A Want of a Fantasy

 A want of a fantasy, a fantasy life. A fantasy born of the Patriarchy, lies built up on lies and story and manipulations meant to control, harness and keep a woman from knowing her true worth. It is this perspective that shows how much I have grown and healed. The once deeply internalized ideals of patriarchal power and dominance have been shedding like an old skin these past 15 years.

I see now the horrific truth, and the lies behind the "cultural stories" and expectations of society foisted and ingrained into our malleable minds as we are young. its all Disney style princesses, adventures of buried treasure and romanticized reality for girls. I cannot say what all it is for boys, but I have seen performative and toxic masculinity pushed as a standard in the most damaging of ways, and many women are more invested in this kind of belief system than the old white men it mostly benefits.

I never wanted to be thought of as an activist, radical, an "angry feminist". I am certainly not a man hater. I love men. Not all men but those who can see from a feminist perspective. Because the archaic, patriarchal mantle that shrouds most people's sense through the long reaching arms of our governing bodies and religious cults is bad for most men too. And as a mother, and a former "Hopeless Romantic," that blindness has been ripped from my eyes one too many times. 

I don't think I believe in love anymore. Not romantic love. I want too. It's a lovely dream, but I believed to strongly. I realized the other day that I have not known one man in all my life that did not let me down. They walked away after promising to stay, they left me vulnerable to predators when they were duty bound to protect me, or they themselves were the predators in one fashion or another. All because I believed so hard in the beautiful lie. the narrative of the happily ever after fantasy. in spite of all evidence and observed phenomenon to the contrary. Despite every experience I have ever had. I believed for almost 45 years. I wanted to anyhow.

When I began to understand it wasn't real, it would never be real. That romance is another lie like religion or gender roles, I didn't want to see it. I dug in my heels and kept trying to be "good enough" to win the prize. But I didn't win anything like what I was told to expect, what I was taught to believe in. I won the grief that comes from being a willing mark, the embarrassment of having no shame, the horror of subjecting my child to people who did not have the care for her that might contribute to her well-being and best interests. I became the stupid and insipid mother repeating a cycle of subjecting her children to abusers while seeming not to know, not wanting to know. Wishing I had known or had seen with my eyes open.

Going forward from here, children grown and gone, my best health and looks behind me, used up on relationships with men that are also long gone, I feel empty, cracked, hardened, and so filled with grief for my mothers and foremothers. I do not know what I am suppssed to look forward to now in my life. Those still brainwashed might say grandchildren. But I do not push that onto my kid. She can live her life as she wants to, knives out and blinders off.  No deeply dysfunctional obligations to try and give MY life meaning. That is my ownwork, my own journey, my own connection to the Divine or lack there of. 

But oh! That old, insidious fantasy has so many neural links calling me back to it. Despite the wounds and battle scars. despite the lies and the disappointments. True Love calls like the elusive butterfly, but has anyone Really seen it? or did they only HOPE to catch it. 

Sexuality and Self worth

* Trigger warning!  Trigger: abuse, neglect, or sexual abuse, Do not proceed. *

As a young girl I developed early. I was molested by the time I was 7 years old and hyper sexualized behavior became the inappropriate way I sought attention. Was what some part of my young, impressionable mind believed was expected me in life, in the world. And I learned fast that behaving in a more infantile way was no retreat to safety, it brought out the predators even more.

Don't worry, lots of counselors helped me past that. I learned that I have worth and value not associated with my body, or media attractiveness. I have intelligence, kindness, sass, wisdom, communication and artistic skills. So much more to me than my breast size. By 30, I was beginning to embrace being a woman and enjoying my right to have my own sexuality, Separate from that of whomever I slept with.  I allowed myself to be an empowered, sexual being, artist, lover, roommate, back to college for my degree, living life out loud.

My profession, the way I make a living is all about sharing safe, nonsexual, healing touch with humanity, and teaching my students to do the same with emotional intelligence and clear boundaries and communication. I am a safe, kind, nurturing, non-sexualized, mother figure in my work, and my work place. But lately, I feel that the pursuit of my career, and my very asexual, long term friend crush, Life partner, have left me no place to express this very important, and empowered part of myself. I am approaching 50 and the cruel, inappropriate world no longer sees me as a sexual being or object -just when I had become comfortable with it.-

I feel like a part of me is dying, neglected again like my inner child. But this time I don't feel I have an imagination, or "hope for the future" to pull me out of it. I feel as If I am less. Less than who I am meant to be. Less from living inside of a smaller space with fewer options. I feel less, small, shriveled and incomplete. I feel invisible now. Unseen and forgotten. As if I had only just begun to figure out who I could be, and the opportunity is gone before I could see how.

Ok. yes. I am depressed. My life isn't bad, and I have made some parts of it comfortable. But I deserve Happiness in my home life. Not just occasionally in my work. I can't just get another new partner that is younger or likes sex more, because I need the emotional bond. I need to feel safe to be free. So I wilt on the couch while he does whatever the hell he does on the porch, hour after hour, year after year. And I am alone. Born alone, Die alone. Waste away, alone. And even though I am still very pretty, kind, talented, smart, the world goes on without me and no-one knows I am here.

3 people in a studio apartment

Here it is, 3 adults and two cats crammed into a studio. Sleeping on the floor, sharing resources, humor, cigarettes and stories of encouragement. The economy has effected everyone but the upside of this seemingly cramped up reality is a makeshift family of support. They don't have much, but tend to share benevolently what they do have. Living so frugally and in such small quarters allows more shared amenities like internet and tasty meals. Only a Television would make the space seem small, but they do with out.

There is a story here that three highly intelligent and somewhat educated people find themselves in such a situation. First there is "Douglas", a student and forty something man with acetic tendencies who prefers the uncomplicated life of simplicity to one of material trophies. Something of a hermit he opens his heart and home to friends in need. The rent and bills are paid from his rather meager resources of financial aide. He has lived here on his own for several years. He opened his doors and floor space to friends in need.

"Joe" is a thirty something man moved back to his home town after a long term relationship that broke down caused him to head for home to reevaluate his own values and place in the world. His sister could not have him underfoot since her roommates objected so Douglas took him in. Something of an upper middle class childhood has given him something of a sense of entitlement but he is a compassionate and well meaning man. He has a good job (now) but something of an alcoholic he has no head for money, or saving or moving himself on from the lap of friendship and sense of family he has found. Making more money in two weeks, then the other two put together in a month, Joe is perpetually broke, but good natured with a gregarious and infectious laugh.

At last there is "Tara". The newest addition to this scenario. A forty something student and empty-nester, longing for connection and the satisfaction of family and someone to look after from time to time. Tara moved “home” looking for new horizons after two divorces and a failed attempt at defining herself by someone else's criteria. She decided to surrender to a lifelong affection and sense of devotion to Douglas -regardless of the scope of that relationship- And didnt want to be stuck with her parents. She works at a job that she is extremely overqualified for and severely underpaid at. She buys and cooks most of the food, and is content with her boys.

All enjoy the realm of intellect and compassion' f friendship over material commodities, and of humor, shared experience and of facing the hurdles of life with like minded individuals. But still, I cannot think of any other roommate situation I have seen that has flowed so smoothly nor been as close nit or satisfying in itself to the individuals. Perhaps it is the long standing admiration, respect and deep love the others feel for Douglas, and the geeky humor that connects them in Joe's quick wit and friendly banter. But more then anything it seems to be about reciprocal respect.

Its a sense of open communication, honesty and voluntary reciprocity. As a group, all 3 huddle on the tiny excuse for a front porch to smoke cigarettes together because of genuine enjoyment of one another's company. Privacy would appear to be lacking but is replaced with genuine regard and holistic respect. An entirely new experience for most of them, there is an air of gratitude and casual, happy acceptance of what to many people would be an inconceivable imposition or hardship.

So there it is 3 people making it work in a studio apartment, turning what appears to be hardship into a blessing and person choice regardless of how it might seem to those looking in.

Happiness

What does happiness look like?

For me its a fulfilling romantic relationship with a man I have always loved. A deep friendship based on respect, and a natural reciprocity.

paradigm shifts

perspective colors everything about our experience and our expectations...

http://www.povertybridge.org/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=51%3Aportlandopcon

go Dr. Donna Beegle!!

Third of 3 poems

Here I am, alone with myself

like and old friend, wanting only

our other companion

our friend and lover to laugh with

to sit in silence, and hold hands

to kiss and mingle and soothe and feed,

to shine for and lavish it all back

surely I must step away and

allow you some space to fill the well

now and then. Surely.

but any other company is only second best.

-Except my own, and I grow restless.

what are the odds?

What are the Odds? What are the Odds of two sisters each being in a long term relationship with a man that that longs to be a woman? What are the odds, that both of them keep their partners secret for a period of decades, and never even know what the other is going through? Until one day when both MTF identities break out of the closet with in two years of each other...

This is my life. Stranger then Fiction. I couldn't make this shit up. The ins and outs of the details are irrelevant, MTF trans populations have a lot of literature available to support them, and to tell the typical progression of events and psychology in the journey. But this is about the survivors and the innocent bystanders of the havoc. The supportive, women used up and left behind.

I got over it, renewed our friendship and moved on with my life with a lot of help, support, counseling, medications, and new interests. I even starting dating after a few years, and eventually tried to love and trust again. I am baffled as to the meaning of anything in my life, let alone these strange series of relationships.

As a forty something woman, coming out of a bad love affair after two failed marriages, I am jaded, lonely and very suspicious of anyone eligible that is in my age range. “WHY are you single” I think to myself, because everyone knows that men of a certain age that are still single, are single for a reason. They are jerks, sociopaths, cheaters, gay, or asexual. “What did you do that makes you unworthy of any other woman at this point and why should I get the dregs”?

Some women are fine being single. My sister is excited to live alone, and once upon a time I was too, but now I just want the safety, comfort and security of the right man to snuggle up with at night, share my secret thoughts and fantasies with, and to nurture a real trust with. I don't see that happening for me anymore, I no longer see it as a possibility in my life, so I am left to consider the back up plans.

Travel, fast cars, and teasing younger men, generally keeping relationships at bay. Not at all honorable, but safer for me. This is my consolation prize. The untouchable, unattainable diva, the one everyone wants, but can't quite get. The one the hypocrites chase until and unless they actually get her. I know this role well. But it breaks the hearts of good men, and won't be captured. I just don't seem to do that well. This is the thing I have learned from my last failed love affair. I may long for a genuine companion, and a champion, but a cage, however pretty is still just a cage. And I must be free to fly or I suffocate it all.

This is not what I want for myself, but I am old enough to see the patterns, and recognize the signs and truths of these facts. I am a romantic, but I want the romance and ongoing interaction with out the fear, or mundane expectations. I want to maintain the place of perpetual reciprocity in my interactions with others.