so much, yet so little

I keep coming up with many ideas about which to write — I have so much to say.

Still, today is a solemn day of remembrance, a day in which there are more important things to contemplate than my sorry-ass lack of a dating life. I’ve read through Facebook posts from friends who were traveling or living in New York eleven years ago. I can still feel the bewilderment and fear I felt that day…and to honor those feelings and to honor loved ones whose minds are closer to NYC than to my little realm of self-absorption, I’m going to call it a night.

I’ll drop back with more later this week.

my money demon

Yesterday I promised to follow up with the rest of the story:

I think I’ve been quite open about my being on a path of growth since my early twenties, and with some renewed vigor following my divorce. Also, I’ve wrestled with “money issues” off and on for years. I know this because people have told me things like, “you’re too materialistic” or “you’re high maintenance.” While these types of judgements are relative, they always strike me as odd, because I am a pretty down-to-earth, value-conscious and go-with-the-flow kind of gal. When outside feedback doesn’t match inner reality, there must be some kind of dissonance. Whether it brings up our blind spots or other areas that aren’t resolved, that dissonance tells us something.

More recently, I’ve been feeling super grounded, grateful and optimistic. I feel like “me” again and I think the way I’m feeling is reflected in others’ perceptions of me, too, which suggests that my true nature and disposition are expressing themselves.

BUT — every time an unhappy financial surprise shows up in my life, my stress response could be described as way out of proportion to the actual event or cost. Furthermore, the simple stuff that others appear to be able to do, such as hire a landscaper, go on a girls’ weekend or buy a new car, continue to seem utterly out of reach despite the fact that I earn among the top 18% of all US households. People, this shit defies reason! (Again, I must acknowledge that I’m doing something right!)

Thus, Morgana Rae‘s concept (which I brought up yesterday) of visualizing your money as a person blew my mind! Rae is an abundance coach or “financial alchemist,” someone who helps others release their blocks to abundance. She had her own financial issues when her coach asked her that very question: “If your money was a person, what would that person be like?”

I immediately closed my eyes, opened my mind and welcomed the vision of the embodiment of my money, while Morgana described hers as a large, physically intimidating “biker guy.”

My money wasn’t like that at all. In fact, he kind of looked like James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause, casually attired in a tee-shirt (maybe a wife beater) and jeans, with — instead of a leather jacket — a plaid shirt hanging over, unbuttoned and untucked. He leaned his thin frame against a wall, sort of in the shadows, kind of lurking. His hair was kind of greasy and you could tell by that and his scent that he hadn’t showered recently.

Am I starting to paint a picture here? Lurking, shadows…this guy’s kind of like a drug dealer. He swoops in for a quick fix now and again, but he’s completely unreliable and not at all trustworthy. He’s cool, noncommittal, dishonest, and can manipulate and control a situation with his smooth talk. He’s evasive and elusive. When I’m around him, I feel unsure of myself.

Seeing this embodiment of my relationship with money was a huge revelation to me. Wow! I’ve never had this sort of realization while doing any of the other work I’ve done around this issue. This just happens to have been the technique that gets to the heart of it for me. So…

Morgana’s first advice? Break up with your “money monster.” (“Money demon” resonates more with me.) Then find yourself a “money honey” and have an enriching relationship of mutual adoration with him (or her, depending on your preference). In all, Morgana has six steps for this process — and, if this interests you remotely, I highly recommend you look her up.

Finally, as I scribbled all of this down on paper, I began to see that many of the characteristics I assigned to my money demon are shared by my ex husband. In other words, if I heal this relationship, it will help improve all of my relationships.

Once again, this stupefying realization made me think, “Whoa, I’ve got a lot of work to do before I am capable of a truly healthy relationship!” Of course, I can manage well for a while, but patterns recur until we fully address them, right? So I’m ambivalent about whether to continue dating casually, or whether to really take the time to prioritize myself by doing meditation, yoga and other things that nurture my body and soul, opening myself to what comes to me naturally. Of course this is the way things would unfold according to my preference…but I’m still enjoying meeting people and the male attention in the meantime.

So I’ll stay online for a bit longer, see what happens and nurture myself enough to ensure I don’t allow myself to get too fatigued with the whole thing.

Meanwhile, I’m off to dream up a money honey — should he look like Dennis Quaid in The Rookie? Robert Downey Jr. in Iron Man? The Jake Ryan character from Sixteen Candles? Max? At any rate, he’ll be gorgeous, I’ll treat him with love and respect, we’ll adore each other completely!

feeling better

I don’t have much time to write, but wanted to provide a quick update: After beginning my week in the fetal position with intense cramping and hot / cold flashes, I’m starting to feel better. My hope is that this little detox program I’m on will have lasting results, and that I won’t have to feel the intensity of PMS symptoms again!

It’s a crazy week at work — I’m not sure how much more I can fit into my head! That said, the rest of the week will surely race by and my weekend is already booked up with plans — including dates.

Found this gem online today. It’s a fun read, and I might have to personalize it and put it to the test with some of these guys.

Check back for updates — I’m sure I’ll be dying to dish!

getting rid of the poison

I wrote in my last post that I felt as though there were a poison inside of me, and some pretty intense and ugly feelings emanate from it for a couple of days each month. I began to notice a major difference in how I was feeling in February of this year — and the symptoms may have begun even earlier.

I’ve had some other challenging health news recently — and I have to admit, I’ve been a little fearful. I’ve heard from girlfriends my age battling breast cancer, following up a double mastectomy with a full hysterectomy to prevent their hormones from creating further havoc. My own mother had a hysterectomy in her thirties and breast cancer in her sixties. I want to see the benefits of the healthy lifestyle I lead. I want health naturally — without knives removing the very body parts that make me a woman.

With all this in mind, I saw my kinesiologist late last week. Sure enough, there is a poison — a toxic heavy metal — in my uterus. I am on an intense 12-day detox to release it from my system.

I have high hopes that, with the release of the toxin, the intensity of my monthly moods will subside, so that I can more steadily cultivate the gratitude and joy that I am able to experience much of the time. Remember, I vowed earlier this year to be love, abundance and sweetness, and I have to admit that it’s sometimes a struggle. Even more so when my hormones seem to work so determinedly against me.

Whatever health effects result from ridding my body of this poison will benefit me enormously, I’m sure. But I’ve already received a tremendous gift as a result of the process. In fact, I’ve experienced this more and more recently: When I am frustrated enough to verbalize as succinctly and clearly as I did about feeling poison spread from my gut, my intuition about my body and emotional healing is increasingly spot on. I described what I felt happening, and what I was feeling was validated. And has been validated more and more consistently in the past several months.

That tells me that I know myself. I know what’s good for me. I know what I need. And it feels wonderful to know I can trust myself more and more all the time.

all my best

Nearly a year ago I attempted to capture what I felt were my worst, most appallingly bad qualities as if to warn a potential partner of what he might be getting in to. I suspect, at the time, many of the things I wrote were still rather reactionary. For example, I wrote about needing a lot of attention…which I probably don’t compared to others, but which I definitely do compared to what I received in my last relationship. You see what I’m getting at…

Here, if for no other reason than to illustrate that I have a few good characteristics, too, I’ll explore the finer things about yours truly. This should not be so difficult in theory…yet it’s taken me months…

I have the kind of smile that can light up the room. This is not to say that I am preternaturally bright, but that when I’m “on,” I can make anyone in the room feel good. Just because. I don’t need a motivation other than to make someone else’s day. In any given moment, I’m more likely to be smiling (even if only on the inside) than not, and my eyes sparkle.
I am playful and insist on laughing a lot. Life is funny. Or tragic. Either way, you’ve got to have a sense of humor to get through it!
I am content and happy, yet I see and find ways to grow and build on what is already a full and wonderful life.
I am an eternal (and usually pragmatic) optimist. I am, in fact, such an optimist that I constantly overestimate all the fun that can be packed in to a day. (Which unfortunately means that some around me occasionally feel let down. Sorry.)
I am conscious and willing. Why would this be a benefit to a man? Because if, like my last boyfriend, you call me out on a bad behavior, I’m likely to examine deeply what it’s about and consider making changes as appropriate.
I have the courage to admit when I make a mistake. And the decency to apologize.
I have some mechanical abilities, which is to say that I can generally understand how things fit together or work (and am able assemble furniture from IKEA, for example).
I prefer to be loving, to say “yes” more often than “no,” to do what’s right, to be generous, to give and to live passionately. I genuinely care, my experiences to date have earned me a fair amount of resilience and wisdom and, when I hear of couples who have spent literally decades of their lives together, I believe the willingness and ability to enjoy that kind of commitment and intimacy is in me.
Many of my friends have remarked on my ability for absolute acceptance. I can discern what is or is not right for myself while mostly leaving judgment to whatever our higher powers or karma may have in store for our immortal souls.
I enjoy reading and talking about what I read, which I suppose can be described as an intellectual curiosity and willingness to continue to grow and educate myself.
Add to these that I’m not a bad cook, I’m pretty and have a lovely curvy figure, can create a warm and loving home environment, teach my children proper manners and have a fairly decent sense of style.

car trouble

I was driving down the freeway on the way home from work, admiring all the sexier cars going by, thinking “someday I’ll have a husband who wants me to drive one of those,” when I caught myself at it. I mean thinking that very crazy notion.

And I realized that I don’t need anyone’s approval or wish for me to drive a hot car — I can have whatever the hell car I want for myself because I’m in charge. And I value me and I don’t need approval from anyone. Of course I know this. Of course I’ve had this realization before…yet still, on some level, I realized this mental pattern meant I’m still seeking direction, approval, competence, the “go-ahead” from somewhere outside myself.

Clearly this is a pattern for me: one of those nasty, sticky karmic lessons that doesn’t want to go away until it’s well and truly engrained into my noggin. Seems like every time I peel back another layer, I need to learn the same lesson again, in some nuanced new way…

So I hereby declare myself competent, independent, in charge and approved. As is. And I will do what the hell I want…whether it means driving this rice grinder into the ground or hailing a hot new chariot. It’s all me, Baby!

word to your mother

A huge shout out to those of you who are mothers, who understand that “loving your children” is more than a feeling, who are living examples of the kind of persons they are trying to raise, who put in the hard work and difficult choices of raising our future citizenry with principles, compassion, love and so much more!

And, then, when I wasn’t looking, The Atlantic published this. Even bigger shout out to the single mothers (and single parents, in general).

a whole new world of weird

It’s interesting that I feel so grounded and centered with so much weirdness around me:

Someone material to me has just made one of the most unmitigatedly, colossally poor decisions of her life: she has allowed her ex to move back into her life and into her home. The ex is certainly narcissistic, quite possibly a psychopath, who was fired from his job for screwing an intern (in his office) who called him “Dad.” This is while married. The divorce was ugly; she has struggled to manage a large house and finances since. And she’s willing to take the philandering douchebag back… Ugh. Sadly, the woman in question is my mother. Containing the fallout will surely mean my relationship with her changes, as will the relationship she has with my children. The manipulative man formerly known as my stepfather has no place in my life.

Meanwhile, I’ve shared this news with my ex, whose response was that — if she could forgive and take him back — perhaps there was hope for us to reconcile, as well… Um, no.

Despite the drama going on around me, I’m managing my boundaries…so far, so good anyway.

perceptions

When he first met me, my former guy thought I was proper, “prissy” and materialistic. While he recently mentioned that he still thinks I’m prissy (what on earth does that even mean, prissy? and are there girls who aren’t?), I think he ultimately saw beyond his other misperceptions to a woman whose heart and values are in the right place.

A work colleague recently confessed that her now husband thought she was repulsive and obnoxious the first time they met…and now look!

One guy I dated pressed me about my first impressions about him until I finally confessed, “man boobs.” I said this while we were in bed. We both had a good laugh and, the next day, he started doing push ups.

My point is that perceptions are regularly skewed, our snap judgements are often just plain wrong, and it’s often more rewarding to keep our hearts and minds open and allow the magic of the universe to unfold.

I mean, what if it was all part of the cosmic plan for the hung-over ball player to be so put off by the gregarious, fun-loving woman from work, just so that he noticed her? Where would life have led them if he hadn’t?

What have you missed out on because you judged too quickly or harshly?

What beauty or bliss have you experienced because you led with your heart?

not ready for tacos

This morning, my children were playing catch in the yard when my daughter asked me to join her on the girls’ team, “Team Taco.”

After I picked my jaw up off the ground, I asked what the boys’ team was called: “Team Burrito.” And I followed with questions about where they’d learned these team names and if they knew what the names referenced…they did.

It’s natural for our children to lead the way, for parents to be caught off guard by an innocent phrase or question (that may not really be so innocent), for us to feel occasional discomfort at the maturity of topics we’re forced to address. But when my young son confirmed that the team names referenced parts of our anatomy, I was a bit aghast that children so young should already be exposed to what I might consider, if not vulgar, then at least a type of humor more appropriate for an older audience.

Let me just say that I am among the most urban, liberal, laid-back mothers I know. Sure, a part of me thought what I’d just heard was funny. But I am a feminist, and I want my daughter to own her body with confidence, to grow up stronger than those girls I’ve read about in Jodi Picoult novels. And I want my son to view his maleness as much more than his “burrito,” as well. I’d hate for my children to think I condoned identifying with a group based on the singular identifying characteristic of genitalia. Sex / gender is so much more than that.

Thus, I was compelled to call a huddle for a little chat about age-appropriate humor and about our being so much more than our anatomy. My daughter buried her face in a book and my son giggled while I explained why we probably shouldn’t use these team names anymore.

When they’re older and understand irony, my daughter is welcome to rejoin “Team Taco” or “Team Vajayjay” if it suits her post-feminist humor. But I’d better not ever hear that sort of thing out of my son’s mouth!