Tag: writing skills

Terrified

Jane 1 Comment

65. Telephone: Write about a phone call you recently received.

ThinkWritten.com

Most of the phone calls I get are spam bots. But I have been making a lot of phone calls recently.

Mostly to doctor’s offices. The pediatrician, the GP, the dentist.

The gynecologist.

Yup, that’s right! I’m writing about the gynecologist!

(Don’t worry, there won’t be any gory details.)

Tomorrow, I have my first gynecologist appointment in nearly three years. I know, I know, I shouldn’t have left it that long!

The last time I saw the lady doctor was six months after our Bear was born. When the following year rolled around, life was crazy. We were planning our move from Germany, and I just never got around to it.

And since then? I’ve been putting it off, I’m not going to lie.

My mother died of metastasized breast cancer.

So did my maternal grandmother. Another maternal family member has been diagnosed.

Yeah. I know.

I’m 35. It’s time I at least started getting mammograms. And, as my very best friend (who is a physician) has told me more than once, I should get the genetic test done.

But honestly?

I’m terrified.

I’m terrified that I will learn to feel afraid of my own body.

In moments of extreme worry, I think of Angelina Jolie and wonder if a doctor is going to recommend I do the same.

So, if I’m honest, I don’t think about it.

I push it away from me and call it “living in the present.” I’ve even been known to go long months without doing a quick self breast exam.

I know.

It’s probably not something I should be worrying about. But it is something I should be monitoring.

Which I have not done up until now.

I’m pretty good at living in denial. (It ain’t just a river in Egypt!) But continuing to do so would be irresponsible. I have a family. I need to be proactive and take whatever preventative measures the doctor suggests.

But I’m still scared.

And if I’m honest?

I miss my mother most at these times. Though God knows she’d administer the dope slap and tell me to get to the gynecologist.

I can just hear her. “Jane. Get over it. Go to the doctor.”

Okay, Mom, okay. I’m going.

Monday Got Me Like…

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64. Sing a New Song: Take a popular song off the radio and rewrite it as a poem in your own words.

ThinkWritten.com

The following has nothing to do with a popular song on the radio. But this is what the prompt made me think of.

The alarm goes off but I hit snooze.
I want to go back to sleep but my bladder’s too full.
Might as well get up.

I stretch out the stiffness, coax my body to life.
I tiptoe to the bathroom–
Trying not to wake the boys.
Please let them sleep a little longer, I think.

After a splash of cold water on the face
Autopilot kicks in.
Monday. Right. Change the sheets.

I strip the bed, change our sheets,
Moving mechanically through the process.
My mind is far away.
Not sure where, really.

Then, I’m staring in bewilderment
At an empty laundry basket.
It was full last night… Where did the…?
Then it dawns on me.

Where is my husband?

He’s usually up before me.
I think back and remember:

After my alarm:
A quick kiss and Buenos días.
Clattering in the kitchen downstairs.
Water filling in the washer.

He comes upstairs.
The fog has finally cleared from my brain.
Hola, he says. I’ve started the chores.
Figured we’d kick-start the day.

Monday.
It can be such a bitch.

But not this Monday.

The Last Straw?

Jane 2 Comments

The straw that broke the camel’s back? The weight that tipped the scale?

Could this be it?

Let Me Explain

I wrote a long time ago about how I was losing faith in social media.

A couple of years ago, I took Facebook off my phone altogether, and limited the time I spent on there to when I actually opened my laptop.

Now, as I am writing on a much more regular basis, I am opening my laptop more frequently. And since I post the blog articles I publish to Facebook, I end up on the platform.

In fact, in July I wrote about how being on Facebook more often makes me feel.

Then, Yesterday…

I’ve seen articles over the years that talk about the spread of negative, or just plain wrong information on Facebook.

Yesterday, however, I was listening to On the Media, a long-running media analysis show. The podcast extra featured an interview with Fadi Quran of Avaaz (a non-profit organization that focuses on identifying misinformation in social media).

The host, Bob Garfield, was interviewing Quran about Avaaz’s latest report, entitled “Facebook’s Algorithm: A Major Threat to Public Health” (link to the full report).

In a nutshell, the report shows that health misinformation spreads like wildfire on Facebook, and the company does very little to stem the tide because doing so would endanger their business model.

Not New Information

This is not new. It is not surprising. But this time, it shocked me.

I don’t know why it hit home so hard this time.

Not after the 2016 U.S. presidential election. Cambridge Analytica. Brexit. QAnon. And all the shady shenanigans Facebook has failed to do anything about (or participated in).

And especially considering my own instincts! My own feelings of lethargy, dissatisfaction, and general malaise after spending any amount of time on Facebook (and, increasingly, Instagram).

My better judgment has told me for years that Facebook is not healthy for me.

Why Not Quit?

Honestly?

Because pretty much all the traffic to my blog comes from Facebook. If I were to delete my Facebook account, it would be the death knell for this blog (already on life support).

And because I can see a lot of positive uses for it, too. It’s helped me to connect to people in new places time and again (in Canada, Brasil, Germany, the U.S….)

But how do I get the positives from Facebook while also shielding myself from the insidious nature of the beast?

The feeling of being sucked in, of being trapped into a vicious scrolling cycle. Of being marketed to.

How You Can Help

I’m getting there. I’m about ready to cut the crap and just delete my Facebook account.

But I need your help. If you’re reading this, can you do me a solid?

Can you sign up for email updates from this blog? You’ll get a nice little email whenever a new article is published. It’s super easy.

But who am I kidding? We all know that blogs like mine and small businesses are why Facebook keeps afloat. We can’t survive without it.

*Sigh*

Now I’m kind of depressed about it. Time to pick up my knitting! I’m finishing up the Tempestry project I had set aside a while back. And I also owe you an article about my Weekender sweater.

Stay tuned!

(Sign up for email alerts!)

Slip Up

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62. Slip Up: Write about making mistakes.

ThinkWritten.com

I’ve been getting a lot of questions lately.

Mostly they’re from dear friends of mine–fellow mothers–who have questions about how I might handle a certain parenting situation.

While I’m flattered that they turn to me, I also kind of worry about why they feel they can ask me for advice.

But hey! If people think I have my s*** together, then great! I’ll take it.

(I do not really have my s*** together.)

A Recent Query

A friend recently asked me, “Jane, how would you handle it if your partner were putting your oldest kid to bed, but the kid wanted YOU to put her down, and ended up having a complete meltdown and begging for you to come.”

Essentially, the question was: do my partner and I look weak for caving into our daughter’s tantrum over who puts her to bed?

My short answer was: No. You do not look weak.

A Little Background

The back story to this was that there’s a baby sibling involved (jealousy), they are on vacation with family (meaning lots of activity and sleep deprivation), the kid has recently given up her pacifier, she’s dropping her afternoon nap…

In short, as any parent of a 3-year-old reading this can guess, the entire situation is a hot mess.

Such times are not times to dig your feet in and insist that your child do what you say BECAUSE YOU SAID SO.

It sounded to me like that kid needed to get to bed ASAP and the best thing was to get her to bed in the quickest and calmest way possible.

And so in response to my friend’s question, I said:

No. You are not weak or undisciplined for giving into your daughter’s demand for her mother to put her to bed.

It’s Not Admitting Defeat

Raising our kids is not raging war (no matter how much it might feel like it sometimes).

We, as parents, do not always have to win.

Don’t get me wrong, I am the first person to want my kids to snap to order when I say “go” (see my recent article about my overuse of the word No).

But when they don’t, when they fight back, protest, or throw tantrums, it does not mean that we the parents have lost.

In fact, I’ve learned that sometimes my kids throw fits or have meltdowns because I am being either unreasonable or terribly unsympathetic.

Admitting Weakness Gives Strength

One thing I’ve tried to work on, is being able to take a step back in the heat of the moment and look at a situation from my child’s perspective.

When you’re locked in a power struggle, it can be so difficult to get yourself out of that mindset, and to ask yourself, “Why is this happening?”

Another thing I’ve tried to do is to say, “Mama’s got it wrong. I’m sorry. Let’s try again.”

For our older son, it really works with him to get down to his eye level, and say, “We’re having some trouble here. Let’s figure this out together.”

Strange to say it, but he seems reassured when we admit that we’re wrong. It’s like he’s relieved to know that it’s not just he who thinks that a situation is coo-coo bananas.

Slip-Ups Happen

Sometimes the kids are being pig-headed.

Often times, I’m the pig-headed one.

Either way, we all make mistakes. Hopefully, our children will learn from our example that admitting to our mistakes does not make us weak.

Pick Your Battles

And “caving in” (or, as I like to call it, “picking your battles wisely”) does not make you a weak parent.

It makes you a smart parent.

Uninspired

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The past few prompts from my creative writing series have been duds.

I’m not feeling inspired at all.

It’s not like each and every one of these posts has been fabulously inspired. But the past couple days, I’ve struggled to even muster up the energy.

Fickle Inspiration

Inspiration doesn’t just pop up out of nowhere.

Sometimes, something lights a spark. Often, throughout this process of writing (almost) daily, I’ve felt true inspiration.

Other times, I feel like it’s a struggle to hammer something out.

The past couple of days I’ve felt uninspired, and I’ve been tempted to not write. To wait until the spark comes again.

The Trouble Is…

If I stop doing the work and just wait to feel inspired, it might never happen.

Yeah, it’s true, sometimes I feel like what I’m writing here is crap.

(A lot of times, actually.)

But at least I’m writing. Quantity, not quality, right?

While I Wait

Any readers I still have may just have to suffer a bit! Huzzah! I hope you’re up for it!

I’ve got a sweater that came off the needles. Maybe tomorrow I can get some photos of it and write something up.

Hopefully I’ll feel inspired.

In the meantime, I’ve been enjoying this podcast.

And this book.

Handle with Care

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60. Handle With Care: Write about a very fragile or delicate object.

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

OUCH!

Having children under the age of five can be exhausting.

Our three-year-old is especially… Physical.

We’re pretty sure he’s at least bruised (if not broken) Chico’s ribs. The other day, after spending an afternoon in the play room with him, I felt like I’d been in a full-out brawl.

He doesn’t stop jumping on me, climbing on me, and otherwise being ALL-OUT ON ME.

The Kato to my Inspector Clouseau

The other day, when describing this state of affairs to my friends, one of them said,

“So, he’s the Kato to your Inspector Clouseau?”

It took me a second, because it’s been years and years since I’ve seen any of the Peter Sellers “Pink Panther” movies. Then I started laughing until I had tears in my eyes.

Yes! That is EXACTLY IT!

Yup. This is pretty much how it goes in our house.

Mama is Fragile!

I feel this is very true today.

I had a dermatologist appointment, and different parts of me were frozen, sliced, prodded, pressed, scraped, squeezed and sewn up.

The last time I had any kind of anesthetic was in childbirth three years ago, and everyone feels pretty drained after giving birth.

When the dermatologist told me this morning that I might feel tired and woozy after having a local anesthetic, I mentally brushed her off.

By noon, however, I had realized what she meant.

It’s probably age catching up with me (like it’s been doing for a while, now), but man! I feel completely drained.

Handle With Care

I’m lucky to have natural strength. I’m no delicate flower. But I’ve been particularly struck in the last few weeks at how my body, while still incredibly strong, experiences stresses differently.

Whether it’s the stress of lack of sleep, an attack-child, or a local anesthetic. My body feels these more acutely, and seems more sensitive than in former years.

This is why I am that much more grateful that I have taken the step of adding exercise to my routine.

With this small change of 30 minutes every couple of days, I feel more equal to the physical demands of parenthood, and of life in general.

My body is naturally powerful. Now, it feels like that power can be sustained. And it feels amazing.

Refreshed

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59. Refreshed: Write a poem about a time you really felt refreshed and renewed. Maybe it was a dip into a pool on a hot summer day, a drink of lemonade, or other situation that helped you relax and start again.

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

A cool drink of water;
A hot cup of tea.

A long night’s sleep;
A short power nap.

A long-distance phone call;
A cosy tête-à-tête.

An intense workout;
A lazy afternoon on the couch.

A noisy family gathering;
Silent companionship.

Engaging in creativity;
Completing mindless busywork.

However it comes,
Enjoying the delicious feeling of being
Refreshed.

In the Dark

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58. Darkness: Write a poem or journal entry inspired by what you can’t see.

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

I think about what my boys don’t see.

Or, more like, I wonder what they do see, but simply take for granted.

For example, the fact that their mother stays home. Or the fact that they are privileged.

The fact that their laundry gets done and put away. Their lunchboxes get filled, their dinners are made. Someone works his butt off to make money so they can enjoy a paddling pool and Disney+.

I Once Was Blind

I didn’t even think twice about any of that stuff as a kid. Any kid from a privileged background doesn’t need to.

It’s only as an adult that I understand how hard my parents worked to make things nice for us. And that I realize what hard work it actually is.

But Now I See

While acknowledging that I am extremely privileged, I can also recognize that being a parent is difficult. Marriage itself is hard work.

And so, I want my boys to see something else, and learn to also take it for granted:

Their parents take time to do things for themselves, and as a couple.

Whether it’s their father going for a run, their mother sitting down to the piano, or calling a babysitter (remember when we could do that?) to go out on a date night.

When They’re Older

None of this will register now, of course. They’re too little.

But when they’re older, I hope they’ll see the light.

They’ll look back at our family life and see each individual take time for themselves.

I hope they’ll learn that it’s not selfish to do this. By taking the time to do things we love, we’re keeping ourselves healthier and happier, and better able to do the hard work of marriage and parenting.

But man, we’re still tired.

Accursed Alarm Clock

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57. Alarm Clock: Write about waking up.

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

Every. Damn. Day.

Every day it is just so hard to wake up.

Even the days I get to sleep in. It’s always a battle to drag this ol’ bag of bones out of bed.

I’ve Tried Everything

Going to bed early (that is also really hard). No screen time before bed. No coffee or tea too late in the day. Exercise earlier in the day, rather than later…

And yet, no matter what I do to ensure a good night’s sleep, it’s a struggle to wake up in the morning.

The Snooze Game

When the alarm goes off at six, I immediately smash the snooze button. Ten more blissful minutes.

The radio turns on again at 6:10 and WHAM! Snooze again.

By 6:20 I’m starting to feel a bit guilty, so this time I leave the radio on, but turn the volume way down.

Now I start to have some really weird dreams. Snippets of the radio come through and suddenly I’m having trippy dreams about the news stories.

I’m only startled out of these strange half-dreams at 6:45 when my kids run in and jump on the bed.

Nothing Helps

I’ve tried a simple buzzing alarm, bird song, wind chimes, classical music…

Waking up still sucks.

It’s not like I’m a night owl, either. It’s just that I could easily sleep 10 hours a night and still feel like I’m not getting enough.

What To Do?

I dunno. Any suggestions?

A change of diet perhaps? Or am I simply not a morning person and never will be?

Whatever the case, man. Waking up is hard to do.

Challenge Accepted

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56. Photograph: Write a story or journal entry influenced by a photograph you see online or in a magazine.

https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/

Wait, What Challenge?

What is challenging about taking a selfie and posting it online?

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve posted mine. But how many of the black and white “Challenge Accepted” Instagram photos you’ve seen in the last few days really say anything?

There is nothing challenging about putting a selfie on Instagram and writing some feel-good words about the women we love. It is just that: feel-good. It’s nice to see.

It’s not a challenge.

The Challenge is Facing Reality: Femicide

Why are these photos in black and white? It stems from a practice in Turkish media of publishing black and white photos of murder victims.

https://twitter.com/imaann_patel/status/1288080743198068736?s=21

The rate of femicide in Turkey, according to an article published in the Guardian, is shockingly high.

Most of these women have been murdered by a close male relative or acquaintance (husband, father, ex-boyfriend). Several individual, community and societal factors contribute to this high rate of femicide and violence against women.

This Problem Isn’t Just in Turkey

It might be easy for someone reading this in Europe or North America to think that this isn’t a problem here.

That is absolutely wrong.

According to the UN, rates of violence against women and girls have increased the world over since the beginning of the pandemic.

This isn’t just happening in Turkey, or in some other faraway country.

It’s happening in your home town.

A New Challenge

I’m no influencer. No celebrity. I’ve jumped on the bandwagon and participated in these largely meaningless “challenges” before (anyone remember the black square from a couple months ago?).

But I do have this modest platform, and so I am challenging all the strong, beautiful, intelligent and wonderful women I know and love who read this to take action.

Donate to your local women’s shelter. Take food. Do some research into your area. Volunteer (where it’s safe, what with covid and all).

Also, if you buy frequently on Amazon, consider shopping at smile.amazon.com. There are hundreds of charities listed through smile.amazon and you can choose from national to local groups to support. Each time you purchase on through the smile.amazon url, a portion of your purchase is donated to the charity you select.

But Don’t Forget the Pics

I do love seeing the photos of the women I know and love.

Please keep ’em coming!

I’m just asking we add substance to the feel-good nature of the exercise.