Thankful for a New Strength

When I told my boss I was writing a memoir and pitching it to agents he said “You’re writing a memoir?! You’re so young!” He went on to question how could I have so much to write about at this young age.

I didn’t get into it because he only spends so much time engaged with me before he needs to check his emails.

My boss is a good person and I forgive him for this moment because he only knows me so much, he most certainly does not know me well. But I don’t forgive myself for questioning whether I actually DID have something to write about after he said it.

My whole life has been a “but who am I to deserve that?” Or “I’m probably not good enough.” It’s so easy to tilt in that direction still.

But telling people I was going to a book conference and agent pitch slam not only gave me accountability, it also gave me a drop of hope in my puddle of self doubt.

In the moments that I believe my story is important to tell I simultaneous believe I have worth, and coming from someone who was taught that her talents weren’t worth a dime, this is an entire overall personal transformation I didn’t see coming.

When people ask me what’s taking so long and I make excuses about time and “it’s hard” well, I could do better on making the time but damn, it IS hard. I sometimes find myself lightheaded and emotional after reliving some painful experiences. Putting them on paper conjures ghosts, rips open wounds and resurfaces scars.

But just like losing my 85lbs and transforming my body physically years ago, anything worth doing, is hard. Anything you want bad enough will push you to your limits, make you feel uncomfortable and without question, ultimately change you.

This Thanksgiving, in addition to the usual list of things I’m thankful for, I am especially thankful for the personal strength I’ve had to slowly push over barriers I’ve set up in my life and for the support from my wife, my friends and family in my recent strides towards accomplishing this ginormous task of writing my story and preparing it to share with the world. 

The Truth Is

The truth is, we've just kept going.

The truth is, even though we have, we have all never been the same.

Yesterday, I stood on the subway platform which was incredibly crowded. It was the end of the day and the countdown clock indicated I'd be waiting at least 10 minutes for a train at rush hour.

I realized I wouldn't make the first train coming, I'd have to wait for the second and I was fine with that. I stayed back from the crowd by the platform edge at the 51st Street Station, chose my spot against the brick wall with a reasonable amount of space between myself and the next commuter. Droves of people were coming through the station to find their place.

A gentleman with a distressed energy about him stumbled towards the brick wall and landed between me and another guy with a hitchhiker backpack on. The distressed man was awkwardly close to the hitchhiker leaning on the wall facing him.

This alarmed me, immediately. Why would he just stop right here, right like this, so close? I noticed he had been holding something in his hand, what was in his hands? Was it a bag? I noticed he had on some kind of jacket, how big was his jacket? Was there something under the jacket? Was it a bomb?

I took note of the date.
It was 9/10.
It was a crowded subway platform.
It is 2018.

I imagined a detonation. I wondered if I would feel any pain or if it would be instant that I would die. The truth is, this is the world we live in.

The truth is, I know I am not the only one who lives with these thoughts, and not just during this time of year.

And the truth is, I do not know the pain of losing a loved one on September 11, 2001 but I do feel pain each year for a dear friend who will live with the loss of her loved one in these tragic events, forever. And then the pain cascades down to thoughts of the thousands upon thousands of strangers I may never meet who suffer the pain each year. I say a quiet prayer for them.

And even though I know our world will never go back to the way it was, I pray for it anyway.

Goal-Getter

The disappointments.

The pressure.

The need to fulfill other people's ideas of where I should be right now in life.

I am a lot of what my family did not expect me to be when I came into this world 36 years ago.

I rent, I do not own, my home.

I married a woman.

I am childless.

After seven years of marriage, I expected to have kids by now but that was an old life plan that was simple and basic.

The goal was to lose the massive amount of weight I was carrying around for years, be a fit, pretty pregnant lady and have a baby that looked just like me. Or at least had all my hair and olive skin. And maybe two at once (because twins run in my family)! Own a home. Have a backyard. Have a good paying job. That was the goal, that was the plan.

What I didn't realize is that reaching the goal of losing the weight opened my eyes to see so many opportunities that I had yet to seize. It gave me a new confidence that I could do anything I put my mind to and so I had the urge to pursue dreams I put aside, and so did my wife, the queen of 'dreams come true.'

And so there's the the age old philosophy of "the time is now [because you won't be able to do this once you start having kids]."

But like an old car with "JUST MARRIED" painted on the back of it, as we drove away down "Dream Street" I felt my family waving goodbye, staring in judgment for my choice, and that society had tied on strings of cans to the back that rattled and echoed these lovely sentiments:

"But aren't you going to have kids?"
"Don't forget you're getting older!"
"Your time is running out to have a child!"

And now, a short story about conformity:

In my first 18 years on this earth I followed my parents guidance and did what was "best." But conforming to norms always made me feel uneasy, made my gut queasy.

The first time I tried to conform was when I pretended an emotional relationship with a female teacher was just because we were "close" and I made up a fake crush on one of the most popular boys in school, because it's what I should've been doing like all the other girls.

I didn't give a shit about that boy. I gave all the shits about that teacher.

Alone in the year 2000, at 18, I had to struggle and ultimately decide to be brave enough to say my happiness was overall more important than what other people were going to think about me loving unconventionally and labeling myself as a lesbian. And if I was rejected by my family it wasn't going to kill me. I'd find a way to survive. They wouldn’t find out for another year and a half.

I did, however, during that same time, take their advice and go conventional on what to study in college. I submitted to the safe route of studying business marketing convincing myself I'd go into advertising and BE CREATIVE in a business setting.

And I had in the back of my mind what my father said, that my stepmother had a stable, good paying job as a legal secretary and I might want to considering "just doing that" and "just keep it simple" yet it never made any sense to me that he always said "make sure you do what you love because you'll be doing it for the rest of your life."

What I loved doing was unconventional - art and music - unstable and unsafe.

I worked as a file clerk in a small law office all through college and I obtained a massive amount of experience. I graduated with my Business Marketing degree and entry level pay in that industry was pennies and now, 18 years later, I have a very good, well paying job at the worlds richest law firm, as a Practice Assistant.

That is what I am now: I am paper, I am black and white. I am e-mails. I am phone messages. I am a travel coordinator for 40 hours a week. I conformed instead of going with my gut.

I am very happy that I take home a good paycheck and I have an incredible set of bosses and wonderfully supportive coworkers. I take none of it for granted.

But now I am making up for lost time. Now, I am going with my gut and finally pursuing dreams that could've been built on for years at this point. And frankly, it’s now, or probably never (maybe in retirement).

But what it does mean is that I'm not conforming anymore. I gave that a good ol' college try.

I am in the business of trying not to look back and regret what I have not yet done. And I have to stay the course. I won’t just toss this all aside because my time is running out to give birth to a child.

That doesn't mean I won't own a home, and if I don’t it won’t make me a failure.

It doesn't mean I won't have kids, and if I don’t it won’t be the end of the world.

It doesn't mean I won't have a good paying job, well, because I’m not about that life.

And just as I did way back at the age of 18, I struggle with knowing I am living very unconventionally than what my family has done for generations. And I have to release myself from thinking they're judging me.

In a strange twist, I was on the phone with my 85 year old great aunt yesterday. She is the last of the old generation in my family. I was very consciously anticipating her asking me when we were going to slow down in response to me telling her all the activities we had done this summer. And so I made sure to say, "I know, we should probably settle down soon." She responded, "You'll know when its time, honey. You have to do these things now. You have to make sure you do it all. Because once the kids come, you don't want to feel like you missed out on something before they were around. When the time is right, that's when it matters."

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. To my surprise, the universe chose the person I expected the least to give me the support I'd been looking for.

From the Pit of Hell

This summer might be the hottest I can remember in the great city of New York.

I am thankful this morning that despite missing my subway there was one just a minute behind it.

If you don't know what it's like to stand on a subway platform in the summer, let me tell you a little bit about it:

Today, specifically, walking out the door felt like stepping into a pre-heating oven, thereabouts 125 humid-degrees.

As you approach your subway station, you realize you've been moseying and pick up the pace only to find the dreaded "yep, you've missed the train" crowd pouring out of the subway in the opposite direction you're going. As you take the steps further into Dante's lair, you pray to any God that can hear you, that a) the train is being held in the station and you can still get on it or b) the countdown clock might say the next one is just 2 minutes away.

In my case this morning, I heard my fate-to-wait when the train announced "stand clear of the closing doors" right before I hit the last step into the station. I glanced up at the countdown clock, lit up in green digitized words and numbers, first I see a glowing "6 min" and think "please, no" and then flashes "1. Brooklyn Bridge 2 Min"  I wipe the sweat from my brow (just figuratively because there's no use in doing that as I will just continue to drip sweat anyway), swipe my Metro Card and walk briskly to my spot on the platform. The oncoming train's lights illuminate the tunnel sooner than expected and I am thankful for a seat in an air conditioned car. And now, I'm writing this.

LET US DISCUSS SHOULD I HAVE LEFT A MOMENT LATER WHAT MY LIFE WOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE:
Stepping down into the subway on any hot day, no matter the temperature, and having to wait more than two minutes for a train feels like I'm Gretel in the witch's oven, pre-heat buzzer beeping at 500 degrees. Bitch is baking some quick cookies that are about to burn. And I don't mean I'll get out of here lightly browned and ready to eat. Imma be a smelly, sweat dripping mess who just took a shower but needs another and prays she remembered to put deodorant on.

With that said, my train stop is next. Come visit New York. In the fall, winter or spring.

Everything’s As If We Never Said Goodbye

:::turns on lights:::



:::pulls sheet off desk and typewriter:::



:::dust goes flying:::



Well. Looks like I've got a little cleaning up to do in here and I left my Swiffer at home today.

I'm trying to remember why I stopped coming here. Why I stopped sharing my experiences in almost-real-time. But, no use in that now, I'll just have to catch you up along the way.



I've bored myself in the last few paragraphs, or maybe it's just the subway train rocking me back to sleep before I have to be wide eyed and bushy tailed for a summer Monday, unsure. But it's also frigid AF on this train, even with my denim jacket on.



So anyway, so many times I've wanted to share thoughts and feelings since my last post in 2012, but I wasn't sure of my blog username and password or if this place still existed (Did google delete me? Did blogspot go kablooey? For anyone who remembers GEOCITIES web hosting circa the 90's, you know my concerns are real) or even how to find it again. BUT a little push from my wife and friends, a little time on a Sunday afternoon, and here I am again!



Six whirlwind years have gone by. There have been ups and downs both on the scale and in life overall and I'm feeling like I'm on an upswing again due to the fact that I'm pushing towards a goal/dream these days - more on that later.



I'm back and (maybe) better than ever - you decide! But all that matters is I'm back!



P.S. This blog title is an homage to a song from the musical Sunset Boulevard. Video below if you have an attention span to listen or watch Glenn Close and all her Norma Desmond deranged glory.