The Fix

My thinking was much clearer when in air conditioning, yet I would like to get acclimated to the heat and humidity. The answer is just slowing way down.

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Yesterday, I was crabby. The heat was rough. My fuse was smoldering, and needed just a light exhale to ignite. I don't miss the days when I lived in cities in the summer.

I miss the unpredictability, though. The short fuses. A shirtless guy smoking a blunt, slowly strolling down the sidewalk. Sweaty subway. Sticky sheets. Kids in diapers and nothing else toddling in the park. It was real. It was extreme.

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Because of yesterday's crankiness, I asked Jared for a day off. Why did I ask my spouse? Well, once you have a child, somethings become less spontaneous. Somebody needs to be with the young ones. It was hot and the walls were closing in. Time for a break. Jared's break will be tomorrow.

And, remember that thing I wrote about attending to those things that come up during the week prior to menstruating? Well, I have been seeking spontaneity and excitement. Connection, intimacy, and friendship. That's what summer is about, for me anyway. Time for that Vitamin G(litz), which I wrote about back in August 2017 (follow the link to read more).

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Some parts about being a woman, for me (and maybe for you, whoever you may be), are about fear and worry. How will I be perceived? Was I too rude, too forward, too aggressive, too timid, too soft? Speaking of soft, why is my belly so soft? Why does it look so round when I look down? And then, will I be safe? Are there creeps?

If you've listened to a woman lately clearly ask for what she needs, she doesn't want you to "fix it", unless we're talking plumbing. To be holistic, my husband does not want me to fix his experience either, and he is a cisgender male (hey! maybe we're more alike than we realize).

I don't want you to fix it either. Just listen.

I worry. I have fears. They can center around my female-ness. My vulnerability. My minority status, and though their are more women on Earth at the moment, there are very, very few matriarchal cultures and very, very few egalitarian cultures. I know many of us trying hard. Very hard. I love you, one and all. I love your confusion about egalitarianism and how to get there. I am confused, too.

Don't fix it. I'm ok, but I still worry about how I come off. I regret things I say and ways I act. Some of that is colored by my perceptions of what is to be a woman. Again, if you're a pal, and reading this, just hear me out.

My belly, well, it's 43 years old and carried around a baby for nine months. It is not a 10 year old belly or a 20 or 30 year old belly. Gravity works, you know. Again, hear me out. Don't tell me, "But, you are so skinny!" "Did you lose weight?!" "Oh my G/d, look at you, you don't have belly!" Don't tell me what I do and don't have. Don't fix it. Just listen.

I worry about creeps. I have met creeps, been in cars with creeps, kissed creeps, felt the flush of adrenaline when in the presence of creeps. Once I was with my kid, and I was in the car with a creep. I felt the adrenaline rush. Can I jump out of this car traveling 65 mph on the highway with my kid in tow and not die? What, in this situation, would I rather live with? I asked myself. And so, it turned out ok, the creep was a creep, the kind of creep like likes to screw with people. The next time I saw that creep, my adrenaline rushed again, and I decided to never, ever go back to that store.

Again, no need to fix. Don't doubt my instincts. Don't make excuses for creeps. Don't tell me, "Well, nothing really happened" because something did happen. It's called terror. Don't tell me I worry too much think too much am paranoid or whatever. Just listen. Just hear me out. 

Let's believe each other. Let's hear each other out. Let's figure out the confusion of our patriarchal culture. It's worth it. We're all in it.