I am in Minnesota this morning, sitting in the quiet morning sunlight, the calm before the storm, and contemplating my travels to this point and the convictions that got me here.
On Sunday, my father will be marrying a new woman, and the family that I struggled for 11 years to make my own will soon change and the things I once took for granted will forever be gone from my life. Being a foster child at the age of 7, I remember, unlike some other children adopted in infancy, dreaming about the perfect parents. I remember imagining a field of flowers, with two smiling adults, tossing me around and laughing. Beyond this image, I knew with a surety that love and happiness would surround me, and my 7-year-old brain never made it more complicated than that.
When I got my wish, when I got not only parents, but a sister and another brother to boot, not to mention a soon to come baby brother as well, I couldn't really believe my luck. For the first time in my life I had my own birthday cake, new clothes, a Care Bear who I could hug to sleep at night, and plenty of people to make that dream of love come true.
The reality settled in, however, and though love grew out of familiarity, the stress of moving with complete strangers whose expectations did not match my own began to catch up with all of us. What followed was 11 years of trying to understand each other, all the while trying to play the roles we thought we were to play, mother daughter father brother sister...when I left, my understanding of love was different. I knew that love wasn't a field of flowers and laughter. But I knew it could be dedication, and good intention, and forgiveness, and tolerance.
Since I left home 13 years ago, I have grown to love my family even more, in part because of who I am, in part because of what they have continued to be for me-facing the outside world is a sure-fire way to realize how much you have been given in life at home. But now, years later, the marriage I thought was the backdrop for my dream life, my dream love, my perfect parents, is over. All the things I knew of romantic love have been challenged. Though I am writing about this now, this is not sudden. It has been gradual and I am very certain when I say, this is better, and this is right. I am also certain when I say had this happened when I was still a young girl, this would have been devastating to me.
Now I am filled with calm resignation, gladness and wonder. I sat down to the computer this morning, my dad's super fast internet connection (yay!), and my eyes fell upon his vows. My father is in love, really in love, for the first time in his life. Although he would beg to differ, my truth is such. My father is a new man. A wonderful man, full of love and devotion, some of which I wanted for myself back when, but all of which I am glad he will be able to share with this new woman on Sunday.
Today all the family flies in, tonight is the rehearsal dinner, tomorrow the boat ride. Like I said, the calm before the storm. In the dawn of this new life, I am timid about the path, but certain about the end result. I am now redefining family again, for the second time in my life. The first time was filled with pain and sadness because of a naive expectation, deserved though that expectation was. I am older now, wiser, thank goodness, and capable of seeing the good through the tough and the sad and the bad. I don't think there will be any of that badness and sadness this time around, but there will be adjustments. Holidays will be different, more people will be there to get to know...but I am confident that it will bring new perspectives and new joys so all is well.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
By My Heel, I Care Not...
Growing up with a staunchly feminist mother and a very feminine older sister, I have discovered that my own feelings in regards to high heels falls exactly down the middle. As I have grown through my early adult years, I have decided that some of my mother's feelings more than likely stemmed from an insecurity with her own femininity than from a desire to scorn all things feminine in the name of equality. Nonetheless, years of hearing her scoff at the impraticality of heels and the physical damage they do, and all in the name of impressing a man who could only appreciate a woman as a sexual creature have really sunk into my psyche.
Likewise, living with a beautiful, older sister who wore heels and makeup, and in general finding myself drawn to beautiful women in a platonic sense, I have known myself to be a person who craves all the accoutrements of feminity without regard to it's challenges and without much regard to what it could say about my own empowerment. Fashion in lipstick, clothes and shoes is artistic to me, emphasizing the exquisite God-given beauty one already posesses. Empowerment for me has always lain in the knowledge of detachment from a notion rather than enslavement to it. And being a person who can indeed step outside without makeup and who can cut all her hair off in one fell swoop, I have not worried about myself, though sometimes my mother's words still ring in my ears...
And so when it comes to heels, my opinion changes daily according to one thing and one thing only-my own desire to balance comfort and beauty. There are some days, weeks and months, actually, where I feel the need to revamp the hotness and I will begin to wear heels again, more regularly, but out of respect for my feet, I try to work out a compromise. I bring flats with me and switch into them when the pain is too much.
I am aware of the fact that countless sources claim that high heels can do permanent damage to your posture and overall well-being, which is why I like to listen to my feet when they hurt. I am also aware that consistent wearage (if I may pervert the English language so) can lessen the pain. Of the women I know who rock it out all the time, they all claim that to wear a heel all day causes virtually no pain, and they walk everywhere in them. I believe them. Sometimes I am inclined to force my way into being one of these women. But then my confidence in my own natural beauty returns and reason wins out and I am back to flats and comfortable shoes again and the thought flies away from me.
I am ok with this teetertotalling of sorts. I admire women who wear the heels all day and I empathize with women who cannot due to actual physical constraints. I know that for most of the rest of my life I will probably be this way. I will go through a period of no-heels and transition into a period, however short, of heels-wearing hotness.
As to the pain, I just read a brief article about how wearing heels throws your spine out of alignment and can do permanent damage to the Achilles' tendon, among other things. What surprised me most about the piece was the number of comments from women who wear heels simply because their boyfriends wanted them to. I am single now and feel really ok with being apalled at this.
Nonetheless, a wonderful male friend of mine (who has impeccable fashion sense) recently told me he prefers a woman in heels, at least for salsa dancing. At this very moment, I wonder if he has heard about the damages women experience wearing them, and if it would matter to him? I have a hard time believing that he would consider it a deal-breaker if he met an amazing woman who did not wear heels for whatever reason, but maybe he would. I was wearing heels for the first time in many months at the time of our conversation, and he seemed sympathetic to the pain I was in...
Where my mother and I are the same, is in the fact that we both reject the notion that our choices in fashion are ultimately for men's appreciation of ourselves. That indeed, we would choose to do something, though painful or harmful, purely because a man would want us to. There is a difference between doing something to feel beautiful and to take care of yourself, than to do something for acceptance or approval on a conditional basis. There is even a difference in doing something because you think someone else would enjoy it, than because they expect it, or would treat you differently if you didn't.
Anyway, I have talked enough. Suffice it to say, my dad is getting married in a week and I have to wear heels at the wedding. After my conversation with my male friend, I realized that I have to get my feet ready. That is why I am sitting here, at the coffee shop, in heels, tapping away at my computer. My feet will hurt later, but I want them to. After the wedding I may go back to flat-footed comfort. I may not. No matter what, I will be fly.
Likewise, living with a beautiful, older sister who wore heels and makeup, and in general finding myself drawn to beautiful women in a platonic sense, I have known myself to be a person who craves all the accoutrements of feminity without regard to it's challenges and without much regard to what it could say about my own empowerment. Fashion in lipstick, clothes and shoes is artistic to me, emphasizing the exquisite God-given beauty one already posesses. Empowerment for me has always lain in the knowledge of detachment from a notion rather than enslavement to it. And being a person who can indeed step outside without makeup and who can cut all her hair off in one fell swoop, I have not worried about myself, though sometimes my mother's words still ring in my ears...
And so when it comes to heels, my opinion changes daily according to one thing and one thing only-my own desire to balance comfort and beauty. There are some days, weeks and months, actually, where I feel the need to revamp the hotness and I will begin to wear heels again, more regularly, but out of respect for my feet, I try to work out a compromise. I bring flats with me and switch into them when the pain is too much.
I am aware of the fact that countless sources claim that high heels can do permanent damage to your posture and overall well-being, which is why I like to listen to my feet when they hurt. I am also aware that consistent wearage (if I may pervert the English language so) can lessen the pain. Of the women I know who rock it out all the time, they all claim that to wear a heel all day causes virtually no pain, and they walk everywhere in them. I believe them. Sometimes I am inclined to force my way into being one of these women. But then my confidence in my own natural beauty returns and reason wins out and I am back to flats and comfortable shoes again and the thought flies away from me.
I am ok with this teetertotalling of sorts. I admire women who wear the heels all day and I empathize with women who cannot due to actual physical constraints. I know that for most of the rest of my life I will probably be this way. I will go through a period of no-heels and transition into a period, however short, of heels-wearing hotness.
As to the pain, I just read a brief article about how wearing heels throws your spine out of alignment and can do permanent damage to the Achilles' tendon, among other things. What surprised me most about the piece was the number of comments from women who wear heels simply because their boyfriends wanted them to. I am single now and feel really ok with being apalled at this.
Nonetheless, a wonderful male friend of mine (who has impeccable fashion sense) recently told me he prefers a woman in heels, at least for salsa dancing. At this very moment, I wonder if he has heard about the damages women experience wearing them, and if it would matter to him? I have a hard time believing that he would consider it a deal-breaker if he met an amazing woman who did not wear heels for whatever reason, but maybe he would. I was wearing heels for the first time in many months at the time of our conversation, and he seemed sympathetic to the pain I was in...
Where my mother and I are the same, is in the fact that we both reject the notion that our choices in fashion are ultimately for men's appreciation of ourselves. That indeed, we would choose to do something, though painful or harmful, purely because a man would want us to. There is a difference between doing something to feel beautiful and to take care of yourself, than to do something for acceptance or approval on a conditional basis. There is even a difference in doing something because you think someone else would enjoy it, than because they expect it, or would treat you differently if you didn't.
Anyway, I have talked enough. Suffice it to say, my dad is getting married in a week and I have to wear heels at the wedding. After my conversation with my male friend, I realized that I have to get my feet ready. That is why I am sitting here, at the coffee shop, in heels, tapping away at my computer. My feet will hurt later, but I want them to. After the wedding I may go back to flat-footed comfort. I may not. No matter what, I will be fly.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Things to think about
I have got a lot of things on my mind lately. One of them is a sense of accomplishment. I am proud of the things I have done towards my career lately.
One of the things on my mind is pimples on my face-I hate them and, vain though it is, I must admit that I am a bit more concerned about them than I should be.
Especially since I know the reason I have them is not because I ate bad, or forgot to wash my face, but because my body is just overwhelmed at the fact that it is a baby-maker. And since I want babies, I should be thankful, right? What if I had pimples and was a man???
Ok, thought I'd try that thought on for size. Maybe not so much. But still, baby-maker.
Most of the other things on my mind are about opportunities and events coming up, too many to elaborate, that all have potential to be amazing. In some cases, a lot of work is involved, and in taking on certain opportunities, others will be missed. And some of those missed opportunities are really more like....missed imagined opportunities. ROMANTIC ones. Perceived romantic ones, nothing like an actual DATE or anything. Just a chance at a conversation, really.
I am at a loss at the moment how to proceed.
I think I will go laundry and think now.....sigh.
One of the things on my mind is pimples on my face-I hate them and, vain though it is, I must admit that I am a bit more concerned about them than I should be.
Especially since I know the reason I have them is not because I ate bad, or forgot to wash my face, but because my body is just overwhelmed at the fact that it is a baby-maker. And since I want babies, I should be thankful, right? What if I had pimples and was a man???
Ok, thought I'd try that thought on for size. Maybe not so much. But still, baby-maker.
Most of the other things on my mind are about opportunities and events coming up, too many to elaborate, that all have potential to be amazing. In some cases, a lot of work is involved, and in taking on certain opportunities, others will be missed. And some of those missed opportunities are really more like....missed imagined opportunities. ROMANTIC ones. Perceived romantic ones, nothing like an actual DATE or anything. Just a chance at a conversation, really.
I am at a loss at the moment how to proceed.
I think I will go laundry and think now.....sigh.
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