Discoveries

This is important. I want to write it.
But ... one thing I've discovered is ... I'm exhausted.

Not much different than usual, but worth noting nonetheless.

I've been learning a lot about myself, and my interactions with the boys this week.

I've discovered that I hover. I save. I entertain. I clean up after. I do for. I repeat. I yell. I nag. I direct. I bribe. When these things don't work, I resort to whining, threats, and tantrums of my own. I get frustrated, then angry.

This week has been a good lesson in letting all of that go. Some things are harder to let go of than others. Attempting to solve the boys problems is probably one of the hardest, for me.

I've discovered that when I'm not trying to solve everyone's problems for them, I can just empathize, hug, cuddle. That these actions are often more supportive than giving away my solutions. I can give suggestions best by posing them in the first person. "Sometimes I ...". It is clear that this works better than saying "you could". We now have evidence. And if the boys ask for something that they can do themselves? I am trying to differentiate between help and doing things for them; I am practicing "help yourself" and "I have confidence that you can ...", as well as asking guiding questions, instead of answers.

We are also discovering our limits. It is very hard not to intervene in violence between the boys, especially for AD. He was the little brother who was always picked on. The dynamic in our family is somewhat different, but close enough to be an issue.

There is also only so much mess that we can tolerate. And, in fact, we did get some agreement from at least R that the house was just too messy, and that it would be better to put things away as soon as we're done with them. Of course, that doesn't help with the current state of things, but he did also agree to clean up, as long as he didn't have to do it alone. Of course not! So we worked on cleaning up together, and ordered some pizza, and worked on cleaning up some more. AD & I probably cleaned up 5 times as much as R, and E did very little at all, but at least we kept V from dumping everything out again. And maybe, just maybe, the sugary cereal stuck all over everything in the living room will be a good reminder why we don't eat in there. In any case, getting some cooperation in cleaning up is going to be important for us.

There is so much more to write. But it will have to wait until I am not so exhausted.

Looking up

Good things also happened this week.

The maple trees have leafed out and while our lilac is not the color I imagined, it is still delightfully fragrant.






We finally made it to the craft store on Monday, for materials to create this token of our love.


We visited the library and brought back as many books as we could carry - about cats, dogs, tigers, a Tiger that wields a club, volcanoes, and more.

I enrolled in an art class to start in a few weeks, if at least one other student will join. I enrolled the Painter in a summer ceramics class as well. He is wait-listed.

I found a pediatrician and arranged well visits for The Painter & The Composer.

An appointment has also been scheduled for us to tour the neighborhood school at which The Painter is enrolled for the fall.


The boxes in the living room have been moved or emptied, their contents still partially strewn about.

Aimless wandering this week has apparently taken us where we need to be.

At my brother's house today, sitting in the warm afternoon sun, with my family around me, my grandmother asked me, "So are you glad you moved?"

My answer is an unqualified yes. I am in the right place. It may not always be easy, but it is where I am supposed to be right now.

Read here about something else that was up and came down to much applause.

Apologetic

I'm sorry this will be such a short post, but the Composer is hungry again.

I'm sorry I haven't written much lately, though there are many things I want to write about.

I'm sorry to be leaving newfound friends. I apologetically explain that it's not them that has made us leave.

I'm sorry to be leaving our few old friends in the area, even if they think we're crazy.

I apologize to the neighbors when I tell them that this is still a nice neighborhood, even if we don't choose it.

Although I haven't done it yet in person, I have, in my mind, a hundred times apologetically told my boss I won't be returning from leave. I'm sorry about the short notice, but you weren't expecting me back for a month anyway, were you? I'm sorry you'll have to find someone else to take over my tasks. I'm sorry I don't think this work is as worthwhile as you do.

I'm sorry I'll have to give back this computer.

I'm good at guilt. Now it is time for a new practice.
I don't need to apologize for being me.

Be yourself.

These words are inscribed on the title page of my copy of Momma Zen, but until recently, I just didn't get it. Of course I should be myself, but who am I?

What I am starting to realize, in my better moments, is that I don't have to complicate my life with labels. I don't have to fix myself. I don't have to find a new direction, or find any direction.

All I need, to be myself, is just to be: free, afraid, joyful, sad, peaceful, angry, awake, exhausted, creative, drained, engineering, nurturing, blogging, loving, changing, the same, many voices, all one, breathing, heart beating, me.

Thank you all for reminding me.

Freedom

Even though I don't claim the moniker "control freak" nor even pass as one most of the time, I do like to feel in control of major life decisions. Rolling down the hill inside a hamster ball put me out of sorts, until my loving AD explained that I was really on skis, and could stop any time I like, even climb back up the hill with a bit of effort.

That is, he told me (paraphrased) "If you want to go back to work, go back to work. So, we have a house [halfway across the country]. It will be ready for us when we are ready to go. If you want to work part-time, work part-time. If you want to go back for a while to see if it will work, go back for a while." If this version of the future doesn't work for you, try on another one.

Oh. Freedom. I am still free. I can stop the ball, or the skis. I can return to my job either full or part-time. I can try to pick up contract work. I can try to pick up other kinds of work. We can stay here another couple months while I decide. We can go right away, and live off savings, and I can spend my days with my boys and exploring how I'd like to live the rest of my life. Oh. I get it.

Remind me, now, what was I afraid of?

Ball is Rolling

Raw writing here. Acknowledging my emotions and trying to work through them for my own benefit. Feel free to read on, but I won't be offended if you turn back.

My thoughts are churning, swirling, as I fly head-over-heels inside the ball, rolling down the hill. I don't know what awaits me at the bottom of the hill, and I fear it. Perhaps the ball will be smashed to pieces, and life as I know it will end.

What will end? What am I afraid of losing? If I don't take chances, I risk losing myself.

My life these days consists largely of poop and pee and spit, and feeding and eating and sleeping. In between, I find myself busying myself with chores, with reading, in a desperate attempt to escape from my thoughts, those thoughts that muddy my sight, muddy my self-understanding. (They are still with me.)

Last week we went on a house-hunting trip. As we found something we liked, though it cost more than we were hoping, we put in an offer on a cute little old house with a biggish yard, two side-walked blocks from a park, walking distance to shopping, and a short drive from the shores of Lake Michigan. Closing is set for the end of March. All we await now is loan approval.

I find, in this land of bodily fluids and little rest, that I am not as confident about our choices, about my choices, as I was before little Composer was born. Things are not so serene now - I don't find myself happily watching the boys and peacefully acknowledging where I am. Everything is moving too fast. I'm not just afraid of what's happening, I'm downright terrified. I cling to the edge of the ship as it sails along, but I don't feel like I am setting the sails, or deciding which direction to go. Why? What is so scary?

I start to gain some insight, with the help of my mirror, AD. What do I want if money is no object? What do I want, if I see things with the right perspective? Nothing more than to spend time with my family, watch my boys grow and help them to learn as they teach me, to rediscover my own creative spirit, to live a little every day, rather than die a little in the grip of blinding fear of the unknown.

Ok, then it is a good decision to leave work and spend more time with my family. But when asked if I want to go back to work (or if I want to leave work) my mind seizes up and I can't answer. Why? What makes me so afraid to say "I'm quitting! I'm going to take 'their' advice and spend the next few years enjoying my babes while they are little. I'm going to live and love and create."

A big part of the answer appears to be money. We are picking up & moving across the country, to a location in which it will be difficult for me to find employment in my current field. AD's business is just getting off the ground, and may not make any money for months, or years. We will be living off of savings in the interim, and are locking ourselves into a costly (ever so much less so than in this part of the country) home loan. Now that we are investigating them in earnest, the moving costs are piling up. We are leaving behind my substantial salary and health care benefits for nothing. (No dollars that is.)

Voices in my head: "That's just not what you do! How long will our money last? What if the business doesn't become profitable on a convenient timetable? What if I need to go back to work? What if I want to go back to work?"

By moving across the country, we are cutting off a convenient "escape route" in my mind - that of going back to work, in the same place, a known quantity, a good job working on "cool" projects - just in case the need should arise.

But really, why should the need arise? We have a good standard of living, but we can afford to live on less, especially in a much less expensive part of the country. We can do without a lot of the little luxuries we have become accustomed to ... such as buying just about anything whenever we feel like it. (A side benefit from living on less might be that we are all more grateful and appreciative.) But say we really do need more money even after we cut corners as much as we are able? Well, hey, then AD, or I, or both of us can get a job. We are both employable, I am sure. Worst case scenario, if I decide I just must absolutely go back into my current profession, and I can't find a way to do it from the western shores of the Lake? Well, then, we will just have to move again. But we won't have to do that. We have other options.

What is important? Is it all these things in the house that are causing the moving costs to go up up up? Is it the "cool things" built by my current prestigious employer? Is it my fear of explaining myself to people? Is it my reputation, my salary, the "perks" of the job? Is it the warm weather and oranges growing in our backyard? Is it the number of dollar signs stored in the bank?

Jen's quote of MLK drives it home: I do this for me, but I also do it for my family. Nothing else is certain.

Identity

Perhaps I fear becoming the woman that this woman finds revolting.

On the one hand, I want to be "mom" to my boys; I want to be involved at their schools, help them with homework and projects and crafts, to read to them and take them on adventures to explore the neighborhood, or the beach, or the museum. I also crave connection with other moms; I want to sit & have coffee with friends while our kids play in the park, to compare joys and headaches, to trade babysitting and parenting tips. I want to not feel so alone.

Of course, I am mom, whether I have paid employment or not. And there always seems to be time for diaper changes and laundry and dishes. But finding time for living my ideal version of motherhood is difficult to fit in with a full time job outside the house.

Then there's the other hand. What if staying at home with the boys falls far short (as it surely will) of my high expectations? Then who and what would I be? The answer is, of course, below - but apparently I have been away from my thoughts (or my paint) for too long.

Dissembling

I could go back to work, throw myself into it, try to make changes that would make me happier in my career, all the while feeling like I am spending too much time away from my beautiful boys, wishing I had time to spend on hobbies and crafts, wishing I had a support network nearby, wishing I had time to meet other mothers of young children, to build a community.

Or I could quit my job and still not have time for hobbies, but the possibilities seem endless if I am not spending 40 hours per week on paid employment. I'm sure I could find some way to make some money if I need to. I can certainly find some time to connect with other moms - after all, I have to do something with the boys if I will be watching them all day. And I'm sure I can find other ways to feel useful, competent, and appreciated.

Would I really throw myself into my work and make changes to my career path while I am worrying about the babes at home? What would I do if I didn't need the money?

The choice seems apparent - leave. But for some reason I still cling to my job. Being an engineer, a "rocket scientist" is wrapped up in my identity, and it is very hard to let it go. Instead, I continue to remind myself that quitting this job doesn't mean quitting my career, even if I take a few years off. And even if I never return to paid employment as an engineer, no one can take that part of my identity away from me. When I am ready to shed it, I will.

Who am I?

I am much more than my job, my career. I am also more than mom. I am many things, simultaneously, and serially. I am a work in progress. I am me.

Playing with paint.

My Mother's Life

This spilled from my mind last week ... and now I have edited enough.

There was a time in my life when I feared becoming my mother. It's not that I didn't love her or appreciate her loving mothering. But, I saw her as a failure, as someone who had given up on her budding career before it ever went anywhere and became "just a housewife".

When Mom started college she wanted to be a doctor. She graduated with honors, with a BS in the sciences. At the time, though, she was engaged to my father and decided not to continue her education. She applied for a few industry jobs, but with an engagement ring on her finger, she was subject to the kind of discrimination that we, thankfully, don't see much today. The story I heard about one company's attitude was: "What if your husband gets transferred? We don't want the trouble of finding someone new then." Although she was very qualified, they didn't hire her. (And 37 years later, my father works for the same company and was never transferred far enough to consider moving the household.)

Those rejections were a good excuse to get started on a family. I was born 10 months after Mom & Dad were married. She substitute taught while pregnant with me, and didn't return to work until a few years after my brother (two years younger) was in school. That's about 8 years of being "just a mom". When she went back, it was to a teacher's assistant position: not a career I considered worth aspiring to when I was a young woman, but something that allowed her to be home when her children were.

I always thought Mom had given up on her dreams. But, in the light of my own experiences, I see that if she had really wanted to pursue becoming a doctor, had wanted to pursue a job in industry, she probably could have done so. Mom is not a much of a fighter, and it would have been difficult ... but I think that if she really wanted to pursue these career choices, then she would have kept at it longer, tried harder. Perhaps she thought that some day she would return to her dreams of a career, or maybe she didn't. But ultimately, that wasn't her choice.

When she became a teaching assistant, a lowly "teacher's aide", Mom achieved many things I imagine she wanted. Time enough for family, to raise two beautiful self-confident children who could dream of astronomical careers, time enough for religion, time enough for personal pursuits, and a job where she could work with kids and help people. Although her work was not at the top of society's standards for success, she was respected, and used her mind. She taught Sunday school, and became superintendent of Sunday school for the church. She became president of the church. She was active with her sorority, and held various leadership positions. She read, a lot, and shared her love of reading with me. She sang in the church choir. She has done many wonderful, worthwhile things with her life, even without an ambitious career.

When I was younger, it was hard for me to accept my mother's choices. The conflict I feel about leaving my career now leads me to believe that it is still difficult for me to accept, especially from myself. How can I, that young girl that dreamed of the stars, accept that my career is no longer important to me, that it's okay to let it go? The path is right in front of me.

In the past, I have feared becoming my mother. But I am no longer afraid. With the haze of fear removed from my eyes, I recognize what a wonderful role model she has been for me. And I see that she still has much to teach me. I will live, and love, and move in new directions.

Thanks, Mom.

What Madeleine Albright Told Me

Last spring, AD started working with a career coach. After about a month, as part of the process, the coach asked to have a joint session with me. He asked me to name three people I admire, who could serve as role models for my life. I named my mother and father, and he suggested that I name the third person from outside my family. Quick, the first person that comes to your mind. ("The first thing that comes to your mind" seemed to be one of his favorite phrases.)

Me: Okay. Madeleine Albright.

Why I thought of Madeleine Albright, I don't really know. In fact, I don't really know much about her, at all, except that she was the first woman who held the position of U.S. Secretary of State. I also imagine that she is a strong woman, and I have heard that she attained this powerful position after raising a family.

So then the coach asked me another on-the-spot question of the sort I'd rather avoid: "If you could talk to Madeleine Albright right now, what would she tell you?" (Quick, the first thing that comes to your mind.)

Me: "You don't have to choose."

Coach: "What don't you want to choose?"

Me: "Between work and my family."

~~~~~

(In response to your comments on my previous post.)

Decisions have always been difficult for me. When I took this job (only a little more than a year ago), I thought about it for nearly a month before deciding not to take it, and subsequently changing my mind in light of a change in circumstances. Now, I've been deliberating on the choice to leave the same job for more than six months. I feel sometimes like I am a daisy being picked "now she loves her job, now she doesn't, now she stays at work, now she quits."

I have made my choice, but it is very difficult for me to admit that. Perhaps I am waiting for circumstances to change, or for February, or for the last reservations to fall away. Perhaps I am still waiting for certainty.

I know that I am following my heart. I know that when I choose to leave, I can also choose to return. I know that nothing is forever. But living with that knowledge and accepting it is a daily challenge for me.

Housework and Hormones

I've been furiously running around the house today, trying to clean things up, trying to organize and hide the clutter that prevails with three two boys leaving a mess all the time, and one very helpful au pair moving it to anywhere there appears to be space. Actually, running around is something of an exaggeration, since I haven't had much energy today. I'm only six months pregnant (approximately) but today and yesterday I feel like I am ready to give birth. Or at least ready to be done with being pregnant. The crazy hormones have me feeling like I'm riding a roller coaster -- right now I am sliding down, down, down.

The truth is, we have a lot of things, but the house isn't in as much a state of clutter as is my mind.

Articulate and I had a long conversation last night (date night, courtesy of D.). We discussed such things as why it doesn't really make sense to budget right now although I worry about finances and health care costs after I leave work, how long A.D. will continue to apply for new faculty positions, and where we really want to move if interesting post or a hypothetical one like it does not work out. Among the issues raised in this last part of the discussion was whether we should consider career options for me (in my current career) as part of our move. I said, I don't wish to consider them. I no longer enjoy my work, and I can't see wanting to come back to it anytime soon.

And then these doubts begin to plague my mind again. Why do I not enjoy my work now, when a year ago it was fine, and 1.5 years ago I was having a pretty good time? Is it just the pregnancy hormones? To which Articulate astutely asked, "What do you want right now? Do you want certainty?" Well, maybe. Although I know in my mind that nothing in life is certain, perhaps my heart still hungers for it.

Finding no certainty, I think I'll eat chocolate.

My Inner Demons

• "I don't know ..."
• "I don't like ..."
• "I should really ..."
• "What if ...?"
• "How can I ...?"
• "I shouldn't ..."
• "How did it get to be this late?"
• "I didn't ..."
• "But ..."
• "I can't ..."
  
• "I'm wasting time."

They multiply, these demons. One begets another and then another. Without moving a leg, I run from them to distraction and try to hide away, but they follow me, because they are me, and in distraction they multiply some more. They tie me to my seat without any rope because that is where "I am supposed to" be.

Today, all I really want to do is cry.

When I do, perhaps the storm will pass and I will at last be still.

Lucky I only fear the worst

These scary stories and Lillian's Very Bad News have me thinking about how lucky I am.

I have a job that pays the bills (even though rent is $2000/month) and subsidizes health care premiums for the whole family. We can afford quality child care (and I highly recommend the au pair program as an affordable means of child care, especially if you have more than one child needing care). Although there is no paid maternity leave, I am eligible for short-term disability pay for approximately the first six weeks after the baby is born, and I live in one of the very few states with paid family leave.

Nonetheless, I am contemplating leaving all of this behind. No - I have decided to leave, although I give myself permission to change my mind. I am afraid of what may await me when I leave my career behind, both personally and financially. But I am also drawn to spend more time with my boys, so that I can learn again the lesson that Articulate Dad and I used to practice, "Live each day as though it were your first, with the wide-open, wondering eyes of a child."

Articulate has recently applied for a very interesting interdisciplinary academic post, and we are keeping our fingers crossed that it will work out. Of course, I want it to work out because it could be very personally rewarding and satisfying for A.D. But I also have selfish motivations in that it would ease my fears, and make it easier to explain why I am leaving work. But what if he doesn't get the position? Is it irresponsible of me (us) to leave my job, this source of stability and security?

I want the freedom to choose my life, but I fear that my choices will not yield the results I expect, that I may end up in a scary story of my own making.

I would do better to remember that security is an illusion, and that all things in life are temporary. In the recent California fires, all we suffered was some bad air quality, but certainly a lot of people learned a lesson in the impermanence of all things.

Fear is a part of life. But I can let go of my fear, and trust that everything will turn out all right.

Recuperation

I spent two days at home to recuperate, but didn't end up doing much resting on either one. I did take some time for myself on Monday, listening to an article about Opting Out from North Carolina public radio. I particularly liked a comment from one of the callers, Anna, who had left her high-powered career in Boston to move to North Carolina where her husband pursued his dream to be a school teacher and she stay home with their child. In Boston, he had been a stay-at-home dad while she worked, but then she decided to "opt out" of her career, and they opted into a different lifestyle in which, she recounts, "I've never been happier and I've never been poorer in my whole life."

That kind of testimonial is important for me to hear. As much as we all know that money can't buy happiness, I certainly have reservations about leaving work, partly because of the (somewhat irrational) fear of not having enough money.

Now here's my picking and choosing mind at work again. Just because money can't buy happiness, does that mean I'll be happier with less of it? More to the point, will I be happier if I leave work than if I stay?

The answer to that question can, in part, be found in the two days I was just at home. As I mentioned, I didn't actually spend much time resting while at home. In addition to listening to other women talk about being poor and happy, enjoying some time to myself, enjoying some time with my boys, and doing some work, I did something just a little bit creative. I figured out, all on my own, without a sewing machine, how to convert some of A.D.'s old T-shirt's into Halloween costumes for the boys. While the "kitty ghost", for the Painter, still needs a little work, the Inventor's pumpkin costume turned out pretty cute. (Pictures coming soon.)

Thinking about that simple, creative, loving act, making Halloween costumes for the boys, makes me smile.

Holding out until February

My due date is in February, and I've been planning to work until then. Financially, it makes a lot of sense, since I would not only earn 3-4 more months of regular income, but also be eligible for 6-10 weeks of disability pay plus 6 weeks of paid family leave from the state. That's 3-4 months of paychecks from the state, without having to do one lick of engineering work (we all know that having a newborn at home is also a lot of work). And, health insurance is undoubtedly cheaper while working than if I was paying COBRA.

All that said, it sure is hard to stay focused on the job these days. Sure, part of me says, "well, now that I've made the decision to leave, I ought to do a bang-up job, and get everything finished and in order before I go." But ... I've never been very disciplined. Having made the decision to go (tentatively, arduously, and over the course of months), I'm already mentally & emotionally on my way. My physical self is here at work, but it doesn't accomplish much without the rest of me.

Guilt (part 2)

This guilt has more to do with keeping my job than leaving it.

I feel incredibly guilty for blogging and wandering the internet as much as I do during the day when I am supposed to be working. This, of course, only serves to, on the one hand, convince me that I don't really like what I am supposed to be doing, and, on the other hand, make me feel bad about working so that I like it even less. I'm sure this guilt is a good part of the reason that I feel emotionally numb by the end of the day.

I don't want to feel numb. I want to live!

Guilt

Once the flood gates open ...
... you get to hear about all the things that have been stewing in my brain for the past week.

One of the things that makes it difficult for me to say I will leave my job is guilt. This guilt comes in several forms.

I feel guilty that by leaving, I will be treating the people I work with badly, when I have been treated so well. I know my coworkers are very busy, and my boss is looking to expand the department, and people in my field are in pretty high demand right now, so if I leave, won't I be leaving them in a lurch? If I analyze this guilt, I realize how irrational it is. First, I am making assumptions about how much I am needed and how much I will be missed that are probably somewhat exaggerated. Secondly, I have been treated well and well-compensated for the work I have done, and will do until I leave. That compensation is not for future work, work that I can leave for some other engineer who wishes to be well-compensated. I am sure I am not paid any better than my peers for what I do, so I shouldn't sell myself short by feeling an obligation to the company because of my current compensation. People, my boss in particular, may feel disappointed that I am leaving, but I need to remember that disappointment is unavoidable in life, sometimes, and disappointment is not injury. I am not treating someone badly by disappointing them. (If I tried to avoid disappointment at home I might feed my boys sweets all day and give them anything they asked for. Would this be in their best interests and "treating them well"? Absolutely not!)

Another kind of guilt I feel about leaving work is what Articulate has likened to survivors guilt. Why should I be able to take off from work, to leave the "daily grind" when so many people need to work to make ends meet? Isn't it somehow wrong for me to leave? Irrational, I know, but present nonetheless.

Then there is the financial guilt. I feel that by leaving work I put our future financial well-being at risk. We will be drawing down savings instead of increasing them. This goes against the practical German-heritage Midwest no-nonsense upbringing I had. How can I possibly take off work indefinitely and still expect to have money left for my children's college education and our old age, not to mention any emergencies that come along? But, I must remember, I'm not in this alone. As A.D. reminds me, he intends to make his business profitable, and maybe a lack of my income will help to motivate him towards success. Besides, I am an intelligent and capable person. While I may not be able to earn as much money in another line of work as I do currently, I am sure I can bring in some income if it becomes necessary. And, I might even figure out how to make money doing something I enjoy, if I stop spending so much of my time doing something that I don't.

Love-Hate Relationship

It's becoming clear to me that I don't really have a love-hate relationship with my work so much as I have an apathetic relationship to my work. I like the pay, the adult interaction, the recognition from co-workers and my boss, that I feel competent and respected. The work mostly bores me. The projects are cool, but they don't drive me. Nothing about the work seems to really excite my passions, although they used to, when I first started this career. Now ... my passions lie elsewhere.

This became more clear to me last week, while I listened to a news report about a road-rage drag-racing incident, in which some innocent bystanders in a parked car were struck, and a 5-year-old boy killed. Of course, this hit very close to home, because the Painter is 5 years old. I thought to myself, "Life is too precious to waste doing something I don't want to be doing." And, "We need to get out of this place." Not that bad things only happen here - I know they can happen anywhere - but why stay in a place we don't really like, when the only thing keeping us here is a job I don't really like?

Presence

Why do I always find myself shopping? I often don't even end up buying anything, as I finally come to the conclusion that I don't really need any of the things I've been browsing, and if I did, why would I want to pay shipping for them from online - I might be better off going to the store - where I will probably not find what I want, and head back to the internet. I can spend hours in a similar pursuit, looking for a place to visit for a long weekend, but coming to the conclusion that it costs a lot to go somewhere even for the weekend, so maybe I'd rather save that money for a real trip later, that I probably also won't plan.

It's as if I am casting about, looking for what it is that I really want, hoping that I'll come across it in my random searching. But somehow, I doubt that I'll find it online, or in a store. The answer to that question has to come from within. And the only way I will find the answer, is by stopping these escapist activities, and being present to the thoughts that cross my mind.