The things we don't talk about

As women we don't talk about a lot of things in our life. We dig deep, declare our broad shoulders, and cover up the things that we don't want the world to see. We discuss things that are only considered civilized, appropriate and polite, and this is our downfall.

I grew up in a family where there were things you just didn't discuss, such as money, religion and politics, but also a lot of things that maybe we should have talked about. I sometimes wonder if I would be a different person if we had talked about sex, about sexuality, about relationships with men, with food and body image. The amount of conscious effort that it takes for me to not focus solely on these things in day to day life is absolutely exhausting.

Please don't get me wrong. This isn't a pity party for myself, but for a society of women who hold it together despite the internal monologue that must be going through their heads. It can't be just me.

I know that some of us were raised with great body images, a healthy relationship with food, an understanding of relationships and sex and all of that, but I would be willing to place money on the fact that those are few and far between. I would bet that the greater majority of us appear to be solid as a rock, but that underneath all of that is a little girl, cowering in the corner and wondering what will become of us.

Behind all the professionalism that everyone sees, there is a girl who worries every day about ever calorie of food that crosses her lips to the point that in her twenties she develops a severe eating disorder, with no regard for the fact that the typical eating disorder appears in the teen years, because she feels so out of control. She feels like a failure every day that the scale climbs, or stays the same. She measures her worth by the size of her jeans.

Behind the soccer mom who is taking amazing care of her children, and holding the family together is a woman who is scared every day that she won't be able to satisfy her husband, and so she goes way beyond her comfort in bed with him, just to keep him from going somewhere else. She doesn't know that she has the right to say no when something makes her uncomfortable. She pretends that she loves it, just because she loves him, and when he goes to sleep, she has a shower to wash the dirty feeling off her.

Behind the lawyer in her power suit who takes command of the room as she enters is a woman who is showing a little cleavage to "keep the old boys in line" because no one ever told her that she doesn't have to use her body to get attention, and that attention doesn't equate to respect. She laughs and flirts and seems to love her job, but she goes home every night and works out for 3 hours because she is terrified that if she loses her looks, she's lost in this job and that she'll never move forward.

Now, I'm the first to admit that we can only blame how we were raised for our problems until a certain age. At some point, we become accountable as adults for our actions, however we, as women, do ourselves a great disservice by burying these issues. We don't talk about them with our best girlfriends, our mothers, or our daughters. We take a deep breath, put on a big smile, and take on the world with our best face forward.

I'm of the belief that if we talked about these things, if we knew we were all facing them, it would help us all to find greater peace. Maybe we wouldn't make the same mistakes the next time around. Perhaps we could help each other to be stronger, more confident, to know our limits and to feel better about ourselves in general. Maybe by knowing on a personal level that our sisters, mothers, daughters and friends face the same thing it would help us to all feel a little better and stop hurting ourselves, and subjecting ourselves to unnecessary hurt because we think that we're alone.

On Mistakes, Regret and Making Amends

We all make mistakes, true story. A few months ago, I made a really big one.

I have a close friend who I was involved with many, many moons ago. We've now known each other for about 10 years, and we are very close. We talk to each other most days, and make a point of doing so. We talk about everything and we're both exceptionally sexual people, and very open minded. There isn't much in this world we haven't discussed as a possibility and when either of us is considering something new, we bounce it off the other before heading off into the wilderness with our respective partners.

He came home from school in the spring, we hung out. We talked about his girlfriend who he was breaking up with, life, him moving home this summer, and everything that we've missed in each other's lives since we've not seen each other. We had a few drinks, cooked some ribs, had a few more drinks, a girlfriend of mine showed up, we had some more drinks.

<<>>

The three of us found ourselves in bed. This wasn't anyone's first rodeo in threesome arena, so no issues that way. We had a good time.

Suddenly, a moment of clarity. He misses her. He calls her. She loses her head. It all goes downhill from there. He spends the next hour fighting and making up with her while pacing around the yard and talking on his cell phone. I am violently ill from the vat of wine that I've consumed. The second girl was laying in bed whining about me not coming to cuddle with her (not my scene.)

He sleeps in the spare room. I sleep in my room. She goes home.

The next day, I get up, he wakes up and we have a very brief conversation about the events of the previous night, none of which are very clear to any of us, and then he high tails it home. We're all feeling a little sheepish about the night's events and about things getting out of hand. I decide to give it some time.

A few days later, I see him pop online for about 10 seconds before he disappears. Strange, but I don't think much of it. Then I go to his facebook page, but we're not linked on there anymore. It dawns on me. I've been cut, and it hurts.

We don't talk for a few months, but it has been weighing on my mind. I feel like shit because things got out of hand, and now I've lost someone who was such a huge part of my life.

I am really mad at myself, I resent him for how he handled it and I feel betrayed because I thought that we had more than one mistake.

Today, I had a really shitty day, one of those days when you need the people you lean on, and who lean on you around.

So I gave in. I reached out. I sent him a text. I called him out on how he handled it, made my apologies and identified that I didn't even know if he had moved home and changed his number and I might be too late.

I sent: I doubt that this is your number anymore, but if it is, I want you to know that the whole thing was stupid and that I didn't intend for that to happen. We're all equally responsible, but I'm sorry just the same. On the other hand, disappearing like you did solves nothing. I hope the rest of your semester went well.

I didn't hear anything for a couple of hours, and I was devastated. I thought that he might still be mad, or that I really had waited too long.

My phone chirps: I handled it badly, it was a huge dick move. She lost her mind and made me erase every trace of you. I'm moving home next week, and I'd like to work it out. I would hate to lose you. She's not worth it if it costs me our relationship, but I didn't know how to reach out. I'm glad you did. I'm sorry.

On a really hard day, I stood in a park and smiled.

Moral of the story: No mistake is too big, if you're willing to take a chance, reach out, and make amends.