10 Things I Hate About Me

I just thought of that title so, either this list will be a piece of cake and I'll need to make a part 2 and 3, or I will need to make some stuff up.

1. My upper arms.
2. My bent towards inconsistency.
3. How my self-worth is so closely knit with 10 lbs of fat and whether I eat "clean"or not...or not.
4. My eternal optimism for everyone else, but inability to offer it to myself.
5. How I can treat the people I love the very most with complacency when I feel fat and failure-ish because I eat a carb instead of not.
6. My unrelenting desire to make peace between others but my inability to make peace with myself.
7. The fact that I could even write a list like this.
8. That I am an isolationist when I don't have my shit in order.
9. How I will believe the best about you to a fault, even if you actually suck as a person.
10. #3 and #6

A couple of weeks ago I sat on the floor in my closet and cried.  I hadn't tripped trying to change my clothes, hitting my head on the dresser or wall or anything.  It wasn't due to a physical injury.  I was crying because I'm messed up.  I was crying out to God.  "How can my worth be so intrinsically connected to the fat on my body?!?!  I don't want to be this shallow!  I know You designed me to matter so WHY can't I break free from this endless battle that rages in my head and heart?  Why can't I just eat clean and be done with this friggin' 'journey'?????"

On Mother's Day my daughter gave me a poem she had been working on for a couple of months.  Here it is, written exactly as she did:

why i love you mom

you are funny

you love me more than stars in the sky

you comfort me when I'm sad

I can talk to you about anything

you are fun to hang out with

you would do anything for me

you care for me

you're compassionate

you're creative

you're loving

you have a good sense of humor

you're talented

you can find good in anything

you have a awesome sense in fashion

andddd you're awesome!!!!!!!!!!

you know me so well

mom, these are some the reasons i love you

Emily

I've never let Emily know how much I'm not a fan of myself.  I'm a good liar...except I'm actually known for totally sucking at lying.  I can't do it.  I have never said, "I'm fat or ugly or I don't like myself" in front of her.  But she's not stupid, in fact, she's quite brilliant.  And like I said, I suck at lying, so I know I'm not pulling the wool over her eyes.

This is NOT the legacy I want to leave...

So, on Tuesday I'm headed to see a counselor who specializes in Eating Disorders.

Because the things she loves about me are there deep down inside and they matter and they are the things I know make up my true beauty.  And I actually do believe these things about myself, the "beauty" my daughter sees, but what I believe in my head just hasn't quite made it to my heart and I think I need someone to help me get there...

On Any Given Day

"We're not keeping quiet, not on your life!  Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace.  There's far more here than meets the eye.  The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow.  But the things we can't see now will last forever."  - Scripture remix, The Message, 2Cor4

Perspective.

My earliest memory of "different" is of playing down the road at my friend Michael's house.  His house had a 6-car garage, each filled with a shiny Corvette.  His house had many rooms.  His basement had a temperature regulated air-hockey room, as well as a pool table and mini-bar.  His dad was rarely home and his mom seemed sad and lonely.

My house was pretty and happy and normal.  I had my own room, a football shaped soap-on-a-rope and a Barbie record player with a microphone.  My sister and I used to make forts in the woods behind our house, pick strawberries, and explore for hours before our much-needed nightly baths, in which I used my soap-on-a-rope, courtesy of the door-to-door Avon lady.  My parents kissed a lot and laughed, we ate dinner as a family, and they took us to the park and to get ice cream cones once in a while.

And yet, America thinks the bigger house in scenario one with the 6-car garage is the goal.

We have some serious First World Problems.

Because, on any given day, what matters is that I grew up loved and by growing up in a loving home, I, in turn, learned how to love, or at least was shown love is what matters.  Sure, there have been times where a granite topped mini-bar in the basement sounded like a good idea, but then, well, then I put it into perspective.  Life does that to you when something real happens.  When something happens over which you have no control...when you did everything you knew to do, yet the outcome wasn't what you wanted or dreamed of.

On any given day, 25,000 children under the age of 5 pass away.  On any given day, somewhere in the world, a husband or a wife live out the words, "Til death do us part."  Accidents, natural disasters, sickness, and natural aging all lead to death, on any given day.  And the tragic thing is, as humans we contribute to this heartache by creating scenarios where more sadness is fostered, through wars and abuse and murder and hatred, comparison, bullying, whatever...because there isn't enough devastation in the world?!

Over the course of the last few months, on any given day, these are just a few of the things about which I talk to God, not understanding, not being able to control or manipulate it, but just going before Him, trusting He sees "The Other 90%" and that He is good and has a plan, despite my limited perspective:

• A friend who has suffered years of emotional abuse in her marriage
• A friend who is a single mom, working so hard to support herself and her kid
• A friend who had to take her mom off life-support
• A friend who lost her husband and is now raising their kids on her own
• A friend who has cancer
• A friend who has gone through a divorce and is starting life new after 20 years
• A friend whose husband lost his job
• A friend whose husband is unfaithful
• Friends who have kids with special needs
• Friends trying not to grieve while their sick baby is still with them
• Friends who have lost children
• All the single mom's I know whose ex's are slackers
• The people I know who are totally jaded by American Christianity, asking God to somehow use messed-up me to show them His love
• The friend with the terminal illness
• The one who is struggling with addiction but is afraid to share
• Friends who are missionaries, living far away from loved ones
• Friends recovering from bankruptcy
• Friends struggling with depression
• My mom who's going through chemo, again, because the cancer has returned

And these are just a few.  Add to it all the things on your heart and the people in your life and then add to that things that take place in our communities, our countries, and all around the world, and I'd say there is a lot of stuff with which we could feel overwhelmed.

I'm grateful I can take actions to encourage others, though I know I can't fix it all.  At the same time, I'm also very grateful I don't run the Universe, but I trust in the One who does, and even though I hate pain and suffering, on any given day He promises to be near to those whose hearts are wrecked...and from experience, He's not a liar.

*What's on your prayer list?  Are you overwhelmed by it or is it something you are able to trust God with, on any given day?

A Whole Lotta Tongue in Cheek

Recently someone I know posted a picture of himself being baptized as an infant.  His caption had some sort of smart ass sentiment about "water boarding" and "for shame...I was just a baby." 

It got me thinking.  I started attending church at the same age he was in the picture.  That was about 41 years ago.  And church has looked like many different things over that time, including the last two years where I haven't gone to church really at all...

Why did my parents do it?  Why was I given a head bath at a mass in 1972 in Ohio, one winter day?  Why did they choose Catholic over Lutheran over Episcopalian over Baptist over some other brand name denomination?  Why did I go to CCD, First Confession, First Communion, Confirmation?  Why did we give thanks before meals, pray before bed, talk about our problems and apologize, talk to God and about Him with one another?  Was it just so I could wear pretty dresses once a week?  Was it strictly out of social obligation?  Was it because our grandparents expected it or to escape the gates of hell?  Why did we "leave" the local catholic church, anyway, and how is it we wound up in the different kinds of churches since then?  How come some people danced and clapped their hands while others were solemn? 

One attribute I wholeheartedly embrace as a middle-child is that of peace maker.  I will believe the best in you to a fault, and so, I imagine that next to historical conviction, my parents raised me with faith not to cram their own beliefs down my throat or so us girls would fit a mold and be perfect, but so we would always hear from them and know from God that God is good, God made us, He loves us without condition and wants us to love others the same way because life is complicated, messy, and painful, and that He will come back for us one day, which is a good thing, not scary.

I've heard there are worse things parents can do to a child...I'm grateful my parents chose this form of "abuse" as some would see it. 

How tragic...a child was raised with loving parents who made mistakes and were learning it as they went along seeking Wisdom smarter than themselves, but deep down, at the end of each day, knew God was real even though she couldn't see Him, and that He loved her.  For shame...

The peacemaker middle-child in me isn't a score keeper.  On our family faith journey we haven't always done everything right.  On my personal journey with the Lord, I couldn't even begin to tell you all the mistakes I have made...you can do the math:  I dedicated my life to serving the Lord on May 10, 1987...if on average I screwed up 3 dozen times a day, to be conservative, that adds up to a whole lotta thankfulness for Grace and Forgiveness, that's all I know.

Last night Emily and I snuggled on the couch and watched, "Parental Guidance."  All parents and kids should see this film together.  There are some fabulous lessons all around.  In one scene Billy Crystal and Marisa Tomei, father and daughter in the film, are in the kitchen late at night after the culmination of a weeks worth of fighting and disagreements and misunderstandings and major underlying passive aggressive anger from the past.  The film is a comedy, but I was bawling.  Tomei's character had set up her life in such a way to do everything opposite from the way her parents raised her, a clear statement to them that they pretty much sucked/aka she could do it better, without their help, and quite perfectly, thankyouverymuch.

There are things I have done differently as a young woman, mom, wife, and follower of Christ than my parents, and their parents, and their parents before them.  And I've done many things the same.  Good and bad, because I am a human.

I know I will make many more mistakes in parenting as long as I'm on this earth.  I've already screwed my kids up a little, I'll admit.  But if when they are older the worst thing they can say about me is that I prayed and asked God's help in how to show them how much I loved them, well, then, I'm willing to take that risk.  We cannot force our children to believe what we believe, and it very well may break our hearts if they don't, but we can love them...yep, that part is up to us.

Just make sure you love them with all of your guts...because holding some of your love back just because it may rip out your heart will only leave you never really knowing what it's like to fully live.

SAHM Ships Her Pants in the Big City

Yesterday I woke up sure I was dying of colon cancer.

I actually had all the signs according to the NIH.
 
The last month has proved to be a loose operation around here...and by "around here" specifically I mean me, my toilet, and I.  Almost a month ago I decided to do a Daniel Fast to pray about some specific things in my life and a lot of people in my life, and also to clean up my body a bit.  God put certain people on my heart and my times of study were really rich.  It's always easier for me to fast while Jason is out of town and since he was headed to India for a week and a half I chose that time frame.  In true anal (huh) fashion, I typed up a schedule of my Daniel Fast, what foods were allowed, pretty much just veggies, and also wanted to be smart and take certain supplements to be sure I was cleaning out impurities as they released over the course of the week and a half.  All I know is, after a few days and some research and re-calculating, I "discovered" (since the evidence wasn't enough?) that I was ingesting enough fiber for me and my family of 4...and probably your family of 4, as well.

photo courtesy of 4unews.com

Those are times I'm grateful my husband is out of town...I kid you not, I could barely breathe in bed every night.  And I'm not talking about sinus congestion.

Jason got home from India bringing some sort of foreign guest along in his colon.  Poor guy was way more worse off than I was, speaking of "loose operations" and all.  He finally got some meds and he was back in regular business after a couple of days.

Anyway, with him home, once he was able to eat again, I re-introduced fish and a little more lean protein to my "fast".  And, since he got home prior to the weekend and we had a birthday party and I had been solo with the kids for 10 1/2 straight days and I'd eaten clean all that time and lifted, did Yoga, and hit the treadmill each day, I had a glass of wine on date night.  And some popcorn.  And split a gluten free dessert after dinner, but I was writing a "Trip Advisor" review, so that was important because, of course, no one cares and I'm not getting paid for it...but I was going to go back to clean the next morning.

And I got back to pretty clean/balanced eating but none of my "deposits" had gone back to "normal."  In fact, at night my liver was hurting so I'd wake up and flip onto my left side to get back to sleep.  This, of course, put Jason in a trapped state, but since he sleeps through most things, I mean, what can you do? 

And then there are a few details I'll leave out...

Finally I decided to back off my protein powder supplement laden with fiber, as well as my other fibrous supplements, and just let the regular fiber in my veggies do the trick to get me back to a regular pooping kind of girl...not to mention, I was headed to New York City for the upcoming weekend and didn't want to become familiar, like some old person, with all the restrooms in the City.

This plan worked well.  Over the course of the weekend, walking miles and miles, hanging out with friends, hitting gluten-free foodie restaurants and strolling the tulip lined streets all over the City, I realized my bowels and I were, again, at one with the Universe.  Except for on Sunday evening when I looked and felt 7 months pregnant, without exaggeration, and could not for the life of me figure out what the culprit was because even though I had indulged a little in the City, I still didn't eat my allergens.  I went to bed that night, sleeping on my left side, holding my baby belly, hoping all would be well in the morning.

The next morning was our day to leave.  We hit a local diner for breakfast and shared blueberries and an omelet.  I don't eat eggs.  I haven't had eggs in probably a year and a half because my blood work shows it to be my most extreme allergen.  But I thought, "Eh, it won't be that big of a deal...it's cleaner than me eating something like a straight up donut or piece of cheesecake or something..."

We got to the airport, seated on the plane, I fell fast asleep after take off with one of those horrifying open-mouthed plane deep sleeps we've all experienced.  All was well with my little world.  About a half an hour prior to landing I woke up because I was 7 months pregnant again.  My baby was raging mad...kicking...wanting out.

I wasn't quite ready to "deliver" on the plane.

We de-planed and headed to the ladies room, but I guess it was just premature labor.

After a 45 minute drive home, I walked in the door and, let's just say, it wasn't pretty...at all...for four days straight.  The first night, in what is shy only a month of 20 years, Jason had to hit the couch for the first time because I was in and out of bed every 4 minutes.  "Hi, I'm home!  I'm sure you are so happy to have me home from NYC, huh?!"

Anyway, thankfully my sister was here during this time and was so very helpful with the kiddos while Jason was at work and I was "in my office."  He said, "I bet you got food poisoning or something."  I kept thinking, "I split meals with my friends and none of them are sick so it must just be some hidden allergen." 

When things slowed a bit I started doing a little research about bowels and guts.  I researched the Mayo's site, several natural health and infectious disease sites, read a few books on Crohn's and colitis and inflammatory bowel disease.  I researched the causes, the symptoms, the underlying factors.

Jason said I probably got what he had when he got home from India.

I reminded him of my already tender digestive tract prior to my trip and told him it was more likely a sudden onset of Crohn's...but deep down, I knew it was colon cancer and I was sad because I had heard two stories of people finding out they had cancer only two weeks prior and they left their families prematurely and my grandma had several inches of her colon removed and my parents have gut stuff and so do my sisters and with all my "fasting and cleansing" and eating clean and chocolate and wine binges, I'd probably jacked up my whole system and I was weeping because I wanted to watch Emily and Ryan grow up to love God and live boldly for Him and I had so much I needed to write down so they would know how much I love them and what kind of people they should marry and that they could be whatever they wanted to be if God was at the center of their lives being honored in it, and I wanted to renew my vows with Jason on our 20th, but now we weren't going to Spain until August and would I make it until then and had I really left the world a better place than I found it or had I just wasted space and time and talents and there was so much to do if I was going to die, even though I wasn't afraid of it...

Jason said, "Sweetheart, please just make an appointment with Dr. Snook and Dr. Julie and they can do some tests.  You probably just have a virus or something, but you won't ever know until you go.  And you need to stop doing research on the Internet for a while.  Like, take a 5 day break or something...I mean it."  He prayed for me in the kitchen and headed out the door for an overnight to Florida for work.

I got the kids in the car, did carpool, and headed up during rush hour traffic to a last minute appointment my friend had available.  The back pain was worse.  The cancer has spread.  And now nausea.  Last stages.  I was no longer seven months pregnant but rather, skinny from my week of steady trips to the loo.  My doctor friend (who I have known for 10 years and we are very, very close and she knows me all too well) said, "Hey, you look great!  What are you doing?"  I said, "I've been shitting in my pants all week non-stop...I'm not sure there's a secret to it...you just loose weight?!*&%$#"  

She said, "What's going on?"

I said, "I'm a mess! (*Insert BAWLING...)  I think I have colon cancer or Crohn's or something..."

She checked me out, did a couple tests and said, "You have a virus..."

And then she said, "You need to take this because this will help, but I'm pulling out the Big Guns..."

And then she prayed for me.  Not just for my guts but for my mind and my train of thought and my heart and some of the details I can't share here yet and God gave me His peace.

Life is short and I do need to write a few things down for both Emily and Ryan.  But I also need to live right here.  Right now, with INTENTION.

And I don't know when my life here on Earth is meant to come to an end because I'm not in charge of that but I trust the One who has my days numbered in His grand plan.  I'm taking a break from digestive research even though it's fascinating and I know from self-experimentation and documented research the benefits of clean eating on disease and health.

But for now, I will live with INTENTION.

My thoughts had become cancerous, not my bowels. 

I will not allow my head and heart to run on rabbit trails, but when and if I do, I know the One, my loving, steadfast Savior, who remains faithful even when I go darting off.

I guess I just needed the reminder:  It's the slow and steady tortoise who wins in the end.

*Ever had a crazy "end of the world" kind of day?  You can leave it in the comment section so I don't feel like the only one, or you can NOT and that's okay, too...either way, it felt good to write it out...

Have a good weekend!

#FirstWorldProblems, Part 2

Me:  Hi.  I'd like to cancel my massage appointment.  I have a schedule conflict.

Receptionist:  Okay.  Would you like to reschedule now for another time?

Me:  Well, let me think...I'm trying to figure out when I'm going to be really stressed out...that would probably be a good time to come in, right?!

These are actual events, people.  Hence, the continuation of the #Hashtag series: #FirstWorldProblems

In the pursuit of learning how to love myself, I made a very poor decision.  And by very "poor" I mean, shoot, this is coming out of my personal checking account, not the family funds...I had better sell some jewelry or have a garage sale or sell Emily's dog...

You see, I was given two massage gift certificates about 2 and a half years ago, right after I learned I was pregnant with Ryan.  I used one last year some time, and the other a few months ago, finally.  

It's that second one that was the devil.

The little receptionist sales girl tried to "up sell" me.  At first I held strong.  Jason has a house rule that I'm not allowed to buy anything solicited at our front door.  It was heart wrenching to turn down Thin Mints Girl Scouts at first, but time, practice, and also learning my allergies has helped me gain the confidence I need to say, "No, thanks!"  

Anyway, the massage wasn't being sold to me at my front door.  And by "massage" I mean: monthly massage membership package, blah, blah, blah, sign on this line.

You see, it's a scam.  A total conspiracy and this is how it works:  Someone gets you a gift certificate, you know, as a gift.  Then, you go in, have a cup of tea, head back to the dimly lit, perfectly heated room where you slip under snuggly heated blankies on a squishy, cushy massage bed, as you inhale relaxing aromatherapy inhalants and get an awesome, relaxing massage for an hour or so.

And this is the point in the story where you should get dressed, head back out to the receptionist, leave your gratuity at the front desk and WALK OUT THE FRONT DOOR, never to return.

In my relaxed state I don't know what the little receptionist sales girl said to me, but I was relaxed and vulnerable and didn't walk out the door.  I thought to myself:  I love getting massages.  I only ever get them on vacation.  It could be like a mini-vacation, once a month.  Remember that one in Japan where that teeny tiny woman walked on your back?  Or the one in Mexico where Julio...oh, never mind.  They are relaxing.  I only get them once a year.  If I were to splurge on one thing a month, a massage would be a really good choice...it would show me that I love me...yeah, that's the ticket.  I'm learning how to love myself...

I don't frequent Starbucks.  I might get a pedicure once or twice a year, but now that I can reach my own toes, I prefer doing them myself when I have the time.  I don't recreationally shop.  I don't buy things off the Internet.  I don't pay for Botox or even get my hair cut more than twice a year.  And, yes, this is a pathetic attempt to justify why I thought it was a good idea to sign up for a massage membership, of which I cannot back out of for a whole year!  #FirstWorldProblems

Knowing I can't back out of my agreement STRESSES ME OUT.  Ironic.  Maybe I should get a massage?

Do I realize I could use that money each month to save starving children?  CLEARLY!

Do I realize I could use that money each month to end slave trafficking?  YES!

Do I realize I could use that money each month to send underprivileged kids to school?  UM, YEAH!

Do I realize what could be done with that money each month?  We all have ideas of how it could be spent.  I get it.

And this is ridiculous.  

There is something to be said about SIMPLIFYING. DOWNSIZING. CREATING MARGIN. SAYING NO, EVEN TO THINGS THAT APPEAR TO BE GOOD.

I'm so disgusted with myself for making an emotional financial decision that I think I'll give some of the massages away...if I'm allowed to.  

Having the "membership" hanging over my head just isn't as relaxing as it sounds.

#Hashtag Series, Part 1

#FirstWorldProblems

This series isn't going to be pretty.

I'm not writing it for you.

I'm writing it for me, as I stand in front of the mirror, a slap in my own face.  I need a renewed reality check.  I need a swift kick in the pants...

If your face stings, turn the other cheek.

(Remember, I am saying this to myself in the mirror, hence "you" and "I"...don't accuse me of accusing you, please.)

"Adrienne, you have #FirstWorldProblems.  Seriously.  Let's take the obvious:  You are looking in the mirror at yourself in what Westerners call a 'master bathroom' which is conveniently located next to your 'walk-in closet' where you own 7 pair of jeans of which you complain do not fit on your chubby thighs which are that way because you live in America where you have access to more processed food than any country in the world.  Actually, living in America doesn't make you chubby.  Stop making excuses.  Your choices to eat processed foods, especially your known allergens, make you chubby.  Stop blaming it on America.  America has her own problems.  In Cambodia your place of residence would easily house 75 people.  That could be 75 young girls, Emily's age, who have been sold into sex slavery because their parents can't afford to feed and keep them, let alone send them to school.  Em's 9 and 3/4.  The world is a sick place.  You are sad Em's turning 10.  Be thankful you have a daughter who is healthy and doesn't even know what sex really is except for roosters, chickens and eggs.  You have a pantry near your kitchen.  A pantry is a closet or cupboard which houses abundance and resources.  You have 18 drawers in your kitchen, 21 cupboards.  Cold water.  Water that comes out of a tap or fridge.  You have options.  Water you didn't have to walk 6 miles to get for your family.  You went to college for four years and your loans are paid off.  You got to choose where you attended school (well, sorta...that's another story...) Your daughter goes to a highly sought after Outward Bound school.  Yes, your husband is having an "affair" with his stupid iPhone, but only because he's always been a nerd when it comes to technology.  Be thankful you have a husband who loves you and has always been faithful.  Yes, there is laundry everywhere.  Be thankful you aren't naked.  You have clothes.  Too many clothes.  Give some away...then you will not have as much laundry.  Yes, there are toys everywhere.  You have a toddler.  Be grateful he is alive and healthy and makes messes.  Get rid of some of his toys...he doesn't need them all...certainly there are kids out there who could use some.  Forget about the broccoli ground into the bottom of your tennis shoe.  Be grateful he has a good arm and is strong enough to throw food.  Be grateful you have food to give to your children each day.  The reason you have dirty dishes piled up is because you have food to feed your family...or you have too many dishes...give some dishes away.  And all that stuff on your desk.  What about all that?  Will you really read all those books or is it simply a good intention?  Give some away.  Stop feeling overwhelmed that you don't have enough time to do whatever it is you think you need to do and prioritize.  Get some perspective, Adrienne!  Stop standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open, wondering WHAT ON EARTH you're going to make for dinner.  Stop whining because you have to run to the grocery store for the third time this week...because by "run" I mean you have a car...and by "grocery store" I mean one of 5 within a 5 mile radius...and by "third time this week" I mean maybe you should start meal planning.  Be grateful you have food...in a refrigerator...at all.  And back to this mirror.  What do you see?  How long, Adrienne?  How long will you sing this song of not loving yourself?  He made you who you are on purpose.  Stop squeezing the backs of your arms, your thighs, your belly, and just make the healthy choices you already know how to make.  #FirstWorldProblems.  Maybe one of your #FirstWorldProblems is that you have too many choices?  In Uganda or Kenya or Bangladesh or Guatemala or Haiti or Sudan or Papau New Guinea the moms aren't asking, "What will we have for dinner?" with the same voice inflection you are asking it.  You are wondering, "Hmmmm....should we have salmon or chicken on the grill...with grilled or sauteed or oven roasted veggies and olive oil and garlic."  They are wondering, "WHAT, if anything, will we have for dinner?"  Get over yourself.  Seriously, Adrienne, get over yourself.  You have #FirstWorldProblems.  Be thankful.  Be generous.  Nothing you call "your own" is yours.  Nothing.  Not even your own life.  It's His.  You gave it to Him long ago.  I'm pretty sure in your own insecurity and struggle for control, you have taken yourself back.  You are not your own.  You were bought with a price.  Close your eyes.  Put out your hands.  Surrender.  Ask Him to lead the way.  Stop trying to drag God around on a leash.  Slip your hand into His and walk with Him.  He is faithful.  He will lead you.  He sees the bigger picture.  Remember?  Why do you forget to remember sometimes?!  He sees the bigger picture.  He sees the #FirstWorldProblems and the #ThirdWorldProblems.  He died for me so I would know freedom from this world...not that I wouldn't face problems, but so I would know Who to run to with my problems...and so I'd know what are actual "problems" and which things are problems I create for myself because I live in the First World."