(dis) ability

“Part of the problem with the word ‘disabilities’ is that it immediately suggests an inability to see or hear or walk or do other things that many of us take for granted. But what of people who can’t feel? Or talk about their feelings? Or manage their feelings in constructive ways? What of people who aren’t able to form close and strong relationships? And people who cannot find fulfillment in their lives, or those who have lost hope, who live in disappointment and bitterness and find in life no joy, no love? These, it seems to me, are the real disabilities.”  - Fred Rodgers

Those that are close to me know that I have worked long and hard for many years to overcome a very traumatic past. This doesn’t mean that I’m still not affected. I have relapses from time to time, usually triggered by a combinations of stressful events that occur simultaneously and are  a little too much for me to process at one given time, or a trauma has repeated itself. For women with abusive pasts in particular, this is not uncommon. We find ourselves repeating the same patterns over and over again – regardless of how educated and self-aware we are that this happens. We think it will be different this time around; the ending is the same.

I've given considerable time to reflect on these instances in my life. The end result is almost always the same every single time - I refuse to admit it's happening and then I'm ashamed to admit that it's happened. I'm taking a very long break from dating for now. 

I don’t share my story with many, mostly because it’s literally one sob story after another. I choose not to dwell in the past, but strive to move past it. From my experience, most people attempt to understand and don’t treat me like a fragile piece of porcelain that will fall to pieces at the slightest crack.

As I’ve documented my experience with tango, it’s been no secret that I often come across women who seem to hate me for no reason whatsoever. I also come across women who love and accept me as I am – they do not require explanations, but offer an understanding that I am rarely granted from my gender. I am grateful to these women because they understand the concept of sisterhood.

We are there for one another. While sometimes envious of another’s beauty, we are genuinely happy for her, her talents, and the light she gives to the world. I sincerely wish I could say all of my female sisters shared this mentality. Sadly, they do not and strive their hardest to rip one another to shreds because they are so unhappy and insecure in their own lives – because this is the only thing that will make this type of woman feel better about herself.

While some have made it crystal clear that they despise me, I pity them. What a sad way to live life.

The woman on the left: I've lost count of how many times I've seen that look directed towards me. It's easy to hate ourselves and emanate those feelings on our fellow females. Learn to love yourself instead. Life is too short for that kind of pettiness.

“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.” – James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time

Valen Tango 2014 has consumed the last several days of most tango enthusiasts. While I had sincerely hoped that this was something I could have participated in fully, I knew I could not because I had promised friends I would care for their very energetic dog over the weekend.

I attended opening night of Valen Tango. Before I go further, I would like to explain what a PTSD relapse is for those who may not know. The most basic, reptilian brain takes over – regardless of what my higher thinking, prefrontal cortex says. I am driven by instinct, which is mostly fear – because my early life taught me to fear.

I walked into the doors of the opening milonga. The door shutting behind me startled me. The two women at the desk thought this was hilarious. I’ve always been embarrassed by my over reactive startle response, particularly when it is PTSD induced. While the woman laughed, I tried to brush it off, mumbling something about being pathetic. She replied thusly, “Yes you are!” and laughed even louder.

I attempted to hold my true feelings in. I said, “Actually, it’s a side effect of PTSD. Thank you.” I should point out that this was not a polite ‘thank you’. The other (younger) woman chirped in, “Was this before or after the door?” Both had a good laugh at this one. I paid my fee and walked inside, wondering to myself what on earth I had ever done to offend either of these women.

I don't view myself as broken and I sure as hell don't consider myself lesser than just because I react differently than the vast majority of people to certain things. In fact, there was a time in my life when my senses were so high that I knew if someone was standing behind me and I could tell just from their presence if the person was male or female. Depending on the gender, I would sometimes tremble out of fear. I'm not as hyper-vigilant anymore. Overall, I'd say I've come a long way and see the 'symptoms' of PTSD as badges of strength. Not everyone in the world can boast they've survived (and thrived) under circumstances such as mine.

It's far easier to laugh and point fingers rather than took a good hard look at your own reflection and consider what kind of energy you are sending into the world.

I ran into the younger of the duo on Friday at a milonga mixer. I dragged my brother along to tango for the first time. He seemed to enjoy himself and this made me happy. I hope he tries a few more outings with me. When I ran into the younger woman again, without saying a word, she looked at me as if she wanted to slit my throat. I still have no idea what I have done to offend her. Perhaps it was the fact that I had one hell of a time regardless of her looks of disdain.

It’s a pity, really. While I’ve never known her name, I always thought she was a very unique beauty. I no longer see her that way now, but as someone who is plain and insecure in her own sense of being. Someone close to me with whom I confided about this ordeal told me that this is just something I’m going to encounter from time to time, because he thinks I’m lovely, outgoing and almost always smiling. Granted, I'm no raging beauty - but attitude definitely goes a long way.

In the eye of the storm, there is till a constant peaceful form of bliss. This is what I cling to when life feels overbearing. 

What I ultimately hoped to achieve by attending the milonga mixer was the ability to be near my male cohorts without fear. Mission accomplished. I think that was the perfect setting to test my own boundaries and address some of my fears.

I have come across plenty of ladies in tango who I have thought far more beautiful than I. I admire them and I always think, “Good for you.” Good for you that you have smoking hot legs and are confident enough to show them off. Good for you that you have a curvy figure and don’t try to hide it. Good for you that you are outgoing, clearly loving life, and shine a light on others. These are lovely things and no one should try to snuff those out . . . particularly one female to another. I think we need to stick together.

If I could reach out to her in love, I would – however, I’m quite certain this would only result in more insults. I’m working on healing myself and there’s no point in putting myself out there for more abuse.

We should be fighting the patriarchy instead of each other. Just a thought. 

If there was one thing I sincerely wish I could get women who don’t consider themselves to be a mainstream beauty (which is a horrid thing to strive for) is that it comes with a price. Prettiness, particularly at a young age with no one to protect you from the world, comes with a very heavy price – and that is a debt I’m still trying to pay just so I can feel whole again – because I want to trust instead of fear.

On the topic of fear, I am quite certain my most recent relapse can mostly be attributed to one person: the constant distrust he held towards me, the names he called me, the blame he always pushed towards me – and the grandiose life he felt he would live someday that I somehow hindered him from living because I chose to ‘bow to the corporate gods’. I see him in reality now – away from his influence. He was no one special. He attempted to contact me recently. My immediate response was to change my phone number. It’s really a no win situation. Had I engaged him, the conversation would eventually lead to my faults and shortcomings. By not engaging him, I would most likely be called a cold heartless bitch who thinks only of myself. Instead of doing either, I just changed my number. Problem solved. Soon I’ll be moving and he won’t know where to find me, either. That’s a double win, I think. 

"Let no man pull you so low as to hate him." - Martin Luther King, Jr. 

When Confronted With Pandora, Just Keep Dancing

“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 had a fairly rough time for a while – not because I lost someone particularly meaningful to me, but because I felt like a failure and his words have been harsh, cruel and unkind. It would seem as though he’s on a mission of character assassination.

Character assassination (n): the act of saying false things about a person usually in order to make the public stop liking or trusting that person.

My confession is this: I’m fighting really hard to avoid retaliation. There are plenty of negative things I could say to insult his character or existence as a human being. I won’t do it because that’s not the kind of person I am.

His main point of attack is his claim that I have a severe alcohol problem and should contact him when I’m ‘ready for help’. Initially, this hurt me. It hurt because I told him in confidence about a time in my life when I used alcohol as a poor coping mechanism after an assault that I didn’t know how to even begin processing. I also lost an uncle to massive organ failure because he spent too many years of his life drinking. That’s what hurt me.

From the way he talked, this is where I'd be in 5 years . . . with facial hair, too, because I'd be too sad over the life he could have provided for me.

My friends who know me well find his comments laughable. I’m now counting my blessings that he only met a few of my friends in person. Where I am hurt at his actions, they are angry for me. My lovely guardians, where would I be without you?

Perhaps all disagreements should be settled this way.

The lowest blow came in the form of Pandora’s Box. I remember staring at it on the front porch and thinking to myself, “My therapist would tell me not to open this” and also my good friend would say, “Throw it directly into the garbage bin”. So what do I do? I open the damn thing. I was happy to finally have a couple of things I left in his car back in my possession, but this came with a price. In the box he included a lengthy typed letter and a rock.

I don't know if it was temptation or that I felt I needed more punishment, because nothing good was going to come out of that box.

Once again, the letter pointed to my character flaws, something about the rock amplifying energy and another piece about a hummingbird or something. I threw the rock where the Columbia and Willamette meet. That was one of the most gratifying experiences in my life.

The weeks following the arrival of that box were a little rough. I tend to be hard on myself in any normal setting . . . . it wasn’t long before I started waging war. If it weren’t for those who told me that his words didn’t describe me, I may have actually believed them. I think it shows much more strength in character to be able to analyze your own reflection in the mirror before pointing a finger at others.  

Turn your gaze inward and grapple with your own shortcoming before pointing your finger at the rest of the world for the happiness you lack. This is part of the human experience.

“Things don’t go wrong and break your heart so you can become bitter and give up. They happen to break you down and build you up so you can be all that you were intended to be.”  - Charles Jones

So while I fought the negativity I directed only to myself, I fought equally as hard to find beauty in the world and do things that make me happy. I admit I had help, an amazing guy told me “Don’t be hard on you. Just get angry.” I don’t know why, but it worked. I felt angry for a couple of days and then it was as if the former boyfriend who delights in making me feel bad never existed . . . .and then he started telling my friends that I’m an alcoholic and that they should be looking for the signs.

Oh look! There I am again . . . .making bad decisions and being a horrible, selfish human being in general.

For Pete’s sake! Does he ever stop?! I finally told one person who was consistently relaying information to me that I didn’t want to hear what he was saying, whether it be good or bad. Problem solved. After the breakup between Mr. Finger Pointer and me, a friend told me that I have a tendency to let myself be talked into dating someone. I can see the validity of her point, I really can. However, saying that I’m consistently talked into things suggests that I can’t take responsibility for my own actions. I admit that I’ve been in plenty of relationships that I never cared to be in to begin with – I guess it’s because I didn’t think I deserved anything good in life. I’m beginning to move away from that and am trying to think more positively, particularly in regards to myself. Because I felt like a royal failure at practically everything, I told myself I just wasn't relationship material. Then Fate, the Universe, whatever it may be told me otherwise. I met someone that I can't picture life without. I've learned that these opportunities in life are rare and shouldn't be ignored.

Be on the watch. The gods will offer you chances. Know them. Take them.  - C. Bukowski

Things have been looking up. I have a new job and I met someone who I think is one of the most amazing human beings to enter my life. He has been my rock and if anyone were to ask him, he’d say I’m the most gorgeous, honest and amazing woman to have ever graced this part of the planet. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if he argued me to be the best thing ever to have graced the earth. 

He reminds of the the qualities I can't see within myself.

Our first outing consisted of karaoke because I wanted to go and as a single female it’s poor judgment to go to a bar alone – even if you are only there to sing karaoke. After I belted out a couple of tunes, I started helping him sift through the list of songs. He tells me he only sings Rage Against the Machine. I found it for him. That’s when he said, “Okay. I don’t really sing karaoke. I just wanted to get you out.” Granted, I’ve been lied to plenty by men trying to get my attention – but I thought that was perhaps the most creative. For the record, I’m glad he did it.

One of my favorite memories: Getting stuck in the down pour with you. There was no where else on earth I'd rather be.

I wouldn’t say that we’re inseparable, but I can hardly stand to be away from him. He described what’s taking place between us as a whirlwind. I suppose it is. We both feel it – some inexplicable and very strong attraction that matches the connection we share. I’ve attempted to put into words what’s taken place the past couple of weeks and I still come up empty. All I can say is this, “Wow.”

 He challenges me to be a better person and recognize my own self worth. He calls me his muse. I’m honored. I was beginning to think I would never see this side of myself again . . . the capacity to feel so deeply was lost on me for a while. If one is counting the span of time, the conclusion would be that I barely know him, yet I feel as if I’ve known him my entire life. I feel as if he and I have spent thousands of lifetimes together.

"The minute I heard my first love story, I started looking for you, not knowing how blind that was. Lover's don't finally meet somewhere. They're in each other all along." - Rumi

My tendency is to hold my breath and expect the worst: the goodness will come crashing down on me, fade away and I will have ruined yet another beautiful thing in my life. For now, I’m breathing in each moment. I’m not afraid.

“Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.” -Buddha

Cabaceo

“Flirting is a woman’s trade, one must keep in practice.” – Charlotte Brontë

One of my favorite parts of the tango culture is the ‘cabaceo’. This is how one asks for a dance. I feel like I am honing this down to near perfection. Basically – when two people make eye contact and through a raise of eyebrows or a nod of the head, it is agreed that they will exchange a dance together. I’m not sure if it’s intended to be so, but I add a flirtatious flare to it. I will stare at someone from across the room until I practically burrow a hole into his head. When he can no longer ignore me, I smile coquettishly and raise my eyebrows while slightly gesturing my head to the dance floor. I was recently complimented on my method just because I make it fun.

I will cabaceo you so hard. 

Also, there’s the shoes and dresses. I would be hard pressed to find a woman who does not enjoy an excuse for frilly dresses and shoes.

It seems as though distinct hierarchy exists within the tango community. I haven’t learned how it works exactly – only that there’s a definite ‘in’ crowd and other subsets that  bicker among themselves over what is considered appropriate posture, embrace, footwork, etc. I know some people take this very seriously. I happen to take nothing in life seriously. My experience on this earth is far too short to nitpick at others and I prefer to have fun instead. If there is no fun to be had, I make it happen. Truth.

There are two dancers in the community, both with equally out of the norm styles of dancing. One happens to be very popular, the other is not. He is treated as a pariah within the community and I’ve seen this poor fellow rejected time and time again as he requests dances from women. I’ve always found him fascinating. When I watch him on the dance floor he is experiencing something with the music entirely different from everyone else. I happen to thoroughly enjoy dancing with him because he is so different and also because he’s been so encouraging in my beginning stages of tango.

The popular dancer is someone I’d describe as a live wire – both in his style of dancing and also in his personality. I was equally fascinated by him as I watched him dance. His movements were quick and many; and by the end of the tanda he was often out of the pattern of movement altogether, having created his own track off to a corner somewhere.

I had a discussion with someone about these two dancers. The former was described to me as someone who ‘does not dance tango’ and the latter was described as someone who ‘feels every beat and movement within the music’. From an outsider’s perspective, it all boils down to popularity. Why one style would be accepted over the other is beyond me. I think it’s snobbish and ostracizing. Then again, I’m still a novice and perhaps I know nothing at all.

"Be impeccable with your word. Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love." - Miguel Angel Ruiz

I still don't understand why we continue to do this to one another.

Gradually I’ve been branching out to different tango venues. There was a rather large one on a Thursday evening. I was asked to dance a couple of times throughout the evening. I’m more of a social creature than anything at all – so I engaged myself with a couple sitting next to me and learned that they were checking out the tango scene to see if it was something they wanted to learn. I still keep in touch with them and they have decided to give tango a shot. Word.

I was approached by someone later in the evening for a dance. As the milonga ended he asked if I wanted a practice partner. Yes I want a practice partner! Where have you been since I’ve been dancing tango?! I soon learned that he wanted far more than a practice partner. In fact, he was quite serious about me from the beginning.

This is where I’m surprised. I had quite literally been telling men to f*ck off for months because I had grown SO tired of feeling objectified and for my kindness being mistaken for flirtation. No. If I wanted to flirt with you, I’d give you one hell of a cabeceo. This tanguero did not evoke a response of annoyed and suppressed rage that everyone else who dared approach me had received.

I have been nothing short of overwhelmed by the amount of affection he showers on me. I’ve told him as much and have asked him to be patient with me more than anything else. He says he adores me. It’s taking me longer to come around – I’m not quite sure that I’m ready for something of this magnitude and have told him as much. His response was to tell me to go with it. 

I’m taking it in stride. I have no inclinations as to what the future holds. We get along well thus far and yet are so very different in many ways. I wonder if there will be a clash at some point. Perhaps there's an adventure; perhaps there's a tragedy. Perhaps this will only be a mere blink in the span of my life. I struggle with the intensity on his end.

Within the last week or so, I ran into my former beloved at a couple of milongas. The first time we avoided each other for as long as possible. It was crowded that night and the weather was warm. I happened to step outside for air just as he was coming back inside. We couldn’t avoid each other this time. I gave him a head nod. He said hello. That was all there was to it. A few days later we attended the same milonga yet again. This time it was pure avoidance.

If it weren’t for his watchdog pack, I might take a moment to exchange pleasantries with him. Two members of his guardians in particular seem to go out of their way to glare at me – I think they tag team or something. Those two gals are what make the scenario most awkward for me.  Actually, I think ‘hostile’ is a more adequate description. I think there are a few things these two ladies don’t know about me: 1) I don’t care about my reputation 2) I make my own fun 3) I will laugh at you for your attempts to make me miserable 4) I find it flattering that you are putting so much effort into stamping out my presence 5) I’m still laughing.

I'm still laughing, ladies!

While taking another tango course at PSU for my own fun and enjoyment, I met someone I’ll call Nelly. At first, Nelly came across as socially awkward. Also, I know what sort of superficial world we live in. It initially angered me when she attended milongas and wasn’t asked to dance. How can people be so f*cking superficial? I asked myself. Over a few weeks it seemed to be her attitude that kept others at bay. I made it a point to attend every milonga Nelly planned on attending so she’d have someone to keep her company. I would be exhausted after these outings and finally realized the cause of my lethargy was being so close to her, and receiving what she has been putting out into the Universe. 

Nelly seems happier lately. This pleases me because I don't think she realized what kind of energy she was emanating.  In fact, I'd say she's radiant. That's a good start, Nelly. Keep at it. In the words of Rumi: 'Live where you fear to live. Be notorious'. Your perception is your reality and the world is only as good as you make it. Rejection is difficult. I know this. On that note, it’s far more enriching to live life without caring what others think. This is not easy to achieve, but once you get there life is nothing but joyous and beautiful.