February 23, 2013. We're all something special.

So, I know I talk about it a lot, but in a moment last night, I was thinking again about how we all have a common need in our lives to feel worthy, and to feel special.

Movie star sunglasses--stalk me please. 

It came up in a silly way. A friend was apologizing for asking about my Instagram account, because she didn't want to seem like a stalker. Oddly, it occurred to me that there is something reassuring about being stalk-worthy. I think we all want to feel special and important, but we spend most of our time thinking: "hey, would someone just listen to," or "look at me?" Maybe I should feel a little sheepish about it, but I know I feel that way a lot of the time.

It probably seems at least a little narcissistic, but I want to be known and recognized for my value in everything I do. I think most people identify with that feeling. We want to feel like we're either uniquely qualified, or like we have earned a meaningful place.

I'm a little late to the dance, but I recently started watching the HBO series "Enlightened," and while I think Laura Dern's character Amy is a little nuts, I completely identify with her quest for meaning. I identify with the idea that she is suddenly awakened in her life. She suddenly looks at her life and wonders what she's been doing.

I don't necessarily feel good about how she attempts to transform her life, because while she spent two months in a glorified group therapy commune, she is still trying to change external things without really working on herself at all. And she doesn't accept responsibility for her role in reaching this place of despair. She blames it on the company she works for, and a man who humiliated and dumped her.

Sure, the guy she had an affair with is a complete jerk. And yes, the company she works for is unethical, and couldn't care less about the little people. But in the end, her position in life is really about her choices. She made the choices that kept her at the company for 15 years, without reaching her goals. She existed in poor relationships with men and her mother. If not for a mental breakdown, she probably would have been content to blindly follow the same path for the rest of her life.

But, for all of her bad choices, Amy is strangely endearing. She touches that part of my heart that recognizes the desire to feel like we either matter, or that we do something that matters.

Another HBO series recently explored the other side of this coin. In Lena Dunham's "Girls," Hannah has a "few day stand" with a complete stranger. He's recently separated, well off, and has nice things. Hannah fancies herself a writer, and maybe she is, but it's almost as if she throws herself in to dramas and misery for the sake of having experiences that make her seem important or real. In the course of the time she spends with this well off stranger, she realizes that she wants something she hasn't allowed herself want--happiness. She doesn't want to be constantly struggling and poor. In a weird way, she wants to be just like everyone else.

What she doesn't realize is that she doesn't have to be in the gutter to be special. What most of us don't realize is that we don't have to do anything to be special.

I think a lot of us fail to realize that we are special in our own rights, even if nobody else notices. A friend wanted to "stalk" my Instragram photos. It doesn't quite rise to the level of having a published book on someone's shelf (besides my own), but considering how I feel most days lately, I'll take it. 

It's hard sometimes to understand that commitment and time investment don't always translate to the success we hope for, or think we deserve. We don't always get to be special to the great big world. But there are moments in which we are special to someone. And there are moments when we have to really think about what we want, and we have to choose it. We have to choose it above everything else--even if what we want may seem simple and mundane.

Special, Garbage

What are the real 50 ways to leave your lover? February 14, 2013

So, on Valentine's Day, it seems appropriate to think of relationships.

Hopefully today's a day you celebrate a wonderful partnership, with someone who accepts you for who and what you are, and actually would be upset if you were any other way. With some of us, I know that can be a tough sell. If not, I'd like to challenge you to think about the long and short of life, and consider what you need to do to make your partnerships more meaningful, or to find new ones. I know, that's a pretty bold and almost inflammatory statement, but hang in there, I have a point.

When we think of relationships on this Valentine's Day, we're thinking mostly of the ones that garner us flowers, obnoxious balloons, and maybe even a dazzling new rock. But we are involved in many different relationships within our lives that have nothing to do with romantic love, and often times, those relationships have as much or more to do with our contentment and satisfaction in life as the ones we share as part of a couple.

It took me many years to realize that while I have a connection to my mother, having a relationship with her is impossible. I haven't interacted with her in three years. When I made the break with her, it was particularly painful because of the trigger, but in the years that have passed, I have had time and distance to aid me in viewing my relationship with her as it really was. Toxic and harmful.  I now equate the anniversary of this break as many substance abusers do--it's like a chip ceremony. It's one more year that I have not been abusing myself with the toxicity of a relationship that was uneven and in most ways, inappropriate.

I know that most people would argue the importance of forgiveness, and I understand  that in some situations, forgiveness has a place. If I looked at this break with pain and bitterness, I would be able to conceive that my decision not to forgive was causing mutual harm. It's not.

I also know that it's a lofty and narrow view, but I believe that our relationships and partnerships in life should be mutually beneficial. We should receive as much from each other as we give. But sometimes, we get lost in a moment. And sometimes moments last a very long time.

Everyone has heard of the woman who falls in love with a man she cannot have--a man that strings her along with false hope.

I remember in third grade I was madly in love with Gary Dykes. He was in fourth grade and, understandably, he liked fourth and fifth grade girls. They always seemed prettier than I. But I was undaunted. I passed him notes at recess. I chased him on the playground, and I started playing soccer during those recesses because he played. Over my two-year one-sided love affair with Gary, he occasionally talked to me and acted like he might like me too. We were even "going together" for, like, two days. I remember getting a cheap heart charm engraved with his name and putting it on a chain when we were "together." Halfway through our brief "relationship," I caught him flirting with someone else. I was so hurt, I dumped the necklace down the loose back of his jeans while he chatted this other girl up on the swings. I swore we were through. But, then, he apologized. The very next day, he did the same thing. My heart was broken. Again, I swore I was done. But there was just something about him. I couldn't shake him--not even when we were particularly rough with each other during a game of soccer and I fell down, ruining my brand new, cream colored carpenter jeans. And not when he kicked my right thumb so hard I thought it was broken.

Why would anyone be stupid enough to continue with this senseless infatuation? Sadly, he wasn't the last infatuation in my life, and he wasn't the last thing that I fell in love with that let me down.

Many people ask the same question about women in hard-core abusive relationships, in which lives are in danger. And today, we realize that some men find themselves in similarly abusive relationships, either with women, or in the case of abusive same-sex relationships. Currently up for debate is the renewal of the Violence Against Women Act which is intended to protect a broader set of individuals in situations of domestic violence and sexual violence. Legislation like this is needed to give individuals in abusive relationships an ounce of courage when they need it most--the security to know that if they have to run away in the middle of the night, the legal system is supposed to be a help, not a harm to them.

The same mother I broke with, was in an abusive marriage for sixteen years. She believed she had no other choice, and that she would end up on the streets. She never realized that every moment she remained in that marriage was a moment I believed we would all die. I would rather have ended up on the street. These "bad romances" impact everyone and everything around us. The pain she suffered from the bruises, black eyes, and finger prints around her neck were the visible evidence of the hereditary disease of believing she deserved nothing more.

I believe people who find themselves in relationships or partnerships--of any kind--that are abusive or not mutually beneficial do so because they somehow believe they aren't worth anything better, or because there might not be anything else out there for them. This is true of romantic partnerships, friendships, family relationships, and even our relationships with work.

I was fortunate enough not to end up in an abusive marriage, but I still sometimes find myself in the rabbit hole of believing that things that aren't working can't be changed. It's hard to completely break out of that pattern. What we often don't realize is that, while yes, the situation is harmful, we are also harming ourselves. Every moment we fail to hope, we doom ourselves to an endless entanglement of continued and future harm.

Breaking away from relationships that put us in danger, hurt us emotionally, or assist in the diminishing of our self-worth, is easier said than done. Sometimes, it is through these relationships that we have financial stability. Other times we remain in relationships due to family or social obligations. And in many cases, the devil we know seems safer than the devil we haven't met yet.

Every time we are beaten down, lied to, misled or taken advantage of, a piece of us is damaged. The building blocks of our hope and ability to believe in something better are compromised. If this "loving" situation can make us feel so horrible,  imagine what it would be like to take the risk of involving ourselves in something new. And if we aren't even worthy of a mutually beneficial relationship with this person we are so attached to, how could we be strong enough to make it on our own? 

I think the only way to start building the ladder out is to look around for the people and things in our lives that become lifelines. Maybe it's a best friend who offers you help, or tries to remind you that you are worth more on your own than you're allowing yourself to believe or be. It could be a spiritual leader you trust recommending viable resources. In the case of a non-romantic, toxic and harmful relationship, you might turn to a spouse who will sit in a hot tub and let you cry on their shoulder at the end of a hard day.

Maybe you're not brave enough yet. Courage is hard. When you have trouble believing in yourself, learning something new is really hard. The longer you've been in the situation, the more entangled you have become. The answers don't seem easy, and the risk seems much bigger.

I Want to Break Free--Queen

Life Balance: The Silly and Serious Wasted Time, February 8, 2013

So, today is one of my three days off this week.

Sunday, I watched a lot of television and I put a few things in a Smash Book. I'm sure I did a few other mundane things, but I honestly don't remember half of them, and the less mundane things I did are unmentionable.

After a restless Monday night, and tense morning, I was encouraged into a shopping quest Tuesday. Jeph and I have a potentially hot date tonight, and the plan was that I would find something awesome to wear. I fixated on one specific item, and spent about four hours driving all over the city in hopes of securing it. The sad thing--if I'd actually pulled the trigger faster on the store's website, I would have gotten the specific item I wanted without ever leaving the house--it sold out while I hemmed and hawed. Because of my uncertainty, I ended up settling for my third choice, and I didn't really accomplish anything else with my time.

As I sit here today, at nearly 11 a.m., I have bathed the dog and tended to one of her immediate health needs, but have otherwise accomplished nothing else.

I think it's perfectly acceptable to occasionally spend time doing nothing. I think it's even healthy. The problem? While I'm trying to be at rest, my brain is almost never at rest. And that has me thinking. Why do we worry so much about wasted time? And what does that even mean?

I remember during my college days that I was a woman obsessed--obsessed with finishing college and starting life. Time in school felt like a boulder around my neck. Things were never going to start until I could get through this one stage of life.

When I ultimately completed this level of "the game," I was immediately disappointed to figure out that finishing school didn't automatically translate to magically finding the path to the kind of success I sought. At the same time, I was starting a new stage of my personal life with Jeph.

As I looked forward to building a home with him, I picked up little knickknacks and housewares that I imagined we would both care about--things that would be the face of my home. My mom made fun of me. She told me that I was ridiculous for thinking that I could create some kind of fancy and perfect life with Jeph. She was enviously cruel. I was wasting my time dreaming.

I was raised to be focused. I was taught to work hard. I wasn't encouraged to dream big. I believed, and in many ways still do believe in the first two things, but I never bought into the last one. Unfortunately, focus and hard work aren't always enough to make dreams come true. Sometimes, you have to make the right connections with people, and you have to take giant leaps into the unknown. Being raised to focus, and taught to work hard doesn't always help you make connections, or give you courage to take risks.

Most of us feel pressure to "get it together," and pick a path quickly. If you don't have a purpose or a solid career, how are you going to survive? It's a little like "The Hunger Games," if you think about it.

I lost my second job out of college, and my fear of not "having it together" crushed me. I felt compelled to scramble and find my way. And I decided the way I had originally chosen must be wrong, since I had "failed." So, I decided to refocus, and find solid ground to stand on.

John Lennon said "Life is what happens to you when you're busy making other plans." He was a smart man.

When giant things happen in your life, they change you. And I don't just mean emotionally, and sometimes physically. I think they may change your chemistry and what you are. What I could accept before is different from what I am willing to accept now. I know the same is true of people I care about, who have lived through life-altering events. I've watched that change occur in my closest friend.

I know about the fire that rages inside of me. I know about that annoying, and nagging part of me that quietly whispers "dream bigger." No matter how quiet that whisper is, it's never been quiet enough for me to escape. And at times, it is deafening.

Life is Timey Wimey.

When I've reached different points in my life that lead me to question the decisions and paths I've taken, I often wish for the chance to either go back in time and do everything all over again, or that I could just take a sabbatical, or go on walkabout. I don't know if I would have the courage to do anything differently, but as I sit at middle age, I wish I could find out. 

I envy the people I encounter who don't "have it together," either by choice, or by accident. I envy the freedom of not knowing what tomorrow will be like. I envy the option of picking up and moving halfway across the country, or even the world to take a chance at something at which I might be a complete failure. I envy those who are just starting out, because they have a chance to get it all right, even if that means sometimes getting it wrong. I envy people who "get it" before they lose it.

I don't think being focused and working hard has given me the balance in life that I'm looking for now. I have always mistaken balance for a choice between stability and feeding dreams. Stability always has won out over the deafening whisper of dreaming. Stability has become a synonym for fear in my life. I am fearful of what it would take to really feed my dreams.

I sit, and I think. In the moments when that whispering voice is the loudest, I try to focus on something else, and I try to believe that what I'm focusing on is more important and meaningful than the whispers and the dreams. I try to believe that I can apply my values and my fire to the things that are already a part of my life, instead of trying to find something new, or even trying to recapture the things I put away as if they were silly toys.

Meanwhile, my very best friend works harder than anyone I know, and constantly tries to "move the needle." Jeph pours every moment of his existence into acquiring the stable freedom to dream.  He does this while I sit and think. Sometimes I wonder if the whispering voice that sometimes makes me want to go mad is so loud that he can't get away from it either.

I know that Jeph and I aren't the only ones our age, and maybe even a few years both directions, who have hit this place--this place where life finally has to mean something, and we finally have to be awake in our skin. I don't know how all of us who are in this "moment" got here, but I wonder if it is how we've used our time--how we've been successful in achieving our goals and plans in the time frame we foresaw, or how we have wasted our time on things that seemed more legitimate and real than what was in our hearts. It's as if we were too busy to seek our own souls.

It strikes me that Jeph often wakes up after nights of vivid dreams--usually nightmares. He often asks what I dream about, and most of the time, I can't remember. He works so hard to push the needle to get to dreams that don't terrorize him, and I sit and think to push my own dreams away--maybe because I'm too afraid they can never come true. And I in everything I don't do, I ensure that they won't.

John Lennon also said: "When I was five years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down 'happy.' They told me I didn't understand the assignment, and I told them they didn't understand life." This is what I someday hope to teach my own child, because it's the lesson I wish I had learned much earlier, when it was easier to turn the ship. 

For now, there's a bag of laundry, a nearly finished scrapbook, and a skein of yarn within my reach. There's dust on the coffee table and stuff strewn about. There's a finished novel on the laptop I'm using, but I've barely done anything about it. There's a third of another novel here that I seem to be afraid of. There's a poem in the Notes app on my iPhone, that I wrote weeks ago but haven't shared, and the lines of at least two others in my mind that I haven't built upon.

Where does all of the time go?

Tired of Me--Live