Happy Girl

I haven't been writing much lately. Mostly because I'm busy. And happy. I tend to write when I'm angsty so when I fail to put words on paper it is generally because I am enjoying myself. But then I get mad at myself for not writing and that prompts dissatisfaction and a little grumpiness and so on and so on blah blah. What a dumb cycle.

The busy-ness is from all kinds of things. Good things. I've agreed to get involved with an organization called Safe4athletes; their mission is to protect young athletes from abusive, bullying coaches. It was started by an Olympic swimmer who suffered abuse at the hands of a coach, understands the long term affects and the pervasiveness of this behavior and is now committed to being the advocate that the athlete doesn't seem to have in her parents or her sport's governing body. At least not in any sort of systematic way. I'm not sure what this will entail for me but I'm eager to formalize what I've  informally been a part of for the last few years since becoming an accidental advocate through Chalked Up.

I've also been approached about writing a series of young adult books focused on the dark side of gymnastics.  I'm mulling that one over. I want to do it. I'm scared to do it (dramatic structure is not really my thing). Which means I should do it. Things that scare me are the things that have ultimately made me most proud of myself in the end. So I'm trying to make sense of the jumbled mess of untethered, unconnected ideas floating and sometimes racing and often colliding in my head. And hoping I don't embarrass myself by writing a piece of total drivel. We shall see.

And there's the boy. Or man, I should say - if you're in your 40s you definitely deserve the "man" moniker. I have been debating whether or not I should write about him. Not because I don't want to reveal anything too personal to the four people that read this thing. I'm an over-sharer by nature. All four of you are welcome to read about my romantic exploits!

More so because he reads it. (Which makes me happy by the way.) And he's probably reading it right now and writing about him when I know he will read it and trying to be honest prompts that age old question regarding documentary films... is the filmmaker really capturing authentic behaviors, recording reality? Doesn't the behavior of the subjects change simply by virtue of the fact that they are being filmed? Won't what I write change simply because I know he will read it? The answer is most definitely yes, because if this were my journal I wouldn't have started with this preamble. I would have simply written this:

I met someone I really like. The whole thing is unexpected and charming and lovely. I had no hard fast rules going in other than "not an idiot". Preferably has been in a serious relationship - ideally involving marriage (so he understands what that commitment is and what it feels like to have it not work). Preferably has kids - so he gets the whole parenting thing. But I was even loose on these other than the "not an idiot".

What's unexpected about this? I'd kind of given up. Not in a bad depressing way. Just in a "I need a break from this dating thing because these guys are lame and I'd really rather spend a night with my friends or with my kids than going on yet another bad date." Like that. But then I had a good date. A lunch date, in fact. He was easy to talk to. Funny. Smart. All those cliche things that seem like normal things to want but are oh so hard to find. Beyond that... he listens. He makes me feel seen in a way I'm pretty sure I maybe never have.

The other unexpected part is that he is fairly religious. A conservative Jew. I am Jewish, it's true. But utterly un-religious. He's not at all pious, completely un-judgmental and seemingly it is his Judaism that grounds him in this life and keeps him present and grateful rather than something he uses to feel superior to others while pining for the after-life. I'll admit, I would not be comfortable with someone as religious that was a Christian. I'm a Jew by birth and culture, after all. And while I never thought I'd find myself with someone that was religious, his approach to his is one of the things that draws me to him.

What else? He's considerate. He brings flowers. He has strong hands and a big smile and brown eyes. He can fix things and likes to. He laughs at Louie CK even (especially?) the most offensive bits. He has three kids whom I have met and they are all clever and charming and lovely as well. (I'm not always a kid fan... but these were good ones. Really.) He calls, he texts, he communicates in all manner and modes. He can make fun of himself. He realizes when and how he has done wrong in his life (note to the daters out there... if the guy you're dating says the divorce was "all her fault"... run. He's not done the work yet). And he is striving to be a better human.

He is open and honest and I really have never experienced anything like it. So much so that the "L" word floats somewhat uncomfortably through my head from time to time. I say "uncomfortably" only because it is new and lacks the weight of familiarity and knowing and how on earth can I be having these thoughts already?

Oh yeah... and the fooling around is pretty darned great too. There you have it. I'm in deep like. I am hopeful and happy and looking forward not skittishly sideways or regretfully backwards. Just forward. Eyes on the road. But not too far ahead.

It's my clear eyes, full heart moment. And clear eyes, full hearts can't lose, as we all know.