One: The Loneliest or Luckiest Number?

After a small hiatus of travel and having international house guests, as well as the good fortune of turning another year older, I am returning back to this space with new thoughts and questions. Of course, birthday's can be a great time to reflect, to take stock of our current reality, and perhaps even set goals for the year ahead (I recently rediscovered that I am one of those chronic list makers. Yeah, I actually make a new list every year with many of the same seemingly unmet goals- yikes!).

Something on my "Goals Ahead" list from last year was, "Welcome love back into your life". Naturally, I was curious as to how much I'd had to drink as I made that list last year. After the crash and burn of an almost decade-long relationship, I thought I was reveling in my single-dom for the past few years. I wanted to make up for the years of being cooped up in routine and familiarity with someone who was ultimately a bad match for me. And make up for lost time, I did! I am sure I am not the only female in New York who feels she has dated more than half the island's male population, and maybe even twice by accident (blame old age?)! Because, I mean...where are all of the great single men hiding?! I don't mind recycling my plastic water bottles, but do I have to recycle dates, too?! I have gone on many a rant about the female to male ratio in NYC. My numbers shift around, as do my sources (we want a good story, right?), but in the end, the facts continue to be staggering and depressing to at least one woman on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.

According to http://www.maletofemaleratio.com,  there are "77, 227 more females than males in New York City between the ages of 32 and 35" (1/2013). Now, this can appear somewhat unimpressive at first, but it can really throw a curve ball to those 77,227 women who are amazing, beautiful, smart, talented and...well, unhappily alone.  I suppose in making myself welcome love back into my life, I am really just saying that I am now ready to listen to my happily coupled friends who tell me how much more fulfilled they are now than when they were singling it up. But, wait right there. It's not quite that simple. What about all the variables that go into happiness as a human being on planet Earth? Does being in a relationship mean you are no longer lonely? I don't think there is any research that could answer this question without adding many, many additional questions about who we are and how we feel about ourselves and our lives.

My grandparents were recently visiting New York and my grandmother made it a point to anxiously question my decision to be single (yes, she called it my "decision"). I told her, "look, I am not actively making the decision to turn 34 and be single, but I am actively making the decision to admit that I am 34 and unwilling to settle." This fell on deaf ears and she became more exasperated every time I found a new way to tell her that being married was not something I believed would make or break me. I thanked her for worrying for me, and, obviously for caring about what she sees as my future demise in utter isolation (quite Dickens of her, no?!).

What I wanted to tell her was that I am finally becoming happy with my output as a human in this life I've been given. It has taken many challenges, a lot of painful moments, loss, grief, self-consciousness and the sometimes alienating aches that accompany maturing....so to turn 34 surrounded by great friends and loving family makes me feel damn near ECSTATIC!

They say that old habits die hard, and I do believe this is the case with my grandmother, who is actually quite loving and obviously means well. I was glad she brought up these topics (i.e., my problem state of being single with my usable eggs dying off by the minute!), because when I went back to my birthday journal to make my list of goals for 2013, I put as Number 1, "Realize how lucky you are more often." At the moment, I may be "one", but I am not alone, ashamed or hopelessly yearning for someone to keep me warm at night. If a great man comes along (whom I have not yet dated) and we enjoy our time together more than being apart, I am going to actually be open to the possibilities now (how's that for putting my welcome sign out in the ether?). If not, thankfully, I've been blessed with the resources to fill my life with adventure, beautiful moments of being inspired by nature and art, deep belly laughs with dear friends, and the ability to find not only the meaning in my circumstances, but also the humor.

So, until that potentially fateful day arrives, the candy aisle and I will continue our late night rendezvous after the many happy hours that run past midnight. I will whisper my unabashed love to my handful of sea salt caramels as I contemplate which cats would get along best in large groups and in a small apartment. And friends, instead of a birthday card next year, kindly send condolence cards for the tragic loss of 94% of my eggs while I've been busy making vacation plans.

But seriously, I guess life is just a series of new things to discover and accept about ourselves! There is no right answer to the question posed above. "One" is neither lonely nor lucky, yet it is also very much both at times. If you are indeed lonely...keep the faith. Be good to yourself no matter what, whatever that looks like to you. You know what makes you feel good, alive, loved --  no one else can know that for you, so speak up! Cut yourself some slack. Be someone who won't settle for less than wonderful, true and equally adoring partnerships. Break free from all the damned rules, from needing to find an explanation for why you are where you are, from doing only what others' approve of. Stop fighting for something you maybe don't even want!

It's hard to remember this, but there is no better, no greener grass, no perfect relationship of any kind. We know it intellectually, but we still strive to reach that beautiful illusion of what simply doesn't exist, because our brains absolutely cannot fathom living in a world where we just sit back sipping our coffee  and loving what and who we've got right here before us... just as is.

So, in the end, I guess I only know this: sometimes, I am lonely and my heart feels like its been pared and hollowed out.....more times than that, I look at my life and I feel so extraordinarily lucky that words to convey it fall pathetically short.

But, most of the time, I'm just hanging out somewhere in the middle.
I'm assuming that's where all the cool kids are at?

The Tunnel's Closing In On Us

It feels like when we are born we have so many possibilities. I remember being a very young girl and swearing to the high holy heavens that I would be a famous singer one day, followed by a famous author. Maybe every other Tuesday I'd switch that up and tell my family I wanted to be a judge. Not for one moment did my parents ever tell me that could or would not happen. Like the loving and supportive parent's they are, they told me I was smart, that I was talented, that I could do whatever I wanted to do (thank you). I wrote short stories as a child, I competed in talent shows. I felt so lucky I was someone who didn't have to choose a future, because I was already chosen. 

It feels that we have this wide open space to imagine we can do and be anything. And then one day that space gets smaller, the tunnel we are traveling through closes in on us. You realize you aren't so good at math or you become self-conscious of something you perceive as a flaw when compared to other kids around you. You don't do as well on standardized testing. You realize that "wax on, wax off" is great in theory, but after you break your hand, your future Karate Kid ambition is thwarted.

And the space gets even smaller. 

We are categorized straight from the get go. For me, my path took me from being a music education major to being an international relations major. The space continued to shrink. I left my passion on a whim to pursue something "reasonable", which then felt even less reasonable after time. I needed to concentrate on something? Sigh. Okay, so I did. International Trauma. But, lord knows, there is so much of it. So, I narrowed my space as much as I could until I was a social worker who specialized in trauma due to genocide and torture, and for the majority of my career, Holocaust Survivors. As gratifying as this career has been, I spend an excessive amount of time wondering where the kid who wanted to be a famous singer went? When I narrowed my space, what happened to the part of me who held the absolute knowledge that there were no barriers to what she could accomplish? Truthfully, I haven't seen her in a long time....but I know she's there. Once in a while, I can feel my heart flutter when I hear a song from Les Mis, picturing myself wholly and completely in the role of Eponine going bravely to battle for the man she loves, living so much of the time in her head (or in my case, going bravely to the candy aisle). I can still picture myself as Belle in "Beauty and the Beast" always dreaming of a far off land, buried in her fantasies, seeing beyond what is before her. And then I see that little girl...innocence, sparkle, faith in the world to see her realize the truth within her. Music will always within me and one day I hope that space opens up again, so I can reach in and bring it back out.

Growing up can feel like everything we do closes the space of possibilities a little more. How many of you had any idea you'd be doing what you do right now today? How many of you thought you'd grow up to sell insurance or houses or be a dental assistant? There is not judgement in any of these fields, of course, but the point is quite simple: somewhere along the way, your life got smaller. On and on through the years we all had to make choices that limited us (most of us anyway --  the people pursuing your dreams? You're the people I compared myself to in my previous post and I continue to envy your fire). 

Maybe I am greedy. Maybe I want something back that feels lost. Maybe I want more than just struggling to keep up, to stay afloat, to worry about the practical every day nonsense. 

The dreams, the goals, the hopes....all still there, however invisible,  however far behind that narrow closure that seems to squeeze us more and more every day. We could believe we have what we need, that we have enough, and our brains can create quite the work of fiction to convince us of this. But, inside, our hearts know more, know better. Inside, your heart will decide what it wants to believe and there is no hiding from that. 

Maybe I am taking the country roads to wherever it is I am going. Maybe you are too. And maybe all of the good stuff yet to come is something we have already had or let go of while that space was closing in on us. I don't believe we can manifest anything that isn't already there to begin with. It took my mom's late stage cancer diagnosis months back to shake me alive again (more on that soon). It took anguish and merciless uncertainty about every aspect of everything I ever believed to be true to show me my life was comfortable, but not fully authentic. After all, I'd left the most passionate, connected part of myself behind somewhere along the way. 

So many times the deep darkness of confusion is rewarded with revelation, with light so bright we didn't know before it could lift us, lift us right up out of ourselves and set us back down, sanded, peeled, and fresh. Maybe that's what this is about today. To ask you all to think about getting back to what you loved as a kid -- the absolute truest, unadulterated kind of love. Maybe it's not too late for me to be singing again or writing (a historical fiction is aborning). No comparisons to others, no judgement on choosing to do things differently. The return "home"...this is what it might just be about. 

Now, to help you all make sense of what I've actually written in this post, I’ll turn to Geri Halliwell (aka Ginger Spice) who said,

“I have hopes and I can be anything. It took me a long time to confront my fears. I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm damn well gonna do it! Tomorrow I might be naked with a feather boa, who knows?”

I don’t know about you, but I’m seeing things much more clearly now. Guru Geri -- she should be worshipped for her wisdom and insight. Maybe we should be chanting the mantra together: 
“I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna really really really wanna zigazig ha.”


(well, I couldn't be serious for the entire post!)

Sweat: The Great Equalizer

I'll be honest with you. The sole purpose of this blog was to be light-hearted and silly. I wanted to vent about things I'd speak with my girlfriends about over a bottle or two of wine.  I wanted to ruminate with all of you things that come into my mind for no apparent reason and stay there.

Admittedly, life has been pretty heavy lately, pretty challenging, immensely uncertain for me...and I thought writing about some day- to-day things we can all relate to, writing about the least thought provoking tales might be good for all of us in some small, pathetic way.

But, the truth is, it's harder than it would seem. The world can be horrifying sometimes, or incredibly magnificent, but rarely mundane. Protests, uprisings, Snowden's exposing of the U.S. surveillance programs, the SCOTUS VRA ruling, the overturning of DOMA, people opening fire yet again in public spaces, Paula Deen bringing racism back to the foreront (did it ever leave?)  and not to mention Turkey, Syria, the Middle East in general.....all most recent in the media and on my mind. Not only on my mind, but they downright keep me up at night...and yet,  here I am ...just me, trying to figure out a way to explain how I feel that "sweat"  can bring about a sense of being the same, feeling connected by a basic human function.
Yes, that was my topic for today and I did just drop that in after listing the most mind-blowing events in recent history. Sorry. Um, so since I have already mentioned it,  I'll just go ahead and tell you what I had in mind, with the understanding that the things I've listed above do not slip beneath my sea salt caramel laden radar. Please know that.

But since equality has been front and center in the media this week, allow me to jump on the band wagon with a realization about something I have noticed for long time and always gave me something to think about:

"Sweat: The Great Equalizer"

Bear with me here.

  I was headed downtown to a fancy bar to meet some friends last week as the oppressing NYC summer began (you know, the kind of days where you walk the streets like you're something out of the "Thriller" video, because the stench of sizzling dog urine and garbage emanating from the side walk puts you into some involuntary zombie- like dance routine). You leave your home and make it about a block before that familiar drip on the back of your neck tells you the weather man was completely wrong once again (how do they even get this job?) and it's actually not going to be a windy, rainy day after all! You get the go-ahead signal to cross the street, but not before the thought of complaining about the heat is quickly axed by how many times you complained about the long, frigid winter on your Facebook status updates. Yeah, that happened.

You tough it out, because even though you say nothing, you know you're not alone. Everyone is wiping sweat from their brows and upper lips, from the backs of their necks in unison, letting out a long moan of utter exhaustion. In a time where so many people are still desperately trying to decipher themselves from another, this can remind us that we are in fact, all the same. All one.

 I don't care if you're wearing Maybelline or YSL, darling, you're gonna sweat. I don't care if you're  wearing a thrift store sundress or a silk designer shift, money won't stop what your body is about to do to that material. And I will laugh, even if I am one of you. I admit to needing to have a girlfriend check me as I got up to use the restroom just to make sure my sweat was not showing through my dress. I know you do it, too. I laugh, because I watch people lurching in between building entrances to apply face powder and more deodorant in the streets! I laugh because no matter who you are, how much money you have, how much effort you have just put into looking amazing and flawless...there is an excellent possibility that you are going to look like a swamp woman. Men, your plight is no different really, but you do get a pass on not having freshly applied make-up melt off of your face leaving you to arrive at your destination looking like a wretched toss out from Madame Tussaud's. As hard as we try, we cannot fight, cover or hide what is real, what is human.

(I'm sure by now you know I am not planning on getting into the science of sweat or anything of the sort here, though I know a few of you who would be chomping at the bits to talk about sweat in all of its mammalian glory. Yes, you know who you are. Also, please note: this is partially about sweating in a literal way, yes, but not in normal situations... like a work out). 

For posterity's sake, let's just say that my deciding to talk about "sweat" was just a ridiculously insane way for me to come to terms with how scary this world can be sometimes. How anxious and uncertain I can feel in it, and how alone it can seem. I'd be looking for something to connect me to you....or you, or you. And so, I'd get down to the basics. I'd want for you to think about this blog post the next time you are walking down the street and see a 'fellow sweater' simply surrendering to what they cannot escape. I want for you to think about this post when you find yourself sticky and miserable after unloading groceries into your car at the supermarket only to get into the car and burn the backs of your thighs on your leather seats. I'd want for you to think about this post after you've missed the train and now you're standing on the subway platform knowing the next train is a long 12 minutes away and all you have is stale air and a daydream to go along with your side of sweat. I'd want for you to think about this blog post when you are on your way to something important and your hair has given up the battle with humidity and you feel ever so self-conscious, but then remember that you're not alone and anyway, you'd look fabulous in a soaked potato sack. I'd for want you to think about it because... for the tiniest sliver of time, you and I will be connected. And that's what this is all about, as absolutely preposterous as it may seem --  I'm looking for an equalizer here: something more that can join us together, not amplify our differences, not something to tear us apart...we have enough of that already.


I hope you are at least shaking your head or smiling with me, here.

Untangling the Shoulds

Someone I consider to be very wise recently told me something that will stick with me forever. He said, "Gina...everyone walks around with this illusion that other people have their shit together." Um, yeah, right?! The truth and simplicity of that message hit me straight and fast right in the gut. It struck me how much of my life I have spent thinking I am lagging behind and not doing things "right". I have spent the better part of the last few years reliving my old mistakes again and again, wanting to change and knowing how, but never being able to just get past myself. Sadly....I still compare myself to you. And her and them, oh especially them. I don't know about you, but I have spent way too long comparing myself and my life to others. And you wanna know the worst part?! I know better. So do you, but still, we hold the daggers to our own necks and hold our happiness ransom for some god unknown price.

It leads me to ask: Are we just a world of passive masochists, parading around as people in search of self- progress? Why is it out of any chains, we can't seem to break free of our own? The world doesn't really give a shit what we are doing, and if at best, all we are is a reference point for others, then we should at least laugh at ourselves for being so narcissistic that we think the details of our life path really matter to our facebook "friends".  They want to feel better about their lives, too. 

We are all now trying to find the passion within us, the truth, the life-path that feels freeing and authentically "us". We are trying to wake up out of comas society has somehow managed to successfully place us in time and again. No snooze button this time.... 

There is no escaping the struggles before us, but what we can escape is all the bs that comes along with the struggle.
You know what I mean...the self-judgment, berating, questioning our decisions, ruminating on lost ideas or opportunities or people....we give permission to the little voice that wants to come in and get all SAW on our asses. So, let's take a chance. Let's cheer other people on when they fall flat on their faces chasing a dream and then let's reach out a hand, because someday, in one way or another, we will need that hand in return. Chasing what feels so evasive, so far away, so impossible is what it's all about and it takes more courage than there is language to convey. We need each other. 

The truth is that everyone is struggling in one way or another with something.
Is it wrong that it makes me feel 100x's better? Because I have been living with the notion that I have failed at my life.

But you see, I am failing myself if I continue to believe that I need to do it the same way as everyone else. I need friends who can recognize the glimmers of my emerging parts and assure me that they are not figments of my imagination. I need every kind word uttered by people who meet me and don’t get uncomfortable looks on their faces when I tell them what I am embarking on, despite my unconventional journey to get there. The innocuous appearance of this process belies the oceans of grief and canyons of fears beneath its surface, and not telling the truth about that part feels like not telling the truth at all. That is why I call this blog a confession, but I hope my truths will lock hands with yours, and together, we will hold on like hell when the high winds of expectations come blowing through.

It's a tough atmosphere inside of my head sometimes...how about you? Here is what it sounds like on a good day inside of my head: "I should hurry up and get back to full time work and find a more lucrative job at that, I should be using all of my degrees, I should be happily married, I should live in the suburbs with my happy spouse, I should have 2 amazingly gorgeous, talented children by now and a golden retriever who fetches a glass of wine, I should stop eating carbs altogether and only eat kale, I should change my duvet again, I should stop eating carbs, oh wait, I said that, I should be a successful and well known trauma therapist with her own practice by now, oh, and I should have published all of my articles on subjects few clinicians care to explore, and the great historical novel I'm working on should hit #1 on the NY Times Best Sellers list immediately, I should spend more time writing music like I used to, I should work on having a country home in two different states or maybe I should just move to the west side, I should have a hell of a lot more energy to survive Soul Cycle than I do, I shouldblahblahblahblahblah, fuckthat."

Fuck that. No, seriously....excuse my language, but, fuck that. I'm untangling the shoulds, tossing them overboard and moving on in utter gratitude for the beautiful, gritty, unpredictable life that I get to live out every single day....because, comparing myself to others and putting baby in a corner..."aint nobody got time for that".

Why this blog exists right now (and other pertinent tangents)

I've wanted to start a new blog for a long time. I've been procrastinating under the guise of waiting for a lightning strike of inspiration....but ideas came and went and pen did not go to paper (err...fingers did not go to keyboard). However, as my new life has begun to settle (I'll tell you a bit later about the journey), I've had serious moments of being moved and maybe just broken open. Nothing monumental perhaps, but the brokenness is where the juicy stuff is, where the growth really takes place.
 I must have read that in a book of cliches or some spiritual guide must have branded me with that idea, because for months, I've been in the stew of brokenness.....back-stroking my way through the confusion, uncertainty of what's next, and the painful life situations that were all  threatening to pull me under the murky stew waters. Not uplifting, but important to know as you travel along with me.

So now you're wondering about the title of this blog, I know.
You're wondering what I am trying to convey here. But first, the reason I am finally here:

It wasn't some existential crisis, it wasn't a nervous break down...it was one single date several months ago that prompted me to finally come back to the page. Here is my disclaimer: This is not a blog about love. Maybe self-love, but not about the desperate longings of a single girl in New York, though today's just happens to begin as a result of dating...not the cause, but simply the effect.

I'd like to generalize and say that it is so damn hard to be a single woman dating in New York City.Too many women, too many men who don't find the need to settle for one when they can have many, ah, the reasons are in plentitude. I sometimes fantasize about moving away and running into "THE ONE" while I am doing things I love in Austin, Texas or Denver, Colorado, or some other great far away land...I used to believe that the fantasies of meeting a better quality man elsewhere were preventing me from finding a great guy here in New York City. I'll never know,  I suppose.

But alas, I must also admit that without the plethora of bad dates, I am not sure I'd know myself as well as I do. And, I am not sure I'd love myself as much as I have come to, because I have been pushed to care for myself, to lick my own wounds, to make my own cup of tea when I am sick...I have my own back and that is invaluable to me.

It all happened after a date I didn't want to even go on, but my friend Miryam gave me a pep talk and I went on my way. He was in Finance. There are a lot of reasons "Finance Guy" (FG) just ins't for me, but I will keep that for another post on another day. I wanted to be open to all possibilites, even if it didn't feel like a fit. So, the date. He was boring, pretentious, condescending and aloof, only talking about his lust for money. I'm a social worker and humanitarian, and it took a lot for me to hold back my hunger for justice and human connectedness. I don't know why he asked me out, since he admitted mid-date that he usually goes for blondes and I am a 5'3 brunette (which he knew when he met me and asked me out at The Smith). We parted ways after a quick drink and I found myself feeling pretty angry that I had just wasted valuable time, taking a risk that there might be something there with FG. When is it better to listen to your gut than to just take a chance and be open? I started to question my self-worth. The years I've spent looking for the right match, someone with whom to have fun, travel, people watch, throw a blanket down in the park and stare at the sky. I walked through the small park next to the American Museum of Natural History, looked up at the trees, the sky, the moon, and back to the people walking hand in hand. I wondered why I was feeling like my own company wasn't enough anymore (because I do very much enjoy my company). The next thing I knew, I was on the M79 crosstown bus heading home, with tears in my eyes and and my head hanging low. Thanks to the strong navigational system in my unconscious, I somehow wound up in the candy aisle of the Duane Reade near my apartment in search of the only thing that made life feel bearable in tough times: Sea Salt Caramels (seriously, Duane Reade, you've outdone yourselves with these). There were two girls in the aisle with me in search of a 100 Grand. Their conversation was hazy, but as I circled around in my ill-fated search, I began to think of a bigger picture. Women in search, but not finding what they are looking for. Seems to be going around. So, I said it aloud to them: "Seems we are not finding what we are looking for, are we? I just came from a really bad date and all I want is to eat Sea Salt Caramels alone in my apartment, and they have everything but!"

I was sure they'd think I was some pathetic loser, because who talks like that?! But they joined in with equally bad date stories and ample empathy. That was not why they were in search of this particular candy bar, but we began to really get into how uneasy we can feel when we have a bad date (I will outline some examples of a bad date in my next entry in case this confuses you). How bad it can feel when the self- recrimination or just self- examination happens immediately and how much responsibility we can take for being women alone. And let me just say, being alone is not only fine and acceptable, but it can be downright joyful, freeing and life-affirming. Again, I will get into that in my next post. For now, I look back at the night I met Katie and Kristen and how we attracted more and more people into our conversation about dating, because people were just interested in knowing how to connect with other people in a city of iphones, ipads, ear buds, busy schedules... and perhaps even apathy.  I'd never opened up in such a vulnerable way to two complete strangers, but then again, when we resonate with another's struggle, it can be so validating and comforting not to feel alone. We shared for well over an hour even entertaining a few dating tips from many visitors to that candy aisle (one being from a middle aged woman who shared details of her sad evening with her sister and her cat. She suggested I "join an intellectual class". I didn't want to inform her I'd earned two Masters from NYU and that for me, wasn't the path to love, but student debt).

In the end, I was grateful for the company and camaraderie, for the ideas and the congregation of similar souls in that candy aisle. It was the beginning of a new life for me in a way I am unable to articulate just yet. To belly laugh with complete strangers over the absolute lunacy of life is now one of my favorite New York City moments  (and I attract some crazy moments). I'm happy to have made two friends from that bad date with FG. As far as I am concerned, I came out of that night with more than I had before. So, that's how it all started. And it brought me back to writing, when I never thought I'd be able to fill a blank space.

This blog will be about a journey. I hope it will be something that gives you something to think about, talk and laugh about (even at my expense, I can take it!). This isn't going to be a blog of beautiful writing, it's a blog about finding out our truths.

It will mostly be about my own personal journey, those I've seen around me in my work as a trauma social worker, the stories I have come across in the streets or super markets, and of course, those you stories or questions you want to share with me. I hope to reach a bigger audience and find a way for people to connect in an authentic way about their desires, fears or secret feelings they have never wanted to bring into the light of day....I want you to be able to tell me the truth, and in turn, I will share my own. Maybe someone, somewhere can find healing simply in the not being alone.

Oh, and I forgot to mention....as we were about to finally leave the Duane Reade, the Sea Salt Caramels came out of hiding. They were there all along. Had I found them right away, the real gift of that night would have never come to be. Maybe there are guardian angels, after all, hiding what we need until the right time and nudging us towards what is most valuable. Hey....you never know.

Welcome to my life. And thank you for sharing this journey with me.
I hope you will join me in the candy aisle......

My therapy