I Hate My Message Board » My Serious Side

Dear Stephanie

Tracy — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 04:30:58 +0000

Or Forever Young Part 3

A postcard I sent to Stephanie in 1993, shortly after I moved to Memphis for college

I was thinking about you the other day, do you remember our production of Our Town for Mrs. Feeney’s drama class? You were Emily and I had to be Constable Warren. Pah! Even over-emoting hams deserve the starring roles, I think. I would have out Stage Manager-ed Hal Holbrook, I surely would.

You know, at the time I thought it was a hopelessly corny play, far too sentimental for my taste. I would have preferred something with herion addicts and a drag queen priest trying to come to terms with the conflict between his religion and his love for Bette Middler with an ending number that would have put La Cage Aux Folles to shame. It wouldn’t have been a comedy mind you, although the people would have laughed but an angsty, dark allegory of the evils of capitalism. One day I’ll write it and you’ll see what I mean.

It doesn’t matter, I digress, but I was going about my day, puttering around my house and I swear I heard you say

Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it?—every, every minute?

Back of the postcard pictured above. Sadly, I have yet to write Hero Bob or win the Pulitzer.

And I said to you, Stephanie-Emily how the hell where we supposed to understand that then? We didn’t have the context, we were so young. I suppose we knew somehow that it was the truth, but how could we ever imagine how fast it all goes by?

But then I thought some more and realized weren’t we saints and poets then? And how do we get that back?

Another postcard, I glued Elvis's face on a tourist postcard from the Roman Amphitheatre. Sent from Germany to Texas where Stephanie had moved with her family.

Our children are started high school this year. High School! Almost the same age as when we met. We’ll want to shield them from so much and I hope we have the wisdom to know when to let go.

I feel like this is a time of transition for me, too. Looking at the post cards you sent reminded me of just how damn creative we were. It’s as if our minds were racing to make every connection possible, to build neutrons and synapses and all those things I vaguely understand except in remembering the sheer thrill of how it felt when it was happening. We weren’t sophisticated enough back then to censor ourselves and irony wasn’t in style yet so all that poured from us was earnest and joyful.

Do you remember how much we loved The Rainbow Connection? We sang it, you better than I, and meant every word. I was so lucky to have you to sing it with me.

I also loved coloring on my work and stickers. When I edited our school paper, we made it a project to send letters to soldiers in Gulf War 1. I think I sent about 200 letters, almost all of them decorated like that. I got a lot of really nice letters back and one or two perverted ones.

Do you remember our production of The Good Doctor? You were the actress auditioning for the part of Olga in Three Sisters. I can still remember your monologue

There will come a time when everybody will know why, for what purpose, there is all this suffering. But now we must live … we must work, just work! Tomorrow, I’ll go away alone, and I’ll teach and give my whole life to those who, perhaps, need it.

Funny the things that stick with you for years. I can’t remember anything about the quadratic equation but at odd moments a bit of Edith Sitwell or T.S. Eliot will dance into my head. Being surrounded by an ocean of words was the best training for my future life I could have had. And somehow hearing you say those words on stage, I knew that I would remember them and hoped one day to write something that would be remembered, too.

Post card from Germany to Texas, fall 1992. I really freaking loved The Clash. Never stopped.

The way I go on you’d think we were the most well read, cultured teenagers roaming the earth in the early 1990s. We had the benefit of a good education, but mostly we were just silly. Of course as I write that I’m thinking of Auden, which I really shouldn’t mention but I’ll leave it in to thrill any readers that get the very tenuous reference. Who knew I’d grow up to be the Dennis Miller of humor/weird food/vaguely inspirational bloggers.

Actually, you wrote that in a note once, talking about what we’d all do when we were grown. You said nobody knew then what I’d do and nobody would really know what it was I was doing in the future either. Prescient. You were prescient.

It says "I met myself in a dream and I just wanted to tell ya it was all right - L.Reed"

This is wildly self indulgent, but what’s a blog for, right? I wanted to tell you more about this transition, this awakening. It seems as if I’m realizing life again, if not every moment then a damn lot of them. When I asked you to send the photos of the postcards I thought I might be depressed that I was no longer such a free spirit, but instead, and if this sounds crazy say so, I felt as if I were making friends with myself all over again.

I’m not sure what will happen with all of this, perhaps I just create for myself and that’s as far as it goes, but thinking of the possibilities of the mind that felt free to cut, alter and paste the world to suit her fancy is now coupled with experience and patience is exciting.

Being your friend taught me so much and I hope this letter is adequate to being to let you know how much it meant.

Love,

Tracy

PS if anyone in the audience is still reading and interested, I also sent Steph a series of Yahtzee score cards with instructions from the School Stoppers Guide from Love and Rage (I think it was some sort of Anarchist zine I was subscribed to back in the day). You can’t really read anything on the picture, but Steph very kindly typed them out and I’ve posted them on my flickr. Note we did not do any of these things ourselves and it would be very wrong for anyone else to, either.Similar Posts:

Why I’m Glad to be a Quitter

Tracy — Tue, 29 Sep 2009 15:32:39 +0000

Or, I am shutting down the IHMMB forums

On October 14th, 2009 I will be shutting down the I Hate My Message Board forums in order to focus more fully on my blogging, family and other interests. There was no big precipitating event and nobody did anything wrong, however in thinking about what I did want from my life, running a forum didn’t fit in.

I don’t think it’s productive to go into the reasons I wasn’t happy running a forum and I don’t wish to spend time defending my decision except to say it was made for my own best interests, which I think is a sufficient explanation.

Instead, I think I’d like to talk about the reasons why I was afraid to quit because I think it’s something we’ve all been through and some of us have never been able to conquer, much to the detriment of our own well-being. Learning how to quit is just as important as learning how to persevere.

Here are my objections to quitting in bold and beneath the answer I finally came up with.

People will be mad at me if I quit, they are relying on me.

It’s good to live up to your commitments and to take other people’s feelings into consideration. However, they have other options and you can quit in the most responsible way possible. A sense of responsibility is excellent, but don’t forget your responsibility to your own self and goals.

Quitting is for losers

Quitting something that doesn’t work for you is not being a loser, it’s being smart. Continuing something that doesn’t serve you because of fear, that’s being a loser.

I am afraid others will think I am quitting because I can’t cut it

And how many of those people really know you? If refusing to go on doing something that you don’t enjoy is “not cutting it” be happy you don’t meet that standard.

I am embarrassed that I couldn’t make it a success

What was your definition of success? You really had no idea did you other than what you imagined other people would call successful. You were not trying to make your own dreams come true, you were trying to pursue success because that’s what you felt you should do.

I am afraid that I will never get another opportunity

How so? Will you be locking yourself in the upstairs bathroom for the rest of your life? All of us have luck, most of us fail to recognize it. You have already proven time and time again that you are one of those that can.

I am afraid of letting go because holding on is the best hedge against scarcity. Because I don’t know how people will react. Because I am afraid of regret.

You will be fine. You have taken risks before and always come through stronger than before. You will not have time for regret. You can do it.

I don’t think people should give up just because something is hard or they are frustrated, if what they are doing is moving them closer to where they want to be. However, here are no medals for staying stagnant. Working stolidly on something that isn’t furthering your goals is like running fast away from the finish line. You’ll get somewhere, but not where you want to be.Similar Posts:

The Power of a Whisper

Tracy — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 02:44:58 +0000

Or, what I learned from going to hear the Dalai Lama

I swear, that's him on the chair there!

I can’t even being to tell you all that the Dalai Lama said and have decided I won’t even try. His message was that by developing a sense of inner peace and calmness we can approach the world with trust and unbiased love and this is the way to peaceful families, to peaceful communities, to a peaceful world. I left feeling invigorated and optimistic and with a firm sense that I can make a difference.

What I wanted to share with you was what happened at the end, after the Dalai Lama finished speaking. We’d gotten to a late start and so as soon as he left the stage, some people started leaving. I’m sure they had places they needed to be; no snark, I’ve been there myself. However, there were three musicians on stage. I’m not sure who they were but one I believe was South African and had the most amazing voice (you can see him here) and another was a really good singer and had a drum and the third had some sort of flute. I really enjoyed the performance.

When it seemed like they were done playing, more of the crowd got up to leave and the flute player walked up to the microphone and started changing

Be Kind To Each Other

And people were listening, but gathering up their things and heading towards the exits and instead of becoming louder and more insistent, his voice got quieter and as it dropped to a whisper, everyone stopped and was still.

be kind to each other

And I think that’s when we finally really heard and it transcended beyond a platitude to become a real message, one that we would hold our hearts. The whisper told us, stop, pay attention, this is important. A whisper invites you in. A whisper keeps you in the moment.

I wonder how many times I have failed to get my point across by shouting instead of whispering.

Similar Posts:

5 Things I Learned From Being Offline for a Week

Tracy — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 02:06:48 +0000

Or, who knew there was such a thing as offline?

Photo Credit stuartpillbrow

I had a great time with my mom for the past week or so and am now reluctantly getting back to business. While she was here, my online time was minimal; not only was I not on the computer, I also wasn’t constantly checking email, Twitter and Facebook on my iPhone while out and about. To my surprise, I rather enjoyed it and the world didn’t fall apart. Here are a few observations about my time offline.

1. Everyone was right, I really can only check stats once a day.

Or every other day or every third day even. Heck, maybe once a week, although I didn’t get that far. The crazy thing is, during the longest stretch I went without checking I had an unexpected surge in traffic and my numbers were well over double what is typical. Of course, I’m sure the two aren’t in any way connected, but it’s nice to know I don’t really need to watch that carefully.

2. If it’s urgent, they will call.

And if they can’t call because they don’t have my phone number, well then how urgent could it be, really? I mean it would suck if my site went down and nobody could get me for days, but it’s not likely to result in anyone dying or getting hurt. This is one of the benefits of being a blogger/forum administrator rather than a cardiologist. I suppose this is why they don’t pay me the big bucks, too.

3. I don’t feel like I missed anything.

You know, now that I’m approaching the middle of my expected lifespan, I’m coming to realize that it’s not so much the missing things that sucks, it’s the anticipation of missing out. Before you’ve missed it, oh man, it seems like a tragedy. Eek! Things will happen! And I won’t be there! But after you’ve missed it, life sort of goes on and well, it doesn’t seem like it was nearly as necessary as you thought it would be. It might have been nice, but whatever you did instead was either nice, too or more important and you survived without any vital part of you scathed.

I’m guessing that fully embracing this knowledge is one of the keys to becoming a mature adult. I’ll let you know when I get there.

4. My stress level plummeted.

Now part of this was undoubtedly my mom being there to help out and doing all my chores for me plus 3 dozen things I had no idea I should even be doing, but I don’t think you can discount the power of being fully tuned into what you’re doing without trying to check email or see if anyone replied to your post at the same time. When I was getting dressed, I was getting dressed. When I was in line, I was in line. When I had to pee, I went straight to the bathroom without doing the pee pee dance while reading just one more email.

5. The less I was online, the less I wanted to be online.

Sometimes in the evening while my mom was doing other things, I had some free time and hopped on the computer. After checking email and responding to the important ones and doing whatever online business like bill paying that needed to be done, there wasn’t a heck of a lot that really grabbed me. YouTube of guy teaching a poodle to rollerskate? Nah. 87th thread about health care reform? No thanks. Twitter and Facebook? I’ll catch up with them later.

Which is not to say that online is boring and there is nothing worthwhile; far from it, more that I think our brains know we could use a break from the information overload and when you give it a chance to relax, it’s taking it. Now that it’s time to get back online, I plan to be more selective in what I read/watch.

In Conclusion

It’s not practical for me to stay offline and even if it was, I don’t think I would. There is a lot of value to be found online if you know where to look and I do like many of the social aspects. I don’t like all the time I wasted with mindless clicking and reading things that didn’t interest me just because it was there and it was my habit, so I will cut that out. It was great to not feel so stressed and to enjoy my life more. My plan is to be online less during the day and not hop on and off constantly like I have been doing. Instead, I will plan my internet time and not try to cram some bit of work into every spare second. I will also take a couple of days a week off completely to recharge.

How does having time unplugged affect you? How do you make sure you aren’t a slave to the computer?

Edited to add: Right after posting this, I came across this article in Slate: Seeking: How the brain hard-wires us to love Google, Twitter, and texting. And why that’s dangerous. I can’t be the only one that read this line:

she spent days “refreshing my search like a drugged monkey.”

And thought oh, thank heavens I’m not the only one who has done that.Similar Posts:

How dare she?

Tracy — Wed, 29 Jul 2009 03:02:59 +0000

Or a nice piece of STFU for critics, internal and external

keine Angst means no fear/anxiety in German photo credit: optische_taeuschung

Are you the kind of writer that starts talking about doing one sort of post with friends, gets all excited about it then before you can write it your mind has run through that subject and you’ve totally moved into the next neighborhood? I am, that’s why you should never expect to actually see anything I say I’m going to write because chances are good I’ll write it in my head while doing dishes and consider the matter done with and move on to one of the 87 other ideas that branched out from the original.

I was talking with a friend about how damaging the celebrity culture can be to our own self image; I might still write about that but it got me to thinking about my own self image and what I fear. That’s an ugly word, isn’t it? And I’m half tempted to say oh to heck with it and spoof my more ridiculous fears instead of admitting my real ones. That’s the thing about fears, you have the ones that are easy to admit and then the ones that make you feel queasy to even admit to yourself.

My fear

One of my biggest fears is to try and to fail, not because I mind so much not achieving whatever goal it was but because it means that voice, the one that says “How dare she?” is right.

Now, I’m a fairly together person as people go. I like to think my self esteem is okay and any nuttiness is an asset, not a liability, so this voice must be pretty normal. Mine might be a bit dramatic, yours might say “who do you think you are?” or “are you kidding me, you?” but the heart of it is that whatever it is you’re looking to achieve is a pretty foolish ambition for somebody like you.

Superstar life coach Tim Brownson had a great post on setting goals the other day. In it, he said:

Quite honestly, I don’t want a major goal that doesn’t have some people believing I’ll fail miserably, others thinking “Aw bless ‘im he’s trying his best” and still others thinking I’m mental.

And minus internal insidious voice, this is how I feel, too. Why not go for what I really want? And I’m pumped, Eye of the Tiger and all that, and boom along comes internal voice and for company external voices, too. Because let’s face it, even people who sincerely have your best interests at heart are prone to the same sort of less productive feelings as folks that dislike you very much, so even if you have no enemies (heh, that sounds dramatic) people might very well think you’re crazy to try.

I once said in exasperation that the reason so many people like to see others fall on their asses is because it gives them the perfect excuse never to get off their own. Sometimes people will poke at you for going for it because it’s a lot easier than wondering why on earth they aren’t going for it themselves. Sometimes you’ll be relieved at any roadblock that comes your way, because it gives you a chance to get off this road before you’ve risked too much.

It’s very easy to find an excuse not to keep trying isn’t it? Lack of progress, lack of encouragement, things are too slow, things are too fast. You need a break, you can’t get started again. And there, you’ve found yourself back in the same rut you started out in, only this time it’s been reinforced that it’s foolish to try.

How dare you have tried? Set safe, reasonable goals that align with what it seems like you should value and well, you’ll get somewhere but is it where you want to be?

There was a time when I thought I had to listen to what everyone had to say to be fair or open-minded. Not that I think that I should shut everything out but myself, but more and more I’m realizing there is an awful lot out there that can be safely, and without guilt, dismissed. Borrowing other people’s hang ups is not going to do anything to help me get rid of mine. My negative voice is in no way more realistic than my positive voice and will not be allowed to overpower it.

I think we have a love/hate affair with daring people. From afar, we admire them but it’s uncomfortable to know what to do when faced with one, especially when it’s yourself. That last part probably seems like a contradiction, after all how daring can you be if you’re scared of daring, but sometimes when you dig a little to see you find out that all these years you’ve been hiding a force of nature under all those practical, middle of the road layers. That’s a pretty scary realization to make. Then you get angry that you didn’t make it before. Then you start over-thinking all the whys and wherefores. Stop before the W&Ws and just go directly to channeling scary/angry energy instead. Trust me, you’re just going to wind up back at scary/angry and it makes more sense to just wait and do the W&Ws in the nursing home.

Go ahead and dare. Go ahead and think you’re somebody. Yes you are a person who can do incredible things. And anyone who tells you differently, including your inner critic, can go suck on an egg.Similar Posts:

How Life Coaching Helped My Blog

Tracy — Tue, 05 May 2009 12:30:46 +0000

Or, part 3 of my adventures in coaching

This isn't really me writing but we could pretend Photo credit soartsyithurts

So far, you’ve heard a lot about what Tim told me and what I thought about it, but now I’ll tell you how what I’ve learned and practiced so far has had real results. It’s all well and good to say that it made me feel better but the proof of positive change is in what happens when the chicken plops out of the can, so to speak.

After our last coaching session, I felt like much of the conflicting emotions I was having dissipated greatly. We spoke about obliterating undermining beliefts and reframing situations, which helped me enormously in my tendency to second guess decisions. I’ll quote the most helpful bit from Tim’s follow up email to me:

Any beliefs that hold you back from achieving your full potential need to be eradicated. Too many people think that they are being realistic by worrying about stuff that may never happen! It’s neither realistic nor helpful.

I think my husband would very much like me to have that tatooed on my hand, because I might, just maybe, sometimes indulge in disaster scenarios. That’s not a completely bad trait though as it shows I have great imagination and will serve me well if I ever decide to write thrillers.

The other thing Tim helped me with was feeling comfortable in saying I am fairly good at this writing/entertaining thing and should keep at it and see where it goes. That in mind, I decided to invest in myself and told my husband that instead of Mother’s Day/anniversary/birthday gifts this month (May is Tracy month!) I’d like to use that money to get some design work done on the blog. Then, and this is the crucial step I often leave out, I contacted a designer whose work I liked and asked for a quote and started things in motion. It felt good taking myself seriously and taking steps to present a more polished appearance to the world, even though I knew tens of thousands of people wouldn’t be visiting my blog in the next week.

But then they did.

If you didn’t see it, my whole chicken in a can post took off and was linked in Food Network Humor and Gizmodo plus dozens of other blogs, forums, facebook pages, Metafilter, Stumble Upon, Digg and Reddit. It was simply amazing how it took off but it wasn’t without a certain amount of stress.

The most obvious problem was that my site simply wasn’t up to handling that sort of traffic and soon ground to a screeching halt. I should have installed a super cache plugin but never bothered, because my daily traffic is normally measured in the hundreds, well spread out across the day. I’m okay at basic Word Press stuff, but trying to install a rather finicky plugin while only intermittently able to access the site and taking care of four kids was a bit of a challenge. Technical issues aside, this is also the point where I’d normally beat myself up for not having a NASA grade server and not knowing the php and thinking that the entire world was tsk-tsking me and vowing to never return to I Hate My Message Board again, as clearly the owner was not up to snuff.

Instead I took a deep breath, reminded myself that this happens to all sorts of sites, decided to order Chinese food and started to do what needed to be done step by step. And it worked. It wasn’t easy, but I kept my cool and didn’t get into a tizzy or have hissy fits or twisty turny tummy. I was a little nervous, but by the next morning, we had the plugin installed and after that the traffic was no problem.

The second problem was that I was curious and read some of the comments on the various sites. A few of them weren’t very nice and implied that I must be stupid or unimaginative. Buzzfeed referred to me as a nasty woman that ate an entire chicken in a can. I admit, there were moments when I felt like I should step in and offer proof that I am smart, creative, well groomed and did not eat the whole chicken but for the most part I laughed it off. As Tim said in his email to me:

We no longer care about people that want to hurt us, because they don’t care about us. If they aim to hurt, then we don’t help them out by allowing them to do so, right? It’s our choice

What bothered me more was a few comments about my son’s dirty face in one of the pictures and somebody saying he had an unfortunate haircut. I think all of you parents can understand how much I wanted to set the record straight on that, but ultimately decided doing so would be counterproductive. I did decide that this was a lesson learned and from now on I won’t include photos of the kids in my blog posts.

The third problem was very mixed feelings about my first toe dip into getting huge traffic was a post of pictures of me pouring a chicken from a can. So, I thought about it for a bit and realized why the heck not? I enjoy doing those sorts of posts and it seems like many people want to see them. I would like to eventually be known for my other kinds of posts, but until that happens, why not be tickled pink that a lot of people saw my gooey chicken? I know who I am and what I’m capable of, so why worry what other people might think? The thing is, I was crippling myself with worrying about how I thought I should feel about things, but how I feel about things is just fine. There is a place in this world for a blog about hating message boards, high school memories, life coaching journeys, neurotic observations and odd foodstuffs and I am quite happy occupying it.

I told Tim in our last session that I was anxious because this is the part where I usually get overwhelmed and freaked out and give up. Then after we spoke, the perfect opportunity came for me to do just that, but instead I plowed through and am here standing tall and plotting out my next move.

Being coached was one of the best decisions I’ve made for myself . I was managing without it, but this has helped me reach into myself and pull out the same resolve and confidence that was always in me, I just couldn’t find it. I said something I thought was corny at the time in response to this post at the Rat Race Trap: Develop the Courage to Take Risks

Stephen said:

Watch a child learn to walk. They struggle and they fall. Then they bounce back up with a smile on their face and they try again. They are not afraid to fall and somehow intuitively know it is part of the learning process.

And I commented:

That was always one of my favorite parts of having a small baby. There is something just so life affirming and energizing about watching them try, fall down, try again and finally that triumphant beam.

Hokey alert: We were born to be plucky and determined, weren’t we? It’s a skill some of us lost, but we can regain it. We weren’t born quitters!

My work with Tim helped me internalize that and put it into action. That’s what coaching is about, I think, showing you that you have the skills already, you just need to practice them.

I have one more session left, I’ll miss talking with Tim but I think I have progressed enough to take it from here. If you’d like to benefit from Tim’s wisdom yourself, take a look at his blog, The Discomfort Zone.Similar Posts:

This is how we learned to be writers

Tracy — Mon, 27 Apr 2009 03:28:46 +0000

Or, Forever Young Part 2

Photo credit ©Pink Sherbert Photography

Note: You can find Forever Young Part 1 here

It’s taken me a few weeks to get back to writing this series, writing the first piece was an intense trip back to the past and I felt like I needed to refuel. During this time, I’ve also been working with a life coach and part of that journey has had me reaching back to the past, to figure out who I really am and what it is I value most.

When I was in high school I was a writer. That’s it, that’s who I was. I could think of nothing else I wanted to be and although I dabbled in other things, it was obvious that writing was my true talent. When I asked my friend Sunnie what she remembered about me back then, she wrote:

In High School- We did crazy things. I remember putting up the dissecting frogs Peta posters- We shared that locker- and wrote each other notes on offbeat material, which was fun. You wrote me a letter once on a barf bag from the airplane. You were always so creative- and inspired me to be more creative. I still have postcards you sent where you would glue one picture to another- like Marylin Monroe’s face in the middle of the coliseum.

Reading that made me smile because I remember it well. We had a notebook that we’d pass each other between classes; I spent far more time writing notes to Sunnie than I ever did learning chemistry or history. For some reason, this phrase stands out to me:

Life Sunnie, is not a John Hughes film!

I can’t remember the context but I can imagine myself so clearly, sitting in class feeling angsty and misunderstood and feeling the relief of putting words on paper. I remember our algebra and geometry teacher, Mr. Whitney and how serious he seemed to me, standing by the chalkboard filled with numbers and figures I could never make sense of. We did some exercise once making shapes with our compass and protractors. Something about angles, I’m still not clear on these things, and after I made my shapes, I colored them in, then drew a background and captioned it. He was not amused and from then on, I’d spend math class writing songs about him like this:

Hey! Mr. Whitney! Leave Tracy alone!

All in all you know your butt is

Still retaining it all!

Pretty much I hated school, there was never enough of what I liked and too much of stuff that made my head hurt. What I loved were the extracurriculars. Drama club, speech, newspaper. God, how I loved the school paper. It was called the Eagle’s Echo and I eventually became editor in chief. It amazes me to this day how much freedom my advisers gave me, sometimes it got me in a lot of hot water. Once, we published a story called “Men are Scum” which didn’t go over so well with half of the school’s population and as I was a card carrying member of PETA at the time, there was much editorializing about the evils of meat. I suppose I still do that on this blog, in a more subtle way. Sunnie said:

I knew you’d write- but I also knew that there was no newspaper or magazine that would give you the creative license that the Eagles’ Echo did!

Could you imagine what I’d done with a blog back then? I did experiment with making my own zines, but my parents objected to me running off more than five or so copies on our printer and my allowance wasn’t sufficient for photocopying, so distribution was limited.

I met one of my best friends in high school at journalism conference, not the same year I wrote about in my last post, but the year before. His name was Omar and he went to a different high school and we hit it off right away, as both of us had unfortunate hair and huge braces and a skewed sense of humor. I forgot to get his address, but at later that year I went to an arts workshop called Creative Connections and met one of his classmates and she passed my address on to him. Unfortunately, he was about to move back to the States but we started writing each other letters and became good friends. I’m not sure why, but one day I sent him a rambling love letter addressed “Dear Randolph” and signed it “Babette” and he instantly got it and wrote back to Babette as Randolph and we wove a story for them through the mail. We probably spent less than 8 hours together face to face, but off and on over the years, he’s been a lifeline to meand one of the reasons I’ve always held on to the dream of being a writer.

Those letters, and the letters I wrote to Sunnie and Mike and all of my other friends were my training in how to be a writer. I didn’t have a computer with internet access back then, hardly anyone did, so I’d write most of them longhand in my room after I was supposed to be asleep. Sometimes they’d run to 20 or 30 pages of me trying to make sense of the world and what it was like to be a young woman not quite ready to grow up. That was one of the blessings about being an army brat, you learned to love writing letters.

And the joy when my dad would come home and toss me an envelope! I’d run to my room and tear it open and just devour every word and then carry it with me for days. I learned how words could sustain me and give me strength. I learned to treasure language and appreciate what a gift it was to be able to use it to make and keep connections. And Sunnie was right, we did push each other to become more creative, to improvise, to feel the joy in saying “yes, and…”

There was a lot of darker moments for me back then, and I will write about them as I continue this series, but one thing you must remember is this picture of a girl sitting cross legged on her bed, with a binder on her lap, filling page after page with her thoughts and observations. What she is writing might be dark, there is a lot of confusion and uncertainty, but in that moment she is in her element, she’s in flow, she’s happy.

I’m not sure why, but whenever I’ve thought of writing this post this week, this song has popped into my head, so I’ll leave you with it. Part 3 will be coming soon.

Similar Posts:

My values are what motivate me

Tracy — Wed, 22 Apr 2009 03:33:05 +0000

Or, Life Coaching Part 2

It is possible I am also motivated by Yan Yans. Photo Credit Jeff Werner

If you have no idea what I’m talking about read My first life coaching session.

My second coaching session with Tim was just as great as the first one, I do feel like I’m making great progress even though at times it’s felt overwhelming. More about that later. The amazing thing to me is I don’t remember what was said verbatim but as I go through my daily routine suddenly something Tim says will pop into my head and click. There’s been a lot of “oh so that’s why…” and “ah, I see what he meant…” moments this past week. I don’t know if that’s how it usually goes, but it does feel like I’ve been doing some pretty heavy mental work and there were times when it did feel like I was worse off than when I started. But more about that later, too.

Since I’d read Tim’s blog and books before we started working together, I already knew a bit about values. Our values are at the core of who we are; they are well, what we value most. Having a clear understanding of what your values are can help you understand what will make you happy, what motivates you and what is causing conflicts in your life.

I think I’m very lucky that I started working with Tim at the beginning of my whole “what to do with the rest of my life” journey as doing the values drilldown helped me hone in on what I really want from my life before I got bogged down in something I didn’t want. What I realized is that I am very strongly motivated by family*, creativity and passion and that it’s essential for my wellbeing that I move towards having more of those things in my life. It didn’t really surprise me, in fact I don’t think it would surprise most people that know me that those are the things I value, but what did surprise me was that it explained a lot of the internal conflict I’ve been feeling.

I quit my job!

A few days prior to speaking with Tim, I stepped down from most of the day to day running of the IHMMB forums. It was purely a gut decision, I felt in my heart that I needed some space and this was the best way to get some breathing room. I wanted to be free to take chances and experiment without feeling I was letting people down or ruining what they found valuable about the boards or frankly, having to explain myself. And that’s what I’m doing with the OFFS forum (my flog*) and if I can make it work, wonderful; it if doesn’t I know more for the next thing I try.

The thing I’m coming to internalize is that a fear of failure or disappointing people or being seen as crazy isn’t as important to me as creativity and passion. In the midst of it, when I’m coming up with new ideas and on fire to see how they go, I am happy. I am alive. It’s what I was put on earth to do. Not going for it feels worse than any setbacks or roadblocks ever could.

Mind your language!

(Fancy term: model operators of necessity if you want to look it up)

Another thing Tim has been working on with me is my use of language. Even as I’m writing this, it’s becoming clearer to me how all those needs and shoulds and have tos and got tos have been making me feel anxious. It really is like playing a lose/lose game with myself. I’m just going to quote from Tim’s e-book Stress is for Suckers here because it explains it much better than I can:

However, when we use those expressions to describe things that really aren’t needed, don’t have to be done and aren’t necessities, we place an undue amount of pressure on ourselves. We start to feel agitated, like we’re backed into a corner with no way out.

This trapped feeling causes one of two effects:

You do what you say you have to do and feel like crap about it.
You don’t do what you say you’re going to do and also feel like crap about it.

BTW, Stress is For Suckers is still available for a free download, you can get it here. I’ve been using the techniques and have been seeing good results.

Back to the point, I’m working on changing my language but it’s a work in progress. It takes a lot of practice to change a lifelong habit!

The bad feelings

Today I had another good session with Tim but I’ll close for now and talk about that in a few days after I’ve let it swish around my head for a few days. I wish I could say I felt 100% confident all of the time, but as I said in the opening paragraph sometimes I’ve felt as if there is a voice inside me going “Retreat! Retreat! You are headed towards risky territory!” Or another voice that says “oh for cripe’s sake, this is just feel good mind games, just soldier on and stop trying to fool yourself”. Actually, there is another voice inside me speaking now that is bubbling up “wow, aren’t you self important?” The good news is that part of today’s session helped me to see that this is normal and not proof that I am fatally flawed.

The thing is, I’ve come a long way this year even before getting Tim’s help. In fact, taking the step to get Tim’s help was a huge leap for me. I’m looking at these “whoa” feelings as proof of progress!

Links

BTW, if you’d like to read another blogger’s take on this life coaching business, Johnny B. Truant at The Economy Isn’t Happening has written about it here and here. He’s a really funny guy, so even if you are life coached out, take a peek at his blog. And as always, I recommend Tim’s Blog The Discomfort Zone, his posts are usually very helpful but I think the best part is the lively comments section. Lots of interesting ideas and thoughts from his commenters. They are almost as great as my commenters!

Notes

*by more of family, I mean spending good quality time with them and making sure their needs are met. NOT MORE KIDS. Do you hear me Mister Oh our baby can talk, we need a new one?

*Flog = forum blog. Cheesy, sure. I’m still refining the concept, but basically I have tons of overflow that is more than a forum post, less than a blog post. Also, I love sharing links. All that goes in my flog. Other people are catching on and putting their junk there, too. It’s groovy.
Similar Posts:

My First Life Coaching Session

Tracy — Mon, 13 Apr 2009 04:12:23 +0000

"Have the guts, got the glory" photo credit: Billy Jane

This is tardy; I’d meant to write about my first session with Tim on Wednesday but my oldest son was home for Spring break and I was more exhausted in the evenings then I thought I would be. It worked out better this way, really because it gave me some time to really digest what we talked about and just let it roll around in my head.

Of course, I don’t remember everything that was said or even most of it. I think I actually remember Tim himself telling me that very day that we only remember 10% of what we hear so I’m not too worried about it. I’d planned on writing notes, but was too absorbed in our conversation to do so.

What I do remember quite well is feeling incredibly anxious the morning before our afternoon appointment because our phone was disconnected. Very long story, that I will happily tell anyone with the slightest encouragement, but the gist is that AT&T did me wrong and I am not a deadbeat or need a fundraiser. And that is what I told Tim in an email that morning asking him to call my cell.

Still, I felt a bit sick about this because I wanted to make a good impression on Tim. It was extraordinarily important to me that somehow I convey to him that:

I am a good person that pays her bills.
I am a good person that is not destitute so he doesn’t have to feel sorry for me or worry unnecessarily (although I admit, I’d have found a little concern touching)
I am a good person that is not destitute but I didn’t want to prove it to him so much that he wondered why I couldn’t afford to pay for life coaching myself.
And above all, I am a good person.

Of course, I am not totally neurotic and these thoughts only took up half my morning. The time came and luckily the living room was spotless – I know it was a phone call but I would have felt weird talking to him in a messy house – and I had my notebook and pen ready and felt almost completely confident. And then he called and I felt compelled to explain all over again why my phone was disconnected.

Even as I was saying it, I thought oh man, this is not the kind of over-explaining that a confident person with high self esteem does and sure enough Tim called me on it, but in a very nice way. It seems that spending a lot of energy worrying about what other people might think, especially on things they probably will not be thinking a lot about, is not productive. Yes, I could have told you that before Tim told me, but I still do it.

The great thing about Tim is that he is very funny and engaging and I was soon laughing and very relaxed. He explains why he uses humor in his blog and I think he’s spot on. Laughing does help you relax and become more receptive. I can’t say for certain, as I’ve never had another life coach, but I don’t think I’d do very well with a more formal sort of coach. I’d listen and answer the questions and appreciate the points made but I’d probably stay anxious and not really have it stick.

He asked a few questions about the intake forms I’d filled out and I admit, even after realizing I was thinking too much about what he might be thinking, I still was just a smidgen concerned about giving the right answers. Or rather the smart answers. Answers that showed that I’m a completely confident person who is in charge of her life. Heh.

I don’t want to get too wrapped up in exactly what was said, but do want to point out that it was fun and painless. Perhaps in the next sessions we’ll delve into things that are less fun for me to think about, but I’m glad the first one was easy.

Now, as I said, I don’t remember every word that was said but I do remember him pointing out two things to me when I told him that I had a very hard time taking myself seriously doing anything I considered not-me-ish. For example, writing in this blog? Piece of cake. That’s what I do, that’s me-ish. Trying to find advertisers for this site? Oh mah nah, how do you do that? Don’t you have to have a degree? Okay, I see this is how you write the proposal letter, but I don’t think that’s all there is to it, there has to be more. I can’t do it, because that is not-me-ish, that is somebody else.

It is very silly, but there you go. And I do feel reasonably self confident, not stupid, competent, etc as long as it’s something I consider in my realm. Everything else is a mystery and scary and gives me the giggles thinking of myself doing it, as if I were a child putting on my mother’s heels and lipstick.

Tim told me that my problem and the problem most people have is not wanting to ask for help. I didn’t say so, but for a second I was a little bit taken aback that I had the same problem as everyone else because honestly? I was thinking my problems are a lot more exotic, possibly worthy of some sort of book. Or at least a mention in the Journal of Life Coachery. But no, same problem as everyone else.

Then he told me that the other thing almost everyone does is want to help. And again, I thought I was pretty unique in that but thinking about it a bit more realized most times I’ve asked for help somebody has helped me. Of course, while I found this reassuring, it did not automatically cure me of my distressingly common problem. The good news is, I think that Tim has a way to help me, especially if he can get me over the physical hurdles to me doing these things namely twisty-turny tummy and chokey throat. Which is wonderful because sometime in the near future I am going to ask for my reader’s help with my new project.

Next week, I think we’re going to work on values. Not that I haven’t got any despite what anyone tells you, but I think more what mine are and what conflicts there might be. I am proud of myself because when I was doing the worksheet, I kept thinking “Hmmm, shouldn’t I put peace before fun? I really think I should be the kind of person who values liberty, equality and freedom above humor, shouldn’t I?” but I really shouldn’t be anything, I just am what I am. But more about that next week!

BTW, Tim got me hooked on the TED talks and he told me to watch this one by Sir Ken Robinson called Do Schools Kill Creativity? It’s worth watching, I was alternately pumped up and moved during it and came away feeling like, well, yes the world really needs people who can think creatively don’t they? And aren’t I one of them? Perhaps that wasn’t the message I was supposed to take away but eh, it’s a pretty good message anyway.

ETA – if Tim is reading this, feel free to correct me on anything I didn’t remember correctly. I know that it’s very possible I translated Tim speak into Tracy speak!Similar Posts:

I’d like to introduce you to my son

Tracy — Thu, 02 Apr 2009 19:12:33 +0000

Today, April 2nd is World Autism Awareness Day. I am participating in Bloggers Unite in the hopes of raising awareness of autism and putting a face on what this epidemic means. I don’t pretend to be an expert, I can’t say definitively what the causes are and my opinions on what the USA could do are based solely on my own experiences but what I can do is share our story. If you are looking for resources on autism, please scroll down to the bottom of my post.

Nicholas, age 9. I picked this photo because I think it shows was a captivating and amazing person he is. Handsome, too!

My son Nicholas will be 14 years old this summer, he was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome at 9 years old. Asperger’s is an autism spectrum disorder, and shares many of the symptoms of high functioning autism, the primary difference being children with Asperger’s Syndrome generally do not have significant communication delays.

But that’s a rather clinical way of describing one of the most precious people in the world to me, so I will simply tell you our story.

Nicholas was born when I was just barely 21, not exactly a baby having a baby but fairly close as I was rather immature for my age. I had a few episodes of pre-term labor with him requiring hospitalization and medications and steroids to mature his lungs and he was born 6 weeks prematurely after I was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia. My labor was augmented by pitocin and after 3.5 hours of pushing, he was finally born via vacuum extraction. I’ve given up torturing myself over if any of this was the cause and if so was it my fault.

He was a healthy 6lbs 1 ounce and did very well for a premature baby. He was jaundiced and stayed in the hospital for 9 days for treatment. When we finally got him home, I fell sick with a huge infection and had to be readmitted for 3 days. Again, I wonder but have decided it’s useless to speculate if any of that was a contributing factor.

After that, all was more or less normal. There were a few weeks of colic, but nothing out of the ordinary for a newborn. I adjusted well to being a mother, no significant post-partum depression and besides being tired all of the time, it was a very happy time and we bonded well.

It was when he was about four or five months old that I first suspected that something was wrong with my baby. I thought he might have a vision or hearing impairment because he didn’t consistently turn his ears towards sounds and it seemed to me that his eyes often seemed to focus on the “wrong” thing. For example, when somebody would walk into a room, he’d track the door opening and closing rather than the person walking in. He was meeting all of his milestones and was happy and affectionate and when the pediatrician assured me that his hearing and vision were fine, I more or less put it out of my head although things would often feel a little “off” without me being able to articulate why.

You must remember that this was the mid-1990s and I think for most people, pediatricians included, autism was Rain Man and kids banging their heads and needing to be institutionalized and not being able to form any connection to the world.

As he grew, I noticed more things that seemed strange to me but nothing that rang alarms. He was on the late side of normal for talking and although he had enough words to not be considered delayed, they weren’t the typical words you’d expect a baby to learn. The first words we heard him say were “99 cents!” It took us awhile to realize he always said that when we drove past a McDonalds. Momma and Daddy came relatively late, he didn’t really seem to have need of a word for us. He was affectionate and happy but wasn’t terribly interested in sharing his world with us.

I had no idea at the time that what I considered so “off” about him was a lack of what is called joint attention. When I’d look at something, he’d wouldn’t look up to see what I was looking at nor would he reliably follow if I pointed it out. He would sometimes answer to his name, but not enough to be called consistent. He’d play happily with his toys but never was interested in showing them to me or having me join in his games. I assumed he was just very independent and although sometimes I’d feel a bit hurt, it was also nice to have a child that could play nicely by himself while I did housework or read a book.

Here’s where the joke’s on me, I always secretly thought that it was a sign of my good parenting that I had such a blissfully easy child. I’d listen to my friends moan about not having a minute’s peace and sympathize out loud but inside think if only they gently, but firmly enforced some simple rules they too could read a novel while their toddlers played quietly at their feet. Lest a lynch mob form to get me, I’ve had that theory proven wrong to me four times over now.

When he was a bit past 3.5 years old, he still wasn’t saying much but my father was famous in his family for not speaking until 4 because my grandmother catered to him and hey, weren’t a lot of exceptionally bright people late talkers? He had enough words that the peds weren’t concerned and all hearing tests came back normal. It was then that he became quite the chatterbox and I learned he could read. His lack of eye contact was explained as him being shy.

I’ve no idea how long he had been able to do this, he’d often sit looking at books but I assumed he was looking at the pictures. One day I was writing out a grocery list and he pointed at the word “pizza” and said “I like pizza”. I tested him by writing out many words, and sure enough he knew almost all of them, including “Microsoft” and “Windows”. I was amazed but I was an early reader, too and had spent many hours reading to Nicholas.

Shortly after that he started preschool and that’s when the problems and deficits became increasingly obvious. As he was an only child and I did not work outside the home, I was able to cater to his needs. Without even thinking much of it, I arranged our days so that we were very rarely in noisy, crowded, chaotic environments. The kids he played with were quiet and gentle and I indulged his interest in Pokemon and the computer. He spoke in a rather grown up way and often mimicked things he heard on TV, but that seemed normal enough for an only child who spoke mostly to his parents.

School was different, the kid were loud and boisterous and he had to do things he was not interested in doing. His teachers became concerned and asked that we have him evaluated. My mother, who had many years of child care experience, mentioned autism because of the lack of eye contact. We were told that wasn’t really a possibility because he was social and had great language skills by the pediatricians and that he’d grow out of it, smart children are often socially awkward.

Things were complicated by the fact that my ex husband and I were divorcing during this period and we often gave conflicting reports on Nicholas’s behavior at home. Somehow we muddled along but gradually things became worse at school. At home he was the sweetest thing imaginable and great fun to talk to and do things with. At school he would often cry and become agitated at the other children and not cooperate. Many times he seemed confused over simple things like where to stand in line.

By the time he was in third grade, he was diagnosed first with ADHD and put on meds, each of which made him morose and irritable. Then sensory processing disorder and finally Asperger’s Syndrome. When the diagnosis finally came it was a relief rather than devastating.

Finding treatment for kids with Asperger’s can be tricky. Most autism related treatment is not covered by insurance and most therapies cost upwards of $100 a session. The schools do provide some therapies, such as occupational therapy, speech therapy and modified classroom techniques, however a lot of times it’s a fight to get the services started and even then you aren’t guaranteed that the therapist will have specific experience in working with ASD students. Many, if not most, classroom teachers lack training in how to teach students with ASD and in my experience some will consider any sort of modifications as coddling.

A lot of times your fellow parents won’t understand and you’ll feel shunned. I remember being shamefully relieved when Nicholas began wearing a weighted vest to school each day as part of his treatment for his sensory disorder as I wasn’t the mom of the “bad” kid any more but one with real problems that could be treated with a vest, so they must be serious. I overheard whispers about why on earth was he also attending gifted classes when other people’s normal kids were not. A little girl told me that her mother told her that Nicholas acted out in class because he didn’t get enough attention at home.

It’s been hard, but all through it my son has done so well and I burst with pride for him. Imagine your mother teaching you to read faces with the emoticons on yahoo messenger! He does so much better now but sometimes I can still see him running through the steps we’re taught him in his head as he carried on a conversation: stop. listen. look at the face. the eyes will show you were to look. that phrase could mean two things, stop. what is most likely? stop. look at the face.

He lives with his father during the school year because the schools are much better there and they have a special program he attends. He’s extremely proud of his frequent flier status and is itching to be allowed to fly without being under the care of a flight attendant. Generally speaking in the world of adults he shines – you can tell he’s a bit eccentric, but he’s bright and he knows how to advocate for himself now. I see a world of possibilities for him, just the same as my neuro typical kids.

If you’d like to know more, here are some resources:
Mayo Clinic list of autism symptoms
O.A.S.I.S. Online Asperger Syndrome Information and Support

I have also started a thread on the IHMMB forums for people to share their stories and ask questions and welcome everyone to jump in.

Thank you for letting me share our story with you. I am so lucky to be the mother of Nicholas and if he ever somehow finds this and reads this, I hope that he knows how very proud I, his father, his stepfather and grandparents and brothers and aunt and uncles and cousin are of him. He really is a superstar!Similar Posts: