The bad was just not being motivated to homeschool or take care of the house. And not just me, but the whole family. And I mean ZERO motivation. We struggled every single day. My B12 shot is wearing off and I was super tired and that didn’t help anything.
The good: My cousin Doug Hollenbeck wins the calendar! Yay! He has been one of my super supporters and commenters from the beginning of posting my art on Facebook. He seems to know just what to say a lot of times, so I am so glad he won.
The good: I got to see my parents this week. Always fun to have them come visit! And they made it safely home in all the crazy weather.
The good: I went to the art museum with the kids, out for breakfast with a dear friend, out for coffee with a new one, and out for dinner with the hubs. Good times enjoying things I love with ones I love.
The good: I finished three canvases with trains for my nephews, found a local printer I really like, and I had a good night painting after some inspiration time on Pinterest.
This is one I did that night, I was inspired by words from a sermon I heard recently, a layout I saw (although I changed it completely in the end), and my birthday which was good, bad and ugly).
And I am going to put this out there, bring it up, because I am frustrated and have been processing this all week.
My own birthday is another holiday I struggle with right up there with Christmas, Halloween, anniversaries, Sweetest Day, National Hot Dog Day, you name it. I just cannot align my thought perceptions and processes to those of popular culture, no matter how hard I try. Some people have OCD, some are germophobes, some don’t like to travel or change, I dislike holidays. I know, I know. Weird. But very true. And just like I know I am not expected to be OCD, germophobe or whatever with those people, I don’t expect anyone to agree with my holiday dislike, but please just let me be –just as if I were ironing my shoelaces or wearing rubber gloves.
For example, my birthday: It is not that I am not thankful to be alive or for my birth. I am. I am proud of being 39 (heck yeah I have almost made it to 40!), so that is not it. Actually we should get presents for my parents and husband and celebrate them because they have survived me and my drama!
It is not that I am not thankful for good wishes, it means a lot to have my loved ones think of me.
(But not the check out girl at the grocery store ID’ing me for wine–that was strange, and not the person on Facebook who I may not even actually know–hence why it is not listed. Creeps me out personally. And not the dentist I haven’t visited for three years who sent me a coupon, or the Menards “birthday coupon” for a three in one screwdriver. Double creepy.)
To me, my birthday is just another day to be thankful for like all the others all year. Another day in my story, my truth, no more special than the one before or after, no more of an excuse to do or not to do. No more special than any other person’s day. No more special than the many people who are a part of my story each day. No more or less important to celebrate than some random Wednesday because it is a good day to be happy and be me.
No need to make a fuss, special dinner, presents, a hullaballoo, or anything. Just let it be.
Many cultures don’t even keep track of birthdays (or many of the holidays here in the USA for that matter). Some do, but few celebrate American style. I am more aligned to those other cultures. I struggle with the American version of holidays in general: the excess, the agendas, what stores are selling to us as important. I used to get so caught up in the expectations game: it will be WONDERFUL, it will be the BEST, better than ever, you should do this, and this, and this, and this and expect this and that. And THEN you will be happy. And you know what, for me, that never added up. I am not the person who can read the magazine letters from everyone on their best whatever or special tradition, because I am too critical of myself, “Nicole! Why haven’t you done that! Geesh! Get on it girl!” And then I realize, I don’t have any interest in that anyway! DUH.
Maybe being a holiday disliker makes me a realist, maybe a pessimist. I don’t know. But I do know this as part of my truth and unfolding story: I love God, I love my family–ALL of them, whether they like me or not, I am learning to love myself, and I am thankful for all of the above on all sorts of random days–whether it is a national holiday or personal day or just a day.
But, okay, I have to admit, I am thankful for the free chocolate, entree, and wine from Coopershawk Winery for my birthday. Now that was a FREEBIE! —But the “happy birthday” waiter was creepy.