Hyper-Focus

Sometimes, I have trouble focusing. I'll have a project to edit, or a paper due, or laundry to be done, or dishes to wash, and suddenly I can't focus on the thing I need to do because distractions pop up everywhere.

Other times, I hyper-focus.  I'll get something in my head, and it's all I can do to try and think about something else.

The first one, I think, is a pretty common thing. We have something that needs to be done, that may not be that much fun, and we make excuses so we don't have to do it. The second one, though...it worries me sometimes. Let me explain why.

When I say I hyper-focus, I mean that to an extreme...I'll get something in my head, like crocheting, and it's like my fingers get twitchy until I'm trying out whatever crochet idea I had up there. And that's on a good day. On a bad day, it might be the way someone's eyes, or hair, or clothes look, and the fact that I need to try everything I can to look that way, too, and if I can't, my whole body gets twitchy. My shoulders hunch, I wrap my arms around my stomach, I stutter and my eyes dart around.

Crazy person.

I find myself, a lot of the time, comparing the way that I look, talk, act, am, to the girls that are either around me, or the girls that are/were in my husband's life. That's not healthy. Not at all, but I keep doing it. It's not every girl...there are lots of girls that are beautiful, wonderful people, that I don't feel any need to compare myself to. But there are other beautiful, wonderful girls that we both know, that whenever they're around, or are brought up, or I think about them, become these perfect standards that I'll never live up to. Sometimes, it's a random photograph of one of his ex-girlfriends, sometimes it's a friend of ours, or his, or mine, sometimes it's a random girl in a store that is wearing a style of clothing that I know he likes because I've worn it before.

Simply noticing these things wouldn't be a big deal. Even the fact that these things bug me wouldn't be a big deal, if I brushed them off. But these things sit with me...they grow like mold on an old shower curtain that never gets to dry out.

I understand that my insecurity makes me view the world in a skewed way, and most of the time, I recognize this skewed version of reality and can point it out to myself as false. But...I still hyper-focus on the problems that I see...the problems with myself. And these problems arise because I compare myself to these other girls...and because I'm comparing myself, and finding fault in myself, these other girls themselves become the objects of focus.

Crazy Person. 

Have I said that yet?

I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to see a girl and immediately start comparing myself to her. Her hair, her clothes, her height, her weight, her muscle tone, her style, her eyes, her lips, her hair, her skin, her voice, her mannerisms, how smart she is, how clever she is, how funny she is, how much she has in common with my husband or my other friends. I don't want to do this anymore...I don't want to be jealous. I don't want to be insecure. I don't want to hyper-focus on these things that make me not like who I am, or make me want to be someone else, or make me worry that I won't ever be good enough for my husband. I want to be happy being me, and quit worrying about everyone else.

Notes on Love (or Love is a Verb)

Generally, I write big, long-winded paragraphs about what I'm thinking...they don't always make sense, and they often drag on and on. So, this time, I want to share just some quick, simple thoughts I've been having about love lately.

Love is a verb, an action verb. We do it. 

It doesn't just happen.

We have to choose to love.

It doesn't just happen.

No relationship is easy, [Romantic, Friendship, Family]
but if you stick them out, and love actively,
most of them can be pretty wonderful.

Forgiveness goes hand-in-hand with loving. 

If someone messes up, forgive them, because 

if you don't all that negativity will linger and fester.

Misunderstandings will happen. When they do, talk things out.
Don't let things go unresolved.
Approach these conversations with an open mind and a soft heart.

Be willing to compromise. 

Be willing to not always get your way. 

Sometimes, fulfilling someone else for a moment 

is worth much more than being fulfilled yourself. 

And sometimes, fulfilling someone else 

can fulfill you at the same time.

Your heart is going to break sometimes. When it does,
don't let that result in your thinking that there's something wrong with you.
Your heart breaks when you leave it open to love.
Be cautious with it, guard it, but don't close it.

Don't judge people. 

You don't have to like everyone, 

but don't look down on someone 

just because they aren't like you, 

or don't look at the world like you do. 

You wouldn't want them to do that to you.

Be honest in a way that tells the whole truth
without ripping someone apart.
Be honest, stand your ground,
but be aware of how your words
and how your tone can make someone feel.

Don't retaliate. An eye for an eye 

will only result in more pain. More strife.

Love is
beautiful,
wonderful,
difficult,
kind.
Love is a choice.
Love is worth it.

Be Passionate, Be True to You, Be Kind

Be passionate about what you believe in. Don't lay down and give up on what you believe, but do so and strive to be kind, loving, and respectful. Otherwise, your argument loses all it's power, and you unnecessarily hurt the person you're talking with.

Ever since I was a little girl, I've had trouble keeping my sharp tongue in check. I used to smart off to my mom, bite my brother's head off, be rude to my dad, to my friends. Just after high school, I realized what I was doing and tried to not talk that way. But it was really hard not to slip back into it.

Just recently, I've reevaluated that way of talking to/arguing with people, and I've realized that disagreeing is okay. I used to think that if you disagreed that meant you were hurting that other person, or being mean. But that's not true. You can disagree, stick to your guns, and be passionate about what you're talking about and still be kind.

Let's say you disagree with someone about where you want to eat dinner, and for some reason, this really really upsets you. You have a few options.

[1] You tell the person you're arguing with that they're stupid, and you get mad. 

[2] You tell the other person that it really upsets you that they won't go where you'd like to go.

Now, granted, this is probably a terrible example of a good idea, because who's going to get that upset over food, but I've had arguments over lesser things with worse results. Either way, I think it's pretty clear which response is the one I'm advocating here. Both responses give the same answer, but one hurts the other person by tearing them down unnecessarily, while the other clearly expresses that you're upset, even angry, but you aren't taking jabs at the other person. In this way, I think your argument is augmented, more true, because you were respectful, and didn't back down without a good reason.

I can be one of the worst people when it comes to these choices. If I'm losing an argument, or my emotions start to run high, I can lose my head and take below-the-belt jabs. But I hate doing that. I realize, after countless arguments, what the difference was between an argument that left me, or the person I was arguing with, feel like poo, and an argument that was easy to dissolve with a compromise or an apology. The difference was they way we talk to each other.

You can disagree, and be respectful. You can disagree, and say exactly what you need to say, and be kind. You can passionately debate your side of something, and still be loving. I'm learning this, bit-by-bit, and I wanted to share it, so that maybe we can talk about it and help each other.

The Odd Man

Have you ever been in a room surrounded by people you love, people who love you, and felt totally and completely out of place? Totally and completely isolated? Like you're the third or fifth or whichever odd-numbered-wheel? It can be one of the saddest feelings...

If you've ever felt this way, I'm betting someone has told you that you weren't seeing the whole picture...that you were being melodramatic, or ignoring things and focusing instead on your emotions. Maybe that's true. Maybe that's what I do. But that doesn't mean that, when you're in that situation, it sucks any less.

Feeling left out is one thing that I struggle with a lot. I don't want all the attention all the time. I don't want all eyes on me. But, when I have something I want to say, it's nice to be heard, to be listened to. Or, when you're saying something, it's nice for people to, even if they aren't all that interested, to let you finish before they change the subject, or say something like, "As interesting as this is..." before they move on to whatever it is they want to talk about. It hurts to be at the bottom of the totem pole.

But...maybe isolation is best. I've noticed that when I put myself in situations with other people, and let my hopes get up that something great is going to happen, I find myself let down more often than not. But, what if I just kept myself apart more? What if instead of expecting things to happen, I just trained myself to enjoy being alone, so that when I was with people, I wouldn't expect anything at all. If I was ignored, it wouldn't be any different than being by myself. Nothing would have changed.

I'm tired of whining to my friends whenever I feel sad. I'm tired of writing these blogs whenever something hurts my feelings or makes me mad. I'm tired of feeling bad about things...

The good thing about being the odd man out is, when you do separate yourself from the group, it doesn't change their dynamic, so at least you're not upsetting or altering what they're doing. With the exception of one less body in the room, their activities will go on just as they had before. The bad thing about it is...you're still the odd man out. You're still alone. And if you're anything like me, that's no fun. (But, like I said, maybe it's time to start training myself to like that...like eating celery, at first it tastes awful, but after you eat it a hundred times, it starts to grown on you.)

Sometimes I Think I'm a Crazy Person

I sit and stare at the clouds and wonder what they mean.

I sit and stare at people, and wonder what they see

that I don't see. What they see about me,

can they see through me?

I try to be reasonable about things. At least, I try to try. But my emotions carry me away like sand in the ocean. I don't float along on top and eventually come to a stop a few feet down shore still intact. 

I scatter. 

I sink into the silt at the bottom and get all blended up and lost. Sometimes I wonder if I've ever come back together after one of my meltdowns, my panic attacks, my freak-out-like-a-crazy-person-episodes. Maybe I just keep spreading. Keep drifting further and further away from what I was before...maybe what I'm drifting away from was worse, maybe it was better, but I don't think I can get back there.

Have you ever added salt to a pot of water to help it boil faster? At first, you see the grains sink to the bottom. They're separated, but they're each there. But after a while, they melt. The water boils, but the salt is gone, changed...Maybe this is a great thing, and maybe it's terrible, but I think I'm the salt. I think I'm the sand. I think I'm the thing that keeps breaking apart, separating, and dissolving into something else...

A Tribute to Anne McCaffrey

On April 1, 1926 Anne McCaffrey was born into the world, and on November 21, 2011 she left it.


She was an American-born, Irish, science fiction author whose books won both the Hugo and Nebula awards, along with many others. Her book The White Dragon (my personal favorite) was one of the first science fiction novels to ever make its way to the New York Times Best Seller List. The Science Fiction Writers of maerica named her the 22nd Grand Master in 2005, and she was inducted into the Science Fiction Hall of Fame in 2006.

Her series about Pern is twenty-six books long. In total, Anne published 97 books about horses, aliens, telepaths, people, and dragons.

When I was probably eleven- or twelve-years-old, I was at my grandfather's house in Tennessee. I was an avid reader, but had neglected to bring anything to read with me for the visit. My uncle Vaughn (who was roughly my age) agreed to let me borrow his book Dragonseye to read while I was at his house. I remember looking at the cover and thinking that it looked silly, but that I would give it a shot. I sat down, I think maybe I curled up in their dusty blue recliner that used to have a finger tip sized hole on it's left arm, and began to read. Within just a few pages I realized that I was in love.

I went home and told mom I was going to need all of her Anne McCaffrey's dragon books about Pern, and my mother, being the beautiful heart that she is, got them for me over the years. I devoured them, and then moved on to many of her other series. I loved the telepaths of the books following the Rowan, and the alien men and women in the Freedom series, but the dragons and dragonriders of Pern were the ones who claimed my heart first.

Anne made me want to write. She made me want to create a world that was so unique, so engrossing, that the reader couldn't help but forget about the real world and instead get lost in the world she created. I wanted to do that. She is the first inspiration I remember having, and that inspiration carried on until now, when I am one day shy of completing my Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing. Even today, when I think about the books that really shaped my love of, and appreciation for, writing, Anne McCaffrey is always at the top of the list.

This blog is a small thank you to the woman who created Pern, thread that fell from the sky and ate everything it touched, and the dragons who ate stone and breathed fire onto it to protect the planet. The Pern series, and all the other beautiful books she wrote, will forever hold a place of honor in my heart, and on my shelf.

It's okay to be Human

Today I said three words to my husband that I never should have said. I said, "I hate myself." That was very, very bad.

Do I really hate myself? No. Do I think that saying that I hate myself might hurt my husband to hear? Yes. Did I say it because it was what I honestly, truly, wholly believe? No. Did I say it because I was emotional, and at twenty-six haven't yet learned how to deal with my bad emotions? Yes. I don't know how to deal with bad emotions. I shut down. I become a masochist.


Vince asked me, "Don't you think that's a problem? To hate yourself?" He's asked me that before, when I've told him that I don't like who I am. But something about the conversation today struck deep down inside me. It is a problem to feel this way. It's a big, big problem.

I think I write about how I feel so much, about my insecurities, because I think if I just pour it out enough it'll go away. It won't. This type of thing takes work. Vince has worked, and worked, and worked to help me, but it takes work from me. It takes a conscious effort on my part to say, "If any other person in the world came to me and told me they hated themselves, what would I say? How is that different than the way I feel about me?" (I can't take credit for that advice. It's all Vince. Vince tells me this a lot. Like I said, he has worked for me. And I haven't given him enough thanks, enough credit, for all that he does.)

I don't write this blog to get sympathy. Far from it. Sympathy will feed the beast that lives inside my head. I'm writing this because I want to see how ridiculous it is, in black and white, to say those words. I want to see the beast for what it truly is, nothing by paper and strings, so that I can start to get rid of it for good.

I am a human, and as such I have problems. But as a human, I have good things about me too.

It's okay to be wrong in a disagreement. It's also okay to be right. It's okay to say the wrong thing sometimes, or do the wrong thing, and it's okay to want to fix it, and to work on fixing it next time. It's okay to be imperfect, and it's okay to realize that your husband, or wife, or boyfriend, or girlfriend, or mom, or dad, or sister, or brother, or friend, loves you. It's okay to be loved, and to fully accept that love. It's okay to be human.