“They” say — yes, the supposedly ever-wise “they” – that “I am” are two of the most powerful words you can put out to the Universe. Because what comes after them forms your reality.
Well, I am… a fraud.
<cough, hack, choke>
Yeah, doesn’t that statement just want to catch in the ol’ throat chakra.
But it’s how I feel.
Sure, “I feel like a fraud” takes a little bit of the sting out. Who can argue our language isn’t important?
But, of course, it’s the “fraud” part I have the most problem with. And assume you would, too.
And it’s why… well, one of the reasons why I hadn’t written a blog post for a very, very long time.
I have been wanting to build my own business forever. Well, ever since I was taking a weekend goal-setting course and was pondering one of the standard questions asked in those type of events:
What would you do if you knew you could not fail?
I was still dealing with the fallout of my latest breakup and holding on to a huge mad-on for my lying, asshole, narcissistic, sociopathic, son of a….
And because don’t so many of us do our best thinking in the shower? It hit me over the head the last morning while I shampooed my hair. Incorporating other important life lessons learned from a string of previous trainwrecks, I would write a — yes, best-selling, thank you very much — book about that relationship in particular, because you just can’t make that kind of shit up. I would not change names, places or certain details in any effort to protect the shameful. Including me. And, catastrophize much…??? But if I opened myself up to a lawsuit from him for partial proceeds, because it would just be totally typical of him… well, then wouldn’t he have to come forward and admit who he truly was and what he had really done?
And I would finally have my closure. My vindication. My satisfaction.
I figured by coming clean and admitting my mistakes and how and where I was accountable for the shitload of it, I would finally fix myself. And become loveable and memorable and capable of relationship in the process.
And, BONUS: release myself from both the metaphorical AND physical weight of the resulting raging hate-on I had for myself, for allowing it all to happen in the first place.
And hopefully help other recovering drama queen codependants with low self-esteem and shaky confidence to realize their own worth and their potential. Ideally, save them some hassle and heartache of learning it themselves the hard way.
The closest I have come to drilling it all down to the so-called elevator speech is this:
I support women who think they
make crappy decisions when it comes to men
and supremely suck at relationships in general,
to like themselves a little more every day
while they create their own happily-ever-after.
– Patricia, be THAT woman
Essentially, to learn and embrace that you don’t need a man to complete you or make you happy.
I’m super curios. Those of you getting to know me through Facebook at this point and those who’ve not seen me in a very long time… What’s my relationship status? Do you think that I am in a happy, healthy, functional – or even otherwise – romantic relationship at this point in time?
I sense that a few of you might be surprised to learn that I actually am.
Well, not particularly romantic. No over-the-top fairy tale stuff going on. At all.
Oh, except he cleans. And occasionally irons for me, too. And under his care, my car is impeccable.
(Are you jealous yet?)
I usually joke it’s the most committed I’ve ever been. We shacked up together, he put me on his benefits, and we got a puppy. <love>
Quite the trifecta for a never-married, 40-something, if you ask me.
Except that then life happened. Mainly to him. By extension, for me.
So, it’s not exactly that my relationship status is “complicated” now. We are together, but not together. He is working across the country for now. We seem to have more questions than we have answers.
My learnings over the last decade make me want to believe that, if I have faith and surrender it all, things will unfold exactly as they are meant to, in my best interests, and that the best thing I can do in the meantime is to live in the moment.
That’s the thinking on a good day, at least.
But that old, all-too-familiar breakup thinking kicked into high gear.
So I totally turtled.
And that inner bitch of mine decided to get loud. She got really, really fucking loud.
Here we go again. Why can’t you get this right? Nobody wants you. Nobody loves you. You should be more this and more that. You are not marriage material. You are the Crazy, Old, Old Maid Auntie. Except whatever happened to the crazy? At least that part was fun. it is just quite possibly your fate and your destiny to always be alone.
One of the highlights and proudest moments for me in starting to create be THAT woman in the year before this all happened was when an article I wrote was picked up by Simply Woman online magazine. (You can read it here)
I don’t remember even what finally motivated me to go re-read it, but it made my stomach do a total flip. When I realized that, here I want to be preaching all this strong, independent, empowered happy woman talk…
And I was really sitting on the couch, wallowing in a prolonged peanut butter and vodka-fuelled pity party…
…waiting for a man.
My name is Patty, and I am a total fucking fraud.
After much time and so much dwelling and over-thinking, I finally went into my tool box.
Yes, as a strong, independent woman, I actually do own a tool belt and a cordless drill. But I mean the other one. The I’ve been through a fair load of crap and this is what I have learned from that and come out the other side toolbox.
I had a good talk with him. I told him I love him and I’ll do what I can to make this work long-distance, since it’s the path we have both chosen. I will do my best to support him and hear his struggles.
But I cannot take them on as my own. Especially when I felt I was barely keeping my own head above water acclimating to the new day-to-day myself.
I realized he had never asked me to in any sort of words or even expected it of me. I had taken it entirely upon myself.
I had to give myself permission to live my life in the meantime and come what may.
And remind myself that, when some days are tougher than others and it doesn’t necessarily feel like it in the moment, that I will ultimately be okay.
Like my own coach encouraged me… to see this for the opportunity that it really is.
I have this incredible gift of time for myself. Time to shed some layers and figure out who I really am and what feeds my soul. Time for some ridiculously radical self-care.
So I booked and went on a couple trips with the other women in my life. I don’t spend so much time in the kitchen anymore. It’s a start.
I even learned to start his lawn mower. Oh, the poor man… the look on his face that he had no choice but to allow that to happen. Priceless.
SHITE!!! Be right back.
…except that I’m writing this sitting on the front step, while Bugatti plays in the yard. She just harvested herself a big ol’ juicy worm out of my somewhat crudely-manicured lawn and is feasting on it. Ugh…
Note to self: NO puppy kisses for a good long while.
Some of this shit, you simply cannot make up. And this… I don’t want to deal with.
I NEED A MAN!
If you’re looking for a community of women who want to be strong and independent, and can also be vulnerable enough to admit when they need help and support, join us over at the be THAT woman community on Facebook. It’s a safe space to be real and be yourself.