Service

My favourite sound is that of my cats eating. Not just any time that they eat, but in those few moments following their morning shenanigans designed to get me out of bed--after the knocking of my cell phone off the night table, the whacking of the chimes on my balcony door, the stepping on my bladder (a favourite of Harley the Heavyweight) and the plaintive vocalizations pitched at the precise wavelength of a hungry human baby's cry. Finally I arise, as do their hopes, and tend to my most urgent biological needs as they look on, incredulous that after all that effort they still have to wait.They put their little paws on my knee and look earnestly into my face, willing me to comprehend the urgency of their plight. Then there is the washing and drying of the bowls, interspersed with the making of the coffee and wiping of the counter. They pace in circles or sit and stare, hoping to compel me with the sheer force of their wills to just put the damned food in front of them already. Sometimes they yell at me. Sometimes Harley will, in desperation, retreat to another room, unable to withstand the sight of me doing anything but attending to his deep, yawning need for food. As soon as he hears the sound of that pop top can lid opening, though, he joins Blaine at my feet.

I put the food down. There is a moment in which they decide which bowl belongs to whom. A pause. Then...the sound. It is a sound that is more than a sound. It is a deep, visceral, all-encompassing experience of blessed relief, contentment, joy, satisfaction and gratitude. For a few moments, as I listen and feel into the sound, my role in life is fulfilled. I have a reason to exist and I am successful in carrying out my ultimate purpose. These two beings depend on me for sustenance. I have provided sustenance. My joy is found in this simple yet essential provision of service.

Yesterday I did a 3-card Soul's Journey reading. The first card was Service. I don't recall ever having pulled the Service card before. It's all about how being of Service is really the path to one's own fulfillment and ultimately serves one's own happiness, one's sense of meaning in life. It is, and has always been, a central theme for me, so much so that I have often lost myself in serving others. I struggle with the concept of meeting the needs of others vs. meeting my own needs over and over and over. I imagine the Universe shaking it's head sadly, disappointed yet again. That Joni [insert sigh]. She just doesn't get it.

I'm trying so hard to get it. But I am confused! So many conflicting messages, all compelling and mutually exclusive, from sources I respect and believe in. Lose yourself! Find yourself! You can only be whole by serving others! You can only be whole by looking inward and meeting your own needs! You must love others first! You must love yourself first! Breathe in! No, breathe out!

I know you are expecting me to come up with some kind of epiphany now. Ah, Grasshopper, you must breathe in and out. You and others are one and there is no breathing in and out--only breathing. There is no breathing, it is all illusion. Something New Agey and Buddha-like. I don't have any epiphanies. I only have the sound of the cats eating and the awareness of how it makes me feel.

I Feel a Blog Post Coming On.........

My sexy red lace matching bra and panties are mocking me. It's true that the last time I was stood up on Valentine's Day was much worse than this. That time, the guy I had been seeing for about a month and with whom I had just become "exclusive", broke up with me by email on Valentine's Day. He had invited me to attend a party with him and when I hadn't heard from him by noon and he had not returned any texts, I called him. He did not pick up but emailed me about 20 minutes later saying he would not feel "authentic" if he continued to see me. Yes. Mr. Authentic was much worse.

That is not to say that this does not feel bad. I had not had sex or even felt like a man wanted me for about a thousand years--ok, 7 months. But there were a couple of big disappointments in there too. Last May I met a very exciting man online who was not exactly geographically desirable but so many other boxes were ticked: witty, smart, artistic, warm, spiritually-oriented, psychologically reflective, good-looking and there was definitely a strong connection between us. We planned a meeting. He drove 2 1/2 hours to visit me. Turns out he had not even come close to getting over his ex. I had no idea this was even an issue. Believe me, it was an issue. We are still in touch and I certainly don't think badly of him but the experience pulled me up short. I had been excited for the first time in so long that the impact as I hit the cold hard ground was jarring.

Then there was the "nice" man I met online who I drove 4 hours to meet. He had written me actual letters. Not just emails but honest-to-goodness pen and paper old-fashioned letters with envelopes and stamps and whatnot. I felt heartened. Here was a mature, principled, decent man who would behave with courtesy and honesty. We had communicated a great deal throughout the summer, met a couple of times and I had tentatively planned to go see him again. I decided that I could not go to see him out of town after all but since he was returning to Toronto I was not worried about it. Didn't hear a word from him after that. I only knew he was alive from his Facebook postings and we commented on each other's pages and emailed a few times. It was only very recently that I had the temerity to ask him what had happened. He answered that not only was he not really that into me but that back in the summer he had met a woman with whom he wanted to pursue a relationship. He explained that although "perhaps" he should have explained to me why he suddenly dropped off the face of the earth, that he just felt it was "easier" not to bother. And that's the dating game, he further mused. People get hurt. It's just the way the cookie crumbles. And then: "Friendship is an option". No. I'm afraid not.

It's been a busy year full of huge upheavals including going through every piece of paper and memorabilia in my life in preparation for moving from a three-bedroom house with a basement and garage chock-a-block with stuff, to a fantastic but relatively small 2-bedroom condo downtown. I hate moving. It was a tough slog to get ready for selling my house and the anxiety over the antics of my crazy neighbour was, in itself, enough stress for a lifetime. Just getting that nutjob to move her big-ass, seized up motorcycle from the shared driveway in the front to the vicinity of the garage took a few years off my life. At the same time I helped my daughter locate and move into an apartment in Ottawa where she goes to University. A few months before, my workplace moved to a temporary location. Did I mention I hate moving? I got stung by a wasp. I spent my vacation with a dearly loved, very ill friend. I was exhausted every day. I weaned off one antidepressant and onto another.I hibernated. I worked long hours and spent my energy stores until I had nothing left. I was dead inside. I longed for love, sex, both....but to be honest there wasn't anyone in whom I was even remotely interested and no one was expressing any interest in me. I could not bring myself to go back online.  Then I hit the wall and had a panic attack that presented as intense chest pain and elevated blood pressure. It scared me. My manager made me take time off, God bless her. As I detoxed from work and started to remove my armour I felt the stirrings of life in me again. I went to a couple of meetup groups. I had fun. I got together with my friends. I felt a groundswell of support from people I hadn't realized even gave a crap about me. I started to come back to myself.

I met a man at one of the meetup events. He got in touch with me afterwards and we went out to a movie. There he did something that made me believe in men again. He held my hand. I felt my entire being become infused with happiness when he made that simple, sweet gesture. It felt exquisitely intimate. I enjoyed his company and he mine. The sex was "meh" but, Sweet Mother of Jesus, it was sex! He desired me, ergo I was desirable! We had fun.We were easy in each others' company, so easy that I invited him over spontaneously a few days later when I was already in my PJs "for a hug". He walked the 10 minutes in sub-zero temperatures to my place and got much more than hugs. This time it was awesome. Such happiness! Just to enjoy each other with no major expectations but with no fear of dickish behaviour was miraculous to me. I had invited him to battle the dreaded Valentine's Day with me tonight for a sleepover/Breaking Bad marathon. He has never seen BB if you can imagine such a thing. He had to go see family in an outer suburb in the afternoon but would come over after dinner and spend the night with me. I cleaned my place. I put together a playlist. I shaved my legs even though they were waxed a short time ago and I cut myself doing it. No matter, I was having a sex sleepover on Valentine's Day!

It came out of the blue. As God is my witness, I did not see it coming. Just as I finished doing my hair I got the text: He is staying with his family overnight so they can have a meal together tomorrow with the rest of the family. Could we get together next week sometime? I was stunned. I took a few minutes to catch my breath. Responses were composed and rejected. I texted that my dance card is rather full next week (which it is) and my daughter is in town with me for Reading Week (which she is).....could he return to his family tomorrow for the meal? No, he responded, that would not work out too well for him. But we will work something out soon.

The Joni you know and love, Endlessly Understanding Joni, would have been gracious and would have offered to contort herself into pretzel shapes to accommodate the vagaries of his priorities. The truth is that I have changed. Maybe it's moving downtown. Maybe it's having an empty nest. Maybe it's hitting the wall of self-sacrifice yet again. Maybe it's all that and more. Endlessly Understanding Joni is nowhere in sight. Standing me up is not ok. Standing me up for a sleepover date and offering such a lame reason is less ok. On Valentine's Day......well, let us not even speak of it.

When I recovered my senses it occurred to me that the Universe is providing an opportunity for me to determine what is good enough for me. What kind of treatment will I accept? Old habits are powerful but there is a new little nugget in me that is growing and seems to be here to stay. That nugget knows I deserve so much better and it will not settle for people who play so fast and loose with my feelings. I don't know if I will see Mr. Something Better Came Along again. I am grateful to him for bringing an essential part of me back to life. It seems, though, that my feelings are not very important to him. Happily, my feelings are now important to me.