I've been feeling so FULL lately that I've been avoiding blog writing. I'm journaling like a mad woman, but the blog is (mostly) being ignored. (i also haven't been visiting friends blogs a lot these days, and I almost don't miss it ...) (except that i do). I just haven't been able/willing to pull something from the skillions of things going on in my life and in my head to write about it/them for the blog.
Which is really kind of funny, because I facilitate writing workshops where the basic gist is that anyone can write, they have plenty of stuff to say, and each 'voice' is unique. I also happen to believe that writing is about the best, most portable and cheapest personal growth tool out there. And, having been blogging a while, I also know that the 'public' aspect of blogging, although it often feels self indulgent (and let's face it, sometimes it is), also connects me in a different way to myself; it helps me crystallize what I think differently. It also connects me with other people, which I really value. Although I suspect my blog reading audience is kinda small in comparison with many of the blogs I visit, that's just fine with me. It connects me to the friends who visit and read (even if i don't know they've visited) and I've made some great new friends, and deepened existing ones through our blogs.
So ... because it helps me process my life in a different way than talking to friends or writing for myself, I want to show up on the "page's" of my blog during this transition (even though i don't always want to) cause I'm interested to see what shows up.
And so, I thought I'd try - a la 'physician, heal thyself' ('faciliator, follow thy own lead.') - to do what I'd tell folks in my group -- to stop thinking about it so damn much ... just pick a topic and write. (well, in group i suggest topics, but i tell them to use what i toss out and see where it takes them ... start with random thoughts about what it brings to mind, or write a list if that helps. and then when something grabs 'em, dig in and play ...)
So, although I have many first thoughts and my brain races, let's just quiet down for a second and ...
There is my new space. The new digs ... and there is my room. MY room. How wonderful after sharing a home and a bedroom with a partner to experience the space of a room of one's own?
I love space. For one who is primarily an extrovert, I have a lot of of introvert qualities. If I don't get some time by myself daily, I go batty. And quiet downtime by myself in nature is even better.
So I'm enjoying my own room. I thought I might have some challenges sharing space in a house (in my friend d's home where i am the "roomie"), but it is working out splendidly. Granted, it's only been 3 weeks, but we've both marveled several times about how well it's going so far. (we're in our little roomie honeymoon ...)
So sharing the home-space is working out fine, but the best part? Not having a shared boudoir. And not having to share the bed? Luscious. I can be a bed hog ... I can roll up in the covers ... I can read in bed before I turn in, and journal from under the covers when I wake up. (i used to tease the guy formerly known as schweetie that he would prefer sleeping in a temperature controlled coffin; he wanted the room dark, no noise, no movement; no reading in bed before sleep; no writing in the morning from the bed before i got out from under the covers if he was still sleeping ...) (i am seriously enjoying reacquainting myself with the writing in bed practice!)
(does all this 'loving my space' stuff mean that i do not mourn the loss of all the goodness in the relationship with the guy formerly known as schweetie? i do. [i didn't call him schweetie for nothin' ...] but the rightness of our brave decision remains clear. not that it still isn't sad ... not that it still isn't a loss. but right? absolutely.)
And on the upside, I am really enjoying the feeling of space. Luscious, it is.
Semi-related, but not: fascinating how many people are already asking me if/when I plan to start dating again. Dating? Hell, I just got single again. No interest.
The other day an acquaintance told me that I should not tell men the truth about my age. "You don't look 45; you could probably shave 10 years off and people would believe you," she suggested. "If I could get away with it, I'd say I was under 40. Men our age are always interested in younger women."
I couldn't believe someone was saying this to me. Why would I want to deny my age? I am 45. Would I really want to be with the kind of man who, in his mid-40's only wants to be with a woman who is at least 10 years younger than he is? I think not.
Another reason I'd never lie about my age is because if I did, then I'd have to lie about all my cultural references .... the big influences in my life, like the music and bad TV/pop culture of the 60's, and the Apollo landing on the moon. If I 'shaved' years off my life, I would have missed all that 'life soundtrack' ... and that major news event. My first real memory of independence was walking around the Belvidere pool by myself (mom was at the baby pool with my baby brother; i don't know where dad and suz were). I was about 7 years old and The Doors sang "Light My Fire" over the loudspeaker.
And the moon landing? That event was HUGE in my young life ... I've told the story before (on my "about page", and i've also referenced it in other posts), but it's always interesting for me to see what's crystallized in the retelling, so here it goes again:
The moon landing didn't influence me because I understood it in the scientific, political or cosmic scheme of things, but because in all the hype around the event, somebody mentioned that they sky was infinite, and when I learned what that was, it practically exploded my brain.
I was 8 years old then, and learning about infinity caused everything in the world to become unglued for me. I couldn't wrap my head around something having no end at all; it just freaked me out. I guess I figured that if there was such a thing as infinity, then nothing was solid and known, and that was too much for my brain to comprehend. Learning about infinity was my first experience with anxiety ... it expanded my perspective radically and blew my mind. And I no longer felt entirely safe.
These days my relationship to infinity is much friendlier. I've made peace with it (and it with me too, i think) (i suspect it's part of why i have some degree of peace with myself) ... because I now believe that infinity and God are sort of the same thing. I see it as that "source of all things" -- the creative, life giving force that good old Yoda talked about. The idea of infinity still freaks me out sometimes, but I have befriended it. In the infinite there is space for everything, and I like that. (cause i'm a firm believer that there is no normal, and infinity has room for a lot of variations on the theme of 'different' ...)
(so back to the story of why i won't lie about my age ... ) Why would I deny such an influential experience to a man who - if the force is with me/us - I'd have the potential to be friends and lovers with ... who I might be willing to share my life (honestly!) with (and visa versa)? (wouldn't that be something, huh?)
So ... while I'm not up for such a thing now ... if we are playing in the realm of infinite possibility - just for good measure - I think I'll add that when I am ready, and whoever he is, and whenever he shows up, (among other spectacular qualities) he'll be able to sleep through my writing in bed in the mornings? ;)
Rather than lie about your age you can definitely BOAST about it with pride, because you look a hell of a LOT younger!! During my years of internet dating (now there is something to, maybe, lie about) I have come across more down adjustments in ages than I care to remember. Yes, guys do this, too (sorry Maria!). The worst offender was a man who claimed to be 48 but in reality was 62! He was right of course, I would have never considered a date with him had I known his real age, it would have saved both of us an awkward hour.
I am jealous of your bed space, I miss it!! I used to love reading and writing all snuggled up in my cosy bedroom, in fact, I blame Tom for my reading deficit. I always thought it was totally unromantic to ever consider separate bedrooms but, as much as I love his company day and night, I am kind of beginning to understand the appeal. Enjoy the space while it lasts.
Overall you are sounding pretty upbeat and I am glad for that :) And you have given me something to think about ... infintity and god ... source of all things ... food for my searching soul.
Hugs, Kx
Posted by: Kerstin | May 10, 2006 at 06:41 PM
I just returned last night from a SOLO 4-day road trip...and it occurred to me while I was gone that maybe I just need to take a few of those each year...there's something to be said for moving to one's OWN rhythms. :)
Posted by: Marilyn | May 03, 2006 at 09:29 PM
Hi Deb! You should write about "nothing" more often, he he. I know what you mean about the age thing. Like admitting the other day to someone that I remember the original of "These Boots Are Made For Walking." That's like one of the first songs I remember liking! I can't deny all my sixties touchstones. But for a striving middle-aged singer songwriter its kind of hard. I worry everyone will think I'm too old! Woops this isn't supposed to be out me.....
keep writing....
MB
Posted by: marybeth | May 02, 2006 at 02:21 AM
Deb, you sound so good, so ... free. I'm glad your new living arrangement has been such a wonderful fit for you, and that you're reconnecting with the pleasures of having your own space. It is pretty yummy, isn't it? And now that you have a laptop, well, you aren't only limited to writing in your journal in bed. Woohoo!
I agree with you on the age thing. I have a good friend who looks way younger than her age and always struggles with this. Not a good way to start off a new relationship, though ... sets up all kinds of doubts from the get-go about what else one might be concealing. Guys don't lie about age. Their marital status, yes. Their age, no. ;-)
Posted by: maria | May 01, 2006 at 09:56 AM