Seeking Beauty

[ORIGINALLY POSTED 10/10/16]

is the day my dad passed away.  Ten. Ten. 

It’s so strange that people automatically gain another birthday when they die - one for entering this adventure, the other for going on to the next.   I’m just thankful my dad’s “birthdays” are several months apart.

He’s been gone 7 years now and on Saturday morning I thought "Oh I have to tell my dad that..."  Seven. Years.  Later.  Jesus.  That afternoon the appliance repair guy informed me that I needed to buy a new dishwasher.  My 19 month old Kenmore that came with this house was more expensive to fix than replace.

My dad would have told me to go get another Kenmore. He loved Sears. Every time he came to LA he would insist on buying something for my house, and it would either come from Sears or his second love, Sam's Club.  Sturdy.  Dependable. Affordable.  Make life better.

I wasn't so keen on acquiring another Kenmore, given this one's early demise.  Hours after receiving this news I went to dinner at a friend's house and was loading her super cool dishwasher and started coveting its beauty and design.  She suggested that since I own my house that I should not scrimp on appliances.  I thought she was right, but my dad was fairly loudly protesting in my other ear: "What's wrong with another Kenmore?" 

The first night I spent in this house I met my new dishwasher that the flipper had installed. Right before I went to bed, I opened it, removed all the manuals still sitting inside, and loaded it up with freshly-freed-from-their-boxes dishes and utensils.  Moments later, Lucy, Tallulah and I could be found collapsed on the bed. 

We felt at home immediately in our new house, and were beyond exhausted from a full day of zipping back and forth between houses, top down, piled high like Beverly Hillbillies.  The movers were so horrid that what should have been a 7 hour job at most, became a two day 14 hour job. If I wanted things with me that first night it was going to be up to me...and the girls, who I didn't feel comfortable leaving either place given the level of chaos in both.  So, they didn't get any of their normal nearly continuous nap time. 

Seconds after passing out we were all startled awake by a loud strange sound. I think we all thought "This must be what an intruder sounds like here!"  The girls started barking ferociously as if a fleet of intruders had come through the front door.  I jumped to my feet, gathering my wits about me as I did.  Then I heard the water flowing and knew immediately it was the new and mighty dishwasher working its magic.  But, damn was it loud!

So noise played into my choice for a new one. I decided on a Bosch, a notoriously quiet brand. My dad would have just replied "Uh-huh" in response to the declaration of my choice, and there would have been the tiniest bit of silence that I would have nervously filled with the list of its many wonderful traits.

My dad had Midwestern common sense, was fiscally conservative, and thought purchases like this were frivolous and sometimes irresponsible.  He wouldn't have cared about the noise, and he definitely didn't give a hoot about the beauty factor. I care pretty deeply about the beauty factor -- yes, even with a dishwasher – and yes, inside and out.  The inside of this dishwasher is beauteous, stainless steel, brilliantly designed racks, more space than the earlier one by far.  It was gorgeous.  And, I watched videos where people equally enamored showed how quiet and clever it was. 

The beauty factor mattered to the YouTube strangers too!

This is where my dad and I parted ways.  I have been seeking beauty since I can remember.  The mud pies I made as a tiny tot were even an opportunity to create beauty. My dad bought houses because they were the right choice, not because they were beautiful.  He bought American cars because they were made in America.  I bought European cars because I found them beautiful and fun to drive.  My dad bought things that worked and were dependable.  I bought things that were sexy and made my heart sing.

I will never forget the  summer I went to Alaska one summer to work for my dad's business.  I had just learned to drive and he gave me the company van to use while I was there for the summer.  A company van?!  The horror! 

My dad helped me start my own small business in the early 90's, an angel store, and when he saw what I created, he lit up.  Shining like a klieg light, fueled by pride but touched by the beauty, he was moved to tears. Had he seen the same beauty - or better -  elsewhere he likely wouldn't have noticed.  He saw my heart in the creation and knew how much it meant to me.  

In contemplating this dishwasher conversation with my dad these last few days I realize it wasn't that he didn't appreciate beauty.  He just sought it in its purest forms.  He moved to Alaska for its beauty.  Most important, though, he sought beauty on a daily basis in people's hearts -- even those for whom it might be more obscured, covered with dust or seemingly absent to the rest of us.  He would light up when people he loved walked into a room.  

My dad was as much a beauty seeker as I was, he just found it in the places that didn't cost time or money.  And he saw it everywhere, in just about everyone he met.

I wish I hadn't been so hard on my dad for not caring about my kind of beauty.  I wish I had acknowledged him more for the beauty he did seek.

We are all seeking beauty in our own special way.  It's all about what makes our heart sing. 

My dad still makes my heart sing.

The Nerve He Touched

It's almost a week since "the grab" Trump video aired.  It's been a rough and tumble one for many women, including me.  I have been the victim of many -- yep, the word many is not hyperbole here -- sexual assaults.  Most of them happened in my 20's and 30's, which also happens to be when I first started working on all the goings on inside my heart and head (therapy, meditation and self-help recipes of the day). So I came out the other side of these events relatively unscathed.  

I also had wonderful male friends around me at every point to remind me that the perpetrators were not the norm, they were an aberration.

It's been a long time, though, since the majority of these things happened. That's why I'm always shocked when the nerve is touched.  When I heard Trump's words I felt like I put my finger in an electric socket.  Every single nerve previously touched by any male trespass buzzed back to life.

I thought I handled that.  

I thought that scab had been long healed. 

Wow, that was so long ago, I had forgotten about it until...

Trump touched that nerve.  He spoke for every man who felt like they had a right to my body.

Several hours before the video aired, I was asked out on a date by a man that I had been introduced to by an old friend's mom.  My friend's mom has always wanted to set me up and she met this man, didn't know a lot about him but thought the was adorable and would be a good match for me.  He had gone to high school with the son of her best friend so he wasn't a complete stranger in her circle.

I had spoken to him on the phone the previous night.  Before we spoke I had assumed it would just be the final "all clear to meet" after a few days of texting (I had a deadline and couldn't talk before that) and that we would likely be sipping wine together the following night.  

It became clear very quickly, thought, that it wasn't a match, that our basic priorities in life were not even similar.  We spoke for over two hours but he learned very little about me.   He had a lot he wanted me to know about him. So when he invited me out I told him it probably was not a great idea, we were likely not a great match.  I suggested he google me and read for about 4 minutes, and that he would very likely agree with me, that I would drive him bat shit crazy.  I also told him I had someone in mind to set him up with possibly, a friend I knew would also find him quite attractive and whose priorities in life were a bit more on par with his.

He was immediately incensed.  How dare I?  I "promised" I would meet him. He shamed me for not giving him a chance, and lashed out further at the idea of setting him up.  A few hours later he butt-dialed me and attacked me for calling him.  

When I saw Trump video soon after this, I was still stinging from his attacks. I realized that I have not only been the victim of many sexual assaults, but I have also been the victim of many domination assaults.  It's not just that my body was theirs if they wished it, it was all of me.

I like you, so I get to meet you.  I don't care what you think.  

I like you, and if you had your head on straight you would like me too. So get it together.

You are mine if I stake my claim on you.  This claim is invisible and in my head but it's as mighty as any pillar of steel or bronze plaque.  I. Own. This. You. That. It.

I started imagining my body with little bronze plaques all over it, imagined the myriad men hammering the plaques onto my body.   Then I imagined letting them all fall and clank to the floor.  That felt good.  

A few days later as more levels of healing took place as a result of that infamous video, I had a bit of a dark night of the soul for a few hours.  I yelled out to the universe that I don't want to draw men like that anymore into my life.  I added that I also don't want the super critical guys I have been attracting, unhappy with everything in their lives, taking responsibility for none of it.

Most important, because i know we draw in what is not healed in our own hearts I yelled that I wanted to stop the self-criticism. I am dealing with being very critical of the extra weight I have on me now, hating myself for it.  At the same time I also bumped up against the realization that all the sexual assaults that have taken place over the course of my life were when I was thin and felt my prettiest.  "It's not safe to be thin," said life.

• 14 or 15 years old -- My dad's best friend in his late 30's, very drunk, drives me home far too fast from a party in his Porsche. I had wanted to stay at the event longer than my dad, and I thought the friend innocently offered a ride. I got out of the car to run inside to safety as while he sped he rarely watched the road as he was busy leering.  He followed me inside, pushed me against the wall and kissed me.  Only his fear of being caught by my dad made him stop.
• 21 years old -- In Paris, a quintessential old Parisian man with requisite wool vest and beret, puts his tongue down my throat.
• 23 years old -- Man comes in my NY window in the dark of night. I talk him out of raping me, but not before he has extensively touched my body with hands and knife.
• 24 years old -- Two different men on two different occasions -- both of whom are now renowned TV and film producers respectively -- trapped me in their apartments, shoving me against a wall and kissing me.  I tried talking to both of them.  In both cases, I thought we were casual friends. We had many mutual friends.  In both cases, these meetings were not dates.  I fought my way out of both.
• 35 years old -- Dear friend's husband grabs me and pushes me against kitchen counter leaning into kiss me and I somehow (he was a big guy) get myself out of his clutches. His wife is in the next room.  I lost that friend when I had to tell her why I was being so distant.

There are many more in between, including many colorful public lewd acts done for my benefit specifically.  Jesus. 

I had to go dark and deep to deal with the parts of me I had assumed were long healed, and come to a place where I could declare I don't want to draw this domination, assault, entitlement into my orbit anymore.  I had to look at where I push it down in myself, how I am that myself.  I worked through a lot of it, but I'm sure more is to come. But now I shout from the rooftops in my mind: You don't own us because you are drawn to us. You don't get to touch or be with us because you want to.  Don't make us encase ourselves in bullet proof glass to protect the treasures we are!   

The good news is that almost every girlfriend I have spoken to this week is coming to another level of healing about her own history of assaults.  As Michelle Obama said today "This is not something that we can ignore." That's the good news. We can't ignore it anymore.  

So for this we can be grateful to the Trump.  The boil is bursting.  Hot goo shooting everywhere, and with it the opportunity for us all to heal on yet another level. We are all waking up a little more every day since the Trump alarm clock started ringing last Friday. The snooze button won't work. It is demanding we wake up and heal.

I am a stand that the healing will lead to all of us -- men and women -- to being our most powerful selves without having to dominate another. The power isn't over there, it's right here.  It's not in the grabbing - of anything or anyone. 

Seeking Beauty

Reposting this on 10/13 because of technical difficulties with formatting on this particular post. Go there for the words that go with this adorable face!