awakenings

***This blog post really has nothing to do with the sex scenes in this video, but still – you should enjoy them. I know I did.***

The latest episode of The L word ended with a series of particularly….um…shall we say inspiring scenes. Playing in the background was a song I’d never heard before, and the words ‘everything is perfect now’ were repeated over and over again. As often happens, the song somehow got under my skin, and so I downloaded it when I got home that night.

Everything is perfect now. Yes I thought, wouldn’t this be a perfect song to have playing in the background when everything comes together? If I were creating a movie soundtrack for life, this would play at that magical moment when the universe aligns and everything falls into place; when the sun is shining, the birds are singing and (of course) I’m getting a toe-tingling-earth-stopping kiss from the girl of my dreams. I played the song a few times and daydreamed about all those so-perfect-they-sparkle-around-the-edges potential future moments. But of course, as happy as thoughts like that are – they also create this vicious little melancholic cycle – ‘cause I’m not there yet.

When I connect with a song I often set itunes to ‘repeat one’ and let the tune play over and over and over again while I eat, write, sleep. As I do this, the music permeates my soul on a different level. It becomes part of the backdrop of my day and knits itself into the fabric of my conscious and unconscious mind.

And as I was lying in bed the next night, listening to the song for probably the hundredth time, it suddenly came to me…I had it all wrong. ‘Everything is perfect’ wasn’t about some maybe-moment in a far off future. It’s about right now. This moment. This breath. This now.

Not because my life is exactly as I want it, not because there isn’t loss or pain or confusion or fatigue or stress. Not because I’m not wishing or dreaming or yearning for things I don’t yet have. No, everything is perfect now because in this moment, everything is exactly as it should be, as it NEEDS to be, as it MUST be.

The point is not that everything is PERFECT now. It’s that everything is perfect NOW. As it is. Every blissful, joyful, transcendent, orgasmic bit of it. Every screwed up, fucked up, stressful, bewildering, heart wrenching second. Every profound and meaningful or random and pointless interaction. Every moment of bitter loneliness, and every moment of soul-connection. Every first kiss and every last goodbye. Every single emotion we are experiencing. It’s all perfect because it is what IS. Because what IS is exactly what needs to be. What has happened is exactly what needed to happen to get us here, and where we are is exactly where we need to be right now in order to move forward.

And what could be more perfect than that?

My spirituality has evolved considerably in recent years, and the core of my belief system is grounded in a soul-deep understanding of universal energy. That every person, thought, word, deed, object, circumstance, event and place is created from, composed of and guided by this energy. Some of you call this energy God/dess, or fate or karma or destiny or the source, but I believe with my whole heart that we’re ultimately all talking about the same thing. It’s that force that is beyond us and outside of us, but that is also deep within us and, indeed, is us.

I believe this energy to be infinitely wise and undeniably powerful. The times we get ourselves into the worst messes are the ones where we are fighting this energy with everything we have. Unwilling or unable to surrender, to let go, to relinquish control, we fail to accept and embrace. We are unable to exist from a center of gratitude and abundance. We struggle and doubt and wallow in self-pity because we are focusing outside the moment, beyond our reality. We forget that everything is perfect now.

The inimitable Jen Lemen recently interviewed “Momma Zen” author Karen Maezen Miller, and asked her the following question: “When do you feel most happy?”

Miller’s response was a perfect example of profound simplicity…”Now. What other time could there possibly be?”

Now is the only moment that truly exists. It might sound naively simplistic or annoyingly zen – but it is true. What is done is done, and what will be will, ultimately, be – but when it comes right down to it, now is where it’s at. Now is where we are. Now is all we have. Now is all there is.

Of course there are days when I want to pull up the covers and hide in bed, and days when I want run from demons relentlessly chasing me. There will be moments where I’m pissed and stressed and angry at the universe because things are not going according to my plan. I will still struggle, and I will still fall and I will exist in a place that is the very antithesis of enlightenment. When I’m in that space NOW feels as far from perfect as I can possibly imagine. But in those moments I just have to remind myself to come back to the moment, back to my breath, back to my own, personal, undeniable NOW and re-center myself around what is, and not what I would like to be. And as I give myself permission to relax into this, to believe this, to know this as truth, I am filled with peace, serenity, gratitude and joy.

Yes, it’s true. Everything is perfect now. How could it not be?

The otherwise perfectly coiffed, high couture woman in the airport this morning who was wearing the sparkly-est, blingy-est silver-sequined tennis shoes imaginable.

The thought of just how many things L. left behind in California that I had to squeeze into my overstuffed suitcase*.

Crushing on someone I’m becoming more and more certain is a very special soul…not being too caught up in whether or not it goes anywhere…just enjoying the deliciousness of getting to know her and reveling in possibility.

Memories of a weekend in a rambling craftsman bungalow in Northern California, warmed by a crackling fire, soothed by the sound of the rain that poured for three days straight, energized and empowered by the women who surrounded me and humbled by the power of the ritual we shared in honor of my lovely friend B.

The lone heron I spied while riding the shuttle bus to the airport this morning – in the middle of the deepest green field, appearing like magic out of the morning mist, almost too perfect to be real.

Flirtatious texts from pretty ladies. Enough said.

A moment of spontaneous connection with another mama while waiting for my flight, relating briefly in the way only two mamas can – over chit-chat about baby carriers and crawling and grandparents – reminding me that even the briefest moments of human connection are precious, and should be cherished.

Savoring a bar of rich, dark chocolate, the layers of flavor melting on my tongue – essence of orange with a hint of spice – this is the taste of luxury.

The very amusing flight attendant of Southwest flight 1561 who kept me smiling throughout this flight. He reminded me that any job, approached with joy, can positively impact the experience of many.

The soul-deep awareness that even though I have no idea where I will ultimately end up, that I am finally on the right path and that I can relax and let myself flow into my new life.

Reconnecting with one of the most important people in my life, and making a sincere apology for having disconnected over the past several months. Promising to come back.

Seeing my girls again after a weekend away, hugging them and telling them just how much I love them.

The knowledge that my talented new friend K. is making me the most kick-ass leather belt, wallet and cuffs you have ever seen. Guaranteed.

The achingly sweet three part harmony of The Wailin’ Jenny’s (thanks MLC).

Sitting on J’s front porch, warmed by the Arizona sun and wondering if most people laugh even a fraction as much as we do.

Turning back the covers on my bed, knowing I’m just a short time away from slipping between the cool, crisp sheets. There’s no place like home.

*Not kidding people, this is what she forgot…
One pair tennis shoes
One pair baby booties
One bikini top
One bikini bottom
One black top
One diaper wipe container
One wide brown suede belt
And last but not least….one bugaboo frog stroller (that didn’t fit into my suitcase).

I know where my eye goes first – to the rockstar bad girl, the edgy dyke with her short, spiky hair and larger than life attitude. She’s got tattoos and piercings; maybe her hair is bleached or dyed some outrageous color. She captivates her audience and works the room with a confident swagger, nothing (and everything) to prove. The cocky self-assurance, the overt sexuality with an undeniable edge – bordering on androgynous but still so innately female. I feel myself responding immediately.

[…think Pink. Oh god yes, let’s think about Pink for a moment, shall we? Ummm. If ever a gal should be gay. That pic makes me..well..you know…]

Yes – they are the ones that grab my attention first, but then I keep looking. I am overwhelmed at the beauty of the women I see. The butches with their man-style shirts and ties – the right girl in the right tie, sigh. The sporty girls in their tennis shoes and pony tails – so fresh faced and strong. The femmes in their dresses and lipstick – the embodiment of the traditional feminine ideal. The younger girls, barely out of college. The older women, so comfortable in their own skin.

Each of them unique, each of them beautiful in a million different ways. I find myself wanting to try one of each, like a kid at an ice cream counter who can’t possibly choose between rocky road or strawberry or butter pecan and so begs for a triple scoop.

I don’t need to limit myself to a type, or a look or a label or a role. Right now I feel this incredible freedom to experiment and sample and learn about myself, and about other women. I’m fascinated by their voices and their scent and the way they move. I’m enthralled by how they are all so unique and yet all so wholly female. I am captivated by the endless expressions of femininity and masculinity and how they flow together so seamlessly in the same space and even within the same body.

I want to romance and to be romanced. I want to be kissed passionately and urgently against the side of a car in a dark parking lot by a girl who tastes of cigarettes and beer. I want to touch softly for hours on a bed covered in blankets and pillows with a woman who smells like orange blossoms and tastes of red wine and dark chocolate. I want to sit in a café while daylight wanes, across from a cute girl with curly hair and glasses and learn about what makes her tick. I want to ride on a motorcycle out into the desert pressed up against the back of a worn leather jacket breathing in the scent of men’s cologne, the engine so loud that conversation is impossible.

I want to be seduced by an experienced top who knows exactly how to strip me of my inhibitions. I want to take the role of the aggressor and experience a woman who knows exactly how actively bottom. I want to sit and sip herbal tea while I watch a girl I’m crazy into up on stage singing a song she wrote. I want to go rock climbing with a woman who will show me just where to place my feet and hands to stay safe, and push my body till my muscles burn and I’m covered in sweat. I want to be in control, and I want to be totally and completely out of control.

Right now I am so dizzy with potential I don’t even feel too attached to developing any one particular reality. I’m flirting. I’m getting phone numbers. I’m sending and receiving texts and emails that bring a smile to my face and make me wonder ‘what if?’ and ‘oooh, I hope’. I’m cuddling on the couch with cute girls watching movies, acutely aware of the feel of our legs pressed together, or her fingers intertwined with mine, or that slight hint of her scent that makes me want to move in closer. I’m hoping she’ll call, and I’m trying to decide when I’ll pick up the phone. I’m waiting to see if I’ll be kissed, and I’m leaning in to do the kissing myself.

Cherchez les femmes = seek the women.

Indeed.

Is it a uniquely lesbian phenomenon, I wonder, to fall into comfortable friendship so quickly with someone you used to date/kiss/love/fuck? Of course, I’d heard all the jokes, laughed at the clichés, and have seen the evidence among my own friends – but it still surprises me.

Not even a month out from ending things with e. and I can honestly say we’ve moved into a pretty good place. I can’t help but smile at the irony that we’re far better with one another now than we often were during the period that we were dating. Yes, it’s bittersweet. I still wish things could have gone differently, I’m only human. But, I understand now that we’ve been given a chance to develop a solid, healthy relationship in a way we never could as a couple.

We got together to talk things out once (which made a huge difference), we’ve hung out briefly a few times, we’ve exchanged emails and had casual phone conversations. It’s been fairly smooth and comfortable and good. I think I’m probably more surprised than anyone, I really didn’t expect to feel this way, at least not this quickly. I know that much of this healing and perspective came from the fact that I allowed myself to dive into the darkness of my emotions and not deny myself the right to sit with my sadness and disappointment for a while.

Fact of the matter is, in the three months we were together, I came to care about her on a level that went beyond the dating and romance and sex. The intensity of our life events made both of us vulnerable and we each opened ourselves to the other in a very real way. In the process of navigating all the drama and uncertainty, I became invested in her as a person.

I’m glad that I was strong enough to recognize that it was time to move on from our relationship the way it was, but I’m far more glad that both of us care enough to let it become something else. I don’t want her to disappear from my life. I want to be her friend, to see her succeed, to see her really happy. I feel a deep sense of gratitude right now that it appears I will get to do just that.

It’s sometimes hard to discern, when life takes you down a road you didn’t want to travel, if it’s your heart that is more damaged, or if it’s your ego that has taken the brunt of the hit. Sometimes, I suppose, it varies from second to second. My heart hurt like hell when things ended – no doubt. I ached in a profoundly real way. As much as I knew they had to be, I did not want things to be over between us.

However, with a little distance, it’s also easier for me to see that a huge part of my emotional response was related to the bruising my ego took because of how things went down. Fact is, she moved on quickly. Really quickly. Like before things had officially ended kind of quickly. And when you’re the one on the other end of things, it really fucking sucks.

“Ouch”, whined my ego, with a massive pout and a bit of petulant foot stomping, “I wasn’t all that special after all”. When there is moving on to be done, nobody wants to be the one left behind in the dust. It’s a big slap in the face of the ultimate suck-it-up-sistah variety. Yeah baby, sometimes reality really does bite.

But it became clear, very quickly, that C (the new girl) was something different for e. I can’t exactly tell you how I knew, but within a few conversations I had a sense that C. already had e. in a way that I never did (and likely never would have). You might think that would make it hurt more, but instead, everything seemed to make more sense. If things had ended between us for the sake of casual dating or a quick fuck – it would have seemed so senseless, it would have burned in a whole different way. But if things ended because e. found someone that she has the opportunity to create a real, lasting connection with…well, all of a sudden the whole picture looks different.

I’ve seen them together twice now. The first time was crazy awkward, it was very soon after everything had happened and although I thought I could handle it, I just wasn’t ready. E. hugged me and J., J hugged C, and then C and I just stood there purposely not looking at one another, both of us likely wanting to sink into the floor wondering what the heck we were supposed to do now.

But Sunday night at the L word showing they were there again, and this time I felt totally different. This time I went up, gave e. a hug and then turned to C and hugged her as well – hoping I was transmitting the message that I was cool with this, that we could be cool with each other. Truth be told, I met C once before this all happened, and I honestly think she is a really cool lady. Someone who, under different circumstances, I would have totally wanted to get to know better.

Personally, I’m so much better, so much happier, so much more solid having moved beyond that relationship. Those three months were important to me on so many levels, they taught me so many things – but energy between e. and I didn’t put me in a good place mentally or emotionally much of the time. I was always unsure, off kilter, just a little out of wack. It never felt stable or predictable or like something I could put my faith and trust in – and a relationship like that just cannot sustain itself long term. Regardless of how much you care, or how much chemistry you have (or how damn good the sex is) it’s just not enough.

But if you take out all the drama, and all the uncertainty and all the missteps – it just comes down to two individuals caring about each other…and that is more than enough to form the basis of a friendship. So here we go, learning about each other in a whole new way, hopefully building a lasting relationship of an entirely different kind. For once, I’m happy to be a cliché.

I have not just been in the closet – I’ve been buried in the back of a long term storage facility with an elaborate Fort Knox-style security system. I was tucked so far in the back corner that you would have needed a map, compass and sophisticated GPS system to find me in there, hidden away, trying my hardest not to be noticed.

Even if you had stumbled across me and somehow recognized me for what I was, I’m not sure you could have gotten me out. For so long I have been crammed and locked inside a massive box, which was inside another massive box, which was inside another massive box (ad infinitum). Each of these boxes was chained, padlocked and booby trapped and covered in words scrawled in angry black marker…

…Denial…Good Girl…Conformity…Expectations…Insecurity…Fear…

Why?

What combinations of personality and life experiences led me to deny myself for so very long? What convoluted social regulations made it necessary for me to push down, block out, hide away from things I have been feeling and wanting for much of my life? What kind of lies did I have to tell myself to sustain my belief that I could feel and think all those things and still be a good little straight girl?

Why was I so damn afraid to be me?

I never gave voice to this in my life. Not to friends, not in the countless journals I filled with angst and joy and philosophies about the meaning of life and stories about kissing boys. Only in the quietest, darkest corners of my heart and in my wildest silent fantasies did I let this live. I never once spoke of this aloud until meeting my best friend M.(another married lesbian, we’re a more common breed than one might think).

And in having a place to release my feelings they became – for the first time – something real. It was such a relief, such a sweet exhale, to let go of these swirling, mixed up, crazy emotions that had been fighting for acknowledgement for so long. It wasn’t a quick path from there to here; it still took three full years of discussing and processing and agonizing to get to the point where I could accept my sexuality without reservation or denial or apology.

For the past seven months I have been ever so slowly making my way out of that closet and into the light. Every step forward is liberating, every time I am open and honest with the people in my life I feel a little bit lighter and a little more solid at the same time. Every time I am accepted for who I am, I feel myself occupying this new space with more confidence.

But as I move further and further into this new life I also find myself wishing I could have figured this out a little sooner, that I could have been this person a little earlier. I wonder what it would have been like to own my experience on this level when I was 16 or 21 or 28. I wonder what it would have been like to go through my early adulthood knowing and accepting and loving myself this way.

On many levels I get that this was my path. That everything I’ve lived through in the past 32 years was necessary to my journey. That everything I did was something I had to do to get here, to this point, so that I could live THIS exact life. But sometimes I just have to shake my head and laugh that it seemed so hard and took so long and scared me so much – because the reality is incredibly easy. It fits. There is a rightness to this life, a sense of immediate and total belonging, that I’ve never experienced before. This is who I am, without doubt or hesitation. This is me.

And I hope that most of you out there know on a personal level exactly how amazing that is, because there is nothing that compares, and no way I could ever fully explain how it feels.

It’s exciting and calming and electrifying and crazy and easy and it’s just simply good. Yeah. It’s good.

I found myself in the rather surreal situation this week of taking dating advice from my husband. S. and I were talking a bit about ‘the girl’ and about my call/don’t call/when-to-call/ask/don’t ask/when-to-ask quandary. You wanna know what he said?

Come on, admit it, I know you do.

He listened patiently to my back and forth detailing of my inner conflict, my wanna-call-and-ask-her-out-but-don’t-wanna-seem-too-eager-and-besides–I’m-shy-and-scared-of-rejection ramblings, and looked at me with amusement in his eyes and said…

“Come on Jen, don’t you know that you can’t just sit back and be the girl anymore”.

Ooooh…he was so right. That man knows me far too well.

In previous relationships I have always let others take the initiative, always waited to be chased instead of going after what I want. This is partly an ego thing – I get a real high from being pursued – and partly a confidence thing, as I’m not such a fan of being turned down.

In the traditional dynamic of male-female relationships, this can actually work fairly well. But S. is right – we’re not talking traditional dynamic anymore, and there are no males in sight.

[…well except for this lovely gay boy that I have a huge crush on, but I digress, that’s another story for another day…]

I’m not a college kid anymore, struggling with identity and self-confidence and (obvious now) issues of conflicted sexuality. I’m a confident 32 year old woman who is getting closer and closer to owning herself with every passing day. I don’t need to play games, to waste time wondering, or to sit back and wait for life to happen to me.

And so I called her.

[…and of course I got voice mail and asked her out via message, have since only corresponded through myspace, and am thinking she’s not all that interested, but that’s not really the point of this story…]

I called her. And I asked her out. And maybe it won’t ever happen – but I wanted to do it, and I did it and it felt GOOD.

And once again, something seemingly small creates an inner shift that makes everything look different. Knowing I have the ability to go after what I want (be it a coffee date with a cute girl, an unexpected kiss in a crowded bar, a new friendship or an entire future) and don’t have to wait and wonder and agonize about if/when/how it might happen makes me feel incredibly confident. And, dear readers, we all know that confidence is hot. Confidence begets hotness which begets further confidence; therefore I’m feeling pretty damn good.

Last night found me once again at ye olde lesbian country bar. This time, there was another cute girl with spiky bleached blonde hair and a gorgeous tattoo on her upper arm. She caught my eye right away, and I think I caught hers. We ended up talking and laughing and I asked her to dance. Trouble is, she’s a follow and so am I…and without a lead, there ain’t no two-steppin’ goin’ on. I really wanted to dance with this girl, and later on we did manage to stumble through a few songs with her leading, but I decided then and there that I need to learn to lead.

If you exclusively follow, you can only ever dance with a lead – which leaves out half the girls in the room. If you learn to lead AND follow – you just opened yourself up to a whole lot of potential dance partners. You can be what you need to be in the moment, depending on who you want to dance with and what role you both feel comfortable taking. And folks, from where I’m sitting, more dancing is never a bad thing.

[…yes, I realize that this little dancing analogy has much wider implications for life in general, that is exactly the point…]

And so in the next few weeks I’m going to go to the two-step lessons again, except that this time I’m going learn to lead. I’m going to learn how to dance a girl around the floor, to communicate without talking- just a gentle push/pull with arms and hands – where I want her to go, and how I want her to move. I’m going to learn to turn in place and change directions without missing a beat. I’m going to learn to spin her out, and bring her back in to me again. I’m going to take the lead.

And yes, of course I got her number.

I found this video today (on the girl’s myspace page – she added me as a friend – good sign, yes?) and had to share it. It seems rather cliché to say I saw the story of my life in the youtube version of a Shel Silverstein book, but I imagine that is part of the appeal– we can all recognize ourselves and our journeys in the simple line drawings and quietly powerful message.

The missing piece. That was me through my teens and twenties. Searching, seeking – always desperate to find the thing that would complete me. Not just in relationships, because that yearning didn’t go away with my marriage. Not just in my life passions, because it didn’t disappear when I discovered my birth work and photography. Not just in my need for friendships and community, for not even with the creation of those bonds did the constant feeling of seeking and searching ever totally relinquish the hold it had on me. I would often think I had found *it*, that magical piece that would quiet the yearning – and then I would get frustrated life changed (or I changed, or they changed) and things no longer fit quite right.

It’s only in the past six months, in discovering and owning MYSELF that I have found I am no longer looking for the missing piece. In finding the strength to say “This is who I am, and I’m finally willing to risk everything to live my life with authenticity.” Not by changing who I am, but by BECOMING myself.

I’m still very much in the “lift…pull…flop…” phase – but I can feel it now, that my edges are beginning to wear down. My journey is getting smoother, and I’m learning how to roll. On my own. I’m also learning that it’s okay if I want someone to roll with – a friend, a dance partner, a date, someone who might become something more at some undetermined point in the future. It’s even okay if I want to roll with a few pieces at the same time, or if I get different things from different pieces of my life. It’s okay, because this is all part of figuring out what shape I will ultimately take.

I don’t feel any longer like there is any one person or thing that will complete me – because I am learning, slowly but surely, that I complete myself. And that, my friends, feels very good indeed.

So, I wasn’t looking. Nope. I swear I wasn’t. Holding the space, working on my own personal development, defining my new existence. All that good stuff. I’m solid and standing strong on my own. Yup.

[You’re a smart group of folks. Pretty damn sharp from what I’ve been able to reckon thus far. Not much gets past ya’ll. Can you guess where this is going? If you’re the betting type, I can hook you up with a good bookie…]

Last night I went out with J, and let me tell you – we had an utterly fabulous time. We hit the country bar again, and I two-stepped with some great dancers (the difference between tripping over my feet like an idiot and working the floor like a pro, I have discovered, is choosing a partner who really knows how to lead. A strong lead makes all the difference in the world). I even tried a little line dancing (Tush Push anyone?). I’m pretty sure I looked like a complete ass, but at least I was as ass who was having fun.

[Here, let me hook you up with some music to set the mood for the story. Every good tale needs a soundtrack…]

I know, I know, it sounds cheesy as hell (and lets be real, it absolutely is) but I always have a good time at this place. It’s low pressure, completely unpretentious, great random mix of people and pretty chill, without that sleazy bar feeling. Besides, I think that (much to my surprise) I’m developing a liking for girls with big belt buckles and cowbody hats. What’s not to like about that?

So, there was a girl there, but I bet you already knew there would be, because – like I said– you’re smart like that.

[Of course, being that it was a lesbian bar, and that I set up the story fairly well, I suppose it was a pretty safe bet…]

Yes indeed, there was a girl.

I actually met her a few weeks ago, and liked her immediately – but it was just a few days after things went down (or downhill, perhaps I should say?) with e. I was quietly hoping she would be there last night, and actually got a little jolt of excitement when I saw her.

[Her name begins with S, but since there is already an S. who features rather prominently in this blog, I’ll just call her ‘the girl’]

We chatted a bit, and danced once I think– and then J. danced with her. When my dear friend got off the dance floor she looked at me sheepishly drunkenly and confessed that she might have accidentally purposely told the girl that I thought she was hot. Apparently the girl said that she thought I was hella cute, and J. (dear friend that she is) told her that I was also hella single. She responded that she was also hella single….and with that helpful lead-in there was eye contact, and smiles and more great dancing and conversation.

And she kinda asked me out, and I kinda asked her out, and we exchanged the all important myspace page info and let me tell you, I was a little giddy. It was fun to feel that way – things with e. began with intensity and ended with intensity and there was no lighthearted giddiness to be found at any point. This was a reminder of how fun and totally without pressure or seriousness the very beginning of anything can be.

After the bar closed J (on the power of three jagerbombers, damn Red Bull) decided she wasn’t ready to go home. There was a brief discussion of after hours dancing at a gay boy country bar, but ultimately we all decided to head to Gay Denny’s to get our grease fix (yes indeed, we have a Gay Denny’s – or Jenny’s as it’s called by those in the know). Everyone should have a Gay Denny’s.

All was well until J started talking about her children, and I mentioned that I have kids as well. And maybe I’m being paranoid, but I think I felt a shift in her attitude. I might have been totally imagining things, and I hope I was.

For the first time I really started to consider the fact that my kids might be an issue for me and some of the women I would like to date. They certainly became an issue for e. in the end – and I’m sure it won’t be the last time the fact that I am a mother affects my dating potential.

Let’s be honest, if my children are an issue – what of my entire situation….

“Hi, I’m Jen. Not only do I have two young children who take up much of my time and energy, but until six months ago I was still pretending to be straight as an arrow. I’ve kissed just two women, and only slept with one in an utterly drama filled quasi-relationship that just ended on a bad note– but what I lack in experience I promise I make up for with enthusiasm. Yes siree. I’m enthusiastic. Oh yes, you should know that I still live with my husband. Not my ex-husband – we’re still totally and completely married and likely to stay that way for a while because for several reasons I don’t want to get into right now.  But don’t worry – we don’t share a bedroom…anymore. That was so last month. We’re just like roommates, except we had sex for 11 years and made two babies together. Oh…before I forget, I don’t actually have a job, or any source of income – and once I’m sugar daddy stops supporting me, I’m pretty much up shit creek….”

Clearly, I’m a real baggage-free catch. What woman wouldn’t want me?

But I think maybe I could like this girl. She’s cute as hell. She has a great smile and kind eyes. She’s an amazing dancer. Her favorite book is Dostoevsky’s The Idiot. She loves poetry. Her skin is amazingly soft. I don’t usually react to people that quickly – but I had butterflies when I first met her, I had major butterflies last night, and I have butterflies today wondering if she’ll still call.

Obviously, if a woman is turned off by the very fact that I have children, she’s clearly not the woman for me. I am not wholly defined by my children, or by my role as their mother. I am a strong, intelligent, bold, funny, talented woman with so much to offer to a relationship – but my children (and my past) are a part of the package. I know this, and the people I am really meant to date will recognize this as well.

At the very least I think I’ve met someone who could be a fun friend, and a kick-ass dance partner, but I’m hoping I get the chance to see if it might be a little something more.

I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.*

*On that note. God – I can’t believe I’m dating again. I last dated when I was 21. 21 years old, people. I was a babe in the woods. And I was dating boys. I’m 32 now. That was a LONG time ago and this is a whole new world, and we’re talking about a really cute girl here. I don’t remember how to do this. When do I call? Do I wait for her to call? Will she call? Shit. I think I’m too old for this craziness.

On a lighter note….

A few months ago I came across a fantastic blog written by a woman named Kathryn and immediately felt right at home. The blog, Recovering Straight Girl, was the first that I had found to directly address my current reality, that of coming out after marriage and motherhood. Not only does she address it, but she does so with humor and grace and realism. I was hooked right away.

While exploring her blog that first day, my friend J. (another RSG, about a year ahead of me in the whole process) and I came across Kathryn’s Recovering Straight Girls 12 Steps to Becoming a Lesbian and we just about killed ourselves laughing as we read the steps aloud. I just had to ask permission to post the list here.

Just to make this a little more personal, I’ll include my personal commentary below each step (consider it a warm up for an upcoming post – where I intend to talk about sex)!

The Recovering Straight Girls Twelve Steps to Becoming a Lesbian (reposted with permission from the author)

1. We admit that we are powerless over being lesbians; that our lives have become unmanageable trying and pretending to be straight.

Um. Yeah that. I made a damn good (32 year) attempt of it though.

2. We have come to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity; it is the power of pussy.

Um. Yeah that too. Powerful stuff, that.

Enough said.

3. We have made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to being with women, and have made that shift by actually engaging in hot sexual relations with a woman more than once.

Well, not more than one woman, but definitely more than once. And definitely, definitely, definitely hot.

Did I mention it was hot?

4. We have made a list of all the men that we slept with; accepted that straight sex is mediocre sex, and forgave ourselves for wasting so many precious years sleeping with men. We have come to realize, accept and willingly expect that orgasms do happen (over and over again,) and that they are a normal part of sexual relations. We have also realized accepted, and now expect that sex last longer than ten minutes. Note: Some personal training is required in this area to build up an endurance level.

For this one I am hoping that a mental list will do. Funny, I wouldn’t have categorized most of my (straight) sexual experiences as mediocre sex…I always thought I rather enjoyed it. However, having experienced the reality of being with a woman – well…lets just say everything is relative.

“orgasms do happen (over and over again)”
Funny that. I always assumed I just didn’t have it in me to be a multi-orgasmic woman. Now I know better. Not only are there more of them, but seriously people – they are ***this*** big and ***that*** long. No joke.

“now expect that sex last longer than ten minutes”
Seriously, this has been the most surprising and lovely aspect of my sexual experience thus far. It is so fluid, and not goal-oriented. Truly, all of lesbian sex fits under the heterosexual definition of foreplay, so it just rolls and spirals and spins to the edge and back again for as long as you want it to. For all you straight gals out there, at the risk of being presumptuous and rude… I gotta say, you don’t know what you’re missing.

5. We have admitted to a higher power, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs pretending to be straight. In other words: we came out, and realized that we would rather have dental work done than have sex with another guy.

Well, I have to say that there is no such thing as using the term “came out” in the past tense – because it is such an ongoing process (more on that in another post as well). The coming out process is really life long, I think.

As far as the dental work bit, well – as strange as it seems even to me, I kinda have to agree. Yikes. I really must be gay, ‘cause I hate the dentist.

6. We have made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves and with much certainty and without hesitation, cut our nails, and very possibly our hair. Note: During this step, some recovering straight women may want to also get a tattoo or piercing, this is entirely a matter of choice. A tattoo or piercing is not a requirement as of this writing.

Cut nails – check
I keep waiting for S. to notice and ask why my nails are always so short after years of having them longish, but either he is oblivious or he has decided not to ask. Note: if you’re wondering why the short nails – just think on it for a bit. Rather obvious, no?

Cut hair – check
However, I rather think my hair cut had more to do with wanting to be as cool as Victoria Beckham than it did wanting to embrace Lesbianism. However, there is a page ripped out of a catalogue stuck to my fridge of a woman with short-short hair. Every now and then I look at it and wonder if I would have the guts, and if it would look good…

Tattoo – almost check
I’ve been meaning to have this done for months and months though, way back when I was still deep in denial, so not sure if this counts. However, it is this journey that helped me finally decide what tattoo to get. This will be my second tattoo– so it’s not entirely a RSG thing.

Piercing – nope
My ears are not even pierced anymore. I can’t imagine I’m going to go out and get pierced…although stranger things have happened (like me finally coming out of the closet, for instance). Side note: I am WAY into piercings in other girls though. Both of the women I have kissed have had lip piercings and I have to say, it adds a certain something to the experience! Hmmm…happy memories.

7. We are entirely ready to have the higher goddess remove all these defects of being straight: To prove it, we have gone to at least one lesbian bar, lesbian dance and/or lesbian event (preferable a lesbian folk singer); we have purchased CDs from Melissa Etheridge, KD Lang, and/or The Indigo Girls; and we have acquired at least one item with a rainbow on it.

Lesbian Bar: check, check, check, check.
I think I’ve been to more bars since September than I have in the past decade. It’s like college all over again, except with more girls and no sweaty football players! We’ve actually got a decent number of places to choose from here, although most of them are fairly ghetto. Last night we went to a Lesbian country bar, where I line danced and two-stepped the night away with gay girls from 21 to (I swear) 65!

Lesbian Event: check
Rainbow Festival, and several lesbian folk singers actually. I’ll attend my first Pride in April and hopefully road trip to San Diego Pride in July. I flirted with the idea of going to Dinah Shore with a friend this year, but don’t think I’m up for that yet! Coming up: Tegan and Sara in April, and I heard a rumor of Melissa Ferrick coming to town as well…

Music – check.
Funny story. I was talking to J’s girlfriend T one day about music. We talked about our musical likes and dislikes – including when we discovered certain favorites. Upon hearing that I had been listening to Melissa Etheridge, Indigo Girls, Ani Difranco and Tori Amos since college, T looked at me in disbelief and said in a most incredulous voice, “And you didn’t know you were gay?”!

Rainbows – check
Canadian AND American pride magnets, and my girls insist on keeping a pride flag cling-on in their bedroom window!

8. We are removing our straight shortcomings: We no longer refer to our straight friends who are women as our girlfriends, and reserve that term only for women that we are sleeping with. We have accepted that hiking is a part of life, (although secretly it can be disguised as shopping,) we have purchased a sports bra, (although we know that it’s only to be worn while playing sports.)

I have noticed that I have been more aware of using the term ‘girlfriend’ – although I would never have called the woman I was seeing/sleeping with my girlfriend (called her my not-girlfriend actually) so it didn’t seem to matter as much. I am sure that once I have an actual girlfriend I will be much more careful about how I use the term.

Not so sure about the hiking bit, as I enjoyed that even when I was playing straight. Shopping I am always up for! Sports bras…yes – only during sports. I am NOT a fan of the uniboob.

9. We have traded our magazine subscriptions to Cosmopolitan, Vogue, Elle, and Marie Clare; for new subscriptions to Curve, Girlfriends, and The Advocate.

Well, the only pre-gay magazine subscription I had was to “Lucky” (and that was only because someone bought it for me) although I admit to buying more than my share of “In Style” and “Marie Claire” in the past. I did buy a copy of “Curve” a few months back – but I think I can make up for my lack of subscriptions with my memberships to websites like “Our Chart” and how many LGBTQ related businesses/organizations/people I have on myspace friends list!

10. We have continued to take personal inventory and when we are wrong promptly admit. We are open to guidance from our lesbian sisters on things related to: the proper placement of hand stamps at lesbian nightclubs, womens basketball (especially the womens NCAA tournament,) camping, baseball cap etiquette, dogs, cats, and beer.

Hand stamp placement? Huh? If we’re talking sports I will need plenty of guidance. I’d only willingly attend a basketball game if it was with a bunch of fun friends, or if I was purposely going to scout for women! Baseball cap…I don’t think so. Beer…not for me.

11. We have sought through prayer, meditation or deep reflection ways to first access, then fine tune our newly realized Gaydar in order to improve our conscious contact with lesbians. We then have:
a. Successfully recognized a lesbian and tried to make some kind of contact with her outside of a typical lesbian arena.
b. Been nodded at by another lesbian who recognized us, outside of a typical lesbian arena. Note: This is a very important, but very difficult task that may take a lot of practice before achieving. Do not be discouraged, do not give up!

Damn, but my gaydar sucks. Unless a chick an obvious butch or dyke (or is making out with another woman) I have to admit that I always have that “Is she or isn’t she?” question in my mind. That is the nice thing about a lesbian bar or gay event – at least the assumption of gayness is a relatively safe one!

a. Yes, yes, yes – I did this….however, was not successful at making eye contact. I’m giving myself credit for trying.

b. Eek – not so much. I swear, if I hear one more time “You look like a straight girl”, I just might buzz my hair and start wearing ties and big black boots. I think the only way I would get recognized outside of a ‘typical lesbian arena’ is if (not to be indelicate) I had my tongue stuck down another woman’s throat, or if I took to wrapping myself up in a pride flag every time I left the house. Heck, my car (with its “Legalize Love” bumper sticker and pride decal) is more obviously gay than I am! That’s the kicker of being femme, I think, to most people femme = straight.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to other straight women, near and far, in the city, in the country, and in the suburbs (especially the suburbs,) and to practice these principles in all our lesbian affairs.

Conversion/Recruitment Attempts – Check.
Ask my straight friends – I keep trying to tell them how silly they are being with this insistence on heterosexuality. Heck, if I had known what I was missing it sure wouldn’t have taken me this long! Plus, eventually I want to earn a toaster oven.

So there you have it. All you other RSG’s out there, lets hear it from you too! Leave your commentary in my comments section, or ask Kathryn if you can post this on your own blog.

I met my husband by the pool table in our college pub in the winter of 1997. I was 21 years old and thought, however naively, that I was all grown up. It seems so crazy now, how sure I was that I knew myself and what I wanted (graduation-job-marriage-house-children-happily-ever-don’t-rock-the-boat-after, thank you very much).

I think back at that young girl and wish I could whisper in her ear,

“Go now, and live a little. Experience. Dream. Risk. Close your eyes and jump. Choose potential over safety. Choose exhilaration over comfort. Choose magic over predictability. Make millions of mistakes so that you will know how to choose what you really need. Love hard and often and without reservation. Be bold. Tell the truth about yourself no matter what the cost. Own your reality without apology. Embrace your darkness along with your light. Know yourself fully before you make promises to another.”

But that’s not what I did. I was to have gone to England after graduation to be an au pair for a classical violinist living in posh London suburb. I had also considered heading to Asia to travel and teach English for a year or two. I was going to live out a dream and explore and have amazing adventures.

Instead I met S. and fell in love, and in my fear of losing him and the future I imagined for us, I talked myself out of my plans. I got a dreary, horrid, underpaid job working for a rental car company and moved into early domesticity, sharing an apartment and a life with him from that point on. And I was happy.

But I have never truly been alone.

With this latest change in my life there exists a new space – one that has not been there for a long, long time. I went straight from the fiercely intertwined partnership of marriage into this heart-wrenching sweetness with e. I staggered both spaces for some time, slowly moving myself from one to the other – but never fully existing in the place in between.

And so now I find myself on my own for the very first time in my life. This will be the first time I am not involved in any relationship that provides me with emotional and physical intimacy, the first time I am not one half of some sort of a partnership. Even though things with e. were never all that stable or dependable – there was still the comfort of that connection to keep me from feeling alone.

And so now there is me. Just me.

Although my life is still (and will always be) hopelessly entwined with the lives of my husband and children, at the root of it all I am standing on my own. It is exhilarating. It is frightening. It is mind boggling. I feel larger than life and very, very small.

There is space – both inside me and surrounding me – that I am accustomed to having filled up by another. Space in my heart and in my mind. Space in my arms and in my hands and in my bed. But, although there is sadness and loneliness in those spaces, they do not feel empty. No, I rather think they feel full; full of reality and full of potential. Still, the first instinct with space is to fill it. To rush to distract, to replace, to find another something or someone to focus on. To seek the freefall of infatuation and to get caught up in something outside of myself.

“It is a transformative experience to simply pause instead of immediately filling up the space. By waiting, we begin to connect with fundamental restlessness and well as fundamental spaciousness”. ~ Pema Chodron.

The challenge here, I think, will be to hold that space for now. My gut tells me that it necessary to not just keep this space open, but to expand it to make it even bigger – and then to learn how to fill it with myself. When the time comes I will be able to welcome someone else into my space, and to share it with them from a place of strength and wholeness.

I came across a quote the other day, from a woman named Susannah who has chronicled her own journey of grief, loss and growth with words, photography and art on her incredible blog, Ink on My Fingers:

‘I know now that sometimes loneliness is needed, time alone to sort through the debris and have the chance to mend your sails before you set off on another voyage; time to work out your place on the earth without the need of another person to anchor you; time to meet yourself in your heart and sit with her without judgment or expectation. It’s never easy, but it is essential.”

I need to take the time to accept and sit quietly with the pain of my losses (both of the magical potential of creating something real with e. and the loss of a profound and very concrete past with S.). I need to lean into the totality of these experiences, to welcome them into myself as integral parts of my growth and learning. I need to figure out how to anchor myself to ME, instead of to another. Instinct makes us want to run from the pain, to hide from the discomfort of experiencing the negative parts of life, but that often leads to us slamming into the same life lessons over and over and over again. I’m ready to move on.

I believe we never manage to let go of painful experiences until we let ourselves experience them completely and without reservation or fear. It is not easy to sit with pain, to not only accept it, but to invite it in the aching and the tears and the regret and welcome ourselves to the experience of it in a real and multi-dimensional way. To say “this fucking sucks, but lets just see what it’s like to dive into it headfirst instead of trying to escape”

When we let the dark emotions flow, something unexpected and unpredictable often occurs. Consciously experienced, the energy of these emotions flows toward healing and harmony. I’ve found that unimpeded grief transforms itself into heightened gratitude; that consciously experiencing fear expands our ability to feel joy; and that being mindful of despair — really entering into the dark night of the soul with the light of awareness — renews and deepens our faith. ~ Miriam Greenspan

That is not to say that I intend to embrace a life of celibacy or that I would close myself to the potential of what comes my way. No, this journey is all about welcoming experience and saying yes to the universe (or to a harmless date with a cute girl). However, there is a difference between recognizing something that comes your way and actively seeking it for the wrong reasons.

And so I think of my 32 year old self, scarred and bruised and weary, but excited and strong and eager, and I think tonight as she is drifting off to dreamland I’ll try to remember to whisper in her ear…

“Go now, and live a little. Experience. Dream. Risk. Close your eyes and jump. Choose potential over safety. Choose exhilaration over comfort. Choose magic over predictability. Make millions of mistakes so that you will know how to choose what you really need. Love hard and often and without reservation. Be bold. Tell the truth about yourself no matter what the cost. Own your reality without apology. Embrace your darkness along with your light. Know yourself fully before you make promises to another.”

I hope she listens.