Trusting Women

I've found it astonishing lately how much distrust there still seems to be in women to make decisions about their own bodies, particularly when it comes to reproductive health.  I'm not astonished because this is news to me, but because I am frustrated that as a society, we can't seem to reach a consensus that mandating very personal decisions for women is demeaning and coercive.  I can't help thinking that at the root of so much of the ideology around abortion and birth control and women's sexuality, there is a belief that women are meant to be mothers, that they should want to be mothers and welcome even unexpected pregnancies as some sort of unplanned blessings.  Women having sex for pleasure and not wanting children runs counter to the patriarchal idea that women are, at their core, meant to be nurturers, pouring their lives happily into their progeny.

To be clear, I know a lot of wonderful, nurturing women, who find fulfilling roles in caring for their families - no easy task, and not one that gets them a lot of accolades.  But because I find myself more often feeling a sense of dread than a sense of possibility when I consider having children, and I have felt this way consistently through my 20s and still now that I'm 30, I find the pervasive, idyllic image of contented motherhood really creepy.  Not because motherhood is creepy, but because choosing non-motherhood isn't a fully accepted choice for women, and there's subtle and not-so-subtle ways that women are pushed to have babies or do a lot of answering for themselves.  I wish I were one of the women who either has always known she wanted children or has known, unequivocally, that she never wants to be a mother.  I have been pretty far down the "no, thanks" side of the spectrum for years, but I still have my moments of wondering, "What if?", so it doesn't help that most of the comments I get are uncritically pro-baby.  There are some people who are just fine with the decision to not have kids, but there are others who clearly don't understand.  The fact that it's so shocking to some people is testament to the fact that people assume that a young woman without children just doesn't have children yet.  A couple the most frustrating reactions and rationalizations I've gotten:

• "Maybe in a few years."  I got this response when I was 23, and I still get it at 30.  It basically says, "You are too young to know what you actually want."  I'm fairly confident that most women having babies in their early 20s don't hear, "Are you sure you want to be a mother?"  This one really makes me feel like my judgment isn't trusted, because the logic seems to be that if I had good judgment, I would decide to have children.
• "It's different when it's your own child." or "Everyone who has kids says they are so glad they did, even if they didn't want them before."  I don't think having a child because I probably won't regret it is a good reason to create another person.  And I'm also fairly certain that anyone who does regret having kids is disinclined to share that with the world.

In the end, I just want to make my own decision without other people's views having undue influence, and I want other women to do the same.  I came across this op-ed today and thought that it and the reader comments that followed included a good set of perspectives: 

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-10786279

Minimum Age

I have a lot of opinions, but I generally don't like giving advice.  But if I were to pick one piece of advice to broadcast to the world, I'd say: Don't make any big life decisions before age 25.  After getting divorced, I found out that divorce rates drop sharply when people get married after 25 (I was 24 when I got married).  And it turns out that there is some science to back up my "hold off til after 25" rule: http://www.hhs.gov/opa/familylife/tech_assistance/etraining/adolescent_brain/Development/prefrontal_cortex/index.html

Miracle

A week ago, a new friend (or friend in the making, since I've still only met her once) assessed my relationship with my guy to be a "miracle", both because of the way we've sustained it across an uber-long distance and because, as far as she can see, we have nothing in common.  I smiled, because I can see what she means - our interests and temperaments are quite different.  He's laid back, generally quiet, leisurely-paced, and doesn't worry about much (except when it comes to sports), while my desire to control my circumstances and enact change pushes me toward anxious rambling and occasional jarring decisions.  I am much more intense in my beliefs and in my moods than he is - he's not at all ideological.  But as I told my friend in an intentional understatement, I'm quite fond of him, even though we are different - even because of the ways we are different, because for the most part, so far we have been able to use our differences balance and complement each other rather than clashing.

And it isn't actually true that we have nothing in common - we are both some sort of math nerds, and a lot of our preferred style of living is the same - straightforward, avoiding pretense and striving to be true to ourselves.  Neither of us easily accepts anything as not possible or too difficult to try - we crave new experiences in new places, and in this I can see some of the passion beneath his calm surface.  A key theme for us is a shared sense of "why not?"  As in, why not try to be in this improbable relationship?  Why not pursue this surprising but wonderful connection that we have, as far as we can take it in this life?  We know it's uncommon in some ways, and that's part of what we value about it -- that it's not socially automatic or instinctive, but at the same time there's something really universal about us as humans that enables us to connect across traditional boundaries.

I guess all this is to say, I'm quite fond of him, and I'm excited about what we've started together.

Growth

I took some time today to read through my blogs throughout the past three years.  It wasn't really fun reliving some of the more difficult emotions, but I did realize a couple of things.  First, I have come a long way and grown a lot, in ways that are both on the surface in what I've written and in ways that are not explicit but that I can feel.  And also, more than ever, I realize that there's a somewhat limited part of me that I share on my blog, which is generally me at my most rational and reflective -- which is part of why there are so many ways that I've changed that are harder to track on the blog - so much of my growth has been emotional.

In spite of the persistent moments of anxiety about how things will ultimately turn out, I am feeling more relaxed than ever.  At the very least, even if my circumstances suck at times, I am much happier with myself.  I love myself, and I can even manage to cut myself some slack for being human and making mistakes.  I'm comfortable in my own skin, more understanding of my own needs, aspirations, motivations, and reactions.  I'm not driving myself crazy with self criticism anymore.  Two years ago when I left my marriage, I had a lot of self doubt, but within a couple of months I was experiencing some glimpses of the happiness that comes from being honest and taking a risk on behalf of myself.  Now that my view is largely retrospective and the acute pains have been replaced with occasional dull aches, I am glad I did what I did.  It turned out to be the right thing to do.  It's hard to imagine that I'd be anywhere near as happy as I am now if I'd chosen differently.  I still experience plenty of hurdles and pains, but I can vouch for the blessings that can come from taking a leap of faith.

I'm living a pretty fantastic story, one with great love that persists against all odds.  And if that weren't enough (and it really is), I have gotten to travel, meet new people, and learn a ton in the process.  I have a lot to be thankful for.

Untitled

If you ask me what I want most right now, I'll tell you I want to live in the same place with my guy.  I want to be on the same side of the planet, in the same city, in the same apartment.  I want to spend my days with him.

During the past couple of weeks, he has talked with a couple of hiring managers within our company in the US, as well as having a follow-up chat with HR about his interest in the positions.  Of the two positions he's heard about so far, the one he is more interested in is in Chicago, so he will likely proceed with interviews for it.

It would be perfect, right?  Since I'm in Chicago, and he might get to join me here?

But I don't feel very excited - I feel anxious.  Partly it's just, whoa...this could really, actually be happening.  I'm uneasy about the transition from the difficulties of an ultra-long distance relationship to the challenges of a live-in partnership.  It sounds like a nice set of challenges to have, considering the fantastic scenario in which we get to be together in the same place indefinitely.  But every step toward a real, long term commitment will be both thrilling and terrifying for me, following on the past couple of really transformative years.

The other part of my anxiety comes from staying in Chicago.  I guess I just got used to the idea that we'd probably both be relocating, and I was looking forward to starting over together in a place that would be new to both of us.  If he comes here, my home for the past 8 years and the stage for a lot of the past I've been working on leaving behind, then I'll have to adjust to staying put and having him become part of my life here.  I know we can find ways to make it new and make it ours together, but the emotional reaction I've been having to the idea of staying is tipped way more toward disappointed not to get to relocate than it is toward relieved not to have to move again.

Nothing is certain at this point, so really I shouldn't be so worried yet.  But just the possibility has got me feeling anxious.

Disconnected

I've had a lot of solo at-home time this weekend, which is not totally out of the ordinary for me, but it was magnified by my Saturday plans falling through and an inexplicably sore foot that kept me on my butt more than I'd have preferred, rather than out enjoying the weather and thrift shopping, among other things.  This morning, I did get out for a walk, and it was wonderful - in the low 50s, but without the wind that's been around for the past few days and with plenty of sunshine.  As I walked, I saw so many people out with their dogs and their little kids, running on the beach, walking on the sidewalks, and playing in the parks.  I enjoyed seeing them, but it also made me wish I could be with someone I care about just as much on such a lovely spring Sunday morning.  I feel pretty isolated, without any real closeness or connection that I experience on a daily basis.  I know I've been away a lot, but even without that, I think the situation would be similar.

When I first moved into an apartment by myself a couple of years ago, I knew that I was changing lifestyles and would be spending more time on my own.   I just sort of accepted it as a matter of fact, something I'd have to get used to.  But now, I think there's something not working right in the way that I live, and I think it stems from how much of American society functions.  Overwhelmingly, we are individualistic and think that each person should be free to pursue happiness according to their own definition and using their own means.  And I tend to be very independent-minded and resistant to any feeling that I'm being guided or coerced against my will - I wouldn't want society to be such an overbearing force that my or anyone else's individualism would be stifled.  But I think we are at the other end of the spectrum from that - our political debates often seem to me to boil down to, how much do we think people are entitled to do as they wish, without any necessary regard for others or sense of being connected as a society?  And we tend heavily toward the conclusion that everyone should do what they want as long as it can't be said to actually harm others - to some degree, the ethical consumer movements (organic, fair trade, local, etc.), which I've been a fan of for years, are aimed at "do no harm", and not a sense of responsibility to actively do something good.  There can be a big effect from people doing the same basic things in better ways (e.g. we all have to eat, and there are better and worse ways to do that).  But there's part of me that would really love to see us more at ease with interacting with each other, face to face, connecting with people in our community, and focused on creating rather than just consuming better.

The city is a tough place for this, but it's not just urban-ness that creates social distance and anonymity.  Having spent a lot of time in Mumbai, which is uber-urban, there is much more of a sense of connection with friends and family among people I've met there.  I find myself sitting home, ridiculously Googling community organizations in my neighborhood, because I'm not aware of that much of what's here and I don't know an actual human being to ask in order to find out.  And it freaks me out a bit to be looking for such basic information and considering showing up somewhere that's part of my neighborhood but where I still know nobody.  It doesn't help motivate me that I'm not sure how much longer I'll even be here.  But ultimately, I know that I won't be happy in the long term if I don't have a meaningful connection to where I live, both on a local level and I hope globally as well.  I watched a documentary tonight, "Happy", which only reinforced what I already knew, that the corporate salary and all the things it enables me to acquire is woefully insufficient to make me happy - I need the connection with other people, and that's what will give me a real sense of purpose.  Boy, do I miss my guy these days...when I'm with him, he's like my family, and I feel like the whole world expands around us together.

I know this has been all over the place, but to finish, I'll go back to politics for a moment.  I can't help thinking that maybe part of the reason that the American Democratic policies of social spending have a reputation of being wasteful or at least inefficient is that we just don't have a national ideology of compassion.  It's all about individual effort and responsibility, which comes with opportunity but also with competitiveness and self-seeking - that's the basis of capitalism.  So in that sense, I think capitalism needs to be regulated so that it doesn't undermine our basic human compassion, because it's bound to make us less happy and for me, that defeats the entire purpose of the free market of exchange to begin with.  The ways in which government spending is actually wasteful or inefficient should be fixed, but they should also be reinforced by the strengthening of our sense of connection to each other, so that we aren't just blindly throwing money at people to try to solve their problems but really engaging with them as fellow humans.

And with that, the rambling and sermonizing are done for the evening.

Real love

I have a long-standing and consistently (perhaps annoyingly) vocalized disdain for girly, romantic things.  So-called "chick flicks" induce eye rolling and sarcastic commentary on the predictability of the happily-ever-after outcome.  Twilight is beyond the pale (no pun intended since it's about vampires and all.)

But since I find myself very much smitten, and in long-term love, I have to reconcile my gag reflex toward pop romance with my real amorous feelings.  And I think what it is, is that I revel in real love - the kind that is in the details of everyday interactions, moves with the ebb and flow of situations and feelings, and yields the sense of a common purpose in building something together.  It's not pretty, real love, but it is beautiful.  It results in movie-worthy moments basking on a beach in a tropical sunset, but it also persists through the times when the future of the relationship is uncertain and there is emotional distance.  The problems are real, and they don't resolve before a blissful forever.  The blissful forever and the problems have to coexist, and I don't think I'd change that.  I don't want love that is easy, I want love that is tested and true, and I am certain that's where I'm headed.  Taking the long view, it's incredibly romantic, in a much more real and human way than the fantasies I've been so dismissive of.

What I've been trying to describe reminds me of a sonnet by Shakespeare, which I'll finish with:

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;

Coral is far more red than her lips' red;

If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;

If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.

I have seen roses damask, red and white,

But no such roses see I in her cheeks;

And in some perfumes is there more delight

Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.

I love to hear her speak, yet well I know

That music hath a far more pleasing sound;

I grant I never saw a goddess go;

My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground.

And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare.

Stuck

For the first time in over 2 years, I don't have any travel plans on the horizon.  It's strange and I haven't quite acclimated to the idea that I'm likely to be in Chicago, or at least Illinois, for at least the next few months.  It's something I've said I wanted after the toll that so much traveling has taken on me, but now that I don't have a ticket booked to somewhere else, I am already starting to feel itchy.

I feel like I'm waiting for whatever comes next to come and find me this time, after years of seeking and finding a lot for myself.  I'm hoping that my guy will get to relocate somewhere that we can live together and be happy.  I'm waiting for the solution to be found.  I'm uncomfortable sitting, hoping, and trying not to hope to hard lest I set myself up for disappointment.  It doesn't sit well with me not to be taking matters into my own hands and figuring out how to make it work.  I don't like that I don't think there's much that I can do anyway.  I'm not living in the moment the way that I think I should, because it seems like such an idle moment, and not a very enjoyable one - it doesn't even feel like a moment, really, but a time between moments.  I feel more angry than ever at times, and indifferent at others, and then there are relatively few that I really, deeply enjoy.  

I don't want diversions to take my mind off of the things that are important to me, I want to live the life I've been working toward for the past couple of years.  I don't want to wait for the wheel of fate, or someone else's will, to spin me toward my next destination and mission.  I'm ready to move forward, but I feel like I've been pinned down in a limbo of mediocre options.