Why sweet gets you no where

Sweet gets you nowhere, because life takes guts.

Love, real love takes courage. The kind of love where you would crawl over broken glass for your beloved isn’t the result of sickly sweet SMS’s and bedroom eyes. Love is the result of accepting each other warts, skeletons, flaws and all. Warts and skeletons are gory things to witness and overwhelm sweet dispositions.

The career of your dreams won’t be granted to you with the puff of glittery Jeanie smoke. The career of your dreams stems from you being good at what you do. Natural talent or not, being really good takes practice and work.

Family, like everything else takes work. Ideally they will support you through think and thin and presumably you will do the same for them. This is work. Thin ain’t much fun. Sweet just won’t cut it.

Don’t misunderstand. Grace, being personable, being compassionate and composure are all qualities I aspire to. But unless our sweetness is based in a foundation of strength, tenacity and courage it is mearely a glamour. So if where you are going involves love, family or career sweet will get you no where,

When no labels fit…

It is at once liberating and disconcerting to realise that I don’t have to work. Mind you, I am a full time carer to my son and run the household in much the same way as an office manager runs a business, but I don’t need to go back to work outside the home for around another 5 years or so.

I can be pretty slow on the up-take and despite this being the state of affairs since my maternity leave began 15 months ago, the realisation only hit me this week. Until now I have been busying myself with finding roles and labels for myself and what I do. You see I know I have value, but I have always known it through the filter of external labels. It was what I did and what the world saw me as that was valuable. Now the world sees me as a ‘Stay at home mother’ and while it is a role I relish it is (I’m being honest here) such a reductive label.

Before I go offending other mothers, let me explain. If you meet someone new and reply to ‘what do you do?’ that you are a mother people don’t ask what else you do, your opinion on current events, about your hobbies or after your current goals. Instead the assumption is made that all you are capable of discussing is your children and that the most interesting thing you do is make sandwiches and wrestle a toddler. This is NOT a whine about motherhood, but to simply point out the elephant in the room.

I love being a mum and I don’t take for granted the luxury I enjoy of staying at home with my young son. But by the same token I was a well rounded individual before I took time off to have children and that part of me still exists. I am driven and passionate, capable and adaptable and for the first time I have realised that areas of my life other than my career can benefit from these parts of me. My dreams can be the focus of my ambition.

I have a chance to live my passions -just because.

Goodbye feelings of inadequacy at not having an active career. Hello excitement at the reality of chasing the fun side of my life – now – while I am still young.

So without further ado the following is a list of goals that I will work on over the next 5 years with the same zeal that I used to apply to achieving promotions at work:

• Become fluent in Portuguese & Spanish
• Take up Trekking (New Zealand and Nepal first and Peru when my youngest is over 8 years old)
• Have a second baby
• Get married
• Learn to use food as medicine
• Live overseas
• Learn web design

My hope, and the true goal of this exercise, is that along the journey to achieving each of these goals I will have mastered the skill of deriving my worth from internal means only. How I feel, how I react, what I love, what I accept, the personal challenges I overcome and how much passion I can pour into each and every day.

Gender

I said in my very first post that ‘I am not saying all women are the same, but that more often than not we are alike.’ I honestly believe that. There are a few universal female experiences that can bond strange women together in an instant. I have listed a few of them below. *Male readers may wish to think of something decidedly ‘blokey’ for the next few lines. I’ll let you know when its safe to read again.*

• An early period and the embarrassment of asking a friend (or stranger) for some feminine hygiene products.
• All mothers are bonded through the experience of pregnancy and labour. Trust me it not something you ever forget.
• Wardrobe malfunctions. Namely breasts popping out where they shouldn’t be seen. We have all been there.
• Inappropriate tears. Most women have cried despite silently threatening their body with grievous harm should it betray her.
• Complete and utter confusion with the males of the species. I am yet to meet a woman who hasn’t been left scratching her head at how he could have missed the toilet bowl and not seen it.
• Speaking of toilets every woman has been stuck in a line 10 miles long for the ladies room while there isn’t anybody in the men’s toilets because they are busy pissing on a tree at a music festival. That line is like an express bonding session and if you are brave enough to march into the men’s room the women who you meet there are like your soul sisters for life.

*Male readers can tune in now. No more talk about periods, breasts or toilets. I promise*

On a less superficial level than periods and bathroom queues women have a lot in common. We are all daughters, most of us are loving partners, some are mothers, many are sisters and aunties too. We all experience heartbreak, we birth the new (for some the new generation for other new companies and new ideas) & we work damn hard (in fact it is estimated that women are responsible for 70% of the hours worked globally – much of that unpaid). We think differently to men, we lead differently to men, we experience the world differently and we have a different, not better or worse, contributions to make to the world than men.

So why is so so frowned upon to bond with other women? Why is it such a social crime to refer to ones gender? I seems totally insane to me for it to be ok for us to talk about our womanhood in context of lip gloss and tampons (Sorry guys. I promised didn’t I?) but not in context of the number of women who are abused by their spouses, of our rights around how and where we birth our children and the consistent statistics that women earn less than men in the industrialised workplace to the tune of around 80c in the dollar.

I am tired of hiding from the term ‘Feminist’. I am tired of being told the glass ceiling no longer exists. I am tired of study after study identifying new prejudices against women in the workforce. It is time to discuss gender again, not so we can use it as a weapon to beat men up with or beat women down with, but to understand and encourage the complementary contribution of both genders.

Are you woman enough to put your gender on the agenda? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

The female connection

When I moved back to Sydney I had a dream about a kitchen table. And a couch. But the table was the important part. I desperately wanted a table that people [read female friends] would gather around and share, connect, eat and laugh.

It didn’t quite happen that way.

I am persistant and determined, some may even say stubborn. So I tried to artifically create my dream by holding ‘women’s circles’. It didn’t work becase it wasn’t the spontaneous, authentic connection I (I’d like to think we) wanted. So I gave up for a while.

I believe there is something immesurably powerful in women connecting with other women. Sharing, teaching, supporting eachother. In times gone by this kind of connection and support was inherent in the way our societies were organised. The gathering of women was vital to the passing down of wisdom; about womens bodies, cycles, birthing, childraising, relationships. Femininity was respected, honoured, revered and even feared. It was fear that drove the religious aristocracy to foster competition amoung women  & stamp out  women’s gatherings.

We may have been out in the wilderness for hundreds of years, but we are coming back. Instead of gathering in ceremony we attned conferences and womens networking events. Instead of cooking over the hearth we are meeting for coffee. We are bringing birth back into our homes and entursting our babies to midwives. We gather. We connect. We harness the power of Web 2.0.

Yes we are women of a new millennium, but we have ancient bones. We still deeply yearn for female connection and the power we generate when together is a force to be reckoned with.

Bras

Our bras, ladies say a lot about us. Any male readers already know this. And, no, I don’t mean that a red bra says  that you’re sexy and a tan bra means your boring or safe. The print, colour and material of your bras are a personal choice – that’s not what I’m talking about.

Your bra supports your breasts. Yes, thank you captain obvious. Our breasts are, for most women, integral to their sense of femininity. You disagree? Speak to a women who has undergone a mastectomy or women who has had a breast reduction about how the operation has affected their femininity. Our breasts are a sensual, integral part of our womanhood.

Just writing those words I feel the wave of resistance and objections flying at me through the web. But, I honestly believe it is true. I hated my breasts for as long as I can remember. They were always too big, too saggy, too heavy. That was even before I fell pregnant and then they were too sensitive, too sore and downright enormous – no stores would stock bras in my size (Yes my partner was stoked, I on the other hand broke down in tears right there in the store). Breastfeeding is another saga altogether. All I am saying is that I hear your objections, but accepting my breasts feels better.

We are taught that our breasts are only beautiful if they look plastic. We are not taught how to appreciate our breasts. They are soft and warm, regardless of the weather your breasts radiate heat. The skin is some of the softest on our bodies. They are capable of pleasure and adorned with our glamest top and stunning beads they can be hypnotizing – regardless of their size. There is so much to love about our breasts aside from their size and shape, but alas, they are most womens’ hang-ups.

I was buying new bras on the weekend and can vouch that a great bra can boost your self esteem and totally change your figure. But what shocked me were the conversations I was overhearing in the change room. 3 women were being properly fitted by professionals. Each of the women was recommended a bra and a size that would fit them perfectly. Each woman chose a different bra to the recommendations. Why? Because they were planning on losing weight and so preferred to squish their breasts into a too small bra than to have a bra that was too big if and when they lost weight.

Isn’t that insane? To me it’s like saying ‘no’ to a date with the man of your dreams today, because you are planning on snagging the perpetual bachelor George Clooney next month! The likelihood that these women (none of whom looked at all overweight) would ever be truly happy with their weight and body shape is arguably slim. I mean, are you? But still they, and indeed so many of ‘us’, would prefer to continue to strive and punish ourselves trying to fit into an imaginary ideal than to work what we have.

What I am really trying to say: Give up the need for it to be different to what it is. Love what you have got, work what you have got. You will loose it one day and wish you had treated it better and enjoyed it more.

Small Things

We are taught not to sweat the small stuff; to let go of minor irritations, not to concern ourselves with petty things. While I agree that it isn’t worthwhile panicking that the kitchen isn’t spotless or that some one else is wearing the same outfit as you, I think the small things speak volumes about us.

We come prepared for the big things, both good and bad. We expect elation and anguish. We know roughly how to deal with the big things and if we don’t, we know where to go to for help. It’s ok to talk about the big things; positive or negative they become a badge of honour.

How we deal with the big things says a lot about us. Are you the kind of person why holds their head high in the face of adversity? Do you fold under pressure? Do you bravely face the ups and down of your life or do you search for scapegoats?

But for me we embody our grace, or not, in the small things; how we handle minor irritations, poor service, gossip, rudeness, rain and everyday stresses.

Mother crafting

Motherhood is an interesting word for an indescribable experience. I prefer the term mother crafting for its accuracy. Mother crafting suggests that it is a skill to be developed and not simply a gift bestowed when a child is born. Mother crafting suggests a uniqueness; that each relationship is one off and hand made with love. Mother crafting suggests a beauty in the imperfection.

Mother crafting to me is about a swelling of the heart, the heart opens and swells and encompasses so much more. The pain and tears of your child become excruciating, to witness their smile becomes euphoric, to watch them contentedly sleeping or reaching for rattles becomes a deep meditation. The emotions are so strong that they bring with them tears; tears of joy, sorrow, pain, helplessness, bliss, love, laughter.

Mother crafting is not a skill belonging only to a child’s birth mother. I have known adopted mothers and childless women perfect this skill so beautifully that they elevate it to the level of art. I know young women who have birthed their lives and tended to their dreams the same way I tend to my son. This perhaps is a no less beautiful but more difficult calling, because realised dreams can’t say ‘Thanks mum I love you’.

Fascinating

Capable of arousing and holding attention.

Capturing interest as if by a spell – bewitching.

I don’t know a woman who wouldn’t love to be considered a ‘fascinating woman’. The art of captivating others is more than a charming skill; it is a quality of spirit. There is no higher compliment, no greater task than to be so authentically you in all your intricacies that others feel compelled to watch, to be near you, to learn what it is that makes you tick.

The catch 22 is that if you are concerned with charming others, being the life of the party, being liked, being admired & being interesting then you are probably not being authentic. You may however come across as 2 dimensional, a try hard and particularly non-fascinating.

A truly fascinating woman is happy to follow her desires. She speaks her mind. She expresses her authentic emotions. She is high maintenance. She is unapologetically herself. She is not consistent. She doesn’t pander to popular opinion. She goes with the flow, but not necessarily the flow of the masses. She is unafraid of upsetting others, but she is not intentionally inflammatory.

The trick is that most of us modern women lack some of the foundational keystones to being a fascination woman; being self assured and the ability to flow with our feminine nature.

I know I am not the only one guilty of listening to a band, or reading a book (or even pretending we have) because it is so very chic’. So many women dutifully trawl the magazine pages to construct their wardrobes. Forgetting that, dressing to suit their personalities and shapes, the style icons didn’t follow trends – they started them. We adopt a seriousness designed for the workplace and allow it to permeate other areas of our lives and end up allowing that very seriousness to extinguish our playfulness. In the end we look like we stepped from a magazine spread, drinking cosmos in a tight little huddle as we compare, contrast and analyse the men in the bar as opposed to chatting to them.

A fascinating woman is mysterious, but not unattainable. She is open and warm. She radiates a vibe that draws others to her; it is possible effortless to talk to her. Fascinating women are interested in others and are great conversationalists because they don’t give everything away.

Fascinating is the reason I think we have the best night when it is not planned and that we tend to attract a man when we aren’t looking for one. When we are happy being ourselves with reckless abandon, when we aren’t worried about what others think of us & when we aren’t trying to change the situation we are fascinating.

Catalyst

The fog lifts. The tide turns. The sun breaks through the clouds. The penny drops. The silence breaks. Such is the power of a catalyst.

Girlfriends are the most reliable and treasured of catalysts. ‘Girl Time’ as one friend aptly calls it, is an absolutely necessary ingredient in a successful life.

My girlfriends are my lifeline. I have written about that before. I know I am blessed to have amazing women surrounding me. I hope you are too. But they are more than friends. They catalyse the very best in me. My girlfriends have been showing me the light for over 10 years now. They have helped pull me from the depths of the abyss,  rescued me from loser boyfriends & encouraged me to ditch toxic jobs. They remind me of my compassion, humour and value. They normalise my neurosis and take the stress from my experience.

For the most part friends impart their value without too much effort; their existence alone is enough. Similar to the way that some chemical reactions simply take place in the presence of oxygen. The depth and colour they add to my life cannot be overvalued. Suddenly laughter shatters the tension and soon our cheeks and bellies ache from laughter that makes us snort. A seemingly normal coffee with a gal-pal and I fiind my apathy is replaced with a bounce in my step. Sharing secrets about your inner life with a trusted friend is cathartic, realising they share similar experiences is priceless.

But its not all rainbows and lollipops. In my relationships with girlfriends past and present we have together survived; eating disorders, depression, cheating and being cheated on, pregnancy, abortion, child rearing, robbery, moving interstate, abuse, sexual assault, losing loved ones, heartbreak, car accidents, buying property, divorce, illness and more.

A blog I read posed a question yesterday “what is your greatest accomplishment?” I mulled over it overnight, not sure what it was for me. Motherhood? Surviving personal tragedy? A healthy relationship with my partner? It wasn’t until this afternoon that it dawned on me. The fog lifted; my greatest accomplishment is my family. The family I have created with my partner and with my friends. The family I would stand by in thick or thin, that is my top priority and the defining factor in my life.

*Image credit Gwennypics

Girlfriends

I had a client a few years back who was in her 70′s. Although her husband had long since past and her children, and grandchildren, lived interstate she enjoyed the richest of family lives. A book club that started some 40 years earlier was still meeting every Tuesday. The women of that club had seen each other through thick and thin. They advised on children’s illnesses, helped out with housework in emergencies, helped pick out mother of the bride outfits and organise coming of age celebrations. These were the women who held her hand at her husband’s funeral.

In our adolescent years our girlfriends keep us going. They are our rock, our companions, fellow explorers of the world and our partners in crime.

As we get older our girlfriends become something different. They are our sounding boards, inspirations (if you are lucky enough to have friends like mine), bringers of chocolate and wine when necessary, ass-kickers when needed, voices of reason, guardian angels, proof readers & loving guides. If you are really lucky your children will call them ‘Auntie so-&-so’.

Life gets busy and we all take different roads. I know I never imagined myself where I am now, and in many ways its is a long, long way from my girlfriends. The blessing is that I have true friends who meet me where I am, forgive me my transgressions and support the best in me.

So a big, no HUGE, shout out to all of Coopers ‘Aunties’ who enrichmy life and now my sons. I am proud to say that I, like my client, enjoy a rich family life.

Feeling Fragile

Strength is desireable. We all want to be considered a strong woman. Strength means we can rise to meet life. Strength means we could ‘make it’ with or without a partner. Strength means we can weather the storms and face the critism. Strength means we see obstacles as trampolines. Strength means that at our very core we have what it takes.

Strength doesn’t mean we wont be brought to our knees. I have witnessed the strongest women I know sobb. I have seen the strength it takes to really feel the overwhelming grief, anguish and swirling confusion. I know the courage  it takes to let your knees hit the ground.

Tears

Strength doesn’t make you a robot, immune to powerful emotions. Strength doesn’t ignore reality. Strength isn’t characterised by numbness, agression or denial.

A strong woman understands the power of surrender. Surrender to emotions, to reality. A strong woman knows not to resist the fire; that she will rise from the ashes like a beautiful phoenix. A strong woman knows that to be truly strong she must also be soft. A strong woman is gentle with herself when she feels fragile.

Not just soft

The feminine is not just soft. She is graceful and open, receptive and welcoming, nurturing and loving. But she is also cyclic.

Cyclic nature is a graceful dance of balance and change. The simplest principles are often the hardest to understand. Such is the case here; cycles are grossly misunderstood.

The element of change is easy to see in a cycle; Autumn turns to Winter. Day turns to night. This type of change is so evident that the way the change occurs is overlooked. Cyclic change is predictable, measured & balanced in the truest sense of the word.

Cyclic nature by definition must have opposite extremes and move through these extremes on a regular basis. Like the waves of the ocean; the peak of the wave is only as high as the troughs are deep.

So how does this cyclic force manifest in the feminine nature? Diversely. Yes the feminine is graceful, open, receptive, welcoming, nurturing, and loving. The feminine is also awkward, unavailable, unfriendly, inhospitable, destructive and harsh.

I know many women but I don’t know any who would be happy to be called awkward or harsh. We aspire to the ‘softer’ side of our femininity and spurn the counterbalance. We disown half of our nature and thus forfeit half of our power.

We are led to believe that only the gentler side of our femininity is acceptable and apologise for our moods, our sarcasm, our withdrawal, our scorn and our wildness. We overuse our whisper and gag our screams. If we only use the softer half of our repertoire we belie our depth.

When you next need to scream, don’t bite your tongue. When you want to cry, don’t hide your tears. When you know you have to leave, go. When you need to crash, create for yourself a soft place to fall.

A woman’s strengths is derived from her cycles. All of her cycles. The feminine is not just soft.