I am enough, the moving edition

I'm sitting here on 8:15 on a Saturday morning, eating mushy leftover Pad See Ew (which is my favorite Thai noodle dish, but can go horribly wrong so ordering it from someplace new is a risk...  Vegan House's on Sunset--not good.  Order the wonton soup from there instead and keep looking for good Pad See Ew in Silverlake) and drinking a diet coke (yes, liquid poison) that I squirted my daily dose of B6 and magnesium into (as if that somehow makes it okay) and waiting for ...looking for ...asking for inspiration.

And like usually happens when I ask, I received (if this doesn't happen for you, let's talk about it).

Today's inspiration came through a few things I had saved to my reading list within the last couple weeks and finally clicked on today:

• “We become successful by admitting we are not perfect, rather than trying to be perfect and thinking that we’re not enough.” 
• "Although I had let go of trying to be “perfect” I was still striving to be better... I realized that I had worn myself out living the hustle to become better."
• "Instead of trying to be perfect with poise and grace, I am now trying to be imperfect with poise and grace." 

Of course Mastin is on the list... it's funny, ever since I admitted he irritates me I find his work to speak to me even louder.  I guess I just needed to release the "irritation" by saying it out loud (sorry for being a jerk, Mastin).  And now Tracey Clark, who seems to be telling my story...

...and with just a few paragraphs from these two I have been reminded that I am enough.

I have actually been avoiding reading things like this for a while because, like Tracey, "I realized that I had worn myself out living the hustle to become better."  I have purchased/downloaded/saved enough reading material from potential sources of inspiration of these to last me years... but they are nothing if I don't integrate the material into my reality.  So after collecting sources of inspiration for months and feeling uninspired, I walked away from it for a little while.

Today I needed some inspiration, I came back here, and found it... and now what?  Time to integrate!

Why was I seeking inspiration in the first place?  I am moving in 5 days and I haven't packed a single box and (maybe more importantly) I have no desire to.  This feels...  um...  awkward.

What's true: My sink is full of dirty dishes.  There are piles of laundry in various forms (dirty on the floor, dirty in the hamper, clean in the washer but soon to be dirty again if they don't make it to the dryer soon, clean in the dryer, clean in the basket but not folded, clean-folded-but on the couch still) in every room in the house.  Spiderman's temperature is climbing past the 100 degree mark as the pathogens that resided inside me earlier this week invade his little body and he's hunkered down in front of the TV where I intend to leave him all day.  I feel a bit clogged and foggy (literally) because my ears are full of congestion that hasn't drained yet.  I have work to do for my 2nd job and I am on a pretty strict deadline.

Things clearly aren't perfect, and that's okay!  Really!  Things haven't been perfect in a day to day sort of way for weeks (months?) and I am so much more comfortable with being imperfect than I ever have been before that I barely even notice it.  I love and accept myself fully, the dark and light bits--the firm and jiggly bits--the sweet and sour bits--the loving and nasty bits, nearly all of the time.

In fact, I'm realizing that since I've started embracing my imperfect-ness, I've managed to become comfortable with being imperfect while doing all of the following (and probably more, but this is what I can think of in this imperfect moment):

1. Parenting
2. Housekeeping (who are we kidding, I was always okay with doing this imperfectly)
3. Leaving an old job
4. Starting a new job
5. Working as a contractor for an old employer
6. Commuting
7. Changing my hair
8. Maintaining friendships
9. Making new friends/connections
10. Blogging about a FULLfillment project
11. Getting myself ready for the day
12. Maintaining an exercise routine
13. Feeding myself
14. Practicing radical self care
15. Co-parenting with a former spouse
16. Being a daughter
17. Participating in challenges to introduce new habits
18. Loving myself
19. Loving other people
20. Having feelings

That's a solid lot of imperfection practice.

Still, with all of this acceptance of my imperfection in my normal life... I find I haven't been satisfied with the pace of my progress towards moving.

What's also true: I haven't done any of things I had planned on doing for the move by now: I haven't sorted through old clothes and toys to separate out what's no longer used for donating; I haven't gone through the piles and piles of documents to toss out what's irrelevant; I haven't made any lists, project plans, flowcharts, diagrams, or maps.  In my previously perfect process of moving I only got through step 2 (step 1: measure new home, step 2: create scale floor plan, step 3: create scale furniture pieces and rearrange to perfection, step 4: pack immaculately organized/labeled boxes with FULL list of contents on the outside and specific destination, step 5: move) and then I just stopped.

And couldn't quite figure out why.  I mean, I knew I was sick and tired and would need to let some things go, but then I got better and when I had the time to get back on track with step 3 and beyond, I didn't.  I felt stuck.  The truth is, when I came here for inspiration this morning, I was looking for something to inspire me to reach my previous perfection... and (thank goodness!) I found the opposite.

Now I can see that because I wasn't going to be able to do it perfectly I didn't want to/couldn't figure out how to do it!

One of the curses of being a fast processor is that I sometimes integrate things into my life at such a rapid pace that I quickly forget that they are new and need tender, loving care to set roots and grow.

With this in mind I can see that I am going to embark on a few major things in the next several months that I haven't done imperfectly before.  I am going to:

1. Pack, move, unpack a home
2. Go to school
3. Parent an elementary school kid (eek!)
4. Have an emotionally/physically intimate relationship with another person (I don't actually know this, just hopefully anticipating...)

Yowza.  I have a feeling I'm in for a LOT of new experiences.

And this is why I'm looking forward to them...  What's REALLY true: I am enough.  I am so enough that my enoughness isn't impacted by cupcakes, oversleeping, or skipping makeup and the hairbrush.  I am so enough that my enoughness isn't changed by dirty dishes, crying at preschool dance performances, or the absence of a plan.  I am so enough that my enoughness isn't even touched by a last minute, haphazardly thrown together move!

Phew, being imperfect is a lot of work!

Gotta run.  Gotta go imperfectly pack a house.

dear everyone and no one

A lot of the noise in my head this week has started with the ever-popular Facebook status meme "dear so and so, ..."

Here's a collection of mine from this week.  Hopefully this will get it out of my system.

Dear fellow road-warriors of Los Angeles,

I understand that my tendency to accommodate requested lane changes and pedestrian crossings is unusual here, but I'm new...  and moved here with a pretty solid sense of self so your honking and cursing aren't going to change my mind about what's right.

Thanks for trying to teach me the rules of the road,

Kate

Dear Tomatoes,
For 32 years I have been picking you out if everything you come in. Two days ago I enjoyed you in a sandwich accidentally and I've been tolerating on purpose ever since. You're not that bad after all. 

Here's to something new, Kate

Dear women of The Real L Word, 

Did you know that people are watching you have sex with your real life partner(s) on TV?  Like, for real.  We can see you.  Do you know that?  Just wondering.

Love the show, 

Kate

Dear Pizza, 

Please stop tasting so good.

You'd be doing me a solid, 

Kate

Dear Vegan Cheese, 

Please start tasting better.

Please, 

Kate

Dear Kaiser, 

When I use your online appointment request system and you respond with a message to me that my symptoms may be a sign of an urgent condition and then instruct me to call in for nurse advice re: treatment instead of scheduling an appointment for me you are actually delaying my treatment.  Treatment usually happens at appointments.  Schedule me a damn appointment so I can get treatment for my "urgent" condition.

Geez,

Kate

Dear Self,

That water isn't going to drink itself.

Bottoms up,

Kate

Dear wifi modem, 

I know you're sad that I'm leaving, but do you think you could hold it together and make the most of the short time we have left by actually working?  I'd love to give you the attention you need but visiting you every 20 minutes to perform a manual reset isn't my idea of quality time.

Trying to stay connected, 

Kate

Dear immune system,

Let's kick the snot out of this thing.

Literally.  I've got things to do.

Love you,

Kate

Dear neighbor kids who have been experimenting with "ding-dong ditch,"
I'd go tell your parents... but you're never being supervised and I'd hate for you to be beaten just for having some childish fun. So instead... I'm just leaving my door open. Come over anytime. 

Neener neener,
Kate

Dear freeway, 

Maybe just a little break?  A little one?  Teeny tiny?  One day, or even just one way one day?

Consider it, 

Kate

Who do you need to send a message to?  Share yours on Facebook or Twitter :)

warriors birth warriors and worriers birth worriers

After enjoying the simplicity of Sunday afternoon on my shag rug I returned home just in time for a spiking fever to send me to bed.  BFO was gracious and generous enough to bring Spiderman home so I didn't have to go get him (11. BFO is gracious, 12. BFO is generous) and I was relieved knowing that 8:00 p.m. on Sunday would bring a sleepy boy and this momma could get back to resting quickly herself.

But I was terribly uncomfortable: throbbing head, aching body, shivering/shaking/sweating, all that lovely stuff and I was reminded in an awkward moment how connected Spiderman and I are.  He usually returns from his weekends away with BFO like most people return from a weekend in Vegas; he had a great time, but he is tired... and after a bit of complaining about the fun times left behind he falls comfortably into my arms and into slumber shortly after.

This time he sat awake.  And every time I tossed or turned in discomfort he did the same.  As I would start to drift off and then be jolted away by a new pain he would sit up and say he couldn't sleep.  We were on the same rhythm... and the melody was flat and droney.

He fell asleep around 10 and we made it through the night (I spent most of it on the couch retching and waking in terror from nightmares about vampires, abandonment, and abandonment by vampires) and in the car the next morning we had this amusing exchange.

Spiderman: Momma, why is your arm so big?
Me: (Touching the top of my arm at first and starting to say 'because I'm a grownup' while thinking about how to explain what fat is)
Spiderman: No momma.  Not the top, the bottom part that's hanging down and droopy, why is that so big?
Me: (laughing.  note to world: if you aren't laughing at the cruel things your child says to you, you are missing an opportunity to laugh) Because momma used to eat a lot of food and then not do enough exercise and that made fat cells grow on momma's body like these here (jiggles arm flap).
Spiderman: You need exercise for a healthy body.  You need to exercise every day.  Like lifting those orange things (weights) and getting on that balance thing (elliptical).
Me: Yes, sweet heart.  We all need healthy food, water, exercise, and sleep for a healthy body.  Every day.

-end of conversation-

Cue to that evening (at least 12 hours later) when we've pulled into the garage and I'm getting him out of his carseat when he inquires with a scrutinizing scowl on his precious face:

"Momma, did you do your exercise today?!"
"Yes, love.  I did." 
"hmm.  good." (with the intent scowl remaining)

(between you and me, I am counting the two flights of stairs between my parked car and my new apartment and the few trips I made it up and down as my exercise for the day.  I'm sick.  It counts.)

I didn't sacrifice hours of sleep and personal space nursing and co-sleeping with this child for many years past the comfortable American "norm" to have him think that HE needs to take care of ME.  Again, after years of being age appropriately honest with him and avoiding trickery and bribery no matter how tempting it is, there is NO reason why he shouldn't trust me.

Except one: we share a nervous system.

Oh yeah, that one.

my inner child. :)

"Do what I say, Not what I do" isn't just ineffective because it is hypocritical, it is in effective because children are intuitive sponges with their internal radios dialed to their caretakers' frequencies.

Whether I give him anything to worry about or not, he will worry if I worry.  Whether I tell him to care for himself first or not, he will feel responsible for others if he sees me do it.  Whether I encourage him to play and be youthful or not, he will prioritize being "grown up" if that's what he sees me do.

If I needed a reason to embrace play, or to infuse my life with silliness and joy...  that would top them all.

okay sweet boy, are you ready for this?  we're going goofy and carefree!

(someone out there: protect us?  please!)

what transformation feels like

I am sick.  My body is trying to give me the gift of a slower pace.  And I'm accepting it.  To alleviate discomfort I've pulled out the neti pot and the willow/garlic ear oil and am sucking on herbal vitamin C drops... and primarily I've allowed myself to slow down.

It's really not the ideal time to slow down.  I have one week left in my contract with former employer and several hours worth of work to do.  I am moving to a new home in 11 days and haven't packed a single box nor hired a moving company.  I am done fighting with BFO, but not because the issue of childcare and money and visitation has been resolved... just because I realized that I am not a fighter so I stopped fighting and started loving instead (it feels much better).  Oh, and I still have a  normal day job and a child to tend to.

I could pump my body full of dayquil and caffeine and go about my business trying to postpone this head cold for a more convenient time, but after at least 6 weeks of not watching a single television program without also doing something else at the same time: working, cooking, cleaning house, trying to go to sleep... I really enjoyed just lying on the couch and watching a full episode of So You Think You Can Dance in one sitting.

So, I've given in to the slower pace and in it I've found something lovely.  I think it's peace.

the rug.  it and me are both enough.

On Saturday The Angry Wombat and I went up to LA to get the keys for my new home and took a few things from the old house with us.  While we were there we found a cool red velvet couch at a yard sale next door and a red (and orange and purple) shag rug at IKEA.  We went out to lunch and puttered around the neighborhood doing nothing in particular.  We came back and set up the fish tank and brought the plants out to their new home on the balcony.

On Sunday when I returned to feed the fish and water the plants I took a book, takeout channa masala, and water with me.  And I stayed for four hours.  No internet.  No TV.  No talking.  Just me and chickpeas and the fish and the plants and the new rug and the balcony and the sunshine and the fresh air and a book that I didn't end up opening.

After eating, as I was lying on the rug staring out the sliding glass door I realized that I had no desire to go back to the old house.  

I used to LOVE moving.  Especially the packing/unpacking part.  I loved the feeling of accomplishment and security that came from neatly packing and labeling each box with its destination and contents.  And I was often so far ahead in packing that by the time I moved and began the process of unpacking I had forgotten about my own possessions and it was like shopping in my boxes with something new in each package!  As a Taurus (or maybe just as myself) I love things.  I like to see them, touch them, collect them, get attached to them.  I appreciate beauty and I love my stuff.

So, I'm lying there... searching for that old feeling, not seeing it anywhere, and wondering if it will return when my ears stop aching and then I realized something.  The things I brought from the old house were living things: the plants and the fish.  And with the exception of Spiderman (who I would pick up from BFO that evening) nothing was missing.  If I had been given the opportunity to start living there right that minute and in exchange I would have to give up on all of the possessions left behind at the old house... I would have taken it.  Gladly.

And it felt so freeing.  Moving from a 1600 square foot house into a 600 square foot apartment without the luxuries of water and ice in the fridge door or my own inside laundry was something I told myself I would be able to do if I could value living the simple life.  I'm not sure if I really believed that though... I just said it to myself a lot.

Apparently, often enough, because in my tiny, simple apartment with myself and the other living creatures in my life close by (or at least in my heart), I felt complete.

And I lied there (there was a lot of lying down this weekend) and thought, this is what it feels like to be different...  I did it.  Cool.