I just returned home from having traveled back home. Let that sink in for a second....and I'll explain:
While I might brand myself as a "Minnie" (-sotan or -apolitan...either works), I'm actually a Southern Missouri girl in my heart and soul...and DNA. My folks met at Tulsa University in Oklahoma and settled in my father's hometown of Joplin, MO after they got married. They bought a house, had a baby (my brother), bought a new house, and had another baby (me). We moved to Minnesota when I was not quite three years old and for a long time I didn't understand where I came from or who my relatives were. My parents' divorce complicated the relationships with my dad's side of the family; I don't remember seeing my nana more than one or two times before she was laid to rest in 1998. My dad had a sister, Elizabeth, who I also saw little of but, as my only aunt, I adored from afar. (My own daughter is named after my auntie.)
Growing up, I understood my aunt and her husband, my Uncle Ken, to be exotic, enchanting people for reasons I didn't quite grasp as a kid. In 1986, they moved to Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, to take teaching positions at an international school for Westerners living in that country. They were musicians: my aunt was an exceptional violinist and my uncle played any and all brass instruments. They traveled the globe, they drank wine, they loved good food, they were cultured and they had experienced more life than anyone I knew. They returned to the States in 1998 and settled back home in Joplin--proof that no matter how far you go, you can always come home.
I saw my aunt and uncle irregularly in the intervening decades, but each visit was a joy. I have often wondered how much stronger our relationship might have been if we were not separated by 500 miles and three states.
Fast forward....sadly, a week ago the news came that my aunt had passed away following a long illness. And so I, too, went back home.
My aunt's funeral was beautiful: she was surrounded by dozens and dozens of yellow roses and other arrangements. A fellow violinist played a haunting and provocative piece called, "The Lark Ascending" by Ralph Vaughn Williams. The music will stick with me forever because it captured the essence of life--measures of happiness met with measures of sadness, punctuated with dissonant notes. But what really struck me most of all was my uncle seated in the row in front of me, his thin shoulders shaking as he quietly cried for his wife.
How does a love like this evolve? How can there be such mutual devotion, commitment, and adoration? My uncle did not leave my aunt's side the entire time her health was declining. When she became too ill to leave their bedroom, he brought everything to her. When the time came for hospice, he made arrangements. And when she passed from this earth, it was under the umbrella of his love and care.
He shared a story today that makes me cry as I type it here: not long ago, Elizabeth awoke from a nap where she dreamt that her parents were waiting for her in heaven. But she wept as she relayed to him that she suddenly understood how her death would mean that they would have to be apart. I have no doubt that he likely cried as well, and I can perfectly picture him holding her small hand, smoothing her soft gray curls, and reassuring her that they will find each other once again when the time comes.
To have loved someone as wholly as he loved Elizabeth is not a common thing, and us Palmers should know: all of us have been divorced, including Elizabeth--Uncle Ken was actually her second husband. But seemingly against all odds, this marriage not only survived, it thrived for 45 years. What was the secret?? In part, at least, I've come to understand this: they fully understood each other because they shared the same passion. Music was their lifeblood: creating it, teaching it, sharing it. They could build a life together because they both wanted the same thing. It's not enough just to have some stuff in common--as in, "well, we both like the Olive Garden." Sure, yes, that's nice...but greatness is not built on a sandy foundation. The commonalities have to be bigger, they have to be more central to your identity. You have to feel the things your partner feels because you've always felt them, just as he has always felt them. Your dreams are his dreams because you each had the same dream before you even met.
Elizabeth and Ken were able to build this relationship because the concrete foundation was made out of a shared passion. They each had a dream to share music with the world; doing so together made sense and was only natural. This was their secret, I think. I don't know if I'll ever be so blessed as to find a love like this...but it sure as hell is worth looking for.
Saturday, March 26, 2016
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
A Divided Nation is a Divided Bedroom
What happens when you combine romantic love and the divisive politics of 2016? Well, let's talk about that. Buckle yer seatbelts...this one's gonna take you for a bumpy ride!
A friend once told me that my politics are "just left of Castro." While not true in the least, it gave me a good laugh just the same! I'm a Democrat, folks. Let's just get that out right away.
I come by my brand of politics honestly: I was raised by a single mother who taught me to stand up to injustice and prejudice. She led by example: in 1968, she turned in her sorority pin and quit because her best friend (who was black) was not allowed to join the all-white group. As a young girl, I watched her campaign and door-knock for Paul Wellstone, Bill Clinton, and Al Gore because those candidates fought for the underdog. She taught me to value the common good and showed me that when people are united they can achieve so much more than they can alone. To that end, the late Senator Paul Wellstone said it best: "When we all do better, we all do better."
If you know me in real life or on Facebook (same diff?!), you know in an instant that I am incredibly passionate about governance and politics. Over the years, I've gained friends and I've lost friends because of my political persuasions. I still don't know quite how to feel about all that - there are some people whose friendship I truly miss and others whose absence is hardly felt. I maintain many online friendships with people who are truly 180 degrees politically different than I am and I generally enjoy our debates.
But what about when you've fallen in love with someone from The Other Side? This is where it gets tricky...
My last boyfriend is a dyed-in-the-wool Libertarian. I'm not going to debate the merits of libertarianism but the important takeaway here is that, since there's no viable Libertarian Party candidate for most races, he typically ends up voting conservative. In the past, he has campaigned hard for the uber-conservative Congressman John Kline (MN-R) and always voted Republican in the electoral events that happened while we were dating. His philosophy, like so many others that I talk to, is that of a social moderate/fiscal conservative. My philosophy: there's no such thing because money talks. (That's another topic for another time...)
Let's go back to the idea of voting Republican while being a social moderate. In my relationship with this boyfriend, I was always floored by the notion that he could vote Republican while claiming to support women's rights--especially with regard to reproductive health. How can a person be pro-choice and yet vote for the very guys (and yes, they're mostly men) who repeatedly try to limit a woman's right to healthcare? This boyfriend has three daughters and yet campaigned for Congressman Kline who, among other things, supported legislation to defund Planned Parenthood. Kline's bandwagon support is in line with his previous votes on abortion-related legislation, including voting for so-called "personhood" bills.
The fight for access to women's health clinics and, yes--abortion, is very real and no longer abstract. Republican-led efforts across this nation have resulted in some very frightening results:
Given all of this work done at the hands of Republican legislators, and much of it signed into law by Republican governors, how can a Republican like my then-boyfriend call himself pro-women?
The cognitive dissonance is astounding to me - and proved to be at least the partial cause of the end of our relationship. I simply could not - and still cannot - understand how his Republican voting record meshes with his belief in women's rights. To vote is to speak. All other political issues aside, how am I to love a man whose vote is speech against my well-being? The boyfriend and I went round and round about this: for him, it's no big thing. For me, it's a deal-breaker.
I see it in such black-and-white terms: I'm a woman and I want access to healthcare and equal pay. Elected Republicans evidently don't see that as valuable, and by extension, it's logical to assume that their electorate doesn't as well: Republican voters either don't care or else actively support these positions...and I can't be in an intimate relationship with someone who falls into either of those categories. It just doesn't align with how I was taught to stand up for injustice and prejudice.
The fine print here: I can be friends with Republicans! Friendships are, obviously, a different animal than relationships. Since the majority of tactics in the Republican War on Women (and yes, there is one!) are based on reproductive health rights...why would I invite a Republican into my bedroom?
Since our breakup, this has continued to be an issue for me when it comes to dating. As in...what's your name, where are you from, and how do you vote? Pretty much in that order. My belief in women's equality has driven away at least three guys in the last two months, and probably countless others who don't view feminism as a value-add when it's listed on my dating profile. *shrug*
What are your thoughts? Are there people out there who are in these "mixed" relationships of Dems/GOPers? I'd love to hear your experience and find out how it works for you.
A friend once told me that my politics are "just left of Castro." While not true in the least, it gave me a good laugh just the same! I'm a Democrat, folks. Let's just get that out right away.
I come by my brand of politics honestly: I was raised by a single mother who taught me to stand up to injustice and prejudice. She led by example: in 1968, she turned in her sorority pin and quit because her best friend (who was black) was not allowed to join the all-white group. As a young girl, I watched her campaign and door-knock for Paul Wellstone, Bill Clinton, and Al Gore because those candidates fought for the underdog. She taught me to value the common good and showed me that when people are united they can achieve so much more than they can alone. To that end, the late Senator Paul Wellstone said it best: "When we all do better, we all do better."
If you know me in real life or on Facebook (same diff?!), you know in an instant that I am incredibly passionate about governance and politics. Over the years, I've gained friends and I've lost friends because of my political persuasions. I still don't know quite how to feel about all that - there are some people whose friendship I truly miss and others whose absence is hardly felt. I maintain many online friendships with people who are truly 180 degrees politically different than I am and I generally enjoy our debates.
But what about when you've fallen in love with someone from The Other Side? This is where it gets tricky...
My last boyfriend is a dyed-in-the-wool Libertarian. I'm not going to debate the merits of libertarianism but the important takeaway here is that, since there's no viable Libertarian Party candidate for most races, he typically ends up voting conservative. In the past, he has campaigned hard for the uber-conservative Congressman John Kline (MN-R) and always voted Republican in the electoral events that happened while we were dating. His philosophy, like so many others that I talk to, is that of a social moderate/fiscal conservative. My philosophy: there's no such thing because money talks. (That's another topic for another time...)
Let's go back to the idea of voting Republican while being a social moderate. In my relationship with this boyfriend, I was always floored by the notion that he could vote Republican while claiming to support women's rights--especially with regard to reproductive health. How can a person be pro-choice and yet vote for the very guys (and yes, they're mostly men) who repeatedly try to limit a woman's right to healthcare? This boyfriend has three daughters and yet campaigned for Congressman Kline who, among other things, supported legislation to defund Planned Parenthood. Kline's bandwagon support is in line with his previous votes on abortion-related legislation, including voting for so-called "personhood" bills.
The fight for access to women's health clinics and, yes--abortion, is very real and no longer abstract. Republican-led efforts across this nation have resulted in some very frightening results:
- Nearly 400 bills in 46 states were introduced that sought to limit abortion in 2015 alone - just that one single year!
- At least 10 states require women to have an ultrasound before they can have an abortion--a clear attempt to intimidate women into changing their minds. A major study has revealed that this expensive and unnecessary practice has little to no effect on her decision to go through with the abortion.
- 27 states have mandatory waiting periods for women seeking abortions (Minnesota is one of them). The amount of time can range from 24 to 72 hours. Because abortion clinics have become scarce in many states, this can put quite a burden on women who have to travel hundreds of miles to get the healthcare they need.
- 53 abortion clinics were forced to close their doors to women in need during 2015 - about one per week. This anti-choice website crows about their success in cutting off women's access to health care.
- Perhaps most hideously, Indiana just passed a law that requires women to pay for funeral or cremation costs following an abortion. At eight weeks, the embryonic tissue is about the size of a kidney bean. I leave it to you to make the logical conclusion on this.
- Only one male Republican Senator voted for the Equal Pay Act in 2009.
- In February 2016, presidential candidate John Kasich took a moment to thank women who "left their kitchens" to help get him elected as governor. No, really. He said that. This year.
- Nebraska State Senator Mark Christensen introduced a bill in 2011 that would've provided legal justification for the murder of abortion providers - "justifiable homicide" under the color of his version of law. It didn't pass, but it had twin sister bills in two other states.
- And Donald Trump. The guy is winning despite his open misogyny.
Given all of this work done at the hands of Republican legislators, and much of it signed into law by Republican governors, how can a Republican like my then-boyfriend call himself pro-women?
The cognitive dissonance is astounding to me - and proved to be at least the partial cause of the end of our relationship. I simply could not - and still cannot - understand how his Republican voting record meshes with his belief in women's rights. To vote is to speak. All other political issues aside, how am I to love a man whose vote is speech against my well-being? The boyfriend and I went round and round about this: for him, it's no big thing. For me, it's a deal-breaker.
I see it in such black-and-white terms: I'm a woman and I want access to healthcare and equal pay. Elected Republicans evidently don't see that as valuable, and by extension, it's logical to assume that their electorate doesn't as well: Republican voters either don't care or else actively support these positions...and I can't be in an intimate relationship with someone who falls into either of those categories. It just doesn't align with how I was taught to stand up for injustice and prejudice.
The fine print here: I can be friends with Republicans! Friendships are, obviously, a different animal than relationships. Since the majority of tactics in the Republican War on Women (and yes, there is one!) are based on reproductive health rights...why would I invite a Republican into my bedroom?
Since our breakup, this has continued to be an issue for me when it comes to dating. As in...what's your name, where are you from, and how do you vote? Pretty much in that order. My belief in women's equality has driven away at least three guys in the last two months, and probably countless others who don't view feminism as a value-add when it's listed on my dating profile. *shrug*
What are your thoughts? Are there people out there who are in these "mixed" relationships of Dems/GOPers? I'd love to hear your experience and find out how it works for you.
Monday, March 7, 2016
It's not you, it's me. No, really.
Dearest readers, I'm sorry. It's been two years since I wrote and while that's probably okay by you, it's not okay by me. Writing is cathartic for me, so I've probably been a little bit tightly wound in these intervening years between posts. Apologies for anyone who had to deal with that...you probably know who you are. *hugs*
So....why today, you ask me. Great question and I'm glad you brought it up. Four years ago today, one of the best professors I've ever had passed away suddenly from a heart attack. The week before his passing, I had sat in his office, utterly adrift in my life, and he gave me a piece of advice that I will never forget: "Write. Write every day. Make time for seeing your own thoughts on paper."
(Computer screen, in this case. Call it a generational difference.)
His words roll around in my head and surface periodically like a message in a bottle on the Pacific Ocean. Today, it washed ashore and I read the note...and acted on it.
Also, this: as a single gal for the last five months, I've had some time. And some experiences. And some thoughts. Let's move on to that, shall we? Come along now...no stragglers! Let's dive in to the messy underworld, shall we....
As much as I'd like to say it's the guys out there (and in some cases, it sure is!), the problem is actually probably more on my end. Okay, definitely on my end. The thing is: I just don't want to get tangled up in a relationship. This is very different from not wanting to settle down - it's not that I want to party or hook up or any of that. Realistically, I'm too old for that anyway. But the tangled up thing relates more to wanting to maintain my personal autonomy. My space. My time. My kids. My desire to spend a Friday night reading the New York Times on my phone and not have someone telling me to put my phone down. My want to wake up alone and unilaterally decide what kind of day I will have. My need to decide if going to the gym at 9:30 pm is a good decision or if sleep is better...but knowing that, either way, no one else gets to weigh in on that decision for whatever reason.
It all sounds superfluous and maybe, in a way, it is. But it's also about allowing myself the space to figure out who I am, what I am, where I am going. Having been in a very serious relationship for the last two years, I kind of lost myself: I morphed into this person who was half him, half me. Like Brangelina, only it was my life, not the cover of People magazine. I don't want my identity merged with someone else's. I don't want to check and say, "Hey hon...I'm going to head to the gym. Yes, I know it's late. No, it's not weird. No, there's no one else. No, I'm not mad at you." Woof. Ugh. Gross. No thank you.
This isn't to dog on anyone who is in a wonderful relationship where they have found a way to coexist in a manner that leaves both parties happy. Plenty of people do it and couplehood can be a great thing. I admire people who have found the person with whom they can achieve that balance, especially with the crazy life add-ons of kids, sports, activities, etc. But for me, in my life and my experience so far, I haven't been able to find yin/yang relationship.
Which brings me to this: I can be single and be okay. That's not a self-affirming statement I tell myself each day; don't misread the emphasis. The statement is outward-facing toward others who don't seem to think that I'm okay on my own, or that my life is missing something. It's not. I don't need a man/guy/boy/person in order to achieve my goals, make my home better, make my life better, or otherwise enhance what I have. I have what I need and I'm pretty good on my own. Maybe the right relationship would enhance my life, but that falls into the "want" category...and I'm not sure I can afford that want right now. I love being focused, for once, on my kids and myself. Affording that want would require a sacrifice of spending right now as far as where and how I spend my time.
What us single people do need, however, is for coupled-up people to drop their stereotypes. No, you can't "catch" divorce by hanging out with us singles. My decision to divorce isn't going to worm its way into your marriage and make it die. I just want to be friends with my neighbors and my kids' friends' parents who, it seems out here in my suburban neighborhood, are all married. Just because I don't have a "plus-one" doesn't mean I wouldn't love to hang out with you--both of you!--and have dinner, get a drink, or otherwise socialize. Our kids are friends...so why aren't we?
In the end, the takeaway here is this: relationships are exceptionally complicated - and that goes for the single- vs married-friend dynamic as well. Everyone has to find what fits for them at that point in their life--it's a calculus of time and energy budgeting versus return on investment. Just make sure you're honest and nonprejudicial.
So....why today, you ask me. Great question and I'm glad you brought it up. Four years ago today, one of the best professors I've ever had passed away suddenly from a heart attack. The week before his passing, I had sat in his office, utterly adrift in my life, and he gave me a piece of advice that I will never forget: "Write. Write every day. Make time for seeing your own thoughts on paper."
(Computer screen, in this case. Call it a generational difference.)
His words roll around in my head and surface periodically like a message in a bottle on the Pacific Ocean. Today, it washed ashore and I read the note...and acted on it.
Also, this: as a single gal for the last five months, I've had some time. And some experiences. And some thoughts. Let's move on to that, shall we? Come along now...no stragglers! Let's dive in to the messy underworld, shall we....
As much as I'd like to say it's the guys out there (and in some cases, it sure is!), the problem is actually probably more on my end. Okay, definitely on my end. The thing is: I just don't want to get tangled up in a relationship. This is very different from not wanting to settle down - it's not that I want to party or hook up or any of that. Realistically, I'm too old for that anyway. But the tangled up thing relates more to wanting to maintain my personal autonomy. My space. My time. My kids. My desire to spend a Friday night reading the New York Times on my phone and not have someone telling me to put my phone down. My want to wake up alone and unilaterally decide what kind of day I will have. My need to decide if going to the gym at 9:30 pm is a good decision or if sleep is better...but knowing that, either way, no one else gets to weigh in on that decision for whatever reason.
It all sounds superfluous and maybe, in a way, it is. But it's also about allowing myself the space to figure out who I am, what I am, where I am going. Having been in a very serious relationship for the last two years, I kind of lost myself: I morphed into this person who was half him, half me. Like Brangelina, only it was my life, not the cover of People magazine. I don't want my identity merged with someone else's. I don't want to check and say, "Hey hon...I'm going to head to the gym. Yes, I know it's late. No, it's not weird. No, there's no one else. No, I'm not mad at you." Woof. Ugh. Gross. No thank you.
This isn't to dog on anyone who is in a wonderful relationship where they have found a way to coexist in a manner that leaves both parties happy. Plenty of people do it and couplehood can be a great thing. I admire people who have found the person with whom they can achieve that balance, especially with the crazy life add-ons of kids, sports, activities, etc. But for me, in my life and my experience so far, I haven't been able to find yin/yang relationship.
Which brings me to this: I can be single and be okay. That's not a self-affirming statement I tell myself each day; don't misread the emphasis. The statement is outward-facing toward others who don't seem to think that I'm okay on my own, or that my life is missing something. It's not. I don't need a man/guy/boy/person in order to achieve my goals, make my home better, make my life better, or otherwise enhance what I have. I have what I need and I'm pretty good on my own. Maybe the right relationship would enhance my life, but that falls into the "want" category...and I'm not sure I can afford that want right now. I love being focused, for once, on my kids and myself. Affording that want would require a sacrifice of spending right now as far as where and how I spend my time.
What us single people do need, however, is for coupled-up people to drop their stereotypes. No, you can't "catch" divorce by hanging out with us singles. My decision to divorce isn't going to worm its way into your marriage and make it die. I just want to be friends with my neighbors and my kids' friends' parents who, it seems out here in my suburban neighborhood, are all married. Just because I don't have a "plus-one" doesn't mean I wouldn't love to hang out with you--both of you!--and have dinner, get a drink, or otherwise socialize. Our kids are friends...so why aren't we?
In the end, the takeaway here is this: relationships are exceptionally complicated - and that goes for the single- vs married-friend dynamic as well. Everyone has to find what fits for them at that point in their life--it's a calculus of time and energy budgeting versus return on investment. Just make sure you're honest and nonprejudicial.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Risks and Rewards: Vulnerability
I inwardly sighed to myself. Another Internet date? I wondered if I had the energy to endure any more freaks, geeks, crazies, or otherwise nice-but-no-spark guys. I looked at his picture again. I liked the way his eyes shone, slightly mischievousness and totally fun. I went back to his message and typed, "Sure, let's meet." I put my phone down and closed my eyes, offering a prayer to the God of Dating: Let this one be normal. And cute. But mostly normal.
[FOOTNOTE: Anyone who has been in this mysterious world of dating knows that these sorts of meet-and-greets generally only last an hour or so. It's a brief encounter designed to feel the other person out, to determine if more time should be spent on him/her. Sure, let's meet for a drink so we can both decide if the other is a whacko or not. It really goes without saying.]
A few hours later, I found myself walking into the bar where we agreed to meet. I had pre-conditioned myself to have low standards and not to expect too much from what I was sure to be another thanks-but-no-thanks date. Walking in, I spotted him instantly: lounging casually, beer in hand, smiling as if he knew me already. He was wearing a black dress shirt and a black sport coat that set off his salt-and-pepper hair perfectly. Those sparkling blue eyes dared me to join him for a drink. I smiled broadly despite myself and whispered my thanks to the dating gods.
I sat down at the bar next to him and bravely met that mischievous look, hoping my own green eyes didn't belie my nervousness and that he didn't notice the goosebumps on my arms.
"Hi!" I managed to say, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. He was so handsome, self-assured, confident. Normally, that's me: confident, daring, and maybe even edgy. It was disarming to meet myself.
"You're a lot prettier than your pictures," he offered. The butterflies flapped their wings in my tummy, and my heart skipped. I blushed.
Five hours later and three rounds of drinks, the bar was closing and we had to call it a night. As his lips touched mine for a goodnight kiss, I felt my soul stir and the butterflies calm themselves. It was as if we were long-lost lovers, souls parted for years but now rejoining. It was easy, effortless, warm.
I will never forget his hand on the small of my back leading me out the door, the feel of his goodnight kiss, and his promise to take me out on a first date. Six weeks later, writing this post, I can feel the same goosebumps rising on my arms and the same silly, happy smile spreading across my face. I love the sound of his soft voice, the mannish smell of his skin, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the way he kisses me. But more than that, I love the way my heart feels in his strong, capable hands: protected and secure. I'm not a woman prone to trusting men easily, but the heart knows when it is free from danger, so I find myself allowing this vulnerability.
Somehow, I don't feel vulnerable at all.
[FOOTNOTE: Anyone who has been in this mysterious world of dating knows that these sorts of meet-and-greets generally only last an hour or so. It's a brief encounter designed to feel the other person out, to determine if more time should be spent on him/her. Sure, let's meet for a drink so we can both decide if the other is a whacko or not. It really goes without saying.]
I sat down at the bar next to him and bravely met that mischievous look, hoping my own green eyes didn't belie my nervousness and that he didn't notice the goosebumps on my arms.
"Hi!" I managed to say, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. He was so handsome, self-assured, confident. Normally, that's me: confident, daring, and maybe even edgy. It was disarming to meet myself.
"You're a lot prettier than your pictures," he offered. The butterflies flapped their wings in my tummy, and my heart skipped. I blushed.
Five hours later and three rounds of drinks, the bar was closing and we had to call it a night. As his lips touched mine for a goodnight kiss, I felt my soul stir and the butterflies calm themselves. It was as if we were long-lost lovers, souls parted for years but now rejoining. It was easy, effortless, warm.
I will never forget his hand on the small of my back leading me out the door, the feel of his goodnight kiss, and his promise to take me out on a first date. Six weeks later, writing this post, I can feel the same goosebumps rising on my arms and the same silly, happy smile spreading across my face. I love the sound of his soft voice, the mannish smell of his skin, the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the way he kisses me. But more than that, I love the way my heart feels in his strong, capable hands: protected and secure. I'm not a woman prone to trusting men easily, but the heart knows when it is free from danger, so I find myself allowing this vulnerability.
Somehow, I don't feel vulnerable at all.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Ghost stories
The latest heartbreak was one that I never saw coming - never expected his arrival, and surely didn't expect his retreat. I didn't even want to write about this one, but my fingers are typing and I'm thinking...and sometimes I don't even know what I think until I see it here on the screen in front of me. So bear with this cathartic post, and maybe you'll even find a bit of your own life in it.
When we met, it was purely for professional reasons: I had been put in contact with him as someone that I should network with. But in the course of that first informational interview, we found ourselves connecting beyond public policy issues. As I watched him leave an hour later, I felt like my life had just changed for the better.
Our second meeting - a "follow-up" networking meeting - was even less professional. We talked and giggled and joked and I couldn't help but notice how his eyes shone brightly and how his smile made my heart beat faster.
A few hours later, my phone chirped and when I saw his text message asking me to dinner on Friday night, I felt elated. That dinner, and the ensuing four weeks, were incredible. I fell hard and fast for him. We spent countless hours talking about our lives: children, divorces, shared interests and passions. We covered law and politics, teased each other with vocabulary known only to policy wonks like us, and then laughed at our own nerd-ishness. It wasn't uncommon for time to get away from us and to notice that it was after 1:00 am on a work night or that we had been on the phone for over an hour.
But what we didn't talk about was the important stuff--how our past relationships and attendant vulnerabilities would affect a future relationship. Like all divorcees, we both had raw, scraped-up hearts and when the Ghosts of Relationships Past floated up to create a wedge between us, we didn't know how to handle it. In the end, the failure to talk about what really mattered was our undoing.
So for the past few weeks, I've been walking around in a daze - things remind me of him and the wound breaks open again. It's hard to believe that I could miss someone like this when the relationship was so brief, but there it is. There is so much I wish I could go back and change and undo - and that is the worst part of all. I rarely carry around regret; I find the word itself to be ugly and the emotion to be not worth its weight. But this time, I am full of regret for words left unsaid, words said in haste, words borne of past hurt. When I find the courage to meet my own eyes in the mirror, I hate that they are full of remorse and sorrow.
Maggie Rose, a relative newcomer to the country music scene, just released a song called "Better." The melody is so-so, but the lyrics are heart-wrenching.
I just want to feel good, feel alright
Feel anything but what I feel tonight.
I just want to feel better
Music has the power to change us. I wasn't sure I wanted to even download the song because it hit me so profoundly, but since the song was already in my heart, I gave up the fight and forked over $1.29 to iTunes.
I just want to feel better. Lift the heaviness from my chest, stop the flow of tears that randomly escape at inopportune moments. Feel anything but what I feel tonight. Why can't there be a medication that could make it all go away?
But the bad feelings are what make us human, make us alive and maybe even make us appreciate the good moments. Pain has a purpose - it signals that something is wrong and needs attention. Heartache is no different. I have the hardest work of all to do: heal my heart so that the Ghosts of Relationships Past can no longer haunt me.
"The challenge is to learn from the past without giving up our innocence." --Tammie Carino
"The challenge is to learn from the past without giving up our innocence." --Tammie Carino
Saturday, August 31, 2013
Girlfriends, boyfriends, and what lies between them
Don't you just love those first few months of a relationship when everything is all sparkly and shiny? You spend your days walking on air and the whole world seems a little softer around the edges. You crave time with that special person and turn to texting, talking, Facebooking, and tweeting to fill the gaps between dates. You crow to anyone that will listen about how great (s)he is: how perfect, how charming, how funny! (giggle!)
But pretty soon, your friends grow tired of hearing about your budding romance. They want to talk about other things - after all, the world has continued to spin on its axis in spite of your blissful unawareness. If you don't tune in and miss their cues, you risk alienating your allies...the very friends you just may need if (when!) you fall from this man-made heaven.
As I was researching material for this post, I searched the internet for the phrase "balance boyfriend and friends." Google presented me with the usual ga-jillion hits, only the first ten of which I perused. Seventeen magazine summed it up perfectly: "When you're going out with a guy, it can be hard to find time for both your BF and your BFFs." In teen-speak, that seemed succinct, if not also slightly vapid and vaguely juvenile for this audience.
I tried again, searching "balance friends and relationship" - this turned up a far more diverse offering of online self-help. Evidently this problem is not unique to any particular demographic:
But pretty soon, your friends grow tired of hearing about your budding romance. They want to talk about other things - after all, the world has continued to spin on its axis in spite of your blissful unawareness. If you don't tune in and miss their cues, you risk alienating your allies...the very friends you just may need if (when!) you fall from this man-made heaven.As I was researching material for this post, I searched the internet for the phrase "balance boyfriend and friends." Google presented me with the usual ga-jillion hits, only the first ten of which I perused. Seventeen magazine summed it up perfectly: "When you're going out with a guy, it can be hard to find time for both your BF and your BFFs." In teen-speak, that seemed succinct, if not also slightly vapid and vaguely juvenile for this audience.
I tried again, searching "balance friends and relationship" - this turned up a far more diverse offering of online self-help. Evidently this problem is not unique to any particular demographic:
- The Root, a leading African-American publication, headlined their piece:
Ask Demetria: If time spent with a new boo is alienating your homies, try to find a happy medium.
- Ask Men, an online men's magazine, proffered this tidbit on its page:
Don't Let Your Girlfriend
Sabotage Your Friendships
- Psychology Today took a somewhat sexist turn on things:
Once a dating relationship grows and deepens in intimacy, a man is faced with the temptation to isolate from his friends and family and devote all his time and energy to his committed lover. As many women already know, if you want to keep your life in balance, you must must keep same sex friendships a priority.
Clearly, this topic touches a nerve with us. And it does with me, too, on a personal level. A friend of mine has recently lost herself in her boyfriend, surfacing only when he is otherwise engaged at work or with family. Her behavior is incredibly hurtful--simultaneously both demoralizing and angering in a "why am I not enough?"-kind of way.
When I took a step back from my emotions, I came to two important realizations, though. The first is that she is very vulnerable in this relationship with her boyfriend, for reasons I will not detail here. As a way to counteract that, she is spending all available time with him to try to feel connected and establish that crucial bond. It is not my place to pass judgment on that. The second point is that I've done it, too...and I am in no place to get upset at anyone else. I remember that after I was newly married, I lost touch with a great many friends because I wanted to spend all my time with my husband. Eventually, we became estranged from others and were quite lonely both as individuals and as a couple. It was a serious lesson to me not to lose sight of that balance. It's not easy, but it's completely necessary to the health of yourself and your relationship.
WebMD posted a very interesting piece on why friends are actually good for our health. Forming solid connections through friendships with people has been strongly correlated with good health and longevity. Dr. Tasha R. Howe, a psychology professor at Humboldt State University in California, says that "people with social support have fewer cardiovascular problems and immune problems, and lower levels of cortisol -- a stress hormone." The logic is based in evolution: we are social animals, having formed groups out of sheer survival need. When we have friends, our bodies are less stressed out because they are not fighting natural instinct. Dr. Julianne Holt-Lunstad, of Brigham Young University, says the evidence is clear: "One thing research shows is that as one's social network gets smaller, one's risk for mortality increases."
Having a support network of friends is clearly beneficial. That's why it is so important for us to make new friends and keep the old--including adding new boy/girlfriends, while maintaining our previous close friendships.
- Psychology Today took a somewhat sexist turn on things:
Once a dating relationship grows and deepens in intimacy, a man is faced with the temptation to isolate from his friends and family and devote all his time and energy to his committed lover. As many women already know, if you want to keep your life in balance, you must must keep same sex friendships a priority.
Clearly, this topic touches a nerve with us. And it does with me, too, on a personal level. A friend of mine has recently lost herself in her boyfriend, surfacing only when he is otherwise engaged at work or with family. Her behavior is incredibly hurtful--simultaneously both demoralizing and angering in a "why am I not enough?"-kind of way.
When I took a step back from my emotions, I came to two important realizations, though. The first is that she is very vulnerable in this relationship with her boyfriend, for reasons I will not detail here. As a way to counteract that, she is spending all available time with him to try to feel connected and establish that crucial bond. It is not my place to pass judgment on that. The second point is that I've done it, too...and I am in no place to get upset at anyone else. I remember that after I was newly married, I lost touch with a great many friends because I wanted to spend all my time with my husband. Eventually, we became estranged from others and were quite lonely both as individuals and as a couple. It was a serious lesson to me not to lose sight of that balance. It's not easy, but it's completely necessary to the health of yourself and your relationship.
WebMD posted a very interesting piece on why friends are actually good for our health. Forming solid connections through friendships with people has been strongly correlated with good health and longevity. Dr. Tasha R. Howe, a psychology professor at Humboldt State University in California, says that "people with social support have fewer cardiovascular problems and immune problems, and lower levels of cortisol -- a stress hormone." The logic is based in evolution: we are social animals, having formed groups out of sheer survival need. When we have friends, our bodies are less stressed out because they are not fighting natural instinct. Dr. Julianne Holt-Lunstad, of Brigham Young University, says the evidence is clear: "One thing research shows is that as one's social network gets smaller, one's risk for mortality increases."
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
To open the door or not...that is the question....
Chivalry. Most of us commonly think of it as those small courtesies that men extend toward women during courtship: opening doors, bringing flowers, or pulling out a chair for her at the table. In other words--that thing that most men don't do anymore. I've been thinking a lot lately about why that might be. Is chivalry really dead? Did feminism kill it?
A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of a truly fantastic first date. As we made plans for our night out, I was truly thrilled at his offer to pick me up. (For those of you who haven't been on the dating scene in the last five to ten years, you have no idea what a rarity this is.) He arrived at my door clean and handsome in a pressed shirt and a nervous, boyish smile on his face. I will never forget that moment, because it was the moment that my own nerves melted away and my heart started skipping beats. As we left for dinner, I couldn't help but notice that as he gallantly opened the passenger door, making sure I was safely tucked in before he closed it behind me, his car was sparkling clean. It's the details, I thought.
Even if the rest of the date had gone to hell after this (which, by the way, it didn't!), the small courtesies extended inside of the first ten minutes of our date showed me a great deal of respect. Clearly, he had taken some time to prepare and to make sure that I knew he appreciated me and our time together.
So how does my sense of feminist equity interplay with my desire for a chivalrous man? Can the two co-exist? In a word, yes. But that's a very loaded-up word.
Chivalry is really nothing more than polite behavior toward women. I believe it's a time-honored tradition of recognizing the other and behaving with deference and decorum. Just like we hold the door open behind us for total strangers out of a sense of good manners, a man opening the car door for me tells me that he is aware of me and wants to be respectful. That doesn't mean that a man thinks of me as less. And maybe it even means that he thinks more of me.
While it's true that men and women should be equal in many ways, this does not mean that they are the same or should be treated the same in all situations. For instance, my bestie prefers to talk on the phone rather than text. As her friend, I adapt to that and do my best to meet her preference because I value her needs and wants, even though I prefer to text message. That doesn't make us unequal - it just makes us different. The same is true with regard to chivalry: if I prefer that a man open my car door as a sign of respect, that doesn't automatically make our relationship unequal.
Feminism has impacted many parts of American society. Since the 1970's, when women increasingly became employed outside the home, couples have had to work through how to divide household labor (see this NY Times article and this Wall Street Journal piece). The 1990's saw the inclusion of paternity leave to fathers who want to stay home with newborns under the federal Family & Medical Leave Act (FMLA). Today, we continue to debate how to meet the needs of our families when both parents work - and not just in jobs, but in careers where we are invested and fulfilled. In the past few years, women are making bold statements about the state of feminism in America--important businesswomen like Facebook's chief operating officer, Sheryl Sandberg, and Yahoo's CEO, Marissa Mayer. These conversations are important to all of us - men and women alike.
But while feminism has its role in our public policy debates, it may or may not have a role in our intimate relationships. It's up to each of us to decide. The most wonderful thing about people is that we are all unique beings, with our own set of wants, needs, and desires. Where I want a man who behaves with chivalry, another woman may not. To be sure, that makes for a confusing dating scene, but it's really just another part of the game of finding the person that you want to be with. So take a deep breath and enjoy the ride! This is life, and it's beautifully messy.
A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of a truly fantastic first date. As we made plans for our night out, I was truly thrilled at his offer to pick me up. (For those of you who haven't been on the dating scene in the last five to ten years, you have no idea what a rarity this is.) He arrived at my door clean and handsome in a pressed shirt and a nervous, boyish smile on his face. I will never forget that moment, because it was the moment that my own nerves melted away and my heart started skipping beats. As we left for dinner, I couldn't help but notice that as he gallantly opened the passenger door, making sure I was safely tucked in before he closed it behind me, his car was sparkling clean. It's the details, I thought.
Even if the rest of the date had gone to hell after this (which, by the way, it didn't!), the small courtesies extended inside of the first ten minutes of our date showed me a great deal of respect. Clearly, he had taken some time to prepare and to make sure that I knew he appreciated me and our time together.
So how does my sense of feminist equity interplay with my desire for a chivalrous man? Can the two co-exist? In a word, yes. But that's a very loaded-up word.
Chivalry is really nothing more than polite behavior toward women. I believe it's a time-honored tradition of recognizing the other and behaving with deference and decorum. Just like we hold the door open behind us for total strangers out of a sense of good manners, a man opening the car door for me tells me that he is aware of me and wants to be respectful. That doesn't mean that a man thinks of me as less. And maybe it even means that he thinks more of me.
While it's true that men and women should be equal in many ways, this does not mean that they are the same or should be treated the same in all situations. For instance, my bestie prefers to talk on the phone rather than text. As her friend, I adapt to that and do my best to meet her preference because I value her needs and wants, even though I prefer to text message. That doesn't make us unequal - it just makes us different. The same is true with regard to chivalry: if I prefer that a man open my car door as a sign of respect, that doesn't automatically make our relationship unequal.
Feminism has impacted many parts of American society. Since the 1970's, when women increasingly became employed outside the home, couples have had to work through how to divide household labor (see this NY Times article and this Wall Street Journal piece). The 1990's saw the inclusion of paternity leave to fathers who want to stay home with newborns under the federal Family & Medical Leave Act (FMLA). Today, we continue to debate how to meet the needs of our families when both parents work - and not just in jobs, but in careers where we are invested and fulfilled. In the past few years, women are making bold statements about the state of feminism in America--important businesswomen like Facebook's chief operating officer, Sheryl Sandberg, and Yahoo's CEO, Marissa Mayer. These conversations are important to all of us - men and women alike.
But while feminism has its role in our public policy debates, it may or may not have a role in our intimate relationships. It's up to each of us to decide. The most wonderful thing about people is that we are all unique beings, with our own set of wants, needs, and desires. Where I want a man who behaves with chivalry, another woman may not. To be sure, that makes for a confusing dating scene, but it's really just another part of the game of finding the person that you want to be with. So take a deep breath and enjoy the ride! This is life, and it's beautifully messy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)