their advantage.

Conversely, you have a team, you know who they are, and you are working toward the same goal.  When you are in heavy coverage, you can pass to someone else.  Sometimes in life we don’t have a very strong team.  Or we aren’t all playing the same game.

In sports you have a coach.  You have someone who is more experienced who can teach you and guide you.  Someone who can tell you what you’re doing wrong and how to fix it.  And who can direct others to help you.

You have fans.  There are people watching who are hoping you do well.  They are cheering for you.  They share your disappointment when things don’t go well.

Okay, it’s a loose comparison.  And I know you are going to say that some of these things are available in life if we’d only take advantage of them.  A spouse, friend, grandparent = a sub.  The law, police officers, judges, God = rules and a governing body.  A mentor, a parent, a grandparent, God = a coach.  Your interpretation will vary depending on your personal feelings and beliefs.

So if these things are available, do we take advantage of them?  Would your life be better if you thought of it as a sport and looked for these elements and opportunities?

I imagine it would.  I don’t think it would solve everything, but perception is important and every little bit helps.

What I want is my own personal commentator; and every time I accomplish something difficult I want him to shout, “GOOOOOOOOOOOAL!”

Photo by Salvatore Vuono. Provided by FreeDigitalPhotos.net.

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Filed Under: MISC, Motivate, Opinion Tagged With: , , , ,

My envy of video game characters

12/20/2010 By Robin Grosland 5 Comments

Okay, let’s forget the fact that video game characters usually get more than one life.  That’s a given for envy right there.

I am not a big gamer, but I’ve played a few.  And today I decided that I’d like to be a video game character.

I feel miserable.  My head hurts.  I’m exhausted.  And emotionally I’ve got the blahs.  What do I do now?

First, those things are not immediately visible to others.  That means others keep needing me, bugging me, asking me, telling me, whatever.  However, if I were a video game character I would have nice little status bars that follow me around.

I would have one for pain; it would be black.  When it’s high, it means I’m in bad pain so I can’t do everything I usually can until that is taken care of.  Either people would ask less of me or they would try to bring my pain down.

I would have one for energy; it would be green.  And when it’s low people would understand why I can’t go do things with them without getting their feelings hurt.

I would definitely have one for emotional stability; it would be shades of red.  High (light pink) - let’s play.  Low (cranberry) - baby me.  Flashing blood red – better run!

And better than all of that, just imagine how much simpler life would be if you had a “hint” button.  Don’t know what to make for dinner?  Hit the hint button.  Don’t know whether or not you need to take your child to the doctor for this?  Hit the hint button.  Don’t know the right response when someone is yelling at you?  Hit the hint button.  The possibilities are endless.

Plus, others in my life could use the hint button to find out how to help — and they would score points for it!  (C’mon, men.  You know how much you’d like a hint button for your wife.)

And for sure, I would want someone to write a full-blown cheat for me.  Enter this code and all levels immediately reach optimum, including clean house and full bank account.

But, alas, I’m not a video game character.  At least not outside my own head.  But in my head I am Xena, Warrior Princess.  Fighting for justice and ululating at the same time.  Now, that takes skill.

Read more from Robin here.

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Why can’t I shut up?

12/07/2010 By Robin Grosland 7 Comments

We’ve all had those moments when we wish we had a rewind button for our lives.  I remember distinctly having one when I broke the side mirror off my car.  If I could just go back ten seconds, I could be smarter this time.

Now I need a rewind button of a slightly different nature – one for my mouth!

I’m not even talking about those major gaffes like asking when someone is due only to find out she isn’t actually pregnant.

I’m talking about those times, when that little voice in my head says to keep my mouth shut, that I just keep right on going.  Like driving through a stop sign without even slowing down.

I have to bring something up with my husband and I just know he’s going to disagree.  So I get ready.  I’ve got at least two pages worth of arguments in my head ready to go.  I tell him what I want.  He asks why.  I give him my first sentence.  And he agrees.  (Seriously, didn’t he read the script?  I still have two pages to go.)  Rather than graciously thanking him and moving on, I keep going through the script.  I’ve already won; now I’m just throwing arguments at him rapid-fire.  Because I can.

Or my daughter does something foolish.  I can tell by the look on her face that she knows exactly what she did wrong and feels like a complete idiot.  The natural consequences of her actions will deliver the lesson in a way I never could.  Is that enough?  Of course not.  I am the mom.  I must lecture.  I must make sure that every possible point of education that can be addressed is.  As if she didn’t already feel miserable enough.  Nothing like having mom tell you how stupid you are to help you through a moment of regret.

And the most cliché?  I get a tasty tidbit of information about another person.  Something I know this person wouldn’t want everyone to know.  Something I know I shouldn’t discuss.  But I can’t seem to keep it inside my own head.  My tongue starts to itch.  My lips twitch.  And before I know it I am her; I am the neighborhood gossip.  Judging and unkind.

I know better.  And that voice of warning always speaks up.  Sometimes it even yells, but I don’t listen.  I want to be the one in the know.  The one who is right.  The one who knows better.  And everyone else must know that I am her.  The queen of information and knowledge.  The one who is never wrong and can always prove my point.

But really, I’m just a self-righteous jerk.

Read more from Robin here.

Filed Under: MISC, Parenting Tagged With: , , , ,

Depression

11/11/2010 By Robin Grosland 13 Comments

I have wanted to write about depression for a long time, but it’s a very difficult thing to do.  When I feel good, it’s tough to remember exactly what I felt like when I was depressed.  When I am depressed, I can’t write.  Or my thoughts are so dark that I don’t dare write about them.  People don’t really want to hear about it.  People want upbeat, happy, funny, whatever.  Not depressing.

But I am going to try today, on my way out of a depression.  Maybe I can do it justice.

I have been diagnosed with chronic major depression.  I am not talking about having a bad day or a bad week.  I am not talking about being depressed about failing at school or breaking up with someone.  I am talking about a kind of darkness that comes from nowhere and pins your soul to the floor and won’t let you up.  Crying uncle doesn’t help.  Turning purple doesn’t help.  You can die several times over and still not find pity in the eyes that stare you down.  Depression has no soul.  So it takes yours.

J.K. Rowling has said that the dementors in her stories are a representation of the depression she suffered.  When I heard that, I thought it was an apt symbol.  They are soul suckers.  Everything gets dark.  You feel like you’ll never be happy again.  You crumble to the ground and can do almost nothing to defend yourself.

You may be surprised to know that depression can be comfortable.  I can wrap up in it like a warm blanket, unwilling to let it go.  Think of all the movies that show someone falling asleep in the snow.  They will die if they don’t move, but they don’t care.  The people around them are worried, but they don’t care.  They just want to curl up and sleep.  “Leave me alone and let me sleep.”  It’s like that.

It’s very difficult to care about anyone or anything else.  The darkness is so strong.

Why would I shower?  I’m so tired and it’s so much work.  I’m not going anywhere.  Just leave me alone and let me sleep.

Why would I eat?  I’m not hungry and nothing sounds good and it’s so much work.  Leave me alone.

Why would I get together with friends?  I’m so tired and irritable.  I’d be no fun to be around and it’s so much work.  Leave me alone.

And it’s impossible to describe the exhaustion to the point that you can understand if you haven’t felt it.  Imagine wearing a big, heavy wool coat that is soaking wet.  And going three days without sleep.  Now try to get anything done.  Try to function.  And try to explain to the people around you that you are dying even though they don’t see it.  It’s like that.

Sometimes you wish someone would notice and try to make it better.  Then they do and it’s so much worse.  Everyone who hasn’t experienced it thinks they know how to make it go away.  They will tell you to do things that just make you stare at them with incredulation.  The things they are telling you are impossible.  It’s like they are asking you to fly.  It seems that impossible.

And you know you are making people around you worry.  You know you are hurting relationships.  And it just makes you feel worse.  You are bleeding to death and yet you are supposed to worry about them?

It doesn’t feel like there will be a tomorrow.  And if there is, you know it will be miserable like today.  Why put forth any effort?

It’s like that.

I am not looking for pity or understanding.  This is a meager attempt on my part to teach about something I know.  While I can.

Read more from Robin here.

Filed Under: MISC

The freeway – a metaphor for life

10/08/2010 By Robin Grosland 6 Comments

When I was a young driver the freeway terrified me.  Too many cars.  Too much speed.  Requiring split-second decisions.  The possibility of death with every passing car.  I didn’t really feel confident to handle the situation, but there I was.

If I’d had my way, I would have spent my life on small back roads.  Leisurely drives out in the country.  Only the occasional car sharing the roadway, waving as they passed.  No rush to get anywhere.  Beautiful scenery.  Perfect weather.  Peace and calm the entire way surrounded by heavenly nature.  No pressure.

And that’s the image I had in mind as I began my adult life.

I imagined everything going according to plan.  No pressure.  Logical decisions.  Going where I chose.  Beautiful scenery.  Peace and calm.

Yeah, right.  Life doesn’t always go according to plan.

Before I knew it I was on the freeway of life.  Too many split-second decisions; life or death decisions sometimes.  Going too fast.  Too many people in and out of my life.  My head was spinning and I had a white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

I missed my exit because I couldn’t make the lane change in time.  I panicked.

The guy behind me followed too closely.  I panicked.

There were too many cars all going over the speed limit.  I panicked.

But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned how to navigate the freeway with some sense of control.  If I miss my exit I can always take the next one and go back to the one I wanted.  If I make a bad decision in life, I can change my mind and fix it.  Very few decisions are set in stone.

If the guy behind me is following too closely I can switch lanes and let him pass.  If there are people in my life causing me stress I can choose to distance myself from them.  I can choose to change the relationship.  I can set boundaries to protect myself.

Even if everyone around me is going over the speed limit, I can choose to go at my own speed.  I can slow down.  I can go at a pace that works for me.  I don’t have to do everything all the time.  I can take my foot off the gas and coast for a while.

And I can decide to get off the freeway.  I can take alternate routes.  I can choose my own path.  I can take those back roads in the country.  I can enjoy the scenery and appreciate the beauty around me.

I have learned a lot by being forced onto the freeway.  But the most important thing I’ve learned is that I am the driver — and I am in charge of my journey.

Read more from Robin here.

Filed Under: MISC, Opinion, Spirituality Tagged With: , , , ,

Real simple for the barely functioning

09/15/2010 By Robin Grosland 6 Comments
DISCLAIMER:  This is not real advice.  Do not follow it.

***

I love Real Simple magazine.  I like to read it and dream.  I dream about a day when I will have the time, energy, and money to carry out all the wonderful ideas it gives me.  A day when my husband takes the kids and all the pets and goes far, far away.  For several days.  And I have no other obligations.

But reality, in all its wisdom and cruelty, slaps me in the face and I wake up.

So, here I offer my version.  Real Simple for the Barely Functioning — like me.

You walk through your world in a haze, one pile of stuff blending into the next.  Everything and everyone crying for your attention.  What to do?  Where to start?  How do you find the motivation when it feels like life is living you instead of the other way around?

Here’s your motivation:  The stress is your enemy!  Plain and simple.  You must vanquish it to survive.  And you must fight dirty.

Let’s get started.

Mail:  If it doesn’t contain money or isn’t from someone you love, throw it away.  All of it.  If it’s important, they’ll send you another one.  People who want your money will keep trying.  If you’re worried about identity theft, burn it instead.  That will be more satisfying anyway.  You will feel immediate superiority.  You won!

Email:  Delete it.  All of it.  Just start over.  There’s nothing prettier than an empty inbox.  Just like with snail mail, if it’s important they’ll send it again.  Plus now you have legitimacy when someone asks if you did what they asked and you say that you never got their email asking you to do it.  It’s the answer you want to give most of the time anyway; why not make it the truth?

Voice Mail:  Really?  Do I have to even type this?  You know what I’m going to say.  Delete it.  All of it.  Scan your caller id, if you must.  If there’s anyone there you really want to talk to, call them back and find out what they wanted.  But I’ll bet you find mostly irritating people that you didn’t want to think about, let alone talk to.  Now you don’t have to.

Dishes:  This one requires a little work upfront but will help in the long run.  Wash all the dishes in the house.  Stay up all night if you have to.  Then lock them up.  In anything that requires a key.  How about an old hope chest?  (I hope I don’t have any more dirty dishes.)  And buy disposables.  Paper plates.  Plastic spoons.  Everything and anything that will prevent you having to do dishes.  Push aside that desire to be environmentally responsible for a while.  We’re talking about your sanity here.  Sacrifices have to be made.  Besides, it’s temporary.

Nothing to cook with, you say?  No problem.  This fits in fine with my meal plan.  You won’t be cooking.

Breakfast/Lunch/Dinner:  One trip to the store for the week, except for dinners.  Tailor specifics to your needs.  Breakfast is cold cereal.  Lunch is a sandwich.  Dinner is Little Caesar’s pizza.  Every day.  For at least a week.  Depending on your beliefs, you may need to buy double the pizza on Saturday and refrigerate it for Sunday.  Every time someone asks what’s for dinner, you have the answer.  No thinking.  And someday when you decide to cook again, they will be grateful instead of turning up their noses.  Make sure you continue this meal plan long enough.  If they gripe when you start cooking again, then you didn’t do it long enough.  Try again.

Fewer decisions.  Less pressure.  Less mess.

Breathe!  Again, deeper this time.  Breathe!  Doesn’t that feel great?  Nothing like making the tough decisions to give you a little breathing room.

Maybe you would never really do any of these things.  But be honest, it feels good just to imagine yourself doing them, doesn’t it?

Read more from Robin on her personal site here.

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