Caryn Rivadeneira's Blog, page 10

Googling Nudists & Other Vulnerabilities

Sunshine Dog panting on the kitchen floor.

As I've been interviewed about Grumble Hallelujah, I almost always asked two questions: 1. Where did the title from? And 2. How was it to write the very vulnerable opening story about crying on the kitchen floor?

The first question is easy enough to answer. I even write about it in my acknowledgments (I was listening to Pandora one day and Leonard Cohen's oft-played "Hallelujah" came on. It grabbed me at "cold and broken" and I thought I'd try offering one of those to God. It came out grumbly. Voila! A title!).

The second question is weirder because, honestly, as I was writing it, I never thought of it as all that vulnerable. In fact, there are places in the book to me that feel much more raw, much more revealing that never seem to come up (maybe because people haven't read that far? Perhaps?). For instance: the part where I mention my moral failings? The scene where I'm headed into church just after my parents split up? The section where I'm Googling nudists? All felt much more vulnerable to write.

I never flinched or worried about writing the opening scene (So I'm doing the ugly cry on the kitchen floor telling my husband I hated my life. So what? Doesn't everybody do that?). But I must confess: I now flinch a bit when I get asked about that scene. These things are so much harder to talk about than they are to write about.

And I keep wondering why that is so. In any of the difficult moments of my life, I never once picked up the phone to share any of these stories. I didn't go out to lunch with friends and say, "So…there I was telling my husband I hated my life…." It felt too vulnerable.

Writing that story—and the other painful ones—was a different, well, story, however. Telling a friend about hard times is scary, difficult. Writing for strangers is freeing, empowering.

Wondering what that's about. Guessing it's shame related (I should revisit my Live Naked chapter—now wondering if I wrote about this and forgot….).

Anyone care to offer a thought?

 

On Top of My Game…?

Last week, I was taken aback last week when an old friend messaged me to say he'd been both touched and surprised by a radio interview of mine in which I talked openly about dealing with the disappointments and heartaches of my recent life. "You always seem so on top of you game," he wrote.

That comment actually stung—not because it was mean. But because because he and I only "see" each other on Facebook. That place where it's so easy to compare our lives to one another's. To see the family pictures and funny updates and to assume the other person's got it all together. That we're at the top of our games.

As someone who's just released a book called Grumble Hallelujah—with an opening scene of me crying on a kitchen floor saying, "I hate my life"—I assured that friend that I most certainly am not on top of my game. At least, not on top of every game. But there is a tension we live with, no.

Because although I want to be honest about the major disappointments and setbacks of life, I do also want to share the upsides of life. The dreams come true. I want to be able to live and share a complete life—which includes the failures and the successes. The dull and the exciting. The times when I am on top of my game. And the times where I'm sort of middling it. If not 100 percent pure clueless.

Really, this is the gist of Grumble Hallelujah and the learning to love life even when it lets us down—being able to share both the good and the bad. But mostly, the truth.

 

Why Create–Reason #1

The other day I told a friend a weird thing I do: when I'm super busy, overwhelmed with the amount of work I have and the little time I have to do it in, I take on more work. Not other huge projects necessarily, but smaller ones.

I'll say yes to writing a blog post that I can plunk out in less than two hours (two hours that I really don't have, but still…). I'll decide that night is the night to make a lasagna and bake fresh batches of double-chocolate chip cookies. I'll realize that after a full year of wondering, yes indeedy I should empty that bookshelf and move it to the other side of the room.

In each of these I create work for myself when I'm overwhelmed with work. This is the part that I thought was odd. Until I used the word create in that conversation with my friend. And then it all made sense.

I have a long history of wanting to create when life gets difficult. Wanting is even too weak a word—it's a longing, really. A need. Something I must do to get through. To survive.

Creating—through writing, cooking, baking, rearranging, planting—helps me make sense of my life, of what's going on in it.

In Grumble Hallelujah, I explain my desire to create—and specifically, to create laments—like this: "God gave us art and creative abilities because we are made in his image and the first thing he was for us was our Creator. But I think art exists so that we can cry out, grieve, mourn, and understand what God is up to, just as much as it does to celebrate the wonders of this world. When you hear of artists 'pouring' themselves into their art, it's the emotions—good or bad—that are being referred to. And often, I think desperation is what drives artists to their art. Whether a desperate love. A desperate ache. A desperate question. A desperate need."

I wonder who else finds that to be true. Would love to hear about it.

Moving Forward

Last week while hiking around Horseshoe Island, just off the "coast" of Peninsula State Park in beautiful Fish Creek, Wisconsin, I realized something:while I can be as (sort of) adventuresome as the next person, I really hate notknowing where I'm going. See, not long after we had beached our kayaks on thedeserted island and set off to enjoy one of the beautiful spots on earth, mystress level rose. Even though we followed a clear-enough trail, even thoughtiny hiker signs were nailed to trees every 200 yards or so, and even though Iknew this trail looped the tiny island and would get us back to our kayaksstill, I couldn't shake a frustration about not knowing just where were. Orjust when we'd get back.

It's a silly quirk I have. A control freak thing, actually. But when I   remembered what I was dealing with–and simply remembered to keep moving   forward and with each new step to enjoy the mystery of what was around me as   well as what lay ahead–I was able to relax and enjoy my hike.

In the chapter in Grumble Hallelujah about Feeling Stuck in life, I write about the importance of moving forward:

"…even when God seems to be holding us by the collar, asking us to hold tight a spell, forward is still the direction we need to be thinking. It's the direction God's creation moves–nothing really stands still and nothing really goes backward. Trees, even with their roots sunk deep into the earth and their bodies hard and sure, move forward–through time and space and by   reaching, stretching, and bloating ring by ring.

"If you stop to think about where God wants you to go, really, forward is the only direction. If he does have you by that collar, you migh only be able to take baby steps or go at whatever pace he's going–or you may only forward in the way you think or feel. But that's the direction we're given here on earth."

What does "moving forward" look like for you right now?

This first appeared in this month's newsletter. Be sure to sign up on the right side of my page!

Tweet Hallelujah

Hard to believe that Grumble Hallelujah "hits shelves" in less than 2 months. But, alas, it's true. And exciting. However, this means that even as I do my darnedest to rest and relax this summer, marketing this sucker is on my mind. After all, this is a really fun book. And I want people read it.

Today's big marketing move was to set up Grumble's OWN Twitter account. Impressive. I know. I should really teach a class on this stuff.

If you're so inclined, why don't you follow these Grumble Tweets (Grumbleets?). Should be fun.

Here's the handle @GrumbleHallelu Follow, follow.

We've Got Winners!

After several days of delays due simply to the crazies of life, we finally picked winners for my Mother's Day Giveaway Content!

Congratulations to Jana and Katie!

My 9-year-old son did the random choosing so I had nothing to do with who the actual winners were…..so if you're upset you didn't win, take it up with him. Not me. He picked the numbers. ; )

Thanks to everyone for entering! There will be more giveaways when my new book, Grumble Hallelujah: Learning to Love Your Life Even When It Lets You Down, comes out in September.

Mother's Day Giveaway!

So…in honor of Mother's Day AND the debut of my brand-new, redesigned site (thanks to Marc Miller @ Big Ocean Studios!), a few of my Redbud Writers Guild friends and I have come up with a great giveaway! A four-book package with a retail value of like 50 bucks or something. (Maybe, I haven't even added it up–but it's a good guess.) Woo-Hoo! 

As my friend (and one of the authors) Helen Lee writes on her blog about this giveaway: "Mother's Day is a time when moms usually receive flowers, a nice meal, and cards with heartfelt sentiments. Those are all great gifts, and I certainly hope to receive some or all of those things this Sunday! But what do mothers really need in their lives? How about a sense of calling and purpose? Inspiration to be all that God has created her to be? Practical examples and ideas to live in a more Christ-honoring way? If these sounds like gifts you'd like to receive this Mother's Day, I have just the giveaway for you: a copy of The Missional Mom PLUS three other amazing books written by and for moms that will fill your mind, heart and soul with stories, wisdom and wit: Global Soccer Mom by Shayne Moore, Green Mama by Tracey Bianchi, and Mama's Got a Fake I.D. by Caryn Rivadeneira. Flowers and memories of nice dinners will fade away, but these books will challenge and encourage you for years to come!"

So true, right?

Anyway, if you'd like to enter for this contest, all you have to do is sign up for my e-newsletter (just over there to the right. See?). My newsletter comes out once and month and is totally non-intrusive. It's designed to give you a quick bit of useful info or totally life-changing wisdom (well….) or a quick laugh as well as to keep you up to date on some writing or speaking happenings.

[Update from orignal post.]

THIS JUST IN: I totally forgot an important piece of this contest…. There are more ways to win than on my site alone. You can also enter to win by doing the following things:

–Comment below about what you'd like most this Mother's Day

–"Like" The Missional Mom's Facebook page

–Tweet or tell your FB friends about the giveaway, linking to this page

–"Like" Global Soccer Mom's Facebook page

–Comment on the Global Soccer Mom blog

–Comment on Tracey Bianchi's blog

–Join Tracey Bianchi's Facebook Group

And then–THEN–come back here and leave a comment letting me know you did this. You'll be entered twice on my site–as well as on their site. Make sense? Whew. Hope you win!

Caryn

Becoming Real

A lot of people use the birth analogy for writing a book. I'm not quite sure it's right. I mean, it sort of is…but not quite. (Is it wrong to admit I really hate when men use this analogy? I could write a whole other post on this, but that's not why I logged in here today.) Instead, I'm plunking away because today my editor is dropping off (that's right, DROPPING OFF! It pays to find a publisher near your house. Go Tyndale House!) the "galleys" for Grumble Hallelujah.

The galleys are regular sized (8.5 x 11, I suppose) paper, bound together probably with that swirly plastic thing, but the pages look like a book. It's typeset, it's got page numbers, and it's the first time a writer gets to see her book look like a book. Almost.

So if we're going to use the birth analogy, I suppose today is sort of the big ultrasound—where you get to see the features, get an idea of the size, the sex, that sort of thing. Sort of. I still don't like the analogy. But still. I'm excited. It's taking shape. It's becoming more real. And I love it already.

Growl Halle-Rottweiler!

The great thing about a sweet picture of a rottweiler puppy for a test post is that it doesn't matter at all what I write here. Let's just all look at that widdle facey wacey.

Thanks to my web guy extraordinaire, Marc Miller, for popping this up. Makes my miss my old, sweet Rottweiler, Blade. (Honestly, look at this pup's face again. People are AFRAID of these dogs. Come on.)

For more on me and dogs I miss, check out my upcoming book, Grumble Hallelujah: Learning to Love Your Life Even When It Lets You Down. It's available for pre-order at your favorite booksellers right now. Tyndale House officially releases it September 1.

Thank You Good Morning America!

Carla: I had hoped I'd have a new job today, but that is not to be. And I'm okay with it. Really. I am.

I found out yesterday that I had not been chosen, so I've had some time to think about how I feel about that. Here's what I've got.

1) Yes, I'm disappointed, but I didn't lose anything. This process has been…life-altering. Not because this was the job I'd hoped for all my life–although it was a great job and I would have been fantastic at it . It has changed me because it's helped me reclaim my Carla-ness. I don't think I realized how buried I'd become in the last 15 years, how covered up and hidden.

It hasn't just been motherhood. It's been my work, it's been trying to make new friends, it's been dealing with depression, it's been all kind of things piling up and covering over some essential parts of who I am. And I really liked those parts. I have missed camp counselor Carla who wasn't afraid to make a fool of herself in front of 300 junior highers; actress Carla who could sing her lungs out at the drop of a hat; bold, brave Carla who moved across the country and took chances and believed she had an amazing life ahead of her.

But in the last few months, as I've written advice and made 30-second video clips and sent them off to be judged by total strangers, I've slowly uncovered that person. I know this sounds so arrogant, but when I was younger, I truly believed I was something. In some ways, it was a coping strategy to survive life in a small town where I often felt like I didn't fit in–I had that "just you wait" voice in my head. That voice–and the belief I was talented and interesting and smart–faded as I moved into adulthood. It felt too bold to believe those things and no one likes bold. The GMA process has taken more confidence than I knew I had, more not caring what other people might think, more boldness than anything I've ever done before. And it's been amazing. I am better, more me, than I have been in such a long time. With the help of amazing friends, Marianne Williamson, and (I can't believe I'm admitting this) Katy Perry, I feel like I have reclaimed my "muchness."

2) I'm going to Jennifer Hudson the hell out of this. As you'll recall, J.Hud came in 7th place during Season 3 of American Idol. Do you remember who won? Maybe. But does Fantasia Barrino have an Oscar? No. I don't know what's coming next, but I know that it will be something good. Even if that "something" is exactly the life I have right now, that's fine with me. But I also believe the immortal words of Maria Von Trapp: "When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window." Something will come from this and I can't wait to see what it is.

3) I've become a tiny bit more comfortable in my own skin. No one likes criticism, especially a people pleaser like me, but in the face of a handful of nasty comments about my faith, I've had to remind myself that I know who I am and who I'm not and no one else gets to define that for me. Don't get me wrong, I have written and deleted about 20 rebuttals to the people who seemed determined not to like me or to portray me as someone I'm not, but I've resisted getting sucked in because I don't have to prove myself to them. There have been a few other times in my life when someone has said something about me that is patently false and I've learned that the best defense is to keep being myself, to let my character speak for itself, and to trust that other people can see a petty attack for what it is. It still feels horrible, but maybe a little less horrible than it used to.

4) I'm going to work on that people pleasing thing. I can't be all things to all people and I think my efforts to do so have been a big part of the loss of my muchness. You can't be brave or foolish or sing your heart out when you're worried about what other people will think.

I tell you all of this because I hope each of you can find something that helps you reclaim your muchness. I wish I hadn't let mine get so covered up. I wish that 15 years ago when I started letting other things bury it someone had told me not to let it go. If they had, it might not have taken something so large-scale to bring it back. If you've lost yourself in motherhood, in your career, in your marriage, in the details of life, it's not too late to dig your way back out. Figure out what thrills you, what scares you, what wakes you up, and go after it. My wake up started with an online application for a contest. You never know where an impulse will lead you. So follow one! And tell your friends to do the same. We are so powerful, so full of goodness, so "much." Imagine what could happen if we unleash it!

Caryn: Carla, I do think it sucks that you didn't get this job. You graciously say, "Thank you, Good Morning America," But I vengefully say, "Hello, Today Show." (Except that really, my heart will always belong to the WGN Morning News and to Arthur, Martha Speaks and Curious George in the morning. This is neither here nor there.)

But I am prouder of you that I can easily express—for the reasons you outlined about. What you did took guts. To put yourself in a position to be judged publicly—to be VOTED on (Even though the votes obviously meant nothing) and to subjected to comments about your faith, family, hair or whatever to follow a dream or calling or whatever you want to call it is terrifying. Something that keeps many people from ever venturing forward. And yet you did it and you handled it with grace and humor—and, as you said, total Carla-ness. It was awesome to see.

And good things will totally come from this! Especially now that you've been outed as a Fundamentalist/Extremist, think of the Christian TV avenues that will open up for you! Carla hosting 700 Club? Yes. Yes. I think so.

Carla: Thank you my friend.