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Taking Back My Life
February 23, 2007 | Category: In My Life
I interrupt my musings for a rant, that will not be written in iambic pentameter.
I have rarely done this. However I feel about President Bush or the war or the Italian Prime Minister or the UNICEF study about children in rich countries or Darfur or Bono or the couple that recreated the "Dirty Dancing" scene at their wedding reception....
... I have always been a little nervous to vent my spleen on this off-off-off-Broadway internet stage. Because this is a Bully Pulpit (of sorts) and I've always been a little in awe of the written word. Its power should be respected, even if little old me is the one writing it.
That said, I get to break my own rules - right? Right?
I have a friend, and I loved her. But we had an age-old problem. She made choices I didn't agree with and because I knew it wasn't my place to say anything, I tried not to. Yet, she knew. How can you not?
How can you miss the cool tones of disapproval? The first reaction of rejection, covered quickly by a sort of false enthusiasm?
I fucked up. I knew I was. I knew I did. I am so sorry for it. Yet, faced with the same dilemma today - I don't know what the right answer is.
Be a better actress? Find a way to make real peace with the decisions, no matter how much it makes you wince? Detach for a while?
We'll never be close friends again, although that's more because we didn't know how to make peace or trust each other again. A whole different kind of stuff than the stuff that wedged us apart in the first place.
And because there is such a thing as karma, and providence, and a great wheel - now I get to taste my own medicine.
Yummy?
Not so much.
There are people in my world, now, who disapprove of the choices I make. Who talk to me in those calm, measured tones of someone forcing themselves to be what they consider neutral.
And I'm (believe it or not) an interpersonal wimp. I have such a hard time sticking up for myself in a way that is productive. Usually by the time I say something, I garble it so badly that everything around me erupts in a lava-like consistency of confusion, emotion, and bad grammar.
So instead of dealing with my relationships, I've just been nodding and smiling. And it has been KILLING ME.
Please note here that, funnily enough, I am venting to a slice of the world that has probably offered me the most support and honest dialogue. Not funny 'ha-ha' but funny as in 'watch me shout at the wrong audience'.
But before I explode....
Yes, I want to dye my hair hot pink for a while. Yes, I quit a lucrative job so we could fritter away our savings. Yes, I let my house get cluttered and somewhat sloppy between scrubs. Yes, I am overweight, undermoisterized, and somehwat unevenly tweezed (although really, my eyebrows are naturally unmatched... you can only work with what you're given!). Yes, my family is emigrating to another country. Yes, I know entirely too much about Tom Cruise.
So what?
Honest to the Lord above... so what?
I am so tired of feeling defensive about my life. And I think that is part of the reason that I pulled away from writing about it.
When I was a corporate mini-titan, juggling an insane career while being primary point on my son's upbringing, my exhaustion and long hours were easy to understand, even sympathize with.
Maybe even respect.
I don't know.
Bear had the best education money could buy, my wardrobe was from Talbot's, the housekeeper kept the kitchen spotless, our retirement was secure, and isn't all that the American Dream?
And didn't I throw it all away?
Memo to those who disapprove - Yes. I did.
The American Dream, for anyone taking notes, was originally Protestant Fanaticism. But since World War 2, it has come to mean a "successful and satisfying life".
Someone give me a list of 20 indicators of what that breaks down into, that I can use as a checklist.
No?
Would capitalistic achievements and social standing be on that list?
That's a real question.
For me, for CD, and for Bear - we didn't undergo an complete change of priorities overnight. We did not enter into an impoverished (monetarily) state with glib one-liners.
We have made choice after choice of the heart, and that's how we got here.
And here is OK.
I think, I don't know for sure, but I think that I am OK, too.
And if you want to blast me in the comments, disagree with me, send me an email asking me if I know what I am doing, ping me with question marks and an opinion that differs, and talk with me about the world and how we think we should make our places in it and even quote Thomas Paine while you're at it - I am cool with that.
Dialogue is good.
I welcome you. I welcome your thoughts and ideas.
But if you want to pick up the phone, hissing with disapproval of me and my life, with nothing to offer except this prevailing sense that I am doing it wrong...
...then I invite you to hang the fuck up.
ahem
/end rant.
Well, I think I've embarressed myself enough for one day. Mutter. I think I'll go pour myself a cup of coffee and have a bit of a sniffle.
And if you're still reading this, thank you for not being one of the people I wrote this for.
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