Paradox of choice

A few years ago I was talking with my friend Rich about how I had so many paths laid out before me, since I was newly divorced, yet had no clue which one I wanted to take. I hadn't figured it out when a man came into my life and became the path I chose.

Today, I find that I face the same paradox - every choice I could ever wish in front of me and that same man offering me a path, waiting for me to choose. Rich had dubbed it the paradox of choice. So many choices - which many people might envy - that you can't choose. You're paralyzed by the paradox.

It's this riddle - which should she choose? which one is 'best,' as my friend's son asked playing the board game Life.

I could move to Europe. Learn French and work for the UN. Move to DC. Move to Seattle and be close to family. Stay in the Tri-Cities. Get married. Stay single. Sometimes, when I'm really confused and stressed and just done with life, I'm tempted with the thought of selling everything and just driving - to who knows where.

So many choices. So much responsibility weighing on each one. A friend once said that because I didn't have children tethered to a father here, I could go anywhere - and therefore, I had an even greater responsibility to myself and to other women to make sure that if I stayed in the Tri-Cities, it was because it was what I truly wanted to do.

So much pressure.

This quote seems appropriate to me at this time: "Mankind's greatest gift, also its greatest curse, is that we have free choice." -Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

It's so ironic, I think. It's like with all freedoms - they don't come easy and they don't come without responsibility.

I certainly don't have the answers. I'm newly paralyzed, looking at all those choices with uncertainty.

Yet doesn't it sound cool to move to Europe or DC or NYC? But I'm not sure I actually want that - being further from my family and from my friends. All that traffic. Why not just travel for work and enjoy it that way? It could make for exciting career opportunities, though. On the flip side, I also didn't grow up wanting three kids, a husband and a house in the suburbs. I wasn't sure what I wanted - except to be happy, since I wasn't having the grandest time as a kid.

So how do we know what we want? How do we know what will nourish our soul? Maybe the only way we find out is to try a path and see - and if it doesn't work, starting laying a new path in a different direction.

Some paths will lead to growth, some will lead to safety (yet shrinking). But which ones?

I should ask the people in my life - how have you made those major decisions? How have you known where the path to nourishment and growth was? When did you know it was the wrong path?

I think it also comes down to what nourishes us - children, family, adventure, new cultures, creative outlets? Because those will help determine whether a path is the right one. If we take a safe path but truly yearn for adventure, it's not the right path.

So many choices. Such a riddle.

Since I don't have answers, maybe I'll find some solace in this thought tonight, also by Kubler-Ross: "Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself and know that everything in this life has a purpose, there are no mistakes, no coincidences, all events are blessings given to us to learn from."

Harlequin heartache and faith in love

So I'm dating again. Two first dates in one week, in fact. And it feels good - to be meeting new people, expanding my circle, feeling attractive to someone of the opposite sex.

What feels really good, though, is that I really don't care if I'm dating - because I'm good where I'm at. This spot in my path - you know, that path I have no clue yet where it leads - is a comfortable one. It's a healthy one. The path isn't all about finding 'the one.' It's about finding myself. And that's so much more nourishing.

Man, how many years did I read Harlequin Romance novels and yearn for that one man - the one who was my end-all-be-all? Those were some messed up stories - and probably a big reason why for years (um, yeah, til about 5 months ago) I kept thinking some man was going to come save me. When I was first divorced, I was so desperate to find 'the one.' The one who would make life easier. Who would save me. Those books gave me belief in love, but a really fucked up idea of what it was, what it looked like and how it felt.

I'm the only one who can save me, and that's my priority right now. (though, yes, when my toilet breaks, a man to fix it would be nice - but I can pay for that!)

So today, I get it. Though I recognize I probably still have lots and lots to learn. I get that I can be alone and be okay. I get that I can date or not. I get that I can simply spend time with people of the opposite sex and know that it's good for the soul, even if it never leads to love. It's not easy, but it's what is healthy. And it feels so good to be in this place on my path.

I just want to spend time with good people. Be with people who nourish my soul. And I would hope I nourish theirs.

What feels even better is knowing that I still have faith in love - I'm blessed that the last man I loved was a good man, and that he gave me renewed hope in men. And in love. That is a gift. Not many women are lucky enough to leave a relationship with their faith intact.

And, out of that chapter ending, I also have a better sense of what love means, looks like and feels like - and what it doesn't. And what I deserve. Now, when I say all that, some might roll their eyes - I'm not naive. I still have lots to learn and will fall back to that insecure place every now and then - that's life, right?

But it feels so good to believe good men are out there. And to be spending time with them. They won't be on a white horse but they will respect me for having saved myself.

Someday I'll be in love again - and until then, it feels so good to just be open to knowing new people and expanding my circle. Where there's no drama. No desperate need to find that Harlequim romance. No flipping of the pages, moving from chapter to chapter in search of that happy ending.

Because my path is about so much more than that now - so we'll see whose path might parallel mine, at what point in my life, and for how long. Either way, I'm going to keep moving forward and keep nourishing my soul. That's the best I can do right now.

That's Life

So I was babysitting my friend's three kids tonight and we played the board game "Life." Remember that one? I always joked how I chose money over kids when I played it years ago. I loved choosing the career path.

It was eye opening to play it with three kids under 8. There were all those 'forced' stops along the way - to get married, buy your first home, decide on college or career, choose family or fun. And each time, when faced with a choice - by that ominous orange space - the young boy would ask "Which one's best?"

Ah, if only there was an answer! Or at least the kind of simple answer he - or we - would prefer. There is no easy answer.

Then we came to one of the final choices - taking the 'risky' path or the path for 'family time.' I didn't hesitate - because in the board game of life, the risky path doesn't really have any negative consequences. You just win or lose - but get to pack it up and pull it out to play again some other time. This time, I actually won big taking the risky path (but of course, only by filing a lawsuit against said young boy).

I haven't taken the risky path in real life in a few years. When I have, the rewards have been big - but usually years away. Lots of heartache and tissue boxes away. Spending a summer in DC. A summer in Florida. I gave my two weeks notice at a job in Moses Lake after 2 weeks it was so bad. Left Bellevue to move to the Tri-Cities for a man. Married the man. Left the man. Sheewh!

But here I am - walking my path a bit wiser with amazing people and opportunities around me. Wonder where the other paths would have taken me?

All three kids refused to take the risky path. I don't think I was able to describe it - or its potential rewards - in a way that satisfied them. They took the less risky path. In the end, I was the one who won the game ironically.

So what lessons did I try to explain to them when we were done? I mean, that three kids will actually hear and understand? That sometimes you start out planning on one career but end up with another - and in the oldest girl's case, her final career was the one she truly desired.

That how much money you make doesn't really make a difference in the end - though by the end of the game, they were all sucked into snickering about how little money the others had. I tried ...

What else? That sometimes you don't get what you want. Or in the order you want. But, if you keep going and playing the game, you can get what you want some day. It will come in time.

Sometimes, it sucks. And that's life (well, I didn't necessarily say that!)

But what do you say when they say they didn't want to get married - guess the game of Life hasn't met the feminist yet. Or the woman who has a child of her own. Or same-sex couples who marry and may have children of their own.

Either way, there's always an orange spot on the path of life that forces you to choose - this way or the other way? And regardless of which you choose, you have no way of knowing where you'll end up.

No way of knowing which path is best.

We just don't get to pack it up and put it away for another day.

Summer of Secret Service

Do you have one of those summers when you were younger that seems almost like a movie? When you look back, you feel this longing and pride, all at once? Mine was the summer I turned 21. I was in DC on a fellowship taking classes at Georgetown and interning in a Congressional office. I was euphoric - I was the only kid west of the Mississippi to get the fellowship, so of course my ego was huge! And I was young, thin and single in a powerhouse town.

It was the summer I dated a Secret Service agent. Almost caused an international incident, according to some. And it's the summer I look back and think of one word - audacious. I was audacious - bold, unafraid, alive.

I also was pretty stupid - not very aware of my own issues, my own insecurities, my own limitations. I had my challenges in my life by then, but I'd come out of them stronger, not beaten down.

But, man, how good that summer was for my ego! I practically glided across the Capitol every day as I headed to work.

The highlight was meeting Chuck. My Secret Service agent. He was 40, handsome, funny. He made me feel so important - protected. When we walked together, he always had his arm around me, almost pulling me in at the same time he was pushing harm away.

So romantic! At the time, it was just so cosmopolitan, almost, to say I was dating him. It was so cool! But, honestly, he taught me a lot about life.

The first lesson was how a simple exchange with a stranger could brighten both of your days. When we walked along the pier, he'd comment about people's boats to them, ask how their day was. I now realize - if in his job, he rarely interacted but only watched, did he try to make up for it on his off hours? We can feed off of those interactions if we let ourselves. Invite more life in.

I also learned how important confidence is - and how visible it is, or isn't, to others. Chuck once commented that I walked so confidently, like I always had a destination and a goal in mind. A place to be.

I did. I had big dreams at the time. And I could feel them pulling. I'm not sure what happened. I think I might have chickened out. Maybe just let the easy life take over. Do what everyone else did - even if it wasn't what I wanted or needed in my core.

And the night Chuck called to cancel our last date - my last night in town - he told me to never stop smiling - because I had a beautiful smile.

I need to remember all of those lessons - to make the most of the little moments, to walk confidently and always have a destination in mind, and most of all, despite the 'life' that will happen, to never stop smiling.

I know I haven't lived up to those lessons. Maybe to varying degrees. But I was thinking of Chuck last week and remembering how much he believed in me. And how much I believed in myself at the time.

I was so audacious - walking up to him in that bar and delivering my famous line "What've you got in that attache case?" Dancing with a prince from the Middle East (yep, that was the beginning of the 'incident'). Acting as if I owned that town. Passionately debating big issues. Stretching my mind in class. Meeting people from around the world.

I miss her some times - that audacious girl. Though she comes out every once in a while still. I think the challenge as we age is how do we hold on to some of that boldness - the courageous, not stupid, part - while being more mature? How can we be wiser without being wimpier? Childlike yet confident without cynical?

I wish Chuck had taught me that lesson. It would be nice to have an easy answer now.

A lion's roar

I've been doing hot (Bikram) yoga for more than four months now. Yoga is counterintuitive to begin with, at least for those of us in modern society. While it's supposedly the natural movement and range of motion for your body, it's crazy. And then make the room 100 degrees, and you have a group of insane people.

And I'm one of them - who is all the more crazy because I find an incredible amount of self-awareness and peace when I'm twisting like a pretzel balanced on my toes with sweat pooling in my ears.

So I was in one of these insanity postures a few weeks ago when a swell of anger crashed through me - anger at my last love. The one who left me - who wasn't strong enough to make us work.

I was screaming at him in my head. Cursing at him. The anger was overwhelming.

But honestly, I wasn't mad at him. I was angry at me. Ticked off at myself. Furious. Fed up.

Furious for being so crushed when he left. Weak. For not seeing it coming. For spending the last year of our relationship more focused on making it work than on asking why it wasn't. For doing the same thing in my marriage - believing it could be more. For not setting boundaries - not telling him he couldn't call me a bitch. For not leaving him when he did.

I'm angry at how long it took me to see the light - and how much pain there was along the way. That I could have avoided. If I'd just been smarter. More insightful.

This truth hurts. But, the other truth is that rage can be a catalyst for improvement. If we can channel the anger, we can make good from it.

That is what I'm hoping to do.

I love the quote from Susan Anderson's "The Journey from Abandonment to Healing" where she talks about the mighty roar a lion gives when he feels threatened. She says "Baring his teeth, the lion masks this fear as strength. His roar is an assertion of power, signifying his expectation of triumph."

I absolutely dig that - the expectation of triumph. It speaks to confidence in one's capabilities - that in a fight, they'd have superior skills. And it implies a faith in the outcome - that heart of the lion you hear about.

So - if I want to channel anger toward action, I have to know: what do I fear? and what expectation do I have?

I fear more lost time. I am afraid that I'll repeat my mistakes - and that truly would be a mistake.

I fear not progressing. Not becoming the best person I can be. Of looking back and knowing I didn't do everything I could to forge my soul. Of not contributing all I can to this life.

I do fear not ever finding that someone who I believe I will spend the rest of my life with. And, I fear not being strong enough to be alone if that is indeed my fate.

I fear I'll never repack my baggage to be lighter. That it'll only get heavier, if I don't manage it right.

With that said, what do I expect? What does triumph look like to me? When I roar (I am a Leo, you know), where is my heart?

I have an expectation of myself that I will learn from my lessons (I can't call them mistakes if they truly were part of my journey). I expect that I will continue seeking answers. That when the answers come easy, I'll make sure I'm not just fooling myself. I expect my soul will become a beautiful, solid, vibrant core that is much like the heart of a lion.

I do expect to find someone I will fall madly in love with - I'm too much of a romantic to not expect it. But, I will make sure when it does happen that I will work hard for a balanced, boundaried relationship.

And because it could be decades before it happens, I won't sit and wait. I expect to live as much life as I can every day. To appreciate every small moment - how fallen leaves look like a sheet of gold on the grass. How precious the unconditional love of a pet is.

Finally, I expect to triumph over my baggage. It IS mine, after all. It's mine to carry. I can't leave it behind. But I can repack it to be smaller. I can make my soul so strong that the baggage feels much lighter to carry. And I can let it make me smarter. Stronger.

Mightier, like that lion.

Good Enough?

Soon after I separated from my ex-husband, a man asked me why I'd left him. And I said simply "It wasn't good enough." For some reason, that seemed to bother him. It's so esoteric. Hard to argue with. Hard to comprehend.

But it really came down to two questions - was it good anymore? and was it enough? In the end, the answers were both no - it wasn't.

That does beg the question - years after making that tough, rough decision to end acommitted relationship - WAS it good? and what IS enough? And how do you know?

Because they can actually be two different things. Ironically, it wasn't being married that caused me to think of those as two separate questions. It was - funny, not a marriage - but my first true love, who made me ask.

My last relationship was good. Really fucking good. I never doubted, when I woke up with his arms around me and his lips on my neck, that it was good. His breath against my neck. I never doubted when we drove to cut our Christmas trees in blizzards, that it was good - that I trusted every moment with him. That every breath, every glide of a hand in his, every shared, quiet, secretive smile, that it was good. Great, even. Maybe fantastic.

I just wish it had been enough. It wasn't. I hoped it was. I prayed it was. I waited months in vain pushing and wishing that it would be. Crying - sobbing- when I knew it wasn't yet wasn't prepared to admit it.

It wasn't. He couldn't love me enough. He wasn't strong enough to balance his baggage, open it up, scrutinize it and face it. Wasn't prepared to re-pack it. He couldn't do what needed to be done. Even though the prize was ME.

So, in the end - our end - I found a beginning. Because we weren't enough. We were good - damn, we were so FUCKING good - but just not enough. Now I look to a new beginning.

Do you know what I mean? When it's good, but something is still missing? Some part of your heart is gone, is torn, is pained, is wishing, is hoping, is CRAVING something more?

He can't give it. Who can? Can anyone?

Honestly, at this point, I'm not sure who can. Maybe no one. But I know it's not him. That beautiful, graceful, loving, kiss-my-neck of a man. Who said I gave him a thousand different kisses. Yet he couldn't give enough.

What IS enough? When is enough? How many questions do I need answers for in order to have a solution/answer to 'enough'?

This much I know - some day, some how, some way - it will be enough. I might be alone. I might be only with friends. I might find that Harlequin-romance, Danielle Steele (damn that steel!) romance that all my friends will envy.

Until then, what's enough? It's enough to know I am NOT settling. I am not pining (ok, a little). I am not wondering. I am not crying - well, I am, but not as much as before.

I AM living. And surviving. And thriving. And making this life -- my only life -- something amazing -- whether it's just me, me and family, me and those I have yet to meet.

But it will be enough. Moment by moment. Because while I may wish for more, strive for more, dream of more, it is only both good and enough when I am present -- 100 percent good and enough at the same time. Any man who wants to be with me - who deserves to be with me will be No. 1 GOOD and No. 2 ENOUGH.

And then, finally, when I share my life with someone, it will be both good and enough. Good enough.