Stronger together

Posted on November 11, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

This is a very brief post to announce my imminent departure for two weeks to Mozambique (mostly work, hopefully a little bit of pleasure) and to say a very special thank you to Jody Day of Gateway Women for allowing me to guest blog on her fabulous site and for making my post look so groovy. You can read it here: The Power of Testimony – and check out Jody’s posts while you’re there. The experience has been a reminder that we’re stronger when we’re working together, that collaboration is key and mutual cheerleading is not only fun but also gives us a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. So thank you Jody for giving me that space. And this space on my blog is available for you when you have time, or for anyone else who would like to share their thoughts.

So, Mozambique. Anyone who’s followed this blog for a while will know my last experience there was challenging. I blogged about my split personality and the mixed feelings I had at the end of my last African trip. I expect there will be challenges over the next few weeks but at least on this occasion I’ve learned from my past mistakes and taken a fair amount of action to look after myself.

I successfully argued with my employers to fly premium economy so I’m looking forward to some more leg room and a bit of sleep. And I have a sleeping pill on hand in case sleep doesn’t come (although I admit I’m a little nervous about taking one – maybe I’ll start with half). I have a range of ointments and creams should my blepharitis (nasty eye condition) flare up again because of the travel, stress and lack of sleep. And I’ve also made sure I have a few days at the end of the journalism training course I’m leading to relax, hopefully in the sunshine. We’ll see how it goes but it feels good to be looking after myself.

Oh yes, and I’m travelling in my very comfortable tracksuit bottoms, liberated by the fact that I no longer have to worry about dressing to impress that potential husband I might meet in the check-in queue or sitting next to me on the plane!

 

 

Posted in Travel, Women | Tagged , | 1 Comment

Calling off the search

Posted on November 8, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

It’s official. The search is over. After spending much of my life looking for a husband and father to my future children (often without even realising I was doing it), I’ve decided to stop. I’m not sure how long this will last but I’ve been experimenting with it for the last few days and it’s kind of fun. No more checking out every man who crosses my path – at least not for more than a few seconds, enough for an appreciative glance!

I'm putting away the binoculars

No more drifting off into fantasy land at the sight of a handsome bloke. No more imagining that the cute fella on the tube, bus or bicycle would make a great partner and Dad to my kids. And no more trying to make relationships work until I’ve managed to achieve a good degree of surrender over the hopes and dreams I have for my future. As I wrote in my last post, Essential maintenance, it’s time I let go of my attachment to the outcome.

So I’m off the market. Not forever – that would be a little foolish. But at least until further notice! Now, this may sound like a nutty thing to do for someone who’s forty-and-two-thirds-years-old and who’d like a child of her own (or at least thinks she would). But I’ve realised over the past few weeks that I’ve spent most of my life chasing after an idea of someone or something I think will make me happy. And I’ve spent a similar amount of time running away from that same person or thing. All that chasing and running – no wonder I’m exhausted!

As I’ve written before, I seem to be one of those women who craves intimacy and affection with a man but is so scared of it that she chooses people who aren’t up for it or ready for it or she sabotages relationships with anyone who is. This pattern seems to be common with women of “absent” fathers, as I blogged about in my Commitment and phobia post in September. Back then, I quoted from an article in the Mail on Sunday’s You Magazine that said: “as adults, women with absent fathers are often torn between longing for a committed, loving relationship and a fear of having one in case the man they love abandons them as their father did. It is only when they realise what they are doing that they can move on and have a healthy relationship.”

I guess I’m at that stage of realisation. As you’ll know if you’ve read my last few posts, I’d been dating someone for the last seven weeks or so but that ended a few days back. Whether or not it was right for me, I couldn’t move forward. I couldn’t get over the indecision and anxiety over whether it would work out. I couldn’t put both feet in and I couldn’t go with the flow. Or should I say I wasn’t willing to? Something was stopping me. Of course, you might be thinking that it must be a simple case of the wrong guy or the wrong relationship but, as I get to know myself, I’m realising it’s much less to do with him and much more to do with me.

Looking back at my dating history, I can see how I’ve generally tried to keep one foot out of any relationship – and that foot has been firmly placed in the door, keeping it ajar so I had a means of escape. This kind of thinking is a form of self-protection but it’s also a bar to intimacy. It’s difficult to get close to someone if you’re constantly wondering whether you want to be with him or not and you’ve got one eye permanently fixed on the exit. I’ve also got a bit of a pattern of choosing men who, in one way or another, aren’t available. That, I’m realising, is a deliberate strategy. It means I’m never faced with the prospect of having to commit. It keeps me a safe distance away from intimacy.

I’ve resolved, therefore, to take some time out. Of course, I’ve taken time out before – there have been long periods of singleness in my life. In fact, I feel like I’ve been single most of my life. That’s not true at all – rather it’s a result of how I approach relationships, of my one-foot-in, one-foot-out strategy. But I’ve never deliberately taken a break. I’ve never stopped looking. I’ve never stopped wondering whether the next party, trip or work event would be the one where I’d meet someone.

And what am I going to do during this time out? Well, for a start, I’m going to keep my eyes focused as much as possible on what I’m doing rather than on who might be standing next to me. Every time I’m tempted to spend too long checking out a man, I’m going to remind myself gently to stop drifting off into fantasy land. And I’m going to focus on me. A friend of mine said recently that she’d managed to become someone she wanted to go on a date with. She’d created a full life, replete with activities, social engagements and a sense of purpose. She’d got to a place where she considered herself quite a catch. That’s my aim for the next few months, to become someone I’d want to go on a date with – not because I’m looking for a date but because – excuse the cliché – I’m worth it! I deserve to give my head and heart a break from the constant distraction of men and obsession with my romantic future. This isn’t about becoming perfect before I’m ready to date again. It’s simply about creating a stronger sense of self and becoming more whole.

So as I head off to Mozambique next week on a work assignment, there’ll be no more scanning the queue at the check-in counter to see if there are any adventurous, globe-trotting, good-looking men on my flight. And there’ll be no more hoping that the man sat next to me on the plane will, by chance, look a little like George Clooney, be single, and fall for me.

The search is off!

 

Posted in codependency, Relationships, Women | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Essential maintenance

Posted on October 31, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

I haven’t blogged here for a while and I was wondering why I’d left it so long. Normally, I’m full of ideas and can’t wait to put them into writing. But now I’m realising that I’ve been rather low on energy over the past few weeks and that’s sapped my creativity.

Why have I been low on energy? Well, I think it’s a combination of doing too much, thinking too much, worrying too much, obsessing too much and spending too little time sitting still and getting in touch with myself and my feelings. I’d lost my centre – and that’s where my creativity lies.

But after spending most of yesterday in peace and solitude and doing lots of self-care – including prayer, meditation, painting my toenails and treating myself to an hour-and-a-half massage – my urge to write is back.

As I mentioned in previous posts, I’ve been venturing into the world of dating after staying out of it for about a year. I should just say at this point – for the benefit of anyone who spotted me in this week’s issue of Woman Magazine talking about being 40 and single – that my return to dating began after I gave that interview! When I spoke to the magazine, I’d just come back from a camping and mountain biking trip with a bunch of single friends and was loving my freedom.

But, after that interview, I decided it was time I started dating again. After all, I was 40-and-a-half. Of course, I’d planned to date as the New Yorkers do (or at least how I think the New Yorkers do). I’m not sure if I’ve got this from the movies or from my New Yorker friends but it seems they go on a number of dates with a number of people and try and work out who’s right for them. I’ve never been very good at that. I tend to go on one date with one person and then throw myself into it to see if I can make it work, irrespective of any reservations I might have. Is that the British way? Or is it just my way? In the old days, I’d be aided by a good level of alcohol. These days, I do it sober, but the patterns seem to be pretty much the same.

So I’ve spent the last few weeks ‘seeing’ someone and it’s been a challenging experience that’s forced me to look at a lot of my ‘issues’. It’s also been a rewarding and empowering experience that’s helped me to grow. Now, you might be thinking at this point that dating isn’t supposed to sound that way – it’s supposed to be light and fun. Perhaps it is and perhaps I’ll have that experience one day. But I also have a lot of self-awareness and it’s no surprise to me that the same difficulties I have in other areas of my life – around decision-making, finding peace amid uncertainty, trusting myself, letting go etc – follow me into my dating life.

But what I’ve also realised over the past few weeks is that I can very quickly lose myself in a relationship – even before it’s become a relationship – and lose touch with what’s right for me or what my needs are. And why do I do that? Well, it’s because I’m too attached to the outcome. As I wrote in my Who’s running the show? post, I want things to work out a certain way and I’m so attached to an imagined end result that I lose sight of myself. I put the relationship or other person ahead of my own needs or desires and I become ever so subtly inauthentic in a bid to move things in the direction I think they should go. I don’t even realise I’m doing it until after the fact. Inauthenticity, though, isn’t sustainable, at least not for me. The truth always comes out in the end – thank goodness.

Despite everything I’ve learned about myself and about life – about the futility of trying to control things and the need to surrender in all areas – I’m still very attached to the idea of ending up married and having a couple of children. And I have a pretty clear image of what that looks like, or what I want it to look like. But who am I to say whether that will happen or not? Or to try and control it or force it to happen? And as Jody Day, founder of Gateway Women, points out in her latest post, Forty, single and childless, dammit!, it’s a high risk strategy to put all our eggs in that one baby basket. I felt quite challenged reading Jody’s post. Do I have a Plan B? Would I be happy with that Plan B? Am I working on my Plan B even if I’m still hoping that Plan A will work out? Am I developing my passions, interests and hobbies? Am I pursuing my dreams? I thought I was, but Jody’s post and my dating experience over the past few weeks have made me think again. That can only be a good thing. I’m ready to look at my life through a new lens, I’m ready to take another look at my passions and dreams and I’m ready – at least I hope and pray I’m ready – to surrender the outcome in this area of relationships.

I feel like I’ve done a better job at this over the past few days. I feel restored, emotionally and physically. And I’m writing here again, so I must be doing something right. I’ve realised that the best thing I can do when I notice I’m losing myself is to bring things back to basics and do some essential maintenance. So, on Friday I went for a swim and sat for ages in the jacuzzi bubbles at my gym. On Saturday, I put air in my rather flat bicycle tire (it’d been pretty flat for weeks!) and I left an earring at the jewellers to see if they could fix the clasp before I lose it again (I almost lost it a few weeks back and was really sad).

Autumn - my favourite season

I cycled slowly through London admiring the Autumn colours (aren’t they amazing?) and had a bath and an early night. And on Sunday, as I mentioned, I spent all morning praying, meditating, reading and writing, painted my toe nails, went for a massage and went to church. I feel like I’ve found my centre again.

And from this stronger, more balanced and more spiritual place, I’m much more able to make healthy choices for my life. So whatever happens with my current ‘date’ and whatever happens in my future, I know I’ll be OK if I keep looking after myself, stay connected to my core and keep listening to God.

 

 

Posted in Faith, Relationships, Spirituality, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

It’s all going to be OK

Posted on October 19, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

It’s all going to be OK.

Is that something you often tell yourself? Or are you more inclined to think it’s not going to be OK? Or maybe you actually think that it’s all going to be brilliant, not just OK, or perhaps that it’s all going to be dreadful. Why am I asking these questions? Well, partly because I’ve just written a feature on optimism and pessimism – for which I did far too much research – and partly because of some things I heard at an event on the self-help industry last night hosted by Psychologies Magazine in London.

Chewing the cud

Doing all my research into optimism really got me thinking about my own outlook on life. Could it be that I’m actually a pessimist, despite really wanting to be an optimist? Or am I a bit of both? I guess the latter has to be true – and perhaps for most of us – but I’m definitely prone to some negative thinking or rather a lot of it, as I also noted in my All will be well post a while back. I’m a worrier. A ruminator. Like cattle chewing the cud, I turn things over and over in my mind. It has its advantages – I’m particularly diligent with my work, for example. But it can be time-consuming and exhausting.

Martin Seligman, credited as the founder of positive psychology, wrote about rumination in Learned Optimism, which I’ve just read as part of my article research. Rumination, he said, is associated with a pessimistic outlook, or what he called a pessimistic ‘explanatory style’. And it can lead to depression.

He also wrote that failure can occur when talent and desire are present in abundance but optimism is missing. This has really got me thinking about my work. We can have all the talent in the world but if we don’t have self-belief, faith or optimism, nobody in the world will ever get to know about our talent. It’s the self-belief, faith or optimism that’ll help us be persistent, determined and resilient in the face of setbacks.

And the art of hope, Seligman wrote, is finding temporary and specific causes for our misfortune, rather than permanent and universal ones. This reminds me to avoid phrases like “I’m rubbish at this” or “this always happens to me” or “I’ll never be any good at that” and instead to look for reasons why something might not have worked out, learn from my experience and move on. I can apply this to my writing and journalism, to my relationships, activities or sports. Take yoga, for example. I’m not a natural. Or rather my body has become rather inflexible over the years. Ever since I gave up my regular gymnastics class as a young girl to go to Girl Guides instead, I’ve not done much bending or stretching. I’ve done a lot of running, cycling and swimming – but very little bending and stretching. So, my negative thought patterns would lead me to assume I’ll never be any good at yoga. But if I really think about it, I know I can become more flexible if I practise it often (which I’m not right now, I should add, despite being all fired up about yoga when I wrote Our core is mush back in July). I know I can learn to be more bendy and, in time, I might be able to do some of the moves more dedicated yogis can do. Similarly, I can learn to be a more persistent and disciplined freelance journalist or a more patient friend or, according to Seligman’s Learned Optimism book, a more positive person.

That said, it seems our way of thinking was shaped very early on in our lives. As psychotherapist and author Philippa Perry said at last night’s Psychologies event, our basic belief system – ie. the idea that everything will turn out alright or that it won’t – is formed during the first two years of our lives. If we had a secure base and felt loved and protected, we’ll likely form a more positive mindset. If we didn’t, we’ll have an in-built belief that we’re not OK, not loved or not safe and we’ll go in search of something outside ourselves to give us this sense that we’re OK, loved or safe. This might be through relationships, work, money or whatever. Sometimes with harmful consequences.

The good news is that the brain, although formed in those early years, remains plastic and we can direct it to think in a different way. Now, I’m not an expert but I’m guessing we might not be able to replace that initial belief system completely but we can find ways to compensate for it. Philippa, author of Couch Fiction, also made the point that since our early belief system is formed through relationship with our primary caregivers, the best way to change this belief system is through relationship with others. Hence why so many people find therapy useful, and more useful than self-help books.

But what about the self-help industry? Does it help? Well, I haven’t got time or space to answer that here so I’ll direct you to Guardian columnist Oliver Burkeman, who spends a lot of time writing about it and has compiled his columns into a book entitled Help!: How to Become Slightly Happier and Get a Bit More Done. Oliver also spoke at last night’s Psychologies event. As the owner of too many self-help books – some of which I’ve had to read for work, others I’ve wanted to read for reasons of ‘self-improvement’ – I liked what Oliver had to say in favour of approaches to change that are “incremental or modest” as opposed to ones that promise to deliver dramatic results. As he mentioned, a lot of the advice in self-help books is common sense and you can find it in ancient Greek and Roman philosophy, in the Bible or in the works of other religions.

Nevertheless, I guess we all need a little bit of help, from books, friends and some of us from therapists – not necessarily in that order! But I think the key is to take all that advice, sit with it and work out which bit of it is relevant or helpful to our lives. I’ve definitely been guilty in the past, and sometimes in the present, of thinking other people or books can give me the answers to my problems. But I’m learning that I have those answers, when I take the time to listen to myself and trust my instinct. And believe that it’s all going to be OK.

Posted in Faith, Positive thinking, Spirituality, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , | Leave a comment

Who’s running the show?

Posted on October 11, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

Am I being honest with myself? Completely, unreservedly honest? And how will I know when I am? Because if I’m not being honest with myself, I can’t be totally honest with anyone else.

It seems so many things get in the way of absolute, rigorous honesty. There’s my ego and my desire to have things my way. There’s my idealised picture of how I want my life to turn out and how I would like those in my life to be – in other words, my control. And there’s my fear that things won’t turn out as I think I would like them to if I’m completely honest with myself and others. It’s a subtle dishonesty, born out of fear and insecurity, and it starts with myself.

I know I’ve written on this topic before – it’s interesting how certain themes recur in my life and in this blog – and it ties in with my previous post on Living with integrity. But it’s come up again, particularly in the context of dating but also around work and career.

Once again, I’m realising the crux of the problem is that, despite everything I’ve learned over the years, I’m still trying to live according to my plan. I have an image of how I want my future to be and I’ve very invested in that image and am doing my best to bring it to pass. This image isn’t quite the white picket fence but, as you’ll know if you’ve read any of my blog, it’s not that far off. It involves having a partner and a couple of healthy, happy children. And I’m so attached to that image, to that ideal, that my vision sometimes gets blurred. Of course, as I’ve noted before, it’s not surprising that it’s difficult to ‘let go and let God’ in this area and I know I’m not on my own with this. It’s not easy, at 40, to surrender to life and say I’ll accept whatever comes to pass when it comes to a partner and children. But is there any other way to be? At least if we want to stay sane and true.

So as I venture into the dating arena, I have to keep asking myself a series of questions: am I trying to control outcomes to ensure my dream comes true or am I surrendering those outcomes to God? Am I subtly manipulating situations to keep my plan on track or am I practising total acceptance.

Basically, who’s running the show?

I know the idea of not running our own show may jar with some people, particularly when almost every self-help book on the shelf is telling us we can take charge of our lives and create our own destinies. Surely, life is what we make of it? We seize our opportunities. We create our own luck. We go for it. We’re proactive. We think positively. We get a vision board and write our dreams all over it. We come up with a 10-step plan to accomplish our goals and set timeframes or join groups to keep us accountable.

Now, I definitely wouldn’t argue that we need to take action to achieve what we want in life. I believe in having visions and goals. I believe in writing them down or drawing pictures of them. I also believe in doing the footwork to achieve them – be that going out on dates to meet a potential partner, networking in our career, setting time aside for our creative projects or making time to exercise if we want to get fit. I also agree with accountability groups, timeframes and other motivational techniques. I’m definitely not in favour of sitting around and expecting everything just to come my way.

But for me, it’s important to keep asking myself whether I’m so set on a particular goal that I’m compromising myself, my integrity, my wholeness or my serenity to achieve it. Am I rushing into stuff without considering whether it’s right for me because I’m so fixated on that goal. And are those goals right for me anyway? Have I really thought them through? I’m reminded that we get what we need in life, not necessarily what we want.

I also deserve to keep asking myself who’s running the show? Who’s making the decisions for me? Is it the mature, adult me who’s confident about what she wants and who knows what’s best for her? Is it the sane and serene me who’s in touch with her needs, with her instinct and with God’s voice and has the courage to act on it? Or is it the younger, fearful me who’s scared she won’t get what she wants or what she thinks she needs? Is it the insecure, untrusting me who feels she has to take charge, be in control and make sure everything goes according to some pre-written plan? It’s a very good question.

To try to answer that, I think the first thing would be to get honest about my goals. Work out why I have them, which side of me came up with them and how attached I am to them. If I’m too attached to them, I can ask myself why and perhaps go through a gentle process of letting go of this attachment. The goal of having my own family springs to mind here. If I’m too attached to that outcome, I’m in danger of doing everything I can to bring it to pass, perhaps ignoring who I am and what I truly feel in the process. Then, as I’ve written before, it’s about spending time with myself and understanding who’s pulling the strings. And it’s about sharing out the responsibilities – taking responsibility for doing the action, doing the footwork and being true to myself while surrendering the responsibility for the end result. It’s not my job to control the outcome.

I’ll give the last word to Shakespeare.

“This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.”

 

Posted in codependency, Relationships, Spirituality, Trust, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Living with integrity

Posted on September 29, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

This week has been a challenging one – and it’s only Thursday. It’s also been a week in which I’ve felt fully alive, thanks to my ability to feel my feelings – be they pain, sadness, fear, or joy – and thanks to my wonderful, supportive, caring and fun girlfriends. I’m feeling very blessed to have so many ‘sisters’ – women who know me, care about me, don’t judge me, love me and laugh with me.

So the challenging week began with a talk I attended on Monday night by Cheryl Richardson, an author, coach and motivational speaker. I’d never heard of Cheryl, which surprises me as she’s obviously right up my street in terms of the things she talks and writes about. She gave the talk, entitled ‘Extreme Self Care’, at Alternatives, at St James’ Church, Piccadilly. If you live in London and are interested in creativity, spirituality, well-being or anything along those lines, check out Alternatives – great venue, great talks. I’ve been twice in two weeks and I imagine I’ll be going again pretty soon.

I had other plans that evening but two lovely friends were going along and I really wanted to see them. I thought the talk would be about getting enough sleep, enough exercise, enough downtime and eating well. I can never get enough of that stuff although I didn’t expect to hear anything new and I’m aware listening to talks about self-care and putting it into practice are two different things. But Cheryl didn’t talk about sleep or diet. She talked about integrity. About being true to ourselves. And, thinking about it, that is extreme self-care.

We have to be true to ourselves to be true to others

Whenever I think of integrity, I think of a circle. Does one half of my circle match the other half? Does what I say or do match who I am on the inside? Am I being true to my principles, to my values? Am I listening to and following my heart? This particularly applies to my relationships with myself and with others. I guess this is the most extreme form of self-care because if we’re not being true to ourselves, we’re not being true to others. And the result of both can be hurt and disappointment.

So my question to myself this week is: am I living with integrity? It’s a tough one that’s prompted me to do some soul-searching.

I know I let myself and others down on occasion. This is not about beating myself up but it’s about acknowledging a pattern with a view to changing it, gently. I have a bit of a habit of agreeing to do something for or with someone without really thinking whether it’s right for me or whether I’m able to do it. I then realise I’m over-committed and either go ahead as planned while feeling resentful about it or I pull out, which isn’t great for either party. In short, I often say ‘yes’ when a simple ‘no’ or ‘can I think about it and get back to you’ would suffice. This pattern of behaviour is ultimately letting myself down as I don’t feel good about myself when I promise something I can’t follow through on. And nor am I giving myself what I need if I’m constantly saying ‘yes’ when I mean ‘no’. It’s worth noting here that I’ve made a lot of progress in this area but I’d like to make more.

This behaviour, of course, is born out of fear: fear of letting others down, fear of being rejected or disliked and fear of missing out. But it also ties in to what I was blogging about in my last post: commitment and phobia. It’s always worth asking myself why I want to say ‘no’ or ‘maybe’ instead of ‘yes’. Is it really because I’m not sure or is it because I’m afraid of committing? I know my ambivalence about things – work, relationships, activities – often comes from my fear of committing to them. When we choose one thing, we have to let lots of other things go. And it’s difficult to make a confident choice when I don’t know myself very well, when I’m not taking time to listen to my heart.

So I guess the most desirable way to behave is to know myself, to listen to my heart, to speak my truth and to act with integrity. Easier said than done!

To remind myself of the importance of integrity, I’ve downloaded an App for my iPhone called ‘Tell Me Later’. It sends me a text reminder at various points in the day so I now get a text at 9:30 am that says: ‘I live with integrity. I am true to myself’. I get another one a bit later that says: ‘I am enough. I am whole and good’. And a third in the evening that says: ‘There’s nothing wrong with me’. This last one is a reminder that I’m human!

Living with integrity seems particularly relevant to relationships, and especially to romantic ones. I mentioned a couple of books in my last post and I have a few more I wanted to mention. Along with ‘He’s Scared, She’s Scared‘, I’ve also started reading ‘Boundaries in Dating‘, which has some great guidelines for people entering the dating fray. It’s written from a Christian perspective so not all of it will be relevant to everybody but I think there’s a lot of wisdom in it, irrespective of whether a reader has a faith or not. It says dating is about ‘freedom and responsibility’ – the freedom to explore whether a person is right for you or not without things being too heavy, and the responsibility to be honest and true.

I’ve also ordered Easy Does It Dating Guide (I think I should buy shares in Amazon or get a commission), which was written for people who have struggled with addictive or compulsive behaviours or codependency and who are trying to date. I’m looking forward to reading that one.

Ultimately, though, reading about life isn’t living it. I think it’s great to read up on potential patterns and pitfalls and to learn from other people’s experiences. But it’s also about trial and error – with freedom, responsibility and integrity. And it’s progress, not perfection.

I’ll wrap up with a little gem I came across the other day which reminds me to lighten up on life: All’s well that ends well. If it’s not yet well, it’s not quite the end.

Posted in codependency, Love, Relationships, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Commitment and phobia

Posted on September 21, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

In response to my existential questioning in my last blog, Filling the void, I’ve come up with an answer or two. I think relationship is key to addressing that sense of emptiness some of us feel. And I’m not just talking about getting ourselves a partner. In fact, I’m not talking about that at all at this point. For me, it’s about my relationship with myself, my relationship with something greater than myself (or God as I like to call Him) and then, once those two things are in a good place, my relationship with others.

Have you ever noticed that when you’re in the company of someone you love or of someone you’re really comfortable with – you could be having a laugh or just sitting in silence – those existential questions rarely come up? We feel connected, content and are able to live in the moment.

The same goes when I feel connected to God. I feel grounded, I feel a sense of purpose and can appreciate my uniqueness. I don’t wonder why I’m here or what it’s all about. I kind of get it. And the same happens when I feel connected to myself – to the little girl inside myself who sometimes feels lost, scared, anxious and confused or to my inner teenager who so often wants to rebel and doesn’t want to grow up. If I can really get in touch with her, I can generally talk her out of her erratic behaviour.

But relationships, with others, with God or with ourselves, require commitment. They require time, effort, understanding, conversation, compromise, compassion, trust, reassurance, honesty, openness and a willingness to risk, to feel love and to feel pain. It’s not surprising, then, that some of us find it easier to stay away from them.

As I dip my toe into dating and relationships – realising that aged 40 1/2 is as good a time as any to start again – commitment and commitmentphobia are on my mind. I’m about to start reading He’s Scared, She’s Scared: Understanding the Hidden Fears that Sabotage Your Relationships, a book that was recommended a while back by a good friend. According to Wikipedia’s page on fear of commitment (I know we can’t always trust Wikipedia but it’s the best I can do right now), the term commitmentphobia was coined by the same authors in their previous book, Men Who Can’t Love. They wrote He’s Scared, She’s Scared in response to criticism that commitmentphobia wasn’t solely a male issue. I’m glad they worked that one out.

The Wikipedia page actually has a lot of good stuff on it: it explains how commitmentphobic people crave what they fear most – love and commitment – and how commitmentphobia can spread to all areas – from a relationship to buying a home to buying a pair of shoes. It goes on to say, “commitmentphobic behavior includes “settling” for inappropriate partners, pursuing unattainable partners, and engaging in instant relationship mergers as well as fleeing from what might have appeared to be a stable romance.”

I seem to be able to relate to pretty much all of the above. I’ve blogged before about my decision-making difficulties. I’ve got a lot better but I remember the paralysis I felt before I decided to buy my flat and I can recall many occasions on which I swapped the brown pair of boots for the black pair then decided I wanted the brown. But my tendency to choose inappropriate or unattainable partners is definitely the most concerning at this stage in my life and is worth keeping in mind as I enter the dating fray.

The above quotations also chime with something I read a few weeks back in the Mail on Sunday’s You Magazine about daughters of absent fathers. It said that “as adults, women with absent fathers are often torn between longing for a committed, loving relationship and a fear of having one in case the man they love abandons them as their father did. It is only when they realise what they are doing that they can move on and have a healthy relationship.”

This seemed to be pretty timely. The penny has finally dropped for me. For many years, I’ve had far too many boxes that a potential partner had to tick and I’ve found fault in many a boyfriend. I’d always concluded they weren’t right for me. I’m finally realising that maybe my tick boxes and fault-finding were my ways of avoiding commitment – the commitment I so craved but was so terrified of. I’m realising that the problems weren’t always with them, or at least not all of them. They were often with me. This is all good stuff as it hopefully means I can do things differently next time.

I read something else around the same time that also seemed relevant. It was in The Shack, a novel about a man’s encounter with God, which I’ve just read for the second time. It said, “since most of our hurts come through relationships, so will our healing.” I took heart from that. It was a reminder that staying away from relationships wasn’t going to heal the pain. While I think it’s good to have some time on our own to heal from whatever it is we need to heal from, there comes a time when we have to get back out there and expose ourselves to life. As someone mentioned to me just a few days ago, when we try to protect ourselves from pain and hurt, we end up shutting out joy too.

And finally, continuing on the topic of relationships and typical behaviours, check out this great article on the Psychologies Magazine website called What’s So Right About Mr Wrong? As someone who’s often gone for the “bad guys”, it’s certainly given me some food for thought.

Posted in codependency, Love, Relationships, Spirituality, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

Filling the void

Posted on September 15, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

So my last post, Dating with baby goggles on, got me thinking. Hopefully it got a few of you thinking too, but it’s definitely got me pondering the whys and wherefores of life, relationships, motherhood and all the rest of it. And it’s left me with a few important questions to ask myself and to try my best to answer. For example, what’s really behind the baby urge? Is it just Nature doing her thing or am I, deep down, looking to fill a bit of a void? That same void I filled quite successfully in my younger years with food, alcohol, partying, men, travel, achievement and a high-adrenalin career.

Maybe I just think it’s the natural next step: I gave up a lot of my other fillers a few years ago. I slowed everything down and stepped out of the rat race. I stopped running, literally and metaphorically. And I’m in the process of creating a life for myself into which children would fit really well, not intentionally, but because my mind and body forced me into it. I work for myself, I can work at home whenever I like and I generally end up in the gym or the park when all the mothers and babies are there. The only problem is I’m not quite making enough money to support myself, never mind anyone else, but I’m sure that will come. At this stage in my life, I can’t say I relate to the women in this Grazia survey, reported in the Daily Mail, who worry about the effect a baby would have on their career, body or lifestyle.

But is there a void there that I’m hoping to fill? Well, I guess my answer is of course there is. I’m not sure if anyone else is as prone to existential musings as I am but I seem to be constantly wondering what it’s all about. Why am I here? What’s it all for? On my good days, I can just about answer those questions. I feel a sense of purpose. I feel I have God-given gifts and talents that I’m meant to be using to live my life to the fullest and serve others. I get all fired up, excited and determined. I go to the gym and feel strong and able or I take a walk in the park and watch humanity pass me by in all its diversity and richness. I feel grateful for who I am and all I have.

On my bad days, those questions become more frequent and more poignant. And some new ones come along. What’s the point? Why bother? And then, as those questions start to scare me a little, I do my best to grab back on to the thoughts that keep me afloat: the friendships, fun, joy, gifts, talents, sunshine, sea, love and all the rest of it.

I guess my point here is that I know very well there is a void and I also know I need and deserve to fill it from the inside before I make the mistake – which I’ve made before – of thinking something on the outside will do the job for me. And that includes children. Jody Day, the founder of Gateway Women, an organisation that supports, inspires and empowers childfree women, makes the point brilliantly in her blog What Talking Heads has to do with being childfree. It’s also a message she’ll be sharing in her Saturday morning London workshops (check out her site for details).  Jody writes: “I got my mojo back because I understood it wasn’t motherhood I craved, it was meaning”. We all need a why. A purpose.

And I guess, right now, I’m struggling with my why, primarily because of my work. Freelance journalism and writing is a frustrating, solitary existence. I’ve always been a team player, a great lover of team sports and team endeavours. I’ve loved that sense of working towards a common purpose. And I’ve particularly liked being the leader or captain of a team. I don’t have a team or a sense of common purpose right now. I had it when I worked at the Mexico City Times – one of my first journalism jobs. We were a small team on a fledgling newspaper in Mexico’s crazy capital and we wanted to make a big impact. It was all hands to the deck. And, at the time, I loved it. Working at big organisations like Bloomberg or Reuters also gave me a sense of being part of something bigger than myself, of working towards a common purpose, particularly when reporting on big stories like the Asian tsunami, the London bombings or the Haitian earthquake. But the daily grind eventually wore me down and that sense of being a team player grew less and less, outweighed by the sheer size of the organisation, the hierarchy of bosses and the diminishing opportunities to get out to the big stories.

But right now, at work, I’m a one-person team and I’m not loving it. The same goes for my personal life. I’m a one-person team there too. And I guess what I’d love is a sense of partnership at home as well as work, a sense of common purpose, which I imagine would come with a partner and children.

Oprah Winfrey talked a lot about her team in this Facebook Live interview the other day. She also talked about purpose, of being of service to yourself and others and of connecting to our inner selves and God within us through stillness. “Fundamentally you need a belief in something greater than yourself,” she said. “I know my greater purpose … I see the bigger picture.” She leads an “intentionally, purposeful life”.

I believe that is the path to contentment and to filling the void, but from my experience, it’s easier said than done. My mojo, my why and my sense of purpose seem to come and go a lot these days. But maybe the answer is in something as simple as habit or routine. Oprah said she’s introduced periods of quiet time into her organisation, twice a day – time when her staff get to meditate, or connect to themselves, to God or to whoever or whatever gives them a sense of peace and self-awareness. I try to do that in the morning and evening but don’t always succeed. But I know it’s the right way forward. A routine of getting out to a shared office space and regularly doing exercise would also help. Which is why I’m off to a yoga class shortly. Group exercise is a good start.

And as I wrap this up, I’ve realised that, after all my musings on motherhood, I seem to have come full circle. I know what I’m meant to do. I’m meant to get on with my life, my work, my fun, my travel, my joy, my exercise, my dancing, my cycling, my friendships and my relationships. That doesn’t mean I should try to suppress the feelings of anxiety or grief when they come or that I should ignore my heart’s desires or do things to deliberately thwart them. But there’s a difference between pondering life and living it. And while I’ll always ponder it and probably always write about it, it’s good to remember to live it.

Posted in Faith, Fertility, Pregnancy, Spirituality, Uncategorized, Women, Work | Tagged , , , | 8 Comments

Dating with baby goggles on

Posted on September 13, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

It’s September 13th, which means I’m forty-and-a-half. This is a little worrying, both professionally and personally. Professionally because I’d hoped to turn this site into something more over the course of my 40th year – an online magazine at least, a book deal at most – and I only have six months left. I’d better get my thinking cap on, or maybe my doing cap.

And personally because I’m six months off 41 and, while I think I coped with turning 40 quite well – embracing the liberating side of it – I’m not sure I’ll feel the same about moving up another year. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not against the ageing process per se. I like how I grow and change over the years, particularly on the inside. And while sometimes I’d rather the lines around my eyes or mouth weren’t so pronounced, I can appreciate they’re the marks of 40 years of smiles, laughter, frowns and tears.

I guess the main problem with advancing through my 40th decade is the baby dilemma (which I’ve written about in previous posts: The baby conundrum and The baby gap). Of course, it might be too late to have my own child already. It might have been too late at 35. Who knows? But for any woman who still holds out hope of giving birth, I imagine that every birthday beyond 40 takes away a little bit of hope.

And while I like to think an active lifestyle, a good diet and a healthy BMI will help preserve my fertility, it’s clear that’s not the case. This New York Times article Are You as Fertile as You Look? spells it out for us all. “Forty may be the new 30,” it says, “but try telling that to your ovaries”. Glossy hair, a great complexion and regular menstruation may suggest good fertility but, according to the article, most doctors agree that by the time a woman is 40, her chances of getting pregnant each month are about 5 percent. Yes, that’s 5 percent. And what if you’re 40 and you’re hair isn’t glossy, your complexion isn’t great and your menstruation is all over the place? Where does that leave us?

Are you hearing the patter of tiny feet?

Which brings me back to the title of this post. How does a woman in her late 30s or early 40s who thinks she’d like children approach dating in a sensible fashion? In the good old days, say pre-35, I don’t think I had on my baby goggles (a variation on beer goggles for anyone who was wondering) every time I came across a potential boyfriend. It was much simpler. Did I fancy him? Did we get on? Did we have a laugh together? I can’t remember sitting down at any point in the first few weeks and asking if he wanted kids. But for any woman in her late 30s or early 40s who’d like to at least try for a baby, it seems we have to cut to the chase. But then doesn’t it all get too serious too quick? Do we end up ruling out perfectly decent guys just because they’re reluctant fathers. And what if we discover we’re infertile anyway?

As you can see, the dilemmas are numerous, which is why I’d really appreciate a little help on this one – from men and women. I’d love to hear your comments. Is it ridiculous to talk about parenthood at this age on a first or second date or is it highly sensible? How do you relax about the whole baby thing and date as though you weren’t aware of your ageing internal organs? Do you decide a great partner is more important than trying for a baby? Or do you take a gamble and assume that any man who truly fell in love with you would want you to have his babies, despite earlier protestations? I think I know the dangers of that last one – going in to something expecting someone to change is generally a recipe for disaster! I know from previous posts that this will also strike a chord for would-be mothers who are in long-term relationships with reluctant fathers and are wondering whether to stay or whether to go.

And what do men think about all this? How do they cope with women who can’t take their baby goggles off? And do they have their own baby goggles on? It seems that many do. If you check out internet dating sites, many men in their late 30s and early 40s won’t consider women their own age. They generally only want to look at the age category beneath them. For some it’ll be because they simply prefer a younger woman but others, no doubt, will want to date someone with more childbearing years to spare.

Of course, as a 40-year-old single woman, I know what I’m supposed to do and I’ve written about it before on this site. I’m supposed to trust that if it’s meant to be, it’ll be. I’m supposed to put it all – both a relationship and motherhood or a childfree future – in God’s hands and not fret. But I have enough experience – through friends, people I’ve interviewed and through what I’ve read – of how painful the whole process can be to know ‘letting go and letting God’ won’t be easy in this area. And just because I trust, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t make sensible choices. One thing I do know is that I really don’t want to put my body through years of prodding, poking and injecting to try to conceive. Melissa Foss, the 41-year-old who spoke to the New York Times, had 15 unsuccessful rounds of IVF. That’s 15 rounds of emotional and physical pain. But nor can I say I wouldn’t try the IVF route if it came to that.

At this point, I should also pause and reflect about whether I really do want children. Is my body telling me that’s what comes next or is it my mind, shaped by everything I see around me? I’m not sure I know the answer but it might be time for some serious thinking.

But even if you take the baby thing out of the equation, there are plenty of other dilemmas that come with dating at this age. I should probably resist the temptation of writing about them all at once, though, so I’ll be back with more thoughts in coming days on relationships, particularly on commitment and commitmentphobia, on the perils of too much independence and on healing from past hurts.

Before I go though, I did a Google search before I began this post on ‘dating at forty’ and I can’t say I liked what I found. I came across a few dating sites for over forties and words like ‘middle-aged’ and ‘mature’ seem to appear rather frequently. I guess I can accept I’m just about ‘middle-aged’ although that phrase still makes me grimace a little. But mature? I’m not sure I’d go that far! Although I’m working on it.

Posted in Fertility, Pregnancy, Relationships, Trust, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , , | 8 Comments

Decision fatigue?

Posted on September 4, 2011 by Katherine Baldwin

Soaked, exhausted but happy at Old Harry, Dorset

I’ve been away from this blog for quite a few days and there’s so much I want to write about – the joys of camping, of watching the stars, of swimming off rocks in very cold water, of cycling along ridges towards the sea, of listening to live music, of friendships and relationships, of fear, pain, perfectionism, faith and grace. It’s amazing how much can go through my head in a week or so!

But I have very little time to write as I’m off again for a few more days. I’m going on a nostalgia trip, taking my Mum back to the Welsh seaside town we used to holiday at every summer when I was little. I’m not sure quite what will happen this week – it’s been a long time since I’ve gone on holiday with my Mum – but it feels like a significant time.

It’s interesting how life is so cyclical, how roles get reversed. Our parents take us on holiday for years and then, eventually, we feel prompted to return the favour. They look after us when we’re vulnerable and then we return that favour too. It’s also interesting how we return to our roots – or at least I do. I spent my 20s and 30s travelling as far away as I possibly could and living on other sides of the globe. And here I am at 40, choosing to spend a week in a caravan in North Wales with my Mum.

But before I go, I thought I’d do a quick post as I feel I’ve abandoned my blog for a rather long time and I’m hoping for a computer-free week. I’m in a bit of a hurry to get moving, though, so here’s one I prepared earlier. I wrote most of this post just before my Dorset camping and cycling trip last week but ran out of time to finish it and decided it was more important to do my packing than write my blog. But here’s the finished version:

I claim no credit for today’s post. The idea comes from an excellent New York Times article that a friend sent me: Do You Suffer From Decision Fatigue? It’s a long and very well-written piece so I’m thinking my job is done. But in case you don’t get to read it all, I’ll point out a few highlights. The crux of it is that the more decisions we have to make, the more tired and jaded we become. This means a decision made late in the day or on the back of a bunch of others may not be well thought out. We’ll either make an impulsive decision, which may not prove the right thing to do, or we’ll make no decision at all and stick with the status quo, which might not be the right thing either.

The article also points out that one of the reasons we struggle with decisions (I always have) is because choosing one thing means giving up another. The word “decide”, the article says, shares an etymological root with “homicide.” The root is the Latin word “caedere,” meaning “to cut down” or “to kill.” The sense of loss we feel when we choose one thing over another grows as decision fatigue sets in. Of course, my perfectionism also gets in my way when I’m trying to make a decision. I don’t like making mistakes and I set my standards very high, painfully high sometimes, so I struggle to know which path is the “right” one and find it difficult to comprehend there might not be any one “right” answer.

The article also says some interesting stuff about eating, dieting and willpower. Now, I’m not a fan of dieting but I’ve had plenty of experience of it over the years and I understand that the more we resist something the more we want it and the more sugar we eat, the more we crave it.

But I particularly like the article’s conclusion and it’s something I’ve written about before on this blog – the importance of forming good habits: “People with the best self-control are the ones who structure their lives so as to conserve willpower,” the article says. “They don’t schedule endless back-to-back meetings. They avoid temptations like all-you-can-eat buffets, and they establish habits that eliminate the mental effort of making choices. Instead of deciding every morning whether or not to force themselves to exercise, they set up regular appointments to work out with a friend. Instead of counting on willpower to remain robust all day, they conserve it so that it’s available for emergencies and important decisions.”

I hope you get a chance to read the full piece and get something from it. It really got me thinking. There’s so much more I’d like to write but my packing, once again, awaits. I’m realising that writing from my heart is one of the many ways I connect to myself, to my thoughts and feelings, and I’ve missed it this past week. But there are other ways I can connect to myself – prayer and meditation are key ones – and I’ve been neglecting both those practices. For some reason, I didn’t think morning meditation was compatible with camping. Maybe it’ll be easier in a caravan.

 

 

Posted in Leisure, Perfectionism, Uncategorized, Women | Tagged , , | Leave a comment