Keep Calm and Talk About Guacamole (in which I chastize myself for fantasizing about being the Rosetta Stone)

I'm trying to figure out why I do what I do.  I'm referring to a specific area of my life -- salsa dancing.  On the one hand, it's fun and healthy to have found an activity that I like, one where I can build skills and be social.  On the other hand, it's a proxy for sex and -- let's face it -- emotional connection with a man.  And that's not so healthy.

It all started when I began going dancing with Dancing Guy, aka Casual Guy.  No, wait, back up.  It all started with Cuban Guy, aka Disappearing Guy.  I feel really foolish saying this, but since then I've been into Latin guys.  Why?  Well, when I look back on my dating history, I've dated guys from a zillion many different cultures. (This came out when I was dating Neighbor Boy, and I think he felt threatened by it.)  At times, I've become interested in their cultures, and that added to the experience. This happened with the Lebanese American guy I dated in college, the German guy I dated in grad school, and, of course, my marriage to a Croatian Serb.  And let's not forget the Big Chill experience I had in college with a Nuyorican guy who was part of my summer group house.  Oh yeah, and the Norwegian guy I had a very brief fling with in grad school, only to later partner up with him on a volunteer student journal. And I even like learning about other cultures outside the context of dating.  (Yes, that last sentence was meant to sound a little self-mocking.)

But while dating guys from other cultures can be enriching, it's also fraught with problems.  The Lebanese American guy I dated in college was basically American, so no problem there.  In general, however, there can be deep-seated misunderstandings and structural limitations.  I'm even wondering if dating people from other cultures is a reflection of my own emotional unavailability. There's a certain script that comes with dating someone from another culture.  You can teach and learn from each other, and there's always something to talk about.  With Latino guys, I thought I had hit the trifecta. There was, of course, the whole other culture thing, together with their familiarity with the US and its ways, and, there was, for me, attraction.  I was thrilled when my salsa dancing got good enough that Latin guys asked me to dance.  I thought -- although I never really articulated it to myself or anyone else -- that soon I would have a boyfriend, or at least a sexual encounter that would make me feel validated and enough.  And that's where my trouble began.

See, it really isn't happening.  Well, it could be happening, but not with the right people.  I took my wonderful Goddess Friend S to my main salsa dancing place, and after a few minutes -- it seemed -- she began making out with this cute but emotionally needy and somewhat messed up Argentinian guy.  I remember thinking -- and posting on Facebook -- "Sigh. Always the bridesmaid."  But the next time I went there, AG hit on me.  I was clear with him that I only wanted to be friends, or at least as clear as a clear-thinking woman thinks she can be when dealing with an emotionally needy man with Italian roots. We even went to a movie once, and may see one again.  He's fine to spend some time with, from time to time, as long as I don't feel pressured to be more than friends. But he's not going to fit my script from the previous paragraph. 

And then there's Red Flag Guy, who I met while dancing and then he followed up with a message from OK Cupid. We had a 98% compatibility rating on OKC, but then I realized that he had somehow misrepresented his name and location.  And when I first told him I had kids, he didn't immediately tell me he had kids.  And when I asked to see his driver's license, he said he "felt violated."  I still haven't seen it.  So, yes, red flags galore, but I let him take me out to a Peruvian restaurant with a great live band, dancing, and me being the only "American" there.  And then on the way home, he took me to 7-11 and bought me an ice cream.  So, the good time balanced out the red flags, and I agreed to go out with him again, despite my misgivings. But the second date was also a mixture of red flags and, "Hey, someone is interested in me." The new red flags could superficially be grouped under the R-word -- yes, the less appealing aspects of Republicanism (cigars, guns, sexism), along with some hints that he couldn't tell me some major things about his job either.  (Is DC the only city where people can say to you on dates, "I could tell you what I do, but then I'd have to kill you, ha ha ha?")  But I still let him kiss me in the car, and the question is, why why why?  Well, I'm lonely.  Well, I'm horny (I hate that word).  Well, for some f*cked-up reason, it feels validating to have a guy pursue me and want me physically.  It feels validating to have a physical connection, to have a guy take his mask off with me, to lose myself in the connection.  (And, mind you, this was just kissing.  It's not like I'm a slut or anything, okay?)  RFG wants to get together again, but I've been putting him off.

And it's not just those two guys.  Whenever I go dancing, I have this feeling, like I want to look sexy, I want to be pursued, I want to have a fling. It never happens, but the dancing can be sexy enough.  If "Dirty Dancing" had been set in today's world, it may well have focused on the bachata.  And there are guys at these places who will dance really close with you.  I was starting to enjoy that with certain guys, but now I realize that everyone watches everyone at these places, and that I should be careful.

So, here we have me -- needy, wanting validation, enjoying the whole dance thing but having my own emotional agenda. We also have some unavailable and/or inappropriate guys.  And then we have two guys I kind of like, and with one of them I had a datelet (i.e., something that may or may not have been a date) last night. And that's what's messing me up today.  At one of the places I go, one of my ongoing dance partners has been this Mexican economist who's probably a little bit older than I am.  Since I knew he had an avocado farm in Guatemala (I'm not making this up, although I thought he was at first), I began telling him how avocados were something I thought I should like, but I wasn't sure of the best way to eat them.  That led to him saying that he would bring in some avocados for me the next weekend, and that he would make some chocolate for me as well.  I wasn't sure what to make of that, but sure enough, last night he appeared with a bag full of something.  And then after dancing for a bit (not just with each other), he drove me to the steps of the Jefferson Memorial and we ate perfectly ripe avocado spread on Domino's pizza bread, along with an amazing concoction called "chocolate lava cakes" that he had made himself.  Again, I'm not making this up.  It was pretty unbelievable.  He was very reserved and proper the entire time, and he told me in a weird roundabout way about this Turkish woman he had dated.  And he also said that if women dance too close with men, the good dancers won't dance with them, and that only the guys who want to dance close will dance with them.  I wasn't sure if that was a warning for me?  It was also interesting how we left the club separately -- "I'll meet you outside in 10 minutes" -- but I appreciated his discretion.  At the end of the evening, as he drove me back to my car at 2 am, he shook my hand and asked if I would be at the club next Saturday.  I ended up giving him a kiss on the cheek.  And as I drove home, fell into bed, and woke up late today, I've kicking myself.  Did it go okay?  What was all that about?  Should I have been more forward in the sense of getting his phone number so I could text a thanks?  Did I put him off?  DO I dance too close with guys?  What on earth is up?  And it all dovetails with my need to connect, my use of dancing as a proxy for sex, and my unrealistic fantasizing about that happening with him and the other guy I haven't mentioned.  It's so so so in my head, and now that I've had a date "?" with one of them, I'm kind of freaking out.

And now it's Christmas Eve, several days later.  I've consulted with my counselor and with friends, as well as reading more of Natalie Lue of Baggage Reclaim fame's Mr. Unavailable and the Fallback Girl.  And what have I learned?  Well, for one thing, it's okay to be a work in progress, as I clearly am, as we all are. My Goddess Friend S compared it to how she wanted to do a handstand in yoga for the longest time, and the teacher kept telling her she wasn't strong enough and made her do practice positions for the foreseeable future.  I feel like I'm so ready for a relationship, but am I really?  Goddess Friend S made the point that now is our practice time, and we'll make mistakes as we try our best.  We'll learn from those mistakes.  It's our time to be flailing around in the dating pool.  Mark and Angel Hack write, "Choose to look ahead instead of behind you. Do your best. Forget the rest. Your past mistakes are meant to guide you, not define you." And there's also the wisdom of realizing that everything happens in time, as it's meant to happen, and that it can be important to let go.  So, as I think about Mexican Avocado Guy, I have to think like, "Well, wouldn't it be nice if we became friends?  If he wants to explore more, that would be good, but if he just wants to be friends, that's okay too."  I mean, if that's the worst that could happen, I can handle that.  I have before, right?  I'm cool.  I guess what was freaking me out was that somehow my behavior had or could put him off, or that I wasn't communicating my feelings effectively.  My awesome counselor said I had done just the right thing, and gave me some advice about when I see him again (stay calm, talk about guacamole, and let him make the next move).

So....part of the issue was that some guy was actually nice and decent to me, and it freaked me out.  I had all of these sexual fantasies in my head, and it was all about something happening with some guy that would enable me to escape from myself and be validated at the same time.  All in my head, but I think the datelet shocked me into reality.  Yes, people can go out and have expectations of good, decent behavior.  Yes, people can make informed, rational choices about dating.  I'd like to get to know MAG better, but it's also possible I may decide that he's not someone I would like to date.  Who knows...  The important thing, I think, is to be out there, either in the dating pool or else just out there.  I don't have to dance close to someone to forward my dating agenda, as it were.  I can act respectful towards others and myself and get to know people and see what happens.  And I can be lonely while I'm doing it.  I do believe that the universe provides what's needed, at the appropriate time.  Inshallah.

And as for my intercultural -- currently Latin -- proclivity?  Well, as I try to put together my elevator list of what I'm looking for in a man/relationship, surely one item on it should be someone who has experienced different cultures.  As I was growing up, my family spent time with my father's colleagues, who were scientists from all over the world.  I lived in Geneva, and later visited and studied in other places. There always seems to be some kind of multicultural connection, and maybe that's why I like going salsa dancing so much. The crowds at these places range from plurality Latino to resembling a mini-UN. One of the other items on my list is education, and this being the DC area, that's not too hard to find.

So...although I was freaked out, and I'm still a little anxious, I feel like I have a deeper, ever so slightly wiser perspective now.  I realize I've been in my head too much, addicted to my thoughts of obliteration and rescue. I need to take a breath, consider the known knowns, and have faith that this is where I'm supposed to be. Como dice Edith Piaf, Aujourd'hui, ca commence avec moi.

Fuckwit Redux

 
Now, the guy I mentioned in my last posting was not Cuban Guy (CG, aka Disappearing Guy, aka Fuckwit). Pardon me for referring to him that way...I've continued to think of him as the one who got away, as the one quality guy I've met, and as someone I could continue to hold in high esteem.

Well, maybe there's a reason that I don't trust my own judgement.

Here's how it developed:  I wrote earlier about someone I was dating post-CG, who I called Dancing Guy. It was casual with him, and while I wasn't crazy about that, I decided to go along with it and see how I felt. I figured it would be fun, that I needed a palate cleanser -- my friend Charlotte's words, not mine -- and that...well, just what the hell... And it was fun. We went out dancing, the chemistry was there and fun, he was confident and actually smart. The word "actually" may be a wee bit elitist...He didn't come across at first in his writing as someone beyond average, possibly because he was writing in his second language. But he continued to exceed expectations, keep my interest, impress me with his way of thinking about things, etc. And I learned a lot about various things. So, in that sense it was good.

However, the bad part was that I was certainly thinking about him more than he was thinking about me, and I became more and more bothered by the fact that we were barely communicating at all outside of planning the logistics for our weekly get-together. I mentioned this to him, with no reply. But I also said directly that he needed to tell me if I was the other woman. I could make it be okay in my head if he were dating other people (although it wasn't okay, really), but not if he were dating anyone seriously or even regularly. He assured me that he wasn't, and that I should also tell him if that became the case with me. But then the following Tuesday, he e-mailed me and said he felt like he was keeping me from the relationship I deserved. He also said that there was someone he was seeing on a regular basis. He had told me about her before, but I thought it was over except for the occasional booty call. When we got together that night and talked about it, it turned out that they had never really broken up. And I told him that no matter how I twisted it around in my head, I couldn't make it work out with us. I tried to do a Rain Man in my head -- stay with brother in LA and go back to institution in Ohio -- two things that cannot be done simultaneously, no matter how much my brain wanted them to be so. But there was NO way I could make it work for me.

So, that was that. We had smokin' break-up sex and parted. I'm glad I had the strength to speak up and eventually break up with him, and I'm glad he had the strength to be honest with me. My impression of him as a playa was correct, but at least he was an honest one, in the end. I'm thinking about him in my head, but I realize that there's just a wall there. There's NO WAY it could work unless he changes his behavior and current goals, and I put that at about a 1-2% probability, closer to 1%.

So, as usual, the universe blessed me with girlfriends to get through this. My wonderful friend Liz told it like it was. My friend Leah, who introduced me to baggage reclaim, said I should read one of Natalie's books called Mr. Unavailable and the Fallback Girl. I'm in the midst of doing so, and I found gems such as this:

"Are you only in contact around the times you're getting together?" and "He may be putting in about as much effort as it would take to order a takeaway a few times a week or however often he keeps in touch." My mind went, DING DING DING...clearly that's how it was with Dancing Guy.

And here's the ultimate gem, with regard to CG/Disappearing Guy/Fuckwit: "Disappearing is hugely disrespectful and a rejection of the relationship. If he disappears, don't let him back into your life."

So I began thinking, my God, Fuckwit (who I actually felt bad about calling that name) really was a fuckwit. What the hell...he disrespected both me and the relationship. Which only confirmed once again that I can be like a kicked dog in some ways, and it's a good thing Dancing Guy laid things out for me the way he did or I might still be begging for his crumbs. But I started thinking more about CG/Fuckwit, and about how it really was inexcusable, what he did to me. When I texted him that the ring I left in his apartment -- on the fucking credenza, for Christ's sake, and I never even knew what a fucking credenza was -- had sentimental value, he still didn't return it to me. (Granted, it didn't really have sentimental value, except maybe as a symbol that I can buy myself jewelry and don't need some guy to do it for me.) But I started feeling like he may indeed have been a bit of a shit. And I continued to be haunted by the ghost of his shiny black Volvo SUV, only less so. Just last weekend, I saw the right kind of Volvo parked illegally outside of Whole Foods in his old neighborhood, and I had to wait there, while my frozen WF brand taquitos got soft, until I saw an Asian woman carrying fresh flowers get into the SUV and drive away. I mean, fuck... (Pardon my French...I'm really on a roll tonight.)

But tonight, after responding to a potential date on OKC, I decided to page down down down on my messages page to see something about Fuckwit. I'm not sure what I was looking for, but what I found was a new photo and a new location -- Sunnyvale, CA. Heart pounding, I attempted to google him there with no luck. So I created a new profile located in Stanford -- username Hellacat -- and found that he basically had the same profile as before. I did more googling with no luck, except to learn that Sunnyvale is home to Yahoo and not far from google's Mountainview either. So, I stealthily visited CG/Fuckwit's profile, and with some selective question answering found out that he's looking to be married in the next 3 years and he's looking for someone to have kids with. (I'm tres tres resourceful, n'est-ce pas?)

This led me to conclude that CG and I really were on different pages when we met. I was barreling full-speed ahead into painful recent-divorce learning, and he was trying to settle down, albeit being sidelined by his shit at work. And he really had an asshole side to him, as evidenced by his treatment of his ex and his bragging about himself as a jerk in business. So... All I can say is that there was no way that we as a couple could fit into the space that the universe had for us at the time. (Italicized because, wow, this is indeed an awesome revelation!)

I've already listed here what I got out of my relationship with CG, including Pitbull, dressing and looking hotter (IMHO), Dalmatian fig spread from Whole Foods, and....well, I'm running out items, which makes me realize it was thankfully a while ago. And just today I went to Whole Foods today and asked about the Dalmatian fig spread. They didn't have any, but I saw that they did have some from Provence. So, perhaps this is a "If you try sometimes, you get what you need" kind of symbolism. Not that I bought it (too dear, my dear), but either spread would have met my needs. This particular Whole Foods simply doesn't carry that kind of fig spread anymore, so it's just not available there, or perhaps anywhere. But the spread from Provence might just be promising...

So where am I now? I'm feeling a bit discombobulated at times, but it's more because of the ghosts in my head than the presence of any corporeal guy, either in my life or virtually. I'm enjoying dancing and taking the courageous step of taking myself out and having fun at salsa and swing places. I'm doggedly responding to appropriate people on OKC who contact me, and have even contacted a couple myself.

It's fine...I feel like I'm in a better place. If the ghosts flit through my head too much, if my imagination remembers these two guys more than it should...well, I know that it will fade. Seeing that Sunnyvale thing will certainly help with that. It was what it was, we learned, and all that. CG did say to me at one point that at some point we would both come to understand the reasons for what happened between us, even though it didn't work out. All I can come up with so far are the painful lessons I learned, along with my list of items above. I'm feeling kind of sad, and kind of hurt and foolish that I would keep him in my mind for so long. But I was very vulnerable at the time, and he made an impression. I will move on, and other guys will get through again. That's how it works, with the help of time and processing. In that light, my time with Dancing Guy was a good thing, because he did get through and the ending with him was so clear. You see, the universe does have its plans and its reasons.

And I'm feeling a bit like Tina Turner, in that I've been feeling protective of myself, perhaps for the first time. Honestly, what's love got to do with it? My wonderful friend Suzanne says that when she has memories of being together with the guy she just broke up with, she doesn't try to block them, but instead imagines what it would be like with someone who is healthy and wants a committed relationship. So, as I make my way along this rocky path, I do feel like I'm making some progress. I'm seeing more bullshit for what it is and I'm following my joy. I'm trying to remain open, but I realize I need to be patient with myself and treat myself with attention, respect, and care (as Dancing Guy promised to do on our dates, but it just wasn't enough for me). I feel blessed that I can write about this and move forward. High tide! Time to move out into the glorious debris!

In which I apologize to an ex, indirectly

Okay, I just got a blistering fb message from someone I dated who I had described in an unflattering manner on this blog. In response, I'm going to tone down my description of this person. But that doesn't edit out the fact that I was a total asshole for describing him in that way, even if I was pissed. There are two lessons I take from this. The first, of course, is not to make this blog public. I mean, duh. The second is to get my head out of my ass and have a little compassion. I mean, really. I'm a strong person. In the words of someone I knew in Croatia, we all have our bullshit. There's no need to use it as an excuse to treat others badly. That's what bullies do. I can be strong enough not to be mean. Otherwise, what I'm doing is bullshit. So...it's clear what I need to do. Live your values and all that. Jeez, it should be obvious, right? Barbara Kingsolver says all we need to focus on to do right is to say, "Let me be a good animal today." Well, please let me strive to be a good animal, as much as I have the strength to do so. Amen.

Bitch and moan

I'm so so pissed off. I feel guilty even expressing this, because I have a good life, live in a peaceful country, am blessed with my kids and my job, etc. What gives me the right to bitch and moan and complain? But I'm SO pissed off. Part of it is the guys I've been dating, and part of that anger is aimed at myself. I feel like I've been undervaluing myself, and in doing that I've been enabling others to undervalue me as well. I don't know.

My wonderful therapist Kathy says I simply haven't met quality guys (except CG...for some reason she thinks he was a quality guy messed up by a work situation). But here's the thing. I feel totally alone and unsupported by my family. Okay, so my brother and I are no longer not talking, but he's not there for me. (I'm forever grateful for my cousin and his wife, who've stepped in to fill what could have been my brother's role in some legal paperwork, as well as for other things they've done.) And while my mother is there for me in some ways, deep down I sometimes -- often? -- think she's really all about lining things up for herself. To be even less charitable, I would say she's all about manipulating people so they like her and support her. I know we all do that, but I swear to God that I've had a deep feeling since I was small that she wasn't really there for me.

When I was around 7, I had a dream that I can still clearly recall, in which I was being chased through our childhood home by an evil supervillain named Scorpio. I ran through the kitchen, and there was my mother, sitting at our red 1970s-era formica table with a huge pile of shredded cabbage in front of her. Scorpio said to her, "Do what I say and you won't get hurt," so she just sat there, not coming to my aid. And I ran on, into my parents' bedroom with Scorpio chasing and eventually catching me. Childhood can be cruel. (This seems like a jump from the last paragraph, but it's not...at the end of the dream, when Scorpio had caught me, we ended up sitting in my parents' closet with other kids, and it was scary.) I'm trying to protect my kids from it as much as I can. I felt powerless and was victimized by my peers over time.

I have a memory of hanging out with the neighborhood kids in an informal playgroup, and the whole group voting on who liked whom. When it came time to vote for me, barely anyone raised their hands, and someone said to me, "You didn't even vote for yourself. You mean you don't like yourself?" Whatever this was, it started early early in childhood, even before elementary school, I think. I have memories from 3-year old nursery school of feeling out of place and like I didn't belong, because I had a short haircut and people thought I was a boy. I feel like I grew up without appropriate sympathy or support. I'm sorry if this sounds selfish or self-centered...the result is SO clear to me, though, as I've struggled my ENTIRE life with self-esteem issues. If I let myself think too much (which happens a lot), I end up having a knee-jerk reaction of why do I deserve something, who am I to want something, who am I to feel what I'm feeling? It's a default learned reaction, and it helps to have other people to bounce it off to help me feel stronger in terms of what I'm feeling and doing.

Natalie of Baggage Reclaim says, "Stop seeking the Brady Bunch fantasy or expecting parents to step up in adulthood. Many of us are seeking an ideal with our families that just isn’t realistic and we can end up feeling unnecessary shame as if family members being flawed and even inadequately parenting us, is some cross we have to bear for the rest of our days. If 35 has taught me anything, it’s that many of the issues that run in families are bigger than ‘us’ and we only see this when we lose the rose tinted glasses and recognise that ‘younger self’ within us that still wants approval and the fantasy."

So, here I am, with my mother recovering from a spinal fracture, me at home fighting a virus and feeling undervalued over time by various and sundry dates, my Seattle family grieving because my cousins' step-mom just died, and me feeling upset, and then guilty that I'm feeling upset. I want to be able to step up and say, "This isn't right. I need more. It's not enough." And I feel totally guilty saying that, like I'm too needy. The key, I think, is to have your own back and to trust that you have it. Also, it's to live according to your own values. And to keep moving and have faith. I'm not going to come to any epiphany in this posting, at least not tonight. I'm doing okay, I'm doing all the right stuff. I'm a good mom, and I'm enjoying my kids. I'm a good person. But I still feel like I'm not getting enough, and I'm upset about it. I'll sit with that for a while, in a healthy way, and see what develops. Laku noc.

Addiction

It's late, I'm cooking dinner, and starting to write this gives me comfort.

I've realized over the past several weeks, as I've met new dating partners and continued to move on, that I may be guilty of using men like a drug.  There's a precedent for this.  When I was a teenager, I used food as a drug in various ways.  Well, it's better than using drugs, right?  I'll admit here, for everyone to see (NSA, you getting this?) that I did try pot and related drugs when I was in high school, but I never really got into them.  But the concept of using something analogous to a drug to mask pain, anxiety, and just generally feeling bad is something I've been doing for decades without really recognizing it.

This can be a good thing.  In my need to move forward and avoid my feelings and my fear of feeling, I've done a hell of a lot of interesting things.  I mentioned in my last posting that I have the courage to push past fear and anxiety.  Well, it's actually my fear and anxiety that GIVE me the courage to do things like go to Morocco, work in Bosnia and Croatia, and go to swing dances on my own.  There's something inside me that says, what the hell?  I'm feeling like such crap anyway, I know I can do it.  I know intellectually that I'm smart and capable, and it can't make me feel any worse than how I'm already feeling.  And then there's the excitement factor, which is a great distraction.  I know there's a fortune cookie fortune that says, never mistake motion for action, but motion can be good.  And then there's whatever kind of therapy that is (shame on me; I majored in psych) that makes you take action even if your feelings are lagging behind.  The idea is that your once-unhealthy feelings will catch up with your healthy actions, and all will be rosy.  And that's what I'm doing with dating and meetups and things like that.  It seems like a good thing to do, and it certainly can't hurt (I hope).

So, back to using men's attention as a drug.  It's clear that OKCupid can be addictive.  It's like I troll for crumbs to nourish myself and my poor, limp self-esteem.  Texts are crumbs.  E-mails are crumbs.  Facebook "likes" are crumbs.  (One of my last texts from CG was more like a crumb of sh*t, but we'll leave that one aside for now). 

As Natalie at Baggage Reclaim says that if we have a history of poor self-esteem, unhealthy relationships can feel like home, and adds that, "Your perception of what love encompasses becomes very destructive. It becomes the acceptance of crumbs."  She also writes that, "With low self-esteem...you'll look for other people (and sometimes objects and substances) to create feelings in your that you don't feel yourself.  You make external sources the solution to internal problems."

This is EXACTLY what I feel like I'm doing.  I compulsively check my phone for e-mails from Dancing Guy (nice Peruvian 40-something father of 3 who takes me dancing but has said he's not interested in a relationship), and even somewhat from Neighbor Boy (smart federal employee who lives in the neighborhood and has 2 dogs).  When I'm corresponding with someone on OKC who seems promising, I feel like I'm complete or okay.  With Dancing Guy, who I've spent more time with, I replay moments of us together in my head to bolster myself somehow.  Sexual attraction plays into it as well...as if sex means connection, which means someone likes me, which therefore means I'm okay.  It's a false chain of logic, becuase with men, sex doesn't mean connection in the same way that it does to women.  But in any case, it's more the thoughts that I need.  I seek someone -- in the words of Baggage Reclaim again -- "to be given an exit out of my own life into coupledom with someone else."  But this is SO unhealthy.  According to Baggage Reclaim, I need to date myself and look at the process rather than the outcome. I need to "love from a positive place that's rooted within me, instead of 'loving' with a view to filling me up and making me whole."  And then Natalie writes a whole lot of stuff about self-esteem, and how how it's mine to fill and how my childhood is done and I need to move beyond it.

Yoi....(or "joj," as they say in Serbian).  I suppose it's good to be aware of this pattern.  I think I've been healthier with Dancing Guy than any of the others in the past.  (Although I did send him a snappy response when he canceled on my by text tonight.  I'm leaving the ball firmly in his court.  I feel bad, but I think I have more of a sense of perspective than I did with F*ckwit CG.)  It's a process.  It's a big big body of water, and I can't see either shore.  I need to keep paddling, keep swimming, and have faith that I will get somewhere even if there isn't much of a landscape by which to measure my progress.

And the childhood stuff.  My wonderful Aunt Beth confirmed that my parents neglected me -- in their loving, self-absorbed way -- when I was little.  It was my experience, which was different from my brother's.  My very presence made my brother's life easier.  The woman who wrote "The 30 Day Love Detox" notes that there are various ways to build up your self-esteem, and one of them is having a healthy relationship, perhaps with your kids, or perhaps with a therapist.  I've got those fronts covered.  It's crazy.  I remember feeling unattractive and like I didn't belong at age 3, for fuck's sake. Now, 40-some years later, it's a mental struggle to keep telling myself, "I am enough"..."I'm okay"..."I love myself"...and all of those other phrases that can sound trite but are actually really important to feel. 

So...what to do?  I keep plugging away.  I know I need to own my story.  I know I need to act as if...to act as if I'm confident, as if I know I'm okay.  I've been doing that for fucking decades, people.  When I get into a flow state, I feel good.  I act without reflecting or angsting. (Is that a word?  If toileting can be a word, so can this one.)  Later I may second guess (as I did with Neighbor Boy the other night...did I babble too much?), but at least I can enjoy the flow when I'm in it. 

But the flip side of all of this lack of confidence and fear of abandonment is that I choose partners who are appropriate to these challenges.  "The appropriate monster," as my 8th grade English teacher would say.  Hence, Dancing Guy, who is clearly seeing other people and doesn't want a relationship. He's a nice guy, and he's right for me now.  In addition to helping me learn bachata, perhaps he will help me learn some limits and boundaries.  For example, during our text exchange tonight, I did NOT say, hey, I'm free on Saturday.  Instead, I said, you need to make it up to me.  That's all.  And if he doesn't come forward, well, flush him, right?  If someone wants something different than what I want, that's just the way it is.

Anyway...I know I'm moving forward.  I know I'm making progress.  I know I'm doing okay.  Everyone has his or her challenges.  I'm out here in the "glorious debris," to quote Barbara Kingsolver.  I'm learning, I'm smiling, I'm lonely, I'm crying, and I'm blessedly here and trying to be a healthy, loving person.  Thank God I'm able to do it and to write about it, right?  Is this all part of a journey towards loving myself?  I damn well hope so.  It's got to be. I'm grateful I get to be here in the midst of this process, even if it is painful at times.

Brokenness and Brick Walls

I've been thinking lately -- especially this weekend, my 25th college reunion -- that because I think I'm broken, I've been zeroing in on guys who are in some way broken as well.  Not necessarily choosing them, but feeling all too comfortable with them.  In the words of Baggage Reclaim, they feel like home.  HH and BJ fit the bill, and Fling Guy is clearly unavailable. CG seemed healthy, and that definitely scared me. I was scared that my supposed unhealthiness, my brokenness, would drive him away (and I did own my story about that with him, to my credit). Then he checked out of the Love Shack Hotel, and in a way I was able to relax because I could focus on that bit of drama.  Crazy, right?

Part of this whole pattern is that I feel like I don't deserve anything better.  Or maybe I'm scared to take a risk with something better.  One of the thoughts that's run through my mind as I've tried to determine whether or not to stay with CG -- as if that were an actual option at this point...hah! -- was that as someone just coming out of a toxic and unhealthy marriage, someone who chose badly based on my own fears and brokenness, someone who has so much to learn about things like boundaries and how to act in a relationship, I feel I need to practice before I get to do the real thing.  It's like a kind of work-study or apprenticeship thing.  Because I'm broken, I need to be in a broken relationship, possibly with a broken person (I won't even venture to say partner) until the brokenness goes away.  And I deliberately made the last part of that sentence impersonal, as if the brokenness in itself were a force, rather than me being the free agent who can and does choose to act in a healthy way.  It reminds me of a line from that West Side Story song -- Hey, I'm depraved on account of I'm deprived!  Because I'm broken, I have to be in a broken relationship until I somehow get "better."  The relationship is supposed to redeem me, but how can it, since it's unhealthy?  I know, I know, I'm supposed to redeem myself.  Yadayadayada.  Brain, meet heart.  Heart, meet brain.  Can the two of you please get your act together so you can work more collaboratively?

What this way of thinking also conjurs up is Yoda's old adage (and it's always old with Yoda, right?) -- There is no try. Either do or not do.  Maybe it's the idea of having both feet in?  If I hold back and put up walls around my heart -- and here I picture the Harvard red brick I saw today, renovated, of course, since I left there in 1988 -- then I'll be less likely to get hurt.  But really, it will mean I'll be emotionally unavailable and won't connect.  Like George Gray in Spoon River Anthology, I'll be a boat longing for the sea yet afraid.  And, as I think I've written before, what I'm most afraid of is my own fear.  I'm afraid of drowning in my feelings and not coming out on the other end.  When I was studying in London, a colleague took me to see a film from the 1960s called Peeping Tom.  The climax of the movie -- spoiler alert -- comes when you realize that the reason the murder victims look so terrified when they're discovered is that the killer has been forcing them to watch their own expressions of terror while they're being killed.  Okay, that's a big downer, sorry.  It's not really my type of movie.  But I clearly remember it after all of these years.  I have to say that I'm grateful I have this drive and anxiety that can actually propel me past the fear.  You can call is courage if you like.  But I'm still scared as hell about feeling anxious.  I'm scared of uncertainty.  It's hard for me to enjoy the moment.  I want to nail things down so I know the outcome, and I think that's one of the major mistakes I made in deciding to marry the person who became my ex.  I could certainly predict that he would never leave me, and in the end I had to make him leave.

But where does this fear come from?  Tom Petty's song "Refugee" has always called to me, and I've always felt some kind of strange connection to broken situations and people.  Even my choice of career, prior to my current job, involved helping refugees and those in war-torn situations.  I felt comfortable working with broken people, empathizing with them and providing whatever support I could.  It helped me to avoid feeling my own brokenness.  By staying in that place, I coud triage and focus on immediate needs.  I even dated a couple of refugees, one of whom was my ex.  (He wasn't technically a refugee, but his parents did have to flee their home country because they were being persecuted.) 

My fear comes from a lack of faith in myself.  But that's circular, isn't it?  I lack faith because I'm scared.  But I'm scared because I lack faith.  It's taken a lot of strength over the years to get past that fear, and many times I have.  But I still feel like I've built walls around my heart....so I'm broken.  If only there were a Harry Potter spell to make the walls disappear.  (I'm tempted to do some kind of Ronald Reagan metaphor here, but best not to.)  Maybe I can reimagine the walls.  I can imagine them as melting, or imagine them as retractable and more porous.  Who knows...  The thing is, that according to Brene Brown we need to be vulnerable, and to be vulnerable means to put oneself at risk of getting hurt.  In the words of Lawrence of Arabia, the trick is not to mind that it hurts.  But I'm so panicked and anxious that I twist things every which way to avoid feeling hurt.  And in doing that, it becomes very hard for me to just let things happen. 

Take CG, for example.  I think things are actually happening, since I have little control over them.  I'm clearly not getting what I need.  He's just not there, and in a way I feel like a fool for hanging on for so long.  He's clearly not wrapped up in me.  But there's something in me that's using my brokenness as an excuse to do nothing.  It allows me to be a victim of my own life, rather than taking responsibility for successes and failures.  It's so clear to me what I should do.  Break up with CG.  (Or should I?  Should I stay cool?  Or am I acting like a fool?  [Sorry...channeling Grease there for a moment.]  Are we even still going out?  Why do I even need to ask this?  [Oops, caught me berating myself right there.])  I should keep trying to date, maintain a healthy attitude, and tell myself that I deserve someone healthy, who isn't checked out.  It's not easy.  I have to take it day by day, nurse my poor aching heart, and stay committed to myself and my life. 

I was hoping to have a more upbeat ending to this posting.  Maybe I'm just anxious because I'm going to try to call CG later tonight.  I'm trying to convince myself that I'm enough as I am, that even though I'm anxious and I hurt I'm a good, worthwhile person and I deserve a healthy, supportive relationship.  My cousin's wife in Atlanta says I should write the following over and over -- Only I can validate myself.  Only I can validate myself.  Only I can validate myself.  I think she's a little young to have been influenced by The Shining, or she may not have suggested doing something like that.  In any case, I know I deserve love, including (or perhaps starting with) my own.  But more on that another time. 

I know that rather than remaining in the harbor, being afraid of the sea, I have to dive in and trust it to hold me up.  I need to realize I'm going to be tossed around by the waves, but I'll also be able to surf and float and look up gratefully at the stars.  And I won't be alone out there, even if it feels like it sometimes.  People will help pull me up.  I'm there already...but clinging onto the pilings of a rotting dock, afraid to let go.  I know I'm getting there.  I just have to open my hands and let myself be borne out into the phosphorescent current. 

Cool pool

The seventh circle of hell for a single mom is surely the neighborhood pool in suburbia, especially in single-family-home suburbia where I live. I mean, how many posses of thickened yet glowing couples avec enfants lugging red coolers filled with grapes, meat for the barbecue, and Capri Suns can one take?  I know I'm totally guilty of being similar (well, hopefully not too thickened) and they generally seem nice-- not Stepfordy or anything.  It's just that in life, as in government and politics, one's circumstances dictate one's options, positions, and choices. I'm lonely, a bit out of place and off balance, and I feel half-empty at times.  These people here are water-logged and full, dense with routines and plans and shared expectations. I feel transparent, easily breakable, so pale as to be barely there, clinging on to life with bony arms, ragged fingernails, and a plaintive voice.  They're smooth and glistening with suntan oil, healthily ruddy in the sun. The women hold their well-fed babies across their softening midsections and sling towels across their hips. The men stand authoritatively by the barbecue and wear long pastel-colored swim shorts.  Mostly they're not that attractive, but then they don't have to be.  I stand on the outside looking in.

The pool itself is lovely. During adult swim I stroke laps while my 5-year old and her friend follow me on the side.  I remember where I was at this time last year.  Less angst?  Maybe just different angst.  I know I'm lucky, I'm blessed.  It's wonderful to look at the sky, clouds, and trees.  The water is cool and the swimming pleasantly burns my arms and gets my heart going.  But still...but still...I have sadness in my heart.  I tell myself I'm more than just my sadness.  I tell myself it's good to feel it, rather than trying to numb it or ignore it or berate it, which was how it went in my childhood.  I feel incomplete, but doesn't everyone?  I ask myself why I have to feel this way, instead of how "everyone else" feels.  In other words, I berate myself a bit.  I feel restless, feeling like I should be dating or I'll never meet someone.  I know that's wrong, but still.  When general swim starts up again, I play basketball with my son and older daughter.  It's a good thing to be doing...It's satisfying and blessedly distracting to make a basket. I play with my younger daughter in the shallow area and try to talk with one of the dads.  His 5-year old son does pre-swim team because his wife can somehow make the non-working-mom-friendly hours.  Sucks not to have a partner, right?  I know I need to get my act in gear to arrange swimming lessons for my own 5-year old. 

And I'm frequently checking my phone.  Not that CG (from yesterday's post) is going to text me then.  He said he would call later.  We'll see if that happens...  But I compulsively check it for something, anything, as the couples and children and parties swirl around me.  I decide to reach out...asking the mother of my daughter's friend about her kids, complimenting an older woman about how she uses a plastic dish drain to organize knives, forks, and plates.  Still, I feel like something is missing.  It's missing in me, and it always has been.  And it's not a matter of finding something to fill it, I think, but of viewing it differently, and filling parts of it myself, and realizing that this sadness and heartspace and unsettledness are good things.  They can move me to a new place, set up me on the road to something new and undreamed of.  They can provide a motivation for gratitude.  If I'm enough how I am, and the universe will take care of me, and everything happens as it's supposed to happen, then why be scared?  As one FB friend said tonight, you can only judge yourself on your own contributions to a relationship.  He also said see yourself for your best, yet imperfect, and look for the same in others. And another friend said, be grateful for the good things and remain curious about the good things the future has to offer.  I love it.  It's like having faith.

So, the universe has provided well for me tonight, even if the pool was kind of awkward and painful in my mind.  I had two nice FB conversations (one with a neighbor I hadn't seen in 30 years and one with a friend who is the wife of an ex-boyfriend), as well as a nice google chat with Fling Guy.  As for CG, it's been pointed out to me that the relationship is essentially on hold.  When I think about him it's about the past or the future, not about the present because there hasn't been much in the present.  I'm trying to be grateful that there's someone I like, while detaching myself from any outcome.  Now you all know I've never been that good at detachment...but all of this wisdom I'm hearing can certainly help.

And tomorrow it's off to my 25th college reunion...the big one, especially at the place I attended.  If I don't post tomorrow, just think of me tripping daintily (I hope) along the brick sidewalks of Cambridge.

Peace (in a non-hippy way...just peace), 11:48 pm, May 31

Today I'm channeling the Daily Om

This post could have been intended for me.  Read on, c/o the Daily Om:

Going with the Flow

Working with a Larger Energy

by Madisyn Taylor

Going with the flow means we are open to multiple ways of getting where we want to be.

The expression going with the flow is a metaphor that applies to navigating a river. When we go with the flow, we follow the current of the river rather than push against it. People who go with the flow may be interpreted as lazy or passive, but to truly go with the flow requires awareness, presence, and the ability to blend one’s own energy with the prevailing energy. Going with the flow doesn’t mean we toss our oars into the water and kick back in the boat, hoping for the best. Going with the flow means we let go of our individual agenda and notice the play of energy all around us. We tap into that energy and flow with it, which gets us going where we need to go a whole lot faster than resistance will.

Going with the flow doesn’t mean that we don’t know where we’re going; it means that we are open to multiple ways of getting there. We are also open to changing our destination, clinging more to the essence of our goal than to the particulars. We acknowledge that letting go and modifying our plans is part of the process. Going with the flow means that we are aware of an energy that is larger than our small selves and we are open to working with it, not against it.

Many of us are afraid of going with the flow because we don’t trust that we will get where we want to go if we do. This causes us to cling to plans that aren’t working, stick to routes that are obstructed, and obsess over relationships that aren’t fulfilling. When you find yourself stuck in these kinds of patterns, do yourself a favor and open to the flow of what is rather than resisting it. Trust that the big river of your life has a plan for you and let it carry you onward. Throw overboard those things that are weighing you down. Be open to revising your maps. Take a deep breath and move into the current.

Youtube interlude

Hey, my last post just inspired me. 

Here's a video to celebrate:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_BRv9wGf5pk

Back after a long hiatus

It's been a looooong time since I've written.  I'm not sure who will be reading these posts, or if anyone will at all.  I'm nearly 1-1/2 years out since my separation and it's been 5 months since my divorce.  The first year was taken up with the relieved and victorious feelings of having made the move away from my ex.  I reveled in my time with the kids and dealt with the court process.  It was hard in some ways, but I felt like I was in the right place.  Typically, just after my divorce was final in December, the emotions started to kick in.  It wasn't anything about missing my ex, but more like a wave of realizations hitting me -- I'm all alone, with noone to support me as I'm raising these 3 kids.  I felt like diving into a relationship, being redeemed by some stranger, losing myself in someone's wanting and admiration.  The trouble with this, so far, is that it doesn't last very long, and hey, it's not healthy.  I need to learn how to find joy separate from the kids, but pinning it all on dating can and has had dire consequences.  In the words of Abigal Trafford, I'm in the floundering stage.  That's better than the flighty hummingbird stage, but not quite a phoenix who's been reborn.

Sorry this posting isn't as well thought out or as well written as the others (if I do say so myself).  It will kind of be a tmi stream of consciousness, but it's been recommended to me that I write.  I kind of hope noone sees this...but I'm not going to hold back too much either.

So, first "bf" was Fling Guy, in November.  It was exactly what his name said, losing post-divorce virginity and all that.  There was a minimum of agony and angst, and it was generally clear that it was going to be casual.  Ironically, I felt comfortable with him because he works for a big federal agency just down the road.  He's kind of a regular guy, a computer guy, a Baltimore guy, appropriately metrosexual.

Second guy, just after that and even a little overlapping, was the Hagerstown Hick, or HH.  Just out of a 16-year marriage with no kids, he was a smart guy with a good job, although he never went to college.  And he told me he loved me after about a week, or something like that.  Of course, I fell for it.  It suddenly seemed like a wonderful thing to head off post-divorce craziness as part of a couple.  But, just as I was settling into it, it became clear that it wasn't working for him.  He got sick, he had a dentist's appointment, excuse after excuse.  And of course it was agonizing for me.  In the end, he texted me that I couldn't come over because an ex-girlfriend (who I somehow hadn't heard about) was "messing with his head" and he "needed some time" to work it all out.  In retrospect, what the hell was I doing with some guy who kept a rifle in his closet, and had only been to DC once after a year of living in its souless ex-urbs?  Lesson learned -- If someone tells you they love you after a week and does all sorts of fast forwarding and future faking, take heed. 

Next guy was the Boxing Jew (as a fellow member of the tribe, I feel like I can call him this).  He was the kind of person who should have been born in another time.  He was a smart, physically brave guy (as in he did a stint jumping out of planes with the 82nd Airborne) who felt like a failure because he had never really carved out a satisfactory career for himself.  In fact, he had a really interesting but low-paying job doing surveillance for a local health department, but he was unhappy and critical of many things in his life (except for his daughter, who lives out of state with her mom).  Oh, and he was an amateur boxer and -- red flag -- critically into nutrition and healthy food.  By "critically," I mean he liked to criticize the "fat" "rich white trash" women in his office for eating cookies at office meetings.  Another mini-issue for me -- he didn't know how to pronounce Ann Coulter's name.  There's only so many times I can hear "Ann Cooter" as I'm discussing right wing American nut jobs.  Things never really took off with him, and I learned the lesson of not getting physical too quickly and questioning when things seem wrong. 

The fourth guy, who I'm actually still hurting over as I type this, is Cuban Guy, or CG.  (I've also been somewhat tempted to call him Private Sector Guy, but he vies for this title with an Indian guy I had a single date with).  I was thinking he was great for a while, but the great part lasted only a short time. He's this smart, achieving, ambitious guy who (unlike those before him) I didn't have a chance to get bored with or find to be an idiot...yet.  And, shit shit shit, we had good chemistry.  But, after a very short while, he pulled away because he had to leave his job and he's now looking for jobs elsewhere.  In other words, he checked out.  What's painful is that now he's disrespecting me by doing a kind of disappearing act.  I'll get over it...it takes time, but the pain will subside.  In fact, there's more anger now, which I think is good.  Fling Guy (yes, we still chat from time to time) says that acting disinterested and moving on will be the best way to annoy CG. So...I'm working on it.  It's hard.  I keep picturing the time we spent together, including -- strangely enough -- the grounds of his apartment complex.  In time, it will all be farther away.  Lessons learned -- own your story (I shared with him about how I feel anxious about things), speak up for what you want, and don't let anyone disrespect you.  Make decisions that are good for you, and don't try to stay around because some guy is appealing.  I feel SO much like calling him, but I think I would be disrespecting myself if I did.  I'll wait until Tuesday night, and then I'll give him a call.  I left my ring with the nice green stone at his apartment, the ring that I bought myself at the Natural History Museum gem store.  Darned if I'm going to lose that.

It's not like there aren't guys beating down doors to date me.  There are, including Fling Guy (who doesn't have much of a chance....I don't feel like anything casual at this point). The point is that the issues I'm wrestling with can't really be solved by guys.  I've been religiously reading a blog called "Baggage Reclaim," which gives reams of good advice.  I realize that I have a hole in my heart and in my life, and I need to rebuild.  As I wrote above, it's so appealing right now to drown myself, as it were, in someone else's life, but that clearly doesn't work.  I need to continue to grow, painfully, fitfully, even joyfully sometimes.  It's the right decision, but it's a hard path.  I need to keep moving forward, including dating.  But I'm taking a wee break right now, for a week or two.  I need to take care of myself first.  I need to be committed to myself.  I'm blessed with wonderful friends and great resources.  I'm living where I want to be.  It's hard hard hard, but the universe has taken care of me so far. 

Every day I start again, a little further along than I was.  It's always a struggle, a fight, a scramble, a juggle, a dance. I know I'm courageous and I'm a rock star (in the words of the taxi driver yesterday, when he learned I had flown across the country on my own with 3 kids).  I'm sad, I'm vulnerable, I'm energetic, I'm out there, I'm strong, I'm learning, I'm trying to reach out.  It's hella crazy (not sure if I'm using that term correctly, but whatever).  So, I'm going to write more and it will certainly help.  I'm trying to find my joy.  For my divorce avocation, I choose dancing (others have chosen marathons or hiking or long distance biking...those aren't for me).  We'll see how it goes.  I'm still smarting over the potential that CG offered, but -- in the spirit of Baggage Reclaim -- you have to look at what's there, not what could be there or what was only briefly offered.  Still, I miss him.  But I'll get over him.  It's all tied in with the grieving for the marriage and the transition and everything.  I'm blessed, I'm enough as I am, I'm dealing with shit from childhood, I want to live according to my values (which makes it clear that it's a no-go with CG), I'm a good mom and person, it will all be okay.  If it's not happy, it's not the end, right?

I'm still crying as I end this posting, but expressing oneself is good, right?  Take tiny steps, accept myself as I am, feel good about what I'm doing and what I've done.  I'm not alone, even if it may feel that way at times.  And I've got power.  So, that's good, thank God.

Midnight, May 31...time to sign off.