Personal Boundaries and Self Sacrifice

Christmas, and, indeed, every holiday that involves family, makes me introspective.  A somewhat favorite topic of pop-culture lately seems to be the idea of personal boundaries.  The concept that a person needs a sense of self and to hold to their principles even when people, particularly friends and families, are testing or imposing on those principles.  

When put as simply as that, the concept is delightful and extremely important.  The idea is important to prevent resentment that comes from performing acts out of sheer obligation.  But it's always bothered me, because most of the articles I've read (which have been a great many at this point) have preached that when faced with a request that imposes on you, that you should hold firm to your boundaries against such an imposition.

Before tonight, I had never read an article that mentioned that perhaps doing something that is an imposition doesn't always breed resentment.  My problem with this psychological tenant is that, as the word implies, tenants do not encompass the whole of the situation.  I am not entirely convinced that performing something out of sheer obligation is always unhealthy or problematic, but that isn't what I would like to address.  What I would like to address is that doing something that is an imposition or something solely for someone else's benefit when you truly want to do it, won't breed resentment.

And while it could be argued that it is selfless, it is also a form of selfishness, because a person's gratitude for service or help rendered is frequently more than enough repayment for my actions.  We both benefit, so where is the harm?

I've gotten into arguments with friends about this and it, for me, is something that is decisive in my relationships with others.  While yes, doing something for someone because you'll feel good about it is selfish; I believe that not doing something because you don't want feel obligated is a different for of selfishness, and one I personally am less tolerant of.  In the first situation you both benefit in your selfishness.  In the other, one suffers while you benefit from your act.

I realize that people can't control when they will resent feeling obligated.  I realized people can't control whether they will actually feel good about going out of their way for someone.  But I have found that if you truly do care for someone, you will want to you out of your way for them.  Nevertheless, herein lies the conundrum.  You can't force yourself to feel a particular way and if you will truly resent an obligation, then I do agree with the advice that you shouldn't do it if it will make you unhappy.  It is simply my belief that it is best to strive to want to do acts of kindness for other to make yourself happy.  Unsurprisingly, however, I have no idea how to accomplish such a thing if it does not come naturally.

My other problem with most of the literature out there on setting personal boundaries is the advice that you should make your decisions regardless of how other people will react.  If you are going to do something that will upset another person, you should do it, because their feelings aren't relevant and/or have no bearing on the situation.  But humans don't live in vacuums.  We are social creatures and while another person's feelings on a subject shouldn't ultimately and unilaterally decide your actions, if you care for them, if they are a large part of your life and relevant to the choice you're making, then I believe you should keep in mind their feelings.  And if you don't have a reasonable idea of their feelings on the subject, then you should ask.  And if they tell you unsolicited how they feel about a topic, I believe that carries even more weight.

If my boyfriend has had a hard day, but I've made plans, I might still go out.  But I might stay in an comfort him and hang out with him, because it will make him happier and that will make me happier.  I'm not saying that I'm obligated to stay and comfort him; I'm saying that in many situations, I will be happier with changing my plans and staying than if I went.  But, there are times when my plans are the more important element and I'll keep them.  I'm not going to abandon my boyfriend though.  I'll maybe buy him ice cream, or make plans with him later that night, or text him and amusing article, or poke him in the ear (long story).  There's always compromise and I feel like most of the articles I've read would say the conversation has to go like this:

Him: I had a really hard day.  My coworker yelled at me and then I made a mistake that resulted in costing money.  I ended up with a flat tire because I hit a curb when someone almost served into me.  And it doesn't help that you have plans tonight.

Me:  I'm really sorry that sounds awful.

Him:  I would love if you would stay with me tonight instead of going out.

Me:  I understand that you want me to stay, but I've already made plans and I need you to understand and respect that.

My problem with the above conversation is, that instead of continuing the dialogue, it cuts it off entirely.  By explaining that he's imposing on my boundaries and he needs to respect that, you've ended the conversation, and no matter how nicely you say the above, you've basically created an ultimatum, which I feel like, people generally respond poorly to.  I also feel like the above scenario assumes that my boyfriend knows nothing of having boundaries and that I need to educate him on them.  The firm phrasing also, I feel, conveys a sense that he is intentionally trying to test my resolve and boundaries, instead of just making a request because he's not feeling well.  While it's true that he could be testing my boundaries, I tend to assume the best of people and would like to make allowances for this not being the case (I also think this assumption depends a lot on the individual person involved).

Generally (though my relationship is far from perfect), my conversation would go more like this.

Him: I had a really hard day.  My coworker yelled at me and then I made a mistake that resulted in costing money.  I ended up with a flat tire because I hit a curb when someone almost served into me.  And it doesn't help that you have plans tonight.

Me:  I'm really sorry that sounds awful.

Him:  I would love if you would stay with me tonight instead of going out.

Me: You know I love spending time with you and it's even more important to me when you're not feeling well.  Most times I'd cancel my plans and stay with you, but this time, it's really important that I go out.

Him:  I understand.  I'll miss you though.

Me:  Oh!  I finished Alloy of Law and know you'll love it.  Here let me grab it for you if you want.  I know reading often makes you feel better.  And hey, if you want and will still be up when my plans are done, I'll grab us some ice cream and we can hang out afterward.

Him: I don't want to impose or make you go out of your way.

Me:  I'm your girlfriend, I get to claim first right of imposition and I'm honestly happy to do it. 

Him:  Well then, that sounds nice.  Thank you.  You're the best.

This is pretty much exactly a conversation I've had with him before and I don't see the harm in it at all. It assumes that he's not trying to impose or manipulate.  In fact, he tends to know when he's imposing and mention it.  This isn't the case with all people, as I said above, but just because someone is pushing on your personal boundaries doesn't mean you need to rebuff them.  And I still don't believe that doing something that will make someone you care about (or even just an acquaintance) happy, and won't make you unhappy, is wrong.  

It's all about balancing your boundaries with that sense of self sacrifice.  And I struggle with people who have a low sense of self sacrifice, because I tend to have a high sense of it.  I feel like this is bragging or boasting, but I also think it is something that is intrinsically characteristic of me and not something I would care to try to change.  People have a lower sense of self sacrifice which means they're going to watch out for themselves more because it's the only way they can stay happy, and that's okay too.  I just struggle with accepting that.

The problem that I have with so much self-help literature/blogs/theories/etc is that is written as an absolute.  There's often a lot of: This is the only healthy way to react to something and everything else is wrong.  And I struggle with that perception so much, because I firmly believe that there is always a better way to do something.  A better way to balance caring for yourself and caring for others.  A better way to make yourself happy.  A better way to know when people are trying to take advantage of you and when they're just hurt or upset.  And I am always going to look for that better way.  I do things the way I do now because for this moment, they're what I know as best, but I intend to improve.

My bottom line: I believe setting personal boundaries is extremely important, but sacrificing for other people isn't wrong as long as it doesn't make you unhappy.

A good partner will...

I thought I'd written a post when Wendell (look, I found a pseudonym other than Boy!) started dating, but it turns out I was mistaken and it was actually a journal entry, not for public consumption.  Anyway, it's been about six months since I got involved with Wendell.  Closer to four (maybe? I'm not exactly positive on the timing) since we started dating.  And I keep waiting for the honeymoon/new relationship phase to be over.  And it keeps not happening (much to my delight).

Things have been so easy and we've fallen into a rhythm that we both love.  It helps that we get to work with each other through May.  Somewhat shockingly, it's easier when we're working together than when we're not.

Anyway, there have been so many things that I've learned in the past six months.  Things I wish I'd known sooner; things about relationships that people just don't tell you.  So I'm writing them down.  I still have so much in life to learn, but these are things that I believe to be undeniably true.

There's someone out there for you.  Hell, there's a bunch of people out there for you.  If you leave your current relationship, there is someone else out there for you.  In fact, numerically speaking, there's a bunch of people out there who will fit into your life.  You aren't trapped.  You aren't worthless.  There are people out there who will love you for you.  You just have to keep looking long enough to find them, which sucks.

Being alone isn't bad.  I write this from the perspective of being in a relationship now, but I learned over the last year and a half that not being in a relationship doesn't make you less of a person.  Getting to know yourself, being your own person without relating it intimately to who someone else is, is so so important.  And if you don't ever want a relationship, then good for you for recognizing that fact.  (Even now, my bedmates as I write this aren't other people, but my dogs and cat).

If you think you aren't being respected, trust yourself.  There's obviously a point that you could take this that would be too far; there is for pretty much everything.  But if your partner is gas-lighting you; telling you you're over-emotional, over-reacting, burdensome, whiny, etc, then examine your relationship very closely.  Is it actually worth it?  Is your partner actually your partner?

A good partner might consider doing certain things a burden, but they'll want to help you.  I just spent the entire weekend with the worst cold of my life.  And Wendell spent the weekend with me; made me tea, soup, etc.  Was it fun for him?  Really not so much.  Was it a burden?  Well, yes, it fit that description.  Did he mind doing it?  No, he wanted to, because he loves me and wants to see me happy (and in this case, healthy).  And I thanked him profusely for all of his help.

A good partner wants to see you happy and will sometimes want to sacrifice their comfort to ensure that.  (rephrased: you should make sacrifices for each other).  The other week my grandparents wanted to have dinner and I wanted Wendell to come.  He's not the most social of people, and wasn't sure he wanted to go.  I did my absolute best to tell him that it was fine, but he also knew, without me expressly saying it, that I was disappointed.  And so he decided to go, and actually did have fun.  This is the type of thing that we both try extremely hard not to abuse, because it quickly becomes manipulative.

A good partner will communicate with you (specifically) well.  They don't have to be a good people person to communicate with you well.  Wendell certainly isn't what either of us would call a people person.  But he gets me.  He understands me.  When I say something that isn't quite factually or actually what I mean, he gets me well enough to understand my meaning, and won't correct me on the phrasing (except maybe jokingly).

A good partner will tell you the truth. Even when it hurts.  Even when they'd rather be alone, or with friends instead of you, or in another/additional relationship.  Even when you know it might hurt them.  Even when you know their response might hurt you.  Even when everything in you just wants to shrug is off and say: "it's okay" when it's not or "I don't know" when you do know what's bothering you.  And if you both do this, then you can trust each other, unequivocally

A good partner will accept you even when you're not good company.  A good partner won't desert you just because you're going through a bad patch.  The number of times I've been told that it's okay that I'm upset; that it's okay that I'm angry; that it's okay that I'm not good company, in the past six months astounds me.  I've been struggling with depression and anxiety and haven't been all that fun to be around lately, and yet he still supports me.


There's more.  I know there is.  But these mean so very much to me.  And if you're looking for a partner (or really even a friend), look for these qualities.

A Floodgate to my Childhood

Side Note: So I went back to the post where I know I mentioned him and I'm completely dissatisfied with the pseudonym I picked back then, so I'm going to pick a new one.  I just don't know what yet, so for the moment, I'm just going to go with Boy (which amuses me for various reasons (not the least of which because he's more than ten years older than me)) which is DECIDEDLY different than Boyfriend, who I'm not dating anymore, and will henceforth be referred to as Riley (though I doubt I'll mention him as much).

So in both the previous posts where I've talked about Boy, I've talked about the fact that we can talk for hours and a) not notice and b) not be sick of each other.  For years, I thought that I had told every story I had; every secret I'd buried.  Turns out, that's really not the case.  And even if I had told all my stories, I've realized that I've pretty much never discussed them from an emotional standpoint of how they intimately affected my life. It's interesting, because in the course of about a month, I really have told Boy stories that I've never told anyone before, and the emotional details that go with them.

Boy and I are very similar in a lot of aspects.  Not personality-wise honestly, we're very different people in that regard.  But we have similar interests, fetishes, kinks, humor, mental-processes (though if we respond in tandem without planning it one more time, I think our coworkers are going to find a special punishment for us (and I, at least, won't blame them in the least)).  The similarity that has struck me, however, is that we were both very similar as children.  He had a lot of anger-management issues, which mainly manifested at school.  I had a lot of anger management issues that mainly manifested at my parents.

The biggest difference for me was that I had a very specific trigger.  And it this case, it relates to my younger sister, Carla.  I have two younger sisters, Carla, who is 2+ years younger than me, and Shea, who is 3+ years younger than me.  And let me tell you, those age gaps were huge when we were growing up.  I probably would have been closer to my sisters if I've been five or six years older, and I could fondly regard them as cute, kid sisters (instead of annoyingly immature, pseudo-peers).

Shea is smart, charismatic, athletic, popular.  I was a bit jealous of her when we were growing up (the charisma/understand people part of me didn't kick in until I was much older).  But, ultimately, we were kids who had a lot in common.  Carla on the other hand, I was never good at handling.

Carla is smart.  There is no denying that.  And I wish I could understand how she sees the world, because it must be utterly beautiful.  But growing up together, she might as well have been the devil to me.  She was diagnosed when she was extremely young, with a number of learning disabilities and behavioral issues.  She has ADD, ADHD, dyslexia, OCD, and is bipolar manic depressive.  The list is long, but I think I've forgotten something (or maybe two).

And when you lay her disorders out like that, it's hard to not be impressed (that's so not remotely the right word) by them.  Well, I can tell you that she's more than her disorders and every stereotypical thing.  And it is true.  She is more than her disorder.  But as a child, I couldn't see that.

All I could see was being the straight-A student who excelled at soccer and volleyball, loved art, and had a solid group of friends (even though, I knew even then, that I wasn't that close with them), but that was never good about it.  I was competent.  I was impressive.  I didn't have a meltdown at the drop of a hat.  And so Carla got the attention.  What little attention that was left from my parents, generally went to Shea.

Now, the perspective of a child is usually very skewed and egocentric.  But my parents admitted at the time (when Shea and I accused them of being preoccupied with Carla) that they did have to spend more time focusing on Carla.  I remember have the self-possession to tell them that the reason I always picked fights with them [my parents] was because even negative attention was still attention.  I think that was the first time I go through to them.  I was maybe ten at the time, possibly younger, not older.

I resented Carla endlessly.  And I resented Shea (to a significantly lesser extent) because her coping mechanism was to throw everything she had into being a perfect child.  The thing is, it worked for my dad.  Shea could do no wrong in his eyes.  So I was left with a father enamored of Shea, and both parents utterly distracted by Carla.  I, quite expectedly, always felt left out.

When I was about 16 (it was one of the last times I was traveling for sports) I ended up going out to dinner with my parents, which was unusual.  Shea was eating with her soccer team.  Carla had decided to mope in the room.  And I was done with my volleyball tournament and bored out of my mind.

We went to a really nice restaurant and I couldn't help but think that my parents were up to something.  Turns out, I was right.  They had been meaning to corner me for ages (I would guess on the order of years, not months).  I felt ganged up on, naturally, but they actually managed to talk through my upset and anger, which was rare for me.

They told me that they didn't get along with me, because they didn't understand me.  Well, yes, I knew that.  They told me that I was harder to relate to than either of my sisters.  I found that hard to swallow, considering Carla, but they assured me it was true.  And then they told me what I hadn't expected.  I scared them.  Me?! Scared them!?  They felt like I was condescending to them.  I didn't even know it was possible to be condescending to a parent (and deep down, I was surprised that my intention had come through).  I was so much smarter than them that they didn't know what to do.  And this, it was this statement that shocked me out of my mind.

Praise was not something I was used to.  Turns out, when you make a point to be so good at something that people take it for granted, that they take it for granted and don't praise you.  That might just be in sports, because it certainly hasn't proven to be true in theatre.  My parent's high school graduation card to me, brought me to tears, not because of the nice things they said about me, but because there wasn't even a small part of me that believed the nice things they said.  I was smart, I was a good person, they were proud.  These were all profoundly mind-altering belief-structures that I was not remotely prepared to accept.

I can look back at all of this now and see plainly how much my parents struggled with me.  When people ask me about my childhood, the first thing I'll tell them was that I was not an easy child.  The second is that I wanted to be an adult more than anything else in the world, which confused my parents.  My poor parents who had a child they had no idea how to cope with, a child who pretended to be perfect to hide he insecurities, and a child who scared them because she could and did manipulate them into doing what she wanted because she didn't see any other way of getting it.

Their lives were not easy and it's so easy to recognize that with hindsight.  And looking back, I owe them another apology (I feel like I will never get done apologizing for how much of a monster I was as a child).  I know that there were so many times that they felt like the failed me.  And, if I'm being completely honest, they did.  But it wasn't really their fault.  And I love all of my family.  I'm actually shockingly close to my family now.  Though I still desperately wish I was able to relate better to Carla.

A Dom for Me

This should make an interesting contrast to my last post, I suspect.  Warning, no in-depth details, but discussion of kink, specifically my newly explored kinks.

I've known what kink and BDSM are from a fairly early age.  I used to be an avid watcher of Law and Order: SVU and CSI (I think my parents only let me because they knew they wouldn't be able to change my actions anyway).  And so a number of "deviant sexual behaviors" are explored as a matter of course throughout those shows.  I wasn't interested or intrigued as a child, but I also wasn't put-off by the behavior.

I can't really remember when I first realized I was interested in kink, most especially as a sub.  It might have been when I realized that I intended to enjoy rough sex, but maybe not.  It's odd, because I think it was more realization than surprise for me.  Like: "Oh, I'd enjoy having my control taken away (god knows I'll never let go of it otherwise), being tied up, and beaten.  But in a consensual manner of course."  And then I moved on with my life.

The thing is, up until now, I haven't had a partner who was interesting in being my Dom.  In truth, I haven't really had a partner who was interested in kink. So a friend and I went to a local kink club.  She enjoyed the atmosphere.  I didn't.  It wasn't the public aspect of it.  It was, however, that I didn't know the people there apart from my friends.  That's why munches are so important, meet people, get to know them, etc.  But I'm not sure even that tact would have worked for me.

I've known this since I was nine.  But I'm not attracted to people until I know them.  It doesn't always have to be knowing them really well, but it tends to be.  That's why I've sometimes known people for years and then suddenly find myself attracted to them.  For a long time, I would rail against this inclination.  I had no desire to ruin or alter my friendships because I'm suddenly attracted to a friend.  But, I'm demisexual, which is the first time I've really used that word in reference to myself.  I'm not necessarily huge on labels.  But in this case, the label concisely expresses what I feel, so I'll use it for now.

So, being demisexual and kinky seems to be an unfortunate combination.  Things tend to work out like this: I know you well enough to be attracted to you, but not so well that I know whether you're kinky.  Turns out sexual preferences aren't a topic most people talk about with all their friends.  And so, I tend to not pursue some of the opportunities I've had, because of timing or some other such thing.

Now, I think I've mentioned him at least once before, but I have a coworker.  I've worked with him on and off for a year and a half now.  And our interests have always aligned, much to my delight.  He's poly, I'm poly.  He's getting out of a long relationship, I'm getting out of a long term relationship (in case you hadn't guessed (I'll probably write about it eventually, but I'm not to that point yet)).  Recently, we were working together again and I realized that we were flirting, and then discovered that I could flirt back on purpose (I'm not very good at this whole thing. I fully acknowledge that).

Our flirting escalated to the point where he threatened to put me over his knee after I had teasingly provoked him yet again.  I immediately bit back the retort that: maybe that wouldn't be that effective a punishment because I'd actually enjoy it.  I wasn't sure if I wanted to admit to that yet, and so I held my tongue.  And the poor guy apologized to me after work, saying he hadn't wanted to make me uncomfortable.  I assured him he hadn't.

I thought about that interaction the entire night and next day.  And finally decided that I'd create the situation again and this time respond as I wanted to.  So this time when I taunted him, I smirked, and asked him if he wasn't going to follow through on his threat.  We stared at each other for a long time, me daring him, and him clearly torn. And then he spanked me.  Once, but surprisingly hard.  And at work of all places (in case you haven't gathered already, theatre's a weird place).

From there we fell into things.  We talked, a lot.  He bought me a drink after an especially hard day, told me he liked me (and I returned the sentiment), and he kissed me.  We continued to flirt, unambiguously, he called it.  He finally told me that he was into kink and was a Dom, and then asked me.  I told him I was a sub, but had absolutely no experience, but was certainly interested.  He followed me home at the end of that week (in the most exciting, non-weird, consensual way possible).

I've always learned fast, but this progression has been ridiculously so.  It feels almost unsetting, how natural this has been.  He out-talks me, by a fair amount, which is just delightfully novel to me.  More delightfully, he pins me, throws me around, ties me up, and beats me.  All at my request.  I was nervous at first.  But that nervousness evaporated probably within the first five minutes, when I realized I was getting exactly what I wanted.  Our kinks happen to mesh perfectly.  We couldn't have planned that portion better if we'd wanted to, it was just remarkably good luck.

We sorta fell into whatever this is, so easily.  It's not dating, and I'm fine with that.  I don't think either of us are really ready for that.  But the other realization that I've had is: dating or not, I'm more satisfied than I've been in years of a relationship that was dating.  It's wonderful to have someone take my control away, force me to relax.  Relaxation is something I crave, and I seriously can't seem to accomplish by myself.  I can take care of myself, so I do.  But having someone forcing me to let go, to take care of me, to let me just relax, that's amazing.  Things are still new, and I am determined to keep it casual for now (if I say it enough, it will happen), but it's fun.  And I've already realized that I don't think I could go back to only vanilla sex.  Or if I could, I certainly wouldn't want to.

I Will Take Care of Myself

***Trigger warnings for rape, sexual assault, etc.  I won't discuss them in depth, but I do certainly mention them in this post

I carry my keys in my hand with getting to my car.  I also carry a knife and a flashlight after dark.  I complained to my landlord when the external lighting fixtures were all burnt out.

But the reason I do all these things?  You could say rape culture and you might be right.  I'm a single woman living in an unsafe world controlled by men, and again that's not a wrong assessment.  But I carry my keys in my hand because I work long hours and just want to get the fuck in the car and go.  I carry my knife and flashlight after dark, but during the day too.  They're tools for my job, which I use daily.  I complained to my landlord, because yes, it was a little eerily dark.  But also, because I walk my dogs after the sun goes down a lot, and, with no lights, I can't see where they poop.

This post isn't designed to disparage the women who do all these things because they feel unsafe.  Those women aren't wrong and I also do the above list, because they are sensible precautions for a young, single woman who lives alone.  But do I live in fear?  I choose not to.

My apartment could be broken into by someone (most relevantly a man), but my dogs aren't going to be thrilled with the intruder.  Someone I'm seeing could ignore me saying "No, stop", but if he does, then he's going to reckon with me. I could be accosted on the way to my car, but I have my knife, flashlight, and I'm generally near enough other people that they'd hear any altercation.  If a man follows me and makes degrading comments, I'm going to tell him off.  I can and will take care of myself.

A friend of mine created a pastel (only a relevant detail because it just makes the message better) banner that says "Fuck the Patriarchy" and I'm with her 100%.  The sexism and bullshit women put up with on a regular basis is unjust, unfair, and it's changing at a glacial rate.  It's not that I don't see the sexism, but I'm not going to live my life looking over my shoulder.

I have the luxury of coming from a place where this is possible for me.  I didn't have a father or uncle who was perversely fond of me as a child.  I didn't have a boyfriend who had one too many beers and didn't listen when I said no.  I never had a professor who poured on the charm and said "if I only did this one little thing" then he'd change my grade.  I didn't have a husband who hated me, who beat me, tied me up, and raped me.  These are all real stories I've heard, not on the internet, but from people I know.  And I have lived the charmed life of never having experienced any of that first hand.

For me, boys and men have always been who I felt safest around.  I'm the girl who was playing sword fighting with my best friend and he told me not to use an old sticker-bush branch and did anyway, just because I knew he'd be impressed.  I'm the only girl who the boys let play soccer with them at recess, because they knew that I could run circles around them.  And when more girls wanted to play too, I told the boys that they were going to let them or I wouldn't play anymore.  I'm the girl who felt intensely uncomfortable at parties with makeovers and girly movies and mean, cattiness.

I just didn't get along with other girls and so boys became my protectors, friends, and confidants.  No one whistled at me or catcalled me.  I was a person to them first and then a girl.  I went through puberty at the age of nine (it's always been early in my family) and not once did a boy make me feel uncomfortable about it (it's a good thing too, because that would have scarred me.  Being the only one going through that change at that age is hard).

And now, I've grown up and 2/3 of the year I work in a physically demanding, male dominated field, where the next closest coworker in age to me is a decade older than me and I have never felt unsafe with a male coworker.  Those men have seen me bring in a 600lb piece of scenery and then stop it on a dime. They've seen me lift scenic pieces that are taller than me.  They know I'm capable; I've been damn well obvious about proving myself.  As a result, those men are my friends and protectors.  I've never had an older brother, but I imagine this is what it'd feel like.

I can cry on their shoulders and they won't judge me or call me weak (they know perfectly well that if I'm crying, it must be something bad).  Hell, they can cry on my shoulder (not that they do often, but it has happened).  If they call me a bitch, it's to my face and because I have well and truly earned that title, in that specific instance.  And, if they're calling me a bitch, I've probably also called them an asshole/hat or douche bag/canoe first.  Being hugged by my coworkers has a feeling of protection to it, not of feeling uncomfortable (with a single notable exception I can think of).  If a guy messes with me in a bar, they will intervene.  But even more importantly (to me at least) they're not going to intervene until after I have had a chance to tell the asshole to fuck off.  I feel safe, protected, around these men and am grateful for their presence in my life.

None of this is to say that there aren't creeps, weirdos, real assholes in theatre, particularly technical theatre.  There are. That's not to say that one of my coworkers has never made me feel awkward and uncomfortable.  They have.  This isn't to say that female actors don't get leered at, hit on, cast for their looks, etc.  They do.  All the time.  But I am saying that these instances are the minority.

Women actors walk around in a bra, underwear, and a fishnet robe and feel safe and comfortable doing so (which is good since that's sometimes all there is to their costume).  I've told several people at work that I'm poly and A) they knew what that meant, B) didn't have to fear repercussions if the higher-ups found out, and C) they didn't call me a slut or shame me for being sexual being.  These are people who I've swapped sex stories with, talked about the practicality of threesomes, and on a good day, made men, decades older than me, blush.

Not all technical theatre is like this.  I prefer running shows, to loading-in and out shows.  Every single strike, it's a battle to convince the men in charge to treat me like I'm competent and have been working professionally in theatre for seven years (which, at my age, is pretty damn impressive).  I'm entering my third season working run crew for this theatre, and only now are the people in charge of strike finally treating me like I'm competent and not being condescending toward me.  I don't take bounce work (load ins, load outs, concerts, random work wherever you can get it through the union) because it's back-breaking, tedious, and because the men tend to be sexist jerks.

Theatre is not always a haven.  I've had plenty of bad experiences, but the bad experiences have been nothing more than unpleasant and I've handled them.  The run crews I work with are, in general, good people.  And I know plenty of theatre's where that's just not the case.  I'm lucky that I work with coworkers who I feel comfortable and safe around.  I'm lucky that I haven't had trauma in my past that makes me seize up at the thought of a confrontation with a man.  I'm lucky that the men I've surrounded myself with know that no means no.  The bottom-line is: I'm lucky.

So why have I written this post?  I don't want to undermine any woman's experience.  Women being stripped of their dignity, sense of well-being, and person-hood in men's eyes is disgustingly common.  But I am going to choose to be myself in spite of it.  I am going to stand my ground and I am not going to be afraid.  I want people to know that.

The Sighthound Life

When I was growing up, my family had a cocker spaniel.  He was a pretty good dog, well-behaved, though extremely wary of strangers trying to pet him (who could really blame him).  He aged less than gracefully: went blind, deaf, lost half his hair.  And for my sisters and I, those years are the ones we remember most.

I think it scared all three of us and put us off the idea of dogs.  But then I lived with a dog for two years.  He's a loud, sometimes angry, sometimes frightened little dog, but I still fell in love with him.  During those same years, I was surrounded by dogs at work.  I had two in a show I was asming.  And then, after that, I had coworkers who always brought their dogs around the theatre.  So, I began to consider getting a dog.

I wasn't really sure what I wanted and looked for months.  A fact about me, if I don't think something's going to work out, I don't talk about it.  This habit means that sometimes my choices seem to come out of the blue for the people in my life.  But for big life decisions, I've generally been thinking about them for around a year.

That was the case with my first dog, Argos.  I had been idly looking on petfinder for months when I stumbled across a shelter that had not one, but three dogs I was interested in: a shiba inu cross, an australian shepherd cross, and an italian greyhound cross.  All three were breeds that I was interested in (I couldn't decide back then, but I will never have that problem again) and all were fairly young and hadn't been abused.  The first two dogs were already spoken for by the time I filled out my application, but I went to see the little italian greyhound/chihuahua mix.  He was skittish and nervous, but so well behaved.  I fell in love right then and there.

So I talked to my roommates, who remarkably didn't object.  And I told my parents (because even though I don't live with them, they're still important to me) and they didn't object.  So the next week I picked him up and brought him home.  He was a trooper (his back dew-claw removal surgery (done before I adopted him) had gone rather badly, so he was in and out of the vet the first several weeks I had him).  What surprised me most was how quickly he bonded to me.

I knew, probably, within a week that I wanted to get another dog.  While I lived with roommates and another dog, this wasn't a possibility.  But then I moved out.  It's been almost a year since I adopted Argos and starting the week I moved out I was glancing over petfinder seeing if there was a dog I wanted.  Adopting an italian greyhound, even a mixed one, gave me the taste of sighthound life.  Argos is so fast and intelligent.  He could easily catch a squirrel or a rabbit if I ever let him.

I started doing research into sighthounds then.  Sighthounds are dogs that hunt using sight, rather than scent (bloodhounds, basset hounds, beagles, etc).  There's actually a good number of different species, but many of them are quite rare, particularly inside the US.  Sighthounds are known for being smart, independent, reserved, quiet dogs, with extremely high prey-drives.  For that reason, almost all literature stresses that sighthounds should never be allowed off leash.  Their instincts take over and they will just run and run, frequently straight into trouble.  The most famous is obviously the greyhound, but there are other breeds many people have heard of: whippet, italian greyhound (some people incorrectly call them mini greyhounds), irish wolfhound, afghan hound.

Now, I grew up reading Robin McKinley, who writes about sighthounds in several of her books.  One of my favorites to this day is Deerskin, which is a dark, hauntingly beautiful fairy tail, with a sighthound name Ash as one of its main characters.  Somehow, I got in my head that I wanted to have a dog like the book's Ash.

While researching, I discovered a breed of dog called saluki and knew that was the breed I wanted.  They typically have feathering on their ears, legs, and tails, but also come in a smooth coated variety.  These variations put me in mind of Robin McKinley's Ash, who goes from short coat to long coat after a trauma.  There were two problems with wanting to adopt a saluki. 1) Salukis are incredibly rare in the states and 2) since they are so rare, they are almost never available through a shelter, only a breeder.

I originally thought about going through a breeder, but I wasn't in a rush, and I'm a firm believer in rescuing over buying, so I waited.  Two months ago, I discovered an eight month old smooth coat, Saluki puppy on petfinder.  He was perfect.  He was young enough to be a good companion to Argos who is still under two years old.  He was not only cat safe, but cats actively seemed to like him.  He was even fostered with an italian greyhound and cat.  Things couldn't have been more perfect.  I looked into the shelter with low expectations, because it wasn't local.  But as it turned out, it was a nationwide shelter, dedicated to helping sighthounds specifically, and also willing to ship their dogs to their new owner.

I was ecstatic, but skeptical that everything would work out.  But planets seemed to align.  After several interviews with various people from the shelter, we set up the transport.  I picked him up from the airport, brought him home, and suddenly I had two dogs.  Argos wasn't sure at first, but the next day, started to play with the new puppy, who I dubbed Ash (I know, shocker).  It took longer for Fae, my cat, to come around, but she's always liked dogs, and she adjusted quicker than I expected.

I've heard it said, frequently, that two dogs are more than twice the work, but I'm not sure I'd agree with that assessment.  I've lived with two and dog-sat up to four, and if they're well-trained, adding more dog's is surprisingly not that much more work.  Ash, however, is still not in the well-trained category.  He's pretty much house-broken now, and knows basic commands, but walking both dogs currently is a handful.

What was the point of this story?  There wasn't really one, I suppose.  I've just been going through a lot the past year, and it's very much been my animals who have helped me through it, so they deserve a post (as infrequent as they may be).  If you ever do want to adopt a dog that can run 30+ miles an hour and then will happily spend the rest of the time cuddling with you on the couch, I have an excellent shelter recommendation.

Old Beliefs, New Year

If you've been paying attention at all to this blog, you'll realize that I've been having a bit of a rough year.  Adversity always makes me contemplative, and I've realized that I have an extremely strong, almost codified, system of beliefs (not religious beliefs really, I'm still a bit on the fence there).  I live by these, they are who I am, and so when I fail in one, I feel like I've failed as a person.

No Excuses.  There is No Try.  Only Do: This one I had all but beaten into me, so naturally it's the first one that comes to mind.  I was in a volleyball gym from the time I was a week old on.  I grew up knowing the game and so, when I started playing, I knew exactly what I was doing wrong; and that was true pretty much always.  It frustrated me when coaches corrected me and I frequently let it show.  My response to a correction was frequently something like: "I know what I did wrong, leave me alone." or "I'm trying".  Their response was always: "If you know, then why didn't you do it?" or "Then do it next time". That always angered me even more, because I knew exactly what I'd done wrong, but I couldn't always make my body do it correctly.  It took me a long time to find the words to explain that concept and by then it was too late.  I remember having an hours long talk with my mother in the car and I just sobbed the whole time.  She explained that to the coaches, it didn't matter if I knew or not, I'd still done it incorrectly and to them, I was just making excuses.  So I learned to duck my head, say "okay" or "thank you", and move on.

It took me years and years to truly believe in what my mom told me, but it worked, so until I did believe it, I followed her advice.  Now though, I understand why the coaches were so frustrated with my response.  When I made excuses, I was trying to push attention away from my shame of failing.  I would say: "I'm trying" but they didn't want to hear it, and here's why.  The word "try" inherently means that you've failed.  If you're successful in your endeavors, you say: "I did it".  If you fail (most people) say: "I tried".  The full sentence though is: "I tried and failed."  By using the word "try", I was trying to weasel out of my own failings.  And that seemed dishonorable to me, so I don't use the word try anymore.  If I fail at something, I'm going to own it.  "I'm sorry, I failed," is fucking hard to say the first hundred (or so) times.  But the more I've said it, the more I've accepted it, the more I've owned my actions.  I respect myself more for admitting my failings and moving on from them.  And, the fact that I can receive a note and say "thank you" and honestly mean it (although there are still times where I don't mean it), has earned me respect from my peers.  I've actually had a boss commend me for always taking a note with a "thank you", even when he knew I probably disagreed with him.

Lead by Example: This one is rather less specific to me, but like the other one, I know exactly how it came about.  As established above, I hate being told what to do.  It irks me, and even though I know people are trying to help, to this day, it is still extremely difficult for me to accept that they aren't being condescending.

By nature of my personality, and despite of my relatively young age, I end up in charge of many situations. I was a shift supervisor at my Starbucks 22.  I assistant stage managed an equity show at 23.  I'm props lead for a prominent theatre and have been since I was 22.  It's not the authority I'm seeking, honest.  I just look to do my job the best I possibly can, but that, I've found, leads to having authority. And so, how does one lead without condescending to people?  How do you lead people decades older than you?  This is the problem I have faced since I graduated college.

My solution (and it has been my solution since before I graduated, but it's become more important since then)?  Do, don't tell.  I read a lot, and so often, the hero becomes disheartened when they try to live by this principal, but fail, but I've surprisingly found a lot of success.  At Starbucks, hardly a week would go by without a coworker mentioning that I inspired them with how hard I worked.  And let me tell you, those words are heady and I never got sick of them.  When I left my first store, one of my coworkers flat-out told me that she thought I was effective because I lead by example.  It made her and other people want to work harder.  And so, despite my expectations, sometimes people do notice.

Moments like that are why I always work my hardest; even when I'm exhausted or hurt or sick, I will always give everything.  And if I can convince even a few people to follow my example, then I count it as a success.

You are your Own Worst Enemy: This belief came about in college.  My entire life, I've always taken failing hard, particularly when I'm letting down other people in addition to myself.  My freshman year of college, I got a stomach virus.  I had a fever of 102 at it's highest and the illness lasted about a week.  People covered the concerts I was supposed to work, but when I was finally feeling better, I completely spaced and missed a show.  My boss (who was also my professor) could have fired me right then and there.  He had all the cause he needed.  I went to him, sobbing and terrified.  He just looked at me and said: "Nothing I have to say will make you feel any worse than the things you have already told yourself." and he dismissed me.  I couldn't stop thanking him.

His words were ones I had never heard before, but they were life changing.  I vowed that I would take that approach in the future.  When people fuck up, they don't need your derision, they know they fucked up; it's only hurting, not helping.  And so I've found myself repeating my professor verbatim over the years and the grateful looks I've gotten for that have been nothing but rewarding.

No Regrets: This one I don't have a story for.  I suspect it was something that happened when I was really young, but I couldn't tell you what.  My whole life though, I've lived mostly without regrets.  I'm not sure how I manage it, but I'm grateful that I can.  The few times when I have regretted a decision, I've been utterly miserable and so I've sought to avoid it as much as possible.  To me, regrets do nothing but cause you to question yourself.  I try to have confidence in myself and trust that I've made the right decisions.  I think in almost every case, it's worked out for me.  I only get one life, I'm not going to waste it on what might have been.

Expect Results and you'll Get Them: This belief developed slowly while working with children and I'm so glad it did.  I've found that if you tell a child to do something and have no doubts that they will object, then they'll do it.  I don't try to take advantage of this; I don't want to abuse my authority over them.  However, having absolute faith in what I say and how it will affect their actions, has proven key to me.  If they have a question or concern about it, I'm not going to force them to do it.  I'm not demanding or requiring they do something; I've just found: expect something reasonable -> they will oblige you.

This result was curious to me and so I've tested it over the years.  When I first began to train my dog, I was curious if it would apply to him and it does.  If I tell him to "Sit" then he's going to; I'm not uncertain about it, he will sit (it might not always be prompt, but because it's my expectation, he will meet it).  People (and apparently animals) seem to naturally want to meet expectations.  I think this is another reason that I'm able to be in management positions even when people are 10, 20, 30, 40+ years older than me.  I don't care their age, I wouldn't be asking something of them if it didn't need to happen, and I have no expectation that it won't happen.

I think this whole method wouldn't work out for me if I was unreasonable.  I'm not ever trying to be manipulative or demanding and people tend to get that.  If you're not demanding, people tend to also be more willing to accommodate you.

I don't think I did a particularly good job explaining this one.

Trust Yourself First: I don't have super high self-esteem in many ways (though this post would seem to belie that statement), but I have always be confident in my sense of self.  I know who I am.  I know when I do something, I'm probably not going to fail.  If I do something, I'm going to do it to the best of my ability, even if I do fail.

When I was attending college prep school we read a poem called "The White Man's Burden" (it's about Imperialism) and the question my teachers asked of us when we finished was, "Was the author serious in his intent or was it satire?"  They asked us to move to one corner of the room if we thought it was satire and another if we thought it was serious.  It was a co-taught class of 50 or so high school sophomores.  By the time everyone had decided, I was sitting alone in the corner of the room designated for the author being serious.  Twice my teachers asked me: "Are you sure?  You're all alone."  And twice, I assured them that I was positive I didn't want to move.  The teachers then went on to explain that I was right and commended me for being firm in my decision.  If the teachers had said move to this corner if you think you're pretty, or a good weight, or likeable I would have never stood firm in my belief of those things, because I didn't believe they were true.  But in this area, I knew, unequivocally that I was correct.  Every now and then, a situation comes along where I know in my bones I'm correct, even when no one else believes me.  This was one of those.

My junior year of high school, I was in chemistry and my teacher was trying to explain a concept and the class was just not getting it.  I did understand and eventually halfway through the class period, I raised my hand and asked: "Is it like this ______?"  I was hoping to lure her on to a more understandable path. The teacher got so upset she asked me: "If you think you're so smart, why don't you teach the class?"  She gestured toward the board and I shrugged, got up, drew a few diagrams, made a brief explanation, and the class all nodded and expressed their thanks.  I can be a shit at times...

What I mean by all of this isn't that you should trust yourself and not other people, or even over other people.  It means, for me at least, that's it's really really hard for me to trust other people if I don't trust myself.  And I want to trust other people, so trusting myself is also a must.  Know when you're right and have faith in it.

Show Consideration to Everyone, but Respect is Earned:  When I was a kid, all I wanted was to be a grown-up (now that I am an adult, that desire still doesn't seem foolish).  I hated being treated like a kid.  I hated not having a say in my own choices.  I hated that people seemed to think that I was incapable of reasoning.  I hated that I had to respect my elders, even when they didn't deserve it.  I hated that I seemed to be somehow sub-human.  I just said hated a lot in reference to my childhood, and in truth, I really didn't care for my childhood.  I was mostly miserable.

As soon as I turned 18 (or rather as soon as most of my friends did and I demanded the rights they were receiving) everything changed.  I was suddenly capable, responsible, etc.  But what changed?  Nothing, not really.  I resolved, then and there, that I wouldn't treat kids that way when I interacted with them.

When I was a kid, my dad (and occasionally mom) was constantly telling me: "Don't be disrespectful."  It got so I clenched my jaw and ground my teeth at the phrase.  It just made me so angry.  "Respect has to be earned." I would say (or usually shout) back.  And despite everything, I still think that's true.

Consideration means everything to me.  Having written that and looking over that sentence, I still don't quite find it hyperbole.  If you are inviting people over, you need to tell everyone you live with.  If you said you'd make dinner, then you need to make dinner (or at least tell everyone who's eating it that you're not).  If you're planning on a event, invite everyone you would normally invite, even if you think that person is probably busy.  Consideration is how you show people that you care (there are of course other ways, but this is my primary way).  I don't mind going out of my way for everyone.  It doesn't hurt or really affect me.  I don't mind being inconvenienced at all, because as people, everyone deserves my consideration.  I feel like it is a thing people should receive by right of being people.  I will be considerate to everyone I meet and again, to me, that means treating everyone courteously, politely, kindly, and (at least initially) believing that they're competent.  This applies to kids, the differently-abled, people of different races, of different religions, of different genders, of different orientations, hell, I apply it to domesticated animals sometimes.

But for me, respect is different.  When I meet someone, I will be considerate of them, but I'm still assessing them (maybe they're not competent or intelligent or friendly (etc), but that doesn't mean I should be mean or impolite).  However, there are very few people I honestly respect in the world (I can name maybe 15).  For me respect is something I almost cherish and it is definitely earned.  People have earned that in difference ways.  For me, being completely competent and astonishing at your chosen profession is a really good way to earn my respect.  Being an incomparably good human is another way.  Having put up with my bullshit from childhood is another.  I am always seeking to earn everyone else's respect.

Anticipate Problems and You'll Prevent Most of Them: This whole post seems to have turned into me bragging, which isn't what I mean or want.  These are just tenets that I live my life by and so I have devoted everything I have to trying to be good at what I believe.  All that being said, I do feel like I am extremely good at anticipating what other people want.  My boss (and other coworkers) have a tendency to turn to me and go "Kaylee, could you get..." and I'll hand them the tool they needed before they finish the sentence.

It's such a useful skill as a stage manager, so it's one I've cultivated daily.  If something goes wrong on stage, I have a 70% chance of being the one who will notice.  And if it's minor, I'm just going to take care of it, but if it's major, I can tell my superiors and they can troubleshoot.  If I say something ill thought out or the phrasing is off, I will tend to notice that the person I'm talking to is upset and trying to smooth it over and apologize immediately.  If someone is hurt or sick, I generally hand them a bandaid or a cough drop, or whatever, without them even asking.  I want to be a person who notices that your drunk friend went to the bathroom awhile ago and hasn't come back, so that you can be there for them

It's not mind reading, but the more I observe people the better I get at anticipating, and the more people seem to think it is.  And I'll admit, it's not totally altruistic, I feel awesome when I'm able to anticipate someone's needs without them asking.  I'll admit, I'm occasionally rude and cut someone off with a "Yeah, no problem" before they finish their sentence and they get mad (I've played the: "Well, what was I going to say?" game with people who are upset at being interrupted quite often (I frequently make them more mad, by finishing the sentence correctly)).

For all that I can take a note with a "thank you" it's still hard to not think that I've failed since I got the note in the first place.  This means that I expend probably more of my energy than I should anticipating what people want or need, so I don't have to take a note in the first place.

Let your Best be Good Enough:  This is my newest held belief and it is still the hardest for me.  Growing up, I have always been competitive.  People often think that I want to win at all costs.  It's made more than one person not want to play board games with me anymore.  For a long time, I bought into it.  I'm competitive, I'll get upset if I lose, I just shouldn't play.  That was still preferable for everyone than when I played and got upset, and I really do enjoy watching almost as much as playing.  But recently I came to the realization that I don't hate losing.  I hate not doing my best.

At Nationals for volleyball, we faced the number one ranked team in the nation and went a full 3 games (best of 3) with them and only lost but the minimum 2 points.  And I didn't feel bad at all.  In fact, I felt proud of  how my team had played.  It took me a long time to realize, that I only got upset when I lost and I felt I could have played much better.  So now that I recognize that feeling, I can generally play most games even when I don't play well.  But it's still very hard for me to lose when I played badly, and it's going to take a long time to truly accept that sometimes I will do badly and that is still good enough.

There is an Optimal Solution: I figure I'll start with a belief that's fairly unique to me and end with one.  I feel like many people believe that compromising is often the best solution.  For me, I find that a compromise is rarely even remotely satisfactory.  I have a hard time believing that there isn't an optimal solution where everyone will be happy.  And the thing is, I can find that optimal solution just often enough (sometimes in situations where it really seemed like there wasn't an optimal solution) that I have a hard time shaking myself of this belief.  This is a belief that has gotten me into trouble, when I get so stubborn about looking for the optimal solution, that I don't want to accept one that's adequate.

Similarly, I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut when someone takes an inefficient route to somewhere.  I understand that their route (or solution) is perfectly valid and I shouldn't malign that, but I do have a hard time (at least in my head) not looking for a better one.  This is a belief I'm not convinced I should necessarily hold, but it does keep me constantly thinking and looking for better choices and it has helped me out so so frequently, that I have a hard time abandoning it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

My Goal for Existence is to be a Better Person Every Day:  I feel like this whole post feels like I'm bragging or: "Look at me, I'm such a good person", but that's really not what it's intended to be.  This is what I believe and I hold my beliefs because I believe they are correct.  If they're not, or if there's a better one, I'm going to reassess.  I'm constantly evolving, constantly changing.  Maybe I am a good person, maybe I'm not, but I'll tell you what is unequivocally true: I strive for competence and courteousness always, but no matter how good I am, I can always be better.  So maybe my belief tenets disagree with yours, but it could well be that yours are better, and if they are, I'm going to borrow them.

Happy New Year everyone.