.SOMETIMES RAW.

Scene 1 (signing up at Tinder):

She entered her twenties and wanted to live a different life with the freedom to travel, no children, sunbathing on the beaches of Tulum, kissing a partner outside of the Moulin Rouge in Paris, and have a career. She wanted to be on her own, jumping from a casual fling to fling. But in truth, she longed for a serious relationship. Someone with whom she could share all this awesomeness but also sad-and weirdness which was happening in her life. Then she got married. And divorced.

A while after her divorce, a friend said, “Just sign up at Tinder”. She did. Two days later, she pressed the lock screen and slammed her phone down on the coffee table. She was two seconds away from wanting to delete the dating app from her phone. The humdrum of swiping right, but more, in her case, left had her feel drained and bored. Why did she do this to herself? This is so useless. Why did she put so much of her want and need to be with someone into an app? It felt as useless as those fortune tellers who lay Tarot cards. It seemed worth it to try, to find out what her life might look like tomorrow or a year from now, but honestly, c’mon. She wanted to know if there was a chance for her. She lived alone, which caused her to spend more time in the evening wallowing in how empty the air felt in her apartment. Sometimes, small moments of laughing out loud at a scene in a show, felt as if her sanity was borderline maniacal.

Fruit spoiled faster, food bought and prepped came and went and were stored to only be trashed because one mouth could not finish it fast enough. After her last heartbreak, she saw herself staying perpetually single but at some point, she wanted to find a partner again. Her anxiety of waking up every morning as the slow days of March loomed peak pandemic made her thankful that she was here, alive, and breathing. She had to be strong for herself, but who was being strong for her? Writing daily gave her days their shape, but they soon became monotonous. She wondered if this was it while she hit the water cooker on, made breakfast, and set up to press a smile on her face in the bathroom mirror.

When she went through this divorce, at some point, the exhaustion got the best of her. When the tears crept in the corner of her eyes as she curled up on her side of the bed at night, the rest of the sheets begging to be touched by anyone but her…. feeling as cold and as distant as she did. She thought about how she felt, not connected to anyone but herself. For some time, she had been okay with being single forever. She stared back at her phone. She pulled it toward herself and bent it slightly so it had her face in view, reflecting back at herself. “I love you,” she said and deleted the dating app.

Scene2 (The new Dating Timeline):

The goal: To meet people.

She went out. Lined her lips with Chanel lipstick. Put on a bit of make-up to go out. She does not like make-up on herself. If overdone, to her, it is a façade and another layer of (face)shield on an already cracked ex-and interior. She is not the person who goes to a bar and finds herself crowded around the male bartender, who flirted his way into her wallet and took a shot with her in order to make her not feel so desperate for attention. But her glass of red wine gently caressed her tongue as it made its way down her throat, adding another layer of calmness, and yet her nerves did not quite dissipate. However, she was in control of the ambiance.

So, she met someone, and this felt weird but also good. Her internal calm-down mechanism took over and she closed her eyes – but not all the way. The mechanism: She feels home. She is safe. If she wants this, then she has to let it happen.

They enjoyed dinners and drinks, they talked by phone and spent the summer together. It was special because the restaurants were closed so there were no distractions when they sat across each other at home. There was no waiter to interrupt the initial awkwardness. They had to stare at each other. The forced eye contact left her heart pounding. She can so easily get lost in someone’s stare. It feels good. This has been months ago but they still see each other.

Possible Scene to add (add the restaurant):

“Hello,” she said, smiling when he waited for her at the restaurant. He smiled and his face leaned to the side. He always smiled when he sees her. He gently adjusted his hair, opened the door to the restaurant for her, and said, “Hey, sunshine. I am glad you are here. “

They kissed.

End Scene: (possibly include applause)

“Living is a form of not being sure, not knowing what next or how. The moment you know how you begin to die a little. The artist never entirely knows. We guess. We may be wrong, but we take leap after leap in the dark.” – Agnes de Mille

I have weird dreams these days. I recently dreamed about a plane nose-diving from the sky. As it grew closer and the space between us narrowed, instead of feeling fear, I felt this sense of awe and relief. I couldn’t do anything. Things just happened.

The last couple of months have forced me to let go of some plans, projects, and ideas. I have collectively faced unexpected endings in various corners of my life. In some aspects, my life has become narrowed.

The narrowing can be disorienting and disruptive. It feels claustrophobic, even in my own privileged circumstances to have a job and work full-time. Who knows what will happen next? Another lockdown? Schools closed again? All this uncertainty. All this change.

Changes and endings no doubt bring grief, but I am also curious about the sense of relief that some endings can bring. Perhaps, it is the relief of not having to make certain decisions anymore. There is no fear of better options because there are so few options. When an action or ending is outside my control, the fear of getting it wrong is diminished. It is no longer up to me because the decision has been made by someone higher up. Whether an ending brings relief or grief also might have something to do with being comfortable with not-doing that accompanies it. When it is up to me to let go, my natural tendency is to work really, really hard to fill the space it leaves behind. This process further entangles me in what I am trying to let go of. It is like a pit I have been digging, only to tirelessly scoop the earth back in. When I spend my time simply filling an empty pit, I take a lot longer to reach new and steady grounds.

I can make important changes in my life but often neglect to check in with myself to see if they still serve me. I become attached to my identities as not being a morning person, or a certain profession, without asking if these circumstances still require the routine, the abstinence, the doing. An ending can be frightening because it confronts my identity. But an ending or a narrowing of my life also brings relief because it brings me closer to this idea of doing one thing well. For as long as I can remember, I have prided myself on being someone who juggles various projects easily. I have enjoyed the rush of several to-do lists, the calendar that is always filled, and even the sense that I am chasing my own tail brings a certain satisfaction.

What this pandemic taught me is that sometimes my doing, my complicated schedules, and my “shoulds” are of my own making. And it is up to me to let go, to embrace and end without doing anything. Ever since that dream of the plane taking a nosedive, I have been inspecting my “shoulds” and letting go ruthlessly. I have surveyed what I have been putting off and let it be a guide to stop adding something to my to-do list. I have listened to what I don’t want because sometimes the don’t-wants are more defined. Being a single mom and working full-time is not always easy and involves setting boundaries or shifting priorities, but by letting go of what I don’t want, I make space for what I do want to emerge. Letting go is one part, being comfortable with doing less and being in the space is another. But I know I don’t have to do anything to make this space. I don’t need to fill it. I can simply be in it, unsure for a while.

Reducing what I do helps to center my focus and attention. It helps me to take notice, it is the nudge I need to enact my own endings instead of only waiting. I need empty, undesignated space so I can keep figuring it out, over and over, nosedive after nosedive, narrowing and narrowing, allowing myself to inch closer to the mystery, the awe, and the relief of it all, one day at a time.

Monday, 7th of September 2020, was the first day of school for my son and it was very emotional to me. My little boy is growing up so quickly. But then again, kids are finally back at school and there is some sort of routine in this “new normal”. Parenting was/is tough throughout the still ongoing pandemic and maybe you are wondering if you are a good mother or father. Maybe you wonder if you did everything you can do to make it as nice and comfortable as possible for your kid(s)? Maybe Corona messed up everything for you and you are slowly getting back into it all. Things were very different in the last couple of months but I held my marbles together with help from my parents, partner, and friends. I guess we all did what we could to survive this and parent through it somehow. Have you ever questioned if you are a good parent? What does it mean to be a good parent? Here is my list:

You are NOT good at parenting if:

• You never contact your child.
• You never spend time with your kid(s).
• You don’t let them have any chocolate.
• You put too much pressure on the child.
• You don’t pay the child support you are supposed to.
• You never take time to yourself, and you resent the kids for it.
• You never spend quality time with your partner anymore.
• You signed him/her up for too many extracurriculars, forcing them into an after-school-Karate-Course named “Saved-By-the-Clock-9 mm Caliber-Coffee habit -then -wax- on -and -wax- off”.
• You signed them up for all extracurriculars because you want them to get into Harvard at some point.
• You sent pictures of your child to your ex and he/she does not respond.
• You didn’t read enough to your child and as a teenager and they start reading Freud, Heidegger, Kant, and Kierkegaard to you.
• You forced your child to read too much and as a teenager, they rebel by smoking weed behind the library and setting the building on fire with the dying embers of their joint or “eh….the doobie, mom”.
• You receive the dependency allowance from work and keep it even though your ex-partner has sole custody and raises the child(ren) alone.
• You let them watch too much television, knowing full well that too much television causes The Bachelor.
• You are not wearing a mask in front of your child on the subway but tell them to wear one.
• You smoke and drink in front of your child and tell them smoking and drinking is bad.

You ARE a good at parenting if:

• You love them and show them. Unconditionally.
• If you introduce them to Freud, Heidegger, Kant, and Kierkegaard at a teenager level.
• You are always here for them.
• You listen and you talk to them. Always.
• You make an effort.
• You never tell your child that the ex-partner does not love him even though they never get in touch.
• That, after divorce, the child is loved by father and mother and that it is not the child’s fault that the parents don’t get along anymore.
• You gave your kid(s) too much freedom to play alone in the park and now they call the squirrel under the shed “Dad”.
• Your child loves the new partner you chose.
• You went out for a BBQ with your friends, brought your child, didn’t come home until 11 pm, and you get your child ready for bed with a big smile on your face.
• You don’t have newborn photos of your child framed all over the house.
• You don’t have a million pictures of your children on Facebook or Instagram or in your wallet.
• You don’t show a million pictures of your child(ren) to your friends.
• You don’t prepare vegan veggie fat balls every day for lunch for your kid(s).

Stay Happy. Stay Healthy. Stay Sane.