Hotel room heaven

Yep that's right, I am saying that a hotel room can be heaven. It is not as salacious as that first seems.
Just imagine that you have spent the last twenty years caring for your child's needs every hour of every day. Your entire emaotional state is concerned with ensuring that your child fels secure, loved, and valued. You are the emotional sounding board, in sync with the child's fluctuating moods. When he is happy, you are happy. When anxious you feel pressure to 'make things better'. After all it is 'your responsibility'... or at least somewhere you have taken this imperative as true. The whole living through your child (called emeshing) is a psychological aberration yet when speaking to mothers, I have been privileged to share these revelations. They too feel the same. I am not a pathological weirdo damaging my child by over-investing emotionally. I am just like everybody else.

Not that this is a healthy thing. Indeed I can testify that this is actually draining and emotionally damaging to yourself. You lose yourself as your self-perception is that of [the child's] mother, and your needs and wishes become subsumed by guilt... guilt that you SHOULD not put your needs ahead of your child's.

It makes no sense at all, I know, but it is a powerful 'should'.

We know what should happen to 'shoulds' and 'musts'...

But we are fallible and living in s disconnected society where mothers often feel isolated and unsure of what is the 'right' way to behave as a mother.

There are also very strong calls that "by making time for yourself you are able to be more relaxed, less unfuilfilled and able to be there for your child in a more effective and happier parent-child relationship."

Well this is all very well if your economic circumstances do not require balancing needs between family and self.

Mothers seem 'hard-wired' to put everybody else first.

Since my child has reached adulthood I now feel I am permitted to attend to my own needs and not feel selfish. Meeting my needs is supposed to be part of my wellness routine, and by being well I can feel better about myself.

I can forge an identity of my self that stands apart from my socially constructed identity as mother, sole-parent, welfare mum, dole bludger, perennial student, lazy wastrel, etc... This identity can be 'mature woman'.

As a mature woman, I deserve and need privacy. It is about time that my bedroom and my bathroom (and indeed my study) are my sacred places, not thoroughfares where my son can corner me to gain exclusive attention.

I mean, even the household cats corner me in the toilet assuming that is the perfect place for feline attention! As for putting on make-up, forget it... I almost always jump sky high when either son or cat suddenly enters the bathroom.

I guess that is all my fault by having that '70's attitude that the human body should not be hidden and people should not feel ashamed of their natural body... yeah great call Carol! Especially since I have been ashamed of my body now for over 20 years and avoid mirrors at all costs. How did this lapse of privacy continue through this period?

Not only does my son not recognise doors and doorways into my living zones, to a lesser degree neither does his aged father. At least my bathroom is off limits, and the bedroom MOSTLY.

The excuse to over-ride my need for privacy seems to be a 'need' to pet the cats. If they happen to be on my bed (even if I am in it at the time)... it is supposed to be okay to enter and pat the cat/s!! Since when is this acceptable? Also when a cat is comfy and curled into the armchair asleep behind me in my study whilst I type away, it seems that this is another signal that 'cat patting is allowed'.

Am I being unreasonable here, when I feel that a man who has had no part in my life since conceiving THE CHILD can now assume , just because we share a house
(a large one with three separate living zones), that privacy and Carol's spaces are 'open all hours' when a cat is present?

And why is it that I have that special magnetism over the bloody cats? I didn't go and collect them to give them a home. I said 'no'. I was over-ruled by the two adult males, yet the cats come after me for affection and companionship.

It is all so cliched. Lonely single woman with pet cats as companions. Perhaps because there is truth in the connection between cats and single women. Hey even that spunky beautiful thirtyish blonde detective in Cold Case has a cat living with her in her apartment.... so it should not be seen as a stigmatising symbol of ageing womanhood.

Is that connection with witches and their familiars the problem here? Are older women dangerous in their liberation and raw female power?

Okay then, I am proud to be a cat owner! I am mobilising a subversive identity... but this particular 'witch' cannot summon up enough power to defend her own private space... Ah I only I had a broomstick I would regularly fly off to be alone...

The nearest I can do, is to lash out every so often, when the hotel rewards schemes are offering bonus points, or double point offers, or as was the case last week a $60 plus points night in a 4 star hotel.

I could not wait to book.

Why?

Some would say hotels are tacky, featureless, and devoid of any saving graces. But for me, they symbolise privacy and freedom. I am free to not worry about cleaningbathrooms, laundering linen and making beds. I can make coffee without leaving the widescreen TV. Room service is tempting with bottles of wine and snacks. I can drink a bottle of wine and fall into a spacious bed without worrying about keeping my alcohol level to under 0.5. I can avoid driving by being in the city centre.

I can look at the city lights from my window, the reflections of those fireballs in the darkened surface of the Yarra. I can stroll across and buy chocolates, Chinese, French, Italian, strong coffees and delectable cakes and Danishes... anything that takes my fancy any time I desire it.

I can even ignore it all but still feel free because I have the option to do what I want, without needed to justify it or explain to anybody!

And what's more I can concentrate on writing and using the hotel WIFI, the business centre, or doing laps of the outside heated pool (which nobody uses in winter), and the gym. I can use the yoga mats, the wonderful machines that I adore (without the fear of meeting lycra-clad gym junkies).

I can pretend. I can pretend I am on holiday. I can pretend I am here just for the mid year sales or the theatre, or concerts, galleries or any of the wonders Melbourne offers in winter.

I can just be me. No explanations, no justifications, no demands, just freedom (and no kids or cats).

They become my special places. I am my one and only priority... for at least one night.

I leave feeling recharged.

Yep, those tacky chain hotels are my heavens... at least while the dollars are in my debit card account!

Fun Friday...

Last night's book launch was fun. I felt I owed it to my dear colleague to attend his launch rather than the Alumni Chancellors lecture. Luckily this proved to be the correct decision, as the lecture was recorded and will appear podcast somewhere in the future.

I am sure that the panelists also use the same speeches at many events, and they will be readily available somewhere, perhaps at the Wheeler Centre sessions?

The book launch was good in that I met some new and interesting people, especially those from the outside world. Hello Ann! I admire people with the confidence to work in the private sector assured that their skills are marketable to demanding employers. I have never felt I had marketable skills for the world outside education or the public service sector. On so many occasions my lower middle-class background colours my sense of place in this world, no matter how many qualifications I accumulate.

It is as if I believe that my fate is to never be economically secure as I have rebelled against my 'station in life' so must be penalised.

How irrational is that?

After having left the launch I travelled back to my new, cheaper hotel. This time my pockets were empty and I had only enough for the train fare home. No room service for me, no lesiurely breakky or trips to the sales again. The only good thing was that I had some white wine left from the bottle my friend brought to my previous hotel room. I could pretend my life is comfortable and filled with wine, perfume, concerts, theatre, restaurants and companions...

Watch what you wish for!

Companionship.

Just when the night was ending and a lonely hotel bed is calling, one of my new friends arrives to share a nightcap. Luckily common sense comes into play as she is tired and we have drunk the whole bottle, plus the remainder of first bottle and some sparkling at the book launch. There is no way she should drive... so would you believe I share my hotel bed with a female friend, which I haven't done for over twenty-five years.

No lonely hotel room tonight, just two older mates being sensible after sharing honest and reafirming conversation, genial friendship and partying a bit, if a book launch counts as partying?

I would say in the age demographic 50s it does!

After such a connected evening, I cannot face Friday alone.

Again a female friend comes to my aid. I 'train it' to her home and we actually spend hours working and brainstorming our PhD exegeses.

It was such a successful afternoon that we celebrate with the almost mandatory bottle of wine.

And yes dear 'new' friend (male) you owe both of us those promised bottles of Sauv Blanc watching the sunset over the water from her patio!

This being sensible is becoming a habit.

I have to phone home and get picked up by car. Somehow I have managed the entire week without succumbing to the black dog that was threatening earlier, and I have been able to do some straight thinking for my PhD. Is this that mich yearned for work-life balance?

Yoga, excercise, sanity, wining, dining, laughter, friendship, intellectual stimulation, job prospects, and writing!

What more could one ask for?

Oh yeah, don't go back there today.

Must not watch too many Hollywood movies.

Pity I am writing this too late after having a quiet n ight in watching my beloved Meryl Streep in It's complicated.

...If only!

Wonderful Wednesday

I know late again with the write up but hey I have been having a little fun and time off. Just what the doctors ordered!

Again the lift out of the dark zone was brought about by the need to dredge up adrenaline and positive 'public face'.

On Tuesday I finally received an email offering me a job interview.

In the same e-post was the rejection from my earlier application. This did not hurt as much as it had a few days ago, as they had said no-one would be advised if not on the short-list. By this arrival, I can assume I must have been on the brink of the shortlist, at least considered seriously enough to warrant a "thanks but no thanks email." One has to see that objectively as a step in the right direction.... after all when I first read the duty statement I felt they would be pushing it to appoint at the lower level (under Post-Doc). What had excited me was that often if a suitable applicant comes along with all the experience the employees do indeed hire at the lowest pay scale able to get the job done, and that most assuredly would have been me. I am assuming that they actually hired an experienced and well connected (research grant-wise) Post Doc. or someone with a stronger Politics core units of specialisation. So that's cool. The job has gone to the best person, even when it is not me!

The other interview seemed more laid back as it was to be a half hour by phone. I am not a fan of this type of interview as I like to assess the potential employer as much as they wish to assess my suitability. I have learned the hard way in the last two years that by being financially dependent upon a employment contract removes autonomy and the strength to speak out when the job is not working out.

I have had two experiences where despite the utmost admiration for my direct line managers, and a personal affection for them, I have been placed in untenable work positions with unrealistic expectations based upon their lack of technical knowledge and adequate administrative focus. The two ocassions saw my stress levels explode to the detriment of my self-esteem and mental health. When things were tough or my skill level was questioned, my loyalty made me work harder and longer than the actual hours employed, just to prove I could produce outcomes that were basically untenable in the circumstances.

Of course being me, my mood state swung to the lowest blackest state and I ended up in hospital rebuilding my self-esteem and mental stamina. I will not fall prey to this syndrome again. As they say, to repeat a mistake is bad enough but to do it twice is just stupidity (in my case born out of financial stress and insecurity).

My health is now far more important than keeping cars and houses! As long as I stay well I can achieve in my studies and writing. The rest should fall into place if I stay well. I refuse to catastrophise and fall into an anxiety state that renders me vocationally and personally incompetent.

I am a stronger woman at last.

I am not my illness.

I have skills and abilities that are often undervalued by me and the broader workforce.... well, their loss really!

So many academics are poor people managers despite being brilliant scholars. That is how the academy so easily fell into the hands of the also-ran bureaucrats!

Getting back on track... that's why on Wednesday I had to put my mini-break down on hold.

I had to function at my professional best. I think I did.

And I had a good strong rapport with my potential employer and the tasks were clearly defined and timelined. The salary again is exploitative but that's par for the course for researchers in Universities (as opposed to the Private Sector).

It makes sense at this stage to suck it up, one more time, if it is offered as the context for the research is a new and developing knowledge area and an area where I have a personal and professional curiosity and interest.

So fingers crossed.

Things seemed to have gone well. A less formal interview spanning over an hour of conversation, discussion and job-related briefings. Well I will know early next week. In celebration I used one of my loyalty hotel vouchers and stayed in town at my favourite mid priced hotel, just to treat myself.

I revelled in the relaxation and freedom, swimming in the pool, excercise in the fitness centre and concentration in the business centre as well as a great window shopping experience in the End of Fin Year Sales at the big stores.

Good girly fun.

A definite mood stabiliser!

Positive 3 again.

In the email today

... yep, inspiration and advise seems to find me when I need it most. Now this has to have come via The Graces!

What work-life balance? (It's all one pond.)

Wednesday 12th May 2010

I went on a retreat a few weeks ago, and it was just the thing for recalibrating my energy, focus and enthusiasm. What is was not about was work-life balance, because I don't think that's the right paradigm for my life, and maybe not for yours, either.

For me, it's about choosing in a more flexible way, day to day, how to allocate time between the different parts of my life - client work, writing my book, working on my business, family, friends, downtime (and currently of course, Masterchef!). I used to think of it as making work-life choices, but now I've taken it a step further.

While I was on retreat, I had a chat to Venerable You, a Buddhist nun I met last year when I presented a couple of workshops at the Australian Youth Buddhist Conference at Portsea. Venerable You is a most practical and also inspired teacher, a combo that appeals greatly to me. (She is also very amusing...)

We were talking about fitting meditation and reflection into a busy life, and she mentioned that she saw it all as 'just one pond'. A lightbulb moment. Just one pond. Not divvying up time between this compartment or that, finishing 'work' so you can move onto 'life'. Just one pond. For me, a window opened somewhere, bringing a sense of flexibility I hadn't had for a while.

In any moment, on any day, you can move fluidly from one area into another, and back again. You can respond as needed in any part of life. You can follow your sense of what needs to happen next, or what suits your frame of mind. So some days it's all about my book, and on others the focus is on client needs, or cooking a new risotto, or preparing for a creative thinking workshop, or going to a movie with my son or a friend. But there's no weighing it all up to find that perfect (mythical?) balance; whatever needs to happen on a given day, happens.

And if you are cultivating mindfulness, say, or patience, then you cultivate it in every part of your 'work' and your 'life', not just carve out 20 minutes for it each morning.

Just one pond. Utopian maybe, but so far, it works for me.

http://workincolour.com.au/blog/post/65/what-worklife-balance-its-all-one-pond/