Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Schizoid Me


Schizoid-Me

I know it has been a LONG time since my last post. Soooooo sorry. I promise to do better. This one is a bit heavy. Stay tuned for lighter posts.

We all have thoughts and ideas that race through our minds in the wee hours that slow the clock and keep sleep just out of reach. Whether it is anxieties, problems to solve, relationships to reconcile, or the unending laundry list of tasks to be completed. These nights seem to stretch into eternity. My current middle of the night insomnia seems to somehow orbit around my current identity crisis.

We all seem to clamor for significance in some form. All that is within us wants someone to see us, hear us, or think that we are important. I’d prefer it be someone who can use an adult sized toilet and doesn’t require a five-point harness strap down for mealtime. “Look at me!” all of our toiling screams. My existence on this spinning orb isn’t futile because I can do this or am that. We all seem to claw after a space of recognition. I am no exception, but with the addition of sweet little man #3, even my most gallant attempts at anything significant or even competent is met with schizophrenic frustration. The following is my current middle of the night musings and the surprising destination.

Professional me- Once upon a time I was a good professional therapist. I contributed to the guild, subscribed to journals, wrote a few articles, and was concerned about things like continuing education, professional development, and leadership training. Wow, I’m not in Kansas any more. My one day a week work schedule, scrambling to fulfill my CEU requirements in the 11th hour, and my complete oblivion to the new greatest research disqualifies me from placing any personal worth, pride, or identity in Renee the professional. Next………

Athletic me- I’ve been doing my darndest to resurrect this one as of late as I’m trying to get this post third baby body back into shape for the Denver half marathon mid October. Despite all of my early morning pep talks, self bribes, and the most steely self determination, I’ve come to the sad realization that this more jiggly, dimpled, and weaker version of myself will never again be traded for a previous more svelte, toned, strong, and athletically capable me this side of my resurrected body. The only way I could currently run 400 meters in 62 seconds is if I had a bicycle (or an airplane). My over caffeinated, under rested, under nourished, over sugared, over stressed me is now the norm, and probably will be for the next 30 years. Yep, RIP athletic Renee. We had a good run (no pun intended☺)

Well informed me- It has always been important to me to stay informed and globally aware. In a former life I devoured the daily newspaper, was well acquainted with columnists in the New York Times and the Atlantic Monthly, and could actually name a few current relevant artists. I’m not sure where this one went south but am fairly certain the part of my brain that could read, process, and assimilate this information has atrophied beyond salvage. Oh well, back to the land of glorious repetition. Oh, and can you believe that there are three women on the Supreme Court!? I can’t believe that didn’t get more coverage. And what happened to the Labor party in England? You’d think that would have gotten a little press…..

Pious me-When we religious types get insecure, we often default to this one. But to be honest, I’ve never been very good at this one. I wrestle to outline my personal holiness markers like a stammering child trying to backtrack over a discovered lie. I think my recent obsession with Mad Men, my angry outbursts at the rugrats during bath time, and my utter lack of consistency with important spiritual disciplines like prayer, meditation, and scripture reading sends me to the back of the line in the “good Christian woman” category. I might squeak by with some fancy talking until it was discovered that I actually have only been to church twice in the last five months. Ruler on the hand and no good girl gold stars for me.

Homemaker me-I can already hear the chuckles and snickers. Suffice it to say this is not my flag in the sand. For probably two months our fridge only contained chocolate syrup, wine, and beer. My bathroom has reeked of urine for months now, and I think there is something growing (or living) under the massive pile of clothes in the laundry chute. I’ve been given a lifetime suspension from homemakers r us. Further elaboration might enact some sort of child protective services alarm so I better move on.

Crafty me- Pass

Fab wife- I wish I could say that I give my husband a back scratch every night, a latte every morning, and an ever present listening ear. But that is what he does for me. Why am I not more encouraging, less naggy, and more appreciative of the God given gift that is Dave to me? Why was it much easier to be the thoughtful, connected, and giving wife 5 years ago? Ouch, sucking as a wife hurts the heart.

Super mom- I sort of feel like the hampster in the mom wheel. I seem to be working hard and sweating profusely, but not making much progress. I can’t get all the pieces in the puzzle at the same time. If I get Will to school on time with a decently nutritious lunch in tow and have a meaningful time with Ian in the morning, then I loose Beckett in our bedroom only to find him stuck under our bed. Complete collective success in the parenting realm is my proverbial carrot in front of the donkey. The self-deprecating thoughts about mommy failures are probably the most defeating. I think I’ll start a therapy fund now for my guys, any contributors?

Despite all my attempts to the contrary, I can’t seem to pull it all together this time. The loss of all my competencies and spaces in my life where I feel important, good, and capable produce an irritating fluxuating instability. All my clamoring to resurrect them has only left me haggard and exhausted. I scramble to get footing on anything that feels safe, secure, and important like one of those wipe out contestants trying to stay on the big red balls. The loss of all of my identities has painfully brought to me to an unexpected realization of security and importance. I’ve come to the realization that there is NO safe place and no stable surface for all of my meaningless identities. No skill or talent is immune to the curse of decay, death, disorder, and BABIES. All of my tightly held identities, however hard I try to re-instate them will ultimately dissolve. The loss of all of my earthly accomplishments leaves me clinging to only one anchor. The fact that I am a redeemed child of God, made by him, created for His purpose, important because He made me, significant to Him, and useful in how I redirect glory to Him is my only remaining stalwart. The false notion that my previously high held identities were lasting, important, or remotely significant compared the surpassing greatness of being His, pales in comparison.

So if it takes chaos, fragmentation, and brokenness for me to accurately see my true place in the shadow of the king, bring it on. I’m happy to bask in my incompencies, failings, and messiness as an eternally accurate plum line. If I am nothing else in my life but an arrow pointing to the true source of beauty, knowledge, life, power, and compassion, then my life would be more beautiful and significant than I could have ever imagined. Now back to the mess………………………….