Vacation Time

Creative, Laughter, Life, Obstacles/Challenges, Uncategorized, Writing

The last two months have been a combination of incredibly stressful and oddly blissful.  I unexpectedly lost my job, have started to revitalize the toxic wasteland prison life created in my soul, have found space and time for creative endeavors, socializing, and even an occasional date.  Despite all of these unexpected benefits or, perhaps, because of them, I found myself freaking out on more than one occasion.  To clarify – the freakouts happened INSIDE my head, which makes me quite proud.  Because no one wants that level of crazy happening In Real Life – no one.

Last week, the level of Inside Insanity reached a new height and I decided that I Had Had Enough.  The rampaging, never-ending merry-go-round of ruminations, fears, projections, assumptions, worst case scenarios, *every* case scenarios, and constant attempts to foresee every possible circumstance in order to have a defense ready was O.V.E.R.  I was lying (or laying) in bed and could feel my brain juices whirling around and around and around and around, the spin cycle on the washer going fasterfasterfasterfaster until everything disintegrated.

So I decided to send Fear on a vacation.

I very gently told poor, shivering, nearly senseless Fear that she could take some time off, get a tan, drink some margaritas, and enjoy white sand and blue oceans for a while.  “I’ll keep things going while you’re on break” I assured her, stroking her sweaty, crusty hair, “It’ll be okay, we can get along for a bit without you.”  She was reluctant, and it took a few days and several false starts, but she eventually headed out, luggage in tow.  She’s dropped an occasional postcard, but it seems that taking some time for herself was just what we all needed.

And holy shit is my life better.  Sending that cray cray on vacay was the best decision I’ve made in a LONG time! Not that she isn’t helpful from time to time, and I know she has my survival and protection always on her mind, but DAMN – that girl can freak the fuck out like nobody’s business!

I know she’ll come back eventually, probably when the next new thing comes along, but I believe our time apart is making our relationship more healthy.  I know I feel more capable of setting good boundaries with her, not letting her get so caught up that she’s not giving anyone else a chance to take the wheel.  She means well, but she’s high maintenance and I just don’t have time for that right now.  Here’s to hoping the vacation lasts a long long time.

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Is she gay?

It's Personal, Laughter, Life, Uncategorized, Writing

This is a question that has hovered around me for years and I’m finally amused enough to put my thoughts in writing.  I’ve been mistaken for a man a couple of times – once by a police officer who pulled me over for speeding (yes, I was speeding) but hurriedly backed off after calling me “sir” and realizing I wasn’t a “sir.”  Another time, a waitress walked up to our booth and, seeing only the back of my head, called me “sir,” then fumbled around correcting her mistake.  In both of these cases, it seemed that their mistake was most likely caused by my short hair and broad shoulders, which they saw only from behind and when I was seated.

Cause, honestly, there ain’t no damn way I could be mistaken for a man otherwise, regardless of my sexual orientation.  For people who don’t know me IRL, there’s just a smidgen too much packed in the trunk up front to ever be mistaken for male anatomy. But back to the question at hand “Is she gay?” The answer is…

None of your fucking business. Literally.  Who I fuck is none of your business.

I don’t care about the question, I don’t care that people ask it, or that they can’t pin down whether I prefer boys or girls or turtles or leather couches.  In fact, I often go out of my way to cloud the issue.  I’m an equal opportunity flirt, sometimes an equal opportunity snuggler and hugger and hand-holder.  I love my female friends and male friends equally, and am equally physically affectionate.  I dance as a follow and a lead, and I’m not squeamy about other ladies’ boobs touching my boobs, or getting sexy when leading someone – male or female.

In short – I don’t care what other people think about my orientation.  The only reason my orientation should ever be your business is if you want to ask me out.  If that’s the case, ask and I’ll say yes or no and maybe that will be based on my orientation and maybe it won’t.  I find it flattering when anyone thinks I’m compelling and attractive enough to want to go out with, and if I’m not interested, I’ll let you know right up front.

I realize this makes some people uncomfortable, but that isn’t about my choices or behavior, or even my appearance.  It’s about their discomfort when they can’t put me in a category, or definitively label me this or that.  As I write this, I realize that everyone who has ever defied gender stereotypes has probably said the same thing.  I feel a little like a fake because I’m not sure I’m defying anything, I just don’t think it’s anyone’s business and I’m secure enough in my sexual identity to not need anyone else’s approval or understanding.

I also approach this the same way I approach dancing.  If I only ever follow or only ever lead, I miss out on 50% of all the best dancers and that’s a LOT of missed opportunity.  The same is true in this aspect of my life – if I focus all my desire for physical contact not only to one sex, but confined strictly to the *realm* of sexual activity, I miss out on 50% of all the best hugs and friend snuggles.  That’s a high percentage of loss and hey, I’m not a loser.

Graging?

Change/Transformation, It's Personal, Laughter, Life, Obstacles/Challenges, Reflection, Uncategorized, Writing

I’ve been trying to think of a word that combines aging with grace, and came up with the post title – graging.  Now that I see it, it could also be a combination of “rage” and “gray”, which are also part of aging, although not exactly what I had in mind.  It’s a weird word, a fake word, clumsy and ugly.  Maybe it’s the perfect word to describe how most of us increase our years, and all those moments when we say to ourselves “Is this what it feels like to be X yrs old?  I don’t feel X yrs old.”

Isn’t is amusing how the only people talking about the process of aging are those of us who are “of a certain age?”  When we’re in our twenties and thirties, we are most definitely NOT thinking about our upcoming years of graging, except in terms of retirement funds.  I know this is true because I’m close enough to my thirties that I can remember NEVER thinking about what my forties would be like!

I think it’s a psychological development.  We hit some level in our biological development and bam!  we’re suddenly pondering the nature of life, our contributions and legacy, our vulnerability, and what the end of our lives might be like.  It’s a curious paradox that our society and culture disregard our elders, fetishize youth, and yet every. single. one of us will grow old and die.  It’s one of the very few absolute givens in human existence – we, you, I, will grow older and eventually die.

I’m writing this piece more as a way to inject some humor in this process for myself, because I can’t even describe how vulnerable and alone and afraid I feel sometimes.  I can’t because thinking about it too much crushes my spirit and darkens my light, and I need a way to acknowledge my fears without letting them own me.  So maybe the word “graging” will now symbolize those parts of growing older I find both familiar and uncomfortable – the fear and anger, loneliness and uncontrollable changes – things we all struggle with most of our lives.

Naming a thing makes it less scary, in part because it makes it more real.  Perhaps the real key to growing in grace is realizing and accepting that all of these parts are inevitable and unavoidable, and that the best I can do is be kind to myself when they show up.  Kindness and grace don’t combine easily into a fun word, probably because they’re both so deserving of separate attention. There are no shortcuts to either of these states – they take courage, work, heart, and intention.

I feel better now.  Graging over.