Getting Past Embarrassment

I blushed on Thursday and it was epic.

We had a company meeting where I asked a question that highlighted the fact that I really didn't understand what we sell. In front of my boss. In front of the CEO's. In front of the people that mistake me for a manager (I am not). It was an all-hands meeting and I stood up with a microphone in front of the entire company. I know my job in billing, but my understanding of our product was disjointed and in describing what I thought we need, I was explaining that I didn't understand part of our partnerships. I blushed with embarrassment. I felt the heat in my face and broke a sweat in my pits. It was awesome. 

The unique thing is I don't often blush. It's not just about having dark skin. I just don't often feel things that spark that kind of physical reaction. Maybe it's from having enough confidence, or various experiences in life. I've caught projectile vomit in my hand and continued conversations as if my kid just asked me to pass the salt. Maybe my walls of protection are that thick. It's just rare. I can talk to strangers. I can feel anxiety when I can't control something, but I'm rarely embarrassed about it. I can be vulnerable if I feel that space is safe enough to be. I rarely feel a fight or flight reaction strong enough to make me blush though.

Last weekend a friend took me to a Korean Day Spa. We walked around completely naked with other women walking around completely naked. When I told her I blushed at work, she pointed out that I wasn't even blushing for her that day.  My biggest thing was figuring out where to look so I wasn't making others uncomfortable.  But I wasn't blushing. I was awed and inspired by the other women that weren't blushing and were comfortable in their skin, in all shapes, with all kinds of scars from the lives we get to live.  

I left that space of embarrassment feeling amazing. There's growth and learning when what you know becomes what you feel. The heat rushing through me felt powerful. It was a stretch that I embraced. It's a stretch I needed. If I'm embarrassed, it's an area I get to grow in, and I did.  Half an hour after that meeting, I could explain exactly what I didn't know and the limitations of one way integrations.  I learned more than I set out to discover. 

This relates to my bigger picture. I'm accepting that a single parent in Los Angeles is as tough as it has been. I'm starting a new venture in insurance sales, and working on getting a license as a side hustle. I've never been comfortable with sales. Selling stuff was always uncomfortable.  I was embarrassed to try to convince someone to buy something I would probably never buy for myself. I was selling whitening toothpaste for a bit and I'm so grateful for the ways it was paying my bills, but without reaching out for that constant coaching, my short lived business venture died.  I wasn't passionate about selling whitening toothpaste or other beauty products because I'm the type of girl that usually doesn't bother to take off my makeup at night.  There are some things in life I don't care much about and my appearance is usually one of those things. 

I just had a conversation about my job this morning.  I love what I do. I handle A/R , or accounts receivable, or collections.  Many names for a job that is all about bringing in money owed to us. Most people see that as a hard job because most people avoid bill collectors, but it feels good.  I get to re-sell a product I believe in when people question the value we offer.  I get to support people that genuinely need help when they can't pay their bills.  And I get to run credit card payments all day.  I love what I do, but having a job I love as much as I do has taught me that sales for me isn't about convincing someone to buy what I have, but providing something I believe in and feel they need. I've enrolled so many people in my belief in what we sell because I'm so passionate about it.  

My thing with insurance is that it's an extension of something I'm already passionate about.  In taking control of my life, I started with my checkbook.  I needed to learn about money and it's what I set out to do.  I met a friend who works through Wold System Builder selling insurance, and they're offering free Financial Literacy courses.  I was excited.  Each week I show up after work and learn with others that have similar goals to mine. As I'm learning about paying down debt and planning for retirement, my lack of planning for my kids really hit hard.  I need to know that I'll be taken care of as I age, but also that they'll be taken care of after I'm gone, and I realized that this is a steeper climb than I ever thought it could be. 

As a special needs mom in Los Angeles, I can tell you about Supplemental Security Income, In Home Supportive Services, the ASDA Special Dog Allowance, Respite Care through Regional Center, and some really nifty provisions in the Americans with Disabilities Act. What I am learning is that all of these programs rely on the fact that you have very little and they expect you to keep very little of it to qualify for services.  So the more I make, the less my kids are entitled to.  It makes sense, but when I'm gone, that payment from the government will not be enough.  They won't be able to live on their own and having a small income with a need to rely on someone else could set them up to be victimized by someone else.  As I'm learning about insurance and finances, I'm learning how important it is to set up a Special Needs Trust account with an ABLE account that I can't even get in California yet.  I'm learning about setting up annuities so my adult kids can later get a monthly allowance to manage their needs appropriately if they're unable to keep a job.  I'm learning that life insurance should cover the final costs of a funeral, but I also need to consider that insurance is designed to replace me.  My income.  My ability to cover housing costs.  What if I go before I've figured out the future costs of my children's college education?  I'm learning that even if I set money aside in a product I'm not meticulously managing, it can be taxed away by the government or not enough because of a bank making money off of me while paying me very little for letting them hold it.  What about inflation? Remember when a quarter could cover a payphone call or a postage stamp? Or five pieces of candy at 7-Eleven? I do.  As I'm learning, my passion is taking over any embarrassment I had over trying to sell a product. 

My embarrassment is making way for my passion. My passion means I don't have to persuade people to buy what I'm selling.  I'm just someone willing to provide what I feel everyone should have. That's not really sales, and I don't have to be embarrassed about it. 

Self Sabotaging Behaviors

I like the idea of close relationships but I find I've been sabotaging that. 

I self sabotage at work.  I am fairly engaged with the people I work with when it's about work.  When it's my lunch, I tend to take it alone and about two hours after everyone else.  

I self sabotage when I'm off too.  I like posts on Facebook.  I might send a quick text when I have my kids and I'm "too busy" to actually spend time with people. When I'm kid free and off work, I'm usually alone unless someone reaches out to me and asks me to write it in my calendar.  I have a calendar.  It's mainly empty, but I'm somehow always busy.  I find new pins for my Pinterest Boards, or I make lists of things I want to do, and I try to justify why I prefer to do these things alone. 

I self sabotage when I'm setting goals.  I plan a million things I need to do but always make space for things I want to do. This means my serious goals are replaced by the noise I choose over the lyrics in life. I want to write a book, but instead I use those golden pre-dawn hours to lie in bed and check out social media.  

I self sabotage in relationships, choosing Mr. Right Now instead of waiting for the one.  There were lessons I needed to learn.  I needed to see who I am reflected in what was so attractive about him. 

Lessons are everywhere if you look hard enough.  Over a year ago I met a woman and we shared our experiences at the end of a marriage. She shared with me how she threw it all away for something she didn't want and she knew it was temporary feeling.  She was hurting so much over it and in having nothing but compassion for the woman across from me that had not hurt me, I realized that she was so miserable in her marriage, she chose self sabotage.  It was so much easier to step into a situation she had always rejected than to admit she was unhappy in her marriage. She did something so terrible in her eyes that the marriage had to end. 

I was able to look at it differently.  I saw that she was in so much pain that doing something terrible sounded like a better excuse to end things.  She couldn't defend her feelings so she sacrificed who she is as an excuse to end something that was hurting her enough to make her into someone she was not. Self sabotage was far better than ending a marriage.

Self sabotage isn't something we can easily see for what it is.  No one says, "I'm going to destroy all I have and how others see me." We take defensive actions.  In marriage, I began telling lies because it was easier to make up what I think he wanted to hear than to tell him how I really felt and what I really thought.  Someone else may cheat because something temporary and exciting is better than facing a partner that is no longer exciting or wonderful. We may make mistakes at work or let apathy set in.  We should love the job that pays well and offers great benefits, but what if it makes us miserable? There's a disconnect between what is and what should be and that leaves us feeling guilt and frustration that we can't justify. We are not trying to break what we have.  We're self soothing and it can be destructive. 

Our actions often become that cry for help that we can't hear.  It's when we allow others to see us fall apart, that the choice to change or end things can be taken from us. In my last relationship, I let apathy set in.  I was no longer trying to make him happy but it was reciprocated.  We were a broken team and we were just trying to scrape by.  I was regularly ignoring his needs and he was lashing out in response. When it ended, I certainly missed him, but the relief I felt was stronger than the pain of losing him. He was miserable with me too and I'm sure he is happier living his life without me. When things ended, our paths shifted.  

The thing with a path that is redirected is that path is often right-directed.  There's a shift and transition that comes with self sabotage. What we were so heavily relying on is so often shattered until we're left with the core of who we are.  We get so used to living a life that is not our own.  We get used to living through a shell of our abilities because we never had the opportunity to really see who we were while living the expectation of what we believe we should be seen as. 

This is when you discover that you're stronger than you think you are.  

This is where you learn that you are more than what you can do for others because there is a world of all you get to do for yourself.  

You learn that you don't need to rely on others as heavily because when pushed out on a ledge, you find that you can flex your own muscles and that you are powerful when you learn to stand.  You don't need to puff up and you no longer feel like you need to shrink.  You stand in the authority of who you are. 

When you get to this point, it's easy to remember what you did wrong, and it's hard to decide that a mistake is actually what you got right, but there it is.  You are not greater than your dreams or your destiny.  You are not greater than your God or the Universe.  What is for you is yours and you can't ruin or destroy it.  Nothing is about what has happened to you.  You aren't powerful enough to change the greatness in your future. You take a responsibility stand point and decide that all that has happened in life was happening for you and the gift is for you to unpack and unwrap.  Who you are is more than you see in the mirror because you spent so much time looking at who you were told you are.  You peel off layers and disappointments and you see how amazing and beautiful you really are.  

It's a lesson I'm learning.  This weekend I admitted to a friend that I'm not big on hanging out and that I'm usually alone. I don't know where it started to feel safer alone than with others, but somehow that happened and it was more of an internal shift than anyone doing something to make me feel afraid of friendships. It's something I want to change. 

Tonight I was in a rare mood to reach out.  I called 9 people.  Of those 9, one answered but didn't recognize my number.  Two texted so we can connect at a later time, and one of those two called me back and refilled my cup that was empty.  She helped me be gentle with myself and showed me more compassion than I was showing myself. That was genuine feedback for me. 

As I called contact after contact, leaving a voicemail where I could, I had so many feelings of guilt. These are all people I genuinely care about but I had so seldom showed up for them.  How would I react to a number I'm not used to seeing? Would I answer? There are a few people I would answer for, no matter what.  Am I that person for anyone that isn't my immediate family? In reality, everyone is typically busy and not everyone has time or energy for a random call.  I'm often recovering from something or other and my energy reserves are low enough to not want to engage.  I'm not taking it personally, but my guilt is nudging me.  There are so many in my life that I love and care about but I don't show them.  I rarely call.  I don't reach out.  I live my life and watch through social media when I was once in those posts with them. 

It's a reminder that my voice matters and I don't have to continue what I've been doing.  I don't have to destroy what is.  I'm not a tree. I can move or shift and change.  I don't need to self-sabotage.  I get to course correct instead.  

Why Would I Lay it All Out There?

Monday afternoon as I was heading out for lunch, I happened to be leaving the office at the same time as a co-worker. It happens.  Our schedules are flexible and we take lunch when we want to.  I just typically prefer to dine or walk alone. I don't hate people, I just really love my solitude.  We struck up a conversation that lead into him treating me to lunch and we shared about our lives and families.  He told me me that he's a very private person and I laughed as I told him about my blog.  He was genuinely supportive, but we're different people.

Much of my family is very private. I am not.  Growing up, my Dad always told us that "whatever is hidden will be shouted on the rooftops." I came to understand that whatever I wanted to keep private would ultimately come out and burn me. Or shame me. Or burn bridges for me. 

As a mom, I started feeling that if I didn't want anyone to know about what I was doing, I probably shouldn't do it.  I don't ask my kids to keep secrets. It's unfair to them and it just means that if they're angry with me, my secrets will end up as something they'll share later. I know because we've had many laughs over things meant to be kept secret during car rides. It helps that I'm so open and honest with my boys.  They see my good side and all of my bad.  I remember asking my kids what they think about the changes in our home, since it was just me and them. Kid2 noted that now "mom is working on keeping it real." At the heart of who I am and what I give them, they love and accept me as I am.  They know they can call me out when I'm being hypocritical and they do.  And in transparency, I get to call out my faults, apologize and rebound powerfully.  But why would I share it outside of my home? Why would I keep a blog about it all? 

At first, blogging was free therapy.  Writing was really hard for several months.  Anytime I tried to write more than two sentences, I would trash it.  It wasn't worthy of the paper I wasted. I had it in my head (because my ex put the thought there) that my love of reading and writing was what ended my marriage.  I couldn't do it.  Once I began to purge and explore what love and life and being me outside of marriage was, the words began to flow and my healing began. 

I was writing out my thoughts and anxieties.  I was writing my hopes and dreams.  I was writing. And slowly, people were starting to read what I wrote. I don't have many followers and I don't make money off of my blog, but I write and it resonates and that feedback is my payment. 

Every once in a while, I'll get a response or a comment from someone that could relate to my words.  I offer insight or healing, or maybe a mirror.  I take what life hands me and I beat it out with my finger tips and as my bleeding flows out, healing happens for me, and in some way, it helps others heal. We're living in a time when answers are found online, and even if the answers aren't healing, in some ways, you can search for my healing.  

When I miscarried in April, it was a flood gate for my family.  I wrote about my grief in the days where it was most powerful for me. I left it all in that post, and to this day have a hard time going back to read it. Miscarriage is rarely talked about because it's so uncomfortable.  People have a hard time imagining losing a child because it's not how it's supposed to be.  The point of parenting is to do your job so well each day, that each day your children are one step closer to life without you. One day, you'll leave this world and you shouldn't have to know what it is to lose your child.  You're supposed to make your children orphans when they are grown enough that they can survive with your memories. With my loss, my mom was able to grieve the loss of her twins over 50 years ago. Family talked about their miscarriages or simply held space because they knew what I was going through. 

When I write about suicide, it's from the stand point of someone that has been there and known what it was like to weigh the reasons to live or to die.  I've held knives to my skin and counted out pain pills on a table.  I've known depression for years and can tell you that suicidal thoughts are not about the people that would survive.  In my darkest hours, it's never occurred to me what I would put my family through.  It was always a place so dark, I couldn't imagine clawing my way out.  I couldn't imagine seeing change in the next day because I couldn't see past the next hour.  It's been called selfishness, but not in the way that most people think.  You are not using selfishness to take something from someone else. It's selfishness because it doesn't occur to you to think outside of yourself.  And I write because I know there's help. I know there's hope.  I know these feelings cycle and wash over you in waves, and if you can wait long enough, it'll fade.  And there's medication, and there's therapy.  There are friends that will sit with you, and hospitals that will guard you so you don't harm yourself.  I write to help.  

I write about being abandoned and surviving the end of a marriage because it's not easy and I know I'm not the only one. Yes, you are stronger than you think. You will love life as the head of your suddenly peaceful home.  You'll figure out what it's like to go on your first date in a decade and a half.  You'll figure out the good and the bad that is online dating.  I have a whole series on how to spot a cat fish. You'll get a new sense of what matters to you and discover the areas where you made choices based on someone else's desires and call it compromise.  You'll grieve.  It's not just the mate you chose but the life you planned.  What you planned included someone else and those dreams and hopes will shift into a solitary journey and it's not nearly as fun as planning a life with someone else. You'll explore the ways you've walled off your heart and you'll see the ways you still believe in love.  And you'll get to remember what it's like to have a first crush after only looking at your spouse, and seeing true possibility like you haven't as a spouse.  And you'll get to fall in love all over again.  

I touch on domestic violence. It's not always about being hit.  It rarely starts with violence.  It looks like financial abuse and control. It looks like an impossible financial accountability that usually comes with a double standard. I write about gas lighting and the different ways I questioned what I knew to be true because I was made to feel crazy.  I write about emotional abuse and manipulation.  My therapist felt it was an incredible breakthrough for me when I sat on her cream colored couch, holding a pillow and crying out loud, "I am an abused woman." It was a starting point and breaking the cycle of what I allowed is still something I'm working on. I write so I can support others in that. 

I write about being an autism mom but it's not my sole focus.  While it's important to advocate for your kids and be well versed in policies so you can paper tiger through IEP's, I also feel it's important that I protect them by giving them space from my writing.  At the same time, mothering them is like breathing.  It doesn't matter as much that they are autistic as it did when they were first diagnosed.  When they were first diagnosed, I was so broken by the goals and dreams I had for them, that suddenly had nowhere to go.  What I wanted and expected shifted.  And I learned it's not about me.  It was a lesson that took years.  It hit me one Mother's Day.  I felt cheated out of my day for another year.  (This happened all the time until I started buying my own presents). I realized Mother's Day isn't about the mom. It's about graciously accepting whatever your children have for you so they can learn what it is to give.  It's about showing them how much you value their consideration and how much love you can show them.  I'm an autism mom but autism is so much a part of who we are that it's no longer an identity. It's who we are as a family. Autism matters less than how much they know they're loved and accepted. 

I think the biggest part of me I want to share is my drive to be a better person.  I do collections for work, and today I set up payments for a woman paying her father's debt as he's no longer able to.  It broke my heart that this is what I'm doing, but it's my job.  I approached it with love and compassion and by the end of the call, she was thanking me and telling me it was the nicest collections call she had ever been on. It's easy to approach life with anger and hate.  It's everywhere and you don't often have to dig deep for it.  My goal is to be the person I want my kids to have as an example.  I want to live in integrity and show indomitable character. When my marriage was first ending, I was incapable of that.  As I'm spending more time writing, I'm more reflective and intentional with my actions.  I'm more self aware of my thoughts (and boy have I had a potty mouth lately). Writing keeps me accountable.  

And writing helps me get stronger. I had a conversation with my boss last week where his decision wasn't one I agreed with.  It took a few hours, but before the day ended, I walked over to him and took a seat and I explained why I disagreed.  He is the Controller for my company. He's intelligent and dominant.  I totally admire him and I was absolutely intimidated.  Speaking up like that is something I've never been able to do in romantic relationships and this is a man that could decide to fire me.  I was telling him I thought he was wrong.  Yesterday he took me out to lunch (part of our team's budget).  He showed me that my opinion was valued and also gave me guidance on approaching things next time.  He encouraged me to distance myself so I don't burn out, while the CFO called my anger, "passion for what you do." I've mentioned I love my job and my team, right? I would have never been able to have that conversation if it were five years ago. 

I take the good, the bad, the painful and the messy and I share it.  I write vulnerably because no matter how it lands and whether or not it's accepted, it's transparent, and holding it in serves no one.  Sharing it out can support someone express what they feel.  I write because I know others can relate and find healing.  It's not for likes or shares.  I really don't get those. It's not for money.  It's about connection. It's for me and it's for anyone that comes across my blog.  

Reflections From a Mountaintop

I’ve been a home body for the past year.  When I was in my last romantic relationship, I spent my weekends at home to be with him.  I rushed home after work to be with him.  I wasn’t hiking or going to museums.  I wasn’t taking myself out to dinner.  I was sitting in the car for hours at the peak of traffic and sitting at my desk for hours at work.  I got home and hustled through night time routines and jumped into bed.  I was content in my massive ass expansion as I ate and didn’t move, and my clothes grew tighter. My ex-boyfriend would often hold me close and tell me I was soft.  His smile and warmth as he held me and praised my curves felt amazing and I was okay with becoming softer. I was happy with the slower pace and easing back into focusing on home life.

Single life means I get to shift back into exploring Los Angeles and hiking for beautiful views. It means I’m taking my time on my way home when I don’t have my kids. I’m stopping when strangers talk to me, unafraid that I might be doing something wrong. I’ve learned with jealous men to worry I might be doing something normal to me, that is disrespectful to them.  I’ve been offering to snap family pictures when I’m in a tourist trap. I forgot how good it feels to give. It’s getting used to again being happy single and confident in who I am. It’s face time with old friends and learning through workshops.  It’s amazing how many free classes are available.

This weekend I decided to explore and ticked Brand Park in Glendale off of my list. I had been there once before. This time I was alone and took my time exploring the library, Japanese Garden and Doctors House. Then I decided I wanted to hike up the mountain.  I started on the Miss America Green Cross Trail, not paying attention to the easier route starting right behind the library.  I started where I was standing and figured I could handle the loop.  It didn’t look much worse than Runyon Canyon.  I snapped a picture of the map at the trail head and started my way up. 

After a short and easy walk, the hike became a steep incline up the mountain.  At times I was using my hands to steady myself as I carefully placed my feet.  A few times I worried I might fall backward. I looked up from time to time, but never as I was walking. I focused on each step and only at the ground right in front of me.  Being inactive for so long, my heart was pounding, and I was huffing and puffing.  My body ached with the strain of it, and my legs trembled.  At this point and again after a short climb higher, I sat down for a while.  I reminded myself that I could take my time and there was no one around to rush me. It was the excuse I used to stick with my protections of being a Lone Wolf. It was the excuse I used to not take anyone with me.  I could listen to my body, rest when I wanted to and go at my own pace.  But I wanted to keep going. 

I don’t remember how long I sat, but looking over the city all I had was my thoughts and they shouted at me because my body was only able to sit still and tremble and breathe.  A few months ago, a friend asked me about my relationships and certain things fully clicked into place.  I looked ahead and tried to convince myself that it was not that much farther to the top.  If I kept going, the way down looked like a much easier walk. My phone app let me know I hadn’t even made it half way. I sat and immediately wanted to fall into a moment of self-beat up before I remembered that I did a lot.  For someone that hadn’t been active in a really long time, I walked up 42 flights.  I sat and gave myself the rest I needed.  I looked over Burbank and Glendale and even recognized Long Beach. 

A workshop I went to a few weeks ago taught me about my relationship to failure and it was interesting to me but every single failure I could think of  was tied to a relationship of some kind.  Prompted by a friend, I wanted to really explore how I felt about my relationships around my sexuality.

Relationship to Men

In all of my romantic relationships, I fell into this pattern of following.  It was how I was raised. My Dad was often telling us that children should be seen and not heard.  I saw my Mom do as my Dad wanted.  She is strong and smart and financially responsible, and she was submissive to him until she wasn’t, and that was when the marriage ended.  I’m hard wired to follow, even if I don’t agree, and even if I don’t want to.  And that doesn’t align with who I am when I’m single.  But I’m aware of it.  I’m hyper aware of it.  And I get to figure out how to change it.

A couple of years ago I was in line at a Rite Aid and I was totally triggered by ice cream. There was a small family ahead of me and this little girl was trying to figure out what she wanted.  Her mom began to tell her to pick Vanilla.  The little girl wanted to sample the flavors and choose the best one for her, and she was told what she should pick and rushed.  I actually turned around in a moment of outright hostility.  I explained (as calmly as I could) that they want their daughter to choose what she wants. They want her to be able to speak up for herself.  If you teach her that her wants and needs are valuable, she won’t believe the immature boys that will try to convince her that he matters more than she does.

Fast forward to this past year and asserting my wants felt like rebellion.  Choosing what was best for me became something I was hiding.

Relationship to My Body

I wasn’t being gentle with myself. On this hike, I expected my body to be the amazing powerhouse I have known it to be.  I’ll be 40 next month, so osteoarthritis makes it hard to move some mornings.  In spite of that, I love my body because it’s mine.  I love it for what it has done and what it can do.

Sometimes I overestimate what my body can do.  I believe that has a lot to do with why it was so hard to be gentle with myself when I know I had done enough on that mountain. I’ve carried seven babies that are now individual people thriving in this life. I’ve known what it feels like when I treat myself like I love myself.  I feel powerful and confident.  I know how important self-care is.  I love the way my body feels.  I love the way it looks and I’m excited about what it will do in the next decade.

It’s hard to imagine that my body is less capable than it’s proven to be in the past. A couple of years ago I had a conversation with a man that felt like I needed him to point out that he liked “thick girls.” First, I’m a woman. Second, it never occurred to me to be thick, or thin.  I’m me.  Glorious, beautiful me. Strong or soft, I turn heads (even if they’re not the ones turning mine) on a regular basis. I bet most people are noticed and appreciated by strangers, especially when it's not mutual.  I know what they’re looking at.  I get to look at myself in the mirror every day, and even when I don’t look like I have put effort into what I present to the world, I accept who I am and love myself.  Unconditionally. I’m beautiful because I decide what beauty is to me.

Relationship to Power

I see it.  I want it.  I often feel like having power means I need to be a Lone Wolf.  If I keep to myself, no one can take my power.  I don’t need to make myself small to keep someone else bigger than me.  I don’t always feel I have power but you can see it in my walk.  Over the last year I let go of my Mom Walk.  I stopped strutting confidently. I became busy and all of the things I “get to do” became things I “need to do.” The stress of it was in my shoulders and in my gait.  It was in my lack of eye contact. I wasn’t trying to attract attention so I was shrinking. I was in a committed relationship and I didn’t want to do something to hurt the man I loved.

I’m slowly finding it again, but I’m shifting it.  The power I felt in my walk was part of being a Lone Wolf.  It was a very masculine authority in which I lived my life.  I had this definite belief that as a single mom, I was both Mom and Dad.  I spent the year next to a man that was very strong and intensely dominant. I learned that I don’t have to be.  I can be feminine and hold attention.  I can be assertive and respected. I’m shifting my walk intentionally into a more feminine walk.  I felt it when he first left and I started walking the way I used to.  After being so connected to his energy, mine felt false.  My walk was leading with my shoulders rounded to minimize my breasts. It was a walk that said, “take me seriously and don’t look at my boobs.” Rather than leading with my shoulders, I’m relaxing them and leading with my hips.  There’s less intensity in it and when I walk like that, I feel a calm power that flows rather than forces a path in my wake. I feel taller and my posture is better. It’s subtle but it’s a shift I felt I needed to make. 

The shift in my walk is an embodied feeling and reminder that I don’t need to follow anyone.  I don’t need to be both male and female. The boys have their Dad when I don’t have them, and I don’t need to fill those masculine shoes. I can lead in the authority of my own power. I don’t need to fear power or shrink in the face of it. I can be myself and there is power in that.

Relationship to Confidence

In the workshop on failure I mentioned previously, I went through the process and identified my failings. I discovered my perceived failings were all about relationships.  Romantic relationships.  My relationship as a mom, daughter and sibling.  My relationship with money.  In all these things, where my fear of failure was strongest I felt my confidence was integrally tied to my perceived failure. As I really looked at the things I felt I failed in, I realized I was very disconnected from these things. I felt the weight of what I thought I should feel, and in the end, I didn’t feel these things.  I felt what I thought I should feel.  As I released these perceived failures, I felt a shift in my confidence level.  I know I’ve written it many times, but I’m not my failures and my failures teach me where I get to grow, but I was in a space where I forgot this.  I’m in a space where I’m reminding myself of this.

I took a few final deep breaths and decided I could try again another day.  I decided that I could be kind to myself and accept that getting ¾ of the way up the mountain was enough. I’m not sure how I would have gotten down if I had made it to the top. I slowly made my way back down the mountain.  My phone tells me I climbed 42 flights and walked 4 miles that day.  By the time I got to my car, my legs were trembling, my fingers were slightly swollen.  My palms were scraped and dry.  I was sweating and elated.  I did so much.  It wasn’t everything but it was enough. I am enough and it’s enough that I can see who I am in relationships. It’s enough to focus out and away from my need to be a Lone Wolf. I don’t need to push others away to protect myself. I can hold my own power in being vulnerable enough to share who I am.  With actual people I share the same air with. 

Identity: Single Mom - Single - Divorced - Separated

I work in an affluent city filled with tourists from all over the world.  The block I work on is part of a regular flow of wealth. Because of this, there are often pan handlers posted in regular spots.  I've seen one man show up with his dog, do his morning stretches, and place his belongings in their particular locations on the street before taking on the position he does on a daily basis.  He's there before I get to work but often leaves with another man replacing him when I leave. I remember when things were really tight and I first started working there. I realized his dog was better taken care of than I was.  

There's a woman with a child. She stands on different spots on the same block daily, and asks if people will help her out while her child sleeps in the stroller, or she holds him in her arms.  Honestly, I don't know of any child that sleeps as much as that one does.  Or maybe I just happen to walk by on my lunch breaks which are his regular nap times.  Of all of the people that speak to themselves, or aggressively ask for help, or strike up a random conversation, she makes me the most uncomfortable. I mean, I wonder if it's her child, or if she's watching someone else's child a lot of the time. Is she really alone in this world? Where does she go at night when temperatures near the ocean dip dangerously with wind chill and fog. I think of her the most. She embodies my fears of being a single mom and that says a lot when my life is so full of drama. 

I'm a single mom. Even when I had a boyfriend, all of the bills and groceries were paid for by me. When they need to go the dentist or doctor, or therapy appointment, I make it work around my 40 hour work week. The after school program helps with homework. My mom helps with dinner because when it's that time, I'm usually in traffic. When they're finicky about the food she prepares, I go home and cook dinner before I can sit and rest. I take care of the animals they asked for but don't take care of. I sign field trip slips and school forms and sometimes I have to stop in the office before school to sign a new one when the first gets lost. I've even coordinated with the office to have one emailed, then sign it and fax it back. I make it happen and at the end of the day, I do it alone. I don't have anyone to share my stories of exhaustion or triumph with.  There's no one to rush home to, or cook for when the kids are gone. There's not someone to ease the pain of my tired feet, or rub out the knots of tension in my back. I don't have a partner to split the bills. This is life as a single mom.  

Back to this woman on the street . . . I see this woman on the street asking for help and it makes me uncomfortable.  If it makes me uncomfortable, the obvious reason is there is something about her that I can see when I look at myself. Is it my concern that she isn't providing the best environment for her child that needs space to play and stimulation to learn? I watch my kids spend so much time looking at a screen.  Is it the fact that she is seemingly alone and it appears like she's not doing well, although I've seen many people hand her money and even one person brought her baby clothes from Old Navy since I've seen her. I don't know what makes me uncomfortable, but it's making me take notice. 

I've been a single mom for a while.  I was a single mom in 2015, but the divorce still isn't final.  It's been started, but I'm still married.  And we never filed for a legal separation, so I'm married.  I've dated other men.  I've been in a long term relationship, miscarried his twins and lived with a man that wasn't my husband for almost a year since then. 

I was filling out a form online that asked for my status.  Single? Committed relationship? Separated? Divorced? Married?

This is a very basic question, but my answer is complicated. I'm not legally separated. I'm not divorced. I'm married, but I'm more single than married.  So when the divorce happens, do I have to say I'm divorced? I feel more single because I haven't felt tied to the marriage in a long time. I don't feel tied to the divorce anymore. My 2015 taxes were filed as Head of Household. I couldn't even hand over leadership of my finances to my last boyfriend and he holds a degree in finance. 

What is it to be single? It's being alone through all of the good and bad, and finding strength in your ability. 

And married? Ideally, it's a partnership and a commitment to support each other for the rest of your lives.  

Committed relationship? To me, it's a choice to choose one person repeatedly . . . To support them as they support you . . .  To have someone to confide in. There are also the perks of a reliable sex partner. Good, bad, and not often, it's the same partner.  

And what if you're divorced? It means you were part of a marriage that ended.  That's kinda the end of it, but not if you look at perceptions held about divorce in relation to marriage. I've been asked how my marriage failed.  I've been asked who's fault it was.  Irrelevant details in my day to day are often the focus when I'm asked about events that will get you to the end of a marriage. When my marriage ended, I was told it was over.  So I had the very same questions. No one asks how I feel about being single, and honestly, single life suits me. 

So how do you decide who you are when the labels don't fit? You get to choose.  

I choose the label of being single. I feel empowered by being single.  I feel confident in how I fit in my body and how I move when I walk.  I feel like I can smile at strangers and hug male friends and I won't get in trouble for it.  I feel like I can speak my mind and I'm not second guessing myself. I'm going through a divorce, but that process and the negativity around it are not who I am.  I was in a relationship but that usually means I'm making so much space for someone else that I push out my needs. The distinction between who I am from what I've been through is what makes the labels irrelevant. If you need to know to help you fit me into a category you understand and can feel better about, I'm single. And I love it. 

Coping with Verbal Abuse

I’m hated or loved. There’s no in between, or no one cares enough to tell me if they are. I've been the target of verbal abuse in many ways and several times. I took it as long as I did because somehow I wasn't able to connect to it and I became fascinated with what would make a person treat me like that.  I remember more than once being amused and trying not to laugh through it. Mine wasn't a normal reaction.  I took it as long as I did because change is hard when you still hope the person you allow closest to you will remember to be who you let in . . . Who you loved. At the same time, I can be honest with myself and admit that I have a hard time trusting others enough to let them understand me. I keep my distance emotionally. 

I kept thinking I have thick skin, but that's not it either.  My thick skin is an illusion.  When my self love is strong enough, I can’t see someone else’s insecurities in me. I love and trust myself enough that I can see my weaknesses and learn to love them enough that they won’t hurt me. I was once told, "Truth hurts only when there's fear inside. When fear is defeated with self love, truth is filtered through unconditional acceptance." It's true.  But it's also unreliable.  When I feel happy and strong, I'm fine.  These things roll off of me.  When I'm emotionally bottomed out, the stress becomes physical pain and exhaustion. I begin to doubt all that I know to be true about me. Thick skin is a strength from the outside in.  My core is what defines and supports me.

I find that when someone hates me enough to let me know, their attacks are always a reflection of their greatest fears and insecurities. The people I'm thinking of were people I once loved.  I was busy loving them with a protective bubble around me and they were too self absorbed to get to know me enough to know what would hurt me. When I got past the idea that someone wanted to hurt me, their actual insults couldn’t land. It hurt more that they wanted to hurt me.  Then I remembered it's not normal to want to hurt other people, and it's not me as much as them.  Sometimes I enjoy it that I matter so much to someone else . . . That I can affect their day without trying.  I accept that I'm not always a nice person. 

Going from love to hate to indifference myself, I can honestly say that hate is not the opposite of love. Hate is a feeling that comes from frustration and anger and enough care to feel frustrated that I can't control anything. There's often a lot of self hate going on too.  If not self hate, a frustration that I can't change something and an inability to see through or get past pain and trauma so old, I can't see it as much as feel it. 

The last person to verbally abuse me was also loved by me.  I looked at him with compassion.  I felt empathy.  I knew him enough to know his anger towards me was fear.  It was hurt and loneliness.  The things said to me were verbalized fears and pain he had long before I met him.  These things were a reaction to what I made him feel. At the end of the day I felt so much pain at his insults but it was pain for him, not because of him. In friendship, I wanted to make space for his needs and wants.  He had a hard time accepting this and thought turning away or denying me his acknowledgment would make me do or say what he wanted. He wanted to control what I did as a way to fix the past and confront ephemeral ghosts and memory. 

As for coping, it's really about looking hard and long at yourself. Look at who you are.  Look at what they tell you they think you are.  There may be a little truth to it.  There may not be. 

Accept the statement. 

Let the truth of it land.  Let the parts that are not true fall away.  This is how you look to them, but how much of what they see is real? How much of it is twisted by their own broken shards, cutting them with everything they experience in life? If they're unreliable, why do you trust what they say? 

Trust yourself. 

I trust myself because no matter who comes or goes in my life, I'm still here. I trust myself because I take care of myself and my kids.  I trust myself because I'm great at my job and people genuinely want me around, even if I'm feeling like I only want to be alone. I trust myself because I know that I give it 110% percent so when it's time to walk away, I have no regrets to weigh on me. 

Release and let go. 

Let go of controlling how others see you.  Let go of what you want others to see.  They don't look you in the eye when you are facing a mirror. Who are you at your core? Not who your mom sees.  Not who your friends see.  Who do you see when you think of what matters to you in your life.  What do you love about yourself? What do you genuinely not love, and how can you change or accept that? 

Pride and vulnerability

Hold your head up high when facing them but be vulnerable with yourself.  They don't need to see if or how they hurt you. They don't deserve your tears.  Tears are sacred and healing and it's okay if you experience them on your own. It's okay to admit to the parts that hurt, but don't allow that hurt to hold you down.  Talk to someone you trust.  Write out what you feel.  Finally, let go and move on.  Vulnerability with yourself will help you see what areas are hurting within.  Take a look at the child you were.  Look at the pain you felt as a child with the eyes of an adult.  Forgive your shortcomings.  Acknowledge your pain.  It's okay to soothe the hurting child within as the grown up you needed now that you understand the past through the history and knowledge of your present. 

See what is said as an outrageous lie.  It usually is. 

I am not a terrible wife and mother.  (I was a selfish wife, but we both were. As for mother, I have selfish moments, but my kids know they can depend on me.  I am enough.)

I am not physically unattractive. (I turn heads and turn down men on a regular basis. Men and their imaginations are easy. I care more when they say I'm smart or kind.)

I am not fat. (I'm very comfortable in my skin.  I love me and all that my body is capable of.) 

I am not a baby killer. (I gave my twins all I could and my body didn't reject them, even after their hearts stopped.)

I am not a two faced back stabber. (I'm more honest than most people are comfortable with. I'm transparent, and don't act maliciously. I move on and don't look back.)

I am not a slave or nigger. (The history of my bloodline is an existence I am lucky to never have experienced.  I'm also mixed, and don't really identify with any particular group. I'm black and Thai and still holding out for a nice Jewish man or a red haired, green eyed Irish man, but I'm not holding my breath.)

I'm not a bitch (but I can be, and I enjoy those moments shamelessly). 

I do have a brain. (I don't often waste explanations on people that don't have the ability to see past their perceptions and interpretations.)

Self Care

Cry if you need to.  Find reasons to laugh.  Find ways you trust yourself and everything about who you are.  Spend time with people that love and support you. Be physically active in the sun. An endorphin rush and vitamin D are super drugs. Eat well and stay hydrated, especially if you need to cry it out. Seek out a therapist. Cut off the person trying to hurt you. No contact is the easiest way to focus on who you are and heal. And know that there is so much more good in you that they can't see past their own negativity and pain.