What makes you nervous?
The supervolcano at Yellowstone ranks among the top 100. But more so is the overdue for an eruption—Mount Rainier in Washington state. I grew up staring down that beast of a mountain on the long gravel drive to where I caught the bus with my brother and the neighbor kids, Samantha and Ty. It wasn’t until we were doing “lahar drills” in elementary school that I started to see that glacial palace for what it was: a pressurized steam cooker that, with just one wrong look, could blast freshly thawed floods and obliterate all of King and Pierce County.
Phew, that thought thread also made sense of my long-held confusion over my angst around pressure cookers, too.
On a serious but nervous note, my role a mandated reporter fits this criteria. My nervous energy peaks at seeing caregivers aggressive toward their children, their heightened tone is like nails on a chalkboard.
Also, unsaid expectations. The passive question or answer implies a reading between the lines. Oh, I hate that. I hear what you’re saying by not saying it, and my body is back out to sea, being knocked over by the waves of ambiguity and lack of clarity.
All this talk about nerves has my body revved. It’s ready and raring to go. Cinderella in her glass slippers, ball gown, and tiara—but with no coach. Too much talk of nerves also makes me nervous, I see.
A current parenting issue, one that has my husband’s and my nerves wavering like a poorly strung guitar, is the lack of ownership our daughter is taking over her daily needs. Each task has one of us involved, coaxing or motivating, and the toll on us is high. Not to fret—we’re on it. A plan is in the works. A handing over the keys, if you will. These habits—teeth and hair brushing, cleaning the room, feeding the bunny, etc.—get neglected, and the excess falls on us.
The angst, the helplessness, and feelings of failure are not working. Beliefs that I’m asking too much only block me and keep this pattern going. I’ll see myself out of that and work on creating and implementing a system that actually works.
Lastly, I get nervous about ending blog posts. I think I suck at it. Thinking that isn’t all too helpful either, because nothing I say or do can prove I’m good at ending posts. In actuality, it’s an end for now, until I’m back writing tomorrow. A pause. This is simply a pause.
Love,
Jaclynn