Today Is Step One…In Stilettos
This is my first post in quite a while. My writing muscles are a bit stiff, if not downright atrophied, so please bear with me while I get my relationship with writing and my relationships with all of you back on track.
Life Is A Rollercoaster
The last eight years of my life have been a rollercoaster of stops and starts - both personally and professionally - with all the stomach drops and queasiness that come with the loop-de-loops. Yeah, I said loop-de-loops. WTF are they supposed to be called?
When A Marriage Hits The Skids
In 2017, my then fourteen-year marriage hit the skids HARD and gave me a wicked case of whiplash. It felt like I had been shoved through a pane of glass twenty stories high and face-planted into the shards scattered on the pavement. It sucked chicken balls. But I’m good in a crisis, so I went straight into “save the marriage/save the family” mode. Fortunately, I already had a great therapist. She didn’t let me get too far down that road before reminding me that it takes two to tango and that I needed to look inward as well.
Reflections In A Mirror; Images I Did Not Want To See
With her gentle prodding, I picked up a mirror to take a good, hard look at myself. I didn’t love what I saw reflected back at me. So, two crises - the marriage and me.
I read all the books, talked through the therapy, meditated on meditating, prayed every prayer, flipped every tarot card…and dabbled in a bit of everything in between.
The Slump Begins
Because of these efforts, and to be fair, my then-husband’s efforts as well (who we will call John), the marriage managed to limp along for another five years. But it was held together with dental floss and scotch tape. We’ll call that the “Slump.” (Hey, it’s better than “shit show,” which is what it actually was.)
Somewhere in the middle of the Slump, I became so inundated and overwhelmed by all the self-reflection and marriage rescue endeavors that I started to shut down completely.
Fighting to Stay Afloat
My soul and my psyche and my self-esteem were so deflated that the life raft I had climbed my inner self onto was barely able to stay afloat. I was beginning to drown. I tried everything I could think of to get through it – laughing, crying, talking, singing, praying - and not just a little begging, pleading, and even groveling (with God, with myself, and with John, even though in retrospect much of the latter wasn’t warranted). Whether or not I actually was, I felt completely alone in those endeavors. What I felt John conveyed to me was that all of my efforts were singularly purposed – focused solely on my own benefit and not on what I was actually doing, which was to better myself for the betterment of all four of us.
I was in so much pain and so exhausted, emotionally and physically, that I almost lost myself entirely. Almost. There was just enough air left in the raft that I was able to keep my head above water. And I was just strong enough pick up a pen.
Finding My Way Back Through Writing - The Journey Restarts
What I discovered was this:
● When I write, I allow myself access to my emotions.
● When I write, I allow others access to my emotions.
● When I write, I allow others to access their own emotions. (At least I hope so.)
It was in these truths where I found my power and my purpose.
Writing for the mackfiles and my work-in-progress book worked, for a while, and I received so much love and support from friends and family and the online writing community.
Losing Myself (And My Power Pen) Again
Unfortunately, I did not feel that same support in my writing endeavors from John. In fact what I felt was derision and disgust for what I was doing. As the marriage continued to crumble, so did I. He seemed to be singularly focused on his purpose – which was a righteous one indeed, but I felt like an afterthought. And I felt my own purpose dissipating.
I was so demoralized by watching my marriage and my family fall apart that I stopped writing for almost two years. When I picked up the pen again, nothing was suitable for public consumption. As his business and his dreams began to flourish and grow, with as much support and love as I could possibly give him, mine wilted.
There were more than a few “fuck you” letters written. And burned. To some extent, those helped, especially the ones I wrote to and about myself. It was a cathartic undertaking at its core.
A Gentle Reminder To Be Kind To Our Inner Selves
Self-reflection sometimes feels incredibly hard, but it is necessary. And it doesn’t have to be unkind. A long, hard look in the mirror is one thing. Self-flagellation is another. I don’t recommend the latter, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t do it then and don’t still do it from time to time. As I continue to keep it real, ya’ll.
I have to remind myself to be gentle with ME, otherwise, it defeats the purpose of self-reflection, and I’m reminding you to do the same.
Detours Along The Journey
Sometimes in life you take a detour in the right direction. I did that a few times, and I felt encouraged.
Somewhere in the Slump, I took a detour in the wrong direction and stalled out in a big way. Like getting splattered while standing behind spinning tires stuck in a massive mud puddle stalled out. It only got worse after the separation in 2022.
I had no idea how to get back to myself, much less writing. Since then, it’s been a bumpy, messy, gritty road. Hell, some days it was all I could do just to shower to rid myself of the mud.
Getting Back on the Trail – Lessons From Shonda Rhimes
Today is a new day, this too shall pass, and I am leaning in - this time I know exactly where to start (ahem, restart) my journey.
Shonda Rhimes, in Year of Yes, writes:
My online network tells me to power pose like Wonder Woman and reminds me of the actual studies that say that power posing like Wonder Woman for five minutes not only improves self-esteem but even hours later improves how others perceive you […] Standing around like Wonder Woman in the morning can make people think you are more amazing at lunchtime.
As a general rule these days, I am a sweatpant-wearing, slipper-sporting, slightly dirty hair up in a messy bun kinda girl. PJs from Target are my jam.
But back in the day, when I was a girl-on-the-rise-pound-the-pavement New York City livin’ career hungry bitch, I was a boss babe. At least I think I was. I was booted and suited and ready to take over the world – and back then we still wore pantyhose so wrestling those suckers on every day felt like a mission completed in and of itself.
Then, like many of us, life happened – marriage, kids, suburbia, BMW turned seven-seater SUV… The fire and drive and determination and GRIT waxed, waned and morphed. I have lain awake many a night wondering where all that piss-n-vinegar went.
The Power Of A Shoe (It’s A Metaphor – Mostly)
Toward the end of the Slump (and before the complete implosion), John took us on an amazing Hawaiian vacation.
My son, who was fifteen at the time, and I were walking down Kalakaua Avenue in Honolulu (the 5th Avenue of Hawaii? – I dunno; I wear fake Uggs) when I spotted the most incredible pair of shoes I have ever seen in my life.
In the window of the Valentino boutique, I spotted these Rock Stud stilettos and stopped in my tracks. (In case you’re not already familiar with my writing, I also love a good pun.)
My son, who has never known me in those bright New York City lights and saw me almost broken and most certainly bruised during the Slump (and who has also never walked the mean streets of New York City in stilettos and has no idea of the blood, blisters and tears they bring) said, “Mom, you have to try those on. They’re so YOU.”
The fact that he recognized that tough-as-nails side of me, despite having never known me in that way as far as I could tell, brought me to my knees. Almost literally. Those little leather studded beauties reminded me of, well, me.
I get it. It’s just a pair of shoes. But these shoes are my Shonda Rhimes pose-in-the-mirror shoes. I put them on my little bear claws for feet, and they are my Wonder Woman shoes.
They are just the spark of inspiration I need in the morning. No, not because they are Valentino – they could be from Walmart for all I care, but because they look and feel just like the ME I used to know – tough, sassy and fierce. I am still all of those things, but today I know a softness, a gentleness and a tenderness, which are all part of my superpowers. I have the Slump to thank for that, and I am grateful.
Taking That First Step
Today, I am remembering that the boss babe I used to be, and let’s be real – sometimes boss babe bitch - is not only her, but she is also still me.
So I am getting back on the trail. I’m going to check out of this mental fleabag of a motel that I’ve been sleeping in for the last couple of years and jump back in with both feet. I am strapping on those Valentinos (that I have never actually worn), and I am taking that first step.
What’s Your First Step?
Thank you for the love and support you show me that keeps me going for this community of works in progress. And thank you for holding my hand because, without a doubt, I am going to trip in these 4-inch fuckers.
Love and light,
mack
“The first step is the hardest in every journey of dreams. There is nothing else to fear unto whosoever has shown the tenacity to begin; because, once having started, the hardest part of the mission is the one lying behind.”
Moffat Machingura
Sound off in the comments below if you are starting (or restarting) your own journey or have your own version of the Wonder Woman pose…or anything else you’d like to share!