Private versus Secret

This is something my therapist has talked about a lot.  I’m not sure I’ve ever understood it.  So, naturally, I must blog about it.

I feel like I’ve lived (and to some extent still live) my life with secrets.  Most of the time after I came out to myself I was only out to myself, really – I mean, a conversation or two with a husband does not, apparently, a convincing case make…  as I found out when I discovered how much talking it took to convince him of what I knew inside.

Also, one of the first therapists I saw, about a year or so into this process, listened to my whole story, told with some trepidation since, well, it was just a year in, and said she didn’t know if I was gay or not, and that this was only part of what I needed to explore.  Never mind I had spent the previous hour coming out to her!!!!!  I didn’t go back to that one.

So I wonder.  My therapist has said many times that my life is my life and what I choose to do with my time, my life, my heart, is my private business.  This contrasts rather sharply with the views I adopted from my upbringing, in which everything about my experiences, thoughts, feelings, beliefs, and actions, should be visible in the light of divinity (or human authority) and completely exposed.

I haven’t lived the last few years in obedience to (any of) the rules of theology that I was raised with.  Most especially I haven’t made any attempt to be open – about much of anything.  I’ve often considered myself to be keeping secrets.  And perhaps to some extent that fits.  But if my therapist is right, mostly what I’m doing is claiming my own psychic space, my right to my own life, and my inner privacy.

Apparently, in this way of looking at my life, I get to decide what I share about myself and with whom, and under what circumstances.  There is no god looking over my shoulder, and no human figures to whom I owe any sort of ultimate allegiance.

I guess it makes sense then.  If there’s no divine police officer watching for the first sign of an infraction of the rules, then maybe I’m just living my life.

Perhaps it’s messier than I thought life would be.  Perhaps it’s less well defined.  Perhaps what counts runs deeper than what can be easily seen.  And perhaps, just perhaps, I have a right to my privacy.

If that’s alright with everybody.  Haha

Dr. Evil!!!

Aaaaaaand More Queen

Sublime Femme points out that Queen Latifah ain’t just (or really?) a girlygrrrrl.  No argument, or complaint, from me, SF!  Set It Off produced lots of images of guns pointed directly at the camera, which kind of startled me, so y’all google if you wanna see those.  But here, have fun with this one.  Y’all see what I mean about that restraining order…

OK Freaks, More Queen.

First off, she’s MINE.  As soon as the damn restraining order wears off.

Second, I didn’t quite expect the outpouring of slavering lesbians I got when I posted that video.  ROFL

Third, here’s somethin’  to keep you warm tonight.  You’re very very welcome.

How Could I Not Have Known?

Haha – when I was pregnant I watched the movie version of the musical Chicago.  I was  obsessed with Queen Latifah and genuinely couldn’t figure out why.  Hahaha – just reviewed the video and wonder how I ever had a question in my mind.  Ladies and gentlemen, horses and mules, I AM GAY.  Oh yes.  Sooooooo gay.  Hahaha.

Cozy

Sitting on a kid’s bed while I blog, listening to the snores and looking at the piles of pillows and stuffed animals that help that delicate and sometimes dicey transition to dreamland.

Working during the day on projects that remind me of how much preparation is involved in any large project – an excellent reminder to continue to take my time, be calm, check and double check, my personal paperwork…  oh, there’s that panic… deep breath…

Temps dropped enough that sleeping weather is lovely, and daytime is crisp.

Spaghetti for dinner, a puppy with a new toy (Kong frisbee!!!), and happy children playing before bed.

An early evening walk, looking at clouds and shimmers and oh is that Venus up there?

Nice conversations that feel happy and real and funny.

Cozy.  I don’t give myself much of this kind of experience, tending to think I only deserve the hard feelings until… when?  I don’t know – so today and tonight I’m going for that yummy wrapped up with hot cocoa and funny jokes and warm blankets feel.

Pull up a blanket and pillow and grab a cup of hot cocoa, and tell me what you see in the fire.  Later we’ll all make s’mores and tell ghost stories.

Yes

Aneke over at At the edge of the ocean has gotten me hooked on Mary Oliver.  Love this one.

Next Time

by Mary Oliver

Next time what I’d do is look at
the earth before saying anything. I’d stop
just before going into a house
and be an emperor for a minute
and listen better to the wind
or to the air being still.When anyone talked to me, whether
blame or praise or just passing time,
I’d watch the face, how the mouth
has to work, and see any strain, any
sign of what lifted the voice.

And for all, I’d know more — the earth
bracing itself and soaring, the air
finding every leaf and feather over
forest and water, and for every person
the body glowing inside the clothes
like a light.

Susan at 29 Black Street is rockin’ my world these days.  You gotta check out her blog and see what her cowboy is up to.  She posted this poem not long ago.   As a woman who likes to talk, I must say that George Elliott was on to something here…

Oh, the comfort,
the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person,

having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words,
but pouring them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together,
certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping,
and with a breath of kindness blow the rest away.

George Elliot

Dancing with the Movement

So many possibilities for how to go through this life. So many ways to continue to come out. So many ways to change my life.

I always wanted to be a dancer, and maybe this is my chance. Maybe I can dance with the movement of my life. Not rushing, or holding back, or forcing, or resisting, just – dancing.

Feels good.

Sometimes I’d like to be a disappointment

Remember those report card categories from elementary school?  “Works and plays well with others” was always one where I got a high mark.  Check plus, or excellent, or whatever designation they were using at the time.

And it’s still true.  I do work well with others, and I do play well with others.  It takes a lot for me to determine that a person doesn’t get to be in my life anymore.  And when I make those decisions, they haunt me even when I know they are right for me.

Sometimes, though, I have this fantasy where I’m not so eager to cooperate, be nice, compromise, be a team player.  Sometimes I actually want to disappoint.  I want to really suck at something and not care.  I want to just go ahead and fuck up the things I’m treading so carefully through in my life right now.  I want to dive with furious abandon into crazy obvious mistakes and missteps.

I don’t want to do this in order to somehow prove right or give in to the voices in my life that say that because I’m coming out as a lesbian I’m unstable and untrustworthy.  This isn’t that kind of insanity.

I just want to not have to have it all together.  I think about things sooooo much.  And I have no fucking clue what the answers are right now.  I know what I want.  No question.  I just have no clue how to get there without alienating people I really really care about; I have no clue how to get there without making things really rough, at least for a while, for my children.  Mostly, I have no clue how to take the next step that’s before me without the kind of terror that leaves me almost non-functional.

And when I take this next step, I feel like I need to be clear.  I need to be calm.  At least externally, I need to be rational.  Although I am uncertain and distressed and clueless, I feel like I will be the bellweather, the barometer, for those in my immediate experience.  I feel like, for the sake of my children, I MUST keep it together.

And so, I’d like to be a disappointment.  I’d like to be rough around the edges.  I’d like to be uncertain and have that be OK – with me.  I’d like to be aware that I am hurting people by my choice to live my life as myself; and I’d like to be OK with that.

I’d like to understand the relationship between unconditional love and anger.  I’d like to say good-bye to my image of myself as sweet, kind to everyone, and always there for those around her.  I’d like to really, fully, grasp the difference between isolation and solitude.

I want to always love and support my children.

I want to always have the respect of my mother-in-law.

I want to stand up to my husband.

I want to live long, love well, fuck hard, and believe my bliss when it talks to me.

I want to be a disappointment.

Dim Sum Sunday – Gimme Citrus!

Over at The Karmic Kitchen, blogger Big Shamu puts us all through our culinary paces on a regular basis.  Every other Sunday or so, she asks any blogger who feel up to the challenge to take an ingredient or theme and go to town with it.  She calls the event Dim Sum Sunday.  If you’re interested in participating, join up – there’s no fee, haha, and hell if I can do it anybody can, this is all I’m sayin.  Today’s theme is citrus.  Now, if you want to see some culinary and photographic genius, check out Shamu’s blog and the blogs of the other participants, experts all.  If you want to see what I do with my kids when I’m trying to peel them off of the candy they got at their friend’s birthday party yesterday, look here.

First off, we went to the grocery store together, on a Sunday late morning.  This is an Olympic sport at the best of times, and with two young children I think we’re talking the climbing of Everest in difficulty level.

Next, it must be noted that as I begin to tackle some life shifts in this new year, I have also been tackling the carbs to a greater degree than is absolutely necessary.  So, my first instinct was to make an orange cranberry bread or something like that.  But I decided enough is enough, I want to (excuse the new age flight of fancy here) love my body with food.  So I thought, hey a salad with oranges in it.  Fits the theme, fits my skill level, fits my nutritional goals, and is kid friendly.

So, we got home, put up groceries, and went to it.

First a bed of mixed baby greens, with some roasted salted almonds spread around.

Next, orange segments!!  There was much discussion about how much white stuff we could actually handle.  This is an ongoing debate in the home.  But you didn’t have to hear it, you just get to see the end result:

Pears were on sale and oddly enough, some were ripe enough to use right away!  There was some tussling about whether to eat them or put them on the salad, until finally mom stepped in to point out that we could put them on the salad AND eat them.  There was great rejoicing.

What a great Dim Sum Sunday theme for us over here in kidland!  It’s a good day here when mama and The Sweeties all agree.  Now if they’d only eat the lettuce…

Go check out The Karmic Kitchen to see all the participants’ selections.  Have fun, however you do it today, with bein’ good to your body.  Gimme Citrus!!

Kansas!!!!!!

I heard the end of Stairway to Heaven on the oldies (sob) station on the way to work today.  I’ve decided that Led Zeppelin may be the gods of rock, but Stairway to Heaven is fatal if consumed.  So my antidote is a little Kansas.  Carry on!!!  Love this cheesy video.  Perfect.  Heh.