Full disclosure that this post may trigger anyone grieving…
Upon the onset of the Thanksgiving season preparation, I become overwhelmed and somewhat anxious. I LOVE the holiday, it’s lack of religiosity, lack of gift-giving, and I marvel in the gathering of love, laughter (playing now, at a living room, near you), and the delectable smells and warmth of everything that’s for the meal and dessert. It has always been my favorite holiday, and, truth be told, though it has changed, astronomically, it still is. Would I make some changes, if I had more control, yes, omgoodness yes, but I recognize that control is not always mine. I can only hope that it will evolve in it’s newest form and grow in number and duration.
However, it takes me until around January 8th to recover from the anxiety of it all. I thought maybe it was a #tistheseason thing, but, never having felt that way prior to the last 4 years or so, I realized, with some guidance, that, for me, it has now become a “weird advent of sorts” for me.
Thanksgiving, 2019, was the day Dave told me he had decided it was time to take his health more seriously and get checked out. December 7th, he had himself admitted to the hospital for a Bronchoscopy, which took place 3 days later, and then….the rest of it… vent, waiting, praying, waiting, breathing above the vent, waiting, coming off of the vent, hopeful, feeling some relief, talking rehab, and then, the unimaginable. The arrangements, the loss, the heartbreak, the shivah, the illnesses that followed, the turmoil, the fallout, the lockdown, and on and on we go. Sooo much. It’s no wonder I/We feel traumatized.
I’ve come to realize that the 8th is when Shivah ended. The grief and the pain…That never goes away. Everyone who has loved and lost knows that. Without love, there can BE no grief. But, it is up to us to allow ourselves the time we need to adjust. Even just to name it, is helpful. I pray that I won’t always feel this way over those many weeks, but, for now, it helps to finally recognize WHY I have felt like this, and to own it. The rest will happen on it’s own, in its own time.
I have an unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomache with every family birthday and date of celebration from throughout my life now…because things are “just different”. There’s a “before” and an “after”. And it just keeps going.
I am doing well…I am adjusting, have made huge life changes. I am learning to trust, embracing life, embracing learning, and open to love.
With spring arriving next week on Dave’s birthday, I am hopeful to learn to connect those two things, going forward. I’m thinking of marking the celebration with a plant…maybe something that blooms in purple, just because that makes sense.
Soooo, it’s just after 10 am, on a Thursday. And not just any Thursday, but Christmas eve…yet, another day that isn’t the way we “usually do it”. With the exception of 5 years ago, when both kids were in Israel, on a Birthright trip, we have traditionally ordered in food, and made plans to go see a movie tomorrow, hristmas day, and then go out for a late lunch or early dinner of Chinese food or sushi. The four of us…two parents, and two kids, now young adults. Instead, I find myself, once again, during this infamous pandemic year, solo, attempting to reinvent myself and the days. YES, I DO know that I am not alone in that, in any way, as witnessed by two emergency sessions, in the last two days, with patients with high anxiety, panic attacks, and the onset of depression…the latter, ending, merely, at 11 pm last night, when I, personally, just needed to be completely done, having just gotten home from a long night of work, after a crazy day. But, nevertheless, I needed to go over the positives and negatives for my patient, of two newly prescribed meds that I had recommended for her, educate her on their benefits, and aid her in a schedule to begin taking them.
Because, well, ‘Tis the season.
Usually, there are cancelations galore to holiday shop, (which is SOOOOO much more important than attending a therapy session.), And, as well, to attend school concerts, holiday recitals, bake cookies with extended family, to take advantage of surprise grandparent gifts to Broadway shows, or the Rockettes, or the ballet, to attend office parties, and spouses office parties, and get togethers that constantly arise. (I believe in the value of most of those.). This year, the majority of those things didn’t even happen…Nothing has been like “usual”. And, you see, this particular patient is a superstar….a superwoman…a do it all with great consistency, rockstar…Though, she never realizes how much she does handle, and with oh SO much grace. I see it, and marvel at it, and even recognize our similarities from when I was her age and my children were of similar ages. The plans made, the food, both ordered and prepped, the homemade cookies, gifts wrapped just right, for every family member, extended family member, and extras for whomever might “just show up” and couldn’t be left out. The careful balance of time scheduled to be with each side of the family, for quality time, and each outfit for each person, for each event, carefully chosen, pressed, coordinating and magical, assuring fabulous pictures and a lifetime of memories. (That I, of course, within a brief time, would have to match to the best coordinating papers to scrapbook, as well as sending duplicates to the grandparents, for their own enjoyment.) I actually started “giving myself a break” at one point, by sending perfectly posed, and personally handwritten cards at the start of the new year, rather than prior to every December holiday, when the kids were, maybe, early adolescents, but I only qualified that as fair, because I had done all of Thanksgiving prep and entertaining with a houseful, and a cousins’ brunch the day following, and had my usual girly holiday celebration within a week or two of that. I was an absolute GENIUS to have let myself “off the hook” that way, with the cards, allowing myself a whole additional 14 to 21 days…go me!
But, since Thanksgiving weekend, 2019, none of ‘the usual” has occurred because of Dave’s admission for a procedure in early December, to finally assess his health, and, inability to kick, what we all thought was unresolved pneumonia, which had been going on for months. Though my gut had been telling me for quite some time, and I had been telling him as well, that he was ill; Something was wrong, and he just wasn’t himself. His failing to address his health had always been an upsetting thing to me…putting off annual visits, canceling appointments, letting prescription renewals lapse until he was out of meds for days, etc. He saw this as me nagging, and I was otherwise at a loss to show him how much I cared.
I’m a “preventive girl”….always have been, and always will be, because “if I know about it, I can have a plan, and a plan is always good.” The alternative is anxiety, and that, and thrill seeking, is just not my thing. I DO NOT do well, living on the edge. (To know me, is to know I have a planner—always.) I’m scheduling, at the least, 9 to 12 months in advance, because certain things in my life happen annually, and the remainder of my life is scheduled around those things….camp, trainings, recitals, competitions, photo shoots, rehearsals, patients, choreography, classes, grad students, supervision, family holidays, birthdays, and family trips to connect with family down south. I put all of that in a planner, and wiggle between what’s left for me “to live”. I can’t recall the last real “vacation” I have taken prior to any of this because responsibility has ALWAYS come first, and there was never the financial resources for anything else while I struggled to keep us afloat, way beyond what anyone knew about, for lots of reasons. I could not take off from work to attend weddings, etc., for loss of income, because if I don’t work, I don’t get paid. I don’t live in a world of comp time, or bonuses, but I have always made sure to provide gifts, and, one of us would represent, especially, when my salary was our only salary. None of this is meant to cast a shadow over either of our styles, but, I’m learning now, that I never gave myself a break… I never did less than my absolute best; I’ve never tossed caution to the wind, presuming that “it would all work itself out” because, time and time again, I saw that it did NOT work itself out. I am also not one to ask for help… I AM that helper– always. But, one certainly cannot live in a bubble (not meaning anything Covid-19 bubble related). There must be a give and take. We are social beings.
Instead, I find myself, once again, during this infamous pandemic year, solo….just me…attempting to reinvent myself and reinvent the days.
And so, I decided to try to make some changes, and, very slowly, I have. But, I realize now, that I ALLOWED some of these things to happen. I allowed people to play me, because I thought I was being the reliable, helpful one. And, what Ive discovered, now, 3 years later, is that people will, most certainly, use you for their own benefits and convenience, until you begin to say “no”. Especially people who know your personal business, or your financial obligations, or those that claim to be your friend, or are just plain users.
I have learned that some people “whom I would’ve crossed any ocean for” wouldn’t even “walk down a corridor” literally, for me. They didn’t even give it a second thought. I also need to keep reminding myself not to “expect me” from them.
And so now, having found the draft from December, 2020, that begins this post, I can see the progress I’ve made, even though much of it has been thrust upon me. I will no longer presume that anyone else will do things as I choose to do them. I will no longer chase people, to have them in my life, and, if people want to go…they can go. I don’t want to be anyone’s second or third choice, or a place holder, or their coverage, so they can do the things I should, or allow them the ability to just sit back and relax. If you want me in your life, you’re going to have to work for it, by reciprocating, and by aligning your actions with your words. I find it difficult to put these boundaries in place, but, little by little, I am getting better at it. And, as my friend reminds me, “I am the Tequila, and NOT the lime”.
So, here’s to December… A painful month, with a “grief advent calendar of sorts”, counting down to loss, with growing pains as well, and the perfect time to reflect.
A few weeks ago, I visited the rents, and stayed with them for the entirety. On the car-ride back to their place after being picked up from the airport, my dad (87) mentioned the usual ” short list” of things they needed for me to “figure out how-to fix”. I’m more than happy to do these things, making it easier on them, and they usually take more brain power than might; “Configuring”, so to speak. Their reception upon me arriving, is second to none. Mom (82) preps, tidies, defrosts, and picks up gluten free pasta and wine with forethought, Dad opens the convertible couch to reveal the bed, and, in my head, I am reminded of the Castro Convertible bed commercial that “It’s soooo easy; Even a child can do it”. I barely get settled, and, having had an early morning flight, breakfast is already on the glass table, topped with a protector, a tablecloth, and placemats. There’s a gamut of food choices, coffee, and juices. It’s lovely, presented well, and yells “Welcome! We’re SO glad you’re here!” I actually love that, and am thrilled to just sit with them and catch up. It should be noted that I do speak to them multiple times per week, and am pretty much “up” on everything, but, nonetheless, I’m happy to listen. And, I know now, that they relish these conversations, just as much as I do. Time spent with my rents is precious, and that’s certainly not lost on me. However, this visit is different, as my sister, 3 years my elder, is also visiting and, already at the table. I don’t think we have visited at the same time in 23 years, having then done so, along with our families, complete with kids, toddlers, and babies, and we were all there for a family affair. She’s already been visiting with them for 72 hours, and I can see her patience has now wained, right on schedule. We all eat, chat, clean up, and resume whatever we were doing just prior. Mom, of course, is onto dinner, into the freezer, and defrosting whatever she had planned. My father grabs the newspaper for a crossward puzzle, and I head to his office/guestroom to settle my belongings. I’m offered the infamous eggcrate for the bed, but decline because I never find it to be more comfortable, just hotter in temperature while sleeping. The thermostat is already at 78, so why tempt the “fires of hell” as one of my childhood friends refers to the temperature as, more than familiar via staying with her own rents. I will spend the next several days wearing as little as possible, convincing myself that I don’t need sunblock while in the house; I am NOT dying a slow death, and that I CAN breathe, intermingled with fixing small things around the house, all while attempting to get to the pool before it rains, and while playing cat and mouse at night with my dad and the thermostat: Me setting it to 75 or 76, until he sets it back to 78, all while my mother murmurs about how cold it is, while wearing one of the snuggly wraps that I bought for her. And, in the morning, they will talk about me in a loud, but hushed tone, from another room, while I pretend I can’t hear them. But, that occurs only in between defrosting things for dinner. My mother likes to plan ahead. Dinner is THE forefront of these plans.
Now, this is pretty constant, and yes, even comical and yet SO frustrating at the same time. But, it’s also comforting in so many ways. My parents moved away from what was my childhood home about 24 years ago. I had very young children, while my sister was then, newly pregnant. My brother was moving from place to place; He was a bachelor, and had not yet met his now, wife. I was absolutely crushed to find out that they were moving a plane ride away from our growing families, but was thrilled that they were going to live a simpler life, away from the chaos of New York, cold temps, icy roads, and snow shoveling. They bought into a new development, together with my aunt and uncle, about 4 houses away from each other. I had hoped only, that they’d snowbird for a while and be around to see their kids and see their grandkids grow, but this didn’t happen. Looking back now, that idea seems utterly ridiculous, as they’ve only ever lived in one home year round. They did do some looking around somewhat closer to where we were residing, possibly thinking of doing so, but it never came to fruition. We, simultaneously, purchased a very large home with a huge, above ground basement, with sliders out to the back, for them to finish and reside in, but that never happened either.
My dad, ever active, had loved their development from the get go. He played tennis, bowled, went to softball games and breakfasts with his cronies, and hung out at the pool daily with the whole mishpucha from about 2 pm to 430. My mom, ever the homebody, played mah jong, worked on some committees, and crocheted blankets with a group, who then sent them to hospitals and hospice. About 6 years ago, my mother was admitted to the hospital, unexplicably, unresponsive. She had been out and about, earlier that day, having driven herself for some routine bloodwork, but, later on, in the wee hours of morning, had been found on the floor, and after transport and admission, was diagnosed with pneumonia, a heart attack, and a stroke. (Over achiever, much?!) She recovered well, but ceased driving thereafter, feeling that it wasn’t safe, which we all agreed with, and became even more of a homebody. A couple of years ago, my father was found to have a heart issue, at a routine medical visit, and has now had a valve replacement. He’s been slow to return to all of his activites, but still gets out there, bowls, and now plays pickle ball as well. I’m grateful that they’ve always been on top of their health, and preventatively at that. The craziness of them having had difficulty communicating with each other, for some time, has now dissipated, as my father has finally gotten a hearing aid; It’s an absolute game changer, which he now admits, he should’ve done sooner. And, because of it, they are also getting along better. I mean, if you can just hear each other, it does cut down tremendously on the miscommunications. They’re actually very cute together, have their routine together, including watching Jeopardy nightly, though I thought that they just might kill each other during Covid lockdown. They needed their individual routines and some space to be themselves. I was also very worried about them, their health, and, of course, what they might be exposed to, before there was an approved immunization. Per my cardiologist’s suggestion, I visited them just after I had recovered, having had my antibodies tested, and they were numerically, quite high. He said it’d be the best window of time to just go, and not put them or myself at risk in any way. It did take some convincing, but I hadn’t seen them in almost a year by then, having last seen them while I was sitting shivah; And, no questions asked or hesitancy on their part when that happened; They immediately booked a flight, and were here within several hours for me and the kids. It’s something I think about often, and, when I do, I then, immediately make arrangement to go see them. I now visit, as often as I can, knowing that our time together is precious. I know how lucky I am to have my parents and their support, even though at times, we drive each other crazy. We each have our pet peeves of each other… None of them are earth- shattering, nor new in any way. Certainly though, depending upon how much time you have spent together, these things are tolerable, and then…not so much.
I like my house organized. That’s no surprise to anyone that knows me…Tidy, accessible, put-together, orderly, but always welcoming and comfortable. Food at the ready, regardless of the conglomerate of allergies and/or intolerances, and always open to an out of town guest. Everything has it’s place…lesson learned throughout my childhood, and if you use it, put it back where it belongs. Having moved from a 4 bedroom to a 2 bedroom has certainly had its challenges for me. I need to constantly assess what’s here, and “prime real estate” in my home, as another friend calls it, is limited. If something “comes in”, something else must go out. Otherwise, things need to be “consumable”, and used within time. On some levels, it’s very freeing, because less IS more, but, some things just can’t be parted with, and other things, I just have no room for here. It’s taught me a whole other level of boundaries. I’ve learned to let a lot of things go. I’m happier now with experiences, than things. (I’m still willing to accept specifics like money, (who isnt?!) jewelry, and something handed down that has intrinsic, sentimental value to me.) I really do try to respect what works for others and follow their rules, but extremes just don’t make any sense to me…There has to be a balance. My sister’s “straw that broke the camel’s back” was while eating breakfast, over a placemat; My mom got upset, because there was no tablecloth under it, though the table protector WAS also already underneath the placemat. We both couldn’t understand why that was necessary. So, I stuck up for her, and began WW III. My sister, then later, stuck up for me, when I made a few meatballs for myself, rather than a burger. (It’s just not a burger without a bun.) And my mom became upset with us, taking it as defiance to doing something her way, while we both felt we had “followed the rules” and just didn’t want to make a big “tsimmis” over either thing, so we just took care of it ourselves. After we took some space from each other, (my sister and I went for manicures) and things had calmed down, we were able to talk it out, and see that we each have our own way, naturally, as we’re not kids, but we’re all struggling a bit with “letting go”. My mom, of appearances and control, my sister, of control and feeling criticized, and me, of control, and not feeling like I’m being treated like an adult. Sounds alot like mothers and daughters, right?! I’ve spoken with several of my close friends, who are also close to their moms, who reveal exactly that same theory. It Reminds me of a book I read in grad school called “you’re going to wear that?; Mothers and daughters in conversation”, written by linguist, Deborah Tannen, a PhD, who also wrote “You just don’t understand”, which I read as well. She writes about language and communication between specific relationships, their hopes, and their desires for each other. Recently, my mom has mentioned her realization that she doesn’t want anyone to think that she’s an “old lady” or “incapable”, and, I get that… While we are trying to do things to make things easier on her, and take care of things for them, she feels as if we think she’s incapable of doing them, and, so now, I understand; It’s a catch -22. Maybe embracing 82 is difficult, and there are some limitations, but, my mom is a very capable person, whom I know, raised a family, while having a career. Her feelings of being seen that way are valid. There are times when any of us feel that someone might think us incapable. As for my sister and I, we have also raised our families while having very full time careers, and are also more than capable. Plus, we were raised TO BE capable. Another catch-22.
I’m grateful that we’ve all grown enough to be able to take the time, hear each other, reflect, and understand each other better. We truly DO try to respect each other’s space and desires, make our own meatballs, clean up after ourselves, and put things back where they belong. I guess it takes strong women to make that happen.
“Here’s to strong women. May we know them. May we be them. May we raise them.”
Last week, I attended a chapel service at the hospital, and was introduced to the concept of “broken” and leaving things broken. We were treated to Alice Walker’s poem entitled, I WILL KEEP BROKEN THINGS…
We have all experienced things that are broken in our country, across the globe, and, in this world. In addition to the recent events of the world, it’s people, our communities, our families, our bodies, and our selves, throughout our lives, we All experience this lack of wholeness in some way.
There are things that break: Dishes break, tree branches break, glassware, bones, eyeglasses, and even, yes, our spirit. And then, there are things that breakdown: Cars, appliances, composting, technology, and also, communication. And, at times, they can be fixed… And often, they cannot.
Recently, I’ve been introduced to the Japanese art of “Kintsugi”. It is the art of repairing broken objects. It’s often ceramic pottery, or glass. Traditionally, gold lacquer is used to piece shards together again, creating a MORE beautiful object, through the acts of breaking, and repair. Kintsugi LITERALLY a means “join with gold”.
Yes, there IS beauty in broken things. And yes, there is also something very satisfying about repairing something that is broken, rather than discarding it. And yes, some things DO need to be left broken…
But, consider this…We learn SO much FROM the actual breaking— It’s fragility, its longevity, its value, and yes, even its strength. If we CAN repair it, it will NEVER be the same gain. But, much like a broken bone that has healed, it may become even stronger than before, and able to do things that it has never BEEN able to do before. It is also SEEN with different eyes, having BEEN, and having become. And, in this, it gains purpose, and we, in turn, gain wisdom. I have spoken with patients who have noted that they have a much bigger appreciation and fervor for life that they had never had prior to their diagnosis.
often, our faith is tested the exact same way. We seek repair, need healing, and we feel shattered. But, in time, we put ourselves back together…Maybe very differently than we may have expected, or even hoped for, and, like healing, it takes time.
Wherever you are in your healing and your own personal Kintsugi, I wish you Mi Sh’berach, much healing, and, of course, peace.
A few weeks ago, and after 17 years there, at the end of my workday, with no notice or warning, I was let go. I know, now, that it was calculated. I had been being lied to about a gamut of things, and, for several months. It was shitty overall, and, sadly, was done by someone who claimed to be my friend. Yeah, I know, business is business; It wasn’t my first rodeo, and I was just a pawn in the equation, but it was truly handled poorly on so many levels. …Not being given the opportunity to make a living after committing to a schedule for the summer, and at the very least, not even being told thank you for all that I did do over the years… Betrayal, at its finest. I could say so much more, but I won’t; Like I said…It was shitty.
Sooooo, what do you do when you’re cut loose unexpectedly? Well, You do some soul searching, and then change the scheduling of your getaway, and you do JUST that…you cut loose….
My nephew was being Bar Mitzvahed out of town, and I had been invited. It was the first time I would see these family members in years, and going, would encompass a whole lot of travel, but I, very much wanted to be there. I had decided to add on a few days thereafter to make a trip out of it, and, maybe, get to the beach to revisit and/or reinvent some memories. I had booked everything conducive to when I would need, of course, to be back to teach, and had even booked an overnight stay along the route to break up the driving and make the trip “down south” a more palatable schedule of being behind the wheel. After this SURPRISE and a lot of phone calls, it became obvious that I’d now be sitting around, for almost 2 weeks, prior to leaving for my trip, with NO chance of summer employment, and nothing much else. So, I made a decision, and changed it up completely. The bookings, of course, were now, non-refundable, but I was able to reverse the dates of my stay to preempt the celebration, cancelled the overnight stay along the route, got in touch with some friends, packed a cooler and my belongings, loaded up the car, and just picked up and left one morning at 5 am. I cheated the holiday traffic, and arrived, just short of 12 hours later, after stopping only for gas and use of the facilities. I had no idea, yet again, how VERY smart that move would end up being, and, for so many reasons.
I began at a friend’s home, and she was beyond a gracious host. It afforded us the opportunity to reconnect, learn how much we now have in common, and share some emotions and some laughs. She had been my high school friend’s big sister, but now, as adults, we have soooo much in common, having ended up in similar careers, but, by way of very different journeys. We talked a lot about our goals and our lives, and I even got to have dinner with her folks, which provided for more laughter and memories.
Next, I traveled on to my next stay, in a not-so-great hotel, which I made the best of over the next few days…I chilled out, processed, got some color, and did some reading…oh how I have missed reading! On my last night, I made it to the beach to watch the sunset, very near to where Dave and I would have had dirty martinis and apps, at a local place, pretty often, when nearby on a trip. I felt very close to him, and experienced a few connection things while there. I left with the sun setting, and just felt… peace.
I headed back to my hotel, packed up the majority of my stuff, loaded the car, and headed to bed. The following morning, I checked out, and hit the road again, for the next leg of my journey. Four and a half hours, and a gamut of country roads later, I was in suburbia, after what felt like hours in “farmtown”. Plans changed again, when a friend reached out to me to let me know that she was actually in the SAME town for her new granddaughter’s baptism, and so, we made arrangements to connect. Go figure. I checked into my MUCH better hotel, which they apoligized, had no pool, 😬🙄, but again, made the best of it.
The connection ended up being even better when I was invited to join their family and friends, all arriving the night before the festivities, at an outdoor food court. I headed there; It was less than 30 minutes from my hotel. I secured my parking by paying on an app, got us a big table, and ended up spending the entire evening with them. I was also invited to join them the following day after the church as both of our events overlapped at precisely the same time. My friend had even made some gf/pf foods hoping and EXPECTING me to join them. You gotta love a real friend…
We said goodbye, and I headed back to my hotel, prepped for the next day, and then, off to bed I went. The Bar Mitzvah ceremony was lovely…well done, traditions explained, food provided afterwards with a luncheon, and my sister in law was genuinely happy to have me there. I even got a warm welcome from a few other family members but, from many more, I did not. I was somewhat surprised and also saddened by that, because I had hoped, moreso, for the best, yet planned for the worst, and got a bit of each. I, however, was thrilled to see my nephew reach this rite of passage and see the love and pride in his mom’s eyes. Again, I counted my blessings.
In between the luncheon and the poolside celebration, I did go to my friend’s daughter’s home and was MORE than welcomed upon my arrival and my entrance to each room. Some of them even cheered upon my arrival. These were people who were, genuinely, very happy to see me, and I felt that. In between those events, I was also able to provide a brief emergency connection from my hotel, with a patient who was also very grateful to have been factored into the day. Afterward, I, yet again, loaded the car, after laying out my clothing for the next leg of my journey, and headed to bed. In the morning, I checked out, popped my cooler bag full of yogurt and salad stuff, beside me, and headed northeast.
My kids were moving apartments that weekend, so even though we had left it open that we might connect once I was 8 hours closer, they had run into a “we didn’t pivot” scenario with their couch, and it broke…legs first, and then the spine. It would’ve been my bed for the night…oh well. I really felt for them; Moving is frustrating enough. Another dear friend resides within 45 minutes of them, and she, having just rescued an 11 month old dog from a kill shelter, was overjoyed to welcome me, host me, grab some sushi with me, and give me some much needed, puppy time. In the morning, I headed toward home, way ahead of the holiday traffic, and though I got lost on a detour and did experience some traffic, which added more than an hour and a half to my travel time, I got to listen to music on my new mp3, catch up with my sister in law by phone, and congratulate her on having made a lovely affair, and, I got to process all that had happened, and all that I had learned. It was a very revealing series of life lessons, and assured me thst prople who REALLY know me, know well of my reputable heart, and, in time, they’d figure it all out on their own.
Once home, I emptied the car, taking several trips up and down the steps and back and forth to the car in the heat, which burned plenty of calories. I had stuck to my food plan, and felt pretty darn good about that. Traveling with prior food preparation really suits me well, and benefitted me and my allergy concerns, which, I know now, lessened my stress. When I took a risk last summer and traveled alone on my cruise, it was the first time I had traveled solo, and I wasn’t sure how I’d do with any of it. With experience comes mastery, and though this was a road trip, and far, far different, I fared well along the journey. Again, I realized that Mark Twain was correct…”you don’t regret the risks you take, you only regret the risks you don’t take”.
And there are even more lessons learned…
Life is a journey. Yup; Still.
Wherever you go, there you are.
Surround yourself with people whose eyes light up when you enter the room.
Stop hanging onto people who have already let you go.
Know your worth.
When people tell you who they are, listen.
People will talk, but moreso, they will SHOW you whom they are. When they show you, believe them.
When you’ve been cut loose, cut loose.
Some people really are not your friends.
Not everyone will appreciate the sacrifices you’ve made on their behalf.
A job, no matter how long or how much you devote yourself to it, or, how well you do it, can be turned over to someone else in a matter of moments.
It is easier to blame, than take responsibility.
Being told thank you is often not said when it really should be.
Even warriors need a chance to remove their armour and lean.
Support can reveal itself in places you never thought possible.
Memories are made up of not just people and places, but of objects, music, smells, tastes, and yes, even emotions. I remember lots of things, as if they had just happened days ago; We all do…Some of them are very significant to me, like my wedding proposal, the very start of my wedding day, finding out I was pregnant, telling my husband we were expecting, and his reaction. The many celebrations, losses, vacations, reunions, rites of passage, being on stage performing, and so much more. I have other memories too, not nearly as significant, like my first dirty martini, who introduced me to it, and how I didn’t like it at all, but felt obligated to finish it, because it was bought for me by my, then, boyfriend’s parents, who had finally, taken us out to dinner, after repeatedly taking out his older brother and his girlfriend, many times, and then, finally, taking us. I remember trying sushi for the very first time, at someone’s wedding, though I don’t recall whom’s. My husband’s coworker urged me to try it…”just put the piece in your mouth, swallow it, don’t respond for a few seconds, and then tell me what you thought”. I remember doing precisely that, and then thinking, it really wasn’t bad, and I liked the aftertaste of it. I remember walking on the boardwalk down the shore, in the evening, as a teenager… sunburned, after a long day of laying on the beach, and wearing a sweatshirt because of the cool air, and thinking how wonderful a night could be, and then similarly, at camp as a kid, and “up in the country” in Woodbourne, during the summer … another sweatshirt, a campfire, and cool evening air. I remember a family car ride and trip, visiting Lancaster, PA; maybe I was 8, or 9, and eating fresh bread and apple butter in a motel, dinner at a family style restaurant, and then being allowed to purchase a bonnet, much like Laura Ingalls Wilder wore in the books that I just couldn’t get enough of, or the series, that pushed my bedtime past 8:30 pm on the night it was on, just as long as my homework had been done without being asked to do so. I remember going to a movie with a friend, by bus, at 14 or 15, and the Farrell’s ice cream parlor afterwards for a fudge mint marvel. I remember making spaghetti with that same friend, and marshmallow Kristy treats too. And, years later, being in the Carribean, for the very first time, on my honeymoon, walking along the water’s edge, hand in hand, after dinner…the sand cool to my feet and between my toes, when it had been so very hot only hours earlier. And then, as well, the beaches in South Carolina, first with our two pomeranians, and then, with a toddler, who didn’t like walking on “the ouchies”, and then our little family; neon colored leashes, colorful sand toys, and red, white, and blue swimsuits. I’ve gone places with my immediate family, and then, more places with the family we created, and all of the shovels, sand pails, sharks teeth, ice cream, pancakes, hushpuppies, sandy towels and kites that were a part of those trips– holidays spent at home, the foods, the preparation and table setting, the adding and moving of chairs to accommodate more people, the smells wafting from the kitchen, and the laughter from the living room while i washed things in the kitchen sink.
There are “tinier” memories that are, sort of, flashes of light, in my mind, that catch me, quite off guard, in a fleeting moment of time… a recognizable item of clothing, a familiar scent of cologne, a habiscus flower, the scent of coconut tanning spray, chapstick, a yellow backhoe or “digger”, a sign for sod, or for The Fort McHenry Tunnel, and, even still, a bottle of Cupcake wine, or, specifically, a button down, purple shirt. These tinier memories are the ones that startle my equalibrium, force me to draw in breath, and require me to recalibrate and realign myself. I’ve been determined to reinvent them… no, not to dismiss them, or even lose their meaning, but, rather, to recreate them as a part of my homeostasis. I fell into this theory organically, and realized how it calmed and soothed me therafter. I knew, instantly, that this was the next step in my journey. Until then, I didn’t realize that I was, subconsciously, or, maybe even consciously, avoiding these scenarios, much like avoiding the area in which a car accident has occurred, even if no one was hurt or it wasn’t even a big deal. Our minds replay things, over and over again, in order to make sense of them, and to learn from them, but, sometimes it’s easier to draw from our flight response, and, on automatic pilot, we do. I drive by so many familiar places, even though I no longer live in the same town that I had lived in for over 20 years. There are places there that I am still connected to there, for my healthcare, and for other things nearby. Still others, I am no longer connected to, and it makes me unsettled passing by. No longer residing there often makes me feel like I am trespassing in a place that I no longer fit in, or, that I am stuck in a time warp of sorts. Life is like that when we move on or physically, move. Nonetheless, not wanting to feel that way, I needed to “change it up”. Having found myself in my previous supermarket of choice, looking for something not carried anywhere else, I chose to just walk around, taking it all in. The store had been completely reorganized, and things were in very different places. This ended up being more helpful than I thought. Though, unfamiliar with the new layout, it wasn’t as much of a reminder or a discomfort for me. In fact, it was like breathing newly oxygenated air. I decided to peruse the store, picked up several things they had never carried before, and checked out, content with my new haul and new outlook. It became a place, not to be avoided, but rather to be newly explored and returned to for the things I hadn’t purchased there before. If I could apply this skill here, maybe there was hope for other places as well. So, onward I went, over some time, visiting places in the area to attempt the same outcome. With practice, comes skill, and as I succeeded in this, I made plans to up the ante and challenge myself along the way. The big one for me, was a 12 hour drive to South Carolina, having made this trip as a family soooo many times over the years as a family, but to go it alone. I knew it wasnt going to be easy, having driven to Florida the year before last, and being tearful and quiet throughout the drive through the state of South Carolina. It was not an easy crossing and I knew it would be challenging going it alone, but that’s the thing, right?! Sometimes, you just NEED to do some things alone…. The opportunity presented itself, weeks before I had planned on it, and so, I packed up and hit the road. Music has a way of soothing the soul, in a “whistle while you work” kind of way, and this was no different. I listened to music that was mine alone; There was no one to debate or argue with otherwise, and no stack of CDs to rummage through to do so. I listened to anything I could tune into, until I couldn’t do so anymore, and then played everything on my iPod, from Broadway show tunes, to country music, and tap tunes and ballet exercises. This was unlike anything I had driven to before, having no one to please musically, besides myself. In fact, I stopped only for gas and use of the bathroom, and felt a freedom I hadn’t felt before. The trip, itself, is a whole other blog (see Go Alone 2.0) but there were numerous “reinventions” everywhere I went, and, upon returning home as well. It was very freeing, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I’ve continued to “reinvent the wheel” since I’ve been back…movie theatres, beach days, boardwalk nights, and even ice cream flavors, amping trips, sweatshirts, meals, and here’s the clincher, even people. I’ve learned that you CAN do the same things, but the results CAN also be different. Allowing the road to lead you, as long as you are open to the journey, either alone, or in different company, pleasant surprises are possible. And, isn’t it time to reinvent ourselves anyway?
“You cannot erase memories, but you can let go of the heavy energy that is attached to them.” –Yung Pueblo
Soooo, 18 in Hebrew is chai…it’s also luck. It’s also known as the legal age…the age of adulthood, decision making without a parents permission, and, with the exception of needing to be 21 here (In the US) to drink, it pretty much allows you to do everything else without anyone’s permission at all…mostly.
I know that if you had read my last blog, you just might be looking for an update as to what ever happened after my 3 dates with Mr. No Spark. Well, we continued to chat with each other, here and there, just doing nothing in particular, and, over time, it became apparent to me that this guy really liked me. In fact, as we continued to see each other, we began, without even realizing it, “reinventing” memories of places I’ve been to or things I’ve done, with other people… and, this is how it began…
After our 3rd date, it seemed to me like we would become friends, attend some things together, and just go with the flow. He called me one night and mentioned that Casablanca was playing on the big screen for just one night, and he wondered if I’d go with him. To be honest, I thought to myself, no friggin’ way, and are you friggin’ kidding me?! Since this was my last guy’s all-time favorite movie…I mean, is it EVERY guy’s favorite movie, or just the ones I’ve been with?! I couldn’t imagine subjecting myself to that. But then, I realized, every time I HAD seen it, it was on a television, or rented, or downloaded; I had never actually SEEN it on the big screen. Plus, it WAS a Sunday night, and I had nothing really planned, soooo, I said yes to going along, telling myself, it’s just a movie, and, I HAD promised to hang out with him. Well, He had pre purchased the tickets, got out of work early, picked me up, (and still opened the door for me) as well as making time for a quick bite beforehand, at a nearby diner, making it just in time, as there were no previews. I have to admit, that I really enjoyed seeing it, and seeing his reaction to it, and learning about his love for the music from old classics. It began a conversation about upbringing, music shared with him by his father, now gone, and the values his “pop” had instilled in him. A few days later we talked about seeing another movie the following Sunday evening; One that I had wanted to see, but I thought it might be more of a “chick flic”. He said it was “only fair” since I sat through the one he wanted to see the Sunday prior. Another quick dinner, lots of previews, the movie, and some thought provoking follow up conversation, leading to other things we both watch, like The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and how much we were both eagerly awaiting the release of the final season, coming along very soon. We talked about viewing it together, if it worked out. The next few weeks led to lots of just texting, as I entered the next busy season of rehearsals, dress rehearsals, performances, and competitions. He asked about it all, where they were, and if he could view any of it without disturbing my still being in work mode. I didn’t tell him much, but said I was appreciative of the support, but knew the schedule didn’t mesh with his work schedule, but I’d keep in touch, especially if something was local. I may’ve mentioned one, by date, and the venue, but no specifics other than the schedule runs early or late, but I never really know. When I texted him from the fore mentioned venue, I noted that we were running ahead, schedule wise, so it wasn’t worth his while, as he’d JUST miss it. He texted me back immediately, that he had thought that might be a possibility, so he got out of work earlier and was 5 minutes away…and he didn’t mean, from the venue, he meant from finding me in the audience! I was caught wayyyy off guard, ill-equipped to explain who he was other than a friend. I mean, that’s who he was, a friend, but then, within seconds, he tapped me from behind, and presented me with a dozen long-stemmed roses….ummm…ummm…wowza! And, oh crap! NOW, what do I do?!! When I picked my jaw up off of the floor, he said, “Isn’t it customary to give roses to the choreographer at a performance?!” And my brain went into overdrive…Had anyone ever done that for me? Anyone at all? My husband even? No. He hadn’t. My parents,? …nope. No one EVER had. I graciously accepted them and thanked him, as he took a seat next to me. I was dumbfounded. Speechless. Shocked. And, definitely caught off guard. I didn’t utter a word…beyond rare for sure. Did I mention I was caught off guard?? I was also working, and every parent and coworker sitting nearby took notice. At the end of my first production number, I went backstage to greet my dancers, get them back to the dressing room, and regroup before my next number. On they went, and as I returned to my seat and noted aloud some issues with the number, he said “I thought it was fantastic.” I thanked him, quickly introduced him by name to my coworkers, and then asked him to hand me something from my bag, next to him, and then the weirdest thing happened…he reached into my bag, pulled out what he thought I had described, and then, realizing that wasn’t it, he put it back, and then put my bag on his lap, and tried again, until finally he said, “you’d think I’d recognize it, but I just don’t, so here ya go”, putting it on my lap, awaiting its return to the chair beside him, like we had been together FOR YEARS, and, once I got what I needed, he put it back beside him, and continued talking about the number, as if he had never been interrupted for something I needed that was sitting closer to him. I couldn’t explain it, but it seemed so natural, and yet, so ….odd. Well, I headed back to the dressing room after the awards, while he patiently waited, and parents crooned and chirped around me with big fat, longing smiles on their faces, having known me over many years, as married and then widowed, and they were just like middle schoolers, with a big secret or a big crush, or a secret ABOUT a crush. They just couldn’t stop smiling, and oozing, and I had to tell them to be cool, as he was just a friend. But, something honestly changed that day, and it continued to do so. We left the venue after my dancers were all done for the night and the very full weekend, grabbed a quick burger nearby, and, got another “gem of a waitress” who rambled off types of cheeses for our burgers, much like an annoyed robot. He did not miss a beat, saying, “Well, that cheddar sounds just FANTASTIC to me, AND a sure win, so let’s both get THAT!” She rolled her eyes and left the table. And then he said, “What IS IT with us and these cranky waitresses?!” And I had to laugh, thinking precisely the same thing. But, all I could utter was “great minds think alike”.
Something changed yes, but, for me…I saw him as different…different than anyone I had ever been with… different in his expectations, his patience, his pacing, his style of giving, his need to be supportive, his graciousness, his willingness, and his desire to just BE with me. He also works 2 full time jobs, so his time is precious, and very limited, but he had decided (apparently way before this) that he wanted to be with me, and, exclusively at that. He wanted to get to know, not just me, but my hopes, my hurt, and my goals, and he wanted to be a part of them, and contribute to them with support, time, and affection. He asked only, that I’d allow him in, on my own terms, and my own timing, no matter how long that was, and without expectation. How can someone say no to that? I admitted that my life is crazy, and the timing, not ideal, but then I remembered something my brilliant MIL had told us….”It will NEVER be the right time to do ANYTHING that is a big step toward your future…Not to meet someone, to start a life together, to buy a house, a car, have a child, go on a vacation, and there will NEVER be enough money for any of those things either. But, if you meet your responsibilities and obligations first, you NEED to do the other things, because, otherwise, you never will.” And then, the words of my professional conduct professor from grad school…”Life is ALL about a balance.” And finally, a close friend….”How will you ever know, if you don’t open yourself to it?” — I certainly wasn’t ready to claim exclusivity, or even put a name on this, but, I did know that if that time were to present itself organically, I would know. He was perfectly fine with this. And so, in my head, I BEGAN “seeing him”, though we had been out together, probably, like 8 times.
I can count on one hand, how many times I have fooled myself. Each time, I was probably the only one I WAS fooling. I’m no dummy, but I have been hurt, so I stick with what I need to stay grounded…realistic, responsible, professional, and, believe me, I have more than enough on my plate. But, I keep reminding myself of those three statements from those three people…one of them, whom is no longer here, one that is no longer in my life, and one that is no longer in my everyday, as we do, so infrequently, reconnect these days, but, she has found her own true love, after she reopened that door after being hurt and going through a major life change, and THAT person in her doorway, was right there all along. And honestly, I wasn’t seeing anyone else, but was honest enough to share that I wanted, no, I NEEDED, that option.
My 2 close friends refer to him as “the guy they are rooting for” and “Mr. No Name”, and one of them tells me that even though it’s been some time, they’re looking forward to meeting him “now that I’ve decided to hang onto him”. My daughter is referring to him as “mom’s new boo”, and. my mom, I believe, is super excited for the prospect of this being “the real thing” as she asks about him at every conversation, even mere hours apart, when I speak to her, which is more often than I speak to him. Gotta love it.
He has also changed in this shift…He’s calmer, more open, has become more of a sharer and risk taker, and has asked me to attend a family celebration with him, which I have accepted, knowing now, that I will meet his mom, his siblings, their spouses, and, even more importantly, his (adult-ish) kids, all of whom know of me. I have, in my head, and online, just recently, removed myself from circulation, much like a good library book, with others by the same much loved, author. If I need to recirculate, I will do so, and with a prior conversation, but, I’m beginning to realize that I really might be a well loved book. And, though the chapters are many, and are quite full, they can be a glorious read and reread.
Last night, he met me by my car once I returned home from working late, to carry up that last bag of potting soil to my deck, just to “lighten my load” and “get to see me” for a little while, before heading home to bed prior to having to get up early to commute and go to both jobs through late tonight. Today he tells me he is “blissfully tired”, but happy to have “snuck in a midweek rendezvous-vous, just to see me”, and I got to enjoy a glass of wine, a small charcuterie board, and my new plantings and flowers out on my deck for a couple of hours. The company was lovely, and it felt right. Google might consider a “slow burn” to be 3 dates, and even as many as 6, but after 18, I am ready to #dodifferent, having now gone out to dinner with him and my closest friend’s guy, and, I have asked him to consider accompanying me to a graduation party in a few weeks. I may even introduce him by name…soooo…Sex and the City-like. I guess we’ll see if this “read” is worthy of a second season. ….And onward we go…
It’s become apparent, as I navigate the online dating concept, that dating is not particularly fun, and certainly not what it was when I was in my early 20s. (That’s age; not decade, wise asses!) And, also, I don’t seem to get “carded” for proof of age either! (Though I have requested to be, once or twice, and was happily obliged, without question, and with a smile.) I’m never going to date my co-workers, clients, etc. I’m not in school, meeting others. And, more-so, regardless of the platform, people are, very often, not whom they say that they are. There are more fake profiles out there than I could have ever imagined, at which I have become much more savvy in recognizing. There are a gamut of people who are dishonest (maybe even with themselves) about what they are looking for in a relationship. There’s also a lot of angry people who are legitimately looking for “the real deal” and are tired of having their time wasted. But, more so, the algorithm that these apps generate are really not logical enough to secure a great number of connections, regardless of ones noted parameters.
Knowing that I tend to connect with someone on an intellectual level as well as a personal level, I have listed that I have a graduate degree. It is NOT a “must have” for me on my profile for a connection, but it does connect others to me who might be interested in MY profile. My husband of almost 30 years, did not have a graduate degree, though he certainly could have, and he was quite intellectual. I like words and grammar, word puzzles, and intellectually stimulating conversations, where we can agree to disagree, like mature adults. And, I’m open to learning about things that are intriguing, or not already of my knowledge. Someone who has devoted a lot of time to their education is a good way to seek that out, though it’s certainly not the only way. So, when someone checks graduate on their profile, in the succession of educational level, it seems apparent that it means you at least attended, if not graduated, from a graduate program, but, apparently not to everyone. (Prior post that includes the construction guy, who was offended when I asked which grad school he attended.)
Connecting, communicating, and finding a rapport online is not easy. But, if there’s a decent rapport, it only makes sense to meet. First dates are tricky…I have my emergency back up, who is my dear friend that has agreed to be the keeper of details, and has keys to my place, where all the info re whom I am going to meet with, is on a post it…..If I don’t check in by a certain time, she’s got “ the deets” as a safety precaution. You know… Just “in case”. So far, so good. I’ve now, also realized that I only need to commit to a 2nd date if I believe we need more time to get to know each other, beyond that first date of discomfort. I’m a different person now, than in my 20s, and clearly, looking for someone that coincides with whom I am now….a contemporary, per se. I’ve learned a lot of lingo, and theories, and can recognize a rapport, rather than a vent, spillage, or interview, and as I’ve mentioned prior, and, whether or not someone still has their own work to do. We all continue to grow, and can benefit from learning more about ourselves; It’s a journey, right? That recognition is priceless, and clarifies more than I had ever expected. After one such date, a few months back, complete with a crazy waitress who was annoyed that we only ordered soup, and delivered it, and then slammed down our bill, I also got to see how that was handled, not just by my date, but by myself as well. It was really very telling, and helped me to commit to a second date. (How people treat servers is big!) I’ve also learned to bring along some open ended questions to keep the conversation going, and am more than thrilled when I don’t need to even mention that I had brought them…again…very telling with rapport. When there’s good conversation and good vibes, it’s easy, and when there’s a spark, even more so, but, it’s really tough when there’s a great rapport, but no spark. However, just recently, I’ve been introduced to a theory I had never heard of—- The “slow burn”.
Now, many of you might be familiar with this theory, but I, for one, was not. It’s the theory that attraction can grow slowly, between two people, over time, and as they get to know each other….”But Golda….Do you love me? What? I’m your wife!” Yup, that’s the song that kept coming to my mind when I really thought about this. The fiddler on the roof— They’re in an arranged marriage for 25 years, and have 5 daughters, but have never thought to have addressed whether or not they really love one another, until they realize, that after all this time, they must. I wasn’t t sure what the average time for a slow burn was, so, of course, I googled it. The answers varied, most saying three dates, but some others saying more like 6. And this was not to hop into bed together, it was for recognizing an attraction. Well, this changed up the whole thing for me. I mean, I’ve never thought about being with someone I wasn’t instantly attracted to in some way, though that attraction still had to have that intellect part. Plus, I had told a dear friend of mine (my safety, actually) that she needed to stop being soooo “one and done” after telling me what a great first date she had with yet another “really nice guy, who just wasn’t for her”. I asked her, if he’s such a great guy, why doesn’t he deserve a second date, and she thought about this, and realized I was right! (Score one point for Carolyn!) well, she did go on a second date with one of those guys, who “was a great guy, but not really her type” and they’ve now been together, exclusively, for just about 5 months now. Taaadaaaa! He sounds like a total gem, from what I know about him. And so, I had to eat my own words when I ended up in the same situation. To my defense, I also believe that I was thrown when I realized he didn’t look like any of his photos, though they were pretty recent. And so, I went on that second date, and we changed it up, did something active, followed by dinner. The guy picked a great place, that even accommodated my allergies with a special menu, and the waitress was lovely. She thought we were adorable and asked how long we had been together, and I chimed in, “about two hours now”, which he thought was hysterical. She hung out with us, chatting about meeting people in these odd times (she was like…28, mayyyybe, But we clearly had a lot in common.) The ride home was awkward, because I HAD had a great time, but, nope, no spark, and I really didn’t want to mislead him, so we chatted….uncomfortably, to say the least. He handled it with grace, saying he was truly disappointed because he DID feel a spark, but he had hoped we could still talk and maybe even go out again, even if as friends, or to catch a band, since we both liked the same music. I was hesitant, but thought, maybe this is what a slow burn is…Let’s see what happens, how we both handle this (points for open conversation, honesty, and maturity), and maybe that, all combined was worth a third date? Well, days later, he asked me out for a third date, and I agreed, as long as he’d allow me to go half, and, true to his word, he did. We still had a great rapport, but I still wasn’t feeling it. Three dates to a slow-burn spark was mentioned more than any other number, but it wasn’t hard and fast. About a mile from my place he said, “any spark?” And I felt awful and got quiet. He didn’t miss a beat. In fact, he said, I’m pretty sure that if you just kissed me good night, there’d be a spark.” He wasn’t pushing; I believe he was just hopeful…and confident. I was impressed with his confidence. So, I told him I was going to kiss him goodnight. The kiss wasn’t bad, but I still felt the same way. Maybe it was me?
Well, days later, I spoke with my therapist…Yes, every good therapist has their own therapist. It’s how we vent the heavy things that are layed upon us by our patients, and how we work through our own crap to not interfere with the neutrality we need to benefit our patients’ success. And yes, to work out our own places of being stuck and needing help to process, set goals, and move forward in our own lives. I continue to do grief work simultaneously with growth work. They go hand-in-hand pretty well themselves. And, over time, I did an inventory of all of my past relationships. I found, that in EVERY scenario, from the age of 14 on, that I was caught off guard, every time a relationship I was in, ended, by no doing of mine (and I mean the actual “ending” of it.) It was always the “it’s not you; it’s me” scenario, in which I had no say, no choice, and no way that I could’ve resolved it. I was the flexible partner in the dyad, and, eventually, the other shoe, just suddenly dropped. More often than not, I never EVER even saw it coming. (Thanks guys.) I just thought things were going along swimmingly, until someone broke up with me. Whoooooaaa. That explained A LOT! I now know that it created something called “anxious attachment”; Yes; You can google it. It’s an attachment style, in which (there are many attachment styles), based upon your childhood and past experiences. I was definitely familiar with this, and have even worked with my own patients on this and the other attachment styles, but, I had had a secure childhood, so I never put two and two together. (Enter, why loss of a spouse comes into play here.) Wow. It made so much sense. I mean, why allow myself to like someone or invest because the other shoe is just going to drop eventually anyway? One of my other close friends also concurrently said, “Maybe you’re just not ALLOWING yourself to like him, because it really sounds like you like him and he has potential.” My response: “I really don’t know about that….” I was befuddled for sure.
I really had to think long and hard about this one…I didn’t have a male confidant to bounce this off of…or…did I? I rewatched Eat, Pray, Love, as I do, every now and again. There were odd parallels…She felt like she might lose herself getting into a relationship after all that she had rebuilt on her own. She was happy as an independent person. Her life no longer revolved around someone else’s. And on and on. No, I haven’t gotten to Italy, Bali, or India, but the first two ARE on my bucket list. I do create great food for myself, plated, and all. I believe in the power of prayer, light, meditation, and do yoga and Pilates. Last summer I took that fabulous trip to paradise, and extended it a second week. This was beginning to look familiar. Maybe I fear losing myself or don’t want to invest when the other shoe will just drop anyway. Healing has been hard work, and it’s taken a long time. Plus, there’s still so much work to do…And, I don’t want it to be all work; It’s time to enjoy the fruit of my labors. The question is, do I want to go there again? Or would I prefer to do it alone?
I’m still “putting myself out there”. And my mother is really hopeful. Stay tuned….
In the musical, RENT, one of my favorite lines is “I’m just looking for baggage that goes with mine”.
This should really be the last line of my blog. Or, perhaps, my ENTIRE blog. But, much like auditioning for professional theatre, I can’t help but to see some similarities.
I am a triple threat…I dance, sing, and act (though that’s not my best of the 3) and, because of my height, I have never found myself as an ingenue, but, more likely as a character actress, or a strong lead dancer or dance captain, with a small vocal solo, in the ensemble. I auditioned constantly, and was kept often, through the entire day, and then let go because of my height or build. I often heard things like “too bad you’re that small, or that size, build, chest, or leg length, because you’re really good, strong, vibrant, skilled, an incredible hoofer, (that’s a tap thing) or upwards to fabulous. The odd thing was, I was all of those physicalities when I came in. It’s not like that was going to change over the course of the day. And, while I made cut after cut, remained, hour after hour, and they paired us off with partners, this became ever so much more obvious. Now, this was NOT a “dance ten, looks three” situation, with the exception of “I saw what they were hiring”…but I couldn’t do anything to change that, Park Avenue, and 73rd, or not. Your height is your height. And, though I will admit to trying to stretch myself on a monkey bar as a kid, I knew full well, years later, that nothing would change that. I hold myself as tall as possible, have good posture, don’t “schlump” and all that, but I am just under 5 feet tall. I have also been cast as a teen, child, etc., because of this…4 foot, 10, 4 foot, 10…if you know, you know. There are so many things about dating that remind me of auditions like these… Even the profiles of what people are looking for…fit, tall, leggy, BBW, etc., etc. And then the flip side…Does their schedule coincide with mine? What would the commute be? Is there downtime? Me time? What’s the contract expectations? How long do I see myself doing this? Is there longevity in this potential? And on and on.
My (Married) friend sends me memes that are pretty accurate:
“Dating when you are older, is like going to Walmart and finding the cart without the broken wheel”
“Dating: It’s like finding the least broken crayon in the box.”
“Dating, when you’re older, is like digging through the crumbs at the bottom of the bag of chips to find that one chip that isn’t SO broken, that you can get just one more scoop of salsa.”
Now, I KNOW you want the nitty gritty of who, what, and where, so, though I’m an absolute newbie at this, I’ll give you enough to make it worth the purchase of your seat…
I do, however, have to reiterate something that I set into motion, that I believe just might be THE most important thing in this process…Anyone in this “situation” HAS to have done the work, whether that be therapeutically, or not. That includes ongoing situations that still keep you unhealthily connected to your past that holds great tension, like grief therapy, like those last few alimony payments, that marital house that you’re still paying for, that car that you still haven’t replaced, because of those other payments, the lack of coordination of family holidays, that 25 year old kid’s medical insurance that is causing you to work 2 jobs when your 25 year old is not working one, and, that unfinished business with your “Ex”, whether romantic, lost, rejected, or hurt. Yes, we ALL take the hurt with us, but, …AND HERE IT IS FOLKS: In order to date, you have to, not only be READY to do so in YOUR mind, but you must be ready to do so, so that YOUR dating someone else, doesn’t hurt THEM.
That “chip” in the bag becomes very apparent when it’s there, and has the potential to hold a decent size scoop of salsa. And, if that chip HAS kept itself together, through the ongoing dropping or crushing of the bag, then it is much more likely to be enjoyed. And, if it fails, or, better yet, is about to do you wrong, it will recognize it, admit to cracking, and let you know that it wasn’t as chip ready as it thought it was. “Caution, contents break under pressure.”
Here’s what else I’ve learned…
Walmart and Target are two VERY different places. This relates to everything from where you shop to what they “carry”, what quantity and quality they have; How many brands can you choose from, how is it staffed, and how do you check out upon purchase? (I am not a fan of self checkout, and would much rather engage in the social interaction, should time allow). You need to know what you want, and look for it in the right places. (If you want to meet someone who bikes, get on a bike. If you want to meet someone who loves the beach, go to the beach. If you want to meet someone who works out, go to the gym. And, if you want to meet someone who drinks, go to a bar.) seems logical, right?!
Crayons….I don’t know about you, but I can’t remember the last time I needed a crayon. I mean, I love crayons, and used to color, but now, I carry my own pen, and, have a beautiful array of journaling markers that I use for my journal, cards, and my planner. If they run out of ink over time, I replace them. I’ve always taken very good care of my belongings, and, because of that, they last longer than expected. A crayon is fun for a once in a while, kid like, change of pace, but, I’ll stick to my journaling markers. (No judgement if crayons are your thing; fun is fun, but I’m looking for long lasting quality.)
The crumbs at the bottom of the bag, well, we’ve touched upon these. But, anyone knows that over time, there are A LOT of crumbs at the bottom of any given bag, and yes, depending on what that bag has gone through, even more crumbs are more likely, and whole chips will certainly be sparse. Chip bags that hang out with other chip bags, upright, supported, and stacked just so, RATHER than handled, crushed, mangled, or tossed, tumbled, or yes, stepped on, have a lot more promise. (Self-care, healing, and the support of friends is everything.) I bounce things off of two very specific friends, who are candid, supportive, and will tell me like it is. They both know my past, my present, and they are invested in my future, and only because they really ARE my friends. They are judgement free, intelligent, and have walked their own roads. They are not afraid to call me out on my “stuff” and don’t necessarily agree with everything I do, or everything I believe, but they know what I need, when it’s bullshit, and they are “my safeties” in a world of madness and newness, multiple times over. They keep me humble, and they keep me laughing. And they’ll kick anyone in the crotch that needs it, on my behalf. (I’m certainly counting on that one, as there IS one who REALLY needs to protect his loins— BIG TIME.) His time is coming.
I was “recommended”, “as a bonus” to someone who “didn’t match my specifics, but you may have something in common”. The only thing I could see, was that he was listed as having a graduate degree. Any other logistics, just didn’t match, however, again, a newbie, I was willing to check it out. We chatted for a millisecond, as he was heading home and asked if we could continue our chat in an hour…he was a construction worker, and knew that I was a clinical therapist and dancer/choreographer. I figured he was some kind of engineer, but I didn’t put too much thought into it, because I’m all for whatever anyone works hard at, and with a passion. True to his word, he chatted me about an hour later. (Hard worker AND reliable!) I asked where he went to grad school, what he studied, and if it still related to what he now did. He said that he went to a union certificate program for construction. Needless to say, I was a bit confused….when I mentioned how we were algorithmically put together, I was shocked when he chatted, “Well, sorry to disappoint you.” (He had misinterpreted “graduate” and had completed his program.) And, then I got a notification: End of conversation—content deleted—blocked. ….OUCH! What?! I mean….What?!! It caught me off guard, and I was shocked, as I was all ready to ask more about him, believing that sometimes people are put in each other’s path for a reason. However, that’s on him, and not me. I guess sometimes the algorithm is just….wrong.
I’ve decided that much like I “allow” my repeat, homesick campers, to decide just how long they want to be homesick this time, I am allowing myself time for this kind of adjustment as well. A mere millisecond of conversation gets minutes of WTH, thereafter, and maybe chatting for a few days gets a week or so. I’m kind of liking the formula, “2xTimespent=regrouping” ….For now, this can work. As for real relationships, I’m attempting .5xTimespent=regrouping. I’m also hoping to find some more expedient, new math in this process. I think I may have even found that on my own!
My 7 “IDEAL MAN” traits:
He communicates well, so there is no miscommunication, drama, or anxiety.
2. He calls when he says he will call, because he keeps his word, (and he can’t wait to talk to you).
3. He plans dates, moves things forward, and is upfront and direct about how much he wants to be with you.
4. He allows you to pace the intimacy.
5. He’s emotionally healthy, available, and ready to really BE with you.
6. He’s looking FOR a relationship (and not for a booty-call) #thingsineverthoughtidsay
7. He’s a man who will treasure you and treat you right.
These, of course, are MY ideals, (Thank you Matt Boggs for your guidance and John Gottman, Ph.D, for your coursework.) They are just listed, and are not, in any numerical order. Anyone who truly cares about you, will not hurt you. (Follow me for more recipes, and LOVE-YOUR-LIFE!) (I just needed the laugh!)
Aaaand, I absolutely LOVE sushi, and I’m just looking for baggage that “coordinates” with mine.
During my junior year of high school, I dated a guy. He was a mutual friend of all of our friends, and our worlds continuously overlapped. Neither of us acted upon it for forever, and then, a mutual friend kind of orchestrated our “finally”getting together, and then, we were “a couple”. Our friends seemed relieved that we were “finally together”, having waited, themselves, for some time, though both of us were oblivious to this. The relationship was short lived, and ended with the infamous “its not you; it’s me, and, of course we’ll stay friends.” It was difficult, but, eventually mastered, and we did remain friends, against the odds.
During my senior year of high school, having had a crush on a guy in my English class for quite some time, I previously went with accepting an invite to THE prom (in New York, it’s THE prom; not prom) upon agreement, already planning to attend with a close friend, which was all good until he met someone, and I, of course had to be “understanding” that they, of course, go together. I mean, it did make sense, but…Having already purchased a dress months before, and it was altered and picked up, I was really, REALLY disappointed. He did, however, arrange for a mutual friend to ask me, and that guy ended up being the best, most unexpected, chivalrous, fun date. Of course, the guy in my English class ended up asking me to go, merely days prior, but I was already committed, and wouldn’t have dreamed of doing what was done to me. He asked though, if he could tag along to the beach for the rest of the weekend festivities, and so I included him. I even picked him up in my Oldsmobile, 98 Regency, and we drove down to the beach together in the morning. He had stayed up all night to be as tired as the rest of us were, which was really adorable and unexpected. We remained in the same vibe throughout the weekend and We ended up together for the next two plus years. It was a wonderful relationship, but it ended the same way…”It’s me; Not you, and we should stay friends.” Well, this time, I couldn’t do it. I was just too crushed. Devastated. I threw myself into my college workload, and, over time, moved on.
During the summer, just prior to my senior year in college, while prepping for the LSAT and law school applications and acceptances, I, unexpectedly, met a guy, while minding my friends’ coats, as the designated driver at a local dance club. I sooooo didn’t want to be there, or in the coat-watching position, but, true to form, there I was. This guy pursued me beyond belief, even showing up where I worked the very next night, and thereafter. We ended up in a serious relationship, and were expected to marry. He, as well, moved at that pace with me, and then he ruined everything after two plus years together, because of some other serious family things going on, and, moreso, his not really being ready to do so. He was 25; I was 23. I was completely crushed, but gave him grace because of our ages. I, however, walked away, devastated, having lost him, the relationship, our future, and his family. It had been the perfect package deal. It took me ages to get over him…Always wondering, had circumstances been different.
Several months later, I met my husband—He ruined everything….Where I had planned to attend law school, where I intended to live, and how I intended to carry on in my life without anyone having my heart. I threw myself into therapy. I had to. I had plans. BIG plans. No one was a part of those plans. I did the work, and went with it, but protected my heart. The guy had to work around the clock and back and forth from Brooklyn to get me to succumb, but he also did the work. 8 weeks later, (Yes, 8 weeks) we were engaged, (it was a surprise) and, a year later, we were married. We made some changes: He moved locally, and I applied to a different graduate program in the city. We got a condo, and a puppy (That was his spontaneity and craziness, not mine; he was my “wedding gift” ….JUST what I needed working full time and attending grad school full time) but he was adorable….and so was the puppy. Years later, I learned some things…. The guy from junior year had regrets. He also apologized. He said he felt really inadequate at 17, because I had a plan. He didn’t. (My god, we were 17!) Years later, he had intended to ask me out when we kept running into each other on the train, but I still had big plans, and he still hesitated. By the time he decided to act on it, I was wearing an engagement ring; I only found this out many years later, also having been oblivious to this. The friend who took his new girlfriend to the prom, instead of me, well, we lost touch, but, true to form, SHE became a dear friend of mine. The guy from my English class was right..it really WAS him, and not me, and, years later, I was introduced by him, to his fabulous husband, and we have A TON in common. They’re a fabulous couple too. Well, I spent just short of 30 years with “the guy who ruined everything” while we made a wonderful life together, though we had our struggles and some significant losses, until he unexpectedly passed away. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of him, have a reminder of him, or catch myself thinking “if only…”
As for the guy I almost married, he married 7 years after I did, and was, until they divorced, several years later. We had been in touch once or twice, but really had no relationship of any kind. He also wasn’t on social media. Somehow, we reconnected at the start of Covid lockdown, by phone, then FaceTime, and developed a friendship. He said that he had never had what I had, and longed for it. He was also devastated for me, knew he had made some huge mistakes 33 plus years before, and I got that apology from him several times over, and it was heartfelt. Plus, people grow, and change, and we were different people now. Oddly, I had to hear his voice to even connect that he was the same person from years ago. The banter, the connection, the common interests, and the rest was still there, and we ended up in a relationship with each other; It was something neither of us had expected or imagined. As the world opened up, so did we, getting to know each other over months of conversations from a distance, and then, after several months, we were able to see each other in person. We were now together, but all grown up. We came back into each other’s lives and families, attended big events and fun happenings together, and, though hesitant, I was reminded how in life you rarely are given a second chance, so I let my guard down and became vulnerable. I made sure I was therapeutically “doing the work” of healing and growing, and he seemed to be moving forward as well… My friends were proud of me, accepted him, and I kept myself accountable, and moving slowly, reminding myself that time was really on my side, and all I needed to do was be happy, and go with it, and so, I did. I was beyond surprised when, after a very long time together, and without warning, he fabricated a disagreement, told me he was “livid”, and shunned me for “not knowing why”. Truth be told, there was nothing I could put my finger on, though I had been suspicious about his having not been as open or available the two or more weeks prior, and, no, he never did explain what he was so livid about. For whatever reason, he just needed out, and I had no choice but to grant it after there was no conversation. I had my suspicions, and I gave it and him, some time…maybe more than he deserved…no, definitely more than he deserved, and, got nothing from him. And so, pursuant to our very early on agreement to be adults if one of us wanted out, I WAS that adult, and I left him a message, letting him go. I really wasn’t prepared for that, but you can’t give someone more of something that they already don’t want. My biggest disappointment was NOT having been with him, or for as long as I was, but, truly, his lack of respect for me, regardless of the situation. Especially, after all that time together, it being the second time, and being adults. I know now, as well, that growing up has nothing to do with age. Nor does a readiness to be with someone. I had made sure, not only that I was ready to be out there, but that I was ready to be out there and with someone that wouldn’t be hurt by me being with them. I cannot say the same thing for him. We haven’t spoken since, and it’s been well over 6 months. In the process, I have again lost my connection to his family, and that’s twice now. That also hurts.
I’ve always believed in baseball…and the Mets. I know, I know…but they come back every now and again, and, when they do, they come back strong. But, that 3 strikes, you’re out thing…that just doesn’t work for me anymore. I’ve been known to give people too many chances, and get hurt in the process. I’m thinking 2 now. Once, and once more, just to be sure. In time, it may be just 1.
I’ve put myself “back out there”, wherever “out there” might be. I’m not really doing anything about it, except living my life. Though I have friends that have met their significant other on them, Dating Apps are just not for me, and people on them are just not whom they say they are. I’ve always felt that you meet people through other people, and that has served my family well many times over. I have, however, told my cardiologist that if he knows anyone of substance, I’d be interested. (I trust him; we go back a long way. He saved my life.) And, I’ve gone on a few dates recently…shocking, I know…and, with one particular guy, who was great, but, he wasn’t ready and was still “doing the work” from his own stuff. For a change, this guy stepped up, showed integrity, and let me know. I thanked him, and though I’m bummed because there was potential, I am grateful that he didn’t go through the motions, get caught up, and then, either create a bigger mess, waste my time, or just bail.
I’m not sure how to navigate any of this. In all honesty, I never did…Not when I was 17, and not now (that I’m 29). (Hey, #IYKYK) However, I DO know that ANY kind of relationship, whether friends, family, colleagues, or other, takes communication. And, I don’t understand why men, specifically, who say they want an “independent woman” or “no drama” can’t put on their big boy panties and communicate. Yes, it can be uncomfortable, but you need to have an underwear malfunction of sorts, to find your comfort. We all have baggage; I’m just looking for baggage that coordinates with mine. I also know, that “If we are mindfully dating, we are dating with intention. Once we become clear on that intention, we can recognize who is and isn’t in alignment with what we’re looking for. Rejection isn’t personal if one person chooses to not pursue things further, it makes room for the right person to show up.” But, PULL UP YOUR BIG BOY PANTIES, because, as of this week, I am putting myself out there, wherever that is, and I am open to what 2023 has in store for me. It’s time. This is, for sure, a HUGE step for me, but I’m ready, and my key word is integrity. And, if you DON’T have integrity, well then “it’s DEFINITELY you, and not me”.
Soooo, if you know anybody, who’s looking for a fabulous, independent, 29 year old woman….
Cloves of Carolyn 