On this All Hallow’s Eve as the veil between the worlds thins and I honour the Ancestors, I am reminded of how short and precious life is. I am reminded to take chances, to go all in with my heart when it matters and to let go of the rest that doesn’t. To move through the fear that blocks me and stops me and leaves me with regrets. And to always strive to live with courage, with love and in connection.
I was in Los Angeles last week at a conference and I had the worst attack of the uglies I’ve had in years.
It started with the small skirmish of an anxiety attack the morning I left and by the time I got to my hotel and then headed to the conference, it was a full blown battle.
It started on the surface, hating my outfits (all of them), my hair that wouldn’t curl and somehow managed to look frizzy and limp at the same time.
And then the big guns came out. Feeling fat, ugly, out of place, not worthy of notice, nobody’s first choice to be with.
In my head, I know these things are untrue. But, somehow my heart loses touch with that knowledge. And, it just wants to fill that space where self-love used to live with the comfort of isolation and food. King size bed in my little hotel room, warm bread and melted cheese, like a lovers arms surrounding me with safety.
Luckily, being a veteran of these battles, my head knows that won’t work.
And so I slogged through the four longest days I’ve had in many years. I got up, went to the conference, socialized and smiled and met people, tried to keep the food healthy and get some exercise each day.
None of that helped with the uglies. But, I made it. It felt like climbing an emotional Everest followed by a marathon every day. But, I made it.
And, the weird thing is that the minute I saw Vancouver out of the plane window, it all went away. I felt it leave my body and head out the window into the sky (apparently, the uglies can survive at 30,000 feet). And, in came this incredible wave of relief and somehow my self-worth was back. I felt like me again.
People say LA has a weird energy. Too many broken dreams, maybe. I don’t know why the uglies attacked. I suppose that trying to unravel the reason it happened would be worth some time and energy. Maybe something triggered it. Maybe understanding those triggers will leave me better prepared if/when it happens again.
But right now, as the wounds close again and my heart heals, I’m not sure I want to pick at the scabs. Yet.
I do know two things. First, that I am so grateful that I don’t have to do that battle every day. I remember when I used to feel “never good enough” all the time. When I thought that if I could just be perfect enough then I would be worth loving. The days before I knew that there is no such thing as perfect, that I am enough and that love comes from the self.
And second – I never want to go back to LA again.
I’ve been enjoying a blog called One Thousand Single Days by Vanessa Katsoolis who has decided to stay single and celibate for 1000 days. Vanessa’s journey is to explore being just herself without the distraction and focus (and heartbreak?) of love. I applaud her decision to focus on herself for a while.
I was watching her in an interview today (great job, Vanessa!) and noticed that the word “single” and “celibate” seemed to be linked together and somewhat interchangeable.
Which got me thinking … if heels-over-your-head sex with the person you are in love with is not an option – what’s are the choices for a single girl?
For me, celibate ain’t it! I like sex. I like the intimacy, the sensuality, the touch, the give and take of pleasure, the sheer giggly fun and even the cuddling. Yup, I admit it – I’m a snuggler.
But, I have also never been one to hook up with a different person every weekend. Um, or every month even. So, single and sowing my oats seems unrealistic and a lot of pressure for me. Plus, now that I’m in my 40s I just can’t stay up really late every night and still function at work the next day (geez, could I sound any more boring?!).
Don’t get me wrong; one night stands can certainly be fun. But, they do kind of lack heart or soul after a while. I mean, I like to at least LIKE the person in order to have sex with them. It’s not like I’m there solely for the conversation but the mind is probably the most important sex organ for me so it needs a bit of stimulation, too.
I once was hooking up with a guy who was sweet and sexy and interesting and then I stumbled upon the fact that he didn’t believe in evolution. When he revealed that he believed that the earth was only 6,000 years old my brain shut down every erogenous zone in my body.
Friends with benefits is a great option, if you can find it. Two friends, who like each other and find each other sexy and interesting but who don’t have the expectation of commitment. As they say, nice job if you can get. But, there’s the rub and not in a nice massage rub kind of way. It’s a hard balance to strike. And, when one person’s expectations change, in can be a train wreck of hurt feelings.
And then there’s open relationships. I have great admiration for couples who trust and communication is strong enough for an open relationship. I’m not sure I could do that. But as a single woman, it has provided some pretty fun nights. So, my hats off to you (and sometimes some of my other clothes).
I’m not sure where that leaves us singles. But, I know for sure that while celibate is one option, I am pretty thankful we’ve moved passed the days when it’s the only option. At least here in my part of the world. And while sometimes my celibate stretches go on longer than I might choose, I’ll take no sex over bad sex any day – and that includes no-self-respect sex.
A good friend recently said to me that if you passed around a bowl of all different kinds of candy, we would all choose something different and that we should celebrate that variety.
Here’s to your sweet tooth.
This weekend I visited the Chihuly Exhibition and Gardens in Seattle. I don’t think mere words can express how my heart and body and spirit responded to such beauty.
The glass seemed to be lit from within. It sang in joyful colour rather than sound.
Amazingly strong and incredible fragile. Seemingly frozen in place, actually a liquid flowing so slowly that you can’t see it move.
The glass soared, curving with grace and rounded with sensuality.
In the presence of such beauty, my spirit took flight in colour and light and vibrated in tune with the glass.
These words and pictures are the best I can do to try to share the experience.
I have been described as many things but patient is not one of them.
I am a big ideas person. I have a vision of how things can be and I work hard to realize those visions. And a lot of times that is a really great quality.
But when things go sideways or off track, it throws me. Everyone is turning left and off in the new direction and I am left standing there, saying “but … we were going this way …”
I read this great post this week called Why lying broken in a pile on your bedroom floor is a good idea. It talked about how when you are going through a transition like a breakup or a losing your job there is a period of mourning the death of the future, of the way you saw things unfolding.
I can so relate to that. I envy people who can easily change direction accepting that “oh well, things have changed!”
For me it takes some time. Time to get my feet back under me. To regroup and adjust to the new state. To pull back from the future that I thought was coming and back into the reality of what is. Time to stand still for awhile and then figure out the new direction.
This week has been like that. Work projects are in transition and I’m having to adjust and be patient. So far, my plans on four of the five nights this past week have changed unexpectedly. The photography class I’m taking is not what I thought it would be and I’m trying to set aside my disappointment and go with the flow of the class.
Thing is, last week I celebrated the autumn equinox. That time of equal balance between light and dark, night and day, life and death. As part of the celebration, I wrote this about the spirit of the equinox –
I am the perfect balance of the present. What is past has already been and what is the future is yet to be determined. What has gone before cannot be changed and what lies ahead is yet to be known. My gift is the peace of the present.
My lesson is to live in this moment. For the present has been shaped by the past and it is the present that will shape the future.
Live in the blessings of the still point of balance between light and dark, night and day, creation and destruction. For ever do these revolve in endless cycle.
Dark triumphs over light bringing death and rest. Light banishes the dark bringing rebirth and growth. But always they dance around the single point of equilibrium.
So live in the moment. Dance and sing and love and learn and be fully alive in the here and now. Live today as you would live your whole life.
For this moment is all that we have.
This weekend I am headed to Seattle and going to visit the Chihuly Exhibition and Gardens. I am going to try and set aside what I think the weekend will be. I am going to take lots of pictures of the glass art and not worry about the photography.
I am going to try and allow myself the time to adjust to some of the painful changes in direction that life has thrown at me. To allow myself to stand still and breathe and not expect that I have to be off and running again.
Because while it’s great to see the path ahead of me, I don’t want miss what’s right in front of me. To miss the chance to stop and be open to the other possibilities.
So for right now, I am going to try and be patient and still and let the future unfold in all its mystery.
This past weekend, I made cornucopias with some friends as part of a fall equinox celebration. We wrote all the things we are thankful for on the objects that went into our horn of plenty.
I wrote the usual stuff – family, friends, a good job, roof over my head, good health – and then I wrote “me”.
I’m not sure if that’s egotistical or narcissistic but I realized that I am thankful for me.
For the me that keeps trying. The me that is open to change. The me that is learning to listen to my heart and trust the whispers there. The me that has the courage to face the fear.
The me that can show up in my life and hopefully for the loved ones in my life. The me that is learning to butt out. The me that has learned to ask for and accept help. The me that knows that I don’t know. The me that doesn’t expect me to be perfect.
I’ve never put me on my gratitude list before.
Maybe I’ve never really been thankful to be me before now.
A Fish and a Bicycle 