Becca Wilhite Blog

October 17, 2017

Yesterday, and Today

Filed under: Uncategorized — becca @ 6:43 am

Yesterday I woke up a few minutes before my 5:00 a.m. alarm chirped. And for the first time in many months, I awoke not feeling anxious. It was lovely. And it’s not like I had some great plan for how to make the school day go–I had nothing. But I had nothing plus peace.

And today I sat down with my manuscript that’s getting a tiny bit bigger every time I wrote. And that’s something to be glad about. Plus sometimes I write notes to myself like “which sounds so ridiculously Dickensian all of the sudden.” Obviously, it’s going well.

September 15, 2017

Spoiling

Filed under: Uncategorized — becca @ 1:12 pm

It’s my birthday.
I love my birthday. I’m getting all kinds of spoiled. My desk is currently covered with peanut butter M&Ms, Werther’s caramel popcorn, pink frosted cookies, Diet Dr. Pepper, and pie.

That equals a pretty good day.

August 22, 2017

First Day

Filed under: anxiety,emotion,rambles,school — becca @ 6:29 am

It’s happening again — the first day of school. I’ve felt more dread and fear in the last two weeks than ever before in either the four years I have taught or the three years before that when I worked as a sub. Weird. Nothing really has changed (except for all the humans, pretty much), and I still love the job. But weird fears have crept in. Sunday, sitting in church, I told my girl, 16, that I was worried that I’d used up all my cool and maybe this was the year that nobody would like me. Silly, right? But not really.

And I’m trying (always) to be a better teacher. Which means I’m trying new things. And, since I don’t yet know the kids, the possibility of those things going wrong? It’s there.

In general, I don’t live in fear. In general, I am hopeful and excited and eager. (Having said that, let’s be clear: I’m still afraid of everything scary. Like kittens. And paper cuts. And spider webs. But not spiders. And being a disappointment. And basements. And everything else.) But knowing what’s scary doesn’t equal living in fear of those things, or the other things. I don’t generally assume that the negative things will happen.

But there are some days in which the small difficult things become heavy. And sometimes those days stretch out for long times. And that heaviness affects, well, everything.

And so this morning I woke early. I prayed. I studied. I exercised. I did something that made me laugh (which may or may not have involved Ryan O’Neal and Barbra Streisand) and ate healthful food and drank water. I put on my face and did my hair and breathed in and out. I practiced smiling. I spoke to myself like I’d speak to someone I love.

It’s going to be a good day.

July 25, 2017

Moseying

Filed under: Uncategorized — becca @ 7:01 am

When I take a walk in the summer mornings, I bust my way up the mountain for a couple of miles, then I hustle down it again. 10,000 steps, bam. It’s beautiful. It’s quick. It’s virtuous, don’t you know.

When my guy comes with me? We mosey. 10,000 steps together takes much longer. We linger. We look around more. We don’t breathe hard. Those summer (and spring and fall) evening walks are not about the destination, or about counting steps, or about achieving things.

I seek opportunity to mosey these days. In the kitchen. With the kids. On the phone. It’s good to be on the journey.

July 24, 2017

Working

Filed under: rambles — becca @ 6:40 am

I was talking to a friend the other day and she was telling me something about one of her kids that caused her to roll her eyes (with a smile) and say, “he’s just not that kind of worker.” She meant that there was a particular job to be done, and she knew that job would have to be delegated to a different kid.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that since. I have a tendency to think all the work should be done by all the kids (all the humans… you know). But I’m rethinking that. I know one kid who resists housework. But she’s an incredibly hard worker when she’s getting paid. Like, she does really difficult and labory things. I know another kid who isn’t too into work that’s physical, but holy cow, watch her figure things out and make them happen.

All that work needs to be valued, because it all needs to be done. (And I do mean ALL. Like, the toilets aren’t going to clean themselves, nor is World Hunger just going to end.) I’ve been working to see and recognize all the efforts, even the lame ones, because effort is effort, and I appreciate it.

July 19, 2017

Breathe

Filed under: anxiety — becca @ 7:36 am

When my kids were small and in a small-kid panic, I used to tell them, “You don’t have to worry about that. Just breathe in and out. That’s all you need to do right now.”

Sometimes it worked.

Now they’re big and occasionally in grown-person panic and I can’t tell them they don’t need to worry anymore. They’re smart. They know what requires their attention and what doesn’t. But the panic doesn’t always flow away because the responsibility isn’t theirs.

I think the breathing is still key, although it sounds patronizing and silly to tell an adult, “Just breathe. In and out.”

Silly and patronizing are kind of in the eye of the beholder anyway. If I don’t say it out loud, I pray it on their behalf. Please. Keep them breathing in and out.

July 18, 2017

A Thing About Discouragement

Filed under: anxiety,emotion,food,losing it,Uncategorized — becca @ 9:34 pm

Germans probably have a word for that feeling where everything is going pretty well, and all the people you love are healthy and fine, and one small unpleasant thing in your otherwise glad life totally throws you over the edge.

Hey, Germans, what’s the word for that?

Because I had it this week. And it’s making me weepy and mopey and generally incapable of productivity and adulthood.

And I feel the need to put on my happy face and buck the hell up (sorry, Dad). And putting on the happy face isn’t usually this hard.

The thing is, once this over-the-edging happens, everything looks darker and gloomier and there’s no actual reason for trying to get out of bed in the morning and it’s probably a good idea to watch three hours of Riverdale with the 13-year-old and probably also 4-5 episodes of Criminal Minds while I’m at it and probably eat all the food that comes in cellophane packages and definitely ignore all the phone calls and texts and for sure abdicate all the responsibilities and for also sure never write again.

Like that.

This tipping of the scales (remember — for unreasonable reasons) gives me opportunities to try on darker versions of myself. I put them on like exotic silken robes or fancy hats or even jeans with on-purpose rips in them. Here’s a fun fact: Darker isn’t so good on me.

So I am doing the one thing I feel like I can do. I am taking a little control of my physical self. I am resting. I am eating green things — lots of them. (Also beets.) I am staying away from the Emotional Foods that are generally made of hot, white, buttered starch. I am walking many miles every day. I am yoga-ing both in the privacy of my room and with my lovely yogi friend who practices Wednesday mornings for an hour in a darkened church because she is made of generosity and goodness.

And I guess there’s a little more: I am reading. I am working on school things so as not to get nightmare-y in the 3:00 am hour. I am calling a friend who will tell me that it’s okay to try on the darkness for a while as long as I shuck it back off again. I am asking my man to make dinner because he is willing and good and capable. I am sitting outside on a birdsoaked night watching the sun settle over the western mountains and turn the hills flat and blue.

I am convalescing from discouragement so that I can once again be me, filled with couragement. (Germans, that’s a word, right?)

 

June 26, 2017

Naaman and Me

Filed under: gratitude,help,metaphors,motivation — becca @ 7:47 am

Yesterday in church, a discussion about Naaman caused me to rethink my thoughts about my relationship with God. (I thought I’d just put that right out there at the front, in case you’re here looking for food. There’s no food here today.)

So. Naaman. He’s a great general and a good guy and a leper. One of his servants tells him he can be healed if he goes to see Elisha the prophet. He goes. And Elisha sends a servant to the door, who tells Naaman to have a bath in the river. Naaman is ticked, and his brave and loving servants ask him, “If you’d been told to do something huge, wouldn’t you do it?” (My quotes, not the Bible’s.)

In my congregation, we often talk about this story this way: when the answers are simple (like, go pray more and read more and serve more and do the work you’ve already been asked to do), we revolt, wishing for something that feels somehow More. Bigger. Important-er.

When I hear this story, I say, “Yeah, Naaman. I get you.” And for me, it’s got nothing to do with doing something big.

It has everything to do with who came to the door.

When I pray and beg and plead and gnash my teeth about something that I’m pretty sure God wants me to have anyway, I don’t want to be told to do something bigger or harder. No thank you. The point of my prayer is generally that I’m already doing something harder. No. Not bigger. I just want it to be personal.

I want Him to come to the door Himself. I want to feel heard.

Read the scriptures, I hear. And I respond. Yes. I’m doing that. And I’ve done it. So, so many times. I KNOW these books. It’s a simple thing. But here’s the un-simple part: When I actually do it right, read it with my heart open, I learn to speak God’s language. And when I speak to Him in His language, He answers me in MY language. When that happens, even when the answer is to go ahead and do one of those simple things, I feel more heard. And capable of carrying on. In the times that happens, it’s Enough.

So if I ask for help and my answer is pray more or serve more or go dunk in the river seven times, it’s my job to discover the Voice behind the answer. To find the connection that makes it personal. So I’ll be able, willing, capable of saying, “Okay. I can do that.”

That’s when the miracles happen.

Older Posts »

Powered by WordPress