Sunday, October 22, 2006
And the baring-your-soul word for today is:
I never realized until this past week just how important your perspective can be.
It can make you or break you.
For instance, as I'm typing this, I am FREEZING. Do I have heat? Yes. Am I going to turn it on? Probably not. Why? My perspective says I'm broke, so I want to wait as long as possible before turning the heat on for the first time.
Am I broke? Not really. It's just my same old cheapskate perspective. I was broke for so long, I haven't gotten out of that mentality. Until now.
Is my life really the big, ugly mess I thought it was a couple of weeks ago? Probably not. Did my life change in the last few days? No.
What changed? My PERSPECTIVE.
You know what makes it harder to see when your perspective is all messed up? That perspective is what you're seeing, so you don't know it's wrong.
Like the Newsboys song that says "They don't know they're breathing bad air."
I didn't know I was looking at things the wrong way. Someone had to tell me. Several someones, actually.
I'd like to thank those of my friends and family who helped me "snap out of it" and/or just generally listened to me. Sometimes, when you talk something out, it helps you come to the conclusion you're after.
Sometimes, that conclusion is helped along by the input of others.
This week, I've had both. And both helped me immeasurably.
I'm not saying that I won't ever lose perspective again. I did it just a couple of nights ago, when I couldn't find Anna Marie's soccer socks, the ones that go with her uniform.
Those things have found some black hole of oblivion. I promise, they are NOT in this house.
She has another pair of soccer socks that she wears to practice, and she could wear those. But I just about came unglued looking for the others. I'm not kidding - it was NOT pretty.
After the smoke cleared, I looked back on how silly it all was. Like Jason said - they're just socks. They aren't worth getting as upset over as I did.
I just felt like the inability to find the socks somehow reflected on my mothering skills. Moms are supposed to be able to find stuff, right?
Well, not this time. I still don't know where those little buggers are.
My BFF, Marcia (we've been friends since we were 13) and her boyfriend came down yesterday to watch Little AM's soccer game. Afterward, we did a couple of things in town and then had lunch at Quizno's.
We talked about how hard it is to keep the right perspective in this day and age. The world would tell us that to be successful we need a new car, and a big house. We need perfect measurements and never a hair out of place.
Problem is, those things just aren't important. I was bellyaching to my husband the other day about the standards we use to measure success. Know what he said? (He's the strong, silent type).
"Do you have what you need?"
That's all. I may not have a complete wardrobe (partly because of the weight-loss process) but I have clothes. I don't have a new car, but I do have transportation. I don't own a big home, but I do rent a cozy little bungalo from a sweet older woman.
I have a job. It isn't the best-paying job in the world, but it's inside a (relatively) climate-controlled building, not in the elements. I'm not on my feet all day, and I'm pretty much left alone to do my job. I also have the flexibility to take off if I need to, and Anna Marie is always welcome to come in and get some water from the water cooler.
And that job gives me practice, and credibility, for what I really want to do - be an author.
I wish I was at home instead of working, but I don't have to send my daughter off to daycare every day. With my husband's schedule, he only works outside the home one or two days a week. She goes over to Ms. Kim's to play with her son who is the same age, and will be starting kindergarten at the same time - so she already knows at least one kid when she starts school. The rest of the week, she's at home with Jason or at my mom's.
I have family and friends who care about me. Some of them have never met me in person, but they still care.
I have a good husband and a bright, beautiful daughter. We're all healthy.
And we all have a relationship with God. What more could I want?
How about a little perspective.