We’d Like To Help You Learn To Help Yourself

There's a certain amount of freedom that comes to you as you get older -- at least for me personally. As a girl and young woman I was very rigid about what I thought was proper behavior and very hard on myself/good with excuses when I didn't live up to it. I'm now finding that rigidity is loosening a lot. I'm more sure of myself and less concerned with what others may think about what I do or feel. I know what I need and how I operate. It's funny, though. Years ago I would have looked at the current me and thought she was a slut.

Why? Because I was an idealist. I had a certain idea of how love, sex and romance was and how the three were supposed to be intertwined. I think most women suffer from this ideal to some extent and the differences come in how we choose to resolve it. In my case, I believed sex without true emotion was empty and meaningless. I found little enjoyment in it and no reason to participate in it. Though I still feel sex with emotion is preferable, my determination of the emotions I find acceptable has broadened. I've learned that I'm now capable of more separation than I was capable of in my younger years. I attribute this to the fact that I no longer need a man to help me define who I am. Sadly, I think men manage to go through that journey a lot faster than we women do but we do get there, usually in our late 30s and early 40s. I think it's the origin of why women in that age group are termed 'at their sexual peak.'

Now my regular readers know that I have medical issues regarding my sexual function and also know my feelings about those issues, so I won't rehash much of it here again unless I need to augment my discussion. I had a visitor a few weekends ago, a younger man of 30. I've known him for years though we'd never met face to face, but never got to know him well until we got reacquainted about six months ago. We now spend a lot of time together online -- he's smart and funny, easy to correspond with, considerate, and a bit shy until you get to know him. He's also not my type, for many reasons. He's a smoker. He's got a few personality tics that would drive me crazy over the long term. And he's a large guy, whereas I prefer skinnier guys. So yeah, initially I didn't consider him. I'd invited him to stay at my place over a weekend in which we'd be traveling together to meet a number of others and we ended up having a day's layover before he flew home. As it turned out, it was an interesting evening indeed.

I won't go any further into detail except to say two things. I took him a few places he'd never went before -- and plan to take him a few more in the future -- and he gave me the sense that I was appreciated regardless of my limitations, something I definitely needed. I had a great time. Mrs. Robinson indeed! He left and we've laughed and talked about it since. No strings, no worries. Just a good time. I woke up calm, I smiled about it, and I haven't stopped smiling each time I think about it.

So I'm finally moving towards real peace with this aspect of myself. I have a few people to thank for easing me into it over the years. HD for sure, he was the first to expose me to the possibility that it was not something I needed to hide from but explore and be aware of, and that it was okay to be that way. A couple trips and skips later -- a few times of feeling vaguely guilty or ashamed -- and finally this young guy comes along, this young guy I would have looked at in the past and never considered at all, but am now so glad that I did. I finally got pushed over that edge. It's about time I fully embraced and accepted the fact that my current reality is different from my ancient ideal, and that instead of whining any longer about what isn't, decide to truly enjoy what is.

((Song: "Mrs Robinson" by Simon & Garfunkel. Lyrics here:
http://www.wbr.com/paulsimon/lyrics/mrs_robinson.html ))

Time Keeps On Slipping, Slipping, Slipping Into The Future

I don't get to spend as much time as I'd like with some of my friends. There's always something going on and before you know it, you look up and a year or five is gone. Just gone. You never know what's gonna happen tomorrow but somehow you let day after day go by just like they'll always be there to waste. I'm as guilty of it as anyone.

Today Grey and I chatted online a bit. We don't get a chance to do that as much as we used to when we were both at our old jobs. We talked about random and mundane things like the narcissistic behavior that we indulged in when we were younger but don't seem to have the time or energy to devote to it now.

And then suddenly the tone of the conversation changed. Out of the blue, he expressed a wish to be able to see me more often. "I just wish you were around to hang with, play D&D with, eat sushi with," he said, and I responded quickly with a, "Me, too."

It made me a little sad and somehow he was able to tell that it had even though I didn't say a word. He hadn't said it to make me sad, he assured me, but because he just felt it and needed to say it. I let him know that it was okay -- that it was the melancholy sad that comes with the realization that your life is passing you by and you're letting it. It was a sad meant to inform and instruct.

But a piece of me was happy he'd said it too. It means I matter, and who doesn't need that?

((Song: "Fly Like An Eagle" by the Steve Miller Band. Lyrics here:
http://www.thepeaches.com/music/nicedecade/FlyLikeAnEagle.htm))

Growing Up In A Hurry, Yeah

Still here. My new job's been crazy and my gaming has been consuming. Oh, and I've been sick with bronchitis as well. When I have the time to sit and think about things and come up with a decent post I'll be sure to put it here. Other than that, there's only one tidbit I can think of:

A few weeks ago the kiddo called from school. This initially concerned me and I was about to lecture her on it until she said she'd broken up with her girlfriend. She told me the entire story, which boiled down to the fact that she was tired of having to deal with parents that didn't accept the fact that their daughter and my kiddo were seeing each other. She hated the sneaking around and she hated the drama. She wanted to enjoy being able to go out, openly, and just have the regular relationship style that her straight friends enjoyed.

She poured out her reasons and told me she knew that her girlfriend would be angry and upset and she was upset herself for having to inflict this sort of thing. Then she said, "Mom, I really only called for one thing." She paused briefly, and continued. "I wanted to know if I did the right thing."

I think I blinked a few times and I got that warm feeling. You know the one, when you realize that your kiddo is actually asking for your advice, and trusting in it? The one where it sinks in that your approval and support is important? I got that feeling.

"You did the right thing, kiddo. It was the hard thing, but the right thing often is."

She exhaled audibly and said, "Thanks, mom." Then her voice perked up. "Okay, I have to go. I'll talk to you later."

As I hung up the phone and went back to work I was sufficed with pride. My kiddo is really growing up.

((Song: "Magic Man" by Heart. Lyrics here:
http://www.guntheranderson.com/v/data/magicman.htm ))

Let’s Go Back To Church

My kiddo has had a difficult time in her short years finding a church that accepted her for who she is. She would attend other churches with her friends but found that while they preached love and acceptance, the reality was much different. She could never find one that would acknowledge that she could be the person she is and still believe in a Creator. Instead, otherwise supposedly mature adults would exclude her from their "club" by labeling her as immoral or against God and punishing her. She had to hide to be accepted amongst them and ultimately, that wasn't something she was willing to do.

A few weekends ago she was directed toward a church about a half an hour away from her house and her dad took her. The joy in her voice when I spoke to her on the phone afterward was enough for me to offer to take her this last weekend when she stayed with me. She was skeptical about that offer since she is well aware that I am atheist and haven't stepped inside a church (except for weddings and funerals) for more years than she's been alive. But I didn't hesitate. When she described it to me I figured that -- of all the churches I'd heard of so far -- this one would be all right with an atheist in their midst.

So on Sunday we put on our regular everyday clothes and attended a predominantly LGBT church.

I have to say that it was the best church experience I've ever had. The sermon and ceremony was very influenced by the Catholic tradition of mass and communion. Hymns were powerful, the sermon itself was short but inspiring, and everyone seemed warm and close and accepted. I spent the first part of the service watching from behind the pews and the second half in the welcome center drinking coffee and listening to the resonance of the music and the voices raised in song. For moments there, I actually felt that uplifting sense of communal warmth and belief and I must admit, it was a feeling that surprised me as it occurred. It felt good. I thought about it after it had dissipated and wished that feeling was something that could be sustaining in my life and could be a real presence instead of a brief flash. But it isn't. I'm well aware that my experience was nothing but a momentary sense of shared experience and not something that resides within me. However, feeling it was nice. It allowed me a deeper understanding why others that are capable of those profound beliefs consider it such an important aspect of their lives.

After the service I went into the Fellowship hall and looked around and was definitely the "odd woman out" but not in a bad way. Mingling with everyone seemed effortless and there was much laughing and kidding and catching up. No somber seriousness. I really felt comfortable.

Kiddo came out glowing. She's made some friends, she's happy, she's accepted. And that's worth it to me. I'll be taking her every Sunday she's with me and wants to go.

((Song: "Converted" by Alabama 3. Lyrics here: http://lyrics.wikia.com/A3:Converted))

It's Just A Fantasy, It's Not The Real Thing

My last commenter prodded me to update. All right, then, let's discuss fantasy and reality.

Some people use fantasy -- games, etc -- to escape reality. To avoid reality. I do that at times, just like everyone else does. I did it a lot the last time I played before I divorced.

This time, though, I'm finding my needs are different ones. Oh, there's still a little of the need to escape, sure. But for the most part this time my desire to game springs from different origins. I'm using it to channel creativity and to interact and socialize. But primarily I am using it to create my own reality or extend my own reality.

In other words, I'm using the game to replace the things that I still desire to have in my reality in theory, but have learned don't actually work for me in practice. I can be that woman that is able to be all the things I would like to be if I weren't who I was and give to another all the things that the real me can't give. I write the script and what's more, if I don't like what I wrote, I can walk away without hurting anyone.

I am, though her, the ultimate voyeur to my own life.

(Song: "Sometimes A Fantasy" by Billy Joel. Lyrics here:
http://www.billyjoel.com/music/glass-houses/sometimes-a-fantasy))