All posts for the month July, 2012

#30: Saving money sucks

Well, given how very much I want to go to Seattle, I’m a little surprised that I’m having trouble keeping that fact in mind when choosing to spend or not spend money. I did okay this week, but definitely had a few blips.

For instance, I was able to prevent myself from spending a few times: When I almost donated (for the 12th time this summer) to a political organization…

+ $5.00

…and then when browsing Sephora’s website (I am always sure that a new product from Sephora will have a domino effect that results in a perfect life at the end)…

+ $35.00

I also considered buying a premium theme to class up the blog, but remembered in time that my money is going somewhere else.

+ $68.00

But then my goal slipped my mind when I went to visit my mom and decided at the last minute to take her favorite Starbucks drink with me.

- $3.13

And when I pre-ordered the new Mumford & Sons album…

- $14.99

….and again when I spotted grass-fed beef for sale at SuperTarget.

- $7.00

I guess that (theoretically) leaves me about $82 up? Can I say that?

I’ve got to think of some more creative ways to keep my trip in the front of my mind. Like maybe taping pictures of Mount Rainier National Park all over my steering wheel, or carving a likeness of the Space Needle into my debit card.

Ohanapecosh

This is another ongoing challenge, but it’s worth it–for the potential trip and beyond. I need to be more aware of how I spend my money. (Is there an app for that?)

 

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by Beth on July 30, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Results Show

Posted by Beth on July 30, 2012

http://fearkick.com/2012/07/30/30-saving-money-sucks/

#30: Save up for a serious vacation

I’ve been thinking about my final Fearkick challenge and what I want that experience to look like. I want it to challenge me on as many fronts as possible, and be momentous enough to serve as the end of my year-long experiment.

So I’ve settled on an extended vacation (I know, how tough, right?). Although I’ve traveled alone and am not really nervous about flying or travel in general, I’ve always had someone to meet at my destination, so I had the safety net of spending my time once arrived with someone else. The thought of spending a week in a city very far away from everyone I know simultaneously excites and terrifies me.

I’m planning a trip to Seattle, which is about as far as you can get from my corner of the contiguous United States.

2600 miles away from me.

I’ve wanted to visit the Pacific Northwest for a while now; in fact, I never realized that it was the kind of place I could fall in love with until I watched the first Twilight movie. (Something good came out of that experience after all!)

I’m a Florida native, and so I don’t dream of beaches and sunshine, but instead rainy, cloudy days and mountains, cold enough to wear several layers of clothes and still be comfortable. I adore cold weather, and if I’m lucky enough to get a cool day in South Florida crossed with a dark and dreary one, I am lost in transports of joy.

I was in Chicago, and absolutely enthralled at the below 20°F temperature.

People usually think I’m joking when I express this excitement; and then without fail tell me that I’d change my mind if I ever lived in cold weather. Oh, BUT NO, Fictional Challenger! I lived in Boston for two years and loved every second of the coldest, snowiest weather I experienced. Granted, I didn’t have a car, which I assume is a huge difficulty in snowy climates.

This is the first time I saw snow! I still love it this much.

So the thought of experiencing the Pacific Northwest in January is actually pretty exciting, if also scary. I’ll be completely responsible for my own enjoyment of the trip, for the planning of every piece, and for my security (emotional and physical) while I’m there.

At first I was thinking, this isn’t a great challenge. I’m not afraid of airplanes or airports or being alone. But then as I thought more about how it would look, I started to become paralyzed by fears that I didn’t know existed: Being alone in a city, especially after dark (and if I go in winter, there will be a lot of after dark) is terrifying.

Here’s the weird part: I lived in Boston for two years. I loved almost every second of it, and I was never in the least afraid of walking around after dark. And I had a lot of anxiety there–in fact, that’s where I was diagnosed with anxiety and the first time I realized it was even a possibility–even though I’m sure it’s been around since I was a kid. So why am I suddenly now quailing at the thought? Just because it’s a new city? Boston was brand new to me, too. Or maybe it’s just my anxiety is showing me the worst case scenarios and that’s got all my nerves on edge.

I’m also suddenly afraid of being alone and doing things alone. And I’m afraid to even plan it: what if I do it wrong, or I end up not making my financial deadline? Is it stupid to go in winter, when the only shoes I own are Reefs and Vibrams and nothing in my closet is wool?

Anyway. My point is: this is presenting a lot of fear for me. I’m scared to plan it, scared to think about doing it. But maybe that’s just today, maybe this will pass.

My therapist reminded me, when talking about eating habits and losing weight, to keep my focus on the present. I tend to either slip back into the past, or think about the future: like, by x date I’ll have lost x amount of weight and look perfect for x event. But that’t not getting me anywhere, even though it’s a motivating thought…because it’s so far in the future, I don’t feel urgency about making the right choices today. Plus, by giving myself such a hard to reach goal, I’m activating my perfectionist procrastination brain cells. Why start when I’ll never make it to that goal?

So my challenge for this week is to buckle down on money. No wasting money on paperbacks I’ll never read again, or bottles of my beloved illegal Diet Coke (I’m trying to quit again!), or trying out new skin products.

A few years ago, a few of my college friends were planning a trip to Iceland, and had one person cancel at the last minute. They invited me, and I’ve fiercely regretted ever since not going. Although it was impossible: I didn’t have $2,000 and I couldn’t save it or make it in the time before they left.  I don’t want to miss out on any more experiences because I’m sort of lackadaisical with my money.

I’ve set up a special savings account for this trip at SmartyPig. There will be a widget in the sidebar from now on so you can keep an eye on my savings…my hope is that having that viewable by other people will motivate me to not throw up my hands halfway through and go on a Target shopping spree. (Never mind…widget is on hold for now!)

I’ve also got a giant jar for coins in my kitchen, with $50 collected so far. I don’t use cash often, so I’m not sure how much I’ll get out of emptying my pockets of change daily, but maybe I can convince visitors to my house to donate $0.30 here and there.

Obviously, none of this is going to be enough, so I need to earn some chunk of money between now and January. My current plan for this is to work harder to advertise my freelancing copy editing skills (P.S. Anyone need a copy editor?). We’ll see.

SNOW HARDER.

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by Beth on July 23, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in FearKick Challenge

Posted by Beth on July 23, 2012

http://fearkick.com/2012/07/23/30-save-up-for-a-serious-vacation/

#29: I have fixed my friend insecurities

I made myself sit down again, with no distractions, and redid the visualization exercise to address my fear of being left behind by old friends who are really no longer there. I felt super cheesy again, but stuck with it—interestingly, despite the briefness of the entire exercise, my brain kept wanting to be distracted during the exercise. Like I’d imagine going out the front door of my house, and my brain would say, “Don’t forget, the panel on the bottom of the door needs to be fixed.” With effort, though, I kept my focus on the relevant pieces and completed it.

I also set up a reminder on my phone that squeaks at me every time I leave my house. It says something to the effect of: Today I will focus on myself, and not speculate on what other people are doing. I’m not sure if this is having any measurable effect, but it is a convenient way to keep it in the front of my mind.

I can’t believe it…but it seems to have worked! Again! The actual result is the same this time around: if I think about this issue or try to focus on it, my mind seems to just slide away from it. Like my subconscious is saying, “Nah, not really anything to think about over there. Let’s think about bears again.”

I’m about to try it on every anxiety I have. I suppose I need to wait longer (a year, maybe?) to be sure that it’s really holding, but I have somehow convinced my brain that there’s no percentage in agonizing over other people whose actions I can’t control. At least, in these two situations.

But given the actual number of hours I have spent agonizing over these two pieces of my life in the last few years, if  this is the only time I try this out, or the only time it works, I feel like I’m getting about a 10,000% return on my effort. (Maybe. I’m bad at math.) I’m actually pondering what I’ll do with the time saved. Take up knitting? Write a book about how to stop agonizing over other people’s thoughts and actions? Cure the world of the horrible-grammar epidemic?

Seriously, it’s an utterly freeing feeling, and it’s putting me in a great mood. I feel more confident, more optimistic, and less dragged down by past events.

 

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by Beth on July 22, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by Beth on July 22, 2012

http://fearkick.com/2012/07/22/29-i-have-fixed-my-friend-insecurities/

#29: Friend Break-ups and Fizzles

I’m incredibly insecure about friendships.

This is post-Grandma’s-salon, age 13.

Why? One of my best friends asked me to explain the other day, and that’s a really good question (especially because I’ve known and loved her for 20 awesome years!). I grew up in a really supportive immediate family, and still have a lot of support, not to mention a group of amazing friends who are always there for me.

However, there are two facets that have really contributed to my reality of insecurity.

First, my therapist has posited that something occurred to stick my mind in the 12-15 year old phase, when adolescents really care about what other people are thinking about them, and their entire focus is outward that way. There weren’t any serious or traumatic events in my life during that period (other than middle and high school, which, traumatic enough, please see the middle-school photos), but some part of my psyche is still stuck there. I had pretty low self esteem back then, and although it’s much improved by this point in my life, it still exists around friendships.

Please note the oversized Disney character sweatshirt. Awkward.

Second, I had two weird friend break-ups in college. I don’t want to talk about them in much detail here, because these two people still exist and there’s a chance, however slim, that they might read this. I want to be respectful, and be clear that although I’m describing my side, I’m quite sure that I am at least half responsible for both friendships ending.

But here’s the outline: I became friends with Friend #1 at the beginning of college, and we had a lot in common, so immediately became very close. When we began to grow apart two years later, she also started dating a new guy. Many issues/events ensued, and finally we had a blow-up argument, I defensively and untruthfully said, “Whatever, #1, I don’t care anymore.” She followed that conversation with a long email about the fact that I didn’t care is why she didn’t want to know me anymore, and then listed about 20 other things she disliked about me.

I know for sure that I’m not blameless in this scenario, but the aftermath was pretty difficult for me to deal with. Our group of friends was still friends with her and the boyfriend, and it led to awkward moments, like a birthday party being held for him at the off-campus house I rented with four of our mutual friends. I didn’t know if I should stay or run away, so I ended up poised, terrified, behind my desk in our computer area, looking at cute dogs on the internet with another friend (…who went on to stick by me for the whole evening).

So I was very defensive and untrusting, and that led to the demise of another, shorter-lived friendship with another person in my social group, Friend #2. In that situation, I feel like I was probably even more than 50% responsible, since I had sort of pulled inside myself and was not treating people very well as a [useless] defense mechanism against being hurt again.

As I cleaned up after that fallout, it occurred to me that there was something very wrong with me when it came to friendships. After all, if you have two similar events very close together, and you’re the only common denominator, the conclusion has to be that there’s something wrong with you, right? I still feel that way, although I’ve forgiven myself.

What’s worst: my skin, my braces, or the fact that I apparently couldn’t fully open my eyes? Or that mask.

For the past ten years, I thought about both of these incidents all the time, and brought them up constantly, rehashed events, tried to assign blame and figure out exactly where I went wrong so I wouldn’t repeat my mistakes. I recently casually contacted both #1 and #2 in an effort to smooth over the past and help myself get past all the regrets. I wanted to apologize and just sort of mentally return to neutral territory with those people. With #2, this worked great for my brain. We became friends on Facebook and I really enjoy following what she’s up to: I seriously admire her and the area she’s working in. I really just love feeling like I don’t have to think about that past event anymore, or be upset about it.

With #1, however, it wasn’t quite as smooth. We messaged back and forth a few times, but it was stiff and awkward. Again, I didn’t expect to fall back into the very close friendship we once had, but I had hoped that it would be a little easier. When I went back to reply to her last message, I found that she’d closed her Facebook account, so I had no way of contacting her again (other than going through mutual friends, which I didn’t feel comfortable doing). Because it didn’t go well, this experience only served to amplify my regrets and rehashes.

About six months after that, out of nowhere, I was in the middle of cleaning my house, when somehow the idea of visualizing letting go of this issue occurred to me.  I guess I’ve read about that type of exercise before, but I’ve certainly never tried it. I’m still unclear where the thought came from. So I dropped down onto the sofa in my library, closed my eyes, and started: I felt all that anger and bitterness and I wrapped it up into a cohesive package, and then I visualized removing it from my heart area [aggh this is cheesy], holding it in my hands, and then watched my progression through my house, out the door, down the stairs, across the parking lot to the giant condo dumpster. I saw myself type in the code to open the dumpster door, and then threw that boiling package of anger and defensiveness and bitterness into the blackness, slamming the door behind it.

14: A painful, awkward year. (P.S. This is not my baby; I meant the severe acne was painful.)

And this is amazing, it’s been three or four weeks and I don’t feel those emotions of regret or defensiveness anymore. There’s still a bit of regret, but when I focus on it I get distracted pretty easily–my brain just doesn’t care to think about that whole situation anymore. Can it be that easy?

This is truly one of the biggest psychological breakthroughs I’ve had, personally, and I feel really powerful after it.

My remaining issues are that I worry I’m never good enough to be someone’s friend, or that if I do something wrong I’ll be dumped immediately. As a couple of my college friendships have petered out, I’ve become even more insecure. My mental script goes something like this: “Why don’t they talk to me anymore? Was I an awful person in college, so they’ve decided I’m not worth the time? Maybe I’m just not a quality friend at all. So who will fade out next?” And on and on and on. Exhausting.

I don’t want to be insecure, or afraid of my own thoughts, or angry at myself for invented slights, or constantly trying to decipher someone else’s actions or non-actions. I want to concentrate on the people who love me right now, and make that obvious through their words and actions every single day.

I’m going to try the visualization exercise with my remaining insecurities and hang-ups, and work on changing my focus. I’m sure my friends will thank me, because if it works as well as it originally did, they’ll get a break from my constant doubts and questions.

Do you guys have friend insecurities? How do you deal with them?

4 Comments
by Beth on July 16, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by Beth on July 16, 2012

http://fearkick.com/2012/07/16/29-friend-break-ups-and-fizzles/

#28: Things I am REALLY afraid to tell you

Okay so here it is, the thing I am most ashamed of:

I read the Twilight series and liked it. And I’ve gone to see every movie.

Oh god.

Back in 2008, the weekend the Twilight movie opened, I finally got curious enough to read the first book and see what the deal was. I cracked open Book 1, and didn’t stop until I’d plowed through all four about 9 hours later.

The plot is shallow and poorly constructed, the writing is clumsy and stiff (I feel like I can tell which sections a beleaguered editor really got a hold of), and the characters are either laughable tropes or deeply disturbing or both. The events of the fourth book had this expression permanently etched on my face:

I wanted to cover my eyes, too

So I finished reading it, spent a few days marveling at the fact that this was the hugely popular book that had made it to the NYT bestseller list, that everyone was fawning over, cringe-laughing at the cheesy dialogue, and breaking down all of the issues with each book.

And yet. Something about it worked with my internal chemistry, and I…kind of liked it. I find this extremely shameful. 

I’ve speculated on why this might be quite often, trying to make myself feel better about it. Between ages 12 to 15, I wrote a lot of stories on my hand-me-down computer, in Word Perfect. Those stories, as far as I can recall (they were all destroyed during an awesome lightning storm one summer) were very similar in plot construction (shabby, lots of holes) and intent (magical-Mary-Sue-everything-works-out-perfect) to Twilight. Not to mention florid overuse of the thesaurus. And I think that’s where my fondness originates.

Although I have to say, I would never have written a teenage werewolf falling in love with a baby. That’s just creepy.

The worst part is how damaging these books could potentially be to younger readers. I’m old enough to read them, smile, and never daydream about a guy spying on me while I sleep as the height of romantic love. But if I’d read it at 12? I’m not sure.

So I actually spend some of my free internet reading time reading blogs with feminist critiques of the series. It’s like a tiny hobby.

I’ve felt even better about it in the last few months, because next to Fifty Shades of Grey, Twilight is like goddamn Shakespeare. (I didn’t read Fifty Shades, just got a small taste of the horror by reading novelist Jennifer Armintrout’s hilariously incisive recaps and takedowns of each chapter.)

So! Congrats, now you know the worst about me, and can decide whether or not you’re going to burn my blog down in disgust.

Ugh I’m going to go wash my own brain out with soap.

7 Comments
by Beth on July 15, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Results Show
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Posted by Beth on July 15, 2012

http://fearkick.com/2012/07/15/28-things-i-am-really-afraid-to-tell-you/

#28: Things I am afraid to tell you

Have you heard about this interesting blogging movement? I’m super late to the party, but I love it. The Things I’m Afraid to Tell You meme started with these posts on Make Under My Life, and Creature Comforts Blog, and then hundreds of bloggers followed suit. The idea is that people reading lifestyle or design blogs only ever see beautiful or perfect things, and that this doesn’t reflect reality.

My blog is for sure not about ideal, pretty things. The entire concept is centered on things I was—and am—afraid to tell people, as well as afraid to try. And although my intent with it isn’t to tell you everything, I realized that I am withholding the really mortifying things.

I think that even though I’m being super open with this blog, I’m still trying to present myself in a certain way and box out the parts of me that I think are just unbearably embarrassing.

In fact, sometimes I worry that I’m too open about my issues. I was discussing my inability at the moment to tell the difference between happiness and contentment with a friend, and she asked me a very basic question: “Why do you have to think about it?” I’m not sure, but I think this is how I process life, by sharing and then comparing my responses to other people to keep myself in line.

From thegreatdivorce on Instagram

But then again, comparing myself to other people isn’t helping me to be happy.

So here it is: some really embarrassing things about me. You know they’re good, since all the other posts have been embarrassing, too!

  • I read historical romances. They’re cheesy as hell, but I can count on them to wrap up satisfactorily, which is a nice constant.
  • I have been ridiculously terrible with money up to this point in my life. I’m getting things back on track, but I’m still fighting the desire to just avoid thinking about money…which always gets me into trouble.
  • I read some women’s magazines. I disagree really strongly with almost everything they stand for, I scoff at nearly every line I read, and yet I keep going back.
  • I’m afraid to look out of windows at night. Even on the second floor. I’m constantly sure that something will be looking back in at me.
  • I am extremely insecure about my friends. I’m worried that I’m not good enough to be their friend, and that I’m not doing enough for them to justify them keeping me on, and that they’ll get sick of me any day. I had a really literal dream the other day wherein Everything Sunny All the Time called me to tell me she found someone else to be a better friend to her than I could be, and that she didn’t want to talk to me anymore.
  • I enjoy watching 16 & Pregnant while I clean out litter boxes. (16 & Pregnant!)
  • If I have the merest twinge of a new sensation anywhere in my body, I internet diagnose myself promptly, usually with a brain tumor. Then I email my friends and family to tell them.

I am completely reluctant to post this—I”m so ashamed of the above facts.

But why? They’re me, and they’re not [really] harmful, so what’s so awful about admitting to them? Other than poking holes in the picture I try to build of myself in my own mind. But maybe that picture can be a little closer to reality.

In the next post I will detail what is literally the worst and most shameful thing about me. You’re excited to hear it, I know!

Here’s a hint:

This may or may not be the worst hint ever

2 Comments
by Beth on July 8, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by Beth on July 8, 2012

http://fearkick.com/2012/07/08/28-things-i-am-afraid-to-tell-you/

#27: Organizing my closets didn’t kill me

I actually can barely believe that I have succeeded at this. But I did it! It’s finished! It took me about four hours per closet, but I beat them both into submission. They’re not perfect, and they’re not the beautiful photographable custom every-single-thing-has-a-place closets, but things are neat and organized and not thrown in. Plus! You can see the floor!

Every chance I get, I walk into or past the closets to stand at the doorway and just gaze into their depths, marveling at the amount of carpet I can see now. My cats are a bit disgruntled at the loss of their playroom, but I’m distracting them with plastic milk carton pull tabs. That’s working out okay.

William Birdsworth, doing what she does best (looking cute, not organizing).

To start, I lined up several tv show episodes I’ve been waiting to see on my laptop, and played that to keep myself entertained. About 50 percent of the work was just sorting into two piles: throw away, and Goodwill. Now that I’m thinking about it, I maybe should have tried to sell some stuff, but…oh well, too late. All of the clothes that went to Goodwill still had tags on, because my MO is to buy something that I don’t hate and then toss it into my closet to think about later (I strongly dislike shopping).  The upshot of that is a laughably big pile of clothing that I don’t like all that much.

It was an uncomfortable experience, undoubtedly. I had to decide to throw things away (many, many things: I took out about 15 garbage bags full) and experience nostalgia over some older items, and regret over others. I also sometimes buy clothes that are too small to encourage myself to get into them (guess what: this doesn’t work) and so it’s mildly painful to see them and remember my excited plans for future use at the time I bought them.

But I knew that the entire project was of limited duration, and the more I focused the faster it would be over, so I made a one-break-an-hour rule, and weirdly, was able to make myself stick to it. I did leave the house in the middle of emptying out one closet, but it wasn’t for avoidance purposes, so I did okay.

The best part was finding things that I thought had been lost forever: a library book (returned! now I can use the library again), an awesome dress I bought six years ago, a 12-year-old photo I’ve been trying to track down for ages, showing my natural hair color.

Pre-dye experiences

I wish I had taken photos of the closets beforehand. Not that I would have posted them, because that’s kind of embarrassing! But it would have been great for comparison. Here are the afters.

Master bedroom. I never realized how great hangers are for storing clothes!

and

Library. I could literally sleep in here, there’s so much space.

This wasn’t pleasant, but it’s made up for by the contently smug feeling I have every time I walk into my house now. (I feel very superior to the person I was last month who hadn’t cleaned these out.) The trick, of course, will be keeping them this way.

If you have any staying organized tips, please share…I’m desperate to change my ways!

5 Comments
by Beth on July 8, 2012  •  Permalink
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Posted by Beth on July 8, 2012

http://fearkick.com/2012/07/08/27-organizing-my-closets-didnt-kill-me/

#27: My closet says I’m a candidate for Hoarders

There are two challenges that I face in keeping my home organized and neat. 1) I am a proto-hoarder and 2) If I can’t see things, I forget that they exist. I tend to “organize” by creating piles of related items, but, unfortunately, that’s not actually organization. And when I put those piles away, it’s out of sight, out of mind—if I needed to do something with that letter I just stuffed in a drawer, the chance that I’ll remember to do it drops dramatically once I can’t see it anymore.

Before we begin, I’d like to make the point (to maybe absolve myself just the tiniest bit), that I am a very clean person. Things might get messy, but they are not dirty.

I don’t like to throw things away. This isn’t a problem for expired food, or plastic wrappers, cat poop, or other classic hoarding-type objects, but anything that I can assign even the slightest meaning to usually makes me pause and want to hang on. If something was given to me by someone else, then it’s even tougher for me to let it go. I tend to conflate the person with the object, and think that I’ll somehow be hurting them, or our relationship, by letting the object go.

For instance, two years ago on my birthday, my brother gave me a metal folding table emblazoned with the American Idol logo. He received it as TV critic swag, and probably mostly gave it to me as a joke, because I’m no fan of the show. At least, I think it was a joke…? Although I quickly realized I had no use for it, I couldn’t bear to give or throw it away, because what would that be saying about how I feel about my brother? Logically, nothing, I know, but emotionally I felt like it was a betrayal. “He gave that to me! He brought it all the way down here from his house! He even wrapped it! It must have been important!”

Not my tray or my picture…I found a doppelgänger on the Google.

The funny thing is, my brother is incredibly minimalist and organized, and was even as a kid. I recall that whenever he cleaned his room, he would bring me something I’d given him—a construction paper card I’d made at school, a tiny stuffed animal keychain I got out of a machine—and ask me if I minded if he threw it away. I usually said no, but a part of me felt hurt that he didn’t want to keep that awesome drawing of a horse with three legs that I’d slaved over for him (he…doesn’t like horses). So I’m 100% sure he wouldn’t give a rat’s left testicle what I do with that tray.

I’ve wished so many times in my life that I’d gotten whatever gene or brain chemical he had that turned him into such an organization guru, but it’s clear at this point that wishing is never going to make it happen. This will probably always be something I have to work at.

Another piece of the puzzle is that I have an inexplicable tendency to anthropomorphize  objects. This tendency correlates with the severity of my anxiety: when it is severe, everything around me has feelings. I rarely tell people about this issue because it’s so very odd and embarrassing. But sometimes I can look at an empty bottle of shampoo, assign feelings and a personality to it, and decide that it’s sad that it will go into the trash or recycle bin all alone, and sometimes will specifically throw away something else to “keep it company.”

This is absolutely adorable, and I am not exaggerating when I say I think it has little squirrel feelings.

Good god, writing that out loud makes it seem even weirder than it’s ever felt in my head (which is pretty damn weird). Of course, the more an object looks like an animal or a person, the harder it is to convince myself that it doesn’t actually have feelings and therefore can’t be hurt. (When I was a kid, I used to rotate the thirty or so stuffed animals I kept on my bed, to be sure they all knew I loved them equally.)

Of course I feel better when things are organized and clean, and I think to some extent having a mess around me probably feeds my anxiety.

In general, I can keep my space under control, with the odd pile here or there. Except. Sometimes, when cleaning has to happen quickly, it results in the above-mentioned piles being tossed into the nearest dark space, which in my condo is one of my two walk-in closets. They’re medium-sized, plenty for a single person, but I use them as limbo for things that I’m not ready to part with. And I don’t put those things in there neatly.

The last time I glanced into the closet in the guest bedroom (which I refer to as my library, because I’m sophisticated), I saw: some old clothes hanging neatly, a seven-foot long rolled carpet remnant that I used as a rug before I bought actual rugs propped against the far shelf and preventing the door from opening all the way, a cat carrier, a Christmas wreath (draped attractively over half a hanger holding a dress that I don’t fit into), five or six reusable Publix bags filled with paperwork I need to file, books I need to put away, and old bills to shred, three cardboard printer paper boxes filled with other random bits, two tangled strands of Christmas lights, a half-open Tupperware bin of Christmas decorations, a cardboard cat condo that my coworkers and I built for my kittens the year I adopted them, and the corner of a suitcase that I haven’t used in years. My cats both come running when they hear the distinctive sound of that closet’s door opening, because the space is pretty much the ultimate dangerous cat gym. Stuff to climb on, up, around, under, and into.

They barely fit through the entry holes these days.

It’s madness, and just looking into it makes me lose all confidence in my ability to clean it up. My fear is multifaceted: that I won’t be able to complete the job, that I’ll feel sad when I have to get rid of things, and that making decisions about what to say goodbye to will be frustratingly difficult.

A few years ago, I got fed up with a similar situation in the same closet, and invited my best friend over to help me organize. She’s another natural-born organizer and decorator, and was actually eager to do the job (hey, I’m not complaining). So I provided wine and she provided the expertise, and we had a fun four hours straightening, folding, and organizing. I didn’t love the process, but it was a lot easier with support. The closet looked amazing after she left…but of course that didn’t last too long. Slowly, despite my best intentions, it filled up again like a Florida ditch in the summer.

I cannot guarantee that there are no alligators in my closet.

I’ve made a few halfhearted attempts at fixing the situation, but never gotten motivated enough to make more than a dent. So now I’m forcing myself to look at it all, let a lot of it go, and make the choice to spend time creating a calm space for myself instead of sprawling on my couch and reading three books in a weekend. Two closets, one week, and me: can I do it?

2 Comments
by Beth on July 3, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in FearKick Challenge
Tagged , , , , ,

Posted by Beth on July 3, 2012

http://fearkick.com/2012/07/03/27-my-closet-says-im-a-candidate-for-hoarders/

Halfway through the year, have I made progress?

It’s hard to believe half of this year is already gone. In some ways, I feel like I’ve come really far, but sometimes, when I look back on the first six months, I pause and say to myself, “That’s it?” Somehow, I feel like I expected everything to be different by this point: the way I look, the way I feel, the way I approach challenges. I don’t know if this is my stealth perfectionism* rearing its ugly head, but I’m going to concentrate on the positives.

The most substantial change, thanks to speckofawesome, was my discovery of the Whole30 and grain-free eating in general, which cured my chronic, agonizing migraines. I’ve thought kind of vaguely before of attempting to stop eating grains, just for weight loss, but never before had the right kind of motivation to try it. Although I’m struggling with it a bit, I’m so thankful for speckofawesome sharing it, and for the Whole9 people for creating it, and to myself for committing to it (if intermittently). I went from daily utter misery back to just plain me. If nothing else positive had already or will come out of this project, that result alone would have been worth everything I put into it.

Although not all of my challenges have produced such a marked behavioral or life change, I believe that all of them aggregated are slowly changing my direction. (I tend to think about everything in visual metaphors, so right now I’m envisioning my life as a sailing ship on variable seas, with a recalcitrant steering wheel that I have to haul on to make any progress.) (Is that weird?)

Old Ironsides.

It’s happening so slowly as to be unnoticeable on a daily basis, but in my last conversation with my therapist, she noted that I seem to have lost some of the daily anxieties that have plagued me for years.

When I thought back, I realized that she’s right, and it’s happened without my awareness. For instance, I’m more aware of what I need on a daily basis or in interactions with other people, instead of being fully focused on what I can do to make another person happy. Four months ago, that was actually my greatest concern no matter what I was doing…and it’s suddenly just swung around 180 degrees.  It’s a startling feeling, and I’m exploring this new focus gingerly. I want to be careful to strike a balance between caring what other people need and not allowing those needs to come before my own.

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned before the actual single trigger that inspired this blog and concept. My brother was in town for Christmas, and showing our parents his photographs from a trip he took to the Faroe Islands, where he joined the crew of the Sea Shepherd (the Whale Wars people) on the Steve Irwin for four days, an experience about which he wrote an article for Playboy.

Andy and the captain.

I’ve always been in awe and envious of my brother’s awesome life and experiences–not to mention how hard he works–but somehow this photo session twisted something deep inside me. I wanted to have experiences like that, and incredible photos to show with stories to tell. But I knew I needed to start way down at the bottom, by attacking the root of my complacent, motionless life: my fear.

If my unending list of fears could keep me from doing something as mundane as a phone call, how could I ever make the leap to living a full, even article-worthy life? The idea of challenging one tiny, seemingly insignificant fear at a time bloomed fully formed in my mind that night while I was washing my hair (hygiene: creating blog ideas since 1998).

I don’t know exactly what the life I want to have will look like. But I know some parameters: I want to be a healthy, lovable human being with a family and intriguing interests outside of work and my pets, who actively participates in life. And I think I’m on the right track, by proactively facing down the 90% of life I had been avoiding.

The best I can do is to keep hauling on the wheel until I’m headed in a direction that I like.

*I find it hard to think of myself as a perfectionist, but it’s this furtive unexpected force that causes me to procrastinate. You know: “If I can’t go out and run five miles the first time, then what’s the point in going out to try running at all?” or “I will never write this blog post as well as someone else could write it, so why even bother trying?”

4 Comments
by Beth on July 2, 2012  •  Permalink
Posted in Explication

Posted by Beth on July 2, 2012

http://fearkick.com/2012/07/02/halfway-through-the-year-have-i-made-progress/

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