Transgender Barbie and the Big Game Hunt

So, I am the only whackadoo that can take a Face Book quiz and get the result of Transgender Barbie. My friends wanted to know how I answered to get such a result. Honestly, I personally was not surprised by the result. See, the truth is, I am an Irish Twin. For those of you unfamiliar with the term, that means I was born less than a year apart from my older sister. We are the same age for a month. This occurs quite frequently in places where contraceptive measures are discouraged, you get the reference. I was a preemie with cholic to boot. Basically, I gave my mother a nervous breakdown. She vowed there would be no more children. My dad wanted a son.....hence my upbringing and my own nature made me more internally boyish than girlish. I have always related more readily to men than women.

This is a big introduction to such a little, silly thought, but it amused me. So, I have had an opportunity to dip my feet into the single waters since my separation a few months ago. Of course, the fact that I am in no emotional shape to be dating has been pounded into my head like a weathered 2 X 4. I have experienced a few things along the way. One of the things I have struggled with is the fact that because I feel more internally male, I approach dating the same way. Therefore, I want to be the Hunter not the Hunted. My male friends, which there are many, all say I need to stop Hunting and allow myself to be Hunted and that is the best strategy to obtaining my target. Of course, I have a target. Of course, when I play the demure, I could care less/hard to get role, the target's interest increases. However, this is not a role in which I have as much direct control. It pretty much freaks me out.

On the other hand, I am being hunted by more than a couple of Big Game Hunters with which I have no interest. In fact, this has been a pattern for me. I like the challenge of the conquest. I hunt the rare species. I am not interested in the common. Needless to say, my social life is all but non-existent. Not for a lack of opportunity, but for a lack of interest in my opportunities. Yup. I am a headcase for sure.

I hate it when he is right.

I had an opportunity to host a fundraiser for a cause I cared deeply about. I invited nearly fifty people. Imagine my disappointment when only three people showed up. I spent $200 on food. The fundraiser raised $150. I went to bed angry that night. The next day, however, the old tape recorder in my head got stuck on a vindictive little statement my husband had said to me. He said that all of my relationships were superficial. He  said that men were only interested in me for my physical attributes, and women.....well, with the exception of a few close female friends with whom I never did keep close contact with, what he has to say is completely true.

I have been working harder to develop more meaningful relationships. Men....well, they do a good job of proving my husband right. If I was too busy to develop female relationships before our separation, it is equally the case now, if not more so. My spouse has not arranged any visitation, so I have the kids every moment I am not at work and am attending to their every need. Not that I mind. They are pretty darned amazing, but....you know, no rest for the wicked, and certainly no friends! Can I break the tape recorder already? Why did my therapist choose now to deliver her baby? Isn't that pathetic, the only appropriate person I have to lament to is someone that I pay. Pathetic, I say.

The Lunatic Fringe

This is the title of a hair studio here in town. I love the double entendre. In Great Britain, fringe is what we yanks call bangs. This certainly describes my current state of being. I met with a therapist for the first time yesterday. Nothing like telling your life story to a complete stranger. The worst part is you skip the good stuff and head straight to the refuse. The first question my therapist posed for me was "why are you seeking counseling". That was obvious, we began the discussion of how information on human development typically stops at adulthood and that there are essentially about 25 more stages. Boy, that mid-life crisis thing is quite the boomerang. I feel like I did at 20 years old with the world before me and I simply needed to choose a path to walk down. Of course, now I am not only not blinded with optimism, rather jaded with cynicism. The path I choose affects others. I need to anticipate consequences, intended and unintended.

I felt such relief stating my conflict out loud. She shared an analogy with me that I had heard before, but never internalized. She spoke of that powerful tiger who had grown up in a cage. That tiger was perfectly content with the space and lifestyle provided, then one day, the tiger sees the cage. Now, regardless of the quality of life, even if all of the tiger's needs are being met, the tiger will no longer be satisfied to live in the cage. This is the exact issue. I see the cage. I look back on the path I have chosen. I do not know if I would choose a different path, I might consider skipping a handful of shortcuts and meanderings, but life has been good. Now, however, the cage looms large. The dissatisfaction has taken root. I stand at a different trailhead. This will not be a day hike, or for a lark. This path will take me to the end of my mortality, the final destination. Will I find enlightenment upon the summit? Will it be long and arduous or adventurous and fulfilling? How do I meet my needs without disrupting the people I love most?

Why I am not a writer

Writing has never been my forte. I am frequently astounded by the ability of my twelve year old son to succinctly get to the gyst of an issue and be able to describe it, including emotional issues. I spent my early childhood living "children are to be seen and not heard". Whatever voice I had inside slowly abated. I related to the world visually. I could see emotions in colors. I still describe everything in colors. Yet, I could never say how I felt or even had difficulty recognizing what I felt. The very purpose of this blog is to learn how to recognize and express who I truly am.

Since my childhood, I have an increased vocabulary. I understand emotions theoretically. I frequently feel anger, joy, resentment, pride, and a host of other things. Can I say why I feel angry? What is the reason? This is incredibly difficult for me. I know I am capable of feeling. For some time, I was afraid I had sociopathic tendencies. Fear is most doubtedly my worst enemy. Fear of dying? No. Fear of heights, animals, people, or external risk taking of any form(scuba diving is the exception)? No, no, and no. Fear of not being loveable? Fear of abandonment? These are incredibly real fears for me. I was unaware of such fears for a very long time until that fear was triggered from deep inside of me. Who knew? I certainly was unaware. I had built a multitude of defenses to keep that core belief from surfacing. Now the question is, how do I overcome these fears? How do I trust what I really feel when I have betrayed myself for so many years?

My life has taken on the surreal quality of having watched a film, and then being shown around the set and  left wondering how you were able to achieve that suspension of disbelief. Plywood, 2 x 4's and paint have made up my reality. It is time for me to walk away from that set and discover what and how I can contribute to something authentic. I am tired of make believe, I don't care what Mr Rogers says!

Stepford Wives

I love to play dress up. I do it nearly every day. I like to open my closet and imagine one of the great ladies of the Golden Age of the Silver Screen. What would Grace Kelly wear? I have done Lauren Hutton rather frequently. I have fun with Mia Farrow. I do not think that Mary Kate does Hobo Chic very well. She is too little to carry it off. Today's effort was Audrey Hepburn. Sadly, I failed. I either look like a Gap ad or a Stepford Wife. Either way......not good. Especially the latter. The cookie cutter is exactly what I wish to avoid. Living my entire life catering to the needs of others at the expense of personal identity is also to be avoided. Yet, this has been the pattern for me for so long. Am I strong enough to break the tethers and live life on my terms? How do I find/create my personal identity while still providing love and nurture to the ones I love most? Will I ever be courageous enough to speak the whole truth and nothing but the truth and not acquiesce when the truth might be uncomfortable? I am thinking of the Blue's song "Standing at the Crossroads". I do not know who the original songwriter is. I think first of Eric Clapton, but when I hear the song in my mind, it is always Stevie Ray Vaughn's version. Maybe when I get dressed tomorrow, I should think of The Wizard of Oz. Frequently, when I look in the mirror lately the Cowardly Lion is staring back at me.

Marketing 101

I am in the people business. My job is to hire and motivate talent to maximize peak performance. When I am at a book store, I will eventually gravitate to the business management section. I like to look at these books, I do not like to read them. I will always find one directed to women. One of the first topics will nearly always be about "branding" oneself. Of course, in the corporate world, we all know that branding is everything. I watched a documentary on "branding" and watched children pick a stick of celery over a candy bar because it was wrapped with a recognized cartoon character. Such is life in the modern world.

I have just returned from an annual conference with my company. I congratulated myself on my ability to present my "brand" to important people within the organization. Why these books think that this is a challenge for women is beyond me. To me, we should be experts. In fact, business is easier than some of the other "brands" we are pitching in our lives. At least at work, you only need to present yourself as competent and engaged, there is no need to share any authentic feeling. In fact, it is discouraged. At the end of the day, you represent the company "brand" and individuality is not what they are looking for. This is a very safe environment for me.

Back in the day, when you went to buy shampoo, you could pick Suave, Prell, White Rain, etc. There would be one bottle for each "brand" of shampoo. Now, if you want to confuse a man, tell him exactly what type of shampoo with in a specific brand that you want. He will stare at the shelf in bewilderment. Does she want Suave for fine hair? Suave with dandruff control? Suave for oily hair, and the list goes on. I feel like a similar product. I have one "brand" but a large assortment of specific functions that I perform with in the "brand". I see myself lined up on the shelf, competing for valuable retail real estate. To appeal to my customers, I am packaged attractively. There is WW the professional, WW the mother, WW the wife, WW (recent past) the church and spiritual leader, WW the daughter and sister, and the list continues. I present these brands each and every day. Where is the original formula? I do not see it on the shelf anywhere. Did it get lost? Did the demand for the original product diminish and hence it became obsolete?

I am afraid that if I find the bottle with the original formula and I were to tear open the pretty packaging, that the contents will have been overmarketed and that I would be disappointed by the amount and quality of the product. More frightening still, is that it would have no contents whatsoever. That my authentic self has become obsolete because the market share has shifted to all the other products under my brand. This is my journey to find the original formula.

A verbal land fill

I took a tour of the Salt Lake County Landfill once as a helper on my daughter's fourth grade field trip. This made my trip to the Wonder Bread factory as a young student suddenly much more appealling. I learned plenty, however. What we had affectionally called "the dump" for years is now a land fill. The difference is in the science. Whereas a dump is merely a place to deposit our broken, discarded items, a landfill creates energy and products out of our waste. Did you no that the Methane Gas produced and harnessed at the Salt Lake County Landfill powers the entire city of Murray?

This blog is an effort for me to discard some of the thoughts and worries that plague the modern forty plus year old woman. I do not wish to create a space of useless refuse. I want to harness some of this energy and be able to create and redefine the garbage in my heart and mind.