Welcome to the World of Woman

I'm on a journey. A journey towards Womanhood. Yes, I know, I'm already 31. In some ways, I'm very much a woman. In other ways, I'm still only 13.

In March of 2008, I went off of the birth control pill. I thought, "Hey, I'm ready to be a mama. I'll get pregnant the first month I'm off the pill, because that's the most fertile, right? And next year, I'll have a baby!"

That's not how things went. As you're probably guessing.

So, I had three periods, that kept getting longer and longer apart, until after the third one, they stopped. That was June 2008. By September 2008, I was a bit upset. I went to see my doctor (Thanks, N) and discovered that I had Poly-Cystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), which is where there are lots of little cysts on the ovaries from half-ripe eggs. The most Western medicine could do was to describe the condition, and tell you what is correlated with it, not why it happens.

I did a lot of research about it. I kept hoping to find a magic bullet that would tell me why my body was doing this, so that I could take a pill or something and have it be all better, so that I could absolutely avoid looking at my own habits for things that might need to change.

I saw a nutritionist (awesome woman who looks at the whole woman, including emotional and spiritual in addition to physical - Thank you, S). She had me get some blood work, which confirmed that I'm hypoglycemic, which is one of the things associated with PCOS.

Meanwhile, in my head, I knew that I wanted to become a mother. I also knew that I wanted to do it in as natural a way as possible, with as few as possible chemical interventions. Going a more natural way, was incompatible with my general impatience, and the idea that I started the year with - i.e. that I should be pregnant by now.

I had a lot of grieving to do. I had to let go of my preconceived notions about how this would all go. I had to let go of My Timetable - i.e. my perception of my family's timetable or What's Always Been Done aka having babies in your mid-twenties. I had to let go of my impatience.

Because the two ideas - getting pregnant now and being naturally supportive of my body - seemed to be incompatible, I had to pick which one was better for me. I picked letting my body figure out what it was about in its own time, since I have time.

So, having shifted the focus, at least in verbage, I started seeing an acupuncturist, because I like their holistic, integrated approach, even if I can't fully explain it. It felt right. I picked a wonderful acupuncturist (Thank you, D) in my neighborhood, who I've been seeing since January. She's very empathetic, and gentle. I loved the needles and herbs right away. I also like the nutrition and lifestyle suggestions she made - except for one.

She, along with my nutritionist (from an ayervedic perspective) and all the western suggestions for treating PCOS, strongly suggested cutting out sugar. HUGE RESISTANCE! How could I ever do that? Well, I eventually did. I began slowly, by increasing the amount of proteins I was eating to give myself more steady energy. That helped some. But I wasn't fully there. Mostly, I didn't want to accept that this was something that would actually be good for me to do. I didn't want to change. I thought it would be too hard. I liked desserts too much. A million other excuses.

In March 2009, I had plateaued. My acupuncturist finally said, "Velma, you're really hard to help."

That sunk in. Here I was, paying people to help me do something I wanted to do, and I was resisting the very things they suggested that would help me get to where I wanted to be. It was also around this time that I had several helpful conversations with friends. One shared that while she can't physically have kids, she absolutely know that her children are out there and she'll find them at the right time. (Thanks, P.) Another shared that if my desire was to have a baby, then there were western drugs I could take that could help me do that (Thank you, S). Both of these ideas helped take the pressure off, and helped me reach that zen spot about the whole baby thing. I finally accepted that yes, I do want to support my body naturally to figure out what it's about, and yes, I can reach a point where I can try western drugs to help, and yes, we can adopt too.

And, I finally accepted that not eating sugar was something that I wanted to do. Then, really, I just kind of stopped eating it. All of the prep work, and diet changes previous helped, but it was the removal of the mental block that allowed me to do it. So, I stopped eating sugar. I accepted that to be how I wanted to be (fertile) involved change.

A few weeks later, I had my first period in nine months. It was hard. It arrived at 4am, with a massive, doubling over, cry out in pain cramp. It was really hard to be grateful. It also came with grand emotionality. I was Kali with a vengence. I was so crabby. I was weepy. I picked fights. I yelled. I felt like a self I'd not ever really been. I felt like myself without filters. Without the ability or desire to keep any peace, serenity or calm. All of the things that usually bothered me that I could let go, I couldn't let go. They just bothered me and I said so. To Mark. Forcefully. Not eloquently. Not in a way that could be heard. It was traumatic. I got triggered. I triggered him. It was not pretty. It lasted a weekend, and was gone.

A month later, I had a more moderate level PMS for a week. Still the filters were off, but I had moments of clarity. I was a little better about giving myself space. It was still traumatic.

This is where I feel like I'm 13.

So, I'm 31 and I'm having PMS for the first time in my life. I'm being Welcomed to the World of Woman.

I'm extremely grateful that my body is making progress towards being more hormonally balanced. I didn't expect the journey to be so rocky or dangerous.

I don't really know how to handle it. I'm just beginning to understand the signals. I'm just beginning to get some ideas about how I might better take care of myself during those times, so that I inflict less pain on myself and others. I also want to learn how to honor and communicate the conflicts that arise during those times. I probably am too easy going the rest of the time. Maybe I can learn how to voice what's bothering me more of the time so that it doesn't have to explode to be heard - by me or others. (Thanks, D)

Any experience, strength or hope you have would be appreciated.

Namaste.

The Business of Being Born

A few Saturdays ago, Mark and I went to see "The Business of Being Born," a film produced by Ricki Lake about birth culture in America. After the birth of her first child, which was in a hospital with unwanted medical interventions, she began doing research about birth because she believed there was another way for birth to be. Her second child was born in her home bath tub with a mid-wife present. This film is the result of her research.

I've been fortunate enough to have a very good friend who became a doula. A doula is a birthing coach, a mother for the mother, a support system for the new parents. So, I easily know more than the average person about what birth can be like. Even so, this film was very powerful for me. What I learned made me feel awe and anger, and lots of things in between. As Mark and I look at getting pregnant sometime in the next while (being purposefully vague) and as my friends become pregnant, the issues looked at in this film become even more important.

Here's a summary of what I learned:

early 1900s - 95% of births in the US are in the home with a mid-wife; more people go to medical school and get degrees in obstetrics; doctors led a smear campaign against mid-wives, calling them dirty, ignorant and everything bad associated with the "old country" and touted hospitals as clean and gleaming; fact is most doctors had never seen a live birth

1930s - half of births in the US take place in the hospital; xrays were taken of the pelvis which caused cancer in newborns

1940s to 1960s - women were told birth was painful and that there were drugs they could take to take away the pain, because they were "modern, liberated" women, they wanted drugs, not pain; fact is the drug (scopolamine) that was used didn't erase the pain, just the memory of the pain by erasing self-awareness and self-control, which meant women has to be physically restrained (tied down) during birth, all of which resulted in post-traumatic stress type memories

1970s to 1990s/now - drugs whose long-term side effects continue to be administered to women giving birth, thalidomide for morning sickness led to birth defects, cytotec to stimulate contractions caused ruptured uteruses

Now - 99% of births take place in a hospital, 8% of births are attended by mid-wives, 1% of births take place outside a hospital; the US has the second worst newborn death rate in the developed world; in the five coutries with the lowest infant mortaility rates, 70% of births are attended by midwives.

What birth is often like in a hospital
* a woman is laid on her back with her feet up in stirups, which is the most dysfunctional position for birth because it makes the pelvis smaller and makes it difficult to use stomach muscles to push
*a woman is in a room with lots of people she doesn't know and is told to hurry up
*she's given an epidural for the pain of the contractions, the drug retards contractions, so she's given pitocin to stimulate contractions that are longer and and stronger than natural contractions, so she gets another epidural, then more pitocin, by now the baby is stressed, so she "must" get an emergency cesarean section, which is major surgery and puts her at higher risk for uncurable infections (staph) most commonly caught in hospitals


Over 30% of babies in the US are born by c-section.

What a natural birth can be like
*a woman is surrounded by people she loves and trusts in a place where she is comfortable
*she can move around which helps the baby get in the right position to be born
*she's not rushed
*she experiences the pain of the contractions, but is better able to experience them because she has the support of a doula and midwife who remind her that her body was meant for this, her body can handle it, her body is strong
*she can catch her own baby
*she can hold the baby immediately after being born and fully experience the highest rush of oxytocin that she will in her life, oxytocin is the hormone that is released during orgasm and bonds us to another person, after a birth oxytocin bonds the mother to the child and triggers the mothering instinct

Epidurals dampen the oxytocin release. C-sections completely bypass the oxytocin release. Think about it.

For as long as I've been thinking about these things, feminism, body issues, vaginas and the like, natural birth always made sense to me. What really pisses me off is how our culture tells women that we're not strong enough to do the thing that we're built to do, that we have been doing for millenium (very well or we all wouldn't be here) without any "help" AND that we haven't questioned it. Our culture is scared of women who know their power - women who know and love their bodies. Giving birth is the most substantial way we have that we can know our power. A common theme in the film and in other birth stories is how transformative giving birth is. It is a rite of passage that our cultures ignores and devalues.

What makes me feel awe is the capacity we have as women for giving new life, for taking ourselves to a very hard place and transforming ourselves through it. That takes courage.

It's all well and good for me to say "yes, natural birth is a couragous and amazing and women were built to do it," but that still doesn't mean I have an idea what it looks like. Because of our culture, I didn't have a context for natural birth. I didn't know the stories that make it real. I haven't known many women who have given birth naturally, so it's hard to still realize, feel, do something other than intellectualize, what it might be like.

I've been reading "Spiritual Midwifery" by Ina May Gaskin, groundbreaking midwife of The Farm in Tennessee. The first 200 pages are nothing but stories of natural births. It's amazing. It's providing me that context. It's giving me the stories. It's teaching me about birth by sharing with me the stories of other women. This is also what makes the film powerful. Several families allowed their child's birth to be part of the film. It was so beautiful.

So, see this film. It will be available through Netflix by the end of February.

Check this stuff out for yourself. There's a lot of information" out there. Don't take my word for it.

New Moon Circles aka Goddess Gatherings

I have been known to occasionally get a little woo-woo. Depending on your own experience, I'm either a light weight or kinda crazy. I'm ok with that. Over the years, I've put a lot of attention to coming to peace with the more feminine aspects of life - emotions, sex, mothers, being a woman, being around women.

There are many things that have helped me along the way, including (but not limited to):
Succulent Wild Women by Sark (Thank you, SK)
The Vagina Monologues by Eve Ensler
The Dance of the Dissident Daughter by Sue Monk Kidd
Smart Women Finish Rich by David Bach
The Soul of Money by Lynne Twist
Motherless Daughters by Hope Edelman
The Red Tent by Anita Diamant
Al-anon
The Women's Temple (Thank you, Diane)

One of the most healing experiences on my journey has been the times when I have been in a circle of women intentionally gathered to acknowledge and celebrate being women.

Because this has meant so much to me, and because I have so many wonderful women friends, I like to host Goddess Gatherings. These have evolved over time from simple pot lucks to the "New Moon Circles." In preparing for the last goddess gathering, I had a desire for a little more formality. I wanted to have a circle, with an opening, some substance and a close. In doing my research, I discovered new moon circles. They cross cultures and have many forms, from pagan to jewish. It seemed to me like a simple, yet meaningful structure to apply to the gathering.

So, the current model of gathering is a little woo-woo, a little jewish, a little red tent, a little burning man, and all about women celebrating women.

Here's a little of the background on the circles I found while preparing for the last one. I'm very much looking forward to future circles, which I predict, over time, will grow in richness and meaning.

All Ancient Cultures Honored the Moon
In the twenty-eight day lunar cycle, the New Moon, sometimes called "the dark of the moon," is recognized by indigenous people around the world as an especially important time - a time of energy and potential, a time to make and renew commitments, a time to plant seeds for the future.

Native American Women's Circle
The women of the White Buffalo Society meet once a month during the time of the new moon, to come together in harmony and trust and healing.We hold Women's Circle to nurture ourselves and each other, to heal the mistrust that stems from too much compromise in a world overcome with greed and violence and addictions. We gather in a circle, where none is more important than the other, and we drum and rattle and sing songs. We talk about what it means to be a woman in these times of uncertainty and very fast living, how hard it is to trust each other, and how vulnerable we feel about sharing our deepest concerns. Sometimes we cry together, and sometimes we laugh; we comb each other's hair and massage each other's feet. Through Women's Circle, we learn to support each other and empower ourselves.

Rosh Chodesh
Rosh Chodesh, the celebration of the beginning of each month in the Jewish calendar, has blossomed into a celebration of women and femininity. While Rosh Chodesh exists as a women's holiday in traditional Jewish sources, the connection has been made much stronger with the emergence of the women's movement, and the establishment of women's Rosh Chodesh groups. There is no one way to celebrate Rosh Chodesh and there are no rules for establishing a Rosh Chodesh group. At the core, it should be comprised of women who gather on a monthly basis to celebrate the new month and their lives as Jewish women.

Good in Bed

That got your attention!

It's a book I just finished tonight by Jennifer Weiner. I laughed. I cried. I winced. I savored. It was a thoroughly enjoyable book. Seriously, if you haven't read it, check it out. She also has a blog, called SnarkSpot, where she writes about writing, being a mother, being pregnant, and news in general. Oh, and she also wrote In Her Shoes, which was made into a movie a couple of years about starring Cameron Diaz. I haven't seen it yet, but it's in my NetFlix queue. I'll wait to read the book first.

I read this book thanks to the book club I'm in. We've been meeting for about a year. I haven't read the book for every month, but I have read more and different things than I would have chosen for myself. Plus, it guarentees that at least once a month, I get together with my ladies to connect.

Catharsis

I've been wanting to write a post about this for ages. But I never did because "she might see it" and "feel hurt." I don't really care now, or rather I'm beginning to care more about my own growth and recovery than about managing her feelings, which I never really could do anyway.

So, Mother's Day is coming up. This time of year is always hard. I hate the hallmark version of mother's day - the cards that all say "You're the greatest mom ever!" It makes my stomach turn. Last year, I spent half an hour looking for one for my mom that didn't make me feel like an utter liar. I found one that said "I hope you have a good Mother's Day." This year I can't even send that because I don't know that she has an address!

This is obviously about my mother. Or is it? Maybe it's about me. Sometimes it's difficult to see where I end and she begins. It seems that I've shaped my entire life somehow around her - not being like her, helping her, saying no to her, being honest with her, letting go of her.

Before the age of 10 or so, i.e. before I started having a mind of my own, she was a good mom. She gave me tons of attention. Her life was dedicated to loving me and helping me become the best, smartest person I could. Maybe that backfired on her a bit, because when I started thinking for myself, I was very confident and headstrong, and she couldn't really handle me. We'd have the massive yelling arguments - over things like laundry. My asserting my independence was very threatening to her. She tried to hold on. It didn't really work. When I was little, in arguments with dad, she played the "I'll just leave" card. That nearly always worked to end the fight with dad. But it instilled the seeds of detachment from her in me. Then when she played that card with me, I said "Well, ok." And it was the way she was with dad - emotional and irrational - that I didn't want to be like. I'd succeeded in that in most of my life - being very rational and unemotional - except in my relationship with her.

By the time highschool got into full swing, the roles had fully switched. I became the parental figure and she the child figure. The switch happened pretty suddenly. We were having one of our infamous yelling matches, heard by the neighbors (across the street and two houses down), and I just wanted to hurt her. I wanted to make her see just how much she didn't know or understand. So, I said the most hurtful thing I could think of, "I'm not a virgin. I'm having sex. I took myself to get birth control pills." No, I didn't say that, I screamed it. (Yes, that means I wasn't a virgin when I got hitched. Don't tell Mark! ;-) After that she got quiet, and started crying.

That's when the rebellion started - not mine, but hers. After that, she started coming to me for advice on stuff. I'd tell her what I'd do. She'd promptly tell me that I couldn't tell her what to to and say "You're not my mother." (To be fair, she used the "You're not my father" line on Dad.) It was this way through the beginning of college. About mid-college, we'd come to a peacable co-existance. Then my parents got a divorce. I'd always known they were going to, but the drama around and my emotional response to the divorce still surprised me.

After they fully seperated, Mom took up with an ex-con unemployed drug-addict. I didn't like him. Mom sold all of her stuff to pay for his debt. He and she moved to a trailer outside Kansas City that didn't have working plumbing. I'd said to her, "call me if you need anyting." She called one day. He'd hit her. Her stuff was packed. She was leaving him. Would I come get her? YES! I drove to KC through a thunderstorm, picked her and her stuff up. We proceeded on a wild goose chase around the county to file charges against him for stealing the brand new truck she'd bought at his advice, but that came to naught. Because he'd legally signed the title over to someone to pay a debt, while she was there. We drove to the truck stop where she worked as a dishwasher so she could quit and pick up her last pay check. And drove back to JC. Dad and I put her up in an apartment. The next day she and I went to file a restraining order against him and learn about filing bankruptcy. Three days later, she'd taken him back. That was the end of my helping her. I'd done all I could.

The next week I moved to California. She called me several times asking for money. I said no. A year or so later, she called asking if I wanted a visitor. She'd followed another man to Oregon. He'd left her there and she had no money. I said no. Each of these interactions, would send me into a tailspin of emotional conflict. It was always me versus her. This is the part that's hard to explain. I couldn't take care of her and me at the same time. While in highschool, I'd made a promise to always take care of myself, because, no matter what else, I would always be who I was with at the end of the day. I learned early on (thanks to mom's "I'll just leave" card) that I couldn't depend on anyone else to take care of me. So, if I could only take care of one of us, it had to be me. And that meant saying no. I feel guilty for saying no. I feel angry for having had to say anything. I feel guilty for feeling angry. Then I get angry at myself for feeling guilty at all! Hence, the tailspin. Mostly, though, for years, I just wouldn't feel anything. (Remember the being unemotional that I learned early on?) And then there'd be mother's day or her birthday. And I find myself crying just walking down the street.

This cycle of emotions has been repeating itself since then. It's gotten easier over the years. It's less like a tidal wave and more like a sneaker wave now.

Other things I feel guilty about:
Not enjoying spending time with her
Watching the clock for how quickly I can leave during the few times I have seen her
Not wanting her to be at my wedding
not writing her back last winter
knowing she had a crappy childhood (abandoned by her mother) and still feeling angry at her
knowing she's doing her best and still feeling angry at her
seeming ungrateful for when she was able to do well

Other things I'm hurt about:
her forgetting my birthday last year
her not calling

Other things I'm angry about:
not knowing how to get a hold of her
her not understanding me
her not knowing me
not having my own mother
her not being able to handle any truth about my life
her calling me sis
her not acting like a mother
her asking me for advice
having to deal with all this shit at all

It sucks.

I know there's a silver lining and all that. I wouldn't be who I am without these experiences. I have my strength, confidence, determination, reason, empathy and compassion because of and in spite of her. But, dammit, this still sucks right now.

I've tried several times to simply accept her, with the hopes that that will make all my emotions go away. But just saying it doesn't make it so. Plus, accepting her as she is, won't magically make her the mom I want.

Now, I'm seeing that maybe accepting my feelings about her is the only thing I can do. I can stop beating myself up about her. I didn't cause her problems. I can't cure her problems. I can maybe accept that I have feelings about my mom not being around. That's probably normal, right? I probably don't even have to justify my feelings with a lengthy story like the one above. I can just have my feelings. I have a right to feel. I can feel hurt, angry and sad that my mother is emotionally and phsyically unavailable.

This is definitely cathartic.

As for mother's day, maybe I'll go pick out a nice card for myself. Because learning how to mother myself - a headstrong, calloused, know-it-all - certainly isn't easy!

It's not fitness. It's Life.

BREAKING NEWS!

I joined the gym today. This is something I've been grappling with for about six months. Living in the Mission and working downtown, it's been difficult to be as active as I like.

A Little Background
I'm the first to admit that I've never been the jock type. I have never been confused with Sporty Spice. I took Dance PE (yes, the one featuring square dancing) in high school. That's about it. There was a period of about a year where I was biking up mountains and such, but that was in Portola Valley and a whole different story. For the vast majority of my life, I've simply been moderately active in my daily life. Fortunately, that seems to work for my genes and my jeans.

Status Quo
There's the usual walking around to go places, but there's not much aerobic activity. My commute is: walk one block, ride BART three stops, walk one block. I don't walk when I get home because I'm not fond of being single in the mission at that hour, especially now that it's dark. I like to bike, but not where I have to pay that much attention. So, I don't. Basically, it's just not as pretty (or safe) to go for a walk in the city. So, I don't. If it weren't for Laura, I would hardly go for walks at all! Fortunately, she reminds me that we can go outside at lunch time.

The Struggle
I don't like the idea of gyms. I don't like the idea of machines. I don't like the smells and I generally don't like the people. I've occassionally visited such places known as gyms and didn't find much appeal. And I really don't like the idea of paying somewhere for the privilage of helping me break a sweat.

The Process
Soon after starting work at Save-the-Redwoods League, I began to see the Status Quo developing. Where, for the first time, there's not very much activity in my daily grind AND there's not easy opportunities for other outlets of energy. This also coincided with my growing understanding of what it means to take care of myself. I don't need to "work out" to look good. But I have noticed that I felt better during the times in my life when I was most active. S l o w l y, I realized that being active and feeling better is a form of self care and that I'm Worth It!

So, I visited several gyms. This one was too far. This one was too full of itself. This was was too gross. Just call me Goldilocks! Finally, I tried the gym across the street. Several of my co-workers are members there and like it. It's called Equinox. I liked it. The people are nice, even the salesmen. The gym is clean and not smelly. It's in a beautiful building. There are plenty of varied machines. The classes are conveniently scheduled - for people who have regular 9-5s. It has a steam room! And did I mention it was across the street? During the trial visit, I timed that I could get to the gym and back to the office in an hour.

The only problem was that it's pretty pricey. Besides the monthly fee, there's the initiation fee. It's taken me Several Months to get used to the price tag. Oh! and the committment thing. I have to sign up for one year before it goes month to month.

So, I joined today. The initiation fee was waived. My membership starts on Dec. 26, when I get back from our honeymoon. And in three months, SRL will start kicking in some money towards the monthly fee, which makes it a little easier to swallow.

I'm pleased with my decision. I'm looking forward (!) to going to the gym. Who knows, it might even be fun!

Next up: Honeymoon Part 2: Yucatan. (For Part 1, see Mark's post.)

Shoes

Check it out! I have new shoes. Well, they're not really new shoes, but new-to-me shoes. I've had a mild obsession with shoe shopping as of late. In the last two weeks, I've been in ... (I had to stop and count) ... at least 10 shoe stores, only two of them thrift stores. And you might as well call me Goldilocks! This pair was too shiney, this pair was too square, this pair was too dull, this pair was too uncomfortable, this pair was too expensive, this pair was too narrow... and on and on... Yesterday at lunch, I checked out one final shoe store, one that carried Dansko's, where I was hoping to find a comfortable pair of cute shoes. But I didn't like any of those either! So, I gave up. I thought - to hell with it. I'll just survive with the two pair I have until some show up at the thrift store.

Last night after work, I had to go back to the thrift store on the corner to get them to take the electronic buzz thing out of the shoe that they missed. I checked out the shoe rack because I had a few minutes and, lo and behold, I found five pairs of shoes! Considering I had been there two days before, I was amazed. Thank you, HP!

So, the black flats and brown low heels in the picture are from yesterday's shoe binge.

You might be wondering what brought on this mild obsession. This is where this gets a little wierd - at least for me.

A friend of a friend is a fasion consultant. I've been thinking lately that it would be nice to get a little advice on how to wear the umpteen skirts I have in my closet and how to update my wardrobe a bit. Working downtown and living in the city, I'd begun to notice that I was still dressing just like I did in highschool and college - cords and crew necks. I didn't want to be that person who was still wearing sky high bangs to the millenium party. And I also wanted to dress more flatteringly to my feminine frame. But I don't have the time or desire to figure it all out on my own. So, I got in touch with Voleine of Strut: style know how for today's young woman.

After filling out a questionaire and talking with her on the phone, she came over and we did a "Closet Sweep." I showed her all the things in my closet, tried on things when necessary and put things either 1) back in the closet after hearing what I could wear it with, 2) put things in a pile to be altered, or 3) put things in a pile for Good Will. The pile for Good Will grew to fill a garbage bag. The pile for altering only had two things in it, one of which I gave to a friend it might fit better and the other going to storage. As for the things in my closet, including the 16 skirts, I learned the types of clothes and shoes that I could wear them with, most of which I didn't have. I did a (for me) major shopping trip last Saturday. I got several tops and the pair of gold flats in the photo. I learned that with my brightly colored skirts I can wear black, brown or white tops and black, gold or brown more delicate shoes with tights. This is very exciting for me - except for the fact that I have a white cat and that I'm spill prone. But, heck, I'll give it a try. That is why I was obsessed with finding the right shoes, so that I could easily get dressed for work and not have to wear the same clothes I've been wearing for ages.

For the last three days, I've worn my "updated" look and I've gotten many compliments. It's been pretty easy to figure out what to wear. I've been comfortable (i.e. not too cold) and it's been fun.

What's wierd about this is accepting that it's ok to spend money on clothes and that it's ok to look good. Those are things that I historically haven't placed a high priority on. I'm experimenting, trying this on for size, and taking it one dressing day at a time.

As for being married for six weeks now, it's good. It's not much different than before, except that I don't have a wedding to plan and I have time to think about how to take better care of myself, which is nice.

....

Next time on Velma.org: Is Velma becoming a gym rat? Aren't there other ways she can get her heart rate up? Stay tuned! The sage of self-care continues to unfold...

....

And now it's time to help Mark fold laundry.
Happy Thanksgiving!

The Conscious Bride

Please read this book - if you are engaged in planning any fashion of ceremony to celebrate the union of two individuals in love - otherwise known as a bride planning a wedding.

I've only one chapter, and - oh my zumla! - much of the last six months is beginning to make sense...

I've recently observed, experienced and am coming to accept that there is an "underbelly" to all the wedding glitz. I thought that I could avoid it by planning an alternative ceremony and party. And I am avoiding a lot of the stress, but I'm not avoiding the confusion from emotions I've not experienced and for which I have no context.

So, I'm excited to have found, at the recommendation of L (Thank you!), this book - The Conscious Bride: Women Unveil Their True Feelings about Getting Hitched.

Marriage

Where I grew up, girls were expected to grow up to be pretty women to find a man to marry and take care of them and then have his children. If you went to college, it was to get a richer, smarter man to marry and take care of you and then have his children.

The more I thought about this, the angrier I became at this. I had only seen dysfunctional marriages, and I DID NOT want that to be my fate. I did not want to be a wife. Wife became one of the dirtiest words I knew. Wife meant subservient, psychotic, dysfunctional, hypersensitive, co-dependent, under achieving woman who didn't know her worth and let patriarchy and her husband think for her. Marriage, then, was an institution that saw women as weak and irrational, saw men as uncompromising and insensitive, and promoted unhealthy relationships between them.

No, thank you.

I did not want to be a wife. I did not want a husband. I did not want to be married.

And such was the case for a very long time.

So, what happened?

The first thing that happened was that when I was 16, I made a commitment to myself. I "married" myself. I promised to take care of and cherish me for the rest of my life, because I realized that NO ONE ELSE was responsible for my happiness and well-being. Only me. I couldn't and didn't want to wait for my "Prince Charming", my "husband" to come and make my life alright. I realized that I was the only one I could depend on to know and work towards my best interests, so I gave myself a gold band, which has never been off my person in the last 11 years. For my ten year anniversary, I gave myself a diamond ring.

Then, over the years and relationships, I became better at being a partner to myself and to my boyfriends. I began to see and seek out examples of other healthy relationship models. I practiced being the kind of partner I wanted. I increased my awareness of my feelings. I changed my reactions from bottled-up outbursts to verbal acknowledgments of what was going on with me and in the relationship. This was followed by discussions (not arguments) to understand the dynamics and figure out how we could work better as a couple, so that both of our personalities were respected and our needs met. This involves collaboration, cooperation and compromise. It also involves great love and respect for oneself and the other person. One of the biggest things I've had to work on was believing that my feelings are valid and worth voicing.

More recently, in the last several years, I've realized and accepted that I would like to raise a family. And that I would like a committed partner to join me in that adventure. And that the adventure would be more fun and easier with the support and help of a community of loving friends and family. And that the community would be more committed to helping if we publicly acknowledged our commitment to each other and to them.

So, now. Mark and I are getting hitched. Mark and I are making a commitment to each other for our lifetimes. One could also say that we're engaged to be married. I (and he) still have challenges with that specific set of words, because they are so loaded with negative associations for us in this culture (see the first paragraph). For the sake of convenience, we're using those words occasionally anyway, but not before we've fully picked them apart and are aware of the potential, stereotypical pitfalls they bring.

As for the other cultural traditions that are associated with marriages, such as engagements and weddings, we're picking those apart too. We're examining them for the parts that we feel good about and are changing the rest to something we believe in. This may make some people uncomfortable, but, when it comes down to it, this is how Mark and I are starting the rest of our lives together, and we need it to be true to us.

So, in summary, the fact that I'm even ok saying "I'm getting married" is HUGE!!!! It is a REALLY BIG DEAL. One reason I can even go here is because it's on our terms, not society's, not my family's, but Mark's and mine. Mark and I are the ones figuring this out and we're excited.

Happily Ever After

Really?

So I just finished watching Four Weddings and a Funeral. I haven't been this disgusted after a movie since Love Actually! Can't Hugh Grant make any movies where people have relationship that are based on more than lust? more than instant chemistry? He has been in better movies, hasn't he?

At any rate, my tolerance for sappy cheesy romantic girley movies has noticeably decreased over that last several years. (I'm going to rant a little bit more here, so pardon me.) This type of movie contributes to and is an example of the disease in our culture of the Fairy Tale syndrome. Where all a person has to do is to meet The One other right person who they're instantly attracted to and it will be rosy forever.

I'm sorry, but that's not really how it works. Yes. It is important to be physically and chemically attracted to a person. But more important is their being a good friend and a good person. Someone who I trust implicitly. Who I would do anything for. Who I seek when I'm troubled or joyful. With whom I talk, listen, laugh, love, disagree, compromise, negotiate and play. Who I question, advise, look out for, care for, nuture and love no matter how bitchy or cranky or crazy they (or I) are every now and then. I love them because I know them and they know me. Our friendship has been built and tried over time. It didn't blossom easily over the course of four chance meetings, but then again we're not Hugh Groan or Andi McDunce.

Maybe in the movies, they really do get to know each other, and it all just ends up on the cutting room floor. Somehow, I doubt that.

Lessons from the Mid-west

So, I've been back in CA a week. The first drive into SF was a little shocking - so fast, loud and bright (at night). But then I headed to Berkeley for a Spiritual Politics conference (more on that later) and now SF seems normal...

- People are good at justifying any decision.
- Each person's perspective is absolutely true to that person.
- There are some awesome people in Missouri and surrounds.
- If you knew a person early enough in your life, enjoying their company later comes with ease.
- I don't quite understand the family bond. We don't all agree or understand, but we all love and tolerate (for the most part) each other.
- Some Missouri wines are good, but most are uber-sweet. I especially liked the Norton, a dry red, from St. James Winery.
- It matters less where you are, and more who you are - at least in raising a family. I've seen progressive people from the country and conservatives from the city.
- There's a lot of work, especially for women, to be done in MO. It's the only state where it is a felony to have a home-birth under the supervision of a mid-wife.
- Sprawl is a problem everywhere. It's even reaching my little Sandy Hook.
- It takes four Buds (as opposed to my usual three beers) to get drunk, but with practice, one can drink up to a dozen in an evening. It helps to be in construction.
- Central Dairy's Butter Brickle ice cream is still the best.
- Tofu is even available in Jefferson City.
- I'm beginning to understand "Never put off until tomorrow, what you can put off until the day after tomorrow." (Mark Twain)
- I could live in Missouri again. It was harder leaving this time, than any time before. I deeply miss the company of my family and friends on a daily and weekly basis.

At any rate, I'm back in California. What is next for me, I don't know. I'm going to see how long I can do this non-employment thing. Today, though, I'm going to finish unpacking and finally get around to reading a book, maybe even in the park.

Jail to Victory

Page 49-50 – On January 10, 1917, the [National] Women’s Party arranged around-the-clock pickets at the White House. [After three months,] Police began arresting picketers for blocking traffic. Other women quickly replaced them. Over the next six months more than two hundred women faced trials. Alice Paul [the organizer of the Women’s Party] and ninety-six other who refused to pay their fines were thrown into filthy jails and work houses for up to six months. Guards beat and isolated troublemakers in cells. When women refused to eat, they were force-fed. Lucy Burns wrote:

[We] were dragged through halls by force, our clothing partly removed by force, and we were examined…. Dr. Gannon told me then I must be force fed. I was held down by five people at legs, arms and head. Gannon pushed tube up left nostril…. It hurts nose and throat very much….Food dumped directly into stomach feels like a ball of lead.

Reports of cruel treatment outraged the nation. On November 28, [1917], President Wilson ordered the women set free. The White House pickets remained. Member of the National American [Women Suffrage Association], with [Carrie Chapman] Catt as their president since 1915, disliked Paul’s tactics and kept their distance. [National American favored a state-by-state voting rights approach as opposed to the direct action of the Women’s Party.] Still, the Party’s daring moves opened many doors that strengthened Catt’s state groups. Paul’s antics forced the president and Congress to take action.

Let Women Vote!

Gathering with women has been an invaluable source of strength in my life. Hearing their stories and sharing my struggles has given me the courage to conceive and realize a vision of myself as an independent, loving, loved and fulfilled woman. It is because of these conversations and connections that I see the beauty and power of being a woman. It was a winding struggle before I understood how lucky I was to have femininity as a resource – as a way to be a force for positive change in this world.

By Marlene Targ Brill
Page 15 – “Most early American could not own property or sign contracts. Their husbands owned their clothes, household goods, and anything they brought to the marriage. If a woman earned wages, they belonged to her husband.”

Page 16 – “Divorce between husband and wife was almost impossible. And if a divorce was granted, the woman lost all rights to her children, no matter how badly the father behaved.
After visiting the United State, French author Alexis de Tocqueville wrote, ‘No people, with the exception of slaves, had less rights over themselves in eighteenth-century and early nineteenth century America than married women.’”

Page 23 – “After abolitionists Angelina and Sarah Grimke toured New England, Massachusetts clergy issued a strong letter attacking their speeches. Churches throughout the state read the letters condemning the women. The clergy claimed that ‘when a woman assumes the place and tone of man as public reformer…her character becomes unnatural.’
Sarah Grimke answered the clergy in a series of letters. She argued that they misquoted the Bible to keep women down. She wanted equal rights for women.
‘All I ask our brethren is, that they will take their feet from off our necks and permit us to stand upright on that ground which God designed us to occupy,’ she wrote.”

Page 26 – “On July 13, 1848, Lucretia Mott, Elizabeth Stanton, Mary Ann McClintock, Martha Wright and Jane Hunt met for tea. “At the July 13 tea, Stanton admitted to the women how truly miserable she was.
I poured out, that day, the torrent of my…long discontent, with such vehemence and indignation that I stirred myself, as well as the rest of the party, to do and dare anything.
…The following day, Stanton announced the Women’s Rights Convention in the Seneca County Courier. The notice read:
A convention to discuss the social, civil, and religious rights of woman will be held in the Wesleyan Chapel, Seneca Falls, New York, on Wednesday and Thursday, the 19th and 20th of July.
The next morning the women met to plan the meeting and prepare a statement of basic women’s rights. At first, Stanton searched through papers from antislavery meetings for ideas. Then she read the United States Declaration of Independence….
Stanton rewrote the Declaration to include the work women: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men and women are created equal….” Then the women agreed on a list of demands for true equality with men. They include the right to earn wages, go to college, own property, pursue a career, have equal say about children after divorce, and be heard in court. Stanton added one more demand – the right to vote….Some women feared that wanting the vote went too far…”

Happy V-Day!

No, not Valentine's! Not Velma...
Vagina!

a little history - www.vday.org/contents/vday/history
V-Day was born in 1998 as an outgrowth of Eve Ensler's play, "The Vagina Monologues." As Eve performed the piece in small towns and large cities all around the world, she saw and heard first hand the destructive personal, social, political and economic consequences violence against women has for many nations. It was clear that something needed to be done to stop the violence. A group of women in New York joined Eve and founded V-Day . . . a catalyst, a movement, a performance. V-Day’s mission is simple. It demands that the violence must end. It proclaims Valentine’s Day as V-Day until the violence stops. When all women live in safety, no longer fearing violence or the threat of violence, then V-Day will be known as Victory Over Violence Day.

The Vagina Monologues are produced every year around V-Day on college campuses across the world. If you have an opportunity to experience the Monologues, please do. I dare you. They have been a catalyst for my feminism, self-confidence and woman pride.

It may be a little late this year, but to find out where it's playing near you visit Vday.org. OR read the book. OR watch the DVD, also available on Netflix.

And at the very least read this speach by Jane Fonda National Women's Leadership Summit on June 12, 2003. She does a great job of summarizing what it is to be Vagina-Friendly.

Again, Happy V-Day!

Empowerment - The Soundtrack

A Thousand Women’s Arms - Compiled by Sarah
1. We Are Family (Sister Sledge)
2. Sisters Are Doing it for Themselves (Eurythmics)
3. I’m Every Woman (Chaka Khan)
4. Think (Aretha Franklin)
5. Interlude (Erykah Badu)
6. Tyrone (Erykah Badu)
7. I Will Survive (Gloria Gaynor)
8. Untouchable Face (Ani DiFranco)
9. Goodbye to You (Scandal)
10. Bye, Bye Baby (Janis Joplin)
11. Respect (Aretha Franklin)
12. Move Over (Janis Joplin)
13. Chain of Fools (Aretha Franklin)
14. Sitting By the Side of the Road (Andie McDowell - from the movie"Michael")
15. The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill (Lauryn Hill)
16. On and On (Erykah Badu)
17. On and On Reprise (Erykah Badu)
18. Letter to a John (Ani DiFranco)
19. Can’t Cry Anymore (Sheryl Crow)
20. Hand in My Pocket (Alanis Morissette)
21. 6’ 1” (Liz Phair)
22. All I Wanna Do (Sheryl Crow)

Step Aside - compiled by Velma
1. King Of Sorrow (Sade)
2. Live To Tell (Madonna)
3. Cry Baby (Janis Joplin)
4. Jealous Guy (John Lennon)
5. Foolish Games (Jewel)
6. Carrion (Fiona Apple)
7. Asking Too Much (Ani DiFranco)
8. Cell Block Tango (from the musical Chicago)
9. Express Yourself (Madonna)
10. Let's Dance (David Bowie)
11. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun (Cyndi Lauper)
12. Here Comes The Sun (The Beatles)

Movin' On - Compiled by Velma
1. No One Said It Would Be Easy (Sheryl Crow)
2. You'll See (Madonna)
3. Anything But Down (Sheryl Crow)
4. Piece Of My Heart (Janis Joplin)
5. Stong Enough (Sheryl Crow)
6. Get Gone (Fiona Apple)
7. Sleep To Dream (Fiona Apple)
8. Cradle And All (Ani DiFranco)
9. Girls Room (Liz Phair)
10. Out Tonight (Original Broadway Cast)
11. Dancing Queen (ABBA)
12. All I Wanna Do (Sheryl Crow)