Identity Crisis

No.  Not the DC Comic.  The actual psychological term.  Identity crisis.  The definition of which can be found here on Wikipedia.

"“Those who fail to achieve a cohesive identity-who experience an identity crisis-will exhibit a confusion of roles,” ^[1] not knowing who they are, where they belong, or where they want to go. This sort of unresolved crisis leaves individuals struggling to “find themselves.”"

This is exactly where I am these days and, at 41 years of age, should not be.  This is where you are when you're getting ready to graduate high school and trying to figure out what to major in.  Right?!  It's an adolescent issue.  Not something you try and figure out at 41.  Needless to say, I'm frustrated with it.

I understand how I got here.  With both parents struggling with addiction while doing their best to raise me I had to mature at a faster rate then most kids my age in order to take care of them.  I grew into the caretaker and peacemaker role.  I was the 'perfect' child in the dysfunctional family model.

Shortly after graduating from high school I moved from one home to another, from my adopted Mother's to my birth Mother's and shortly after that move I joined the military.  A year and a half later I was married to a man who I saw as needing to be taken care of and pregnant with my son, who would, of course, also need to be taken care of.  It's been my role in this life.  Caretaker of others.

It's also been a bit of a curse because I allowed it to take over and drown out any sort of identity I may have wanted to create for myself or find for myself.  It was my way of getting others to love me and accept me.  So, here I sit at 41 years of age wondering what it's all about and where I'm supposed to go from here.  Sitting on a mountain of debt from my own schooling and my son's, among other things, with no interest in a career and 'struggling to find myself' while I look at those around me and try desperately not to compare myself to them.  But it's hard not to do.  It's hard not to compare myself to them and it often times has me feeling like a failure.  I admit it.  This is me opening the festering wound to expose to the world.  This, in itself, creates all kinds of anxiety within relationships of all kinds, as well, causing this horribly dark circle of thinking to continue. 

On the other hand, this is an incredible opportunity for growth.  An opportunity for me to look at those things that I have accomplished in my life, change the programming in my head and focus on the positive, as they say.

Currently, I'm working a part-time job and have an offer for another part-time job and a full-time job.  None of them are 'careers' nor anything to be tremendously proud of, like a doctor or a lawyer or what-not.  They're just jobs.  But the company at the full-time job really wants me to come back and work for them again.  It's not the first time they've tried to get me to work for them permanently.  They say they really value my work ethic.  It's not a career but those are positive things to look at.

Honestly, at this point, I don't even know what a career would look like for me.  I'm not even sure why I'm putting this all out there or what it is I'm looking for, but, there you have it.  My current struggle with life.  An identity crisis at age 41. 

Maybe in December when I turn 42 the answer to life will magically appear.  That is the answer to life, you know.  42.  (Read the Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy.)  Hmmm...we'll see.

My Greatest Accomplishment

My son, around age 10, and me.

Twenty-one years and fourteen days ago I gave birth to my amazing and wonderful son.  I was still a child myself at only twenty years of age.  Even though it was many years ago, I still remember that day like it was yesterday.  Thankfully, the memories of the physical pain have finally subsided.

I remember waking up that morning feeling like I was going to pop. Sleep was difficult at that point because trying to get comfortable with a belly that large was next to impossible.  Regardless of the discomfort, I thoroughly enjoyed being pregnant because it was the closest and most in tune I felt to my body.  I felt powerful, too.  I was creating a new human life inside of me.  Me!   

On the way to my check-up that morning I knew I wasn't ready to have my son just yet.  He was a day overdue but due dates were never really accurate, unless you were planning on a C-section, which I was not.  I had prepared for natural childbirth by going to Lamaze classes and had done a bit of research on the different ways to give birth.  Ideally, I wanted to have a water birth but knowing I was going to give birth to him at the Naval Hospital I knew the chances of that actually happening were nil. 

As I sat in the exam room waiting for the doctor I remember thinking about what I was going to do that day when I returned home.  It was an early appointment so I had the entire day ahead of me to get some things done and, hopefully, get a nap in.  Making a new human was exhausting.

Finally the doctor came in and asked me some questions before the examination.  After a quick examination he grabbed my chart and on his way out the door said, “I hope you wanted June 1^st as the birthday because it’s time to have that baby.” 

At first my brain didn’t fully comprehend what he had just said so I sat there for a few moments in a state of shock.  Did he say I was going to have the baby today?  But I’m not having contractions!  My water didn’t break!  Wait!  What?!

About an hour later I found myself hooked up to a machine that was pumping pitocin into me to get the labor process started.  Honestly, I was freaked out.  I wasn’t ready to be in labor.  It didn’t matter how many Lamaze classes I had taken or how much I was dilated, my brain was not ready!  To add to my fear the pitocin pump was started on the maximum to really kick things into gear.  Those first waves of contractions were brutal, to say the least! 

Somewhere in the middle of the 8 hours of labor I asked for some pain meds to get me through the rest of it.  Unfortunately, they didn’t really do much for me.  I think I may have cursed under my breath a few times (or out loud) and almost broke my son’s Father’s shoulder by gripping it so hard during contractions.  I was not having fun.

Finally when it came time to push, my doctor noticed that my blood pressure had shot through the roof so he decided to put me on magnesium sulfate to get it back under control.   I was tired, in tons of pain and just wanted to get it over with.  So, I started pushing before they told me to.  It was an incredibly strange feeling because it wasn’t as if I had decided to start pushing, I just started pushing.  My body was in complete control of itself and was just doing what came naturally.  It was ready to be done, too!

After only a few big pushes and some heavy breathing to try and slow the pushing down a bit, I heard my son’s voice for the very first time.  Even though he was crying, it was music to my ears.  Soon after the cord was cut he was placed on my chest and I held him so very close while I counted all of his fingers and toes and wondered in the glory of what had just happened.  I remember thinking, “Wow.  I created this perfect little human.” 

He is my greatest accomplishment in this life.  We’ve grown up together and, even though I made many parenting mistakes along the way, I have learned the most about life through him and through being his parent.  I am humbled and grateful for everything he’s taught me and I look forward to watching him grow and live his own life.

What Every Butch Should Know

Sinclair Sexsmith
Photo by Syd London

Sinclair Sexsmith who is a writer, performer, student and teacher of sex, gender & relationships, posted on her blog this morning an amazing piece that she wrote titled Unsolicited Advice to a New Butch (aka The Butch Poem).

I first heard this piece when she read it at the Butch Voices Conference here in Portland last year and was blown away.  Once the conference was over I sent her an email asking her if she'd posted it anywhere because I kept feeling the need to read and and re-read it and share it with everyone I know.  At the time, she was still working on refining it and wasn't quite ready to completely share it with the world so I respectfully waited for this day.

I am so pleased to share this piece with you now!

Please, take a few moments to click over to her blog and read this wonderful and amazing piece.  Whether you're Butch or Femme or neither or both, I promise that you won't regret it.

On Being Butch In The Business World

This morning as I was catching up on some blog reading, I came across a post over on Butch Wonders that got me thinking about being Butch in the business world.  There’s a part in the post where she talks about her supervisor telling her that she will never attain a position of power if she “keeps dressing like a dude”. 

In other words, Butches will never attain positions of power within business unless they conform to the current idea of gender stereotypes. 

Why?!  I mean, really!  I understand that the business world is still part of the ‘old boys’ network and that women are still struggling to reach equality with men.  I understand that’s where we are but what I don’t understand is why that is where we are.  Still.  It’s 2011, not 1950!  How much longer is it going to take for us, as humans, to evolve past this antiquated way of thinking?

Just because I dress in men's clothes, I cannot ever attain a position of power. Does that sentence even make sense to you? If it does, please explain it to me.  It doesn’t matter how smart I am or how well I do my job or how passionate I am about my job, what matters most to you are the clothes I choose to wear to work?  Why is it my job to make you feel comfortable? 

Talk about the ultimate in co-dependency! 

It’s your job to figure out how to be comfortable with me and it’s my job to figure out how to be comfortable with myself.  It works both ways, too, because it's also my job to figure out how to be comfortable with you.  My stuff is my stuff and your stuff is your stuff.

The gender binary is out dated.  Download the latest version and move on.  You just might end up with a business dynamo at the helm of your business ship who will take you to the depths of success you never even thought was possible regardless of what sort of clothes they, or you, come to work in.

Of course, the ‘you’s in the statements above were not aimed at ‘you’, the reader.  Unless you do still think this way, then yes, I am talkin’ to you. 

Memorial Day

Me at 19 years of age.

Thanks to those who have served, are serving or have supported those who have/are serving in our Armed Forces.

Even if I don't agree the reasoning behind why our government sends you overseas to fight, I still support you and hope that you come home to your family safely.

A Butch & Her Bras

Or rather, "sports bras".

Do any of you other Butches out there feel out of place when you wander into the women's lingerie section looking for a sports bra?  I certainly do.

While wandering around my local Fred Meyers this afternoon I ventured over to the women's lingerie section to see about picking up a new sports bra.  First off, I noticed that as I wandered through any of the women's sections I felt as though I was being watched.  Like that pervy guy that wanders through those sections just to get his kicks or the guy who shows up trying to buy something for his girl and has no clue as to where to start.  You know the guys I'm talking about?

Anyway.  Whenever I wander into those sections, I always expect a sales person to stop me and ask if I need help picking out something for my girlfriend or my Mom.  It's happened a time or two but what mostly gets me are the stares from other customers in the store.  Those stares you get when they think you are somewhere where you don't belong.  Maybe it's just because I really don't feel like I belong there and maybe it's all in my head, but maybe not.  I've seen those stares from the women shopping around me.  The Mom's who grab their little girls hands and stare me down as they pass by or the old ladies who quicken their step and head in the other direction.  I've caught them out of the corner of my eye and do my best to ignore them and go about my business.  I mean, seriously, I know I look like a guy but do I look like a creepy guy?

Today was no exception.  There weren't any sales people around but the stares were there.  Specially since I was wandering around in boots, dirty jeans (I just finished changing the brakes on a friends car so they were pretty dirty) and a black hoodie.  I stood my ground though and looked around for all of 2 minutes.  It was enough time for me to figure out that I wasn't willing to fork out $36 for one (yes, ONE!) sports bra.

So I walked away.  Quickly.

I think I'll go look for something online and have it shipped to me.

I Am Wendi's Paralizing Stress

Photo by Del Rapier

I recently watched Fight Club again for the 10th time or so and seem to be putting all of my emotions and feelings into this form of expression.  I am Wendi's overactive brain.

Anyway, on to what's going on with me lately.  Besides silly Fight Club references.

After doing some soul searching and trying to figure out exactly what’s stopping me from accessing my creativity these days I have discovered that I am stressed.  Financially stressed.  It seems as though no matter how hard I try to let go of those concerns and trust in the Universe, I just can’t seem to do it and in that respect I feel as though I’ve failed in my most recent quest to follow my heart. The financial stress is blocking me from my creativity and here I sit with very little to no motivation to write or take photographs. 

Then came the question, what do I do about that?  Go back to an accounting job or go back to school?  One choice leads to the possibility of making enough to get out of this financial situation sooner rather than later with the other possibility of doing something that isn't necessarily all that fun to me.  The other choice leads to more debt and a bigger hole of financial disaster but with the possibility of eventually doing something that is fun to me a couple of years down the road.

The other day I spoke to my birthmother about it and as I was talking to her the answer for me became clear.  I need to use my knowledge of the world of accounting for a bit longer.  I want, more than ever, to be out of debt.  There are debts that I have that will take a while to pay off (i.e. student loans and parent plus loans) but there are others that will only take a few years for me to pay off if I really buckle down and focus.  I go back this time with the idea that I don’t have to stay in it forever.  I have a goal in mind and will do everything in my power to reach that goal and when it’s reached I can let go of that world and that life and direct my focus elsewhere if I’m so inclined.  

This struggle is one that I've dealt with most of my adult life.  I know that it comes from the decisions I've made in my life but, still, it's something that I am so tired of.  The only time in my life where I didn't struggle financially is when I worked a full-time and a part-time job.  My work days were 6 days a week with 17 hour days.  Why does that seem to be the only way for me to get ahead in life?  What is it about my thinking that puts me in this place?  Is it fear?  I see glimpses of ideas that I'm interested in pursuing but I either find reasons not to or seek out 'safe' ways to pursue them.  

Suddenly this post has turned into something much deeper than it's original intention.  Writing does that for me.  Gets my mind spinning and shows me certain aspects that I may not have considered originally.  See?  I am Wendi's overactive brain.

Interesting. 

I'll have to keep working on this.  I'll get back to you.