Posts Tagged ‘Women’s March’

Solidarity In Solitude

January 22, 2017

No.

I did not march.

Although I was giving myself a complex about it, I did not go.

I did the deal.

I did the laundry.

I did the homework.

I did the writing.

I did the grocery shopping and the cooking and then, the more doing of the homework.

I’m a feminist for being in grad school, paying my own way, working as a self-employed woman, being sober, radical isn’t it, not smoking, being kind, using my voice and my experience to help others.

I could list lists of lists to convince you.

But the only person I really needed to convince was myself.

As I found myself feeling judged by friends for not going.

I think a lot of this had nothing to do with friends, I don’t think anyone gave my presence a second fucking thought, except that whenever I got asked if I was going, or it was assumed I was going, I bristled.

So I wrote some inventory.

First thing that came out is that I was afraid of being judged, that I was in judgement around myself, my experience, and god fucking forbid, whether or not my friends on social media saw pictures of me marching around with a pink cat hat on.

Sorry.

But no.

And I support Planned Parenthood.

Fuck.

They sure as shit supported me.

Years and years of service and sliding scale and birth control.

I went there in early recovery when I slept with a man and didn’t use a condom and found out he was an ex-heroin junkie who used to shoot dope with dirty rigs.

Oh my fucking god.

Get me to the doctor.

Planned Parenthood.

HIV test.

Negative, thank you.

And out the door.

I have donated plenty of money to them and I believe in them.

I believe in love, liberals, random acts of kindness, activism, resistance, raising your voice.

I mean.

I do live in San Francisco.

But I also believe in radical self-care.

And when I recalled, after doing some great work at beating myself up for waffling on whether I was going to go to the march, was that today was my first day off in two weeks.

Of course I didn’t want to go to the march!

I wanted to go back to bed.

I wanted to cancel on my yoga class.

I wanted to hide under the covers.

I did not.

I did get up.

I did go to yoga.

I did lots of breathing and I knew, even as I sat in solidarity with my sisters, mothers, friends, aunts, cousins, girl-friends, mentors, teachers, I need to do self-care today.

When I finished my inventory and realized, that yes, once again, I am just in abject terror or being unloved, abandoned, and alone, I felt a lot better, made a phone call, did a check in, got on the train, got a cafe au lait at Tart to Tart and went an anniversary celebration of a 70-year-old institution here in San Francisco.

It was amazing.

It was sweet.

Lots of old-time experience, strength, and hope.

And though I knew part of me might feel a little untoward for not going to the march I wasn’t horribly upset to be missing it, for I was making connection, radical spiritual connection with many people quietly doing something that has been consistently saving lives for decades.

I’m ok with that.

And I was also ok to go get a mani/pedi and sit in the window and watch the trains go by.

Trains so packed with people that it wouldn’t pick up more and the┬ástop in front of the beauty parlour was overflowing with women and picket signs and pink hats and supportive spouses, boyfriends, kids.

It was a beautiful thing to watch and witness.

And yeah, there’s a part of me that wishes to be there, but the part of me that gets overwhelmed by big mob like crowds was more than happy to sit back and focus on doing reading for school.

That’s a pretty radical thing.

Working full-time and going to school full time.

I had no compunctions about coming home when the rains came in and curling up with my homework and doing a bunch of reading and roasting a chicken in the oven.

So many years.

So many decades of doing for others before doing for myself.

I felt immense gratitude for this expression of humanity, for allowing myself the quite reprieve of a day off and not trying to work hard to work harder.

I really needed a break and I am glad I got over the guilt of taking it.

If I had isolated, if I hadn’t made an effort to go out and see my fellows, to talk with a friend on the phone, to connect with the clerk at the grocery store, then I would feel bad.

If I had spent all day lolling about pleasure reading or watching Netflix, I would feel bad.

But I didn’t.

I did a lot of work.

Shit.

I am doing it again.

Rationalizing and justifying why I didn’t go.

I didn’t go because I didn’t want to.

There.

Done.

Moving the fuck on.

Tomorrow.

Yoga in the morning.

Meeting with a lady in the afternoon to read and share experience.

Getting a tattoo after that.

Meeting with a friend after that for dinner, catch up, and doing the deal.

It’s a nice weekend, this, especially when I don’t need to feel guilty, not enough, or bad, for making decisions that are ultimately mine to make.

Not to people please.

Just to show up the best way I know how to today.

Right here.

Right now.

This is ok.

Seriously.

It really is.

Singing In The Rain

January 21, 2017

What a glorious feeling.

I’m happy again.

At least my feet are.

I got home to a brand new pair of rubber rain boots in the hall.

Hello there sexy, come to mama.

I put them right on and have been wearing them ever since.

Yes, why, how did you know?

I am blogging in my rain boots.

Heh.

I’m breaking them in.

hahahahaha.

I’ll be wearing them pretty much non-stop for the next three days as that’s the weather forecast.

I could have used them today, but hey, I got them overnighted, so who am I to bitch?

Not I.

No.

Super grateful.

It’s so nice to come home and have them waiting.

Lovely really.

I will be waiting on another thing to arrive in the mail.

A new electric tea kettle.

Mine broke this morning.

I had to boil water in a pan for my second cup of coffee.

I do pour overs, but I might just use my espresso maker, the Illy one I got from the MOMA, I don’t need to boil water, it does it for me, and just have coconut/almond milk lattes all weekend.

Twist my arm.

And I can always use the pot on the stove to boil water, it’s not a hard ship, but it’s nice to have a kettle.

So that’s been ordered.

I have to do a little shopping this weekend, or so I tell myself, I may skip it and go to the Women’s March.

I am a woman.

And I do have new rainboots to wear.

I’m on the fence though, yeah, I know, what kind of political activist am I?

Honestly.

I’m not.

I hate politics, especially on a national level (oh, I vote, I do the deal, I send in my ballot, I do it absentee I read the literature, I make informed decisions, yada, yada, yada, justification, justification, justification) I think that most change is affected very close to home and I don’t feel comfortable in large crowds.

But there is a big part of me that feels compelled to go, to march, to be in solidarity.

I mean.

I do have new boots.

The may be made for walking.

I will see how I feel.

That’s the other thing, selfishness, self-seeking, yes, I was thinking I might do some shopping for clothes, I need some interview togs.

I have a pretty full closet of awesome stuff, but none of it really screams interviewing for a therapy internship.

And I maybe interviewing sooner than I thought.

I got a call back today from a site I contacted earlier this week.

The Liberation Foundation.

I met the founder at the practicum fair and we had a nice chat.

I reconnected this past school weekend with a friend who is a third year and he does his practicum work there, he gave me some nice suggestions and I took them right up, making a phone call this past Tuesday and leaving a message regarding what I should do for them next.

I got a call back today.

I had forgotten about making the phone call.

Life is busy.

Work is busy.

And FYI going quite well, more on that later.

I had a brief flash of it on Wednesday, I wonder when I will hear back, a thought of it Thursday when I did not hear anything and I had completely forgotten about it by today.

So to get the phone all out of the blue this morning felt really promising and amazing and just, I don’t know, super spooky timing too, I had just been writing about the need that I felt that I should be getting some interview clothes into my wardrobe soon.

And then I got the call.

The assistant to the founder said that they really didn’t have that many hours to offer, but that he, the founder, was really interested in me and wanted me to send them my resume and cover letter.

Directly to the founder.

Whoa.

Ok then.

I explained to the woman I was speaking to that I didn’t need a lot of hours to start, that yes I’d been approved for practicum, but that I didn’t need to have it started before the fall.

Granted if I can get in earlier and do some summer hours that would be highly optimal for me.

Big time.

“Oh! ┬áThat’s really good to know, then we could get you into the programs and show you around and give you a few hours and then when an office opens we can get you your own space for one on ones with clients.”

Holy shit.

I mean.

Wow.

I had this moment.

I could see myself in a little room, with a couch, a chair, a desk, plants hanging in the window.

I just saw it.

And I was like.

Yes.

Let’s do this thing.

Except.

Ha.

I haven’t written a resume or cover letter for this circumstance before.

I have, however, done some research and the school’s website gives ample examples of how to do the cover letter and resume.

So that’s what I’ll be working on this weekend.

And though yes, I do wish to be in solidarity with my sisterhood, I may just be hunkering down doing what needs to be done.

Or.

Who knows.

Heh.

I may wind up downtown doing a little shopping and let myself get carried away by the march.

It’s happened before.

I couldn’t think of a better one to be swept up in.

That’s for sure.

Much to ponder.

But first I need to boil a little water on the stove and wind down.

Yoga in the morning and I will just let the rest follow.

Whatever that happens to be.

No plans.

No disappointments.

A few ideas.

And a lot of flexibility.

Plus.

Rain boots!

What ever happens this weekend.

I’m am very well covered.

I am loved.

And that is enough.

Seriously.

 


%d bloggers like this: