10 realizations had while writing my final research paper

My entire day today is planned around working on my one and only thesis paper.  Ten things have happened while writing this thing:

1)  I've come to realize that I enjoy doing research.  Entering key words and having them pull up a million archives on your very topic, is satisfying.  It's like going to Ross or garage saleing.  It fulfills my love for a good treasure hunt.

2)  Life has come full circle again.  Funny how that happens.  It's time to go ahead and add another circle to that grad school-who I am aesthetic--with the handful of circles.  Life has come full circle in the way that while I write furiously for this final assignment, I do so with interest and passion.  How could I not when I'm writing about telling one's story.

3)  With this said, I now consider myself a narratologist.  Had you ever heard of such a thing?  The dictionary refers to narratology as "the branch of knowledge of literary criticism dealing with the structure and function of narratives and its themes, conventions and symbols."  My cup of tea.

4)  Which has had me considering getting this tattooed more frequently.

5)  This is the last research paper that I have to write.  Ever.  But that just sounds so unrealistic.  Seriously.  How could this be, when at the end of 5.5 years of schooling, I could decide that I've been enjoying doing this research?  I guess I'm growing up.  I've been coming into the areas that are meaningful to me, and researching the art of narrative is of greatest interest.  Obviously. I'm a story teller.

6)  And then there is this: at this juncture in time, I can't imagine this being the end of my educational journey.  I love to learn.  I love school.  Makes sense, right?  I'm a teacher.  But schooling is not all titles or the certificates.  For me it's about the personal investment that comes with allowing yourself to be fed and to grow.  Life becomes boundless when you position yourself to be poured into.  You may do some busy work, and at times, you may feel your eyeballs would be better poked out with a fiery metal rod, and you may think about bailing.  A lot.  Because it's not like anyone is forcing an education on you.  But you don't, because it's worth it.  And there is way too much to be learned in life than to be hanging out in the bleachers.  Sure, the lessons of life can happen anywhere--in the woods or while meeting chance strangers, and all of that's necessary and priceless.  But getting a {formal} education is just one of the coolest gifts I've ever given myself, and it has made me better in my relationship with others, too.  So we'll see.  In due time, I may head back--to study narratology.

7)  Which reminds me...a successful acquaintance once told me, that she doesn't like to learn.  Still trying to reconcile that notion.  I'm not sure she listened to what she was saying.

8)  With this said, I've got many books that I'm ready to consume this summer.  Since starting grad school, reading a book for pleasure has been a thing of a past.  My list of to-reads has been growing, and I can't wait to settle into them.

9)  Then there's the sun.  I'd like to enjoy that.

10)  And finally, because I like lists of ten, and as narratology would suggest--the story does not end.  “The story is beautiful, because or therefore it unwinds like a thread.  A long thread, for there is no end in sight.  Or the end she reaches leads actually to another end, another opening, another ‘residual deposit of duration” (Caine, et al., 2013).  This is just a fragment of my query.  Beautiful, right?

questions of merit and clarity.

October is Bully Prevention month.

Two and a half weeks ago, I returned home from Seattle, where I took part in four days of Olweus Bully Prevention Program training.  In all, I was away for five days, and they were the longest, mentally draining, at times emotionally exhausting days I have experienced since before having children. 

While on my train ride to the north, thoughts of what ifs began to unearth from the deepest pits in my mind.  Will they ask why I was there, and if so, could I answer effectively without any quiver in my voice?  Had I healed enough, and was I ready to teach on this issue that for so many years bound my heart in rivets of lies, and caused me turmoil so great that I was unsure if the depression would ever allow me to be normal again?  I wondered if I was qualified to sit in a room with teachers, principals, administrators, even authors and those who follow their names with M. Ed. , Ed. D?  Would the emotions heave onto my heart and make speaking unbearable, or would I want to leave all together like I did in college while the other soon-to-be teachers talked frivolously and ignorantly about teens and rights of passage?

Suddenly, I was questioning if my own experience had any merit, if my heart for the kids who deal with such issues matter enough, or if my personal experience is enough to get my foot in the door, and in front of the teachers who may or may not think their school has a problem, or in front of the teachers who really don't get paid enough to act as social workers on top of their long list of other teacherly duties, but who feel it their ethical obligation to know how to intervene when they witness or hear of peer abuse among students.

When I realized what was happening, I consciously pulled myself from the negative self-talk of pre-destined failure and inadequacy, and looked north.  I set all the had-beens aside and moved my mind from the realm that I've lived, and away from the feelings that still manage to creep in like the coldest gusts of air that move in from some distant door left ajar, to keep moving; to press on in these moments of not enough answers, and embrace them, and accept them as part of reaching my destination.

God knew I needed some reinforcement, and offered clarity in the softest voice.  We had just been shuffled around into new tables of five and were to begin the next exercise.  After a few quiet moments of reflection, we were to share any experiences of bullying or being bullied in school, and what it felt like when we were at that age...The table leader shared her most vivid memory and then asked me if anything had come to my mind?  For a moment, I floundered.  I have stories falling out of my back pockets, the question was really, which one to choose?  I grappled for a moment, finally choosing one that would suffice.  You'd think I'd be okay with making an example out of myself, especially at a bully prevention training, since I do quite a bit of writing on the subject, but divulging such experiences to strangers, on the spot nonetheless, was quite uncomfortable.

After a short break, the woman who had been sitting next to me returned to the table and said, "I think that was really brave of you to share your experience."  I was surprised and caught of guard to be called brave, and thanked her.  Then she told me that her son had committed suicide four years before as the result of having been bullied.  I was stunned.  Her words pierced my ears and heart in an instant, yet she told her truth with such blatant honesty in the softest voice.  She continued to talk, and I attempted to add in where I could, to be polite, but really, I felt as though I'd slammed into a wall.  You don't know how much you don't know, until someone unexpectedly hands you unfathomable pain, in one sentence.  We exchanged a few more words, briefly explaining each our passion on the subject of bully prevention before the session began again. 

I was still stunned.  After a few more minutes, the reality of the heartache and the loss and the passion that sat next to me, caused my heart to wrench.  I wanted to release the emotions that had filled my chest in an ongoing sob.  I wanted to make a quick exit and return another time, when the emotions and the reality were detached from the program and the workbooks, but I couldn't.  So I gathered myself up with thoughts of her strength.

Meeting Ann, was a blessing, and an undeniable connection was made.  Her story and her strength encourage me in my journey and in my passion for bully prevention because it is kids like her Jeremiah that no longer have their voice to stand against bullying, but who deserve to be stood for.  It is these kids and those who are currently dealing with peer abuse who make it easier to pray for more courage, confidence, persistence and tirelessness to do this work, to prevent others from having to deal with peer abuse, and make something of the memories that would otherwise remain the colorless time in my life.   

You can stand for the silent too, and read more about Jeremiah's Hope here.

October 22nd is Jeremiah's Hope for Kindness Day.  

In memory of those who have dealt with peer abuse and those who are still dealing with peer abuse, please wear yellow.  It was Jeremiah's favorite color.

via

A message on being "Pretty."

There are some messages that must be shared as quickly

as I can log into blogger and coordinate a readable post.

I just encountered such importance,

and feel the need to insert this message here, for you.
Kacy-thank you, thank you for sharing.

Slam Poet, Katie Makkai - Pretty

This is good.
{Every girl needs know this valuable lesson.}

pouring over.

For the last five days, I've been careful.

Careful of my intake, careful of my outtake.

It can be a terribly draining task to solely provide for two little ones for extended periods of time, and truth be told, I've been nearly drained for months.

Husband is away hunting for a prize, and sustaining himself on my best-yet batch of energy bars,

Top Roman, chunky beef stew, and whatever else those hunting types insist on eating to survive the life outdoors.  He's with his Dad and his buddy, and each of them is an outdoors man through and through.  They've already been out for five days,

{that counts for something, eh?}  and Pops took down a "monster" buck yesterday. 

As a family, we are praying that Daddy brings home his prize. 

He gets something about every year, but still has yet to bring home "the prize"--the one worth mounting. 

I'm rooting for him. 

Each of us has a prize on the horizon,

 waiting to be brought home...

Husband has a few main life-focuses. 

This week, his eyes are on the antlers.

To each man his own.

So with my time, I've been tending to my children and to myself with much care.  Aware that I'm on the verge of exhaustion quite often, so often that there are moments when I wonder when it'll all come crashing down around me?  I've been laying quite low for the last five days. 

I've cleaned, cooked, cleaned some more, chased many a messes in effort to keep it clean, and have done mass amounts of laundry.  I've organized, wrote lists, sent various levels of correspondence, babysat, made returns, paid bills, created some book marks and sewed some baby bibs.  I've exercised, went to the mall, napped with the babies, exchanged emails with an acquaintance from long ago, attended the most lovely baby shower, mowed the lawn {my right arm is more sore from attempting to start a broken mower than from my Monday morning arm workout. hmm...}, and even moved myself a latter to climb to the top shelf of our garage, whilst full-knowing that Husband spotted a mouse in the garage before he left!

{I'll show you what I was searching for and found, soon.}

Since Friday, I practically removed myself from blog-land and was okay with it,

and limited my time on Facebook.

I haven't read much of anything,

nor can I name one thing that I've watched...

Friends, I am not sure what I've been doing?

However, one thing that has been developing within me during this time,

is the thought that my children need me--more.

They've seen me moving at full-speed for some time.

Last night at the dinner table, Brooklynn talked about me "always working" and "never playing."

When I questioned her notion,

she named about five things that I am always doing...

and it hurt my heart.

It amazed me that at four, she sees where my attention goes throughout the day,

and that it is not always focused on her or her brother.

Although I feel lucky that they are such great playmates,

when she said it, she spurred change.

The struggle that I've been waging within, to keep up,

finally sorted itself out,

and simplifying become more simple.

Prioritize.

  And do the "extras" on my time and not theirs.

{Granted, the day brings many necessities,

and not all of them can be done while the little ones are asleep.}

This morning the thought crossed my mind~

this is all TEMPORARY, the neediness doesn't last forever,

and they'll be more grown-up than you'll be able to handle,

too soon.

Cherish.

This is what I've been learning the last five days,

and its been pouring into me heavy.

What's been pouring on your heart??

weheartit

comfort in the fortune.

It's not the first time that I've found comfort in a fortune cookie.

I wouldn't suggest relying on said cookies for firm advice,

but sometimes,

the one-liner feels spot on.

I've been carrying these around for the past three weeks or so,

as a reminder to myself that

some days,

somehow,

we are spoken to.

Even be it through a fortune cookie.

When I read this, I felt understood--

as if the fortune writer was writing to me only,

and him or her knew that if I hadn't some relief soon,

I might just give up and instead gear my life towards better housekeeping.

I smiled. Relieved on the inside.

Because the kids were reeking havoc and unaware of the cookies,

Husband and I each took another.

I smiled again.

There is a method to this madness.

In some sort of whirlwind of timing or lack thereof,

the necessary focus is driving its point home.

I take notice.

I do.

Husband and I have this thing when we are out for Chinese.

If the fortune is bad, we don't eat the cookie.

Well, that's just him-- 

I'm not the superstitious type.

I just believe in mass produced fortune cookies.

weheartit

I am not my mother...and other lessons learned this past year.

My 27th year bestowed upon me plenty of necessary lessons.

It's not a good year unless there are lessons, right?

As I grow into my adulthood, I've began to measure my years by said lessons, and it is in fact, quite rewarding at the end of another year, to reflect on the lessons, or the themes woven throughout my year.

Here's what year 27 threw my way:

A lesson on Friendship:

Part of having friends and being a good friend to yourself,

is knowing when to release and let go.

There is a growing and a changing that inevitably happens over time to each one of us. It's the moving with and being flexible to this change that I've found to be the only means of understanding changing relationships, and what might otherwise remain a frustrating, sad, mystery.

A MAJOR lesson on Balance:

The illusive target of my life.

Seems I've had to teeter on the edge of insanity this year to experience the jumbled mess that life can be without balance! Who knew that such a subject would require such touch lessons?!

I'll admit,

I allow myself to suffer from overload and feeling overwhelmed because I want to do everything MYSELF! During the upheaval that such nonsense brings, balance calls to me, saying, catch me if you can!

It's a horrible game to play, and even worse when it is self-inflicted.

Undoing and sorting through the expectations that I've given my life is a task in itself.

However, I believe there is a sweet balance to be lived in my life, where I can be mommy/wife/creative spirit in the perfect proportions, and where we (my family, friends and I) all win!

A lesson on Mystery:

There is more mystery in this life than I've cared to acknowledge at times.

I think it is normal to want to understand this life that we are living, and attempt to do so by separating the factors into boxes in our minds (I heard this analogy a bit ago and it makes sense to me).

But, I've learned!

Placing people into boxes is wrong, while attempting to understand everyone and everything

is a fete unattainable for the human mind,

AND is not my job.

During this last year, there has been a handful of moments when I've realized what I thought I had figured out, was exactly not.

I've been humbled and accept the mystery a little more.

I don't love feeling vulnerable to this life and the unknowing,

but there is no two ways around it.

Mystery wins again!

Lessons on God:

He is on my side.

I am learning and progressing in my walk to solely depend on Him--

He wants my whole heart.

Just as in my relationships and in life's mystery at times, I feel vulnerable and it can be hard for me to throw my arms up and ask Him the big questions and expect an answer~

What next God?

Why do I feel tangled between ideals and reality?

When will it unravel and come together the right way?

This year I pray to be more faithful, to step fully into His walk for me.

I know it's enough for me, and there will be the balance that I need.

I've also learned to foster an attitude of expectancy when it comes to having a relationship with God.

He's a big God who wants us to ask him big things.

He's waiting to be beckoned. He's waiting for us to ask Him to show us the way.

Lessons on Marriage:

Whoever claimed the first year of marriage to be most rocky,

was WRONG.

I would like to executively change this saying to the first FIVE years.

There.

I feel better.

As I am coming up on year five of marriage, I'd like to shout hoorah!

Toughing through the first five years of marriage and having children early in this time,

has required some serious elbow grease.

Was it worth it? Surely.

We've been creating a beautiful thing over these years.

A good thing requires work,

and when you work hard at something,

it's that much easier to protect and nurture.

A lesson on Strength:

This year I completed my second half-marathon and a 15k with great personal records!

When I threw my back out in April, plans for the Portland Marathon were tossed out.

My injury humbled me in away, and lead me to notice how exercise can become a vice,

and take focus from areas that might need more attending.

The time out has helped me slow down.

Learning what I'm physically capable of has increased my confidence in myself. 

It's amazing what the physical can do for the mental and vice versus.

I am strong both physically and mentally.

An on-going lesson--I Am Not My Mother,

and it's okay:

I grew up with a wonderful, dedicated, loving housewife as my mother.

She volunteered at my school, packed me lunches, took me to lessons, and had dinner prepared every night.

Even as I slept in in High School, she'd still cook me up a couple eggs if I was running late and bring them to me in my bathroom.

I know. Spoiled.

Although she has blessed my upbringing in unmeasurable ways, her example exhausts me.

I try and I try to do all the things she did for me and expect them for my own life and for my family, but constantly feel as though I am falling short. I fight with myself over the things my heart longs to do that might take me from the home; the fact that I wouldn't be an exclusive housewife feels negative, and scares me back into wanting to fill those shoes that aren't mine.

This is not to say that I don't love being home with my children. I do. I feel privileged to be their main care-taker, and that I am married to a successful business owner who can help us afford for me to do so. Let me tell you though, it ain't all rainbows and flowers helping your Husband run a business. But there is this part of me that wants to use my other talents and gifts outside of the home, and to show my children that I love them and have other passions that drive me as well.

The self-inflicted expectations are silly, and are not scary when recognized.

I am not raising my daughter to be me, nor did my mother raise me to be her.
Somewhere between the life I've known and the one I'm creating is the balance that I am seeking.

It's there...and

I can't wait to claim it.

Hopefully the answer that I am searching for will happen upon me during this 28th year.

wehearit