Thoughts On Being A Woman
March 10, 2008 | In Mindset |
God, women get the short end of the stick. We have to deal with all these emotions that overwhelm us. We can cry at the drop of a hat and better yet, it’s actually expected.
Yuck! Not that crying is a bad thing, mind you. It’s just not something manly to do. Therefore, if you do cry, it’s girly. Like girls or women or gals, whatever you want to call us (unless it’s chick and you are a man), are awful creatures that have no spine. Bollox I say to that!
Photo by Perfecto Insecto
I like being a woman. I can’t think of a time when I ever seriously considered that I wouldn’t want to be one. Sure, I’ve had the fantasy of being a man for a day, just to see what it was like. But, then again, I don’t think I would like all that manly crap.
People Pleasing
My biggest downfall as person is that I am a big people pleaser. Now, if I was a man, this would be enough of an explanation. However, since I am a woman, this looks like mothering instinct, overly emotional, or my favorite clingy. ARGH!
Yes, it’s true. I am guilty of looking to others for my validation. This isn’t because I’m a woman; however, it’s because of my experiences as a child. And what one thing did I look for validation of the most? That I am attractive, date-able, and desirable.
In the United States (I can’t speak for other countries because, unfortunately, I haven’t been to any others), sex sells. But we don’t talk about it. Politicians talk about banning all sex education in schools except abstinence, outlawing abortion, and for all I know, removing anatomy books for the shelves. They would probably outlaw menstrual products if they could get away with it. Sex to them is shut away in a box and not discussed in any kind of healthy way.
On the other side, you have the advertisers showing more skin that you thought was legal, beautiful bodies lounging in water, or covered in droplets (men and women here folks!), and beauty talk everywhere. Come to think of it, this isn’t a healthy discussion either. Americans have a dysfunctional relationship with sex for sure.
Sexuality
Well, here’s a stinking news flash - sex feels good! Which is probably why it sells, definitely why politicians don’t want to talk about, and what messes with the mind of every teenager.
I was one of those teenagers. I progressed, as I grew up, from “sex is yucky”, to “I won’t have sex till I get married,” to “I won’t have sex until I’m engaged,” to “I won’t have sex until I’m in love.” OK, so the progression stopped there for me. But, this post isn’t about my sex life. Rather, it’s about the screwed up mentality in this country (and probably other industrial nations as well) that make women feel shameful for enjoying something our bodies are made to enjoy!
I reached adulthood after a long childhood and teenagehood of teasing and nastiness from my “peers.” Not only was I convinced there was something wrong with me because I didn’t have a lot of friends, but I was convinced that men would never find me attractive either. Forget any ideas about when I would have sex, I figured it was an academic question because men would never find me attractive. Amend that - men might want me because they are desperate - but that was more because they at least recognized I was female, not because they cared one whit about me personally. Exhibit A: A guy I’d met 3 days before graduation, who 2 days before graduation called me and mentioned in the conversation that “when we get married”. Um, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize I needed to run - far, fast, and now!
So, here I was thinking awfully low of myself and sure that no one would like me. As it turns out I was wrong. I met Ritchie, who was awesome because he scoffed at the idea no one would date me. He was truly perplexed by my ideas that it would never happen. Then there was the guy I talked about before who cared about me. I realized this to a certain extent at the time, and that helped. Then there was my first boyfriend.
After I broke up with him, I had a flirting/not dating/but wanting to thing going with a friend of mine (that would never of worked, that goodness it never went beyond flirting!) and then I started dating the man who became my husband. Now, I’m 31, but I still have that little voice that questions my desirability. What’s up with that?
The Two Mes
There are two mes, like a good girl/bad girl. The thing is, the good girl isn’t really good, and the bad girl isn’t really bad. The good girl side of me (let’s call her Jennifer) hurts because she’ll never be good enough. She’ll always mess up. Well, duh! I’m human, I can’t be perfect all the time. The bad girl side of me (let’s call her Sarina) is balanced, proud, strong, outspoken, and sexy. Not in-your-face back off and leave me alone, but confident, secure, and, well, womanly powerful.
The problem? Sarina is hidden behind a wall of shame with a very small door that Jennifer doesn’t open very often. Don’t get me wrong, Sarina kicks at the door (she throws her knives at it sometimes too!), but Jennifer has had lots of practice at leaning against it to keep it shut.
You know why Jennifer opens the door sometimes? Because Sarina keeps our dreams in her room with her. The wishes to play pool, poker, and even learn to throw knives in real life, or at least darts. These along with wanting to learn the tango, wear strappy heels, and slinky dresses. Well, those are pure Sarina dreams, but Jennifer dreams are there too. Jennifer dreams of being a teacher, of helping the world. Jennifer wants to dance too, but she would rather learn the waltz. Jennifer wants to get back into roller skating, while Sarina wants to couples skate. Jennifer wants to sail, to swim with dolphins, and practice biology.
Both of them want to be happy.
Here’s the thing. As you can tell, Sarina is into the sensual, physical side of life - the part that women aren’t supposed to enjoy. It’s manly to stick up for yourself, to believe in your capabilities, to enjoy doing physical things from sports to sex. Jennifer is the helping, motherly side of me. She is shy and people pleasing. She doesn’t let thoughts of sex get any farther than the door against which she leans. Jennifer doesn’t like herself in the mirror; Sarina stands tall in front of my husband.
True self love is also called integration. Not feeling this split within yourself. That means that Jennifer and Sarina have to become the same person. (Does that mean Jennifer gets the heels, or that Sarina gets a SCUBA tank?) I’m no longer either of them, I’m me, Cathy. All of the qualities, well, almost all, are part of me. The confidence and security will of course outweigh the fear of messing up. I’ll learn to dance, to shoot pool, to play poker, and shoot darts. I’ll also teach, swim with dolphins sometimes, and help the planet. I’ll get more tattoos, and buy green cleaning products. I’ll be wonderfully quirky and totally me.
And woe to any man that thinks this isn’t a good idea.
Bust Photo by Jacob Garcia; Confused Baby Photo by jopotts; Tango Legs Photo by dark_mephi
Want to make sure you don't miss future posts? Subscribe via RSS  Subscribe via e-mail |
Print This Post
Links to related topics: Mindset, Personal Power, Presenting Ourselves, Self Definition, Self Expression, Understanding Ourselves
Or go directly to a related post:
Comments (RSS) | Trackback URL | Comments Policy
Thanks Cathy,
As you say it is all about integration and being the one you. (Your sexiness comes through in this post by the way).
Being of the male persuasion there is a complementary story for us. But that’s too long for a comment.
Thank you for your comment about my sexiness. I guess Sarina was writing that post.
The feeling of integration I have at times is so fleeting. I’m working on making those times last longer, but it is still a struggle. Not as much as a struggle as 18 months ago, but a struggle none the less.