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I've been waiting for perfect moments to talk about myself.

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I’ve been waiting for perfect moments to talk about myself. I mean, the perfect moment. When I knew exactly what I wanted to say and had some way to control how you would see me … and that time isn’t going to ever arrive and it’s way past time I began talking about my journey in some way that is real.

I just entered this new decade and feel like a cloud’s been lifted from my head. I began 2010 ending a divorce, with ambiguous (at best) boundaries, a naive view of the world which placed me at the center of a huge bulls-eye for every intended and unintended taking advantage that could occur. Some of my most difficult moments were in relating to men for relationship, in bands, in work. There are too many men in my general age and older who have never pondered themselves in any way that gives me rights. The right to not be complimented – because work or music is about work and music – or a friend who made our potential friendship about my looks, not about how we could actually be friends. The right to be good at music; a so-called friend, actually several male friends, told me that I was lucky I was a woman because people liked my music no matter what. I just had to wear clothes that draped just so, revealed just so, and that my music was incidental. Actually, from one friend, I was told to play the songs everyone knows and to stop playing the obscure old tunes. Or the man who wooed me fresh out of the marriage – he supposedly fell fast and hard but once I was caught and engaged in the relationship, told me that I made it too easy. After 4 months he broke it off on Mother’s Day and told me that it was because I had kids. Hmmm. And then I foolishly went out with him again. You know, those patterns, the cycles of my life, didn’t settle down till I faced them and decided “enough.” And, you might be feeling sorry for me because I dated someone who was so emotionally unavailable, but I chose it and I chose it over and over till I stopped choosing it. I made the choices to be with folks who didn’t respect themselves or me. And just kept asking the universe or God or my higher self for the same lesson again and again. “May I have some more, please?”

I don’t need to list the wounds, slights and every instance of bullshit I’ve experienced. That’s the opposite of what I’m trying to do today. I would like to forgive each and every one of you guys. (I imagine they’ve got time or inclination to go read this statement). I don’t have time or energy for you any more. I have a business to build, people to help and kids to encourage and a partner who is so, so deserving of my love and presence.

I’m ready to see clearly. I’m so ready to face my fears head-on. To say yes to wherever God wants to send me. She knows best. And He is likely to choose things which both thrill me and fill me with dread. That’s the way it goes.

In 2010, I told God, wherever you need me, whatever you want of me, I’m yours. And then I promptly looked for escape routes and ways to avoid my fears. Don’t get up on that stage. Tell them careful things, gentle things, other things than the authentic words held behind my teeth; I mean, I wouldn’t want them to leave, right? Stay, even when you’re in pain from staying. Listen and have sympathy. Unhealthy codependence which has me trying to save everyone else and abandoning myself again and again. And, that promise to God in 2010 was a naive appeal to be saved. Saved from myself and told where to go.

Today, Friday, February 7, 2020, I’m saying that I’m tired of fighting, of swimming upstream, of doing all that control stuff which has me chasing my tail and running away from all the learning moments that I deem as “too scary.” I can tell you that I’ve run from difficulty for over 20 years and I wouldn’t be exaggerating. I’m quite capable of running form fears for another 20, 30, 40 years, till I keel over dead. But I don’t want to run away. I want to be brave and honest and to tell you about my struggles. And so I will.

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