No One Has Anything on You.

Today is my birthday.  I'm 32 years old.

It doesn't change because you're a grown up.  (Photo: ViNull/Flickr)

It occurs to me that somewhere along my teen years I made the arbitrary decision that when I turned thirty-two I would be officially "old".  I keep thinking as I approach thirty-three that this was the year in which Jesus died on the cross, and he was God, so you must be good and ready for some big stuff in your early thirties.

It's funny.

I always thought that when I "became an adult" I would suddenly change.

Forget the boys I liked in high school and not have any desire to have a birthday party or go to a sleepover or win at tag or receive an invitation or enjoy Oreo cookies.  That somehow I would start liking lots of jewelry and applying make-up and wearing pantyhose on a daily basis.  That talking on the phone would become effortless.  That I would receive some widsom about spreading jelly on toast and opening jars and knowing how to manage my finances and regularly and effortlessly spend my time investing in the stock market.

And yet... here I am...  good and old, according to my teenaged self... and still... well... me.

I still like Oreos even though I know they are bad for me.  I still hate pantyhose and think they are unnecessarily air-tight and easily torn.  I still remember my ex-boyfriends and even think fondly of them at times.  And...  spreading jelly is sort of a mystery, though I've become pretty adept at opening jars.

I still have a lot of the same questions I had as a kid.  I still remember well what it was like to live inside my younger mind.  I still know that teenaged girl.  I know her well.  I can still call up her old feelings and thoughts.  I still enjoy the things she liked.  I love swimming and dancing and lime snowcones and playing cards.

And knowing these things about me, and my mind, and how I am still that girl, only in an older body with more book knowledge has made me think a lot about how I look at other people.

The person who is writing a book on parenting is my age, or maybe only a few years older than me.  And wow, she only has one child and I have two.  And she's selling this book about parenting.

And there are people out there making inventions and developing apps and appearing on television as newscasters and actors and comedians who went to school with me.  People I graduated high school with are jet setting to Japan for Fortune 500 companies.

And that means something.

It means that all people are just. people.

There is no magic formula to make one person more successful or bigger or greater or more famous or wiser.  There is no class you take when you "turn into an adult" that explains how to actually start your own business or gain power and knowledge.  We are all a product of our choices.  Of the people we chose to know.  The things we chose to study, the books we choose to read, the way we network or put ourselves out there...  but we are all still just kids who like ice cream and sparklers and comfortable hoodies inside.  We all still have fears of failure and loss and darkness and yes...even the boogieman in the closet.

There is no switch that makes us morph into adulthood and lose the self we once were.

There are people who hide it better - they put on adult clothing and they shop at adult stores and they use adult jargon, but the fact is, we are all still just. people.  Babies, children, tweens, teens, adults...  all. just. people.  All with potential to be or not to be infinite things.  To learn whatever it is that we need to do whatever it is we'd like to do.

And the best part?  It doesn't change just because you're a grown-up.

The thing about going to college and then having this career that you keep forever and then your mind shuts down and you have no actual feelings or preferences and you live to rule over your children?  That a degree will suddenly change you into what you thought that person looked like or accomplished?  These are lies that some people buy - and the secret to living the fullest of lives - is to choose not to believe them. No one has anything on you.  There is no secret.  There is only the wide world of knowledge and potential and connection and work.  And the path you choose to take with it.

...so why DON'T I?

I just finished reading this article in Whole Living Magazine about the Tao.

(cue freak-out from my religious friends who think I'll be a pagan/Buddhist/atheist/Jew at any moment...)

It's been awhile since I've read anything about the Tao. 

Last time, I was in college.

I was dating this guy who was supremely down-to-earth.  Not a boring down-to-earth, but a rich, soulful, grounded down-to-earth.

The kind of guy who sits up in his boxers playing jazz saxophone until three in the morning and tops it off with a joint, fine wine, and reading Anne Rice. 

He had the most interesting books, music, and philosophy piled in his cave-like basement bedroom, and introduced me to the wonders of Blues Traveler, Charlie Parker, Dead Poets Society, and The Tao of Pooh (did I mention the guy had an affinity for A. A. Milne?).

I read these books and listened to this music ravenously, and not just because I was trying to impress the guy, but also because I was genuinely interested.

And so...  long story not that much shorter, when I came across this article regarding the Tao in the magazine this evening, I was not wholly unfamiliar with the idea.

Of course, this time, I was approaching it as a married (NOT to this guy) mom of two who has her very own interests, a small-time career in the art world, and a shaved head.  Basically, I'm a far-cry from my nineteen-year-old self.

The first time I read, I took in the ideas, but this time, I nodded knowingly.  I embraced more fully.  I grasped more intentionally.  That fully developed frontal lobe has its benefits.

As I was reading I remembered how much the tao had to say about "going with the flow" and "trusting your instincts".  Those two things are catch phrases for nothing.  We really should much of the time.

It's funny.

There are so many times in my life where I look at something, or think of something, and think - I'd really like to do that right about now... but I don't.

I wrote these "mom goals" for myself a few years ago (I don't recommend this) and every once in awhile I visit them.  Mostly, they just serve for making me feel like a huge failure because the fact is, I really just don't do the things I set out to do there on that paper.  But... I want to.

One of those things is swimming every morning.

I can only imagine how much more amazing my life would be if I actually got off my butt and went to the pool every single day and started everything off with just a half hour of water awesomeness.  I love swimming more than just about anything.  I enjoy it more than running, hiking, walking, boxing, yoga - all that crap.  There's nothing that can compare to the water.

So why don't. I. do it?

Laziness?

I think about going to the water.  The thought thrills me.

And then something inside my body rebels.  It says "don't do it!  You'll get cold!  You'll have to shower after!  You'll be taking time away from your family!"  And those three things are enough to keep me home.

That...and the insane amount of busy-ness I've let accumulate in my life.

I haven't made any resolutions for this New Year.  And here I am writing something in January that you won't get to read until June... but I want to make this one promise to myself...  that I'll quit the busy-ness crap.  Seriously.  It's getting to me.

Most of you know I'm a theatre person.  I like that part of my identity.  It makes me special and different and associates me with a set of talented, intelligent, and creative people who are generally accepting, supportive, and fun.  The problem with being a theatre-person is that it is all-consuming.  During the rehearsal process and shows theatre trumps literally everything.  The longer I'm a mom and wife the more that bothers me.

Right now, I'm directing Brecht's Caucasian Chalk Circle.  I'm excited about the process and what will certainly be an exceptional product.  But when I looked at the schedule I'd made I realized that show week we trumped my daughter's dance class.  We knocked out my son's cub scout meeting.  We ditched swim team several times to make room for rehearsals.  And that's... well that's just wrong.  Selfish.  And wrong.

I have been so used to making theatre the Most Important Thing that I neglected to think about the ACTUAL Most Important Thing: the people I love.

Some show shouldn't matter to me more than spending time with my kids.  Than taking my kids to their chosen activities.

And this isn't me saying that parents shouldn't have their own interests, because trust me, it's a vital necessity, but it is me saying that for ME...theatre is probably going to have to go - at least until my kids are older - until I can approach it more on my own terms...until I can get to a place (if that place exists) where the craft doesn't own me...I own the craft.

And thus and so for the rest of my life.

Why should everything around me have so much power over me?

I get up in the morning and I WANT to eat an apple, but I eat potato chips because I feel a craving and I cave to it because it feels good for that moment even though I knew it wasn't what my body wanted or needed in that moment.

I don't go swimming because I've decided and programmed my brain to tell me every time I think on it that it's going to be more trouble than it's worth - forgetting the amazing pay-off for the follow-through.

Right now I'm in the throws of ...Chalk Circle and planning this bus trip with the fam. and trying to get out from under our house and taxi-ing our children hither and yon...  And it feels like this is not really the time to get out there and do the things I want to do...but if not now, when?

Now...  how to fit this into my already intensive schedule...  and which pool to try first.

What aren't you doing right now that you WANT to be doing?  What's holding you back?

Crazy Journey.

This morning I attended and MC'd the my Studio Acting class's final performance.  I've been coaching and teaching them for the past thirteen weeks, and final performances are always worth it - regardless of the heartache beforehand - it's worth it to see something you've had a hand in producing going up before an audience.

When I got home from the performance this morning, I found a comment on my coaching page on facebook from my high school theatre director, saying that he was proud of my accomplishments.

This one comment meant more to me than a comment from anyone else could have possibly meant, when it comes to acting, directing, or anything to do with theatre.  He is the person who taught me what it means to be a part of a quality performance.  He is the reason I understand what it means to be a good director.  He is the reason I continued with the theatrical arts past my teen years.

The whole thing got me thinking about how strange life can be...  and how quickly time can pass.

Fifteen years ago was my first high school theatre production.  Fifteen years ago.  At that time I was, perhaps, the most clueless person on the stage.  I had no idea what was expected of me, no idea what I was doing, no idea what it meant to be serious about a role or production.  By the end of high school I was determined to become a teacher and my ultimate goal was to direct a high school musical.

I thought I might teach theatre someday.  Might get to direct something at the high school level sometime in my forties or fifties.  And now my first directing gig at the high school level seems long ago and far away.  I started directing in college - groups of my peers, high school students, adults - I had a professor who took me under her wing and turned the wheel of my life's vehicle from acting toward directing - where this beautiful field opened up to me...  I still never dreamed I would teach theatre to others, let alone coach actors independently.

I honestly never thought I would get a leading role in a production.  It all seemed very remote...  all the pictures from that period in my life are so vivid in my mind - it's as though I can reach out and tough the people and the things and I have come so far it seems like a dream...  An evanescent vision that will float away if I blink...

I no longer teach in the school system.  I quit a few years ago to stay home with my kids.  We're an unschooling family and life is good.  But...so strange.  The places you think you'll end up in life as not the places you ultimately go - often they end up even better.

There are things you think will never happen in life.

I never thought I was direct a high school musical.

I never thought I would have a production I directed with teenagers called "on par with professional" by people who know the difference.  I never thought I would perform at the State One Act Festival or play the lead in Proof or coach other actors or sing in the band at church or have children at a younger age than planned or live in Maryland or dream of setting off with my family for a year on the road in an RV.  Those things were smokey... remote...  and yet....here I am.

I think back to that first high school production.  I can smell the smells, see the people, feel the lights warm on my skin.  The memories are as tangible as the keyboard on which I now type.  I look back at that girl - with bangs and long hair and so many insecurities and I look at me and I wonder how it all came to be.  How I could travel so far in what feels like such a brief period.

Fifteen years.

Is it really so long?

The older I get, the shorter time seems.  My memories of ages past seem as yesterday.

This has been one crazy journey.

I know we can't know when we'll die.  It could be tomorrow, even today, even sometime before I finish this post.  We are but dust.  But I think about the life I've led so far and I can't even begin to imagine the possibilities that lie ahead.  Things I think are impossible today could be tomorrow's every day reality.

It makes me feel very small, and very safe, and reminds me of the need to be very brave.

Strange combinations of feelings.  A strange brew for an outlook on life.

I never would have believe myself if I would have gone back in time to tell the younger me what the point of it all was.  How it would all flesh out as time went on.  I look forward with anticipation.  With trepidation.  With awe at what futures can bring.

Speaking of facing things head on...

God has been talking to me lately.

It's been loud.  It's been clear.  There have been MESSAGES.

I have been encountering lessons left and right.

All of them are about conflict.  All of them are about honesty.

These are things with which I have always struggled.

I spoke in my previous blog about conflict.

The honesty thing is a defense mechanism that I developed who knows how long ago.

If I'm afraid that someone might be angry with me, I make something up to assuage the perceived possibility of anger.

I don't think about it.  I don't plan it (most of the time).  The lies just come out.

This was happening so frequently a few years ago that I decided I needed to fix it somehow.

It was out of control.  I wasn't deciding when lies were "appropriate" anymore.  I was just telling them.  To people who loved me unconditionally.  To friends.  To family.  Just everyone.

I decided that I would change my habit.

Now, as often as I am aware of telling a lie or half-truth, I force myself to tell the person that I lied to them.  I write them an email, I call them, I speak to them in person - whatever.  Even if it's small.  Big lies.  Small lies.  Everything.  I fess up.

It's HARD.

And you know what else?

While it is lessening my lying, it hasn't STOPPED the lies.

It is taking all of these lessons that God keeps handing me to truly make me understand what running away or making up a story does to the people around me.  The people I care about so much more than my self.

This blog was especially poignant today, considering.  Just one more message from The Almighty.  Just one more hand-hold as I climb out of this hold I've dug for myself over the years. 

The truth WILL set you free.

Conflict.

I hate conflict.

I avoid it at all costs.

I don't like it when people are angry with me.  I am afraid to make anyone angry so I'd rather just hide in my house and never come out.

I always thought that this would lead to more peace in my life.  To less conflict and less anger and less frustration.

I have been learning in the past month or so that I have been mistaken.

This has been a hard lesson.  I have been confronted with it over and over with people from all sorts of different places in my life.  I am learning that conflict is sometimes best confronted head on.  This is scary for me, but I think a really necessary lesson.

People have been hurt by my avoiding them and I have been hurt by letting things fester.  I think I'm keeping the peace, but I'm really just making things worse by not speaking up, not saying it out loud, harboring hurt feelings and letting things build.

I'm certain that the avoidance thing comes from my horrible temper.  I have one, though most people haven't ever seen it.  I work hard to keep it under control.

In high school it was a huge weakness.  I threw chairs, I hit people, I screamed.  In college I cursed someone out in the cafeteria and slammed my tray on the table - this was a friend!  I've had boys sobbing on my living room floor curled up in the fetal position.

All these things were hurtful and wrong.  I was out of control and I needed to reign in my emotions.

I think that perhaps I reigned things in too far.

The other extreme can be just as hurtful as the chair throwing.

So it's something I'm working on: that balance.

How to deal with conflict in LOVE.  How to be angry AND understanding.  How to LISTEN.

I am learning to choose my words more carefully, and still be frank with people.

Right now it seems like such a precarious place - a difficult balance.

I know that God is teaching me this lesson in wisdom and patience and love in relationships.  He is holding my hand through learning to build better friendships and deeper bonds with the people around me.  I'm hoping that soon this lesson will be learned fully.  That this valuable skill will become instinctive.  That I will grow through this hurdle.  I would appreciate your prayers.

Thanks for reading.