Pink Vulnerability

I've been on a mission the last little while to understand vulnerability.  It's something I've all felt countless times in my life and that I believe is absolutely necessary in growing lasting relationships.  But, it can also be devastating when shared inappropriately.  So, where is the balance?  And what does this have to do with the Year of Pink?  Hopefully, that will all come across in the post below.  This is a bit of a free-write for me.

Another word I think of synonymous with vulnerability is victimization.  For a long time I couldn't separate these two very different words.  I think that there is a chronic error in society today that confuses what vulnerability is and how it should be expressed.  With social network sites like Facebook, it's easy to have complete transparency to your life, especially with GPS in smartphones, every movement you make can be closely monitored.  And the over-sharing information is shockingly accepted.

I know that in terms of my own life experiences, I have historically opened myself up (making myself vulnerable) to unnecessary hurt because I thought that by trusting [enter multiple names here] without knowing much about them and taking them for face-value, I would get on a "real level" with the other person.    That's a huge oversight.  That's the way I thought relationships were supposed to happen.  I recognize now that I opened myself up without completely understanding of the true intentions of others.  I was really naive.  And it hurt, a lot.  And it's a cycle, folks.  I did this over and over and over again, not fully understanding the hurt that my own actions were causing me.  And because I didn't see my "part" in any of it, I started to believe that maybe it wasn't worth it to trust people, because horrible things kept happening to me.  And for a really long time, I was in this emotional place where I just thought that the problem was everyone else's.  "Why would [enter multiple names here] treat me like that?  I would never treat someone like that.  Why does this keep happening to me?"  I was a victim.  Granted, I'm not taking full responsibility for the hurt I've felt at the hands of others, rather I'm taking owning my responsibility.  I was victimizing myself.  And nothing was changing.

About a month ago (Warning: I am a horrible gauger [is that even a word?] of time) I hung out with this guy.  He's a protector in the world.  He protects people and upholds the law.  I was hanging out with him and when it was time to say goodbye, I got really weird.  Up until it was time to say goodbye, I was absolutely fine.  I think I might have even been funny and engaging.  Then we were walking to our cars and I shut down.  I couldn't even look him in the eyes.  My eyes were watering and I couldn't say a word.  And I started thinking of all the men who had, in the words of Rosemary Clooney, "done me wrong."  He had nothing to do with them.  He's nothing like them.  He's decent and smart, and intuitive, and, overall, a stellar human being.  He noticed my weirdness.  He was trying to keep conversation going and I was uttering one-word responses.  We were at our cars and he told me, "I need you to give me a hug."  And I wanted to give him a hug.  So, I did.  It was a great hug.  I say that because it's on my list of "great hugs", it's one of four other memorable hugs.  I may be a list-addict at heart, I heart list-making.

That hug has stayed with me ever since.  He and I still talk.  I consider him a dear friend.  And I have a huge crush on him, but what's a girl to do in today's skiwampus world of dating?  Until I figure that out, he's a friend.  I got in my car and I drove away and I wanted to cry.  But I didn't know why.  All I knew is that I felt unbelievably vulnerable, only he did nothing to make me feel that way.  So, why was I feeling that way?  I think this is where I hope that all my ideas converge into one really great, "ah-ha" moment for you dear readers, as they have for me.  As usual, it's hard to articulate the "ah-ha".

The way I felt had nothing to do with him.  It had everything to do with the men I've allowed into my life and to whom I willingly opened myself up to being vulnerable to, without knowing their true nature.  That feeling had everything to do with me keeping myself in a place that I no longer wanted to be.  Honestly, it was a new experience for me to hang out with a guy who is decent and kind.  It was such a contrast to what I've known in my dating life up until that moment.  And that moment of, "this is so nice," converged so abruptly with memories of when I wasn't treated well, that it was shocking.  And overwhelming.

So, where is the balance between "vulnerable" and "victim"?  I don't have that answer.  I'm still learning it.  But, what I do know, is that you don't just trust blindly.  Vulnerability is opening yourself up to being emotionally wounded.  It's taking a chance on something, knowing very well how much it could hurt, but also hoping for how much good it could bring to your life.  I guess it's a gamble, but even gambling is all about numbers and odds, so you don't go into it completely blind.  And maybe that's how you gauge your vulnerability, you don't share it until you are absolutely certain that the odds are greater in your favor that the person you want to open yourself up to and get to know won't hurt you.  I just heard a giant and collective, "duh!"  I know, it's such an obvious thing!  Don't follow virtue blindly, check.  But, for some reason, I didn't know I was believing without seeing until very recently.

Vulnerability is Pink.  The more I think about it, the more I realize that just as pink is a mixture of white and red, two very opposing colors, I believe vulnerability is the mixture of knowing when to yield (white) some of your control and put some trust in someone and when to fiercely protect (red) your heart from a person.  This is my year of pink.   

It's Been A While

It's been nearly 3 months since I last posted.  The major things to catch everyone up on is that Spring semester is over by a month now and I'm glad for it!  That was a long semester.  I ended up passing my math class which means I never have to take another math class again (YAY!)  I actually passed it with a whole grade better than I thought I would, so that's cool.  I did what I set out to do when I signed up for my first math class; I made it through every single one of my math classes without having to take any of them again, which is not the standard at UVU, so that's an achievement of it's own.

My Rhetoric and Grammar classes went well.  What I know is that I don't like rhetoric and grammar can go to you-know-where, which is pretty much where it's going now days, anyway.  Seriously, college grammar is an unpleasant way to torture oneself.  Truly unnecessary in my opinion.  If you can't tell, I'm really glad this last semester is over.  The classes were difficult, my work schedule was not pleasant, and I came out of something in December that truly messed with my mind and there was no time to "work through it" before Spring semester started and so I was working through the residual emotional stuff the entire semester.

All in all, I'm in a great place right now.  Truly.  I:'m going to Iceland in November with my best friend and I can't wait.  My cat has survived her boosters and being spayed, so she's a strong one and I'm glad for it because you all know I haven't had the best luck with kittens.  I live alone which is so nice, and my best friend lives right next door and we have lots of fun all the time.  

I've spent so much time thinking about what I've wanted to write about, and true to form, the thing that is inside of me that I need to "write out" of me is difficult to say simply.  So, I'm just going to write and hope it is cohesive.  

This last winter lasted forever and it really took it's toll on me emotionally.  The thing I "got out of" in December and that followed me all through this last semester was another really deep betrayal and it's really messed with me.  I've been angry.  I'm sure you've noticed it in the timbre of my writing.  And I will never understand why this person did what they did to me, let alone the man I spent a good amount of time loving and how he betrayed me as well.  The thing that happened to me has no rational explanation and in trying to rationally understand it, well that's the thing, how does a rational person learn to understand an irrational thing?  It's a mind-trick, over and over again.  And I've spent a lot of time obsessing about it.  And I'm done obsessing.  

Yesterday I came home from work and I started thawing out some ground turkey and I got an onion out and a cutting board.  I was dicing the onion when I cut a portion of it unevenly, so I went to correct the cut and I put my entire hand underneath the onion and sliced down and cut very deeply into my finger.  My neighbor-friend was talking to me when it happened and she saw the whole thing and she covered her mouth and screamed.  I immediately pulled my hand back and looked at my finger which hadn't started to bleed yet and I told my friend, "It's okay, I just nicked it."  And then blood just started pouring profusely from my finger.  I put my hand under cold running water and the water ran red, at which point I calmly said, "that's not good."  My friend was pacing and asking if she should take me to the hospital.  I told her that wasn't necessary, because it was just a little cut.  She told me she would get me a towel and I thanked her for that.  I pulled my hand out from under the faucet thinking the bleeding would stop.  I watched my hand as blood ran down my wrist and forearm and elbow.  It wasn't stopping.  My friend got back and we decided that maybe I should have it looked at.  We ended up at the hospital and in true form when I am afraid or nervous, I was cracking jokes right and left with the staff and we were all laughing as I was holding my hand up clasped with a towel. Long story, short (too late), the emergency room doctor ended up poking and prodding and causing all sorts of discomfort before he determined that my fingertip could just be glued and stitches weren't necessary.

What does any of that have to do with winter and obsession, or even the color pink?  When I got home from the hospital last night and I was laying in bed thinking back on the day, the shock wore off and it occurred to me how bad the situation could have been.  Had I cut a little deeper, the situation could have been so much worse, I could have chopped the tip of my finger clean off.  And that's when it occurred to me that everything I'd been obsessing over up until that moment was really quite unnecessary.  Since I got out of this "thing"/situation in December that I was in, I've felt like the betrayal I experienced took a piece of me.  And that piece, I didn't think I would ever reclaim.  And that is what had been making me so mad.  What I realized is that in the case of what I escaped from in December, I can reclaim that part of me.  I can take it back.  But, the incident that happened last night, that could have literally resulted in a piece of me being separated from the rest of myself and that would have sucked big time and would have been instantaneously more painful than the entire betrayal leading up to December and the residual anger that's occurred since then.  Good Heavens, I hope this is making sense.  

Betrayal is cold like winter.  Betrayal blocks out light and peace and happiness and it can last as long as the night for a child who is scared of the dark.  And in that dark lies obsession, a drive to understand what we will never understand because we aren't meant to understand it.  That obsession can blot out the morning when clarity does come because we don't see the blessing before our face because we want to understand the betrayal, so we are blinded to the joy.  That's where I've been.  My pink has been muted and made dingy and it no longer radiated light.  But, I saw the red last night for all that it was and it was cleansing.  I didn't lose my fingertip and I'm really happy about that.  And while the pain of accidentally cutting into my finger was blocked until I had a doctor poking and prodding at it, once I felt it, while it hurt, I was glad to feel it because I could feel.  How is that for a metaphor?  The physical injury to my finger last night acted as a ginormous metaphor for the last 2.5 years of my life.  And while I've been more open to feeling this year, with pink being my theme, I was only dabbling.  

For the first time in a very long time, I'm back.  It's been growing delicately, but I've got a new drive and a new passion.  This is my year to radiate love and life and I haven't done that for years.  It's scary, but it's good too.

Perspective at Village Inn's Ladies' Room

There is something that I've been mulling over for a couple of weeks now, which is pretty new to me as I used to just blurt things out as they came to me without fully thinking through what it was I was saying or trying to say.  I was having coffee with a friend of mine and we were having one of those really great conversations where you are completely engaged in the dialogue and it is uplifting dialogue and you are learning a lot from it.  We were also laughing a lot which is always a nice thing to do.

I don't even fully remember what we were talking about, but what I do remember was visiting the ladies' room and having one of those thoughts that seemingly come out of nowhere and have massive impact of yourself as you know you.  Oddly enough, all those kinds of moments that I just described always seem to happen while I'm in a bathroom, or while I'm brushing my teeth.  

I work for a law office and so I am used to being analytical about every major piece of information that comes in to my hands.  The type of family law we primarily do is the kind that involves a lot of reading between the lines and asking the difficult questions to the stuff that doesn't add up right (yes, there is a kind of math I do relatively well with, it just doesn't involve numbers).  I analyze everything.  Outside of my employment, as an English major... I'm always analyzing the text and trying to figure out what is beneath the suggestion that are the words on the paper.  

While this analytic nature works well in my scholarly and professional worlds, it doesn't work well at all in my interpersonal world... in fact, it's been quite damaging to that world.  In the scholarly and professional worlds where I'm analytic and questioning the texts I'm given, it works because I'm supposed to find the loop-holes and pieces that contradict one another and I'm awesome at that; I've protected children from some pretty horrible situations because of my ability to really know what their parent's are saying without saying.  

But, you see, in my interpersonal world it's different.  What I learned at the Village Inn ladies' room... the thought that came out of nowhere and left me dazed and alarmed like I'm pretty sure a 2x4 to the head would impact me was that... analyzing your interpersonal relationships... it doesn't work.  You aren't supposed to look for loop-holes or confused stories when they really just don't exist in the first place.  And when you start doing that... you are weaving your own insecurities into the actions of another person.  That's the big thing I learned.  It is no secret that in my past I've been traumatically hurt.  And that word, "traumatically"... yeah, it's not an exaggeration.  

All of you out there reading this blog faithfully know of a small portion of the traumatic hurt I've faced.  But, the truth is that what you know is only the tip of that cliche iceberg; it's the result of a part of the underlying and ever invasive emotional injury.  Sheesh, that sounds so dramatic.  Maybe you all already knew this simple fact that when we analyze the actions of other's and, in doing so, only ever see the things that don't add up even if those things are creations of our own beliefs, and not actually truth... then ultimately all we are doing is weaving our insecurities in the actions of everything around us.  It's hard to trust anything when you live your life that way.  And I get that now.  For whatever reason that truth has evaded me for the longest of times, but I get it now.

That's not to say that there are people out there that don't have cause for suspicion.  But, when you place that suspicion on to someone who has only ever shown you kindness and respect and purity of love... and you let the thoughts of other's just as distrustful as you assist in tightening the weave of your own individual brand of insecurity... then it's not good.  I don't fully know what this post is.  I'm just excited about the moment of clarity I received in the ladies' room of Village Inn.  That sounds weird, but it's true.

If you could feel the quiet joy in my heart right now then I think it would explain it perfectly.  For as important as it is to ask the questions and get the answers, and be suspicious of people when it's necessary, there is no balance in doing that with everyone you meet.  Just as there is no balance in just existing in a moment that feels wrong but you don't dare understand why.  Analyzing is red, and turning a blind eye is blue... but trusting and believing in good when you've witnessed it time and again in a person, especially when that person answered the difficult questions... that's yellow.  And, yellow is joy; yellow is warmth, yellow is honesty, yellow is humility.  Yellow teaches you to imagine and believe that life and people can be good.  Yellow is your instinct telling you that it's either right or wrong, it's that part of you that knows without having to be encouraged by others.  Yellow is balance and having hope in faith is yellow.  Balance is patient and balance is peace in the instinctual.  Balance is a delicate truth that can come to us in the most unusual of places, but it comes to us regardless, even if it is the ladies' room of a family restaurant.

Meditative Musings

I've been feeling very like... out of control lately.  And when I say out of control, I don't mean it in the way that at any moment I could do something reckless and stupid.  I mean it in the sense that... I don't feel like I have any control in my day-to-day life.  This post has so much potential to sound like a pity-party festival... and I don't mean it that way at all.  

Every day, I go to work and my actions and involvement in my cases are simply reactive to the destruction of divorced couples towards each other and their children.  Mom doesn't want to take daughters glasses to school because dad won't return daughter's cell phone to her... clearly the two aren't relevant in their solutions of each other, but daughter is getting headaches everyday because she is straining her eyes all day at school.  So, I react to that and I mediate between mom and dad to come to a productive decision... and when that doesn't happen (which is most of the time) then I talk to my boss and she issues an Order of the Court, which I draft, have her sign, and send to the parents.  And then the parent who is ordered to do something calls me up in a rage and I battle it out verbally with them for half and hour.  Nothing changes, the parents are still just as angry at each other as the day they filed for divorce, and the order only makes them more difficult to work with the next time mine and my boss' involvement becomes necessary.  I do that, Monday through Friday, every week, from 9:00 a.m. until there are no more fires to put out.  

I also assist in the divorce mediations at the office that we do daily; I draft the stipulations as agreements are made.  One of the requirements for Utah State is that divorcing couples participate in mediation before the finality of the divorce; it's more economical and less time consuming for the courts if they don't have to divide the Real Property, belongings, debts, etc.  Also, if parent time is involved and needs to be calendared, you can get something decided that is more conducive for both parents and more creative than regular statue, which the courts would order if left to them.  This past week alone, I have been at the office till 10:00 p.m. twice because of a long mediation.

On Mondays and Wednesdays, I actually leave work early to go to my classes where I talk about literature for about 2.5 hours and then I go to math... which is horrifying no matter how you look at it.  And then for the rest of the week, the time in between sleeping, work, and school... I am studying.  I don't even have time to cook... or clean... my bedroom looks like a hurricane blew through it.  For my literature classes, I am reading 2 novels a week.  I don't go to church because on Sundays is when I get most of my reading done.  I literally walk around my apartment with two books in my hands, one in each, and I switch back and forth in the reading.  I drink directly out of the milk jug... as I continue to read.  I've had too many accidents with spilled milk to count.  

It's frustrating.  I don't feel like I have time to exist.  I miss the gym.  I miss my friends.  I miss my nieces and nephews.  I miss watching movies.  I miss seeing the outdoors on the weekend.  I miss driving just for the sake of taking a drive and falling in love with the mountains.  My therapist gave me an assignment to make a list of 40  things that make me and my life worthwhile, as well as to look up at the sky everyday for 5 minutes.  I haven't done either.  The only time I see the outdoors, it's night time.  

I was really stressed about all this the other night.  I had a goal to get another 4.0 this semester, and quite frankly, I don't know if it's going to be doable.  But, I'm not going to give up.  I came to the conclusion that I need to just do it.  Just do it.  No more contemplating my schedule, no more feeling like I don't have time to invest... especially in myself.  I have put the gym off this entire semester because I didn't feel like I had the time to dedicate to it.  If it came between sleep and gym, I didn't have time for either because I've had a book glued to my face.  I've felt like I have to let one thing go in order to nurture something else and that is a horrible feeling.  I laid awake in bed making mental lists of all the had to be done.  Have you guys seen the movie "I Don't Know How She Does It"?  The part where she is talking about the science study about mothers who have children between certain ages don't get any sleep and it was unknown why that is.  Sarah Jessica Parker's character is talking about this and then she answers this unknown by stating that they don't get any sleep because they are awake all night mentalizing their lists of things that have to get done.  It's a funny movie.  That's been me this entire semester.  I lay awake at night thinking about all that needs to get done, when I should be sleeping.  This is the circular thread my mind was weaving the other night as I laid in bed stressing over how I'm going to nurture all that I want to nurture.  And then the thought entered my mind,

"There is no acclimating yourself to life, you just jump in full force and do it.  Push yourself to your limits and then push more.  Just do it!  Now is the time to go all out and live for you."

That's the answer, folks.  I know that I'm not the only one who lays awake at night with mental lists and stressing over getting everything done that needs to get done.  I know that I'm not the only one with a stressful job that feels all-consuming.  I know I'm not the only single birth-mother who is working full-time and going to school with what feels like an un-manageble credit load.  I know that I'm not the only over-weight woman out there stressing about her health and how she is going to fit exercise into her daily life.  So, what is the answer?  Instead of thinking about the process, we've got to just jump into it.  

I know this years focus is Balance and yellow.  And... jumping into it feels more Red, but analyzing every step is Blue.  And so, for this moment, jumping in is the only way to Balance out every aspect of my life that I want to nurture.  Sometimes there is Balance in jumping in full force.  There definitely isn't any Balance to nourishing only one part of your life and letting the rest go to the wayside because there isn't time enough to dedicate to it all.  Just do it.  I'm gonna just do it.

Feeling the Need to Speak

Have you ever felt like there is something inside of you that needs to speak... but you don't know what it is you need to say? I feel that way right now. Everything is beautiful in my life right now. It's like needing to take a breath when your lungs are already full of the previous breath; you aren't going to die from lack of oxygen, but the need to breathe is still there. It's bizarre. That's the best way I can describe what I feel right now, the need to speak but not knowing what for and therefore not knowing what to say.

It's been exactly seven minutes from the moment I typed that last sentence and I don't know what to say, but something needs to be said. This is maddening and yet I'm completely calm. I think the need to speak comes from the fact that it's harder to live life Red than it is to simply say, "From here on out, I'm going to live bravely and work to conquer my fears." It's easy to say those words, but it's harder to stay in place when all you want to do is run... or casually vacate the area that is causing so much apprehension, without anyone noticing your leaving.

I went to the gym last night with my brother. He is training to participate in Tough Guy and he wants me to train with him. Ideally I would train with him to participate in the event myself, but... I have other dreams I'm focusing on right now, so I just want to work out with him because he knows his stuff and is a good trainer. I'm happy that I get to work out with him because not only is it beneficial, but it will give me the opportunity to spend more time with my brother.

Last night I did an hour of cardio, simple cardio, so that he could get a feel for where I was at physically, so we know where to start. Not even 10 minutes into the work out, I was feeling extremely anxious and not wanting to continue and desperately wanting to leave. It wasn't that I thought I was going to die because I couldn't physically follow through with the workout itself. It was that I couldn't stop concentrating and focusing on all the people around me. There were so many people... everywhere. I kept darting my gaze around the gym and I could not... I could not what? I could not concentrate on myself because I was scared of all the people surrounding me.

My brother picked up on my nerves and talked me through them before he went to work out himself. I was grateful to him. After he left it was hard to not feel anxious still, but I tried to zone out to what was surrounding me. I even continued my workout with my eyes closed, as if closing my eyes would erase all the other people surrounding me. It didn't work.

And then this girl on the treadmill next to me named Melissa started talking to me. She asked how long I'd been coming to the gym and I told her this was my first time to this particular gym. She kept talking to me. She is there to get into better shape because she and her husband want to start trying for children. I told her that I usually weight train and am not a fan of cardio. I also told her about Baby Boy. She was so intrigued that I had placed him for adoption that she started asking questions about adoption and that's when it happened, that's when I finally chilled out. It was nice to be able to focus on something familiar. I talked to her for about 15 minutes about adoption until she was done with her workout.

When she left I was much calmer and I no longer noticed the people around me. Don't get me wrong, they were still there, but I no longer cared. I finally started focusing on why it was that I was there.

I want a family. I'm ready to start my family. I've found the man with whom I am going to build my family and my future with. He is wonderful and I love him and he loves me and we are excited for our future together. He is the same wonderful Mango I've spoken of before. I focused on him and I focused on our future and I focused on what kind of mother I want to be; and that woman is fearless. I should explain my interpretation of that word. Fearlesness to me is not the absence of fear itself, rather it's the presence of fear and still choosing to live your life out loud despite being surrounded by the things that you are afraid of. Fearlesness is choosing to live life especially when in the midst of the unknown.

That's the woman I want to be. That's the woman I'm learning to become. That's the kind of mother I want to be, and the kind of wife I know I can become. But, it's not just for my future family that I want to be that woman. Mostly, it's for me. I deserve to be that woman. John Lennon spoke about love being the driving force to overcome fear. He said, "There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When we are afraid, we pull back from life. When we are in love, we open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance. We need to learn to love ourselves first, in all our glory and our imperfections. If we cannot love ourselves, we cannot fully open to our ability to love others or our potential to create. Evolution and all hopes for a better world rest in the fearlessness and open-hearted vision of people who embrace life."

I realized last night that I did not go through everything life has thrown at me just to end up defeated and afraid. I've survived it and now it's time to live. To live is to love and I'm loved and in love. My greatest ability is to love. I can be the woman I want to become because of my ability to love. I've got this. It's in my grasp. All I need to do is take off running with it, because only then can I fly. Are these words too brave for me? Absolutely not. I've got this.