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Archive for October, 2011

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?

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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.

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