The Sun Rose Today

It's 4:23am. I can't sleep. I lay in bed for a while hoping sleep will come over me. A dream will coax me back into slumber. He sleeps soundly next to me. My love. My soul. It's a big and long day for him today. He has a fever. 

I quietly leave the warmth of the sheets and place my bare feet on the floor. Cool. Hard. I grab my smokes, my lighter. My phone. 

I go outside and sit on the balcony. The world is silent. Nothing but the hum of air conditioners floating in the breeze. 

 I snap a picture of the lights twinkling in the darkness. It was dark when we arrived yesterday. Almost changed rooms. This view appears to be nothing more than of a small channel waterway and a concrete parking lot. We had hoped for a view of the ocean. I wonder to what view the sun will give way. In just a few hours. 

Will I still be awake. 

I open my phone and scroll through FaceBook. Not much new since yesterday when we boarded our flight. Sweden memes. Dogs smiling for the camera. Quotes about the wonders of coffee and friendship and kittens and love. 

As I scroll through and read and smoke and think, the hours fly. Sleep hasn't found me yet. I start playing solitaire on my phone. My thoughts wander into a deluge of work, the past, the future. What will I do with my day today? One day here. Somewhere new. I hope my daughter is sleeping soundly through her cold. I hope his fever breaks soon. 

I quickly catch a glimpse from beyond my phone. The sun begins to rise. The city begins to move. It's as if the sun shyly asks permission to release her splendor. Colors begin to emerge from the darkness.  I snap a quick pic. Maybe I'll post it on Instagram. 

I bury my eyes back into my phone. 

And then it happens. For the next ten minutes I am taken back. The sun is here. Hues of red and pink and blue. The colors change every second. I am a child eagerly peering through a kaleidoscope in wonder. I don't want to miss it. I snap several pictures. 

Each one more beautiful than the one before. 

Then I stop. 

I sit back and watch. I take it all in. I am in the moment. Here. Now. I'm moved. 

I am enveloped in a warm soft blanket of love. Joy. Gratitude. I can't help but cry. 

I wonder if anyone else is watching this glory. Smoking their cigarette. Their bare feet on the cold tile floor. I wonder if the people driving on the bridge towards the sun are as amazed as I. 

I am still overcome. 

I think about how fortunate I am to be here. To be a witness to something so beautiful in a place far from home. I feel immense gratitude that life has brought me to this very moment. 

I reminisce. My journey to Now was not always easy. (who's ever is?) But my path has always been lined with love. The love from my daughter, my brother, my dearest friends whom I miss so much...they were the beautiful flowers along the roadside. Giving me hope and courage to keep going. 

My path continues. And the sun just reassured me that every little thing is gonna be alright. 

His alarm is about to ring. 

I think I'll make him some coffee. 

Dare to Be Uniquely YOU!

I think it was when I hit the 'old' age of 40 that I finally realized something pretty significant. Something pretty great. Something that I wish I had only known at a younger age…

Dare to be uniquely YOU!

Of course, that sounds cliché. I can even see the inspirational graphic that would go wonderfully with that line. Maybe a rainbow and a unicorn…or a cat making a silly face. Something cliché.

But it's so true.

When I was in elementary school I felt like I had to measure up to someone else. Whether it was measuring up to the smart girls in the class. Or the girls with the purple Jordache backpacks. Or the kids who wore the 'Roos' …

When I was in high school I still felt like I had to measure up. Whether it was ensuring I graduated with honors. Or I carried an acid washed backpack. Or was skinny enough at my then 98 lbs. Or picking the 'right' college.

Or or or

Though there was something inside me that knew I needed to be uniquely me. It's why I didn't wear big 80's hair or why I openly listened to Rush and Metallica (despite the fact my mother dressed me in a constant array of pink until I was 18).

Once I got into college I learned more about my own likes, dislikes, and did not pay a whole lot of mind to the fashion trends or what other girls were wearing or doing. I stopped trying to measure myself against others.

And it was liberating.

So in the 90s I wore faded flannel shirts from the thrift store (cuz they were affordable and comfy). I cut my hair in a short pixie (cuz it made me feel feminine and strong). I wasn't trying to stay skinny just because my friends were. And I wasn't out to get my 'Mrs.' as others girls in school (yes…a girl once told me flat out she was in college to get her 'Mrs.' which after a long conversation I found out that meant she was in college to find a husband). I ditched my pharmacy path and studied music - because it was something I loved despite the fact that it was viewed by many as a 'path to nowhere.'

Later once I became a mother a new flood of comparisons rose… Other mothers were asking me if my daughter did this or that. Was I going to stop working. Was I going to take up knitting. Was I going to wear mom jeans like the other moms I knew.

Then as a professional I was hit with another deluge of the need to measure up. Were my clothes professional enough. Should I carry a Coach bag like the other women (oh I have an entire post about the 'Coach' myth and why I don't subscribe to 'affordable luxury' - more on that later).

I remember looking at fashion magazines coveting the looks of the models. I watched TV shows where I felt "Oh, maybe I should wear this or look like that as a female professional."

Then I was blessed with reaching the zen of 40.

And actually, I think my blessing came sooner than my age… I dated someone who REALLY REALLY cared about what others thought of him. He cared about trends. In his 50's he shopped the Gap and Volcom. He told me flat out he wanted to look like a 'hipster.' Then one day, after he admonished me for something I was wearing - he asked me "Why don't you just try to fit in!?"

I looked at him, and said…"Why would I want to simply fit in.? Why would I want to be like anyone else? I am me and that's all I need to be."

I then told him what a beautiful freedom it was not to give a fuck about what others thought of me or how they saw me.

A beautiful freedom.

You've seen that internet quote, right? The one that says,

"A wise woman once said, "Fuck this shit" and she lived happily ever after."

Yep. That quote thingy is spot on.

Let me elaborate on that quote, though… that wise woman? You know what shit she's talking about? That pile which says that we as women need to measure up to each other. Or compete with one another. And you know why the wise woman lived happily ever after? Yep. She stopped worrying about that shit.

That wise woman stopped caring about what others thought of her, how they perceived her, and focused on what she wanted for herself. That wise woman did things that made herself happy. She put out beauty in the world through her actions, her words, her compassion, her unique light that made her stand out from the ordinary.

And if there's anything I'd go back in time and tell my younger self…it would be to be like that wise woman. I'd tell my younger self to let go of the standards that I held so strongly for myself - and the ones that society told me I should care about.

I'd tell my younger self to focus on all of the good stuff out there in the world and in others, rather than competing.

And I tell all women the same.

By allowing yourself the freedom to be YOU…unabashedly, unapologetically, bold, brave, daring, uniquely YOU… you give yourself the freedom to care about the important things in life (the REALLY important ones) You give yourself the gift of letting the world experience you in true form - special and beautiful and rare. And the world deserves your shine. 

There's only one you. 

Love yourself, measure yourself to no one, and leave your special mark in this world.

And you'll live happily ever after. 

Life is Precious - Love First

It was a typical morning. Get up. Shower. Get dressed. Take the dog out. Tiptoe through the house quietly while the family sleeps. Commute. Listen to the radio. Make shopping lists in my head. Plan for the weekend. Check off the Christmas list. Remind myself to make this phone call and that one later today. Obsess over stupid shit that in the end doesn't really matter.

You know. The typical morning before work on a typical day.

And then it was the typical morning at the office. I sat in my little empty cubicle in a large and mostly empty office space of grey cubicle walls, fluorescent lights, and the sound of keyboards tapping.

As I, myself, was tapping away at my keyboard, I was lost in my work and in my thoughts from earlier.

Get this done. Get that done. I should do this. I should do that. Did this get fixed? Did that? Oh, and I need to work on this and I need to work on that. Did my family get this thing they needed done? Did they get that done? Did I remember to help them get this or that done?

And on and on.

As I'm working and thinking away, I hear a woman in the cubicle opposite to mine take a call. We share a cubicle wall, but until this morning when she answered the phone, I didn't even know there were desks on the other side of me, much less people. I'm new in this office and I have yet to make introductions…and I'm also likely leaving this office soon, so I feel…why bother.

But it bothered me today.

No.
NO!
NONONONONO!
NOOOOOO!!

That's what I heard on the other side of the cubicle wall.

At first I thought, darn. She lost the work she'd been doing all morning.

But then I quickly realized, that it was much much more serious.

Little did she know when she answered her desk phone it would be a call like this. A call that no one would want to receive. A call that changed her life forever.

She was told her son was killed.

I never in my life have heard the voice of a mother, in the very moment, when she learns she lost her child. It was devastating. It was beyond heartbreaking. I can't even find the words that can aptly describe the pain I heard over the cubicle wall. The tragedy.

All I could do was sit at my desk, frozen. Hoping to hear her say her son is ok, or just a little hurt, but please please please don't let her son be dead.

I couldn't move.

I thought at one point that I should walk around the cubicle and check on her. But I heard another woman, her friend, come and talk to her. Soothe her. I imagine her friend was holding her, stroking her hair, rocking her in comfort as she stayed on the phone for more information about her son.

And I really was torn - I felt like I should go to her and offer help.

But I didn't.

And thankfully her friend was there. And her friend ran out of the office with her. And her friend drove her where she needed to go.

When the crying stopped, I stepped around the corner. They were long gone. 

Why do I not know the human being sitting on the other side of the cubicle wall? Why are we strangers when we share such a close space for 8 hours a day? 

I felt so horrible for not approaching her. But then I realized, that by not approaching her maybe I did the right thing. I felt terrible, yes. And even awkward. But this situation was certainly not about me. It was about a mother receiving the most tragic news of her life. And how would she have felt if a complete stranger had gone up to her, and invaded a very very personal moment. It was a social situation, that, I think in my head I should have reached out to her, but because some social situations are better left alone, I'm glad I didn't. I think it was best for her that I not intrude. That I not force myself into her private world, her pain…all so that I feel better and not uncomfortable with the tragedy I was hearing over the grey cubicle wall. In my desire to help her, I realized that maybe I was by not magnifying her pain with my presence. The presence of a stranger.

And more…

I know it sounds so damn cliché, like those damn inspirational quotes that float around on social media, but...

It made me think about how fragile life is. How delicate. That at a given moment, your entire world can be turned upside down.

I went into the hall and made a couple phone calls. I told them I loved them and can't wait to hug them. I know they were not expecting me to call this morning - because I never call in the middle of a work day. But today, I simply had to.

I left the house today without telling them I loved them. A kiss on a sleeping forehead was what I left them before the mundane routine of everyday life took the reins.

But today, and everyday, I want my loved ones to know how very much they are loved…how very much I love them. And I hope they know that every single day.

Because I never know when my life may be turned upside down like that. And all that really matters is how much love you put out there for others to know. To feel. To sleep soundly to at night. To wrap themselves up with when the storms blow in. Nothing else really matters. Really. The mundane routine. The lists and chores and errands and jobs and appointments and plans. The shit we obsess over. None of it comes close to being more important than being present in love. Being present with the ones you love.

And making sure that everyday love comes first.

So I am sending my love to those I love. My family, my friends. I want you to know how much I love you.

And to the woman on the other side of the cube...all of my love to you. May the love of your family and friends give you the strength you'll need to weather this tragic storm. And may the sun rise again for you, and you feel the rays of love and hope warm your shoulders, your entire body as you raise your face to the sky. Eyes closed. Hands and heart open. Surrounded by peace. Cloaked in love.

All of my love to you all.

A Look Back on This Tough Gig Called Parenting

So I was recently with a couple other single moms enjoying the evening with some much needed vino. The one woman said to me, "Oh. You only had ONE child…Not to minimize, but…"

And then I quickly and willingly minimized my situation of raising one child alone for the sake of politeness.

"Yep! I had it easy!"

But I didn't.

And it got me thinking…

None of us raising children, whether one or more…whether we are co-parenting after a divorce or a death…even when we are raising children with partners - It is never easy.

I do that a lot to myself. Especially lately. Now that my daughter has left the nest, I find myself minimizing my own efforts as a parent when around other parents who still have children at home. Yes. I raised one child. Yes, she was a good kid. And, yes, she is a sophomore in college and doing well. Yes. I kept her fed and clothed and a roof over her head and LOVED.

And I did it alone.

That's another thing that happens to me. People often ask me where my daughter's father is. I usually cringe when this question comes up…but then I plainly just tell them: I don’t really know.

And that's ok.

But more often than not I get these looks of feels like judgement and horror. Like it's my fault. Or how could I possibly allow my daughter to grow up without her father. Or worse…looks of 'you poor wretched thing.'

I feel as though they think it was my fault he is not in the picture.

It wasn't though.

And I think that both my daughter and I are stronger together today for having gone through our journey on our own.

So when I'm asked that dreaded question, I often apologize for it…"Well, you see, there were special circumstances. And, uhm…It was for the best."

That is the truth.

But here's what I don't say:

It was fucking hard raising one child by myself.

Now I won't get into the comparisons of whether it's easier or harder to raise one vs two or more…Because it's ALL hard. Every situation is unique and just because there's ONE child does not mean that having more means the problems are merely multiplied - they are complicated in ways that parents with more than one child wouldn't know and vice versa. And it's the comparisons we make with one another that keep us from appreciating each other's efforts and therefore allowing us to support each other.

So, I'll tell you from my vantage point: It was hard raising one. It was hard raising her without the support of her other parent. It was hard not having someone to bounce ideas off of when shit got hard. It was hard maintaining my calm in the middle of a tantrum. It was hard coming up with my own parenting goals. It was hard playing both good cop and bad cop. It was hard being in control of the words I said to her knowing that those words could impact her self worth. It was hard following through especially when I felt I had no energy left to hold my head up much less to hold my ground as a parent. It was hard knowing that I, alone, was responsible for whether or not I'd screw her up for life.

And more…

It was hard not receiving financial help in the way of child support. It was hard leaving my abusive husband when my daughter was 2 because I felt like, maybe I could support him though his addiction and mental illness, even if it meant absorbing the abuse. It was hard going through a divorce with restraining orders, ongoing court dates, fearing for my life on multiple occasions, working an almost minimum wage job which did not allow for sick time so I couldn't risk taking time off to cope or heal or mend or heaven forbid - get sick…

…and all the while ensuring my daughter felt happy and safe and secure.

It was hard building a career from the ground up, choosing not to finish college so I could be present for my daughter - making her my priority every day. There were countless nights I'd go to sleep worrying if I'd have enough money to feed her the next day. It was long days of cleaning houses in addition to my hotel job, while researching how and eventually working daily at getting a better job…a life of financial stability for my little family of two.

It was tears and heartache and fear…(of which I did not show her)

and it was very lonely.

But, we survived. Shit, we THRIVED. I was making six figures by the time she was in the 7th grade. So all of that hard work and bloodshed and nights of going to bed not knowing about tomorrow did pay off. I no longer had the financial worries of maybe not eating tomorrow. And that gave me more room emotionally to parent her through the rest.

As she got older I rarely had only one child in the house…She was always surrounded by her friends. We'd all go on vacations together or camping or I'd have a hoard of teenagers at my house on the weekends. Or sometimes we'd have an extra person living with us…we shared our home of love and security with others.


Now, as I am writing this I can see how it may look like I'm trying to gain a huge, "Congrats! You rock!"

I'm not.

This is what I DO WANT. My point to all of this rambling: 

DO NOT minimize the efforts of others.

Because it may seem like someone has/had it easy raising kids on the outside…they appear to be in one solid piece. But you'll never know all of the mending they had to do of thousands of shattered pieces of the past to make the whole you see today. You'll never know about all of the pride they swallowed in order to make ends meet.

Here's a side story example: I wear a beautiful diamond ring. I wear it ALL of the time. I never take it off. And people often compliment me on how pretty it is (cuz it IS). Recently I was out for a girl's night with my BFF when we got to talking with a gentleman there…he pointed to my ring and said, "Wow. You must be rich."

I get that comment a lot.

But I don't wear the ring for the attention. Or for a claim of status. Or for any other bullshit reason like that.

So let me tell you the story about my diamond ring… It was my grandmother's. It was the diamond from her wedding set. When my grandfather suddenly passed away quite young, she had the diamond removed from her wedding ring and custom designed a new setting. She wore it all of the time.

It is beautiful.

She gave me this ring when I was in college. I tried not to wear it out of fear of losing it. So I put it into a safe deposit box. When I married my ex husband - I knew the ring would not be safe from him selling it had he known about it. So I never told him I had it. I never told him about my safe deposit box. When I left him, I couldn't afford to pay for the box any longer and took the ring home.

Then I started wearing it.

It felt good to wear it. It made me think of my grandparents and about how much they loved each other. It made me think of my grandmother and how brave she was as a young widow.

Then one day my daughter had strep throat. I needed to buy her some antibiotics. I needed $35 which I did not have nor did I know where to get it from that night…

So I took my ring to the pawn shop and traded it in for a $35 loan. She got her medicine and recovered.

And when I paid the pawn dealers what I owed them, I put my ring back on and vowed never to take it off again.

When I look at my ring now, I remember the hard times. But I also remember that those times are in the past and my daughter and I kicked ass everyday to get through it. I think it's a good reminder of where we've been so it keeps my ass grounded and grateful for all I have in my life.

Here's what I am getting at:

Reserve judgement of others - especially of yourself.

Just because someone is wearing a big diamond ring doesn't mean they've had it easy. Shit. I've yet to meet anyone who's life is a perfect cakewalk. You never know what hardships lurk in people's lives behind closed doors. You never know what burdens people are carrying. You never know that their hearts might be breaking the minute the lights turn off at night when they lay their head down- despite their daily smile, or that shiny diamond ring.

Support each other.

I give kudos to my boyfriend's ex-wife. She is raising two wonderful boys, and she accepted me not only as the new girlfriend…but as her friend. A genuine friend. Not many ex's do that, but she does. And it makes me so happy that I can pop over to her house when my boyfriend/her ex is out of town, have dinner with her and their children, and laugh & talk with a bottle of wine late into the evening.

And what she may not know is this - she is giving me the beautiful opportunity of sharing in the lives of their children. I couldn't ask for a better gift. And I couldn't be more grateful.

That’s what supporting each other as women looks like.

That's what having each other's backs as parents looks like.

That's what genuine love and compassion looks like.

And it feels fucking great.

And when we have each other's backs…when we have compassion and empathy for others…when we kick judgements to the curb…

When we LOVE…

Our children feel that love, too.

And knowing that our children feel loved is the best gift in the world.

So here's a shout out to all of you parents rocking this child rearing thing! And! (While I'm at it..) Here's a shout out to all of our friends who didn't have children but who support and love us, too. (Cuz you have your share of judgments from others as well.)

Shit WILL work out.

No matter how bleak, how frightening, or how hard your days are right now… you will survive. You will thrive. Your children are going to be great - as long as you love FIRST.

And I am here to say, we never did go hungry. Not once.

There's no greater way of getting through the hard times than focusing on the good and all of the love you have.

And while, yes, it was hard raising my daughter alone…I wouldn't change the past for anything in the world. We had our share of hardships, but when I think back most of what I remember is all of the good. Even when things were really hard when I was first single, we still had so much fun. Like the times when we'd take walks around the block of our little apartment with my toddler riding her tricycle. Or our times at the library. Or when we'd take a day hike in the mountains. Or when we'd feed the ducks. Or when we'd play at the park. Or when we'd go camping. Or when we'd read together before bed. There were many many fond memories of the love we had even when I felt like I couldn't hold it all together - she kept me going.

I thank my friends for their support and encouragement. My brother (you were there for us when we needed you the most). The Smiths. My daughter and I would not be where we are today if not for your love. I'm grateful you had my back when I needed it the most.

I thank those who have come into my life after my daughter left for college. The mom to my boyfriend's children. To my BFF Mary who supported me through my empty nest transition. To Jim who shows me unconditional love every single day.

And, of course…thanks to my daughter. You were patient and understanding as a child even though you did not realize the scope of what we were dealing with. You were brave and sweet. And now, you are kicking ass at life. You are loving and compassionate.

I couldn't be more proud.

Finally…mothers, fathers, anyone out there breathing in daily…

DO NOT minimize your OWN efforts.

I will no longer minimize mine for the mere sake of politeness. And you hope you don't either. It's a tough job, this thing called life. And if you can get through it with your smile still in tact, then KUDOS! You should be proud! It's OK to step back from the chaos, take a look at the good work you are doing, and pat yourself on the back. It's not arrogant or selfish or egregious to give yourself some credit now and again.

So here's a shout out to my little family of two. I won't minimize what we accomplished anymore. We did it, baby girl!

Much love to you and to all who loved us through it all…to all who love us now…and to all who may not know us but are kicking ass at life every day. 

Realizing My Empty Nest is Not Empty At All

 
So, it’s been just over a year since my nest emptied. And yet I find myself still struggling with the notion that I’m not ‘Mom’ everyday.

I miss the little things.

                - I miss getting up in the morning to make her breakfast and lunch for school.
      - I miss planning our family fun activity for the weekend.
      - I miss tucking her in at night – just knowing she’s in the next room sleeping soundly.
      - I miss thinking about the next life lesson I should share with her.
      - I miss decorating the house with the next holiday garb.
      - I miss making her favorite dinner – or surprising her with a new dish.
      - I miss taking walks in our neighborhood.
      - I miss the structure – so that life didn’t get so hectic that we couldn’t enjoy it.
      - I miss her hugs.

Though, today I think I’ve come to figure out how not to struggle.

And the answer is being mindful...in the present.

As of today, I have everything I’ve been wanting in my life – and more.

                   - I have the most wonderful and loving man.

                   - I have the love of extended family.
         - I have great friends – old and new.
         - I have a good job.
         - I have my Buddy dog.
         - I live in the most beautiful surroundings.
         - I travel.
         - I laugh.
         - I love.

And more...I have all I want and need. Food on the table, a home, my health...and so does she.

I’ve had so many incredible experiences this year…all while my nest was empty. So I need to continue living for those experiences. New ones. And also exploring my new relationship with my daughter.

And the only way to do that is to not live in the past. Mourn it. Yearn for it. Be sad over this change in my life.

Besides, my girl lives just a couple hours away from home. And she’s been coming home more often. And when she does, I get to hug her.

So, I will live in the now. This beautiful, wonderful, exciting, full of love NOW. And I will be ever grateful for it. The life I have now is everything I had hoped, and yearned, and prayed for…my dream came true right before my very eyes.

I will wake up each morning, with gratitude and joy for all I have – right now. Laying right beside me.

And know that she’ll be home to visit soon…And I’ll get to hug her again.

I’m the luckiest girl in the world. 

In this moment. 

Right now. 

And I am ever grateful.

My Topless Endeavor

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how important is it that you do this?"

"10," I said without hesitation. (I surprised myself at both my answer and how quickly I arrived at it.)

He immediately looked into my eyes, gave me 'the nod', and declared, "Ok. Let's do this."

We both took a deep breath, stood up, grasped each other's hand, and walked back over to the demonstration.

The #gotopless demonstration in San Francisco in support for gender equality.

-----

My boyfriend and I sometimes joke around about my many feminist posts on Facebook. He laughingly said one day, "Ok, you're only allowed to post ONE feminist thing per day!" Of course he was kidding. And, of course, I laughed at the irony of his joke. And, of course, I have been posting WAY more than one #amightygirl or #nationalwomenshistorymuseum post per day. Ha! But in all of the reading and learning I've been doing (because I fully read what I post), women's equality has recently come to the forefront of my brain - my heart. Now more than ever.

It's funny, really. I didn't think about women's issues until 2011 when my daughter brought home an assignment from school about the fight for women's rights at the turn of the 19th century. I even blogged about how moved I was yet how little I knew. (Women's Independence...Have We Overcome?) I didn't know that the Suffragettes were beaten and jailed and even died. I didn't know how women with any kind of voice were outcast from society. I didn't know about the Gibson Girl, Bloomers, or how important the bicycle was to women's freedom. And after just now reading that blog I wrote 5 years ago - I am SO glad I participated in the topless demonstration yesterday. Even more so than before.

So, naturally, a few days ago when my boyfriend showed me the Facebook event for #gotopless I was excited that we were going to be in San Fran the very day of the event! And on a non-work day! And we happened to be staying right across the street from the venue! It couldn't have been more convenient! I had 2 entire days to think and ponder and daydream and plan. The event flooded my every thought! What was I going to say to the world? What words did I want to display on my bare chest? What message did I want to send to my friends and family. But mostly, I wanted my daughter to be proud of me. I wanted to feel proud of myself. And, oh, how I wanted to feel free. Finally.

But, oh, it was so hard.

-----

When we first arrived at Union Square park there were no demonstrators in sight. We walked around the park expecting to see a huge crowd, people on loudspeakers, the masses cheering with colorful signs and posters and reverie! (Well, at least that's what I had expected.) But no. The park was empty. Just a few people milling around as people do in city parks on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Then, just as we were about to leave, I noticed a small crowd of what appeared to be the #gotopless folks on the outside corner perimeter of the park. I was both elated and disappointed. I was soooo happy that people showed up and I was sad that it was only a brave few. But! There they were! Bare chested! I motioned to my boyfriend, "my tribe is over there!" So, towards them we walked.

When we got to the demonstration, we saw a small crowd standing around a smaller group of topless men and women. There were a few men from the crowd interviewing the demonstrators, taking pictures and asking questions. I stood behind the inquisitive crowd and squeezed my boyfriend's hand. I was terrified. I wasn't ready to take a stand. I wasn't ready to bare my breasts to the staring crowd. I was not ready to potentially get in trouble with the police (even though I did the research and found that it was legal for women to be topless at Union Square park). I just wasn't ready to take my stand.

I was terrified.

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You see, I grew up in a VERY conservative culture in a small South Texas town. It was ingrained in me to be modest. Don't attract the wrong attention by showing your figure. Cover up. Be a proper lady. Be subservient to the men in our family. Girls back home didn't even go swimming without wearing an over-sized t shirt over their swimsuits. And as a teenager, when my body matured, I felt more and more afraid to show it. Especially because I have large breasts. Always have. (Yep. I went from a training bra to a full C cup in the 7th grade.) And as a young teenager, I was thin, barely over 4 ft tall and my big boobs were noticeable, so I dressed very conservatively, making sure I hid my breasts and body as best I could. In fact, I distinctly remember running into a very popular boy in my high school at the grocery store on a Saturday morning. I remember getting dressed in a hurry because my mom needed me to pick up just 1 thing. It was early. It was a weekend. Surely I wouldn't run into anyone I knew. So I threw on an old pair of shorts that were very short because I had outgrown them. But they were all I had clean! And sure enough... As I saw him, I remember trying to duck around the corner. I didn't look his way, and instead did an about face to walk in the opposite direction. My mother's words ringing in my ears, "always fix yourself up when you go out in public because you never know who you are going to run into." In other words, look like a lady. Of course, he saw me. And then my teenage nightmare came true. He caught up with me and said, "Damn, Dori! You look gooooood! I never knew you had legs much less such nice ones!" (Ironically, that same boy asked me at our ten year HS reunion if I had always had these boobs.)

I was mortified.

I felt humiliated. Ashamed. I felt so uncomfortable that a boy had not only noticed my legs, but in a catcall sort of way, commented on them. I felt dirty because I had attracted sexual attention and that meant I was the problem. My body was the problem. And when I went to college, the catcalls got worse. I even got fired from my first job because I declined to go out with my manager. (Of course he called me into the office a week later, gave me a form to sign saying I had resigned, and handed me a nice recommendation letter. I'm guessing corporate did  not like his reasons for why he fired me.) Those years in college, I got groped in a crowded hallway, had a car follow me when I was walking home with a guy hanging out of the window yelling grossly sexual remarks, and even had my roommate's boyfriend tell me he thought I was slutty because I was heading out for a study date at 11pm. At my second college job I had to ask my supervisor to shut down a chat room conversation two guys were having about how it must be to have sex with me. This was a chat room the entire office used regularly and bosses could see. I was mortified. My boss stopped their unprovoked conversation, but I felt outcast for some time because, yes, I complained and stopped their fun. I was being "too sensitive."

And worse, I was date raped. Twice. (Yep, I said no. To both men. Both times. Emphatically to the point of screaming and crying. But my NO did not mean NO to them.)

So shortly after that, I gained weight. And a lot of it. In less than a year I put on 100 pounds on my 98 lb, 4'11" frame. And I think part of why I put on so much weight was because the catcalling stopped with every pound I put on. Men were no longer taking an interest in my body. I felt more comfortable in a bigger body. Invisible. Getting crappy remarks from my teenage female second cousin about fat being gross was way better than the sexual advances I received when I was thin. I did end up losing most of the weight my junior year in college and kept it off until I had my daughter. And I am overweight now. But now, at 44, I have never felt more beautiful and proud of my body. It has taken several years, and oh, yes. I still get catcalled. But I don't blame myself anymore. I don't feel like my body is indecent or immoral just in its mere form.

It also affects me at work.

I am a software consultant. I work in mostly male dominated industry. So I have to make CERTAIN that I hide my boobs to ensure I am taken seriously. I wear super high necklines, nothing too fitted, jackets, scarves, anything to make sure my boobs are not known. But it sometimes doesn't seem to help. Just last week a manager told me the conference table was for dancing, "so get on up there!" Yep. I was the only woman in the room. Yep, I was shocked. Yep, I told him, "I thought the table was for you to get up and dance on!" The look of shock on his face was sort of funny to me. But I was livid. I did nothing to provoke his comment...and yet, I did nothing to address it either. I couldn't. He is my client. And I like getting a paycheck. I've also been patted on the back with sympathy because, "honey, this is data and it's hard to understand." Yeah. I am a data analyst, so I know data. I was also asked a few months ago if I was going to take notes (at an all male meeting) for everyone - as a secretary would. I said no, thank you, I can take my own notes since this meeting was called by ME so the vendor to explain their data mining strategies to me, the quality assurance data consultant.

So, I REALLY felt I had to participate with the other #gotopless folk. It was my mission to stand up and be seen and heard.

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After watching the demonstrators for a few minutes, I told my boyfriend I was not ready to join. He suggested we go take a rest under a nearby tree. We sat down, and I shared with him what this demonstration means to me. How challenging it is to be taken seriously as a woman for our brains despite our bodies. How I want a better world for my 19 year old daughter who is embarking on a male dominated career herself. He, as he always does, tried empathizing with me and all women. It was a great talk. And then he asked me on a scale of one to ten, how important is this to me. And then that's when I immediately answered with a resolute "TEN." And that's when we walked back over to join the demonstration. 

When we got back to the crowd we noticed it had grown. Both the audience and participants. We stood there for a moment, then moved our way front and center. I don't remember looking anyone in the eye, not even my boyfriend. But I do remember saying, "it is time." I put my purse down, took off my cardigan...and then my shirt. 

I was topless. 

My boyfriend looked at me with those eyes which asked me without words, "are you ok?" I smiled at him, pulled out my phone, and asked him to take a picture of me. That was my way of answering him back, "hell yes." 

I was free. 

Soon afterwards he took off his shirt. Moments later, I asked a wonderful gentleman who was also shirtless and who seemed to be the #gotopless house artist, if he wouldn't mind letting me have some paint. He offered to paint words on me and so I asked him to add the words, "FREEDOM" to my bare chest. 

Freedom. 

My boyfriend also asked for paint. He asked the nice gentleman to paint 'EquaLove" on his chest. And, yes, that meant the world to me. My boyfriend not only supported me without hesitation, but joined me as a feminist himself. I've never known what that sort of unfettered and wholehearted support felt like...and it is incredible. 

We stayed for a short while and talked with a couple demonstrators. We heard that earlier the police asked them to move because the group appeared to be blocking the stairway therefore blocking the disabled from entering the park. Thankfully, the demonstrator in the wheelchair pointed out that disabled folk wouldn't be using the stairs but rather the ramp around the corner...they weren't blocking accessibility and thus infringing on the ADA. We stood for pictures from the audience. We took selfies. We even waved to a tour bus which passed by with tourists who seemed to suddenly jump out of their seats in cheer.

And then, when I felt fulfilled, I turned to my boyfriend and said, "I'm good." 

With that, he smiled, brushed my cheek with a kiss, and reached to help me with my shirt. I gave him his. And together we got our shirts on and left Union Square park. Hand in hand. With a new understanding for each other. 

And a heightened resolve for me.

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Freedom. 

Freedom to have the same rights as anyone else despite my breasts. So, yes, that absolutely includes going topless because men can...and women cannot.

Freedom to be seen equal under the Constitution regardless of sex. This means having the Equal Rights Amendment ratified...because today, we don't have one.

Freedom of being judged, minimized, sexualized, victimized because of our gender and bodies.

Freedom from the notion that we cannot possibly be taken seriously in our careers because of our breasts. And yes, this includes EQUAL pay.

Freedom on a larger scale for so many women suffering around the world in ways I cannot even fathom.

Freedom for my daughter. I never gave much thought to all of the things that happened to me as a young woman. In my mind, it was just the way of the world. However, now that my daughter is in college and about go out into the world herself, I do not EVER want any of those things happen to her. Ever. I don't want her to think the way I have for so long about my career: that I have to be twice as good at my job so the men in my field think I'm at least half as good. I want her to have all of the very best this life has to offer her. I never want her to feel inferior or feel the need to be ashamed or apologize for being a woman. I want her path to be free and clear so that she can soar to the great heights she so much deserves. And the world deserves her in her true form - intelligent, bold, brave, compassionate, free, and hungry for a full life.

So I did the only thing I could on that day. A day near which marked the anniversary of Women's Equality Day. Removing my shirt was was my way of taking a stand for all women. I know it was a tiny gesture compared to the great work others are doing, but for me it was huge.

I feel like, in a way, I just started living my life.

And damn, I feel free. I no longer feel like "Just a Girl."

Hell, life isn't worth living if you don't do things that scare the shit out of you, right?