Footwear

Sitting on the train going into the city, I am struck by how well my mind seems to function first thing (after a couple of cups of coffee, of course).  The clarity of thought is temporary before the many events and responsibilities of my day push in and confuses my early am radar focus.

But for now, things are pretty clear.  I feel strong today.  The weather is beautiful, and I am chugging into an "upper management" meeting though I am not u.m.  I like what I do, I feel like I am accomplishing something important, it makes a difference I think in a tiny microcosm kind of way.  I have two large empty poster tubes straddled between my thighs, because I am schlepping into Harlem later to do one more chore, one more thing. But it oddly feels "cool" to do so, even though I know it is so NOT.

I guess the thing is, I am finding my identity; the thing that states in ten words or less who I am when I meet someone for the first time.  Its a daunting task for anyone.  Who am I ?  Or more importantly, who do I want to be?  The answer keeps changing, and is currently underscored with a sense of dynamic change.

I am at my job now for two and a half years.  I am progressing at a clip. I feel comfortable, though filled with the prototypical angst that I will carry with me into any position I care about (will I measure up, will I do the right thing, will I not fuck up).  Sheryl Sandberg says "lean in", so I am trying in a way that I can feel comfortable in, yet pushed to test my courage.  It is interesting.

I am feeling what it is like to walk in my shoes.  Not the one filled by the mother that I am (those I know well, they are comfortable and well loved- I know this).  Not the daughter shoes, my parents are gone these many years now.  Not the wife clogs that made me stomp around, doing what I needed to do for my ex, for my family, for US.

The shoes I wear now are lighter, with a more tenuous yet flexible sole.  I like them though am afraid I might trip and twist my ankles.  What will happen then?  The woman I am, her voice is rising to tell me what will happen, and even more importantly what it is that I want to have happen.

This woman and I have been chatting over our coffee times, sitting with our Ipad to scratch out my own thoughts, to-do lists, needs assessment.  We have figured out that I am often too hard on myself, and it is not a good thing for me or anyone around me.  That has to stop as best I can, for angry and low self esteem Sybil does no one any good.  I also know that I am a loving person, filled with a tendency to want and need strong attachments to people I love and respect.  And I need that returned, in an authentic and even keeled way.  I must remember not to sell myself short in my desire for that valid goal, no more pick me pick me!! It is a good thing, an active process.  Letting myself grow into that is a tediously slow process, I must be patient.

I have also been talking to my CFO, me.  We set up a board meeting with all of the other "me's" and determined after a cost base analysis that DEBT sucks, and puts ALL of us in fear of our lives.  So CFO has put her foot down amd stated all debt must go before all else, save for retirement, health, and emergency cushion growths.  It is fair, given that I do not anticipate that it will really take that long to do (I hope!).  Moving on because my goals and objectives remain the same.

So there you have it.  My train is just rolling through the tunnel just as my full mental assessment comes to a close.  Bucket list comes next.
*****
Addendum: "Fun" me showed up late to the meeting and demanded that we still acknowledge, in a responsible way, debt allocations that still accommodate relaxing but occasional downtime at Starbucks, martinis with friends, and the occasional extremely cute shoe purchase.  In full validation of all of me, we unanimously voted to do so on a reasonable basis, lest all work and no...well makes things boring.


***************
Its even  later in the day, kids asleep:  Feeling...

like I would like to talk, to a person that cared about me, a guy who pulled me into his tribe the way I would pull him into mine.  Into his arms, into his life.  A feeling of ease is pleasant, with no preconceptions, slate wiped clean; pristine.  The saying of "if I knew then what I know now" doesn't apply because it IS the now, opportunity rises up to meet what I know.

Hugs, desire, laughter, trust.

Honesty, warmth, kindness, mutual respect.  A moshpit filled with colors that are dynamic, moving, coasting into the ocean, the salty smell and sound of waves crashing..feeling real, hard, exciting.

 I feel it as much as I feel the fear of "what ifs"; what if never, what if the again happens, what if. But then that feeling allays in lieu of want, and frankly, inner peace.  Patience, openness to new things, balance. Sleep.

I am a feminist. Apparently.

The connotation nowadays seems to be smeared with sticky, icky feelings.  The generation has now reached a point, where it seems many of us don’t remember what it means to really be crap not because of something we did, but because of something we are.

Can we get any more personal than that?

So when I say I am a feminist, it really means to me that I am saying that I don’t want to be pre-judged by the fact that I am a woman.  Or for that matter, by my ethnicity. 

 I am of  Japanese heritage..although whatever the Hell that means I am sure I don’t know.  I grew up in an all-white, middle suburban Christian neighborhood, and now live in a predominantly all-white (with large smatterings of Persian) Christian and Jews…so my ethnic identity is fakakta, to say the least.  It’s not like I am trying to be something I’m not..but really..how do people expect me to be “ASIAN” and all that that image might represent to those of us who have been privy to the stereotypes (usually unflattering) when my cultural identity seems more firmly ensconced in educated white middle class girl.  Yup..say it proudly.  WTF.  It’s with a sense of humor that I have given up on trying to figure out what I am because in the end, like Popye says, “IYAMWHATIYAM” (or was that God’s quote in the Bible??)

It’s just that when other people keep insisting they know me, I have to wonder.  Who the F**k  are you, and why do you think you know anything about me??

In truth, I guess, I am really not different from other people though.  In trying to make sense of a world that often has none, I (just like everyone) try to grab hold of those facilitory guides that might give me a clue as to what people will do, what they will say, and whether they might hurt me.  So I guess my take is that, as a feminist, I better be a tolerant one..So let me remember please…that extra layer of me, now has an identified peel of pragmatic feminism  growing on me.  I will be who I am.  I will be a proud and independent woman (even if some days I still come home to cry and look for my mommy).

Stories from the sidelines: Divorce chronicles #1

It may be inexquisitely trite to say this but:

I know what love is.

I was married for 25 years, at least as the crow flies, from the moment we committed to our lifelong love to the very moment the court judge scrawled her signature to our divorce decree.  But by many people's interpretation, they might say this fact is validation of an abysmal failure, DIVORCE.

I felt this for a long time.  Failure. Loss. Abject devastation. All CHECKED, as easily as I now could check the "separated/divorced" box on so many forms. This ticked item, coexisting with the alarming fact I could also check the "50 and above" age box, has essentially served to facilitate how people (myself included) could now identify me as to who I was now.

I walk in the path of many...but does that mean I am one of the faceless crowds of divorcees, huddling together in a proverbial cold spell of bitterness, fear,  and loneliness?  Not.  Well, at least not on a regular day, thank you very much.  While I will own to some of these feelings on occasion (most often, frankly, the last)... I, along with so many others of my "ilk", have found that it actually is okay to be divorced. Or in my case, to be "that woman".

No, I m not without financial problems (of the "squeezing my genitals 'til it hurts" variety), nor blithely co-existing without problems from/with my ex.  Those issues still  glide along as predictably as death and taxes. However, this tide of negativity is one that I understand would flow in no matter what my reality was like- ask anyone.  Life is typically filled with trauma, angst, and the "ubiquitous anxiety" my heroine in life, Pema Chodron, speaks about so often.  Yes, this really sucks.

Importantly, and this is a big one: the tide of good things roll in as well, no matter who you are.  It is the push of life.  The reason why newborn babies are so cute, after having to squeeze them out through a tiny passage of "OWWW!" Why, at the end of a limp hamburger and fries, we are treated to the "happy meal toy" of life...even me, and I don't eat meat these days. Its the perennial struggle of Darth Vader meets Skywalker (and all the family dysfunction that might imply), and truthfully why we must embrace life.

One truth, one axiom reigns supreme:  I never, ever take life for granted anymore; it is a blessing to embrace regardless.

If for no other reason, I write this blog to remind myself that this tide of life is the POINT; if you get it, then being pulled down by the undertow is less likely. Even better, it makes it oh so much easier to taste the sweetness of when the good, the funny, the passionate bops in.... And I want to be open to notice it!

Facing the fear

Another day....

Its Easter.  I hear the litany; Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will rise again.

I am curled up in a fetal position, curled within a faux fur blanket. The sadness feels palpable, like a bellyache that one could press on, its a spot that elicits a dull ache.

But the ache is in my heart.  I feel sadness today.  I shouldn't, my kids have just arrived home and are not due to go back for five more hours.  Then why am I sad, feeling an oppressive weight sitting on my chest like a fat cold weight.  It presses hard.  "Does this hurt?" Yes, yes it does.

I saw her name come up on my Facebook link asking if I want to "befriend" her. No, no thank you.  And I notice, oh look she has dropped her married hyphenated name.  Off to new "beginnings" with Ex, having peeked at her Facebook page. I don't know why, it hurt me seeing this.  A smugness in her page, it lies upon the acid washed bones of my sadness. On the discomfort of my children.  On an unreal reality.

The feeling is that of being left behind and discarded, yet I am actually okay with that.  I don't want him anymore.  But I also don't want to be alone anymore, without a partner to call my own. No connection, no one to rely on or to be relied upon. It seems trite, being the woman left behind, the ex-wife.

He is taking our kids with this new woman, his new fiance, and her son, to an expensive resort that we had frequently gone to.  I am financially strapped, no plans for a vacation for me or the kids. So I guess it is good they go with him.

But I feel like a loser, tonight.

It came on like a virus, after watching a romantic video on Facebook posted by a stranger; a young man who had posted an elaborate video of how he planned on proposing to his fiance, a beautiful young woman. It was sweet, but it made me start wondering if any one would ever love me that way again, if he had at all.  It seems like an impossibility, for me to be truly loved by someone I could love as equally.

I saw yesterday again, he had posted a $220 charge on our old joint credit card on a stupid bauble meant for her.  I need not know this but I do.  I awaken to this strange reality, an amnesiac having awakened from their coma after so many years.  How did this happen?  I know it is good, that it did.. But what is there for me now? Where shall my life bring me?

Smirk perk lurk.  I curl in deeper.

Alone

These days i have been walking around with a veritable smirk on my face. Smirk perk, lurk...it seems like part of me has awakened in a weird latent gene expression kind of way.  I sit by myself more now, no longer feeling like I'm a loser as much as someone sitting in a moment of solace.  I LIKE it, unbelievably as I sip my chai in Starbucks, tapping away on my Ipad.  Alone.

It used to be a word that was synonymous with disaster in my mind. Abject loneliness. LOSER.  Alone, so worthless.  Why that was, I don't know.  Perhaps some Freudian probe could define why some people feel more sensitive to it than others, though some have told me everyone feels this way.  I don't believe it.  Some lucky bastards, I believe are truly more at ease with the idea of being in singletude.  And I think, in some ways I may actually be becoming one.

Full disclosure:  The feeling of wanting more is still there.  That guy, that connection...I feel it, want it, smell it so close in an odd way.  A way that is familiar in that visceral sense that animals might smell each other's pheromones, or perhaps as when you first smell your very own newborn baby.  Recognition.  I know it now, but am taking my time in savoring it. Easing into a sense of...EASE, without letting me slip into that fear of what ifs...want me, need me...it could still be there but I don't want that monster grasp hold of me again, like a bad cocaine addiction or unhealthy masochistic want. No, I'll sip my chai and let the moment steep into what it is, what it feels..and let it feel good.

I hope that this sense is right, to be truthful, I don't really know.  Will I meet that guy who will truly connect with me, love me in the way I need for ever more? And I them? I hope so.  My Meyers Briggs personality test suggests its what I need; my ENFJ wanting that special introverted diplomat, apparently. But that is conjecture.  I have learned there are no sure things.  And I guess, would we really want that anyway?

(Okay, yes.  But it ain't gonna happen)....karma baby.