What makes you come alive?

I was watching "Hairspray" this week. Hairspray is set in the 50s - when social mores were crazy rigid. The conflict in it was between the "real kids" and the "fake kids". The real kids were heavy or black, while the fake kids were "perfect", blonde, thin, superficial. It got me thinking about who society tells us we need to be.

In the 50s era it was; do as you're told, don't speak unless you are spoken to, church on Sunday, college, corporate job, 2.5 kids, and if the mind numbing repetition got to you there were "mother's little helpers" to get you through another day. It was a society that was "checked out". Everyone knew what was going on but no one spoke of it. If you got pregnant you "went away" for a while. If you married a black guy, you never - in 54 years of marriage - took him home - which was my Aunt's story. You did what you were told and never complained if you were unhappy.

Then came "the pill" and divorce, which liberated women from her minuscule role in life and let her leave the house to explore the outside world. The world changed pretty quickly and societal expectations opened up. There were more possibilities. The hippie subculture rebelled and then came free love and self expression. If growth were linear we'd all be living our dreams by now.

Today I find myself bored.

Work has gotten routine. I can do it. I know how to make it happen but, I need VARIETY to get me fired up. The same old paper pushing stuff day after day just makes me feel like I have already died and they forgot to close the casket. I now totally understand why most heart attacks happen Monday morning. People would rather die than have to do it one more day!

Not everyone was meant to work 50 years for the gold watch. Not everyone was meant to get married. Not everyone was meant to have kids. Not everyone was meant to be with the opposite sex. Not everyone was meant to go to college. No one was meant to waste their life living someone else's dream.

I believe dreams come from god. I believe that, just like talents, god wants us to live our dreams well. When God mended you together in your mother's womb he also mended in dreams, love, joy, passion, excitement and so much more. Joseph Campbell said "follow your bliss" but, I say "follow your heart". When I use the word "bliss" I get myself too wrapped up in it. There is no ego, competition, or fear in my heart.

When I am on the path to my dreams, it all falls into place. I can do no wrong. God's hand guides my way. I can feel my heart beat, my face is flush and all smiles. There is a magic, a glow, to someone living their dreams. You can see it. You can also see the folks that are worn down by the rules of their world. There is no room for rainbows or butterflies. It's all been beaten out of them and even their complexion is dull.

My favorite line from a "course in Miracles" is "God's wish for you is perfect happiness". God put our desires into us so that we could expand them in his glory. God is not punishing or vengeful or impressed by my martyrdom. He gave me possibilities and expects me to take risks and explore and truly live this life.

When I die, I don't want it to be with all of my dreams tightly knit into my heart. I will be able to say that I lived this life and it was a life well lived.

Running from Daddy

I hate father's day. I hate ties, I hate socks, I hate semi-automatic weapons. I hate rar rar rar or the tool guy or mowing the lawn. I hate that there was never anyone to protect me...from my own dad. I hate that there was never anyone to lean on.

Men think it's so cool to have a daughter that can take care of herself. A daughter that is tough, that can handle her own, that makes big money. A man likes a daughter that he doesn't have to "worry about" - but that's not the woman that he wants as a wife. A man needs a woman that needs him. That looks up to him. That adores him.

The marriages that last are the ones where BOTH people think they are marrying up.

I never had a dad that took care of me so I grew that muscle on my own. I learned that vulnerability was weakness. I work on cars, I can get things done, I do projects around the house, I protect the people around me. I can play that man role.

It also means that if I am the man then there is no room for a man in my life. It means that at 46, I have been divorced three times. My first relationships were power struggles. Then I emasculated the last one. He didn't feel needed so he found someone that made him feel needed.

Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for the amazing life that I have had. I'm just grumpy on father's day.

Dreams

I was driving through some gorgeous real estate yesterday. Big new homes on a golf course. They all had fairway views, 3 car garages and beautiful drive ups. They sweated status and luxury. Problem was, I was valuing this house for the bank that is foreclosing on it.

The whole neighborhood is new, every single house on every single lot was stunning. The house I was looking for was no different. It was a big two story home, with stone facade and a three car garage. I couldn't help but think about the people that lived there. They had bought the home three years ago, when the world was a different place. Real estate was booming, everyone was working, they had no idea that their life would come to this in three short years.

When they put their deposit on this house four years ago I know that they had big dreams for it. They wanted their kids to have their own rooms. Painted specially for each one. They found a home where there was enough room so that as the kids grew they wouldn't outgrow the house. They saw their grandkids playing in the pool one day. They wanted a great community for their kids to grow up in, with great schools and plenty to do. They wanted a big master bedroom so that they could focus on each other at the end of a long day. A sanctuary for their love to grow. They wanted a place where their friends could come, the whole house full of laughter and life. Barbecues by the pool, dinner parties and morning coffee on the patio. They wanted a safe place to come to and be with the people they most loved in the world. They bought more than a home, this was the culmination of their dreams. They had finally made it.

Now - 36 months later - it's over - and it's sad.

For me, when things aren't going the way I want them to, I try harder. I work harder, push harder, I want to MAKE it happen MY way.

This last year, real estate tanked for me. My sales in '08 were practically non-existent but I pushed on. I took classes, redesigned web sites, called everyone I knew but nothing changed. It wasn't coming to me but I still held on.

I know I hold on too long. I want it to work out the way I want it to work out - not the way it really is. If I just try harder, do more, try it this way or that then it'll work. After 10 months of restless sleep and every deal falling apart, I had to admit reality; this was not the life that I wanted. It looked pretty but I was dying inside.

When my denial finally broke - it hit hard. I sold everything. My big beautiful leather sofas, my furniture, my clothes, my china and crystal and silver. I sold my chair swing and my barbecue, my desk and my lawn chairs. I sold my Mercedes and I rented the home I loved. I reduced 45 years worth of stuff into a 19 foot box van and drove it to Dallas.

I don't miss the stress, I don't miss the bills, I don't miss the stuff - too much. Sure, it'd be nice to be in a little bigger place but I have all I need. On our walk this morning I was watching Rebel's big toothy smile as he chased squirrels around the park and his delight at jumping in the creek. Smiling, I thought "we are both happier here".

What was I holding on to for so many stress filled months? It wasn't the escalating credit card debt, it wasn't the sleepless nights or the comfort eating. I think I was holding on to what my life looked like - not what it felt like. Because it felt like hell. I was holding on to what other people thought of me in that big red Mercedes and keeping super busy so that I couldn't feel the desperation in my soul.

The truth is: those people don't need that big house to be happy. If their kids love them they love them, if their relationship is amazing it's amazing, if their friends are really their friends they are really their friends. Instead of thinking there was something missing, I hope they realize that there is nothing missing.

Real love can't be lost. That house is not love. That peanut M&M is not love. That diamond ring is not love. That big red Mercedes is not love. Then I realized, they've had all they need to be happy all along. And so have I.

You'll look great on my Christmas cards

My dad was a big handsome, high school football star and officer in the air force. He'd been stationed in Pakistan and he'd jumped out of a plane. He looked really great in the wedding photos. He looked really great on paper. He was any mother's dream for her daughter. Until you get to the part where he was mean and selfish, lacking in compassion and warmth.

The physical abuse was one thing, the constant criticism and not being able to do anything good enough for him, was another.

Problem was, the whole relationship was built on the outside. She wanted 6 kids, he wanted to explore the world in his Austin Healy Sprite. He resented having to sell his cute little sports car when I was born but he finally traded it in for something more practical. She tried to mold him to fit into her picture of the world while he took extended hunting trips to get away. As the pain escalated, we learned to look good, to smile pretty, to project the image of the perfect and beautiful family.

There's this funny cultural competition in Dallas where families get together and have their annual photos. They all dress the same, smile pretty and project that super sweet image to "out perfect" the neighbors. Families that are not talking, that have raging alcoholism and abuse, cover the bruises and smile pretty so they can show the world that they've done well. It's all built on the outside.

Matthew 7:[26] And every one that heareth these sayings of mine, and doeth them not, shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand: [27] And the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it.

When I started dating, I chose the ones that looked good. My first boyfriend had blonde feathered hair and the handle to his comb looked really great in his back pocket. He was also dumber than a hammer and couldn't keep a job. He brought nothing to the table except that he looked great on my arm and I kept him there longer than I should because the girls at school thought he was a fox.

Even now, 32 years later, I can feel the hollow emptiness of that relationship. We used each other to feel better about ourselves and it still hurts. It was the same empty loneliness I learned from my family. It was pain but it was familiar and I called it love.

When I look back on the photos of my life I can still feel the pain. I look great. The man next to me is handsome. We are smiling pretty.

Why wait till your deathbed to be free?

I used to watch soap operas in the afternoon with my grandmother. It was our form of bonding. In the soaps there was always a deathbed secret that everyone really already knew about but were waiting for it to be confirmed before mother died. Was Sally really John's daughter? Did Lori really kill Beau? The lies were so complicated and contorted - as only soaps could do - that no one really knew the truth.

The first thing to erode in my relationships was that clear bell of truth.

I would catch myself lying over little inconsequential things and then wondering why I was lying at all. The times when he was excited and all fired up about something, something I knew had huge obvious flaws but I smiled and went along with it. The times when sex was horrible but I lied to make him feel better. The time he ran over a cat and I suppressed my feelings that he was a stupid asshole and played nice instead. Making him feel better is not creating a strong relationship. It's creating a pretend relationship where neither side is living in truth. It creates two pretend people pretending to have a relationship.

Trying to be who I think you want me to be is lying. Pretending everything is all right is lying. Smiling and looking pretty is lying. "Not telling" him something is lying. Looking the other way is lying. Not speaking up is lying. Not showing your perceived flaws is lying. 8th date stuff - where we are done pretending and start admitting that we've had 84 lovers before you - is the TRUTH.

Lying doesn't seem like a big deal at first. "I didn't want to hurt their feelings". Like they aren't strong enough to handle the truth? Or like they didn't know already! People know already! It's just you telling a story to feel better about yourself.

If you can't fight with someone you can't have a relationship with them. If you can't poop at their house you can't have a relationship with them. If you can't talk to ANYONE that calls on the phone you can't have a relationship with them. If you can't admit that you are $47,000 in debt you can't have a relationship with them. When I am lying I am not "in" the relationship. I am pretending. It's a cop out. It's stepping out of the bond of relationship. It's cheating.

The consequences for lying are much higher than I had realized. First, each lie weakens us - physically and emotionally. While, each word of truth strengthens us, physically and emotionally. Have you ever been in a relationship where you felt like you could do anything? You were living in truth.

The study of kinesiology is the study of human movement. The interesting thing is that your body knows when you are not in your truth. You can do a simple kinesiology test on each word where you stand erect with one hand out to the side. Your friend stands across from you and as you say the word your friend pushes down on your arm. When you are in truth there is strength in your arm and it's difficult to push down. When you lie, the arm is easily lowered.

Then there is the guilt - your heart knows it was a lie - and you get to live with that until you come clean. Lastly there are the years of unintended consequences. The casserole that you said was awesome - when it wasn't - but now you get to eat it every week for the rest of your life. Or the outfit that you said looked fine in a rushed moment when you just wanted to get out the door - that ends up in every picture of every special event for the next 3 years or until he's gained too much weight to fit into it.

For true connection and intimacy, there has to be truth. For me, what starts out as truth when we initially negotiated out how our lives fit together, slowly disintegrates into years of more and more distance until one day I woke up and looked at the man next to me in bed. I didn't know what his dreams were, what he lived for or if I even liked him anymore. I didn't know if he had lost weight or took downers or drank too much or had a lover. I no longer knew him.

Who's to blame for these things. Is it really the other's fault that she has a lover when we quit noticing her years ago? Can we really blame him for shooting morphine in the bathroom to numb out the grief and pain he's been suffering through? We are lost in pretty smiles of pretending this is the life we always dreamed of.

I liken relationships to Chinese water torture. In Chinese water torture a drop of water is dripped on the subject's forehead. The first drop seems like nothing, the 100th is annoying, the 10,000 makes you insane. So true in a relationship, the first time he tells the story about how you thought the Jesuits were a sect of Jews, your face got red and you didn't say anything, the 100th time you cut off sex for a week, the 10,000 time you charged $15,000 on the AmEx to get him back and he still doesn't know that you hate when he tells that story.

What little lies do you tell every day? Does your husbands hair look ridiculous sticking straight up like that? Do your wife's bra straps annoy the shit out of you? Is your relationship so fragile that you can't tell the truth?

No More Distractions

It's interesting the way god works. Last year I said that all of my ego was being stripped away as I sold off everything and told the truth about my finances. Now I feel like I am taking that to a different level.

I went from being the "California Girl" in her big red Mercedes, beautiful clothes, wild running trails, lots of friends and a great house full of beautiful things to this. I live in a one bedroom apartment where I am constantly clearing out the non-essentials so I don't trip over my dog. I drive a 1993 Volvo wagon with $108K miles on it and the fanbelt squeals when I turn on the A/C. I live in the gayborhood - where the boys are not interested in me and my closest friends are the friendly faces at the bank.

I have a handyman that thinks I am beautiful and a friend that looks to me for spiritual awakening.

I've heard many women talk about losing their looks and becoming invisible. I feel like I lost my pretty stuff, pretty income, pretty friends and now I am becoming invisible. Who am I? What do I like? Why am I here?

I know that I needed to lose it all to find myself. Is there anything beneath it all?

I had to lose my income to not use that to lure men.
I had to lose my car to not use that to boost my ego.
I had to lose my house to realize that all the pretty things were not me.
I had to be away from my friends and activities to allow the scared little girl, hiding in the shadows, to emerge.

Bargain Basement Love

My sister and I were laying out in the back yard. It was a beautiful 72 degree day and the sun was bright. We were laying on our towels in our bathing suits, feeling like teenagers, when “ I don’t feel I bring anything to a relationship now that I don’t have the big income” came out of my mouth. A Freudian slip? Perhaps. But, it got me thinking.

I have always felt “better” [meaning in control] when my spouse needed my income to get by. And every one of them needed my income. I have always been the stable one. The one with good credit. The one that pulled my weight. The one with bail. The one to raise your kid. The one to pay the bills. I always knew I was the one that you needed but I hadn’t realized that you needed my income. Maybe I was never attracted to a man of means because I wouldn’t have the power in that relationship.

I was chatting with a friend of mine, I’ll call him David. He is now in his mid 50s with 20 something boys. After 26 years of marriage he divorced his wife and now lives on his own. His ex is sick and he takes care of her when she’s in the hospital and when she’s not. She needs him to take care of her physically, emotionally and financially, she always has. That’s probably why she married him and why he stayed the extra 21 years after their relationship was over. He hasn’t really liked her since then but she needs him.

Another client, Roy, has a 14 year marriage, three boys and a wife that says she totally loves him. In their relationship it’s obvious she feels loved when he gives her things. She has more diamond rings than fingers, a closet full of coach purses and a pile of pretty gifts in the garage. He calls her names behind her back describing her mean and negative demeanor with disgust and repulsion. “We don’t do anything together” he complains and he feels neglected and used.

I know I do the same thing. I remember with Roland, I bought him a gold necklace for Christmas. It was a stretch for my budget at the time but, I thought he would like it. He liked it so much he made me return it and get a nicer one for him. I was the provider of that relationship. He wanted pretty things and I could do that for him but, I resented it. Why wasn’t it enough? Why wasn't I enough? And why couldn’t I just say “no” that’s what I got you and if you want something else you’ll just have to upgrade it yourself.

Some people live their whole lives in these relationships. My grand parents and parents did.

For me, this type of relationship feels sick, dysfunctional, painful and I used to stay in them.

If relationship is a negotiation then what was I bargaining for?

I traded my financial stability for his staying with me.

I felt important when I provided and they felt important when they got stuff.

What I really wanted was someone that adored me but what I got was someone that needed me.

The irony of the whole thing is that I thought I was the one that needed them - hmmm.