It occurs to me that I have spent most of my 45 years feeling like an embarrassed little kid. I've felt like others were in charge of me - my parents and family, then my husband. There were some gloriously free years in my 20s, but they were marked with a sense that unless I had a partner I was doing it wrong, so I gave my power to boyfriends or men I wished were my boyfriend.
Ouch. That's not exactly the feminist, strong, powerful version of myself that I like best.
Lately I've had plenty of opportunities to explore where I belong: do I belong with the little kids, or the big ones? Do I need to ask permission to do what I want? Do I need to accept the things that other people do, and simply adapt to them, or am I the one making waves?
45 years old and I'm still figuring this out.
I am in the middle of interviewing for an amazing, wonderful, fantastic job. In this job, I'd get to work with my passion AND my professional skills. I'd be doing amazing, meaningful work. And I'd be doing it in a charming part of town, in a beautiful old building, and surrounded by an incredible team of colleagues (many of whom I've already met: they are smart, interesting, motivated, and the kind of people that I like to be friends with).
It's a long story, but I'm about to enter my fifth interview with this organization (tomorrow), and in the process, something in me has changed.
When I got my job during divorce, I was just clinging to life, hoping that I wouldn't drown. Then, when I realized the path I REALLY wanted to take, I felt like I was drowning again as I pursued it and thought that my financial house might go down in flames. When I got the job offer for the place where I now work, I was gasping for breath, fearful, and mostly just RELIEVED that I wasn't going to face utter failure.
But this is different.
This company reached out to me - the friend of a friend of a friend. And I held back at first, not sure that it would go anywhere, and they pursued me. And I got more interested. And I interviewed with lots of higher-ups, and they saw something in me, and let me know it. They treated me like their equal, and made it clear that I belonged in their circle. They asked me hard questions, and I answered them. I asked them hard questions, too, and they answered in response.
And somewhere in the process, my mind has been blown.
For the first time in 45 years, I'm feeling like I belong at the big kids' table. That I can hold my own with the key players. That I am not a fraud, and that I have something big to offer, and that they'd be just as lucky to have me as I would be to have them. To say that this is a different mindset is comically understated. It feels like a shift at the cellular level, that I am not the person that I was a month or two ago.
I do not know what will happen at tomorrow's interview with The Big Boss. I do not know if I'm in the top five candidates, or if I'm the top candidate. I do not know if they will offer me the job, make me interview with twenty more people, or give me a nice little "thanks, but no thanks" speech. I feel confident about my abilities, and about the fit, but I still don't know what will happen. (Put out some good thoughts for me, please. This is a great opportunity in every way for me, and I really want it!)
But what I DO know is that I am worthy of this job. And that if not this job, another one like it. I know that I belong with the big kids. I know that I'm not a fraud. This knowledge changes the way I see everything! Really, it's all different now.
Maybe feeling like a little kid is what makes us get treated like one. Maybe I've been a big kid for a long time and didn't know it, or maybe something really has changed. Whatever it is, I'm starting to feel like I can hold my own, that I belong anywhere I choose. I know that this applies to work, and I think it applies to love, as well.
Stay tuned, because big changes are afoot.
Tomorrow, I'll move to the next level, or face rejection (and I'm pretty sure that big kid rejection hurts just as much as any other kind, and I'll have to manage that if it happens). But I am determined to remember that there is a chair waiting for me at the big kids' table.
Anything is possible. I can't wait to see what happens next!
Monday, February 23, 2015
Sunday, February 8, 2015
Amy Poehler is Smarter Than I Am
The other day, this came through my Facebook page:
...and my head nearly exploded.
I spend a lot of time apologizing: apologizing for being opinionated, for being strong, for being unavailable, for rocking the boat. At work right now, things are pretty bad: my boss has crossed all kinds of HR lines (not sexual ones, but just about every other variety), and he tells me "don't do X" and so I don't and then he says "why didn't you do X?" and it is crazy-making of the extreme variety. He yanked some of my benefits without notice - the very benefit that made this an attractive job, actually. (No more comp time for me.) He refuses to follow best practices for the industry, but doesn't have alternate methods that work. He brought me on board to change things....and then when I try to do my job, he puts up roadblocks at every single step to make it impossible for me to do that job. I identify problems, propose solutions, and he says NO. I say, "How would you like to resolve the problem?" and he walks away.
My response to this has been to bend over backwards trying to make things work. To apologize to him for my misunderstanding, to try to smooth things over and make it all okay for everyone, even as I seethe.
I finally broke down and spoke to a favorite board member off the record, and she nearly exploded. "He did WHAT?" she said. She went on to say that if he treated her like that she wouldn't care what the results were, she'd rip him a new one, etc. etc. etc. (She was quite colorful about it, and it was actually pretty funny. My response? "So, I'm not crazy?" and she said, "Girl, you're crazy for sticking around with that kind of behavior!" and then she begged me to stay anyway and offered to help.)
This is an old pattern, learned early, and it takes me a while to unlearn it. 45 years and counting, actually.
So, enter Ms. Poehler, and the quote in the photo at the top of this post.
Why the hell am I apologizing for improving my organization? Why am I apologizing for being good at what I do? Why am I apologizing for innovation? Why am I apologizing for doing my job? Why am I apologizing for expecting him to live up to his end of the bargain?
I may be a slow learner, but I AM learning, and I'm going to stop apologizing for this nonsense. If I hold my ground, he will blow up (I know that, because he has blown up before). But I am not going to apologize for his response, or make myself smaller than I am. If it doesn't make sense, it doesn't make sense, and I am not going to own his nonsensical reactions any more, trying to Be A Nice Girl.
Being a Nice Girl has gotten me into all kinds of trouble, now that I think about it, and it's the number one thing I'm trying to unlearn. My value is not in how many people like me, especially if they only like me because of what I can do for them, as in the case of my boss. Trying to make him like me is a lost cause, and that sits poorly with me. I try to work harder, smarter, kinder. I try to find the way to apologize for having better ideas, or better rapport with the board, or better documentation, or whatever. Why on earth would I apologize for THAT?
Amy Poehler is much smarter than I am, clearly. But here's something I have in common with her: I like bossy women. I like working with super smart people. I like working with outspoken people who are passionate about what they do, and who are always willing to improve.
So I'm working as hard as I can to honor my existing position despite the challenges, but in the meantime I'm trying to take a GIANT leap professionally to do work that will change the world even as it changes my life. A job with more responsibility, but also more resources, and a team of super smart, interesting colleagues who have indicated their willingness to support me. A chance to play with the Big Kids, as I keep telling my girlfriends. (This makes those friends laugh. They've been Big Kids for a while, and can't entirely relate to my feelings of smallness.) The job I want, well, I am almost ready for it, but I am going to dive in like I am absolutely ready, and I'm going to make it happen.
But there is one thing that Ms. Poehler could learn from me, because she's wrong about this one:
I am as old as I have ever been, but I am only now learning how to take big risks, to release the fear, to find flexibility in my life's path. (Even though my knee hurts!)
I'm more ready now than I was before. I'm going to stop apologizing for who I am when who I am is smart, tenacious, hard working, and respectful of the people around me. I'm going to be more bossy when leadership is needed. And I'm going to do great things professionally, either with the job in front of me for a big national organization, or with the job opportunity that comes after it. I'm ready to take the leap. I trust myself to make it happen, and I'm not going to try to be patient and put it off out of fear.
Even if I am 45, I'm ready to take some bigger risks than ever before, and to make it happen. If not me, it'll be someone else, so why not me?
...and my head nearly exploded.
I spend a lot of time apologizing: apologizing for being opinionated, for being strong, for being unavailable, for rocking the boat. At work right now, things are pretty bad: my boss has crossed all kinds of HR lines (not sexual ones, but just about every other variety), and he tells me "don't do X" and so I don't and then he says "why didn't you do X?" and it is crazy-making of the extreme variety. He yanked some of my benefits without notice - the very benefit that made this an attractive job, actually. (No more comp time for me.) He refuses to follow best practices for the industry, but doesn't have alternate methods that work. He brought me on board to change things....and then when I try to do my job, he puts up roadblocks at every single step to make it impossible for me to do that job. I identify problems, propose solutions, and he says NO. I say, "How would you like to resolve the problem?" and he walks away.
My response to this has been to bend over backwards trying to make things work. To apologize to him for my misunderstanding, to try to smooth things over and make it all okay for everyone, even as I seethe.
I finally broke down and spoke to a favorite board member off the record, and she nearly exploded. "He did WHAT?" she said. She went on to say that if he treated her like that she wouldn't care what the results were, she'd rip him a new one, etc. etc. etc. (She was quite colorful about it, and it was actually pretty funny. My response? "So, I'm not crazy?" and she said, "Girl, you're crazy for sticking around with that kind of behavior!" and then she begged me to stay anyway and offered to help.)
This is an old pattern, learned early, and it takes me a while to unlearn it. 45 years and counting, actually.
So, enter Ms. Poehler, and the quote in the photo at the top of this post.
Why the hell am I apologizing for improving my organization? Why am I apologizing for being good at what I do? Why am I apologizing for innovation? Why am I apologizing for doing my job? Why am I apologizing for expecting him to live up to his end of the bargain?
I may be a slow learner, but I AM learning, and I'm going to stop apologizing for this nonsense. If I hold my ground, he will blow up (I know that, because he has blown up before). But I am not going to apologize for his response, or make myself smaller than I am. If it doesn't make sense, it doesn't make sense, and I am not going to own his nonsensical reactions any more, trying to Be A Nice Girl.
Being a Nice Girl has gotten me into all kinds of trouble, now that I think about it, and it's the number one thing I'm trying to unlearn. My value is not in how many people like me, especially if they only like me because of what I can do for them, as in the case of my boss. Trying to make him like me is a lost cause, and that sits poorly with me. I try to work harder, smarter, kinder. I try to find the way to apologize for having better ideas, or better rapport with the board, or better documentation, or whatever. Why on earth would I apologize for THAT?
Amy Poehler is much smarter than I am, clearly. But here's something I have in common with her: I like bossy women. I like working with super smart people. I like working with outspoken people who are passionate about what they do, and who are always willing to improve.
I often get the feeling that my boss is rooting for my failure, because then his Top Dog Status would remain intact. Recently, I've been rooting for his failure, because he's driving me nuts and I want him to stop bothering me, but that isn't the right answer, either. I'm working on finding a way to use this tension to drive the organization to a better level.
But there is one thing that Ms. Poehler could learn from me, because she's wrong about this one:
I am as old as I have ever been, but I am only now learning how to take big risks, to release the fear, to find flexibility in my life's path. (Even though my knee hurts!)
I'm more ready now than I was before. I'm going to stop apologizing for who I am when who I am is smart, tenacious, hard working, and respectful of the people around me. I'm going to be more bossy when leadership is needed. And I'm going to do great things professionally, either with the job in front of me for a big national organization, or with the job opportunity that comes after it. I'm ready to take the leap. I trust myself to make it happen, and I'm not going to try to be patient and put it off out of fear.
Even if I am 45, I'm ready to take some bigger risks than ever before, and to make it happen. If not me, it'll be someone else, so why not me?
Saturday, February 7, 2015
Other people's lives
Like everyone, I sometimes fall into the trap of thinking, "Wow, I wish my life was more like hers" when I talk to someone who is experiencing something wonderful like romantic love.
But I'm learning, over and over again, that things are not always as they appear.
Yesterday I got my hair cut by a woman who has been part of my social circle for over a decade; I don't know her well, but we know a lot of people in common, and she actually participated on my Breast Cancer 3-Day team many years ago. I hadn't talked to her in ages (she had never done my hair before - I decided to pay for a nice haircut for once, instead of going for the bargain, and so I went to her....but that's another story!), so we were catching up.
She caught me off guard, and said, "I was SO surprised when I heard about your divorce. You were such a happy couple!"
I nearly fell out of the salon chair.
The thing is, I did my absolute utmost to make the best of my life, to make the most of my marriage, to be the kind of spouse I'd want to be married to. I didn't trash talk him (although I did confide in my absolute closest girlfriends), I worked hard at presenting a unified front. The whole time I was dying inside (possibly literally, given my breast cancer) and I felt like a total fraud, very unhappy, lonely, and confused.
But on the outside, it looked like I was a happy hausfrau.
In the past few weeks at my daughter's gymnastics class, I've been on the other side of that equation, feeling surprised at someone else's struggles.
Gymnastics Mom #1 (GM1) has been divorced for a few years. She's got a hotshot career. She's also got a hot boyfriend, and a year or so ago they bought a house together and moved in with one another and their kids. The kids are all besties, the new boyfriend is loving and attractive, and life looked really, really good from the outside. I've asked her how she got her life to this place, and she has glowed and looked happy and said things like "It'll find you when you least expect it!" (True or not, this has to be one of the most annoying phrases ever, but I digress.)
This week, GM1 approached me while our daughters vaulted and balanced and cartwheeled. "I've been wanting to call you," she said. "I need some support." She started to cry. "(Hot boyfriend) told me that it's over, and he's moving out. I didn't see it coming, and I'm devastated, and I can't do this...."
Their children don't know yet. She has to move, because she can't afford to stay in the house they purchased together using their combined income, designed to fit four children. I hugged her and said, "You survived your divorce. You will survive this..." and she said, "No, it's different, this is worse..."
Yikes. From any angle, that looks impossibly painful. :-(
Gymnastics Mom #2 (GM2) has a similar story. Divorced several years, she's in a two year relationship, and they live together with his daughter and her daughter. They go to hot, sunny, Latin American beaches with regularity; they appear to have a discretionary income a zillion times my own. She paints a picture of a perfect life. But I'm listening, and after I got over my burst of jealousy (hey, who wouldn't want what she describes?) I started to hear something more. She wants to get married, he doesn't. It's hard for them to find any time together, and whenever time opens in the schedule he's prone to booking it with something else that doesn't include her. Their lease was due to renew, and he said he only wanted to go month to month because he wasn't sure where there relationship was going. Then she told me that he has tried to break up with her two years in a row because, in her words, "He doesn't know what he wants. He wants me, he's just confused."
Her relationship has all the signs of RUNNNNNNN! I know that it's not mine to judge, but to me it sounds desperately unhappy, and the more that I learn about it the less happy it sounds. Yet, when I first met her, I was convinced that she is the one who had it figured out, and I had much to learn.
I like to stay on the move, changing my life daily for the better. I like to see what I can improve, and improve it. I have lots of goals in my life, and every day I think about how I can reach them: career, financial, romantic, health, travel, writing. It's so easy to see how far I have to go.
Today, I'm stopping and thinking about how my life might look from the outside.
Perhaps people look at me and think "Oh that poor woman! Cancer, divorce, single mom....I don't know how she does it!" and they feel sad or sorry or something.
Or maybe they look at me and feel envious, because I have a meaningful career, a great relationship with my daughter, a comfortable home, health, friends.
My life isn't perfect. I'd really like to drop the muffin top and get back into marathon shape. I REALLY REALLY REALLY want to switch to this new job opportunity, in my field but so much more than my current job. I'd like to fall in love. (Interesting, hmmm? I "REALLY REALLY REALLY" want the new job, but I'd "like" to fall in love. That's a switch! But it's honest.)
Who knows what people see when they look at me. There are elements of truth in both viewpoints, of course, but neither pity nor envy feels like an appropriate response to my life. I love where I am, but the journey here has been difficult, and my path certainly isn't for everyone.
I am going to try to remember that when I look at other people's lives. I'm going to try to remember that most of us are just struggling to make the most of our lives, to do the best we can. I'm going to try to remember that things are not always as they appear, and that unless someone invites me in to their inner circle, I have no way of knowing how things really are.
Today, I'm working on letting go of envy. My life is beautiful, even with all of its imperfections, and I am grateful to be where I am. I'm working at seeing people, with their beauty and imperfections, as people "just like me" and not entirely "other."
I can't help but be astounded that I am so happy, so content, even when I am outside of a romantic relationship. The less I focus on romance, the more content I am, actually. It's not time to buy a dozen cats yet, but I do see the appeal: I am living my life on my terms, and there is joy in that.
Today, I'm sending out good wishes to GM1 and GM2. Whatever my perceptions of their lives, true or false, I hope that they find peace with their paths, that they feel joy in their choices, that they feel loved and accepted. I think that's what we all want, whether in a romantic relationship or not.
What a jolting sensation, to realize that I have put their lives on pedestals, so certain that they had what I'm seeking, only to find out that I am in the more enviable position of being content with where I am, free of heartbreak, at peace in my life. I certainly have a great deal to learn (wouldn't it be nice to feel those things AND have romantic love?), but I have wouldn't trade places with them for anything.
Lessons learned, every day.
But I'm learning, over and over again, that things are not always as they appear.
Yesterday I got my hair cut by a woman who has been part of my social circle for over a decade; I don't know her well, but we know a lot of people in common, and she actually participated on my Breast Cancer 3-Day team many years ago. I hadn't talked to her in ages (she had never done my hair before - I decided to pay for a nice haircut for once, instead of going for the bargain, and so I went to her....but that's another story!), so we were catching up.
She caught me off guard, and said, "I was SO surprised when I heard about your divorce. You were such a happy couple!"
I nearly fell out of the salon chair.
The thing is, I did my absolute utmost to make the best of my life, to make the most of my marriage, to be the kind of spouse I'd want to be married to. I didn't trash talk him (although I did confide in my absolute closest girlfriends), I worked hard at presenting a unified front. The whole time I was dying inside (possibly literally, given my breast cancer) and I felt like a total fraud, very unhappy, lonely, and confused.
But on the outside, it looked like I was a happy hausfrau.
In the past few weeks at my daughter's gymnastics class, I've been on the other side of that equation, feeling surprised at someone else's struggles.
Gymnastics Mom #1 (GM1) has been divorced for a few years. She's got a hotshot career. She's also got a hot boyfriend, and a year or so ago they bought a house together and moved in with one another and their kids. The kids are all besties, the new boyfriend is loving and attractive, and life looked really, really good from the outside. I've asked her how she got her life to this place, and she has glowed and looked happy and said things like "It'll find you when you least expect it!" (True or not, this has to be one of the most annoying phrases ever, but I digress.)
This week, GM1 approached me while our daughters vaulted and balanced and cartwheeled. "I've been wanting to call you," she said. "I need some support." She started to cry. "(Hot boyfriend) told me that it's over, and he's moving out. I didn't see it coming, and I'm devastated, and I can't do this...."
Their children don't know yet. She has to move, because she can't afford to stay in the house they purchased together using their combined income, designed to fit four children. I hugged her and said, "You survived your divorce. You will survive this..." and she said, "No, it's different, this is worse..."
Yikes. From any angle, that looks impossibly painful. :-(
Gymnastics Mom #2 (GM2) has a similar story. Divorced several years, she's in a two year relationship, and they live together with his daughter and her daughter. They go to hot, sunny, Latin American beaches with regularity; they appear to have a discretionary income a zillion times my own. She paints a picture of a perfect life. But I'm listening, and after I got over my burst of jealousy (hey, who wouldn't want what she describes?) I started to hear something more. She wants to get married, he doesn't. It's hard for them to find any time together, and whenever time opens in the schedule he's prone to booking it with something else that doesn't include her. Their lease was due to renew, and he said he only wanted to go month to month because he wasn't sure where there relationship was going. Then she told me that he has tried to break up with her two years in a row because, in her words, "He doesn't know what he wants. He wants me, he's just confused."
Her relationship has all the signs of RUNNNNNNN! I know that it's not mine to judge, but to me it sounds desperately unhappy, and the more that I learn about it the less happy it sounds. Yet, when I first met her, I was convinced that she is the one who had it figured out, and I had much to learn.
I like to stay on the move, changing my life daily for the better. I like to see what I can improve, and improve it. I have lots of goals in my life, and every day I think about how I can reach them: career, financial, romantic, health, travel, writing. It's so easy to see how far I have to go.
Today, I'm stopping and thinking about how my life might look from the outside.
Perhaps people look at me and think "Oh that poor woman! Cancer, divorce, single mom....I don't know how she does it!" and they feel sad or sorry or something.
Or maybe they look at me and feel envious, because I have a meaningful career, a great relationship with my daughter, a comfortable home, health, friends.
My life isn't perfect. I'd really like to drop the muffin top and get back into marathon shape. I REALLY REALLY REALLY want to switch to this new job opportunity, in my field but so much more than my current job. I'd like to fall in love. (Interesting, hmmm? I "REALLY REALLY REALLY" want the new job, but I'd "like" to fall in love. That's a switch! But it's honest.)
Who knows what people see when they look at me. There are elements of truth in both viewpoints, of course, but neither pity nor envy feels like an appropriate response to my life. I love where I am, but the journey here has been difficult, and my path certainly isn't for everyone.
I am going to try to remember that when I look at other people's lives. I'm going to try to remember that most of us are just struggling to make the most of our lives, to do the best we can. I'm going to try to remember that things are not always as they appear, and that unless someone invites me in to their inner circle, I have no way of knowing how things really are.
Today, I'm working on letting go of envy. My life is beautiful, even with all of its imperfections, and I am grateful to be where I am. I'm working at seeing people, with their beauty and imperfections, as people "just like me" and not entirely "other."
I can't help but be astounded that I am so happy, so content, even when I am outside of a romantic relationship. The less I focus on romance, the more content I am, actually. It's not time to buy a dozen cats yet, but I do see the appeal: I am living my life on my terms, and there is joy in that.
Today, I'm sending out good wishes to GM1 and GM2. Whatever my perceptions of their lives, true or false, I hope that they find peace with their paths, that they feel joy in their choices, that they feel loved and accepted. I think that's what we all want, whether in a romantic relationship or not.
What a jolting sensation, to realize that I have put their lives on pedestals, so certain that they had what I'm seeking, only to find out that I am in the more enviable position of being content with where I am, free of heartbreak, at peace in my life. I certainly have a great deal to learn (wouldn't it be nice to feel those things AND have romantic love?), but I have wouldn't trade places with them for anything.
Lessons learned, every day.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Leaps of Faith
I'm getting better at taking the leap of faith.
Leap #1: that trip to Europe, mentioned in my last post. My parents told me that I was crazy, didn't support me, suggested that I'd get murdered in my sleep in the youth hostel. I went anyway, despite the fears they instilled in me, despite the fact that I'd never done anything like that, despite the fact that nobody in my family traveled (ironic, given my grandparents' emigration from Germany) and learned that I was indeed a world traveler, and that I did actually have access to the great works of art, castles, and sights that had previously only existed for me in books. I spent my entire meagre savings, quit my job, and made my dreams happen by heading to Europe alone with a backpack and Eurail pass. That trip changed who I am and my understanding of the big wide world and my place in it. I came back, got a new job, and reentered my life an altered person, better than before.
Leap #2: I decided to believe that I could handle the never ending surgeries, the chemo, the radiation, and that if I kept going the treatment itself wouldn't kill me, decided that I could handle the pain, decided that my life was worth it. It's nearly ten years later, and here I am!
Leap #3: I decided that if cancer didn't kill me, I could survive a divorce, even if I didn't have money or income or any understanding at all of how I could create a new life. Leap #3 came from a gut feeling that my daughter's life would be better if I left an ugly marriage, and that I could give her more outside that marriage than within it. Nearly four years after that decision, here I am, in a life a million times better than my married life; my daughter is thriving, and her life is better, too.
Three leaps so far, and they gave me the world, my life, and a renewed sense of the possible. Along the way, there have been missteps, or detours, that's for sure. My path is not a straight line, and there have been many steps backwards, and much confusion, but still, I took the leaps, and they have landed me here today.
I am getting ready for leap #4.
Leap #4 is about believing that I belong with the best in my professional field. It's about believing in my ability to land the BIG job, and to have amazing success within that job. It's about making a huge impact with my work. It's about using my career path to change the face of cancer forever. It's about believing that I am not meant to do small things, and I am not meant to work with small people.
It's about believing that I can work with the best and the brightest, and that I need not huddle with the the masses, but that my professional life has meaning in this world. It's about believing that I can be happy at work. It's about believing in my ability to make a difference.
It's about believing that I will be accepted into the circles of these professionals, embraced as one of their own.
For all of this to happen, I have to believe that I belong, that they are not doing me favors by hiring me, and that with hard work, time, and grace, I can be among their best.
It's about believing that my current salary is not a reflection of my worth, and that I my talents, education, and experience are worth more.
It's about believing in my ability to give my daughter the gift of travel, and the gift of education (opening new opportunities for high school and college if I have more income).
It's about believing that I deserve to work in a functional work space, with brilliant, compassionate people. It's about believing that my donors will respond well to me and to what I offer them. It's about believing that I will be taken seriously when I ask for a million dollar gift to fight cancer. (A million dollars, and I want them to give it away, and they will say yes. How cool is that?) It's about my ability to believe that I can play with the big kids and hold my own.
I'm going to give it my all, and I'm going to take the leap. It's a huge leap. Maybe, it's my biggest leap yet, and it's a game changer. I feel the change happening inside myself at a cellular level: my belief in my abilities is changing, and my understanding of my place in the world is changing.
I think I'll get the job. I really do. (This, in itself, is a miracle. Six months ago I would have told you that you were CRAZY if you suggested that this kind of job would be on the table in 2015.) But if I don't? I'll get another job like it. I am determined, and I have faith that this is the path I am meant to be on, so I won't give up. I'm ready to live BIG and the world is ready for me to live BIG, too.
***
I have a really, really hard time believing that all things happen for a reason. How does that help the alcoholic sleeping on a park bench? And what about AIDS babies? And victims of domestic abuse? What on earth can be good about those things? People waste their talents all the time even when they have access to a better path, and then of course there are children living in a garbage dump in Mumbai. (I could not finish "Behind the Beautiful Forevers" by Katherine Boo. It hurt too much to know that it was real.)
I do not understand pain and suffering on a global level. It is beyond my ability to comprehend.
But I am learning that the pain and suffering in my own one small life has had meaning.
Every obstacle that has been placed in front of me has taught me something about myself and given me access to entirely new worlds. I know that sometimes in the heat of it (say, the heat of a third degree radiation burn) it was hard to locate the power that is being unlocked (as I whimpered through round the clock wound care on a three hour cycle to fight a threatened staph infection), but I am learning that the power will come.
I am starting to understand something about grace and its place in my life. Somehow, good things are coming to me, if I will get out of my own way. I may fall down several more times.....I do not forget that less than a year ago I was unemployed and panicking, and that I was losing hope every minute, and a year isn't a very long time to have passed since then.....but I have to have faith in my ability to turn these twists and turns into something good, too.
If I didn't have cancer, I wouldn't have learned that I had the strength to get divorced, and I wouldn't have understood the urgency of doing something more with my life.
If I didn't get divorced, I wouldn't have been "forced" back to work.
If I didn't work at a job that paid reasonably well and didn't stress me out but bored me out of my mind, I wouldn't have understood how much I needed to connect to my work at a deeper level.
If I didn't mention my job dissatisfaction to my boss, I could have stayed there forever. But when I told her - my friend! - that I could not imagine being in the jewelry business for the rest of my life, she forced my hand, and I was fledged from the nest and learned that I could fly doing meaningful (to me) nonprofit work.
If my current employer wasn't so insanely dysfunctional, I would have stayed there for several years, maybe more, at a below-industry-standard wage, working with people who are not at the top of their games, thinking small. But because my boss treats me poorly and the organization isn't well run, I have to move on.
And because I have to move on, I'm going to grab ahold of the job that touches my soul, and I'm going to get a huge raise in the process. I'm going to work in an attractive office with interesting people, doing much more interesting work, with a much bigger impact on the world.
***
What leap do you need to take?
What pain and suffering has lead you to a better place?
How can your current suffering take you to the place you want to go?
***
Ready, set....JUMP!
Leap #1: that trip to Europe, mentioned in my last post. My parents told me that I was crazy, didn't support me, suggested that I'd get murdered in my sleep in the youth hostel. I went anyway, despite the fears they instilled in me, despite the fact that I'd never done anything like that, despite the fact that nobody in my family traveled (ironic, given my grandparents' emigration from Germany) and learned that I was indeed a world traveler, and that I did actually have access to the great works of art, castles, and sights that had previously only existed for me in books. I spent my entire meagre savings, quit my job, and made my dreams happen by heading to Europe alone with a backpack and Eurail pass. That trip changed who I am and my understanding of the big wide world and my place in it. I came back, got a new job, and reentered my life an altered person, better than before.
Leap #2: I decided to believe that I could handle the never ending surgeries, the chemo, the radiation, and that if I kept going the treatment itself wouldn't kill me, decided that I could handle the pain, decided that my life was worth it. It's nearly ten years later, and here I am!
Leap #3: I decided that if cancer didn't kill me, I could survive a divorce, even if I didn't have money or income or any understanding at all of how I could create a new life. Leap #3 came from a gut feeling that my daughter's life would be better if I left an ugly marriage, and that I could give her more outside that marriage than within it. Nearly four years after that decision, here I am, in a life a million times better than my married life; my daughter is thriving, and her life is better, too.
Three leaps so far, and they gave me the world, my life, and a renewed sense of the possible. Along the way, there have been missteps, or detours, that's for sure. My path is not a straight line, and there have been many steps backwards, and much confusion, but still, I took the leaps, and they have landed me here today.
I am getting ready for leap #4.
Leap #4 is about believing that I belong with the best in my professional field. It's about believing in my ability to land the BIG job, and to have amazing success within that job. It's about making a huge impact with my work. It's about using my career path to change the face of cancer forever. It's about believing that I am not meant to do small things, and I am not meant to work with small people.
It's about believing that I can work with the best and the brightest, and that I need not huddle with the the masses, but that my professional life has meaning in this world. It's about believing that I can be happy at work. It's about believing in my ability to make a difference.
It's about believing that I will be accepted into the circles of these professionals, embraced as one of their own.
For all of this to happen, I have to believe that I belong, that they are not doing me favors by hiring me, and that with hard work, time, and grace, I can be among their best.
It's about believing that my current salary is not a reflection of my worth, and that I my talents, education, and experience are worth more.
It's about believing in my ability to give my daughter the gift of travel, and the gift of education (opening new opportunities for high school and college if I have more income).
It's about believing that I deserve to work in a functional work space, with brilliant, compassionate people. It's about believing that my donors will respond well to me and to what I offer them. It's about believing that I will be taken seriously when I ask for a million dollar gift to fight cancer. (A million dollars, and I want them to give it away, and they will say yes. How cool is that?) It's about my ability to believe that I can play with the big kids and hold my own.
I'm going to give it my all, and I'm going to take the leap. It's a huge leap. Maybe, it's my biggest leap yet, and it's a game changer. I feel the change happening inside myself at a cellular level: my belief in my abilities is changing, and my understanding of my place in the world is changing.
I think I'll get the job. I really do. (This, in itself, is a miracle. Six months ago I would have told you that you were CRAZY if you suggested that this kind of job would be on the table in 2015.) But if I don't? I'll get another job like it. I am determined, and I have faith that this is the path I am meant to be on, so I won't give up. I'm ready to live BIG and the world is ready for me to live BIG, too.
***
I have a really, really hard time believing that all things happen for a reason. How does that help the alcoholic sleeping on a park bench? And what about AIDS babies? And victims of domestic abuse? What on earth can be good about those things? People waste their talents all the time even when they have access to a better path, and then of course there are children living in a garbage dump in Mumbai. (I could not finish "Behind the Beautiful Forevers" by Katherine Boo. It hurt too much to know that it was real.)
I do not understand pain and suffering on a global level. It is beyond my ability to comprehend.
But I am learning that the pain and suffering in my own one small life has had meaning.
Every obstacle that has been placed in front of me has taught me something about myself and given me access to entirely new worlds. I know that sometimes in the heat of it (say, the heat of a third degree radiation burn) it was hard to locate the power that is being unlocked (as I whimpered through round the clock wound care on a three hour cycle to fight a threatened staph infection), but I am learning that the power will come.
I am starting to understand something about grace and its place in my life. Somehow, good things are coming to me, if I will get out of my own way. I may fall down several more times.....I do not forget that less than a year ago I was unemployed and panicking, and that I was losing hope every minute, and a year isn't a very long time to have passed since then.....but I have to have faith in my ability to turn these twists and turns into something good, too.
If I didn't have cancer, I wouldn't have learned that I had the strength to get divorced, and I wouldn't have understood the urgency of doing something more with my life.
If I didn't get divorced, I wouldn't have been "forced" back to work.
If I didn't work at a job that paid reasonably well and didn't stress me out but bored me out of my mind, I wouldn't have understood how much I needed to connect to my work at a deeper level.
If I didn't mention my job dissatisfaction to my boss, I could have stayed there forever. But when I told her - my friend! - that I could not imagine being in the jewelry business for the rest of my life, she forced my hand, and I was fledged from the nest and learned that I could fly doing meaningful (to me) nonprofit work.
If my current employer wasn't so insanely dysfunctional, I would have stayed there for several years, maybe more, at a below-industry-standard wage, working with people who are not at the top of their games, thinking small. But because my boss treats me poorly and the organization isn't well run, I have to move on.
And because I have to move on, I'm going to grab ahold of the job that touches my soul, and I'm going to get a huge raise in the process. I'm going to work in an attractive office with interesting people, doing much more interesting work, with a much bigger impact on the world.
***
What leap do you need to take?
What pain and suffering has lead you to a better place?
How can your current suffering take you to the place you want to go?
***
Ready, set....JUMP!
Monday, January 19, 2015
My year: Extraordinary. World altering. Big.
I'm working on my life's makeover version 10.0....or maybe it's version 45. I swear I've more than my share of life makeovers, struggling to find my place in the world, and sometimes making dramatic changes to make that life happen.
My family of origin doesn't understand my life most of the time. When I wanted to buy a Eurorail pass and travel Europe when I was in college, they told me it was a "stupid, wasteful" idea, and that I wouldn't be safe, and that a woman shouldn't do such things. When I got a job in corporate America, my family moaned that I was an old maid and said, "Why aren't you married?" (I am not making up the old maid thing. I was married near my 30th birthday, and my parents repeatedly told me that I was an old maid. When I got married, they told Bryan "Thank you for preventing her from being an old maid," without a hint of irony or humor.) They do not understand where I choose to live (within the city limits of a large city, in a neighborhood with -gasp!- people of color and GBLT folks, where houses are not all painted nearly identical shades of taupe), or my politics, or the fact that I have stepped away from my childhood's faith. They can hardly imagine how I have become a forty-something divorced single working mother with lefty-liberal politics, working in non-profit.
They have learned to accept me for some of these things. It is impossible to dismiss the happiness that some of my choices have brought me, and if you listened to my mother talk about the trip to Europe twenty-some years ago, it sounds like a) she was in full support the whole time, and that b) she lives vicariously through that trip. Revisionist history, perhaps, but I am also aware that it's her way of trying to connect with me.
Cancer was one hell of a life makeover. Not only did it alter my body permanently, it also altered the rest of me. It showed me parts of myself that had only been hinted at previously, and gave me a glimpse of what I was capable of. I put that glimpse into full working mode with my divorce, facing the idea that maybe, just maybe, I could transition from stay-at-home-mom-cancer-patient to a working single mother without collapsing and dying in the process. But was even more than that, as big as that was: it was the idea that outside of my marriage was something deeper and bigger than I'd allowed myself to dream of, and that I wanted something more than the life I was living. To life my life fully, I needed divorce, and the life makeover that came with that.
So far, so good. I've gone from fighting for my life, scrambling for the basics, to exhaling. I have a happy life.
Isn't that wonderful? What a sentence, "I have a happy life." I do not take that short little sentence lightly, I do not forget that it is extraordinary and not at all a given. I have health, a strong relationship with my daughter, a warm and comfortable home. I am surrounded by dear friends, books, safety, interests. There is always food in my refrigerator, and happy little stashes of light bulbs and batteries and toilet paper and toothpaste in the drawers and cupboards. Music plays. There are pretty mugs to drink coffee in, a yard with a swingset. When it's cold, I wear a down coat or a wool one, depending upon the event; when it's hot, I can choose which pair of sandals to wear. There are invitations to join friends, school events, people gathered around my table.
None of that is taken for granted, not even for one second.
And now I am ready for something more.
2014 brought about some amazing things in my life. I went from a job back to a career - a hard fought battle, and I won! I do work that is meaningful in the world, and that makes me want to do a happy little dance. But that's not all! Buying a new car - not a "it's not much more than functional, but it will do" car, but a shiny new car with a few bells and whistles that makes me feel happy to get into it. It's so symbolic: I committed to this big expense with the belief that I could handle it....and that I was worth it. Believing that I am worth it, that I need not feel guilt over having nice things, well, that's new. And extraordinary.
And there's more: Skiing! Skiing is a rich people's sport, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. A pair of decent gloves costs $50+ dollars, and gloves are the least of it. But I have wanted to turn my daughter into a skier since before she was born, and at last, I'm doing it. It's not practical...but it's important to me. It's living fully. It's a chance to do physical activity (and let's not forget, our great ideas are nothing if we are not alive to think them), to be out in nature, to bond with my daughter over a mutual activity. It's a chance to be social with like minded people. It's a chance to get out of Seattle rain in the winter. And it's a chance to feel the joyful "whoosh!" of speed, the laughter of landing in a snowbank, the thrill of the quick turn executed successfully. It's a chance to stretch ourselves and learn something new, to test our bodies. And it's also cocoa in a thermos waiting in the car, and coming home to watch a movie, tired but happy.
And I made it happen. In borrowed ski pants for me, and hand me down ski coat for Tessa; with neck warmers purchased in about 1990, and ski goggles that are equally ancient; with rental equipment in the shiny new rack on top of my shiny new car, we did it.
And it's time for more. Much, much more.
I am ready for the next step in my career, and I have my eyes set upon something beautiful. I had a meeting last week with a local cancer agency, and I feel that the possibility is strong that I will work for them (likely in late spring, if my gut is correct). It would come with a big raise - not to be taken lightly, as it would be life altering financially - but that isn't the half of it. It would also come with the chance to make an even bigger difference in the world. It would test my new professional skills, and also give me more tools professionally. It would allow me to work with "the best."
I am not thinking small. I am thinking BIG. And I am on my way.
And writing: I'm onto something, and I feel it, and there has been a shift in the wind, and I'm about to do something more than I've ever done before. I have my Big Idea and it's unfolding every day, and I'm going to make it happen.
I am absolutely finished with living small. Done. Do you hear me? I mean this. I am so absolutely tired of thinking small: of fighting to pay the mortgage with enough left over for classroom field trip fees. I'm tired of a boss who borders on the ridiculous, thinking small while puffing himself up in an order to appear large (and in the process, looking, well, puffy); I'm ready for a boss who is a mentor and who brings out the best in me. I'm tired of staying so close to home, and I want to travel. I'm tired of telling myself that I'm nobody special and my writing will never amount to anything more than journaling. I have something to say, and this year I AM GOING TO SAY IT. I am going to ski (that's big!) and make my career take off and hike to beautiful places and travel (not sure about that one yet, only that I'm working on it) and I'm going to do all of this with my beautiful daughter at my side and enjoy all the tiny moments and revel in the giant leaps.
And love. I will not forget romantic love. I have some things left to learn, and I am going to work hard at learning them. I do not have a plan, but I do have a new openness that was missing before; an openness to recognizing where I have room to grow. Stay tuned on that, it's new, but I am working on it.
2015 is going to be my year. I'm going to work hard at making it happen, and I am going to work on it being BIG.
This is my year of "Yes." Bring it on!
***
Where have you been living small? What is your "big" and what are you doing to reach it? What is your "YES"? I'd love to hear your story, too. We're in this together, so let's do it!
Saturday, January 10, 2015
I'd rather be a crazy cat lady.
I almost went on another date. (I've long since lost count of how many dates I've been on since my divorce, but too many.) I haven't been on a date since...hmmm, summer?... and I wasn't really looking, but a person from real life (not online) contacted me through LinkedIN. At first I thought it was just another professional connection - he's in a similar industry - but we exchanged a couple of emails and he made it clear that he was interested in me personally. He pointed out the things we have in common, asked me to meet him.
I know his ex-wife, although not well, so I hesitated. My radar was up: something seemed a bit off, so I was going to say no. But then I thought, "Okay, missy, what are you doing here? He's tall and attractive, lives close by, shares interests, is an active dad, we have some friends in common, and he's interested in you. No wonder you're alone if you won't even give him time to have coffee!" so I deleted my "no thank you" response before I sent it, and sent something warmer.
But that radar was still up, so I asked him where he was living since his separation.
His answer? With his wife. They no longer have a sexual relationship, but they are "mindful" and things are so much better now; they consider themselves separated, but still live together. (There is no ex-wife, then. There is only a wife.) Their lives are "emmeshed" but they are exploring different things, and he has started dating. And he hoped that this didn't send me running, because he and I have "so much in common" and he's "really excited" to connect with me.
I hope that my response was polite. I did tell him that I wished him, and his wife, every happiness on their new path. I also made it super clear that I wanted no part of it, and that I would not meet for coffee or anything else.
***
I know that I'm not a little girl any more, and that the Cinderella fairy tale with Prince Charming isn't going to happen. First of all, I'm not exactly sitting in the ashes of the fire wishing someone would rescue me - I've got things pretty together and I don't want a rescuer to change my whole life, I want a partner to build our lives together. I want synergy, not rescue. Secondly, though I expect my prince to come with his own history (I am not virginal, nor a blank slate, and nor do I expect him to be) I'd like to think that I could be the only woman he shares his bed with, and that at the end of the day he wouldn't have another partner at home with whom he shares his evening glass of wine. Call me crazy, but I am keeping the fantasy that I will find a partner who doesn't already have a wife, whether it's in name only or not.
Jane Eyre has long been a favorite book of mine. I love that Jane stuck to her values and left her beloved, not because of an archaic idea of marriage (Mr. Rochester needed a divorce!) but because if a man lies about his past, or keeps a wife in his attic, he is not marriage material. He is not boyfriend material. He is not relationship material. I love that Jane had the strength of character to walk away from him when he was an ass to her. I like that they worked it out in the end - it made for a good story!- but I don't think that Bronte was being that subtle when she maimed him by fire before there could be a happily ever after. Perhaps the reason that I'm not a world-famous author and part of the literary canon is that if I wrote that story, in the end, Jane wouldn't have come back. (Hmm. Maybe there are reasons that I'm alone!)
Every day, I settle more and more into my single life. I am good at being single, good at occupying myself so that loneliness is not the center of my life.
I do feel loneliness. This world is made for twos, not ones. Sometimes I feel it when something good happens, and I want to share it. Sometimes I feel it when I climb into my bed alone. Sometimes I feel it when - like today - a weekend opens before me and Katherine is with her dad. Sometimes I feel it around holidays. It's there most of the time, but I am adept at pushing it to the edges. It's like I've put myself in mosquito netting so that the insects can't bite me, but still, here I am inside netting, with buzzing in my ears, seeing the mosquitoes land only inches from me, just looking for a break in the netting where they can come in and gorge themselves upon me. It is not easy walking around the world covered in netting, attempting to blend in.
Still, I would rather be a crazy cat lady, surrounded by art and books and friends, than date someone else's husband, no matter how mindfully that husband conducts his separated marriage.
Call me conventional, but I want a conventional relationship. One where there are only the two of us romantically entangled, with nobody else sharing our hearts or beds. One where we can shape some new kind of family. One where, at the end of our days of work and kids and friends and chores, we only need one another.
But if I can't have that, I guess I should look into cat adoptions.
I know his ex-wife, although not well, so I hesitated. My radar was up: something seemed a bit off, so I was going to say no. But then I thought, "Okay, missy, what are you doing here? He's tall and attractive, lives close by, shares interests, is an active dad, we have some friends in common, and he's interested in you. No wonder you're alone if you won't even give him time to have coffee!" so I deleted my "no thank you" response before I sent it, and sent something warmer.
But that radar was still up, so I asked him where he was living since his separation.
His answer? With his wife. They no longer have a sexual relationship, but they are "mindful" and things are so much better now; they consider themselves separated, but still live together. (There is no ex-wife, then. There is only a wife.) Their lives are "emmeshed" but they are exploring different things, and he has started dating. And he hoped that this didn't send me running, because he and I have "so much in common" and he's "really excited" to connect with me.
I hope that my response was polite. I did tell him that I wished him, and his wife, every happiness on their new path. I also made it super clear that I wanted no part of it, and that I would not meet for coffee or anything else.
***
I know that I'm not a little girl any more, and that the Cinderella fairy tale with Prince Charming isn't going to happen. First of all, I'm not exactly sitting in the ashes of the fire wishing someone would rescue me - I've got things pretty together and I don't want a rescuer to change my whole life, I want a partner to build our lives together. I want synergy, not rescue. Secondly, though I expect my prince to come with his own history (I am not virginal, nor a blank slate, and nor do I expect him to be) I'd like to think that I could be the only woman he shares his bed with, and that at the end of the day he wouldn't have another partner at home with whom he shares his evening glass of wine. Call me crazy, but I am keeping the fantasy that I will find a partner who doesn't already have a wife, whether it's in name only or not.
Jane Eyre has long been a favorite book of mine. I love that Jane stuck to her values and left her beloved, not because of an archaic idea of marriage (Mr. Rochester needed a divorce!) but because if a man lies about his past, or keeps a wife in his attic, he is not marriage material. He is not boyfriend material. He is not relationship material. I love that Jane had the strength of character to walk away from him when he was an ass to her. I like that they worked it out in the end - it made for a good story!- but I don't think that Bronte was being that subtle when she maimed him by fire before there could be a happily ever after. Perhaps the reason that I'm not a world-famous author and part of the literary canon is that if I wrote that story, in the end, Jane wouldn't have come back. (Hmm. Maybe there are reasons that I'm alone!)
Every day, I settle more and more into my single life. I am good at being single, good at occupying myself so that loneliness is not the center of my life.
I do feel loneliness. This world is made for twos, not ones. Sometimes I feel it when something good happens, and I want to share it. Sometimes I feel it when I climb into my bed alone. Sometimes I feel it when - like today - a weekend opens before me and Katherine is with her dad. Sometimes I feel it around holidays. It's there most of the time, but I am adept at pushing it to the edges. It's like I've put myself in mosquito netting so that the insects can't bite me, but still, here I am inside netting, with buzzing in my ears, seeing the mosquitoes land only inches from me, just looking for a break in the netting where they can come in and gorge themselves upon me. It is not easy walking around the world covered in netting, attempting to blend in.
Still, I would rather be a crazy cat lady, surrounded by art and books and friends, than date someone else's husband, no matter how mindfully that husband conducts his separated marriage.
Call me conventional, but I want a conventional relationship. One where there are only the two of us romantically entangled, with nobody else sharing our hearts or beds. One where we can shape some new kind of family. One where, at the end of our days of work and kids and friends and chores, we only need one another.
But if I can't have that, I guess I should look into cat adoptions.
Sunday, January 4, 2015
Early morning stillness
Good morning, readers.
Well, it's morning as I write this, anyway. I awoke with a start at 4am today, certain that someone had banged loudly on the wall of my bedroom, and my heart was in my throat and I was prepared to call 911 before I was even fully awake. Before I reached for the phone, though, I heard another sound: the dog's rhythmic deep sleep breathing, and I realized that if there had been a real problem, he'd be on his feet, all 80 pounds of him tense and alert, not softly snoring from his dog bed. The noise was only a part of my dream (already forgotten), but the little adrenaline surge was real enough, and I've been awake since then, unable to fall back asleep.
I love the wee hours of the morning, though, so all is well. Last night, as always, I set the coffee pot, so all that I had to do was fill my cup to start enjoying it. Today, being Sunday, I returned to bed with it, a luxurious day stretching out before me to do as I please. Today I will have a longer than usual Sunday, a longer than usual stretch of time, all because of that imaginary banging. Perhaps that banging was a gift, and not a nightmare.
In the stillness, while it is still dark outside, I can think.
So often, my brain is taken up with useless things that prevent me from thinking. I worry about money, about work, about whether I ran the dishwasher, about the gutters that are at least a year overdue for cleaning. I worry that I will never find a romantic partner, that I have put on weight (I have), that I don't know where to send Katherine for high school because I don't like the local school and I can't afford private school. Worry and fear are not the same thing. I spend a great deal of time doing things (like cooking, working, cleaning, and fun things like roller skating or hiking, too) but that's not thinking, either.
For me, thinking involves vast quantities of silence, of stillness. Perhaps a paper and pen, perhaps a keyboard and a screen. It involves uninterrupted time.
Ah, blissful time. And today I get a little extra, before Katherine awakes, in order to ponder my life.
I've been pondering for about four hours now.
I've been thinking about the difference between perfect and flawed. Perhaps perfection is an imaginary state, and it is the seeking of perfection that is most flawed of all. I wonder if my imperfect, flawed life is actually the height of bliss, and that in declaring it imperfect I am throwing away the beautiful gift that it is. Do I see only the tiny bank balance, the full gutters, the ten (or more?!) pounds of winter weight gain? Do I see only several feet of scars criss-crossing my torso, mutilated breasts? Do I see only the lack of a partner, the lack of travel? I think about how Katherine needs the next phase of orthodonture, and I haven't been to the dentist in far too long because I don't want the bill, and I shudder.
I see those things. Boy, do I see them. They churn in my stomach and they press behind my eyes and the combination makes me nauseous and sometimes they make me want to crawl into a dark quiet place and curl up in a ball. I am not immune to fear, sadness, anxiety.
And yet...
And yet I am committed to seeing the beauty and richness of my life. Dare I say it: I dare to see its perfections.
I am reminded of Mary Oliver's poem The Ponds.
It is true that I am "blighted, slumped". And yet, that's only in the perspective. I am also "rife and wild".
I live in a comfortable home that is often filled with friends and family. My daughter is made of light and love, and brings me the kind of pride that makes my eyes prickle with feeling. My body takes me through the woods, or around a roller skating rink (yesterday's adventure: I hadn't roller skated in YEARS and I was terrible but it was more fun than I imagined). My job is so imperfect, but it's important work that I believe in.
I believe.
***
I am proud of my strength, my bravery, but again and again I am tested. Today I will face my resume head on, preparing it for distribution to future employers, preparing to change my life once again. This small sentence fills me with fear, doubt, uncertainty. Looking at myself from outside of myself, I want to say, "Oh, come on. What's the big deal? You have a job, you have people knocking on your door to talk about work...certainly you have what it takes, and if they reject you, so what?" Well, rejection is a rotten beast, and I fear it. I fear that my bravery is what is false, and the fear is what is real.
I fear that I am not actually good enough to get what I want. I fear that I will be put off, dismissed, that they will see through me and know that I shouldn't get what I want. I fear that I do not know how to run my life, that my dreams are foolish. I fear my imperfections.
I fear, too, that I have been alone too long, and that I am no longer partner material because I have grown too set in my ways about how I wish to live, and too fearful about letting someone in.
I fear that I am not beautiful enough, smart enough, or interesting enough.
I fear that I am not creative enough to pursue my deepest dreams.
I fear that I am inconsequential, and that I waste my life.
That is a lot of fear, and when I write it down like that I fear that it is far bigger than I am, and that it will overwhelm me, and I wonder if I should go back to bed. Perhaps I WILL go back to bed, or to Netflix, or to busy work that is meaningless but makes me look productive.
Or maybe I will hit "publish" on this, and open up my resume document, and start adding information about my last job, and take a risk that I can do it, and that if I fail, I will survive my failure.
No.
I will hit publish on this, and open up my resume document, and start adding information about my last job, and take a risk that I can do it, and have faith that I can make this thing happen, and that my future life awaits, and that the right job will come to me. I will choose to believe that I am exactly what my dream job needs, that I am ready for the next step on the path, that my life has meaning, and that the joy is mine for the taking.
Yes.
***
We all struggle. I struggle. I suspect that you struggle, too. But what if we let go of the fear, because the fear was all that was preventing us from being magnificent, and from attaining our dreams? What if all we have to do to succeed is to keep putting one foot in front of the other, with the faith that we'll get there eventually?
Today I'm going to take a step or two or three. I hope that you do, too. Let me know how it goes!
Well, it's morning as I write this, anyway. I awoke with a start at 4am today, certain that someone had banged loudly on the wall of my bedroom, and my heart was in my throat and I was prepared to call 911 before I was even fully awake. Before I reached for the phone, though, I heard another sound: the dog's rhythmic deep sleep breathing, and I realized that if there had been a real problem, he'd be on his feet, all 80 pounds of him tense and alert, not softly snoring from his dog bed. The noise was only a part of my dream (already forgotten), but the little adrenaline surge was real enough, and I've been awake since then, unable to fall back asleep.
I love the wee hours of the morning, though, so all is well. Last night, as always, I set the coffee pot, so all that I had to do was fill my cup to start enjoying it. Today, being Sunday, I returned to bed with it, a luxurious day stretching out before me to do as I please. Today I will have a longer than usual Sunday, a longer than usual stretch of time, all because of that imaginary banging. Perhaps that banging was a gift, and not a nightmare.
In the stillness, while it is still dark outside, I can think.
So often, my brain is taken up with useless things that prevent me from thinking. I worry about money, about work, about whether I ran the dishwasher, about the gutters that are at least a year overdue for cleaning. I worry that I will never find a romantic partner, that I have put on weight (I have), that I don't know where to send Katherine for high school because I don't like the local school and I can't afford private school. Worry and fear are not the same thing. I spend a great deal of time doing things (like cooking, working, cleaning, and fun things like roller skating or hiking, too) but that's not thinking, either.
For me, thinking involves vast quantities of silence, of stillness. Perhaps a paper and pen, perhaps a keyboard and a screen. It involves uninterrupted time.
Ah, blissful time. And today I get a little extra, before Katherine awakes, in order to ponder my life.
I've been pondering for about four hours now.
I've been thinking about the difference between perfect and flawed. Perhaps perfection is an imaginary state, and it is the seeking of perfection that is most flawed of all. I wonder if my imperfect, flawed life is actually the height of bliss, and that in declaring it imperfect I am throwing away the beautiful gift that it is. Do I see only the tiny bank balance, the full gutters, the ten (or more?!) pounds of winter weight gain? Do I see only several feet of scars criss-crossing my torso, mutilated breasts? Do I see only the lack of a partner, the lack of travel? I think about how Katherine needs the next phase of orthodonture, and I haven't been to the dentist in far too long because I don't want the bill, and I shudder.
I see those things. Boy, do I see them. They churn in my stomach and they press behind my eyes and the combination makes me nauseous and sometimes they make me want to crawl into a dark quiet place and curl up in a ball. I am not immune to fear, sadness, anxiety.
And yet...
And yet I am committed to seeing the beauty and richness of my life. Dare I say it: I dare to see its perfections.
I am reminded of Mary Oliver's poem The Ponds.
It is true that I am "blighted, slumped". And yet, that's only in the perspective. I am also "rife and wild".
I want to believe that the imperfections are nothing –
that the light is everything — that it is more than the sum
of each flawed blossom rising and fading. And I do.
I live in a comfortable home that is often filled with friends and family. My daughter is made of light and love, and brings me the kind of pride that makes my eyes prickle with feeling. My body takes me through the woods, or around a roller skating rink (yesterday's adventure: I hadn't roller skated in YEARS and I was terrible but it was more fun than I imagined). My job is so imperfect, but it's important work that I believe in.
I believe.
***
I am proud of my strength, my bravery, but again and again I am tested. Today I will face my resume head on, preparing it for distribution to future employers, preparing to change my life once again. This small sentence fills me with fear, doubt, uncertainty. Looking at myself from outside of myself, I want to say, "Oh, come on. What's the big deal? You have a job, you have people knocking on your door to talk about work...certainly you have what it takes, and if they reject you, so what?" Well, rejection is a rotten beast, and I fear it. I fear that my bravery is what is false, and the fear is what is real.
I fear that I am not actually good enough to get what I want. I fear that I will be put off, dismissed, that they will see through me and know that I shouldn't get what I want. I fear that I do not know how to run my life, that my dreams are foolish. I fear my imperfections.
I fear, too, that I have been alone too long, and that I am no longer partner material because I have grown too set in my ways about how I wish to live, and too fearful about letting someone in.
I fear that I am not beautiful enough, smart enough, or interesting enough.
I fear that I am not creative enough to pursue my deepest dreams.
I fear that I am inconsequential, and that I waste my life.
That is a lot of fear, and when I write it down like that I fear that it is far bigger than I am, and that it will overwhelm me, and I wonder if I should go back to bed. Perhaps I WILL go back to bed, or to Netflix, or to busy work that is meaningless but makes me look productive.
“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”
----from A Return to Love, by Marianne Williamson
Or maybe I will hit "publish" on this, and open up my resume document, and start adding information about my last job, and take a risk that I can do it, and that if I fail, I will survive my failure.
No.
I will hit publish on this, and open up my resume document, and start adding information about my last job, and take a risk that I can do it, and have faith that I can make this thing happen, and that my future life awaits, and that the right job will come to me. I will choose to believe that I am exactly what my dream job needs, that I am ready for the next step on the path, that my life has meaning, and that the joy is mine for the taking.
Yes.
***
We all struggle. I struggle. I suspect that you struggle, too. But what if we let go of the fear, because the fear was all that was preventing us from being magnificent, and from attaining our dreams? What if all we have to do to succeed is to keep putting one foot in front of the other, with the faith that we'll get there eventually?
Today I'm going to take a step or two or three. I hope that you do, too. Let me know how it goes!
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