the luck of the draw (or reader)

Today it occurred to me that every single person out there who writes books and blog posts that command audiences of thousands are still just one single person.

Just one. One person, with their singular thoughts and viewpoints on things, but for whatever reason, the world has risen up to take notice and now listens to what they have to say and values their opinion in some form or another.

How does this process even happen? How do you hit that lucky post or book or paragraph that defines you and draws a crowd, making everyone rise and say, "This person has something valuable to say and we should definitely listen."

Oh fate. What a fickle beast of burden you are.

Today, as I was lying on my bed after trying to get the toddler down for a nap for the third time, I had a moment of overwhelming despair (as is rather common for the stay-at-home mother on a Thursday afternoon). 'What am I doing with my life? No one sees this. No one knows that I'm even here, fighting these little, seemingly insignificant battles that all add up to one very significant life. Is this really all I was made for?'

Don't get me wrong. I know what I do is important. I know some consider it to be the most important job in the world, molding young lives. I know that I am the only mother my children will ever have, that I am the perfect mother for those kids, that what I am doing is worthwhile and worthy.

But sometimes, those creeping moments catch you unguarded, flat on your back with sweatpants on, dirty hair, and a feverish preschooler on the couch, and you are simply stripped bare to your core--"Who am I? Whose life am I living?" We all like to think that we're the special ones, the ones worth listening to, the ones ready to command the world to sit up and notice us--Hear what we have to say, oh Earth! Listen to our lofty and glorious opinions!

Tragically, most of us don't actually get a say, and the world really doesn't care what we think. And sometimes that's depressing and full of despair, but other times it's full of relief. A sigh of freedom, at the end of the night when the kids are in bed and the dishes are done and it's all you had to do. Netflix is waiting, there's a wine glass in hand, and its not up to you to save the world or change anyone's opinion on anything, other than how great 'Gilmore Girls' is. So sometimes this life is enough. Sometimes this body is beautiful, with it's soft edges and it's scars and strong arms from carrying children and creaky knees from a life of ice skating and bending and climbing and running and living. Sometimes this mind is wise, full of knowledge from mistakes made and lessons learned and facts gained from reading, reading, reading. Sometimes this heart is just tender enough, in the face of a sick son, and an accomplished daughter, and a hard-working husband, and a God who is merciful. Sometimes this soul is full up of the things God has done, the promises He has kept and the gestures He has made in this very ordinary, very important, very average life.

Sometimes the words are enough, if I'd just sit down and let them out once in awhile.

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the background [pt. 1]

I have long wondered/struggled with just how honest to be on this tiny little space.
--just how much should I tell people about the dirty laundry I've got stashed away in my brain?

I'm sure this is something that other bloggers worry about and deal with as well. It seems that everyone comes to a slightly different conclusion, and I completely understand.
--if you can't be comfortable sharing something with (potentially) the whole world, then it's probably better to keep quiet and stay safe.

For me, blogging started way back when I was fifteen, when it was something that no one had really heard of, and when you mentioned it to your parents generation, they said, "What? Is that even a word?"

It was a space that I could carve out for myself, somewhere to assert who I was and who I was becoming--to type words and immediately see them in print, to roll them around in my mouth and taste them on my tongue and decide whether or not I really wanted to spit them out, or if it was better to keep them inside for a while longer.

After that it grew and molded itself into something a little different, a little more social, and a little more honest. It became a place to write, and to practice writing, but to also connect with people in a way that conversations and glances sometimes didn't allow for. I could be honest here in a way that I could never be honest with someone I'd just met, and I liked that.

Eventually "blogging" grew to become this huge thing that everyone did, and I kind of held back in my own little corner for awhile. I didn't want the competition to change me, or to change my writing, or to change my motivation to keep writing. I've always struggled with keeping up and fitting in, and the last thing I wanted to do was take my corner of honesty and have it turn into a race to be "the best".

And so now I sit in this tension between staying honest and open, but also molding this into a business and (possibly) making some profit from it. And with all of that comes the realization that there are a lot of gaps in the story and a lot of holes in the honesty cloth I've been weaving, simply because it's just been me for so long. I didn't have to explain, because I was the only one here, and I already knew the backstory.

But now, there are you guys (we've jumped from 12 to 43 and I am SO EXCITED) and I'm sure that a lot of you are wondering what I'm talking about half the time.

So. I'm going to fill some gaps in.

I'm not going to give you the entire life story, but I'm going to talk about the important parts, the hard parts, the parts that people don't like talking about.

I'm doing this for a variety of reasons, but mostly because of the responses I get when I am gut-wrenchingly honest-- the "I completely know what you're talking about" and the "I'm so glad someone else can relate" responses. These are what make me keep writing, and these are the ones that I am writing for.

Because everyone just wants to not be alone--to be weird and different with someone else weird and different right by their side.

--pt. 2
--pt. 3
--pt. 4
--pt. 5

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scribbles and dots.

Out of focus, and beautiful.

Today has been...just one of those days.
And by those days I mean it has been just another day in this life that I'm trying to figure out and live in the moment of.

I went to the gym, found out I lost a pound, came home and ate 1/4 of my breakfast that turned out to be off. I just chalked that up to less calories and more weight off, but then I was hungry, so Hubs and I had a baguette and cheese for lunch and it was delicious.

Then I took a nap and slept for an hour, but it felt like five and I could have slept all day. I've been so tired lately and I just cannot figure out why. All the paranoid pregnancy tests I've been taking have been coming back negative and I'm exercising and drinking lots of water so it is not making sense to me.
Maybe it's still just being a mom.

I'm cooking toads-in-the-hole and roast potatoes tonight and I feel like I've finally succumbed to the English diet. Oil, bland palates, and potatoes. I mean, it tastes good and it fills you up, but there's just a little bit of American in me that dies every time I mix up a batch of Bisto.

There are words to be written, and bathrooms to be cleaned, and things to be sorted, and to-do lists to cross off and I just can't bring myself to do any of it.
That seems to be another one of the recurring themes around here--my inability to "get it together" and actually get things done.
I wonder if I'll ever actually grow up and be the responsible adult that I'm supposed to be.

--linking up with just write.

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chaos.

Today, when I tried to put Jameson down for a nap in his room, he just wasn't having it. He kept pulling away from me while he was nursing, intent at staring at anything he could find. He's been napping in our room for the past few days since he's been sick, so instead of fighting with him, I just decided to take that route again.

We laid down, and I watched his big eyes start to close, sloooooowly, and I had this extreme urge to do something--anything other than laying down, doing nothing.

But then I heard the rain pattering on my window, and I felt my baby's warm body fit next to mine, and I heard a voice in my head say, "Rest."

I started to counter with, "But..."

And it persisted. "Just rest. You used to dream of moments like this--a free morning to nap, with the rain outside, and someone you love next to you. Rest."

So I did.
And it was wonderful.

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Today is Wednesday, which means that my mother-in-law takes Jameson to her house in the afternoon so that I can get some work done, and maybe Hubs and I can get some quality time in together. 

I have some really nice, flexible clients that have been so patient with me in this "figuring out what I'm doing" period, that I really wanted to make sure I got a lot accomplished today. But when I sat down to write yet another article on something I don't really care about, I wanted to scream. And cry. And pull at my hair, like my son does when I take something away from him.

I am so tired of this constant struggle. 

Why can't "just" being a mom be enough? 

I know the logical reasons why--we need my income to build up our American savings account (especially if I ever want to visit again or move back), but that doesn't mean I like it. Not to mention that it does a number on my stress level when I'm sitting there thinking, "If you want to go home, you'd better get this article done!"

I guess it's just another moment of wondering why things are the way they are, and why we're in the place that we're in.

I've been doing my best lately to let God meet me where I'm at, and choosing to see Him in my life, rather than being angry when He doesn't show up the way I want Him too...I guess this is just one of those moments that I'm going to have to let go of and muscle through.

This is what I'm living by lately:

"Your emptiness is but the preparation for your being filled, and your casting down is but the making ready for your lifting up."

 -Charles Spurgeon, Morning and Evening (November 4, Morning).

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and over again.

It's kind of amazing to me how quickly my attitude can change when I am faced with a blinking, blank Word document, knowing that I have to hammer out 800 words on some mundane topic, as opposed to the "post" page that is just waiting for me to say whatever it is that I want.

I mean, we all know that I have a problem with authority and people telling me what to do, but this is a little ridiculous.

Anyway.

I kind of had a breakdown on the living room floor the other night.

I finished putting Jameson to bed, and as soon as I walked into the living room, he started to fuss. I had the weight of a week's worth of work needing to be finished in one night on my back, and I just couldn't take it anymore.
I didn't even cry (at first), I just laid flat on my back in the middle of the carpet and stared at the ceiling while babbling on about everything crammed into my too-small-to-carry-it-all-around brain.

"I just want to do what I'm created to do, and I don't even know what that is. I just want to do that thing that brings fulfillment, that lets me know that I am doing that thing that God put inside of me to do, but I can't find it. And how do I know when to fight for a dream that I think I could have, or settle for a life of responsibility?"

And then my wise and patient and ever-loving husband said, "What if you're not supposed to do all of the things you were created to do all at once?"

And I just thought, "I guess I'd never thought of that before."

Which is kind of dumb that I hadn't, if we're being honest. I mean, I've always tried to approach my life as having seasons, and I don't know how I didn't relate certain seasons of life to the things I'm supposed to be doing at certain times.
I was clearly not meant to be a wife and mother when I was seventeen and in college.
I probably won't be raising children when I'm seventy and living in my dream house (right? Ha).

But seriously. I'm here.
I'm a wife and a mother right now. That's what I do, it's who I am.
I also happen to write a little bit on the side to bring in some money, and if I'm not completely mentally inept after finishing that, I spit out messy words on a computer in the hopes that someone else will see and understand.
Maybe someday, or maybe even tomorrow, someone will see these words (or I'll get up the guts/energy/willpower to send them to someone) and they'll say to me, "Hey. I really think you've got important things to say, and the way you say them is intriguing and relate-able, and we want to give you some money to write more of these things and tell them to more people."
And I will be a happy, happy lady.

But for now, I need to focus on being here.
(Isn't that what it always comes back to, for me? Seriously, I don't know how anyone can keep reading this--it's got to get so redundant after awhile!)
I am enough, even without all of those roles.
I am enough when I don't write, when I don't mother, and when I don't wife.
I am enough in this depraved body, because Christ said I was enough.
And if He said so, why am I trying to say otherwise?

Ladies and Gentlemen, here sits Camille Nicole, back in the place she always finds herself--the beginning.

And it's okay.

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where are the words?

Jameson has been sick for the past few days, so I'm starting to get a little stir-crazy over here.

We took him to the doctor yesterday (which required waking up bright and early to make sure that we were one of the first in line, so that we didn't have to sit in the waiting room with a sick infant for two hours...), and she told us that it's probably some sort of virus and the best thing to do is to just wait it out and let his immune system take care of it.

Which is beneficial in the long run, I know, but it's so sad to live through. The good news is that it hasn't really seemed to phase him (other than the snot everywhere and the coughing), and he's just as happy as ever. For the most part. The problem is that we got about four inches of snow the other day, and I'm not sure I'm up to wrestling the stroller through the sludge with a sick baby in order to escape the house for a few hours.

Although, check back with me in a few days, if he doesn't start to get better soon.

Anyway...this is pretty much just a lot of nothing. I guess I'm lacking in inspiration tonight, which I'm working on letting myself be okay with. I think I need to start remembering the discipline behind the talent, which means consistently practicing the talent, even when I don't feel inspired.

You lucky few just happen to be on the receiving end of the nonsense.

As a sidenote, thank you for the encouragement about the whole "pursue your dreams" thing. It gave me a lot to think about, and it's all still percolating right now...I think my biggest dilemma is finding the time and energy to essentially start my own business/brand/image while also fulfilling my responsibilities as a wife and momma.
And staying sane. Because that's equally as important.

Drink tea, and stay warm.

-C

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tired.

I didn't really want to sit down here and write this.

But then I thought about how I've let what I want dictate what I do for far too long. And the problem with this is that I always give up what I really want for what I want-right-now.
And in the end, it is just never, ever worth it.
Ever.

I spent a good couple of hours last night working on my "business" (I guess, if that's what you want to call it). It made me tired. Probably because I realized just how much work there is to go through to get to where I want to be.
And then this cues the question, "Where do you want to be?"

And I just don't know the answer, exactly.

I guess I want to be here, but making a living off of here. I guess I wish that I could find people that would give me money to write these sorts of things, and take these kinds of pictures, and I could just keep doing what I'm doing, but making a contribution towards our finances at the same time.

Part of the problem is that all of this requires time, and I just don't have that much of it.
I'm in full-time momma mode, now that Hubs is back to work, and while I love it so much, it is also completely exhausting. And then, when Hubs is not working, I am escaping to the gym for an hour, then making dinner, and then sitting down to write things that I don't really care about, because it's the only form of writing that pays. And don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the work. I really, really am.

But how do you work towards the dream job when the real job takes up too much time?

I know I've got to start being more regular with this space. That's the only way to make, and keep, readers--by giving you something to read.
So I'm going to do my best. I'm going to try that whole "scheduled post" thing, and I'm going to attempt to devote some of my working time to writing what I want to write.
And then I'm going to hope that someone takes pity on me and gives me a break.

And I'm toying with the idea of an amateur photography business. I know.
It kind of kills me, because I actually really love photography and I really want to be better at it, but I get so discouraged and bogged down when I see that everyone and their mother that owns a DSLR has decided to open up their own business too. I just think, why would anyone choose me?
But then I've got to go back to doing something because I love to do it, and leveling with people.

I can take good pictures.
I also write well.
And at the end of the day, I need to own this talent, and refine it, and then go out and sell it for what it's worth.

So. Anybody out there want to cut this struggling artist a break?

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catch-up

It's sunny but cold today, and I'm already on my third cup of (decaf) tea.
Jameson's still napping and I've finished working for the day.
We're almost out of milk and I'm trying to decide whether or not to rinse that load of laundry again.

I miss writing beautiful things.

I was completely content today, right here in this tiny town with it's lack of social activities and my inability to drive a car.

Jameson and I went out to a baby-friendly cafe, and I ate cake and drank coffee, while he sat in a highchair and gummed a baby rice cake. I made him laugh and he hugged me with his sticky fingers, and then a friend of ours coincidentally popped in and we ended up talking for an hour while she ate lunch with her two-year old, and the little bean-baby that is growing in her belly.

On the walk home, I looked at the sky and breathed in clean air, and reveled in the fact that I was okay, we were happy, and that I didn't have a burning desire to be anywhere else at that moment.

I don't know what this means.
Maybe it doesn't mean anything, or maybe it means everything.

Either way, it was nice.

Here's what life looks like lately. (And here's a promise to start working on photography again. Cause I need to.)

Hanging out at Uncle Jordan and Aunt Brandi's apartment in Dallas.

Oatmeal wasn't his favorite...

Gong Xi Fai Cai! (Or, Happy Chinese New Year!)

Double crowns. This may pose problems in the future.

Sesame Street. He loves it.

The gluten-intolerant's version of a ham sandwich.

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pieces

I've started and stopped numerous blog posts in the past two weeks.
I've also come up with five million different things that I want to write about and explore.

But to be honest, every time I find a moment to sit down at my computer (which has become quite rare), I just stare, and stare, and stare at the blinking cursor and wonder what on earth to write down.

I could talk about the endless anxiety I experience thinking about all of the things that could befall my husband and son, and how every day I must make a conscious effort to step out of my front door and not let that anxiety rule my life.

I could talk about the unbelievably dramatic way that my son has forced me to stop and live in this moment, right now. The way that I see him growing and changing so much already, and the second I start to contemplate what he will be like next week or next month, I make myself stop and appreciate where I am now. He is already slipping away into a different person, and is growing right before my eyes, and my biggest regret would be to overlook any of that.

I could talk about the fire I have to write, and write well. I could talk about how I recently discovered this blog, and the way that it has changed my thinking, as well as the tinge of jealousy I have every time I read it, because I so long to be able to communicate the way she does. Will I ever have that moment? Will I step up and fulfill that dream of mine?

I could talk about how my center of gravity has shifted to this baby I hold in my arms and love so much that my heart feels like it's going to explode. How being a mother is perfect, and how I wonder why I was so afraid that it would be so unfulfilling. It is the best thing I've ever done, and also the most simple, while carrying incredibly complex emotions behind it.

I could talk about it all, but instead, I am simply sitting here with my thoughts spinning so quickly that it is nearly impossible to catch one of them and make it coherent.

Maybe I'll get there one day.

Or maybe it will simply be the trying, and I'll be one voice in a background of many, hoping that someone will pick it out and want to listen.

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a list.

I've got too much swirling around in my head today to try and sort it out at length, so I'm just going to throw things out in a random list.
Maybe this will help.

*Three days after my burst of nesting energy, I am proud to say that Jameson's room is now painted, partly decorated, and he has a brand new moses basket to sleep in. Not only that, but the top of our dresser has been converted into a changing table, complete with baskets full of onesies and sleepers for when he poops all over himself in the middle of the night. Also, my hospital bag is pretty much packed and I even printed out our "birth plan", so if I go into labor tomorrow (not likely) we're prepared.
I'll post some pictures of the nursery as soon as we get the rest of the decor hung...It's so cute, and I can't believe how much I am in love with it.

*Went to an aqua class after being out of it for a week or so. (The bank holidays over here really throw a wrench in your daily schedule...all of my classes at the gym were canceled for two weeks and I just couldn't muster up the energy to go to the gym on my own. Except once.) It was a good class, and it felt good to work my muscles again, but at the same time I couldn't help but sit there and feel guilty for not doing more through this pregnancy. I know that I've done well, and I am proud of myself for not turning into the whale-monster that I was afraid of when I first got pregnant. It's just that nagging problem I have of tearing myself down and finding ways to turn myself into a failure.
Before I got pregnant, I had finally gotten to a place in my life where I was consistently in control of my body. My weight was where I wanted it to be, I finally felt like I looked good, and I actually began to believe that I was not at the mercy of my random DNA makeup. Going into pregnancy, I knew that my body was going to change, and I knew that it was important for me to do as much as I could to ensure that it changed in the right way. Although I've done that, and have stayed in the recommended weight gain, I still have these moments where I feel like I just should have done more. I'm sure there's a lesson from the Lord in here somewhere, about being patient and learning to value myself, but to be really honest, I just can't wait until Jameson is here and I am able to go back to being in control of my body, because it's on a mutiny right now and I don't have much choice except to wait it out.

*I miss America. A lot. And at the moment, this is not because I hate England (although I have my moments), this is simply because I miss my home. That, and really good cheeseburgers.

There is more, but my 8-month pregnant brain just can't handle rustling it up.

Please don't read this and think that I'm still consistently down.

I'm not. 

It's just tonight, and it's just these moments of fear and doubt.

In truth, God has been good to us, and we are in a much better place than we were a few months ago. Things are definitely not perfect, and we're still slogging through, but there needs to be an acknowledgement of blessing and provision, because He showed up.

Just like we hoped He would.

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nesting

First of all, let me apologize for the haphazard appearance of my blog right now.

I started the redesigning process, got frustrated with the template I was working in and haven't had the energy to wade through all of the HTML and other things since. However, it's driving me crazy to look at, so it will get done soon.

Secondly, I now fully understand what pregnant women mean when they talk about nesting.

Our American friends over here, Erica and Zac, just had their baby boy, Clive Weatherly, yesterday. He is a beautiful 8 lbs., 7 oz. and 21 inches long. Hubs and I were lucky enough to be able to visit them in the hospital and it was such a surreal experience. Ever since I got over here, Erica and I have been pregnant together, moaning about all of the aches and pains we were going through and speculating about what labor was really going to be like.

But now that she's had Clive (and she actually does know what labor is like), I'm the lone pregnant ranger. It seems that the reality that there is actually a real baby in my belly who will be making an appearance sometime in the next seven weeks has truly sunk in, and I am like a crazy woman on a mission.

I had a mini-panic attack last night, thinking about all of the things we have left to do before Jameson gets here, and the first thing I thought about this morning was "Lists. I've got to make lists."
So, suffice it to say that I have a "Nesting List" broken down into three categories with the things to-do underneath each heading.

(When I get stressed, my OCD tendencies start to really show themselves. Ha.)

I have this sudden burst of energy now, and my husband has actually said that he is afraid of me.

Let the fun begin.

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hiatus

I'm taking a break for awhile.

I'm not sure when I'll be back. I know that I'm not finished here, and that I do love having this blog as a creative outlet, but right now, I just can't muster up the energy or enthusiasm to keep it going regularly.
If that means that my chances at gaining 100 followers has been shot down, well, so be it.

There are bigger fish to fry than how many people are google following, or what kind of fashion trends are just coming up, or all of the clothes there are to buy and how on earth to make it through 30 days without buying anything new.

*insert sarcastic tone here*

I'm not shutting it down, or making it private, or anything like that.
Just letting you know that I won't be around regularly again for awhile.
I'll let you know when I make it back.

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two days

I am failing miserably at this whole 365 photo thing.
It's pretty pitiful.
I keep my camera out in the hopes that I'll remember to just take a picture for the day, but then I forget, or am too tired, or can't think of anything to photograph and I go to sleep and the next day comes and I'm missing another day.

Remember how I wasn't making resolutions so that I couldn't fail?

Well, I still feel like I'm failing.

Apparently, God works on our issues even in the small things--like reminders that perfection is never attainable, and the important thing is to just keep going, even when you've already missed the mark.

As cliche as it sounds, the learning is in the journey, not the arrival.
Move to another country, and this phrase will become infinitely more understandable and complex, all at once.

So, enough soppy for one day. Have some pictures.

Jan. 25, 2011

Erica and Inga posing in front of Erica's art show display.

Love it.

Jan. 29, 2011

A shot out the window of the Divinity School at the Bodleian Library in Oxford.

I'm kind of in love with this shot, but I'm not sure that I can tell you why...maybe because it was just unexpected.

---------------------------------------

That's all I've got for now.

I'm tired and have been wrestling through a lot of things having to do with creativity and my purpose lately.

I'm sure that I'll dump it all out here after I've had a chance to process it, but for now I'm just trying to deal with the fact that I feel sort of stopped up...Words aren't enough right now, and the photos I'm taking just aren't translating the way I hoped.

Essentially, I feel like I'm in this creatively frustrated funk, but instead of moaning about it and passively waiting for it to pass, I'm trying to take the road where I wrestle with it all and break through this wall that seems to have been erected without my knowledge around my brain.

So, the inspiration has slowed to a trickle, but I'm doing my best to siphon that trickle into these words and these photographs in the hopes that eventually it could turn into a steady stream, and one day, a big flood of creativity that will just last me forever.

Ha.

A girl can dream.

For now, we are working on settling in and finding our people.

And this is me, just putting my head down and bracing my way through it.

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