The many sides of me

It’s been a good day. Nothing spectacular but just the kind of day I would like to see my life evolving into.

Got up this morning, got a bunch of work done, crashed on the couch, then got into production mode. Did a ton of Cinderella emails, work, etc. Then had a well-deserved nap. Went to dinner with a bunch of Bears at my friend, David’s, house and it was just lovely to hang out with these guys and, oh, yeah, the other token hag, Tracy B. Watched Project Runway the best way possible – in a room full of gay men.

I’ve already begun to really appreciate the art on my wrist. I look at it constantly and it reminds me of what I want and why I changed my life, which is exactly what I had hoped it would do. I also feel so much now that it is a part of me. I kind of scoffed earlier at the power of putting these images onto my body but, after several responses chiding me about that denial, I really feel like there is a power coming from the simple combination of ink, desire, and skin. I think I give it that power, as it is with any kind of talisman. If it was just art for the sake of having something cool there, the images wouldn’t have any power at all. But because of their meaning and my desire for them to represent something, I think they can be very powerful.

The interesting thing on this adventure is learning how to be me. There are so many versions of me out there and it’s hard to reconcile all of them into one good, solid Susan. Looking around the room tonight, I realized how hard it is to reconcile the many “me’s”. I have been called difficult, wonderful, brilliant, fearless, weak, powerful, inspiring, frustrating, and so many other things, some of which I agree with, some of which I don’t.

I am my mother’s daughter, which means I’m 10 for the rest of my life. I’m the odd child that she doesn’t quite understand but loves without condition. I inherited her looks but my father’s soul. But what startled me this weekend is what my mother called me. I was showing some jewelry to the coordinator at the production studio for Inked and the coordinator was oohing and aahing over the jewelry and the journals and I made a little joke about doing tons of stuff. Then my mother said something which took my breath away – “she’s an artist.” She didn’t say it in a condescending way or with a roll of the eyes that we all have experienced, those of us in the creative fields. She meant just that. For the second time in my life, I realized that my mother appreciates my artistic life and understands that I have a gift to create. It may frustrate her that I cannot make a living doing it but she understands that I am driven to do it. It staggered me to hear her call me an artist and it was the biggest compliment I have ever received from her.

I am a little sister, mostly when it pertains to my sister, Cindy. It’s always been hard for me to be in that position. I was in awe of my sister growing up. She was an incredibly talented athlete, so graceful, so gifted. Driven didn’t – and still doesn’t – even begin to describe her. Great student. Great athlete. Impossible footsteps to follow in. I am eternally seven when I think of my sister. She made me want to be more just to be in the same family with her. She makes me angry, frightened, inspired, tormented, elated, grateful and about a zillion other things. I want to be better at everything because of her.

I am a twice divorced woman in her 40’s. That’s hard to define. I don’t know what that means. I guess it means I am confused, fragile, struggling, overwhelmed, terrified. I feel ugly and old and so out of fashion. I am damaged goods that no one will ever want to be with again. But I also feel that I am strong in that I chose not to stay in a relationship that was wholly unsatisfying and maybe a little abusive. I chose to leave to be my own person instead of living in the shadow of someone who was smothering me. I am cautious and concerned about being with someone new because I don’t want this to happen again.

I am a director/producer/writer – multi-slasher, as I heard someone say. I can do it all and do it well. I live for details although I allow the details to overwhelm occasionally. I love the way I feel when I am directing. I love to wear those shoes. There is the confident, powerful, certain woman I want to be more often. I don’t second guess myself very often yet I am open to what others want to contribute. I am confident in my creative choices and my vision yet I am grateful to those who want to help me grow in a supportive, positive way. I feel solid and strong in this version of me, the way I am seeking to feel in the rest of my life. Yet this has always come easily for me and I have a hard time accepting when people tell me I do it well. It’s in my blood so I don’t see it as something I do well or not, it’s just something I do.

I am a friend. I love my friends dearly and devotedly, whether I’ve known them forever, as with my dearest Chairman or just discovered them, as with Monica. I demand a lot of my friendships but I expect to give just as much back. I am beginning to learn to be more open and vulnerable with my friends and let them really see me in all my glory, good and bad. It’s always been hard for me to share the “bad” side of me with any but my closest friends as I always felt that made me appear weak and vulnerable and open to being hurt. But without being open to being hurt, I am not open to being loved. It’s funny, but with my most beloved friends, I feel that I am fragile and delicate and breakable and that frightens me. But then there are so many times with them that I feel I am beginning to discover my strength and my power because their love and support are there to catch me when I fall flat on my face. I am getting less and less afraid of falling and more sure of my footing because of these amazing, incredible, beautiful friends.

Now I am searching to find a way to blend all of these pieces of me into something solid – the daughter, the sister, the divorcee, the slasher, the friend. Put everything in a blender so that these divisions are blurred, that the divorcee and the slasher both are strong and vulnerable, that the friend and the sister are devoted and open, that the daughter and the divorcee are childlike and grown up. It’s a difficult thing to do but I feel like I am making baby steps to this coalescence that will make me come out of this mid-life adventure whole, whatever that means.