Day 13, May 1, 2010

Yesterday I stayed at the campsite - stretching, taking a few photos, journaling, and napping. Especially considering the new plan we intended to spring on Greg about hiking out the next day (today) this turned out to be very wise.

Katie, Meredith, Matt and I packed up and headed out at 9:30 (Saturday). Slogging through the sand was once again a bear and I felt slower than ever but of course I was with the faster hikers. We took breaks about every 50 minutes.

When the upper trail was in view I faced the fear of

the vertical dirt scramble. We took a break just before attacking it. I sat with my traveling buddha statue (he as a little hobo bag!) in hand, back straight, trying to let go of fear, meditating that some way or another I would get up this crevice of dirt and rock, even if it meant asking Matt to take my pack. Meredith went first, and Matter was below when I begin my ascent. "Go up sideways, that worked going down", advised Matt. "Use your stick girl!", called Meredith.

Amazingly I made in it one attempt. Meredith beamed at me when I stood at the top - "You did that in one move, no stops. You're awesome!" It was one of my best moment of facing fears, digging deep for strength during a trip that had many such internal rallies and moment of pride. The accomplishments of this trip were many, and this might have been the best one.

We made it back to the car in 5hr, 40min - two hours less than going in. Janet said I sucked when she found out I made it up that pass in one go with my pack and how fast, "And without

training for this!" Yep, I'm proud of myself.

More later just too tired, need to shower (YAY!) and brush my teeth before heading to bed. Tomorrow we drive to Salt Lake City.

And a child shall lead them

to their knees.

It started out a perfectly lovely day, BC made pancakes for breakfast. We gathered around the table to gobble down the food. The Kid's friend was dropped off for an overnight play date.

A classmate had decided to have an inaugural WebKinz meeting that afternoon - yes I realize you had no idea there were such things, well there really aren't; it was the spark of imagination of a little girl. The truth is I do not get the allure of webkinz, nor do I love the website games from what I have heard of them at deafening volume when The Kid spends time there. I did think it was a clever idea for a gathering that did not involve presents and time at a Chuck E Cheese type of place (again very little experience, I may have gone to one but I scrubbed any real memory from my brain of the event other than there was a lot of noise).

We dropped them off at a lovely house and proceed to giggle like school girls cutting school. It has never happened that we had a bit of free time on a Kid weekend. I tell you it was totally exciting - we went to Targee {tm}. Finally we got fun coffee drinks and sat in the car, wishing for a bit more time to run home for some serious grown up time, but there was only enough time to sip from paper cups and dream.

I never know what I should do in moments like this, but given the car I at least need to get out of it to let the kids in. Because I try to respect boundaries and not step on toes, I ask BC if it's okay, if I should come along. While their split is common knowledge by this time, showing off your new relationship is something else again. She assured me that it was fine so we stepped up the walk to enter a noisy and cozy house filled with children. Our girls were getting there things together, BC introduced me to the host parent and we chatted. The mom wandered to deal with something and a little girl, eight at most I would say, with mousy brown straight hair, very round watery blue eyes and a slightly narrow, pinched face looked up at me and said "Who's mom is that?"

For a moment the world froze and my heart stopped. It is not like I haven't heard that before but it's been years and years. Perhaps it was during the time I was trying to get pregnant, I don't remember. What I do know is this time was different. This time I had already tried to get pregnant, it hadn't worked, then followed an abyss of indecision and stony silence, finally a decision, of sorts had been reached. And now? Now I exist in the nowhere land. I am not a parent, but I am with someone who is, we are not in the state where the label "stepparent" is used or applicable. It was a bit of a panicked moment which I was rescued from by someone, I don't remember who or what was said. A response was flubbed or redirected, something.

This moment stuck with me for several days but I said nothing. It then faded away, submerged in the river of denial. Until yesterday, while doing my daily pages it suddenly turned up. This is the thing about this writing exercise, doing it everyday, even late in the day, without a plan, without intent there is no telling where your mind will take you if you just let things flow. This parent being that resides in me has nowhere to go; she just bangs around, walking in circles, into walls looking for somewhere to rest, looking for someone to nurture, to care for in that way. There are no animals to take care of, to snuggle in the night anymore. There are no doula clients to soothe, to support, to coo over. But there is this child who rightfully, reasonably holds me at a bit of a distance; who I hold at a distance, rightfully, reasonably. I have no name in this relationship, I may never.

In the meanwhile I will continue to try to find a place for that parent self that resides within and maybe she will not throw the panic switch the next time a random child asks that question.

In which our heroine lose her mind and finds an answer

It has been a crazy day, really. I woke with total joy as BC was driving today to come see me; to visit this little paradise I have been inhabiting. Yesterday I was so productive that I was very ready for her to be here. So ready on so many levels: it's been three weeks since I have seen her; I miss looking into her eyes and feeling her soft skin; the peaceable silence we have when each of us are working; and yes I have missed the more private moments of loud, passionate, sex.

The weather was not cooperating, not in the least, with a big storm system shutting down major roads and airports. After leaving later than expected, striving mightily on a major highway that was down to one lane, she wisely decided to stop trying to barrel through. Based on our phone call I had thought she was going to turn around and at the first chance pull off to a motel to sit the storm out until morning. While flipping channels I stopped on that channel that only geeks watch by the hour, you know the one, where I learned that they had shut down part of 80 East because of a huge car pile up in Pennsylvania. My mind began racing, now I was grateful that she had left so much later than planned or she could have been in that crash. Foolishly I stayed glued to the channel longer than I should have, plus I started checking weather reports on the web randomly covering all the miles between here and there.

Time passed without me noticing until suddenly I did. It had been well over an hour since our call and I had not heard from her. Thoughts began just at the edges of my mind, dropping tiny "what ifs" into my consciousness. Later I tried calling and did not reach her. The clock continued to move until the thoughts got louder, began taunting me with the possibility of terrible things, that just as I was finding myself at the precipice of a happy healthy relationship, it would be ripped away from me. Yes I realized I was being dramatic but I also know that I function better if I plan out the worst to try to picture how I will get past it.

The truth is after almost three hours and no response to my calls full on paranoia set in. My googling skills failed me as I searched madly for a way to locate accident information on highways. I searched for hospitals in the area and actually called two to see if she had been taken there after running her cute but winter incompetent car off the road. Did I mention I was aware I had run amok? I wondered who would know to contact me if something did in fact happen; would I be allowed back in the house, could I collect something meaningful to me that was hers to hold tight forever. I tried to distract myself with games on the computer, aimlessly internet shop, and tried talking myself out of this crazyville I had thrown myself into.

When the phone rang with her distinct ring tone I felt almost like I would crumple onto the floor. I don't think I realized how brittle with tension my body had become. In the end she wound up driving all the way back home, she was tired, pissed, sad and hungry. She did not even think I would be worried, probably because she was feeling so thwarted and frustrated. My response was less than grateful; I felt like one of those mothers who's child finally gets home and while hugging them, crying with joy is screaming that if they do that again she will kill them.

In reflecting on all of this it became clear why people rush into relationships, why they move in immediately, wed impetuously. The 'what if' is the pit in our belly, the insecurity of loss, of being forgotten, or being replaced. We want to know we have a place, we want that place recognized, both in the private realm (family and friends) and the larger circle (work, neighborhood, church of choice). We want our relationship to be acknowledged, we don't want to be left behind, we want to belong to someone; so we bond, sometimes bond badly, too soon, without enough thought which leads us to do it again and again. We need to find the strength in ourselves, the strength that tells us we are important on our own, that we will rise above loss, before we bond again, so that perhaps we can choose with greater wisdom, so we don't rush a relationship as to allow it to bloom as nature meant, not as a forced bloom shining out of season, out of rhythm.

I will not force this relationship into one, short and lovely flower that cannot take root and grow. When I feel panicked about the future, I will think about how lovely it is when a plant takes roots, when it spreads and grows with the right care. It becomes an integral part of the landscape, offers a home to critters, and is beautiful in its own right just because it there.

Running out on 2009

To say that 2009 was a big year could be interpreted as an understatement. For the last couple of weeks I have been thinking about where I was a year ago and how much has changed, how different my life is in a year's time. Last year in late autumn, early winter I was miserable, deeply unhappy, feeling helpless. Now I feel like I have taken my life more in hand. That is not to say that all is perfect - nirvana is a goal, it's a process not an actual state, at least for me right now.

Yesterday I decided to squeeze in some time on the treadmill because like nirvana, working towards better health, greater discipline, and more meditation is my process. BC had mentioned that when time is short for a workout that if I did hill work it would kind of count double, with that I mind I set the machine for "mountain climb" and thirty minutes, where normally I usually do an hour or more.

A few minutes into the work out I discovered I pushed the wrong button and hit "interval" instead. Turns out that means that every minute and a half the speed jumps up 2 miles per hour for thirty seconds. What does that mean? It means one has to run. However I have steadfastly maintained that I.Do.Not.Run.Period. So what did I do? I who am for the first time ever partnered with a competitive runner? I who am reading my second Runner's World cover to cover to understand her obsession, to learn tips that she might not have seen? I ran. God help me, I ran. Every minute and a half, holding onto the hand holds for dear life, feeling panicked and breathing hard, I ran for thirty endless seconds.

I was grateful that I had closed to door as I muttered "fuck" more than once during those thirty second intervals and The Kid was in the next room. Why didn't I stop, why didn't I restart the program? I don't know but I just felt like I had started something and I had to finish, had to see what happened. I could say that about a lot of the last year - trying to give my all, working towards change, doing scary things. But why running? Why this day? Why confront my mortal enemy? A day later I still don't know. I spent most of the time dreading the next running piece, my knee started aching earlier than usual, my shin spoke sharply to me, and I felt like crying, especially when the tread rotated faster. It felt like a deep well of sad or hurt, or something being poked at, it felt scary. And yet I finished the session.

When it was over my chest ached as if I had cried, or maybe like I was holding back tears. Standing still, holding my face in my hands, my breathing a bit ragged and still feeling totally bewildered, I noticed this tiny seed of pride that despite the pain, fear, my stance of "I am not a runner, I will not run" that I managed to push myself this tiny bit into the discomfort, into this strange land.

BC was happy and proud when I said "I ran." My response? "You actually like doing this?" She insisted I ice my knee, so I gave into the caring response, again not my usual thing. The shower felt good. I dressed for our New Year's Eve gathering and came downstairs, grimacing a bit on the stairs to finish laying out the food. We didn't talk about it again, I didn't tell anyone what I had done. In fact I mostly lost track of it but when I remembered my thought was "why did I do that", and "I have no intention of doing that again." But is that true? Mostly I think it is because seriously I'm not sure which was worse the physical discomfort or the emotional. On the other hand how does one go backwards from confronting a fear, a hard limit that suddenly has the smallest bit of flex? I don't have an answer and since today is a rest day in my training I also do not have to face it. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow or even next month but on the other hand even if I never run again something is changed forever. It is hard to define it or even describe it, something about doing something that is completely counter to how you define yourself, to what you think is possible for you to do, it moves something deeply internal. The shift is tiny, but like the butterfly effect, you never know how a small movement or gesture will reshape the future into something different than would have never been without it.

Some phrases leave me cold

Or more accurately, peeved and irritated. It is uttered by women about women and yet I find it belittling and sexist. The phrase has been circling around for a few years, I can find a reference dating back to 2004. The offending catchy and annoying verbiage is girl crush. I avoided even typing it as long as I possibly could without driving my readers crazy. From the first time I heard it rubbed me the wrong way completely, and initially it was hard for me to put my finger on why it disturbed me so much. But the more I heard it the more I realized that it felt like derogatory version of what was truly being expressed.

A "girl crush" appears to describe one woman finding another woman admirable, intelligent, graceful, creative - whatever appropriate adjective applies. This is used by heterosexual women to describe being "smitten" in a totally nonsexual way; though often straight women will offer up example of stars that they have a "girl crush" and clearly find the option of their obsession totally sexy and hint that they would maybe even do, as in wouldn't kick out of bed. It is important to note that I have so far only seen a sexual tone of the crush being applied to famous people so there is no chance of having to face the fluidity of sexual identity, which is borders dangerously close to homophobia.

The overall notion is not new however it has been posited that it has not been been used so openly in several generations. It also sounds rather Single White Female in some of the descriptions found online. Apparently it can be used to describe a whole section of the population in a very negative fashion (this link demands a separate post by someone way smarter than me). Makes me love this term even more, not. Moving on. The Times article suggests that it's better than a boy crush because there is no break up, except other sources strongly suggest that's not true. Some suggest that crushes can become great friendships, others say no. One thing I have noticed about a lot these crushes is that the object of affection represents what the crusher longs to be, how they would like to be perceived.

This I think is the crux of the problem for me - by naming your role model a crush it feels like the crusher has no faith that they can attain those traits, that their desire to grow and develop is not realistic - that it is indeed trivial enough to be a fleeting connection, a one-sided relationship. What a sad statement the women are making about their faith in themselves.