Taking A More Postive Position

            I am not naturally a positive person. Of course, it can be hard to be positive when it is Monday, when I woke up numerous times during the night, and faced nightmarish dreams during short stints of sleep. Continual sleep deprivation doesn’t help me fill my glass, rather, it empties it. Nevertheless, I need to work on being more positive.

            I too often see the worst in people, expect the worst from people, and think the worst will always occur as a result of interacting with people. For example, I experience extreme anxiety driving here in Florida because I don’t trust that anyone is paying attention. Everyday numerous accidents occur leaving me paranoid and unwilling to drive anywhere but to the girls’ school and home again. I even experience anxiety on my morning walks. I distrust anyone I meet along the way, thinking that they want to do me harm in some way, shape or form. My thought process isn’t logical or even sane at times, but then negativity and anxiety are very rarely based in reality.

            I love the Ellen DeGeneres show and though I don’t have time to watch it in full each afternoon due to snack time and homework time, I catch up by watching snippets on the Internet. I love Ellen because she is always so positive. She frequently features ordinary people making small but impactful differences in the world and in their communities. I more often than not tear up while watching her show. I cry because I wish I could walk through life like Ellen and her guests, believing that good will always win, love will always conquer.  Instead, I feel the darkness envelope me.  

            Positive thinking, I know requires mindfulness. For someone like me, who naturally sees the worst in everyone and every situation, it requires hard work and dedication. I am working hard to see the good in others, including myself. And I am working hard to see the good in this world of negative energy and individuals. I am working hard to combat the anxiety, and I am working hard to find the helpers, because as Mr. Rogers always stressed in every tragedy there are helpers, looking for them is the key to being more positive.

Children - A Crash Course in Chaos

           Bills, knick, knacks, pens, pencils, discarded shopping lists and coupons cover my kitchen island. Dishes are piled on the side of my sink, drying. On any given day, my sink is full of dirty dishes. The portrait windowsill in my kitchen contains water bottles, thermoses, and salt and pepper shakers. I enter my dining room only to find the girls’ art work strewn all over the table, as well as the pens they used to create said art. My living room floor contains the Barbie Pop-Up Camper, several dolls and the few accessories to the camper that the girls have managed not to lose. Shoes cover the entryway, as well as bags, and a basket overflowing with magazines. Taking a trip upstairs, I notice numerous Perler beads scattered around the playroom floor, the result of Lu’s upcoming business endeavors. Bins that should be neatly tucked away in the closet are haphazardly strewn around the playroom floor. Entering the girls’ room, I am greeted by last nights reading material on the floor and the looming shadow of the Barbie Dream House, which has several dolls thrown into it, the result of a hasty late night clean up. Looking at my house, no one would ever believe that I am actually a very organized individual.

            Children create chaos. I despise chaos. I like everything to have a place and a label. Having things organized calms the chaotic workings of my mind. A messy house causes me to crawl out of my skin and often insights rage. Chaos creates anxiety. Anxiety causes depression. Depression causes anger. Anger causes me to lose my shit with the girls regarding their inability to pick up as they go, their penchant for creating a mess, playing for 10 minutes then walking away, and their obstinate whining when privileges are revoked for not picking up.

            I have implemented numerous strategies in an attempt to get the girls to clean up. All seem to work temporarily, but none have persisted. The messes keep multiplying, the girls keep resisting. My anger keeps rising.

            It has become so frustrating that I don’t even want to clean my house because I know that the minute the girls arrive home from school clean will turn to dirty and the organization I work so hard to maintain will, within minutes, be completely undone. I constantly straddle the line between not giving a shit and grasping tightly to the notion of how I would like my house to appear.

            So what is the answer to my dilemma? How do I ease the anxiety, depression and anger without being a controlling neat freak? Right now, I just want to throw all the shit out!