Category: General

…and what are you up to?

So if you’re sensing that I haven’t been as full-on committed to the quality of posts or storytelling in this blog recently, you’d be right. Thus, I’m going to give you a little glimpse into what I’ve been up to:

  • I wrote a children’s book (obviously much cleaner than what I write about here), I’m working with an illustrator and raising the funds to get it published on Kickstarter.com. I hope you’ll support the project!
  • I began a new gig that has me commuting across town, working all day and racing back after work to try and pick the children up before I have to pay a late penalty.
  • I signed up for an online course to brush up on some new media skills.
  • I wrote a down-and-dirty business plan for a statewide entrepreneurial competition. (I’ve been feeling overwhelmed enough so that, when I asked myself, “What’s the worst that could happen?” and arrived at being selected for the next round, because then I’d have to commit to further work on it…well, I figured I have nothing to lose.)
  • I’m exploring the possibility of buying a business that I’ve admired from afar for some time.

Additionally, I’ve been working on summer arrangements for my children, car shopping, getting a new roof, trying to keep up with the house and yard work, and failing miserably at maintaining my exercise and meditation routines. And, while I’ve taken a break from the online dating game, I’m actually checking in to other sites that might prove more fruitful, either because of sheer volume or who knows? There are some cool concepts out there that I want to try…which you may hear about if I find I’m inspired to write about them.

After a few-month period of shedding and releasing just about anything “extra,” it seems I’m now doing my damnedest to bite off way more than I can chew. You know me by now:  always trying to find my balance, I struggle with wondering whether I’m genuinely pursuing multiple passions or if I’m just throwing a bunch of shit at various walls to see what will stick. I am, in fact, a bit overwhelmed, and yet I’m managing my stress much better than when I was in the social pressure cooker of my old work life. I’m just plugging away, step by step, working toward my passions, knowing that the “right” things will fall in to line naturally.

And, with that, I’m gonna go and get my “om” on, and follow it with some zzzzz. Dream sweetly!

buying newer car induces emotional drama

Who would have thought that buying a new (and by “new,” I mean different) car would bring about such challenging emotions?

Let me explain:  The last time I shopped for a car, I was already driving an amazingly cool sports car. I started shopping for my “winter beater” and ended up instead with a fantastic, luxurious sedan that drove like a dream and had nearly every feature I could have imagined… For at least the first six months — and maybe then some — I rejoiced every time I got in the car to drive it…but that was more than a decade ago.

This time, I found myself driven to practicality:  low gas mileage, cloth seats (at the children’s request, because leather is too hot), older than I would have liked… And, here’s the truth:  I resent it. I resent being in a place where I have to focus more on needs than desires, where I don’t have the financial freedom to buy the car I really want, where the cost of a gallon of gas matters, etc. I’m perfectly certain I sound spoiled for saying so. I know there are zillions of people for whom financial realities preclude the thought of vehicle ownership. I know I should be grateful for what I have. But…

As always, when I’m feeling resentful, my thoughts veer back to my ex and our failed relationship, key reasons for my financial situation. Yet, as I continually remind myself, I made these choices. I made each and every single choice that has me where I am. I settled for a house I don’t love because my wasband liked this one the best; I stayed in a job I didn’t love because I felt trapped under the weight of having to support my family single-handedly; and now I’ve settled for a car I don’t love because it seemed like the most practical thing to do.

Yet in the larger scheme of life, I’m trying to stop settling for less than I truly want. I’m working hard emotionally and otherwise to ensure that I can not only provide for the desires of myself and my children, but also allow for them. It’s okay for me to have what I want. When I shop for clothes, I don’t buy it unless I love it. Like just isn’t good enough. I want to use my resources to surround myself with that which I truly love!

To that end, in this old house that wasn’t my first choice, I have transformed spaces and made it warm and inviting, and a safe place to land. Similarly, I will ultimately reconcile myself to the fact that this car is safer for me, more comfortable for my children, road-trip worthy and, ultimately, provides freedom that I haven’t felt for some time. No longer will I literally fear driving out of town.

And so I try to balance, to reconcile, and to heal the rift between what I need and what I desire, between good enough and my ideal, between resentment and gratitude, between failure and success…and I know that this is just another step along my path. And, even when it doesn’t always feel like it right away, I’m pretty sure it’s a step in the right direction.

do men notice or appreciate toe cleavage?

It was only a few months ago that I first heard of toe cleavage…and I thought, “is that really a thing?”

So when some girlfriends recently commented on a cute pair of shoes that highlighted my toe cleavage, I thought about it again: Do men really notice this sort of thing? And, if they do, do they find it sexy?

So my curiosity led me to take an informal poll among the few men who are regularly a part of my ongoing male-female relationship dynamic conversation. Here are their responses:

  • The lobbyist:  “No and definitely not.” Further inquiry / pushing the issue led to “Yuk!”
  • Chi-guy:  “No and no. I like that you are secure enough to talk about your totally weird foot fetish.” Followed by, “Actual cleavage is often noticed… Anyway, I notice kindness.” And later, “I’ll suck your toes while you whisper kind things…”
  • more-like-it:  “I enjoy nice feet… Love to massage them…” followed by a very graphic description of a sexual position / activity to which I could only reply, “You’re naughty!”
  • By far the best response came from the guy in the cubicle next to me who I clearly should not have even asked (Hello HR!), but did:  He nodded thoughtfully and said ever so diplomatically, “Mm-hmm. Different guys notice different aspects of a woman’s appearance to different degrees. Some guys are going to be in to feet, some are more in to other things.”

For the record, I don’t have a foot fetish myself. I’m just not grossed out by feet (as long as a certain level of hygiene is employed), and I appreciate having my own feet enjoyed. I take care to keep them looking nice, and I like having them rubbed, and I think it’s lovely when a man isn’t afraid to pay a little attention to the lowly feet and toes as a part of physical intimacy.

So, there you have it. There are men who are completely foot-phobic. And, while it’s a little, simple thing, this whole discussion clearly illustrates that the kind of guy who is grossed out by feet is not the guy for me.

just shoot me

I had occasion recently to appear as a talking head in a video for a little project my neighbor and I are doing. I dressed carefully and put on make-up.  I rehearsed my talking points a few times and, as I was already passionate about the subject matter, felt pretty confident about it. We did just one take; she said I nailed it.

And then I saw and heard me in the rectangular box, and this is what happened in my head:  “oh, do I really look like that? why did I choose that top / neckline? my arms look fat! does my tone of voice always sound so harsh? is that how my mouth moves when I talk? I wonder how I look when I eat? ewww! look at me — I am fundamentally flawed and unlovable! I look just like my sister when I do that… no wonder I am single! how could someone watch me talk or eat or merely look at me every day and still want to be around?! it is simply not possible. I am destined to die alone. with ugly gnashing jaws and pursing lips. aaarrgh!”

Attractive? Not so much. Irrational? Decidedly. Unique? Not at all.

I suspect there are very few of us on the planet who actually enjoy watching video of ourselves talking or eating or doing much of anything. Even more than a photograph, video brings out the self-conscious, self-critical voice in all of us. Regardless of how we look or talk or gesture or carry ourselves, our inner critic is the great equalizer. I suspect even Hollywood hotties feel this way. Take Eva Mendez, for instance (because I’m pretty sure she’s one of the sexiest women on the planet):  does she like the way she looks when she eats on screen? is her inner critic as obnoxious as mine? or is she just used to it by now? did acting lessons or professional training teach her and other starlets how to look good talking and eating? or have she and these other leading women just learned to silence their inner critics or not watch?

I’ve been a part of bigger shoots in what now seems like a previous lifetime. There was professional lighting, film shot from the most flattering angle (and it is so much softer and more forgiving than video), air-brush applied make-up and super-hold hairspray, a stylist to drape my wardrobe just right… And, oddly enough, after all that external manipulation, I felt perfectly at ease and natural!

But right now, there is an unflattering video of my talking head out there on the web. I’ll have to live with it, because it’s part of a larger scheme representing positive forward movement in my life. Let’s just hope I can afford the full crew next time…or get used to myself!

waking from a magnificent dream

This morning, on the verge of sleep and wakefulness, I dreamt / saw this vision:

I was at the edge of the arctic, standing on what I thought was solid ground. I placed a stake in the ground, and suddenly realized that the apparent earth I’d been standing on was a floating chunk of ice, drifting out to sea — like the hungry, solitary polar bear you’ve seen in a documentary.

There was a moment of panic as I realized I would be lost, cold and alone, adrift on the frigid sea. And then, a mere breath later, as I found my balance on this gently rocking ice raft, I looked around and realized the sea was full of people like me:  I was drifting into a community of free-floating individuals, none of whom looked cold, alone or afraid. In fact, they were smiling.

Another deep breath…and then I knew I didn’t need to be afraid, either. I felt welcome.

why I’m doing this

Ira Glass on creative work

I’m here, writing nearly every day, for these simple reasons:

  • because I must write
  • to discipline myself to write daily (or almost daily)
  • to prove to myself that I can commit (where previous efforts toward that end have failed)
  • to not suck
I’ve always written, just not as regularly or creatively as I’d like. And I think Ira’s quote sums it up pretty well.
p.s. You can find the original poster here:  http://forr.st/~9OF

the divorce playlist, part 5

phase five:  reclaiming my femininity

What music makes you feel like a sensual, womanly and feminine…like taking a bath, putting on your best lingerie and buying flowers — all just for yourself?

See phase one, phase two, phase three and phase four

where have all my friends gone?

The upheaval in my life in the past year and a half is not limited to divorce, single parenting, quitting a job and starting a new one. It’s social, as well. In fact, I can hear The Jayhawks singing right now…

If you asked me today who my best friends are, I’d list the usual suspects. Most are my single girlfriends (you know who you are), and I’ve been able to reconnect with and lean on these girls much more than when I was trying to manage a family life, especially a deteriorating family life. So there has been a lot of shifting in my friendships, and not all of it as positive as I’d like.

As you might imagine, with small children, much of my family’s socialization was right here in the neighborhood, with other couples who had children of similar ages. Some, I was surprised to find, seem a bit suspicious of me following the split…as though perhaps my ex went on a bit of a public relations campaign before moving several neighborhoods away.

In fact, this PR campaign was confirmed by a local wife over a bottle of wine one night. It wasn’t as though she came out and told me he had done this; rather, she hung around until after the other women had left and literally grilled me. In the process she happened to mention that my ex had been over and told his side of the story. And I doubt he stopped there.

Most adults recognize that there are two sides to every story. I was hoping not to have to air my grievances about certain of my ex’s betrayals, simply because I preferred to take the high road. It was over; the damage was done. Dissing him was not productive. In fact, one neighborhood wife had the grace to say, “We saw in your ex the man you fell in love with.” While I knew it was a lie, I appreciated her generosity and refusal to talk bad about him.

I mentioned other broken relationships in the neighborhood — one of those to whom I was closest moved away and, after having spent several years as an at-home mother, now manages half of the parenting, a long-distance relationship and a full-time job. It’s simply become harder to stay in touch. Another close friend moved to the coast. My neighborhood is a lonelier place than it was before.

There is no question that the disruption inherent in divorce extends beyond the family circle and daily life into broader social circles, often making friends feel as though they have to choose, take sides or spare you the knowledge of the party they held last weekend to which your ex (but not you) was invited. And then there’s the couples vs. singles dynamic, where you’re no longer invited to be part of the group because you’re an odd number or a single or you just aren’t thought of by the well-meaning folks thinking of which couples to invite. Divorce forces those around us into an awkward situation.

Recently, I experienced probably the worst possible incarnation that this dynamic might take — its impact on my children.

One of my daughter’s friends invited her to a backyard bonfire and barbecue. As they sat talking about it, my daughter assumed that her brother and I would also be welcome to attend as a list of neighborhood attendees were rattled off. Whispering ensued. I could hear the girlfriend complaining that they didn’t want so many people. This friend has been known to be manipulative and generally prefers to exclude my son, if at all possible. But it seemed there was more…

Later, when we were alone, I expressed to my daughter that sometimes it was a challenge for me to know how to respond to her friend. She agreed. We talked and, as I uncovered more about this dynamic, I had an intuition and asked:

“Did you friend tell you that her parents don’t like me?”

“Yes,” she confessed.

“When?” I asked.

“Awhile ago.”

“Is that why you haven’t been making plans with her for the past several months?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Does that make you feel uncomfortable around her parents?”

“Yes.”

My stomach dropped. I was, of course, hurt. I have been kind, generous and respectful of this couple. Certainly, we have had moments of difference as it relates to our parenting styles, but I would never exclude them or treat them differently for it. By far, though, pure rage outweighed my sadness. Regardless of what this couple thinks of me (and they’ve made plain their sympathy for my ex), one would think they’d have the discretion to limit what they might say in front of children. And, while I doubt this couple actually said the above verbatim, they need to know how grossly inappropriate and un-friend-like it was for their daughter to say something like this to mine. How dare their words be used to so callously injure my daughter’s self-esteem!

Add another difficult conversation and more social awkwardness to my to-do list…

Update:  It should be noted that these friends later told me I’d done the right thing (in getting rid of my ex).

above all, a good roof

Both my home and my psyche are in fixer-upper condition.

I may have mentioned this before, but my ex was not particularly handy around the home. While he stayed home with our young children, familiarity with his surroundings seemed to engender blindness. Case in point:  when the roof over his head began to leak, I had to point it out to him. And even though he knew roofers, he never managed to make the appropriate arrangements (which explains all the banging going on up there each day and the $10,000 gap in my finances).

If there was something I wanted done, no matter how simple, I started calling contractors or handymen for bids. When the tree guy came to look at the white ash, his quote was deemed “ridiculous” and my ex began trimming. So I managed to accomplish small improvements in this way. Any cost or investment, no matter how low, was “ridiculous” to my wasband, whose grasp on fiscal and other realities seemed to have eroded over his time at home.

Our kitchen remodel made it to 85% complete…and, six years later, there’s still a list of to-do’s including new back doors, trim, a back splash and a few other details. And the bathroom needs a major remodel and … well, you get the idea.

My psyche is much the same way just now:  there are some areas that need anything from a little redecorating or brightening up with fresh flowers to major renovation.

Inside my house, there are improvements on my wish list that I notice every day. Yet I’m repairing the roof first. I can’t see it, except from outside. It won’t affect my daily comfort (aside from during a hard rain). Yet, it’s as my roofer said, “Above all, a good roof.” The roof is the necessary shelter, the fundamental protection that will allow me to take the next necessary steps:  a new ceiling, doors and trim. Eventually a bathroom.

Addressing the internal wounds is somewhat different, but it begins the same way. The first order of business is to secure shelter, a protected space or environment in which to process the emotions. Or, as Dr. Phil has explained (on one or more of the small handful of shows I’ve seen), “a safe place to land.” Divorce (and its associated betrayals), regardless of who or how or why it’s initiated, has a way of decimating the self-esteem, self-worth, ability to trust and more. One needs time and space to restore them.

And then there are matters of forgiveness. As if forgiving the ex were not practically unthinkable in and of itself, one must move beyond this to the even more monumental effort of forgiving one’s self:  for failing to make it work, for actual harm caused, for giving up to soon or for staying too long and, especially, for the poor relationship example demonstrated to the children. And so much more.

While all that work is being addressed, there are the realizations and discoveries of habits, beliefs and paradigms adopted and lived out in the course of a failing relationship that must be examined and, likely, let go for something new and more wonderful to bloom. Certain triggers cause responses that are entirely too reactionary. As an example, say the words “stay at home father” and watch as I break out in a rash… Though my ex was much better equipped to be a full-time caregiver than I was when our children were babies, the experience ultimately took a turn for the resentful. I have to take a few deep breaths and remind myself that said domestic arrangement can and does actually work for a growing number of other families.

I’d say the roof is half-way finished. It would be impossible to say where my psyche is at along the path or how far I’ve come in healing. While I’d like to think that I am facing my challenges and healing consciously, there is no real way to determine whether or when there will be an end to the work. I can’t simply look at the construction schedule (and then add another few months). The past three months of down time to mull and process has been a true gift, and I’d like to believe I’ve made significant progress in healing my heart.

Yet I have a feeling the true test will be, as it is now, the patience, love and understanding I demonstrate to my children, my presence and openness, and the woman I am in relation to others.

v words

I’ve been called a lot of things, but I especially like the v words I’ve been called:  vixen, vibrant, vivacious, verbose…very! (There may be some less appealing, but I can’t remember them.)

As a writer, I love finding patterns and rhythms and playing with words and sounds. The v words are interesting to me, because I associate each of the above with a certain memory, experience and individual (one of whom I called “varlet”). And because I love the v sound.