Kindness Creates Change So Be Kind

I was nearly in a car accident getting off the freeway this morning.  It was totally my fault.  It wasn’t the low gas in my tank and guessing if I could keep getting closer to work before stopping or would my gamble make me really, really late.  It wasn’t looking at my GPS while on a call to deal with the insurance company for my cracked phone.  It wasn’t even being stressed that my son fights going to school with me because he feels safer fighting me than the bullies making his school day hard (that was my first call).  I just didn’t see the car hanging out in my blind spot until I heard his horn and saw his double fisted single finger salutes in my honor.  He was angry. What do you do when you’ve been flipped off? Do you retaliate? Do you pretend nothing happened and avoid eye contact? Do you flee as quickly as possible?

Not if you’re me.

I asked the woman on the phone with me to wait just a moment and as he pulled up near me, I put my window down and apologized for not seeing him.  It was the truth.  I could have really ruined my day and hurt the car that has been my trusted ally in adventure for the past year.  The rage I inspired told me he was also not looking forward to getting to experience the upheaval in an accident.  Hands raised, window rolled down (do they roll anymore, or is that my old showing?) . . . I said, “I’m so sorry.  I just didn’t see you.”  He said it was okay and apologized for his burst of anger.  I got back on the call and the woman apologized and tried to rush off, and I assured her I was fine, had a moment of trying to merge into someone hanging out in my blind spot and had a fairly uneventful commute for the rest of the hour on the road.

Kindness and unwillingness to return his anger with my own made my morning flow smoothly.  I got to the office after slaying a few dragons and was able to flow into my next task. You know, the ones I actually get paid for.

After a full shift at work and a long commute home, I was standing in line at the grocery store with an elderly man just behind me.  He had rough wrinkles around the corners of his eyes.  They were the kind that stood proudly as if leathered in the sun and toughened with age.  His eyes were a soft and almost faded blue and he had a few stories to share.  He told me about a story a college professor told him over 50 years ago.  It brought humor and light to a political situation that has made me angry and conjured passionate tears in the last few executive orders.  What he gave me in kindness I returned with an open ear and a smile that was an extension of my kindness.  So much of the exhaustion from traffic that settled in my shoulders left as I was packing groceries into my car.

This weekend my boyfriend grabbed my clean laundry from the dryer.  The shock faded as I watched him step out in the rain and I walked back to my bedroom as quickly as I could and began to cry.  It was a heavy cry with shoulders shaking and heart aching because it was the sweetest offer I didn’t expect.  I was able to stay inside and out of the rain while the man that seems to adore me went out in the rain to grab my laundry so I would have clean socks to wear.  I tried to get the crying under control but he reads me well enough that I couldn’t hide how overwhelmed I was at his kindness.  He did something similar with a broken dish he cleaned up before I could reach down to take care of it.  He did it again in clearing dinner dishes so I could go mother my boys.  It’s his kindness that melts the ice around me while his ability to tell me what to do without making me angry has my complete attention.  Without his kindness, there would be nothing. He would tell me to sit in the corner booth while he got our food and I would walk out.  Instead it's sexy that he's so commanding and kind to me.

So much of the world we live in has an expectation for an exchange.  We give because we expect something in return.  We offer because we know that might mean we’ll be gifted in return.  What happens when your only expectation is a moment of kind engagement? I write this and I know when I get home I’ll have to talk to my son about self-defense.  Kindness doesn’t always work, but I would never want him to be a victim and there’s a balance we get to find between confidence and cockiness, self-defense and violent aggression.  It’s one of those lessons I don’t want to have to teach but it’s a lesson we all draw on.

In the policies changing and pulling human kindness out of a nation, we’re left with the ability to stand in unity, petition in solidarity and write unceasingly until we see the change that puts kindness and humanity back into the fabric of our nation and the breathing spaces of our world.  We can’t survive by looking out only for ourselves and allowing the strongest to win.  We win by ensuring we are lead to work on the ideals of equity and not the blind belief of equality.  It means we give each other what we each need to succeed rather than just treating everyone the same.  We acknowledge and honor our differences and celebrate our similarities.  We breathe as a nation based in love and kindness and we create a world with intention.

Relearning How to be a Girlfriend After Being Married

I’m still learning. When I wake up and get ready to face my day, I get to decide I don’t have to know what it will look like or how it will feel. The hard part is realizing the many ways I need to unlearn an existence. I was a wife for 15 years. I made meals I never ate. I rubbed sore muscles and washed laundry for someone that wasn’t my offspring or me. Dishes were washed and bathrooms scrubbed as the last thing I would ever want to do with the consistency of someone suffering from severe depression. The stench of urine never went away because teaching my boys to use a toilet when I didn’t have a penis as an example means it was a poor lesson and it often failed all over the seat and floor. (New lesson: bleach will make my skin reek and burn my eyes but after a while, the chemical scent fades and with it the smell of stale urine only a barfly could appreciate.)

I dated when I was younger. It was a goal to be someone that might become a wife one day. I wanted to be all that would make me a wife. Even to the point that I would put my desires behind someone else’s. I was a chameleon for love, as it were.

Fast forward to nearly two years ago and I’m suddenly single again. A year ago I started to enjoy being single. I’m doing what feels good and exciting to me. I go where I want and stay out as long as I want and it’s about making myself happy. I’ve gotten really good at buying myself flowers and discovering Victoria’s Secret for myself. I eat what I want and enjoy the epicurean delights of self-satisfaction. I love being single because I get to be selfish without feeling selfish.

Then lightning strikes and there’s a man. Just one. There’s a boyfriend and I get to unlearn being a wife to learn how to be a girlfriend and no longer a single woman.

There are moments of joy because I love the way I feel when I’m with him. There are moments of doubt. I have FOMO (fear of missing out) just like anyone else. Is there someone else? Could there be someone better? I have moments of telling myself to relax and enjoy each moment for the spontaneous gifts of our time together. Our times together are amazing enough that I want to learn to be an us when I was so happy with just being me. And moments where I feel like I don't deserve him. They coincide with moments when he tells me he knows there isn't another me on this planet.

I found myself rushing home after work to be by his side and in his arms. On a kid free day as a single woman, I would normally just explore the area I work in or drive to the ocean for a while until traffic was a straight shot home and into bed.

I keep turning the thermostat slightly lower to accommodate his comfort rather than my desire to comfortably walk around naked at home.

I would normally have a light dinner or a non-existent one on a kid free night, and I wonder if I should cook for him or how that should look as his girlfriend that isn’t hungry and he surprises me by caring for my needs and being self sufficient. I have moments that beg for a lifetime in spite of my fear of what that could look like. I wonder if I want more and I ask why can’t I have the more he’s offering. And there’s happiness and contentment and moments that shock me and rock the certainty I almost lived in. (I'm certainly adaptable.)

I find myself trying to remember how I am supposed to behave and care and not rely on him. Can I rely on him? Does he ask that of me and why does that scare me. Around that time, the reality of being abandoned shows up and I see how I keep holding him at a safe distance, without accounting for the fact that there is no safety in what we have and that is the thrill I have a right to embrace.

I’m learning what drives him and where his passions are. I’m learning to see the new patterns of who we are and not place the heavy burden of the old (my past) on top of him.

When I met my ex, it was on the heels of a superficial relationship with someone else. He introduced me to a song that I in turn introduced to my ex. We played that song over and over on our honeymoon. I kept wondering if I should just tell him and pick a different song. I heard it on the radio this morning and it was interesting how the memories of it were layered by two different men. I heard another song with a similar scenario and two different men, and again, the significance and memories cascaded in a way that felt so confused and beautiful. There was a moment with my current boyfriend. There was a sweet emoji he texted to me (and so help me, I’m embracing smiley faces and I don’t feel like an asshat doing it). He sent a picture that reminded me of my ex and I let his expression color the picture in a different light. Like brush strokes on a canvas, we are offered a gift in our expressions and it was a moment to shift what I saw and how I felt and rather than dwell on what it was, I was able to bask in what we’re making it. And that moment is his and mine and has nothing to do with anyone else.

My kids on the other hand . . . Kid1 isn’t in love with my dating one person. (He might have enjoyed the idea of me being a player or hard to keep because that meant I was so picky only his Dad was worth holding onto and that means only my kids held my attention. He isn't rude but refuses to engage.  Kid2 is indifferent. Kid3 (at 10 years old) has moments where he likes the new boyfriend and moments where his anger is palpable. He tried breaking my car window after watching me, watch him pee all over the toilet seat on purpose. I withheld my smirk and laughter at how visceral his need to be territorial was.  And there I go with that bleach lesson again. We're all learning.

Hold Up a Minute or Why You Should Slow Down and Step Into Self Care

I'm temping with an ad agency right now. It's been fun though not exactly a wild ride. It's work and I'm doing it with the accounting department. I'm loving the pace I'm setting and enjoy the stacks that slowly fade away throughout the day. One of the many perks is one of the many kitchenettes where I stop for coffee, tea, cocoa, and juice with fresh fruit and popcorn breaks. It's a dog friendly office so there are breaks for walks with friendly barks, the tap of nailed paws kissing concrete, the dog moms speaking motherese to their pups (wait here while mommy grabs my lunch) ... There's the sounds of ping pong tables getting pelted with plastic balls as they're hit with paddles and guided through laughter, and basketballs hitting the backboard with a squeak of tennis shoes on polished wood.

In the bustle and push of everyone getting it done, we're consistently invited to slow it down and be intentional with the moments we take to care for ourselves. I've noticed more often than not, a solid rush to grab coffee and go. There's a self directed push. I hear, "excuse me, am I in your way?" as if any one person could be valued less than the next in the spaces we occupy.

Tables and couches or chairs dot the building in spaces to sit and talk and breathe. There are offices and conference tables and long tables without partitions. We are invited to communicate and engage while we share and learn.

I step back and let the rush flow around me. I smile in kindness and offer quiet when the sounds crashing in the heads of others force a staccato completion of each task. I fill my cup and smell the aromas I'm brewing. I hold the warmth and allow time to pace my sip and save the scald for those who will not wait,  those who see their time as a borrowed commodity for a company that invests so much for a workforce to slow down.

Stop Hitting Yourself and Self Care for Yourself

Have you ever made someone hit themselves, then taunted," stop hitting yourself, stop hitting yourself?" You might be a bully and should look into getting help. I was in a conversation that was starting to look like a coaching session and I'm really not comfortable being a life coach in the capacity of our acquaintance.

I started telling this person that their life is a choice.  I explained the beauty in living like I love myself and treating myself like I would treat a 3 year old that I love. Through it all I was given reasons and explanations of why this situation was the only reasonable existence.

We all do it.  We make excuses and give logical reasons why we have to continue to do what we always have.  I'll give examples, and most of these are the dialogues I gave myself.

"I can't quit my job and find a better one because I can't afford to."

Don't quit, but continue looking for a better place if you aren't happy.

"I have too many obligations on my plate to take on something new."

Are you doing what others expect of you, or are you making intentional choices to make yourself happy.  Start practicing the art of "no," see who disappears from your life and the ways you start finding that happy.

"When X happens, I will go on a diet."

I never did solve for X.  I'm a firm believer that the first 3 letters of the word "diet" are very telling.  I won't do it.  So much changed for me when I started to act like I love myself.

"I wish I could (fill in the blank) but I have to (fill in this blank) first."

I want to live an epic life but I'm going to let my parents, children, boss and the expectations of other people decide what my life looks like.

"My (kids/parents/partner) needs me to . . . "

Well, they don't need you to be a doormat or martyr.  You can't save the world if you're dead to it.  They don't need you to die to their cause.  They need your example of how to conquer their quests.

These are excuses and they're cop outs!

If you make excuses to not live your life and you blame unhappiness on a person or situation . . .  If this is how you play at the life you get to live, you should look in the mirror and start saying, "stop hitting yourself." Better yet, ask why you are hitting yourself.  Ask why no one has to hold you in the position you've assumed because you're so held by beliefs you've been handed.  Every moment of your life is yours.  The way you spend your time is a choice.  Are you making that choice, or are you handing the reins to someone else and wondering why they put themselves ahead of you.

You're a person, not a slave or a game piece.  Handle your life because you won't be happy with what has been handed to you. Stop bullying yourself in beliefs and go get your life.

Being Wrong is So Right

I'm self centered and egocentric enough to know how powerful it feels to be right.  I love it when knowledge, history, and intuition become vindication when others have doubted me.  The flipped coin of that feeling often looks like being wrong. Being wrong can feel wrong. We've all been there.  What starts as confidence takes a swift turn into uncertainty.  You're pulled up short in a moment that sends chills up your spine and raises the hair on the back of your neck.  What felt like a powerful strut through life is suddenly met with doubt and confusion.  What looked like certainty requires a back pedal and that's covered in shame.  How often are you proud of not knowing the answers?

Being wrong is covered in negativity.  What happens when you make a mistake at work? You get written up.  You get fired.  You aren't promoted or asked to lead or teach others. When you're right, it leads to raises and bonuses.  It's a place where you're recognized and appreciated.

Life is rarely about dualities.  There are so many shades and flavors to every life situation. There is too much beauty to simplify any concept.  I mean, even gender is fluid and changeable, and most humans start as either female or male. 

As a student, we're often called on for an answer that we might not know.  I hated standing and giving an answer I didn't believe in.  If I was wrong, I was wrong in front of a whole class.  That embarrassment would have followed me throughout the day.  I would have wondered what my classmates thought and believed they were making fun of me even though no one ever cared.

I remember the first time I walked into Victoria's Secret for a bra fitting after dropping about 40 pounds (divorce diet miracles look a lot like eating like I might love myself). I knew I was going to be larger than average.  I always have been.  I just wanted a fitting to know what my size was and I was prepared to look elsewhere.  I was right about my size but wrong about the sizes they now carry.  It was a good feeling.  I got to buy something cute and the person correcting me upsold a matching panty.

I like being wrong lately.  It means I get to learn from the experience and grow.  It means my understanding and knowledge and expectations are expanded and stretched.  

I'm temping at a company that requires at least an hour commute each way.  I was so set against a long commute for so long but the rewards on this position were big enough for a short term compromise.  On the first day, I accepted the stretch in working at a company so far from home.  On the second day I was grateful that I could see what it was like to work in a huge company that has a basketball court and lactation room for employees with a welcome dog culture.  I was able to see a company that has a lot of the good things I have heard about but never experienced.  By the third day, I realized that sitting in traffic for over an hour doesn't matter when I sing and dance in my seat every time I drive somewhere.  I was wrong.  A long drive isn't a big deal. I expect to have many wrong answers as a mom.  I won't always see the repercussions of my choices. I expect my boys to call me out and they do. 

I grew up with a narrow enough view of the world to believe the news about Muslim people until I met a Muslim couple. She was a dominant A type and he was quiet and respectful. . . Maybe submissive by American standards. I was wrong about who I thought they were. My life was made richer by knowing who they are as people and letting my compassion and love for them show me how to see others in the world that I know nothing about. I was wrong and there is a reward in seeing that. 

I was wrong about a person.  I had my judgements and ideas and I let my know-it-all moment decide the depth and fate of a relationship for me.  I had an opportunity for a do-over.  A few different do overs have made me so happy lately. My ideas were met with understanding.  My perception expanded in empathy.  I can say I was wrong, and I have been so lucky in being able to really experience this person.  I've met more than I knew to ask for in so many beautiful ways.

Be a safe person that someone else can admit they were wrong to. Admit you were wrong and see the many ways it can be right. You get to shift your perception. 

Everything Happens When and How It's Supposed to

I love my car.  I wrote about the car issues I had with my last car here. That reminder was perfectly timed for my emotional strength and momentary weakness last night. I was picking out colors for my living room at Home Depot and as I was leaving their lot, my car notified me that I had low tire pressure. Having had so many cars with slow leaks I used to ignore, I just drove home.  It was normal when I had dented rims, or used tires to have issues that are slow to show up.

I was going to go in and find the primer I had in storage to start on the really dark wall at home, but it's a bigger job than I want to do alone and stalling made so much more sense.  I was thinking of dropping things off and maybe finding an adventure.  I love driving up PCH during the day and it was something I could imagine being less terrifying than it usually is for me at night.

It was more of an instinct than an automatic response, but instead of going in for the night, I got out the car and started walking around my car.  I actually heard the hiss of air escaping the tire.  I called roadside assistance to swap out a tire that I could have changed myself and I was able to wait inside my house.

You might imagine I remember every single word I write because it's all solid gold.  Every single word is magic. Right? It's not.  The crazy part about my writing is how it helps me release and forget things. I had actually forgotten the details about the post linked above and the writing of it.  Last night reminded me of a night with car problems a year ago and 20 miles away from home. I actually tried a few keyword searches to find it.  And I was floored at the perfectly timed reminder I needed. Last Christmas echoes this Christmas in some ways and I'm ready for that launch into more than I could have dreamed for.

Last Christmas I was picking out my kid's Christmas gifts at the dollar store.  My car was crapping out on me consistently.  I didn't have a job.  I received a charm from my sister for Christmas.

This Christmas was handled with credit (next year's goal is cash) and my only wish was to give my kids more than they expected and I did.  No real car problems because last night doesn't count and I received a coffee mug filled with candy from my mom.

Both years I was overwhelmed with love and acceptance from my family and friends.  It was a gift that offered more than I expected.  Both years there is a sigh and a collapse of expectation that creates space for transition.  I'm ready to be launched into more than I could dream of.  My expectations are high, but my accountability to myself is even greater.

Last year I was so convinced my marriage was something I wanted and would never let go of.  This year I'm eager for the next thing in my life and excited for the change that is coming.

The car I drove both Christmas's have reminded me that things happen in a perfect way that create change, keep me safe and inspire hope.  I was talking about it with a friend last night and looked up the post this afternoon.  Here I am, jobless, having a tire that needs to be repaired, handling it on my own again.  I was reminded of last time.  I was reminded of the journey I've been on.  And the timing was grace.

Being optimistic means I'm always looking for lessons and miracles.  Being who I am means I have encouraged accountability in my choices and I have a tribe that holds me high.  It is a great time in my life, even if I can't make sense of it yet.  I can't wait for what 2017 will bring to me, and what I get to create.

Romantic Love

For the first time, I was given a topic to write about.  The person that made the suggestion is close to my heart and at first I was eager, even excited to write about love, trust, commitment and patience.  It should have been easy to bang this one out and call it a night. It was a Friday night and I was home alone, enjoying the quiet with the television on (really rare) and the many app alerts from men that honestly thought I would want to meet them in a way that was clear to me was just to fulfill a sexual need.

Love

I wasn't feeling love.  At one point a man asked why I was being so mean to him.  I told him he sounded like he just wanted to feel the back of my throat and I wasn't interested.  He kept trying to guilt me into seeing him and he stopped when I told him I didn't know how else to explain he was making me feel like a whore.  I could have blocked him, but he would never learn, and he'd just find me on another app.  (It happens often enough now.)

Trust

I wasn't feeling trust.  I couldn't trust the men I was talking to that wanted to spend time with me last night.  There was the beautiful attorney with auburn hair and blue eyes.  I could totally trust his intentions when he messaged "DTF." He got to the point of what he wanted from me.  There was an offer for Netflix and wine and another for Netflix and a massage.  I laughed because I have Netflix and Hulu at home and I can save the gas, and know that no one is secretly hoping to feel for my missing tonsils by the end of the night.

Commitment

My commitment last night was to my New Year's resolution of taking care of myself because I wasn't in the mood to make someone else feel better than I wanted to make myself feel.  It wasn't a complete bust.

Patience

Patience looked like a phone call last night. I had a conversation with a man that was all over the place and left me laughing so hard.  He admitted that he wasn't putting his best foot forward and his one sided conversation did require patience.  Once I settled into the idea I wasn't going out with anyone, I decided to stay in and took off my makeup and clothes, enjoying a night in my underwear on the phone and sipping tea.  At one point he told me I was intimidating.  He said it was my looks, and the way I wear my clothes and string along words.  I told him I was determined to find someone smarter than me and he said that is why I will never find a date. I'm asking for too much.  My patience paid off because that observation made my night.

But it's morning now and a good night's rest with a phone that was on vibrate all night has it's rewards and I'm feeling a rosy glow around the world right now.

2017 is greeting me with a transition from being in the moment to envisioning a romance that lives on beyond the days held carefully in routine and imagination. I'm exploring in words because the depth of such a reality hasn't hit me yet.  But it will.  It's been many years since I've felt romantic love that gets past infatuation and isn't bound by a commitment stronger than fickle feelings.

Infatuation

My obsessive observations are fun, but they always dance in the fascination of infatuation.  These are moments when I will notice details about a man I'm interested in to the point that it's creepy.  It's a happy place where I'm willing to look at the many things I find intriguing but it rarely means I've given him any thought beyond objectification.  I have not at this point decided I would care for him any more than I would care for any other human being. But thinking of him entertains and excites me. It's not a friendly practice.

Infatuation is a phase in a new relationship where I am willing to look deeper than friendship and see what feelings can be grown. It's a place where I make that initial choice to imagine more than friendship. Everything about the person I'm into is amazing and if it isn't, those amazing parts more than make up for it.

This is where I might entertain giving another man a baby.  No, I don't want more kids.  If I find the one I want to keep, I may reconsider it, but I can't tell you how many men around 35 see my mothering as sexy and want to put a child in me.

Love

There's a time when infatuation fades into the feelings of love.  Loving someone is a choice.  When infatuation fades and the excitement gives way to reality, his behaviors that were once okay can start to bother me.  At this point, I choose.  At this point, would I be happier walking away (I don't actually walk, but try to push him away)?  Could I be happier making space for his shortcomings, and loving him even if he's annoying me? When I decide to be open in vulnerability, I am making a decision to allow someone in.

When infatuation fades, I'm faced with a new choice to love someone.  This is when doubts and fears become a choice to believe.  I put my faith in the person I'm trusting with my heart.  I'm deciding that even though I see so many things I can't ignore in him . . . Even if my doubts and irritations are yelling at me, I still need him in my life.  I would rather live in a world where I get to make space for him and the ways he fails my expectations than go another day without seeing or talking to him.

Love is a choice.  You decide what you want to do and those feelings follow where you allow them to go.  This is where I might compromise and consider bringing a new life into this world.

Trust

I overthink all of the time.  It's a superpower but it's not always a gift.  I rarely accept things at face value and I'm often thinking of what was said, and holding it up to what I know.  I want to understand everything and my curiosity never stops.  When I have even a moment of doubt, my trust takes a step back.  Yes, I've been cheated on.  A few times by different boys.  I always offered the men I loved the benefit of the doubt.  I wasn't a cheater, so maybe he could be faithful to me too.  In theory.  Hopefully.

In reality I offer my trust to a person and put my faith in their belief to be committed to honor their word.  I'm at a place where I understand how much it means to me to be transparent and I try to offer the truth at all times.  It means you see my good and bad, but I'm not going to be ashamed of that. And I recognize that even in my bad, I'm a harsh judge on myself and do what many think and can relate to.

In my marriage I lied a lot about money or how I spent my time.  It was never about cheating.  It never occurred to me to cheat.  It was a lie to cover my shame in choices I knew wouldn't make him happy.  He couldn't trust me and so he'd look at my grocery store receipts.  He'd find my $25 Amazon gift card because that deception was how I partied.  But he couldn't trust me.

For that week when I had a boyfriend (is it terrible that I can laugh about that now?) there was one night with hand holding and snuggling.  There was laughter and I felt like I trusted him in that moment and that was a gift. I felt so much peace in his arms.  In hindsight, he never trusted me.  He gave me his nickname at first and it wasn't until the day before he broke up with me that he gave me his actual name.  He was born in the states, but his roots are in Palestine and he didn't trust that I would accept him for who he was. At one point he started dozing off and I picked up my phone to troll Instagram and Facebook.  I was off of the dating sites and I did field a text from someone wanting to flirt.  I let him know I had a boyfriend and that was the end of it. He wanted to see what I was looking at and what I was doing and it wasn't until he ended things that I could see how much he distrusted me.

Sometimes you trust your heart, even when you have a hard time trusting other people. Save your energy on a pity party because this is a choice made in the excellence of your own pure heart. And Lord help me, this is where I know having another child would be the right thing to do.  I trust a future with a person that I want to share my life with.

Commitment

I make commitments to myself daily.  I'm committed to creating space for self love.  I'm committed to only putting things in my mouth that make me insanely happy (food joy is a reality). I'm committed to creating a life I get to live with excitement.  Commitment to anyone outside of my kids . . .

I was committed to my marriage and while I had a boyfriend I was committed to him too.  It's not just the word I give.  At the end of the day, when the world fades away, all I have is my word and the strength of it is how I show up in this world and that matters to me.  Commitments aren't based on a mood.  They stand firm no matter what you feel.

When I committed to my marriage, it was all that mattered.  I know marriage often talks about honor and obeying as part of that commitment.  I felt I honored my ex, even if I didn't trust his leadership more than I trusted mine.  Obeying him wasn't what I wanted to do, but committing my heart and my body to our marriage was all that mattered.  I felt it was enough, and while I can admit I was wrong, I still believe a marriage is about the two people in the marriage.  It's spouse and spouse, and that doesn't include siblings and parents and friends.

Commitment means I show up no matter what I feel like doing.  It means I love you even when I don't like you.  It means I find ways to be attracted to you when you can't find it in yourself to love who you are enough to take care of yourself. It means what I might feel in any given moment takes a back seat to how I want you to feel when you are the person I choose to love and share my world with.  Commitment is about duty and it's where I find my honor.

This is a hallmark of parenting.  You commit to taking care of another person.  I don't know any parents that stop being a parent after 18 years.  It's a lifelong thing.

Patience

When I started taking classes at Glendale Community College, I was just out of high school and I didn't have a car.  My Dad was picking me up and dropping me off which meant some days a class was cancelled and I had to wait.  Or I had large time gaps in my day and I would just hang out on campus until my next class.  I wrote a lot of sappy poems. I wrote in my journal.  I sat in the cafeteria and found comfort in hot tea and soup.  I would wait on the front steps of the school in the heat or the rain, and I remember telling myself to be patient. Just wait.

When my kids were born, I had to live on their schedule.  Eating, sleeping, awake and crying, awake and playing, gassy, happy, angry . . .  Their world dictated my response and I was never happy about it.  I loved being a surrogate because feeling like a single parent with an infant was hard on me (because I prefer being selfish).

When my marriage ended, I found peace in patience.  From March 11 when I was told my marriage was over, there were ups and downs and I fought hard, and not well, but I found patience for him.  I convinced myself that no matter what, when he was ready to snap out of it, I would take him back and we would work on our marriage.  That lasted until February 12, almost a year later.

I learned patience and found comfort in knowing it would be over one day.  That day came when I changed my mind about what I wanted, and the transformation that has taken place has required patience with myself.  In dating I meet many men that have been through a divorce and when we talk, I can see the heavy burden that I felt while waiting.  The day I filed for divorce was a celebration for me.  But the scars of a life that was planned and celebrated together has it's own process of mourning.  I'm in a great place, but it has made me question how much is too much.

If you love someone, is there ever a point when you have been patient enough? I stopped being patient with my ex.  I was more committed to being a wife than being his wife and I realised it was no longer important to me to wait for him.  But where do you draw the line when you're in love? Do you look for a line to draw? I don't think I could.  I grew up in a home where love meant you are self sacrificing every moment of your life if that means the person you love feels it.  My parents might have lost their shit from time to time, but I grew up taking their patience for granted.  It is something I've tried to internalize.  I want to be that person in life and in love that was modeled, to the point where I now get to decide I won't help anyone by being a martyr to someone else's happiness through my self sacrifice and patience.

Patience is waiting even when you have no idea how long you'll have to wait.  Patience is enduring and finding strength within yourself when you know you can't find it in the person in front of you because they are relying on your strength, sustained by your patience.

Romantic Love

It's not an easy road.  Sometimes I imagine the rewards because they aren't always going to land in my lap.  When I put my faith in a romantic relationship, I believe it won't fail me even though to this day, every single one I believed in has failed me.  Would I do it again? Abso-freaking-lutely.  The rewards of being in love are worth every possible risk and moment of blind faith.  The ideals of commitment I hold close to me are strong enough that I can believe someone else would hold them just as closely to his heart.

I'm making space for my next romantic love.  When my ex was leaving, I made an effort to put family pictures all over the house.  I wanted to remind us all of who we were as a family.  When he moved out they stayed for the kids.  I told them I would take them down when I painted the living room.  That was my commitment to them and seeing these pictures for all of this time is an exercise in patience. I brought my boyfriend home and while I felt fine hiding him away in my bedroom, I'm sure it had an effect on him, even if it was unspoken.  It probably influences why I'm never home if my kids are gone.

This weekend I intend to be home for the most part.  I have taken the pictures down and washed the walls.  I will start taping the trim and I will begin priming and painting my living room.  I will finish changing the last room in the home I shared with my ex because it's time my little house becomes my home again. It will be a meditative celebration of change and it will be a space I will be excited to be in again.

Learning Empathy

I went to an empathy workshop.

I was at an empathy training workshop last night and the real lessons kept hitting late last night as I was finally dozing off around 3 this morning.  It was a class that found me through the MITT network of classes I started in July.  Through discussion and working on ideas and concepts with others, I get to take notice of my actions, and make changes. I get to see how I look at the world around me and really understand how narrow minded I am.  I get to break the confines of what I've always known to experience all that can potentially be.

My judgements kept me from empathy in my marriage.

I was hard on my ex.  Ending the relationship the way he did because he wanted happiness and found it in other people throughout our marriage was something I crucified him on. Over the last couple of years as I really got to look at my life, I understood the value of my happiness and I can see that I was depressed through most of my marriage. I loved him.  I just wasn't happy with myself.  I've learned that happiness comes from me.  I can't borrow it from someone else.  I can't take from who they are.  I get to make my own and while I can offer a smile, I can't put it in anyone else. Being apart was a gift but I was so attached to my role as a wife that I looked for my happiness in other ways just as he did.  The reality of his action in a marriage of our mutual inaction was a gift and without malice I can see the ways in which he fought for our mutual happiness.  I can no longer blame him for the many ways he gave me more than I asked for in the life I now get to live.

My self guided tour spends a lot of time in selfishness.

Through a self guided transformational exploration of who I am, I no longer find my value in what others think of me.  They have no point of reference in judging me and have no idea how to value me.  I am not my college degree.  The time I took to earn it was a challenge and it was emotionally rewarding, but it's a piece of paper and means little in my job search.  I'm not my relationships.  There is value in my relationships, but my relationship with myself means more than my relationship with anyone else.  I'm not my looks.  I like attention as much as the next person, but being a sex object when I feel so much better about my thoughts and ideas that are often ignored is never a good feeling.  I have a large brain and feelings!!!!

As a wife I was very selfish and couldn't see it without empathy.

I was rebellious in spending in ways that made me happy, justifying it as household necessities, knowing he wouldn't see it that way and hiding all evidence of that debauchery.  For both of us, it was about control.  I did it in small amounts I felt could be justified.  He never saw the value I did and saw all of it as the deception it was.  I wanted my home to be a place I wanted to escape to, and he wanted to escape from it. I sucked my time and energy into side projects like making soap with fat and lye.  Or learning all about keeping bees and chickens. I would garden and do all I could to ignore the chaos and the lack of support I felt in my own home. I would read books back to back so I could check out of reality and school became a priority.  He wanted connection and found it in other people and I always held the idea that I did nothing wrong in isolating him because I did it in learning and ways that I felt were important to me and my family and I didn't devote energies to other people and that meant I was faithful, right?

Last night in an empathetic perspective shift, I realized that he was looking for something to pull himself out of a marriage that wasn't satisfying to both of us. For him, it meant walking away in the ways he needed to. For me through my attachments to being the wife I wanted to be, it was on my birthday this year when I decided something so terrible and irreparable had happened that I could justify the end of a marriage, because being rejected and abandoned for 11 months wasn't enough. It was such a bad situation for both of us that something so drastic had to happen to justify walking away.

Empathy means I get to be vulnerable and release both of us.

I learned that through empowering myself, I have become the bully I felt he was being to me.  I get to take notice, and stop being aggressive when I know fighting back is a choice.  I know I can defend myself and I no longer need to. I shifted my perspective just enough with the help of someone else, I was able to forgive him on a level I didn't realize I had not forgiven him yet. I went through months of repeating to myself, "Iforgivehim, Iforgivehim, Iforgivehim." But I finally released the rest last night and it was just a perspective shift.  No crying.  No ritual or prayer.  Just a shift that let me release my ego, disconnect my emotions from thought, see it with new eyes, and let the fuck go.

Without empathy there is only selfishness and a commitment to being right and it is a pattern I took into my last relationship.

I had a boyfriend for a few days this week.  I don't actually write about my relationships until they are at the point where I am ready to release them.  I hold close what I intend to keep and the moment I start writing, I know they may see it and not like what I have to say and walk away. With each of them, I've already seen enough to feel he's not the one. It's like a last ditch effort for me because the most attractive thing I could hear is "I've read your blog and it's what makes me like you so much." It was something I would have never heard in my marriage and it means probably more than it should now. I heard that in the last week and it was the most intense and short lived relationship I've had since my marriage.  There was one night that is a gift I will unwrap in memories for a very long time.

The workshop I signed up for was sent to me as a message on Facebook and I got the alert while next to the man I was with.  I brushed it off, but the next day signed up anyway, fully knowing that I may be with my boyfriend, but also knowing there was a chance I wouldn't be.

How I met my last boyfriend.

Wednesday of last week I was doing my usual right and left swipe on a dating app. There was a man that was dragging out the conversation with a sentence a day for a couple of days.  I pushed and almost asked him out that night, giving him room to be dominant and actually do the asking.  He did and it was immediately attractive, even if the face in his profile picture was in shadow and hard to see. We ended up meeting at a bar, and as I learned from a friend that shared the workshop with me (as we continued our night at an epic viewing party in Beverly Hills we crashed), that was when I started rejecting him.

Rejecting and pulling him closer was selfishness.

It was that first gut check reaction when he stood next to me and said hello while I was looking in a different direction, and I flinched when I saw him.  It was in the ways he moved closer to me and I moved back.  It was in leaving and using my tone of voice and body language to flirt with another man, through innocuous conversation right in front of him.  It was as we were walking to our cars and his parting kiss was rebuffed in my excuse about public displays of affection.  It was in celebrating and laughing at going home by 10, asking my friend that works at the bar about that beautiful man I wanted to get to know better and a Facebook post that was a direct dig at the man's character.

Stopping my dysfunctions is something I get to work on.

Somehow the next day I went out with him again.  I loved his dominance in telling me he would pick me up.  I was talking to two men about him.  At one point I wanted to date them but ended up sticking them in my friend zone.  They told me I should go and I was deciding against him before giving him a chance the way I did to them.  I had nothing better to do and so I met him on a second date.

But he was so good in so many superficial ways.

The physical chemistry was there.  He had a body I could cry over.  (I might have when things ended.) The third date was following a familiar pattern and when he asked me to date him exclusively, I said sure.  I mean, he was my first actual date that got a second date since that beautiful but barely understood Italian man back in May. I had coffee, and hugs in the week before, but those weren't dates as much as meeting platonic friends I would never meet again.  It was easy to date him exclusively.  It followed the pattern of my boyfriends in Junior High.  Being his girlfriend meant no one else could steal me away.  Being my boyfriend was cool because no one else was asking me out.  I like to focus on one love interest at a time anyway.  Everyone else was just mental aerobics in bouncing from conversation to conversation.

We didn't really talk and I never allowed him close to me emotionally. I said yes to all he asked of me, without really considering the image of the future he had in mind.  He gave me a poetic moment and it just chipped away at the ice around me.  I nearly melted at his words and given time and really given the opportunity to step away from my judgement of him, it could have been special.

I rejected him in the ways I talked about him.

I told family and a couple of friends that I had a boyfriend, but the reality was I knew it was temporary and described it as such to everyone that I talked to about him.  I only told my family because I wanted to spend New Year's Day with him and invited him to join us. When my kids met him, my youngest had a gut check that didn't trust him (he blamed it on the shape of my boyfriend's nose), my oldest hid from him in the bathroom and his bedroom and my middle son gave him a classic autism dismissal.  He was a non person to my kids because they knew he was good enough for me, which he really was, but not good enough for them. I actually told them this.  The reality is he made me want to be selfish and enjoy him, going against my better judgement as a mom and not putting my foot down and saying no when he asked about meeting my kids.  At the time he said he wanted to grow a full relationship and make me his woman and start a family and all of that.  Instead I prepared them by saying they didn't have to worry because he'd never be their step-dad because I didn't think he was good enough for them.  I get to look at that on it's own. This was me rejecting him again.

The day he rejected me was when the cost of my rejections of him broke over me.

There was a dynamic shift and Tuesday night after we were exclusive for maybe 5 days, he broke it off because he wasn't comfortable with my male friendships that he saw as disrespectful.  And I didn't take it well.  I mean, I could see the jealousy and the ways that it would have grown into an abusive relationship because there was nothing deceptive in my friendships when I was clearly choosing (and simultaneously rejecting) him. His rejection was immediately seen as a gift because he was able to walk away when I knew it was right, even if I really didn't want him to. But he let me go before I was ready for him to.

I don't usually cry for the men I talk to and date.  I see the lessons they leave and there might be a bit of sadness, but rarely tears.  This was different. This was rejection and abandonment.  This wasn't me seeing him on a moment to moment basis, but actually imagining a few days ahead. I had this disconnect between what I knew wasn't a relationship I was really invested in and the emotional pain from the loss of it.  I didn't beg him to take me back but I let him know I didn't want to lose him.  It was the first time since I started dating that I meant it more than I wanted to.

Last night I was getting ready to leave and sat on the floor of my shower crying for a relationship I never wanted to grow.  He was fun, and I loved the way it felt to be in his arms and the many other things he made me feel, but I was objectifying him completely.  The moment I felt it was mutual, I felt a familiar ache that had nothing to do with him. I felt in the reflection of my rejection all of the pain I must have given him and I was shattered. There was a lot of good in him but in my rejection, I never closed the distance to really appreciate him.  He was tender and affectionate.  He was tall and I really loved his body.  He was capable of taking care of himself, even if I saw the ways in which I would live his life differently. He was mine, and then he wasn't and that wasn't a choice I made for us.

I was still blinded by my selfishness.

I left the workshop feeling like I needed to give myself empathy to put the relationship and all it was supposed to be ahead of the things that were important to me as an individual.  After a reality check from a friend in the many ways I was rejecting him, I knew I was being an asshat and not giving him an ounce of the empathy he deserved.

Last night I went to the workshop I had a feeling I would be at anyway.  I signed up for the class knowing that even though I had a boyfriend, the relationship might not last that long.  I don't know that I would tell him any of this.  It's not that I'm showing you all I am an asshole.  I'm okay with being authentic.  I'm not really a nice person all the time.  Some people think I am because I can be, but it's a choice. Part of me wants to make him feel better about the ways I rejected him.  I know that it is about relieving guilt and not for him. Part of me wonders if he saw it because until it was pointed out to me last night, I really couldn't. Part of me wants to give him the power of his rejection.  He made an empowered choice for his life and I need to give him that.  The rest of me wants to honor the many ways he affected me and taught me to shift my perspective, even if he has no idea he did.

It's amazing what stories make sense when you go through a situation and what a perspective shift can do.  In the class, I learned that empathy isn't draining if you exchange it with vulnerability. Seeing things with compassion, understanding and love is a gift I get to give to myself.

Hopefully you can learn from me too.

Think of a person you have a hard time seeing eye to eye with.  Give voice to your frustrations.  Give yourself permission to feel what you feel. Then flip it.  Ask what they would say you are doing to make them feel the way they do.  Look at them with love.  There's a reason, or maybe there was a reason that they mean enough to get under your skin. See their world the way they do and let go of the idea you are valued for being right.  That is what empathy looks like and in my case, it's got a heavy dose of guilt.

Dreaming Big

Dreams vs. Reality

My dream for my blog was always free therapy.  Somehow it became a point of conversation that has made people ask me for advice because I've found a way to live that makes it seem like I have answers.  It's odd for me.  It feels really strange like the times when I get asked for relationship advice from people that seem to see I'm not actually in a relationship and think I'm an expert.

Online dating, sure. We can have a laugh at my expense.  I can tell you about inappropriate texts and cat fishing.  No water, hook tying or smelly bait necessary.

Mothering boys, yes. More laughter.  Amazing rewards.  Heavy costs.

Moving on from a marriage.  I'm getting pretty badass at this.

Surrogate pregnancy, yeah. 3 surrogacies, 7 IVF cycles, egg donation, natural birth, c-section, twins.  Couples that made me feel things I couldn't imagine being gifted with.

Autism advocacy, hell the fuck yes.  Sensory integration dysfunction messes exploded last night.  I'll tell you all about it if I can hand you a scrub brush and get free labor.

Meaningful and lasting relationships . . . Can I get back to you on that? Although it might be closer than that pot of gold I'm after. I can show you my fear of commitment.  I can point out the ways in which I keep things superficial and how these relationships have been set up to fail.  Or the ways in which I made myself codependent to someone's narcissistic needs.  We can talk gas lighting and how easy it is to follow familiar and destructive patterns. I can show you how I push men away by being clingy because they prefer it when you really don't want them. And the best relationship advice I keep hearing is to pretend you don't, even if you do.

A couple of nights ago I dreamt I was on an adventure. I was finding my way through a place that looked like a park and led to hell. It was an ascent up stairs into hell.  I was on a rescue mission. I had a piece of wood, lit like incense and keeping it lit and smoking was my ticket back to the living. There were people on their adventures alongside us and somehow I knew enough about where we were going to advise them.  I remember the large concrete steps that were designed for something that wasn't human.  We had to climb each rise and trek across each run.  There were scattered pine trees around me and I was leading someone even though I was just as lost.  It was a strong contrast to what I actually felt when I woke and felt warmth and safety in my bed.  I was held and felt so much peace when waking that the dream itself was so foreign. I don't remember the last time waking at 4 am made me so happy.

Last night my dream included a man I wanted to be with a few months back. He was with his kids, and I was only visiting him as his date was leaving. His date was clearing plates, and threw away the rest of their Chinese take out, past the pleading of his daughter for the rice she wanted. As she left in her fancy clack of heels, I taught his little girl to make a pot of rice in her dollhouse kitchen the way my grandmother taught me to on the stove in my childhood home. We rinsed the rice, and I could smell the memories of basmati rice in the feel of water and grains slipping through fingers.  I showed her how to gauge the water by using her finger tip.  We set the water to boil on her tiny electric stove top and at some point her big brother flipped the house over, but we were able to save that pot.  My dream started with a man I was okay with letting go of and ended with the loss of his children and my grandmother.  This morning I woke up and it doesn't matter that I never met his kids or that my own were in the very next room, there was a feeling of loss that held me and forced silent tears to fall. It's a loss that feels like a dream that steps on scars of a past, only it's a present feeling that suddenly carries depth and layers.  Waking from this dream, I lost his kids, my grandmother and the current man that set my soul aflame and left me in burning embers. It layered and fell on me in emotions that screamed for release before my eyes opened.

What amazes me is the way I wake up from dreams and reality is shadowed by fiction so powerfully that I don't always know the difference. The peace in last night's dream was shadowed by a real moment of loss that I felt before I was fully awake this morning.

Dreaming and Real Life Goals

I was writing out my goals for the year.  They included personal growth, financial stability, travel and love. I kept looking at that list this morning and wondering why it all looks doable.  Nothing looks extraordinary.  It's all attainable.  And this sadness hit me because I knew I wasn't allowing myself to dream big.

Self Limitations

It was a set of goals that are based on limitations I was offered and accepted in the past.  I'm serving myself oatmeal for dinner and convincing myself it's the best possible goal and plausible outcome. Where is the food joy in that?  Where is the life satisfaction in knowing you accept less because you know it can be delivered?

The way I do anything is the way I do everything, right? I was talking to a man and I could see the ways he could make me happy.  What he offered me was like so much of what I had in the past that I could see his trailer and imagine a happy movie for me to get lost in, cry over, and see what the ending would be.  The ending is always happy or sad, because movies rarely just make you think, right? Lately all of my romances and crushes make me think and rarely (but sometimes) they might make me cry. I've never shopped around for a step-dad, so it was easy to see that he couldn't be a step-dad to my kids.  Good enough for me, but not my kids.  It took a few days for that idea to really sink in.

In love, I haven't started dreaming big.

In shopping for a step dad, there hasn't been an experience to raise or lower that bar for me.  It's still held comfortably at myself.  If I'm the badass warrior dragon slayer I am, I need the other part of my power team to be just as badass if he wants to be a step dad to my boys.  I've just never had a potential step dad for my kids that could lower my expectations.  He would fight for his sense of duty.  He would embody maturity to be modeled. He would be a man I would want to give more children to, in all of the lunacy I would have to embrace for that.

My love life is different.  I've dated men that stole, and did drugs, and loved getting drunk.  I've dated jealous men and men with tempers.  I know what an online affair feels like and I now know not to ignore that feeling when faced with it in real life. If you feel it in your gut, it's probably more true than you want to believe.  I've dated men that could convince me I was being a bad mom and partner by being who I am.  I can usually tell I'm being lied to when I'm doing something wrong by breathing.  As a single woman, I'm fairly confident. And I know right from wrong, often choosing the right thing, over the easy thing. My love life has taught me about breaking into cars, slanging crack, rolling Primos (crack needs to be cut on glass or a mirror so it doesn't fly off a wooden coffee table and you want to sprinkle it on the weed before you roll it like a pregnant lady - small on the ends and fat in the middle), gang life, hiding guns before they're sold, jealousy, insecurity (I can dance on eggshells, but I prefer a dance floor).  I can roll you into a recovery position to make sure you don't asphyxiate on your own vomit.  I know what it is to be the object of lust for a fuck boy and I know how to treat him just as callously.  It's not a gift.

I hope no woman ever has to learn what I know romance to be.  You should be learning what flowers make you feel special and deep conversations that make you feel things and think differently.  You should learn what will make him happy just as completely as he's learning about you and your desires.

It's the blending of real and fantasy that I want to learn.  I want to learn to expect nice surprises and hand holding.  I want to expect to be treasured and loved.  I want to expect that I'm not the only one that knows the right choice looks harder than the easy choice, but the right choice will help us sleep better at night. I want to expect more songs sent to me that hammer what we're both feeling into melodies and lyrics that call to the deepest parts of my soul.  I want to wake up in my lover's arms and feel him breathing under my hand as his heart paces happily against my cheek. I want to wake up to his smile and laughter and I want another morning of stolen kisses before duty calls and a feeling of happiness at those random texts throughout the day that drags on way too slowly until I can see him again.  I want his scent to linger on my skin and feel him with me when the memories are too sweet to entertain reality. I want this love to be a reality my kids see and learn from.  I want them to feel they have someone patient with them and understanding.  I want them to know I'm not the only one that sees them as normal human beings.  I have friends that tell me to raise my expectations as well as friends that tell me to lower them.  I'm just shooting blankly and hoping he'll be targeting me at the same time. And if he finds me, he will do all he can to hold onto me.

There's also a balance.  All things in life have a good and bad to their cost. I remember what it was like when my mom first brought my step dad around.  I hated the change he represented.  My boys also surprise me daily and they handle these changes better than I did. I'm learning to not give them my fearful limitations and to just see where we can go, stepping back where we need to.  I'm taking notice of the ways that I'm limiting my dreams and coaching myself to go get my life.

If you haven't heard it, I'm telling you now: Go get your life!  You are your only motivation and limitation.

It's about a career that I love and pays me enough to be happy doing it.

It's about going places to see and do and be that are not limited by constraints I've adapted from the expectations of others on my life. I don't have to stay local or a standard week or weekend.  I can go when it fits my needs and how it works best for me.

It's about a love that isn't set to a template of my past or a fantasy that is too unattainable to be mine because when I decide I can't have it, I will start sabotaging myself so I can't get it.

Meditate on your goals.  Focus your energies toward your success.  Plot and plan.

Dream big.  Reality will try to kick you down, and that just means you need to redirect your plans and goals. There's a life you get to live.  It's yours and no one else's.  You should handle it, so you don't become a slave to it.

Self Care Looks Like Being Present in the Moment

It's been a hectic holiday season filled with transitions and surprises.  It's been moments of laughter and shenanigans with my kids.  There have been moments of cooking that felt like comfort in textures and smells through the stress of life . . . I may have perfected my tamale and champurrado recipes.  And no, gluten free pate a choux isn't going to happen this season because wheat is what makes baked things so amazing and airy.  And yes, spiced rum makes everything better.  There have been moments where I felt like a treasured gift and someone has been begging Santa for me for years. It's been a little crazy in my mixed bag.

Planning

Sometimes planning is necessary.  In making tamales, you want to plan a day or two. On the first day, you want to prepare the meat by slow cooking tenderness and layering in flavors.  The meat and cooking liquid cool over night and the next day the masa is prepared and the tamales rolled.

Sometimes you want to plan a project. For example: re-upholstering dining chairs.  You want to make sure you have enough layers of batting and foam and fabric.  You want to make sure you have the nails and screws you'll need.  You'll want to plan it before you start because running out of something in the middle of the project can mean missing parts that you had ready but they just walked away ... at least with my boys.

Unplanned moments

If you're me, planning isn't as impulsive as I am. I often start projects that take turns and detours mid way through.  Every single blog post starts out one way and often makes a u-turn that surprises me.

Painting my living room will be one of those projects too. I did the other rooms in my house alone.  It was an exorcism of sorts.  I was purging memory demons of some sort.  I've re-painted every room in my home but the living room and it still has family pictures on the walls with my ex.  I told the kids they would come down when I painted and it's time to paint.  Everything will come down this week as I prepare with primer.  I still have it from the kitchen job and next week we'll finalize a color. New pictures will go up and the boys will see the old pictures are put away for them when they want them or if they want them in their room.

Dates that are willing to meet me on the spur of the moment get and keep my attention the longest.  I think so much of my life as a mother has to be planned and scripted that I find spontaneity so attractive.

Living in the Past

There has been sadness dressed in nostalgia for stolen moments that are no longer mine.  Those memories prompted New Year's text messages and I stole those moments to unburden a past so I can step into my future.  It's longing for what was and wondering what could have been in a way that feels stagnant and stunted, and yet, I'm still doing it. Still, my fear made me feel like I needed an excuse for a hello.  I get to take notice and step boldly into who I am and what I feel and next time just say hello because it's okay to miss the past as long as I don't decide to live there. And that's who I am.

In relationships, this often looks like fear to experience something new because of what I already know happened the last time.

Living in the Future

It's a gift for me to overthink every possible outcome.  It's also a curse.  I used to love lit candles all over my home.  I remember going out on a date once and in the prep stage of my full face spackle, I had lit every single candle I had. It was warm and cozy and it made me happy. It also very likely made me look psychotic.  Kids happened, and now I can see them playing in the wax, blowing out candles to light them again, and very nearly starting fires because it's the same shenanigans I got into as a kid. (Except I had an aerosol can of hairspray and they don't.) It's easy to get caught up in bills and deadlines and times to act and times to freak out.

In relationships, this looks like planning out a future and seeing where it will go before I offer the opportunity to see what might happen.  It means I can see how a person interacts with me and decide they are not step-dad material and move on before I get too attached.

Being Present is a Gift

When life becomes overwhelming, it's easy to freak out and think of the many ways something might happen, or change or create change in my life.  It's these moments I remind myself to slow down.  I remind myself to be present in my moment.  I do everything intentionally slowly and embrace the moment for what I'm presented with.

For a while this morning (no clocks exist in this moment) I was watching a couple of squirrels chase each other in a tree.

For a while, I sipped my coffee, tasting the brew, feeling the warmth, smelling the creamy sweet.  I didn't think about my list of things to do.  I didn't think of how I maybe should have made different choices this past year and I didn't even celebrate the great choices I did make.  I just smelled, and tasted, and felt my favorite mug holding my coffee.

I took a mid day shower and just let the hot water wash over my body while the smell and feel of floral bubbles washed off my skin and down the drain.  I had an old playlist playing and sang my heart out.  I laughed when I could hear my son outside the bathroom singing just as loudly with me, and without the emotional weight I was releasing.

I spent just a moment thinking of the last time I was in a man's arms and released it as I started anticipating the next time.  I won't script what I want to happen because that will only rob me from what I will actually get to experience. I'm learning how to be present in relationships.  I'm learning to enjoy each moment for what it is, without assigning a destiny I can't even control, and giving power to fears I refuse to voice.  I'm learning to plan my moments, and see where we can fit together, rather than assigning each of my free moments to his disposal.  And I'm learning that not every moment has to be perfect and that I can enjoy the present without even looking for finishing nails to finish off upholstery I may change my mind on.

The Pros of Online Dating

Online dating would look like it's a horrible idea if you rely solely on my blog, and yet,  I still do it.  Well, I'm off again, but that's another post one day. Truthfully, there has been a decent amount of personal growth for me through online dating.

Found my funny bone. 

Yes, I finally found the funny.  It can be entertaining to see what some men think is acceptable behavior.  I mean, just a suggestion, treat women like you would treat a co-worker until you meet in person and actually catch her vibe.  I mean, maybe she wants to be your fantasy, but it won't happen if you offend her first.  And it's a common request to get a selfie or two, but I'm going to assume you know your way around Instagram or Facebook enough to make me think you're looking for free porn in a picture.  After my last request, that duck lip pose I always thought was silly is never going to be as innocent and stupid as I thought it was.  Just don't ask for selfies.  Find them.  Stalk me in the way I want the world to.

There is value in meaningful communication.

Communication is best in person because there are nuanced microexpressions and body language you pick up on but don't give voice to.  This is why psychotherapy only works in person with an exception made for occasional phone calls.  Human interaction requires humans to interact.  The point of meeting online is to get offline.

Something that I struggled with is my old fashioned sensibilities that never translate.  I mean, if you know someone's sleeping patterns well enough to have no doubts when they'll be up, it's fine.  You are past that "getting to know you" phase.  I grew up knowing you don't call too early or too late.  I typically wouldn't call before 9 or 10 on weekends or after 10 at night, but that rule goes right out the window when you're grown folks on cell phones.  This is not a bonus for you when I'm a light sleeper with my phone on in case my kids need me (they sometimes call when they can't sleep at Dad's) and you're waking me up really late.  Those early morning texts, or late night (horny) texts annoy me more than endear me to you.

In the early days, I responded to every single solicitation for my attention.  It became exhausting, and taught me that I really am shallow and if I'm not attracted to a picture, the conversation really won't matter.  I started to ignore people.

Yes, I've ghosted a person.  I won't do it again.

At the end of one of my earliest relationships, I ghosted him.  We had a conversation that ended in a friendly way.  He was getting ready to fly out on a trip and we were making plans for when he returned home and I blocked him.  It was easier to be a chicken and not face my own feelings and just walk away. I didn't explain that I liked him more than I was comfortable with because I couldn't see a future with him in it.  I decided for us that we were done, repeating what was done to me in my marriage and ignoring the devastation I was inflicting, and knew too well.  I walked away, letting him figure out that I wasn't interested because I couldn't act like a grown ass woman and tell him.  A few months later, he called me from a number I didn't recognize and I answered his call.  That felt worse.  As much as I wanted to cover my cowardice in the audacity of his actions, I was wrong.  He's beautiful and tenacious, but he's not the one for me.  Owning up to that and talking to him was hard, but the better choice.  He's a really great guy.  Just not mine.

New friendships formed.

I have had a few meetings online that stayed online.  One man shared some of his secrets with me.  It wasn't in his secrets but the way they made him who he is today that helped me decide we weren't the right fit.   I've met a few of these.  Great pictures.  Interesting bios, but things weren't going to work out.  They make good friends and I even help out with their dating profiles and offer advice until they keep talking about wanting sex and I stop encouraging a conversation.  I was talking to him as a friend Wednesday night when I had accepted a date from someone else.  We're friends, and I'm not lying to anyone, so I told him about the date.  He told me not to overthink it and have fun.  I told him to get out of that self inflicted texting purgatory most dates eliminate themselves with.

I got home from the date feeling like it wasn't a right fit.  I was almost laughing at how badly the conversation went, taking ownership of the fact that I wasn't encouraging it at all and ignoring the fact that I was probably PMSing and he was suffering for it.

The next day, this same date was asking me out again, and another young man that had become a friend gave me a nudge.  He said I was too young and beautiful to not embrace having fun, and he pointed out that I made up my mind just like I had about his age (27 is too young).  He was right.  I went out with a determination to just have fun.  And I did.  He was right.

Too many choices and it was time to make one.

Online dating offers way too many options.  When I started my OKCupid profile last time, I received about a hundred likes a day.  That rate drops off after a while, and once it did, I received about 3 to 5 new emails a day.  Finding someone spontaneous enough to meet on my first kid free day was rare.  Especially if his first response wasn't "sex tonight." (No.  Just no.) This week alone, I was carrying on about 1o different conversations.  At one point it was 5 conversations at once.  I thought I couldn't multitask, but I'm learning.  I think I liked the challenge of that more than the men.

New Year, new me, right? Only, transformation is an intentional moment to moment process.  I get to notice what I'm doing and decide how I want to show up differently. I decided to let go of the men I knew I didn't want to keep around.  These were men that were texting and talking and keeping me company through my phone.  I realized it didn't matter who was my first good morning text, my last good night text, or the sexy random moments of thoughtfulness texts throughout my day.  If you are the person on my mind, even without your attention, then you are the person that matters and it was time to let go of the chaff and let the wheat fall and do terrible things to my belly.  I started responding to their greetings with letting them go.   Here, I lied.  Some men needed to hear it was me.  Some needed to hear it was someone else.  In this, I did my best to offer what they needed to hear, and only one was told it was because I didn't trust that he wasn't catfishing me.

Owning up to my choices because the right choice is rarely the easy one.

Letting a man know you're letting him go can be a mixed bag.  There are the ones that move on easily.  Those made me wonder if I should have held on because of his strength or if I ever mattered because of his nonchalance.  Curiosity is not a change of heart. There are those willing to fight for me.  They beg and plead and make me feel bad that I didn't want to share a relationship with the same intensity that they were after.  Then there are some I'm happy to keep in friendship because that was the natural progression we were heading toward anyway. When you have 8 or 9 men offering you their attention but not their physical presence, you take it for granted that these are people, but I never really considered that these superficial interactions meant something to them.

I've told you, I'm not always nice, right?

Online Dating and Younger Men: Cougar Madness

I'm comfortable with dating older men.  I love the softer look of salt and pepper hair, with gentle laugh lines around their eyes.  I don't mind hairlines that step back or heads that are bald.  It's a look I love.  I love natural hair.  Younger men are all about manscaping and I just don't get it. Unfortunately, most of the men my age that I meet online think I'm much younger, because in reality, for a lot of men my age, I'm just too old for them.

I'm often approached by younger men.  Men that are about 20 or 22 accept that I don't date younger men.  They accept my answer and move on.  There are plenty of other women that would love the attention.

Christmas night I was hit with the realization that I wasn't fully embracing the celebration.  I was sober all of Thanksgiving.  I'm not much of a drinker.  I was sober with my sister while making tamales in Torrance on Friday.  I was sober Saturday with family while I was driving my kids around.  Sunday I was primarily sober.  I went to a friend's house and had a Smirnoff Ice with dinner, because I was driving home and I love my car.  Sunday night, I decided to have that Hot Buttered Rum I kept putting off.  I was sipping, crocheting a blanket and swiping on dating apps.  It sounds pathetic, but I was in a really happy place.  I had forgotten how much I loved making blankets and scarves until I watched my sister knitting beautiful blankets on Friday.  (I'm telling her she should sell them.  Wait for that shameless plug if she ever decides to.)

Sunday night there was a man 10 years my junior that wouldn't accept my no.  After 25, they get a little ballsy.  They know what they want and understand persistence.  We talked a bit.

The next morning I was waiting for my ex to call to tell me to come get the boys.  I told him I'd come when the kids were up.  This 28 year old said good morning and asked me to join him for coffee.  I agreed.  Just like that. We met in Pasadena and ended up talking up until I got a call saying it was time to get my kids.  His cappuccino was gone and my blonde roast coffee was cold.

On Friday when I met someone else for coffee, we talked about life, work, careers, and divorce.  It's something we both knew too much about.  We talked about Landmark and MITT.  We laughed and I really enjoyed his company.  We parted with a hug and I knew I would probably never see him again. There wasn't a spark or even a longing for more than a hug.

Monday morning I arrived first and was surprised to see us driving the same car when he pulled in.  He paid for my coffee and our conversation kept drifting in all sorts of ways through life, careers, and world travel.  He comes from the middle east and he's making the American Dream his, while caring for his parents.  For just long enough, I was able to ignore the math when thinking about how old he was when I gave birth to my firstborn 15 years ago.  I was able to ignore how creepy that felt.  We parted ways and I felt like I might be open to another date.

As the day became night and into today, the conversation is still flowing and I keep getting this instinctual gut punch that says no.  I'm still swiping and there is another man that is coming out to LA from the east coast at the end of the month.  I can already tell I'll never meet him, but I can enjoy this for what it is.  He's 27.  He has the emotional depth that I outgrew many years ago.

Both of them stand out from older men already.  It's not the looks.  They're handsome, but so are older men.  They're sexual, and interested, but so are older men.  What sets them apart is how much I can't connect with them.  I'm a straight shooter.  They reciprocate that.  They are looking to race into something and define it quickly.  They are trying to nail down my commitment to their superficial needs.  They want it physical and don't know how to slow down from the need that drives them.  They want to see if we'll be friends, and do I expect more of a relationship.  No matter how much I try to explain it, I can't quite get them to understand that no woman wants to be treated like a discount hooker.

You get older and it's more than physical needs. Both men and women need someone that understands and connects intellectually and emotionally.  One night of fun is one thing, but the person they want to share their mornings with needs to understand and support them and the younger men don't seem to know how to be comfortable in exploring their passions outside of bed with me. The road map I follow means we linger for a long while in an intellectual bliss before I'm ready to move on from there.  I know what I'm capable of and it's not a theory I need to test out at every opportunity.

Unfortunately, this same need in older men means they want to hold me down and claim me as a wife before we've ever met in person. That feels just as crazy and bad.  The older men are looking for a partner.  They understand when I need to step away to be a mother.  That might also just be the men.  I spent Christmas night with three grown men that were very hands on with their children and other's children in a way that I needed to see.  It was so healing and hopeful to see these men feed and put those babies to sleep.  They parented their children and were willing to be chased and tickle, and horseplay.  It was far from the childhood my boys had and I went home so moved.  Maybe slightly tearful.  I get to find that one day.

The younger men don't understand and their impatience stands out.  They ask if I like games like truth or dare, or if I would play video games with them. They don't understand when I explain I don't watch a lot of television or movies because I grew up with far less screen time than they did.  I don't get bored without a television or movie on.  I can be content with a pen and paper or yarn and a crochet hook.  Or a book.  Those things build, rock and destroy worlds inside of them.

I'm reminding myself to not think of the age difference because it creeps me out, and I'm trying to be patient through the parts that aren't right to enjoy how it feels to be so irresistible to these younger men.  They don't mind the softer look of a mother's body and I keep hearing that my mothering is what makes me hot. I'm trying to let that land. Trying.  I don't think it's about age, but I often come across men that feel all they have to offer is sexual or financial in nature when all I want is a deep and meaningful conversation.  That's a gift of humanity so many feel they can't take ownership of. And yet, we're all just humans.

New Traditions After Divorce

It is a great Christmas to be me.  I'm really giving myself to the holidays as a single mom on my terms. When we hashed out custody, I was intentional with wanting Christmas Eve with my boys.  My family always celebrates Christmas Eve and I was able to start my celebrations with a first date at Catalina Coffee Company yesterday morning (beautiful blue eyes, amazing conversation, couldn't look away from his dimples, didn't feel an ounce of chemistry, great venue). I then enjoyed most of yesterday with one sister over several hours of making tamales yesterday. This morning  was alone with my boys at breakfast.  We had our private gift opening at home and then I enjoyed a day with my kids and ginormous family.  Right now I get to have a really appreciated quiet night alone.  (Although that hot buttered rum is calling me.) Tomorrow my adventures will continue with more family and friends. I started my day with my boys at a Denny's Christmas breakfast.  I hated making breakfast first thing in the morning.  I was never hungry and the kids were always picky.  I got to eat later in the morning, and I wasn't the short order cook.  I don't remember last year, but this year has been great. I explained to my boys the thoughts my last post inspired for me.  I explained that in asking what they want for Christmas and focusing only on that, I was teaching them to be takers without bothering to show them the joys of giving.  It was a stretch for me but I asked them if they wanted to go get a present for their Dad for Christmas.  The little one immediately said no.  The oldest said he was planning to draw him a picture, and my middle son hesitated the longest before saying no.  Maybe it was strange to imagine me footing the bill for him.  I then asked if they wanted to pick out a gift for their Grandparents and they were excited about that.

We walked around the CVS after expressing gratitude that we weren't at Target when we drove by the Target parking lot on Christmas Eve. (We're working on finding gratitude in everything.) The boys picked out house shoes for their Grandpa, and a blanket for their Grandma.  They wanted something to keep them warm and comfortable.  We wrapped it and when we arrived at Grandma's house, for the first time they gave their grandparents a gift they picked out themselves.  It wasn't something I picked.  It was something they chose and they got to experience the gratitude of their grandparents.  The look on my children's face was all I needed in that moment.

I see where my children are growing and where I need to continue to guide them in so many ways and today was a humbling and encouraging lesson for me.  But it was a day of shifting traditions and seeing how it's about learning and growing as a family.

Not only have I been teaching my boys to be takers, I was teaching them to live in scarcity, and keeping them from dreaming big.  My older two had modest wish lists.  My little one wanted a trampoline, but that was the most out of the box gift they came up with. Later in the day, Kid3 expressed wanting a Nintendo 3DS.  In the past that meant waiting for the next holiday or birthday.  I explained that I always want to give my kids what they want and we don't have to wait for a holiday or for him to deserve it.  We just had to wait for when I could do it, but it would go on the whiteboard at home as a goal.  What I didn't expect was that in my daily examples, I was teaching my oldest to be a martyr.

After breakfast and picking up their grandparent's gifts, they came in the house and I told them they could open their presents.  In the past, it was always structured.  One present at a time, with all of us watching.  It always bothered me because it was a show of "look what I got you and show me you like it." It shifted.  It wasn't about the individual gifts but the overall feeling of getting them what they wanted and letting them know I listened to what they wanted and noticed the things they didn't say. Today I told them to have at it.  They had the freedom to open their presents with their names on them and I stood back and enjoyed their excitement.  They were happy.  I exceeded their expectations.  Then they asked if I could get a duplicate for their Dad's house.  I said we could wait until they're back with me and see if they still need what they want.

At one point, Kid2 was fully hit with FOMO (fear of missing out) and wanted a game his brother asked for.  He raged.  He searched for a different game he lost a while back and he was in complete break down.  I had him come to me and I held him as he cried.  He sobbed.  He screamed.  Kid1 had started looking for the game on behalf of his brother and he decided to do all he could to support his brother . . . Including giving his brother the game I had just given him for Christmas in exchange for $10.  He later threw in his gummy bears as well (his absolute favorite candy). He sacrificed his joy for his brother.

Wow. I mean, this kid!  He's mine.  He gets my good and my bad, and surprises me with things I didn't know were possible.  I gave him a Christmas hug in parting and had him look me in the eye. I told him he doesn't have to sacrifice himself because he matters.  I told him he can't be a world changer if there's nothing of him left to change the world.  Now I get to live that to give him that example.

Toward the end of the night, I got feedback that makes me want to address a couple of things.  I should clarify that the dates that look too good to be true are catfish, but there are really great men that are real.  Good morning, good night, and surprise sexy texts are a reality.  It's super rare that I want to meet in person.  He has to be really special to get my time. If you don't like what I write, you don't have to follow or read it.  It's a choice.  Stand by it or find a hobby.

The part that bothered me was it was suggested I was doing Christmas wrong because I was stepping away from a tradition I adopted but never called my own.  It made me doubt our celebrations long enough to ask my kids if they were happy.  They let me know they had a great day.  They had fun with our family.  The younger two even suggested wanting to go home with me and I melted at the hugs from Kid1. My sisters were a bit surprised at how much my Kid1 has grown.  Our day showed me my next goal and tonight I am having the evening I used to enjoy.  There might be a bit of booze. There will be some yarn work and maybe some reading.  I won't be up all night setting the tree to look a certain way.  I didn't have to bake cookies for Santa.  I love the life I get to live!

I didn't have a traditional Christmas before I got married. We always gathered for Christmas and I think Christmas Eve became our tradition shifting in favor of our growing family.  We gather Christmas Eve and on Christmas Day we get to have our children and in-laws.  This year we had tri-tip, tamales, coleslaw, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, fresh fruit and veggies, and desserts.  Thai noodle soup was the highlight of my night.  It is a throwing together of our huge family and our smaller families.  At some point my brother started throwing dollar bills out for the kids in a "make it rain" dance they love.  It's chaos, but it's family. It's my family.  Our traditions shift and grow, as do we, and I get to make this celebration my own in all of the best ways.

There was a terrific balance of my wants and my kids wants.  There is a give and take where we do what we like, and no one is forced into more than we want.  We went to Grandma's house for me, and my introvert got to decide when we were done and leaving. My inner ambivert was happy with his timing. There was time with my family and time alone.  There will be space for friends and I'm shooting for solo explorations as well.  I don't have to cook foods I won't eat or feel like I have to do things I really don't want to. This new life feels like freedom and it tastes like I want more.

Teaching My Child To Give

In my flustered push and pull through getting Christmas together for my kids, I was trying to see if I missed anything from my kid's wish lists.  We were in the car and I asked my boys if there was anything else they wanted that they didn't tell me about.  They're getting better at telling me what they want.  For a while they were afraid to want anything.  At some point I made them feel like wanting things was a negative feeling.  At some point I taught them to function and live in scarcity, and I get to teach them to live abundantly as I learn it myself. My oldest son looked timidly at me, then tried to tuck himself away shyly into his hands and shirt.  My 15 year old reminded me of a turtle.  I could see his fear and uncertainty, so I encouraged him to talk to me.  He told me about a friend of his that wasn't expecting much for Christmas.  My son understood that his friend was living on very little income and he understood that because it has been our reality.  He asked if he could buy his friend a $40 game and pulled a little wad of cash out of his wallet to show me he needed my support.  I've been trying to teach them that they don't need help.  They don't need me to rescue them.  They could use my support though and I'm happy to offer it.  They can be supported through their journeys, and here he was, putting that lesson to work.  I asked what he was willing to do if I had said no.  He said he was prepared to ask his friends if they would work together.  I mean seriously? I get to raise this kid.  I get to be this young man's mother.  That night we went to two Walmart's and a Target.  We also survived Kid3's meltdown.

We got home and with my support, he wrapped it himself.  Then I had a moment of fear and it became a lesson for my son, and a lesson to me.  My lesson was how my past so strongly influences my future.  For me to worry about a reaction I had received and given . . . my hang ups on gifts . . . I get to look at that.  I get to examine and change things.

In talking to my son, I realized my fear was about the many times I had given or received a gift and the emotions that go with that. It was about the times I received a gift that wasn't what I would have wanted, but something the giver would have wanted, without any thought to who I am.  It's more honest than polite people would ever admit.

I wasn't always great at gift receiving.  Especially when it came to my Dad.  I was never satisfied with what he offered. He's given me jewelry, and it was always large and not something I would ever choose to wear.  I would accept it and complain later.  I once asked for a keyboard so I could learn to play the piano.  It came several years later, and in my teenage selfishness, I couldn't appreciate it until my ex gave it to one of his friends. Now I remember that not every Dad is around or generous, or half the man my Dad is.  His gifts are treasured.

When my boys were young, I would try to find gifts for them, and they would be more interested in the box, or smearing peanut butter and yogurt on walls, because sensory integration dysfunction is an adventure that way.

I remember one Mother's Day I was so upset that I didn't receive what I wanted.  It was a few years in a row of receiving less or other than I hoped for.  Honestly, I would have loved a solo hotel stay with a full Kindle and room service. I was very vocal about it too. But I was in my mood and pretty angry at my ex.  This was about seven or eight years into my marriage.  I remember being able to count off the ways I was disappointed until the day my son handed me a gift he made for me.  That was when I realized receiving a gift was about how much I could show the giver their thoughtfulness was appreciated and I really didn't have to be so selfish.

So back to my really considerate son . . . Here he was, about to gift a present to a friend and I worried about his friend's pride in terms of the gift.  I worried about it being something that wasn't wanted, and I worried that my son's generosity would become a source of pain for him. I will always want to protect him.

I told him to think of giving as the gift he was offering.  He told me about a game he had given to his brother that was lost and how angry he was.  I pointed out that once you give a gift, you stop worrying about what they'll do with it.  You give a gift as an act of love.  You don't worry about how it would be used or if it would be immediately discarded.

It's too much to expect a gift to live the way you want it to and the greatest example is the life of a child.  I gave the world my kids and it's hard to accept the world might abuse my children and it's hard to accept that my kids won't always behave the way I want them to. I get to send them out after caring for them the best way I know how, and I get to hope there is enough love to cover them.

As I explained to my son, giving is about giving and not how it's received.  Once we give a gift, we don't worry about how it's received or what is done with it.  We find our joy in thinking of someone else. We think of how much they'll like the gift because we're not giving what we would want, but what they would appreciate and find useful.  However it's received doesn't matter as much as the love we put into giving it.

Then I told him to consider how much joy he found in thinking of his friend.  I told him to think of that and consider how much others enjoy giving to him.  I told him to accept gifts with that same feeling because of how great it feels to give.  We would want others to experience our joy in receiving.

New Year's Resolution 2017!

I never make New Year's Resolutions, but this is the year I will start.  It's about continuing intentionally through my lifelong transformation.  It's about finding my gift receipt and returning what I don't need. It's been an eye opening few weeks.  I've been trying to be intentional in my self care.  It doesn't always go well.  But I'm trying.  In the last few weeks at work and life jumping up to surprise me in creative and nasty ways, I have let my situation control how I feel and that is not something I want to do with my life.  In the last month or so, both my Dad and Step Dad have been hospitalized. I've noticed their choices and have been able to see something that made parts of myself fall into place and I'm shocked.

My early 70 something year old Dad was hospitalized a few days one week, got released, went to Vegas and came home, then ended up hospitalized again on something unrelated in the very next day.  He's now planning an exercise regimen from his hospital bed.

My late 70 something year old Step Dad was hospitalized, nearly lost his life, then took the family to Knott's Berry Farm within days of being released. Seriously.

I had Kid3 in 2006 and within a couple of weeks, spent a weekend walking around Sea World because my ex wanted to take the family.

Less than a month after being hospitalized a month, and having a c-section to deliver surrogate twins in 2012, I was walking around Legoland. I remember being in pain, still leaking from birth, and being miserable even while on serious pain meds both times.

What I did was for the sake of family, but it goes deeper.  I live on a property that has two houses on one lot.  For a while, my sister that is slowly going blind lived right behind my house.  I decided on the day after Christmas, I would put exterior lights up outside to help her see at night because the walkway between houses could be dark.  I climbed up a ladder and strung those lights up without someone to hand me lights, or hold the ladder while my ex stayed in bed watching something on television.

No sense of self preservation, right? No sense of self care or asking for help or suggesting that maybe, space and time to heal and recover would be a great idea.

For the first time in years, I have a New Year's Resolution.  Self care will be a priority.  I won't allow work, or family, or obligations to weigh so heavily on me that they control my ability to breathe in peace and feel restored by sunlight. I won't get so angry that I indulge in road ragey moments of yelling at people that can't hear me and probably have no idea I'm irked.  I will be in control of how I react and that means I will care for myself like I love myself because I do.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 9

The day I was expecting has finally arrived! I don't need to feel like a cold harpy that couldn't give a poor romantic the benefit of the doubt.  The man that has been trying to keep my attention has finally gotten to the point, and here I go, trolling my catfish. Naughty Bloggess, I know. Someone should consider spanking me. Assuming I'm not creeped out . . . And I'm interested in his conversation . . . And dinner should happen.  Okay, maybe we should skip the spanking.  Apparently I'm asking for way too much.

I thought the request would involve his phone.  The phone was what he kept complaining about, even though the flight home was something we talked about.  I just assumed he would say he didn't have enough notice for the flight but he surprised me.

I could understand an account being frozen, but a damaged card still has usable numbers you can read or type into a website.  He's a New Yorker/Californian/World Traveller, and he should know this. Right?

And if you can recall (I can), this job already paid him half of what he was expecting to get paid for the completion of the job.  Is it possible that with that kind of a payout on a job he flew to Brazil for with a team of about 10 . . . No one else could help him?

I offer a way out when I can. They never take it. The big request was almost anti-climactic, but this is where I start trolling him and I really have fun with it.  Because I'm not always a nice person, right?

If I were a nice person, I would just tell him the reality of what I'm doing on my blog.  But is that really a nice thing to do? To tell them we were playing a partnered game? I wouldn't take out a loan for myself if I can avoid it because I think of the reality of paying it back.  If you can't take out a loan at a bank, why should I trust you with my money.  People work at banks and get paid big bucks to make prudent decisions.  I should trust their lead, right?

Yesterday there were a few texts without his odd typos.  It's like he forgot what he was supposed to be doing.  Commitment to your lies helps sell the story.  Me for example . . .

I am intentionally making myself into a very plump and delicious whale. Maybe I can drag this one out for another 9 days.  Not that I want to bore you with my shenanigans.  I just want to frustrate him. My Kid1 intends to send me the "dankest memes" so I can send those as my send off.  We've connected over our web shenanigans.

So it's now day 10, and he's been checking in with me more often and trying to see how I'm coming along with his request.  The point of this blog series was to tell you what to look for, so I won't bother giving you the details of my debauchery and lies unless you really want them.

My reality is I've been catfished more often than I want to be.  I don't bother sharing their pictures or other details because I'm sure most of them are fake.  There's probably some innocent person out there that gives great massages, loves to cuddle and visit museums and has a really large brain and he has no idea his pictures are being used for someone's income stream.

I had a job interview for a pharmaceutical company that wanted me to interview through Google Hangouts.  That was the first red flag.  Asking my sex, age, marital status and other illegal details was another.  They asked where I banked to see if they could set up direct deposit.

I met another man Saturday just after I lost my job.  He's been offering to send me money.  He's been asking for my checking account and routing numbers but doesn't understand why I won't trust him.  He almost seemed angry at my mistrust and gave many excuses as to why he can't use Western Union, Paypal, Venmo or the Go Fund Me pages I set up when I was trying to take my leadership classes.

We reveal so much in passive conversation.  How old are you? I just had my birthday, when is yours?  Where do you live? Are we close? Are you still married?

No one needs to know where you bank or private details like your bank account.

A birth date can be used for verification.

No one needs your social security number unless they are reporting to the government.

You don't need to lend money to a person that not even a bank would trust.  Seriously. Don't take my word for it.  My kids collaborated so I could test their internet savvy.

According to Kid1:

You don't give out your address, your age, social security number, credit card information, zip code, and never post a picture of your face in your profile. Use a fake name and fake age (because he's not old enough to have a YouTube). Rule 34, if it exists, there's a porn of it, don't test it. Many of my friends have tested it.  I am unfortunately one of those people that tested it. People are very weird.  And there are many places you don't go on the internet like 8Chan, 2Chan, 4Chan.  They're all full of edgy people. They will find your internet IP and home address.  Just don't go.

According to Kid2:

Don't give out your info. No info at all, except my Nintendo friend code.

Kid3: Not your middle or last name.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 8

The weight of my reality gave way to the fact that I overthink everything and I'm really great at that.  And then my catfish was back to his normal  by late evening and it was easier to see clearly.

His typing errors made me believe he was just going to ask for a new phone.

Poor thing fell and hurt his phone.

It amazes me that he would seriously wait days until Christmas to try to book a flight.  There are movies made about those kinds of shenanigans.

I was thinking he was full of it, but clearly I am too, so I said he was sweet instead.

It would have been vengeance worthy if he had asked me to set my kids up for his fall too.  Seriously, who does this kind of thing?

At this point there was genuine suspense.  Was he going to try to show up? Was this part of his game?

What was the laugh? Was it that I wanted to analyze what he said? Was it about the fact that I could find a way to relate to his lies?

And there goes that phone again. Maybe he should do something about it.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 7 & Day 8

Day 6 started with me finding out I don't have my job anymore, but I'm fishing for a catfish so I wasn't going to let him know. Day 7 I met a friend and another friend of hers for brunch so we could brainstorm ideas and discuss my career direction. I also needed the connection and support.  I told them about my latest catfish and one of the women at our table told me about the one that forced her off all sites for good. Her situation required a police report. Yikes!

I was still in shock from some of the many turns my life is taking right now, but still super confident that this man talking to me is only lying to me.  He was very missing throughout the day, reaching out to say he missed me and loved me and wanted to leave Brazil and come home to me.

Of course he encourages the clinginess.  That's how he knows I would do anything for him.

I was amused by this exchange because nothing can come between us, but his being right back waited several hours.  I was busy, so it wasn't a big deal.

Day 8 came and I was going through the stages we go through when faced with change in our lives.  Call it grief.  Call it disappointment.  It was stages of exhaustion, frustration, disappointment, and hope.  And in my abnormal weakness, his words penetrated in a way that was unexpected.  I'll spare you the screenshots.

 Promises of love

The reason I am writing this today is because I can’t stop thinking about you, and I can’t stop myself from imagining how happy we will be. Let this be a promise to you that I will do my best to be the man I want to be for you. I may not yet know all of the difficulties that come with a lifetime commitment, but I have enough relationship experience to know what I want and how I picture my life with the person I will commit to and that is you Yessica. I promise to do my best to make you beam daily, so count on many surprises. Your smile will be my priority. I get weak knees when anybody smiles, so just imagine the effort I will make to be the source of yours. I promise I will always look at you with the same adoration as I did the moment I realized I loved you. I promise to try to ignite the same sparkle in your eyes I see when you’re surprised, inspired, motivated or when you are about to lean in to kiss me. I promise to hold your hand when we’re 80 years old with the same liveliness that I did when I crossed that line to hold yours for the first time. I vow never to let the excitement of dating me die down; I will surprise you with the location, the reason or the activity itself. I promise to keep you guessing where we’re going next. I promise to do my best always to interest you. I will keep reinventing myself, gaining new hobbies, new knowledge and new interests to keep you and myself entertained. I promise to kiss you throughout our life do my best to remain physically attractive for you, and I will do my best to be healthy in order to keep up with our kids someone has got to teach them Muay Thai kickboxing..lol...I’ll train you, too; I want you to know how to fight and defend yourself, just don’t use it against me. Lol I promise to help you to be healthy, both physically and mentally. I will cook and clean for us. Expect the best breakfast: traditional Armenian tomato and pepper omelets, followed by fruit salad with… well, I can’t give all the secrets out. I promise to strive to be a role model for our children. I want both you and them to see me as a source of motivation. I want to inspire them in the same way that my father inspires me.I promise to do my best to love your family as you love them and to be by their side as much as I am by yours. I promise to always listen to you when you simply just want to be heard; when you want someone to vent to about something or when you want advice. I will listen to you especially when you don’t feel comfortable sharing your thoughts with anybody else, and to the things you try to tell me when you’re not even speaking. I promise to always listen. During our life together, I promise to make sure that you feel as though you are the center of the household — I know you will be — and I will always try to show my appreciation for you because of that. I promise never to let my guard down in taking care of us. I know you won’t be one to be satisfied with the bare minimum. I promise to do everything that I can for you without taking away from your independence physically, intellectually or emotionally. I promise to create family traditions and to make sure that your legacy lives forever through our children. I promise to encapsulate the moment when I realize that I am in the most magnetic, amorous and erotic love with you, not to let that feeling dissipate to the best of my ability and to relive it with you constantly, always.....I love you Yessica Please don't break my heart!!!

And this is where the doubt creeps in. When I got through this I felt a lump in my throat and my mouth went dry.  My heart was beating against my rib cage in a rabitted race. I couldn't form the words to engage with my son. I couldn't move because my body was holding me in the moment that called out to my soul. How could he speak so intimately to the many desires of my heart I never knew I could yearn for?  In the hours following, I felt so conflicted.  So much of my right now is up in the air and all that falls around me is the loss of anomie, and he's here, saying he'll be the anchor I need.  I had to go back and actually read what I had written since he became the subject of my blog posts. I had to remember that it's only been 8 days and this is not normal.  This is not okay.  But I didn't feel anger.  I felt gratitude.  He offered words that invoked feelings I thought were dead.  I thought that part of me had been broken and the times I feel a fluttering, I can only feel gratitude.

I wondered if what I'm doing is wrong.  I wondered if it's possible that he's a genuine man that really did fall in love with my smile and maybe he really did picture a forever.  It would have had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the fantasy in his head of me, but what if he's being honest? What if he really is drawn to me?  What if my blog is going to strike again as the destroyer of relationships? It has happened. It will happen. I hope to find a love that doesn't care what I write.

Then I remember that my feelings and thoughts are valid.  I remember that he really hasn't convinced me that I want more kids, and if he's genuine about what he says, he wants a child and I couldn't at this point offer that.  I have only been talking to him for 8 days.  I've never seen him in person and I've never heard his voice. This isn't a relationship but an illusion.

And then I wonder what it would be like if I wasn't who I am? What if I was the girl I was out of highschool? What if I had my past insecurities? What if I needed to hear what he was selling because I couldn't see the ways in which I am amazing. Briefly the thought of other women occurs to me.  What about these women that need to hear these things more than I do today? What about the women that would spend thousands on keeping a man happy to keep his affection.  I want to be angry and rage, but I can't.  In this moment, I let his words wash over me, and pretend for a few more moments that I have no doubts.  I pretend for a bit that we are the picture of love he's been painting and I indulge in a fantasy because my boys are yelling and his fantasy is so much better than my present reality. And I ignore the fact that aside from tomorrow night and Christmas Eve and some friends that are welcoming me on Christmas Day, lost in his fantasy, I will still be alone.  He hasn't solved the problem I had in going online to find a date.  I still don't have a date, even if he promises to be here Christmas Eve to be with me. And it occurs to me that I have nothing to wear because there's enough doubt that I wonder if he will show up.

Waiting on My Miracle Between Jobs

Everything in life happens exactly as it's supposed to in the time and manner that it is meant to happen in. A couple of weeks back, the person taking the company reigns had a town hall meeting.  He encouraged discourse and I asked about the temps.  I asked what was going to be done for the many people that they had invested training in, that they were losing in a company exodus to other companies.  His answer inspired hope, and I emailed my gratitude, and then applied for an open position that I never heard back from.

Fast forward to Thursday when I sat alone at a table during the holiday party.  I was joined by strangers in Sales that told me about a position they were looking to fill.  I was asked for my email, and typed in my work email address, with anticipation and excitement.

Work resumed Friday and I plugged through, with my Dad's heart surgery on my mind.  Saturday afternoon, I received a catalyzing call.  My contract was terminated and the Friday I had worked was my last shift.  My things would be boxed for me to pick up from the agency.  I would turn in my badge, and I was asked to not contact the company.

I made friends and met people I really respected, and a farewell isn't a courtesy I can offer in my gratitude.  I only hope showing up authentically was something I did consistently, and that they saw my love and admiration in our interactions.

It's not even two weeks until Christmas.  I'm a single mom that doesn't get help from my kid's Dad.  I get to figure this out.

My first step was to apply for unemployment.

The next was to reach out to friends that may know of an opportunity.

The step after that was to start searching for a job.

The one that came next was to realize the gravity of the gift that I've been handed.

I spent the last few months at a company that paid me like they didn't care to keep me.  I had been passively looking for a better opportunity.  My kids are about to be on vacation from school.  My Dad will need more support since he had surgery, and I will be okay because everything happens the way it's supposed to at the perfect time for it to.  I will need to be available.  Unemployment won't cover all of my needs but it will do enough that I will be okay.  And I get to expect to receive better than I had accepted.

I felt gratitude for spending months around people I genuinely liked and powerful business women I admired.  I had a moment of quiet reflection on the men that worked there that gave me pleasant moments of eye candy admiration.  I may even miss those moments of turning a corner to almost crash into Mr. Insanely Tall and Beautiful.  (Really, a girl can't always handle that much hotness on such short notice.) I felt a little sad that I never told him that his fan club prefers it when he doesn't shave his face so cleanly.  I appreciated the fact that while it was normal to walk in on someone crying in the bathroom from the stress, it was never me.  I genuinely loved what I did and that's not something everyone can say.

Day 3 Dawns early with getting my older two off to school.  I get back in bed to snuggle my youngest and breathe in the soft smell of the tear free shampoo we still use.  Waves of anxiety and peace wash over me and the result is an exhaustion that settles over me throughout the day.

I don't have a job.  My Dad just had heart surgery.  My artistic/autistic son wants me to spend about $200 on 24 gray Copic markers and I choose to do whatever it takes because I want to support his dreams.  Existence is exhausting.

I finally finished decorating my tree and pulling out my little Lemax Christmas village.  I've already unwrapped that latest present to myself.  I clear away the tiny snails and algae that was stopping the flow of water in my pond, and I look at the rose bush that hasn't had the pruning or deadheading I was planning in the spring, but also neglected this fall.  And then there was the sunset.  I worked through the season change in a room without windows to easily look out of, and I was only catching sunset with intention on the weekends.  Today when puttering around the house I've neglected for work, I was caught off guard by the sun setting in the west toward Dodger's Stadium. I stood still and felt my chest rise and fall with my breathing.  I watched the sky shift from yellow to orange and red, then inky blue.  I straightened my posture and the feel of it reminded me that in the last few weeks, I had been slouching again.

I loved what I did, but I was often working through meals and rushing along hallways.  I wasn't stepping in the authority of who I am, but lost to the movements of a zombie with too much thought in my head to intentionally engage outside of myself. That's not how I want to live and it's only now that I'm not, that I can see how I was.

Job hunting has resumed.  I am taking it on like a job, and soon I'll be back to applying from my phone at the beach or on a trail, or in a museum. Throughout the day I was clenching my fist, to then look at my open palm.  It reminded me that I can't receive when I refuse to let go, and holding onto nothing only left crescent shaped nail marks in my palm.  You receive nothing new by holding on.  You cause more pain in refusing to release.  I held my palm up, as if waiting to receive. And I expect to find that miracle.  There aren't any other options.

Anatomy of a Catfish, Day 6

We get past the good morning texts. The I love you texts.  The I miss you texts.  The what have you eaten and tell me about work texts.  Then we get to the other ways he wants to make his way into my family and life.

He wants to meet my family, and be part of my children's lives.  He plans to meet them when he's back on Christmas Eve.  We pretend jet lag doesn't matter.

Forever is a really long commitment based on a week of communication by text.  I mean, he has no clue if I have halitosis or kill kittens for fun.  Whatever.  In for a penny, you suffer my pound, right? Speaking of, my pictures are all me, but the un-angled real shots are the group ones where I don't have a mirror to preen into.  You see my soft jiggly marshmallow fluff in those.  That's authentic.  But he's only seen my selfies.

I don't remember, but I also don't remember when those details were something I would want to share with someone I just met.  The idea that sex would make me feel like a woman is disrespectful to the boobs that sweat for me, the period cramps that can cripple me and body that has birthed 7 babies.  I don't need a man to make me feel like a woman.  I have a whole body for that.

I like to do these things alone, but I think in general, the point of dating is to discover what you'd like to do together.  Latching onto the idea of the museum we briefly spoke about on the other side of the country with my kids is not my idea of a good time.  My boys hate the idea of leaving the house for a grocery run.  I am not dragging them across country for anything less than a marriage, and even then, I'm not excited about having that letter, talk, and exchange with the ex to be able to do it. Take me to the Huntington Library.  It's on my list and local.

Ever . . . Recently . . . He's inspired a few blog posts.  It's usually only really special men that get my attention and hold it for a while that get to do that.

He wants to prove his love by marrying me, but accidentally called me and couldn't handle that conversation.

A blessing that he couldn't talk to for free, through Google.  Yeah.  The special feelings are coming at me from everywhere.  It feels like a tingle that raises the hair on the back of my neck.

He wants to marry me? I'm not big on shopping for clothes, but I can do some serious damage on an Amazon account, and I should have looked into stock options for Target considering how many vacations I've funded for those shareholders.

Support my blog! Get me more followers and hits.  Oh wait.  He's so supportive.

I think a two week anniversary of when we first started chatting on Okcupid is the perfect time to shop for engagement rings.  Let's cherish our forever based on two weeks of the deep conversations we never have!  He's a keeper.  Totally.