Becca Wilhite Blog

December 6, 2017

Being Okay

Filed under: emotion — becca @ 12:24 pm

Here’s what I’m wondering: What is okay? When  questions are answered with “okay” what do we actually mean?

So many different questions are answered with the same word, and the questions are SO diverse. So, why are the answers the same? And how are we supposed to translate what they actually mean?

My kid is okay. My friend’s car is okay. The neighbor’s experience training the new dog is okay. Plans for the wedding are okay. The podcast was okay. Surgery went okay. The weather is okay. Everything will (sooner or later) be okay. The haircut is okay. I am okay. Yes, that hurt, but it’s okay.

And if this bugs me, why, why, why do I use the same word for everything I don’t actually want to deal with? When people ask me things that fall into the “can’t deal” or “none of your business” or “not prepared to engage in this discussion right now/with you/until I have something buttered to eat,” the answer is almost always, “okay.”

I think I’m not willing to get uncomfortable with a discussion. Okay works. Okay fills.

But sometimes, it’s actually true. Not good, not bad, but sustainable. Okay.

December 5, 2017

Messy

Filed under: Uncategorized — becca @ 2:24 pm

My school desk is a mess. There are fourteen piles of papers on it. And I need all of them to stay there so I can see them: The pile of stuff kids throw on the desk to grade (late) and the pile of common assessments I need to write (large) and the pule of my phone (many messages) and the little test-ish things I need to put on the calendar (oh, many) and the note to myself about the parent emails I need to send from today (only 5) and the calendar math I’m doing over there (yikes) and the grammar pile and the someone-else’s calendar information pile and the stack of 5 packs of sticky notes (that’s the part I actually love because sticky notes make me happy).

And that’s just the desk in the classroom. We shall never actually speak of the desk in my office because *shudder.*

December 4, 2017

Seriously? We’re still talking about this? (Hint: Yes.)

Filed under: body image,gratitude,rambles — becca @ 6:44 am

One of the plights of middle agedness among lo, these many plights, is this thing about the aging body. I am well and strong and very healthy, but according to every published measure and my health insurance, I weigh some pounds too many. I feel like I’ve talked about this way too much over the past decade, but it’s a THING, and things are on my mind.

Now that I’m in the middle of my 40s, I find myself trying to balance the desires of my emotional health (let’s just call it what it is: butterfat in the form of actual butter, or ice cream, or pretty much anything made with cream) with the desires of physical health. And what I’m seeing in my life, in my searching, in the published world around me, is that health = thinness. Seventy million people are currently fighting against this exact equation, but you know what? It’s still an equal sign over there.

So I think about it, and I exercise in ways that don’t inconvenience me too much, and I make food plans, and I seek ways to increase my strength, because really? I want to be strong. Not like deadlift my own weight or anything, just the kind of strong that means I can play and overcome and thrive. And I really want to be firm — at least not soggy. So. Yoga. At least 10,000 steps a day. Online cardio twice a week (that means do the workout, recover enough to walk down the stairs without wincing, do it again). Drink all the water. And then? When the family has ice cream for dessert? Have some. Be part of the celebration of deliciousness.

And glory in the fact that I’ve made it this far, healthy and strong.

December 3, 2017

Loneliness and Aloneness and The Difference

Filed under: musings — becca @ 9:48 am

Why is it, do you think, that when I’m by myself, I never feel sad or lonely or disenfranchised? Why is it that I regularly feel each, every, all of those things when I’m with people?

Am I broken?

Isn’t loneliness supposed to come when we’re by ourselves? Isn’t company supposed to assuage that feeling?

Do you know that thing when you’re on a subway car and surrounded by people who are strangers and who are doing completely their own brand of nothing? I feel connected to those people when I’m there. But sitting in a room with people I know and like? Most of the time I feel kind of lost. Unconnected. Like either of the two following and completely unlikely scenarios would be true: I could leave and nobody would notice, or I am being judged and found lacking.

People are awesome. I like people. I love people. Even so. When I’m surrounded by them (even one or two at a time) I feel separate and lonely.

I would like to repair this. But I don’t know how. Or even what to call it.

Instead I’m going to go into a room by myself and close the door for a while.

December 1, 2017

How’s the weather?

Filed under: Uncategorized — becca @ 6:08 pm

Here we are in the Frozen Mountaintops and it’s the beginning of December and kids are grouching because there’s no snow.

Let me make my position on this lack of snow clear: I don’t mind. At all. Not even a little.

But there are kids out there, running through the halls of this school in which I teach and through the house in which I live, who are SUPER EAGER for the snow that falls from the clouds to cover the mountains (as opposed to the snow that comes out of the blower machines and covers a few runs at Park City because it’s not the same).

Related image

So, for their benefit, here is a piece of utter loveliness from Mary Oliver, who has feelings about snow:

“November” by Mary Oliver

The snow
began slowly,
a soft and easy
sprinkling

of flakes, then clouds of flakes
in the baskets of the wind
and the branches
of the trees —

oh, so pretty.

We walked
through the growing stillness,
as the flakes

prickled the path,

then covered it,
then deepened
as in curds and drifts,

as the wind grew stronger,

shaping its work
less delicately,
taking greater steps

over the hills
and through the trees
until, finally,
we were cold,

and far from home.

We turned
and followed our long shadows back
to the house,

stamped our feet,
went inside, and shut the door.
Through the window
we could see

how far away it was to the gates of April.
Let the fire now
put on its red hat
and sing to us.

December

Filed under: anxiety,gratitude — becca @ 2:02 pm

It’s here. I’ve been waiting for WEEKS for this. November was not my favorite thing. There’s not a giant reason that it’s so, but it’s so. And there’s not a specific Wonderfulness I’m looking forward to this month, although I love Christmas and its attendant break from school. Mostly today I love December because it’s not November.

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