The Birthday Thing

Some of you have probably noticed that I've been less than subtle that Friday is my birthday.

It's because I love birthdays.....I love my birthday, I love my daughter's birthday, I even love my dog's birthday. It always makes me sad when someone says, "I hate my birthday" or "Don't make a big deal out of my birthday".

Here's why.....There is a day that is selected for you to enter the universe. On that day, everything changes. Things you can't even imagine began to change.  On the day I was born, I was destined to intersect all of your lives somehow.  Whether you are a friend from high school that laughed with me over my lack of algebraic finesse, a family member that has held my hand during sad times, a friend that has had a drink with me at a concert, a friend that knows my heart or a friend that I've never actually met before.....on August 19th, 1961 everything changed because Jack and Dolores Berhow allowed a daughter, named Paige, into their lives.
A course was set that would somehow allow us to touch each other’s lives.   Through a word; spoken or written, through a moment standing next to a motorcycle, through a song at a concert….whatever the means, on that day the intersection was built.

That's HUGE and in my opinion, worth celebrating.

The same thing is true for you.  The day you entered the universe through a blinding beam of light is significant.  If you have chosen to be a part of my life then it's important to me.  I am changed, touched, loved, encouraged and so much more by the people who choose to be in my life.

So PLEASE celebrate with me....and I'm not talking about the physical celebration...although a pair of Manolo Blahniks or a Prada bag would be pretty fucking sweet....I'm talking about the higher kind of celebration that says...."Hey, the world is a better place for me because I have Paige as a friend".....and PLEASE allow me the same unimagineable privilege of doing the same thing with you when it is your birthday.

YES....a birthday brings with it an awareness of the inevitable aging process....and a lot of that sucks....but even that is freeing in a sense.

Friday, I’ll be FIFTY freaking years old and with that comes a sense of self that I couldn't even imagine having in my 20's or 30's  .....a power that only comes with getting older and experiencing life.  A power, a joy, a mighty sword that comes from making bad decisions, celebrating good decisions and living with everything else that falls somewhere in between. So, I'll take the occasional sore joint, the wrinkles (that only go where the smiles have been), the dependence on colorful chemicals to keep the gray at bay and the fact that I've probably been her longer than I'm going to be here.....that's okay. I'm just going to enjoy the rest of this ride with all of the power, grace and beauty I can muster!

So go ahead, wish me a Happy Birthday.

How Things Happen

We spend our lives watching things happen, making things happen, waiting for things to happen; a good percentage of the time we spend our lives wondering what the hell happened and WHY did it happen to us.  Sometimes, though, there comes a time when you grab the wheel and just decide to drive your own life.

I’ve officially been alone for two years now.  I know, I know….I’m not ALONE, but in the relationship sense I have.  What a journey of happenings it has been.  It’s like there was this vast expanse of roadway in front of me on that day, two years ago, that I put a signature on a piece of paper that ended 23 years of a bond.  It was unfamiliar territory for me…a little hostile to say the least.  It was almost like being dropped into a foreign country.  I didn’t understand the language, the customs, I wasn’t sure of protocol to say the least.  I wasn’t sure, after that long, how to be alone.

Here’s what I’ve learned:

I know what it’s like to be broken, what it’s like not to smile.  I don’t mean to imply in anyway that my ex-husband broke me.  We broke each other.  We allowed ourselves to run a marriage into the ditch, both of us knowing where it was headed and neither of us willing to take the wheel and correct the course before the crash.  As a cop, I arrived on many accident scenes….steaming heaps of metal, crying, wailing people…I just never thought that would HAPPEN to me.  I never thought my life would be that accident.  I never thought I would be the one walking around, dazed from the heart wound, but I was. 

I know what it’s like to be afraid, what it’s like to be afraid to open your eyes.  I knew I couldn’t be married, but I didn’t know how to be anything else.  It wasn’t that I was particularly good at it, I wasn’t…but it was what I was comfortable with.  For the first few months, I just kept my eyes closed.  I didn’t know what to feel, so I chose to feel nothing.  I felt nothing as I watched my ex-husband’s acute pain.  I certainly felt none of my own.  I was afraid, horribly afraid, for the first time in my life.  How did this HAPPEN to me, how did I, the girl that solved problems for everyone else, let this become my life.

I know what it’s like to wake up…not the jolt of the alarm wake up, but the gentle, sun rising through the window wake up.  The kind of waking up where you have to really struggle to get out of bed, wanting to stay there where it’s familiar, comfortable, warm…but knowing that your feet have to hit the floor at some point.  Those first few wake ups were brutal.  The kind where your head spins and everything is blurry, like a hangover…except Tylenol and Diet Coke don’t help.

I know what it’s like to appreciate a good day.  I don’t specifically remember my first good day after my divorce because it was a process, but I do know that after a few good days you start to feel.  It’s horrible at first, like when your leg falls asleep and you have that gnarly, tingly feeling when it starts to come around.  Everything in my life felt like that.  I was acutely aware of every feeling, they bombarded me so fast that I didn’t know what to do….so I did what I always do….I over-reacted.  I cried all day because the lawn mower wouldn’t start.  I broke things.  I burned things.  I pushed some people away and clung too tightly to others.  The important thing that HAPPENED though, was that things were starting to HAPPEN to me again.

I know what it’s like to regain feeling.  We’ve all watched Lifetime Television for Women and Gay Men….we have all seen that Hallmark movie where the girl wakes up out of a 345 year coma or the wheelchair bound man wiggles his big toe and then rhumbas across the screen.  Well, it wasn’t quite that dramatic for me, but I did start to wiggle my big toe, I did start to open my eyes.  When I opened my eyes and turned on the lights,  there was my life, right where I’d left it.  Things were in a bit of disrepair, but it was all still there.  A lot of the broken things I finally had the courage to throw away.  I was able to start to bandage the wounds I’d refused to see, I was able to FEEL again.  That’s when things really started to happen.

I know what it’s like to let go.  Remember learning how to ride a bike?  Remember that moment that your Mom or Dad let go of the bike and you had to pedal on your own?  Yeah, that’s what it was like.  I pedaled like mad, all wobbly and ridiculous looking. I’m sure I looked a fool. At some point though, I learned how to pedal my life again.  I’ve even figured out how to put the card in the spokes and make some noise.

I know what it’s like to be grateful.  The kind of gratitude that brings you to tears, like I am right now.  I am grateful for everything that has happened to me in my life.  All of those terrifying, paralyzing things that happened to me brought me here, to this place of contentment and gratitude, this place of an open heart.  I never thought that I would be the person I am today.  I always knew I COULD be, I just never believed I was strong enough to let it happen, but I am. I have learned to live more from intention and less from habit.

The most important thing I’ve learned:

I know how to be happy.  It doesn’t mean that I spend every waking moment smiling like an idiot.  I have bad days, I have bad weeks, but I know how to be happy.  I know how to self-correct and let happy just happen.  It’s the moment you take the oars out of the water, lay back in the sunshine and let the current of your life deliciously float you towards the ocean.  

Things happen now and I say, "Wow, how wonderful that this became my life."

My daughter graduates from high school tomorrow.  You know, the little girl that cluttered my house with Beanie Babies and My Little Ponies; the little girl that was inconsolable when "Timmy" her caterpillar died; the little girl that has sprinkled a mix of chaos and sunshine in every corner of my life.

It's been interesting when I've mentioned to people that my daughter is graduating.  It's almost always met with, "What is she going to do now?"  and is usually closely followed by a resume of Harvard graduates, getting accepted into law school, getting an internship with a prestigious firm somewhere.  We do love to brag about our children. 
I love the look on their faces when I get to say, "She's going to go live a beautiful life." 
"Is she going to college?" 
"No, not right now....maybe not ever." 
"What is she going to do????"
Again, I get to say...."She's going to go live a beautiful life."
How do I know this?  Because of all of the things I know about in my life, and there are a couple, one of the things I know best, is my daughter.  In her eyes, in her soul, in her face...there is a gentleness right behind the sarcasm and the foul mouth, there is a kindness right behind the laughter over the kid that ate shit on the skateboard in front of the house, there is an incredible STRENGTH right behind the question mark that is at the end of the "What is she going to do?"
She craves life, she has a depth of understanding that I envy, and she understands that SHE controls her destiny....she understands that the important things in life aren't things, they are moments, strings of moments....they are people, both good and bad that impact our paths and our lives.  She understands at 18 freaking years old.....so yeah, my girl is going to live a beautiful life and I'm going to brag about it anyone that will listen.

On Becoming......the "V" word....

I have spent most of my life taking care of things and people....fixing things and fixing people...I have been the "go to" girl in many a crisis and have reveled in that position.  I've always prided myself on working well under pressure and I've always considered it some twisted badge of honor that I've gone through some pretty intense stuff with a poker face and without a visible scar.

I've slowly built quite a fortress...an impressive sight with gun turrets and a couple of catapults for flinging back anything I don't really want to deal with.  I had become very adept at dodging through the secret passageways and springing up at the appropriate time, with the appropriate response and the appropriate affect so that no one really knew what I was feeling.  That was important to me because of the dictionary definition of this word:

 vul·ner·a·ble/ˈvəln(ə)rəbəl/Adjective

1. Exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally: "we were in a vulnerable position".

 

I always believed that to be vulnerable was a bad thing....it certainly SOUNDS like a bad thing....possibility of being ATTACKED or HARMED for hell's sake....who would want THAT?

It's taken me a couple of years of living outside (OK, OK halfway in and halfway out of) the fortress to realize that there is a flip side to that....a mirror image of the definition....

 vul·ner·a·ble/ˈvəln(ə)rəbəl/Adjective

1. Exposed to the possibility of being loved and appreciated, either physically or emotionally: "I AM in a vulnerable position".

 

And so now here I am, close to 50 and learning something new.....learning that it's okay to ask for help, it's okay to be scared, it's okay to be happy, it's okay to make EPIC mistakes, it's okay that you trusted the wrong person, it's okay to just be whatever the hell it is that you are.....to just be perfect in your creation and perfectly vulnerable in the moment....(and of course, by definition "you" means "ME", but if I say "YOU" it still leaves me some wiggle room.....ya gotta give me that.)

 

There are some scars now....and they show....and that's okay, too.  It's highly likely there will be more because I'm not willing to play it totally safe anymore.  I'm going to weeble my way through the rest of my life....wobbling and catching my footing again and again.  

I have challenged myself to be vulnerable....to take chances on things that might not work out, to change directions on a whim, to trust my gut, to live and love passionately....and to be vulnerable....and all that that entails....and that's pretty fucking trippy.

What About Love?

Valentine's Day.....dddddaaamnnn.....there are few holidays that the mere mention evokes heated and emotional discussions like this one!  There are the lovers - who are usually the ones in "new" relationships, the haters - who are usually the ones in long term relationships or single, and then.....there's me.
I thought about it last night....thought about my last few Valentine's Days....the last couple I fell quite solidly in the 'hater' category....two years ago I was in the beginning stages of realizing my marriage was over, I was intensely sad and felt like an incredible failure.  Last year, I was fairly fresh on the heels of a divorce, I was intensely confused felt like an incredible failure.  Valentine's Day for the last two years was like scrubbing a an open wound with a wire brush....so I totally understand the camp the espouses a devout hatred for a holiday that tosses love and relationships in our faces.
On the surface, I AM a failure at love...at least the kind in the "Every kiss begins with Kay" commercial.  I was married and now I'm not.  It took both of us to make the marriage fail and I accept my responsibility for that.  What I also CLAIM responsibility for is that I recognized we both deserved more.  He deserved to be loved in a way that I could not provide; I deserved to be happy in way that I could not be inside the confines of the relationship.  There have been arrows shot in both directions and more pain than I care to dwell on, but ultimately I have come out of the tunnel a better person.  There are people that will argue that point and I will allow them their opinion, but I know my truths.
So really, a dissertation about divorce on Valentine's Day.....I hear you saying, "Gee Paige, that's nice."  Okay, here's where it gets better.....once I got past the pain, the anger, the accusations, the rock slinging, the feeling of failure...it made room.  It made so much room; we're talking concert hall kind of room.  It opened up so much space in my heart, in my soul that it allowed so many things to flow in that I hadn't felt for so long.  Joy, energy, beauty, passion, power, confidence...and of course, the other side of that coin...fear, anxiety, uncertainty.  The amazing thing  is that there is room to process all of it, to experience all of it; so experience it I do! 
I will never try and talk anyone in or out of a position on Valentine's Day, nor a position about love in general.  It's a personal thing that everyone has to process in their own way.  Love it, hate it, or just be like me and let it be.
Jaded and cynical me.....what about love?  The truth is, I don't know....but hey, there's room for it and that's a good thing......oh and, Happy Valentine's Day!

Too Much, There's Too Much F*$cking Perspective

I love that quote from "This is Spinal Tap".  It often visits me in my life. 
Seems like I get a lot of perspective. 
Lately, I've been asking for clarity; for PERSPECTIVE.  Another cliche, be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it. 
Clarity and perspective have been flying at me like bricks through a window.  The things that have been fuzzy for me for the last couple of years are suddenly absolutely, undeniably and sometimes, quite painfully, in focus.
People that I love, that I have loved, that I trust and have trusted have let me down.  They have given me clarity....which is what I asked for.
Today was a Venti with a triple shot of clarity... it came from every possible direction, with lightning bolts and those scary black smoke people from GHOST...okay, okay, a gross exaggeration, but you get my point.
I had to run to Target after work....after this seemingly crap hole of a day...there's a loud, big, coupon bearing woman in front of me....awesome....perspective....she puts her stuff on the belt...and so I put the little separator thing down and put my stuff on the belt....then she starts putting things back in the cart, asking the clerk to take this off and ring it separate, use this coupon here, this charge card there, and cash here.... "Can I add one more bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups and I'll just run a get it?"
Meanwhile, my shit is rolling on the belt and encroaching on her coupon infested, ring up separate, run some scam territory and she doesn't have room to restock from her cart.  She looks at the clerk and says, "That lady's stuff is in my way.  What am I supposed to do?"  I'm in a shit mood, I decide to pretend I don't hear her.  The clerk, bless his heart just tells her to hand him the crap one thing at a time.....finally I just look at her and say...."It's a roast chicken and a fucking bra.  Scoot it back and load up your peanut butter cups."  She looked horrified...perhaps because I was buying a roast chicken and a bra, perhaps because I dropped the "F" bomb in Target, perhaps because the clerk couldn't hold it back and laughed outloud.....at any rate....I don't care....she needed perspective.  She was being a giant coupon infested pain in the ass.
My point.....is there one?  I'm not really sure.....oh wait, yeah....there is.  It comes at us from all directions.....the clarity, the perspective, the moments that make you stop and change directions.  The moments that you realize that people aren't always who and what you expect them to be, and that's okay.  You allow them to be.  If who they truly are doesn't fit in with your higher purpose, with your plan for yourself, with your greater good.....then kindly excuse them from your life.  Oh I know that horrible temptation to do it with fire and a shovel to the head, but the truth is....the only way to stay true to the Law of Allowing is to excuse them with love and light.  It's hard....and on the surface, doesn't seem right....but it's about ME, not about them.  If I excuse them in a storm of fire and flying brain matter....I'm going to get burned and splattered with gelatinous goo....unpleasant.  If I excuse them with love and light, I'm going to be bathed in warmth and have that love returned to me in another direction......so there it is.  I know what I want.
So as I move towards what I know I want, what I know I deserve, who I know I am, the power that I hold, the beauty I can create, the abundance that is waiting for me....please, you may be excused. 
Take with you my love and my light, I'll make more.

Indelible Markers

I was at the store today and found myself among the office supplies.  Really, that isn't that unusual.  I've always had sort of a weird penchant for office and school supplies.  I like pens....I like sharpies....I like pencils with sharp points.  Today though, I was struck in particular by INDELIBLE MARKERS.  It made me think, because that's what I do.

As I sit on the very edge of this gift of a new year, I thought about the indelible markers in my life.  The human sharpies and permanent ink experiences that have left a mark that no amount of scrubbing can remove. 

I have been most fortunate in the majority of my marks.  Most of them, even when they were unpleasant during the experience, have taken me to a new place. 

I wear my marks proudly.  Most of them I wouldn't remove, if I could.  We live in a world of temporary thoughts, a world that has become disposable.  People pay thousands of dollars to have their indelible marks removed.  These are the things that make us who we are. 

I am happy that a few of the people that read this are some of the indelible markers of my life.  I have friends that have left colorful swatches across my soul.  You are the ones that make the dark marks tolerable.  For that, I thank you.