She aint heavy, she's my mother

If you want to tie up all my neuroses, struggles, issues, and pathos into one tassel, it's probably my mother. I am sure most women feel the something like this to varying degrees. A lot of the things I do, I do for my mom, just as there are things I don't do, because of my mom.

(When I initially posted, I forgot to note that my mother died when I was 21 years old. She had multiple myeloma, which is not a kind cancer like mine, and because I was young and somewhat immature, things were not said before it was too late.)

For example: Belly dancing is for my mom. Actually, probably all dancing is for my mother. She was a very private, hidden-in-her body person. I feel her body-horror like a wall of flames, and walk through it. My childhood obsession with ballerinas she could not feed into. You're not built like a ballerina, she told me (although she denied that she meant I was too heavy). And she was right, I am not built like a ballerina.

Which is why it felt so rebellious 4 years ago to sign up for a belly dance class. And that class was fun! Grown women, risking ridicule (for trying something new) and shame (of not being good enough) but earning sparkles and grace instead, dancing together. As I continued with Joette at the West Michigan School of Middle Eastern Dance, group performance opportunities became available. What would Mom think? Oh well, here goes!

I dance because Mom could not, did not, but would have loved seeing me do it. Oh sure, she would have fretted about whether it was proper, or if it would damage my professional prospects, or if good girls use spray glitter. But I think she would have been thrilled to see me conquer fears she could not.

I've been a mess all day because it's Mother's Day. Lots of feeling sorry for myself, moping, posted a pathetic status update, went to the mall and the grocery store for some "retail therapy". I suppose it worked because what I eventually came to realize is that I don't have to do things to shock or impress my mother any more. I can do it for myself. And so I must.

P.S. Mom, that means I can also get a tattoo (something I don't do because of my mom). I don't have any ideas right now, but remember it doesn't mean that I don't love you. 

5 things on my mind

1. Do we even need laptops anymore? So many devices in the world ... It seems like one of them should suffice. But it's never quite enough.

2. And it's ALL about enough. Enough food. Enough love. Enough stuff.

3. Enough is a really weird word. Enuff. Trough. And yet, stuff, huff.

4. How to stop? Weaning. I'm trying that approach for the sugar problem, anyway. Replace sugar with protein. It's just not fair, realistic or reasonable to take away a major pleasure source and then flog yourself for missing it, which is my usual approach. Protein will not adequately replace my nice wallet or love and friendship, so we'll just have to keep searching for that one. (By the way, credit for this idea is again due to Martha Beck. I have no original ideas.)

5. But without stuff, you can start over. Literally, buy a new notebook. Moving on.

February's projects have nothing to do with a sack of bile.

I think the correct word may be sac. Anyways, cholecystectomy (fancy term for gallbladder removal) recovery is easy as pie. Although, I haven't really tried to eat pie yet... we are re-exploring foods. So far, eggs, avocado, pizza, and potatoes au gratin are all good (you know, all the important food groups). The secret seems to be moderation. Damn. Another thing I already knew.

So, to keep the wheel turning, it is time to implement the February projects. I usually like to use 3 projects, but I expanded to four, because it's one more than eleven, or actually less than eleven, which is what I would like to tackle given unlimited attention, time and money. But four seems nice. My family unit of origin. A box. A square. Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

One: Read a romance. I am in the middle of 1Q84, but I am sure I'll finish it soon (or, rather, that my electronic loan from the library will end and my e-reader will automatically return it for me, thereby ending my experience). You know, for February. Something inspiring, so that I can believe in love for 300 pages. Suggestions are welcome.

Two: Plan and pack lunches for Richard and I. Frankly, this one kind of makes me angry. I shouldn't have to create lunch for a grown man. But if I am making myself a lunch, it's not that much harder to make two. I will also benefit from the organization it will require. We'll see how it goes.

Three: De-clutter. I need to let go of some things. Some of them are actual objects, and some are ideas. I want to spend 15 minutes every day letting go of something. It should be challenging, because I am already avoiding the task by blogging instead of clearing out the guest room for a guest next weekend.

Four: Love. I want to confess my love to someone every day. Besides Mr. Awesome the cat, of course.

I'm trying not to be too literal here, but I failed yesterday, and today's not looking good either. I'm thinking it could be an offhand comment, or a nice note on the social network, or something like that, but maybe that's too nebulous?  I want to spread the love, but without a knife, you know? Because where is the shame in someone knowing how much you like them?

The checklist will remain essential, as December and January have proven. I was excellent in December at documentation, but January kind of slid off the road, if you follow snow analogies. I blame it on surgery, although there was nothing on that list that would have conflicted with my recovery (reading, sleeping, daily exercise?). But I've got four-wheel drive, so we're digging out of the ditch and moving on.

So, let me know if you've got a good romance I should read, or you want some crappy craft supplies, or you need some love. February = fantastic, because we shall make it so.