perspective

Perspective. [per-spek-tiv] a :  the interrelation in which a subject or its parts are mentally viewed  perspective>;also :  point of view

My last post was decidedly depressing. I had (and continue to have) been having a particularly rough time at work, and the stress of my life as a single mom came crashing down in one melodramatic blog entry. It was a catharsis, a way to get my feelings out into the world so that they stopped weighing me down so much. In reality, sometimes life is hard. Not just my life. But life, in general. My father used to tell me that only things are guaranteed in life: death and taxes. The rest of it is basically a crap shoot. You play the hand you are dealt and hope for the best. I probably wouldn’t win the World Series of Poker with my current hand, I could have it worse.  So while I think I’m entitled to my feelings, I fully admit that the extent of my despair may have been impacted by my tendency for hyperbole and, perhaps, some lingering postpartum hormones.  A very dear friend who I have known for a very long time has had a stretch of bad breaks that makes my life look easy. When she called and told me about her most recent issue, a couple of things happened. I cried a little, I googled a lot and I gained some perspective. Sometimes your life just isn’t in sync with where you think it should be and you just have to say bye, bye, bye to the sadness, and self pity and accept the life you have.   And while life hasn’t exactly Gone the way I thought it would, it’s time to stop letting that tear up my heart.  I need to find a way to be at peace with where I am. Only I can do that, I shouldn’t rely on other people for my happiness. It’s not going to be Terrance that fixes me, It’s gonna be me.

So I’m moving on. I can’t say for sure that the thoughts of regret an inadequacy won’t creep back into my head, but I’m going to try my best to push them aside and focus on the good things, strive to change what I don’t like, and be more content with where I am in the moment. This, for now, is either at work or at home, being held hostage by Logan. He has been having some eating issues at day care, so he is extremely hungry when he comes home, which means I get to feed him until he goes to bed. He’s also going through a sleep regression that some babies (and their bleary eyed mothers) go through around 4 months.  We’re partying like we’re 8 weeks old again. 

From what I can tell, it’s pretty normal. Everything I seem to think is a problem is “normal”, which is nice, but the internet is filled with women who make you feel like if your child isn't able to get themselves out of bed and make themselves breakfast by 6 months, you’re a complete failure and your child should be in therapy. Mine isn't even rolling over on a consistent basis. I try and not let the thoughts that there's something wrong with him creep into my head. He seems like a perfectly happy, healthy little boy. As long as he doesn't think there's something wrong, I'll go with it. 

Terrance has been home for 2 whole weeks straight now. It's weird. We've had visitors basically the whole time, but not having the burden of everything with Logan and the dogs and the house fall on my shoulders has been nice. I'm sleeping more. :) I would say that I am a more pleasant person to be around, but I don't know that I'm brave enough to ask anyone else if they agree...

I posted a picture recently on Instagram and facebook. It’s of me, standing in front of some sunflowers at a community garden I work with. It’s what the kids these days are calling a “selfie”.  At first I didn’t want to post it. I didn't like it. In all honesty, I just wanted to show how tall the sunflowers have gotten this year. When I looked at it, I saw my hair out of place, the discoloration of my teeth (except for that pesky one that stays white while the others stain from the gallons of coffee a new born forces you to consume), my crooked smile and nose that no one ever seems to notice but me. I saw a collection of my imperfections. But I posted it anyway, because 7 foot sunflowers are cool. And people liked it. About 30 people to be exact. I’m sure half of them like the sunflowers, and that’s cool. They’re likeable, happy flowers.  But after people liked and commented on it, I look at the picture again. It’s a perfectly lovely picture. I look happy and the flowers are nice. The colors are good. Sometimes, you have to gain a little perspective to see what the big picture really looks like. In a lot of ways, that picture is a metaphor for my life. I have spent a lot of time focusing in on and examining the imperfections of my life.

Every once in a while, it’s good to look at the picture as a whole.

Maybe it’s not so bad, after all.