Feminist Letter to my hypothetical boyfriend

I know you have secrets. I must not toughen up but smarten up. My intuition tells me things my mind likes to ignore. All around me are seers, sensitive spirits who give insight, treasures of wisdom, things ordinary people who are so consumed with regular things, just don’t see. I know you have secrets that you hide. I can feel it somewhere in my heart, these secrets that you hide. I’d like to know what these secrets are, these truths you don’t fully reveal.

I want to know I am living a truthful life. If it’s anything less than truthful and completely honest, I don’t need it. I just need truth and honesty, faith, purity. Focus on my career and the path toward complete greatness, compassion, love, freedom. That’s all I require. I let go of my past, my itchy urges to invite fear in. Anything less does not serve me and my greater purpose.

The sensation pulses through my fingertips, up into my forearms, surging from my heart center because this is my truth. This is purity. This is everything I have to offer. If we are to be together, I require honesty. You must understand that I see this. I see you. I look for evidence of your infidelity but you are a master of hiding things, or are you just really that truthful?

I’d like to know I am heard, that I am cherished as a special person, because that’s what the mother of your children needs to be, a special person. A queen. And you can be my king but you need to show me more. Show me more. Show me your hand. Are we the same beast that protects its heart at all costs until the other throws in the towel? Or are you just playing around? My instincts say you aren’t playing around but you haven’t fully let go of people from your past. I only want to make new memories with you, ones that are so much better than any you could have had before with any of those clowns who aren’t as deep as the queen I am.

Secrets. We all have them. I had them, but my heart wanted you more, so I let go of all those secrets and they weren’t secrets anymore because they no longer existed. I want to be a part of your life, greater than anyone else has been or ever will be. I’m the first. The best. The last. The only. I hope you know that.


On Not having kids before you’re 30

Societal pressures can kiss my ass. There were so many people I came across in my late twenties who often looked at me like the freak that didn’t have any kids or wasn’t married but here’s what I have to say to that: I’m alive and happy, successful and perfectly fine just working on myself, getting mentally, spiritually, emotionally and economically prepared to have a kid. You know I’m a hopeless romantic and I’ve always wanted to marry someone I was madly in love with. I just hadn’t found the right partner in my twenties and I wasn’t going to just hook up with someone and marry them just because society kept pushing me to.

Now that I’m 30 I don’t feel pressure. It’s like a new day and I feel free. In ending my past relationship, it’s like I said F*** you to society. I’m not going to stay in a relationship and conform to standards that aren’t my own. I only live by love’s rules and if the love isn’t there, then it’s time to move on.

I have thought often about why people push so hard for others to settle down young. Think about that phrase: settle down. Settling down doesn’t just mean hanging up your heels and getting a normal job. It can mean much more, like settling for less than our wildest dreams and why would society push for that? Um….to control us better. People who are single or unmarried in your thirties with no kids are like a dangerous breed. We are free and nobody can stop us or tie us down. We can stay out as long as we want, spend money on ourselves, take random trips, reboot our careers any time, quit jobs, and just have time to think and dream without the sound of wailing children or dissatisfied spouses.

I have mad respect for my fellow friends who have children at my age, but I sure as hell don’t feel bad about my situation any longer.

Turning thirty is like the ticking time bomb that people use to scare you into mediocrity. Oh, I better do that before I’m 30, have kids, get married before I’m 30. It’s like, what do you think is going to happen to you when you turn 30? You’re going to expire? Disappear? Explode?

I’m telling you that I feel like something has exploded within me and it’s the feeling of freedom. No more societal pressure somehow. I’m 30 and I didn’t die because I didn’t have kids. I’m taking my time. I have faith that the universe has led me exactly where I’m supposed to be. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I’m cool with that. Faith stands for :Finally, Allowing, It, To, Happen. That’s my motto these days.
If anyone ever tries to make you feel bad about not settling down in your twenties, that person is close-minded and doesn’t understand that there is more to life. There’s nothing wrong with any of us in any situation we are in. We are perfectly beautiful every day, in every moment.

The power of goodbye

There can be a real fear in letting go of something or someone you have held for a long time because you don’t know if you will ever find it again or be alone forever. There’s a real comfort in our bad habits that end up becoming learned behavior. We really get upset because we accept things that we know in our hearts are not what we want and resentments build, cancer forms, and there goes your life.

I was in a relationship for six years that wasn’t right. I went to Arizona because I wanted to see if I could live without him and I could. I told myself that I didn’t want to let go of the relationship because I had invested so much time and I loved him. I thought that the harder something was, it was worth the time, worth fighting for, so I held on and got more and more angry, accepted more and more.

But in all reality I was not happy. I knew what I wanted in a partner and as much as I had thought I had convinced myself that what we had was okay, it really wasn’t. Time or marriage wouldn’t have changed that. I know that now. I knew it then. I knew it from the first Christmas when he didn’t make time for me. We were always meant to be friends. Just friends, writing partners, not lovers. And we finally agreed to let it go.

One night not long after, I had a really good cry, felt it deep within my heart, like something was being ripped from me, you know the way you feel when you get sick and are detoxing something nasty from your body. The next day, you feel great. That’s how I felt.

I can honestly say that I feel better with letting go of my long-term relationship. Thirty and all. I mean, it can be scary to be a single, 30-year old woman with no kids but I feel lucky. I have no baggage.

I think of that line from the Fleetwood Mac song, “Landslide,” that goes: “I’ve been afraid of changing because I built my life around you.” I was so afraid of letting go before for that very reason, but not anymore. There is a real power to letting go, saying goodbye, closing doors, and maintaining mystery in the future. At least I have yoga, so far the real love of my life.