The Non Traditional Student

Ok, so I guess I'm still pretty young.  But it doesn't feel that way sometimes.  Especially in school.  I am the 26-year old sitting next to the fresh-out-of-high-school student, usually asking the youngster for help.  It's strange seeing people who graduated high school years after me graduating college before me.  It's honestly starting to annoy me.  But there is no one to blame but myself.
After graduating high school, I immediately registered with the local two year community college.  I then waited a year to begin classes.  I paid everything out of pocket.  No loans, scholarships, or grants.  It was pretty pricey.  So I waited a couple semesters until going back to school.  Now, six years later, I am a Sophomore,  still taking classes at the two year community college.  There are pros and cons to still being in school at my age, though.

Pros:

• Since I've been paying out of pocket, I'm not in debt.
• I've had plenty of time to work to help pay for classes.
• I've changed majors several times.  Fortunately, I haven't taken enough classes to get to far ahead for any majors.  I've pretty much got my generals out of the way.
• After I turned 23-years old, I could no longer claim to be a dependent with my parents.  The amount I was eligible for in grants went way up.  I took my first full-term semester for free!

Cons:

• I'm normally one of the oldest people in my class.
• All my friends have awesome jobs while I'm still trying to figure out the Quadratic formula.

Huh!  Not as many cons as I thought there would be.  And when I think of the cons, I remind myself that, even though it's taking a long time, I  am going to college.  I have friends who were amazing students in high school who showed a lot of promise, then dropped out of college because of drugs or alcohol.  So even though I feel like I'm stuck in a rut, I try to remember that I am moving forward. I might not get to where I want to be right away, but I am still making my way to the finish line.

Someone to Look Up to

When I was a Cub Scout, many moons ago, I remember going into the gymnasium at the church to play basketball after Den Meeting.  My fellow Cub Scouts and I would play Knockout with the leaders.  And we always had a blast.  Until the Boy Scouts came in.  The older boys would get a hold of all the basketballs and start their own game, forcing us younger boys off the court.  This always made me so mad.  We were there first!  Needless to say, I didn't really like being around the Boy Scouts.  Or any other teenage boys, for that matter.  They weren't people that I felt like I could look up to.
Everyone needs a good role model in their life.  It can be a parent, a teacher or leader, a friend, or even a friend's parent.  Why only have one?  Have as many as you want!
In my life working as a manny, a respite care provider, a Sunday School teacher, and Big Brother, there are a lot of little eyes looking up at me, watching what I do.  Being a role model comes naturally to me  (I know, toot toot!  There goes Philip tooting his own horn again!).  I love being around children.  For me, they are much easier to get along with than most adults.  In all honesty, I think a lot of my role models are the children I have worked with.  While I do my best to set a good example to the kids around me, little do they know that I am learning from them.  Be yourself, be honest, don't care what other people think, love unconditionally.  A lot can be learned from children.
My goal in life has always been to change the world, even if it's just one person at a time.  I often feel like I am failing at this.  I'm not seeing the fruits of my labors.  But I get surprised sometimes.
A couple of examples.  One day in Cub Scouts (as a leader, now, not as a Scout), I had the boys write thank you letters to someone they look up to.  One of the boys wrote a letter for me.  Now, let me tell you, this boy is insane!  Insanely busy, active, hyper, and talkative.  I felt like I was getting nowhere with this boy.  So you can understand my surprise when this young boy handed me the letter, thanking me for all that I have done for him to make him a better person.  I was deeply touched.
The second example is the 5-year old I take care of.  I had to take a day off for CPR training and the little guy was very stressed out about being with the back-up sitter.  I didn't realize this at the time.  So the week before my day off, I was joking around with the 11-year old about how I had the day off and I was never coming back.  I heard a loud "WHAT?!" from the other room.  The 5-year old came running in with tears in his eyes.  I asked what the matter was.  "You said something mean!" he told me.  I  apologized and explained that I was just joking around with his older brother.  This seemingly insignificant event showed me that, even though he never said anything before, the 5-year old looked up to me.  He felt safe with me.  This is an important thing for a child to feel.  That they can trust someone.
Look around you.  Are you alone?  Are you with people your age?  Younger people?  How do you act around these people?  How should you act around these people?  Ask yourself these questions when you are with others.  Are you the kind of person who takes a basketball from a group of children?  Or are you someone to look up to?

The Manny Diaries pt. 3

Step aside Jo Frost!  There's a new sheriff in town.  And his name is Supermanny!
Nothing has changed since last week's post.  I still love my job.  But there are challenges.  Summer, for example.  What do I do with three boys in the summer that they'll all enjoy?  And how do I discipline in a way that is effective, yet creative?  After a lot of contemplation, I've finally discovered the answers to both questions.

Question #1:  What do I do with three boys in the summer that they'll all enjoy?

Keep the boys' interests in mind.  Ask them what they want to do.  Find ways to make things happen, but don't be afraid to say no.  The 12-year old wants to do some expensive things, such as paintball and Hershey Park.  He understands that these are costly activities, so they may or may not happen.  The younger boys are a little easier to please.  Just give them a net and some water shoes and take them to the creek and they're set for hours.  Free can be fun!
Another thing to do with the boys this summer is to get them out of their comfort zones.  The boys despise reading.  So what did we do yesterday?  We got signed up for the library's Summer Reading Program, which, by the way, is free.  Did I mention that free can be fun?  The boys were given sheets to keep track of their reading.  They get to mark off every time they read for ten minutes and eventually earn prizes.  The 12-year old read for an hour yesterday!  That blew my mind!  It just takes a little motivation.
Every Thursday, the library will have a different show or demonstration.  For example, today, the boys and I went to see a science show.  Next week is a magic show.  I'm super excited about Thursday mornings now.



Question #2:  How do I discipline in a way that is effective, yet creative?

I had a blast with this!  My creative juices have really been pumping for the past month or so.  I even have pictures of my creations!

This is Beastboy from Teen Titans Go.  This show is always on!  I've probably seen every episode sixteen times by now.  So, since Beastboy is such a well known character for the 5-year old, I decided to use him as my example.  As you can see in the pictures, Beastboy has listening ears, watchful eyes, a respectful mouth, gentle hands, and gentle feet.  These are all characteristics that the 5-year old needs to work on.  When the 5-year old, say, hits one of the dogs...

...Beastboy loses his hands.  Beastboy is a whipping boy of sorts.  But the 5-year old gets very offended when his whipping boy gets punished.  Doesn't sound like the 5-year old is getting disciplined, though, huh?  If Beastboy loses all his detachable parts, the 5-year old loses a privilege.  No more iPad for the rest of the day.  Or no more TV for the rest of the day.  With Beastboy, discipline is still happening, but in a way that the 5-year old can understand.

What's the best way to keep zombies out of your house during the zombie apocalypse?  Plant a garden, obviously.  The 11-year old loves playing games on his iPad.  He's been playing a lot of Plants vs. Zombies lately.  Thus the plant and the zombie.  But enough about the game.
On to the discipline.  You know how in golf the less points you have the better?  The same is true in this case.  I took all of the 11-year old's worst habits then made him make the point system.  I helped.  He yells a lot, so for yelling, he only wanted one point.  I think we finally agreed on three points.  For lying, which he is doing very well on, he wanted five points.  That's not how this works.  The more you do something, such as yelling, the more points you get, in hopes that you will think before you act.  The points limit is ten points.  After getting ten points, the 11-year old loses his iPad for the day.  If things continue, he'll lose his Playstation.  But don't worry!  He can redeem himself.  By apologizing or using his manners, he can have points deducted to get back down to zero.  If we're having a really rough day and we're at nine points, the 11-year old has the option of cheating to get a clean slate.  For a cheat, he simply needs to perform a chore, such as folding laundry, taking out the trash, or helping with dinner.  After performing the chore, the score sheet goes back to zero.  And if he acts up again, we start all over.
The important thing about this idea, in my opinion, was giving the 11-year old the power to make the point system (even if I did have to guide him a little bit).  This shows him that I care about his opinion and I trust his judgement.

The 12-year old is developing the mouth of a sailor.  So what to do?  I Googled alternatives to swear jars and found...nothing.  So a swear jar it is.  Actually, it's a What the What?? jar.  But, instead of the 12-year old putting money into the jar, we'll just be using tokens.  If he gets five tokens put in the jar, he loses the Xbox for the day.  Ten tokens, he loses his phone.  I prefer this method over the paying money method because nobody benefits.  With the traditional swear jar, someone (usually the parents) benefits from the money in the jar.  With the What the What?? jar, the only thing being served is discipline.

This little guy is the Gadget Bag.  In the past, the boys' mom used to hide their iPads.  Give the boys five minutes and they either have the iPads in their hands, or the house is a mess from the search.  The Gadget Bag is a form of trust, on both the boys' part, and mom's part.  And mine, I guess.  When the "gadgets" aren't in use, they go in the bag.  This way, the boys always know where their beloved iPads are.  But, heaven forbid, an iPad should be taken from the Gadget Bag without permission.  Punishment is, you guessed it, no more iPad for the rest of the day.  I love this method, which I thought I came up with myself only to find other people use it also.  The Gadget Bag shows that the boys' mom and I trust them enough to do the right thing by keeping the iPads in the bag.  It also shows the boys that they can trust mom and I.  The days of hiding things from them is over.  Trust is an important thing, especially amongst family members.

My job couldn't be more perfect.  I am extremely happy with where I am in my life right now.  I love working with the boys and helping to raise three fine gentlemen.  After almost eight months with the boys, I have seen so much change in all three of them.  Now I know why Supernanny does what she does.  She sees the fruits of her labors.  And her fruits are life changing.  Even though I may think as myself as Supermanny, I know I still have a ways to go before I can take on Jo Frost in nanny to manny combat.  But she had better get ready, because here I come.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

I haven't told you guys recently how much I love my job as a manny.  I absolutely love it!  It is the perfect job for me at this time in my life.  I have fun working with the boys.  I never know what is going to happen next.  The boys keep me entertained with their jokes and silly antics.  And their mother, my boss, is awesome!  She goes out of her way to make sure I am happy and comfortable.  She is a great listener and thoughtfully considers any ideas I may come up with for the boys.  Could it get any better than this?
I didn't always have the perfect job, though.  Before my manny job came along, I worked as a shift manager at a restaurant.  Let me tell you, that is not a dream job. I was miserable as a manager.  I was always tired and irritable.  There were only three things that made me happy.  The end of the shift, my bed, and my cat.  I was a manager for about three out of my seven years at the restaurant.  Way too long!
I've worked other jobs along the way, too.  I worked retail.  That lasted three months.  I worked at a gas station.  That lasted two weeks.  I just couldn't seem to find my happy place.  I knew I wanted to work with kids, but, as I mentioned in The Manny Diaries, child care is a tough place to be in if you are not a female.  So when I finally got hired to work with the boys, I almost immediately quit my management job.  And after some time, I noticed some changes, which my older sister just confirmed for me.  She told me that I seem happier. There are hundreds of things that make me happy, not just three.  I still get very tired after a day of chasing a 5-year old around, but I don't dread going back to work the next day.  I look forward to it.
Don't be afraid of changing jobs.  Finances are important, but I believe happiness is more important.  I am proof that doing what you love can change your outlook on life.  I went from being Scrooge (A Christmas Carol), always negative and hating everything, to Buddy (Elf), finding the good in everything and always striving to be happy.  Pass the happiness on like a disease.  That's what I try to do everyday, now.  Happiness is contagious.  Don't be afraid to catch it and share it.

Choose the Right

Anyone who has known me for the last seven-ish years knows that I have a thumb ring similar to the one seen above.  When people ask me what the letters stand for, I hesitantly tell them "Choose the Right".  I get embarrassed.  This little phrase is something that you teach children at a young age.  Choose the right.  Make good choices.  For me, the ring is more of a fashion statement than a reminder.
Today, though, my ring was a reminder.  The 5-year old I take care of decided to stick some rocks in someone's exhaust pipe at the park.  It's crazy what can happen when you turn your back for ten seconds!  Anyway, the 5-year old and I hung out in the parking lot until the owner of the vehicle arrived.  I told her what had happened and she thanked me for my honesty and took my phone number.  She than gave the 5-year old some wet wipes to clean off his hands and accepted his apology.  She thanked me for my honesty and went on her way.  She was very nice about everything.
In all honesty, though, I was just going to leave a note for her.  I had no idea how long she would be at the park.  I didn't really want to wait.  But she showed up while I was writing the note, which caused me some anxiety.  I thought, maybe I should just leave.  She doesn't need to know who put rocks in her exhaust pipe.  The whole situation made me feel extremely uncomfortable.  After talking to this woman, however, I felt reassured that I had done the right thing.  I mean, I knew I was doing the right thing, but my anxiety was telling me otherwise.
This was pretty much a situation straight out of the children's Sunday School manuals at my church.  "What should Philip do?  What would you do in this situation?"  I'm glad that I was able to overcome my anxiety and do what was right.  After almost eight years of wearing my CTR ring, I was finally able to use it as the reminder it was made to be.

My Story Isn't Over Yet;

I have been so overwhelmed with working one job, training for another, finishing up my online math class, and a million other things that I decided to take a break from my blog.  So, I had my brilliant and wonderful mother write the blog post this week.  I absolutely refuse to skip a Thursday!

 

When Philip asked me to do his last blog post of the month, I thought, no problem. This is Mental Health Awareness month. I have soooo much I could share, but therein lay the problem. I have TOO much for a single blog post. So after debating all week over what I should write, allow me to share with you a single day in the life of someone with bipolar disorder.

Morning can be a struggle, even on sunny days. I fight with pain issues on a regular basis, but add just a little bit of depression to that, and some days I can hardly move. My limbs feel like lead weights, my eyes don't want to open and see the reality of a new day. I don't work, so often I feel totally useless as well. Why bother getting out of bed? Not a problem if I'm hypo(manic). I jump out of bed and rush around not getting hardly anything accomplished in my hyper disorganization. But there are some things that MUST be done. Having to force yourself to do the basics can be very discouraging.

Get up, get dressed, eat and TAKE YOUR MEDS. No matter how horrible you feel, no matter how scattered your thoughts, nothing will make it worse than not taking your meds. If nothing else gets done all day, you must take your meds. A regular (healthy) eating and sleeping schedule can help moderate your symptoms. But we all know that eating healthy is tough when the meds that are supposed to be helping you slow your metabolism and make you crave everything you shouldn't eat. I gained 90 pounds in a year on two meds that I have since insisted be changed. It's difficult to motivate yourself to take medications that put you at risk for heart disease and diabetes. Talk to you doctor. There are other meds to try. We finally got it right the third time around.

I have set up for myself a routine of what needs to be done during the course of the day. For me it's: dishes, laundry, plan/cook dinner, volunteer work I do on the computer (this is what gives me a sense of purpose.) In the spring and summer I also tend the garden. If I'm feeling good I will try to do some other additional housework, or maybe even go out in public. I must be very cautious with my moods and shopping. It is always best to have another person with me when I go to JoAnn Fabrics, or I might spend way too much money. Over time I have become much better about controlling my spending, but it can still be a fight.

A note about leaving the house. When depressed, I can barely get dressed, so going out is not likely. When I'm hypomanic, I want to go out and be with people and do things, but I have a constant fear of annoying them with my incessant jabbering or being inappropriate in some way. Saying the wrong thing, being arrogant, angry or judgmental. Being aware of these things helps me keep these rotten behaviors in check, but sometimes they still get the best of me. So I get embarrassed, and don't want to be around people. My meds make me air-headed and shaky, so that can be a bit awkward in publc.

There is one big thing that helps me get through the day. My dog. If you don't have a comfort animal, you don't know the benefit you can reap from their presence. My comfort animal is a two year old Australian Shepherd/Golden Retriever mix named River Song. She is very sweet and soft and cuddly, and she can make the stress ease away. Dogs love you no matter what. She calms me through tears, shaking, and uncontrollable racing thoughts. When mixed states threaten to rip me in half, River can cuddle up and ease the pain. A black cat serves as a comfort animal for one of my children.

By the time evening runs around I am often emotionally exhausted, though usually it's more physical. I try to get dinner on the table by six for my husband, succeeding some days, failing on others. If I have been having severe racing thoughts during the course of the day, nothing gets done. There are too many voices talking in my head, leaving me constantly confused. If I'm hypo I may start several projects but not finish them, adding to the mess that is my house. This is another area where I can see improvement, but it can still be a problem.

It is with great relief that my bedtime rolls around. I have a small snack and take my night-time meds. If the racing thoughts will let me, I fall asleep fairly quickly. But whether I sleep well or not, the next day I will have to face the chaos I left the day before.

A couple other thoughts. My bipolar treatment interferes with my pain treatments, so we have to balance the two problems and the medications I take. Not fun. Also, if you really want to know what bipolar can be like, read A Brilliant Madness by Patty Duke. It's terrifying, but so informative. It really helped me to see how bipolar was effecting me everyday, and thus allowed me to be on guard for when symptoms popped up. Recognizing symptoms, plus my meds, plus my wonderful supportive family (including the dog) have helped me function at almost a normal level. You can feel like yourself. As for me, my story isn't over yet;

Recycled Post

This is probably cheating, but I don't care.  This is a post from my photography blog that I absolutely love!  I still occasionally look at the pictures and think, Wow!  I took these?  So here is the link:

http://perfectkaptures.blogspot.com/2014/05/mental-health-awareness.html

Enjoy!

Anxiety: A Short Story

It is finished.  After months of waiting, the time has finally come.  I call in the Patient.  The Patient walks into the room, slowly, timidly.  A young male, exhaustion evident in its eyes.  The Patient takes a seat next to the table, taking in its surroundings.  It catches sight of the button on the table.
"Panic?" it says.  "Is this some kind of a joke?"
I smile.  "Let's get started, shall we?"
"What's going to happen?" the Patient asks.  "Why am I here?"
"Just for a little test," I reply.
"Will my fears go away?" asks the Patient.  "Will I be Re-established?"
"I'm afraid not," I say.  "You are a threat to society and to yourself.  Your weakness will be your downfall.  This test will not cure you, but it will help us better understand what you feel.  Let us begin."
I push the button.

I wake up in my bed, the birds singing sweetly outside my window.  The sun is shining through the white curtains.  I don't remember going to bed last night.  In fact, I don't remember anything.  Not to worry, I assure myself.  I probably just took one too many sleeping pills last night.  It'll wear off soon.
A knock at the door.  My body tenses.  Who could it be?  I hesitate a moment before heading for the door.  I open the door to find a young boy.
"What is it?" I ask.  "Shouldn't you be in school?"
The boy looks up at me with sad green eyes.  When he speaks, his voice is small and quiet.  "You forgot, didn't you?" the boy asks.  He beckons me to lean forward, as if to whisper in my ear.  He taps me on the shoulder, turns around, and walks off.
That was strange, I think.  Probably just a little prankster, sent to my door on a dare.  Still, I can't help but notice that my mood has changed.  I can't quite put my finger on it, but something inside me feels different.
I make myself a hot drink to help calm my mind.  I soon forget about the boy, distracted by my thoughts.  I have a case report due today.  I need to go to the post office before heading to the office.  I should pick up some dish soap on the way home.  I finish getting ready to go.
As I step out the door, I am overwhelmed by the sounds of traffic and people's voices.  Again, something inside me doesn't quite feel right.  I begin my quarter mile walk to the post office.
"Excuse me," comes a voice behind me.  I turn to find a woman staring in my direction.  She is dressed as though she is headed to a fancy party.  "You dropped this."  She holds something out in front of her.  It is my credit card.  I reach for her hand.  She moves to the left ever so slightly and taps me on the shoulder.  She then turns and walks away, my card still in her hands.  I just stand there, a strange feeling in my gut.  I begin to sweat.  My body tenses.  Why am I not chasing after her? I wonder.  I can feel my heart racing.
I turn around, looking for someone to help me.  But I forget why I need help.  I shake my head.  "I need some coffee," I say aloud.  I walk over to the nearest café and order a cappuccino.  When I open my wallet, I find that my credit card is missing.  My mind starts racing.
Where did it go?
What happens now?
I look like an idiot.
What if all my money is already gone?
"Are you alright?" asks the man waiting behind me, tapping me on the shoulder.  I jump, startled.  It feels as though a weight has been put on my shoulders.  In fact, now that I think about it, it seems as though my shoulders have been getting heavier and heavier all morning.  My body is so tense it becomes difficult to stand.  I rush out of the café, breathing fast.  I take in my surroundings.  Why is everyone staring at me?  Where did all these people come from?  Someone taps me on the shoulder.  I turn to find who did it.  Someone else taps me on the shoulder, followed by another tap, then another, the weight on my shoulders getting heavier with every touch.  I crouch down to the ground.  I think I'm screaming.  I close my eyes and let the fear overwhelm me.  In my mind I can see all the laughing faces.  I can see my regrets.  I can see my future crumbling away into nothing.  And then...

...I wake up.  The first thing I see is the Patient.  And he is smiling.

A Mental Note

Nothing irks me more than when people blame things on a mental disorder.  "I made this choice because I have a mental illness."  No.  You made that choice because there was a choice to be made.  As you may recall from a previous post (I Am Not My Body), you are not defined by your mental health problems.  You define yourself.
Having grown up with severe social anxiety, I know what it is like to make choices based on my feelings.  And I regret a lot of the choices I made.  I was too scared to do things that I probably would have enjoyed.  But I didn't make my choices because of my anxiety.  The anxiety certainly influenced my choices.  Now, as an adult, I still struggle a lot with my anxiety.  But I push myself out of my comfort zone.  I want to experience life, even if my brain doesn't.  I fight my anxiety.
Which is why certain illnesses becoming mainstream really confuses me.  All this talk about gender dysphoria (aka transgenderism), for example.  Gender dysphoria used to be labelled as a mental illness.  Now, it is a way of life.  It is a choice.  What does that mean for other mental illnesses?
Now, imagine a world where there are no mental illnesses.  Only choices.  Different ways of life.  Anxiety is socially accepted as a way of life.  I am free to never leave my house, to stay cooped up with my fears, terrified of the world around me.  But it's okay.  I made my choice to live with my fears.
What a frightening world!  It gives me anxiety just thinking about it.  Mental illnesses are...well, illnesses.  They are meant to be overcome.  A woman with breast cancer doesn't choose to accept her illness.  She fights it.  A man with diabetes doesn't accept his illness.  He fights it.  A child with the flu doesn't accept their illness.  They fight it.  It really frustrates me that certain mental disorders are being made mainstream while people are still fighting to overcome their own disorders.  I don't mean to start any arguments.  Everyone, including myself, is entitled to their own opinions.  (So please don't stop following me or unfriend me!)  I just want people to see my side of things.  I will respect other people's choices because they are free to make choices.  I can't decide things for others.  But please, don't let a simple hormone imbalance (serotonin in my case) be the deciding factor in your life.  Remember, I am not my body.  Neither are you.  You decide who you want to be.  Choose wisely.

Why Can't Big Boys Cry?

Growing up with anxiety gave me a lot to cry about as a kid.  I was afraid of the dark, afraid of people, afraid of water (swimming).  When put in an uncomfortable situation, I would usually cry.  It took me years to overcome this.  There have been times as an adult where I was put in an uncomfortable situation and the only thing I could do was shed a few tears.  In today's society, this is really embarrassing.  I'm actually embarrassed to be writing about this.  We as a society are just fine with women crying.  They are allowed to show emotion.  But Heaven forbid if a boy should cry.  Buck up!  Big boys don't cry.
It seems as though boys are taught to hide their emotions.  I tried to hide mine for years.  All that bottled up emotion has to come out eventually.  Let's just hope no one is around when it happens.
I don't remember the last time I cried, which is a huge improvement for me.  But when I keep my emotions to myself and let them build up inside me, I usually end up crying eventually.  But different people react in different ways.  Some people, after hiding their emotions, can become angry and lash out at loved ones.  Not only is that unhealthy, it is potentially dangerous for others.
Remember those t-shirts that said "Real Men Wear Pink"?  It's true.  Real men do wear pink.  Real men also show emotion.  They express their feelings openly.  Women, don't assume that men are heartless, soulless beings.  And men, don't be afraid to show that you have a heart.  Don't be afraid to cry a little, laugh sometimes, and love a lot.  You'll be doing yourself a favor.

Keep Calm and...

"Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish."
-John Quincy Adams

President Adams certainly knew what he was talking about.  I've been thinking a lot about patience.  Not to toot my own horn, but my strongest trait is my patience.  I have been told that I have the 'patience of a saint'.  I never really had to learn to be patient.  It just came naturally.  But I have experienced impatience.  It was not a pleasant experience.
The last time I lost my patience, I got really angry with the situation I was in, which resulted in me quitting my job as a shift manager at a restaurant.  (It all worked out in the end.  I love my current job!)  What I learned from this experience was the difference between getting angry and getting frustrated. 
I don't know about you, but when I get angry, I tend to only focus on that which has angered me.  By dwelling upon the situation, I just get angrier and angrier until I eventually give up.
When I am frustrated, however, I can still find ways to resolve the problem.  I am stressed out, but not to the point of giving up.  I am still able to think clearly and get through whatever problem I am facing.
Patience plays a big part in this.  When I get frustrated, I haven't quite gotten to the point where I have lost my patience.  When I get angry, though, all patience is gone.  As you can see, patience can be important in deciding what kind of mood you will be in.  For me, I just keep in mind that through patience, I tend to better get things done. 
The number one cause of people losing patience, in my opinion, is usually in dealing with other people.  No one thinks the way I do, acts exactly the same way I do.  It's easy to lose patience with them.  I just keep in mind that everyone is human.  Everyone makes mistakes.  You shouldn't lose patience with someone because of a mistake they made when you make mistakes in your life as well.  Just remember that in order to love life, you need to keep calm and be patient.

(On a side note, for my Christian friends, my mom taught me to never pray for patience.  Heavenly Father has a sense of humor.  He won't give you patience.  He will teach you patience.  So when you pray for patience, expect things to go terribly wrong.  It's just God trying to teach you a lesson!)

A World Without Imagination

The past few visits with my nephew have been a blast.  He's at a stage in life where everyone is a superhero.  When he is visiting, we fight crime, watch superhero shows, play with masks and action figures, and serve justice...all before nap time.  Playing pretend is always so much fun.  I love my nephew's wild imagination.  I don't get to use my imagination much anymore.

As a child, I had a crazy imagination.  I didn't ask my parents very many questions.  I just made up reasons for things.  For example, one question I do remember asking my mom was how the street lights know when to turn on in the evening and off in the morning.  She said something about computers.  I got it in my head that there were tiny people sitting inside those street lamps playing solitaire on their computers until it was time to light up the neighborhood.

I also remember playing The Floor is Lava with my siblings.  We would gather all our pillows and blankets and jump from pillow to pillow onto our lava resistant ship built from blankets.

While working with kids for the last eight years (Cub Scouts, Primary, babysitting), I've begun to notice a decrease in imagination.  I've witnessed children pretending, but only what they've seen on TV.  They rarely come up with their own stories.  They will, in fact, recite full lines from movies and TV shows.

What does this say about today's children?  Are they spending too much time in front of the television?  How about iPads and Tablets?  The games they are playing are preprogrammed to work a certain way.  No need for imagination there.  And even public schools are cutting back on teaching children how to be imaginative.  If a school district is running low on money, what is usually the first thing to be cut?  Music and art, where children are free to express themselves.

What can we do about this?  Unplug the kids.  Give them an arts and crafts project.  Let them play make believe.  Read to them.  Through books, children can be taken to a new world that they have to picture in their minds, assuming we're reading a novel and not a picture book.  

A world without imagination is a world I don't wish to be a part of.  Without imagination there would be no future.  No new ideas or inventions.  Nothing would ever change.  So next time I'm pretending to be a superhero with my nephew, I'm going to tell him that his greatest super power is real.  Imagination is a super power.  Imagine that.

Does That Make Me Racist?

I've been seeing a lot of posts lately claiming that white people are born racist.  I always thought this was nonsense.  The way one is raised determines what they believe.  And then I thought about an event that had occurred in my life.
One summer night, a little before midnight, my older sister and I were driving a friend back to his home.  He lived in a rough neighborhood with a mostly black population.  After saying our goodbyes, my sister and I headed home.  While still in the neighborhood, we drove passed two black teen boys.  One of them jumped on our car and then slipped off the other side.  This event really freaked us out.
Arriving home around midnight, we pull into out parking space and witness a black women walking into our home.  Again, we were a little freaked out.  But why were we so distressed?  Would my sister and I have acted the same way if a white woman were walking into our house at midnight?  Honestly, I don't think we would have.  We would have been confused, but probably not worried.
After warily walking into the house, my sister and I found our next door neighbor, who was extremely pregnant, with my mom in the basement.  She couldn't sleep and wanted to see what we had done with our basement.  This woman and her husband, both black, were the best next door neighbors we had ever had.  My sister and I both felt very guilty for assuming something bad was going to happen.
I am not racist.  My sister is not racist.  No one in my immediate family is racist.  I think that my sister and I were still stressed out from the teen boy jumping on our car.  Because of this stress, seeing a black women walking into our home made us a little cautious.
I hope no one thinks any differently of me (or my sister) because of this little blurb of an event.  This happened probably twelve years ago, but it's still on my mind to this day.  It bothers me that I judged such a wonderful woman based on someone else's actions.  My parents were very firm about teaching my siblings and I to love our neighbors.  Not just our literal neighbors, but those who we see in our everyday lives.
I don't offend easily, but those posts claiming that (to a certain degree) all white people are racist really upset me.  It's like I'm being accused of a crime I didn't commit.  I am not a racist.  A person is a person, no matter what they look like. Treat everyone the same way.  Love everyone.