Introverts...Unite! Alone! At home!

Pretty much everything I love or do requires me to be around large groups of people. For 3/4 of the year, I teach five high-school English classes, with a total of students ranging from 110-175 throughout the year (depending on semester-long electives). My past & current hobbies include blogging (hello!) and theatre, both with the interest of reaching as large an audience as possible. If I could choose one extracurricular activity to participate in for the rest of my days, it would be shamelessly attending concerts. And one vacation destination for the rest of my life? Without a moment's hesitation, it'd be the heart of Key West. So it often surprises people to learn that I'm absolutely, unequivocally an introvert.

I was intrigued to read an article earlier this year that describes the introvert's plight perfectly: it's not a matter of being shy, but rather finding peace and comfort in having time to yourself. In other words, introverts are not re-charged through high-energy, frenetic exchanges, but through moments of solitude, peace, and introspection.

I always have, and continue to, struggle with such a notion. Shouldn't being a mother...wife...teacher...daughter...sister...invigorate me enough to keep me fueled to face each and every day? Well, no.

See, for some of us, the natural recharging of life's battery requires time to one's self. For me, it's nothing fancy. I love blaring music (and dancing like -- thank the Lord -- no one sees), reading trashy magazines, and vegging out to any number of TV shows or movies. (Tom Petty, Stephen King's The Green Mile, and Once Upon a Time...I can barely contain myself...whew! And that's just a sampling of my introverted pleasures! ☺️)

And like any good modern woman, it results in feelings of guilt. After all, shouldn't everyone and everything in my world be enough? Yet again...no. Teaching lets me plan alone; blogging & acting let me become someone else; concerts let me hide in the noise; and Key West lets me be surrounded by people while given the opportunity to fall into the oceans and Gulfs of the world. 

See, we owe not a single thing to anyone. Life is here, a monumental yet humble offering...simply to live. Today, on the glorious seventh day of my Christmas vacation, my parents offered to watch my daughter for an undetermined number of hours so I could rest, run errands ... whatever. And God help me, I let them, with no small amount of guilt. I listened to music at an unacceptable volume (would you believe it ranged from Whitesnake to Wheatus to Mumford & Sons?!), took a nap, and read fanfiction about my favorite shows (some, admittedly, with dirty undertones). When I brought Grace home after mindless hours to myself...I was a better person. I'd had peace, quiet, and the chance to revel in solitude. And once again, I was ready to face the world...because God knows, as an introvert, I just sometimes need the chance to be alone. And hey, you out there, feeling the same way? Take that time; it's best for all of us.

Read All About It

I love the current rage of monthly subscription boxes. I get clothing from StichFix, craft projects for my little one through Koala Crate, and makeup via Ipsy, all without leaving my home and dealing with traffic or crowds. Students are even getting into it and sharing their finds with me. (One girl told me about PMS Package, a true monthly delivery with chocolates, bath goods, and other comforting items; I still can't decide if I'm flattered she shared with me or worried it was a less-than-subtle hint that Mrs. Deibler needs to relax. 😁) 

There's one exception to my anti-shopping-from-home stance: bookstores, my retail mecca. And today, I went on a quickie treat-yo-self splurge to indulge in the storytelling desire that's been tugging at me since, well, forever.

It's hard to find fault with a store that offers knot-making and other trivial activity kits, beautifully bound classics, a combination of literary and trashy paperbacks, coffee and pastries, and therapeutic coloring books, all within the first 20 steps.

So I didn't find fault: I found brand new (to me) treasures, just waiting to be discovered. How amazing/nerdy is it that I even love the bags from bookstores?! Dorothy on one side and Romeo on the other? Whew...be still my heart!

While I haven't actively participated in the adult coloring craze (it's on my to-do list, though!), I have continued indulging my love of fairy tales and journaling of various types...and all three choices are from the bargain table. Boom!

Then there was the need to feed my brain, to find a story that would be louder than the thoughts constantly running through my head. Buy 2, Get the 3rd Free? Success! And how Paulo Coehlo can sound so authentically like a modern working mother in the first 15 pages alone -- wow! Though I do recommend keeping Adultery (at least with this cover) away from your kids; Grace asked if it's a book about cherries and wanted to know where the pictures were...oops...

And so after about 20 minutes and $50 (many thanks to the B & N 25% teacher discount, by the way!), I'd brought the following home to add to my bookshelf, my bedside table, and anywhere & everywhere I felt the need to fall into a story, either told by someone else or of my own creation.

There's something absolutely intoxicating about a stack of books, just waiting to reveal their secrets to you. 

If you're already a reader, you know what I mean; if you're not, you'll either find out or miss out on your own. And with that, I'm off to the pages. 

Feminine Wiles

I've always had an oppositional response to challenges. Struggling with tragic childhood events? Get a symbolic tattoo on my 18th birthday (yep, the exact day). Diagnosed as potentially-diabetic while also being needle-phobic? Let's get a tongue-piercing. I can't write it off as an adolescent whim, either; as many of you know, my response to finding gray hairs was to go all-silver across the board.

I'm aware that my choices aren't always popular, respected, or understood. This year, on the first day of school, a student (who has since become a favorite) suggested I should have warned my new students about the skull tattoo on my foot since "people like that are scary." And would it shock you to learn that, one of the "people like that" has become a teacher he respects and with whom he finds value in her teachings (through his own admission and that of his father)? Imagine. That. 

See, I've never had much patience for people who make judgments on something as trivial as appearances. I've always taken the approach that, if you can't see beyond how I look, you don't deserve to know what else is there. But-- no shock -- the "real world" functions differently than I do. 

That "real world" includes my husband, whom I absolutely adore. When I came home last month with gray hair, he (shockingly) stood by the old adage, "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all"...until yesterday. At which point he expressed his first vocal response to my hair: "Are you going to dye it back soon? I'm tired of you looking like Gran."

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.

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OUCH. Better you'd kept your mouth shut, dear. No lie: his words hurt, and they hurt quite a bit. But they also made me curious. How does the world view aging men and women? I went to my greatest source of information: Pinterest (duh!).

Search for older men? Here's what I found. Charlie Hunnam - 35 years old (and admire my restraint at not posting more photos of him because 😋😋😋); George Clooney - 54 years old; Idris Elba - 43 years old; Robert Downey, Jr. - 50 years old; and Mark Wahlberg - 44 years old. Fine, none of them are teeny-boppers but, really?! 35-54 years...that's old?!!? 

 

Then, of course, you can compare with the results from older women. In addition to three nameless, beautiful older women (if you know who they are, please tell me, because they're stunning!), we get Iman  60 years old; and Helen Mirren (in a bikini, of course) - 70 years old. 

So the youngest (known) older woman is 60 while the oldest (known) older man is 54? Well, sorry (not sorry) to be blunt, but I call bullshit. Every single one of the "older" examples is a gorgeous display of beauty, regardless of age, yet they're not the be-all/end-all. Neither am I, not now nor have I ever been, especially as I'm not as thin or as well-rested as I ever was before having a child. To which every parent ever says: DUH. 

So...what's my point? Well, the world has absurd expectations, for all of us, really (because truth be told? Charlie Hunnam as the typical 35-year old man? Whew, how I wish!) and it's Just. Not. Right.

Are you seeking health, happiness, and all-around fulfillment? Well, congratulations then, kid, because there's nothing more you could ask for...Charlie or Helen notwithstanding. 😉

A Useless Thing to Say

He's right, y'know. Yet I find myself spending this lazy, dreary Sunday with the intention of doing a whole lot of nothing. Here's my home base for the day:

As soon as I woke up around 6 this morning, I fed the dogs (i.e. the very reason I was out of bed so early), made a mug of tea, and planted myself on the sofa with my pillow and comforter that had managed to cling with me when I got out of bed. 

I haven't been completely unproductive, though. Besides managing to feed the dogs and my daughter (woohoo!), I took down the tree, stored ornaments for next year, and stocked up on groceries for the week, all before noon. So I rewarded myself (while seemingly if unintentionally punishing my husband) by changing into something more comfortable.

Favorite work t-shirt? Check! Years-old sweats with paw prints on the butt (Go PSU!)? Check! Ooh, and don't forget the falling-apart slippers! 

I've even managed to convince my always-on-the-go girl to lounge with me,even if she has a real reason for it since there's a cold brewing in her. (As for the umbrella? No real reason; she got it from Santa and loves it, so...we relax with an umbrella in hand!)

I agree that "I'm bored" is a useless thing to say, and I also agree that the world and our own minds are endlessly vast. So why am I reveling in my sloth-like existence today? Well, it's because my mind is endless, and I'm not bored.

See, no matter the day or time, there's no busier place than in my own head. My to-do lists and obligations and concerns and intentions are never-ending, much like every other person ever. So when I sat down today and realized that I felt unhurried, I clung to it. It's an unusual and unfamiliar feeling. It might last only an hour or a day or a week, but right now, the lack of chaos in my head is as amazing as anything else I hope to experience. 

Sweet (day) dreams, friends. ☺️

Boom-Shocka-Locka!

Have you ever tried to pull one over on a toddler?! Because, seriously, it's like trying to trick a KGB-trained ninja assassin--nearly impossible. Yet tonight, Brian and I managed to do it, and I'm feeling pretty chesty about it.

Pretty G, right? Brian -- eh, he's not so impressed...

And he's sooo gonna kill me for this picture...love you, babe!

But here's the deal: this is the first year that Grace has an actual understanding of Christmas traditions, and we're helping her build that love and passion. How cool is that?! We started with the gingerbread village that, while to the professional baker is no doubt offensive, is just about the sweetest thing I could imagine since we made it together. (Please blame the poor aesthetics more on the ditzy 32-year old mother than the, you know, 3-year old.)

From there, we continued building the wonder with a ding-dong ditch from Santa, one where he left a bonus Christmas Eve gift on the porch because she's been such a good girl. Her Daddy and I answered the door with her, and the only thing brighter than her big blue eyes was the smile on her face. 

She was SO excited that Santa visited early (interrupting Blaze and the Monster Machines, no less!) that she played with her craft box from KoalaCrate until the very moment she had to go to sleep, even wrapping and re-wrapping the toys as practice goodies for Mommy and Daddy to open.

Right before bed, we had to take the next step: cookies & milk for Santa and carrots for the reindeer. Okay, fine, Eddie (our Scottie dog, more widely known as Dick Bag) jumped up and stole the cookies before she even fell asleep...but hey, she didn't realize that...instead, she'll fully believe Santa and the reindeer had an amazing midnight snack. 

And once we (okay, yes, I...Brian was sleeping like a baby) knew she was asleep, the elves got to work.

Christmas can be a difficult time of year...it can be, but it doesn't have to be. See, you just need someone to believe in the magic of it all, and my beautiful little girl, well, she's filling that role just fine.

Merry Christmas! 😍

Reel Problems

Today marked the last school day of 2015 (cue happy dance!!!), and I'm thrilled to have the next eleven days away from work. One of my favorite parts of having bonus time at home, especially over Christmas, is the offering of movies that typically only appear for a short time during the year.

The other night, I had the glorious (über-first world) problem of having to choose between three of the best movies for this time of year since they were airing ALL AT ONCE:

I know, I know...oh, the humanity, right?! But what a fun potpourri of stories and messages to be had between The Wizard of Oz, It's a Wonderful Life, and The Nightmare Before Christmas. And if you're curious about which film won?

What can I say? My girl shares her momma's penchant for the less traditional options. (Though I did DVR It's a Wonderful Life to watch in full later.)

 

Since then, and really just since arriving home around 3:30 this afternoon, I found some other favorites that've been waiting since last December to grace my screen. The first is perhaps my all-time favorite, a children's version of Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol: Mickey's Christmas Carol. Isn't Goofy the sweetest Marley you've ever seen?! Even if his chains did terrify me as a kid!

As with many things that make the transition from childhood to adulthood, it's actually much smaller (shorter and simpler) than I remember, yet I love it all the same, and I'm sure I always will.

A recent favorite, one I watched despite my general distaste for Will Ferrell and at the recommendation of my friend Nicole (and about a million students), is Elf. It's kind of tough to find fault with a movie focused entirely on pure love, enthusiasm, and joy, particularly for Christmas.

Then there's my all-time favorite, one that absolutely reeks of its revelry in the '80s (seriously...it's really kind of offensive in all of its neon, teased-hair glory): Scrooged. As if Bill Murray wasn't reason enough...well, no...if you need explanation beyond Bill Murray, I'm afraid I can't help you. 😉 (Though Carol Kane, Alfre Woodard, and an Annie Lennox/Al Green soundtrack don't hurt!)

For all my love of Christmas movies, I must make a painful admission. My goal for this break is to watch two Classic movies I've never watched in their entirety, at least since I mold enough to remember them: A Christmas Story and Christmas Vacation. Much like everything else in life, Christmas is about the stories (and...ahem...don't forget the most important story in all of your watching/reading...). After all, in a time meant to bring people together, what better way than to curl up with loved ones on a nice, cozy couch as a movie unfolds before us? 

Happy viewing, and Merry Christmas!!!

Crazy Train

Today was my quarterly doctor appointment for a "med check." If you're unfamiliar with that term, it's a (somewhat) inconspicuous way of saying, "Hey, we need to monitor your pills -- let's touch base." For me, we touch base about my anti-anxiety meds (or anti-depressants, whichever term you prefer...same difference). It struck me when I left that, while it didn't start this way, I've actually reached a point where I enjoy this check-in.

Like I said, it didn't start that way, not any of the times I've started up such medicine. As long as I can remember, I've been prone to anxiety. The doorbell rings? Someone's scoping out the house to break in. I call family and there's no answer? Clearly, they've died a violent and painful death. My husband isn't home at his normal time? There's been an accident, and no one's been able to reach me yet. So, as you can see, my mind is a wild and wooly place that veers into the darkest possibilities and takes just about everything far, far too seriously.

As you'd expect then, it took me a l-o-o-o-n-g time to even go to the doctor for help. Why? Well, I was too worried, of course. Seriously, though I really wish I was exaggerating! Anxiety about anxiety: who knew?

My first foray into pharmaceutical balance was when I was about 16, and I was so scared it meant I was "crazy." I've been fortunate to have great doctors, though, who thoughtfully allow that, based on my life and perceptions of it, I can benefit from "some smoothing out." Apparently, English teachers aren't the only ones with a knack for delicate wording.

Since then, I've bounced on and off a few different medications to help ease the sting that life (and my genetic predisposition) offers. For the longest time, I've been ashamed to acknowledge this need for myself, both with doctors and especially with friends, family, and now, casual Internet acquaintances. Yet somehow, over time, I've come to find an easy comfort in both the medicine itself and the regular check-ins with my awesome doctor. She is a working mom with a toddler, and the majority of each appointment is spent laughing and chatting about our kids and in-laws. At some point, she invariably asks about my thoughts on the medicine, adjusts (or not) according purely based on my input, and then jump back to water-cooler chitchat. 

Today, as I was leaving and laughing with her and the receptionist about the joys of decorating cookies with a little one, I realized that I'm starting to find balance.

Being a teacher?  Stressful and fulfilling.

(Yes, this an actual photo from one of my classes...I love my kiddos!)

Being a wife? Stressful and fulfilling.

(Yeah, I know the picture doesn't match; I don't generally take pictures during our tense moments.)

Being a mom? Stressful and fulfilling.

So, what I'm finding is that life itself is both stressful and fulfilling. (Duh!) I'm also finding that, for various reasons, I need a little outside help at finding that balance, and that's okay. Does the medicine actually help? Hell if I know. What's more important is that I've accepted that I do need help, I sought it out, and it allows me to be better at, well, all of my responsibilities in life. 

Life isn't perfect, and God (and everyone!!!) knows, neither am I. But that doesn't mean that, with a little help from my friends, I can't stop trying.

On the Other Hand...

Looking back at yesterday's guest-post from the Grinch, I realized how very cynical and bitter I sounded about the holiday season. While it's true that I'm struggling with some holiday blues right now (and, really, who isn't in one way or another?), I want to share the other perspective of this past weekend and the upcoming days.

This is the first year that Grace really understands the frivolous ideas of Santa, naughty and nice, and reindeer, so seeing these timeless concepts through brand-new eyes is beautiful and bizarre, almost like running a beloved film in reverse.

She literally made a list to share with Santa, and she didn't sleep through meeting him or cry like some kids do; rather, she settled onto the jolly man's lap and thrust her list in his hands. 

She made sure he read each item, took back her list (it is hers, after all!), and hopped off his lap, absolutely certain that she's covered her bases for optimal gift delivery.

From there, she begged to wrap gifts. This was particularly strange because most of the gifts are for her baby cousin, and it took some work over the last few weeks to convince her he deserves them. (But be real...who could deny this cutie gifts?!)

Not only did she help wrap and then stack the gifts into a neat pile; she even selected the puppy-print paper, one of her favorites.

After gift-wrapping (which, yes, we did with the Christmas music station on!), I figured we'd go all-in on the holiday theme and reveal my big weekend surprise to Gracie: a gingerbread village! For a little girl who loves cooking, crafting, and candy, this was the epitome of seasonal joy...though she did like the bubble wrap quite a bit, too...

And even though I didn't expect him to join us, when she asked her daddy to help, well, he couldn't refuse.

And all of that lead to an ideal flash in time, a warm and cozy weekend snapshot in the midst of Christmas chaos. 

So...am I stressed about the holidays? Yep. Will I be glad when they've passed? You bet. Would I trade any of these moments with my family for an easier season? Not a chance.