This post is a continuation of  ”Angel in My Life: Processing“

I am on the phone with my soul mate and best friend of 17 years, Frani, discussing my confusion about Allen. She reminds me that in her 20s, she saw life as a string of adventures. To her regret now, she did not then recognize the importance of engaging in and building relationships, no matter how phenomenal the connection.

I remember that period well — her constant disappearance, her instability, my never-ending frustration, our incessant fights. I stuck it through.  And it was worth it. It was so worth it.

I begin to cry.  It has been a long time since I have engaged that deeply and fought that hard for a relationship.  Even my friendship with Frani has been on cruise mode for years. 

Chronic pain has profoundly affected how I relate to people. For starters, it has left me with a limited energy bank.  I can’t spend it on the ups and downs of personal drama. So I let go of things.  Sidestep things.  Don’t engage as deeply. Cut people out.

In addition, the repeated trauma, pain, and suffering I have endured at the hands of “healthcare” practitioners has led me to the deep practice of acceptance. I used to fight whichever system was pissing me off at any given moment.  And, feisty punk-ass that I was, win.

But fighting the medical system ultimately kept my energies focused on negativity and exacerbated my pain. So I learned to conserve my energy, pick my battles, and dedicate my mind, body, and spirit to that which was positive and healing.

Perhaps related to my experience with pain as well (specifically, the limitations and resulting personality shift I went through), I also came to feel that people are who they are, and we can’t change them. They not only make different choices but also have a set of chemical predispositions and limitations that determine how much they can engage.  In other words, all of those heart-to-hearts may be for naught. 

Over the years, furthermore, I experienced a relationship narrative similar to that of other sassy, powerful, unapologetic, self-actualized, outspoken, wild, outlier type women: Men start off smitten by our juiciness; fully engage mind, body, and soul; then run like hell. What initially excites them ultimately intimidates them. And it is heartbreaking every time.

I don’t have the energy for heartbreak. What’s more, I’ve come to decide ideologically that if a man is worthy of my time and attention, he can work for it. This move has felt like a healthy step: Stop putting myself out there, stop doing the work, stop extending myself, until the man has proven himself.

The problem is, this approach makes me passive. That passivity in turn makes my romantic life incongruent with the rest of my life, which I pursue with zest and steely determination — attitudes that  ultimately provide me with the ammo I need to manifest my dreams.

In addition, what if someone needs to be in relationship, in order to grow in certain ways? What if a person needs an injection of understanding, compassion, time, and patience, in order to blossom into the person s/he is meant to be? If Frani and I had met at a time that I approach relationships as I do now, I would have ditched her immediately.  Both of us would have lost incredible opportunities for growth, healing, and transformation.

And isn’t love uneven, more often than not? Doesn’t it usually work out that one person is more present at the beginning, then the other catches up, and the dance continues?

The problem with this model, of course, is social perception: In my teens and 20s, I was so confident that I didn’t bat an eyelash at seeming rejection. Boys and later men, however, saw my persistence not as a source of strength, but as a source of weakness. They therefore responded with less interest, not more.

To paraphrase Carrie Bradshaw on “Sex and the City,” as she pelts Aidan’s apartment window with pebbles, “When a man goes all out, it’s seen as romantic. When a woman goes all out, it’s seen as desperate.”

Gender roles, emotional pain, limited energy, cynicism…

As I cry on the phone with Frani, I decide that nothing is more important that the heart. My heart, I come to understand, has been frozen, guarded. But something about Allen, our connection, the magical rainy day, and the space I’m at in my life all collude to warm and open my heart again.

Story continues with “Angel in My Life: Grounding.”

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This post is a continuation of  ”Angel in My Life: Texting“

My advisory pool grows as it gets closer to my departure date. I am trying to change my response pattern and behavior — trying to recognize that Allen’s withdrawal is a reflection of something going on with him, not a reflection on me or the authenticity of our connection.

A friend considers Allen’s silence in terms of her own behavior in her 20s, when she disappeared without communicating. “But I don’t think it’s an age issue,” I reply. “I was very engaged and communicative in my 20s.” “Not everyone is you,” she says.”You’re different. You can’t evaluate other people’s behaviors based on what you would do.”

I have no idea what’s going on with Allen, she concludes, so I cannot project meaning onto his behavior. But how do I respond to it?

A woman from a spiritual program I’m in tells me to push Allen out of my mind and go back to where I was before meeting him. “It’s an obsession waiting to happen,” she says. I don’t want to go back to where I was. Doing so feels like voluntarily crawling into a small, dark space.

Another gal from the program — who happens to be in a push-pull relationship with a man 15 years older  – encourages my exploration of new behaviors. “The program is about changing your thinking and way of doing things,” she says. Whatever happens, she suggests, I will learn and grow in new ways. So just be present, in the moment.

But in situations like these, I don’t particularly trust my response in the moment. I have a habit of getting scared and defensive, acting like I don’t care, putting up walls that ultimately don’t serve me.

Story continues with “Angel in My Life: Opening.”

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This post is a continuation of  ”Angel in My Life: Connecting“

Feb 17, 4:42 pm: Good bye beautiful

It’s been just a few minutes since I’ve dropped Allen at his friend’s house. I’m surprised to hear from him so soon. It makes me feel good. I wonder what “good bye” might mean. I don’t feel like texting. I do it anyhow, so that he knows I’m still connected.

Feb 17, 4:43 pm: kiss kiss

Feb 17, 4:44 pm: Kiss kiss u won

I don’t respond right away this time.

I’m shopping for my mom. I’m thinking of him. I’m smiling. I want to text him. I feel vulnerable. Usually I’m busy reassuring others. This time I leave the ball in my court.

I am at the airport, waiting for my flight to be called. I am still smiling. I still want to be the last one to have received a text. I feel scared, vulnerable. He matters.  

He’s been totally present and open. I can be present and open.

 Feb 17, 8:33 pm: thinking of u and it makes me smile

On the plane ride over, I’m figuring out logistics – how to balance my work, finances, caretaking my mother, and flying Allen out to spend a weekend with me.

By midnight, I’m at home, and I still haven’t heard back from him. I feel exposed, foolish, stupid — for caring, trusting, believing. I remember he said he’d been feeling sick. I allow for the possibility he went to sleep early. I go to sleep myself.

Feb 18, 8:47 am: Hi sweetheart sorry i didn’t get your text till this morning i fell asleep early last night! That’s so sweet i smile wen I think of u2! i’ve been smilin’ a lot lately, you no i really enjoyed bein w u. something about u feels so right & i knew i liked u wen i first saw u.

I am happy. He is still there. This is still real.

My mind is focused on work. I need to hit it non-stop for the remainder of the week. I have a major presentation on Sunday. There is no room to fuck it up. I am not in the headspace to text him. I do it anyhow- again, so that he knows I’m still connected.

Feb 18, 10:51 am: ditto babe. Call me at home this eve. [phone #]

I leave my cell phone off. At home, it is for emergencies only. I know the voicemail is full. I do not have the energy or time to erase the messages, which I first want to record.

I lift my head up from work. It has been 13 hours since my text. He has not called me at home. I check my cell phone. No message. I hesitate about sending another text. The “smart” thing would be to wait. Or wait till I can call the next day. 

Feb 19, 1:43 am: hello dear, how was ur day? i just finished work! I hope u got my msg w my home #. luv 2 hear ur voice. nighty night.

Four days go by. Allen’s silence is now the mirror for my insecurities: Everything was a lie/He was playing me/He looked me up on the internet and got intimidated/He doesn’t think I’m pretty/He’s decided it’s crazy to date someone my age/He’s sleeping with someone else.

My friend Melissa becomes my confidante, keeps me in check. I have no idea what’s going on. Give it time. Calm the fuck down. Don’t write one of my emotional letters.

My mother is very sick – vomiting and diarrhea all day long. She has not drunk any water because it makes her throw up. I ask the nursing facility what they are doing to prevent dehydration. They’re trying to make her drink water. I point out she can’t drink it because she is nauseous. I ask the nurse to give her a hydration tablet. She says she will need medical authorization for it. I tell her to get it.

I do not trust them. My mother has just come back from a traumatic few days at the hospital, where she was treated for pneumonia. The pneumonia was the fault of the nursing facility — for refusing to administer a medical exam for two weeks straight, despite my mom’s severe cough.

I overcome my anxieties and call Allen. The nursing facility is near his home but hours away from my friends and my mom’s friends. Allen promised to visit my mom while I was gone. I want him to bring my mom hydration tablets.

He picks up the phone. “Hi it’s Loolwa.” “Who?” Not reassuring. “Loolwa.” “Oh, hi, what’s up.” He is not enthusiastic. My heart is broken. I hold it all inside. This is for my mother.

He sounds asleep. He is. I ask if I should call back. I don’t recognize my voice, and I can’t change it. I border on cold. He says he will call me back in 20 minutes. I don’t believe him. I say OK. “I miss you,” he says intimately. My heart melts. I am still cold. If he misses me, why hasn’t he called. “OK,” I say and hang up the phone.

I am not OK. I have not been sleeping. I have been working non-stop. I have been terribly anxious about my mom’s survival. I have been hurt by Allen’s withdrawal.

The nursing facility calls. We make arrangements for my mom to be put on an IV.

I turn on my cell phone and leave it in a room on the other side of my apartment, to avoid radiation and headaches. It rings an hour later. I do not answer it. I wonder if it is Allen. I know he cannot leave a message. I am a mess from everything I’m dealing with. I do not have the energy to get out of bed.

The call was from Allen. He left a text.

Feb 22, 5:14 pm: Hi Loolwa how hav u ben? Im so sorry i haven’t had my phone 4 a few days. I left it at my bros a few days ago & jus got it back 2 day how is your mama? I haven’t had a chance to c her but 2moro i might. Let me no watsup i miss u

Oh.

I think about calling him that night. I am not in a good space. I decide to wait. Besides, let him wonder whether I’ll call. A little bit of games can be good, my confidante says.

The next evening, I call while driving to my massage appointment. He seems like some random guy, distant. There is no connection. I feel my own tension. He tells me he’s been working 17 hour shifts at the café and restaurant, because everyone has been calling in sick. He apologizes for not having visited my mom yet and asks how she’s doing. His friend’s mother just died, and he feels bad because he hasn’t been able to visit his friend yet. I make sympathetic noises. I cannot hear about someone’s mother dying.

My mother calls. I tell him who it is and ask him to hold on for a minute. “I gotta go,” he says brusquely. I am taken aback. “OK,” I say. We hang up.

I tell my massage therapist about Allen. She loves the story of our connection and reminds me that he’s young and may not have the whole communication thing down yet. I leave feeling very healed and open. I forgive his brusqueness and the conversation’s awkwardness. I want to connect with him, to reach past the awkwardness, to be bold. It is late, and I know he wakes up early.

Feb 23, 10:12 pm: thinking of yr eyes. and yr tongue. Want 2 c u this weeknd.

I obsess all day. I am on the phone with Melissa when I turn on my cell again to check my messages.

Feb 24, 7:43 pm: Aww ur so sweet i jus now read ur tex u sent last night. I let my dad borrow the phone bcuz my stepmom isn’t feeln good and has to hav surgery. How’s [your mom]?

Something has shifted. There is no engaging of my sexual reference or suggestion for the coming wekeend. There is no reassurance of his feelings for me. Maybe I am overreacting. Maybe he is stressed about his stepmom. She had been in a horrible accident some time back, and her leg had been amputated. There must have been complications.

Again it is late.

Feb 24, 11:34 pm: whats yr moms name? i’ll say a prayer. what kind of surgery? stay strong, have faith, and call if u need an ear. xx

Feb 24, 11:37 pm: ps: i leave my cell off most of the time when i’m not traveling. if u want 2 call, best 2 call my home [phone #]

I am unable to fly up north that weekend. I postpone my trip to the following Thursday night. Ten days later, I still have not heard from Allen.

Story continues with “Angel in My Life: Processing.”

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I miss my mom. I miss calling to get her opinion on everything in my life – work, men, exercise, general pontifications. I miss her reminding me of who I am and validating my badass, outlier self.

Before the accident, my mom and I talked every day, often several times. Despite all the head-butting and general insanity in our relationship over the years, I always knew I was not alone in the world – that there was someone to call in the dead of night when I was upset, frightened, or feeling crazy insecure.

I was depressed this morning, for a number of reasons: Family drama and trauma that had resurfaced through dealing with my mom’s accident. Confusion about how a man can express a deep soul connection, then disappear. Loneliness and insufficient social and support network. Frustration about pain issues keeping me from many activities I used to enjoy.

I called my mom, to see if maybe today she was lucid enough to carry on a semi-normal conversation. With no “hello” preamble, she directly launched into a monologue about…

1. details of the items that had magically appeared in the box she was digging through (I’d packed the box, but apparently that information didn’t take away the mystery)
2. the man who was wearing a shirt that looked like one of hers (probably stolen, she said – following which she outlined her plans for a full-scale stealth investigation into his wardrobe)
3. the fellow residents in the hallway who’d obviously congregated near her with the sole purpose of eavesdroping and reporting back to the evil nurses (prompting my mother to drop her voice and assert we could not, under any circumstances, discuss this or that topic)

I felt more depressed after hanging up. For all intents and purposes, at least for now, I’ve lost my best friend.

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I’ve been invited to be part of a health blogging panel, for the upcoming BlogHer conference. The moderator asked each panelist to share some topics we’d like to discuss about health blogging. Here’s what’s on my mind:

1.       Commercial vs. personal:

Blogging can be a way of making money, networking with other bloggers, etc. You can get super promotional. But how might that damper your own expression? In the year I’ve been blogging, I have turned organically in a more personal direction. I like it that way much more.

I think that ultimately I’ll build up a stable base, but for now, I may lose some readers because I’m less about, “Come here and learn how to manage your pain” and more, “This is what I feel like talking about, related to my own damn pain.”

2.       Connection between a particular health issue and general issues of wellness:

I’m also moving more in the direction of talking about seemingly general topics – sexuality, family drama, etc. I find that at the end of the day, they are all inextricably intertwined with my experience of chronic pain and my path of healing from it. The more I’ve self-taught about energy healing, mind-body medicine, and such, the more I’ve realized that there are no separations between any part of my life.

How much that is translatable to the general audience remains to be seen. I have been very hesitant to write about this stuff. I’ve been on this kind of pause button on my site, because I’m trying to gather up the courage to really make this blog mine.

3.       Balance between personal life, professional life, blogging life…

…All of this against the backdrop of the need for consistency in the world of blogging – ie, you don’t blog for a week, you lose people. Issues like do we have the newsletter option? I find newsletter to be a pain in the f***ing ass, so I’ve ditched mine. But I haven’t taken it off my site yet, because I am procrastinating the basic changes, because I’m trying to take care of personal and professional life…which brings us back full-circle to the topic at hand.

4.       Legal issues vs. the power of “outing” medical creeps:

Radical feminist thinking suggests that we name names, as a way of taking shame off us and putting it where it belongs. What’s more, it’s useful to know which medical people to stay away from, and it’s cool and empowering to expose medical negligence. But how does that get into legal issues?

Like we don’t have enough going on, when we have health issues to deal with. A lawsuit on top of it? Yikes! What’s more, is it useful for us to be in combat mode, or does that further exacerbate our condition?

5.       Blogging as a platform for magazine and book writing:

Because I can write unrestricted on my blog, I’m able to get out ideas in a comprehensive way. Magazines that like tidy narratives can see where I’m going and take pieces that work for them. They might not “get it” if they didn’t see the whole enchilada — which they wouldn’t, if I were just writing a pitch. The blog is how I got assigned a cover story on chronic pain, for example, for AARP magazine.

6.       Blogging as a platform for connecting with leading “experts” on the cutting edge of medicine:

Blogging is also how I have connected to leading complementary and alternative medicine (CAM) experts – people who don’t do any one-on-one sessions or speak individually with “the masses.” I’ve been able to talk with them for hours at a shot, because they’ve been interested in my work, and because I have given them a platform for theirs.

I’ve gotten to ask whatever questions I wanted about natural pain relief. It was like having a free f***ing session with them – yeah! Very cool, helped me in my healing path, also made for excellent blogging and article material. That involvement of medical experts on my blog in turn amps up the visibility and appeal of my blog, which in turn amps up magazine interest, which in turn amps up medical expert interest…a very lovely cycle.

7.       Comments — in general and from weird and annoying people:

What do we take to heart? Where do we say, “Yeah, I’m generating real and important discussion and helping people,” and where do we take it all with a big fat grain of salt, because who the hell are these invisible people anyhow? Could be anyone saying anything.

I’m considering taking the “comments” option off my site. I don’t want to deal with snarky, rude, random people, even though it’s only occasionally that I hear from them.

8.       Disability issues:

B logging with limited mobility and pain. Voice activated software dilemmas. What happens when the software sucks, and you end up getting laryngitis from so much talking? Then you have no hands or voice to use. I have struggled with this one!

9.       Tech Issues:

How much do we bother working the whole Search Engine Optimization method? In what ways is it useful for our site (through attracting readers, building up the profile, and therefore being more of a magnet for medical experts and periodicals), and where does that focus take us away from a more personal and/or authentic vibe?

10.   Distinguishing self-expression and evaluating gender roles:

What’s the line between critiquing and complaining? Between storytelling and wallowing in self-pity? What is useful and what is counter-productive – to us, to our readers? How much do we care about how useful our writing is to others? (Gets back to #1 – commercial vs. personal.) Do we stay away from expressing anger etc because we’re afraid of being labeled bitchy or losing readers? How does this relate to gender training and expectations?

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