Authenticity

Oftentimes, I truly struggle with the role in life that seems to be mine.

In relationship, I showed up: totally, passionately, and with great capacity for commitment. I lived, not merely played, the role of devoted partner, lover, friend, confidante, and care-giver. I loved deeply and had the expectation of being loved back proportionally.

Steadfast in my role, I kept hoping against hope that something would change. I anticipated that she would eventually discover, in this person, me, her mated soul.

Oh, I wanted: the joy of that discovery!

In this life, it seems I keep playing the role of the broken-hearted one. It was a constant theme that I was rejected, left to lick my emotional wounds, allow time for them to scar over, and then attempt the same uneven dynamic all over again.

How can two people be so close and yet so far apart? How can the universe be so cruel?

Today, everyday, I show up in an environment where I attempt to play a similar role. I find myself in another situation where there’s no commitment to me, yet I am expected to show up, perform, give my all, and care. I have been trying to play, at great personal cost, the role of a caring person in a dysfunctional, uncaring place.

Here’s the deal: I believe that I am an authentic individual. I am exhausted by the role of inauthenticity that this environment forces me to play.

I desire connectedness. Team play. Commitment. And, yes, love.

I continue to find myself in situations where those crucial, life-affirming forces are absent.

On and off stage, what I have to offer is my one-man act. Alone. I look around and the set is empty. Except for me.

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players.
William Shakespeare

Exhausted Yet Hopeful

The energy it takes to engage in a serious job-search is considerable. I tend to be overwhelmed a lot of the time, probably because of the oppressive relentlessness of the process. There is always, always something to do. There is no such thing as a coffee break or day off when this is your life. And literally: THIS. IS. YOUR. LIFE.

For me, I have to admit that I am not only overwhelmed, but exhausted.

If one is attending to the “job” (of job-searching) as one should (and must), there is detail after detail to attend to. For me, I always have at least one application in process, or, if not, I know that there is yet another web search to perform in order to see if something has surreptitiously opened up and been posted while I wasn’t paying attention.

Right now, I have two interviews to prepare for that will happen next week. Of course, that is absolutely the kind of place any job-searcher wants to be in. The entire purpose of all the friggin’ paperwork in the first place is to get noticed enough to get the interview. So, I’m happy. Of course, one of these interviews is a two-day process, happening in two cities, and involves a presentation open to the entire community. I have needed to stop almost everything else in order to do the research for this presentation.

With these two interviews, I will be averaging slightly more than one interview a month over the last six months. While the goal of an offer and acceptance of a new position has not yet been reached, there is evidence here that I’m probably on the right track.

But, the rest of it. Oh, the rest of it. I have forms and letters for the next four application packets in process, with due dates that are coming up fast. There are letters of application and interest to revise and customize. There are resumé copies to print out (mine is 17 pages long; I use a lot of printer ink). There are copies of transcripts to duplicate, collate, and attach. There is an inventory of mailing envelopes to maintain. There are reference letters to ask for and people to keep in touch with.

And, always, always, always, there is the time that must be spent online visiting the sites that may yield the piece of information most desired: the posting of “the perfect job.” Ah, does such a thing exist?

This process is difficult for me, and I consider myself an expert at it. I have taught job-search classes, so, presumably I know all the “right” things. I have a killer resumé, and a stock form of an application letter that provides a lengthy, but engaging, narrative of my education and experience. So, I think I know what I’m doing.

I’m getting noticed. I’m being talked to. I just need the right “fit!”

Hope is the feeling you have that the feeling you have isn’t permanent. – Jean Kerr

Moment by Moment

Life does not wait: Whether we spend our lives meaningfully or not, the time will be used up moment by moment. – the Dalai Lama.

OK, I know what you’re thinking…first a song-lyrics phase, and now a quotations phase? Oh, well: this one caught my eye on the Quotidian Quotes page.

The above thought strikes a chord with me, of course, as I continue to question the meaningfulness of my life at the current time. I realize that I’m not, really, living in the present moment, but rather waiting for something else, presumably better, down the road. This is not much of a way to live and I know that. Is it within my power to change this state (other than totally changing my life)? Yes, I suppose it is. I am certain that things must be different than they are for me…but what if I’m wrong about what that looks like? What if it’s just my attitude that needs adjustment? I admit that that’s a possibility. (Yes, most of the time I believe it’s a remote one, but it’s a possibility nonetheless.)

This limbo-like state that I occupy these days is disorienting. I’ve never been so unsettled for so long…

…well, as I write that, I know that that’s not entirely accurate either. I was, for the whole of my 20s, in a condition that was barely emotionally survivable. I had chosen poorly in terms of a marriage partner, and spent nearly the entire ten years living with unhappiness & despair – and a variety of physical ailments (including chronic, debilitating tension headaches) that signaled, to anyone paying attention (though certainly not me at the time), the unsatisfactory condition of my life. I believed, truly believed, that I was not ever going to see my 30th birthday. When, on my 29th, I was still living and breathing, and it occurred to me that my personal lifespan assessment may have been in error, I started to make some radical changes. First, I weaned myself from the Valium habit I had developed (prescribed by a series of physicians for coping with my headaches), and then ultimately left the dysfunctional relationship that was at the root of my problems.

At that time, as I finally decided: what was called for was a radical reshaping of my life. I knew deep down (really, even through all the years of denial) that wholesale change was needed. And my life experience since then, and the several dramatic transitions that have been called for, has taught me to trust my judgment when I believe that change is necessary.

So, is an attitude adjustment in order? Definitely. But, on a higher-self level, I know that I must restructure this existence of mine in order to survive it.

Generosity

I spent the night of the science fair sleeplessly. The energy expenditure of the day was considerable, though I guess my adrenaline concentration stemming from the experience was too high to be ignored. Fatigue has turned into utter fatigue as insomnia continues. I’m guessing that this condition only serves to enhance my typical, transitory, post-event post-partum depressive tendencies.

I know that I’m exhausted and overly-emotional. And, as happens to me in this kind of space, I tend to socially withdraw a bit and reflect on my existence. What am I doing here? Is this really my life? What can I change? How can I change?

I was touched by a couple of folks who gave me huge compliments today on my leadership ability. Their comments were exceptionally kind and generous, I thought.

Am I that generous with others? Oh, I would like to think so; but I’m not always so sure. Extending sincere appreciation to those around you, I believe, is a mark not only of exemplary leadership, but of generosity and simple humanity. In whatever form it takes, saying out loud words like “I appreciate you” is a powerful thing. The message can be as significant and affirming as “I love you.”

Can we live without being loved and appreciated? Yes, I guess so, but it makes the difficulty level of life much more significant.

I frequently think of the May 2002 episode of “ER” that marked the passing of character Dr. Mark Green. (Yes, Jim, again with a TV show!?) Why this comes to mind for me at this particular moment, I’m not sure, except that is has to do with the concept of “generosity.”

In this episode, Mark is near death and he makes the decision to spend his final days in Hawaii. With him are daughter Rachel, wife Elizabeth, and their baby daughter Ella.

The most moving moment, and the one that has kept flashing into my psyche over the years, is his final piece of advice: “Be generous Rachel,” he says, “with yourself, with your life, with your love. Just be generous.”

I would love to be known as a man of integrity – and generosity. For now: I’m working on it.

Soundtrack Suggestion

And the seasons they go round and round
And the painted ponies go up and down
We’re captive on the carousel of time
We can’t return we can only look behind
From where we came
And go round and round and round
In the circle game

(“The Circle Game” – Joni Mitchell)

Her Mother’s Daughter

In the midst of everything else going on for me right now, I finally have finished reading Linda Carroll’s biography: Her Mother’s Daughter. As I have written about before, I’ve known Linda for over 25 years and identify her as one of the most influential people in my life – indeed, I consider her one of my family on this planet during this lifetime. (I’ve absolutely no idea if she has any thoughts along these lines, though.) She’s served as my counselor, confidante, friend, mentor and spiritual guide – helping me through some very difficult spots. I am incredibly fortunate to have met her and to have had her in my life for (at this point) nearly half my time on earth. Frankly, any attempt to think about this lifetime without Linda in it hardly seems like my life at all.

I first mentioned Linda in these pages after reading Borrowed Finery by Paula Fox. Fox is the famous author of novels and childrens’ books who, early in her life, gave Linda up for adoption. Linda finally tracked her mother down after the birth of granddaughter Frances Bean Cobain. Although quite elderly now, Paula is still alive and she and Linda continue to maintain a relationship begun, belatedly, in the mid-1990s.

In the time I’ve known Linda a lot has happened to her, both personally and in terms of her public notoriety. She is, after all, not only Paula Fox’s daughter, but Courtney Love’s mother. The stormy relationship between Linda and Courtney has been reported in the popular press, up until this time, exclusively through Courtney’s eyes. A number of unflattering and outrageous things have been said about Linda that are totally inconsistent with the good-hearted person that I know and love. Not that I ever really knew much of Linda’s story before reading the book, though; I have only had glimpses into small parts of her life. As my counselor, Linda has been focused on listening to the rhythms of my story, not the other way around. Most of what I know about Linda the person has come through my experience with her in various workshops over the years. The most recent group experience I had with her was about 7 years ago now, in a PAIRS (couples) course led by her and husband Tim.

Now that I’ve finished reading Her Mother’s Daughter, I’ve searched out some of the literary reviews and am discovering that they appear, well, mixed . Some praise Linda’s narrative style and general ability to draw the reader into the drama that has been her life. Others take a more critical stance, sometimes judging her life itself, apparently overwhelmed by the chaotic nature of Linda’s existence. For myself, I was amazed at the detail Linda was able to relate to me, the reader, describing experiences from an age when I would have no memories to draw on at all. Further, I was totally engaged with her writing style, finding it smooth and conversational, mirroring the “real person” that I know her to be.

Of course, upon reading the biography, I tend to agree that Linda’s life has been chaos. And in terms of order of magnitude of lifetime chaotic experiences, her biography rivals her mother’s. As much turmoil as I believe I’ve personally experienced, I admit that my story has had less overall drama than either Paula’s or Linda’s. Linda is on her fourth marriage; she gave birth to six children, one who died as an infant; an adopted child subsequently discovered another home for which he was a better fit; she escaped San Francisco by moving to Oregon, then moved to New Zealand and back to Oregon; her oldest child is Courtney, likely one of the most “out there” celebrities since Madonna’s younger days; and (not covered in the book) she once found herself the therapist for Katherine Ann Power, an activist from the 60s who spent most of her adult life underground.

Zounds: what a life.

I’ve lived my life parallel to a good portion of Linda’s drama, and I have sought out her big heart, attentive ear, and perceptive nature time and time again. She has never said she was not available to me. Whenever I’ve shown up, she’s always been totally present. Truthfully, I only had hints here and there that she was living the life she describes in this book. Even though her own existence has surely been an emotional roller-coaster, she has always been able to focus on me and my story and provide help when I sought her out. Simply, Linda is a human being of the highest caliber. The meaning of the chaos of her life, for me, I now understand, is that she’s always been able to assist me with my own frequently-chaotic existence.

A psychic I once consulted, who relayed to me some of my past-life experiences, reported that Linda and I had been twins at least two times in previous lifetimes. It is, at the very least, an entertaining thought. I know I feel very, very connected to her. My relationship with Linda is one of the most cherished things in my life. I glad she wrote her story so that I can know it: so that I can know her better than I do.

Thank you for being in my life, Linda.