Sunday, February 12, 2017

One thing to do when you turn 40



When I turned 40, I felt overwhelmed by all those articles that kept popping up on my social-media, “10 Things to do before you turn 40”, 25 Things to do in your 50’s”, “10 Things you’ll regret in your 60’s.”  Every decade we cross brings with it this intense desire to re-asses, inventory and evaluate.  I had just turned 40 and my personal inventory was falling short on so many levels.  I was a divorced single mom with a mid-level career and very little promise of upward mobility.  Those lists were just overwhelming at a time when my future seemed so uncertain.

I tried to take on my mid-life inventory.  Mediocrity surfaced in most of my thoughts, because I kept judging and comparing my life to everyone else’s.  I felt that my life was a disaster. I felt like all the dreams I had for myself had died, and I had done little to keep them alive and to flourish them.  One thing is to have someone else step on your dreams but when those dreams are crushed by your life choices, there is no one to blame but yourself. 

For years I had put all my time, my thoughts, my energy, into my daughter and totally neglected myself because if the focus was on me, it would force me to deal with my emotional health. Being a single mom is not easy, and most days  single mom is a synonym for exhausted.  Shutting off everything else made it possible to be a “good parent.” Good in the proverbial accepted self-sacrificing manner that in the end is not good for anyone but the critics.  Most days were just dealt as survival mode.   Finally I realized that survival was fine as a mode, but to just survive was not necessarily a modus vivendi.

I had to start small, making little changes.  I started going to acupuncture. I was suffering from severe insomnia and the acupuncture helped.  Once I started sleeping better, I started eating better.  I started exercising.  I am not saying that I became a gym junkie and a vegan, no my changes were small.  I was taking it easy, no need to set unachievable goals that if I did not accomplish would just make me feel worse.  I began taking short walks.  That led to resuming Yoga, a practice I had neglected for years.  I stopped dating my food and changing my relationship to it.  I had been overeating because I was not happy and needed to compensate for my lack of real relationships. For me eating is a way to numb the pain. I began journaling and that helped me process and feel my sadness.  It took time. 

The most important thing I did was to stop comparing myself with everyone around me and understand that my process is unique. I will always be a work in progress, but I know I am in a way healthier place to where I was a year ago. I keep going to acupuncture, I keep exercising and journaling. These are the ways I take care of myself. Each one of us has to figure out how to take care of ourselves, realizing that self-love is essential in order to build the solid ground of self-reliance that will give you a life. 

For years I was waiting for some magical force to lift me up so that I could begin living, a beautiful blue fairy that would sprinkle me with magic dust and make me happy and give me the will to chase all my dreams. That magical fairy dust is beyond a doubt enchanting and wondrous and it’s called self-love.  It doesn’t come from a fairy or a partner, your children, or your friends.  It’s you.  You are the magical enchanting blue fairy.


I’ve had to face my worst fears, dig deep, rehash things I thought were long buried.  It’s all growth.  The good thing is that after 40, you know that growth can be painful, but you do it anyway, you do it with authenticity and love.  You know that there is always a better/stronger you after the pain.  You honor the process, you honor the pain, and you honor yourself. 

Friday, August 12, 2011

Of Lice and Women

I was at the salon, trying to go from looking like a poodle to a human being when the hair dresser turns to me with an insect in her hand. She smiled and said nothing. What was she showing me? Was the salon infested and this was some kind of weird "salon humor."

"You have lice, strange because women who dye their hair usually don't get infested"

"Lice, that's a lice?" You're telling me I have lice and on top of that you're saying I'm not a real blonde! BITCH! What the fuck is the singular word for lice? lie? No it's Louse, I found out after much reseach and even considering spraying my head with kerosene and lighting it on fire. Who needs hair? By the way Louse is the perfect name. They should be called louses. And what's a nit? Do I really need to know? Did I have them in my hair? YES.

Cut to a neurotic woman going insane in the shampoo isle at Walgreens, buying every product ever made for lice treatment. Treatment? I want extermination. It says here I have to wash everything that could've come in contact with the lice. My whole fucking house. I'm washing rugs, sheets, clothing. I'm putting the lice shampoo on everyone's hair. Giving everyone military hair styles and dying their hair with clairol's Light Golden Brown, Full Tilt Toffee. Which makes them look like little Vanilla Ice's. They're young, hair grows and they'll get through this.

Me, on the other hand, will never visit that salon again.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Little

The little things are not little.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

What the hell is Vajazzling?


Since I hardly have time to shave my legs, I find it truly amazing that some have time to do extravagant things to body parts that I do not even use as often as I'd like. I can barely get dressed in the mornings and have very little time to apply make up, so putting little crystals in my vagina seems like a bit extravagant. But whatever sizzles your bacon...



Thursday, March 18, 2010

Monday, March 15, 2010

Songs are like tattoos


I keep listening to "anchor me or let me sail away..."
Songs are like tattoos, she says...
hey blue.
Can i make it through these waves?
The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but hell is not the hippest place to go.



Thursday, March 4, 2010

A room of his own...

All of us who thought this had been settled by the lovely Virginia Woolf will be sad to hear about what I have to write. Men, and their stupid space. It took us so long to claim a bit of it, not the kitchen, not the kid's room, but a room of our own. A room, well you remember the whole shabang, we didn't have a voice because we, women, were never given a space (physical/mental/spiritual). I have written before about space men. But now all these articles have come out, and it even has a name "Manspace." Generation x'rs have this whole astronaut fixation, to claim space, get lost in space and a constant need for space. Maybe it's the Star Wars generation, Han Solo and Chewy had the Millennium Falcon, Luke had his little manspace with Yoda, but Princess Leia was a fag hag, running around with C3PO, without a home. Be it an obnoxious basement filled with sports gear , or the Juno room where Jason Bateman had his guitars, manspace is here and hopefully not to stay. It took us so many years, so many bras that were burnt to a crisp, and here we have a whole new generation of men looking for a room of their own. No ERA, but they want a room. We are not evolving, we are devolving. Maybe everyone needs a room of their own? It's hard in this economy. It's hard with kids. So when it comes to who gets the room, is it like Juno? Jason Bateman gets the room? Apparently so. Gen x'rs space men are the only ones claiming it. Apparently the women of my generation never really read Virginia or if they did, they took her for granted.

Try not to vomit: