Tuesday, November 5, 2019
For the first time in my adult life I am in the position of not having a "real job." I am on a chosen hiatus from being fully defined by my job. I am incredibly lucky. I have savings and an infinitely supportive partner who will help financially shepherd me through this time of not generating much income.
What I find though, is that instead of luxuriating in this newfound spare time, I am, at times, filled with a sense of unworthiness. I was raised to believe that my value came from working hard, and a lot. In my family making a lot of money was never the big thing, but being busy, having something to do, gave us value and stature. Growing up in the United States I've learned that having money gives me power, authority and respect. So here I am with lots of free time and no cash flow. My default, patterned brain goes to the idea that I am a loser, but the part of my brain that I've been working over the last decade to strengthen, the here and now brain, says that feeling unworthy is a just a construct.
This feeling has inspired me to explore what worth means to me. I've read about it, written about it, meditated on it. What does worth mean to me? It means having a sense of place and purpose in the world. Does it relate to busy-ness? Not really. I'm beginning to understand that, for me, it relates more to a sense of connection with people and the universe around me. Does it relate to income? A little. I want to be able to carry my weight in my household. But more than income, it relates to a different kind of fullness- a fullness in my heart and mind. Are the things I do everyday bringing me joy? Are they bringing me, and maybe others, closer to a feeling of connection with the universe?
I don't have the answers to these questions. These unknowns are where my curiosity lies right now. I'm going to keep exploring and imagining. I do know that being in this place of "perceived emptiness" (e.g. no job) is hard. I am swimming upstream against a flood of beliefs that are deeply grooved into our society and my brain. Everyday is a new challenge and another step towards understanding what brings me joy, heals my heart, and deepens my sense of connection to the world around me.
Monday, November 4, 2019
My daughter Lucia started high school this year. I think I understood in theory that things would change, but I don't think I fully understood the reality of how having a high schooler would look. It's all good for her, the risks she's taking. I commend her for trying new things. She got her nose pierced (with full permission). She's taking bus and light rail all over the city. She's going to parties and football games and staying after school to eat Ezell's Chicken with friends.
She's keeping up her grades and doing her extracurriculars as well, so what am I afraid of? Sometimes I find myself going down a rabbit hole of all the bad things that could happen to her-- at a party, a football game, on the bus--- but then she comes home and tells me about her day (sometimes a little, sometimes a lot), and I see that she's still there. She's still the same person, growing and changing within all of these new experiences she's living. She is living her life and the risks she's taking will help her learn the things she needs to learn as she travels her life path.
Where does this fear come from? As I've contemplated why I revert into that fear place with Lucia, I recognize that the human brain has a negativity bias so there is a tendency to go to the worst case scenario, but I also look at my own comfort with risk-taking. Right now I am in a place in my life, a transition not unlike Lucia's. I've sold my business and am taking time to explore my own future path. Lots of ideas come up-- different classes I want to teach, publications I wish to write for, retreats I'd like to both attend and lead. In trying new things, branching out and taking risks to do things that I haven't done before, I am deeply in touch with the fear. In trying these new things, I am often ragingly uncomfortable, sometimes out of body.
Risk-taking is scary. And hard. It involves tapping into a part of the brain that, for me and many people, would rather stay hidden, behind the scenes. There is intense vulnerability in stepping out and trying something new, whether it is a new outfit, a new friend, a new social activity or a new job. It means walking through a sea of internal tumult and diving head-long into the unknown. Everyday I do this a little bit. I sit in the discomfort and work on new ideas or write something I hope will be publishable. This experience has given me a new perspective about the fortitude and perseverance risk-taking involves. And it's given me new respect and admiration for my brave, strong teenage daughter who is navigating this risk-taking in a different way. This one's for you Lucia. I'm so proud of you.
Sunday, November 3, 2019
Last night I was having wine with a friend who was launched into menopause very suddenly because she went through radiation. She didn't have the slow (oftentimes years-long slow) decrease in the frequency of her period. It was one month there, and then gone. She was surprised by her experience of not menstruating any more. "I thought when I stopped getting my period it would be so amazing" she said, "I thought I would be so happy to be done with thinking about it." But the reality, she shared, was that having no period has been no big deal, that she can barely remember what it was like to have her period and the inconvenience of it. Our other friend shared that it's been 220 days since her last period. We spent a LOT of time talking about our periods. The topic comes up every time I hang out with women my age.
I've always believed that getting my period is a powerful and magical thing. I've conveyed this belief to my daughter and tried to make her proud and vocal about her period and all of the inconveniences that come with it. I never wanted her to feel any shame or secrecy about this natural body function. The existence of the physiological function of menstruation enables us to become pregnant which is both a good thing, and sometimes not such a good thing. But nevertheless, there is power in the period.
We're taught as women that once we reach menopause (aka no longer menstruating) that we're moving into the final frontier. I always envisioned this final frontier as a kind of death, in part because the menstruating super power ceases to exist. But now that I'm there, it doesn't feel like the final frontier at all. I'm considering a third career. I'm fully engaged in becoming a better, more present, loving, involved partner and parent, and my creative juices are flowing like never before (even though my period is flowing very irregularly).
It's got me thinking-- what are we missing by putting so much focus on the period. Yes, we need to claim it-- to advocate for health insurance to pay for the tampons and pads that we have to pay for every month, to appeal to the FDA to support medications that really help with PMS, to educate our young girls about this superpower-- but when it's gone, we get new superpowers right?
I want to focus on that. What are the new superpowers that come with the final frontier? The end of the period? This is an invitation to all of you women out there who are in the final frontier. Please write me back and share with me what your new superpowers are. I'll compile them and share. Let's all walk boldly into this final frontier........
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