• Life Lessons,  Moody Blues,  raving lunatic rant,  spilling my guts,  word-driven-blogging

    Love Fiercely

    loving-fiercely

    I have a few swirling thoughts to blog about. You’ll have to bear with me while I meander about and sort of figure out what I want to say as I say it. And let me preamble by saying that I’m going to say something shocking below but I have no intention of breaking up with Payam nor have I ever. It’s just an example.

    Ahem.

    I’ve always identified with being moody. I was one of those kids who would get their feelings hurt easily and go hide in a closet or under a table to cry. The adults in my family would dismiss my behavior.  I had an artist’s temperament they would say and go on with their lively conversations, ignoring me until I got bored enough of my hiding place and came out in a better mood. Of course I would wish they would come to comfort me and I think occasionally an Aunt or my dad would do that but for the most part, I just felt like my moods were too much trouble for the rest of the world to deal with and nobody really understood me.

    This moodiness has followed me for the rest of my life. I’ve come to realize that I cycle through up days and down days regularly, almost like clockwork. My moods often have very little to do with my actual situation or surroundings.  So I’ve come to not trust my moods. It’s a tricky place to be.

    I have really great up days so I’ve come to accept that my down days are the price I pay. Usually the down days have something to do with hormones. I can pretty much look back at any conflict I have ever had and blame it on hormones. Of course some hardships I’ve gone through are not my “artists temperament’s” fault but I definitely know that I could deal with them better if I wasn’t the “moody artist” that I am. Or at least that is what I’ve always told myself.

    The other day I was in a mood. It was one of those moods where you see everything negatively, even down to the dust on the floorboards.  I was reflecting on my relationship with Payam (poor Payam) and things were coming up short.  I am pretty critical by nature. It can be a terribly negative trait but it also helps me with my creativity and my work. I can be discerning in design, knowing with strong feelings what colors or fonts to discard in favor of others. Where to put something on a page and not. I know my own mind and I can easily visualize what I want things to look like and what exactly is wrong if they do not. I can curate a photoshoot, cropping out this offending detail in order to focus in on something else to tell a story… It’s a blessing and a curse and definitely part of being an artist!

    This is all great for work but not so great when you are on a team or in a relationship and you find yourself curating the people around you. Just picture me finding Payam taking a nap on the couch while watching soccer. Maybe he’s snoring with some leftover snack sitting on the coffee table. It’s an innocent enough thing to do. But of course I am all excited about getting my steps in for the day (I’m type A) and listening to podcasts about health and wellness so I launch right into a full-blown lecture on how we should walk everyday and his napping is not aligning with my big picture.

    It’s an innocent request but what if Payam doesn’t feel like walking every day? What if he has back trouble and foot trouble and me nagging him really puts a damper on his mood? He doesn’t like being judged by me. Who would? He doesn’t want me to think he’s lazy but walking everyday can actually be painful for him.  This is just a silly example and Payam does actually walk with me quite a bit but you get the picture.   You can imagine how my criticizing can not really work out so great for me and our relationship. I know this so I might keep my criticism to myself and fester inside every time I catch him napping on the couch. If I let things go too far, I start to day dream about what life might be like if I had an athletic boyfriend. Can you imagine what I’d look like if I was with someone who liked to get up early in the morning and run?!!  Maybe I start blaming my flabby body on Payam…I mean, that’s extreme but I could start to think that way if I let this sort of “moodiness” go on for too long.

    You know the last thing I want to do is break up with Payam. I love him!  I love us. He loves me, flabby body and all! How am I going to force him to fit into my idea of what life should be like? I can’t! I’ve tried that with previous relationships and they’ve failed miserably and caused me great pain.

    So I caught myself.   I decided I was going to stop myself every time I started judging and replace those critical thoughts with LOVING FIERCLY instead. At first it was just an experiment but it worked like magic. You should see the smile on Payam’s face when I come in from a dog walk and I am so happy to see him instead of low-level pissed. I try to make emoji hearts come out of my eyes and I think they really do and then he responds with even bigger emoji hearts coming out of his eyes!  I linger in hugs and tell him how much I love him. He hugs me back with even bigger hugs.

    I find myself wondering why I ever was having negative thoughts in the first place. He is the best team member ever!

    It’s a crazy fact and I think the real secret why arranged marriages work. If you make up your mind to make something work instead of break it down every day, it WILL work. The more you love, the more you find your partner loving you back. It’s amazing how much we can love. It really is our super power. We can infinitely love. Just think about that for a second. Infinitely. It is the basis for all religions. It must be a truth that centers us.

    It really was an epiphany for me. I think I should go make some t-shirts or something. Just kidding! But try it!

    LOVE FIERCELY!

    It’s so hard to write this stuff. I keep judging myself in every different light I can think of. But I still want to say it.

  • 15 minute posts,  The Hood,  word-driven-blogging

    Patches

    Coyote sighting!

    There’s a coyote in our neighborhood who has been openly lurking about in the middle of the day. I’ve seen him four days in a row, but not yesterday. He seems to be minding his own business. He sees me and the dogs but just keeps trotting by. One day I passed him on a foot path that traversed my path and there he was just sitting under a bush, munching on a rabbit. He narrowed his gaze, his ears stood straight up but he made no move towards me or away from me. I fumbled for my phone but ended up getting only a fuzzy shot because I didn’t have the patience to stand there still long enough. I have a feeling I will keep getting chances though.

    I’m going to name him Patches. I like to name the neighborhood squirrels, Chippy so it seems appropriate that our neighborhood coyote is named Patches. He has patchy fur on his back. I’m not sure if it’s his natural coloring or if he has battle wounds from fights. He seems healthy enough. He doesn’t seem to be super skinny or act sick. I was talking to some neighbors who were also out when I’ve seen him and everyone seems to be in agreement that he’s really nothing to be afraid of. After all, we do live right next to a nature preserve that is probably his home.

    We’re thinking Patches is lurking about because we have new neighbors next door who don’t understand the trash system. They are students going to the local college. Apparently some rich parents bought their daughter a huge big house and she is renting it out to many roommates. We really have no clue just that people are constantly getting dropped off with big suitcases via Lyft or Uber and they don’t speak English. We don’t see them out in the day but their trash on trash day is piled high in their trashcan and over-flowing in flimsy white trash bags stashed around the base of their trash can. Of course this never ends well. Animals (like Patches) come in the night and tear the bags open and strew the trash all over our street and into our front yard. I don’t need to get up in arms about it, the rest of the neighbors have already reported them to the to home owners association. I’m sure the matter will be rectified with an extra-size trash can soon.

    But in the meantime we have a new friend, Patches.