Wooden Shoes

The story of the wooden shoes

When I was 19 years old I had 2 little ones, 1 a baby the other a toddler. We lived with my husband at the time in the bedroom I grew up in as a child but I was trying to gather the furniture together so we could move out.

This process began when the lady who lived on the corner down the road from us had a yard sale. I bought a microwave and 4 beautiful kitchen chairs from her and put them underneath the covered parking outside of my parents house and covered them with a tarp.

I found a table at Wal-Mart and put it on layaway then kept my eyes open for other bits of furniture to add to my collection. The neighbors across the street moved away leaving a beautiful couch and love seat. The only problem with the couch was a big tear down the fabric in the back. So I got out a sewing needle and spent hours sewing it up. I got the table out of layaway and we were ready to get an apartment.

There was a place not too far from my parents which had 2 bedrooms, a bathroom/laundry room, a small kitchen, tiny dining room and living room. The furniture seemed sparse when we first moved in, we didn't have a side table yet in the living room so I grabbed a wooden crate and turned it on it's side and put a cloth over the top. I found a couple of little beds for the babies and put them in their room and set up my childhood furniture in our room.

We were lacking a few things, like a washer and dryer, so I made a list of everything we needed and a few things that I wanted as well. One of those things was wooden shoes, clogs had become fashionable at the time but I didn't have money for such things so they were just a wish.

I didn't see how we were going to get any of the things on the list because we didn't have much money, barely enough to pay the rent sometimes. We were getting Bishops orders for food, or going to the food bank. For clothing I would sew little pants or shorts for the kids and find things at yard sales. Sometimes I thought about how we didn't even have spare change in the couch cushions.

I kept a look out for opportunities and one day my Uncle Mo called me up and invited us to come look through the stuff he had in his basement. Basements in general had been scary to me as a kid but my Uncle Mo's basement had been especially scary.

He had a room that he'd converted into a bar with red carpet and animal heads hanging on the wall.

Rambling Thoughts

My best time for writing is late at night when there are no other pressing concerns, especially if I have the day off in the morning so that I can sleep in.

My mind was turning around while I was laying in bed tonight thinking of the times when I've been truly happy. There are a lot of senses involved with happiness for me, textures, scents, and things that are hot or cold.

In the winter it's nice to lay alone in bed, curled up in my fluffy comforter with the window open. The air streaming in is crisp, there's a certain fresh scent, and I really love to have a mug of hot cocoa nearby and a good book. 

In the morning I love it when it's a little chilly but the heater is on so it warms your toes as you walk past. It's so satisfying to fill up the water in the electric kettle and let it heat up boiling hot. Then sitting in the quietude with a mug of tea and a piece of gluten free toast watching the cars pass along State Street is calming somehow. 

I like steamy hot water in the tub, natural scented soaps (not overpowering artificial crap). The feel of a washcloth scrubbing things clean and a fluffy towel when I get out.

I was thinking about how interesting it is to discover things. I loved to go through my parents/grandparents cupboards when I was younger shifting things around setting things straight, exploring, I never knew what I'd find hiding in the back of the cupboard. I loved old things and small things, curiosities. 

The neighbor girls and I devised a basket on some rope that we would wheel back and forth between our windows. They would put little nick knacks in it for me and I would fill it up for them. That's how I got to know them better it was a fun game!

Then there is the scent of the earth, my father has always been a gardener. Each spring he would get out and turn up the earth with his shovel and I would go out to help him. It was satisfying and tiring work! I loved to run my fingers in the dirt sifting it and loosening it. Every once in a while a worm would wriggle through my fingers but I didn't pay them much attention. I would pick out the rocks and look for interesting ones, throwing the bigger ones over the fence to the "snake pit." 

I was very fortunate to grow up in a place that had a back yard, especially since it bordered a small copse of trees, a little wilderness that my brother and I made our own.

There is even pleasure to be found in being sick sometimes. When my head is muzzy and my body aches I tend to slow down and enjoy hot soup and tea. 

Just took out the doggy and felt the cold cement on my feet and got to feel the winter breeze and smell the fresh outdoors.

It would be nice to spend life discovering things. Not striving to fill up a home full of fashionable stuff but to fill it with interesting, comfortable things that mean something. I try to go through and clear out my home of meaningless things when I can, that's a satisfying chore for me. I think people feel like there homes need to be really clean and they probably do a better job than I do cleaning things up but I feel a little bit stressed out when I focus too much on having things spic and span. Better to have a semi tidy house and feel more relaxed than an overly tidy house that you've had to spend all your free time to clean.

I think that it would be fun to have a little company that made a box of interesting stuff for people to order. I know there's "Woot" or whatever it is but a lot of that stuff is just crap. We went wandering around in Midvale and Heber on Friday looking through consignment stores, thrift shops and antique stores. This was really the best therapy for me, I needed a break from the mundane work week. 

Is there something else that I can do with my time that will be satisfying and fulfilling and still earn me enough money to pay the bills and put away for retirement?

It's ironic that we are urged to find that kind of work in this day and age when we theoretically have less of a burden of work as our ancestors (we don't have to wash our clothes by hand etc.) I feel that we are so lonely and out of touch. My grandmother lived with her parents with her husband when they first got married and she would spend her day working side by side with her mother. They would sit at night and talk, her Dad would play the banjo and everyone would sing. We've lost so much of that, it's so sad to me but I'm not sure how to fix it. 

I discovered (again) a truth about my inner psyche, a little secret. This is something I know about myself but don't know how to mend. 

I remember walking through the mall with my father when I was around 10 or 11 around Christmas time. The mall was a popular venue for performers to come out and show off their talents. We encountered a group of talented violinists and there was one near my age. My Dad pointed out how talented she was and made it a point to wait around to talk to her and her father after the performance (he likes to point out other people's talents). Somehow I got the impression that I was lacking, that I needed to be talented at something in order to be worthy of attention. That's stuck with me and I think that I've been picking at myself for a long time. I don't allow myself to feel good enough, and diminish my contributions to things because of that. I also drop things sometimes because I don't think I can be good enough at them. 

Anyway those are my rambling thoughts tonight, I couldn't sleep until I jotted them down. 

SG

For more memories visit this blog post "Wishes and Memories"

Challenging Beliefs

There is a saying that we will face the same kinds of challenges over and over until we learn how to deal with them properly.

I've experienced this in my life and each time I face a similar challenge I have a somewhat different set of attitudes and beliefs that I bring to use to solve these challenges.

For instance, when I was younger I was fairly rigid in my beliefs and when I made what I perceived to be mistakes I would judge myself as unworthy and unclean. For the most part I've outgrown this but I know that it is still there at the root of my immediate reactions and I have to find my way out of my initial reaction to things in order to deal properly with the challenges that I face.

The problem that I experience, now now that I am no longer moored to this rigid belief set, is that it takes me longer to determine right and wrong, good and bad. I suppose that was why it was so easy to skim along in life holding to these old beliefs. I recall several General Conference talks where the "Apostles" for the LDS church would describe those that do not have a firm belief in Jesus Christ as anchor less, tossed and turned upon the waves of life. I suppose that is an apt description of how I feel sometimes. But is it truly preferable to stay anchored in one place, firm in a belief system that doesn't allow for human growth and intuition. That doesn't allow questioning of the norms and exploration of other beliefs?

This exploration can sometimes be problematic because it requires a certain amount of questioning both internally and externally of cultural mores and beliefs. There are a lot of ideas popular and unpopular in the public psyche, questions of how we should act towards one another and how we should act in private.

For instance there is the long tradition of women's role in society as homemaker and nurturer. A role that I have filled and held for some time. A traditionalist, religious view is that it is a woman's place to be in the home and that society is weakening because of the break-down of traditional roles. Another school of thought is that we have been limiting woman's potential, that women have a lot to contribute to society outside of home and family.

I can see both sides, yet having experienced the fulfillment of one, I'm now facing the issue of losing one identity to strive for another. There are many things that are underdeveloped in my experience as a contributor to the world of work that I'm finding difficult to make up for. Like forming relationships with co-workers and working on specific work objectives, valuing the company's objectives rather than my own.

Woman have also traditionally been told to be modest, to downplay our contributions. This is harmful in a work environment and holds us back.

Shifting gears I want to talk about the relationships that we are allowed to develop. We have a strong cultural more or norm of monogamous relationships in our society. This is a protection for the traditional family to have Mom and Dad together, working towards the same goals of loving and raising the children.

I have found that this is creates a narrow existence. I have had the experience of having my hopes shattered by being cheated on and I in turn have cheated (I ended it quickly because I felt too much guilt). Be that as it may be the relationship that I was in at the time was inimical to my well being and that of my children's well being. I was holding on to one thing and wanting to be free of it at the same time.

Here is my central struggle. A need for acceptance both outwardly and inwardly keeps me struggling to maintain things as they are regardless of whether or not they are good for me.

I struggled to maintain a relationship with my first husband who hit my children and threatened me, who ultimately scarred my sister and my daughter because of his sexual proclivities. Then again I got into a relationship where I held on and I held on even though I felt that something wasn't right. Again and again this pattern has emerged and I have faced it with moralistic views and I've faced it with monogamous mores. I am afraid of the pain of separation and letting go, living with the pain of holding on to a situation that is not right for me. I feel selfish, I feel disgust for my actions, my inability to make certain decisions. To hold firm to my decisions and the compromises that I make to stay in relationships that I don't want to be in. Ultimately it comes down to a need for acceptance, and to be in the right.

I recognize also that giving up a relationship means giving up opportunities that are embedded in that relationship. But if those opportunities involve the sublimation of my needs, of my soul, then they are not worth the cost.

This is where I feel the shame. I feel so selfish, I feel like I am lacking in the essential ingredient some people have that helps them form close and lasting relationships with others. I know I could contribute to the lives of the people I am with but give that up when I decide to leave. I think that because my first relationship was one where I was continually trying to improve/change the person I was with (to stop certain behaviors such as getting angry and hitting the children), that I burned out on the idealism that certain people have towards relationships. I know that I cannot change another person now and I think that's good to have realized but I feel less hope that someone will change behaviors that I have a hard time dealing with. I hate that I am standoffish and don't want to completely invest myself into my current relationship but that is the legacy of being completely invested in two marriages that have ended.

Here I face the opportunity to break out of the patterns that I have faced. Do I stay in a situation that is comfortable on the one hand and painful on the other or do I make a decision to change the course of things and end what isn't working? Is it the right thing to do?

Time will tell.

SG

Inner Tugs and Pulls

We all live with an inner voice, this voice is the guide you follow through your life, good or bad.

Our inner animus is made up of; the culture you grew up in, the books you have read, the TV show's you have watched, your parent's attitudes and behaviors, your teachers and friends.

Through it all there is this core, this central being that peers out into the void and wonders at it all. What should I be doing?

Deep, core deep, we all wish to avoid pain and we are seeking happiness. This manifests itself through habits that we develop to get us through our days, comfortable habits. Lulling our inner selves into a sense of little routine comforts. It takes a lot to want to shake these habits up and change, even if we are living in a routine that is actually harmful to us.

Somehow as well it is difficult to really know what we want, what is motivating us and ultimately what will make us happy.

I woke up this morning with a question on my tongue. I had been thinking of my brothers ex-wife, how she re-married and basically adopted her new husbands two children. She had a baby with her new husband and with the two she had with my brother now has 5.

Deeply I felt ashamed at my own reluctance to embrace a similar lifestyle. I wonder at my hesitancy to be married again, especially since I know that making choices in that direction would mean new possibilities. Perhaps that garage I always wanted full of stuff to create with. That fireplace in the living room or kitchen. The chance to mother, to help others to reach for their potential.

These urges are strong, pulling at me one way, while something pulls me another way. There is an urge to protect my inner psyche, my time, my resources. I have a chance to have the time to write, learn and travel, or who knows! The inner self that I denied space to emerge since I was married so young and had so many trials early in my life.

Tug and pull

The inner self knows something is not quite right with my situation and so I feel this tug and pull.

SG

Envy - That Green Eyed Monster

This is the feeling I have to contend with, vulnerability. I feel a sense of futility in my efforts, probably because I've invested so much into schooling to have it all come to seemingly nothing. Yet there is a part of me that feels that this is exactly what I deserve and I feel a fraud to think I deserve better. I know I didn't COMPLETELY do everything that I was assigned to do in school... I think of all of the iterations of skills that I was lacking in order to do what I was assigned... lacking experience, lacking time, lacking motivation, energy, ability... etc.

I've been running on a treadmill, trying desperately to gain the skills that it looks like I need, or I know I don't have, including certain interpersonal skills a lot of skills that could have been gained if I had different opportunities or circumstances when I was younger.

The rational part of me understands that no one is born in exact ideal circumstances and we all must to some degree fill in the missing pieces of our knowledge base in order to succeed.

I look at some people with their innate steadiness of mind, consistency of action and character or their ease of affection towards others and sometimes I get jealous. Or I think of those that I was competing with, who had similar skills, who are now ranked ahead of me and who are now developing in areas that I wanted to develop in and I feel those jealous pangs. Envy, resentment, sadness. I feel so petty and small at times. None of these feelings are ultimately helpful in and of themselves. I need a way to transform them into something else.

Then there are moments when I just feel like I should be better than others at certain things and I allow a sense of imagined superiority to seep into my consciousness, and this is a defense mechanism, a panacea for hurt pride. This allows me to keep going despite all of my other negative feelings. But it is only a mask I wear.

I am only going to be as unique and special as I allow myself to be. If I feel unworthy of setting myself apart then I will do things that will differentiate me in negative ways.

It comes down to a matter of respect. If I feel I am entitled to respect I need to earn it. At work I can't be of two minds all the time, one listening to a book and the other trying to complete my work. If I don't master myself then I won't master my work.

Some people deserve respect and not envy due to the way they have conducted themselves in their profession. Also people deserve respect for doing their job even if I feel that I lost an opportunity to be in the position that they have been given.

Envy holds me back in my profession. Envy prevents me from forming deeper friendships. I need to come to grips with the feelings of envy that are holding me back.

~SG

My Mother's Savage Daughter

I am my mother's savage daughter, 

the one who runs barefoot cursing sharp stones.
I am my mother's savage daughter, 
I will not cut my hair, I will not lower my voice.

My mother's child is a savage,
She looks for her omens in the colors of stones,
In the faces of cats, in the fall of feathers,
In the dancing of fire and the curve of old bones.

My mother's child dances in darkness,
And sings heathen songs by the light of the moon,
And watches the stars and renames the planets,
And dreams she can reach them with a song and a broom.

My mother's child curses too loud and too often,
My mother's child laughs too hard and too long,
And howls at the moon and sleeps in ditches,
And clumsily raises her voice in this song.

Now we all are brought forth out of darkness and water,
Brought into this world through blood and through pain,
And deep in our bones, the old songs are wakening,
So sing them with voices of thunder and rain.

We are our mother's savage daughters,
The ones who run barefoot cursing sharp stones.
We are our mother's savage daughters,
We will not cut our hair, We will not lower our voice

Credits:

k.l.kahan, from selections from "I Have Wedded This Blade", released January 1, 2004 

The Name of The Wind

I was deeply touched the other day by a piece of writing by Patrick Roffuss a section of the book "The Name of the Wind" where the main character was facing the destruction of his entire family by an unknown enemy.

Sometimes I can go a long time without feeling deeply, emotions are inconvenient, they make it harder to concentrate. But emotions can build up if we don't have an outlet for them and become destructive to our well being.

What can be done to prevent shutting down emotionally? I write things down. My mind is always churning with ideas. Sometimes there are things that I am frustrated about, sometimes I really want to express my thoughts to someone but I don't have someone readily available so it goes into writing until I can discuss it.

Stories have a power to reach a part of peoples psyche that is sometimes difficult to reach. We have become so guarded these days, closed off from each other, I think that part of the reason is that we don't spend enough time interacting with people in real life. It turns conversations with others into stiff encounters because we don't have the time to really talk.

The only relief that I have found form this lonely existence is through good literature, and then not every interesting story is one that gets past my guarded barriers.

I was listening to "The Name of The Wind" by Patrick Rothfuss and heard this passage. "I hope they spent those last few hours well. I hope they didn't waste them on mindless tasks: kindling the evening fire and cutting vegetables for dinner. I hope they sang together, as they so often did. I hope they retired to our wagon and spent time in each other's arms. I hope they lay near each other afterward and spoke softly of small things. I hope they were together, busy with loving each other, until the end came. It is a small hope, and pointless really. They are just as dead either way. Still, I hope."

Here is where my heart was touched and I found myself crying, open to the pathos of that scene.

The other thing that really helps me to break out of a long closed off emotional spell is music. Patrick and I went to see Bohemian Rhapsody when it came out, even though I had known a little bit about Freddy Mercury I didn't know a whole lot. I found myself crying near the end and left feeling like I knew the man a little. Today I've been listening to the Carpenters, I can't hear Karen sing without my heart opening and tears flowing. There are many songs, hymns, that make me cry. I turn to them when things seem bleak and I can't find anything else to take my mind off of my situation.

Sometimes talking through things helps. For me it's hard to know what to say. I hate to draw attention to myself.

For now I am happy enough, I've come to a place in my life where things are pretty good. It sure feels good though to feel something pure and sweet, a reminder of simpler times. That's why I love books and music.

SG 

Subtle courage and weakness

It is in the nature of all creatures to seek self-preservation, to fear the unknown. It is easy to retreat when facing an intimidating foe or challenge. It takes grit and courage to face the unknown.

Today I ran across an article about a boy who is being bullied. Stories like this usually recall to mind my own youth and how I handled being bullied.

I was different from other kids, I didn’t understand how they worked. Every day I searched for clues, so I observed others closely. I noticed the easy friendliness of some, and how other kids gravitated to certain charming personalities. But I couldn’t discover the trick of it. There was a swirling miasma of chaos that I was wading through that made it difficult for me to pay attention to the teacher and which made it seem like I was always surrounded by loud noise and hostile people. I sought my chair quickly whenever I would enter a classroom and would stick close to the wall when I was walking down the hall. My stomach always felt bloated, my head ached, I was usually tired, and I was lonely, I wished for a friend to sit with at lunch, to play with at recess, to stand with me against the foreign environment of school.

I had a cousin who was the same age as I, he was intelligent and proud of his intelligence. But he didn’t understand the subtle cues of timing in order to curry favor with the teacher and to avoid the jealousy and hatred of the other students. He knew the answer to the questions and would blurt them out with his hand raised in excitement and I could feel the seething annoyance of everyone else around me. I wanted to disassociate myself with him, trying to avoid being painted with the same brush. But I also wanted to help him and stand up for him.

School was a testing ground. The early years were OK enough, I wandered around in the back of the classroom and ignored everyone until the teacher called me to sit down. It was bearable until the second grade when the mean kids started to make things more difficult. They would trip me as I walked up the stairs, talk bad about me behind my back, and point at me and laugh. In the third-grade things got more intense, I would hide from them at recess, scuffling around the building lest they call out jeers at me. Sometimes I would be able to play on the swing set or hang from the monkey bars but sometimes I was so overwhelmed that I had to hide. 

I’m not sure what grade I was in when they decided to trap my cousin up on top of the double slide. He was screaming at them and crying, the playground monitor didn’t notice or didn’t care. I drew up my courage and went to confront them. I can still remember the acrid taste of acid in my mouth as I told them to let him down. One of them was meaner than the others and she decided to test out the fighting skills that her Dad had taught her. She pushed me with her chest, getting right up in my face saying “want to fight?” over and over. I was barely coherent, muttering to stop, stuttering “no, I don’t, just let him down.” Somehow it ended, I think one of her friends pulled her away.

I didn't feel proud of myself for standing up for my cousin, I felt scared of retaliation. Luckily the school decided that it would try an experiment, they had us divide into different classes to give us a taste of middle school. This got me away from the worst of my tormentors, most of the time. The only time I got stuck with them was in math class, I was stuck in a remedial math class (because math was a swirling miasma of confusion for me) and the mean girls pressured me to give them the answers to the homework assignments. I didn't like this, I wanted out. So I went home and instead of going out to play I sat at my desk working through every chapter in my math book and answered every homework question in the book through the weekend. Then I brought it all in to my teacher and turned it in asking that they put me in the other class. It worked, though the math didn't stick in my head very long so I continued to struggle with it through most of my schooling career. 

This felt like a win but in some ways it was a defeat. Instead of facing the true problem  head on, I took an unconventional way out. I suppose that is a valuable skill in some ways but a crutch in others. At least I've found it to be so when I've used this tactic in other areas of my life.

The last time I really faced these bullies was at the end of the school year in the 6th grade on the very last day. It was hot, our desks had all been cleaned out the day before and there really was no reason for us to be stuck at school except for some arbitrary requirement set by the school board. The kids in the class were bored and had turned to picking on my cousin again and I had had enough. Somehow I gathered up my courage and marched up to the front of the class and told them all off. Didn't they have anything better to do than pick on him? Didn't they know he had feelings too? What made them think they could do that to him? I think the teacher was astounded, the kids dumbfounded, my cousin shocked, but I was too embarrassed to stay in the classroom any longer. I think there was an hour left but I took off and walked home burning with embarrassment the whole way. At least I had the whole summer before I had to face any of them again. When I went back to school I really didn't see the kids from my class, in fact I've forgotten who witnessed that outburst, sometimes I wonder if I really did that or just imagined it. It seems real enough. 

Was this courage? Or was this weakness? I'm not sure. It felt like a bit of both. 

Later in life, in my marriage I found myself alternately facing things head on and retreating. I do the same at work (though to a far lesser degree). 

What does courage really look like in life? I think that facing things, not letting them slide is a big part of courage. Subtle things can make or break relationships so facing them is an important aspect of a courageous relationship. This isn't about nit-picking, it is about acknowledging boundaries and speaking up when a boundary has been broken. 

There is more for me to learn about courage, and facing my weaknesses. The child I was is still there, I need to stick up for her, I can find a way.

SG

I Miss my Bloggy Friends

2008 was a pivotal year for me. I had been a stay at home mom with my daughter Roxie for 2 years and I had loved being able to be with her. Yet pressures had been building up in my marriage for a long time and I felt trapped. I had no recourse for companionship (other than the limited friendships that I had at church) so I started a blog in September of that year trying to find other like minded people to discuss things with. Through that process I found many new friends and we formed a community by visiting each others blogs and commenting on their posts.

Blogging was an important step for me, I had been living in a narrow world and now I had an international audience to share my thoughts with. I had CathM an English major in England, Michelle an office worker in Australia, Renee a cancer patient in the US, John a wander, a poet a lovely lost soul who always managed to help me find my humanity. There was Rick, a trucker poet in the US and STAR a thoughtful poet in the UK. Christine a wonderful poet, and selfless friend. There was Ajey who later became an important part of my life and Graham and Mike, those two were hilarious posters on each others blogs and as random pop posters on mine and other peoples blogs.

It is astounding how much can change from year to year. I was living at the time in a duplex and life felt hopeless some times. We didn't have enough money to pay for things, let alone save any money up for a home of our own. There were things broken that I didn't have the power to fix (though I fixed many things and replaced the blinds) but for the most part I tried to take a philosophical approach to my situation, finding solace in the nearby river trail and park that we could walk to.

I would take pictures along the way and find a sense of fulfillment in making artwork out of daydreams. We had group picture challenges every Friday and I would post my finds.

I tried to learn how to make all of our food from scratch, I loved the challenge of making homemade tamales, spaghetti, lasagna, bread, cinnamon rolls... everything I could. Then I loved sharing the recipes with the blogging world.

What I'm saying is that I woke up this morning feeling a sense of loss for what I had in the blogging community. I've found myself in much busier circumstances and it's not often that I take the time to get out and create but I'm trying to change that.

To old friends, I miss you. To other bloggers, I look forward to discovering your blogs.

SG

Talking Things Through

What is difficult for me is writing about the things I worry over. You see, I know that other people have similar concerns to mine, but my insecurities poke holes into my self confidence despite my knowing that my insecurities are irrational and perhaps also knowing that they are entirely rational in some ways as well.

Such is the fate of someone who is introspective and observant. I fear that I am too serious, that people shy away from my company because of the depth of intensity with which I try so hard to comply to the social norms. I feel I must come across as disingenuous. 

Body issues are an area where many woman face criticism and we are told many things about how to feel. That our bodies are beautiful no matter what they look like, but this does not ring true in a society that does value a specific look. It is very hard for me sometimes to drown out the chorus of  voices that are in discord with each other. Society doesn't really make it easy to live in harmony and acceptance of who we are. It is difficult to age gracefully in a world that values youth and beauty. I struggle to believe that I am beautiful when I look in the mirror and see the signs of aging, and a body that is not trim and fit.

Then there are times when I wonder why I struggle so much for education, because paradoxically the more that I strive to learn, the more out of touch I feel. I look at those who don't care as much as I do and wonder why I'm still trying so hard. Sometimes I see that they are loved and adored because of a genuineness of personality that I find hard to match, maybe I'm mixing together things that are not related. But somehow it feels that way to me. 

There are so many self-help books, so many guru's of wisdom, so many people that are giving advice that it feels like I am lacking in fundamental ways when I hear all of the advice and find I have no time to follow it.

Then I also feel like the root problem of all is that I am working so much that it's hard to let myself be free to be myself. 

I guess sometimes I get feeling down on myself and I shouldn't, but such is life.

SG