The Time Traveler, Nondairy Options and Cat Hair
This is a terrible title for this piece, “The Time Traveler, Nondairy Option and Cat Hair,” but “Winter of My Discontent” seemed too copy catish. And maybe a little too severe. This is more about the accumulation of little things, that if I’m not careful, threaten to cloud an otherwise pretty happy existence. My focus has been blurred!
I went for a run at 5:20 a.m. one morning last week, managing to shove my feet into my shoes, down a quick cup of bitter coffee (I do lots of sugar, just not in my coffee) and get my zombie self out the door. I want to be clear that it does not come naturally for me to exercise first thing in the morning, it is an act of a woman desperate to feel better. Exercising regularly really does help me keep the edge off, I like to say. The edge has been closing in lately and it has been infringing on my ability to enjoy much of anything. I get home and try to enjoy being with the family, but I feel distracted. Tired. An absence of joy. I’m not sure why at the is particular moment when my life circumstances haven’t changed all that much, malaise has settled in. Well, I do have a new job where I have to be in the office every single day, which I realize I have done for most of my adult life but after the pandemic feels, you know, a bit much. Also, I used to exercise at lunchtime when I worked from home and I no longer have that luxury. And getting into the swing of things in my new role and understanding where to step and where not to step in a very large organization is taking longer than I anticipated.
Also, the weeks are flying by and I feel like I am not accomplishing anything and that I have a long list of obligations that I find depleting. There is no time to simply just be. The kids have soccer on Saturdays. Is that really so terrible, you ask? Well, it is lonely sitting there amongst parents that have known each other for years, and who yell nonstop at the kids on the field, a litany of instructions mixed with cheers mixed with putdowns. They yell so loud that the coach has trouble making himself heard. I sit there in solitary silence and clap when they clap. Other parents enjoy this experience. Why don’t I fit in?
Our kids are on separate teams, so we divide and conquer. My husband is able to provide constructive feedback and actually watches the game when my son plays whereas I am something of a lump on a log, unhelpful. I just want my daughter to get some exercise and have fun. Winning has not been on my agenda. I tried to convince her to let my husband watch her game instead of my son’s, but she was emphatic: she wanted mommy.
On one hand I am thrilled that she still wants mommy. She is turning nine this weekend and I have a tsunami of emotion about it that has come out of nowhere, this horrible sinking feeling that I have somehow missed her girlhood entirely. I blinked and it is gone and I didn’t pay close enough attention. I let my mind be consumed with little annoyances instead. I know — nine is still a kid. But you should see her. She is a little lady, always with her nose in a book and if not, she is busy telling me how the world is. She is definitely not a little girl anymore. I am so proud of the hard working, determined person she is, but also sad that time is so fleeting. I guess I am spending too much time looking back instead of forward.
The person who sits across from me at work has Dove chocolates on her desk and I have been a daily visitor to her candy dish. In addition to a gently shaped square of silky smooth chocolate, they offer words of wisdom in the wrapper. One that I have repeatedly received (I won’t tell you how many times because I don’t want to divulge the severity of my chocolate addiction) says to look to the future because looking backwards is only for time travelers. Is this my problem, looking back? I was a History major; that’s what we do, we look back! Another one says to throw kindness around like confetti. I throw the wrapper in the trash and wonder if it is my lack of kindness that is behind my current malaise.
Something that has added to my enjoyment in life is being involved with the mentorship program through a professional organization for women in the Transportation industry. In the past it has given me boost of inspiration and helped foster more genuine connections to other people, something it is hard to find the time to do in busy adult life. This go round I have taken to bringing morning refreshments. What used to be simply bagels and cream cheese when I was a mentee in the program has turned into a smorgasbord of yogurt and muffins and fruit. Honestly, I may have gotten a little out of hand. I was just trying something to bring me joy since I seem to be short on the emotion lately.
My increased efforts have been met with kind words but also a bit of criticism, and that’s the only part I’ve really heard. You really could use more options friendly for those of us on carb restriction. I grumbled under my breath, but this came from someone I really like, so the next time I brought little containers of cheese and nuts in addition. That week, the woman I sat next to said, Oh are you the person who brings the food? You really could use some more dairy free options. I pointed out there were bananas, bran muffins and apple pastries, to which she replied, I’m allergic to apples. (I googled it because I, too, asked is that really a thing, an allergy to apples? It is).
And now for my final example of thwarted joy. An old coworker has been trying to set up a small get together for months. A date was finally set for this weekend. And it is a busy weekend, not so ideal, and I should have said as much but calendaring is not my strong suit. So it’s Friday night girls get together for my daughter’s birthday (that is over with; I sat on the couch in a stupor watching their boundless energy as they affixed glitter tattoos to their arms and legs), followed by soccer, followed by swim, followed by cleaning the house for my daughter’s family party, followed by said get together, followed by my daughter’s family birthday party (at which we will dress as witches and wizards in keeping with the Harry Potter theme. My son will don his old grim reaper costume and show up as a dementor because I forgot to order his wizard costume), followed by husband leaving town for a business trip. He asked, understandably because he is tired too and just wants time to be, couldn’t we just reschedule? No, no we could not. Socializing is supposed to bring joy! It can not be further delayed.
We very, very rarely get together with other people and our anemic social existence is something that weighs on me. Shouldn’t we have, you know, like friends? The worst part is I realized a few days ago that these people have cats. My husband is, he has reported, highly allergic to cats. I didn’t think about it at first because we are never around cats and had sort of forgotten the fact. I haven’t told him yet, somewhat guiltily holding this piece of information in my mouth like a cartoon cat who has just closed its jaws on a canary. I know I should tell him. I need to. I will.
Anyhow, you get the gist of how it seems to be going lately. Like the Taylor Swift song, It’s me, Hi, I’m the problem, it’s me (that song is not good for my mental health but it is stuck on repeat) and the things I am choosing to focus on and pay attention to. This is why I run. To get ahead of it, move beyond it, for once clear my mind of the sad looking back, screaming soccer moms, the unplanned cat hair and the burdens of being a people pleaser (spoiler: you can’t please everyone).
But I do think it is true that paying attention to the things worth paying attention to, those things that sustain us and bring us joy, is harder than it sounds. Maybe some of us struggle with it more than others. Maybe I need to play the glad game, as my mother calls it, and count the things to be happy for — which are not small things — my physical health, my beautiful children, both sets of grandparents who are helping us raise our children, my husband who does so much (he cooks! He vacuums! He loves going to Costco! He loves me, even when I’m grumpy which is a lot lately!)
I don’t mean to be dismissive of my emotions. Some of the things going on are not small (new job is a big deal, approaching menopause is messing with my equilibrium). It’s just I realize that the stuff never stops. If it’s not one thing, it’s another, so I need to figure out how to better maintain my perspective. When we focus on the little things they become bigger and take up more space than they should in our heads. But maybe there is also value in being honest about all the accumulation of little things weighing us down. I’m writing them down so I might let them all go.
Fly away, life’s petty grievances, fly!
