Wednesday, March 06, 2024

THERE IT IS

 It's back. 

And who knows for how long? But for this day, for this moment, all is bliss. I'm happy, excited for the future, ready and eager to keep reaching for those dreams.

Is it because February, the hardest month of the year for me, is gone? Is it because for today, all is well at work - i.e. I know what I'm doing? Is it because I just finished watching the finale of the Apple TV show Ted Lasso and am brimming over with tears and a warm feeling in my heart? 

It's all of it and more, I'm sure.

I'm going to grab onto this moment, hold it tight, and remember how good it feels. 

When I work on my novel tonight - after I watch All About Eve with my pals on Twitter (we use the hashtag #TCMParty and live tweet throughout the movie) - I plan to immerse myself deeply into my story, and try to remember why I write: because I love it.

Life Update

I figured something out the other night. Because I lived for years never knowing what was coming around the bend with my then-husband (would he end up in a fight? Come home drunk? Be arrested? Yes, all of these things happened), I lived in a constant state of fight or flight. And even now, years later, when I am in an uncomfortable situation - like learning the processes of a new job - it triggers the fight or flight response. I've had to take deep breaths, remind myself that this is temporary, that I just need to not be afraid to ask questions when I'm unsure of something, and most importantly, to take it slow. 

As far as the novel goes, my editing process is messy, but it seems to work for me. I'm starting to figure out what needs to be changed, and starting to find my groove. Huzzah!

The weather has been unseasonably warm, and the other night I found a tick on my scalp. Yes, a TICK. I was appalled. A tick? In March?!? Climate change is really messing with the world.

And finally, I have to share this amazing sign that my niece made for me for my new apartment. Some day, I want to hang it in my home in England. 



Thursday, February 22, 2024

Reminder: Art Is Subjective

Today I received a rejection from an agent on a full manuscript request.

It stung.

While she said she was initially drawn in by my story and premise (yay, the query letter worked!), she ultimately didn't fall in love with the execution of it. 

*sob*

Yes, I know this business is subjective. There are lots of published novels I've read that I've scratched my head at, wondering how they managed to make it from agent to editor to published novel. 

But I admit to being quite deflated today, and the self-doubt began to creep in.

What if I really am not good at writing novels?

That's a terrifying thought. Writing fiction is in my blood. I've been doing it since I was 12 years old. I can't fathom doing anything else.

So I've had to just confront this head on and realize that while this agent didn't fall in love with my story, I know one will. I have to keep the faith. I have to believe in myself and my abilities.

Life Update

I've been at my job for nearly two months now, and I'm starting to settle in and find my way around. It's much more challenging than my last job (which is what I wanted) and this means I am more mentally tired at the end of the day. I don't have as much energy to devote to my writing, especially when I'm having a flare (I've had two bad ones in the last month). I'm still trying to squeeze in a bit of editing every day in hopes that it will all add up to a finished novel. It makes me realize, though, how age and my health have so affected my energy levels. When my kids were young, I was working full-time, parenting, dealing with an abusive marriage, and doing about three freelance jobs plus working on my novel. How did I do all of that? 

Ultimately, I'd like to work part-time and write the rest of the time...while living in England.

Yes, that is the ultimate goal! 

The weather has been glorious here with temperatures in the 50s and 60s. I've tried to take as many walks as my body would allow, and it's been nice to be out in the warm sunshine.




Thursday, February 08, 2024

I Just Don't Know...


I think I expect too much of myself. 

Every day, I expect myself to do the following:

1) Be awesome at the day job

2) Cook and eat a healthy supper

3) Keep up on the housework 

4) Exercise

5) Write

That's not a bad list, right? That should be doable every single day. When I accomplish all of those things, I feel amazing and damn proud of myself. 

But when I don't accomplish them all? When one of my chronic illnesses strikes and I'm too exhausted to cook, do housework, and barely have the energy to just sit and watch television? I feel like a damn failure.

I have a theory that life is a constant cycle that is always interrupted. We follow a routine - we get up, we go to work, we eat, we do the things we want to do (read, write, watch t.v., exercise, etc.), we go to bed, we sleep, we get up and do it all over again. 

But then come the interruptions. The sickness. The bad day at work. The medical appointment that brings bad news. Family issues. Relationship issues. Pandemics. Politics. And on and on and on...

We can try and plan our days and stick to our routines, but life interrupts us. Constantly. 

I need to learn to just roll with it, and not beat myself up if I don't fill in those little circles on my planner for each activity I hope to accomplish every day. There's something to be said for being consistent and for attempting to stick to your daily goals. But it's also okay to realize that hey, if you're in the middle of a flare, you don't have to exercise because if you do, you'll make yourself worse. Or if you had an extremely bad day at the day job, it's okay to watch television all night instead of work on the novel because if you tried to write, only complete crap would emerge.

Bottom line, I need to show myself grace. 

I love, love, LOVE this artwork
Artist: J.C. Leyendecker

Life Update

I'm just now getting over a flare that lasted almost ten days, and it was a doozy. Worse, I have no PTO at the new job until my "introductory period" (90 days) is over. That is beyond frustrating. I ended up taking an unpaid day and that's money lost that I really can't afford. It makes me realize that even though I have to wait for my PTO, at least I will have it. So many people do not have sick leave. 

This flare also reminded me of how sick I really am. I am not exactly sure what caused it (I did have a date night with my boyfriend and had two Moscow Mules, but I think it's just the enormity of the move, the new job, the holidays, etc., etc., finally came crashing down on me, and my body said ENOUGH. I still am not back to my baseline, and I'm trying not to push myself. These flares leave me terrified that one day I will not recover, that I will end up bedridden like so many patients with ME/CFS. How would I take care of myself financially if that happens? What about insurance for medical bills, etc.? Which brings me to the horror of the American healthcare system. Get sick, go broke. That's about the long and short of it.

Sigh.

I'm back to working on my novel, but I'm still trying to adjust to the new job. There's just so much more to learn, and while it will become second nature to me at some point, it's still mentally draining to work through it all. My cognitive issues (memory issues, recall, mixing up my words, etc.) that come with ME/CFS are not helping matters. However, I am very happy that my employer set a meeting up with me to discuss accommodations, and they have already made arrangements for a few things. It feels good to know I work for a company that values my health and wants to make sure I have what i need to get the job done.



Tuesday, January 23, 2024

Betrayed By My Body

 I've been doing pretty well with my exercise routine. I love the ease of using my walking pad, and how I can just slide it under the bed when I'm finished. Much better than that huge treadmill.

So tonight, when I hopped on the walking pad, put on my music, and started walking, I looked forward to listening to some good tunes and getting a burst of adrenaline. Then out of nowhere, my head began to throb. I tried to ignore it, considering I'd just had a migraine on Sunday, and had given myself all day yesterday to recover. I thought my headphones might be too tight, so I loosened them, but that didn't work. I took down my hair and clipped it at the base of my neck. That didn't work, either. I still kept pushing.

But the longer I walked, the worse my head felt. I finally admitted defeat and by the time I stepped off the walking pad, I had a full-blown migraine I have no idea what caused it. 

A few hours later, it's finally calmed down to a dull roar, but I am so damn frustrated. I wanted to exercise, craved it, in fact, after two days of inactivity. Yet again, my body betrayed me. Instead of exercising, then working on my novel, I had to put both those things on hold. Again.

I've lived with migraines since high school. While Botox shots every three months keep them at bay for the most part, I still live with daily headaches. I've exhausted treatment options and medications. Even when I have a migraine, I can't find a medicine that works to treat it (my neurologist and I have tried so many that I've lost count). 

So I suffer. 

Sigh.

This sounds like a "poor me" post. It's really just a "I'm frustrated so I need to vent" post. That's the beauty of blogging. I can write whatever I like.

To top all this off, another agent rejection showed up in my inbox. I'm about done trying to sell this novel. No one wants it. Might as well accept it at this point, and keep moving forward on the current WIP.

Though you'd think a novel about fascism and antisemitism in WW2 America might be relevant right about now...but who can understand the publishing business? Not me.

I'll leave you with one of my favorite pieces of art that I saw on my Scotland trip.

This piece, entitled "Reverend Walker" was painted by Sir Henry Raeburn and hangs in the National Galleries of Scotland in Edinburgh. I bought a print of this and it's currently hanging in my apartment


Monday, January 15, 2024

The Dreaded R Word: Routine

For years, I didn't think I did well with routines. I was a free spirit! Just let me do whatever, whenever!

Hahahahaha. 

The last two weeks have shown me how completely and totally wrong I am. I need a routine. I thrive when I'm in a routine. I feel better physically and emotionally when I'm in a routine. I can hardly believe it, yet it's the truth.

Ever since the pandemic hit and I started working from home full time, I pretty much created my own schedule. There were some days, if I wasn't feeling good, that I would sleep in, then just work extra hours. Other days, I'd work a fairly regular schedule. But in the last year or so, I really had no schedule at all. I did the work, did it well, and met my deadlines. But my sleep schedule was all over the place, and there were days I was working on day job stuff at 1 p.m.

Not ideal.

I loved it, though, as I could set my own hours. I felt as though I had an immense amount of freedom, and that is certainly true. If I needed to take a few hours in the afternoon to run some errands, I could do it, then just work some extra hours later. Other days, I'd be up super early, do some work, then sleep another few hours, do some work, and then I'd crawl into bed around 2:30 a.m. or so. Some nights it was earlier; others, it was later. I guess it was a kind of routine, but my mood and how I felt physically was all over the place.

I didn't realize how all over the place it was until I started my new job. Up at 8. Steady work throughout the day with a lunch break. And then quit at 5 p.m. I now go to bed around midnight or 1 a.m. (still need to make it closer to midnight) which means I have about seven hours to do what needs to be done after 5 p.m.: working on freelance projects, reading, exercising, and writing. I always watch a movie or a few episodes of TV every day, and lately, I've started playing Tetris on my daughter's old PlayStation 2. It helps me to unwind. (I need to get back to my jigsaw puzzles!)

I've noticed a significant difference in how I feel emotionally and physically. It reminds me of when I was staying at home with my kids, and thought I had all the time in the world to write, to exercise, to do whatever I wanted. I didn't end up finishing the novel I began when my daughter was a baby until she was five years old and I'd started working full time. I joined Curves (remember Curves?) and started working out. In other words, I had a set routine that forced me to make time for my writing and prioritize my health.

Of course, even with my weird schedule of the last few years, I finished two novels - in fact, I wrote a novel in less than nine months. That's because I made a promise to myself to work on it nearly every day, and I kept that promise. I also worked out whenever I could. But I had a lot more days when I felt pretty rotten. 

I still have days where I feel rotten because fibromyalgia and ME/CFS don't take vacations. But they seem to be behaving themselves because I'm on a routine. 

I'm also inclined to think it's something else: I no longer live with a man.

Trauma does crazy things to our bodies. I lived with a narcissistic, abusive man for 18 years (which is why I developed fibromyalgia and ME/CFS) and my body was constantly in fight or flight mode. While my boyfriend is nothing like my ex-husband, he is still a man, and I really do think my body never felt safe in our shared home. Now that I'm in my own space, my body does feel safe. That's my theory, anyway.

So. The dreaded Routine, a lifestyle I eschewed for so long, has now become my best friend.

Who'd have thought?


Monday, January 08, 2024

And...Breathe

It's been ten years since I've had to have a "first day on the new job" experience. I forgot how terrifying it can be. When last Tuesday morning rolled around, the first day of the job, I wasn't quite sure what to expect. But I made it through, tucking away my terrified introvert and putting on my extrovert persona, but doubts began to plague me: had I made the right decision? Would I be a good fit for this company? Would my coworkers like me? I felt overwhelmed and unsure. But I kept telling myself, "This is normal, completely normal. Give yourself time to adjust."

As the days went by and I started to meet more coworkers and learn more about the products, our process, etc., the anxiety started to ease. By last Friday, it had disappeared, and I knew I was in the right place. It's a challenge to learn a new job and tackle new projects, but I welcome it. I'd grown stagnant at my last job and that was one of the reasons I wanted and needed a different job.

There will be challenges ahead, of course, and perhaps some difficult times. But I'm staying the course.

Oddly enough, the biggest adjustment I had to make was my sleep schedule! That has improved, as well. 

I'm also back to exercising. I bought a walking pad and have used it a few times now, and it's so easy to just slide it under the bed when I'm finished. I'm trying to eat healthy because I need to lose some weight for health reasons, but it's proving difficult. Still. One day at a time, and lots of grace!

The new walking pad!

I've returned to editing my novel, and feel fully immersed in the story. Even better? I'm excited about it again! 

Life is starting to settle into a routine. I've discovered I need a routine to stay on track and accomplish my goals. In fact, I'm making all sorts of discoveries about myself. I feel healthier emotionally and physically living without my partner. I don't know exactly what that means, but for right now, I'm going to embrace it and accept it. 

The last two months definitely stretched me, but in good ways. 

I'll take it!


Tuesday, December 26, 2023

Here Comes Winter

 On Christmas morning, after we'd opened our presents, my dad would jokingly say, "Christmas is over!" We three kids would protest, tell him that we had yet to visit our other set of grandparents for gifts. 

While I have never celebrated Boxing Day (though if I do want to move to the U.K. some day, I should start, right?) or observed all 12 days of Christmas, I should start. Two days - Christmas Eve and Christmas Day - simply aren't enough to celebrate the holiday. I always feel a bit melancholy on the day after Christmas. There's such a build-up to it, and then, POOF, it's over. 

It was just the three of us this year - me, my daughter, and my boyfriend. We didn't do anything special - just ate good food, opened presents, and watched Christmas movies. It snowed on Christmas Day and we had a white Christmas which I always love. I received some wonderful gifts, including an action figure Robin Hood from the Disney movie (my daughter gave me the Prince John action figure last year!) and I was happy my daughter and boyfriend enjoyed their gifts from me. That's probably my favorite part of Christmas.

I allowed myself to eat whatever I wanted these past few weeks, not only because it's Christmas, but because my gosh, I didn't need to monitor my food intake after moving and sorting and unboxing for a solid three weeks. But the last sugar cookie is now in my belly, and while we still have some leftovers from Christmas dinner (stuffing! mashed potatoes! ham!), those will be gone in a few days, as well. 

I did manage to walk for 15 minutes on my new walking pad. It will take some getting used to. I'm not sure it has the support I really need because my knees were killing me afterwards. But, that could be my crappy shoes, too, which squeak like I'm walking on a wet floor all the time, so I zipped over to Amazon and ordered me a new pair because let's just keep on adding to the credit card bill, right? 

On Winter and Writing

The beautiful snowfall yesterday beckoned me today, and I went out for a few minutes to snap some pictures. I am so, so fortunate to live in an apartment that looks out onto a woodland area. There's a bubbling creek mere steps away from my patio, birds twitter among the treetops in the morning, and the other day, a fat raccoon just ambled by in broad daylight. I just love it.






I signed up for a winter writing sanctuary hosted by Beth Kempton, and today I did some writing prompts on winter as a warm up for the course. It was rather lovely to think of the aspects of winter I enjoy, and there are many: cuddling under a blanket by the fire with a good book or to watch a movie, the bright lights of Christmas, the snow dusting the trees, the chilly wind blowing outside while I'm toasty warm in my bed...

Of course, there's some things I don't enjoy about winter. February has been a very hard month for me since 2017. That's when I found out my now ex-husband was cheating on me; the next year, my grandmother died in February; and the year after that, my beloved Kathryn, a cat I'd had since 2009, died a tragic, terrible death (she died in my arms - talk about trauma). I barely made it through last February.  I watched a lot of British murder mysteries and didn't do much more than that. Barely got any writing done and just counted myself lucky to wake up each morning. 

I hope this year is different. I hope living in this new apartment, and starting this new life, will make a difference. Of course, traumaversaries don't much care how good you're feeling in life - they have a tendency to make their presence known. But we'll see what happens.

I'm back to editing my novel, and had some new ideas hit me the other night while I was trying to sleep (I actually remembered them in the morning!). I'm starting to incorporate them, and I know they will add depth and nuance to the overall story. 

One thing I really hope to do with this writing sanctuary is to rediscover my joy of writing. I remember those heady days of my youth, when I'd forego attending high school basketball games or going out with friends so I could write. I'd sit at home on a Friday night, writing on my little desk, with a blue pen and lined sheets of paper. I wrote and wrote, and I don't remember it being as hard as it is now. 

Is it because the more you write, the more aware you become of all the story elements you must include? Is it because we are wiser, more jaded, trying to write for an audience and trying to write so no one will leave one-star reviews? I think that's a lot of it. I've always said you should write the first draft with your heart and the second with your head, and that still holds true. But I want to be able to still find joy in the process. Sometimes, I'll sit down and not even want to work on editing the novel because it just seems so overwhelming. Other times, like tonight, I know what my goal is - and I break it into small chunks so it's not as intimidating. Why can't I always do the latter instead of the former? Because I have a squirrel brain, always hopping from one branch to the other, chasing after acorns and other shiny objects instead of focusing on the task at hand. Sometimes I do wonder if I have ADHD - but more likely it's the result of having my brain rewired due to the Internet. Right now, there are six tabs open on my screen, and I've been sorely tempted to check Twitter or Facebook while I've been writing this post. Social media has robbed us of our attention and focus. I've thought about deleting those apps from my phone, but the thing is, I really enjoy interacting with my Twitter friends (if I stay away from the terrible Holocaust deniers and white supremacists on Twitter, it's much more enjoyable - yes, that place is brimming with horrible people). The key is, I suppose, to limit my time on those apps and learn some strategies to keep my squirrel brain from kicking into gear when I need to be writing.

I have a week until I start the new job - and I plan to enjoy ever minute of it.

Thursday, December 21, 2023

Settling In

Today was the last day of a job I've had for ten years. It didn't end with me celebrating, or doing a dance, but quietly, with me checking my email to make sure I'd dotted all the i's and crossed all the t's. Found a few outstanding tasks I took care of, and then I closed the email program for good. 

It was a bittersweet moment. But I'm very excited for the new job - it starts Jan. 2.

That means I have an entire 10 days to relax and dive back into my novel.

With the apartment all settled - everything has been moved, unpacked, and put away - I've been trying to take a deep breath and relax. But being on the go for the past month has somehow made it hard to just sit and be. I feel like I need to keep doing something even if there's nothing to do.

I'm sure those feelings will pass, but it has made it harder to become fully immersed in my novel. Why, though, do I have this need to immediately jump into a new task instead of resting and recovering? A few reasons, I suppose. One, I'm anxious to return to my writing as I've had exactly ZERO time, energy, and mental capacity for it over the past month. Two, society's conditioned me to believe I need to be productive all the damn time. Devon discussed this in one of her posts the other day, and I couldn't agree more. I have been productive - so much so that I probably put my health at risk - and now my body is telling me to slow down. My brain, however, doesn't want to listen. But it's gonna have to!

I still need to get through Christmas. I have presents to wrap, but I've decided not to do any baking this year. Instead, I bought some cookies from the grocery store bakery as well as some Christmas candy. I have been gorging on both, and damn it, I am not going to feel guilty for it. I ordered a new walking pad (having no room for my old treadmill in the apartment) and that will arrive in a few days. I'm looking forward to getting back to my exercise. 

The new year will definitely feel like a fresh start in so many ways: new apartment, new job, new dedication to creating a different life! I want to focus on ME now, and that means focusing on my health, dropping some weight (for health reasons, but also because I feel better when I don't carry an extra 20 lbs), reading and writing more, and trying to finally break some bad habits. One day at a time!

This was a big project - part of my Snoopy collection!

Whew! In many ways, I feel like I haven't been able to take a breath since I returned from Scotland. Now's my chance, and I need to take it. 







Wednesday, December 13, 2023

Sheer Happiness

Tonight, I sang in the shower. This is not a common occurrence. I've cried in the shower more than once, but I don't often sing. 

I did tonight.

Why? Because I did it

The move is over. My new apartment is settled, save for a few things to hang up, and it is already home. I'm filled with peace and contentment and something else: pride. I am so damn proud of myself for having the courage to take this step to move into my own place, to reclaim my life, to reclaim me

I haven't felt like this in a long, long time. And that means all of it - the heartache, the crying, the packing and purging and moving, the financial hit, the literal pain my body has experience, the exhaustion - it's all been worth it. It also means this was the absolute right thing to do.

At one point, in the thick of packing and lifting and carrying box after box, of making the various trips between the old place and the new, I thought, "Oh, it would be so much easier to just stay put." But then I stopped myself. "No," I thought. "it would be so much harder to stay put. Why? Because I'd be neglecting my truth, neglecting what my heart has been shouting at me for the last six months." The move and all it entailed was a temporary inconvenience. I kept my eye on the prize, and now here I lay in bed, my cat cozied up beside me, a classic movie playing on my tv, soft lights casting warmth and security. My bedroom also contains my office, and it's a corner that reflects who I am in every piece displayed on my desk and wall: the Snoopy knickknacks, the pictures of my daughter and my family, the stuffed foxes, the diploma for my MA in history, the Prince John figurine from Disney's Robin Hood (my all time favorite Robin Hood!), the Mozart watch I proudly wore in high school, the framed photo of Pedro Pascal, and so much more.



The rest of my apartment is also proudly me. My living room contains an entire wall of bookshelves, and a retro radio sits on my fireplace. I have a little vintage spot dedicated to my grandparents: on an old desk sits a 1940s typewriter, lamp, and fan, and pictures of my grandparents from when they were dating up to their 50th wedding anniversary. My Snoopy collection will soon be displayed in a hutch, and I also have some Snoopy pieces on top of my kitchen cabinets. Antique plates hang on the wall underneath the cabinets, giving the modern space more of an English cottage look.




And since it's Christmas, I also put up some Christmas decorations, though I didn't go all out like I usually do. I put up two Snoopy Christmas trees and will do a third. I also did the regular Christmas tree with all the ornaments from my childhood, my daughter's childhood, places I've traveled, and so much more. 





Tonight, I feel like I can breathe again. I'm wrapping up projects at my current job, and I will begin my new job on January 2. I'm excited and nervous, but absolutely ready. I said goodbye to my coworkers last week and it was bittersweet - but as many are friends, I will continue to stay in touch with them. 

And my writing? Oh, I can't wait to get back to it. Writing this blog post is a way of easing me back in. I haven't looked at my novel since Thanksgiving - I've simply not had the time. Now that the move is done, and the apartment mostly settled, I can focus on it again. Of course, there's always that resistance when it comes to returning to a project you've not looked at in ages...but I will overcome it!

My friends, the first two steps of creating a new life have been accomplished: a new place to live, and a new job. 

I. Did. It. 

Wednesday, November 22, 2023

Creating a New Life One Step at a Time

Creating a new life doesn't happen overnight. It is a process of slow, incremental steps. I'm happy to share that I'm now two steps closer to where I want to be.

Yesterday I received some good news on two fronts. 

After a month and a half of interviews, discussions, and negotiations, I accepted a new position as an assistant editor with a company I'm really excited about. It's a fully remote position which means I can work anywhere I want to. This was an absolutely crucial step. My current job tethers me to Nebraska, and now I have the freedom to move wherever I want.

The second good bit of news? The rental property approve my application for my new apartment. My daughter and I will move next month. While I hate and despise moving, this is yet another necessary step. I'm super excited to decorate the new place - I'm going for English cottage style - and have been sorting and purging already. I develop emotional attachments to stuff and so I've been carting around childhood mementoes for years. While I don't want to get rid of all of it, I do need to pare it down to something more manageable, and perhaps use those items as decorations instead of just keeping them stuck in a box.

Good news on two fronts, yes - but they both come with mixed emotions. I've worked at my current job for ten years. I've developed very close relationships with my coworkers and I know those relationships will continue .But starting a new position is always fraught with anxiety and worry. It's a lot easier and safer to stay in our comfort zones, isn't it? But that's what creating a new life is all about - taking chances and moving out of our comfort zone.

The next month will be insane: starting a new job and moving to a new apartment. But the good news is I don't have to move all my stuff out at once. I'll move it a bit at a time and then have one Big Moving Day. This reduces my stress a great deal. 


Yes, Slick, I know I should be writing...

On Living Solo

As I mentioned in my previous post, I've been doing a lot of deconstruction on patriarchy and decentering men, figuring out what is best for me, and growing and changing. I'm moving out of a shared space and will no longer be living with my partner. While I'm not living alone, per se, as my daughter is coming with me, I will not be living with a man. This was a hard decision but an absolutely critical one. I have discovered I do much better and am more me when I don't live with my partner. Society tells us otherwise, and encourages us to live under the same roof. But for some people, it's incredibly hard.

I found a great podcast called Solo: The Single Person's Guide to a Remarkable Life and listened to several episodes while making the drive home to western Nebraska yesterday. While I am technically not single (all of that is still up in the air), this podcast helped me to realize I definitely was not alone when it came to the desire to live alone. I enjoy having my own space and doing things my own way. Is it about control? Maybe. (Probably need to explore that in therapy!). Is it about having the freedom to truly be me? I'd say that's more on the money. I believe that finding a community of like-minded individuals is crucial. Even if I want to live alone, that doesn't mean I want to be alone and isolated from the world. I need relationships with other people; I think we all do. So I'm excited to join this community and find support, especially considering we live in a society that looks at you askance when you announce to them that yes, you are currently living with your boyfriend, but you've decided to move out and live on your own, and yes, you're still together, but you can't live together. People don't understand. It doesn't follow the rules or the norms, and when you break those norms, it upsets people.

I find all of this behavioral psychology and science rather fascinating. Peter McGraw, who hosts the Solo podcst, is an academic behavioral economist, and the research into these topics is interesting. 

I'm just doing a whole lot of learning right now! But I think learning and growing is paramount to living a good, healthy life. If we remain stagnant, we miss out on so many opportunities. Some people don't change, true, and it's a shame (my ex is one of those who will never change, learn from his mistakes, or try to live a better life, but that's a topic for another day).

I'm really excited by this new phase of my life. And yes, my writing will be a big part of it. I want to dedicate much more time to my writing, to reading, to living a purpose-filled life, to fulfilling my dreams!

Monday, October 30, 2023

Growth

Lately, I've felt the need to do a lot of inner work on myself. We all carry baggage from our past, some of us more than others, and I don't know of anyone who had a perfect childhood with perfect parents. Humanity is comprised of broken people, and we pass on traits and ideas and behaviors sometimes without even knowing it. The same can be said for our society. The patriarchy, capitalism, religion, body idealism, and on and on infuse us with thoughts and beliefs that guide our behavior and our lives. 

I've been focusing a lot on how the patriarchy has shaped my life, and I've been studying a new feminist idea called "de-centering men." For most women, we grew up taught - whether by society or the media we consumed, or by our parents and families and friends - that we would not be happy or fulfilled in life unless we found love, got married, and had children. Those ideas were firmly ingrained in my brain. As a kid, I played house, had dolls, and fantasized about finding the man of my dreams and having a big wedding. Women often put our dreams on hold, our own wants and needs, and we pursue a relationship, a marriage, a family, making men the center of our world. And if we don't, somehow there's something wrong with us. We become "spinsters" or "crazy cat ladies" and "old maids." Presumably, dying alone, with no children and no great love, is somehow a calamity, and we've wasted our lives.

But even if that marriage turns sour and we get divorced, many of us still think that giant hole in our heart can only be filled by a man. It's part of our DNA. Having a man equals happiness, and we center our happiness and our very lives around men.

Oh boy. Is that ever messed up.

I absolutely believed all of this. From a young age, I yearned to have a relationship (partly because I had a distant father and craved male attention), and I developed heartbreaking crushes on boys in my school and celebrities. The yearning I felt to be loved, to be special, to be seen by a man dominated my life. 

I had a few serious relationships in college, but tried to keep my dreams alive. I kept writing. I traveled. But finding a relationship and keeping a man became my number one priority. Isn't that awful? Yet it's what so many women have been brought up to believe. And who can blame us? For so many of us, our mothers raised us to be this way. They raised us to learn how to take care of men, to do the chores, to raise the kids, to put ourselves second, third, and fourth. If we were raised in evangelical Christianity, it was even worse. A woman's place was in the home. She was to be an obedient wife and a loving mother, and she was to follow her husband since he was the head of the household. The man was the center of our universe.

When I met my now ex-husband, I had applied to graduate school at the College of William and Mary. I remember receiving a letter in the mail that told me I'd neglected to include one letter of recommendation. 

I threw that letter away.

I wasn't going to Virginia, or graduate school, because I was in love. I had found my happily ever after, and he became the center of my universe. We married within six months, and my daughter was a honeymoon baby. I fell into my role as wife and mother and stepmother, and for the next 18 years, I wondered why I was so miserable. I tried to keep my dreams alive - and worked my tail off writing and publishing and doing freelance while working full time and arguing and fighting and being abused and...

Sigh.

After the marriage ended, I didn't want to date for a long, long time. I didn't trust men, didn't want one near me. But that changed, of course, and I started dating again, eager to fill that hole in my heart with a man. Even though I went through therapy and thought that I only wanted a man, and didn't need a man, to complete me, it hadn't sank into my DNA, hadn't changed my DNA. I still believed a man would fulfill me, make me happy, that I needed to be in a relationship so I didn't end up as a spinster. Gasp!

I found a good man and for awhile, I was happy. But you know what I was doing? Ignoring myself and my needs and what I wanted to do with my life.

And then something started to shift inside me. Maybe it was turning 48 that did it. But I suddenly realized I wasn't happy, and I wasn't fulfilled. I had a good man who respected me and loved me and most certainly did not abuse me. But I still felt like I was losing myself.

I don't like who I become when I'm in a relationship. Trauma informs some of that, but so does the "centering men" narrative that I grew up with. 

Let me give you an example.

I wanted to go for a walk by myself the other day. Usually my boyfriend and I walk together, but I needed and wanted some time alone. So I went downstairs and told him I was going on a walk.

"You want me to come with you?" he asked.

"No," I replied. "I want to be alone."

And I interpreted his subdued response as him being upset and possibly angry, and I blurted, "Is that okay?"

That incident has stayed with me. Of course it was okay that I took a walk by myself, and of course he was fine with it. But in that moment, I felt like I'd lost my power, my ability to stand up for myself, and it always seems to happen when I'm in a relationship. I become subservient, centering the man's emotions over my own, allowing his reactions to dictate my decisions.

And I can't do it anymore.



I want and need to be single for a long, long time. I don't want a significant other. Not now. Not until I have deconstructed all of this stuff - patriarchy, religion, etc. - and learned to be fulfilled on my own. And even then? Maybe. I don't know if I'll ever want to live with a man again, though.

Personal growth is super hard, but I have too many dreams and adventures that I want to follow to stay where I am. And I don't want to ask permission, or wait for my partner's job to be compatible with where I want to go and what I want to do, before I pursue them.

I want to dedicate myself more to my writing, to really open up that well inside of me and dig as deep as I can. I want to put myself - and my passion for writing - first in my life, not a man.

All of this requires some really hard choices, and must be handled carefully. That's exactly why I made an appointment with my therapist! I need advice and support.

Honestly? I'm surprised to be here, thinking of these things, pulling apart the knots tightened inside of me as the years have gone by. And I'm damn proud of myself for doing this inner work.  I know too many women who stay stuck in this cycle of centering men in their life. 

But more and more women are finding out that they are much happier and more content being single. Some are choosing to be child-free, to be relationship-free, and they're living wonderful, fulfilling lives. And there are some women who are very happy and content in their marriages, and love their role as wife and mother. We much each make our own path.

Will there be a relationship in my future? Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is that I am creating a new life for me and for no one else. That's what matters. 

THERE IT IS

 It's back.  And who knows for how long? But for this day, for this moment, all is bliss. I'm happy, excited for the future, ready a...