I am constantly trying to predict the future.
I am a terrible fortune teller.
Sometimes, my predictions are based in facts, and they still fall short. This can be a good thing or a bad thing, but it remains unpredictable. I applied for one job online, unsolicited, that I thought was well out of my league, and they chose to interview me - I was shocked, because I didn't have any connections to the organization, no network to open the door for me, and it was a more senior position, so the facts told me that my odds of getting an interview were slim. But not only did I get an interview...I got three interviews, before I was gently turned down.
I've had two intensive rounds of interviews for different jobs: one round lasted three interviews, and the other lasted four interviews. In both cases, I was awarded "runner up" status, and told that I was a fabulous candidate. In that more-senior-than-I-am position, they awarded the job to someone with ten years more experience than I have in the field; in the other case, they told me that I was a great candidate, that it was an incredibly difficult decision, that they had no negative feedback.
I could not have predicted either outcome. I'm pleased that I'm making it this far on my own merits, disappointed to not receive job offers, excited to get positive feedback. I couldn't have predicted any of that.
I also couldn't have predicted what both of those employers DID offer me: connections. In both cases, they volunteered to connect me with their connections at other organizations for similar jobs. What?! Is this normal? I didn't see it coming in either instance, and the first time I felt like it was absolutely extraordinary that he'd be willing to assist me further even though I wasn't a fit for his job, and the second time I was even more shocked to get a repeat of that offer.
(Both offers came from men, but before you get suspicious: one is a happily partnered gay man, and the other is a happily married man....and one of the people the married man is connecting me with is his wife! No ulterior motives.)
Today I'm feeling pretty good about my prospects. I had another interview yesterday, I have two coffee dates lined up to discuss additional prospects, and a couple of new jobs have come up that I intend to apply for. I'm finding my stride, feeling more confident, getting good responses even though I don't yet have a position.
But I've had weeks go by where I feel like such a failure, such a sham, that it's hard to breathe.
Money is a big issue. My savings is so small that to call it paltry is a stretch, and I'm guarding it anxiously, terrified that even a small problem could blow up into a big one - I don't have an extra $500 for a car repair or an issue with the house or a medical bill. I'd be crazy if I WASN'T worried. It's Christmastime, and I have to figure out how to have an extraordinary holiday with my daughter, while spending next to nothing.
I'm 44 years old, a cancer survivor covered in scars, a divorced single mother, and I'm unemployed. Yikes.
My friends are all really successful people. They have interesting, lucrative jobs, or they have jobs that change the world (interesting but less lucrative). Almost all of them are partnered. They drive nicer cars than I do, wear nicer clothes, go on fabulous vacations, have nicer houses. If I compare myself to them, I feel panicky. What am I doing wrong?!
So I try to predict the future, to shape it, to control it. If I submit X number of resumes by Y date, I will get a job by Z. I run the numbers constantly, playing with my budget, squeezing it, trying to make the numbers come out okay. I'm on unemployment, and I can't tell you how happy I will be to cancel that, to earn my money again, and I try to predict when that will be.
The holidays are fully upon us, so it won't happen now. Maybe January 1st? No, probably January 15th at earliest. Here's what I must do to hit that date...
But the truth is, I'm not in control. The truth is, I can not predict the future, and that none of my predictions have come true. The truth is, I'm a terrible fortune teller.
I thought I'd receive a call from the four-rounds-of-interviews job more than a week ago, and that it would be a yes (hurrah!) or a no (oh crap!) and instead it was a "we love you but we won't hire you but how'd you like to talk to X, Y, and Z instead?" - and I certainly didn't predict that. I found a job that I was really into and I had an in, and so I applied and waited....and didn't hear back. I found jobs posted online, where I had no connections to the organization, and I was asked for interviews. Backing up from that, I didn't see my own employment on the horizon until it hit me: I doubled my boss's business in a year, made her successful beyond her dreams, and she laid me off. I didn't see that coming, not even a bit. I'm still reeling from it. Before that? I really believed that if I was a Good Wife who Followed the Rules, I would have a successful marriage. We know how that ended. And before that? I thought I would die from the cancer that attacked me. And I'm here.
My smart, talented, successful friends keep telling me that I'm on the right track, that they're not even worried about me because they know that I'm going to get this, that I'm going to make this happen, that my story has a happy ending. They tell me that they're proud of me, that they believe in me, that they'll keep connecting me with people who might help. They all believe that they can see my future, and predict it.
Their visions for my future are beautiful. They believe that I'll find employment, that I will be successful, that I will land on my financial feet, that my career will be wonderful. They also believe that I will find true love, that I will find romantic happiness. They say these things easily, and I see their truth: they believe what they tell me, they don't have the hesitation that I feel.
I'm still learning how to let go without becoming complacent. I certainly recognize that there are no fairy godmothers waiting to wave a wand over me, turn my old Subaru into a Mercedes, drop a dream job into my lap, and land me in the arms of my dream man. I know that to accomplish what I want to do, I have to keep at it: to put in more applications, arrange yet another coffee meeting, reach out to employers, friends of friends, keep building my skills through volunteering and the small consulting job I'm doing. I know that to be the partner *I* would like to be, I need to keep crafting my life, being true to myself, taking care of my life, so that when the right man comes to me, he will see all of that and be as attracted to me as I am to him (because the right man for me will not be interested in inviting drama, financial insecurity, etc. into his life - he will like me in part because of how together I am). So, I have to keep doing all of the right things...
...while I realize that I'm not in control, that it will come down to the universe helping me out. I am clear in my intentions: I do not want A job, I want THE RIGHT job. I do not want A man, I want THE RIGHT man. So I will do what I need to do, and I will try to stop predicting the future, and wait for the Universe to send me to the right place, when the Universe is ready.
I am a terrible fortune teller. I can't predict with certainty what will happen tomorrow, let alone next week or next decade, what twists and turns my life will take. I'm trying to listen to my gut, care for my heart, keep my head. I'm trying to do, while also just being. I do both imperfectly.
But recently, I feel my faith returning. I am going to be okay. I don't yet know how, but I believe that it's all coming together, and that I'm getting closer. What's more, I *am* okay. Happy and healthy, a roof over my head, food in my fridge, a beautiful daughter, lots of support.
The Universe is looking out for me, I think. Maybe that's what optimism is: maybe it is the belief that there is something bigger than me, looking out for me. I am an optimist, and I've long thought that it came from within myself, but now I see that it must have been planted in me.
So, I am trying to give up my fortune telling, recognizing that I haven't got a clue how to predict the future. I'll keep dreaming, wondering, hoping...but I'm going to try to accept what is, remain in the moment, instead of getting too far ahead of myself.
Wish me luck with that, please. And thanks for your continued thoughts and prayers about my employment. I'm ready to change the world, and take back control of my own finances at the same time. I'm ready to be a fabulous employee, and to move to the next stage of my life.
xoxo
*****
Do you try to predict your future? Are you successful with that? How do you remain grounded in the present, while keeping your heart full of dreams? How do you balance the need to take control of your life through your own actions, with the understanding that there is so much out of your control?
Showing posts with label optimism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label optimism. Show all posts
Thursday, December 5, 2013
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Floundering
I've been alive long enough to know that even when I'm headed in the right direction, some floundering is inevitable. It looks like this:
- I'm Wonder Woman! I can do whatever I set my sights on, and I'm going to change the world, live my best life, and take charge. I've got this!
- Wow, this is really hard, but I'm going to do it! Watch me go!
- See? Early success! Told ya so!
- Hmm. The early success didn't get me all the way there. This might be really hard.
- Oh crap. I don't know what I'm doing. Everyone thinks I'm doing fantastically, but clearly, I'm a mess. I don't know if I can do this.
- I think I'll just go back to bed. I'm shutting down. It's all I can do to shower and brush my teeth, let alone change the whole world.
- Whimper.
- My house is a mess and the stack of mail is about to topple over and I haven't eaten a fresh veggie in two days, and now I'm sick, and when I look at my to-do list I want to throw up.
I have had a busy week since I last checked in, and some great things have happened, but I have also lost momentum. After throwing myself a birthday party (30 people!) last Monday, I chaperoned my daughter's class field trip to a National Park for a few days, came home, attended a professional conference, and then hosted two of my best friends from out of town for two nights at my house. On Sunday I did my longest run yet (eight miles in an hour and nine minutes - very proud of myself), sent my girlfriends home to their equally busy lives, and then....crashed. My mental house came tumbling down, and all my optimism disappeared with the full knowledge that I am unemployed and single and that no way could I make my dreams come true.
I used to believe that my crashes were proof positive that I would fail, that I was a fraud, that I couldn't hack it. The little gremlin whispers in my ear just like everyone else: it says I'm not good enough, that my dreams are foolish, that I'm a lazy stupid girl who will never get what she desires.
But I don't believe that any more, even in my crashes.
The amount of work I need to do is stunning. Job seeking in one's forties is no joke: I have a short timeline before I will have to eat rice and beans and worry about paying the mortgage, and I can't just go couch surf, because I've got a daughter and a dog and a cat and a mortgage and I need health insurance. And real life doesn't stop just because I have this important task, and there are as many demands on my time as ever, and I haven't juggled them well. (A week off of job hunting makes me hyperventilate.)
BUT:
I've survived worse. Much worse. And I've gotten on my (professional) feet before, and I can do it again.
Today, I'm recognizing that I'm floundering. I'm acknowledging that the last week has thrown me off course, and that my unfailing optimism is actually failing, and that the gremlin in my ear isn't even bothering to whisper any more, choosing instead to hurl insults at me in a voice so loud that I wonder if the neighbors can hear it.
But I have a trick to get through it.
I'm going to persevere. I don't care what that stupid voice in my head says. Today I'm buckling down, making my to-do list of thank you cards for networking meetings, reading lists for my new field, phone calls, scheduling, organization. I am going to make this happen, and failure is not an option, and it's time to move forward. The gremlin can yell at me that I'm a fool and that there's nothing special about me and I should just accept some awful job at a low wage and deal with it like so many others have had to do...
But I won't do it. I'm going to tough it out, keep going. Because I know that stopping now is guaranteed failure.
I know how to climb the trail to the top of the mountain. I know how to show up to chemo....over and over. I know how to survive divorce. I am going to do this, no matter how hard it is, not just because I must (though that's real, too!) but because I refuse to give up on myself, and where belief and optimism fail, I'm going to rely on pure stubbornness. I simply refuse to quit, despite the odds, despite anything else.
Let's get this thing done.
****
If you're reading this because you're stuck, and you're thinking, "Okay, how the hell do I get from "Help me, I'm drowning!" to "I've got this, let's go!" I might actually have some practical advice for you. I've floundered a billion times, and I'm still here, and some of my flounders have been huge, so I might even be an expert on this. It helps to have a technique, and here's mine.
Step One: Flounder. You're doing that now? Great! Check it off on the list! Everyone flounders. Congratulate yourself for identifying that you're floundering, because that's actually huge.
Step Two: Wallowing. Spend an hour or a day wallowing. Yup, tea and bubble baths and trashy magazines and television and whatever you do when you're wallowing. Nothing self destructive - I don't recommend drunken anything because it always makes me feel worse in the end, tempting though it may be. But as you spend this day wallowing, know that this is a limited timeframe. You're allowed to wallow, because you're human, and damnit, you're going through a hard time. But wallowing has an expiration date. You are not going to stay wallowing, and you know this even when you are in it. Once you decide to wallow, set an end date. Yesterday I woke up with a horrible head cold, and it was my wallow day. I wallowed the entire time my daughter was at school....and then perked up enough to mother her.
Step Three: Get physical. I don't care if you're five hundred pounds and consider exercise a trip to the basement, or if you're an Ironman(woman), get moving. Do whatever suits your body, but push it a bit. For me, this would involve doing two things: a yoga session for a half hour to an hour, or a run outside. Maybe for you it's that, or a class at the gym, or a walk around your neighborhood, or a bike ride, or "chair aerobics" with one of those programs for seniors that are on television. I don't care what it is, but move. When we're stuck and floundering, it seems like our systems shut down, and getting moving will get your blood flowing again. Plus, it sends a message to our brains, "Hey, we're taking care of ourselves. Doesn't that feel good?" Also, even though it won't realign the planets or solve your problems, it allows you to feel awesome about doing something that you know is good for you. It helps reset everything somehow. Don't skip this step, whether you "care" about your health or you ignore it. It's not to be skinny or fit, it's just to reset the wallowing, to stop floundering. It's important. It will make you feel good, and it's worth it.
Step Four: Journal. (Today, this is mine.) Pour out your hopes, your dreams, your fears. Let the gremlin's voice go down on paper, and maybe argue with it. I don't think that there is a right way or a wrong way to journal, but I do believe that journaling has magical properties. Seeing your problems in black and white sometimes makes them look like what they are - it shrinks them to their correct dimensions. No bigger, no smaller. And sometimes, identifying the problems are half of the way to getting to the solution. And sometimes, journaling tells you just what to do. You knew it all along, you'd only forgotten, and the journal reveals your truth and helps you get unstuck.
Step Five: Clean your house. With your journaling top of mind, go grab a couple of projects that have been nagging at you. Scrub the ring in the bathtub, get caught up on laundry, organize the junk drawer, or whatever it is that needs doing. Clean for a couple of hours. Really. "WAIT!" you tell me. "My house is not the problem! I don't have a JOB! I need a JOB and I don't want to be a maid! This is not the time to clean my house!" I know, I know. But here's the thing: it also has magical properties. Take a project that has been nagging at you, and accomplish it. Send your mind the signal that you can get it done. Also? Enjoy the results. Look! There was a big pile of mail, and now there is a clean desk. Walk into the kitchen, and see a sparkling sink and clean counters, and think "ahhhhh!" instead of "uuuugghhhhh." Tell yourself, "Man that looks so much better! I'm so glad I did that, because I love how great it looks now!" Step back and smile, enjoy the fruits of your labors. Reflect on how long that mess had been bugging you, and how great it feels to have it dealt with. Remind yourself that it's a metaphor for other things that you can accomplish. (Note: set a time limit on cleaning, just like you did on wallowing. This is not the time to transfer all of your energy into painting every room in your house, because you really do need to work on your bigger issues in life - finding a job, making it through your divorce, etc. You want to make a difference in your home, not completely re-do it right now.)
Step Five: Okay, now we're getting down to it. Make lists. I like to make mine in categories: Job search, Consulting, House, Mothering. I use a Gmail calendar, but at first, I put it down on paper in a chart style, with huge lists of everything that needs to happen. Then, I prioritize. I rank each item, and then start to assign things dates, and then try to assign times. When I realize that I've put 72 hours worth into a day, I back up and spread it out. When I realize that I've overbooked my social calendar, I start canceling things. Write down what you need to do. Put it in black and white, and then put stars or numbers beside the most important things. If you're like me, your list would be impossible to accomplish in less than a decade, even though you thought it was just for the week. Notice that, and cross things off, or bump them to a "someday" list. Try to be optimistic but realistic about what you can get done, but do not let the length of the list stop you from attacking it. Choose the top items, and focus on those.
Step Six: Keep looking at step five. Keep those lists going. Find something to be proud of each day. I find that having a couple job accomplishments (setting up a new meeting, reaching out to my network, changing my resume, etc.) each day gives me momentum to keep going, and gives me energy. If you're really stuck, start a bit slow - don't overwhelm yourself and send yourself back to wallowing. Be realistic about what you can do, and commit to getting a portion of the list done every day, and manage the rest of the list. (It wasn't done today, so I'm making it tomorrow's number one priority...)
Step Seven: Keep cycling through all of this. Every day, try to exercise a bit. Every day, manage your house a bit - not just loading the dishwasher after dinner, but catching up on what needs doing. Every day, do some self care (a home pedicure, a cup of tea on the porch swing, time out for reading, etc.). Allot space in your calendar for these things, and use them as rewards. You can NOT spend every minute of every day solving the problem that sent you floundering in the first place. Once you've hit the top goals on your to-do list each day, make time for the rest of life: parenting, self care, exercise, etc. are all important, and when you're doing them, don't feel guilty about it. Feel proud that you managed your top items, and know that you'll tackle your next items tomorrow.
Step Eight: Schedule your day. Have a plan for each day that incorporates all your steps. Mine looks like this:
- Early morning, before my daughter wakes up: Exericise. (I find that it sets the tone for the day. Amazes me every time how I can wake up unmotivated and sluggish and feeling like the sky is falling, go for a run, and come back thinking, "I've got this!" Endorphins are powerful.)
- Get my girl ready for school, pack lunches (mine included: if I make myself a salad when I'm packing her lunch, then I remember to be healthy mid-day when I'm feeling lazy and snack-ish).
- Take a moment to sit and reflect. Today, that's here with this blog, but often it's just sitting quietly, sometimes with Mark Nepo's "Book of Awakening", or journaling with pen and a book. Just ten minutes usually.
- Knock off a couple items on the household to-do list. I've got the dishwasher running, laundry going, etc. Today's household task is to tackle the mail pile (ugh) - I will feel so much better when that's done. Today I have one hour to do this.
- Revisit the to-do list. Make sure that you're taking the right steps for your goals, that you know what you need to accomplish to move forward.
- Buckle down. Do the thing that is making your flounder, the scary thing. For me, that means this job search stuff. Do it in time blocks: today I'm going to start with two hours. It might not be enough, but it's a heck of a lot better than sitting there thinking "It's too big! I can't do it!" and two hours sounds like all I can handle today. I must do it....but I'm relieved that after two hours I'm off the hook, and that gives me strength to keep going. When I'm not floundering I can do eight hours, but when I'm floundering (like today) I've learned to shorten it. Something is better than nothing!
Each day, repeat the steps.
If it was easy, everyone would have the picture perfect lives seen in Real Simple. (If I see one more article about how to organize one's laundry room to color-coordinated perfection, I'll lose it. I do not know one single person with a beautifully decorated laundry room, and I'm tired of seeing messages that say I am disorganized if my laundry room isn't beautiful.) You aren't required to be perfect - you are only required to do your best, to make progress, and to keep going even when you want to quit.
I'll let you know how I do with all this. I'm still floundering. It helps me to remember that I know what I need to do, but if you'd like to send good wishes and prayers that I can make this happen, I really appreciate them. It's all uphill right now, and though I know I've climbed some big hills before, it's still a lot of work, and it's still scary, and my muscles still burn and protest.
And now....off to follow my own advice. Reluctantly. Deep breath.....
- I'm Wonder Woman! I can do whatever I set my sights on, and I'm going to change the world, live my best life, and take charge. I've got this!
- Wow, this is really hard, but I'm going to do it! Watch me go!
- See? Early success! Told ya so!
- Hmm. The early success didn't get me all the way there. This might be really hard.
- Oh crap. I don't know what I'm doing. Everyone thinks I'm doing fantastically, but clearly, I'm a mess. I don't know if I can do this.
- I think I'll just go back to bed. I'm shutting down. It's all I can do to shower and brush my teeth, let alone change the whole world.
- Whimper.
- My house is a mess and the stack of mail is about to topple over and I haven't eaten a fresh veggie in two days, and now I'm sick, and when I look at my to-do list I want to throw up.
I have had a busy week since I last checked in, and some great things have happened, but I have also lost momentum. After throwing myself a birthday party (30 people!) last Monday, I chaperoned my daughter's class field trip to a National Park for a few days, came home, attended a professional conference, and then hosted two of my best friends from out of town for two nights at my house. On Sunday I did my longest run yet (eight miles in an hour and nine minutes - very proud of myself), sent my girlfriends home to their equally busy lives, and then....crashed. My mental house came tumbling down, and all my optimism disappeared with the full knowledge that I am unemployed and single and that no way could I make my dreams come true.
I used to believe that my crashes were proof positive that I would fail, that I was a fraud, that I couldn't hack it. The little gremlin whispers in my ear just like everyone else: it says I'm not good enough, that my dreams are foolish, that I'm a lazy stupid girl who will never get what she desires.
But I don't believe that any more, even in my crashes.
The amount of work I need to do is stunning. Job seeking in one's forties is no joke: I have a short timeline before I will have to eat rice and beans and worry about paying the mortgage, and I can't just go couch surf, because I've got a daughter and a dog and a cat and a mortgage and I need health insurance. And real life doesn't stop just because I have this important task, and there are as many demands on my time as ever, and I haven't juggled them well. (A week off of job hunting makes me hyperventilate.)
BUT:
I've survived worse. Much worse. And I've gotten on my (professional) feet before, and I can do it again.
Today, I'm recognizing that I'm floundering. I'm acknowledging that the last week has thrown me off course, and that my unfailing optimism is actually failing, and that the gremlin in my ear isn't even bothering to whisper any more, choosing instead to hurl insults at me in a voice so loud that I wonder if the neighbors can hear it.
But I have a trick to get through it.
I'm going to persevere. I don't care what that stupid voice in my head says. Today I'm buckling down, making my to-do list of thank you cards for networking meetings, reading lists for my new field, phone calls, scheduling, organization. I am going to make this happen, and failure is not an option, and it's time to move forward. The gremlin can yell at me that I'm a fool and that there's nothing special about me and I should just accept some awful job at a low wage and deal with it like so many others have had to do...
But I won't do it. I'm going to tough it out, keep going. Because I know that stopping now is guaranteed failure.
I know how to climb the trail to the top of the mountain. I know how to show up to chemo....over and over. I know how to survive divorce. I am going to do this, no matter how hard it is, not just because I must (though that's real, too!) but because I refuse to give up on myself, and where belief and optimism fail, I'm going to rely on pure stubbornness. I simply refuse to quit, despite the odds, despite anything else.
Let's get this thing done.
****
If you're reading this because you're stuck, and you're thinking, "Okay, how the hell do I get from "Help me, I'm drowning!" to "I've got this, let's go!" I might actually have some practical advice for you. I've floundered a billion times, and I'm still here, and some of my flounders have been huge, so I might even be an expert on this. It helps to have a technique, and here's mine.
Step One: Flounder. You're doing that now? Great! Check it off on the list! Everyone flounders. Congratulate yourself for identifying that you're floundering, because that's actually huge.
Step Two: Wallowing. Spend an hour or a day wallowing. Yup, tea and bubble baths and trashy magazines and television and whatever you do when you're wallowing. Nothing self destructive - I don't recommend drunken anything because it always makes me feel worse in the end, tempting though it may be. But as you spend this day wallowing, know that this is a limited timeframe. You're allowed to wallow, because you're human, and damnit, you're going through a hard time. But wallowing has an expiration date. You are not going to stay wallowing, and you know this even when you are in it. Once you decide to wallow, set an end date. Yesterday I woke up with a horrible head cold, and it was my wallow day. I wallowed the entire time my daughter was at school....and then perked up enough to mother her.
Step Three: Get physical. I don't care if you're five hundred pounds and consider exercise a trip to the basement, or if you're an Ironman(woman), get moving. Do whatever suits your body, but push it a bit. For me, this would involve doing two things: a yoga session for a half hour to an hour, or a run outside. Maybe for you it's that, or a class at the gym, or a walk around your neighborhood, or a bike ride, or "chair aerobics" with one of those programs for seniors that are on television. I don't care what it is, but move. When we're stuck and floundering, it seems like our systems shut down, and getting moving will get your blood flowing again. Plus, it sends a message to our brains, "Hey, we're taking care of ourselves. Doesn't that feel good?" Also, even though it won't realign the planets or solve your problems, it allows you to feel awesome about doing something that you know is good for you. It helps reset everything somehow. Don't skip this step, whether you "care" about your health or you ignore it. It's not to be skinny or fit, it's just to reset the wallowing, to stop floundering. It's important. It will make you feel good, and it's worth it.
Step Four: Journal. (Today, this is mine.) Pour out your hopes, your dreams, your fears. Let the gremlin's voice go down on paper, and maybe argue with it. I don't think that there is a right way or a wrong way to journal, but I do believe that journaling has magical properties. Seeing your problems in black and white sometimes makes them look like what they are - it shrinks them to their correct dimensions. No bigger, no smaller. And sometimes, identifying the problems are half of the way to getting to the solution. And sometimes, journaling tells you just what to do. You knew it all along, you'd only forgotten, and the journal reveals your truth and helps you get unstuck.
Step Five: Clean your house. With your journaling top of mind, go grab a couple of projects that have been nagging at you. Scrub the ring in the bathtub, get caught up on laundry, organize the junk drawer, or whatever it is that needs doing. Clean for a couple of hours. Really. "WAIT!" you tell me. "My house is not the problem! I don't have a JOB! I need a JOB and I don't want to be a maid! This is not the time to clean my house!" I know, I know. But here's the thing: it also has magical properties. Take a project that has been nagging at you, and accomplish it. Send your mind the signal that you can get it done. Also? Enjoy the results. Look! There was a big pile of mail, and now there is a clean desk. Walk into the kitchen, and see a sparkling sink and clean counters, and think "ahhhhh!" instead of "uuuugghhhhh." Tell yourself, "Man that looks so much better! I'm so glad I did that, because I love how great it looks now!" Step back and smile, enjoy the fruits of your labors. Reflect on how long that mess had been bugging you, and how great it feels to have it dealt with. Remind yourself that it's a metaphor for other things that you can accomplish. (Note: set a time limit on cleaning, just like you did on wallowing. This is not the time to transfer all of your energy into painting every room in your house, because you really do need to work on your bigger issues in life - finding a job, making it through your divorce, etc. You want to make a difference in your home, not completely re-do it right now.)
Step Five: Okay, now we're getting down to it. Make lists. I like to make mine in categories: Job search, Consulting, House, Mothering. I use a Gmail calendar, but at first, I put it down on paper in a chart style, with huge lists of everything that needs to happen. Then, I prioritize. I rank each item, and then start to assign things dates, and then try to assign times. When I realize that I've put 72 hours worth into a day, I back up and spread it out. When I realize that I've overbooked my social calendar, I start canceling things. Write down what you need to do. Put it in black and white, and then put stars or numbers beside the most important things. If you're like me, your list would be impossible to accomplish in less than a decade, even though you thought it was just for the week. Notice that, and cross things off, or bump them to a "someday" list. Try to be optimistic but realistic about what you can get done, but do not let the length of the list stop you from attacking it. Choose the top items, and focus on those.
Step Six: Keep looking at step five. Keep those lists going. Find something to be proud of each day. I find that having a couple job accomplishments (setting up a new meeting, reaching out to my network, changing my resume, etc.) each day gives me momentum to keep going, and gives me energy. If you're really stuck, start a bit slow - don't overwhelm yourself and send yourself back to wallowing. Be realistic about what you can do, and commit to getting a portion of the list done every day, and manage the rest of the list. (It wasn't done today, so I'm making it tomorrow's number one priority...)
Step Seven: Keep cycling through all of this. Every day, try to exercise a bit. Every day, manage your house a bit - not just loading the dishwasher after dinner, but catching up on what needs doing. Every day, do some self care (a home pedicure, a cup of tea on the porch swing, time out for reading, etc.). Allot space in your calendar for these things, and use them as rewards. You can NOT spend every minute of every day solving the problem that sent you floundering in the first place. Once you've hit the top goals on your to-do list each day, make time for the rest of life: parenting, self care, exercise, etc. are all important, and when you're doing them, don't feel guilty about it. Feel proud that you managed your top items, and know that you'll tackle your next items tomorrow.
Step Eight: Schedule your day. Have a plan for each day that incorporates all your steps. Mine looks like this:
- Early morning, before my daughter wakes up: Exericise. (I find that it sets the tone for the day. Amazes me every time how I can wake up unmotivated and sluggish and feeling like the sky is falling, go for a run, and come back thinking, "I've got this!" Endorphins are powerful.)
- Get my girl ready for school, pack lunches (mine included: if I make myself a salad when I'm packing her lunch, then I remember to be healthy mid-day when I'm feeling lazy and snack-ish).
- Take a moment to sit and reflect. Today, that's here with this blog, but often it's just sitting quietly, sometimes with Mark Nepo's "Book of Awakening", or journaling with pen and a book. Just ten minutes usually.
- Knock off a couple items on the household to-do list. I've got the dishwasher running, laundry going, etc. Today's household task is to tackle the mail pile (ugh) - I will feel so much better when that's done. Today I have one hour to do this.
- Revisit the to-do list. Make sure that you're taking the right steps for your goals, that you know what you need to accomplish to move forward.
- Buckle down. Do the thing that is making your flounder, the scary thing. For me, that means this job search stuff. Do it in time blocks: today I'm going to start with two hours. It might not be enough, but it's a heck of a lot better than sitting there thinking "It's too big! I can't do it!" and two hours sounds like all I can handle today. I must do it....but I'm relieved that after two hours I'm off the hook, and that gives me strength to keep going. When I'm not floundering I can do eight hours, but when I'm floundering (like today) I've learned to shorten it. Something is better than nothing!
Each day, repeat the steps.
If it was easy, everyone would have the picture perfect lives seen in Real Simple. (If I see one more article about how to organize one's laundry room to color-coordinated perfection, I'll lose it. I do not know one single person with a beautifully decorated laundry room, and I'm tired of seeing messages that say I am disorganized if my laundry room isn't beautiful.) You aren't required to be perfect - you are only required to do your best, to make progress, and to keep going even when you want to quit.
I'll let you know how I do with all this. I'm still floundering. It helps me to remember that I know what I need to do, but if you'd like to send good wishes and prayers that I can make this happen, I really appreciate them. It's all uphill right now, and though I know I've climbed some big hills before, it's still a lot of work, and it's still scary, and my muscles still burn and protest.
And now....off to follow my own advice. Reluctantly. Deep breath.....
Monday, September 16, 2013
I don't know 'bout you, but I'm feelin' 22...
I am officially twice the age of Taylor Swift's lyric. Happy 44th birthday to me!
But I've gotta tell you, I did not think that 44 would feel like this. Not at all.
And it's FANTASTIC.
In many ways, I do feel 22. I'm at the cusp of so many things, and that feeling of possibility that I felt at 22 is back again, only this time it's tempered by a lot of experience and a little bit of wisdom.
At 22 I did not think I was worthy of love, but I hoped I would find it anyway.
At 44 I know that I am worthy of supernova love, and I know I'll find it.
At 22, I felt so much pressure to get it right, and I felt like the world was watching me and judging me.
At 44, though my pressures have increased (a mortgage not least of it), I know that the world is too self-obsessed to worry about whether I am getting it right, and that those who might judge me aren't worth my time.
At 22, I was lovely and fit, and I could have spent hours telling you about what was wrong with my body.
At 44, covered in scars and with an imperfect body, I am so grateful for my body and all it does for me that I could weep in gratitude. I am alive and it matters.
At 22, I often went with the crowd because I wanted them to like me.
At 44, I choose what I wish to do, see if anyone feels like joining me, and then do it solo or with a group, and have an equally good time. I've noticed that those people who weren't that into me simply weren't my people: my people love me and love joining me, and we don't care who thinks we're weird or not cool or not doing interesting things. Ironically, this has made me a lot more interesting, and once I started doing my own thing instead of doing what other people wanted me to do, more people wanted to join me.
At 22, I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up.
At 44, I know that I want to be in the non-profit field, starting in development and moving towards Executive Director, and on the side I want to write. This is a beautiful sentence, filled with clarity and peace.
At 22, I hoped that one day if I was lucky, I'd get to be a mom. I secretly hoped I'd have a daughter.
At 44, I have the best daughter in the world. Which is to say - the best for me. She is a lot like me, but so much better, and she has made my life so much better than I dreamed possible.
At 22, I didn't yet have my tribe. I had a couple true blue friends who remain with me to this day, but those friendships were still relatively new.
At 44, I have tried and true friendships, and my tribe has lifted me through the darkest of days.
At 22, I ran.
At 44, I run.
At 22, I hiked and backpacked.
At 44, I hike and backpack.
At 22, I went on my first overseas trip.
At 44, I hope to go overseas with my daughter.
At 22, I loved museums and plays.
At 44, I love museums, and now I can afford the annual passes if I budget around them. (So I do.)
At 22, I was a reader and a writer.
At 44, I am a reader and a writer.
At 22, I had no idea how strong and resilient I was.
At 44, I know that I am one of the strongest and most resilient.
44 will be my best year yet. All of my running, hiking and such has made me closer in fitness to my 22 year old self, and I'm getting close to beating my best running times ever, and to surpassing my farthest distances....and that makes me feel 22 all over again. I'm not feeling old, I'm feeling like I'm just starting out. I feel like life, love, career - so much still lies ahead. I feel confused like everyone else, only now I know that I'm not the only one feeling that way, and it doesn't hurt like it used to.
I was too tired after backpacking to do a big run this morning, so I did yoga. My stretches are deeper, my mind happier.
I don't know 'bout you - but I'm feelin' 22. Only better! Tonight I'm throwing myself a cake party (cake, wine, and friends) and perhaps 20 people will come, and I can't wait. No partner to throw me a party? No problem - I'll throw my own....and enjoy the friends that come. :-) Happy birthday to me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AgFeZr5ptV8
http://youtu.be/AgFeZr5ptV8
But I've gotta tell you, I did not think that 44 would feel like this. Not at all.
And it's FANTASTIC.
In many ways, I do feel 22. I'm at the cusp of so many things, and that feeling of possibility that I felt at 22 is back again, only this time it's tempered by a lot of experience and a little bit of wisdom.
At 22 I did not think I was worthy of love, but I hoped I would find it anyway.
At 44 I know that I am worthy of supernova love, and I know I'll find it.
At 22, I felt so much pressure to get it right, and I felt like the world was watching me and judging me.
At 44, though my pressures have increased (a mortgage not least of it), I know that the world is too self-obsessed to worry about whether I am getting it right, and that those who might judge me aren't worth my time.
At 22, I was lovely and fit, and I could have spent hours telling you about what was wrong with my body.
At 44, covered in scars and with an imperfect body, I am so grateful for my body and all it does for me that I could weep in gratitude. I am alive and it matters.
At 22, I often went with the crowd because I wanted them to like me.
At 44, I choose what I wish to do, see if anyone feels like joining me, and then do it solo or with a group, and have an equally good time. I've noticed that those people who weren't that into me simply weren't my people: my people love me and love joining me, and we don't care who thinks we're weird or not cool or not doing interesting things. Ironically, this has made me a lot more interesting, and once I started doing my own thing instead of doing what other people wanted me to do, more people wanted to join me.
At 22, I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up.
At 44, I know that I want to be in the non-profit field, starting in development and moving towards Executive Director, and on the side I want to write. This is a beautiful sentence, filled with clarity and peace.
At 22, I hoped that one day if I was lucky, I'd get to be a mom. I secretly hoped I'd have a daughter.
At 44, I have the best daughter in the world. Which is to say - the best for me. She is a lot like me, but so much better, and she has made my life so much better than I dreamed possible.
At 22, I didn't yet have my tribe. I had a couple true blue friends who remain with me to this day, but those friendships were still relatively new.
At 44, I have tried and true friendships, and my tribe has lifted me through the darkest of days.
At 22, I ran.
At 44, I run.
At 22, I hiked and backpacked.
At 44, I hike and backpack.
At 22, I went on my first overseas trip.
At 44, I hope to go overseas with my daughter.
At 22, I loved museums and plays.
At 44, I love museums, and now I can afford the annual passes if I budget around them. (So I do.)
At 22, I was a reader and a writer.
At 44, I am a reader and a writer.
At 22, I had no idea how strong and resilient I was.
At 44, I know that I am one of the strongest and most resilient.
44 will be my best year yet. All of my running, hiking and such has made me closer in fitness to my 22 year old self, and I'm getting close to beating my best running times ever, and to surpassing my farthest distances....and that makes me feel 22 all over again. I'm not feeling old, I'm feeling like I'm just starting out. I feel like life, love, career - so much still lies ahead. I feel confused like everyone else, only now I know that I'm not the only one feeling that way, and it doesn't hurt like it used to.
I was too tired after backpacking to do a big run this morning, so I did yoga. My stretches are deeper, my mind happier.
I don't know 'bout you - but I'm feelin' 22. Only better! Tonight I'm throwing myself a cake party (cake, wine, and friends) and perhaps 20 people will come, and I can't wait. No partner to throw me a party? No problem - I'll throw my own....and enjoy the friends that come. :-) Happy birthday to me.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AgFeZr5ptV8
http://youtu.be/AgFeZr5ptV8
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
Frozen
I'm feeling a bit frozen.
It's not like me, and I don't like it.
Ummm, I don't have a job.
So maybe I should go online and shop at the man mall?!
No. Nononono.
But I have to say, today it has all caught up with me, and I'm feeling more than slightly overwhelmed. I'm trying to break into a brand new career in my mid-forties and AM I CRAZY? I left an easy job that paid my bills and gave me a ton of vacation time, and now....what? No guarantees, and what am I going to do? I am freaking out over here!
Today I had another networking meeting. I got some more resources, was given a couple more names.
Yesterday I got a call from a friend telling me about a job I might be interested in, and I was also contacted by a friend of a friend who is an executive director at an organization that I'm interested in, and they have a job offering that she wants me to look at. I have another meeting later this week with an interesting nonprofit. I'm attending a conference in the field later this month. And best of all? I'm doing some consulting, and I've found an amazing mentor, and I'm getting great work done there, both on my learning curve, earning a little money, and getting a resume line in the field I want to work in.
So, I should be floating high. I've been telling everyone I'm floating high, because I have felt great about everything.
But today, I feel absolutely paralyzed. I came home from my networking meeting and froze, and got nothing at all done this afternoon. Katherine is home now, and I'm ignoring her. What I want to do - on this beautiful sunny day - is climb into my bed and pull the covers over my head and pretend nothing exists.
Uh oh.
This is normal, I suspect. I don't like the uncertainty. There is much to gain, and much to lose. It's the losing part that terrifies me. What if I can't get a job that pays what I need? What if I'm a total failure? What if I never reach another one of my dreams ever again? ARGHHHH! (Crazy talk. I know. It's one of the crazy days.)
I might just freak out for a while longer. Wish me luck and send me "get 'er done" vibes, because I can not afford to be in this state for too long. And if you have suggestions for getting through this, I'm all ears, because my to-do list is longer than I dreamed possible and I don't even want to look at it, because it's so overwhelming.
Deep breaths.
It's not like me, and I don't like it.
Ummm, I don't have a job.
So maybe I should go online and shop at the man mall?!
No. Nononono.
But I have to say, today it has all caught up with me, and I'm feeling more than slightly overwhelmed. I'm trying to break into a brand new career in my mid-forties and AM I CRAZY? I left an easy job that paid my bills and gave me a ton of vacation time, and now....what? No guarantees, and what am I going to do? I am freaking out over here!
Today I had another networking meeting. I got some more resources, was given a couple more names.
Yesterday I got a call from a friend telling me about a job I might be interested in, and I was also contacted by a friend of a friend who is an executive director at an organization that I'm interested in, and they have a job offering that she wants me to look at. I have another meeting later this week with an interesting nonprofit. I'm attending a conference in the field later this month. And best of all? I'm doing some consulting, and I've found an amazing mentor, and I'm getting great work done there, both on my learning curve, earning a little money, and getting a resume line in the field I want to work in.
So, I should be floating high. I've been telling everyone I'm floating high, because I have felt great about everything.
But today, I feel absolutely paralyzed. I came home from my networking meeting and froze, and got nothing at all done this afternoon. Katherine is home now, and I'm ignoring her. What I want to do - on this beautiful sunny day - is climb into my bed and pull the covers over my head and pretend nothing exists.
Uh oh.
This is normal, I suspect. I don't like the uncertainty. There is much to gain, and much to lose. It's the losing part that terrifies me. What if I can't get a job that pays what I need? What if I'm a total failure? What if I never reach another one of my dreams ever again? ARGHHHH! (Crazy talk. I know. It's one of the crazy days.)
I might just freak out for a while longer. Wish me luck and send me "get 'er done" vibes, because I can not afford to be in this state for too long. And if you have suggestions for getting through this, I'm all ears, because my to-do list is longer than I dreamed possible and I don't even want to look at it, because it's so overwhelming.
Deep breaths.
Monday, September 9, 2013
People are crazy.
On Friday night I had a date.
We had dinner - I broke my rule! - and went for a walk along the waterfront. It was pleasant. I felt no expectations, and therefore no pressure. He was articulate and intelligent, and so that made the conversation easy.
At one point on our walk, we found ourselves on a pier over the water, enjoying the moonlit view. I had a moment of panic - oh dear God, I'd put myself in perfect kissing position. Now, we all know that I'm not a prude and that a giant make-out session on a deserted pier with a beautiful view and the sound of the waves lapping under us could be very, very interesting with the right person...but clearly this was not the right person, because I had a momentary panic until I pertly said, "I think we should get back, don't you? Let's turn around now," and didn't give him a chance to agree or disagree, merely turning and walking back.
Still, despite the clear lack of chemistry, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I'd go out with him one more time. Maybe chemistry takes a while? Maybe since I am the world's pickiest dater and don't appear to like ANYONE, I should give him a chance?
He helped me to make up my mind. In the morning, there was a text message waiting for me. We had discussed our mutual enjoyment of backpacking, and the text invited Katherine and I to go backpacking with him and his two children the next weekend. A weekend in the mountains with our kids.
Are you kidding me?! We had a three hour date (in hindsight, two hours too long) and now you want to introduce our kids and spend an entire weekend together in the woods?!
I should learn to listen to my instincts. If I don't like him, I don't like him, and it doesn't matter how smart he is, or how attractive, or how anything. And this guy is clearly ready to grab the first thing that comes his way - I can't believe he'd want to include our children, I can't believe he'd want to commit to that much time together, I can't believe he'd want to level jump so quickly. I mean, I'm spectacular and all that (ha!) but he doesn't even know me! Talk about a big red flag - a whole series of them, actually.
I was able to send him a short and hopefully very nice note that said, "Sorry, but I just don't think the chemistry is there. I wish you all the best..." etc.
I really do wonder if I should just drop this internet dating thing. How many first dates can one woman have?! But I keep going back, because you just never know. I think I might have accepted another coffee date for later this week....yes, I did. What was I thinking?!
Now, back to work. My to-do list is as long as my arm...still. And no sign of shrinking. Happy Monday, everyone!
We had dinner - I broke my rule! - and went for a walk along the waterfront. It was pleasant. I felt no expectations, and therefore no pressure. He was articulate and intelligent, and so that made the conversation easy.
At one point on our walk, we found ourselves on a pier over the water, enjoying the moonlit view. I had a moment of panic - oh dear God, I'd put myself in perfect kissing position. Now, we all know that I'm not a prude and that a giant make-out session on a deserted pier with a beautiful view and the sound of the waves lapping under us could be very, very interesting with the right person...but clearly this was not the right person, because I had a momentary panic until I pertly said, "I think we should get back, don't you? Let's turn around now," and didn't give him a chance to agree or disagree, merely turning and walking back.
Still, despite the clear lack of chemistry, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I'd go out with him one more time. Maybe chemistry takes a while? Maybe since I am the world's pickiest dater and don't appear to like ANYONE, I should give him a chance?
He helped me to make up my mind. In the morning, there was a text message waiting for me. We had discussed our mutual enjoyment of backpacking, and the text invited Katherine and I to go backpacking with him and his two children the next weekend. A weekend in the mountains with our kids.
Are you kidding me?! We had a three hour date (in hindsight, two hours too long) and now you want to introduce our kids and spend an entire weekend together in the woods?!
I should learn to listen to my instincts. If I don't like him, I don't like him, and it doesn't matter how smart he is, or how attractive, or how anything. And this guy is clearly ready to grab the first thing that comes his way - I can't believe he'd want to include our children, I can't believe he'd want to commit to that much time together, I can't believe he'd want to level jump so quickly. I mean, I'm spectacular and all that (ha!) but he doesn't even know me! Talk about a big red flag - a whole series of them, actually.
I was able to send him a short and hopefully very nice note that said, "Sorry, but I just don't think the chemistry is there. I wish you all the best..." etc.
I really do wonder if I should just drop this internet dating thing. How many first dates can one woman have?! But I keep going back, because you just never know. I think I might have accepted another coffee date for later this week....yes, I did. What was I thinking?!
Now, back to work. My to-do list is as long as my arm...still. And no sign of shrinking. Happy Monday, everyone!
Saturday, September 7, 2013
First Dates
It turns out that I'm becoming quite good at first dates.
An interesting skill, but hey, I'll take what I can get.
I've learned how to set aside all expectations on a first date - I know that it is really a meet and greet, and that the intention is to see if there is anything there, not to plan our lives together. I have come to learn that people stretch the truth in online profiles (though this never ceases to amaze me: don't you think I will NOTICE that your hairline is two inches back, that your waistline is bigger, and that you're not as tall as you said you were?!). I've also learned that online chemistry and real-life chemistry have absolutely no correlation: I've had long chats with gentlemen where I thought "wow this is fantastic!" and then in person it has been absolutely flat.
So, no expectations going in - and this removes the pressure, and I can relax and enjoy myself. I meet people, hear a bit about their lives, learn about something new to me, and usually have interesting conversation.
I've also learned that coffee is the best first date ever, because it's not a date at all, it's an interview. (The Huffington Post just did a little article on that subject, and I agree: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/09/06/dating-after-divorce_n_3881361.html?utm_hp_ref=dating-after-divorce ). Drinks aren't good because they're very date-like, and because it changes the venue from somewhere light and bright (coffee shop) to somewhere either noisy (bar) or potentially intimate (nice restaurant)....but coffee is short and sweet, feels safe (no dark alleys!), and gives us a chance to get to know each other a bit in a low pressure situation. No dressing to the nines or sexy evening clothing....just....coffee.
So, for better or for worse, I've had my share of first dates, and I'm losing track of how many.
I think it's really important to acknowledge the truth about a first date, and that includes "nice guy, no chemistry." I have turned down men recently that I would have continued dating "just to see" if I was my younger self. My older self values her time a great deal, and I'm a lot more honest with myself. Last week there was a nice guy who was just far too laid back for me - I knew I'd end up running circles around him and feeling annoyed, even though he was a good conversationalist and an interesting person. The flattery of his attention was not enough any more, as I'm holding out for a great fit, not just for a nice guy.
I've learned some surprising things about myself in the dating process.
1. I am much, much shallower about physical appearance than I once believed. My ex was so overweight that I didn't find him attractive at all in the end, despite his sparkling blue eyes and cleft chin. Now, I find that I really only want tall (I'm tall, and I wear heels a lot, and all the men in my family are over six feet tall...), fit men who have good hair (bald can be attractive, and I don't rule it out, but they have to know how to rock the bald head!) and who have a sense of laid-back style. Yes, laid-back style. I do not want a metrosexual who is always more fashionable than I am, but I want a guy who knows how to dress. (The man who showed up in his bike gear at a nice bar made my jaw drop a bit.) A suit at the ballet, nice jeans and shirt for coffee....bike gear only when going on a biking date. Looks matter. It is what it is. I am not a supermodel, but I present myself attractively, and I want someone who does the same.
2. Fitness matters. A lot. I have worked hard on my physical self for a long time: first, as I tried to regain health after cancer, and then as I tried to be fit in general. Our bodies matter. I have found that they matter not just when out on a hike and it's nice to enjoy the scenery instead of huffing and puffing and feeling miserable, but they're nice for everyday activities: when I am fit, EVERYTHING is easier, including quickly cleaning up the dinner dishes, or dashing off on an errand, because my energy levels are higher and I just feel better. What's more, I absolutely love being with a fit person who enjoys eating healthy food with me (which makes the chocolatey dessert we share taste even better!), and who suggests an after dinner walk for miles along the waterfront, because I find that a lot more attractive than plunking down in front of a TV. Yes, I want the "oooohhhhhh!" physical chemistry that fitness provides, but I also want the lifestyle that goes with it.
3. This one hurts to admit, but I'm going to admit it. I want him to offer to pay for the first date. I *always* bring out my wallet to pay, but there is something courtly about a gentleman paying for that date. One bad date (a poor fit in many ways) ordered two glasses of Malbec to my one glass of happy hour house red (see? I shouldn't have done happy hour, I should have stuck to coffee!), and then suggested we split the bill. Really? I did so - the extra ten dollars didn't kill me - but I also declined his request to see me again. Offering to pay for the first meeting sets it up as a date. It also says, "You're worth something to me." It says "I'm taking you out of the friend zone, and into the date zone." At some strange level, it says, "I'd like to invest in this relationship." Now, the feminist in me is strong, alive, and well....and she's slightly appalled at me for feeling this way, but I've given up berating myself for these feelings. If a gentleman doesn't offer sincerely to pay for the first date, I'm less likely to accept a second date. (Note: Luke not only paid for the first date, but when I offered to split the bill he said, "Please let me do this, as the pleasure in meeting you is all mine." Is it any wonder that I ended up sleeping with him?! Also note - I continued to offer to pay for dates when we went out, and more than once I insisted on picking up the whole bill.) I'm not out to use men for financial gain or free meals or what have you, but I want him to pay for that first date. If he doesn't, I assume he's just not that interested.
4. I like my life. Oh, that is bliss. Wow. I like my life. I like my life! I LIKE MY LIFE! No, I love it. Now, as a woman who has been to hell and back, a statement like this one makes me want to get up and dance around the living room in my bare feet. Meeting interesting strangers, hearing about their lives, and telling them about mine, is a reminder of how much I have to be grateful for. Realizing that I do not NEED their companionship to be happy is a gift. Recognizing that my life is so rich and full that I'd need a pretty amazing, special man to add to it - not just any man, but someone extraordinary - is wonderful, because it makes me appreciate what I have so much more.
5. I believe that I'll find what I'm looking for. Nothing is less attractive to me than a man who kvetches about how he can't find what he's looking for and women are too picky and all the good ones are taken etc. (I guess I feel the same way about women who say the same things about men.) Such conversations, even when spoken lightly and with humor to disguise them, are a total turn off. Here's the deal: I believe that there is an amazing, incredible man out there for me, and that I will find him. I believe that the world is full of fascinating people with a great deal to offer. I believe that there are many people out there who want the same things that I do. I believe that we're all struggling, and that for those of us in our forties who are trying to start over after divorce the world is fresh and bright and new, and the best still lies ahead. I also believe that if it takes a long time to find it, that's okay, because it's worth the wait. I mean, I've waited over forty years already...I can handle a few more!
While I've been typing this message, I've been asked out by two men. I woke up this morning to an invitation to a second date from yesterday's date. I'm being very selective (I said no to the two, and I'm not sure yet about what to say to the second date invite....which is at least better than wanting to yell "NO thank you!"), but I feel confident. It'll happen when it happens.
And until then? Wow I'm busy. Back to work for me. :-)
An interesting skill, but hey, I'll take what I can get.
I've learned how to set aside all expectations on a first date - I know that it is really a meet and greet, and that the intention is to see if there is anything there, not to plan our lives together. I have come to learn that people stretch the truth in online profiles (though this never ceases to amaze me: don't you think I will NOTICE that your hairline is two inches back, that your waistline is bigger, and that you're not as tall as you said you were?!). I've also learned that online chemistry and real-life chemistry have absolutely no correlation: I've had long chats with gentlemen where I thought "wow this is fantastic!" and then in person it has been absolutely flat.
So, no expectations going in - and this removes the pressure, and I can relax and enjoy myself. I meet people, hear a bit about their lives, learn about something new to me, and usually have interesting conversation.
I've also learned that coffee is the best first date ever, because it's not a date at all, it's an interview. (The Huffington Post just did a little article on that subject, and I agree: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/09/06/dating-after-divorce_n_3881361.html?utm_hp_ref=dating-after-divorce ). Drinks aren't good because they're very date-like, and because it changes the venue from somewhere light and bright (coffee shop) to somewhere either noisy (bar) or potentially intimate (nice restaurant)....but coffee is short and sweet, feels safe (no dark alleys!), and gives us a chance to get to know each other a bit in a low pressure situation. No dressing to the nines or sexy evening clothing....just....coffee.
So, for better or for worse, I've had my share of first dates, and I'm losing track of how many.
I think it's really important to acknowledge the truth about a first date, and that includes "nice guy, no chemistry." I have turned down men recently that I would have continued dating "just to see" if I was my younger self. My older self values her time a great deal, and I'm a lot more honest with myself. Last week there was a nice guy who was just far too laid back for me - I knew I'd end up running circles around him and feeling annoyed, even though he was a good conversationalist and an interesting person. The flattery of his attention was not enough any more, as I'm holding out for a great fit, not just for a nice guy.
I've learned some surprising things about myself in the dating process.
1. I am much, much shallower about physical appearance than I once believed. My ex was so overweight that I didn't find him attractive at all in the end, despite his sparkling blue eyes and cleft chin. Now, I find that I really only want tall (I'm tall, and I wear heels a lot, and all the men in my family are over six feet tall...), fit men who have good hair (bald can be attractive, and I don't rule it out, but they have to know how to rock the bald head!) and who have a sense of laid-back style. Yes, laid-back style. I do not want a metrosexual who is always more fashionable than I am, but I want a guy who knows how to dress. (The man who showed up in his bike gear at a nice bar made my jaw drop a bit.) A suit at the ballet, nice jeans and shirt for coffee....bike gear only when going on a biking date. Looks matter. It is what it is. I am not a supermodel, but I present myself attractively, and I want someone who does the same.
2. Fitness matters. A lot. I have worked hard on my physical self for a long time: first, as I tried to regain health after cancer, and then as I tried to be fit in general. Our bodies matter. I have found that they matter not just when out on a hike and it's nice to enjoy the scenery instead of huffing and puffing and feeling miserable, but they're nice for everyday activities: when I am fit, EVERYTHING is easier, including quickly cleaning up the dinner dishes, or dashing off on an errand, because my energy levels are higher and I just feel better. What's more, I absolutely love being with a fit person who enjoys eating healthy food with me (which makes the chocolatey dessert we share taste even better!), and who suggests an after dinner walk for miles along the waterfront, because I find that a lot more attractive than plunking down in front of a TV. Yes, I want the "oooohhhhhh!" physical chemistry that fitness provides, but I also want the lifestyle that goes with it.
3. This one hurts to admit, but I'm going to admit it. I want him to offer to pay for the first date. I *always* bring out my wallet to pay, but there is something courtly about a gentleman paying for that date. One bad date (a poor fit in many ways) ordered two glasses of Malbec to my one glass of happy hour house red (see? I shouldn't have done happy hour, I should have stuck to coffee!), and then suggested we split the bill. Really? I did so - the extra ten dollars didn't kill me - but I also declined his request to see me again. Offering to pay for the first meeting sets it up as a date. It also says, "You're worth something to me." It says "I'm taking you out of the friend zone, and into the date zone." At some strange level, it says, "I'd like to invest in this relationship." Now, the feminist in me is strong, alive, and well....and she's slightly appalled at me for feeling this way, but I've given up berating myself for these feelings. If a gentleman doesn't offer sincerely to pay for the first date, I'm less likely to accept a second date. (Note: Luke not only paid for the first date, but when I offered to split the bill he said, "Please let me do this, as the pleasure in meeting you is all mine." Is it any wonder that I ended up sleeping with him?! Also note - I continued to offer to pay for dates when we went out, and more than once I insisted on picking up the whole bill.) I'm not out to use men for financial gain or free meals or what have you, but I want him to pay for that first date. If he doesn't, I assume he's just not that interested.
4. I like my life. Oh, that is bliss. Wow. I like my life. I like my life! I LIKE MY LIFE! No, I love it. Now, as a woman who has been to hell and back, a statement like this one makes me want to get up and dance around the living room in my bare feet. Meeting interesting strangers, hearing about their lives, and telling them about mine, is a reminder of how much I have to be grateful for. Realizing that I do not NEED their companionship to be happy is a gift. Recognizing that my life is so rich and full that I'd need a pretty amazing, special man to add to it - not just any man, but someone extraordinary - is wonderful, because it makes me appreciate what I have so much more.
5. I believe that I'll find what I'm looking for. Nothing is less attractive to me than a man who kvetches about how he can't find what he's looking for and women are too picky and all the good ones are taken etc. (I guess I feel the same way about women who say the same things about men.) Such conversations, even when spoken lightly and with humor to disguise them, are a total turn off. Here's the deal: I believe that there is an amazing, incredible man out there for me, and that I will find him. I believe that the world is full of fascinating people with a great deal to offer. I believe that there are many people out there who want the same things that I do. I believe that we're all struggling, and that for those of us in our forties who are trying to start over after divorce the world is fresh and bright and new, and the best still lies ahead. I also believe that if it takes a long time to find it, that's okay, because it's worth the wait. I mean, I've waited over forty years already...I can handle a few more!
While I've been typing this message, I've been asked out by two men. I woke up this morning to an invitation to a second date from yesterday's date. I'm being very selective (I said no to the two, and I'm not sure yet about what to say to the second date invite....which is at least better than wanting to yell "NO thank you!"), but I feel confident. It'll happen when it happens.
And until then? Wow I'm busy. Back to work for me. :-)
Saturday, August 31, 2013
What a life!
Oh, dear readers, how much has changed since I last popped in here.
On my vacation I had a great deal of time to think about work, life, the meaning of all of it.
And I've made some very big changes.
My last day on the job was yesterday. I have a month's severance - generous of my boss - and her blessing to go out in the world and do what I must do. I have been hitting my network hard - it turns out that I know a lot of people in the non-profit world, and that they are welcoming me with open arms. I'm looking for a position in development, and I am assured by those who know the field locally that I will meet with success sooner rather than later.
It is a leap of faith. After a month, I will panic due to the realities of finance, but I am determined to do this.
I am committed to changing the world. I am committed to doing work that lights my soul on fire, and I am certain as to this path. My resume doesn't contain nonprofit development....but it's what I've done for years on the side, and I'm ready to make it my life's work. (Or part of my life's work, for I have many sides! Mothering, writing, etc. all hold dear places in my heart.)
I've picked up some consulting, I have lunch meetings scheduled (and completed), and I am filled with optimism.
*****
I've been on a few new first dates that are worth mentioning here, too. Date #1: a slooooooooow talker. I talk a million miles a minute, and a slow talker is a comically bad fit for me. Nice guy, very accomplished, very kind....and really, really, really not the guy for me. He asked for another date and was very flattering, and I thought that really he must be clueless (sweet, but clueless) because wow was it a bad fit. Date #2: stop touching me! This guy invaded my space bubble more times than I can count: squeezing my hand, touching my knee, even once touching my face (as I leaned back in amused horror). He was also shorter and more plump than his photos (which included him after completing an Ironman - and he had changed so much that I didn't recognize him when I walked in the room). And Date #3: yesterday, and I haven't figured him out yet. Attractive, good conversationalist....but no sparks. He didn't give signs to me, either, and I have no idea if he will contact me again. I think if he did I would go out with him again because of my own uncertainty - I mean, usually I think "NO!" and so thinking "Maybe?" is actually a vast improvement. But if he doesn't contact me again I won't worry a bit, because it would be lovely to have some sparks.
*****
I'm getting some enforced down time today - my girl has a stomach bug and so we're home instead of at a cabin for the weekend. It's actually nice to catch my breath.
Happy Labor Day!
On my vacation I had a great deal of time to think about work, life, the meaning of all of it.
And I've made some very big changes.
My last day on the job was yesterday. I have a month's severance - generous of my boss - and her blessing to go out in the world and do what I must do. I have been hitting my network hard - it turns out that I know a lot of people in the non-profit world, and that they are welcoming me with open arms. I'm looking for a position in development, and I am assured by those who know the field locally that I will meet with success sooner rather than later.
It is a leap of faith. After a month, I will panic due to the realities of finance, but I am determined to do this.
I am committed to changing the world. I am committed to doing work that lights my soul on fire, and I am certain as to this path. My resume doesn't contain nonprofit development....but it's what I've done for years on the side, and I'm ready to make it my life's work. (Or part of my life's work, for I have many sides! Mothering, writing, etc. all hold dear places in my heart.)
I've picked up some consulting, I have lunch meetings scheduled (and completed), and I am filled with optimism.
*****
I've been on a few new first dates that are worth mentioning here, too. Date #1: a slooooooooow talker. I talk a million miles a minute, and a slow talker is a comically bad fit for me. Nice guy, very accomplished, very kind....and really, really, really not the guy for me. He asked for another date and was very flattering, and I thought that really he must be clueless (sweet, but clueless) because wow was it a bad fit. Date #2: stop touching me! This guy invaded my space bubble more times than I can count: squeezing my hand, touching my knee, even once touching my face (as I leaned back in amused horror). He was also shorter and more plump than his photos (which included him after completing an Ironman - and he had changed so much that I didn't recognize him when I walked in the room). And Date #3: yesterday, and I haven't figured him out yet. Attractive, good conversationalist....but no sparks. He didn't give signs to me, either, and I have no idea if he will contact me again. I think if he did I would go out with him again because of my own uncertainty - I mean, usually I think "NO!" and so thinking "Maybe?" is actually a vast improvement. But if he doesn't contact me again I won't worry a bit, because it would be lovely to have some sparks.
*****
I'm getting some enforced down time today - my girl has a stomach bug and so we're home instead of at a cabin for the weekend. It's actually nice to catch my breath.
Happy Labor Day!
Saturday, April 13, 2013
Of Bras, Panda Pillows, and Blissful Days
I have hesitated to write the first post here, believing that it must be perfect and set the tone for all things perfect in my new blogdom.
Well, if you'd like to read about perfection, you're in the wrong place, so after a week of being frozen, I'm just putting myself out there. I don't think any of my readers wanted perfection - it's so boring after all! - so my hang-ups are all on me. Sometimes I'm slow to learn these lessons.
As a matter of fact, one of the book titles I'm playing with is "Slow Learner." I don't think it'll stick, but I come back to it over and over again. Sometimes it is just so hard to learn the lessons...
But I digress. Let me begin again.
***
Today Katherine and I hit a mother daughter milestone: our first time shopping for bras for her. Now, given that she is ten and only has "mosquito bites" in the bra region, this is a couple years too early, but she was feeling uncomfortable in shirts, starting to hunch her shoulders and wear tank tops under just about everything, so a few girlfriends told me yes, it's time. The bras are more for modesty and her own comfort than support, I'm told.
Okay, then.
My mother didn't ever take me bra shopping. One day I came home from school, and she said "I bought you a present!" and there on my bed was a white lace edged polyester bra and panty set. I was devastated - I wanted to be part of the process, and I wanted a plain white cotton bra with a little pink bow in the middle, just like all of my friends. I was embarrassed by her choice, in the way that only an adolescent girl knows how to be embarrased. I asked her if we could exchange it, and she got mad and told me that nothing she did was good enough for me....
Well, it isn't my favorite memory.
So for Katherine, I asked her quietly if she was ready to go bra shopping. She was, and she let me know she was excited about it. This afternoon, the two of us went out together to an awful mall (all malls are awful, in my opinion) and went bra shopping.
It was all about her.
She got a bright sports bra, and a nude cotton bra and a white cotton bra. We talked a bit about how it seems like white won't show up under clothes, but it really does, and how if she wears the nude ones nobody will see them. We went to Nordstrom to get fitted and we went to her favorite pre-teen girl store, Justice. She got some new clothes (why do they grow so fast?!), and then we went to the (mall awful) restaurant of her choice.
She also got a giant furry blue panda pillow at Justice, and a furry hat with a funny monster face. This is where she is: one moment, poised and asking for bras, and the next, ohhing and ahhing over what is essentially a big stuffed animal. It's confusing, and sometimes it's snarky, but it's also magical. She has one foot firmly in each camp, child and woman, and it is a reminder that I should be grateful that she retains touches of the little girl she once was, because soon they too, will be gone.
In the car, we listened to Adam Levine and Taylor Swift (I can't hear "Trouble" without thinking of the goats now....you know what I mean, right?!) and Macklemore on the way home. I ventured the question, tentatively: "Did you have a good day?" and I got - for once! - the answer I wanted.
"It was a great day. I'm happy, Mom."
A sigh of relief. I did not mess up this day that she will always remember. I honored her, and was able to provide what she needed. I'll never forget this day, either. My daughter took my arm, laughed with me, enjoyed my company. We shared jokes, connected, giggled. I think she felt understood, and I felt appreciated.
Tonight we watched "Back to the Future" together. She protested initially (it's not exactly new and hip), but I insisted. We laughed together over the antics of Marty McFly, we talked about how the movie came out when I was fifteen, and we ate home made popcorn. She loved it as much as I did, and I could barely fathom that I'd first seen the movie as a girl, never comprehending that one day I'd watch it in the basement with my daughter.
Small things. Enormous things. Bliss.
***
My day to day life is more and more about moving forward with the big and small in life, and less and less about divorce. I'm still working out some of the documentation (filing a quit claim on the house is a hassle, but Bryan is working with me on it), but I'm myself again: my name is my own, and I have proof not only on divorce papers, but also on my driver's license, health insurance, Social Security, bank accounts, and passport. With each new document I come alive: I know that I am meant to be the person I am (re)becoming, and the certainty gives me courage.
Katherine announced over dinner a few days ago that it's probably time for me to date. She's ready for me to fall in love with "Mr. Perfect" (her words, not mine!) and is hoping that he has a daughter in middle school that she can play pranks upon. (She has worked out the details of these "hysterical" pranks in great detail.) She has told me I shouldn't date online, because that's "so unromantic." She does not have other suggestions for how I should meet people. I am feeling the pressure - if Mr. Perfect is here, perhaps he could identify himself to me?!
So we move forward. It's imperfect, silly, often exhausting, but it's also pure bliss. My tiny baby, the one who only fit into preemie clothes at first, now wears a little flat beige cotton bra, and has her head on a furry panda pillow this evening. My belly is full of popcorn and bad mall food. My daughter has accepted her life, and is encouraging me to live mine.
And I am happy.
Well, if you'd like to read about perfection, you're in the wrong place, so after a week of being frozen, I'm just putting myself out there. I don't think any of my readers wanted perfection - it's so boring after all! - so my hang-ups are all on me. Sometimes I'm slow to learn these lessons.
As a matter of fact, one of the book titles I'm playing with is "Slow Learner." I don't think it'll stick, but I come back to it over and over again. Sometimes it is just so hard to learn the lessons...
But I digress. Let me begin again.
***
Today Katherine and I hit a mother daughter milestone: our first time shopping for bras for her. Now, given that she is ten and only has "mosquito bites" in the bra region, this is a couple years too early, but she was feeling uncomfortable in shirts, starting to hunch her shoulders and wear tank tops under just about everything, so a few girlfriends told me yes, it's time. The bras are more for modesty and her own comfort than support, I'm told.
Okay, then.
My mother didn't ever take me bra shopping. One day I came home from school, and she said "I bought you a present!" and there on my bed was a white lace edged polyester bra and panty set. I was devastated - I wanted to be part of the process, and I wanted a plain white cotton bra with a little pink bow in the middle, just like all of my friends. I was embarrassed by her choice, in the way that only an adolescent girl knows how to be embarrased. I asked her if we could exchange it, and she got mad and told me that nothing she did was good enough for me....
Well, it isn't my favorite memory.
So for Katherine, I asked her quietly if she was ready to go bra shopping. She was, and she let me know she was excited about it. This afternoon, the two of us went out together to an awful mall (all malls are awful, in my opinion) and went bra shopping.
It was all about her.
She got a bright sports bra, and a nude cotton bra and a white cotton bra. We talked a bit about how it seems like white won't show up under clothes, but it really does, and how if she wears the nude ones nobody will see them. We went to Nordstrom to get fitted and we went to her favorite pre-teen girl store, Justice. She got some new clothes (why do they grow so fast?!), and then we went to the (mall awful) restaurant of her choice.
She also got a giant furry blue panda pillow at Justice, and a furry hat with a funny monster face. This is where she is: one moment, poised and asking for bras, and the next, ohhing and ahhing over what is essentially a big stuffed animal. It's confusing, and sometimes it's snarky, but it's also magical. She has one foot firmly in each camp, child and woman, and it is a reminder that I should be grateful that she retains touches of the little girl she once was, because soon they too, will be gone.
In the car, we listened to Adam Levine and Taylor Swift (I can't hear "Trouble" without thinking of the goats now....you know what I mean, right?!) and Macklemore on the way home. I ventured the question, tentatively: "Did you have a good day?" and I got - for once! - the answer I wanted.
"It was a great day. I'm happy, Mom."
A sigh of relief. I did not mess up this day that she will always remember. I honored her, and was able to provide what she needed. I'll never forget this day, either. My daughter took my arm, laughed with me, enjoyed my company. We shared jokes, connected, giggled. I think she felt understood, and I felt appreciated.
Tonight we watched "Back to the Future" together. She protested initially (it's not exactly new and hip), but I insisted. We laughed together over the antics of Marty McFly, we talked about how the movie came out when I was fifteen, and we ate home made popcorn. She loved it as much as I did, and I could barely fathom that I'd first seen the movie as a girl, never comprehending that one day I'd watch it in the basement with my daughter.
Small things. Enormous things. Bliss.
***
My day to day life is more and more about moving forward with the big and small in life, and less and less about divorce. I'm still working out some of the documentation (filing a quit claim on the house is a hassle, but Bryan is working with me on it), but I'm myself again: my name is my own, and I have proof not only on divorce papers, but also on my driver's license, health insurance, Social Security, bank accounts, and passport. With each new document I come alive: I know that I am meant to be the person I am (re)becoming, and the certainty gives me courage.
Katherine announced over dinner a few days ago that it's probably time for me to date. She's ready for me to fall in love with "Mr. Perfect" (her words, not mine!) and is hoping that he has a daughter in middle school that she can play pranks upon. (She has worked out the details of these "hysterical" pranks in great detail.) She has told me I shouldn't date online, because that's "so unromantic." She does not have other suggestions for how I should meet people. I am feeling the pressure - if Mr. Perfect is here, perhaps he could identify himself to me?!
So we move forward. It's imperfect, silly, often exhausting, but it's also pure bliss. My tiny baby, the one who only fit into preemie clothes at first, now wears a little flat beige cotton bra, and has her head on a furry panda pillow this evening. My belly is full of popcorn and bad mall food. My daughter has accepted her life, and is encouraging me to live mine.
And I am happy.
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