“Girls Like Us”
I can remember the shame washing over me like a hot blanket, but not the yummy kind you want when you’re cold – more like the warm blanket when you’ve wet the bed and you know the heat will soon give way to cold, stark, lonely humiliation: perfect for a 15 year old on a large stage in front of several classmates.
It was sophomore year. I had scored my first big part in a school play: Rosie in Bye, Bye, Birdie. I quickly discovered, much to my delight, that I not only got to sing a solo number, but that it required a solo dance as well. Yay! I asked if I could choreograph it; at least that’s how I remember all that happening through the mists of time. So I went to work at it. And over some amount of time that I can no longer recall, but feel comfortable guessing was not insignificant, put together a dance to show to our director, who was on loan from a prestigious local theater.
The time came in rehearsal and I did my dance number for the director’s approval. I was really proud; proud to have the part, proud to have been allowed to handle the dance myself, and proud of having done it and performed it the way I wanted to. When I finished, as I caught my breath, I realized that it was pretty quiet. I looked up at the director, who was sitting on a folding chair at the front of the stage. She looked at me with obvious discomfort and said a few words that I don’t remember and then she said the thing I will always remember: “Girls like us can’t leap.” There was then some elaboration about my size, a vague reference to bustiness, and the way all of that looks in the air to other people. She even demonstrated how she looked leaping so I would really understand, made fun of herself, drew parallels to large animals. And there I stood. Not so proud anymore. Continue reading → “Girls Like Us”
The heightened political and social tensions have brought so much stuff to the forefront. I don’t think anybody would deny that. One of the pieces of stuff that I’ve noticed is a whole lot of attempts to disarm pissed-off women. Now, I know this will come as no surprise to those of you who are married to or live with a woman, or who grew up with sisters, but disarming a pissed-off woman is as tricky as disarming a pissed-off man. Our society has not seemed terribly interested in disarming men, but we’ve gotten real good at disarming women. Yep, we’ve gotten so good at disarming women that now women will do it to each other. Here are some examples of the ways I’ve seen people attempting to disarm pissed-off women. People tell them to: 1) get the “real” facts or simply state that the disagreement is because of her lack of smarts, 2) let all of that anger go and find some gratitude, 3) focus on herself and her family (you know, because that’s less stressful), and 4) find a nicer way to say what she’s trying to say. “You can say all that in a nicer way, you know without the anger (or the cursing, heaven forbid there be cursing). You can fix it without anger (been there, tried that).” When I see these kinds of responses on social media, I can just hear somebody saying: “You can win more flies with honey you know.” 
A habit of being the last in line;
Right now, though? I assume it’s because I don’t have the emotional energy for the overthinking part, but maybe it’s because I’ve unchosen SHOULD for 2017. Either way I just don’t seem to be going there in the same way. There’s been a lot more action, albeit it slow and gentle. I have a notion about something and maybe I gather some info, but mostly I do something about it. And you know what? Things are SO much better. Even in this time of sloth paced engagement, I am making more important strides than I have in months. I feel more able to see a desirable path in front of me. I am more clear about what needs to happen next and I’m more willing to see where that leads. And all of THAT is adding the hope and joy that I need to weather this loss. 
“Maybe that’s not the right gift for her.” “Maybe that won’t actually fit him.” “What if … what if… what if….” I used to make fun of my mother for this very thing. “Mom, it will all be fine. Everyone will love it. Stop fussing.” I had no idea. As my friend and I talked, she wisely said, “You know you’re never really done,” meaning there’s always one more thing you COULD do if you thought about it. I said, “You’re right. Maybe we should just decide to be done right now.” We laughed, and thought that was a good idea, and then returned to our own homes where we could choose not follow that advice for the rest of the day. But maybe it really is that simple. Maybe it’s as simple as deciding it IS good enough. 
It turns out however, that this notion of needing to “should” ourselves into productivity may be inaccurate. The interesting thing that I’m finding in my life is that when I ignore or re-route my extremely well-developed sense of “should,” I get a lot more done, and more importantly, it’s all the best stuff. Strangely enough I don’t turn into some hedonistic miscreant without my long list of shoulds. That’s what we picture right? Without our obligations, without the tethers, without this burdensome sense of what we ought to do in order to be a good parent, a good citizen, a good employee, heck a good person – what ever would we be?!