Giving Thanks

It is Thanksgiving in Canada. My favourite holiday. It is the one holiday where there is little pressure, people just come together and eat, relax. . . this year my Mom and I fought. It's over now - we all made fun of her gravy - she didn't find it funny - all is right with the world.

One of our family traditions is to go around the table and say what we are thankful for. Since there was a lot of gravy tension during grace, and the turkey was getting cold, I said an all-encompassing one, and we skipped our tradition. But I still have more to say. . .

In thinking about the things for which I am grateful I have had a major epiphany - I am happy with the way my life has turned out, and I don't need to have more kids.

The realization came recently while I was sitting in a park waiting to pick some things up at the printer. There were several families there - and most of the parents were my age or older. Their kids were high maintenance - aka: little assholes. Demanding, inattentive and stubborn - over indulged and undisciplined. It suddenly became very real to me - what it would be like to have more children. I always think about kids as babies, and how amazing it was to have my son, and how this time I would do things better because I would be older, and I would appreciate being a Mom and compensate for mistakes I felt I had made . . . etc. But then I remembered - babies become kids, they all have different personalities, and sometimes it is your fault that they are little assholes, and sometimes they are just the spawn of Satan and there is nothing you can do about it. The reason I am grateful for that day in the park is because when my thoughts about that shifted - everything else did too.

My desperation is gone. I have more options. I can date men that I may not want to marry, that I may not want to have kids with, build a life with or even have meet my parents.

Obviously I then immediately started dating a 22 year old. It has been quite an adventure! I have learned that the younger generation has relationships without ever seeing each other. We have had more conversations on-line than my last live in boyfriend and I ever had in person, we have had phone sex and shared our favourite movies, music and art through youtube and facebook. The computer is burning a hole in my eyeball, but I can't look away - waiting for the next instant message telling me how hot I am.

I had forgotten how wonderful young love can be. It's just like the internet - immediate, passionate, stimulating . . . and fleeting, but a ride that I am grateful to be on if only for a 'hot minute'. I am reminded that even though the men I date who are my own age will very rarely say or do anything that may make them vulnerable - that somewhere in them is an optimistic young man still looking for company, stimulation and a little lovin', and not a whole lot else.

Maybe I even now understand why old men try to date young women. It is not just about the ego, or power, or sex. It is about experiencing the parts of yourself that had gone to sleep. Your ability to freely tell someone what you think of them, and to know they are doing the same.

I like this guy, but I am not kidding myself. I know it won't last. That's ok though. I am going to take the spirit of this love and carry it forward into my next relationship. Who cares if I get lied to, stomped on or taken advantage of by those with as much or more baggage than I have. At least I won't be playing head games with myself (95% of the games people (and by people I mean me) play in relationships occur in our own heads -for every action there is at least 3 hours of preparation and planning - it's exhausting - I don't want to be guessing what a guy thinks, or wants, or who he wants me to be, or when is an appropriate time to text or write or call or show up at his work with a stylist).

ahhhhh - (that was me exhaling) - for all that this 'young love' has done for me in positive ways - it sure has made me aware of how f*&^ed up my behaviour has been with men in the last few years. A Course in Miracles says that 'all that is missing from a relationship is what you are not giving to it' - meaning that since you are the one who experiences feelings when you are with another person - you are the one who feels the pain when you withhold love, and you are the one who feels the most love when you give it, and, in fact, you ONLY really feel anything when you are projecting it onto someone else. When I remember that I no longer need to obsess over what to do, say and be - I just do what feels natural, and let the chips fall where they may. This is what we do when we are young and in love.

Remembering that I am the one choosing to withhold my love and excitement and happiness when I meet someone I like helps me to move toward loving someone with courage. I rarely show my interest in men because I worry that they will think I am just another desperate woman in her 30s looking for someone to stop her clock from ticking. Now that I am over the whole tick tock phenomenon it looks like I may also be ready to release the bondage I have held myself in - to show emotion, to get excited, and to be vulnerable. . . .

and for that, I am TRULY thankful.

A word about being optimistic

I had three weeks in a row where I was soooooo happy.

Now I am writing brooding poetry about storms as a metaphor for love (see my last post).

The good news is that some of my earlier posts were really funny (see posts written last year when I was wandering around London pretending to be in a Jane Austen novel).

Perhaps I am moody because I have to move this week-end. I am moving into a bachelor apartment where I will have a single bed. That's right. This is the equivalent of my not shaving my legs for three months in the hopes that it will stop me from having sex with men I don't like. Not that I have ever done that, but I certainly know a woman who has. I prefer to let the hair protecting my vagina grow - it is much more offensive when the hair grows down your legs than up. . . but I digress.

Which is my point I suppose - that I am digressing. Moving into a tiny tiny place - keeping things simple - but am I going backwards? Perhaps all of you who read my blog (hi again Mom) will encourage me to be optimistic about this special space - that it will be a space just for me. I have chosen homes in the past with entertaining in mind (read - impressing others with my fantastic space and decorating abilities) and now I am choosing a space just for me and my personal grooming devices - it could be really special for us.

But - back to the single bed thing. . . so there's this guy - the one that I tweet about on a regular basis - who I like and who is too self absorbed to bother calling me back unless I send sexually suggestive text messages. I'm pretty sure he doesn't care much but I really like him and keep holding out hope that he will figure out how great I am soon so we can get on with our world take over. It has been a bad week where he is concerned, but usually I can stay optimistic about him and relationships in general by dating several other men (about two per week on a rotating basis) - this week my plan of having many men who somehow together make one whole one backfired . . .

Round 1. The guy I really like and I are talking on the phone. The conversation gets cut off. He does not call back. There is no answer when i call and leave a message. When we do speak again he tells me he didn't call back because he 'didn't even think of it,' and was so busy. Then hung out with his room mate and got high (amazing). As we were talking about that his phone cut off again. I left him a message to call me back which he did -the next day. I have not returned the call as I figure it was obligatory.

Round 2. I called an ex who is a real estate agent to find out what a previous property of mine sold for. He said he would if I would 'hang out' with him. I said cool - come to this art event with me at the Spoke Club. He said he is 'so tired at the end of the day all he feels like doing is hanging out and smoking a joint.' (are we noticing a pattern yet?) Made plans to hang out cause i wanted the information but smartened up at the thought of his assholishness - I did not call him.

Round 3. Met a guy on line - super sweet - had a great phone conversation - he called me at the time he said he would and then texted afterwards to tell me how great our chat was and that he keeps thinking about me and can we meet for a drink on Thursday night. I say yes for 7 PM - I feel OPTIMISTIC. Today is Thursday. I called him, texted him and emailed him. I think maybe he died.

hmmmm - should I go on?

I'd rather not because this blog is about being optimistic.

Coco Chanel never married

I had no idea. I had no idea Chanel completely transformed the way women dressed. I guess I never made the connection between the time period she existed in and the clothing she created. She is officially my new hero.

As for the critiques - I could care less if the story is real or not. She would likely have hated it if it were true! She was constantly re-inventing her life story. And so she should! My story is so different now than it was 5 years ago, and not because 5 years have passed. Telling the same stories about your past will make you dead inside! Your story is yours to do with what you like - if it is static you are likely still stuck in it.

Yet another reason to admire this woman - no designer could be confined to designing only in the medium of their designing!

On the subject of marriage . . . I am amazed that her story could ring so true for me. Either my way of thinking is turn-of-the-century, or things haven't changed a hell of a lot where marriage is concerned. . . are things worse? - at least then it was acceptable to marry for money.

Her discussion with Boy about being married was heartbreaking - but permeated my psyche . . . in fact, it made me weep. Not to say that I believe it is better to be the mistress than the wife - that doesn't give men much credit (I have started doing that - giving them credit - no one likes a bitter-betty) - but her idea that all of your freedom is lost when you become married made me catch my breath.

I think that is what I have always been most afraid of. Not because I would ever marry someone who would ask me not to be myself; because I would just stop being myself - because men become more themselves when they have a good woman behind them, and women become less - or at least that is the story I have been telling myself until now.

Can you blame me though - Cinderella complex and all that. . . let's blame the Brother's Grimm, or the Ancient Greeks who came up with that bullshit to begin with.

I met someone I like.

He is everything I have asked for. So obviously I am terrified. Especially now - now that I am 'unstable' - it would be way too easy to become absorbed by his light - his life - his success.

I have had many opportunities to allow a man to buy me. To step closer to my dreams by fucking men I don't want to. I have played along here and there, but never gone far enough to really see how it ends - or to ask for them to fulfill their promises to me.

The idea that a man can sweep in and take care of me is so captivating. It makes me want to buy a retro KitchenAid mixer.

But, for me, that would be two steps away from prozac.

Which is a big part of the reason I have never accepted offers from my man-saviours. I felt I would be playing a role that was not authentic - but would become consumed by it - like Heath Ledger as the Joker - and end up dying inside.

Strangely - one of the things I actually admired about Chanel in the movie was that she accepted money from men who wanted to help her because they wanted her sexually. That she took advantage of what she was offered and used it to HER advantage in the end - is this the new Cinderella story? Like Pretty Woman? Allowing someone to help her is part of what made her brave . . . this movie is more appealing than Pretty Woman because she ends up ditching the man who saves her (actually he ditches his self - literally) and makes it on her own anyway - she did not lose herself - even when she was giving herself away.

I have had a couple of friends tell me lately that they admire what I have done with my life so far - travelled, started businesses . . . attacked each day with purpose.

Only I have not ever been sure of my purpose - never lived the life in my heart that they all thought I was living - even though I actually was. I have had many dramatic moments when I have discovered my purpose - only to question it again the next day (or try to remember what it was . . .).

And the more I chase the life I want them to see me having - the more unsettled and unaccomplished I feel, and the more I fail to notice the adventure I am already living . . .

Imagine I could be ok with all of it? Ok with the fact that my story will not unfurl with the story arch of a screenplay, ok with not being able to look-back and identify the moment that changed everything, ok with being ok with my decisions - even if they end up not being the "right" ones. Ok with not having to know how this all turns out . . . One of my favourite authors, SARK, calls this Radical Self Acceptance.

The absolute best part of the movie was when Coco says goodbye to Balsan and says "I'm frightened." She wasn't saying that because she wanted him to save her - she said it because it was the truth.

I'm frightened too. In the past two years I have lost my house, my business, my father, and most-recently my job. I am standing on the threshold of a new life. Having fallen down again - each time it gets a little scarier to get back up . . . harder to look my failures in the eye and try to make it work again.

Thank God I have made a habit of doing things I am afraid of. I don't know what the next thing will be, but whatever it will be - it will be mine - and it won't be a fantasy written by me or anyone else. It will be real, but always open to interpretation.