Quo Vadimus

If you haven't already, you really need to watch Sports Night.  Aaron Sorkin probably has his issues, but he gets it right so very often.  In this episode, Quo Vadimus , the staff are forced to consider the questions of "where are we going?" and "where am I going?"   It isn't always pretty, but it is always powerful.

And, that's the question that confronts me.  What's next?  Where am I going?  The universe is giving me sign after sign that I need to answer these questions.  I know that I need new challenges, and yet, I feel like I have boxed myself in.  Or perhaps I need new challenges, and I am adequately rooted that I can take risks.  Or something in between. 

Is this the same question as "where do I belong?"  Perhaps moving on is more like moving forward, and does not require leaving. (She said, with hope in her heart.)  I do know a few things.  I love academia, even though it will drive a person right 'round the bend sometimes.  I love philanthropy and nonprofits and people who work to change the world. 

I want to live in the south again, I'm pretty sure.  I definitely -maybe- want to be out of DeKalb.  it certainly wouldn't pain me to never again experience a midwestern winter.  And yet, it's not that simple.  I also feel rooted here.  I love my house.  It's in no shape to be left, at this point.  But more importantly, leaving it would feel like unfinished business.  I have friends and commitments here.  But the friends I would carry with me, right?

How do you know when you're rooted and how do you distinguish that from being stuck?  The first must come with a feeling of peace and contentment, and the latter must come with a feeling of frustration or at least resignation. But these feelings aren't binary; that's the facile dream of self-help books.  This is real, and the feelings are mixed.

In the meantime, I am proceeding as though I am both staying and leaving.  THIS is a little crazy-making!

Leave the Light on.... for myself when I come home

It's a song.... but it's something I'm trying to remember

My house can feel more like a pit stop than a home.  It's lost its grace and warmth and welcome, and it stresses me out to be here.  What's worse, is that it looks kind of scary.  I noticed this morning.  I walk with the dog very early in the morning, while it's still dark.  In the dark, the human eye can not register color.   So, all I could see of my house was the shape, the windows, and the trees and plants in silhouette.  It sits rather far forward on the lot, which made it seem not just dark, but looming.  And the image made me think of a witch's house, and not in a comforting earth-mother-witch sort of way. 

I don't want to live in THAT house.  I want to live in a graceful, welcoming, warm house.  A house with soft edges, if you will.  So, even though it's not the most environmentally friendly decision, I'm making some changes around here.  I'm going to leave some lights on for myself.  A friend sent me a smart outlet to try out, which has convinced me to buy more.  It's easy to have the lights turn on and off at certain times, and it's nice to come home to a house that appears to be lived in.

I've thought a lot about using smart home technology to feel safer, or to be more organized, or to have more privacy.  But to welcome myself home, that's new territory.

Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire

I do this thing.  I tell lies - to myself.

Sometimes the lies are comparatively small.  For instance,  even when I was quite athletic, I told
myself that strength training was not for me.  I tried it, and never saw improvement.  I see now that I wasn't willing to work hard enough.  And I know now that "hard enough" is plenty darn hard.  It turns out that when I train correctly, my body works like everyone else's.  I get stronger.

I tell myself that I can not run - roughly for the same reasons.  I don't try hard enough.  And I suppose that I don't have to; there are plenty of other forms of cardio that do the same thing and that I do like.  It's the language of "can't" that's worrisome here.  Wouldn't it be much more powerful to say "I choose not to."?

Sometimes the lies are more profound.

I told myself I should stay with my husband - that he didn't intend to be so casually cruel.  I worked hard at this one, and I was almost successful.  But, he did intend to be that cruel.  That much is obvious now.  What's worse, I didn't even know that I was lying to myself, although on some level I knew that my emotions and my words were not in alignment.  I could have put it all together, but I endured the life I had because I was afraid I couldn't withstand what was on the other side.  And, by the by, what was on the other side was hideous.  I wasn't wrong about that.  But it is becoming wonderful.  I'm almost handling it  Wonderful is becoming visible on the horizon.

I told myself that I could not manage life on my own.  I continue to tell myself that one, I suppose.  I have stumbled in spectacular ways.  This is undeniable.  But is it really true that I can not manage?  On some level, it doesn't get to be true.  I have to figure this out - and all the options are still in front of me.  And what on earth am I getting from continuing to tell this story?

I think my new favorite is that I am "at capacity-"  that I can't do more.  So, I can't get my eating under control, for instance.  I can't turn my house into the welcoming and calming space it has the potential to be.  I can't be a star in my profession.  I can't keep all the balls in the air; there just isn't enough time.  OK, any person should be selective about the number and general worth of the balls she is juggling.  And I do come home from work plenty tired, but so does everyone else.  But perhaps my dreams need to become more important than TV time.  I need rest and down time, right enough, but seriously.... how many episodes of "This is Us" do I need to watch in one sitting?

The list goes on and on.  But here's the thing.  This incessant chatter of "can't" and "shouldn't" and "nice girls don't," that's the talk of the super-ego.  The super-ego's job is to protect us and to keep our behavior in line with social norms, and what is known is almost always safer than what is unknown.  So, it starts doing its job when change is on the horizon or lands, unwelcome, in our laps.  But the super-ego can be wrong.  There can be false positives, and your whole self -not just your nervous-Nellie-ego- can be brought into a decision.  There's a frontal lobe for a reason ;)

So, from time to time, I need to gently thank this important part of my personality for its interest in my protection, but also tell it to hush for a minute while I think.

Eat, Bake, Nourish

So, I've been struggling with my eating for a long time now.  It's had terrible consequences for my weight, but now it's also having some consequences for my workouts.  I noticed that days after a strength workout, I was still sore and still exhausted.  I expect exhaustion during and just after a

workout.  (It's not at all uncommon for me to sit in my car for several minutes before I feel like I can safely drive.  That's the level of exhaustion we're talking about here.)  But, workouts are supposed to lead to increased energy, and being tapped out for days felt like something was off.

So, I had three theories.

The first was my favorite.  I thought perhaps I was working out too hard for my current fitness level.  Two birds with one stone.  If I could convince my trainer to pull back I'd have easier workouts AND I'd feel better.  I was fond of this theory.

The second theory didn't feel right, but was a possibility.  Maybe I wasn't sleeping enough, or well enough to support my workouts.  I have been sleeping a lot, but often the dog and cats interrupt my sleep in the night. Maybe I was literally too tired to work out at full capacity.

Or, third - and I hated this one- maybe I wasn't adequately fueling my workouts.  Maybe up until now, I could fake it because my fitness level was so dismal.  But as I get stronger and more fit, I need actual fuel - actual food.

I ran these theories past my trainer, but also past some physiologists on campus.  They rejected #1 out of hand.  They considered #2, but ultimately felt like I was getting enough rest, even it it wasn't perfect, blissful sleep.  They landed solidly on #3.  Darn it.

Here's what I've done so far - and it's helping, I think.  Three days a week, I drop Finnegan off at either daycare or his job.  On the way back to campus, that's when I usually realize that I am suddenly quite hungry.  Enter the drive-through, and the start of all my problems.  But I also pass this "wellness bar" place, where they make a variety of low-calorie meal replacement protein shakes.  On those three mornings, I have replaced the drive-through with this drink.  Almost immediately, I lost some weight AND I have been feeling much better.  Crazily better. 


That's it.  That's as far as I've gotten.  I just wanted to mention it, in case anyone is wondering if it works.  It works and it works fast, apparently.

Next up, I will add oatmeal on the other two work-days.  I can eat that at my desk or I can get it at Starbuck's drive-through.  It doesn't matter.  At least it will be healthy, and it's likely to keep me from eating a huge and inappropriate lunch.

It's not much, but it's a start.

My Soul is Tired

I feel depleted of energy all the time.  I feel like I'm swimming through molasses.  And yes, I do see that these are signs and signals of clinical depression, but that doesn't ring true as an explanation - for me, at this particular moment.  You do you.  Seriously.  But I did realize that something else had to be in play when taking vacation days and mostly sleeping through them did not help anything.  I didn't end up feeling refreshed; I still just woke up heaving a sigh of exhaustion and resignation.

I think my soul is tired.  I can't yet speak publicly of all the reasons that might be true.  I can, though, say that pretty much every area of my life (not all, but most) leaves me with a sense of not being true to my best self.  If one area is out of whack in a life, we can mostly cope.  When most things are out of alignment, that is soul-damaging.  It is time, and past time, to take action.

And yet, this situation is considerably bigger than my personal challenges.  Those are legion, right enough.  But this effort I'm making, to have a big shiny life, is also happening in the context of a world gone mad.  Or mostly, the United States has gone mad.  Personally and in the culture, I can no longer plug the holes in the dike.  I am officially out of fingers.

Moreover, I have UTTERLY lost patience with the platitude industrial complex.  Please, for the love of all things holy, stop slinging pinterest-worthy memes about wildflowers coming back in the spring at me.  I might just lose it.  Susan Sontag calls it "the free-hanging laziness of aphorism."  Lord, I wish I could turn a phrase like that, but that's another post.

I don't, in fact, know what to do about this situation, but I'm leaning in the direction of "witness," by which I mean standing-with, standing-by, standing-for.  Sometimes that means sitting in silence with a friend or family member wracked by grief.  Sometimes that means standing up, as in "no, you may NOT bring that vitriol into my space."  Sometimes it might mean standing with and for, as in "if you even nod toward voting for that bill, Mr. Representative, I will make it my life's work to get the most progressive person I can find elected into your seat this spring."  And in my personal life, it might mean standing up quite literally.  Get up.  Move.  The cure for exhaustion might be action, in this case.  Don't look away from your problems.  Witness.  Challenge. 

And get the hell out of this chair.....

Confident Creativity

My life is full and past full, and - lest anyone worry- all the categories of activities are great.  Seriously, there is an embarrassment of riches when it comes to the opportunities that have come to me.  In fact, managing them all has become more of a problem than seems plausible.

Here's what is happening.  I work on my regular research development job.  I teach graduate students.  I have some ideas for expanding my (as yet minuscule) national presence in my career.   I have a personal trainer, and I am getting stronger.  And I take somewhat haphazard but enthusiastic care of my dog.  So, work, working out, and dog.  That's what I do.  And I can't even keep all of that organized and together, truth be told.

And yet, it feels like there is no creativity in this abundant life - and that feels like an empty space in my heart.  It used to be true that a large portion of my creativity was being used in my job.  That's no longer true.  Long story.  No resentment.  But true. I used to knit, sew, bake, write....  I used to create whole agencies and programs.  Most of that is gone, as well.

I had a disturbing but also fascinating chat the other day with the new-ish Dean of the Visual and Performing Arts.  We had never met before, and I half-fun and full-earnest identified myself as the least creative person on the planet.  He's a Director-turned-Dean, and directors are used to looking intently at a person and seeing, well, the resources they have to work with.  A little like the work a social worker does, and yet entirely unlike it as well.  In any event, he said no.... your creativity is ....here.... here.... and here....  And he was mostly right.

The Dean had known me for half an hour.  He didn't see me entirely clearly; he's not THAT good ;)  But he did give me the nudge to see things differently.  If, as Elizabeth Gilbert says, it's important to create beauty with every day that you are given, then I not only need to name creativity appropriately but to nurture it appropriately.   

This blog could be creativity.  Book club inspires a kind of creativity - and not just because I'm making things up because I didn't finish the book.  Remodeling my house and gardens is a kind of creativity.  Non-blog writing is a kind of creativity, even though it is emphatically non-fiction that I am creating.  These are all things that move me toward the life I want, but also ARE the life I want.  (The process and the outcome are the same.  Does that make sense?)  

What's a little uncomfortable is that there might not be room for the activities that used to be my creative outlets.  I love to knit.  I flat-out love it.  In very many ways, it brought me here - and that's not hyperbole.  But maybe it's ok that it's on hiatus in my life.  I won't forget how to do it.  It will still be there should more time become available.

I wonder how I didn't notice that creative outlets can change over time.






 

These are my Teachers Now

So, I have whined about being afraid, sung the "somebody done somebody wrong" song until my throat is hoarse and the audience is dead-bored, and fretted that my new life is hard and that I am unskilled.  Even I am sick of this.  There must be a better way - or a different bad way.  Honestly, I'll take anything at this point.

I think we have agreed that everyone is afraid - that no one feels safe enough.  Most people, I suppose, consider fear a necessary part of the success story they will be able to tell later.  I wish I were like that.  Some other people utterly defend themselves, wearing their protections like an exo-skeleton.  That, I don't want even though I understand its temptation.  What I am is a really good student;  I like figuring out what people and the universe are trying to teach me.

So, insecurity, unwanted independence, trying and failing and trying again at home remodeling, struggling to manage all the things....these are my teachers now.  Could it be that it's a little like weight lifting?  I started (anyone starts) with really light weights.  Honestly, I still lift really light weights, a lot of the time.  But they are less light than they used to be.  And recently, when I needed to pick up my 80-pound injured dog and carry him to the car, I could.  And muscles get stronger through micro-tearing.  You lift a weight almost to failure, there are teensy tears in that muscle as a result, and a day of rest means that the muscle has time to grow back stronger. And soon you can lift slightly heavier weight before experiencing failure.  Strength required brokenness and time.

So, micro-tearing and rest.  If we use this as metaphor, the tearing hasn't been so "micro" and I forget to rest altogether.  But here's the bigger thing.  I don't have to have this all figured out in order to start.  Start now.  Start where you are.  Start with fear.  Start with pain.  Start with doubt.  Start with hands shaking.  Start with your voice trembling, but start.  Start and don't stop.  Start where you are, with what you have.  But start.

Not Eating is Eating Me Up

So, this happened.  I was working out with my personal trainer, and I felt really sick.  Not at all my usual silly high-drama complaining, this was for real.  I realized when puzzling it over with him that I had not eaten in 24 hours.  Seriously.  Who does that?  But I hadn't been hungry.  (Nor, by the way, am I losing weight.)  I tried to go to work that day, but had to come home due to queasiness and dizziness.

not me - the abs might have been a tip-off

This is just one of MANY ways lately that overwork at my job is requiring me to take absurd risks with the rest of my life.  This is not cute.  This is not even close to cute.  I am back, in some ways, to where I was at the very beginning of my path toward independence.  I need to end every day safer than I was when I woke up in the morning.  The immediate challenge is that I need to eat, and it needs to be real food.  How hard can THIS be?   In fact, I can eat, irrespective of whether or not I cut back at work.  I don't have to solve both problems at the same time.  Other people manage this.

So, I've been trying.  It's harder than one might think.  It feels like a food obsession, like the sort of hyper-vigilance that can't be healthy.  And yet, feeding my body in some healthy and respectful way seems like it merits attention.  I'll find a balance - surely.  (although there is little evidence that balance is my strong suit!)

Leftover from parenting small children, my typical approach is to make it easier to do the right thing than it is to do the wrong thing.  So, how does that apply now?  The wrong thing is pretty darn easy!  And yet, there are changes that I can make.  I work out early, and I just can't eat breakfast before I go to the gym.  Please don't make me do that.  I could, though,  eat a banana and have some pre-workout drink before working out.  If I were better at actually cleaning up and getting ready for work at the gym, which would be more efficient, AND I had breakfasts stored in the fridge/freezer/cupboard at work, then I might be able to drive by the fast food places that are calling my name at this point.

who needs this?

On the days when I take the puppy to his school, stopping by the Sycamore Wellness Bar for a smoothie could be an option.  It's still fast food, but it's good for me.  That pretty much takes care of the work-week.

But the details are less important than the principles.  Preparing for tomorrow today (the crockpot needs to come out of hiding!), keeping my energy level up in the evenings (refreshing iced tea rather than wine in the evenings), making friends with my kitchen again, ... these are things I can do.  They add grace and calm to my life, and they will help me to treat myself with respect.

not my kitchen, but it kind of could be

Is Everyone Afraid?

Everyone (else) seems so competent, so pulled together.  They always have umbrellas when and where they might actually be useful, neat homes, back-up plans, and extra coffee.  They seem to know what they want in and from their careers, aren't afraid to take phone calls from unknown numbers, and they probably call their mothers on Sundays as they should.

Is there some class they took, and I was sick that day?  I don't know how to negotiate a new job, buy a car, get my house painted, orchestrate a big move, or weed a garden.  And the not-knowing terrifies me, every.single.day.  Are these skills that I just didn't learn?  Or does no one know how to do them, until they do them, and then they know?  I'm reminded of the passage in Neil Gaiman’s novel The Ocean at the End of the Lane, “Grown-ups don’t look like grown-ups on the inside either.... Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. The truth is, there aren’t any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.”

Yes, I had one of those days when I fell apart, when adulting didn't happen.  It was instructive, as they always are.  I managed to get through it, however inelegantly, which speaks to some modest (very modest) improvement in my life-planning skills.  And, I suppose, all manner of things shall be well.

I do need more and better back-up plans, though.  That is part of my mission of being safer every day than I was the day before.  I need to apply for an emergency credit card and reserve its use for travel.  That would have gotten me through today's drama.  I need to always stay in the conference hotel; that would have eased this day considerably.  If nothing else, those are two important and simple take-aways from today.  And those are changes that I can make, soon enough.

But there's another little piece of this.  Instantly, and embarrassingly, on days like this, I get a flood of resentment toward my ex-husband.  It's a huge feeling that just about swamps me - teaching me that there's still quite a bit of work to do in that little arena, otherwise the feeling wouldn't be so powerful the minute I don't have the energy to tamp it down.  Secondly, it reminds me that I had a role in our dysfunctional dance; I expected him to take care of me.  And in some ways he did, so I resent its absence when it would be convenient.  And finally, I wonder now if he, too, was scared all that time.  Maybe he didn't know how to buy a car, either.  Or buy a house.  Or get a new roof.  Maybe that's where all the postponements and dawdling and neglecting stemmed from.  It doesn't make me less mad at him, for all kinds of things, but it humanizes him a little.  Vulnerability sucks.

People struggle, and with things more important than how to get your house painted.  I get it that I am fretting about stuff that needs a hefty dose of "perspective, if you please."   But from this comparatively safe place, I can figure out ways to turn fear into power.  I can protect myself.  I can have backup plans, and those plans can have backup plans.  I can make my peace with where I am.  And I can learn, again today and in new ways, to be a powerful person on the planet.

And I can put a damn umbrella in my suitcase.  For crying out loud.

Yoga Practice in Real Life

I've tried going to yoga studios, in an effort to reclaim my once-rich yoga practice.  That hasn't worked.  Scheduling, driving time, exhaustion..... there's always something that gets in the way.  I haven't really tried practicing at home, but I know what would happen.  The animals would be annoying and in the way, and there really isn't a place that I find restful enough.  I just tried setting up my mat in my office.  That might work, in limited circumstances.

But I have to find a way to get a meaningful, however basic, practice back in my life.  I want the body that yoga offers, particularly the flexibility.  But I also want the grounding and centering that yoga provides.  I feel sort of like I'm unraveling in the face of all that I have to do, and yet I have to do it.  How the heck do people manage?

I need to go through exactly the process that I went through when I solved any other problem. Baby steps are ok.   I had to choose to invest in me, but I also must admit that things don't have to be perfect.  I know how to make gourmet meals, and COULD do that every night.  But a grilled cheese sandwich works just fine, too. I don't need to start with a fully-realized version of an ideal yoga practice, whatever that even means.  My practice just has to start with showing up and doing something.  And even when one does have a fully-realized yoga practice, there are probably days of just showing up and doing something. 

But, I just realized, I'm solving the wrong problem here - or not wanting to admit publicly that there's a problem that precedes this problem. The room that would make the perfect yoga place has become a junk room - the room where you store things that you don't know what to do with.  It's scary in there.  Right now, and for a little while, my yoga practice needs to be meditatively, non-judgmentally,  clearing things out - literally making room in my life for a yoga practice.  When I started this year, I said that 'infrastructure" was my rather-unpoetic word for the year.  And here we are.  I have to do this infrastructure thing, in order to build the infrastructure for the body that I want.

Here's what I'm going for, in terms of space:

It's not super-fancy, but would work in the room that I have available. 

I also, though, need to think outside the box.  I need a yoga mat in my office.  I need a yoga mat in my car, in case I want to practice outdoors somewhere or I find myself in the town where yoga does exist.  I also need to consider re-activating my gym membership through the university Recreation Center.  They have yoga classes, and I could be taking advantage of those with comparatively little expense.

Now seriously though, what have I learned here?  Is there anything that someone could take away, and run with, in her own life?  Or am I just posting my organizational troubles?  Start small.  Even when it's humbling, start with baby steps.  Challenges are often linked to each other.  My lack of yoga is tied to being unclear as to how to use and organize and thrive in my home.  The more positive way of saying that is that I get to accomplish two goals here, and both are important.  And for heaven sakes, stop quitting things that you love.

What Would Triumph Even Look Like?

I roll my eyes a little when I hear people talk about branding as though it were important.  Oh, I suppose it's possible that it IS, but in my life I want to think about principles and contribution and artistry.  I don't want to think about staking a claim on a bit of intellectual or participatory terrain.  I know branding is not the same as marketing, but clearly they are related.  And I want to hang out in the supposedly-loftier realm of ideas.

And yet....

If this blog is to make any sense, and it must before I can commit to it as I feel I should, then it has to be about something.  Carving out a life at mid-life, and using all the pieces of my life as metaphor and path for that?  Could be.  Grace out of chaos?  Replacing shame with power?  Some of those things, all of those things.

I talk about creating and sustaining a triumphant, glorious, meaningful life - beginning, middle, and end.  But I don't even know what that means.  I do know this isn't it.  So, is it branding to say "Yes, this.  This is what I will talk about.  This is what I will explore and reflect on.  This is the path I will walk, and invite people to join me for?"  I suppose that's branding, of a sort.

So, let's think for a minute.  What IS a chatelaine?  And why did this metaphor occur to me for this blog? A chatelaine historically means the wife of the lord of the castle.  However, it came to mean a woman who owns or controls a large house.  It also references the chains worn on the lady-of-

the-manor's belt, with keys, sewing utensils.... the things she needs to manage the life she leads. The keys, etc... were a symbol of power.  This woman, the chatelaine, was quite possibly the only person who could, and did, walk into every room of the castle.  It was her job to do so.  So, she was always a career woman, the chatelaine, and she always had multiple roles.  She needed the right tools for her job.  And young women frequently (probably always) had a difficult time assuming this role and learning its intricacies.  It isn't "natural;"  it has to be learned.

So, I'm that, right?  I have this big house; a career I love; people I love; animals I love; things I want to do, make, write, cook; experiences I want to have; fitness feats I want to be capable of.  Fitness blogs, and there are some that I love, do fitness.  Homemaking blogs, and there are some that I love, do only that -even though in reality, like all of us, those people do a lot of things.  We are taught, especially for the purposes of branding, that focus and issue-specificity are good.  I suppose they are.  But, yawn....

Nobody gets to live like that, or I certainly don't.  Integration of ALL of it, and doing it all myself - as in, without a partner,  is what I have to figure out.  Women have been told, for all of my life at least, that we can't have it all.  Or, more positively perhaps, we can have it all, but not all at the same time.  Indeed, our cultural focus on whether or not women can have it all implies that the answer is no.  If we were just doing it, the question wouldn't keep coming up.

In some ways, this isn't the life I chose.  And yet, I celebrate and choose it now.  But I do not get to say "I can't have it all."  It all has to be done, and it has to be done by me.  I can't just succeed at work, and live in squalor.  I can't succeed at work and home, and be fat and unhealthy (those two things being different) because I didn't make time to work out.  You see the problem.  This chatelaine has to walk everywhere in the metaphorical castle.  And she, by God, gets it done.  I want to be her.

That's my brand.

Just Not the Marrying Kind

That's what Math-Rat (the ex-husband) said to me, with a straight face, after 30 years of marriage.  He demanded to be set free of the marriage because, "whoops!  Just not the marrying kind, after all.  So sorry for the inconvenience."  Actually, he never ever, once, said he was sorry, so, let's not give him that much credit.

And, of course, he's living with, owns a house with, is in a long-term relationship with, a younger woman who has two children of her own.  He's not legally married, but he's married for all practical purposes.  Gosh, who saw that coming?  (sarcasm filter off)

I, on the other hand, was completely invested in that (dysfunctional and dangerous) marriage.  No, I was completely defined by it.  Heaven knows, there is plenty to explore there, about how and why I let that happen.  But that's not today's task.  I was so very married.  And then I wasn't.

And I'm still not.  What's up with that?  I realized the other day, in a strange epiphany while washing my hands, that I have chosen the single life.  It didn't just happen to me.  I have a feeling that walking this path is part of what I was put on this earth to do.  (I have a feeling that Math-Rat is in a relationship because he's avoiding figuring out the answer to that same question.  I try not to think about his path, but apparently I could try somewhat harder.)

Mark Twain famously posited that the most important two days in your life are the day you were born and the day you figure out why.  I have not quite had that second day, yet, but I think I'm getting there.  In the meantime, I know that I have so much personal work to do in order to become the person I imagine myself becoming, that I don't have time or energy to also be tending a relationship.  I think I would just step right back into putting the relationship and the other person first and I would get sidelined -again.  I don't want to participate in my own marginalization.

But, phrased more positively, I can live my most authentic life alone.  Once I climbed out of the cave of despair and fear that his leaving threw me into, it's really been pretty great.  I like coming home to the quiet.  I don't have to plan meals that someone else will eat, or plan events that someone else will like.  I choose what will make me happy, proud, safe.... whatever.

I guess it turns out that I'm not the marrying kind.

Which is not the same thing as saying that I have this whole thing figured out.  This is not a "look at my perfect life" mommy blog.  This is more like an "oh my lands, how do I get everything done and meet my own standards?" blog.

Staying Hopeful in a Hostile World

So, this happened.  I was just threatened and verbally assaulted for my political views.  I understand that my political and justice principles are not widely shared.  This does not surprise me.  I'm so far left of "Democrat" that - until recently, anyway- Democrat and Republican looked roughly the same from my perspective.  This is not a common worldview, and it annoys people because it's hard to understand.  I'm not always crazy about it myself, truth be told.

And, let's be clear.  I do not actually care what this person thinks about me.  I do think it's weird and unsettling that he felt entitled to express his opinions about me so personally and violently.  OK, I'm trying not to care.  Real-Andrea wants everyone to think she's nice, and funny, and smart, even if they don't always agree with her.

But here's the way more important thing.  In the face of this kind of hostility, how can I stay hopeful for change?  What's to keep me from answering back with equal hostility, because I definitely do have that ability in me?  What's to keep a person from just dropping out of the fray, frightened and wounded from the anger - the very focused and fear-inducing anger?

The answer seems like a spiritual one.  Faith communities are good at helping people locate hope when all seems lost.  And God bless them for that.  Seriously.  But I don't have - or want, right now- a faith community.  Too many other things come with that community support, things that I just can't have in my life right now.  So, how might a person such as myself find hope?

In some ways, the answer is the same: community.  We are in a strange new world - one where hostility has been unleashed.  One where ferocious racism, homophobia, anti-intellectualism, and sexism can be expressed with a disturbing sense of righteousness.   One where moral fitness to lead has been utterly abdicated.  We need each other in this madness.  We need to find each other and support each other, even if (when) we disagree about the details.

Hatred can not defeat hate.  Rather, love surrounds hatred and cuts off its oxygen.  I can not  -just bloody CAN NOT- love the people who are perpetrating these travesties of injustice on this country.  It's too much.  I have to leave that for better people.  But I can lead with love.  I can do what I do from love.  I can set about creating the culture I want to live in, which really is about love.

We won't get there.  See above.  My version of the perfect culture is probably too "out there" for most people.  But that's ok.  If we change the story, leading with love, we'll prevent this strange march toward devastation that we seem to be on.

So, first, find your companions on the journey.  That's my task.

Living Off Balance

From time to time, I do a weirdly unhealthy thing.  My life gets so very off-balance that I literally lose my footing.  No metaphor.  I fall over.  Like, a lot.  It's the craziest thing.  I'm not an uncoordinated person when all is well.  Yet, I get to this place where I am moving too fast to keep up with myself.  It's particularly charming when I lose my balance in the middle of the street, which has happened.  It turns out I'm not alone.  Check out this post, Falling Off Things, from Fit is a Feminist Issue.

Here's the thing.  This morning I fell in my own bedroom.  There was no cat underfoot to trip me.  There was no naughty puppy jumping on me and knocking me tail over teakettle.  My slippers caught on the carpet, and I went down.  I was dressed for work, lacking only my shoes, and was grabbing things and running (literally) out the door.  I had to stay on the floor for quite a while before I felt ready to get up - and of course by then all the animals were sprawled around me, either in commiseration with their friend or plotting how to exact their revenge if I couldn't get up to feed them. So, when I got up, I was covered in fur from stressed out companion animals and had to start the whole getting-dressed process over.  Along with being painful, this is not what you could call an efficient way to get your morning underway.

The nerve-wracking thing is that the first place I look for "blame" is aging.  Perhaps I am becoming one of those little old ladies who doesn't have enough core strength to protect herself.  THAT would be unsettling. I have been working so hard to ensure that is not my story.  Admittedly, I had let things get wildly out of hand in the fitness department, so I'm nowhere near the elite fitness I have in mind.  Nowhere even in the same galaxy, but I don't feel fragile.

Instead, I really think it's the universe telling me quite literally - as in, with a blow to the knees- that I have to get centered.  For all the universe cares, I can stay this busy, but I have to get a grip.

To complicate matters, I like all the categories, if you will, of my life.  There is nothing that stands up and shouts "you can let this go!"  I love my job.  It makes me feel powerful to be able to take care of myself.  I love helping people extend their intellectual curiosity and supporting them as they solve the world's problems.   I'm besotted with my companion animals, and enjoy caring for them well.  I love my house.  It deserves better care than it gets, but I truly enjoy the process of making it mine.  I love cooking.  I love exercising.  I love my family and friends. 

Indeed, there are things I would love -need,even- to add to the mix.  Where did creativity and making beautiful things go?   Where did social justice work go?  Where did political engagement go?  Where did travel go?  Where did writing go?  I wish I could get my house back to a point where it could serve as a haven, a gathering place for political engagement, a social place.... but it's in such a state of flux and mess from the remodeling that it can not currently serve that purpose.

So, you see the problem.  How might one balance having a lot -everything, in fact- to do, with being centered and grounded?  I get the feeling that we're talking radical self-care here - on beyond getting a massage, although that's good, too.  I have to meditate, do yoga, somehow tend my spiritual side; there has to be calm in the eye of this storm.  I need to journal and explore the process of allowing myself to move forward, however imperfectly.  But the real thing is that I need to be fully present in each moment - and to do whatever it takes to make that possible. As Susan Tarshis says in her much more eloquent post, it's about "alertness without anxiety."  For me, it might be more about focus without grasping for total control of all life's details.

So, doing MORE is the answer?  How can that be right?  It's not the activity I need to let go of, perhaps.  It's the internal chatter of panic.