Paving new pathways

The more I share about my own dark struggles with anxiety, the more people open up to me about theirs. Likewise, as I make progress, and live each day a little lighter, those same people have wondered aloud to me about it. What did you do? What do you do? How can I find what works for me, and let go of all this emotional sludge?

Well, I am not a therapist. I am just on a journey, maybe a bit like yours. I have no tricks, and no quick fixes. But I can share what I know, and what is working for me. Maybe it will work for you, too.

In a previous post, Unwritten, I wrote about my patterns of being worried, self-critical and defensive. These patterns, along with a generally pessimistic view of myself and my life, had become so ingrained, so part of my own self-concept, that I could barely even see them anymore. Later, in Practice, I talked about how, once a problem pattern is recognized, it is difficult to change, even when you want to. It takes daily effort, and can be a long and tiresome process. Both of these things are rooted in what we understand from basic neurochemistry.

How we learn patterns

Think of a piano student. This student has a new piece of music, and the first time she attempts to play the piece, many mistakes are made. It is slow and frustrating to get through the piece the first time. But if she keeps at it, and plays the piece again and again, and especially if she gives extra practice to those parts that are particularly challenging, the piece gets easier to play. As learning occurs, the student has to concentrate less and less, the piece sounds better and better, and playing the piece transforms from a difficult and frustrating experience, to a joyful one.

What we don't observe directly, is what happens in the pianist's brain. Brains are full of tiny neurons, that act like stepping stones in a pathway. Every time a path is followed, the electrical impulses in the brain actually cause the neurons to grow towards each other, as if the stepping stones are moved closer together. A substance called myelin also grows around neurons that are frequently used, making the impulses faster. Before we learn something, it is as difficult to follow the path as jumping from one far placed stone to the next, in heavy boots. It is slow, clumsy, and missteps are common. But as things are learned, those stones grow together, and soon it is like traveling an asphalt path in roller blades.

Unfortunately, this amazing, organic process is not only in place when we practice music. It is there when we practice anything. It is there when we practice putting ourselves down. It is there when we practice reacting in anger or fear. It is there when we practice blame, or perfectionism, or defeatist thinking. And sooner or later, our unhelpful patterns too become asphalt paths for our roller blades.

The helpful paths are not gone from our brains, but they are much harder to travel. The stones are far apart, and rough. That path is hard and slow-going. Left on automatic pilot, our brain will not choose to travel that path. Automatic pilot likes ease and speed. No, to find your way back to a helpful path will take effort, over and over. But each time you use the better path, you give it energy. Energy that it can use to grow, and get smoother. And the longer you ignore the old path, the more it will fall into disrepair.

This is not just a metaphor. Scientists have long known that brain tissue needs to be active to live. Neurons that are not used shrivel and die. As you build new pathways in your brain by consciously giving energy to a new way of thinking, the new path gets stronger, and the old path gets weaker. After a long time, the new way will be the faster pathway, and even old autopilot will choose it. But first you have to get there. You have to change your brain.

How we change patterns

Step 1 - Noticing
To shift your thinking from an old pattern to a new one, first you have to recognize what your old pattern is. One of my most pervasive patterns is that of self-critical thoughts, and that is the pattern I will be using in my example, but your unhelpful pattern may be different. Many people find it helpful to record the thoughts they are having during those times that they are feeling at their worst. As you record the thoughts and accompanying feelings, you can get an idea of where you need to focus.

It is important not to sugar coat your thoughts when you record them. For example, let's say I am driving, make some sort of error, and am suddenly feeling awful, anxious and ashamed. If I record the thought, "Gee, Lisa, you should really be more careful." I am not really being honest with myself about my inner voice. The statement, "You should be careful" would not elicit such strong feelings of anxiety or shame. It would be best to record as accurately as possible what I said to myself, and even try to capture the tone:

"Hey! What are you doing? Couldn't you see he was trying to make that turn? You totally cut him off! I can't believe you have your kids in the car and are driving like that. Just you wait and see, one of these days you will really cause an accident. Hurt your kids. Yep. What business do you even have behind the wheel?"

Wow. I am a meanie.

Can you see how those thoughts elicit those feelings of anxiety and shame? Of course I will feel anxious and ashamed if I think I am the worst driver and am going to wind up killing my own kids! The feelings and the self-talk usually match in intensity.

Step 2: Stopping
When you get a feel for your own voices, it is time to step up, and interrupt them. You make that traffic mistake, feel the anxiety, pay attention to what it was you were telling yourself, and just stop talking. Stop. Not another word. No. Some people visualize a giant stop sign, or say 'Stop' out loud to themselves. However you do it, just do it. You are not allowed to talk to yourself like that anymore.

Step 3: Restructuring
Now comes the rewrite. Question your own judgement. Does making that traffic mistake really mean you are an unobservant, rude, incompetent driver who deserves for her kids to die in a car accident? What would be a more realistic reaction? Practice saying that to yourself.

"You were distracted by your crying baby, and forget to shoulder check during that lane change. It is hard to ignore your own crying child, but accidents can happen on busy roads. You usually shoulder check. Remember to do it, even when it is loud in the car."

This is not about false optimism. You don't want to falsely congratulate yourself on your driving skills after an error. But take context into account. If you are usually a good driver, make sure to include that in your perception of events. One mistake does not a terror to the roadways make.

This is just one strategy to use when fighting the battle against anxiety and depression. It is not the only thing I have done, but it is probably the thing that has had the greatest impact. It is also not my own idea, but a simplified and adapted version of strategies conceived of and promoted by many therapists, based on the work of many researchers. Maybe it can help you. It has helped me.

drawings by Frits Ahlefeldt, and downloaded from:
http://www.publicdomainpictures.net/browse-author.php?a=1210
Thanks, Frits.

Practice

a page from my art journal

I started a new round of yoga classes recently. Yoga for Mom 'n Me, offered through the Winnipeg parks and rec department. At the beginning of the first class, the teacher asked us to introduce ourselves and our babies, and share why we had signed up for the class. I said that I wanted to get back into a regular practice.

In his book, The Six Pillars of Self-Esteem, Nathaniel Branden writes,"A practice implies a discipline of acting in a certain way over and over again- consistently. It is not action by fits and starts, or even an appropriate response to a crisis. Rather it is a way of operating day by day, in big issues and small, a way of behaving that is also a way of being."

Practice is so much of my life these days. Little by little, day by day, I am trying to work new patterns into my life. Creating changes in my thinking, in my parenting, in my reacting - just by living mindfully in the moment. That's yoga. Taking what is in your head, and integrating it into how you live, how you move, how you breath. And then taking your breath, that most simple and automatic behaviour of living, and using it to transform what it is in your head. It is a way of operating day by day. A way of being.

I have noticed that my way of operating day by day is pervasive, and difficult to change. The sharp edge of criticism in my self-talk creeps out to colour the way I speak to my son in my frustration. The sighs, the rolled eyes, the "Why can't you just" statements... They are there in my head, but they also come out on my tongue. These are not the words that I want to contribute to the voices in his head! I am determined that negative thinking not be the legacy I pass on.

I am reading, reading, reading about other ways, better ways, but I need so much practice. Paul says it well, in Romans 7:15: "I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do." Oh, preach on, brother. When the ideas are fresh and my head is clear, I feel that I know exactly how to deal with my son, and with myself. But at the end of the day, when my patience is thin and the baby is crying and I just want him to brush his teeth already... Well, you can guess that it does not always work out.

My prayer is still for calm spirits and thankful hearts, and we are blessed to be gaining on them day by day. But there is more work to be done. We need more practice.

One of my favourite parts of my yoga class is the bit at the beginning, where you set your intention for your practice. You can decide to push yourself, or to be gentle, to play with poses, or to settle into them with discipline. But I need to set intention for more than just my life on the mat. So I am setting an intention for a different kind of practice. It is an intention for patience, for forgiveness, and for change for the better.

And when intention meets practice, supported by prayer... That is where the magic happens.

Birth story

I delivered in the hospital. I was induced by synthetic Oxytocin drip. I had continuous fetal monitoring. I had IV tubes coming off of one arm, and blood pressure cuff with tubes coming off of the other arm. I was delivered by a resident I had only first met hours before. And yet...

I had a good birth.

Going overdue sucks. I think I have done sufficient job of expressing that in previous posts. Everyone is waiting for you to do something you have no control over. People make comments that they think are funny. They are not funny. And every night you go to bed. Still pregnant.

You can't stand up without needing to go pee. You can't sleep more than a few hours at a time. You make no real plans because you will be in the hospital any day. But any day does not come, and methods of induction begin to be discussed.

We really wanted a natural birth. Our birth experience with Nik was traumatic, and we had been induced then. We did the IV, the fetal monitoring, the long labour, the epidural, the episiotomy... We wanted a different experience this time around. Labour at home for a while, then go to the hospital. Labour in the hospital whirlpool, or on hands and knees on my yoga mat on the floor. Pushing in that semi-upright position. No stirrups for me, thank you very much.

Sunday morning, we talked about it. Would we take the induction if they called to offer it Monday? Or would we wait longer? After much discussion, we decided to take it when it was offered. If we saved induction only as a very last resort, we were starting down a path of beyond-our-control birth before labour had even started. But if we chose induction now, we could own it. It would really be what we had decided to do, after considering all the pros and cons, and we could make peace with that.

The hospital surprised us by calling to offer us a spot in LDRP if we went in for induction on Sunday night. My heart started pounding. I hadn't expected the call until at least the next morning. I told them we would have to think on it, and I would call back. I called my sister, and my husband came upstairs. With her on speaker, we talked about what to do. We decided to do it. We had already decided to accept the induction, and this was a way to be really intentional about it. Summoning up a spirit of no hesitation, I called the hospital back. My mom would come and stay with my son. We were on our way.

We spent a while in triage when we got to the hospital. When they checked me, I was already nearly 5 cm dialated, and I was told I was "very stretchy". The OB-GYN from my obstetrical group came in to talk to us about induction options. She did not rush us, and let us ask many questions. I had done quite a bit of reading on induction methods, and armed with that knowledge, the consultation with the OB, and the support of my husband and sister, we chose to begin the IV drip with membranes intact.

We went down to our suite in LDRP and met our night nurse. She talked to us about our preferences for support during labour, and worked with me to choose a site for the IV. She worked in an unhurried way, with our cds from home playing in the background, and the lights low. She explained what she was doing with all of the equipment. I may have been in a hospital bed, with tubes coming off of my arms and belly, but I was at ease. The nurse, my sister and I chatted through the wee hours of the morning, while my husband dozed. We were all just waiting for contractions to begin.

They did begin, in earnest around 5 a.m. I woke up my husband, and away we went. The contractions became very intense, very quickly, and there was no rhythm to them at all. They were of varying lengths, as were the 'breaks', which basically consisted of a "if-you-touch-me-I will-vomit" feeling for a few seconds. I started to flip around, stretching in crazy directions as the contractions got more painful. The nurse was awesome. She never told me not to move, even when the monitors started to fall off. She just worked around me, for a while down on her knees holding the fetal heart monitor onto my lower belly with her hand.

I couldn't talk, but my self-talk was going a mile a minute. With closed eyes, I used all my self-control to focus on why I wanted this baby, how much I loved Nik and all the sweet things he does, how okay it was to stretch in weird ways... I imagined things moving open and down. Any contraction I had with fear or angry thoughts in my head was far, far worse. All the contractions were awful, but I could cope if I could keep control of my noisy head. Up, up, up in a contraction, stretch my head to the left, and then whoosh back to the right... Ow, oh, no, it's good, it is doing what it needs to do, stretch, open, move down, that girl's a comin...

Labour was fast, and before I knew it, it was too much for me to take. I started thinking, "How in the world will I ever get through this?" I couldn't believe I was in transition; labour had only just started! But then my sounds started to change, and the nurse wanted to check me. She could see I was moving into second stage, though I was only barely aware of the growing need to push. She wanted me up on the bed for an exam, and all I could think was, "Screw you. I am barely coping down here where I am." but I took that 2 second break with all the tension still in my tailbone, and willed myself into that bed and onto my back. Oh, I hated everyone in that moment.

She checked me, and said to me very loudly and clearly, "Lisa, you are 100%. Don't push. I will get the doctor, and your baby will be born." Go to hell, I thought. My body, my birth, I will push if I want to. I grabbed Andrew's arm, and held on for dear life, blowing, blowing, blowing, and doing little cheating pushes to relieve the pressure. The nurse ran into the hall and I heard her call, "I need a doctor in here!" My OB was with someone else, so the resident came in. She had been by briefly in triage to introduce herself.

In a flurry, the bed was changed into a birthing chair, and I started really pushing. Because I had the epidural with Nik, this was a totally new experience. I couldn't believe the pressure, or how hard I was able to push. When they told me, "Good, like that, do it again!" I knew what I had done, and could replicate it. I burst a million blood vessels in my face and neck. The OB squeezed warm water over my perineum and massaged the skin. No one rushed me, even though my labour slowed right down. I had the longest breaks during pushing, and the pillows behind my back felt so good.

I waited for the urge to push before pushing, and that meant I even skipped a few of the milder contractions. No one said anything. No one shouted, "Push!" They let me wait, let me feel it out, and just encouraged me to go harder, go just one more time before resting again. Baby moved down so fast, maybe just 30 minutes. During crowning, the OB was amazing. "Come on, Lisa, I know it hurts, but you have to get through it. Gentle push, again, gentle push, don't give up, you're doing it, one more, one more, gentle push, come on, one more..."

And then, the feeling changed. It felt like someone was pulling a very slippery octopus out of me, as the head passed, and I felt that mess of arms and legs leave my body. Alexa was born, and the hardest part was done. It was only 6:42 a.m.

I realized I had done it. With awesome support from everyone around me, I had pushed that little person out into the world on my own steam, without narcotics. And it was exhausting and awful and over. I did it. In the hospital, with a doctor and nurse who were strangers to me, under an induction I thought was still a day away, I had a good birth. And that is my birth story.

Just look at him grow...

Nik started preschool this afternoon. It is a one room preschool, with two teachers, and maybe 15 other kids. It is not beautiful, but it is warm and welcoming. Nik was instantly at home.

I wasn't really planning on sending him to preschool until next September, but he started asking about it after hearing that his cousin went, and finding out about it from videos. Then, came the request:

"I want to go to playschool, Mom," he said at bedtime one night.

"Really? Are you sure? You know, moms and dads don't stay at playschool. Moms and dads bring the kids, and the kids stay with the teacher."

"No, I want you to stay, Mom."

"Well, that is not how playschool works. Moms and dads go home, and come back when it is done. Do you still want to go to playschool?"

"Yeah, I want to go to playschool, Mom."

"Mom isn't going to stay."

"Okay."

"Alright," I said, taking a big girl breath, "If you want to go to playschool, I will find a school for you."

And then I did. It came together much faster than I expected. A friend from church with similar values and parenting style recommended a preschool that is less than a ten minute drive from our home. I called, left a message, and the teacher called me back last Friday. She said he could start right away, so we started today. Boom. Done.

My head is spinning, just a bit. For the first time in motherhood do I understand what they mean by 'grow up fast'.

Power of one

2010 was a year of improving our eating habits, if only in small increments. One night, my husband and I went to dinner at one of our favourite restaurants. I ordered a salad, and grilled salmon with veggies on Naan bread. Delicious. My husband ordered the fish and chips. I had a cranberry juice and sparkling water. He had a Coke. I was just considering how nutritionally lost he is, when he looked up from his meal, and said, "I think you broke me."

"Not enjoying it?" I asked.

"Not nearly so much as I used to," he replied. Score one for healthy eating.

We got rid of our deep fryer in 2010. It was one simple change, one that was within our reach, and one that made sense for us. There was an adjustment period where we had to start figuring out what we would eat in place of french fries, but we got through it, and now I don't even miss it.

It is tough for me to make one change. Finding motivation to make the one change is not the problem. The problem arises when I think that the one change must immediately become twenty changes, and then one hundred, and then continuing until I have the nutritional habits of a mountain yogi.

I attended a nutrition talk a few months back that supplied me with far more food rules than I had ever before dreamed existed. My inner critic had a heyday, dropping my grade in personal nutrition from C to F-. How could I claim to be interested in nutrition, and live like I was living? If I wasn't willing to cut out white flour, refined sugar and MSG completely, how sincere could I possibly be?

The impulses to begin some major life overhaul started to pull on me again. Seems to be just my way. Is there something worth improving? Better jump in with both feet, and turn your life upside down to accomplish it. No sense doing things halfway.

This is a lifelong pattern. When I was young, my mom would send me into the basement with a simple instruction: "Go straighten up your room." Everything would start out fine. It would continue to be fine until I had to actually put something away. I would open the door to the closet to put away it doesn't matter what, and I would think, "Oh, there is no space for this. If only my closet was organized better." And of course, I always thought it would have to be better organized right now. I would start emptying, sorting, and relabeling, and when my mother would check on my room-cleaning progress 30 minutes later, she would find me knee deep in the contents of my bedroom closet, standing in a much larger mess than the one I had initially been sent to 'straighten'.

Thankfully, I have been introduced to the concept of balance since those closet-emptying days, and am starting to realize that doing something sincerely does not automatically equal making it into my new life's purpose. This is a lesson hard to learn, and easy to forget.

In 2011, I am going to make a greater effort to keep these words in mind during all attempts at improvement:

Nobody made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could only do a little.

- Edmund Burke

And also, the classic:

A journey of a thousand miles much begin with a single step.

Maybe I will make it my 2011 mantra: Doing a little is not the same as doing nothing. Small changes do add up. Our small changes in eating have added up enough now to see my husband regretting his own junk supper choices. After the restaurant visit, we went to a movie, and together scarfed down movie popcorn, and deliciously devoid of nutrition fountain Coke. It is good exercise for me. It helps me to remember not to chase after perfection. Just progress.

Better in than out

In the last week and a half, I find myself having entered that uncomfortable end stretch of pregnancy. My hips and pelvis are sore and achy. My back hurts. I am exhausted, and having trouble sleeping. I have gas, bloating, indigestion... All the unattractive and annoying things about the 3rd trimester are really starting to catch up with me. So, I did what any modern women would do in my situation: I complained about it on facebook.

After stating to the world that my body was in a state of 34 weeks pregnant mutiny-meltdown, one of my friends replied: "Makes you that much more ready and 'eager' for labour!!!"

But, no. Not really.

When I was pregnant with Nik, I remember major impatience in the final weeks. I began my maternity leave at the beginning of November, and did not head to the hospital until the night of December 10th, so I had a lot of time to just sit around and wait for our mystery baby to arrive. Some evenings I would enter our perfectly set up nursery, look at the tiny clothes in the dresser or sit in the rocking chair and think, "This is a nice room. We should put a baby in here."

In addition to the normal new mom anticipation of my first little baby, there was another factor making me wish for the birth: I was crazy itchy. I had been unlucky enough to suffer from a major PUPPS rash during the last month and a half of that pregnancy, red and angry over my brand new stretch marks. I spent a lot of time scratching and trying not to scratch, rubbing my belly with ice cubes, and trying to ignore it long enough to fall asleep. When my OB/GYN told me it would likely go away when the baby was born, I could only think, "Well, bring it on."

Touch wood, but I haven't experienced any itching with this pregnancy. And I'm not really longing for a snuggly little thing to complete the nursery - the first snuggle-bug is still here. The factors are just different this time around, and even with the late-pregnancy discomforts starting to pile up, I am not yet feeling that impatience for baby to arrive.

I think my perspective has changed. With my first pregnancy, I wanted to get it over with, get it done, get to the baby part. Having lived through it once though, it seems to me that there will be lots of time with baby, and the pregnancy seems so fleeting by comparison.

Babies are so easy to care for, so portable, and so connected to you in pregnancy. They never cry, never need to be changed. There are no worries about how much they are getting to eat, or whether they are warm enough. You don't have the hassle of dealing with car seats, bulky strollers or snowsuits. No one is spitting up on your dress 5 minutes before it is time to leave.

Also, consider what a small portion of your life is spent feeling another life move inside of you! If the average mom has 3 children, feels the quickening beginning at around the 4 month of pregnancy, and carries to term, that adds up to maybe 15 months. Over an average lifespan of 80 years, that works out to less than 2% of your life where it is possible to feel your child from within. Less than 2%! When you consider that many women (and all men) go their whole lives without ever experiencing this sensation, how could I wish for it to be over all the sooner?

I am also still in the process of getting mentally prepared for the arrival of a second child. My labour with Nik was difficult, and my transition to mama-hood went over a rough road. Since then, a combination of time, information, and experience have soothed those growing pains, but I still have more fear to let go of before I will feel ready to face the next birth with confidence.

Appreciation of the briefness of pregnancy, and a more realistic understanding of what is to come... These things make it easier to say in the face of a possible 5 or 6 more uncomfortable weeks to come that baby is still better in than out.

The tyranny of the should

There is something about the fall that always causes time to move faster for me. Maybe it is because the days get shorter, or because all the summer vacation days are officially behind us. When I was younger, I thought it was because school was starting up again, and things really were busier, with new teachers or professors to get used to, and homework taking up the evening hours again. This year, I suppose I could blame in on pregnancy hormones, or Nik dropping his nap completely, or taking on too many projects at work. Whatever it may be, as the winter approaches, and I invariably find myself falling behind once again, I feel myself more and more under the tyranny of the should.

I am sure I am not alone in this habit of particularly pessimistic form of self-commentary. Looking at the glass as perpetually half-empty, when the days fly by and the list of things I haven't done gets longer, it is so easy to berate myself for all the things I should have done:

I should vacuum. I should dust. I should work on that knit blanket I said I would make for the new baby. I should bake. I should clear off my scrapbooking desk, and use some of that mountain of supplies I have amassed over the years. Come to think of it, I haven't printed any pictures in such a long time, I really should get on that, too. Oh, and make an appointment for formal portraits for the family, or at least for Nik, before it is time to send out the Christmas cards. And my Christmas card list needs updating. I should get to that one of these days...

And on and on it goes.

I could fill hundreds of lines with "should" statements, and I am still not convinced I would come to an end. The goals might get loftier than those of housework (I should make more time for charity, or some such), but I don't think I would run out of things to put down. And that is even before I start into the "should have"s and the "should not"s. There is always ample opportunity for me to 'should all over myself'.

Over the years, I have learned strategies to break free from this depressing thought pattern, and the change always begins with recognizing that I have fallen victim to the tyranny yet again. If you, too, have gotten stuck there in your own life, I wanted to share five techniques that have brought me the most relief; those things I should do more often. ;-)

Make a "Done" list - This is one of the most practical pick-me-ups that I have turned to when I realize I am exhausted at the end of yet another day, and am silently berating myself for the things I failed to get to. For one full day, write down everything you accomplished. This includes taking a shower, unloading the dishwasher, and making the bed. Write down how many stories you read to a child, how many loads of laundry were washed and dried (maybe even folded and put away), and how many phone calls you answered. If you start in the morning, and keep track all day, you will be surprised at how much you really are accomplishing. It is no wonder you are having trouble getting to that filing, or whatever task is not getting done in your life. Give yourself a break!

A helping of humility - Sometimes the reason we are so aggravated with ourselves at the end of the day is because we are trying to reach some unreachable standard. You may think it is an admirable behaviour to try to be the perfect parent, perfect spouse or perfect employee, but believing that it is even possible for you to reach some perfect standard at anything is the classic pride that goes before a fall. Realize that you are not perfect, and that you cannot become so even with vast amounts of effort. An attitude born from humility will help you take setbacks in stride, accept compliments without becoming conceited, and remind you to cut others some slack, too.

Ask for assistance - Sometimes we forget that we are not the only ones out there. Family members, friends and co-workers often are able and willing to help out, but in our rush to get things done, we forget to let them know that we are struggling. Humility can help here again, because it frees us of the belief that only we can do it 'right'. Whether the help given is in practical contributions, helping us to plan our priorities, or just reassurance that we are doing fine, the support of others makes it much easier to leave the "should" cycle behind.

Take time out - I know it seems counter-intuitive, but when we have really gotten caught up in our own little hamster wheels, sometimes the best thing to do is to just stop. Stop trying to catch up, stop obsessing, stop doing that 'just one more thing', stop adding things to your list of shoulds... and just take a breath. Whether with prayer, meditation, deep breathing or just a cup a tea, even five minutes of time out can recharge you for the work ahead, and give you perspective on what is most important.

Put it in perspective - Ah, yes, that elusive perspective. It is hard to see the big picture when we are caught in a day to day cycle of the details. If you are having a hard time letting anything go item on your list go unfinished, ask yourself two questions: What needs to be done today, and what will matter next year? We need to eat, we need clean clothes to wear. Likewise, our loved ones need to know they are loved, and we all need fond memories to look back on. But the dusting? It can really wait.

I expect that I will never be completely free of the tyranny of the should. Bad habits die hard, after all. But I am getting better at recognizing when I have moved there, and quicker to give myself permission to leave. I wish the same for you, especially as we move into the business of the pre-holiday season.

10 things

When Nik was born, I had no identity as a mother. I had parenting ideas, sure, but they were untested, and mostly revolved around teaching good behaviour. When it came to nurturing, nutrition, activity, sleep... I had no philosophies or ideals. I really didn't know what we believed when it came to raising children.

I am still far from having all the answers, but I believe I have made a solid beginning. When we welcome our second child, I will already know at least some of what is important to us, and what kind of parents we want to be.

So here is my list of ten. Ten things I've learned, ten pieces of advice for the me of almost 3 years ago, ten rules for a new mom... Everyone has their own ten, and my ten may be different a year from today, as I am sure it would have been different a year ago.

My Ten:

1. Do all you can to be able to breastfeed your baby.
2. Food from scratch is better than food from a box.
3. Anything you can reuse is better than something you throw away.
4. The best toys don't need batteries.
5. At night, do whatever helps everyone get the most sleep, with the least amount of tears.
6. Say 'yes' when you can, and say 'no' when you need to.
7. Yelling is never as satisfying as you expect it to be.
8. Example is worth far more than words.
9. Let them be little.
10. There's always time for a hug.

Homeschooling myself

Wikipedia describes Leonardo da Vinci as "a painter, sculptor, architect, musician, scientist, mathematician, engineer, inventor, anatomist, geologist, cartographer, botanist and writer". I have heard it said that he was the last person to really know everything that was known, and that after that, humankind simply had more knowledge than any one person could learn in a lifetime. I wonder if that's true.

I was really lucky to grow up with a good education. I got all the regular preschool to Grade 12 stuff, and then went on to get my university degree. I also took gymnastics, karate, CPR, learned to play the saxophone, got a lead role in a school play and was on class council and student councils. I was a good student, always putting an uncool amount of effort into everything I did.

When Nik was born, a sort of unconscious shift occurred. It isn't that I gave up the uncool amount of effort. That is too deeply ingrained. I just started to direct all that effort toward Project Nik. I was so baby-busy, I felt like I had no time for any of the things I did before he was born. I still made some time for reading and taking classes... But I read parenting books, and took "Mom 'n Me" classes. By the time that Nik was about 6 months old, I was focusing so completely on his development, that it had totally eclipsed my own.

Someone handed me a baby, and I lost my balance. I thought that being a good mom was abandoning myself, and pouring all of myself into my child, and I'm slowly realizing that lack of wisdom in that. If Nik had been my second child, I would not have abandoned the first to take care of him. I would have found a balance between the needs of the two. Why should it be any different if my first "child" is myself? My own growth is still worthwhile.

Additionally, putting all my effort into my child at the expense of myself not only devalues me, it devalues the contributions of all the people who have put effort into me in the past, like my teachers and parents. It also places an insane amount of pressure on my two year old to perform, to "turn out". I am, after all, putting all of my proverbial eggs in one basket.

As part of my parenting reading, I've learned about homeschooling, and felt the attraction. I have also seen that it is not confined to the traditional grades of K to 12. Some people talk about homeschooling their toddlers, for example. One day, I thought: "Is there any reason I couldn't homeschool myself?"

Think about it. Who says education past the age of 18 has to occur within the walls of a college or university? Why couldn't I design my own emergent curriculum, based on my interests, and make it a priority?

I struggle with feeling like the things I do for myself are frivolous, and only deserve to be indulged in when everything else is finished. Thinking about it as homeschooling validates the effort I put into my own development, and encourages me to create a balanced curriculum.

What subjects would you be sure to include? I am thinking of yoga for my first Phys. Ed. unit, creative writing for English, maybe collage for Art... I'd like to learn to get my finances under control for Math, learn the chemistry behind vegetable gardening for Science, and begin to make sense of nutrition as part of Health.

I am not planning on adding cartography or engineering just yet, but even da Vinci had to start somewhere.

Stretch

I have a love/hate relationship with growth. On the one hand, it is growth. It evokes imagery of greenery and opening buds and fresh-faced children. It seems like such a beautiful, embraceable thing. On the other hand, whenever there is growth, there is that whole change thing.

I am not talking about change, as in change your socks. I am talking about Change, as in Change your habits, Change your lifestyle. Scary Change. I struggle with Change, even when I know it is for the best. For example, I know my self talk is totally out of control, but I still fight changing it. After all, it is my self talk. It is like an old shoe, stretched out in all the right places, and breaking in a new shoe would be harder than leaving things the way they are. Noticing this pattern has suggested to me that I don't really want to grow, I want to have grown. I want the benefits of being in that better place, but I fight the difficult process of getting myself there.

About a year ago, I decided to take a yoga class. I had never done yoga before, but I liked the idea of getting fit without a lot of jumping around. I also liked photos of people doing yoga. Yoga photos always seem to feature someone who looks like someone I want to be, with outfits that I want to have. So, devoid of any admirable reasons to want to learn yoga, and falling completely for the marketing, I signed up for a beginner's class.

If you have ever done yoga, you may be able to guess what came next. At that first class, I was disappointed to learn that yoga is not as easy as it looks. There was a lot to learn, and a lot of training involved. I had to concentrate to learn the names of the poses, and how to hold my body in them. In some poses, keeping my balance was difficult, and my body was shaking. I did not feel filled with inner peace after my first class, and my legs were sore the next day.

In the last year, I have gone to three rounds of yoga classes, and engaged in a home practice off and on. I had hoped that yoga would give me a little more fitness and an excuse to buy some cute yoga pants, but I have gotten more than I bargained for. Yoga has introduced me to an approach that is different from most. From where I sit, most of the advice in the world can be boiled down to a "You just need to..." statement. You just need to do such and such, and then you will have arrived. Just exercise more. Just listen more than you talk. Just eat better. Just clean your house regularly. If only you would make this Change, or that Change, you wouldn't have your problem(s).

Yoga does not teach that you could be different if only you tried harder. You can set an intention to try hard if you want to, but it isn't for any specific gain. "Trying hard" in yoga is not better than taking your time, and being gentle with yourself. What is important is that wherever you are, you observe yourself without judgment. Just observe, see, notice. And then stretch.

Stretching is like Change, only slower. It does not depend on trying harder. Think about a forward bend. You stretch your muscles forward and down, reaching towards the floor. After weeks of stretching, you may find that the stretching gets easier, and that you can go further than before. No amount of effort would have gotten you to that same place on the first day of stretching. The key is not effort, but regularity, repetition, and time.

Stretching has helped me to understand more about growth. Growth also happens slowly. The change that comes with growth is not flashy, but quiet and gradual. We never really see anything grow. We can only conclude that is has grown when we compare the ways things are now with the way they were before. Stretching has suggested to me that growth occurs not because of one dramatic shift, but because of a thousand little choices.

I am choosing to breathe now when my anxiety tempts me to hold my breath. I am choosing to stretch my hamstrings in downward-facing dog and staff pose, even though they ache when I do. I am choosing to engage in my own yoga practice a few times a week. I may not practice for very long, or try very hard. But I am trying to practice with regularity, with repetition, over time.

When I started doing a yoga a year ago, I couldn't stand in tree pose. Now I can, at least on my left leg. That may not be Change. But it is growth.

Maybe it is not so scary after all...