The Answer Is No

“Being challenged in life is inevitable, being defeated is optional.” – Roger Crawford

Last night was the true test of my fake engagement ring to my fake fiancé. The outcome wasn’t quite what I wanted, but it will do for now. I missed dancing most of last week; my mother was in the hospital. Needless to say, I was very much looking forward to hitting the floor for some close embrace dancing.

First I chatted with a guy that was a few seats over from me. He looked at me the wrong way. I’ve heard it’s a fairly normal reaction for men to steer their gaze straight towards a woman’s cleavage – which is exactly what this guy did when I bent over in my seat to adjust my dance shoe. Not okay. I excused myself saying I needed to refill my water bottle and went to the opposite side of the room where there was fellow tango dancer that I know to some degree and trust him not to eye boggle me or make me feel threatened at all.

Dude, come on! I wasn't even dressed remotely close to this revealing.

Then there was the extremely angry, two-faced tango guy who I’m quite certain asks me to dance for the sole purpose of getting under my skin. I can tell him no, I know this – and yet I never do because I’m still not absolutely certain this action won’t come across as 1) insulting and 2) the Irish Lass looking like a cold-hearted a**hole. So I sat there as I saw him walking towards me thinking to myself, “Don’t make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact . . . . Crap! I just made eye contact. Then there was the cabaceo – and my immediate reaction is always a smile and a nod. So there I was, dancing next to the devil himself counting down every song and hoping it would be a short tanda. Come to think of it, I’m not sure I like how he looks at me, either – I really need to make a point of avoiding him as much as possible and for the life of me can’t figure out why I haven’t given him the cold shoulder, regardless of how mean some may perceive that act on my part. Is it really worth it? My guess is no. I don’t want to dance with the devil and I certainly don’t want him to touch me, either. Note to self: channel rage.

Yeah . . . That's pretty close to what I felt like.

Later on, I danced an amazing tanda with someone I had only met that evening. That’s one of the beautiful things about this dance. There’s an amazing synchronization of music, movement and synergy in tango that makes it so addictive. It was perfect – until the end when he asked me for my e-mail address. Who the hell are you, guy?  I told him I don’t give my contact information out to people I don’t know.

 . . . or my e-mail, or my real name.

I pride myself on nearly making it to the end last night. I headed out as the last set of the evening was playing. I ran into an acquaintance on the way out. He mentioned he had been in California. I said I was jealous and he told me I should go with him next time. Granted he and I have talked during tango and often have a good time together. He’s carefree, has a good sense of humor, and I laugh and smile a good deal when he’s around me – but still, I really don’t feel like I know him enough to pack up and head to California for a weekend. All I could think was, ‘Why?!’ I said nothing in response; I merely stared blankly and walked off – perhaps with a shallow smile on my face.

Did I mention he could probably be a stunt double for Chris Hemsworth? I want to be a stunt double, damnit.

I think I’ve reached the ultimate state of paranoia. Seriously, any male presence that is unfamiliar to me is perceived as a potential threat – even some that I do know but haven’t made a decision on whether or not they are a trustworthy person who has no ulterior motive or ill intention towards me.

Just in case I ever feel lonely and am tempted to seek comfort in the arms of another, I remind myself that no one else can mend my wounded heart . . . and also that tango is a great source of comfort in the arms of another without the emotional turmoil and wreckage that usually comes with it.  I remind myself how emotionally painful it’s been since the Beloved – and for now I’ll simply accept that my depth of feeling for him will make an excellent deterrent from even thinking about dating for a while – a very long while. 

I just want a life that's not entangled with someone else's for a while. 

When I'm not preoccupied with paranoia from fending off unwanted attention, I find that I have to remind myself more often than not to mentally stay put. Stay here. Stay now. This is where I am. I'm the type of person that thinks of every possible outcome before I make a move. Sometimes this serves me well, and sometimes this practice causes me to worry more about things that I don't even need to act on yet . . . and now know why I feel like I'm always running in circles. I've been thinking about the upcoming move and apartment hunting. It occurred to me that the hound has never been alone. He's always had Cassie and since I've been in Portland, I've lived in a very busy house in which there is almost always a human presence. I soon found my mind ridden with anxiety wondering how he would cope with this change and how he's coping with Cassie's absence and how the heck was I going to afford a dog walker or doggy  daycare? Stay here, Irish Lass. You're not there yet. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. For all I know, Merlin the hound will probably be perfectly content to have a couch all to himself all day.

They've attempted to block him from the couch . . . . I know he's quite proud of himself.

Truths and Warning Signs

"Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one's definition of your life; define yourself." - Harvey Fierstein

I hesitated for some time to even talk about this, much less write it and post it in cyber world. I’m rather disappointed in myself, really. Ultimately, I decided to go for it in the hopes that someone like me can benefit from it and also a plea for women with low self-esteem, who are naïve from lack of intuition because you were never taught these skills, perhaps you’ve experienced trauma or loss and there was no one there to comfort you, to take the time to reconnect with yourself. Find your footing, embrace who you are and trust your instincts above all else.

There are several forms of abuse; I will be discussing the form that comes in spoken word and manipulation. Vulnerability can be easily sensed. We become vulnerable from time to time due to things like loss, trauma, a broken heart, etc. Vulnerability makes us easy pickings for others seeking to take advantage of a person in an emotional, psychical, weakened state of mind.

"With each passage of human growth we must shed a protective structure. We are left exposed and vulnerable - but also yeasty and embryonic again, capable of stretching in ways we hadn't known before." - Gail Sheehy

Vulnerability is a strength as well. It shows we dare to experience life and ride the emotions. It's problematic when you've become so exposed and feel so voiceless that you've allowed others to dominate you.

I came to the realization last night while talking with a friend over dinner that every guy I’ve dated, spoken with, hung out with, or had any connection to whatsoever over this past year (my genuine friends excluded) – has really only been a Band-Aid – and they’ve been poor Band-Aids at that: the kind that leave the wound festering.

I need to learn to take life slower and grieve when I’m sad or mending a broken heart instead of trying to stuff it down and tough it out. This lack of self-care and personal awareness landed me in a relationship that was headed down a very dark path.

Not only was it dark, but it was lonely, too. When I finally quit denying what was happening I was too ashamed to tell anyone the truth.

It was nice in the beginning, but there were also some blatant warning signs that I never noticed until I gave myself some time to turn things over in my head. He seemed nice. He said he wanted to protect me. Warning Sign # 1: No one should talk about protecting you. It hints at ownership – and this is never a good thing.

He was consistently late. Very late. I once sat outside of a milonga waiting for him for 2 hours. He kept telling me that he was on his way and to wait. Warning Signs #2 and 3: Someone who is consistently late is blatantly stating their time is more important than yours and that you are on their clock. In other words: your world must revolve around this person’s schedule. Lies, even little ones that seem harmless should be examined closely. More lies surfaced later: his status as a college student, his employment, even a criminal record that he kept under wraps. 

Less than a month into the relationship he had too much to drink and picked a fight with me. I excused his behavior with inebriation. I didn’t want to stick around and try to work it out because that was pointless: He was drunk and would not listen to reason. He threatened to break up with me if I left. I did. What proceeded after were several texts. Some of them threatening followed by pleas to turn around and come back because he was sorry. I was very stupid. I turned around to patch things up. Warning Sign #4: Someone who drinks that often and to the point of angry inebriation is battling with their own demons and possible addiction. Stay away. You can’t help them. You are not responsible for them. You are responsible for you. Warning Sign #5: He obviously tried to intimidate me by playing on my insecurities. It didn’t work at first. Eventually I caved in. Don’t let someone intimidate or manipulate you. Ever. You are better than that and you deserve better than that.

This is an accurate depiction to how I should have reacted to that

Not long after that first spiff things went downhill very quickly. He accused me of flirting with a friend of a friend. I was chatting with said acquaintance over drinks with a group of people. He was a transplant doctor. I work with transplant patients. That subject was 90 percent of our conversation. Warning Sign #6: It was obvious that the guy I was dating was extremely insecure and he took this out on me on more than one occasion. He hated my job, accused me of bowing to the corporate gods, and often tried to talk me into skipping work to spend a day with him. I’d had the job for less than a month and he knew I worked very hard to get it. This brings me to Warning Sign #7: Never involve yourself with someone who lives their life with jealousy. This is one of the unhealthiest emotions.

From his perspective, my alleged flirtation is what ruined everything. He hated the way I dressed. He resented any male friend I had and the fact that I am still speaking with a few of the men I’ve previously dated. He didn’t want me to dance tango. He wanted me to just lay about with him all day . . . . and it was never enough. I never gave him enough of my time. I never did enough. I was never enough. Warning Sign #8: You are enough. Never let someone try to tell you otherwise. Warning Sign #9: Don’t involve yourself with someone who wants to change you. There is nothing wrong with you. No one needs to ‘fix you’ or tell you to act like a ‘proper lady’; f*ck those social conventions straight to hell!! Connect with the archetype of the wild woman. Channel that energy.

Sing and howl at the moon while you're at it - just for kicks.

Because he was always angry with me, I was constantly doing something for him to show him how much I cared for him - because I was always wrong. I was always the one who screwed up. I do not have enough words in my vocabulary to express how very wrong this is. Warning Sign #10: Stay away from angry people, especially those who want to use you as their personal verbal punching bag. You don’t deserve that kind of treatment. Never allow someone to put you down. Never allow someone to make you feel shame for who you are.

I was beginning to see the many unhealthy aspects of this poor excuse for a relationship one night when he took me to a restaurant just to be extremely confrontational, tell me how disgusted he was by me, accuse me of never showing my real self to him and a rambling of other things that I can’t remember. He didn’t stop until I threw money at him for my soup and walked out crying. I walked home. I cried the whole way. I don’t recall a time in my life when someone has ever pushed me to be so sad and simultaneously angry. I had apologized over and over again for things that I wasn’t at fault for and this was never ‘sincere’ or ‘genuine’ enough for him. Warning Sign #11: If someone can’t see your truest intentions, but people you’ve barely met can, that person has clearly painted an image of you in his/her head that is unfavorable and inaccurate. Don’t let someone tell you who you are. 

This is pretty much how the pattern works. Don't allow yourself to fall into this. 

Towards the very end, I took him on a vacation as a birthday gift. Originally, I had been looking forward to it, but dreaded it as the days passed drawing me closer to it. He made me wait for more than an hour while he finished packing. I drove because he told me not to get a rental car, he would work something else out (he didn’t work something out). I was tired when we finally arrived. He wanted to go out. I accommodated. I accommodated the entire time – and he still chose to be angry at me for the things that I didn’t do. If you always feel like you have to apologize to someone, get the hell out. Don’t put yourself through that. Warning Sign #12: When it comes to a narcissist, everything is about them. You will spend time with their friends and their family, not yours. Someone who takes more than an hour to get ready on a regular basis is not worth your time. Someone who always makes you feel badly about yourself is a bully who is lashing out due to his or her own insecurities. The insecurities of another person are not your responsibility.

I finally asked for some space. He could only honor that request for one day - just one. He sent flowers, fruit baskets and texts. My request was simple and he couldn’t honor that. He tried to persuade me. He tried to buy me. You are not for sale. You are not a piece of property.

That was a whirlwind that lasted just three months. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Sure, he was charming – but also a ticking time bomb and I didn’t see how bad my situation was until much later. Had I been watchful, had I been cautious and in tune with my instinctual self, I probably would have ignored him.

In the words of Bukowski, "Be on the watch." 

Since then, more things have happened that have compounded trauma on top of trauma and I’ve encountered even more people who are ill intended. One person in particular is from tango. He’s married, but they’re ‘trudging through it until their oldest graduates from high school’. I’m angry because he lied to me. He presented himself as a friend and it soon became clear that friendship was not what he had in mind. To be honest, I’m just plain fed up. Last Friday I bought myself a buffer ring. I’m really not sure if that’s the correct term; basically, it’s a fake engagement ring. So far it’s working quite well for me and will hopefully keep the bad type of man out of my life long enough for me to just be me.

I’m spending time in self-reflection and coming to terms with a few truths about myself that I didn’t care to admit: 1. I am emotionally vulnerable right now and have been for some time. 2. Genuine love cannot be turned off and a Band-Aid will not fix it. I can’t simply find a substitute and hope that the pain goes away. 3. I have no business dating and probably wasn’t quite ready when I was reunited with the Beloved. I was still healing and didn’t recognize it because I allowed myself to be caught up in the joy of him: his presence in my life, being with him; to be honest, everything about him, actually.

I sing 'Can't Touch This' in my head every time I put this on. 

If you’re still with me now, I’m impressed. I want to be clear with my intent. This is not meant to mar someone’s reputation. The purpose of this extremely long entry is to reach out to those who are vulnerable and perhaps feeling a little lost. Don’t let someone take advantage of you. Don’t let someone try to talk their way into your life. Trust yourself and perhaps even guard yourself until you feel ready to face the world again. Surround yourself with people who are uplifting and bring positive energy into your life. For any female readers I recommend Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estes. It has been a real eye opener for me – so much so that I’ve purchased a handful of copies for friends. I hope it helps you to reconnect with your inner strength as well. 

Non Believers and Miracles

“Many of life’s failures are people who did not realize how close they were to success when they gave up.” – Thomas Edison

As there are pros and cons to most things in life, there are pros and cons to being a temp. Most people look at you as if you’re flawed because you’re unable to find a ‘real job’. I’m on my third assignment at a local hospital and I’d very much like to be hired on permanently. I’m currently supporting an amazing doctor with an amazing life story and what she has to say about it is this, “Never underestimate the power of tenacity and perseverance.” Bravo, Amazing One. Obviously the pros are the endless new experiences, meeting new people and having something to look forward to because it demands that I always put my best foot forward. As for the cons, this is mostly public perception, horrible benefit packages and being contracted through a temp agency that really only takes interest in you if you’re out there making a good impression which reflects on them and keeps them employed.

Because I’m so uncertain of my own financial stability, I’ve been working really hard these days. It’s a five day work week and I clean houses on the weekend. Not all of that is paid, either – my agreement at home is that I clean for them in lieu of rent. Believe me when I say I earn my keep. I was out to tango last Friday and one of my dance partners was asking me about myself, what I do, etc. It’s either my greatest strength or my greatest fault – I am always honest no matter how pathetic I may make myself sound. This person told me he didn’t believe me which equates to calling me a liar. I’m so sorry it’s hard for you to believe that an educated white girl would work as hard as she has to until she gets to where she wants to go. I was tempted to thank him for the tanda mid dance and just walk away. I didn’t because it’s not really worth it.

This is what I was thinking in my head when the tanda ended. 

This weekend is an exception. I’m actually going to hide away with the world’s most awesome boyfriend because I’m just plain worn out and I was feeling sore from a 6 hour house cleaning spree that left knots in my shoulders for nearly a week. I need to sleep and would be grateful for some space to breathe. Of course, my furry babies will be with me, too.

October gave me a miracle this year. I’m still stunned and in the deepest part of me hope that this is finally the turning of the tides. I don’t want to be haunted by memories or consumed with rage and grief. I just want it all gone. My confrontation with my worst set of life experiences didn’t feel as heavy as anticipated because I had a listening ear, encouraging words and arms around me that held me while I cried and made me feel like I belonged there. He came before October, but I think the world’s most awesome boyfriend is a miracle as well – because we finally found each other.

I recently looked at the actual date of our first outing together. It wasn’t quite two months ago. I think everyone we know is just as surprised as we are. Really?! That’s it? My soul recognized him the moment his lips met mine. On my worst days his smile alone can change my mood. Despite the many stress factors in my life at the moment, I’m still smiling – and it’s genuine. People can see that and I’m pretty sure that’s why we’re all shocked that he and I haven’t been together for a decade already.

My biggest surprise and greatest miracle came in the form of kindness and love from someone who expects absolutely nothing in return. Since I’ve only been working for about a month now, I’ve had to play a lot of catching up because I was literally barely scraping by – and sometimes not at all. I got my very first ticket. I had every right to plead ‘no contest’ in front of the judge and ask for traffic school so it doesn’t go on my permanent record. What does the village idiot say? “Guilty”. For pete’s sake – I can’t be trusted in front of black robed judges, the inquisition . . . . any questioning whatsoever, really.

Indeed.

I was kicking myself the second I walked out of that courtroom, not only because I clammed up but also because I had to pay a hefty fine and I was setting money aside to take my two dogs to a very overdue vet check which would include vaccination boosters, flea and tick prevention medication and a prescription for arthritis medication for both dogs. I knew it was going to be a few months before I could pull it off, but my idiot move set me back even further. I can’t stand to see my dogs in pain and I was feeling like a horrible dog mom because I felt helpless. My own medical expenses are catastrophic due to bad health insurance.

In order to apply for assistance, I needed a quote from my veterinarian to show the financial need. Whomever I spoke with on the phone would not cooperate with me and said I couldn’t get a quote unless I brought my dogs in. She obviously didn’t understand that I was in this predicament because I could not afford to bring them in. I applied for assistance anyway and received one rejection after another because my pets do not need urgent care. In my desperation, I made a last ditch effort to fundraise online for my dogs.

I created a page and posted the link to facebook. I wasn’t expecting anything, just hopeful that a few people would be able and willing to donate something. When I checked my e-mail later that day, I was informed by the donation site that my goal of $700 had been met. My cousin in California donated the entire amount. I can’t remember the last time I cried so hard from joy and relief. Thank you for your unconditional kindness. I will never forget it.

October’s nearly over. I think I’ll manage to stay in one piece this year and I am so grateful that I now have happy memories for this time of year.

“Guard well within yourself that treasure, kindness. Know how to give without hesitation, how to lose without regret, how to acquire without meanness.” – George Sand

Howl

Ever feel like walking off into the wilderness and howling? I do. The wolf howl is perhaps one of the most beautiful and mournful sounds I’ve ever heard. It speaks to me. I want to howl and let my sorrow drift into the air with it’s mournful sound . . . . then someone can wake me up when October ends.

This October marks the 23^rd anniversary of my father’s death. I remember it as the day that my perfect little world was shattered and nothing in life has ever been the same for me since. In the wake of his death, my grandmother, Patricia, selfless as always, went out of her way to maintain a sense of normalcy for me. She was ill with advanced and undiagnosed pancreatic cancer, had just lost her son, and had another son that was in an assisted living center being treated for schizophrenia. In spite of all of this, she fought to preserve my childhood and happiness.

I went trick or treating that year. I remember my costume: a black plastic trash bag and pharmacy store bought witch’s hat. In the aftermath of my father’s death, this was some much needed fun for five-year-old me. It wasn’t long after this that my crazy mother took me to Georgia and left me there with complete strangers. To this day, I still can’t decide if she was crazy, cruel or some insidious mixture of the two.

It’s not like it was all unhappy, I was just frightened and feeling very alone. I spent about a year in Georgia before I made a miraculous return home. I was with a woman named Myrna. According to my birth mother, this was my grandmother on her side. Myrna, knowing the deceitfulness and destruction that most often followed in my mother’s footsteps, played close attention to my chatter about home, losing my father and my longing to be with my grandmother Patricia.

I remember Myrna going through one phonebook after another, making phone call after phone call until she located my grandparents. She bought two plane tickets and accompanied me home. I wish I knew her better. Myrna is gone now, but I remember her as being the one constant and solid thing in my life when I was surrounded by turmoil and doubt.

A year after returning home to the west coast, my grandmother was in the hospital dying of cancer. I lived with whoever would take me in over the next year until cancer got the better of her. I remember the day she died as vividly as the day my father died. The air felt heavy and suffocating and I simply wanted to melt into the earth beneath my feet and disappear into the essence of the universe.

I look at the approach of this month with dread. I keep my birthday hidden on my online profile because all of the wishes for happiness only serve as a reminder of what’s been taken away and the looming sadness that I know will take over even though I try to keep it at bay. My father’s death marked the beginning of an immense amount of sadness that entered my life that I am still trying to process and come to terms with.

I’d like to think that someday all of this won’t make me so sad. In the meantime, I’ll try to create some happy memories for myself. At least I know I’ll survive it; I always do. 

"And can it be that in a world so full and busy the loss of one creature makes a void so wide and deep that nothing but the width and depth of eternity can fill it" ~ Charles Dickens