Archive | FinnQuirks RSS feed for this section

Therapy: On Feeling Better

25 May

My latest therapy session was a good one. We spent a lot of time talking about simply wanting to feel better and using that as motivation rather than relying on a number on the scale or the size of my pants to dictate my mood.

I’m feeling all of my 42 years plus about 10 more these days. I shouldn’t struggle so much to get up off my kid’s floor, be winded after climbing a few stairs, or be so stiff that I have to literally roll off the bed and hobble to the bathroom because my joints haven’t “warmed up” yet.

Realistically, the goal of having a taut, lean body are long gone. I’ve lowered my standards and they are twofold.

1. Feel better physically overall.

2. Belly less protruding than boobs.

That’s legit it, and I really don’t think this is unachievable. Until I actually try to do it. I sounds like the cliched broken record here but, do you know what I had for dinner tonight? Leftover pizza and raw cookie dough. I KNOW that is not going to make me feel better physically and yet I do it again and again and again. Which tells me that this is more of a mental struggle than anything. Conquer the mind and you conquer the body, right? So how does one do that? I have zero clue and thus the cycle continues.

Dr. B and I talked about just focusing on doing fun things that I enjoy and that are active. Indoor rock climbing and cycling came to mind. I’ve done both and enjoy them, as much as I’m going to enjoy any physical activity. A further stretch is getting back into a dance class – maybe belly dancing even. I mean, I already have the belly so I figure I have a head start on that one.

I dunno. I tend to think that I should have this figured out by now and I feel really dumb for still struggling with this stuff at my age. I’m trying to ward off an impending funk but all I can think about as I stuff junk food in my face is how I’m getting fatter and fatter. Which carries over into my confidence in other areas and down the rabbit hole we go. Maybe there will be pie at the bottom.

Photo by Bekir Dönmez on Unsplash

Since You’ve Been Gone

20 Apr

aaron-burden-363695-unsplash


I can breathe for the first time…Just kidding.

After about a year’s absence I kinda just have to start over here. Here are the major highlights:

  • I started a new job! 🙂
  • Our dog died. 😦
  • I restarted and then quit grad school. Again. 😦
  • I’ve gained about 20 pounds. 😦

One out of four is not great, I realize. But the steady stream of good stuff that has continued through 2017 and into this year serves to even it out I think. We’re calling it break even anyway.

First, the job. Y’all know I have complained ad nauseam about Cubicle Nation for-freakin’-ever. I have been at the new gig for over six months now and I’ll be honest, barring being a kept woman or a travel writer, this is about the ideal job for me at this time and place in my life. I’m doing fun social media, communication, writing things at a non-profit. The commute is still outrageous, but I do get to work one day a week from home. The other negative was that I took a god-awful huge pay cut, but the trade-off was worth it to do worthwhile, fulfilling, and creative work. So yay happiness!

Second, the dog. Our chocolate lab, Cooper was ten and a half, and after a couple of weeks of obvious illness, we found out he had cancer throughout his liver. We had to put him peacefully to sleep. I’ve never had to experience that before and it was heartbreaking. But there was no way I was going to see him not be able to get around and in pain. This was the right choice. One day (if I can convince hubs) maybe we’ll get another dog. For now, we’re adjusting to life without our Big Brown.

Third, grad school. I continued work on a graduate degree in Liberal Arts, did a few classes, then a major bout of depression hit me, and I quit. Plain and simple. It sucked, and I kind of hate myself for it. But then the new job came along and it doesn’t have the tuition benefit anyway, so I suppose it was meant to be – if you believe in all that Fate crap. Anyway, maybe anything past a Bachelor’s degree just isn’t for me. Or maybe I’ll go back someday. Time will tell.

Lastly, weight gain. What’s there to really say about that? I still struggle mightily with depression and all the food issues that go along with that. And I like my sweets and junk food, sue me. Living healthier is constantly on my mind; it’s the doing it that hinders me.

So there you have it. A year’s absence caught up in a few paragraphs. Here’s to reviving Finnspace.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

the place

12 Feb

Sometimes you’re in the middle of folding laundry and are watching Abstract: The Art of Design on Netflix at the same time and thinking about how you’ve been in this really weird frustrating place for the past several days. It’s a place you find yourself over and over again, probably once every couple of months at a minimum. It’s restlessness to the extreme, but restlessness that causes stagnation. You have so many things you want to do and creative ways you want to spend your time that it overwhelms and you shut down because you don’t know where to go with it and you have so many other “real life” things that have to get done so those other things take a backseat yet again and this whole process just causes angst and irritation and well, stagnation. How can I be both/all things? I don’t have time for everything I want. Then I freak out and write in both first and third person on the blog I’ve neglected but love and frantically text my like-minded friends to vent. And then I go back to laundry and cubicle nation work. Because that’s what makes the suburban life go ’round, right? That’s what pays the bills and the health insurance, not my random ideas and creative bursts of whatever it is I do in my head but rarely do in reality. I’m having a moment of overwhelming-ness and tears and anger and panic over all of it. Is it a time management issue? Because even great artists and writers and creative people have kids and mundane responsibilities to handle. Maybe they don’t have the cubicle-nation job that stifles them until they can’t breathe, but some do. So how do they do it? There’s a sense of desperation in me right now that is suffocating. #franticwordvomit

managing time

20 Dec

My time management skills are the pits. As are my organizational skills, which I feel would be much better if my time management skills were better. Or maybe it’s the other way around? Which came first, the organized Finn or the efficient Finn? Half the time I feel like I’m barely keeping it together without losing my mind, giving up, and just crawling under the blankets for the duration.

I have things to tell the internet. I turned 41. Physically I feel about 50, but mentally I’m at about 32. I should probably try to get those numbers closer together. I tried hypnosis a couple of months ago. That was interesting, if not all that productive. I finished my second semester of grad school. Got an A, by the way. The kid is like eight, going  on fifteen. She’s amazing and fantastic. My friends are amazing. We do cool stuff. Although one of them recently succeeded in heavily influencing me to sign up for yet another 1/2 marathon in the spring, so I’m not sure how cool that is but the dream is still alive y’all. I still struggle with my ever-increasing weight, depression, sense  of self. Life things that seem to intensify in your 40s.

I can’t promise that I’ll post here more often, but I’d like to. I’ve learned not to commit to much of anything. Easier not to disappoint that way.

Luckily, this quote remains true and gives me hope that one day I’ll get my shit together. Or at least embrace the lovely chaos that is me.

The chief beauty about time is that you cannot waste it in advance. The next year, the next day, the next hour are lying ready for you, as perfect, as unspoiled, as if you had never wasted or misapplied a single moment in all your life. You can turn over a new leaf every hour if you chose.

— Arnold Bennett

the nothing that turned into a post

13 Mar

I think of a jillion things to write about here during the day or when I’m in the shower or otherwise not at the keyboard. Then when I sit down to write, my mind goes blank and all I can think of is what I ate for lunch or what I did at work today. And who wants to read about that? Anywho. Brains love to shut down when you need them most.

I was thinking today about how incongruent my age is with my career (and I use that term very loosely). Meaning, I’m surrounded by younger people who are in higher level positions than I am. The other day I overheard someone say how they had “just turned 31” and today another person was complaining about how they were “nearly a 30 year old woman with a good job and a house…” and apparently weren’t being treated as such by their parents. Yes, you know I rolled my eyes.

I know a lot of it is an education issue. Unlike all the 20-30 somethings at the office, I don’t have a Master’s or any degrees above my lowly Bachelor’s. Nothing is stopping me from going back to school except the lack of desire for anything other than maybe a liberal arts degree or something humanitarian in nature.

Besides the education thing, there’s also an ambition thing. Climbing the ladder or being high woman on the totem pole has never been my thing. The thought of having to manage people gives me hives and I have no desire to be a “leader” in that way.

Best I can tell, I’m pretty ok with all of this, as lazy and unambitious as that may sound to some. It’s just interesting to me. I find the difference between me and my office mates thought-provoking, or something. Our mindsets in no way match up.  Its like some sort of social science experiment/phenomena that I’m observing from inside the gray fabric walls of my cubicle.

Maybe that makes me weird. Probably.

So here’s to owning your weirdness.

humble pie for breakfast

10 Nov

Its 5:00 am and entirely too quiet, too dark, and too cold for the madness that is me getting up to go for a wog (walk/jog) this morning. The argument in my head was of the classic angel vs devil variety.

My Head: Its a new day! Go wog. You’ll be glad you did.
My Bed: Its soooo warm and cozy in here, isn’t it?
My Head: Shut up. Don’t encourage her to be a lazy, albeit well rested, chunky butt.
My Bed: You could get an hours extra sleep if you stay. Sleep is important for overall well-being and happiness.
My Head: Hey, Procrastinator Polly. I know you, if you don’t do it now, you won’t do it at all.
My Bed: You can just do it after work. The snooze button is your friend.

I finally shut them both down with a brisk “don’t think, just do” mantra and went outside, purposely leaving the side door unlocked so I could get back in.

It was cold this morning y’all. (Hush, Northerners, I hear you laughing at my aversion to getting out in balmy 30 degree temps.) But I readied my ear-buds, got my app started, and set out in a most zombie-like fashion. It wasn’t pretty but it was done.

My Head: Now, to get a shower, get the kiddo ready and delivered to school. I’m actually ahead of schedule so I bet I can make a quick grocery run after dropping her off and even get to work early. I WILL WIN MONDAY, YES I WILL!

Cue LOCKED DOOR.

No worries, the lights are on. The family is obviously awake since all lights were off when I left. I’ll just knock calmly and someone will let me in.

Crickets.

No biggie, they are probably just making breakfast and can’t hear me. I’ll just knock a bit louder.

Even quieter crickets.

The only family member who comes to the door is the one without useful thumbs…the dog.

Which brings to mind the reason that I am probably locked out. I deduce that The Accountant let the dog out to pee and out of habit, locked the door when he let pup back in. An honest mistake, although an irritable one since I had texted him to tell him I was going for a morning walk/jog.

Its cool, I’ll just try knocking LOUDLY on another door.

Silence.

By now my acquired body heat from the morning’s activity has worn off and I am getting cold. And quite angry because I have since realized that The Accountant is probably partaking in a nice warm shower and can’t hear me at all, and kiddo has been taught to never open the door to anyone if mom and dad are not around. Especially not to stark-raving mad lunatics who are banging at the back doors at 5:45 in the morning.

I now begin texting The Accountant…

Semi-Reasonable Finn: Dude, I’m locked out.

I move to the front door and ring the doorbell over and over again like a complete psycho.

Furious texting ensues…

Less-Reasonable Finn: #%$&@! THAT’S IT! I’M NEVER MAKING YOU POPCORN AGAIN! @ %&#@*! DO NOT SPEAK TO ME FOR 24 HOURS, AT LEAST! @&%$!*!

Are they even in there???

Completely Lost Her Mind Finn Who Is Convinced She Is Going To Freeze To Death While Wearing A Sweaty Turned Clammy Sports Bra And Mismatched Running Socks: @ %&#@!*! You are in the shower aren’t you!?!?!? @#%&$ HOW DARE YOU BE TAKING A SHOWER WHILE THE WOMAN WHO BIRTHED YOUR ONLY DAUGHTER IS OUT HERE FREEZING HER ASS OFF BECAUSE YOU LOCKED HER OUT!!!! @&%$!*! @&%$!*! @&%$!*! HOW.DARE.YOU!!!!

As I’m peering in through the window pane in between repeated mad ringing of the doorbell, I see a stark naked kiddo with a huge striped beach towel wrapped on top of her head cautiously peering around the corner. SALVATION! “Its ok, its mommy, its ok, its just mommy!” I yell at her. She tentatively approaches, unlocks the door and gives me a wary stare. I immediately worry that I’ve scared the poop out of her with all my banging and ringing and carrying on but she seems unscarred and only in need of minor therapy later in life. I explain to her that daddy locked me out and thank her for rescuing me from certain death on the mean streets of a suburban subdivision.

Then I get THE text, accompanied by mental divorce papers.

“I didn’t touch the door.”

You all know how this ends, right?

Sheepish Mommy: Kiddo, did you let the dog out?

Kiddo (looking dubious): Yeeeeeees?

Sheepish Mommy: And did you let him back in and then lock the door?

Kiddo (now looking around desperately for escape routes): Yeeeees?

Guilt-ridden Mommy: Its ok. You did exactly like you’re supposed to. Lock the door when you let the dog in and out, and do not ever open the door when mommy and daddy aren’t here. Mommy just thought your father locked me out and I got a little…antsy. Ahem.

The Accountant enters and Awkward Damage Control Wife appears, apologetic and embarrassed. The grovelling was not pretty but it was absolutely necessary after my legendary fit.

Suffice it to say, this wasn’t the best morning for positive spousal relations. You know what they say about assuming.

The Accountant and I have since repaired the damage to our relationship for the most part, although I am doomed to be reminded of these events until the day I die. But at least I won’t die of hypothermia because I plan to take a house key with me from now on.

The ADD is strong with this one

4 Nov

I cannot sit still today y’all. Cannot focus. Cannot stand the confines of this cubicle. I am fidgety. Whew. I’m making lists and thinking of things I need and want to do and getting not much of anything done in this whole chaotic process that’s swirling in my head.

I will look into mind-quieting meditation…

Sometimes I wonder if a set daily routine would help or hinder. Some people swear by that right? As in from 5-6am they get ready for work, commute from 6-6:45am, 6:45-7:15am get the to-do list and priorities lined up for the day, 7:15-9:00am work on Project A…you get the idea. I like the IDEA of being that organized but the actual rigidity of that gives me anxiety. There has to be a great deal of flexibility and creativity in it for it to work for me I think. And then, what’s the point of a schedule?

I feel like a lab rat in here. A fish in a glass bowl.

I’m totally just writing this post as a form of procrastination. Ahhhhhhhh!!!

I’m going to lunch.

%d bloggers like this: