Maslow and Me

     I just submitted this assignment for my online Developmental Psychology class. It was an interesting and enjoyable assignment.

Laura Thomas

2/19/12

Personal Timeline Assignment

     Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs has always settled so well into my thinking over the years. It makes sense to me on so many levels. So, my life story starts out with my most basic needs being satisfied: my babyhood where I can rightly assume that my parents fed me and cared for me. My parents had four children and I am the third (and apparently the only one “planned”). My father is a retired rheumatologist who met my mother while doing his internship at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Chicago. He saw her walking down the hallway in her starched nursing uniform and immediately fell in love.  They married four months later. After spending three years in Germany during the Vietnam War, my parents settled in Southern California where he finished his residency at County USC Medical Center. I was born in Pasadena and have lived in Southern California my whole life. You couldn’t pay me to leave this diverse, intense, crazy beautiful part of the world for anything.

    As I sat down to color with my Crayola Primary Colors over-sized crayons I will always remember seeing my name, “Laura” written neatly in kindergarten-teacher perfect handwriting on my coloring worksheet. Those are among my first memories of school. My beautiful, young teacher with over-sized, blonde Clairol curls was the epitome of 70’s style and loveliness. And she thought I was retarded. “But,” she told my concerned mother, “She’s tall so we’re going to pass her onto the first grade.” My mother didn’t believe it for a second. And so began my mother’s persistent search for answers to what would be the diagnosis of “dyslexia.” Yep, classic: “t’s” shaped like “x’s.” Years of “vestibular therapy” followed where I would do exhilarating activities like ride down a ramp on a belly board and spin in a hammock swing this way and that way many times.  This stage of my life would be considered the safety stage where my educational needs were met and my need for organization and stability greatly improved as all my letters straightened out. (My lefts and rights still confuse me, embarrassingly, to this day).

     Through the elementary and junior high school years I experienced teasing, exclusion, and painful, abusive family dynamics at home. I was angry and lonely. After graduating from high school, I started attending a church where I am still an active member. It was there that I met Jesus Christ. Nothing in my life, delightfully, satisfyingly and magnificently, would ever be the same. Pivotal moments occurred in which my need to be loved, to belong and be accepted were beautifully and wholeheartedly met as several Christian friends frequently prayed for me and accepted me right where I was at.  After my mother’s early demise from breast cancer when I was 20, I found my loving church family to be very supportive.

     “What can you tell me about Master’s Programs in Education?” I asked a friend after a Singles meeting. “You should talk to Tim. He’s a teacher.” That is when I met the man I would marry. Our first date was 5 or so months later on the 3^rd of July. We attended a Dodger’s baseball game and have never been to Dodger Stadium since. However, we married 7 weeks later. That was 19 ½ years ago.

     We had a couple of babies, a few miscarriages, some more babies, and intense arguments over having more children or not. Throughout this process of being a mother and a wife, without a mother myself, I struggled terribly with my success and esteem in my primary roles. I was a stay-at-home mom after many years of school to complete two teaching credentials. I chose to home school my children and spent many enjoyable years doing that, but was greatly challenged by those demands. At times I felt anger and frustration at my children’s needs which exposed fear, laziness, inadequacy and selfishness in me. It was painfully humbling and I never felt like I was doing a good job consistently. My marriage was also a constant source of conflict and heartache. I wrestled through many “maturing” years of learning to take responsibility for my part in our conflicts and follow strange-sounding “wife advice” from the Bible. That Biblical advice worked in the most unbelievable and astonishing ways.  After marrying a man from a painfully broken family after only 7 weeks of knowing him, and coming from an abusive family myself, the fact that our marriage is better than ever is amazing in the most deliciously wonderful way.

     It didn’t come without a huge price tag, however. I will never forget the sheer panic I felt as I lay in the hospital bed with the right side of my body numb while my left side was radiating with intense pain and frantically asking the nurse, “Where is my husband?!?!” After being shooed away during my epidural, he left the hospital to get dinner.  I was ready to deliver our 5th baby soon after. My husband arrived 5 minutes after she was born to a room of gawking, insensitive hospital staff and an insensitive doctor. I had never felt so vulnerable and alone in such a crowded space. It was a profoundly upsetting experience.

          Years later, much to my own surprise, I wanted to have another baby. This time, I wanted a more compassionate doctor and a better childbirth experience. After much research and careful consideration, I went out of my way to ensure a better outcome for my last baby’s birth. Horrifyingly, it ended up being far more traumatic than my 5^th delivery. My church had prayed while I was in labor.  I am convinced that alone is what protected my daughter from being injured as she got stuck coming out of me. I fired my absentee doctor the next day, the crazy nurse who yanked my daughter out of me was also fired, and I filed a 13 page grievance  a year later detailing “negligence and unprofessional conduct” by the hospital staff and my doctor. I won’t ever know what impact my grievance had on anybody but me. Thankfully, it lessened the victimization I felt to a small degree.

     In Maslow’s Hierarchy self-actualization occurred in a redemptive way with that last baby’s birth. Over the past several years, as I heart wrenchingly tried to make sense of all that happened, I emerged 60 pounds lighter, in great physical shape, more settled in my soul, more committed to enjoying my marriage and my children, and envisioned with a goal to become a midwife someday. I also discovered in intensely intimate ways that His comfort has been unmatched by any human being. I have since put all my children in school, except my 16 year-old 11^th grader who will be graduating next year. Enrolling in school and preparing to enter the work force in the next several years would have been unthinkable to me so many years ago when I had all my babies and toddlers underfoot and in my arms. The self-actualization part, at this juncture in my life, is quite sweet indeed. I look forward to the years ahead with the flexibility and “open-handedness” I have toward my plans. The future looks very bright indeed.

I Knew I Was In Trouble When I Got to the Gas Station Without a Screwdriver and Other Tales of Recent Woes

     Well, not exactly recent "woes" because that sounds so self-pitying and whiny. Now, to be honest, I can be self-pitying and whiny, but desire NOT to be. So, let me clarify: woes should be characterized as "hardships." Sounds more biblical, huh? So, onto the screwdriver part. Our newer used car Tim and I recently purchased I call the "Wannabe Lexus Camry" because it has fancy Lexus hubcaps but is a dented and scratched up 12 year-old Camry. It had very low mileage and we were thrilled with the deal we got. We needed the car to save gas and wear and tear on our almost 9 year-old Suburban and because Elena will be driving independently soon. So, I made the painful discovery several weeks back that the lever next to the driver's seat does NOT open up the gas tank door and neither do my keys jammed into it. I needed a screwdriver to jam the door open. I had put one in my car, but couldn't find it and forgot about it besides. When I realized, with an empty tank of gas, that I needed a screwdriver, after having gone out of my way late at night to get gas, I was NOT HAPPY. I was also too embarrassed to ask the gas station attendant if he had one. So, off to my house on fumes I drove. I did get gas the next day and all was well. I have since discovered that if I stick a tube of lipstick to hold the lever up then I can open the gas can door just fine. Who would have thought how many uses I could get out of a tube of lipstick?!

At the beginning of the semester....

     And then there was the situation with my Sadistics professor....Yes, you read that right. Let's just say that this paragraph could be titled, "I Knew I Was In Trouble When I Arrived At My Statistics Final ON TIME and All Nine of My Classmates Were Already There Getting The First Part of A Two Hour Lecture That We Would Be Tested On Later That Night." Let me add something about a picky professor who seemingly delights in tormenting people, my utter exhaustion, and him failing me on the spot. I will say, in a word: injustice. I had so prayed that I would pass this class and, even though I cried on all three trains on the ride home from that nightmare final, I felt a peace that God would come through and that I would be awarded the paltry "C" I had rightfully earned.
     And I was. After two e-mails and many prayers, my Statistics professor called me 2 days before Christmas to inform me that I had earned a C. He had some negative remarks about my class work the last three weeks of class, too. I pressed him on my most recent test scores and they were an A and a B. I bluntly told him that I felt I had done rather well recently. There was one area, and in his mind THE MOST IMPORTANT part of statistics that had confused me. Whatever. He also thanked me for making the class enjoyable. Yes, I was a bit of a class clown because that man tormented us at times with his teaching style and making jokes and good-natured fun of HIM was a coping mechanism. He happened to like it. Good for me. Good for him. He was actually rather sweet on the phone. I hung up, relieved and grateful that God had come through for me.

....at the end of the semester

     And then there were the windstorms. This paragraph could be titled, "I Knew I Was In Trouble When  News Reports Indicated A Prediction of DAYS Without Electricity, 'But We're Working On It.'" The cold, the DARKNESS, the groping around, the discouragement of life being interrupted, the struggle to figure out where I was gong to charge my iPod and my phone, the rotting food in the fridge, the expense of eating out, trips to the laundromat, and on and on and on. Not to mention needing to study in a quiet, warm place with lights. Where was I going to study?! That was a pressing question and I had a hard time getting in the studying that I needed to do. I think it did affect my grades. But what was I going to do? It was challenging to be without power for 5 days. We had never been without power for more than 12 hours or so. There's a first time for everything, right?
     But the lights and the heat and the power sources did come on. There was something awe-inspiring about seeing that line of massive Edison work vehicles slowly making their way through the streets to restore power. It was cool, even as I waited for heat.
     And so, the Christmas season has just about passed. It was a strange season. I don't think I wrapped one Christmas present. My girls did all the wrapping. I was the least excited about this Christmas than I had ever been. I don't know why. That was kind of discouraging. Yet, I enjoyed the hymns and Chistmas carols at church more than I ever had. Perhaps my focus is cleared and the "fluffy" things of the world are less appealing?I'd like to think so.
     So I have a week or so before the New Year begins. Time to rethink, re plan, regroup and ask God for a fresh vision and a new supply of grace and encouragement. I know he won't disappoint me. I just need to ask Him.

Madonna & Child and a Covered Belly

     I was in Costco this morning having my groceries rung up for me when the man standing in line behind me says, in a thick foreign-born accent, "You look like a madonna." I looked at him and said, "Well, I do have six kids."
     Shocked, he replied, "Madonna has six kids?!"
     "No," I replied, "I have six kids. You know, like a 'Madonna and Child'"?" He looked at me, puzzled. I went on to explain, "You kow the portraits from centuries ago with the mother figure holding a baby? She was called a 'madonna with child.'" Both he and register clerk looked confused and puzzled. I dropped the issue, mumbling, "I was trying to deflect the compliment."
     Not that looking like Madonna is a compliment. I don't even think it's true, except that I do have a hair color and style that is similar to some pictures I've seen of her. That woman changes her hair style and color so frequently that I have no idea what she currently looks like. She also, at least in the past, would frequently bare her belly. I DO NOT bare my belly. It isn't attractive to view stretch marks, cellulite, fat, and extra flabby skin on a 41 year old woman who's had six big babies.. That is the view you'd have of me if I pulled a classic Madonna wardrobe attempt. Even if it wasn't immodest (which it most definitely is), it would be gross.
     In fact, I had to tell a disappointed Tim that, despite all my weight loss, the belly flab is here to stay, short of liposuction. Part genetic inheritance from my mom and grandma, bearing lots of big babies, and too much weight gained over the years and you have my unsightly belly. Oh well. I don't really care. I have shrunk it with MUFA's (mono-unsaturated fatty acids) foods described in the Flat Belly Diet and I certainly do care about the health risks of belly fat. I do abdominal exercises everyday. There's nothing more I can do. So, it is what it is.
     It triggered a weird memory, though. While waiting for my doctor during my 38th week pregnancy appointment, I got up to pick up a magazine. While reaching for it, I heard his "tap, tap" at the door. I put the magazine down. As my doctor entered, he picked up the magazine and said, "Do you want to read about Madonna?" On the cover of Vanity Fair that month was, you guessed it, Madonna. I shrugged my shoulders and said, "No." Because really, I didn't. He tossed the magazine on top of the others and said, 'Yeah, who cares." Oddly enough, she was an OB patient of his for both of her pregnancies! I suspect she returned from London just to see him again for her prenatal care with her second baby. What's ironic about that scenario is that he is one of the few non-family people that she should have bared her belly to! Anyway, I am positive that he cared about Madonna Ciccone, the patient, but not really Madonna the celebrity. And I certainly did not look like her then, nor have I ever tried.
     Weird. Really weird.

Madonna - the real one

Me, the real me (Yeah, I didn't think so. Perhaps the guy was new to the LA area and was on hyper-alert for celebrity look-alikes.)

Smoothing Out A Rough Start

     On the last day of August school began with a bang for all of us, except Tim who started at his new school several weeks earlier. Among the eight people in our family, five of us started at new schools. Being math minded these days, I calculated that that is over 60% of us making adjustments that have been, well, rather rough at spots. Daisy, new to kindergarten, has fared well. Camille, surprisingly at Pasadena High School this year, has also adjusted remarkably well, too. She has new friends, is doing well in her studies, and has said, "I'm so glad I was home schooled for as long as I was, but I'm glad to be in school now." However, the rough spots for her were managing a sticky locker, a really crowded school with long distances between classes, and figuring out that she can't eat small snacks throughout the day like she used to at home. Having an ornery, mean English teacher who scolds students for sneezing too loudly has been an interesting adjustment as well. Her Spanish teacher is an absolute blast, however, and her stories of his off-the-wall ways have me in stitches. (I think I might need to bring him home - or ban him.) All in all, she loves school and I'm pleased with how diligently and responsibly she has approached her school work. She's also made some really nice friends which has been a source of comfort and encouragement to her as well as relief for me.
     Tim has had some rough times with his new job location, although he did pick up an extra hour of teaching and extra pay. Thank you, Lord! He's had an adjustment to his classes, too, which has proven to be better overall. I am at Los Angeles Trade Techincal College in downtown Los Angeles just blocks from Staples Center. I think I've had the roughest adjustment in figuring out traffic patterns, length of commute, parking, location of my classes, and pick-up and drop-off arrangements for my girls, childcare for Julia, and overall time management regarding when I can carve out time for studying. I've struggled with anger and resentment at how hard it's been to adjust to all the changes and the tremendous stress and pessure I have felt. I had to acknowledge that my bitterness was towards God and that I somehow blamed him for these difficuluties. As much as I felt he directed me into my current season, I also made these choices. All that being said, I'm confident I'm where God wants me.
     For starters, I love being away from home for a couple of hours a week and away from dishes, laundry, errands, and monotony. I cherish the academic learning environment because for so many years that intellectual part of my brain was on a bit of a break. I also feel envisioned with specific, measurable goals and a loose time frame that brings comfort, anticipation, and ambition. I have lacked a clear vision for so long that part of me struggled with depression and discouragement. And yet, being home and having babies for the last 16 years has brought me to the place I am and has made me the woman I've become. Those precious, challenging, beautiful and trying babies have been the change agents God has used to refine me and mold me and bring about the vision I feel he's given me. Those years and my precious daughters, along with my hardworking husband, are undeniably the most important people in my life and will always hold front and center in my heart. Most of my ambition comes from a desire to serve them, provide for them ,and be an example for them.
    Lastly, Julia has started pre-school two mornings a week last week. She loves it and is so excited to go. This pre-school class is taught by a wonderful, experienced pre-school taecher in an affordable co-op  situation. Two mornings a week I have almost three hours to myself to do...what else? Study at the library. (Although I must confess, I have gone on a couple of shopping trips, too.) Julia needs an environment with her same-age peers for her speech therapy and I need a block of undistracted time to study. It is nice to know, though, that I can run errands, clean house, go out to lunch with a friend, go to a doctor's appointment, or do "whatever" without Julia while giving Elena plenty of time to study.
     Regarding Elena, her physics class is very rigorous. She also had intense lifeguard training the first few weeks of school which resulted in her certification as a lifeguard. I was so proud of her! She will be applying for a position at the Rose Bowl in the next few weeks.  Also in the next few weeks she will be starting her driver's license classes and training. It is a very full season for her as well. She remains a tremendous helper to me.
     And....drum roll please...I finally have Julia's speech therapy sessions scheduled at the girls' elementary school which coincides perfectly with me being able to help out in each of my three girls' classes. Amazing! Astonishing! Everything has fallen into place so beautifully! Yay!  
      Now that I've been in school for over a month and slugging my way through Chemistry and Statistics, I've felt more settled with my school routine. Now I just have to persevere through the semester and finish well. So, at this point I'm ready for a nap!

Growling Belly and Gurgling Bubbles

     These last few weeks of summer have been challenging and amazing in a variety of ways. I'm almost at the end of my 20 day fast with the Lord's Table II and I've lost just under 15 pounds. Wow! I'm thinner than I've been in 6 years and I feel so much better. It hasn't been without its unique hardships, however. Planning meals and cooking for a family of 7, and having the audacity to try new recipes...what was I thinking?! And yet, I was told they were tasty. Hearing the *crunch* *crunch* of my little Sunday School students munching their Saltines almost made me grab the whole sleeve of crackers and inhale them like Cookie Monster does with cookies on Sesame Street. I refrained, however. Or lying in bed at night and hearing my belly growling and churning and finally surrendering to sleep despite the discomfort. Oddly enough, waking up not so hungry, though. It has been a juice and smoothie fast, so I haven't struggled with low blood sugar. In fact, I've had more energy than normal and have been able to get in a fairly rigorous swim workout every morning.
      Ah! The return of my first-love sport - swimming.

Before: July of '10 just before starting The Lord's Table I

     I swam competitively as a child. I have vivid memories of weekend-long invitational meets and waiting for my race to be up. I remember the nervousness as I got to those blocks and then *pow!* the gun went off and so did I. I wasn't a fast swimmer or particularly talented at any stroke, but I enjoyed it. In high school I began to swim competitively again. The exercise throughout my high school years was so helpful to me. I still wasn't a very fast swimmer, but I had fun.
     And so now, in my early 40's I've found a way to start swimming again and oh, how soothing and invigorating it is! I delight in watching the bubbles I exhale in the water gurgle up to the surface as I pull my arms through the water. One particular and lovely memory I will always cherish occurred last week. I was in an outdoor pool and doing back stroke kicking with a kickboard. I stretched my body out as straight as I could and pulled my tummy muscles in. As I kicked, I felt myself floating and gliding through the water. I gazed at the gauzy clouds above and the blue sky and breathed in a sweet, enchanted breath. "Oh, Lord, how beautiful the sky is this morning!" I sensed God looking down at me and smiling, keeping close watch over every breath I took, every move of my muscles, every wet hair on my head swaying in the water....and lovingly enjoying my pleasure in the beautiful morning he had created for me.
     Oh, what a glorious and precious Creator who calls me by name!

After The Lord's Table II - August '11 - 40 lbs. lighter

Funny People Should Be Banned or Move in With You

     Let me explain the title. This last week, I was observing one of my daughters' swimming classes. Her instructor is F*U*N*N*Y. His energy is over the top. In the spring, Daisy had this same instructor and I remember hearing him clear across the pool. I then saw him run around in circles on the pool deck yelling, very loudly, "Okay kids! Let's jump in!" and then seeing him jump in the pool with a loud splash. He would enthusiastically teach the kids their requisite swimming skills and his instruction was very thorough, enthusiastic, and energetic. Daisy later called him "crazy" because he "runs around and then jumps in the pool." I thought he was a great instructor. He got Daisy swimming her "scoops" with her head face down and not holding her nose. Yeehaw!

Daisy's swim teacher "coaching" her class on their win!

     Fast forward to a couple of days ago. The instructors and students of several classes joined together for a rambunctious, splashy game of "sharks and minnows." He carefully instructed his "Advanced Tiny Tot" class to stay near him against the wall so that his whole class got safely across. He then proudly and loudly exclaimed, "MY WHOLE CLASS GOT ACROSS!" When one of the other instructors made a move to tag one of the instructor's students he jumped on her and dunked her in the water. She came up laughing as all of his students made it across. I couldn't help but laugh at his antics. That just scratches the surface. There are various other amusing things he does and says that make me chuckle. His energy and sharp wit combined make an entertaining person to watch. In fact, he would be fun to take home. He would probably have our whole family laughing on a regular basis. And wouldn't that be a scream?
     But, of course, how would I explain the 25 year old man who suddenly started living with us? He's our family comedian that we feed so that he'll make us laugh? No. That wouldn't work. And what 25 year old man would ever want to live with our crazy family of girls and Tim's quirky ways? Yeah. I didn't think so. That would be too weird. I don't set out to be purposely weird. Really. I don't.
     The next option would be to ban him. When someone is that funny they shouldn't be around. It's too hard not to see them on a regular basis because the laughter becomes addictive, sort of. I remember one person years ago who had me in stitches on a regular basis. I don't see him anymore and quite frankly, I miss him at times. He should have been banned way before I met him because I don't like missing people. It hurts my heart in this raw, gushy spot.
     My sister's boyfriend, Dave, is another very funny person. His humor is d...r...y... and quick. He says the wackiest, funniest things so quietly and quickly, that if you're not paying attention, you'll miss it. I usually catch it and am laughing myself an aerobic workout. He hasn't moved in with us, but he comes over regularly enough so that it keeps me in a funny fix. I make sure I feed him tasty food so that he keeps coming by.
     I don't know why I like funny people so much. I just do. I appreciate the intelligence behind many styles of humor. I don't know many people who are funny without being very intelligent and perceptive as well. Perhaps I so appreciate a good laugh every now and again because it offsets the gloom I feel at times. Or, perhaps I sense it's a foretaste of what I know eternity will be like. And how how I long for that day at times. People erroneously say that hell will be fun because they will be partying with all their friends there. No, not even close. Heaven will be that deliciously wonderful place filled with laughter of all different kinds; the kind of laughter that bubbles from your mouth and fills your entire being with deep, penetrating JOY and magnificent delight. In fact, when I think of those I love that have passed on, I remember their laughter quite clearly. And of course, I then miss them. That's why they've been banned. And at the right time, I'll move in with them!

Soothing Swinging and Seasons of Life

     I went out to my backyard tonight to swing. Yes, you read that right - swing. In my childhood years my mom had a hammock swing hooked up in our family room. She would swing me so many times one way, and so many times another way. It was "vestibular therapy" to straighten out the crossed wires in my brain, or something like that. I don't know how much benefit was gained, but it was fun! Throughout my childhood, I loved to swing on swings. In my adolescence I would swing on the swings at the little neighborhood park down the street from my house. One particularly sad Christmas night stands out now as I'm reflecting back. I was lonely on Christmas night, so I walked down the street in the dark and swang for about an hour or two. Quite a sad sight....but the swinging was therapeutic - once again. Somehow, strangely, I didn't feel so lonely anymore...
 
    A tense, painful conversation tonight-
    Embarrassing, yet tempting, glances I noticed earlier today (for crying out loud! What's wrong with you?! I'm an old lady with 6 kids! Please do NOT look at me like that young, handsome boy-man!)-
     And the loneliness - still there....different expectations, different situations, different people....same feeling
     And so, off to the swings I went to cry and pray and talk to my Friend. As I swung higher and higher and relished the dark night sky and bright, white stars, my soul was stirred and drawn to Jesus, my BFF - truly and amazingly. I discussed with him various things, I cried, I felt my tears drip down my face and wondered what my makeup looked like now....The swinging was so soothing to my jerked up, raw emotions.
     It seems to me that swinging can be quite helpful to many people. I think it might hearken back to the moving, rocking and calming sensations a baby experiences in its mother's womb. At night, as I would lay down for the evening, my babies -all of them -would become wakeful and start moving all around. The lulling movement of the day had ceased for a considerable period and they were now awake! Yee ha! And I was trying to settle down for the night. Preparation for that newborn period I'm sure.
     Maybe, just maybe, the loneliness and struggles I face at times are the stilling period of the night during various seasons of my life. Perhaps God is calling me to "stir" during those periods toward Him, toward his word, his promises, his truth. A birth is impending, perhaps into a new season, perhaps into a new life that he is preparing me for. Babies need healthy muscle tone and all that activity in the womb prepares them for health and vitality after their birth. Perhaps my night swinging and praying, crying, "having it out" with God is preparing me for this next season. Okay....so who knows? I seem to liken so much to pregnancy, childbirth and mamas and babies that perhaps I'm taking the analogy too far. But I can't help but wonder if those pictures and correlations are how God speaks to me....how he knows the language I understand....