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. 

A Right Kerfuffle

Greetings! I am back from my trip to the U.K. It was glorious and hard and frustrating all wrapped into one big ball which was compounded by disconcerting news from home.

An explanation is needed, I suppose. 

As a very independent American who is used to driving everywhere, relying on public transportation can be a bit of a nightmare for me. Waiting for trains and Ubers and planes to arrive and whisk me off to my destinations challenged me at every turn, and many was the time I wanted to have my own vehicle and drive myself around. (Except Edinburgh and London. I refuse to drive in either city!).

While there were no plane or train delays enroute to  Scotland, the same could not be said for the return trip. I had late trains and delayed flights. Our return flight should have gone from London to Atlanta, but was delayed and rescheduled to Salt Lake City, Utah. I didn't even know Salt Lake City had direct flights to London! After the nearly ten hour flight, we had a three-hour layover in Salt Lake, followed by a two hour flight to Omaha, and finally, we arrived at 1 a.m. I think I was up for a solid twenty-four hours. There were times on the flight from London to Salt Lake that I nearly started crying because everything hurt, my body was yelling at me, I couldn't sleep, and I was cursing my bank account for not being able to afford a first class ticket which would have included a nice place to lay my head.

It wasn't just public transportation which threw me, though. My poor daughter came down with a cold or the flu (we don't think it was Covid) a few days after we arrived. That put a halt to our wanderings. While she felt decent enough to go on our tour of the Highlands (and I'm SO glad we went), as the day wore on (and it was a twelve-hour day on a bus), she felt worse and worse. And instead of enjoying the trip, I had to become the caregiver and mom once again. Please don't mistake me - I wouldn't have it any other way. I wanted to take care of her and I felt so bad that she felt bad! But it did mean we spent far more time in our hotel room than we did exploring Edinburgh. While I did venture out on my own one day, I didn't venture far, and didn't stay long because I didn't want to leave her alone.

Ironically, I went to the U.K. to escape the horrible heat here in Nebraska, and it was unseasonably warm in Scotland and England. Several people (Uber, taxi drivers, etc.) commented on how unusual it was, while I seethed with frustration at still having to deal with heat. Even our hotels - all three of them - were hot. Grrrrr!

But! Scotland is beautiful, and the Highlands...oh my stars. Breathtaking. Such stark, rugged beauty, with a hint of sadness. Our bus driver and tour guide regaled us with some of the tragedies that occurred in those Highlands, and you can feel the deep sadness embedded in the heather. I took lots of pictures and wished I had my own vehicle so I could just sit and gaze at them to my heart's content instead of having to hurry back to the bus.

I enjoyed Edinburgh and loved the architecture and the history (and the fact that I ran into the actor Josh Brolin not once but twice while I was there!), and I wanted to explore more of it. We didn't make it to the castle and many other places we wanted to go. But we'll save that for next time.

Because I erroneously shorted myself a day on my hotel reservation in Edinburgh, I decided to take my daughter to York to see the Viking museum. I was in York my first time in England, but I forgot how magnificent it is. The history just oozes off the buildings, and I could wander around the streets for hours, just soaking up all that history. 

I've discovered, though, that I am not a city person - even glorious cities like Edinburgh and London. Even York is too big. I much prefer the smaller towns - like Salisbury - or the villages - like the one near Chatsworth House in Derbyshire. That is where my heart is. My desire to move to the U.K. was not diminished by my frustrating trip - as the train rolled through the countryside, that desire was only strengthened. I'm in love with England, and though I know full well its complicated history with colonialism and its current challenges with right-wing fanatics (much like America), I still am an Anglophile at heart. I love British culture. I love British food (I ate WAY too many Digestives and Jammie Dodgers which is why the scale has not been kind to me). I love British television shows. I love the people. It's where my soul cries out to be. So I will continue working toward my goal of living there. Whether it's part time or full time remains to be seen.

A Right Kerfuffle

While watching the telly one night in my hotel room, I received a text from our landlord telling us he had decided to sell our house. In fact, he planned to put it on the market ASAP.  While he wouldn't kick us out (our lease is up in February), likely as not we'd have to move. My reaction to the news was mixed. On one hand, I'm not a huge fan of our house. It's a rental and needs work. On the other hand, I hate moving. Hate. It. And I've done it far too much in my life. 

A few days after I returned home, our landlord told us he'd be coming over with his realtor to take pictures the next day. I had less than 24 hours to get the place ready. And I did the bare minimum. I put away all our family photos because I absolutely did not want them showing up on the realtor websites, and cleaned and dusted and crammed things in corners and under beds. What a nightmare! Plus, we have two open houses in the next week. We'll have to take the pets and be gone during those times. It feels like an absolute invasion of privacy to have people walking around our place with all our stuff around! But it's our landlord's property, and he has the right to do it. So. It is what it is. But I really could have done without this while also dealing with jet lag.

The Kerfuffle Continues

I've been having abdominal pain and intestinal issues for awhile now, and I had an appointment this week with a gastrologist. I now have to do an abdominal CT scan next week, and a colonoscopy in January (that was the soonest they could get me in). Yay? UGH. Also, after working my tail off (exercising and eating right) for a whole month, I saw ZERO results. Something is wrong. So I'm waiting for an appointment with an endocrinologist at UNMC.

And did I mention I'm looking for a new job? And that I don't think my relationship is going to last?

When it rains in my life, it doesn't pour, it hails. 

About That Novel...

I need to work on finishing the edits of my novel. Need? Yes, need. It is my escape from reality, and provides me a safe place to forget about *flails arms around* all of this. The only problem is that I barely have energy to move. I have to keep reminding myself that I have chronic illnesses, and I just spent 12 days traveling, pushing my body to the limits, and that I must rest. Easier said than done.

Whew! What an update. 

I'll leave you with some photos of my travels!