Stress Management

StoryPeople, by Brian Andrews.

Last weekend in Albuquerque, I stopped in Nomades to look for a wedding card. It is the type of store, where upon entering, you say to yourself, "I love everything here." I have always had a thing for good cards. Cards are simple and so often overlooked, a prelude to the gift attached, but that is part of their beauty. So often the build-up in life is better than the final moment itself; the journey more meaningful than the destination. And so I love me a good card. When I find a good card shop, like Nomades, I spend hours sifting through each and every one, reading their stories, enjoying their pictures and stockpiling them for future use, when the moment is just right and I find the perfect recipient. This one pictured above was chosen last weekend.

Something within this card's story touched me. 

"I can imagine it working out perfectly, I said. 

I can't she said. 

& I said no wonder

you're so stressed."

After reflection, I am still unsure which character fits me more properly. Which fits you? Are you the eternal optimist, imagining everything working out perfectly or do you relate more closely to the one who simply can't imagine it? How sad, I think. 

I would love to say I am the optimist and in truth, sometimes I am. When it comes to my health, my running, racing, personal intentions and goals, I can and do imagine everything working out perfectly. Visualization is powerful, as is positive thinking and I have always been a strong believer that when you prepare well, you will not be disappointed. Perhaps it is a matter of control. I can imagine everything working out perfectly for my own self because I am in control (or at least have some sense of control) of my own life, my own destiny.

However, when it comes to family life and being the primary caretaker, home organizer and keeper of the fort -- being a mother -- I too often get bogged down with negative thoughts. My husband calls me out on it, labeling me a pessimist. This can really push my buttons, simply because I do not want to be a pessimist. I don't want to always imagine the worst. I want to imagine everything working out perfectly. Yet sometimes, it is so hard. "I am a realist," I say, defensively. I am simply preparing for the worst in an attempt to stay two steps ahead, to avoid disastrous situations. It makes sense in my own head and maybe it even serves me well sometimes to behave in such a manner. But is that really how I want to live my life? Do I want to spend my days worrying if the kids will be crabby after our hike tonight, if Cesia is going to have a melt-down, if Isaac will wake up crying during the night? Will that serve me? 

You miss out on the best things in life when you are afraid to risk failure. Prepare for success, but don't let the possibility of failure (or meltdowns, tantrums, whining and screaming) prevent you from taking a risk and living fully. Nearly all of my favorite memories in life, especially in the past 5 years of being a mother, have been those moments when I threw caution aside, lived in the moment and made spontaneous but fun decisions. 

The day I discovered Topanga State Beach, I was driving along PCH with my sister and Adara in tow, on our way home from a late pregnancy midwife appointment for soon-to-arrive-Cesia. Adara wanted to go to the beach. I had no lunch, snacks, extra diapers, swimsuits or any other typical beach day essentials on hand. We considered a quick stop at Leo Carrillo but missed the turn, then couldn't find parking safely at the next with cars zooming past us. Suddenly I noticed a sign: "Topanga State Beach." A quick U-turn, an open spot on the street and we were about to discover our new haven. 

Adara and her tree.

Adara digging for Cesia at Topanga State Beach.
The mounds of sand resembled my growing belly and
she said, "Come out and play, Cesia!" as she dug through the sand.

When Cesia was only 3 days old and my whole world turned upside down, we came back. "You're crazy," my mom said, "You shouldn't be out at the beach, carrying around that heavy carseat when you should be in bed recovering." But I needed to be there. I remember leaving with a new perspective, a new meaning. I found exactly what I needed there at Topanga State Beach. It will always hold a special place in my heart and be my favorite.

Cesia at 3 days old, asleep on the beach.

Last October, within minutes after I was diagnosed with a calcaneous stress fracture and before I could even let the depression sink in, a rare Fall storm turned our Southern California sky gray and rain began to fall. What a day, I thought. Seconds later my phone started buzzing. I drove on. It buzzed again and again. Finally, I pulled over to see what was the matter. A few of my most adventurous, inspiring, always-up-for-an-adventure friends had texted me with an impromptu invite to join them at the Farm for the Fall Festival of all festivals. I turned the car around, made a pit stop to pick up the girls early from preschool, loaded up on granola bars and other snacks we just so happened to have in the car, and had one of the most memorable, fun days out in the rain running through fields of pumpkins.

When we don't give ourselves the the time to worry about things not working out perfectly, then we don't give stress a chance to sink in and rule (ruin?) our day. I know it's hard to live freely all the time, especially if you lean more to Type A personality as do I, but that doesn't mean it is not worth the effort. Sometimes, it takes work to be happy. 

Now, in those moments when I am debating canceling on a mid-day beach trip or bailing on a hiking adventure with friends, or whatever it is that is beginning to stress me out with all the planning, preparing, packing and then clean-up to follow (I mean, seriously, who knew it took so much effort with kids just to spend an hour at the beach?!), I stop and ask myself, "Twenty years from now, will you remember making PB&J's, loading up the cooler, stuffing the diaper bag, de-sanding the mini-van post-trip? Or will you remember the look in her eye when she saw her first octopus, when he ran through the flock of seagulls, when they pressed their sticky, sandy bodies against you and said, "This was the best day ever!" (followed by whining and fighting on the car-ride home, but that is how it goes)? 

Start imagining it working out perfectly, and just maybe, it will!

I remember nothing but that smile from a favorite beach moment.
2011.