I once read "Tyranny of the Urgent" by Charles Hummel and was struck by the idea that I could choose my choices. I've come to realize that my parents' treated any goal like a death march instead of a more realistic sixteen little steps. I learned that I COULD choose a reasonable goal, make a rational plan to meet that goal, and then make reasoned decisions that would get me to that goal. And I've done fairly well with this. My husband's and my long-term retirement account goals made in our twenties will likely be met because we put money aside on a consistent basis as planned. Our goals for getting our kids through college without a student loan burden are nearly completed because we kept to our plan. I grew up in a hoard situation and didn't know anything about housekeeping but I learned new skills because I had the goal for my family and myself to live in a clean orderly place. I learned to decorate cakes and stitch needlework and crochet afghans because I had the goal of learning these skills as making life more beautiful. I learned to cook delicious meals from scratch as a goal to save money. I improved my home's indoor and outdoor space as a goal of making it more comfortable and efficient.
But I never had a definite goal for my body. Vague plans of eating better and being thinner and becoming healthier drifted through my life. My weight kept rising and my fitness declining until I came to think that being fit and healthy would be as easy as hiking over the Rocky Mountains in a blizzard. A broken ankle a few years ago (man, no-weight-bearing for eight weeks was really tough) and the recent development of plantar fasciitis has taken me from bad to pathetic. Clearly I need a reasonable goal and a reasonable plan to meet it. I need to see that I don't have a tedious chore but a simple little task, just sixteen little steps.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
Saturday, January 2, 2016
The significance of sixteen steps, or why my family has problems taking out the trash
Taking out the kitchen trash seems to be one of those weirdly emotionally-triggering chores in our house. On the surface it's pretty straightforward: when the can is full, the person filling it lifts out the garbage bag, replaces the bag with a clean bag from the roll kept right behind the can, and deposits the filled bag in the bin in the back yard. But that is not what actually happens. As the can fills, I see each subsequent family member compress the trash down so that there is space for their trash. They will push and push down on the garbage so that they don't have to empty the can, even to the point that someone eventually broke the can. If the can is full, trash will be left on the kitchen counter rather than deposited in the convenient trash can in the wire rolling holder under the sink. The person that finally relents and empties the can often announces that they are EMPTYING THE TRASH CAN LOOK AT ME I AM DOING THIS WONDERFUL THING I AM TAKING OUT THE TRASH and oh could someone else take a plastic bag off that roll right next to the can and put it in the can because it's just too much for one person take the trash all the way outside and still have to deal with a clean bag.
Every family seems to have a similar chore that has a strange negativity to it. When I was a kid, unloading the dishwasher was easy but we fought like crazy over loading it. Another family fought over unloading the dishwasher and wanted the easy task of loading it. Some fought over starting a load of laundry vs. folding a load of laundry, sweeping the kitchen vs. vacuuming the living room, cleaning the bathroom vs. changing the sheets. But why, I wondered, did the family I created as an adult have this strange problem with the kitchen trash?
When I was a kid, trash was an issue in my family. My parents didn't want the trash taken out until the can was completely full. We didn't use any trash bag so the can had to be carried out to the bin outside which was reached by opening a heavy sliding glass door (being careful not to let the cats out), then unlocking an enclosed-patio door, then walking several more feet past several obstacles to the bin. At night, we had to find the light switch located behind some furniture on the patio or risk falling on stuff. Then the nasty compressed trash had to be helped out of the can. If you were unlucky enough to be called to trash duty, you might have to go back into the house and refill the can with the trash that had been thrown into the sink by all the family members that didn't want to empty the trash and you got to go to the bin outside again. Then you had to come in, lock the patio door, turn off the light, open the sliding door (being careful not to let the cats out), and replace the can under the sink. So I can understand why taking out the garbage was unpopular in my childhood home. My husband had a similar childhood trash situation. He had to take the can, walk through the laundry room, exit out the back door, walk some distance away, and empty the can into a central dumpster. Again, taking out the garbage was avoided in his family so it was often pretty nasty by the time it was done.
Our family has had a pretty good physical history. Members have traveled to a variety of other states and countries for work and pleasure. Daily fitness walks, bicycle rides, swimming, gymnastics, organized sports, and hiking have been part of my family members' daily lives. Everyone climbs the stairs every night for bed without issue and does laundry in our ground-floor machines and uses the bathrooms on both floors without complaint. Yet trash is such an issue. Why? The outside bins are just around the corner from the back door. So I measure out how far it is from the trash can to the outside bin.
Sixteen steps. That's all. Sixteen steps. You'd think it was like climbing a mountain, but it's sixteen little steps.
It's eighteen steps from the kitchen table to the toilet yet not once has a family member thought it was too far to use the bathroom so they would just sit at the table and pee themselves. Getting the mail is far more than sixteen steps but that's not seen as a problem. Coming downstairs for dinner or going into the garage refrigerator for a soda is much more that sixteen steps but no complaints there either. Going across the street to use our community hot tub is refreshing and convenient. Hopping in the car for a quick three-mile trip for milk is a quick easy trip.
Clearly my husband and I brought our dislike of the trash removal over to our adult family even though our current situation was quite different from that of our childhood. I've seen other things like that in my and other families. We cling to the things that our parents did even if it was toxic because we are familiar with that behavior. We copy what was perceived as positive even if it is now an unnecessary burden. We treat the ghost of past difficulties like they are living breathing entities but they aren't alive, they're a faded image of what once was.
I have issues in my life that are the result of choices made for me as a child and confirmed by choices I made for myself as an adult that have resulted in a significant weight problem. I am creating a plan to address the choices that have brought me to this place in my life and to make better healthier choices. When I am overwhelmed, and I am sure I will be overwhelmed, I want to remember that it may not be as big a problem as I feel like it is, it may not be a current issue but a past issue, that it may not be a long walk in the dark but just sixteen steps.
Every family seems to have a similar chore that has a strange negativity to it. When I was a kid, unloading the dishwasher was easy but we fought like crazy over loading it. Another family fought over unloading the dishwasher and wanted the easy task of loading it. Some fought over starting a load of laundry vs. folding a load of laundry, sweeping the kitchen vs. vacuuming the living room, cleaning the bathroom vs. changing the sheets. But why, I wondered, did the family I created as an adult have this strange problem with the kitchen trash?
When I was a kid, trash was an issue in my family. My parents didn't want the trash taken out until the can was completely full. We didn't use any trash bag so the can had to be carried out to the bin outside which was reached by opening a heavy sliding glass door (being careful not to let the cats out), then unlocking an enclosed-patio door, then walking several more feet past several obstacles to the bin. At night, we had to find the light switch located behind some furniture on the patio or risk falling on stuff. Then the nasty compressed trash had to be helped out of the can. If you were unlucky enough to be called to trash duty, you might have to go back into the house and refill the can with the trash that had been thrown into the sink by all the family members that didn't want to empty the trash and you got to go to the bin outside again. Then you had to come in, lock the patio door, turn off the light, open the sliding door (being careful not to let the cats out), and replace the can under the sink. So I can understand why taking out the garbage was unpopular in my childhood home. My husband had a similar childhood trash situation. He had to take the can, walk through the laundry room, exit out the back door, walk some distance away, and empty the can into a central dumpster. Again, taking out the garbage was avoided in his family so it was often pretty nasty by the time it was done.
Our family has had a pretty good physical history. Members have traveled to a variety of other states and countries for work and pleasure. Daily fitness walks, bicycle rides, swimming, gymnastics, organized sports, and hiking have been part of my family members' daily lives. Everyone climbs the stairs every night for bed without issue and does laundry in our ground-floor machines and uses the bathrooms on both floors without complaint. Yet trash is such an issue. Why? The outside bins are just around the corner from the back door. So I measure out how far it is from the trash can to the outside bin.
Sixteen steps. That's all. Sixteen steps. You'd think it was like climbing a mountain, but it's sixteen little steps.
It's eighteen steps from the kitchen table to the toilet yet not once has a family member thought it was too far to use the bathroom so they would just sit at the table and pee themselves. Getting the mail is far more than sixteen steps but that's not seen as a problem. Coming downstairs for dinner or going into the garage refrigerator for a soda is much more that sixteen steps but no complaints there either. Going across the street to use our community hot tub is refreshing and convenient. Hopping in the car for a quick three-mile trip for milk is a quick easy trip.
Clearly my husband and I brought our dislike of the trash removal over to our adult family even though our current situation was quite different from that of our childhood. I've seen other things like that in my and other families. We cling to the things that our parents did even if it was toxic because we are familiar with that behavior. We copy what was perceived as positive even if it is now an unnecessary burden. We treat the ghost of past difficulties like they are living breathing entities but they aren't alive, they're a faded image of what once was.
I have issues in my life that are the result of choices made for me as a child and confirmed by choices I made for myself as an adult that have resulted in a significant weight problem. I am creating a plan to address the choices that have brought me to this place in my life and to make better healthier choices. When I am overwhelmed, and I am sure I will be overwhelmed, I want to remember that it may not be as big a problem as I feel like it is, it may not be a current issue but a past issue, that it may not be a long walk in the dark but just sixteen steps.
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