Time to Edit My Netflix Rules

July 25, 2019July 25, 2019 confidentwriter2 Comments

I finished Girlfriends Guide to Divorce on Netflix last night. I choose it because I’m a sucker for the four-girlfriends-figuring-out-life-over-wine theme, and more importantly, it fit my two-plus seasons Netflix rule.

I’m not quite sure why I stuck with it. I hated the gratuitous sex, and more importantly, the narcissistic, judgmental, and all-around annoying main character.

Interestingly enough, I’ve felt that way a lot recently about television characters. It’s got to be some kind of sign. Maybe I should up my show game? Or perhaps I’m narcissistic, judgmental, and all-around annoying so I see it everywhere. Or the universe could be nudging me to make better use of my time?

Let’s hope it’s the latter.

Two Show Rule

Years ago, when my boys were toddlers, I wanted to write but I had a full-time job. It occurred to me that while I couldn’t change my work schedule, I could limit the amount of time I spent watching television. So, I made a strict rule of two shows a week —I have lots of rules. Anyway, I was able to free up enough time to actually take a correspondence writing course.

Of course, it was easier back then. We didn’t have cable at our house, and there was no such thing as streaming. But even when we did get cable, I maintained my two-show limit for almost twenty years.

But then, my children grew up. There was plenty of time for reading and writing during the day because I no longer worked full-time. I eased my rules and watched more shows during the week. Even so, I rarely watched television for more than four hours a week.

The Summer of Mad Men

That all changed the summer before my youngest child’s senior year of high school. She and I butted heads more often than not. My oldest son, who was twenty-four at the time, still lived at home, which created a lot of tension. My husband and I were in a horrible place. And to make matters worse, I had all but given up on my writing because every submission netted a rejection.

I spent the entire summer watching episode after episode of Mad Men in my bed, alone. It didn’t occur to me at the time that I was battling depression. But now, whenever I think of that summer and the hours I spent watching Mad Men, I feel really sad.

I don’t remember exactly how or why I reengaged in my life, but I did. As a result, I watched less television. When my oldest son died the following year, TV wasn’t very comforting. Almost everything had the potential to be an emotional trigger. The only thing safe to watch was HGTV. House Hunters and Love it or List it became my go-to shows when I wanted to watch television.

Catching up with old friends

Over the last year or so, binge-watching has crept back into my life. It started by watching critically acclaimed shows and slowly grew into whatever seemed most interesting or fit my mood. It has become a part of my weeknight routine — make dinner, grab a glass of wine and lounge on the sofa while watching my shows. Tuning in to the next episode often feels like catching up with old friends.

Turns out binge-watching is a huge phenomenon. According to a Deloitte study, 75% of all consumers say they have binged watched tv and 34% do it weekly. It’s how we relax. It also offers the ability to form parasocial relationships with television characters that don’t require much from us but make us feel less lonely. We feel as if we’re connected to people, but it isn’t real.

Perhaps that’s why I find myself annoyed by most of the characters on tv. They are a poor substitute for real friends. To be honest, it was fine when I first moved to Tampa. I didn’t know anyone. Tv occupied my time. But now I want my own set of girlfriends to figure out life with over wine.

I can’t help but wonder what other things I might find to do if I wasn’t watching so much tv? It makes me think it’s time to edit my Netflix rules to include time off from watching. I’m going to try this week and I’ll let you know how it goes.

In the meantime, I’d love to hear your binge-watching/no television stories.

Until next time. . .

Vacation Blues

June 21, 2017June 20, 2017 confidentwriter1 Comment

I’ve got the back-from-vacation blues.

Even after being home for a week, all I want to do is go back to the beach.

Life is great at the beach. No responsibilities. Very little clothing. Quiet waves rolling in and out. Throw in a cocktail and good book, and it’s just about perfect. Why would anyone want to leave?

But the resistance to returning to my real life feels as if it’s rooted deeper than the vacation itself. Truth be told, I didn’t want to come back from our trip to Europe a few months ago.

Sure, I miss my bed. But if I had Oprah’s money and could take my bed along, there would be nothing pulling me back to Georgia.

I don’t have anything against Georgia. Living here has taught me to appreciate nature in ways I never imagined. Now I seek out nature the same way I look for cute boutiques. And while I still get my shopping in, I feel an unexplainable thrill when I experience the beauty of creation. I thank Georgia’s numerous trees, rolling hills, and waterfalls for that.

So, what is it about this place that makes me not want to come back? Is it the place? Or could it be what the place represents?

I used to think it was our house. The first time I saw it, I cried. Though it looked similar to the house we left in Naperville, it didn’t feel like home. But the timing and location worked, so we bought it. For many years, it served us well as our three children, friends and family floated in and out. There were lots of parties, laughing and deep conversations after dinner at the kitchen table. It started to feel like home. But then we lost Matt. And what was a huge active family home now feels empty even when it’s full of people. It’s a huge reminder of the past. And though my husband and I have decided to sell it after our daughter graduates from college, I doubt a new house is going to fix my resistance to resuming my real life after vacation.

The thing about vacation is we get a break from reality. Also, we can change how we see ourselves. At the beach, I am laidback and calm. Traveling around Europe, I was adventurous and cosmopolitan. It’s a bit like playing dress up. You get to try on different ways of being. But what happens when you don’t want to return to the real you?

That’s exactly where I am. I don’t want to wear the-Kim-who-lives-in-Georgia anymore, and I’m pretty sure it has nothing to do with my house or the town I live in.

Is this a fresh face of grief?

At home, I come face to face with my disappointments, failings and let’s face it –mourning. On vacation, I don’t have to think about my life. I don’t spend so much time alone, trying to make the best of my sorrow and loss. I’m not reminded of all that was.

No wonder I’d rather be on vacation.

The beach feels hopeful. Europe feels carefree. But the truth is I don’t need another trip. I need to figure out how to make my life work as it is here.

So, how do I do that?

Perhaps the first place to start is by getting out of my comfort zone. Too often we do the things the way we’ve always done them and wonder why we feel uninspired.

What would happen if I approached my time at home with same sense of adventure I have when I’m vacationing. What if I tried new places? Or took a cool class? Explored a new side of town?

Another key to being content where I am is accepting who I am. And if I don’t like who that is, I have to be willing to change it. We are never too old to be the person we’ve always longed to be.

We may not be able to change the reality of our life, but we can change how we experience it.

Depression · Grieving · Musing

How are you, really?

March 21, 2017 confidentwriter3 Comments

How are you?

No, really.

How. Are. You?

Not a simple question to answer, especially when it is asked in passing as a pleasantry rather than a real inquiry.

Generally, our response ranges from good to well, demanding on where we reside on the grammar scale – by the way, Grammar Girl states it’s okay to say good. Anyway, neither good nor well adequately describes the ebb and flow of our lives.

At any given time, we have a million and one things affecting how we feel. We worry. We’re anxious. We’re lonely. We’re unsure. We’re sad. And yet we keep all of it hidden. We settle for polite conversation rather than fulfilling our need for connection and understanding.

This really hit me hard Sunday afternoon at church as I stood at the door of the auditorium greeting people. So many faces showed signs of preoccupation, worry and stress. But when I asked how are you, everyone answered either I’m good or even worse, I’m fine. Perhaps this really struck me because I was just as guilty. If I were being honest, I would have said I’m struggling with being here today. Not only didn’t I feel very well, I was battling a wave of sadness. I felt as if I didn’t matter. I couldn’t help but wonder how many other people walking through the doors of the church felt the same way I did.

The church is supposed to be a place of comfort and grace, but we allow pleasantry to take the place of compassion or even love. We keep our deepest needs buried beneath a thinly veiled smile. That’s crazy!

Of course, I know it isn’t practical for everyone to stop and tell the greeter their problems. Nor should the greeter kill the vibe by sharing her woes. But where does pleasantry end and realness begin?

The problem may be we spend too much time worrying about appearances. We don’t want people to think poorly of us or to know we don’t have it all together, which creates a breeding ground for depression. Loneliness and despair often lead to a belief that we don’t matter, or worse that the world would be better off without us. And this feeling is only intensified when we think we are the only person who isn’t okay.

I’m particularly sensitive to this because of my loss, but that doesn’t alleviate the fact that too many people suffer in silence. And for some of them, like my son, it’s a matter of life and death.

We have got to move beyond the pleasantry of I’m fine, particularly with the people we are closest to. Ask deeper questions and be willing to listen. Share your own experiences with the ebb and flow of life.

A lot of this was swirling through my head as I stood at the door, and it all came to a head when one of the team leaders stopped to check how things were going. She asked me how I was doing. Rather than giving her a pat answer, I told her the truth. And to my surprise, she told me she wasn’t okay either. Her grandfather had died the week before and she was struggling with sadness and grief. Though brief, our honest conversation became an opportunity for us to comfort one another. And when she walked away, I truly felt better.

Maybe we can’t dive into every I’m good, but we can make a special effort with the people who we’re in relationship with, whether professional or personal. Ask follow-up questions. Or better yet, ask deeper questions which require real conversation. It may take more time, but it could make the difference between life and death.

December Writing Challenge · Depression

Sad and tired

December 16, 2015December 19, 2015 confidentwriterLeave a comment

It was hard to come to the page today. Every thing inside of me is ready to give up on this whole blog idea. Most of those feelings stem from the fact that I’m tired and sad.

I’ve felt that way when I woke up, but dragged myself to yoga in hopes of lifting my spirits. All throughout class, I struggled not to cry. I know that kind of goes against the point of yoga, but crying in yoga is a trigger for me. The summer before Matt died I wept through every class. I thought the tears were the result of the tension between my husband and I. Our last child was about to go away to college and for the first time in twenty-six years it would just be the two us. Regrets from the past and uncertainty for future, made both of us emotional. However, the more I think about how deeply I wept that summer, I can’t help but wonder if there was something in my spirit that knew. Crying in yoga brings up an impending sense of doom.

I made it through the class without crying, but then the yoga teacher came over to encourage me. She told me not to worry about not being able to do all the poses. She shared a story about how when she was a little girl her ballet teacher insisted that she learn the splits in a week. She couldn’t, so she quit ballet. A few years ago she finally learned how to do the splits, but only on one side. I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. I hugged and thanked her, then rushed out of class.

My mood sank lower. And though I have managed to get a few things done today, I really just want to lose myself in a book.

But then there was today’s blog and the whole December blog challenge. Was I ready to give up? Couldn’t I just be proud of the fact that I made it through fifteen days.? Would not writing make me feel better? Or would I feel worse?

I don’t want to give up, but it’s really hard to put yourself out there when you’re feeling down. The fear of judgement or additional hurt can be overwhelming. That’s why people tend to hide their sadness. It feels safer, even though it isn’t.

“So don’t be frightened, dear friend, if a sadness confronts you larger than any you have ever known, casting its shadow over all you do. You must think that something is happening within you, and remember that life has not forgotten you; it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall. Why would you want to exclude from your life any uneasiness, any pain, any depression, since you don’t know what work they are accomplishing within you?”

? Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

It’s much more fun to write about things that make me happy, but sadness is a part of me too. I have to be willing to let it come through my writing. So though it’s not my best piece, today’s blog is done.

Until next time. . .