Four Things

This week's treasures: may they enliven your darkest days.

My sister is an amazing writer. She can pack a big punch in only a few words, a rare talent which really proves how talented she is. Read one of her original poems about the love she shares with her daughter, and you'll understand.
The Education of Emily: An Original Poem

I'm lucky enough to be seeing The Avett Brothers this upcoming Friday along with Band of Horses. Their song "I And Love And You" makes me cry nearly every time I flip to it on my iPod... one of those deep, but light cries that makes you appreciate everything that much more. I hope it touches you like it does me.

Also, you need to check out Grace Potter and the Nocturnals. Just do it, and I promise you will thank me.

This next "treasure" is one recommended by my friend, Pamela. She is reading Why Men Love Bitches by Sherry Argov for an upper level communications class. At first, she complained and winced at the idea of having to read one of those "pathetic, self-help books for needy women only in search of a man." After speeding through more than half the book, she was pleasantly surprised and absolutely loving the humorous writings of Argov. According to Pamela, the author is often right on the mark when it comes to men, women, and their respective peculiarities when dealing with the opposite sex. So, give it a look ladies!

Life As We Smell It

"Memories, imagination, old sentiments, and associations are more readily reached through the sense of smell than through any other channel." Oliver Wendell Holmes

It is said that smell is the strongest of our five senses when it comes to memory. A whiff of something familiar can trigger memories of childhood experiences, certain places, times, and especially people. I have always relied heavily on my sense of smell. Anyone who knows me knows that I smell everything that is unfamiliar to me as a form of personal investigation. So, I guess it is safe to say that many of my memories are wrapped up in and even defined by scents. Recently, I used a forgotten conditioner in my shower and was bombarded by both grief and joy as I smelled my grandmother in the bottle. A face wash I used one summer takes me back to some of the most carefree times of my life when my days were filled with floats down Terrapin Creek, laying out to the sounds of Band of Horses, and savoring sun and solitude as I found myself; and nights of Mexican food, margaritas, and making new friends under starry summer skies. Any time I smell Freeze-It Hairspray, which is a rare event, I can imagine being in a uniform, hose, and white boots with butterflies raging in my stomach as I waited to step on the field during halftime.

Often I think smells draw us to people. I can say for certain that many of the people I am closest to have a familiar, pleasant smell that comforts me and makes me feel "at home" with them. Pamela smells clean; my sisters smell sweet and sweaty; my mother smells of hand lotion and softness; my father of new car; and Scott's smell is indefinable, but intoxicating. Smell plays a big role in our everyday lives, but is overlooked for our more obvious senses like sight. Today, I am promising to fine tune my sense of smell and more thoroughly take in what I am smelling in the hopes of enriching my life experience and more firmly engraining what and who I experience in my memory.

Hands.

"To see the world in a grain of sand, and to see heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hands, and eternity in an hour." William Blake

Memories

Going through my box of cards from birthdays, Valentine's, Christmas's, and everything in between. It really is touching to see years of love stowed away in words. Here are some favorites...

"SEEK what the heart craves, what dreams reveal.
 FIND what matters.
 FACE what lingers.
 EMBRACE what fuels the soul."
[Chloe, I had so much fun this past week with you and am looking forward to being a part of your "everyday" life. Congratulations! You've got a sister! - Emily]

May 31, 2004
"Always do what you believe God wants you to do. Not what others do. You are special. Always believe in and know yourself. I will love you no matter what you choose." - Sherry

December 25, 2007
"As I watch you grow up and become your own person, I look at you
 your laughter
 your happiness
 your simplicity
 your beauty
 and I know that you will be able to enjoy a life
 of sensitivity
 goodness
 accomplishment
 and love.
 I want to tell you that I am so proud of you and I dearly love you.
 Happy Holidays, My Beautiful Daughter." - Momma

April 13, 2009
"We can't give you Robert Pattinson, but we can give you this card which is redeemable for 2 Coldplay tickets at the Verizon Music Center on May 18th 2009. Happy 19th Birthday! We love you, Daddy and Beth"

"Hi Chloe,
 I saw this card and thought of you...
 Classic
 Different
 Original
 Creative
 Elegant
 I am running out of room so most of all 'Chloe, Romie's Precious'"- Roma

April 8, 2008
"C is for your crazy cool personality!
 H is for how happy I am to have you for a sister!
 L is for your 'loveable' snuggling!
 O is for your obnoxiously rocking fashion sense!
 E is for having the coolest sister ever - Emily!
I heart you so MUCH, and hope you have a kick-ass b'day in Italy!" - Emily... last minute love

"If you weren't my daughter, something very special would be missing, because having you was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Happy Birthday with Love, Dad, Beth, Nicholas, Sydney, Ava, Myra"

April 13, 2009

"Happy birthday to the best big sister in the whole world!!! We love you, Nicholas, Sydney M, Ava, Myra" 

February 14, 2003
"Dear Daughter,
 You truly are a dear daughter. Precious and beautiful. How lucky I am to have the gift of you in my life. I love watching you grow and change and discover. I'm amazed by how smart and creative and capable you are. How your mind is filled with so many awesome dreams and ideas. Do you know how incredible you are? I wish for you wonderful life adventures, forever kind of friendships and opportunities to pursue your greatest passions. I wish for people to be gentle with your heart. While I can't promise you a trouble-free journey, I can tell you that strength is born amidst the struggles and disappointment. My heart aches when I see you sad or hurting. I don't know if you know how often I pray for you... for your guidance and wisdom and protection. I realize, too, that we don't get along all the time. I want so much the best for you, and it's hard for me to let go sometimes.  My love for you is just that great. I'm so proud of you for who you are. I want you to feel proud of you, too. from head-to-toe tip, you are my dear, dear daughter. " - Momma

A History of Love: "A Homage to All Things Lost"

Recently, I finished Nicole Krauss's A History of Love, a novel I mentioned in one of my previous posts. At that time, I had only ventured a little ways into the plot, but knew it would be one for the books, so to speak. I couldn't have been more right. Like I said, Krauss is a marvelous storyteller with a knack for developing characters so tangible that you'd think they really existed. Her prose is richly subtle, but beautifully harsh as she interweaves the past and present; and delves into the significance of what we lose in a lifetime.

The History of Love centers on Leo Gursky, a depressed and lonely old man lamenting the great losses of his life and Alma Singer, a young girl coping with the death of her father and despondency of her mother. They are brought together by parallel quests to find meaning and by a book written many years before called The History of Love.

Change: Embrace It

Change

1. a transformation, metamorphosis, conversion

2. the passing from one place, state, form, or phase to another

3. an alteration in balance 

"Action and reaction, ebb and flow, trial and error, change - this is the rhythm of living. Out of our over-confidence, fear; out of our fear, clearer vision, fresh hope. And out of hope, progress" Bruce Barton

"Change alone is eternal, perpetual, immortal." Arthur Schopenhauer 

"Life belongs to the living, and he who lives must be prepared for changes." Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"Life is its own journey, presupposes its own change and movement, and one tries to arrest them at one's eternal peril." Laurens van der Post 

Lately, I've been thinking of change and how it scares me senseless. I truly love everything that is familiar and comforting; I get waves of homesickness that hit like nausea. New situations, people, and places often make me feel uncomfortable and out of place, but, right now, change is staring me in the face, and it is inescapable. Finding my way and place in this world is a daunting task, and one that forces me to rethink my perception of change. In order to grow and evolve inwardly, one must endure and embrace the uncomfortable, the awkward, and the unknown. Only then is it possible to fully realize your potential and your place in this ever-changing world.

Nothing that is can pause or stay;

The moon will wax, the moon will wane,

The mist and cloud will turn to rain,

The rain to mist and cloud again,

Tomorrow be today.

 - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

The Human Emotion

In response to my post, "Face Value," I am paraphrasing the words of Dr. Margaret Keiley after hearing her speak on "The Development of Problem Behaviors" and more specifically her words on anger and dealing with it. I think we all could learn from her lecture, and better understand ourselves and our emotions.

First, let's back up and lay some framework. In order to get the full picture, a little background information is needed. Why does attachment exist? Why do we form certain bonds during development and how do they affect our development through the life-span? The attachment theory says attachment is a survival mechanism. Maintaining proximity with a caregiver (a parent) reduces arousal (heightened emotions) and reinstates a sense of security. Attachment provides a secure base. Think separation-anxiety. There are multiple attachment styles that result in specific and predictable behavior:

1) Secure individuals who are able to flexibly manage their emotions and their distance from others in conflictual interactions.
2) Ambivalently or anxiously attached individuals tend to heighten distress with anger and pursue in conflictual interactions. Ladies, think of your last argument with your spouse, and this might sound familiar.
3) Avoidantly attached individuals tend to restrict the communication of anger and withdraw from conflictual interactions. Hence, the male act of running of away when an argument with his spouse is happening.

Recognize and understand these types, and try to relate them to real life situations and people. You will better understand their behavior while also enlightening yourself of your own. Now, let's get to anger. During high arousal, you are in a panic mode and you can't engage your brain to make rational decisions. You go directly into a habitual mode of response without thinking - flight or fight. When an argument escalates, typically your emotions overpower your better judgement; and you either continue to aggress and pursue the argument, or you run away. (History of the male/female argument).

Steps for Affect Regulation (controlling your emotions)
1) Know before you are aroused or upset. Recognize a situation where you are beginning to experience heightened emotions.
2) Stop yourself. Keep your brain engaged and keep thinking. You will be less likely to act irrationally and regret something later.
3) Everything stems from fear. What is your basic fear in this situation? That you will be left and your attachment needs will not be fulfilled? Or that your anger will escalate into violence, and avoiding is best?
4) Empathy. Put yourself in the other person's shoes. Simple, but effective.
5) Risk saying what your vulnerability is. Be honest and admit your fear.

I know this is lengthy, "wordy," and somewhat hard to relate to, but I hope someone besides myself can recognize the usefulness and importance of this lecture. This is the mechanism of everyday life revealed. One can better understand emotions, especially anger, and where our behavior sometimes stems from. In being informed, changes can be made and regrets avoided. Know yourself, your fear, and your anger, and just maybe it will make your life a little easier.

Saturday Tweets and Listening

Since I was unable to escape the ever-growing trend of Twitter, I have decided to finally join in on the tweeting fun. I'm a little unsure as to what I should tweet or how everything works, but I'm always a sucker for any online outlet for feelings and thoughts (thus, the blog)! So, look me up on Twitter: chloemonmartin.


I'll finish with a list of my recent music downloads. As Emerson once said, "Music takes us out of the actual, and whispers to us dim secrets that startle our wonder as to who we are, and for what, whence, and whereto." Discover music that can reveal the secrets of the soul...


"Wake Up" - Arcade Fire
"High and Dry" - Radiohead
"White Winter Hymnal" - Fleet Foxes
"Go-Go Boots" - Drive-By Truckers
"Modern Man" - Arcade Fire
"Louder than Ever" - Cold War Kids
"Apologies" - Grace Potter and the Nocturnals 

Face Value

I often find myself losing my temper in a big way over small things. I get so wrapped up in a tiny thing that rubs me the wrong way; I translate it into something that although it might just mean often is completely in the wrong direction. Always, I find myself making connections, patterns, and intuitive leaps over everything in life, and I fear that though this a good trait of mind to have, at times, it is not when it comes to keeping my temper and not blowing things out of proportion.
Some call it a turn for the dramatic, but I don't reference it that way because I know myself too well to know what I am not. I like to think of my little peculiarity as just that, a peculiarity. It is not dramatic. It is actually quite calm in its nature: a reflective pondering upon the meaning of a small something, the sense of something wrong or being wronged, and the intuition (or so I tell myself) to understand a thing for what it really is. It is my belief that actions, words, and events are never what they appear to be and are often the result of suppressed feelings or the polar opposite of what is expressed. Inner turmoil is almost always overlooked these days because we are so wrapped up in our own. Taking things at face value is not safe in my eyes. I can always find an ulterior motive, and often I am spot on. Observe. Interpret. Conclude. This is the daily functioning of my brain at every moment. Small things always catch my eye. The big picture is all in the details. And this is my nature.
Sometimes said nature is problematic. When my emotions are involved, my connections and intuitive leaps are often faulty. Reason has subsided, and sentiment has taken over! Ladies and gentlemen, take note, that no matter what the movies may imply, this is never good. Without reason, emotions lose their flavor, their unique vulnerability, and their truth at human nature's core. Emotions are rebellious, and it is our reason that renders us sane and allows us to enjoy or suffer happiness, grief, envy, and anger. Anger and envy thrive on picking at a wound and making it worse so that one can savor it in all its twisted glory. And then, self-pity inevitably follows. Add those intuitive leaps into the mix and you've made anger's goal more easily accomplished because your reason has helped it along.
So, step back, Chloe; ignore the details and take it at face value because every once in awhile, that's all it is and that's all it's worth.

Reply to The Personal Statement

Growing up, I didn’t want to be a doctor. I didn’t want to be in the medical field period. I adamantly told anyone who asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up that it would not be a nurse, doctor, or anything of the sort. For some reason this surprised everyone; as if they expected me to say that a health profession was calling my name. No, I said. As a child, I linked this “health world” with not so pleasant memories. I could vividly remember my mother, a nurse, getting a call at night as we were lying in bed, just the two of us. I dreaded the calls because I knew we would have to leave the warm sanctity of our mother-daughter sleep and separate because the hospital, the doctor, the patient was calling. Other nights I knew beforehand I would not get to sleep beside my mother because she had already chained herself to the nightshift in the emergency room. It took her away from me and left her tired and sad at times. The nights when I was somewhere else in another bed I would lie awake because I knew she was awake somewhere. If she couldn’t sleep, neither could I.

When my mom finally quit the night shift, the ER, and being on call, I didn’t hate the medical field so much. It morphed into a mysterious, unknown world my mother spent only her days inhabiting. I imagined what she did and how unknown lives rested upon her shoulders. My hate had faded and curiosity had taken its place. This world was no longer vying for my mother’s time and affections, but molding her into who she was-- to me, at least. She was her days in the operating room from seven until three; she was the nurse friends she brought home from the operating room who became my second mothers; she was the expert hand that nursed me when I was sick, so lovingly and so knowingly. To me, two things defined my mother: her job and me, her child.

Knowing my mother became not enough for me. I wanted to know what she did and how she did it. I followed her to work at any possible chance even if it meant exaggerating an illness. I studied the locker rooms where the nurses would change in front of me in their white tights, blue scrubs, and hats that looked like muffin cups. I sat in the recovery area as patients slowly drifted from unconsciousness to grogginess. I catalogued the clean smell away with every other detail. As high school hit, my mother no longer worked in the clinic I had gotten to know so well. It had been a second home and an introduction to my mother’s world. I had said, Hello. It’s nice to meet you and in return it had said Glad you finally made it. So, at seventeen I returned for the first time without my mother. This time I was wearing the blue scrubs and the hat that looked like a muffin cup. It was the first time for me to step behind the yellow “Stop Here” line and enter the operating room that had been my mother’s home away from home. I fell in love (like mother like daughter). I fell in love with the smell again and newly with the sight of a scalpel cutting skin and the words of the surgeon who explained so perfectly while he cut so smoothly. It was new and yet familiar. It was like getting to know my mother all over again.

Now, I am twenty years old, and when people ask me what I am going to do when I grow up, I know exactly the answer. I know exactly what I want to do and exactly what I fell in love with years ago. Every time I hear the words roll off my tongue, I think of my mother and how loving her brought me to who I am today.