A Different Approach to 2022.

 Next year, my husband, Josh, is running his first marathon. He's thinking about the endurance this will require, especially the mental presence and fortitude. I will do something similar, but it will last all year.

Our son, Oliver, has autism and intellectual impairment. He just began attending a private school for children with autism. He loves it, and he has gained amazing new practical, mental, and emotional skills. It's where he needs to be right now. He's also received ABA (Applied Behavior Analysis, an autism treatment), speech, and occupational therapy for years. Josh is an English professor at a local college. I used to do the same, but I am disabled due to bipolar disorder and panic disorder, so my income is limited. Next year, keeping Oliver in school and in therapy will require all the money we have and quite a bit more. 

I love objects. I have collections. I love journals, pens, books, Betsey Johnson jewelry, prestige makeup, and Irregular Choice shoes. Objects are meaningful to me, and I enjoy discovering them. 

But I have decided to do No Buy 2022: no purchases that are not essential. 

The main reason for this is that we simply won't have the money for fun spending while we maintain Oliver's care and education. But I'm also doing it as a cleanse and as an exercise in appreciation and contentment. I have many wonderful objects that I've collected over years or that people have given me. I have a wonderful library minutes from my house, and it's pretty well-stocked. I have a birthday and Christmas and anniversaries. Anything I want can be a gift, or it can wait until next year. Even if we suddenly had more money mid-year, I'd want to see this through. And I have no business spending money for fun when people who love us are helping us.

A member of my family hates the sensation of hunger and jokingly claims to eat frequently enough to avoid the sensation all together. I have to get used to the feeling of wanting. Or maybe my wanting will fade in the joy of reading, wearing, using, and appreciating what I already have.

I'll keep some things: my magazine subscriptions that I've already paid for (Bella Grace, Enchanted Living, and Real Simple), my season theatre tickets, the Spotify and Netflix accounts Josh and I share, and my Silk and Sonder planner subscription. If I find a book I want to read, I'll check the library and either check it out or put it on a list for later. I do, by the way, consider Dr. Pepper an essential. 

I've been moving in this direction anyway out of necessity. But when I saw the Facebook page for No Buy 2022, I thought, yes, this is something I need to do. Not everyone thinks it's a good idea. I think it is. Wish me luck.

Reading: Stillness and Attention.

 I often struggle to read though it is one of my greatest passions. It comforts, informs, develops, and stretches me. I think it's one of the best uses of my time.

I usually have a goal to read 8 books a month. That's up from the 6 books per month goal (which I often didn't meet) that I had when I was working full-time. But last month, I read 15 books. Some of those books were graphic novels or poetry books, which can take less time. I count them as full books anyway because I think they are important and I want to experience a lot of both. But most of the books were novels or short story and essay collections.

So when I didn't read for two days this past week, I wondered, what worked last month?

My not reading is usually a sign of depression or anxiety, situational or clinical. But reading is also just hard for me. I'm a slow reader. I'm easily distracted. I usually have a lot going on with my son who has special needs. So what did I do that made a difference?

Two words came to mind: Stillness and Attention. 

I have to be still to read. I have to stay in one place and not get scattered and not think of the rest of my to-do list. And if I need to get up to tend to my son or pause to pay a bill, I return to that stillness as soon as I can.

I have to pay attention to read. I have to put aside anxiety, random thoughts, and other forms of input. Put my phone down. Focus my curiosity on what I'm reading rather than every thought of "What's this?" and "Does this exist?" I have to quiet my mind.

It's still not easy, but I know what I need to do if I want to read. And I do want to read, daily, widely, and deeply. It's a careful investment.

Dream Boards.

I started using Silk+Sonder planners in February. One of the features I liked was a self-care Bingo game. I liked it so much that I started making my own, replacing BINGO with DREAM. I make these boards in the notes pages of my planner. 

On my Dream boards, I include things I want to do, wear, try, read, watch, or otherwise enjoy. These can go from doing chores to wearing a certain pair of earrings. I'd love to black-out all my boards, but I try at least to get a Dream streak on each board. Here's one November board I've managed to black-out. My orange Prisma Color pencil is now a tiny stub from my coloring all the squares. 

It's more fun than a to-do list, and it reminds to use what I have and enjoy whatever I can. It's also another way to encourage myself to finish reading books. This is one of the boards I've made for December. 

Whenever I do something that's on a board, I think, "That's a square." Every night, I update my planner and see what I can do to get closer to Dream streaks. 

This post is a square!

Charms.

 I feel like making a list of little things I love, so here it is. 

• My white sheets with small blue, green, and purple stars.
• Writers' memoirs.
• Josh's poems (especially if they're about me).
• Vertical layout planners.
• Book-themed stickers.
• Christmas hand soaps.
• Cinnamon scent.
• Marshmallow candles.
• Black metal jewelry.
• Hematite metal jewelry.
• Seahorses on anything.
• Snowflakes on anything.
• Poetry and fiction chapbooks.
• My tiny ice blue nose stud.
• The shape of Josh's mouth.
• Horror that challenges my mind and conscience.
• Mermaids wearing dresses.
• This Ariel ballerina doll, which I don't own.
• Ballet shoes in unusual colors.
• READ posters.
• Fairy tale retellings.
• Moons.
• Words like emerald, fierce, and case.
• Checking out library books even if I already have too many at home.
• Sticky flags with literary characters on them. 
• Anna-Marie McLemore word images.
• Carmen Gimenez Smith poems.
• Pentel hybrid dual metallic pens.
• Bulleted lists!
• Heart prints.
• Star prints.
• philosophy 3-in-1s.
• Bella Grace Field Guide to Everyday Magic magazine.
• Urban Decay Moondust glitter eye shadows.
• The Sephora at Kohl's.
• Fresh Sugar Advanced Therapy lip balm.
• Paper dolls, especially Gandre.
• DREAM boards.
• PB Teen catalogs. 
• Emott pens.
• Crowns and tiaras on anything.
• Amy Brown fairies.
• ColourPop pressed glitters.
• Metallic calligraphy markers.
• Peter Pauper Press journals.
• Journals with trees on them.
• Pink-lit jellyfish.
• Pentel Sparkle Pop and Krazy Pop pens.
• Red lip stain.
• My Reduce tumblers in glacier blue and green.
• Prisma Color pencils.
• Anna Sui eye shadow palettes.
• Mechanical pencils with colorful lead.
• Composition books.
• Ooly glitter pens.
• My soft, purple-striped pajamas. 
• Sakura Gelly Rolls Stardust pens.
• Flavia Amore products--very hard to find. I can't even find a photo.
• Ridiculous cat memes.
• Daphne du Maurier stories.
• Shirley Jackson stories.
• Crimson Peak movie and novelization.
• Aquariums.
• Reading glasses with rhinestones.
• Mother-of-pearl opera glasses.
• Peacocks on anything.
• Withdrawn library books.
• My pink pajamas with black bows and polka dots.
• JewelCrush when I'm stressed.
• Foxes.
• Saving and recycling empty pens.
• My green heated blanket.
• Oliver's freckles.
• Good morning texts.
• Singing show tunes on the way to the theatre.
• My miniature pink rose.
• Wild violets anywhere.
• Zipper pen pouches.
• Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin bubbles.
• Earrings with stars.
• Cinderella on anything.
• Colorful fleece.
• Etsy journeys.
• American Girl stories and accessories (still love them).
• "Living with Jigsaw."
• Drunk Broadway Wicked (rated PG-13).
• Drunk History "The Other Queen of Egypt" (rated PG-13).
• My pink baby blanket.
• Oliver's preemie duck outfit.
• Star-shaped rhinestones.
• Staring at Irregular Choice shoes.
• My glitter slip-on shoes in various colors.
• Twitter's Magic Realism Bot.
• Carrot cake--no raisins, too many walnuts.
• Cherry 7-Up.
• Cherry Sprite from Sonic.
• Foot-long plain hot dogs (I'm not sorry).
• My forest green glasses.
• The Habit burgers with avocado.
• Stationery displays at Anthropologie.
• Cardigans with rhinestones (really anything with rhinestones).
• Chicken Caesar salads.
• Books about lifestyles of French women (probably all cliche, but I love them anyway).
• Seeing Josh read.
• Buying people books.
• Silk and Sonder.
• Michael Crawford's voice.
• Mini metallic Christmas trees.
• Skeleton keys on anything.
• Josh's obsession with purple and teal.
• Urban Decay Stay Naked powder foundation.
• Thrive Liquid Extensions mascara.
• Real Simple.
• Live Love Polish.
• Staring at Betsey Johnson jewelry on Ebay. 
• Every piece of Betsey Johnson jewelry Josh has given me for a birthday or anniversary.
• Cracking walnuts.
• The stationery aisle anywhere.
• Miniature bells (really, anything in miniature).
• Rosettes.
• Blue fairy lights. And purple fairy lights.
• My collection of poetry books.
• My copy of A Little Princess with full-color Tasha Tudor illustrations.
• Julie Andrews's Mandy.
• Healthy Choice steamer mealies.
• Bitmoji messages.
• Cups that look frozen.
• Sparkly picture frames.
• Strawberry and grape Jolly Ranchers.
• Lemon and strawberry Starbursts.
• Apple juice.
• Cool kisses when Josh is chewing gum.

On Body Image.

"...learning to embrace our entire selves is not just a spiritual or mental endeavor--it is also an incarnational one."

Aundi Kolber

When I was a little girl, I knew two great beauties in my life: my mother and my best friend, Keely. Both were lovely, blond, buxom, tapered, and sophisticated. Because I did not look like either of them (brunette, with green eyes instead of china-doll-blue or soulful brown, pear-shaped, pale), I did not believe I was beautiful. It's strange to see photos of myself as a little girl now. I was pretty. Then, acne showed up, and my lower body developed long before my upper body. As a young teenager, I often wear jackets wrapped around my waist to hide my hips. My friends teased me for my shape. I was painfully self-conscious about my face, my curves and lack of curves, and even my posture or pose. I'm currently working on a chapbook of poetry about that time called Woman from the Waist Down. 

When I was an older teenager, I realized that I was attractive in my own right, my own way. Boys reinforced this, and sometimes, girls did too. I remember leaving work, a '50s diner where I wore a concealing poodle skirt, to go on a date one night. One of my fellow waitresses said sincerely, "Oh! You have such a cute little body!" Girls are often their own and each other's worst critics, but this stayed with me. I stopped wearing jackets around my waist. I stopped bemoaning my thighs in dressing rooms. 

One of the biggest reasons I was able to make this shift was that my mother was never shy or critical of her body. She was aware, present, confident. She did not see attractiveness as a sin. She could appreciate her physical self without being vain. She felt good about herself. At least this is what I saw, what I perceived. I internalized those messages without her ever saying that I was beautiful or wonderfully made or physically delightful. By the time I neared adulthood, I was not shy of my body. 

My weight has always chosen a point and stayed there. In my twenties, I consistently weighed about 125 pounds and wore a size 4 petite in a curvy fit. I was comfortable with this. I had bigger, stronger legs and hips than a lot of girls, but my body evened out fairly well. I left an early marriage in which my partner did not appreciate my body beyond aesthetics. That was a disaster for a while, but I ended up in a better marriage (by grace alone, probably). 

Then in my late twenties, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and panic disorder. Suddenly, my body was flooded with antidepressants, anti-anxiety meds, anti-psychotics, and mood stabilizers. Side effects were terrible, but I knew my life and family depended on my embracing treatment. One side effect was that I gained about 70 pounds. 

I remember telling my dear therapist, Nancy, "I've gained so much weight. And I'm afraid that Josh--"

"Oh, honey," she said. "Men don't care about that. Don't even worry about it." 

I took her at her word. With a lot of swimming and with an antidepressant that happens to help with weight loss, I lost 20 pounds. While everyone was gaining weight at the start of the pandemic, I was losing, dropping from a size 14 to a size 10. Unfortunately, the meds that helped with weight loss were not good for my liver. I managed to keep those 20 pounds off, but I couldn't get anywhere near the 120s again. My body had made its home in the 170s. 

Sometimes I miss my thinner self. But my level of comfort with my body hasn't really changed. I still see myself as attractive. I still perceive my husband as thinking I'm attractive. I feel a little less visible out in the world, but that's okay. 

One day, I felt discouraged about my appearance and told Josh and my mother that I felt like I'd failed. 

My mom said, "You're not a failure because you need medication that affects your weight. You wouldn't call a cancer patient a failure because she lost her hair." 

These women's words stay with me. Cute little body. Men don't care about that. You're not a failure. Again, women are their own and other women's worst critics; I think straight women crave the approval of other women as much as they crave the attention of men. I'm also lucky to have a couple of men in my life who are happy to tell me I'm pretty, stylish, cute, great at applying makeup, and so on. 

My body deals with illness and the effects of treatment every day. But it has carried me for thirty-six years, grown and nourished a baby, and connected me to the person I love most. I love my body, and I don't mind saying so. 

Last Day of 35.

Thirty-five has been crazy. I'm trying to think of what I've done. 

• Home schooled a nine-year-old with autism
• Stayed married
• Read 70 books
• Wrote a novella
• Finished writing two books of poetry
• Finished writing two chapbooks of poetry
• Published seven poems and one piece of non-fiction
• Finished my 201st journal
• Took a class and a seminar with my favorite writer
• Started taking a class in something for which I don't have talent (drawing)
• Stayed in a B&B for the first time in ten years
• Recovered and maintained mental stability

It hasn't been my most impressive year, but I've done a lot. I'm okay with saying goodbye to thirty-five. Now, I just have to summon the energy to say hello to thirty-six.

February Janner.

 Last month was my first month of using Silk+Sonder's journal-planner hybrid. I'm sharing some of my pages with you. 

(Spelling errors intact)