A Change of Character is a Change of Heart

{This is long overdue, both the topic and the idea of blogging on ideals and concepts instead of the mundane day-to-day rantings (though I'm thinking of doing an Andy Rooney segment).}

Those who know me know my truer nature: the more, er, zealous and, at times, over-committed child who goes from hiding her face to beaming it awkwardly after having shouted some unnecessary comment at the top of her lungs. It's most awesome when I'm gently corrected, suddenly embarrassed, or even completely ignored regardless how ridiculous I may have sounded. I certainly have never wanted to seem as such; who would? I simply wanted, in such moments, to be heard. Being the little sister, the over-achiever, the under-achiever (yes I've been both), the wall-flower to some or the fire-cracker to others leaves one feeling boxed. You're around these people; you're this to them. Be that. Kinda cramped in those boxes after a while. How could I grow? So when I try to switch voices from the goofy child to the young woman of reason it isn't always met with sincerity. Go figure. Enter now the scene of ridiculous to make a point, which isn't always made, and I feel dumb.

Let's address the other issue plaguing mine and 90% of other people's lives (wait, what percentage of humans are children under ten...) and that's stress. Usually it's money. Okay, almost always it's money and when there's little of that, there's LOTS of stress. We had a great time getting married, but couldn't  find a house or the proverbial pot, ahem, later. We got pregnant, got more stressed, snowball of stress. Thought we'd be cramped in a room with one child? Guess what? Thing Two's a-coming! I was SOOO depressed! I love my children; have long before they were ever born, but I couldn't shake the droopiness, the loneliness, the helplessness, the uselessness, the stress, the stress, the stress... It got pretty scary at times. I tried escapism through writing but that's another topic for which no blog is worthy. I tried sleep aides. Melatonin and Valerian in combination helped which, in turn, helped with some cognitive reasoning. Work was affected but I'm not sure anyone noticed much. Jesse noticed, God love him, but felt helpless. It seemed that nothing was getting me out the funk I was in and the only occasional relief was prayer and crying. It was pathetic. Okay, maybe some would empathize and say it wasn't pathetic but I felt that way at the time (and looking back) but I just couldn't shake the whole drowning feeling.

So did the house cure us? Was the Love Shack the answer to our problems? Are you kidding?! We've never been in more debt, but I'm able to shrug a shoulder and brush it off like never before. Not saying we don't freak sometimes when the oil bill comes in (ahem, 'scuse me, just got a chill) but I feel far more in control of myself than I did before. My other half might be saying, 'Great, it was worse?' I may still be emotional, still at times apathetic of things, but I'm able to accomplish simple tasks once more... grocery shopping is still in the distant to never future. (Love you!)

Here's the bottom line. I faked my way out of it. Sounds lame doesn't it. It SO is. One inspiration was my OB, Dr. Morin. She had the sweetest and most calming voice so that I didn't care what she said. She could've said, "So we're going to have to stick this five gauge needle in your face and then cut you open before the anesthesia kicks in." I'd just stare back calmly with saucer-like hypnotic eyes and mutter, "Okay." Truth be told she made every visit and first childbirth itself go smoothly. So wish she didn't leave BI. She was truthful but calming, straight-forward but compassionate. I started putting myself in her character (speech and demeanor-wise) while working with patients myself. For most patients there was little difference, but for the strung-out, psycho-stressed moms and dads who looked like they wanted to blame me for their child's daycare-plagued illness or their teen's emotional and social problems... Well, I suddenly started cooling people down and getting nicer 'thank-yous' in the end. Diplomacy can be a powerful tool especially when paired with sincerity.

Was I cured? Course not! It was the beginning of a long road. I started taking pages from a few people on how to act positive. Now I might start to sound self-help-book-ie but I'll try not to. Bottom line is that I kept putting myself in a positive character and eventually I started believing it. It worked the best when I was helping someone else out of an emotional drought. I became the voice of concern, the voice of reason, the voice of compassion. I was once told I had hospitality; the ability to come to the person in need instead of trying to get him/her to come to my level for conversation. I held on to that concept and I began to understand a bit more about people and where they're coming from and where I wanted to be myself. God gave me some great examples to follow both at work and at home. I love them each dearly and don't yet know how to thank them. They may never know either, but I can at least repay them with kindness for now.

I need to divert for just a moment. In sixth grade I remember reading a book in which the main character's mother was described as being calm in the face of a tiger but jumping at the sound of a kitten. I loved the manner in which this mother was portrayed and have since always wanted to be regarded as such. Not that I want to jump at the sound of a kitten, but if my short-comings must be then let them be less significant than my accomplishments in the eyes of my children. I want to be that strong mother, able to face the dangers of life, holding her family together in trying times (Lord, not too many trying times if possible!) and able to talk things out during the difficult teenage years when parents are thought to be enemies. For the record, mine were not and my mother is that mother. Somewhere along the line I began convincing myself that I too can be that mother and, somehow, I'm going to be. Let's face it, I already do jump at the sound of a kitten but if I don't run scared from a tiger right now it's pure stupidity.

So I guess the status of this whole concept now is that I'm starting to believe I am becoming a more calm, in-control person. I'm trying to only speak when someone who cares will be listening, or when among friends because they're used to my voice anyway and I'll get over them ignoring me. Playing the part of the calm, not-about-to-scream-because-you're-screaming-but-I-can-be-louder mama is working far better than I thought it would. It's still trying, oh my is it trying, but I've learned to tune out the screaming/ranting/crying tantrums and be patient while they realize it's getting them nowhere. I have got a pair of *intense* children! It's hairy at times and I really fail my whole 'composed' persona sometimes, but slowly I am improving. The best part? I'm looking forward to things, planning things, enjoying the day, tiring them out, and actually getting a handle on things. I see a roadblock in life, bill or health issue, and I can look at it logically and reasonably figure out a solution. My thought process is that God isn't going to leave us homeless on the streets, or even hungry in our home. My aunt has a saying, "This too shall pass." My mother's family has another saying, "God is good."