Posts Tagged ‘belonging’

Yearning

May 17, 2015

This is not a post I am interested in posting.

It steers a little too close to self-pity land.

And nothing, truly, nothing, do I find more objectionable and heinous.

I had an ex in my twenties who was amazing at self-pity and I remember realizing one day how very selfish it was.

I don’t like it when my selfish tendencies arise.

Yet.

They do and when they do I just get to roll with them.

I had hoped I would be feeling a bit more sprightly today and that is not the case, the cold lingers and with it comes those feelings, oh feelings, of not being enough or doing enough or whatever it is that wants to get under my skin and rub the wrong way.

What I want is a snuggle.

Someone to rub my back and my shoulders.

Someone to cuddle with.

That’s something that I long for when I get sick and well, being a single gal, that’s nowhere in the offing.

It does not help that I have had some contact with my recent ex, nothing in person, but some lengthy texting and my fondness for him knows no bounds, but we agreed that it’s too close to the bone, too close to discomfort, too much potential for creating unnecessary wreckage that neither one of us wants to create.

I mean.

Sort of.

I know that road.

Once broken up with an ex I have stayed broken up with an ex.

With the exception of a near black out late night emotional booty call to my ex-boyfriend in my twenties a year and a half after we broke up.

I think I knew I had to see him one last time (ended up being one more time after that, which was sweet and tender and it was the last time and weird enough we went to Monty’s Blue Plate Diner the next morning for breakfast and the waitress remembered us even though we hadn’t been in together in almost two years at that point) and wanted to say a proper goodbye before moving back to the state of my birth, California.

But the tendency does tend to be no contact after a break up.

Not that there have been a whole lot of relationships since I moved to San Francisco, let me be frank, I’m a loner.

I didn’t intend it that way, but somewhere down the line, it happened, despite the longing or yearning for it to be otherwise I have just marched, bicycled, briefly scooter’ed (and with a little help from a friend I may well soon again), and danced to my own personal drummer.

I have rarely been partnered up in my adult life and I am not complaining.

It’s not on my time.

I have tried to make it on my time.

I have written reams of blogs and I used to write just the worst sappy ass poetry about it.

I mean, whatever to get it off my chest, but I know this is more a symptom of being slightly under the weather than anything else.

So.

I can weather this one out.

This too shall pass they say.

I realized I was being a bit moribund when I hopped in the shower to rinse out a freshening up of my hair dye, I picked up a pot of Manic Panic Cotton Candy Pink at the salon today when I got my nails done (the color I had in my hair was Cleo Rose, that’s what I got at the salon when I went to get it done, but I wanted to see what the Cotton Candy Pink would look like, so I picked it up, I mean if I’m going to have clown curl explosion on my head, may as well be cotton candy) and my thought was, “I wish I was going to see my grandmother with my boyfriend.”

Uh oh.

I am feeling “not enough.”

I am feeling the “another person completes” me baloney happening here.

My grandmother doesn’t care if I’m single or dating, or at least she has never said anything to the effect and I can’t imagine she cares one way or the other.

It’s me who cares.

I’m “less than” for not being in a relationship.

Nope.

I’m just me.

And me is pretty cool.

I called my grandmother today to check in about my upcoming visit to Chula Vista at the end of the month.

I had some concerns about putting any one out, she is 87 after all.

But she would not hear of me staying anywhere else.

My favorite uncle is going to be coming into town too from Nevada City and I’m super excited to see him (although we do usually have a family reunion out at Burning Man) and get to hear about his newest projects for the playa.

He’ll be staying with my grandma as well.

“You’re Uncle Boy can stay in the garage if we need to make space,” she said.

I laughed.

“Don’t tell him that!”

It felt good to laugh.

I’ve been nervous to reconnect.

There’s nothing to be afraid of, it’s just family.

And I love my grandmother.

Despite not having had much direct face to face contact we have stayed in touch all of my life and she is my last living grandparent.

I want to make the effort and I am delighted to get to stay with her.

I have no idea exactly what we’re going to do, but she did say that one night there would be a big family dinner at her home and I just had this sudden and overwhelming joy fill me with the thought of being surrounded by this family, that I know so little of, but care so much for.

I think that’s what they mean when they say blood is thicker than water.

I have made my own family out here in the big bad world.

Amongst my friends and fellows and there are people in my life, some in Wisconsin, some here, that I could not, nor will not do without.

“Yo.”

The messenger read on my phone this morning, pinging me awake, “are you planning on coming out this way, the middle part, this year?”

I want to.

I realized that I may not be able to until Christmas though.

And there it was again, that longing for a person to be with me.

The longing for someone to go with me to Burning Man, to travel with me.

I am sick.

Not sick in the head, or wrong for having these feelings, they just don’t usually get to me unless I’m not feeling 100% myself.

I can and have ridden out the feelings before and as my hair dries, it’s still just pink, the difference in colors is too subtle, but it’s fresh pink pink pink, so that’s fun, I know that I’m ok and that yearning for something is a part of life.

I don’t have to get what I want to enjoy what I have.

And I can snuggle with myself tonight and roll out my shoulders with my roller and make some tea and be cozy and rest.

Nothing wrong with that.

And be grateful that I get to see my family in two weeks.

Grateful I have family to travel to see.

I belong to these people and they to me and I am yearning, really, to be connected to as much humanity as I can be.

That’s the good stuff.

That’s the jelly in the donut.

The bees knees.

The cat’s pajamas.

The stuff of life.

I suppose you could say.

Oh.

Yeah.

It’s love.

Sweet, tender, vulnerable.

Love.

Celebrate

March 8, 2015

I just got home from a celebration of ladies.

I think that’s what a group of gals should be called, a celebration.

Not a school, or a pack, or a clique, or a posse.

A celebration.

These women are amazing and it was with much glee and joy and laughter that I spent my evening in Oakland.

Oh yeah.

I took the trek.

It was worth it.

The N-Judah alone took almost an hour, what with the crowded train, the longer wait between trains, weekend hours, and the fact that it was the Chinese New Year’s parade downtown.

I got onto a packed train.

Packed.

And it was the second stop from the beginning of the line.

Add to the mix the folks that had made the trek out to the beach, it was fine beach weather out here today.

I had me some sit outside in the sun time before I headed over to the East Bay, oh yes I did.

Prefaced by some get right with God and a bicycle ride to and from the Inner Sunset, some coffee and catch up and check in at Tart to Tart and a little bit of grocery shopping.

I did not cram eighteen things into my day before heading over either, although I was wanting to.

I am slowly, slowly, learning the art of slowing down.

It has taken years.

“You will make a great therapist,” she said to me tonight sotto voce at the dinner table.

We held hands and talked.

It was her celebration, but in the bringing together of the women, it was a celebration of us all.

I got a little toast for getting into graduate school.

Another lady for starting a new job with a big, big, big company.

One woman for committing to partnering up and moving in together with her boyfriend.

That’s a big move.

Cheers for a trip to Bali.

A toast for another lady about to do her dissertation in PsiD.

A trip to Bali.

Burning Man plans.

Atlanta plans.

Of the ten woman at the table, eight of us are going to Atlanta.

It’s going to be off the chain.

I’m not sure Atlanta knows what’s coming for it.

I sat silent at times, looking around the faces of these beautiful, smart, funny, my God so funny, women, and was absolutely awed that I got to be in their company.

Beauty permeated the group, but not just the physical, though, truth be told, we were the best looking party in the place, the noisiest too, perhaps, but definitely the table having the most enjoyment in the restaurant.

The laughter loud and fast and silly and intoxicating, but not drunken or stupid or vapid.

What an astounding group of women I thought to myself, world travelers, lovers, friends, co-conspirators, women with big hearts and dreams and goals.

I thought about what I had and was grateful.

I have a place at this table.

I am invited to partake.

I could have talked myself out, but I have been making a concerted, for me, effort, to get out of my comfort zone a little every week and be of the world.

I can get very easily caught up in the routine of writing, work, doing the deal, and more writing.

I can get caught up trying to make things look perfect and controlled, getting the grocery shopping done at this time on this date while negotiating my laundry and cooking and food prep and the doing instead of the being.

I need a full busy schedule.

But I need this community too.

They inspire me and when I am inspired, I get to do the same for others.

“Oh, I love your blog,” one of the women said, out of the blue at the table between courses.

I had oysters to celebrate, God I love me some oysters, and as I flipped the shell over of an tiny, briny, delicious bite of Miyagi drenched in lemon juice, I realized how much that same woman had inspired me years before I had gone to Paris by her own little world tour walk about.

To hear that she read my blog warmed me.

I will be continuing in this vein by attending a baby shower in Berkeley next week and then the following by going to out to Alcatraz to see the Ai Weiwei exhibit with a darling girlfriend.

This is how I get to be.

When I allow myself to be.

Surrounded by bright women who move me with their grace and joyful spirits.

“Look around the table, look at your community,” she said to me.  “You belong, and you’re going to be amazing.”

She’s a therapist.

She should know.

She confided that she always thought I should pursue therapy but question whether as a therapist it was something to encourage in me considering our relationship and common bonds within our community.

It was such lovely validation.

“You are so serene, you can sit and you are so calm,” she smiled at me.

I felt seen and was honored to hear it from her.

I told her my goals.

Three years graduate school.

Two to three years interning.

Private practice by the time I am 50.

That really sounds like a reasonable goal to me.

Yes, it’s about 8 years out.

And yes, I am fine with that.

I can see it.

You see.

I can see it.

I can see the space and it is bright and beautiful, warm and inviting, full of light and art and grace.

Like the women sitting around me at the table tonight.

I can see it.

I am honored to get to walk this path with these women and I hope to do them well.

I desire to put the best of myself forward.

I am going to stumble and I am going to be an idiot and I am going to forget the warmth of that fire and yes, I’ll try to isolate too, but I will always find my way back.

And the space between the time at the table and the time by myself will grow shorter as I realize that I am not alone, that I belong.

That I have a seat at the table with them.

An honor and a privilege to be included.

That there is a place for me.

 


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