grAce

I have served a community of individuals for the last 26 years in the art of developing grace. A word associated with ballerinas and dance. A word associated with sensitivity and forgiveness. 

If it weren’t for grace, there might not be an option to err and recover from our own flaws and missteps.

Surviving the fallout from our mistakes requires grace. But, it also requires grace received from those who are the recipients of our blunders.

As fallible humans, it is essential to be allowed to err and accept those who err.

With grace. 

It is painful to be discredited for our faults and oversights. 

What is that that Matthew said?  Judge not lest ye be judged…? Just saying….

 

 

ok. yeah….

seriously, folks. are we so sick of all of this shit? I mean all of this.

parents who overmanage their offspring, bosses who overmanage their employees, friends who overmanage their friends…

I am sincerely and without regret or apology DONE with the overmanagers.

if you want to do my job, well then, voila! it’s yours.

but , just get the &*$# over it AND yourself. whatever it is.

the parents of children past didn’t worry about whether it was relative to their social “health” (ahem status), they just dropped their kids at point A and picked them up there at the designated time. “what do you want for dinner” and “what time do you have to be at school tomorrow” was sufficient.

BAM. that’s it. that’s all. what??!!

no. there’s no more. faggedaboudit….

 

Dating Conversation…

It might seem silly.     It might seem trite.    It might seem irrelevant.

But IT. IS. REAL

THIS is dating today for those of us 50+.

Me: Hi

Him: I apologize for the late “Hi”. (2 emojis)

Him;  a bit later …”.hereeeee”

Me: Sorry…been pretty busy…(relevant details that an adult faces, children, elderly parents etc)  Oh, and I don’t do major Spartan Races, or that sort of thing…It looks like it’s a requirement for a relationship….so…well, I think I’m out!…

Him: All good! Not looking for a partner for Spartan Races, just someone to  watch me jump the “fire line” (what the hell is that??)…(OH, [swoon…gag-o-rama])

Him 2 days later: Plans for Saturday?

Me: How are you?

Him: You seem too busy …I’ve asked you questions and and all you say is how are you…what gives?

Me: I was actually driving [and quickly responded to apease you] (In my head I said that)….. But I wanted to answer your questions.  I am a very busy person, but isn’t that better than someone who is completely bored with their life…and has nothing else to focus on??? I have exciting projects coming up!

Him:  I’m excited for you…but seriously, I’m busy too..no excuses.  You only communicate every 3 days and most men expect you to communicate every day. At least to find out how we are…When would you find time to be with me? Why are you even on this site? You don’t even have time for a relationship!…Unless of course you are only seeking a physical relationship….I’m just as busy as you are…Don’t say it isn’t so. just saying. It only takes a minute to (declare your undying love-give me a f’ing break) say hello…or to ask how was your day…

Me: (Nothing…cuz at this point, and for real before that, I am SOOOO done.)

Him: I am no longer interested.

Me: hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha

I don’t think he even realized that by saying he wasn’t interested (after I ignored him), that he was ACTUALLY saying he was interested….hahhaahahhaahahahahaha

Good night…

Like I give a F@%*

 

 

 

All the world’s a stage…

and all the men and women… and people… and whoever are merely players…

and all of our opinions are like assholes…how does that go?                                        everyone has one and all of them stink?  who knows…I just know that all of this ‘staging’ and ‘posing’ and ‘posturing’ is part of who we are and always has been…

but… as far as entitlements go (and apparently entitlement is an entitlement in todays world), we are definitely entitled to our own opinions, and rightfully so.

i’m not quite sure why opinions are allowed to only those who have them.

 

Truth or Consequences…

That’s right. Truth. Or consequences.

We have the opportunity to be our authentic selves every moment of every day, and, yet, most of us choose to be what we perceive is the expectation of our legitimate selves.

We fear rejection so intensely that to be exposed for ourselves is paramount to complete nudity.

That’s all.

The dating game…at 55…

So, you are suddenly single. You’re not 23 anymore or even 4o for that matter, which, from this view, looks quite enticing. You are feeling free. No more tidy whiteys to wash, no more ‘dates’ with a man snoring in a recliner with the TV blaring the History channel.   You get the picture. You finally have control of the remote. The bathroom is all yours! And, you can sleep ALL OVER the bed.  IT IS GLORIOUS…until…you think about…gulp…dating. Frankly, the only way I can describe it is sucky. Your best friend, who is single and has been single longer than you have, says “Join …..this site…it will be fun”.  Uh, okay, sure. You upload your photo from facebook and create a profile outlining your interests and what you are looking for in a relationship. You ‘like’ him, and ‘wink’ at him and wait for a message. You chat and soon you are having your first date. Let me tell you, THINGS HAVE CHANGED.

For instance, in 1984, you didn’t live with anyone before you were married, or at least you didn’t tell your mother. That is for sure. You were 22 for god’s sake!  . You weren’t expected to have ‘sexual relations’ by the third date. You actually met people through friends or at parties, not on a dating site where a photo and a vapid description lands you a date with some guy who has no clue what you do for a living but feigns interest because he just paid for your coffee.

Then,  what’s next? probably nothing. maybe everything.

Let’s say, you DO meet someone randomly, through a colleague or friend, and, there are sparks, it works out, and you actually ‘have a relationship’. At worst, it will end, at best it will endure. Regardless, it’s not like being married; not married to who you were married to for the last million years. Even if the putz you dismissed was not your dream man, you knew how he liked his coffee, and what movies you could both enjoy. And, excitedly, you began to really like this ‘random’ new guy and thought, hmmmm….he might be it. He might be the next Mr. Whoever.  But because you haven’t dated in eons, you don’t see what your best friend sees. This guy is your ex-husband except that you have feelings for this new guy. You don’t wash his tidy whiteys, and he doesn’t snore in the recliner because he is still trying to impress you.  Sigh.  Danger, Will Robinson, Danger! But, you don’t see it. You don’t move on. You DON’T even know the signs of a commitment-phobe because YOU got married when you and your ex were mere children fresh out of the crib – not jaded or cynical or reluctant to take that exhilarating risk to join forces with an equally naive person. AND, you miss that blind faith. You stay there, with that new person, because it is familiar and you seriously have no clue that you are totally comfortable being ‘married but not married’ all over again.

Here comes the kicker. You are ready. Ready to do a repeat performance of the previous life. Permanently. Voila!  You had no idea that the plan was only your plan. You thought that you were on the same page. You are stunned. Thrown for a loop. Wait. Why is this not working out how I thought it would? Your new significant other indicated, in veiled falseness, that his intentions were simpatico with yours.  Flabberghasted comes to mind when you realize that you’ve been duped, or is it dumped. You are suddenly very alone. Alone in your feelings and just plain alone…because he is gone. Poof! Disappeared. Well, shit!  and a slew of other unsavory words. Welcome to ghosting. A modern cowards version of ‘hitting the high road’. I believe sucky was the word I used above. And it is. Sucky.      But, narrowly escaping duplicate entrapment is a blessing, of course, after you have wept weeks of tears, and spilled miles of sorrow to those who will listen.

Moral to this story.

Actually, I don’t know. I am on a journey. A journey that is continuous. Hopefully one that will lead me to my truth. And, if it includes my special someone, it will be glorious once and for all.

PS Looking for SPONSORS for my awesome site!

 

 

 

Closure

Closure or need for closure (NFC) are psychological terms that describe an individual’s desire for a firm answer to a question and an aversion toward ambiguity.

‘nuf said.

over and out.