Credo Week, day one: Who am I?

Who am I?

Who am I in terms of my cultural backround, my gender, my activities, my family and their history? What do the things I really enjoy say about who I am? What is my religious story, from childhood til now? Are there some beliefs I held when I was young that aren't true for me now? How have I become the person I am today? What experiences and beliefs have shaped me? Where is my life journey headed? (questions brought to you by Credo Week on facebook found here)

Answering the question of who I am conjures of images of who I used to be, and who I want to be, all of which mixes into a blur of who I am right now. It's fluid, I am constantly changing. That is one of the beautiful parts of this life I have been given, I am constantly provided with the opportunity to reassess who I am, where I am, and what I am doing. It brings me great joy to know that I can change that and it's not only alright, but a wonderful thing!

But who am I really? I am me. A woman learning more and more everyday to embrace femininity. I am a mother. First and foremost to my beautiful little girl, but also to the world at large. My gift to this world, or one of them, is my capacity to love and care for those who need it. It is in my passion to feed people. Not just food that sustains them, but to feed their souls, their minds, and their hearts. It is found in my desire to know what is behind tremendous acts of faith or displays of love. It resides in my ability to listen and feel the emotion behind the words. And it hides in the quiet embrace of spirit that I strive to feel all around me. I have discovered these gifts within me as a bi-product of being raised with a broken, dysfunctional, hilarious, marvelous family. One that destroys itself out of habit, has offensive and violent dedication to things that don't make sense. One that has faith, when convenient, and opinions galore. One that has hurt and neglected me. And one that has loved and held me. Climbing through the anger and pain to be able to see the beauty has taught me that this gift of who I am, it is because I who I was, who they are. I have the strength, and wisdom that I do because of them. I have the empathy and compassion in spite of them. And I appreciate the true gems found among them because of the failings of the rest.

I began life thoroughly confused by religion and God. The institution of church felt cold, uninviting and mandatory. God felt vengeful and unloving, a suspicious father figure waiting for the inevitable moment when I would display that I was, in fact, a bad person. Why would a diety create a body of people only to set them up for failure and eternal damnation? How was this a loving creator? As I got older, I realized I didn't ascribe as completely to the tenets of faith that those around me did. I craved more on a personal level. If I was going to follow God, I wanted to have a good long conversation with him before I turned over my soul to his care. My mother, bless her, never did what others tried to do, which is tell me what God's answers would be to my demands and questions. The acceptability and encouragement of spiritual exploration led me down many paths over the years and somewhere along the lines I realized I was a Unitarian Universalist. A community of love and respect, with the freedom to choose what I believe. It is through this open acceptance that I have felt the safety to question what I believe, to open up to myself and others about my doubts, my fears, and my joys. The resources to explore what other paths are out there that support my own personal spiritual growth. This has taught me to be confident in the life I choose to lead. This has provided me with a loving spiritual home to fall back upon when I need it most. And it has given me an avenue in which to give. To serve. It is through this service that I have felt most connected with a web of life, with Spirit. I can't define precisely what kind of diety I believe in, but I know that I have not found it in someone else's bible or law. I know it is there because of the serene and perfect moments in life in which I have felt it. And because of the moments which I refused to believe in it, yet found it was still there. I have felt it most often through the spirit of love and the way in which it enters and blesses my life. Through the people that I know, and the challenges I have.

I give because I love. I learn because I thirst. I write because I long to connect and share. I love because of what I have received in life. I am still standing because of my courage to keep climbing through the tears and laughter of love, hate, confusion, despair, contentedness, joy, sadness and ambiguity of life.

It is impossible to define who I am without defining the world around me and everything in it, because it has all contributed to the maze inside of me. But whatever it is, whoever I am, or wherever I end up, it will be amazing and beautiful.

There's a story in there...

...just waiting to come out. I can feel it. The words are brimming just under the surface.

The well feels dry, but I think I may be drowning.

Today I am scrambling around like a chicken with my head cut off. I am about to depart for the weekend, to attend the Unitarian Universalist Associations Pacific Northwest District assembly. While my body has been in constant motion this morning it has given my mind a lot of time to digest why I do this work. It's been an interesting conversation that I have had with myself.

For years, my involvement with my church has come from a place of gratitude for the spiritual fulfillment that I have gained from being a part of this community. It is why I took my position as a youth advisor. To ensure that the community that so vitally fed me during my teen years was there for others who needed it. It is why I took a position on the district board of directors when offered. Coincidentally, it is also why I resigned my position on the board three years later, because I felt like my energy would be better served elsewhere. (Not that being on the board was a horrible experience, I actually cherish the whole adventure, I was just pulled elsewhere.) It is why I have stepped onto planning committees and into sponsor and advisor roles. Because I LOVE this community. I care for the members. I feel interconnected to all.

Lately though, I have felt this thirst for spirit in my life. I haven't been feeling it come from my church experiences, and this makes me sad. I do not feel that I am in the wrong place, I still feel like this is where I would like to be, but where is the faith that I felt before? Has my nerdy love for organizing and business and leadership drown it all away? Or is it just that I have reached a point in my life where I am again needing to re-evaluate my own personal spirituality?

The Rev. Peter Morales, the UUA president, in November wrote an article that articulated very clearly that ours if a faith of service and action, that it is only through service that we experience faith. It also very clearly stated that hanging out is not a spiritual practice. While I agree that, in priciple, this is a faith of service and action, I cannot ascribe to the belief that this is the only way to experience faith. And I absolutely know that hanging out can be spiritual. Of course, this does depend on your definition of "hanging out" and how often you just "hang out", but I feel very confident in saying that some of the more spiritual experiences in my life have come from spending time in community with just the right people. That sitting around and talking has brought about some very foundation-shaking ideas for me. So if this is not a faith where this is something considered spiritual, maybe I'm not in the right place?

I am not saying that I am ready to throw in the towel, declare I am not a UU anymore, and disappear. I am a UU. I agree very strongly with our principles. I love the people and groups that I put my time and energy into here in this organization. But I need something more. It's time for a spiritual quest of sorts, I suppose.

It's also time to fold clothes so that I can pack.

Sappy mom, awesome daughter

Six years ago I was hugely pregnant and about to rip the head off of the next person that took one look at my large belly and asked "are you STILL pregnant?" or ask how I was feeling, and when I replied "fine" they would take one look at me and say "really?" or my favorite, the stranger with their hands on my belly asking "are you SURE there isn't two or three in there?". I think it is safe to say that I was slightly done with a stomach so big that I couldn't reach my feet. (Very literally could not reach my feet.) I was tired of feeling the urge to pee every time I laid down, yet when actually try, produced very little. And I was SICK of not being able to sleep. The being hungry constantly, yet only being able to eat a few bites before my actual stomach organ was too full because there was mounds of baby compressing it, that was getting old. But all that being said (and I am sure I could say more, if I thought about it long enough), I LOVED being pregnant. Talk about the fascination of being a walking science experiment. I loved that I had such a wonderful connection with Emily before we even knew her as Emily. I loved being able to feel her in there, tapping at insides or curling her toes around my rib cage, letting me know she was there. When I went into labor, I went shopping. I was pretty low on the crazy scale until that very moment when I went grocery shopping all by myself, having contractions every 10 minutes, and purchased $300 of food. Woo nesting! It was all I had left to do. I had scrubbed and cleaned and reorganized clothes and everything else I could think of. I was so ready for this baby. It seemed like an eternity within those months of pregnancy.

And then, fast forwarding through the parts where I was screaming so loud I thought I was listening to someone else scream (it really is an interesting birth story), there was my perfect, wailing ball of baby. The first three weeks were so very long. I didn't sleep. I couldn't sleep. I thought it was crazy talk when I would hear mothers say "I was up for five days straight after she was born" but nope, so true. I couldn't sleep, all I could do was stare. At how beautiful she was, and how perfect her little fingers and toes and ears were. How deliciously baby-like she smelled, how cuddly she was. I was so amazed that she came out of my body. I mean, I GREW a baby, and she came out of ME! Seriously, I have known where babies come from for as long as I can remember, but how often does the miracle of that truly sink in, other than right after you have accomplished the feat yourself?

And here we are six years later. We have survived the adjustment of separation, the first set of stitches, the first fights with friends, the first heartaches. We have relished in the wonders of nature, and REALLY gotten down with the puddles and ponds and mud. We have had dance parties and spa nights, we have sung and cooked and created together. We have fought with each other and cried together, and then comforted each other. There have been countless hugs and kisses and love notes and sweet words. And it is all still so incredibly magical. Not a day goes by where I think "what am I doing here? this isn't me or my life!" What other relationship can I say that about? Not one.

Six years of awesome. My little girl will be six in one week, and I can't believe how fast it has all been. It's a freakin' ride, yo!

And I am going to revel in all of it now so that when she is a teenager and hates me, I can ship her off to her Auntie Nessa's.

I am a hands-on learner.

There it sat on the plate. Steaming and taunting me with it's warm crunchy yet chewy goodness, with melted butter flowing gracefully over the side. "Eat me" it whispered in a seductive tone that only I could hear. "NO!" I answered, "you aren't good for me...I broke up with you last week, it's over!" "But you love me, and I love you. How can you leave me like this?" was the whiny, drool inducing answer. It went on like this for five minutes. I argued with it. I berated myself for not realizing it would show up here. But it wore me down. "OH FINE!" I huffed, as I bit into it. It was toasty, and delightful, and heavenly. Toast. White sourdough toast. Oh. My. Gawd. It has never tasted so good. I didn't even used to like white bread. Endorphins relished in the pleasure, and coursed through my veins.

Five hours later. It's so over. Again. My stomach has not hurt this bad since I can't remember. All from one lousy piece of bread that came with a fruit salad. Who the F puts bread with fruit salad? Oh, yeah. My favorite coffee shop in town. That's who.

Will someone remind me of this next time I wonder whether cutting out gluten is REALLY that necessary?

With this whole new adventure into integrative nutrition, I get to meet with a health counselor, so there is loads more intentionality being poured into how I treat myself. I consider myself a healthy person, and pretty knowledgeable when it comes to food issues, and I think that because of this, I take for granted that I feel good. Or, really, that at one point, treating myself or feeding myself a certain way, made me feel good. And once I start taking it for granted, I quit paying as much attention to what my body is telling me. Now that I have this permission that the universe and I have granted myself to pay attention to ME ME ME, I am noticing things I was not aware of before. My goal for the last two weeks, set by my health counselor and I, was to focus on breakfast. Make time to make it, to eat it, and to feel it. While, it has been hard getting up a little earlier in order to make this happen, it has been a wonderful experience. First off, the cliche sayings about breakfast being the most important meal of the day are so true! Who knew that eating something before setting myself in go-mode would make me so much less grouchy and impatient? Secondly, with an exercise called the breakfast experience, I have finally been forced to recognize that I have a gluten intolerance.

Now, as a short background, and a child and teen, I battled a number of health issues, a lot of them dealing with my digestive capabilities, or lack there of. In treating myself for these issues (such as Candida) I had to cut out a gigantic portion of everyday foods. I was horribly bitter about this deprivation, and was positive that it was ridiculously unfair. I was so jaded by my resentment that I had no room to appreciate how being so much healthier felt. I celebrated the day I could again eat pizza. So, over the last year, as I have quietly noticed my low energy levels, the sore throat I get when eating white bread, or any number of things, I would shove the thought out of my head and refuse to entertain the possibility of cutting out gluten because what a pain in the ass, right?

So, this breakfast experience, I was forced to look straight at the fact when I ingest high gluten content foods, I am miserable. I may not notice the smaller symptoms at first, but the more I eat, the worse I feel. Here all along I was afraid at how much work being gluten free would be. But I bit the bullet and did it. I have been gluten free for about a week now and oh my goodness, what a difference. I have more energy, no more waking up with sore throats, I am not constantly and slightly congested. The energy boost alone is enough to make up for the effort it requires. And, I am even enjoying the effort that this is all taking.

So, yay for listening to myself, and honoring my needs.

my happiness project

Lately I have felt this pull towards something I cannot define or see. It's an urgent kind of tug, on my heart. It's not scary. It's just there. So much of my life is focused on "doing". Doing homework, doing the endless amounts of housework, making lunches, helping Em do homework, doing work that might in the long run make me money, doing what I said I would, doing what I feel like I should. What happened to just being? I feel like I worry so much about getting things done that I am missing what really matters to me most. What is scary is that sometimes, when I stop to think of those things, I don't remember what some of them are. I feel like I start to lose myself in this to-do list that the world around me never stops contributing to. It isn't that I am unhappy with my life, quite the opposite. I am more happy now than I have been in a really long time. I just feel like I could appreciate it more. Or take more time to actually see the things in life that are beautiful to me. I want to stop being so focused on what I have to do next so that I can take time for what is in front of me right now. Too often, I push those things aside.

So, here I am, sitting with this feeling, and I happen upon a book. The Happiness Project by Gretchen Rubin. And it is all about what I had been feeling, organized by a slightly OCD writer (I mean that in an envious I-wish-I-could-lay-it-all-out-like-that kind of way). I start to read this book and it is so much what I want to do with my life. There is so much awesome right now, I don't want to just glaze over it anymore. I don't want to settle for hoping my loved ones know how much I appreciate them anymore, I want to hold myself accountable for enriching those relationships and seeing that they know I love them. I am tired of my mental and physical clutter holding me back from enjoying life more. And, as if you hadn't guessed already, I am starting my own happiness project. In the book, Gretchen Rubin picks 12 areas of her life that she wants to boost happiness in, or appreciate more. One for each month. She even has little bullet points in each area that are specifics of WHAT will make that happen, and she lays them all out on a little chart so she can give herself check marks or X's at the end of the day to rate her progress. How organized can one person be? Anyhow. My happiness project. I don't really know what it is going to look like yet, or how it will play out, but I do know that I would like to be living my life and conducting myself with more intentionality than I have been. God bless the inventor of auto-pilot, you were a genius, it's just not how I want to live my life.

I am excited about this. I am kind of a nerd for organizing things, even if my household disarray doesn't reflect that all the time.