Get the f**k out of my way!

This has been an interesting week of discovery of how I manage to get the hell in my own way all of the freakin’ time.

As I’ve mentioned before, the years of emotional abuse have left me constantly trying to figure out all angles of any situation before I get into any situation. So I spend a lot of time just going, okay, so if he says this, then I’ll say that and then what if this happens and what if that happens, then I should do this and… and… and… and I get on the hamster wheel and run in circles, because there is no answer to any of it.

And because of a couple of men in my life who have hurt me in quiet and vicious ways, I’m so afraid of making the wrong move with someone I care about that I obsess and obsess and obsess over making sure I do everything just perfectly right.

Well, you know where that gets me? That’s right, hamster wheel. I run in circles and circles and circles. And you know what that running in circles does? It generates enough kinetic energy to wind up the clowns and set them loose.

And I found myself there the other day, running in circles, clowns hooting and hollering and circling their little clown cars. All because of a minor change in communication, which was totally understandable and rational, but clowns, when you’re on a hamster wheel, do not allow much room for rationality. So I allowed myself to chase myself into a very dark place, all because of… well… absolutely nothing. Just because he was busy this week and we didn’t talk as much. However, this is how a major relationship with a major OOMA ended - he just stopped calling, stopped returning my calls and emails and just basically faded away, taking my heart with him. It took a while for me to realize this because he was a master at it. But it left me afraid when I don’t hear from a man who I care about because, of course, I’ve been taught that I’m always wrong and everything I do is wrong. And so, I had decided I had done something terribly wrong and he would be angry with me and reject me out of hand.

But, wait. What?

I found myself circling the drain and then finally was able to stop and really think about what I was doing.

I was getting in my own way. Making decisions about what was going on without having any information from the other side about what was going on. There was a big clown-me standing in front of me, getting in my own way.

So I kind of screamed to that clown-me, Get the fuck out of my way!

Wow. Silence. The clown-me stood for a moment, trying to figure out how to fight me. But I pushed that clown-me out of the way and listened to the silence while the clowns retreated as well.

And you know what I heard in that silence?

Silence.

Just pure silence.

No mental math, no algebra. No hamster wheel. Nothing.

Just silence.

And I had a nice conversation with the me that was left. Told myself to just calm down. Just breathe. Just be real and be honest and be true to myself. That’s all I can do. In any relationship. But my relationships with men always seem to get so complicated by the clown-me. The one who’s been taught to complicate things.

And I just want to get out of my own way and be true. Just be me. Just be silent for a while mentally and really listen to what’s underneath everything. How DO I feel? What DO I want?

And really listen to him. Hear what he’s saying, whether it’s out loud or not. Just listen. No matter where this goes, listen to him. To his soul. To his heart. Because otherwise, what’s the point if I’m not listening?

Because if I can’t get out of my way now, when it’s just friendship, when it’s just the beginning of something maybe/possibly/hopefully, how can I get out of my own way if it actually turns out to be something?

I have to learn not to drag the past along behind me and start to let the past go, get out of my way. This relationship is its own creature. It will have its own voice, its own rhythm, its own time. And if I get in my way and drag this shit behind me, then this has no chance of being anything but what has gone on before.

And I want to see what this relationship may be, whatever it ends up being. Good friends, lovers, colleagues, collaborators, something in between all of those things. It almost doesn’t matter as long as I let it be what it is going to be.

And the only way it can be that is if I step aside and let it be, quietly, simply, honestly. Not try to figure it out, not try to force it to be something, just get out of the way of it and follow it instead of driving it.

Huge lesson. Hard lesson. Reeeaaallly hard lesson.

When I get out of my own way, I can hear my heart and my breathe and my soul. And what those pieces are whispering to me is just trust, just be real, just be honest. Don’t struggle, fight, figure, calculate, panic, freak out. His

And then I can hear his heart, his soul, in those quiet moments, sitting on the floor, listening to him talk about his life and his soul and his hurt, without saying it. And that’s as beautiful and true and real as it can get.

So get the fuck out of your own way, stupid, and maybe -- just maybe -- there’s a chance.

Fight or... let's get the hell outta here...

I want to run right now. Run away. Away from figuring things out. Away from the inevitable hurt that’s going to come. Because I want. Because I need. Because I’m me.

I want to hide away, pretend nothing was ever there. Because I’ve been here before -- and again. And probably will again. And it’s always the same.

Because I want to run. And I usually do.

And tonight I thought, I need to pull away, run away, leave you there because I think that’s what you want… now. After all that, after all the close and the want and the pounding heart, I have now decided that you don’t want it or me or any of it and it’d be easier to just run and hide and pretend there was never a want or a need or pounding hearts.

But really, I have no idea what you want, need, whatever. Because you’re a guy. And you’ll never let on what you want, need, whatever.

So my instinct right now is to run.

But a thought invaded my carefully laid plan to leave you in the metaphorical dirt.

Why is it when it comes to fight or flight, I flight? Why don’t I fight? Why don’t I stand in front of you and challenge you instead of running and hiding? Why don’t I take a risk, take a dare, take a chance and just fight for what is hanging in the air between us? Why is fight not an option?

I dunno.

Because fight means that it means something. Flight allows me to pretend that it never meant anything. Flight means I get to keep myself protected and pretend I never even thought about what was there.

And I don’t know how to fight for whatever is there. Because what if there is nothing there and I’m just shadow-boxing?

Because you’re in flight. Because you won’t fight. Because you’re so good at pretending there’s nothing in the air - no want, no need, no pounding heart. Because you’ve had to be in flight your whole life because nobody ever fought for you.

What would you do if I fought for you? If I stood my ground and made you see it. If I just refused to let you flee. Would you fight for me?

I dunno. Probably not. Because no one has ever fought for me either.

I guess I’m tired of fighting for something that the other person won’t fight for. I’m tired of having my gloves up and protecting myself while the other person fights their way past me, leaving me in the ring alone. Because that’s where it ends up - me alone.

And if I run away now, at least I choose to be alone and it’s in my control. If you leave me behind, then it’s not my choice. And I’m left to close up the wounds left behind.

But why can’t I choose to fight? Why I can’t I choose to be the one to do something about the circling and the shadow boxing?

I dunno.

I don’t know a lot tonight. So I apologize if this blog makes no sense. It just needed to get out.

You may return to your regularly scheduled… whatever.

Guest blog

Check out my guest blog on Her Film. I get to talk about being a female director who wants to direct like a man.

http://herfilm.wordpress.com/2011/03/26/we-can-do-that-guest-post-by-filmmaker-susan-lee/

Wildly optimistic heart

I was listening to my Ipod on the way home from job #342 this afternoon. It’s been a long day and my butt is tired and I was looking forward to coming home and crashing for a bit.

Then my Ipod got the better of me, playing Keith Urban’s “If Ever I Should Love”.

Go to:

http://www.cmt.com/videos/shows/cmt-crossroads/529722/cmt-crossroads-with-john-mayer-and-keith-urban-if-ever-i-could-love.jhtml?artist=1161250


Then my wildly optimistic heart took over.

First of all, I love this song. There is something to the rhythm of it that just makes me twitch. And there’s a point near the end that is so beautiful, so full, so ridiculously wonderful that it almost makes me cry every time I hear it.

So I’m in my car, singing at the top of my lungs and, suddenly, my hands take over. I used to be a dancer, for those of you unfamiliar with me, although I haven’t really danced in probably ten years. Not even at parties/weddings/social gatherings. The closest I’ve come was probably in 2006 at karaoke. Some drunk guy was dancing with all the cute girls and kind of decided to dance with me at the last second. He was actually pretty good, considering how drunk he was, and we danced really well together, ending with him dipping me in the most fabulous way. When I stood up from the dip - which I executed with aplomb - he stood there for a moment and finally said, “Wow.”

But there haven’t been many “wow” moments since.

I also kind of resist dancing because, well, it breaks my heart when I dance. I miss it terribly. But for a lot of reasons, I just don’t really dance anymore. Occasionally, I do what I call “kitchen ballet”, where music will move me, usually while I’m making dinner or something, and I’ll bust out a couple of moves in the kitchen.

But lately, I’ve felt like dancing. My hands get started, marking dance steps, marking rhythm, getting my brain doing on what I could do to this music. And then my body starts to twitch and my feet start finding the rhythm.

The other thing that has gotten me thinking about dancing lately -- well, actually two other things. One is that, in turning this blog into a play (opening May 27th in North Hollywood), a number of dance numbers have erupted in the writing. A couple of fun jives, a waltz or two and a (hopefully) heart-breaking tango in the middle of it. So I’ve been thinking a lot about dancing, in regards to that.

The other thing is that a really wonderful man who is close to my heart constantly refers to me lately as a dancer. Not “oh, you used to be a dancer”. But “you’re a dancer”. Usually associated with me knocking something over and being incredibly clumsy (many things have been spilled in his apartment), since dancers are notoriously clumsy off the stage. But the way he says it… He sees me as a dancer. Period. And that makes my heart soar.

And right now, my heart has reason to be optimistic. So the lyrics from the song really speak to me right now, making my heart want to leap out of my chest and go running wildly through the streets. I feel so close to something wonderful, which I’ve probably jinxed by putting that thought out here in this blog, that I can hardly breathe sometimes.

The last verse of the song builds and builds and that’s what made me dance tonight. These lyrics:

“I was scared to love again
Feel the pain that came when she walked out of my life
I got hurt so bad I swore I'd never
Let another get inside this heart of mine
But you touched my hand and every plan that I had
Disappeared like a falling star
And there's a new beginning
And I'm movin' to the rhythm of a beating, braver heart”.

And I was thinking of this special person and how he makes me feel. And I was thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve really, truly felt this happy. And I was thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve danced. And I mean DANCED. Full on, no holds barred. Just let the joy out and danced.

And so, I got out of the car and my feet could hardly hold still. There was a little pirouette at the mailbox, I will admit, which I’m sure made my neighbors wonder even more about me. And I couldn’t wait to get into the house. Dropped my bags, tossed my jacket aside, reset the song to the beginning and danced.

And danced.

And danced.

My heart soared. I know, it’s corny but it’s true. Tears streamed down my face… tears of joy, of pleasure, of hope, of love. All the emotion I hang on to so tightly, all the passion I feel for this hope, this man, this heart let go and I danced. Like I haven’t danced in years.

I’m sure it was ugly. I’m sure it was clumsy. I’m at least thirty pounds overweight for dancing (or anything else, really). I have no idea what I’m doing anymore when it comes to dance. And I'm sure this love, this passion will all come crashing down around me, because that's what it does, and next week, I'll be back to my usual heartbroken, morose self.

But tonight, I danced.

And it was beautiful…

Upon a time

03/14/11 - upon a time

Once
upon a time,
he cradled my face
in his hand
just as you did
last night.
Looking at me
with want
and pain
and true
real adoration.
He held me close
like you did
last night,
our hearts beating
together
together
just as ours did
last night.
And I’m so afraid
you’re going to
be him
and I’m going to
be me.
And I’ll be right back
there
then
again.

But I don’t remember
holding my breath
waiting
hoping
wanting
like I did
last night.
Praying
it will be
different
better
more.

But
I don’t know
if I can
do
it.

Fundraising round deux

As time creeps closer to this blog turning into a play in Los Angeles, I have started another IndieGoGo campaign to raise the production funds needed to produce the show.

Here's the blurb:

"Diary of a Mid-Life Crisis", written and directed by Susan Lee, chronicles her recovery as she rebuilt her life after leaving a sixteen year long abusive marriage. Based on her popular blog, http://diaryofamidlifecrisis.blogspot.com/, the play will be filled with discussion of abuse, the beauty of discovering lost talents, unrequited love -- and clowns. And sock puppets. And maybe some martial arts. And one beautiful heart-breaking tango. (And, no, Susan will not be performing in addition to writing and directing. She's not that much of a narcissist.) A percentage of any profits from the play will be donated to Sojourn, a shelter for victims of domestic violence - http://www.opcc.net/tabid/88/Default.aspx.

Here's where to give me your dough:

http://www.indiegogo.com/Diary-of-a-Mid-Life-Crisis-1

Any contribution is welcome - $5, $50, $500. There are perks at every step, from a simple thank you on my website and in the program to sock puppets and clown noses to an original oil painting done by yours chumly.

So if you've got a buck or two to spare, please toss it into the IndieGoGo fund and I shall be eternally grateful!

Thanks much.

A heart worth breaking

You’re going to break my heart… and I’m going to let you. Because apparently I haven’t learned how not to let someone break my heart yet.

It’s the same thing - I fall, you say you don’t. Yet you do. Yet you won’t. But I will.

And I’ll dream and I’ll want and I’ll wait.

And we’ll do this … whatever this is. This limbo, this nothing yet everything. This thing that leads nowhere yet we can’t not do it.

And we’ll be thisclose and this far. And then thiscloseagain.

And you’ll break my heart. And I know it.

But I can’t wrangle the want and the need and the hope. They all lead me down that inevitable road, where there is nothing at the end but nothing. You going this way, me going that. We’ll smile, we’ll hug, you’ll say we’re friends and we’ll always be friends.

And you’ll be gone. But you’ll linger in the pieces of my heart, where the ghosts of others come before live.

And I’ll go on and you’ll go on. And maybe you’ll remember and maybe you won’t. But I will. I’ll remember the talks and the poetry and the food and the laughter and the want. And you’ll be held dear deep inside, whether you want to be or not.

So I’ll let you break my heart because I don’t know how not to. And maybe next time, I’ll learn.

“This time I’m mistaken/for handing you a heart worth breaking.”