Lostintexas

          I am Lostintexasmama. That just is not a cute name, or a play on Austin, Texas. It is who I am, or rather who I became ten years ago when I moved from the beautiful and friendly Pacific Northwest to the land of cacti, longhorns, and barbecue. 

     I am lost, not literally of course. I know exactly where I am and through the magic of Google Maps, I can get to wherever I need to go. I am lost without my people. In ten years, I have not made any lasting connections with people here. I have work friends, but no one I see outside of work or even speak to about things not work related. I am not going to lie, it is hard not having a confidant near by. I can only share so much with my kids and husband. 

     This week, I had a long overdue and much needed chat with my best friend who lives in the aforementioned picturesque and welcoming fairyland of the Emerald City. She shared what was going right and going wrong in her life, and I confided my deep dark secret of being without my people, without a tribe of my own here deep in the heart of Texas. At first, I thought it would just take time to meet people and make those connections. I did meet a few people that I liked very much when we first moved here, but once we moved further north and the kids began public school, I was lost in the weeds friendship wise. 

     As a self diagnosed introvert, the initial step of making friends has never come easy to me. I am too in my own head most of the time to make the kind of overtures necessary. Once my comfort level increases though, I make friends and these are close and dear friends for life. As an adult, I have made connections through past employment that have stayed intact long after I left. I am still friends with the mothers I met years ago when our kids were in preschool. So I know that I can do this. I can be successful making friends. I have done it in the past. Why can't I do it now? 
  
     The only thing that is different, is my location. Is there that much of a difference between the people the people that reside in Michigan and Washington to the people who live in Texas? I know Texas is largely conservative, and I lean left of center, but I have friends and family from those other states that are conservative, and although I do not always understand their viewpoint, they are still my people. 

     I like a lot of things that are pretty popular, at least if the internet can be believed, but here, in my little part of Texas, I feel like I am a weird outsider. I feel like my people have forsaken this land. All I am looking for is some common ground; to be able to have a conversation about things that I am currently thinking about. I see people around me making those connections and I wonder why I cannot. Is it really location, location, location? 

     If you do not know me, you may wonder if there is something off putting about me. As far as I can tell, no. I practice good hygiene of showering daily, brushing my teeth twice daily. I dress in modest and clean clothes that fit me relatively well. I smile a lot. I try to have a positive attitude, but I can have a dark-ish sensibility at times. When I make jokes, I try to keep my audience in mind and try not to cross a line into inappropriateness. (Although that is a grey area for me, truth be told.) I actually teach social skills to elementary students, so I do know how to have an appropriate conversation, and I do have regular conversation with work peers. I just lack anything deeper. 

     I feel like the problem must be me though, because I can see other people cultivating friendships and making bonds. My dear friend reassured me that these are just not my people then. I need to expand my circle to find my tribe. She suggested taking a class or joining a book club, because that has worked for her and how she she has been able to meet new people who share her interests. Both ideas are kind of out of my comfort zone. To me, it would be easier to forge a friendship at work, because I already know those people, and that has always worked for me in the past. I mean, you are already in the same building for forty hours a week, so you have that in common. That just is not enough though, and it doesn't help that I am a decade or even (gulp) two older than most of the people I work with. 

     So here I am. It is a new year, and I am (considering) starting a new adventure to find my people. Hopefully, Lostintexasmama will become a cute name to commemorate my past as I move toward my future. 


     

To Write or Not to Write

   

"Don't judge me, you judgeroo. Go play your judgeridoo." 

- Linda Belcher

     Even though I write a memoir type blog rather than fiction, it is a creative outlet for me.  I write best when I write about my own thoughts and experiences. The problem is, that I have to be careful about what I write. People actually read my what I post. Perhaps I should clarify and state that people I know read my blog. (I'm not so sure random strangers do.) I would not want to cause anyone I know any embarrassment or discomfort over what I write. This is my conundrum. I want to write about my experiences and sometimes those are not all sunshine and lollipops.  If I write about my daily experiences, then I am going to write about the people in my life, but I feel like I can't because I might get into trouble.

     Let me give you and example.  A few years ago, a situation happened with my son where I felt as his mother I had to advocate for him because at nine years old, he was not being heard or taken seriously. I do not typically stand up to people. I hate conflict. I avoid it at all cost. I will let a situation go on and on before finally having my fill and speaking up for myself. When it came to my son though, who counts on me to protect him, I could not stand idle. He had fallen during gym class and told the coaches his leg was broken. The coaches did not buy it, and after repeatedly attempting to force him to get up and walk to no avail, they called me saying that he was just afraid to try to walk and that he was fine.  I literally ran down to the gym because this did not at all sound like my child. One look at his face told me he was in genuine pain.  Against the coaches' wishes, who continued to tell me, "He's fine," I carried him to the nurse while fighting back tears of anger. Later at the hospital, an x-ray confirmed a fracture of his tibia.

     I was mad before leaving the school. I was livid when I saw the x-ray.  It was not my finest hour when I then vented the situation on social media.  Now I should mention that the majority of my friends on social media are family members and long term friends who do not live near me. I had a few current work acquaintances, but no one else from my surrounding community as I was relatively new here at the time.  I did not name names, or even specifics. I just stated the situation as above and then included a line about how although I was saddened and angry for my son at the situation, I felt a bit proud that I had stood up and advocated for him.

      The problem was that I work at the school where that happened.  I soon learned that there is no such thing as freedom of speech when you work in a school. (I think there might even be a few passages in the employee handbook about it.)  Although the administration never spoke to me about the incident, a few co-workers did. In fact, the co-workers that were so upset about it were ones that I was not even friends with on social media, and had only heard about it second hand. I was ambushed in the hall one day by one such peer who angrily informed me that I needed to be careful of what I write and that I had embarrassed the school in the community. She rhetorically asked, "Did you even think of that?!!" (At least I am assuming it was rhetorical, as she then angrily stalked away from me.)
   
     It was never my intent to embarrass anyone. I wanted to share my heartache with my people; the people who love and care about my son. I regret that I was one of those people who share drama on Facebook, but I have no remorse over what I wrote. As you can imagine, this situation dampened my desire to publish what I write to the internet. Of course I want to write about my day to day life; it's all I know. It is my way to process what I have been through and as an introvert to reach out to those who may be in a similar place. From time to time, I still write, but I rarely publish out of fear of how the judgmentals will react. I am not writing for them though. I write for me and my people, whoever they may be.