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It seems this is the season for long-term couples to look at themselves and their relationships and decide not to be together anymore.  Okay, really, it’s more the season for one half of the couple to do that.  I’ve got a few friends who are making the transition from ‘us’ to ‘me.’ 

What I really want to talk about is the freedom that comes with the untangling, the dis-enmeshment of a breakup. (I love that new word I just made up!)  So many of my friends had been living with the constrictions of their relationships – afraid to do things, buy things, go places because their partner disapproved.  The relationships had a power imbalance that was subtle, abusive, and insidious.  It grew out of patterns of behavior that may have started benignly (“Honey, you’re so much more savvy with money – you do our finances”)  but grew into chains.  (“Can I buy this?  Is it in our budget?”) 

I have a friend who just last week finalized her divorce and she’s been slogging through it for a year now.  Her husband told her out of the blue and began a systematic tearing down of her, beginning with the finances.  She has been on the defensive, first trying to regain his love, then trying to hold on to anything, countering his every legal move, let’s just say it’s been exhausting.  But now it’s done and she is finally able to sit back and look at her life – think about what she wants, where she’s headed, what is important to her.   

What I notice about her is that she is finally prioritizing herself again – for her – not so she will be a good “catch.”   She has stopped being driven by fear: that he will leave her, that she will not have the American Dream, that the kids will leave her too, that her friends will judge her because she failed.  She smiles now. 

Fearless living my friends.  Makes you amazing!  Allows you to love yourself first and others unconditionally.  Every person I know who moves from ‘us’ to ‘me’ has been given that opportunity.  Some grab it and hold it and own it for the rest of their lives, and others refuse the gift, too afraid to believe.

My hope and wish for all of my friends, especially those who are hurting, is that they will grab the chance, kick fear to the curb, and fly.  Wouldn’t it be beautiful to see all those womyn with wings?

Those were the words that followed me home last Thursday.

I haven’t posted here in quite some time.  I just really haven’t felt like I had anything important to say, and that my blog had become some kind of me, me, me drivel.  Not what I wanted.  So I’ve pulled back.

Recently, though, a few things have brought me back to a place of feeling like I have something important to say.  So quick catch up.  By now, if you’ve read much of my blog, you know that the main focus I have is about fearless living, and not letting anxiety or uncertainty stop me from doing the things I know are my path.  I’ve zeroed in on intentional, deliberate, “create your own best world” behaviors, and bless the Goddess, it works!  Over the past couple of years, I have found a womon who I wake up every morning feeling more grateful for than the last; I have and am making friends who are interested in real intimacy.  I have ditched my house and moved to a pedestrian-friendly, super active, unique kind of town that also has a deliberate vision for itself, and I’ve committed to being that pedestrian who uses mass transit to get her places.  My work rejuvenates me.  I travel, with or without companions.  And I make time for the activities I love and the ones that are good for me.  I forgive myself for mistakes.  My life is so unbelievable!  And every big thing has come by baby steps.  Even the scary ones.  I am living the life I designed – but then you are too! (That’s something to think about, eh?)

So, what does this have to do with hearing those startling words?  Well, I’ll tell you.  I have always felt that I had firm moral convictions, liberal political opinions, and a sort of  covenant with my community to help uphold common values.  Most days, that means picking up some litter, or offering the homeless guy a breakfast.  It means greeting strangers with a smile, direct look in the eye, and a pleasant, “Hello.”  It’s a commitment that is very important to me.

So, Thursday, I get off the train coming back from work.  It’s about 4:00.  Across the street from the station is a park that I usually cut through to get home.  I’m walking beside this older guy in his late fifties.

As we walk, I notice that there is a group of about fifty highschool students standing in a large circle in the park.  I say to the guy beside me, “Is that a fight going on there?”  He doesn’t acknowledge me, but veers down the hill toward the group.  When he realizes that, yes, indeed, it is a fight, he turns and walks the other way.

Oh, but not me!  I storm right up through the crowd saying in a loud and firm voice, “What is going on here?” (You know that voice your mother used with you when she caught you doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing.)  The scene in front of me was the saddest thing I have ever personally witnessed.  One young man had another in a headlock and was punching him repeatedly with upper cuts to the face.  You could see blood fly and hear the wet smack every time he landed a punch.  The other boy was trying so hard to get away.  The kids were cheering and laughing watching him being beaten down.   I totally went into playground teacher mode and  marched right up to them demanding, “What are you thinking?!” 

Now let me give you a little visual.  Here I am, a 48-year-old womon of size, in a screaming orange dress that may be a little too small (and has a rip in the skirt), wearing a bright green backpack, and Chacos.  I didn’t have time to wash my hair that morning, so it’s a little flat, and as usual, I have no make-up on.  Not really the look of authority.  But unbelievably, these boys stop.  And I am grateful, because the boy who was being pounded was so covered in blood.  His nose looked sideways on his face, and I watched him spit out a tooth.  He looked scared.

Everything was quiet for a second or two.  There were three of us standing there in the middle of that gang of kids.  Each boy I made eye contact with looked a little abashed.  And then my golden moment was broken.  A girl, a girl, screamed, “Bitch!  Go away and let us get back to our fight!” and threw something that hit me in the shoulder.  I didn’t look at  her.  I didn’t look to see what was thrown.  But I was suddenly afraid.  I could tell by the “oooohs” that gang mentality was emboldening these kids.  A few more girls started screaming at me.  My cell phone was in the back pocket of my backpack and I couldn’t reach it without taking the backpack off.  All of the wise, “this is not the way” words that were forming in my head suddenly ducked for cover, and all I could come up with was, “You know what?  FINE!”  and I walked away.  I didn’t run, and I didn’t look back, and I was terrified.  But when I got about fifty paces away, I did stop.  I did get out my cell, and I did call 911.  The kids had been watching me walk away, yelling and screaming, and when they saw me on the phone, they scattered.  By the time the police said they would drive by, not a child was around. 

The absolute worst part of this, the part that is so horrific to me, is that almost every one of the teenagers witnessing this fight had their cell phones out and were recording it.  Not one of them was calling 911.  They were more concerned with the potential YouTube value.

What will become of us if the almost womyn of our society cheer for violence, as if it is a spectacle put on for their pleasure, instead of working for peace?  This is what keeps me up at night.  The ringing, high-pitched voices of angry teen girls shouting, “Bitch!” at me because I stopped the violence.  Guess I’ll be walking with cell phone in hand from now on.

That’s Not My Name

Yeah, it’s been interesting thinking about this scenario that Michael Downing has provided for us.  (And yeah, it’s kinda fun giving you a different link to Michael Downing with each post.)  Anyway, here’s the latest version of his first assignment.

(To see the actual assignment check this post)

That’s Not My Name 

As Joe lay there, I thought, “Should I have warned him?  A small heads up?”  But no, that’s not my way.  Some call me Fate, some Free Will – I guess it’s all in your stance.  Makes me no mind, I don’t step in. 

 Who knew a girl would bring Joe down?  Truth is, I may have. 

 When the door swung in and he felt no one in the room, felt the chill breeze, he did not think, “I’m done for.”  And he may not have been.  Joe’s a Free Will guy.  That’s me.  He knows is path is his choice.

 That girl – she was so like the ones who had been there with want, with need, with a hole in her gut, a hole in her arm, a plea on her lips.  And yet, she seemed not like them – like her need was so deep, it could be her time, her chance.  He’d been where she was, could show her the way. Joe could, but she chose to leave.

 Joe looked out – made a Free Will choice.  He climbed out and walked her path.

 Kris is a Fate girl.  That’s me.  I save her from blame, from guilt, from her own life.  She knew Joe would come, knew they would be close. 

 Joe caught up.  “Uh, Kris, right?  You should come back. We can help.  I can help.”

 She smiled.  Held out her arms, kissed him

 As Joe lay in the snow, he thought, “I used to dream this.”

So, I haven’t posted in quite a while.  Work piled up, travel to see my girlfriend, the needy cats requiring lap time – oh how to get it all in!  The blessing I guess, is that this year I didn’t disappear because of SAD.  I got a wonderful light that has been like a Goddess-send.  It imitates sunlight and according to medical research, triggers chemicals that trick my body into thinking it’s summer and so I have more energy and am just happier.  Love that!

I’m taking a writing class over the next few weeks with Michael Downing, a New York Times Bestselling Author.  That feels a wee bit intimidating.  But, in previewing the books he’s asked us to read before the first class, and the writing assignment he’s given us, I think this is going to be WAY fun! 

As a matter of fact, the first writing assignment has me so excited that I may write it several times.  My girlfriend and I had lots of great conversation about it over the holiday break, looking at our first assumptions regarding the scenario, and then deliberately thinking of alternatives.  She’s quite the writer herself, so deconstructing the assignment with her really helped me think way, way, way outside the box! 

I thought it would be fun to post the work I’m doing for this class here, and invite you (whoever you are) to play along!  So, without further ado, (I actually looked up the spelling of this word and found that there is debate as to whether it’s ado or adieu,) the assignment:
There is a woman in a room.  There is a door, a window, and a chair in the room.  A man comes to the door.  He says, “We’ll be with you in a few minutes.  Don’t open the window.”  He leaves.  He returns.  The window is open.

The assignment is to write a story that begins after the man returns.  For this exercise, you can assume that readers know everything in the scenario, so you don’t have to account for that material.  Your story begins as the man returns and sees that the window is open.

The technical requirements are these:

–No more than 250 words.
–Past tense.
–Third person (limited or omniscient; the idea is simply to use the convention of a narrator who is not a character in the story)
–Use only monosyllabic words. (Really.)

Okay, sounds like fun, doesn’t it?  So now, here is what I wrote on my first go-round, before my girl and I had deconstructed the scenario:

Frank came back.  “You had to do it.  I told you not to.”

“Of course,”  She had the smile of a cat in fresh cream.  “No rules for me.”

He went to the sill.  The ground five flights down was wet and slick with oil. Drops of rain caught in his hair.

“Be hard to get free, then.”

“Don’t bet on it.” 

The sound of her breath came close.  He felt her warmth on his back, her hand at his belt.  “No Rae, I won’t play.” 

“Oh, I think you will.”  She spun him to face her, took his mouth with her lips, her length full force on him – just a lean, just a push.

When Bill came in, the sound of the rain was dull behind the glass, and Rae was in the chair, the gun snug in the small of her back.

“Where’s Frank?”

“He went out.”

So, I know, it’s debatable as to whether this is truly past tense.  But, Oh My Goddess!  I had so much fun writing it!

Tomorrow, or the next day, or just soon, I’ll post another version.  In the meantime, come play with me and post yours!

nanowrimo

yep, I’m in.  And you know what that means.  Either I will drop off the face of the earth for a month or I will be posting here more often just to get away from the agony of 1667 words per day without feeling guilty.  Great program, by the way – check it out:  www.nanowrimo.org 

So yes, if I don’t write again soon, I’m thinking of you, but I haven’t made my word count, so I can’t come out to play 🙂

I miss you

Another interesting meta-phrase, “I miss you.”  Was talking about this with a friend who was feeling particularly lonely and said those words.  Followed by something to the effect that saying so seemed needy, didn’t it?

Now, let me go back to the truth that communication is never as clear-cut as we would like it to be.  I say something, or write something, or even move my body and the first thing that happens, even before I do any of those things, is that my mind considers my purpose, my audience, what I know of that audience, and what kinds of response I have received in similar situations with others and with the intended audience.  All of these filters come together to help me choose the way I convey my message.  And then my message hits your filters.  I can say ‘your’ in this case, since you (whoever you are) are reading this.  And those same filters come into play, except from your perspective.  So, really, do we ever communicate exactly what we want to communicate?  Ah, too big a question for me!

But back to ‘I miss you.”  I have a pretty standard overall feeling about the receiving of that meta-phrase.  It’s a compliment.  It says, “You are important to me.  I want to spend time with you.  I enjoy your company.  You bring me joy.”  Why else would we miss? As the receiver,  ‘I miss you’ are words that I enjoy hearing.  It makes me think about the giver and often spurs me to find a way to make more real time with them.  Because, honestly, I miss them too.

But now to the perspective of the ‘sender’.  I think that all of the above apply in any situation of saying, “I miss you.”  But emotional state is a big factor.  When we are doing something that we know the other person would love, we might give them an ‘I miss you,’ because we want them to have that fun experience.  Or when we’re doing something that we think we would enjoy more if that person were there, we can have an ‘I miss you’ moment.  Both of those are happy and celebratory of that person. 

But when we’re feeling low and/or sad, it’s a natural tendency to think about what external things would make us happy.  Often it’s a good friend or lover.  Connecting then and letting them know you miss them feels weak or wrong or needy because we’re not in great shape.  But really, let’s look at that.  The people who are important in our lives are important because we can turn to them.  Because they support us through everything – the good and the bad.  And to recognize that – they’ve helped us feel good, shared their joy –  to want that when we are down, isn’t that normal? 

What a gift to give someone!  You enhance my life.  Thinking about you makes me smile and right now, I could use a smile.  I miss you.  I would feel better than I do right now, if you were here.  It would help me get out of my own way.  Telling someone you miss them is not a demand for time or attention.   In this case, it’s an acknowledgement of not feeling good and one possible solution.  It’s still a celebration of that person.

Okay, so, ‘I miss you’ has been sent, it has been received and now the reaction.  This is where needy, greedy, happy, grateful – judgements come in. 

As I have been writing this, I’ve been thinking of anther friend who has just gone through a really sad break-up.  It came as a surprise to her and she has had a hard time really believing.  Her ex would probably even say that the deluge of texts, e-mails, snail mails, etc. would amount to stalking.  And every one of those communications had some form of  ‘I miss you.’ 

So, as I’m writing this, I’m also thinking about that, and what I’m writing is losing form and purpose, because I’m writing about people who care about one another, and who want to spend time together, but I’m writing as if my truths about this meta-phrase were universal and then I’m trying to accommodate the ‘I miss you’ that is not a reciprocated feeling.  so.

I think what I’ve come up with in my muddle is that I still believe ‘I miss you.’ is a compliment.  I still believe all of the things I have written about it.  Whether one takes the compliment or not, is up to them.  But the needy part, the part that feels ookie to the receiver is not the I miss you, but the rest of the message – “What is wrong with me? I can change.  Please come back.”  All there, although maybe not in those exact words.  We mix the compliment with the tragic lack of self-esteem and have that, “Ew!  Yuck!  Get away from me now!” feeling.

Remember when I talked about our filters?  I think we’ve all had the ‘I miss you’ around a lost partner or friend.  I know I have, and I’ve had the ‘I can change’ feeling too.  And I’ve communicated it.  I think that’s where my friend was coming from when she said something to the effect of ‘sounds kind of needy, doesn’t it?’  We start to associate missing someone with them not wanting to be around us.  So the more important someone is, the less we want to reveal that they are.  Because if you are important and I want to be around you, you are going to leave me because wanting you around (or to be around you) is needy.  And nobody likes needy or clingy.  How sad that our experiences can be so convoluted that we become guarded with our joy in each other. 

I know I’m just beginning to unlearn it.  It’s a part of an intentional life.  A life not ruled by fear.  And so to my very best friends, (and I know you’ll get this message) “I always miss you.  You help me be the best womon that I am, and you make me feel more alive.  I wish that I could spend so much more time with you because of who you are and who I am when I’m with you.  There is richness in our togetherness that I cannot find anywhere else and I carry it with me when we are apart.  I love you.”

lifetimes

Space

connections and space Peace PagodaI was talking with a friend the other day (okay, we were emailing and the last installment was yesterday) and we were discussing the need for space.  Physical space, to be alone, all alone, especially when you’re in a deeply intimate relationship.  And not just any space – space that feels like it’s yours.  She had asked me a while back which be more difficult – admitting I missed my girl, or realizing that I really don’t.  I totally misunderstood the question and thought it was about the demise of a relationship, but it was really about space.

It’s funny that we are taught that humans are such social creatures, because most of the people I hang with have real boundaries about how much time they want to spend in the company of others.  Including me.  And I sometimes feel guilty about my need to be all by myself.  Being in a long distance relationship means that I do miss her all the time, like the sound of a brook through the bedroom window.  Sometimes it’s fully present and all I can focus on, and sometimes it’s not even noticed.  I find that I don’t notice the missing when I’m engaged in something I want to do.  Being alone is often what I want to do.

In past relationships, my partners haven’t understood the need to have space for a day or a week, or even an hour.  And not just, “I want to be in another room from you,”  but, “I want you to go shopping without me and do lunch and let me have this space empty except for me for at least 2 hours, please.”  Somehow that seemed personal to them.  So I have spent many years fighting for the right to have space.  And accommodating my partner’s needs to have my presence.

That’s something that is different now.  In this relationship, maybe because we took it so slow, maybe because the distance is so great, maybe because we are so very intentional with each other, and check in at every point, I have freedom.  I know and have experienced the, “I need space alone and it’s not about you.”  From both sides.  And it works really well.

To be honest, the first time I was on the receiving end (she needed space), I said all the right things and did all the right things, but it was such a different experience that I had to sit and really process that it wasn’t about me, and I didn’t have to get insecure or needy.  And I didn’t need to share that processing with her.  Huh.  Okay, maybe I went through that a couple of times.  But one thing I know is true – we are our actions.  And  my actions were loving and respectful and what I wanted to receive when I needed space.  And so, I grew up and was open to being able to trust her a little bit more.  (Which is scary and leads to the need for more space!)

One of the things I wonder about needing space is why.  I’ve come up with a couple of things and I think in different moments they are all valid.  Gonna’ bullet these, because I probably want to come back and explore them more deeply later.

  • I find I have a greater need for space the more intimate I become with someone.  It’s new territory and hits all my trust buttons, and I get worn out, unsure, and afraid. 
  • Sometimes I need to be able to be me without feeling like there might be even the slightest chance of judgement.  Indulging in popcorn for dinner, or the cheesy movie I would never admit that I had seen.
  • I like me and need a date with me every once in a while.
  • Sometimes (and this is going to sound weird) I sit and savor the lonely.  Makes me more grateful.

My biggest gratitude today is that I have this freedom with my love and she has it with me.  It makes us strong and allows us trust.  I most deeply appreciate that my friends are on this same path of healthy investigation and growth.  We can talk objectively and emotionally about this stuff and in that process, I get the gift of being more available to trust and intimacy with them, too.  Maybe I will be a social creature one day! Ha!