Monthly Archives: January 2019

Declutter 10: Days 3 and 4

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I’m seeing some themes emerging as I continue with my decluttering project. The first object is never that hard to pick, but objects 2-5ish feel tough. I find myself wandering, staring at shelves, not quite certain where to start. Items 6-10 are much easier. I guess I’ve entered the decluttering zone by that point?

Ten items feels right for me. I can find the time to declutter ten items. After I have decluttered 10 items, I always start to notice things for the next day’s session. I like this. I like being able to say “I’ve done enough today, and I know where I’m starting tomorrow.”

So here are the objects that are leaving the Novak household!

Day 3:

  • One ball pit ball. I tried to create a ball pit in a cardboard box when Pippa was little. But did you know ball pits require hundreds and hundreds of balls to have any sort of satisfying depth? I got rid of the ball pit balls ages ago, but I keep finding survivors stashed in random spots of the house. Hopefully this one was the last? (Highly unlikely.)
  • Two little suction toys that just never amused my kids the way I hoped they would.
  • Old Mr. Potato Head pieces. I bought Mr. Potato Head thinking my kids would love him as much as I did. Nope. They are happy to encounter him occasionally at preschool. So I gave Mr. Potato Head away ages ago, but as with the ball pit, I keep finding odd pieces.
  • Old tinkertoy pieces. Again with the toys I thought would amuse my kids for hours but alas, they were not interested. Though I think the current Tinkertoys are not as fun as the ones they made when I was a kid.
  • Old piece from a toy I gave away. This was a wooden bear head. Not at all creepy to just find a random wooden bear head amongst your children’s toys.
  • Old toy mirror from a toddler purse set. Pippa got like three of these purses the year she was two with lipstick, mirror, etc. She has outgrown them. But I still find rogue pieces.
  • Old toy credit card.
  • Four containers of expired Pedialyte. My kids hate this stuff. They won’t drink it fresh, so I can’t expect them to drink it expired!
  • Two more tins of loose tea. (See Day 2’s decluttering.)
  • Vanilla flavored almond milk. I’m the only person in my house who drinks almond milk but since buying this box, I have learned I’m sensitive to vanilla. I’m not going to drink almond milk that might make me have diarrhea, thank you very much.

And Day 4:

  • A very nice humidifier that we inherited from my parents that is just two big for the spots where we use humidifiers.
  • A cache of Nose Frida filters. The Nose Frida is a snot sucker that I had to use when my kids were congested babies. I haven’t used the thing in over a year. Hello, trash!
  • Unused tube of Desitin. Our babysitter has a grandbaby that can use the stuff.
  • Baby nail files. Never used. Oh, the stuff they convince new parents to buy because, oh my god, babies are scary.
  • Three old medicine dispensers for liquid baby painkiller.
  • Pack of sample “tush wipes.” That were hidden amongst snot suckers and butt cream.
  • Two pieces of mystery pink plastic. Absolutely no fucking clue what they were ever used for or where they came from or how they found their way into my home. They were about the size and shape of rings but definitely not rings.
  • Two Hello Kitty hair brushes. Whenever we use these brushes, Pippa cries that they hurt her head. So I hid them amongst butt cream and tush wipes and can now safely move them to the donation zone.
  • A reusable water bottle that we never use.
  • A digital thermometer. I found three digital thermometers still in their packaging. I think our thermometer broke when someone had a fever and I was traumatized that I did not know if my child had a fever of 101.4 or 101.3. So I ordered a bunch, vowing to always have a backup for the backup’s backup. But now we use one of those fancy ear thermometers, so these simple digital thermometers are relics from an age past. I think we can safely live with a backup thermometer and a backup to the backup. But the backup’s backup does not need a backup!

Whew! On deck for tomorrow: The Elastigirl Halloween costume that Pippa convinced me to buy last October but that I actually have zero intention of ever wearing.

I Feel Lucky

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At the beginning of 2018, I weighed in at 235 pounds. Given my height (5’5″) and body type, I should weigh closer to 135. That means that in order to get back to a healthy body, I have to lose 100 pounds. I lost the first 35 pounds in 2018, and I have already lost 4 more pounds in 2019. As of today, I have approximately 61 pounds to lose.

And I feel lucky.

In the not so distant past, I felt a lot of things about my weight – annoyance, disappointment, shame, despair- and none of those feelings were positive. Today, though, I have gotten to a place where I can look at the numbers on the scale and feel lucky.

I am overweight because I ate too many of the wrong things and did not exercise enough. But I knew what I was doing wrong and kept doing it anyway. I kept looking for a magic bullet. Maybe if I added cucumber to my water… or gave up carbs … or tried Zumba … but I could not find a magic bullet.

That’s because for me and my body, there is no magic bullet. I’m overweight because I eat too much and I eat too much because I am burying my issues. That’s it.

Now I am addressing my issues and lo, I have suddenly found that I actually want to give up sugar and take longer walks.

I’m not trying to gloss over my issues by calling them “issues.” I want to write about all of this. I wrote a memoir about postpartum depression. There’s a very strong possibility that before this weight loss adventure is over, I’ll write a memoir about losing 100 pounds. But I can’t begin to summarize my feelings, thoughts and ideas about my various issues in a single blog post. I’ll have to write another post. And another and another, until the weight has been lost and I have gotten a handle on taking care of my magnificent body. And then I’ll keep writing until I have feel I have written everything I need to write about my weight.

For now, I just want to say this: I feel lucky. I am overweight and it’s hard to ignore that reality when I look in the mirror. The weight is the physical manifestation of my emotional, spiritual and psychological issues. It serves as a reminder that I still have work to do.

I think many (if not most) (or all) of us have issues that need to be addressed. That’s part of the human experience. But we handle our issues in different ways. That’s why I feel lucky: because I have numbed my issues in a way that has become impossible to ignore. My body is there in the mirror, and I have felt the self-loathing, and I have heard the call to action to adventure.

But other people numb their issues in different ways. I’m sure you can think of a few (alcohol, cigarettes, sex, work) but I want to focus on food. There are people who use food to numb their issues but in ways that appear healthy. Just because a person has a beautiful body does not mean she has a good relationship with food. She might spend her entire day agonizing over her caloric intake. Or she might be this close to an eating disorder. The point is: my issues with food are easy to see because I am obviously overweight; but someone else’s issues with food might not be so easy to see because her body fits society’s beauty standards; and that is why I feel lucky.

I feel lucky that I am overweight.

I feel lucky that I can see that I am overweight because I have been numbing my feelings and avoiding my issues.

I feel lucky that I have made the connection between my weight-issues and soul-issues.

And I feel lucky that I can see that even though I have conquered postpartum depression, I still have work to do.

Decluttering by Ten: Day Two

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I know that it’s only Day 2, but I just love this project so much. Here is what I decluttered this morning:

  • One bag of unwrapped (and presumably stale) chocolate kisses, leftover from Christmas baking – trash!
  • Reusable stickers from a lost sticker book – trash!
  • Three wooden mallets. I purchased a pack of these mallets off Amazon so that my kids could pound golf tees into pumpkins. But do we need a set of five for two kids? I think not.
  • A wooden box that says “Dan the Sausageman.” It arrived over the holidays, packed with meats and cheeses. Nathan thought I might want to keep it for storage. But damnit, the wood needs to be sanded and I’m just not getting to that anytime soon.
  • Four oversize tweezers for the kids. Again, these came in a large pack but how many pairs do I need for two children? I’m not running a day care! Ever!
  • Some cheap little puzzles I got from the Target dollar bins. I thought they would be good entertainment at restaurants. I learned that puzzles are not good entertainment at restaurants, unless you want your children throwing and retrieving pieces under the booth for the entire meal.
  • A small handful of random broken toys and beads.
  • One broken musical handbell. I love having lots of musical instruments for the kids, but I have discovered that three year olds are not ready for handbells. At least my three year old is not.
  • A set of salt and pepper shakers from our wedding registry. Which I filled with salt and pepper and then proceeded to use approximately never. We have been married nearly eight years. I think its time to end the salt and pepper shaker experiment.
  • One canister of fancy loose tea because every now and then, I think I should be the sort of person who brews a pot of fancy tea. But I’m not. I’m the sort of person who microwaves a mug of water and then plops in a grocery store bag of tea. Goodbye, fancy tea! (And there’s another canister up on a high high shelf in the kitchen that is also destined for the trash. But since this canister got me to ten, I stopped and ate breakfast instead.

Operation: Declutter 10 Things

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I have been feeling overwhelmed by The Amount of Stuff We Have. This has been going on for months and months, but I have procrastinated and procrastinated. I have not yet had a chance to watch Marie Kondo’s show on Netflix but my social media feed is now overflowing with people inspired to take action and declutter their homes. I read Kondo’s book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up years ago and know what I need to do to have a tidier home. Getting rid of things I do not use or need is not exactly rocket science. I just need to do it.

Yet I am overwhelmed.

There are toys, so many toys. And books, so many books. And clothes, so many clothes.

Plus, there are two children running around making more messes that any human being should have to manage. I am trying to teach them to clean up Mess A before making Messes B-Z, but it’s a work in progress. Which I assume will stay in progress until they leave for college. So I am trying to practice some patience and embrace the chaos.

But I’m sick of it.

Today, I finally realized what I should do: I should get rid of ten things every day, for as many days in a row that I can, and record my progress. This seems like a good plan for several reasons:

  • I love projects. They make me happy.
  • I’m feeling stuck and need to build some momentum on the decluttering front. By making this a daily practice, I will get the momentum started.
  • I’m a writer, so I’ll actually have fun recording my efforts.
  • If I get rid of ten things every day, I’ll see some results pretty quickly, without getting overwhelmed. Motherhood keeps me busy, so even though a single kitchen drawer might not seem like a big decluttering project, for me, it actually is.

Once I had the plan in mind, I could not wait to get started. Within five minutes, I had gathered ten items and put them in a large box on the front porch for Goodwill.

  • Item One: A full body toddler rain suit, never used, still in the plastic bag. What the eff was I thinking? We live in Southern California, a climate not exactly known for its rain. Did I really think I was going to wrangle a toddler into a full body rain suit on the few days it actually does rain? Goodbye, rain suit!
  • Item Two: Microphones for the Wii video game system. Still in box. Never used. Deep breath, I forgive myself.
  • Item Three: A big plastic tube used as child-proofing for power cords. It was just sitting on a shelf taking up tons of space. We are done with babies. Into the box!
  • Item Four: Old pair of Birkenstocks that I no longer wear.
  • Item Five: Old pair of tennis shoes that I no longer wear.
  • Item Six: A pair of red platform sandals that I bought for my honeymoon because I thought this was the sort of thing I was supposed to wear on my honeymoon. Except I’m not a platform sandals kind of girl. (See Item Four.)
  • Item Seven: A hardback YA novel that I read, enjoyed, but will never read again.
  • Items Eight, Nine and Ten: Three very thick paperback books that I got from a Little Free Library in my neighborhood. They are a fantasy trilogy. At the time, I honestly thought I was going to read them. That was six months ago and they have been clogging up floor space ever since. Fuck it. I have too many books on deck before I will even consider reading these books. Someone else will enjoy them. If I am meant to read this trilogy, the books will find their way back into my life at some later date.

By the time I was putting the books in the Goodwill box, I was feeling pretty good. I wanted to keep going. But I think the Daily Ten is the right amount for me.

Tomorrow morning, I may actually head into the basement and find a few things that have been tormenting me while the kids are at school…

Work in Progress

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When I recovered from postpartum depression, I felt as if I had reached the top of a summit and had done all the work I would ever need to do on the Personal Transformation Front.

I was wrong.

I was finished with cognitive behavioral. I did not need to meet with my psychologist every week to confirm that I had a handle on motherhood. And I had indeed conquered the beast that was postpartum depression. But I was no where close to finishing my work on the Personal Transformation Front.

And I never will be.

This is the thing I have learned the past few months: I am either actively transforming myself or stagnating. And by “stagnating,” I do not mean “staying the same.” I means “rotting and festering and turning into a pond that is so slimy, even the frogs are grossed out and seek out shinier puddles.”

I don’t want to turn into a stagnant lifeless pond, my water evaporating until I’m not much more than a mess of mucky leaves. I want to be a river, flowing and glittering and moving forwards and onwards, turning bends and crashing down the sides of mountains.

So I am accepting the fact that I am a Work in Progress and that I’ll never have some epiphany that turns me into a finished perfect manuscript. I’ll be forever working on me, myself, my issues, and the meaning of life. And that’s okay.

Actually, being a Work in Progress is better than okay. It’s amazing.

The 5 a.m. Update

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In my last post, I talked about waking up at 5 a.m. to start my day with journaling and stretching before my kiddos emerged from their room, demanding apple juice, snuggles and picture books.

It was a nice routine. I’m sure I’ll do it again.

But holy crap, I got tired.

Maybe it’s because it’s the end of my cycle and I’m due to get my period any day. Maybe it’s because Nathan and I were watching Season 2 of Making a Murderer and I get rattled easily, so I had trouble falling asleep at my usual 10 p.m. bedtime. Or maybe it’s because I’ve been walking more and more and my muscles need a little extra rest. Who knows? All I know is that last week, it felt great to roll out of bed at 5 a.m. but this week, not so much.

It’s a good lesson. I have to remember that what feels right today may not feel so right tomorrow. My body’s needs are in constant motion. I can never figure things out completely because change is constant. The best thing I can do is pay attention and stay curious so I can give myself the things I need.

And who knows what time I’ll need to wake up tomorrow? Though I think I can safely predict I will never be sort of person who wakes up after three hours of sleep feeling refreshed and ready to climb a mountain. Some people can do that. But not me. There is just not enough caffeine in the world to make that scenario okay.

Five a.m.

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I recently started waking up at 5 a.m. It’s amazing. Before my kids wake up, I have time to journal and stretch. I feel like I have so much more energy and patience when I have started my day with a little time for myself.

This is a very recent development. Sleep is essential. It is the foundation of my mental health. If I’m not getting enough sleep, then I don’t feel like my best self. I don’t even feel like my okay self. I feel like a shitty shadow of myself.

So I am waking up early without an alarm clock. I am letting my Circadian rhythm do its thing. If I wake up one day and discover I missed the 5 a.m. hour, so be it.

Couple of observations:

  • I weaned off Mirtazipane right before Christmas. Mirtazipane is an anti-anxiety sleep aid that I had been taking since my first round on postpartum depression in 2013. When I took Mirtazipane, even just a teeny tiny dose, I slept past 6. Since getting the Mirtazipane out of my body, though, I find myself waking up naturally at 5 a.m.
  • Five a.m. is early. When I first weaned off Mirtazipane and started waking up at 5, my initial reaction was What. The. Fuck. I’d roll over, burrow under the blankets, and stay in bed as long as possible.
  • This strategy backfired. I’d either doze and have half-dreams about my To Do list (which is not at all relaxing) or I’d fall into a deep sleep and got woken by the kids, and then I’d be uber grumpy. If I get woken up during a deep sleep state, I just don’t feel right all day.
  • So I decided to listen to my body and try getting out of bed at 5 a.m. just to see how it felt. But I only did this because I strongly suspected that my body was ready to go at 5 a.m.

So here I am. It’s Saturday morning and I’ve already had two hours to myself! I’ve journaled, I’ve down a stretching program, I’ve tinkered with my novel, I’ve had breakfast, I’ve read, and now, I’ve written a blog post. Maybe waking up at 5 a.m. is my new secret magic.

Just don’t ask me to give up caffeine.