I am tired of being a strong woman today.
There, I said it.
I have carried my children, my husband, my family and my friends for so long. I give everything I have to them all.
I spend at least 36 hours a week caring for my patients and when I come home at night, I tend to feel empty.
I am tired and my back hurts.
Some would argue that finding inner happiness depends on relying on one’s own sense of ‘strength of self.’
Some might say that depending on those outside of us to help us find what we lack inside is a measure of neediness, codependence, or some otherwise identified basic fault.
Is it wrong to admit, as a person and a woman, that there are times when it necessary to be the one carried, instead of the one doing the carrying?
Is it safe to admit when the burden seems too heavy, and the steps too steep?
The fear, at least for me, is that admitting a need and having no one fill it is worse than keeping quiet about it. Better to soldier on through, little cowgirl. Buck up, take it like a woman.
Inside it feels like a highwire act. How much of me is left, and how can I best spread it around?
People call it looking for balance.
I call it being tired.
I am tired of being a strong woman today.
I watched the waves crash on the beach. The moonlight rippled on the unsettled water and I licked salt-flavored lips. Even up here on the 10th floor, I could feel the pull of the ocean, the magic of the tides.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” I asked him. We were both leaning our elbows against the balcony railing, our shoulders just a few electric inches from each other.
“Yeah,” he said distractedly, not looking away from the water.
I was silent, allowing the rhythm of the waves to calm my mind and settle my frayed nerves.
I stole a sideways glance at him. He was still starting out at the ocean, his brow slightly furrowed and lips pursed.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He shrugged and turned to me. “Yeah, I guess. Just thinking.”
I nodded. I understood how the ocean could pull at one’s mind, churn up thoughts from one’s own hidden depths. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He looked away quick to the left, towards the water, and then back again. I felt a catch when our eyes met. I could see the wall go up in his thoughts. “Nah,” he said dismissively. “It’s nothing. Work stuff.”
“Ah,” I said, turning away so I wouldn’t have to be faced with his boundaries. “Ok.”
We were silent but for the sound of the waves as they crashed higher. High tide would be coming soon, and the wind was picking up. Somewhere in the darkness a gull screeched. I shivered.
“Are you cold?” He asked.
“A bit,” I said, surprised into honesty by the fact that he had noticed.
“Here,” he said and reached his arm out.
Almost against my own will, I allowed him to put his arm around my shoulders. I felt the heat of his hand on my upper arm and I smelled a hint of his deodorant and shampoo. I slowly felt myself relax.
“Better?” he asked, smiling at me.
“Yeah,” I said, returning the smile.
We turned simultaneously back towards the waves as they crashed higher up the beach, lost in our own thoughts as the sand was slowly swallowed by the rising tide.
So today I took my 14 year old daughter to see Twilight. She has read all the books at least 3 times and this is the 3rd time she has seen the movie in as many days.
I tried to be objective. Really I did.
I have a hard time with suspension of disbelief when it comes to movies. Part of that is a defense mechanism I learned as a child–scary movies aren’t too scary if you can spot the cinematographic (is that a word?) inaccuracies. The microphone in the top of the shot, the subtle change in a character’s hair or makeup..little things.
And Twilight wasn’t scary in the least, but as with all movies, I look for the mistakes in order to find a certain level of reality.
So yes, when Bella’s nasal cannula for oxygen was on wrong, I couldn’t help but notice. And when one actor’s pupils were pinpoint, I couldn’t help but begin to worry that yet another young Hollywood star was starting on the long path of narcotic addiction.
But after a while, I was able to sit back, watch the show, and attempt to be objective.
Angst. Longing. Unbearable love that haunts your dreams.
Oh yeah, I can see why all these teenage girls have their Twilight obsessions running full bore.
What teenage girl doesn’t dream of a handsome, strong, protective, loving and tortured boyfriend? Who can carry her to (literal) great heights and who likes to watch her sleep.
Shit, I bet there are a lot of mothers of teenage girls looking for the same thing.
The bad boy who has a heart of gold. (And in this case…eyes of gold as well).
The anticipation for that first kiss…and when it happens, the risk of losing it all…
I get it, I see it.
But what does it bode for our kids? Boys and girls…
Our girls are looking for a James Dean with a heart of gold, and superhuman strength. A boy who loves with his whole heart (“You are my heroin” is a HUGE thing to live up to)
Our boys are going to be expected to live up to that image.
I pity them all. The girls will be disappointed by the boys who don’t live up to their literary and fantasy expectations. And the boys, well, they will be confused. (I can say that. I have a son too)
Where will it end? The next Harry Potter will be out early this coming summer and it will be the same thing. Harry growing up, making his magic spells and looking every bit the man/boy in his oversize glasses. I can hear the teenage hearts fluttering already.
Twilight was good. Not great, but good enough. The effects were good..and I suspect they will be much better in the sequel. The tension was almost palpable..although I am not sure whether it was the on-screen chemistry of the players, or just the buildup of teen hormones and angst surrounding me in the theater.
I won’t dream of Robert Pattinson’s Edward tonight.
Maybe though, I will dream again of my long-ago James Dean. The one who set my own teenage heart atwitter, back in the day.
Ok Twilight Fan-girls. I get it.
I still vividly remember the last time I saw him.
We were standing down by the river, at the little dock where we’d spent most of the summer. It was late August and the sun was still high, but there was a chill in the air where it brushed my neck. Or maybe it was just the words he spoke that gave me goosebumps.
“You know I have to leave soon, right?” He said, looking into my eyes.
I felt his hands, large and warm on my shoulders. His breath smelled of clove cigarettes and the stolen beer we’d shared.
“Yeah,” I said, willing the tears to stay back. I didn’t want to ruin what felt like an important moment.
He sighed, and looked off behind my right shoulder. I looked at my feet, red toenail polish chipped and worn.
“It was a good summer,” he said, almost absently.
This time, it was I who sighed. He drew me against him and I lay my cheek on his chest. His heart beat steady and I timed my breathing to his. Closing my eyes, I inhaled the scent of him. Warm and salty. My arms wrapped around his waist.
I didn’t ever want the moment to end, but at some point, he pulled away. I looked up into his eyes.
I wanted to say something profound. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me…his friendship, his support. I wanted him to know how important he was to me, and how my feelings had evolved and changed over the last few weeks.
Oh how I wanted to kiss him.
But instead, I just smiled at him. “Any more beer left?” I asked, reaching compulsively for the safety of ‘just friends.’ I wanted to shout from the dock and out across the water how much I felt for him, how deeply I needed him….but yet, I didn’t want to risk losing him. His friendship was what he offered and I accepted. To ask for more would have been greedy.
We sat on the dock and watched the sun set, sharing a beer and talking of the inconsequentials.
Before long the mosquitoes came out and the frogs began their nightly chanting. “I should get going,” he said, standing up and offering me his hand. “Nice day today. I’m glad we came out here.”
I tried so hard not to read into his words. It had been a nice day. I wouldn’t let myself ruin it by getting serious and emotional. Later, I would cry myself to sleep with longing for him. Now, however, I would be the friend-buddy-pal that had become my role in this lopsided relationship.
He walked me to my car. We held hands as we navigated the trail back up from the dock. Did he feel the shock and thrill that I did when our hands met? He walked a little ahead of me and I studied his shoulders as he moved, the muscles just beneath the skin of his back. I wanted to touch them, to rub my palms across the flat of his back and rake my nails down his spine. I wondered what his skin tasted like.
Instead, I got my carkeys out of my front pocket and hit the automatic unlock button on the remote. “Here we are,” I said. “Got any plans for tomorrow?” I asked, praying I sounded casual. Maybe I’d tell him tomorrow.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe.”
I shrugged. “Ok then, maybe I’ll talk to you then.”
I got in my car and started it up. “Drive careful,” he said.
“I always do,” I replied.
I saw him from my rearview window. He had turned and was looking back over across the river. Eventually he got smaller in the distance until I couldn’t distinguish him anymore.
I drove home slowly, the windows down to let in the damp August air.
Tomorrow, I promised myself. I would tell him tomorrow once and for all how I felt about him.
“Let it go,” he whispered against my mouth.
“I can’t,” I said, pulling back. “What if its an emergency?”
I rolled over and reached the phone on the bedside table. “Hello?” I said, figuring I sounded pretty out of breath.
He rolled in close behind me, leaving a trail of tickly kisses across my ear and down my neck. I stifled a giggle. “Hello?” I said again. I was distracted by the feel of his lips as they worked their way down my spine in soft, butterfly kisses, but I heard enough to find that it was the front desk, concerned because I hadn’t answered the door when my bottle of wine was delivered. I hadn’t even heard the knock I thought to myself, swatting him away as his kisses ran lower and lower.
I quickly told the conceirge that I had changed my mind and no need for room service tonight.
I hung up the phone and rolled back over.
We were facing each other now, close enough to breathe each others’ breath.
He reached out and twirled some of my hair around his fingers. “I almost can’t believe this is happening,” he said. “After all this time.”
“20 years is a long time,” I agreed, touching his face, running my fingers along the side of his nose, the slope of his jaw. “I am so glad that we found each other.” I frowned. “I do feel bad about Julie though. I feel like I ruined things.”
He sighed and rolled over on his back, pulling me along with him so I was laying with my head on his chest. I felt my heart attune with the beat of his. “Julie and I were having problems way before you came into the picture,” he said. “You just helped me clarify it.”
“But its not fair that she gets hurt.”
He laughed sardonically. “I don’t think you should worry about that. Julie always has someone to take care of her. Remember my cousin Jim, from the party tonight?” I nodded and he continued. “Who do you think was keeping Julie company when we were in the bathroom together?”
My eyes widened. “Really?” I said.
“Really. I’ve known about them for a few months now, but I think it’s gone on longer than that.”
“Why didn’t you end things earlier then?”
He sighed. “I don’t know. When you and i were getting reacquainted these last few months, I was just so excited to be talking with you, I didn’t want anything to bring me down, least of all a scene with Julie. She’s the one who actually ended things with me a couple weeks ago.”
“Did she find my emails?” I said, tracing circles in his chest hair.
“I don’t know. She may have. She never told me if she did.”
He sighed and I didn’t speak. What was there for me to say?
We lay there for a little while, and I may have even started to drowse. Time seemed to stand still when we were together like this, snug in our coccoon of sheets and blankets.
I must have dozed off because the next thing I became aware of was the feel of his hands, up and down my back. Somehow I’d turned onto my stomach and I woke to the thrill of goosebumps as he ran his fingertips up and down my back and sides. I inhaled shakily and heard him laugh. “The princess awakes,” he said, continuing the mesmerizing flutter of fingertips on my back. I began to feel the melting feeling again.
“That feels so good,” I told him. “Don’t stop.”
He leaned over on top of me, so his mouth was close to my ear. “Don’t worry,” he said, his breath tickling my ear. “I’ve only just begun.”
He smiled at me and pushed the robe off my shoulders. It fell into the tub and splashed the backs of my calves with small warm droplets. I continued to look into his eyes as he rubbed his hands up and down my sides. “You have to believe me,” he said softly. “I love you so much. I thought you knew that.”
It was true that the emails between us–which had started as friendly notes between old friends–had gotten progressively more intimate. And come on, who was I kidding? I’d flown 500 miles to see him.
I opened my mouth to say something or another, and before I could speak he was pressing his lips to mine. I felt a surge, a jolt of electricity as our lips met, and then the warm slide into desire began. I staggered in his arms and he held me tighter.
Wordlessly, he helped me step into the tub and I stood in the calf-deep water. He found the washcloth on the side of the sink and poured my rose-scented bath gel onto it. Breathing deeply, he began to massage me with the warm soapy cloth. I closed my eyes, giving into the experience. He rubbed my neck in small circular strokes, and drew a long path up and down my back. It was almost hypnotic. I sighed when he stroked the backs of my thighs. Next he rinsed me with handsful of water, pouring it gently over my shoulders so it ran down my back, my breasts, my legs.
With a sly smile, he handed me a towel and I wrapped up in it and stepped out the tub. He led me by the hand to the bed. Turning back the covers, he motioned for me to get in.
As I slid under the covers, he began to quickly undress. I was still damp and getting chilly with the air conditioning on. That soon changed however, as he slid in next to me. His skin was hot and I could feel myself begin to melt all over again. He lay on his side and looked at me.
“I am so glad that we are here right now,” he said softly, grasping my hand.
I smiled. “Me too,” I whispered. My body was practically vibrating with desire. He leaned over and began to gently kiss my mouth, his lips warm and soft. I sighed into his mouth.
I felt a sudden bolt of electricity shoot thru the both of us and at the same time he pulled me toward him, his mouth now more demanding, his kisses more urgent. I met them with my own demands.
I pressed myself to him, skin to skin. He kissed my neck, my shoulders.
The room was spinning and I felt myself begin to let go, to loose myself in the sweet sensation of him.
That was when the phone rang.
I sighed and looked around. I made up my mind to have fun; after all, I’d travelled long enough to get here.
I walked around the edges of the room, avoiding the center area where it looked like it had been set up for dancing. There was one of those do-it-yourself parquet dance floors, and a CD player in the corner was playing the type of music I’d begun to associate with Julie–Bubble-gum pop interrupted by slow rock ballads. Another slow ballad started, a raspy voiced singer going on about his lost love.
I watched as Julie pulled him out to the dance floor. He looked reluctant, but resigned.
She pressed herself against him and they began to rock side to side. A few other couples joined them and I stepped back against the wall to let them pass.
I sighed, half watching the dancing and half staring into space.
Although I found the musical choice laughable, there was something to be said about being held in someone’s arms and moving slow. I sighed. I was becoming more and more sure that this was a mistake.
I made my way to the bathroom, with the intent of fixing my lipgloss and getting a break from the mock-80′s display on the dance floor. Stepping over a couple having what appeared to be a very intense conversation while sitting on the floor, I almost tripped and fell onto another partygoer.
“Whoa!” he said, catching me as I more or less fell into his arms.
“Thanks, ” I said, standing up straight.
“I haven’t met you before,” the man said with a smile. He held out his hand. “I’m Jim. Cousin to the birthday boy.”
I took his hand with a smile. I could see the resemblance now, between them. They each had the same seawater eyes and something about the shape of their noses. “Nice to meet you! I’m–” I was interrupted suddenly by the feel of a warm hand on my back, between my shoulderblades.
“I see you’ve met Jim.”
“Yeah, you could say we bumped into each other.” Jim snickered.
I smiled. “Where’s Julie?”
He shrugged. “The Macarena came on. I have my dignity.” Sure enough, I could see Julie and a few of her Barbie-clone friends shaking their money makers on the little dance floor.
“I’m getting another beer,” Jim said. “You guys want anything?”
I shook my head.
“Nah, we’re fine.”
Jim left and we were alone again. “I was just going to comb my hair,” I said, pointing towards the bathroom door. “I tripped and Jim caught me.”
He smiled. “C’mon.”
His hand was warm on mine and I enjoyed the shocky tingle that ran up my arm when our skin touched. He led us into the bathroom and closed the door. The music was instantly muted.
“Peace at last,” He said with a smile.
I stood there awkwardly. I wanted to touch his hands, his arms..but I didn’t know if I should, especially after watching him and Julie on the dance floor. Finally, I just opened my purse and took out my lipgloss. I faced the mirror and began to apply it.
He was standing just behind me, watching me as I applied the slick gloss to my lips. I caught his eye and he smiled. Still holding eye contact in the mirror, he reached around me and took the makeup from my hand, setting it on the edge of the sink.
I found it hard to breathe.
His left hand was on my left hip and his right hand brushed the hair off my neck. “Mmm” He said, leaning in. “You smell delicious.”
I felt him brush my hair with his face, and felt him move his head down lower. My eyes were closing with anticipation and I saw just before they closed all the way that he was leaning in to my neck. My skin cried out for the touch of his lips. I inhaled sharply, my whole body tense with desire to feel him. HIs hands were hot on my hips and I instinctively leaned back into him. His breath came closer to my neck…
I walked into the party with not a little trepidation. I knew only the one person–the guest of honor, of all people–and I was nervous that I wasn’t dressed right. I’d gone with jeans and a nice top, low heels so that in case there was any dancing, I wouldn’t fall and make a fool of myself.
Of course, I thought, what does it matter if they are all strangers?
And of course the reply is that the only one who is not a stranger–that is the one who’s opinion matters to me.
Anyway, after I got in I began to relax. The house was small, and there couldn’t have been more than two dozen people there. I grabbed a Diet Pepsi from the tub next to the door and found a quiet corner in which to scan the room.
“Hey, you made it!”
I looked up from my drink, which I was trying to pop open with my less-than-able short fingernails. There he was, next to me.
I smiled, and surruptuously inhaled the scent of him. He doesn’t wear cologne or anything of the sort; I just know his scent well.
“Yeah, here I am!” I said, probably too brightly. Inside my mind I rolled my eyes. Idiot, I thought. Say something more intelligent! “So,” I said outloud. “Nice party!”
“Yeah,” he said, wiping sweat from his forehead with a napkin and leaning against the wall beside me. My left elbow almost touched his right elbow and I could feel little bits of heat coming off his skin. “There are some people here I haven’t seen in forever. Over there is a guy I went to high school with,” he said, pointing to a tall man in a bright hawaiian print shirt. “And the girl he’s with is one of my ex girlfriends.” He sounded bemused.
“Huh,” I said. “Small world.”
We were silent for a few minutes. I sipped my drink in teeny sips, afraid that he’d be able to hear me swallow. My throat had gone dry the minute I saw him.
Suddenly he turned to me, leaning his right elbow against the wall, and resting his head in his right hand. “I am really glad to see you,” he said. I hoped I wasn’t imagining the emphasis he placed on the word ‘really’.
I opened my mouth to answer him, and to tell him how glad I was that I was able to make it, when he turned suddenly to his left. A young bouncy blonde had taken hold of his left hand. “Hey! Aren’t you going to introduce me?” She said in an impossibly high voice.
He may have winced, but since I know that I definitely winced, I am not sure. “Ah, sure,” he said. “This is Julie,” he said turning to me. Before he could give her my name, Julie extended her teeny little hand. I couldn’t resist noting the pepto-pink fingernails. Little Barbie daggers I thought, resisting a smile. Her hand was unsurprisingly cold and limpid in mine. Anemic too, I thought. It figures. She was exactly how I’d imagined, and I couldn’t decide if that thought made me feel better or worse.
“Isn’t this such a great party?” She babbled. “I am so glad you could come. He’s told me all about you, and how important you used to be.”
I raised my eyebrow. Used to be? I wondered. He definitely winced that time.
Julie continued on, not even realizing her impolite faux-pas. “It wasn’t easy pulling this all together…finding all the people, hacking into his email to get their addresses!” She giggled.
I stole another glance at him. Hacking into his email??
He shook his head briefly and I released the breath I’d been holding. She hadn’t hacked all of them then.
Julie prattled on but I lost the thread of her words. I watched instead the way those pink nails (claws? talons? I thought uncharitably) latched onto his arm. Possessive to say the least.
“C’mon honey,” she said to him, pulling him away from me. “I don’t need to bore her with all my talk. There is someone over here who wants to wish you a happy birthday!” He looked at me apologetically and let himself be led away.
I sighed.
This was going to be a long night.
I was watching a show that discussed emotional infidelity—having an ‘affair of the heart’ without necessarily moving to the physical level. The consensus was that an emotional affair is worse than a physical affair. (assuming one can split the two, of course).
They said 97% percent of the women surveyed felt that an emotional affair would likely lead to a physical affair.
Warning signs that you are entering dangerous waters include increasing your communication with this person, thinking about this person a lot, and fantasizing about that person. The experts on the panel also said that often, a person enters an emotional affair when the sex life at home has fizzled out a bit.
*
Ok
*
So, I start to thinking (always dangerous)…
What if a person is having all the physical encounters they want and need at home, but is searching for intimacy/friendship? What if the primary relationship does not lend itself to sharing secrets, joys, pains, etc?
How is it bitching to your best girlfriend different from bitching to your best guy friend?
I am one that is against ‘male bashing’ and ‘husband bashing’. I think its mean and cruel.
But I imagine that sometimes, a person has an issue they would want to talk about, or is not receiving the emotional support they need at home.
I suppose there is always therapy. But a therapist costs money, and a therapists goal is going to be to teach you to rely on yourself.
What if you just want a sympathetic ear? Is that emotional infidelity?
And what if you do fantasize about another person? Does that make you a cheater? Does it matter if its Brad Pitt vs. the sexy guy who delivers your mail? Does it matter if its a stranger or a person you’ve known your whole life?
Do you ever wonder if there is a running theme to your life?
I don’t mean something karmic, like a run of luck or something.
I mean more like, a common something that just keeps showing up, no matter what you do or don’t do. Something that happens so much, the significance is like a 2 X4 across the back of your head.
I have something like that going on. It has been going on for some time, and I’ve been aware of it for years. Recently though, it struck me that maybe there is deeper meaning than simple coincidence.
Its a WHOLE BUNCH of people in my life that have the same name.
I counted five people who are close to me in one way or another with the same name. My feelings for each one of them run in different directions, but deep nonetheless.
Last night I dreamed of one, and in the middle of the dream, another one of them came and actually said to me that he was interrupting the dream and taking it over. And he did.
Then today, I saw yet another person I know with the same name. (#6 but no emotional connection) It took me a while to recognize him, and I didn’t ever speak to him. But his eyes were on me for some time, several times. Ok so I admit it, it was fun being ‘checked out’ (god knows that doesn’t happen enough anymore!) but it was also fun wondering if he knew who I was, and watching him trying to figure it out. Or maybe he did know who I was, and just chose not to say anything, just chose to look. At me. A lot. (of course, I chose not to say anything to him either)
Very strange all around.
So I have to wonder if its a connection or a coincidence that people of that name always have some sort of significance for me. And I really wonder about the one who pushed the other one out of my dream…maybe that one (whom I haven’t seen in many years) will be showing up soon in real life.
Stay tuned.
And tell me here if you have any similar experiences.
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