stressbusting tips for goatherds

I am neither a goatherd, nor do I play one on t.v., but I do know a little about stress. A year ago, I moved into a new role at work. At first, it was all rainbows and unicorns. It was something new to do, I loved my new boss (and still do), and it got me out from under the thumb of the well meaning but micromanaging woman who had been my boss for the past seven years. Then came the news that there would be a pay cut, no fancy new title and a workload that increased by month. By summer, it was not uncommon for me to be working nights and weekends of overtime. There are days now when I feel myself on the verge of just giving my notice, even if I have no new prospect on the horizon yet. That is just not the sort of thing I do, which says a lot.

Over the course of the year I have stopped writing, playing my violin, singing, reading, taking pictures, going on mini- (and maxi-) roadtrips, and hanging out much with friends. While I know people who have aspirations of clawing their way to middle management or becoming directors before they hit 40, I don't feel any of those things about my job. What I feel is that I want to do something that makes more of a difference and that the job I have is slowly robbing me of all the things that make life worth living. Not that I'm well paid, but no amount of money is worth that. I also feel (and know, thanks to my doctor) that my blood pressure has gone up since I started doing this job. There are times when the whole thing overwhelms me so much that I cry my way home at night.

Frankly, it's not worth a stroke or heart attack, so I have been trying to find little ways to ease my stress level while I look for a new job/figure out if I'm too old to go back to school and make a total career change/determine if my situation at the one I have is worth salvaging. Meanwhile, here are some things that have kept me from jumping off a bridge on the worst days (in case you were wondering, this is where the goatherds come in):



1. Sing. While I love music of all sorts, I find that show tunes interspersed by the occasional up tempo Sweet Honey in the Rock song work best for this. My current favorites by far, however, are The Lonely Goatherd from the original Sound of Music soundtrack (as opposed to the muppet version above, but who doesn't love muppets?) and Storm Large's vagina song, because it's difficult to take anything too seriously while yodeling or belting about vaginas. Usually by the time I get to Julie Andrews' big yodeling finale or the "just the boys" part of the vagina song I'm at least laughing a little. Ultimately, that's really what it's all about - not taking things so seriously. It could just as easily be any kind of silliness that make you feel good.

2. New pajamas to wear while an evening at home reading or watching movies while eating Chinese takeout. I've said it before, but the Nick & Nora line Target carries is an awesome, inexpensive resource for this. Current fave: My new confused gnome pajamas. They have not only gnomes and mushroom caps, but rainbows and pots of gold, because they are apparently part of the Irish gnome diaspora who have adopted social customs from the leprauchans. This does not make them any less fab or any less a part of my birthday month pajama ensemble.

3. Plan a trip. Even if I can't exactly take it now, somehow thinking about where I could go always makes me feel a little better, especially when combined by google earth sightseeing. How cool is that that you can type in an address anywhere in the world (that has pictures loaded, anwyay) and actually see the place. I can amuse myself for hours, just looking up the houses of people I know, the places I've lived, and the places I've travelled and want to travel. It reminds me that there is a whole world outside of whatever passing "crisis" is currently raising my stress level. The truth is that most things that cause drama in a corporate environment are passing and really not that important outside of that microcosm (and that's really true of any microcosm we're in).

4. Leave the real world for a while. This can be via reading, watching a movie, making something, even playing a video game. While I don't find a whole lot of time for these things anymore, when I do, the distraction can be a sanity saver, especially for someone like me who tends to zero in on a problem and obsess over it to the point that she can't eat or sleep. I actually lost 12 pounds during the month of December simply by forgetting to eat, because I was so busy worrying. While I need to lose weight, that wasn't how I wanted to do it!

5. Meditate. Sometimes just taking some deep breaths and meditating or praying (if that's your deal) or even just having a quiet, little talk with yourself can make a world of difference. (And it's even better if you can do it in a hot bath filled with bubbles!)

6. Journaling. It's been ages since I've journaled or blogged regularly at all, but when I do, it helps. Sometimes just putting things in writing can make you feel a little less burdened. It's definitely worth doing more often.

7. Don't let the stresser take over. This is the one where I fall off Mellow Road. I do let it take over my life. I stop hanging out with friends, stop making time to do the things I enjoy and find myself feeling constantly worn to the bone. It's something I need to work on. In the end, I know I won't look back and wish I'd worked more. I mean, who does?

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

The wind has been blowing like crazy around these parts today, which reminds me of Shelly's Ode to the West Wind. The poem is not really as much about meteorology as it is about change, but on a blustery January day, poems involving wind and change still seem apropos. As much as part of me wants the wind to calm down, there is another part that likes to think that it is blowing away the last remnants of the old year to make room for the new. It seems like a good (if fanciful) theory, so I am going to roll with it.

I like to think that the wind is sweeping away some of my laissez-faire attitude about keeping my personal life happily organized, directed, and filled with the things that bring me satisfaction. At work, I am a organizational machine that has an action plan for everything and tracking sheets for tracking sheets, but at home...Let's just say that I am a little more relaxed - and not always to my betterment!). I don't know about you. Maybe you are one of those people who never lets things slides, draws firm boundaries and doesn't get distracted, but I'm constantly confounded by why it is so easy to stay on track when someone pays me to (or even just when someone else needs my help), but less so when it comes to doing things that are all about me! Well, no more, I say!

This week I have continued to think about goals for 2010. I am liking the idea of approaching them as a To Do list with some deadlines, rather than a vague set of resolutions about how I really am going to lose weight this time or spend more time with friends or take a real vacation or get off my ass and exercise regularly. This year I am taking a more intentional approach, thinking about what is important to me, how the goal will improve quality of life, and, most importantly, and how to attack it. I expect to have a list by the end of the week, but have already begun by organizing the Christmas decorations when I took them down instead of just throwing them into a random box not unlike the metaphorical one I keep filled with the well intentioned, but ultimately failed plans of years gone by. Wish me luck!

I've been thinking...

Happy New Year! As someone who has great energy for beginning new things (sometimes moreso than for finishing them), I love the start of a new year. There's something satisfying about archiving the old year and starting the new one on a fresh, blank page. It's definitely time for a change.

It's been ages since I've posted anything of substance, because my work has been positively soul sucking for the past six or eight months. After a great start to 2009 with a wonderful new boss (who is still wonderful), my job has snowballed into this monster that can't be caged. There have been pay cuts, expanded responsibilities, weeks where I've worked 30 hours by Tuesday, and times where I couldn't enjoy the little time I did have off, because my mind was so riddled with work dross that it just wouldn't shut down. And for someone who firmly believes that a job is just a job and not life, this is not a tenable situation.

It's funny sometimes how long we keep plodding along on in a situation that does not make us happy, simply because we are so immersed that we don't have time to think of change as an option. Little by little, the things we love fall out of our lives. We don't sleep right, we don't eat right. The next thing we know there is a dirty rumor circulating that we are workaholics. Despite our philosophy that work is just work, we realize that we're no longer doing things like writing, finishing projects, reading, taking pictures, playing the kazoo, hanging out with friends. Your list may be different, but you get the picture.

Fueled by two glorious weeks of vacation and the resolute tenor that accompanies the dawning of a new year, the CEO of Me, Inc. has decided that it's not only okay to want to be happy, but that striving to be so is important and should receive as much energy as we put into the things others pay us to do. The thing is that I don't really love resolutions. Resolutions sound like something you start and then allow to peter away as the year progresses. So, this year I am setting goals - SMART goals, even. If it's good enough for the projects someone else pays me to do, it should be good enough for me!

As it turns out, the Internets are as full of advice on goal setting as they are of everything else. While some of the tools come through expensive life coaching programs or for a more modest subscription price of $19.95 a month, there is a ton of free stuff out there - like these worksheets and that's just the tip of the iceberg. After all, I've only spent a couple minutes researching and we haven't even talked about the library yet! The tools are all there. It's just a matter of putting them together.

So, instead of making a ton of resolutions this year, my only resolution is to come up with a few well thought out goals and a plan to achieve them. Meanwhile, I hope that this new year fulfills all of the fresh, new potential it holds for me, for you, for everyone.

Thank you, merci, danke, grazie, etc.

There was a time when I almost hated holidays like Thanksgiving. It's not that I don't like the idea of getting together with loved ones or the copious amounts of comfort food. If there was ever a hobbitesque, second breakfast kind of people, it's my family. It is more that I always felt there was something missing.

Growing up, my family felt small. My paternal grandparents died when I was young. There were relatives in Germany, but they were too far away to come for holidays, especially Thanksgiving. Oddly enough, Germans don't care so much about the pilgrims or their wild poultry. So, most of the time, it was just the three of us. My dad would watch football and my mom would cook like she did every night. The preparations just took a little longer. Thanksgiving felt like any other day, but with turkey, yam casserole and a hollow sense of being this lonely little familial island in a neighborhood full of packed driveways and holiday cheer. Of course, now I know that it is not the size of the family, but the love in it that is important. Spend a Thanksgiving on the prairie eating fettucine alfredo while watching an interminable movie about a lonely beekeeper with an almost stranger who also couldn't afford to fly home for the holiday, and you will know how true it is!

It was not until I was older that I realized that we make our own families. I have a few relatives in the area, but my blood family itself is small. At this point, there is just my mom left. I do, however, have a huge family of the heart. This year I had more Thanksgiving invitations than I could attend. It pains me that there are not four of me, so we could go to each one and that I couldn't accept the invitation I most wanted to attend, but it also makes me happy to know that I am blessed in having such a big adopted family.

So, wherever you are and whoever you area, if you are reading this (and even if you are not), I hope this autumn night finds you warm, happy and, most of all, with the people you love.

Pajama Day (October Style)

I love October so much! I think we should do it twice, maybe thrice and get rid of one of those dead weight months like April. Rain, taxes? April showers bring May flowers? This is Oregon where it rains like a mofo nine months a year, there'll be plenty of time for rain! Nothing good ever happens in April! But October...Now there's a month for you! Sunny, windy days, pumpkins, spooky stuff, and license to wear costumes without anyone looking at you funny. It's like October was made for me! It's such a clean, crisp month.

I don't know what it is about autumn, but it always turns me into Robert Post's child. I want to reevaluate things and make them neat and pretty. That goes for my closet, my my head, my life. I am on vacation this week, which is good, because work was getting me to the point where I felt like I was about to break. There was one day where I actually cried my way home from Wilsonville to Portland. This weekend is the first one I have had off in something like three weeks. A couple weeks ago , I had a Sunday where I spent 12 hours at work (TWELVE HOURS!). It's been so long since I've seen some of my friends, I don't think they'd recognize me, if I bumped into them on the street. I work to live, not the other way around. I want my life back!

Lucky for me (and probably everyone around me, because I seriously was close to snapping), I am on vacation this week and have a whole host of soul restoring plans. Vacation week kicked off with a pajama day. Pajama day is a wonderful, cleansing thing. It was almost perfect except for that around 3 p.m. a friend called, wanting to come over. While I adore him, the sanctity of pajama day is such that it demands that one not get dressed for a full day, not just part. Those are the rules. I don't just make them up here, people! (Except that I totally DO!)

Pajama Day is serious. It only comes when there is a code red mental health situation. You know, what I'm talking about. It is for those days when you are so worn down that if someone were to fuck with you, it would be anybody's guess whether you'd just burst into tears or try to gut them with carving knife (but, of course, crumble into a heap before anyone really got hurt, because you're not the kind of person to actually stab anyone). And I was ready! I had my sock monkey pajamas (I'm saving my black dia de los meurtos skull ones in case I have a meltdown a little closer to Halloween!), plentry of beverage, marshmallow pinwheels, and enough Chinese food to fill all my eating-out-of-the-box needs for a day.

But, then, because we had nothing in the house suitable to offer a non-diet coke swilling guest, I was forced to actually get dressed and go out among the living. The first rule of Pajama Day is that you don't talk about Pajama Day (or anything else), while wearing real clothes and you certainly don't go to Safeway! I have to admit that having to go out put me in a bit of a foul mood. Thankfully, it only lasted for about a half an hour. Once I saw my friend, I was happy to see him and really enjoyed our afternoon together. Sometimes rules, even pajama rules, are meant to be broken.

Frankly, I really love it when people drop in or call unexpectedly to see if you want to do something. It's such a nice, spontaneous, "oh, look, they were thinking of me!" surprise. I wish it would happen more often! In the end, it turned out to be a perfect Pajama Day, because it reminded me that rules and schedules are for work, not relaxation. So, here is to spontaneity, letting go of the rules, and enjoying a great vacation week!

Little Birds

A thousand stories run through my head, but remain trapped there. They are caged birds that have been denied the room to fly. Their wings have a way of starting to flap at the wrong time - at work when there is no time to let them out or at night when I am too tired to let them dart about to finally land on a page.

The draft list on this blog is not much better. It is a graveyard of incomplete posts about camping trips, outdoor Andrew Byrd/Decemberists concerts, and other events so far gone that it seems silly to try to recapture their excitement now. And you don't even want to see the shambles of my half-completed home redecoration project. Seriously.

The older I get, the faster time goes and the more quickly the time that once seemed so abundant slips away. This feeling rules this moment when my work is insane, even for my place of business. Last week, I worked 22 hours over the weekend alone and the work is not yet done. My mantra has become "It will all be better after next week" (aka the day the project is due and my vacation begins). I am fortunate to have a job working for the best boss ever. Frankly, I don't think I could do I worked for some total douchebag, but it still wears me down. If I can hold out to the end, there nine glorious days of vacation to reward me. It is a shame my sanity won't be along to enjoy it.

While I am not at all inflexible, I have always had healthy boundary when it comes to work infringing on my personal time. I don't fuck around. My traditional stance has been this: I work hard when I'm at work, but my free time is mine and mine alone. Lately, however, I suspect I am becoming one of those workaholic people I used to scoff at. It's just a job right? Truly, maybe even verily.

The thing is that it was a lot easier when my responsibilities were fewer. Couple a Protestant work ethic with a strong sense of responsibility and add a dose of perfectionism and it becomes too easy to cross the line between "While I am here, I will strive to be the best possible professional I can be" and "Oh my God! Oh my God, I have do get this done. There's no way I can take a vacation! Oh, and p.s., the sky is falling!"

And, then, I wonder: Why can't I apply the same kind of diligence and dedication to my personal life? I had a recent (but blessedly benign) health scare that has made me think about this a lot). There are so many places where it could use the kind of discipline and organization I employ at work. Pay me to do something for someone else, and I am not happy unless it is perfect. Ask me to do something for my own well being (eat better, exercise, carve out some time for myself) and suddenly I'm all about starting tomorrow (if at all). Somewhere in there, there's a profound Stuart Smalley statement pertaining to a pretty jacked up sense of self-worth. I mean, I really am good enough and smart enough, aren't I?

But that's the beauty of fall. For some reason every fall as the seasons begin their autumnal descent toward the death of another calendar year, I find myself thinking about ways in which to improve my physical and spirtual home. And it's a good thing, because there's a lot that needs attention, a lot of birds that need to get out and fly.

A is for Aggie whose fuel pump went dead

It will always be a great mystery to me how the tow truck driver and stranger to dentifrice who rescued my car last Wednesday managed to rot only his top row of dull yellows. He was a winker and a smiler, who misguidedly thought flashing the little brown stumps he called teeth in a cheeky grin would charm me. It did almost charm the breakfast out of my stomach, but that's not quite the same thing. I didn't have time for developing a more than a professional relationship with a tow truck driver, let alone a toothless one, for after 85,000 miles my sweet blue ride had its first bout with car trouble.

It is always a strange milestone in the life of a car to see it on the back of a tow truck for the first time. As cars go, I LOVE my Toyota. The Saturn I had before it had starter trouble on a regular basis and it would take less time to tell you about the times the piece of shit Dodge I had before that actually ran than it would to chronicle its breakdowns. My Matrix, Agamemnon aka Aggie (don't ask me why, because I only remember that its maiden voyage involved a friend shouting "You have angered Agamemnon!" every time we passed a pokey car on the highway), has been a dream in comparison. I drive a lot, and it had had nothing but routine maintenance thusfar. Now it also has a new fuel pump, battery and tires to go with the new front breaks it got about two months ago. This all comes at an odd time, when I find myself aching for the road.

Lately, something deep inside me wants to just hop in the car and go - just drive with no destination in mind beyond where I end up. I think it may be the adult version of running away from home. I like to think that my car's demand for maintenance means that it too has designs on a road trip and wanted to be in tip-top form (kinda like seeing a doctor before starting an exercise regimen!). Now that everything is fresh and healthy, we are BOTH ready to go.

My last good road trips were last summer. My urge to hit the highway is further bolstered by my friend Jeff's current project wherein he hits the road in his van with his two dogs and a trailer filled with books (his and his friend Kurt's) and travels the country doing readings, selling novels and blogging about it all. And he won't come back until the trailer is empty. The freedom is like a siren song trying to lure me from my desk in search of an adventure of my own.

And I do have a weekend long beachy road trip to a cabin not unlike the one in the picture coming up at the end of July. While I am sure it will be lovely, I can already feel that it won't be enough. It is, however, a start. My car is ready and I've got the whole week off, so we'll see where we end up.