From Wednesday to Friday last week, I was in the not-so-comfortable liminal space of waiting for the results of a breast cancer screening. It wasn’t exactly that my life flashed before my eyes, but I was certainly extremely anxious that I’d get a new diagnosis and that was taking up a lot of room in my brain. So I was definitely thinking about my life, and as I did so, a thought floated up that stopped me short: I am just as hard on myself as I was when I was 30, and almost exactly in the same ways.
I’ll be 61 next month, and it seems like maybe perhaps doncha think I could set down some of those deeply critical ideas and expectations of myself. Also, the floaty thought continued, if I really examine my life, I’ve lived day to day taking existential crisis to be my norm. Sure, there are moments of satisfcation, acceptance, even of dull routine, but mostly, I’m making myself fret by casting about constantly for the meaning of it all.
Huh. What does it mean to live like that? Undue stress. Constant craving (much less sexy as a lifestyle than as a k.d. lang classic). Haven’t I changed at all? Learned anything at all? Of course. Of course I have. But it can be hard to pull out of those old habits, especially when I’m scared.
When I think back on my 30-year old self, with all her aspirations and insecurities and how she was teetering on the verge of finally understanding that she is queer, I wonder. How can I best love her? What can I learn from her? How can I honor her bravery, her snarky sense of humor, her steadfastness and loyalty to her family, friends, ideals, her deepening commitment to social justice? Really, looking back, she was doing just fine. And I’d like to connect to those things, recognize them in my life now, rather than falling into some kind of false negative thinking, spurred by anxiety, that nothing has changed, nothing has been accomplished.
The results came in and I got the all clear. Along with enjoying my relief, I want to keep exploring those floaty existential thoughts that came up in that perhaps-generative liminal space.
Explore with me today: How are you the same? How are you different? Can you double down and focus on wisdom and love gained rather than opportunity lost?
Dollies, daffodils, dahlias, and liquid-eyed does, what fierce golden light still burns in your heart, there since always and forever?
Every Monday, I offer a Meditation for Queer Femmes, in the spirit of my maternal grandmother, Mimi, who was fabulous, and from whom I inherited her Meditations for Women. Would you like to offer up a Meditation of your own? I would love that! Send it along to me at thetotatalfemme@gmail.com.
Since 2016, I here at The Total Femme have done my best to post thrice a week: Meditations for Queer Femmes on Monday, Pingy Dingy on Wednesday, and Femme Friday on you know when. I’m pulling back the reins now, darlings, and going down to once a week, this Meditation. This doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear from you. Send me your poetry, your musings, your art, your wonderful you, and I will love you and hold you and feature you right here. So let me hear from you! thetotalfemme@gmail.com. And stop by on Mondays for a bit of sacred femme space.
The Total Femme 