Fashionista to Passionista

I got to thinking about intimate relationships and when all is said and done, it seems to me that the most important relationship we have is with ourselves. I believe it really is true that we can’t love another wholly until we love ourselves (and not in a “Master of my own domain” kind of way….). There are several reasons for this. First, you can’t love yourself until you know yourself and that takes time and effort, just like any courtship. It has to happen outside all your other relationships. It requires solitude, something in very short supply for most people. It requires excavating one’s soul, heart, and mind to see what catches our eye, what catches our breath. Like my trip to the Smithsonian on my 49th birthday, this excavation needs to be solo in order to maintain potency and truth.

If, in fact, we focus on defining ourselves in relation to another, we set both parties up for failure. First, we get no closer to knowing ourselves, and second, the other individual is bound to disappoint us if we see them as defining us, rather than something entirely separate from us. It is a no win situation.

There is an interesting quote, recently spoken by Michelle Williams in Vogue, where she said “We should become the man we want to marry.” In fact, this was paraphrasing a Gloria Steinem quote: “Some of us are becoming the men we wanted to marry”. I think in Gloria’s case, she meant that women were making strides in all aspects of life and she saw this as a rightfully positive thing. I think in Michelle’s case, she meant that we cannot put our identity in the hands of another. It must be self-contained, and, when formed to the degree that it is discernible, shared with another if desired.

I don’t know myself very well. I have spent 49 years focusing on others, and not because I’m a caregiver by nature. I am not. I grew up in an alcoholic household and became adept at putting other’s feelings and needs over my own. I left at sixteen, having had enough of the instability. I moved in with my then-boyfriend, and we spent the next 20 years together, and created two wonderful children, Search and Destroy. We divorced ten years ago, and remain the best of friends. What happened to the marriage? Well, I could blame him but that wouldn’t be correct. I could blame the fact that I was too young. And that may be partially correct. I didn’t know myself at all. All I knew was that I was unhappy, and it was very easy to blame him. Long story short, it’s been ten years, and they have been a struggle as a single parent. Not a lot of time for self-reflection when you’re wondering whether to spend your only $5 on gas or food. It is only in the last couple of years as life has become stable and comfortable that this persistent restlessness has surfaced.

For the past seven years, I have been dating a single father with two children who are younger than mine. True to form, since Search and Destroy are now adults, much of my focus has been trained on my surrogate family. Somehow, I’ve managed to spend almost another decade without getting to know me. At the risk of sounding selfish, enough is enough.

I will spend this next year getting to know myself. I will congratulate and commiserate with myself as necessary. I will take myself out for dinner. I will buy me flowers. I will give myself high fives. I will, indeed, become the man I want to (someday) marry. And in so doing, I will bring a whole person to the relationship table with no expectations of my partner other than to allow me to be me. No other expectations are necessary as I won’t need him to define me. I’m not sure, because I don’t know me very well yet, but I think I might be “the one

My goal is to post every Sunday as I enjoy curling up with my laptop and a soothing cup of green tea after taking the dog for a walk. I missed last weekend as I was in DC on business. Sure, I had my trusty laptop with me, but last Sunday also happened to be my birthday. I turned 49. I was in DC and I was alone, most of my convention-attending colleagues having travelled back home. I wanted to stay an extra day specifically because it was my birthday.

I woke to glorious weather and a day of possiblities. I wanted to celebrate the beginning of my 50th year on this planet - what to do? Well, I started with room service, said to hell with my healthy diet plan, and ordered crispy bacon and home fries. Mmmmmm. I then set about Googling the Smithsonian. Interestingly - but not surprisingly - I browsed through the Washington Post while I ate and discovered a whole section on museums and what curators are doing to encourage new patrons. I had already decided even before I left home to visit the Smithsonian but with limited time, which exhibits to see? The universe really does provide what we need when we need it - we only have to ask. I laughed out loud when I spotted the special section of the paper outlining three museum routes. Deciding on the Museum of Natural History and the Museum of American History if I had the time, I dressed myself in comfortable (but fashionable - see my blog subtitle) touring clothes, and grabbed a ride into downtown DC.

Ukla, my longtime boyfriend (Google Ukla the Mok - he’s a ringer for my guy), had potentially planned to travel with me but it didn’t work out. Disappointed at first, I trusted that this is the way it should be. Interestingly - but not surprisingly - it turned out to be so meaningful that I was alone and here’s why. First, this journey of self-discovery is just that. It’s mine and no one else can do it, or even share in it, with me. It’s wholly internal. Second, being entirely on my own meant that my experiences were potent and personal. They were not watered down in any way by others’ opinions or input. I didn’t have to consider or accomodate. I could focus entirely on my own feelings and reactions. That was my birthday gift to me.

One of the exhibits in the Natural History Museum was the Sant Ocean Hall. Towering above fascinating and well-laid out displays, is a full scale model of a North Atlantic Right whale. Her name is Phoenix. She is beautiful and breathtaking. Gazing up at her, I felt tears in my eyes at her sheer beauty and magnificence. I could have looked at her all day. But there was so much more to see. Another highlight occurred at the entdomology display. A stoic, very patient and knowledgeable entomologist had three specimens on display. One of those bugs which looks like a leaf, some huge, rainbow-coloured grasshoppers that miraculously didn’t jump away, and a trio of hissing cockroaches. I watched as fearless children gently held and squealed at the insects. I’m not afraid of bugs but I don’t go out of my way to have dinner with them either. But, as this is the year of taking risks and self-discovery, why the hell not? And so I put the large, inquisitive beetle on my forearm, and filmed as he walked up to my elbow. He tickled. I called him Jeffrey. And then I carried on, quite happy with myself that I did something where my first instinct was to pass on the experience. I then visited the Museum of American History where I thoroughly enjoyed the exhibit on sea travel (hmmmm, do you see an ocean pattern emerging?). Next it was off to the Washington Monument where I simply sat and enjoyed the beautiful weather. Neon spots of colour buzzed throughthe sky as giggling children ran here and there with kites. And I enjoyed the fact that I sat alone, taking it all in, and making it my own.

The whole day was a rejuvenating and empowering experience. Today I am heading out to run errands and I will pick up a photo album. It will be my “50th year” album where I will record and document the journey of this year, culminating with my 50th birthday in October 2010. The first entries will be the Washington Post museum story, as well as pictures of Jeffrey.

What will you do for yourself today? What private experience - big or small - will you make your own?