Get a Room!

by

Er, I mean…

I got a room!

Can you tell where my brain is?  Hey brain, come here brain, that’s it, good girl.

Whoa.  I got a place to actually call “my own”.  With a good friend, in my “old” neighborhood, back up the hill.  I guess God wants me to have buns of steel after all, I will be bicycling back up California Street.  I will be going even further up the hill, to the tippity top of Clay Street.  The views will be spectacular and I will be out of breath from carrying my bike up four flights of stairs, but I got a fucking place to live.

Just got the confirmation text.

Thank you jeebus with bacon on top.

Funny how God works like that, just when I am all in a tizzy about not being taken care of, am I supremely being taken care of.

And looking back at the last couple of weeks, it all  makes complete sense as well.  It’s really good I pared down my belongings, they won’t fit where I’ll be living.  But I’ll fit with what I have left and the cats will fit, and I already know my future room-mate, have known him for years.

We have actually talked about being room mates before and it just never quite clicked.  Now it has.  This is also good timing because once upon a time in a galaxy a few years ago I had a crush on him.  But no more.

I tend, or had tendencies too, have crushes on my guy friends.  They were safe and I could pine in “agony” over that which I could not have meanwhile ignoring that or who I could.  It was a lot easier, at least to my mind, then putting myself out there and being vulnerable and establishing true intimacy.

I have grown up a lot.  I still love my friend, but I don’t have feelings like that any more.  Slowly, surely, one minute step at a time my defenses have been worn down and my old ideas have slipped out the door.   I occasionally grasp onto one only to watch it slide past my fingers as well.  I attempt to resist change and then discover that I am unable to do so.

I have had this inkling of an idea simmering away in the head that I needed all this change and upheaval to actually attract some one.  I am really, really, really good at putting up walls and not letting you behind my defenses.

Mr. West Oakland caught me on a day where I was absolutely raw, vulnerable and open.  Which may be part of why I was asked out.  I was just myself.  I have continued to be just myself in this last few days.  I hope that I will allow myself that luxury.  To continue to be perfectly ok with being vulnerable, open, raw, exposed.

Fact is, my walls are old and tired and ugly.  They needed to get pulled down a long time ago.  Because at some point the constant maintenance of sustaining the old edifice became much more tiring than letting it fall.  I stand in the rubble of my life right now.

I am a different woman than the woman I thought I was supposed to be.

I thought–hard, tough, black belt, kung fu.

What I am discovering, is that being vulnerable shows more strength.

Allowing others to help me makes me more attractive.  Letting go of the reigns actually provides more freedom and joy.  I don’t know who I am any more.  I am not sure what direction to turn, but I am getting, slowly, oh so slowly, more used to accepting this being, this Carmen, this woman.

How come wearing glasses actually makes me feel more naked?  One would think that it would make me feel more hidden, but I actually feel more exposed and open to the air around me.  Quite possibly because, oh shocker, I’m seeing the world in a whole new way.  And I am seeing myself in a whole new way.

This is a thematic that I have been exploring for a little while now.  Ever since I picked up Calling In The One.  I have been doing things differently.  I have not always been pleased with what has come up, but I have gotten to address it.

Let go of unrequited love.  Accept unconditional love.

Let go of idea of being a spinster.  Accepted idea that men want to date me, I have been the one who has not wanted to date me.

Ohhh, that’s a good one.  Fuck, how come I did not see that until just this minute?

Even though I do take myself out, I still have to push myself to do it, I still have to establish that I am worth courting.

Gah, I just realized I’m waiting for Mr. West Oakland to buy me flowers.  I need to just go out and buy them myself.  I do want him to, getting flowers makes me happy, it would make me happy to be courted, but I don’t have to wait.  And since I’ll be taking an early day tomorrow–going to the eye doctor for a follow-up–I think that would be a grand idea, get flowers.

I have also put off buying myself a ticket to the Nutcracker Suite, one date, oops, two dates, and I’m suddenly not doing for myself?  Wrong.  I do expect that there will be more dates and if we are hanging out when my birthday comes around maybe we will spend some time together, but that’s less than a month away and it is too much to expect that some one would make that kind of gesture that early in.

So, get a room, check.  I have gotten a room.  A room with a view, a room where my cats will be welcomed, a room next to a good friend, in a neighborhood I have grown to love and enjoy.  A room where I can expand my vision of what I am and continue to sweep away the debris of tumbled down walls I am crawling out from underneath.

It’s a little dusty, but I can see that I have not been dropped.

Just that the walls have.

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