Globetrotting Gal

As a little girl, I spent many afternoons on my grandmother’s sofa watching As the World Turns. Like most soap operas, it was full of endless love triangles and exaggerated plot lines. But there is one scene that has stayed with me over the years… A scene where Lily is singing “I Can’t Make You Love Me” as the object of her affection, Holden, walks in the room. I was pre-pubescent at the time, and I still felt the weight of that. Unrequited love. She sang it with so much pain and conviction that she didn’t belong on daytime television!

The first poem I ever wrote was about a boy in my 3rd-grade class, named Josh. He was so smart and had the best hair. I was invisible to Josh. Or at least I assumed I was. Only the popular girls had boyfriends. They would walk together at recess. But not me. 

In my life, I’ve had the great fortune of being pretty. I’ve also had the great misfortune of being highly sensitive. Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like if all rejection didn’t feel deeply personal. And if every man that looked at me didn’t feel like a threat. The world is full of villains. I’ve lived on three continents now and I’m sure of it. (Not that I needed to, though. Anyone can watch the news.)

Sadly, when trauma occurs early in our life it makes an imprint on us. We come to understand quickly that the world is dangerous, even when the world is just our home. And in efforts of self-protection, we become hypervigilant. Learning to see the slightest shift of temperament in a facial expression, and disappearing from view or smiling in appeasement as needed. When I was pretty and sweet enough, I was loved. And so, my whole life I’ve seen those traits as requirements for my value and safety.

I want to interject that what I experienced growing up, though difficult, was not the worst and not uncommon. Parents of trauma raise children with trauma. We understand this now better than ever, and our therapies are moving in the right direction. 

In this uncertain environment, I came to realize that violence didn’t always mean a lack of love. Just episodic storms you had to bear for brighter days. As I got older, I became more vocal and fought for what I thought was right and fair. Though most often defeated. My education became my gateway to a better life. From Missouri to California, then Thailand, and now Portugal. I have so much gratitude for these experiences and on a good day, I’m still playful. Occasionally hopeful. 

There are things in life we can control (or at least seem to) and things we cannot. I’ve always taken comfort in physical fitness for this reason. My results are “controlled” by me. Often, people with trauma seek to control situations outside of themselves. This inevitably leads to disappointment.

When it comes to love, I have learned to understand my cravings and have compassion. My desire for unavailable men to love me, and to settle for the crumbs they give was imprinted on me at an early age. The logic part of my brain knows I deserve more. And the logic part has done well to get me out of bad situations, time and again. But the deep underpinning of trauma is powerful. Like a recovering alcoholic who is choosing not to drink, it doesn’t mean that the cravings are not still there. 

My intuition and perception have become strong with decades of experience. Still, I fight within to listen to reason. It’s not a matter of simply choosing better when better is not what you crave. I have had loving men in my life, and always failed miserably to love them back. So much so that when I meet them now, I want to ward them off of me. I would rather be alone than suffer the guilt of kindness I cannot receive or the anxiety imposed by assholes.

And in that, I know, I am the asshole, too. Because assholes are merely traumatized little boys at their core. I believe men are just less willing to be alone than women are. And that is why we are moving to an age of increasingly unmarried, childless women. Women with enough empathy and enough currency not to crush or be crushed.

If you have a love that you feel is equal and in harmony, cherish it. If you have a love that is draining, leave it. Beyond that, I am not authorized to give any advice. In the words of Terrance Mckenna, “For one human being to seek enlightenment from another is like a grain of sand on the beach seeking enlightenment from another.”

These days, I seek to love myself and find things I am grateful for every day. To be honest and to forgive (myself especially). If Cher can sing “If I Could Turn Back Time” at 78 years old and make us feel it’s 1989 again, maybe there is still hope for a middle-aged woman like me! I seek only contentment and peace. Romantic love is a momentary feeling. You can’t sail a ship on it.

My grandmother lost her husband when she was still in her 40s. Never dated after that. Never remarried. She had 10 children. Pregnant from the time she was 15. My grandfather was 19 years older than her and mean, from my mother’s telling of it. I’m glad I never met him. Grandma read Danielle Steele and watched her stories until the day she died. A world of love in escapism. An inherited destiny perhaps? I will take it. She was an amazing woman.