The laundry list of unspoken topics

By nature these experiences fly in the face of the accepted bounds of womanhood. They aren’t expected of the innocent maiden, the loving wife or the nurturing mother. And let’s face it, society at large still has some difficulty dealing with femininity outside of those roles. These experiences have often been ascribed to the ‘undesirable’ facets of womanhood; the unmarried, the lecherous, the wild and the mysteries of our reproductive organs. In reality making these experiences taboo or unspoken is destructive, riddling our female psyche with guilt, shame, inadequacy and fear.

So in the interest of catharsis, inspired by a few honest and relieving conversations recently with my girlfriends, here are some experiences I think belong in a guide-book for women;

1. Foreplay isn’t optional.
2. Masturbation isn’t wrong. Getting to know what feels good is incredibly important.
3. Using a vibrator too often can actually desensitise you to orgasm with a real penis.
4. Watching porn isn’t just for guys. Well maybe porn is, erotica isn’t.
5. Despite the foreplay and knowing what feels good, sometimes your juices simply wont flow. And that’s ok.
6. You may hate your period, but trust me you will miss it when it is gone.
7. Breasts can leak. And not only when you are pregnant or breastfeeding.
8. Rape is never, ever your fault.
9. Your body and emotions are intricately linked. Emotions (and the hormones they release) change your skin, hair, breasts, vagina and more.
10. Many women get very amorous during their period.
11. Just because you are in a relationship doesn’t mean you aren’t attracted to people other than your partner.
12. As wild as your youth is, you probably wont regret it as you get older.
13. Women have a ‘hens’ or ‘bachelotette’ party for a reason; it is scary to think of farewelling your singledom and loving only one person forever more.
14. It takes work to keep the fire alive in a long-term relationship.
15. Labour can be a sensual experience, some woman reach orgasm giving birth.
16. Labour involves blood, a number of people looking closely at and physically inspecting your vagina.
17. Motherhood doesn’t automatically bestow infinite patience.
18. Bonding isn’t instant. It is a process. Postnatal depression isn’t a choice or your fault.
19. Breastfeeding isn’t always easy and bottle-feeding isn’t wrong.
20. Breastfeeding in public is simply feeding a child. Nothing more, nothing less.
21. Sometime mothers resent, dislike and tire of their children.
22. Sometimes mothers love one child more than the other/s.
23. It isn’t easy to consistently put the needs of a child before your own. At times it is soul crushing and gut wrenching.
24. Peri-menopause typically lasts 7 to 10 years. So can post-menopause. It can be a 15 year ride ladies!
25. Menopause is supposedly the single day where you haven’t had a period of 12 months.  Sometimes your cycle will resume even after a break of more than a year.
26. Menopause can actually cause ‘shrinkage’ of the vulvar and vagina, which can lead to painful sex.
27. The first thing the Dr will ask you when you go to see them about menopause is “tell me about your mother’s experience…” So… go talk to your Mum!
28. After Menopause your vagina is considered a ‘use it or lose it’ situation. Sex increases blood flow to the area and keeps your vagina healthy, and boots your immune system.

So what have I forgotten? What do you wish was talked about before you discovered it the hard way?? I would love to hear your experience.

Three Reluctant Cinderellas

I grew up very cynical about love, and men in general I guess. Marriage to me was an outdated institution that held no real meaning or value any more (I mean women can own property now and all). Most people exchange their ‘I do’s’ oblivious to the irony that family or familia originally meant ‘the totality of slaves belonging to any one man’. Without dredging up the old revolutionary rhetoric of my youth it suffices to say that a marriage certificate was never on my to do list.

It seems that about 6 months ago the world turned on it’s axis. And pigs flew. And hell froze over. Cupid took control and wreaked his special kind of havoc in our lives. Not just mine, but the lives of my best friends as well. Under cupid’s rule we were thrust into the center of a delicious kind of chaos that we each dreaded and relish at the same time; Love. Romantic love.

None of us are particularly sappy women. I would happily walk through the valley of death with these two women because I am confident that the three of us would be the baddest crew in the valley. None of us are untouched by tragedy or sacrifice. We don’t play the fool, the damsel or the victim and none of us ever believed the hallmark ideal or in happy endings. But it seems as though we will play Cinderella despite ourselves.

Six months ago I set a wedding date. No need for congratulations, I had already been engaged for over 3 years at that point, I just finally bit the bullet and decided to go through with it. Around the same time one of my best friends walked away from an AMAZING career and chose another path, which has led her though a whirlwind romance with a wonderful man. I mean she has been hired twice, sight unseen, on the strength of her resumé alone and yet has flourished despite her career being demoted in her list of priorities. And just last week my other BFF replaced her 10 year title as ‘Girlfriend’ with the shiny new one ‘Fiance’ despite never expecting to marry her wonderful beau.

I don’t know where cupid is going with all this, and I can’t speak for the others, but I hope that I manage to make my wedding something meaningful to me. Something that reflects my relationship with myself and my partner. I won’t be saying ‘I do’ but instead agreeing to kick his sorry ass when he needs a reality check and promising not to walk away when our ugliness comes out, which it inevitably will in a long-term relationship. I hope in those few minutes before we walk down the aisle (my friends are also bridesmaids, of course) that I don’t feel alien in my Ivory dress and my Cinderella moment, but instead feel the dawning of a new age; where fulfilled women choose evolved relationships with worthy men.

Bleeding Heart

I have been called a soft touch more than once. I cannot bear to see harrowed anguish on somebody face, let alone hear it in their voice or cry. Watching someone bleed or writhe in pain draws a physical reaction from me. I cannot help but do something, even if that something is pray.

I have always been this way. I was the toddler who soothed other children at the park, took pity on and played with vagabonds on city benches and who always shared. To this day if I am asked for small change on the street you get no judgement from me but you do get whatever coins I am carrying. I am no fool, but feel that pain, shame and despair should be alleviated if at all possible.

As such motherhood hasn’t been an easy road to walk for me. I am not sure it is for anybody. If compassion isn’t your strong suit, then parenthood will definitely change that. Not a parent? I have heard parenthood described as having your heart outside your body walking around under it’s own steam. From experience its and accurate description. It is as though they are still wired into your nervous system and you actually feel the child’s pain.

Knowing there is nothing you can do, or being intellectually aware that what you are doing is in the child’s best interest, doesn’t make it any easier to hear them crying or calling your name. Yes baby, Mummy is aware it upsets you. And for the record it does make my heart bleed every time you cry. I only hope you feel my love and forgive me one day. Now cuddle teddy and go to sleep.

No right answer

Life isn’t all rosy. I have front row seats at the moment to some awful melodramas playing out in the lives of my loved ones. Sometimes life is hard. The choices we are forced to make are harder;

How far are you willing to go for family?

How many times can you turn the other cheek?

How long can you keep your head buried in the sand before you are ready to face the fire that is coming close to burning your arse?

When is it advisable to run? How long do you stay away?

How much are you willing to change and sacrifice for love?

When is letting the other go a better option?

When do we decide to stop being victims of our parents and take responsibility for our lives?

How to react when someone changes the rules of the game?

How do you plan when you are on borrowed time?

How do you balance the needs of the other with your own?

How far would you go to protect a loved one?

The more I watch the lives around me the clearer it becomes that no-one has the answer. Everybody’s advice sucks, especially mine. We cannot know how it feels to talk in the shoes of another and we don’t want to know the deepest secrets of their heart. We may not always understand why people do what they do, but that isn’t our role. We are not here to judge, to assess, to evaluate, to blame, to make someone right or wrong. Our concern is to do what we must, as they do what they must. No more and no less. It gets muddy and confused and the lines blur. Nothing much we can do about that. No two will ever see eye to eye, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t in this together. Life doesn’t discriminate.

What I know for sure is that there is no right answer. There is just the choice you make at the time.

Musings on Grace

I firmly believe that it takes a village to raise a child. In a ‘village’ children grow up at the feet of elders, learning vital lessons. Adults in a ‘village’ mentor and teach adolescents, instructing them in the skills and knowledge that they will need to contribute to the village in adulthood. Sadly I feel that my generation grew up largely without that village. This is not a criticism of our for-mothers; they were focused on creating a society where we (as women) would be valued as equals. It is because of them that we have an opportunity now to instruct the daughters of our new ‘village’ in all the skills of an adult and not just half of them.

As a result of growing up without the village microcosm we are drastically short of role models we can aspire to emulate, again not because our mothers are not ‘role models’ but because our paths are likely to be very different to theirs. Young women are in search of mentors and are coming up short. The ‘self help’ genre is growing exponentially as women reach out for help, desperately craving guidance and support.

I am fortunate in that I have had the loving guidance of mentors throughout my journey thus far. There is no substitute for experience; lessons only become permanent when one has lived them and been transformed by the experience. But the transformation isn’t automatic, the generation of women who repeatedly turn to inappropriate relationships, emotional eating and ‘retail therapy’ are a testament to that. The disconnect is that the skills necessary to courageously face life, walk towards our dreams and learn from adversity were the ones we never learnt at the feet of our elders.

We identify women of grace that we wish to grow like, but lack the vocabulary to identify what it is about their person that we value. The closest words we have to describe what it is we want are; beauty, respect, success and charisma. So we blindly stumble in search of what we think will bring us these; physical ‘perfection’, celebrity and the adoration of men. But we have the cart before the horse. Celebrity (lasting celebrity and not infamy) and adoration are the by-products of a life lived gracefully with purpose.

The deceptive nature of grace is that it ‘appears’ effortless. It seems as though it is a gift bestowed at birth when it is an attitude and a set of skills. Grace is a carriage, a way of being, that has nothing to do with external beauty. Though a graceful woman does possess a ‘glow’ that is often mistaken for, or perceived as beauty. There are guidelines, tools and secrets that graceful women live by and demonstrate, that when applied to our lives, transform them as though they have been bewitched by a fairy godmother’s wand.

This year I am working on embodying grace a little more… what about you?

My peace with discipline

I have always thought discipline was over rated. Perhaps because I have been surrounded by military men most of my life, I have always seen discipline as soul crushing and authoritarian. My mother taught me to question everything and to rebel if need be. (Funny story; I spoke to my Mum about that advice the other day and she laughed. Apparently she had never said that, but that was the meaning I took from her philosophy of not treading the trodden path. Anyhow…)

Growing up I hated the idea of being a sheep. The thought of just ‘swallowing’ what the authoritarians around me were serving up was horrifying. The irony is that I just ended up following alternative, self-appointed, authority figures instead. The discipline enforced by authority figures really is soul crushing. It makes no difference whether you choose the disciplinarian or not. Discipline enforced externally it is cheap.

Now that I am a parent, I have begun to understand the importance for discipline. No, I am certainly not one of those mothers who you see smacking her child (publically or privately), but my toddler needs a firm word every other minute or so. At 18 months he is already finding and pushing boundaries and I find that he is comfortable when he knows where the line in the sand is.

So, I think I have finally made my peace with discipline. Self discipline is an enriching quality that builds our confidence. It reminds us we are capable of good judgement and committment. It helps us remain strong in the face of uncertainty. Self discipline keeps us true to our inner compass. Genuine authentic external authority is similar. It helps us to develop the capacity for self-discipline and to decide where our own personal boundaries are. But authority and discipline for the sake of it simply crush the soul.

My goal for me is to cultivate my self-discipline by following my better judgement. My goal for my son is to always and only embody authentic discipline for him, and not to crush his burgeoning spirit with unnecessary rules.

How I failed as a liberated woman (Google first and shoot second.)

I am a strong, independent woman of the 21st century. I am a card-carrying feminist. Don’t believe me? Ask anybody who ever jokingly told me to ‘get back in the kitchen’, or anybody who so much as mumbled a chauvinistic comment around me since I was 5.

Yes, you heard me 5. There is a story my parents enjoy telling of a christmas party that I attended when I was a child. My father was in the Navy and at the time he was working with Navy divers. Now, just to fill you in Navy Divers are crazier than cut snakes. Men only join the clearance diving team if they are over the top mucho wankers with waaaaay more brawn than brains. So back to the christmas party. This diver spilt a beer on me and my pretty party dress. When I asked him to apologise (as would be the civilised thing to do) he made a comment about not apologising to a ‘little girl’. Let’s just say that he didn’t live down the dressing down he received from a 5-year-old ‘little girl’, until he got his new posting.

My history of fearlessness and standing on my own two feet started early, and it only got worse as I got older. In year 6 I was reprimanded for highlighting the plight of women in Saudi Arabia in my turn of show and tell. My show was the book Princess and I read aloud carefully selected excerpts, which the teacher deemed ‘inappropriate’. In year 7 I was sent from the room for asking my religion teacher the position of the Church on teenage prostitution in Australia. And by year 10 I was already a member of a political organisation, only responding to the title ‘comrad’ and espousing a lecture to anybody who greeted me with ‘you’re looking good’ because how fucking sexist is it that the first comment we make to women (not men) is that their physical appearance is pleasing!

Now let us fast forward to the failure my 5-year-old self would have kicked my arse for.  I have never been good with bugs. Or dirt for that matter. I have always been a bit of a girly girl ( no, the irony is not lost on me) and I freaked when there was a hornet, in my living room. In a nano-second I had nothing but adrenalin coursing through my veins. Because this hornet was HUGE! And also, my baby’s Daddy is allergic to wasps and bees. So there is every chance my baby could have an anaphylactic response to a sting AND since we are at home without a car, such a response could be fatal. Or at least this was the train of thought that was on constant loop in my mind. So you understand why my body chose flight over fight.

This could have been a perfectly respectable Mamma bear protecting baby bear situation, but it quickly degenerated into a farce. I grabbed the baby and my blackberry (the weapon of the 21st century) and ran into the hall trapping the hornet in the living room & kitchen. Then I was afraid it would make a nest for itself in the toys or the couch. Imagining scenes of me returning to the room for food and water, only to be exposed 360 degree to the wrath of the hornet, I opened the door a crack to spy on it. Then I made a few calls for advice. My mother, from whom I inherited my feminism, could do nothing but laugh and tell me to ‘squish it’. Thanks Mum, I hadn’t thought of that. My Nan advised me to hit it with a broom. When I advised her that I didn’t have a broom, she was too busy trying to figure out ‘what kind of woman doesn’t own a broom’? and forgot all about the hornet. My Aunt had no advice at all, but she did decide to buy me a fly swatter for christmas. Woot!

I rallied my courage, donned a long sleeve shirt (in case it tried to sting me as I squished it) and snuck back into the room armed with a shoe. I was sure I could do it. I mean I faced my fear of heights by abseiling, I faced my fear of snakes by petting a python and I managed to make it through labour in a meditative state. I can be both hunter and gatherer. I am woman hear me roar!

Minutes later I ran screaming from the room and called for my partner, in tears, to come home and kill it. Which he did. = Fail.

I learned multiple lessons from this failure:

1. Australia has Hornets (who knew?) Australian Hornets are non-agressive nectar eating creatures that only sting to paralyse caterpillars to feed their young.
2. Ignorance is the root of all major fuck-ups. The better you understand your enemy (read situation, person or stinging insect) the more likely you are to find a reasonable solution without degenerating to tantrums or violence. In short Google first, shoot second.

Overwhelm… how I hate thee

If you are female aged between 21 and 50 I would bet my last TimTam (Amazing Australian biscuit) that you know the feeling well. Overwhelm, yuck!

It usually goes something like this – Work is hectic or the baby is teething, or both. AND you are stressed about one or more of the following; buying a house, planning a wedding, coping with a pregnancy, studying, planning an event, paying the bills, cleaning the house, making it to the gym, navigating family issues, launching your company, keeping in touch with friends and getting more than 5 hours sleep a night.

The more you do the more rest you need and the less time you have to get it. Usual rest periods like the commute or having a coffee we are ‘plugged in’ with the iphone making us contactable and on 24/7.

With the festive season just around the corner, the craziness will only get worse. Much worse. To the usual overwhelm we can add; double the social engagements, hangovers, present shopping, credit card debt, the mad rush at work to get everything done, being short-staffed as people take holidays, the final 4 weeks to achieve our goals for 2009.

Try these this silly season, to reduce stress, keep calm and enjoy your friends and family:

• Make a list of priorities. Use it to guide which events you attend, who you catch up with and how you spend your time.
• Instigate a ‘day of rest’ each week. On that evening do only things you really love, that fill you with energy like, bubble baths, movies, a meal in, a slow walk outside etc.
• Make a christmas list and keep it with you. It will make present shopping easier.
• Create a christmas budget and stick to it.
• Have a maintenance weekend in the first weekend of December. Clean the house, get a manicure/pedicure, facial, waxing, haircut etc to prepare you for parties and guests for the rest of the month.
• Aim for balance on a weekly basis. It may not be possible to go to the gym, work and a function, run errands and spend time with family all in a day. Spread it out.

What do you do to beat overwhelm?

5 reason to wisely choose your friends (the power of Osmosis)

Balance is the natural state of the universe. Things have a way of working themselves out in the end. Things flow from high to low until both are equal. If we try to work against the flow we might succeed… for a while. And then we fail.

The 5 people you spend the most time with are the most influential in your life. Their personality, habits and preferences bleed into yours. So you had best choose wisely who you spend your time with. These people flavour your world.

You don’t believe how influential these people are? Try these on for size:

1. Ask a smoker why they took up the habit and who gave them their first drag
2. Ask a star student who they study with
3. Watch the way the presence of a baby changes the speech of its family and friends
4. Ask an ex-junkie who they spend time with now that they are clean
5. Ask an outdoor type how many couch potatoes they hang out with

No. I wasn’t checking out a 17 year old…

Have you ever felt that you were in a time warp? Have you ever felt like you are talking to an older or younger version of yourself? Have you ever met someone so familiar that they felt like instant family?

My waiter on the weekend shook my partner’s hand as we paid the bill and gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. What the? Inappropriate. Unprofessional. Utterly random. But not unwelcome. It felt like we were saying goodbye to family. This is not a comment on the service at the restaurant – which was fabulous – but on something entirely different.

The young man that served us, Sam was his name, was warm and helpful but we liked him entirely too much after he took our drink order. We mused over our wine and beer where we knew him from. Surely we couldn’t know a random HSC student from Glebe? Could he be a family friend? No. A little brother of a Uni acquaintance? Nope, we both felt like we knew him.

Then it hit me. Big blue eyes. A mop of unruly sandy brown curls. A slight but muscular physique. Pouty lips. Innate confidence. Sunny personality.

“He is Cooper” I say to Rubens.

“What?”

“He is what Coop could look like in 16 years.”

“Holy shit! I reckon you are right”

“Good” I say relieved that the affection I feel for this minor is somewhat explicable and not just creepy.

Know the goal posts

Ask the question. Know the goal posts. It’s not just wise in business it’s essential for harmonious personal relationships to set boundaries, guidelines, to be clear on what is expected.

How do you know your relationship is healthy? How do you know your friend is living up to their role? How do you know you are delivering at work? How do you know what you can expect from family? Where does the obligation start and stop? How far are you ‘supposed’ to go? According to whom? Who drew these arbitrary lines?

Know what you need. Ask for what you want. Be clear on your deal breakers and enforce your boundaries. If you don’t know what the goal posts are, you will always be disappointed.

The fallacy of ‘friend’ and ‘enemy’

The words ‘friend’ and ‘enemy’ are very emotive. They rouse such strong emotional responses from us. We think there is a method in our deciding in which category people ‘fit’ into, we think we are clear on what the words mean to us. Nope, sorry, I bet you’re wrong. Allow me to demonstrate.

Call to mind an ‘enemy’. What makes you categorise them that way? Did they hurt you, ignore you, hurt your loved one, do something unscrupulous?

Call to mind a ‘friend’. Think of why you call them ‘friend’. Have they supported you, been kind to you, shared your life with you, advised you well, shown you compassion?

Call to mind someone who fits neither of these categories, someone you are ‘indifferent’ to. Why are you indifferent to them? Have they faded from your life, do they live far away, have you lost touch with them?

Now, just to screw with your mind;

Call to mind your ‘enemy’. Can you recall a time that they were supportive, kind, compassionate or in any other way a ‘friend’ to you?

Call to mind your ‘friend’. Can you recall a time that they hurt or ignored you or a time when they were unscrupulous or in any other way acted as your ‘enemy’?

Call to mind the person to whom you are now indifferent. Can you recall a time when they were either a ‘friend’ or ‘enemy’ to you?

Each of us fall into the category of ‘friend’, ‘enemy’ & ‘indifferent’. Each of us are selfish. Everybody does the best they can with what they have. Every body unintentionally, and intentionally, hurts others. Each of us are capable of life-changing kindness and compassion. Each of us chooses our ‘friends’ and ‘enemies in the same arbitrary nature with which we chose teams in the school yard.

Perhaps if all focused less on the boxes we have put people in we would live in a more compassionate, understanding, kind world. What do you think?