Midnight

First post of 2024 let’s goooooo! I’m, as per usual, a bit late for a new year reflection post but here we are. 2023 was a year of release. Release of who I thought I needed to be, release of what I wanted other people to be, release of what others wanted me to be. Release of expectations, labels, pigeon-holes, and assumptions. Release of limitations, long held opinions, and rose-colored glasses. Release of the versions of me that weren’t for me. It was a common theme in all of my posts as I closed in closer and closer to what I really needed to release.

Release of the rules.

I’ve never considered myself a rule follower, but, the truth of the matter is that I am one. Playing fair has always mattered to me, despite any suggestions otherwise. In fact, I’ve studied the rules so closely over the years that I’ve over compensated for them. I’ve stuck to these rules of engagement even when the people around me weren’t. I watched people cheat (in every definition of the word), and took the heat myself or kept silent. I’ve accepted when others say it’s only fair that I start the race 10 seconds late, I owe them a head start. And maybe that’s fair. But then, when I start catching up or make a big move, the rules change again. Suddenly they want me to carry a little bit more weight.

My mistakes are used against me, my slip-ups used as entertainment, and my talent as a coincidence. People remind me of my circumstances like I’m not aware. Like I don’t wear my skin every single day. They want me to play by the rules - their rules. “And I lived in your chess game, but you changed the rules every day.” People are always wanting us to act a certain way - and it’s not always malicious, I must say that. EVERYONE, good or bad, has an idea of how I should walk, talk, act, be. Be more, be less, be both. Be better, but not better than them. How am I supposed to play by all of these rules - meet all of these standards? It’s an unwinnable game. How I should be as a woman, as a boss, as a friend, as a girlfriend, as a businesswoman, as a community leader … sometimes it seems like everyone gets a say but me.

Flying down to Argentina in the final days of 2023, I finally watched the Barbie movie. I sobbed. Because it said so messily and so perfectly exactly what I’m trying to say now. Exactly what I need to hear.

It is literally impossible to be a woman. You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don't think you're good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow we're always doing it wrong.

You have to be thin, but not too thin. And you can never say you want to be thin. You have to say you want to be healthy, but also you have to be thin. You have to have money, but you can't ask for money because that's crass. You have to be a boss, but you can't be mean. You have to lead, but you can't squash other people's ideas. You're supposed to love being a mother, but don't talk about your kids all the damn time. You have to be a career woman but also always be looking out for other people.

You have to answer for men's bad behavior, which is insane, but if you point that out, you're accused of complaining. You're supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you're supposed to be a part of the sisterhood.

But always stand out and always be grateful. But never forget that the system is rigged. So find a way to acknowledge that but also always be grateful.

You have to never get old, never be rude, never show off, never be selfish, never fall down, never fail, never show fear, never get out of line. It's too hard! It's too contradictory and nobody gives you a medal or says thank you! And it turns out in fact that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also everything is your fault.

I'm just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie herself into knots so that people will like us. And if all of that is also true for a doll just representing women, then I don't even know.

**Before the men come for me - it’s not just men! - we are doing this to each other, ladies. “And women like hunting witches too”. It can be in the harshest , most surprising of ways and often because they are trying to survive, win just as much as I am myself.

Et tu, Brute?

Regardless, the rules are impossible. But, despite this seemingly obvious conclusion, for years, arguably my entire life, I’ve tried to win this game. Even now, I so badly want to placate you - my reader. I want to assure you that I’ve tried to adapt. I want to tell you that I know I am lucky and blessed beyond measure - I am aware. I don’t want you to think I am complaining. GOD FORBID because I get to do incredible things that most people will only ever dream of. So I should shut up, shouldn’t I? Sit back. Calm down. I have been presented with opportunities some people will never see, no matter how hard they work. So stop, be less, want less. I started half-way up the ladder in many ways. I am aware. The world makes me aware every single second. Why do I feel the need to call all of this out? Because it’s the rules. Don’t I know, none of what I’ve accomplished in my life is my own? I fucking owe it so someone else - because of course I do, they all say. I’M AWARE, she screams, drowning. Acknowledge acknowledge, be grateful be grateful. Follow the rules, they all say.

I learned a lot of lessons last year, most of them the hard way. I was betrayed by people I had deeply defended for years (and somehow, in the smoke of the aftermath, spent time believing I was at fault). I’ve kept my mouth shut when I should have been brave enough to speak up. I’ve spoken up when I should have kept silent. I’ve scratched at old wounds, even knowing that they’d bleed. I’ve gotten angry, mad, sure - but only in the “nice” way - the behind the scenes, between best-girlfriends-only way. I’ve followed all the rules.

I thought playing by the rules made me strong - that it would get me somewhere. Really, I was just scared. Somewhere in the past 10+ years, I climbed up on this tightrope and have been terrified of falling off. One false move, it seems like. I’m aware. But last year I watched something I’d built for myself by playing by all the rules be taken from me. And let me tell you what, I was heartbroken. But I took the loss. Nodded along. Acted polite, played fair. Blamed myself and no one else. A part of me wishes I could go back and change some of that (don’t we all?). However, all of the rules and all of the release has brought me to here. A metaphorically midnight, if you will.

Most of life, we’re changing in small ways, here and there, eventually eroded and morphed over time into different versions of ourselves. If you compare versions of ourselves to the hours on a clock, the hour hand moves slowly around the dial, never rushed, sometimes painfully slow. But as the hours approach midnight, time, unexplainably, seems to speed up. All of the time you spend slowly shifting, perhaps in ways you were unaware of, are accumulating. To slightly alter a famous John Green quote - I changed in the same way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.

Midnight is coming. Midnight is here. The carriage is a pumpkin. The glass slipper is gone. The rose colored glasses? Smashed. The pedestal I was spinning on, just for you? Ashes.

I joked with my sister that my word of the year for 2024 is going to be “unhinged.” Honestly, I don’t think that’s half-bad. But really, my word of the year is going to be WILD. Wildness in work. Wildness in love. Wildness in dreams. Wildness in life.

The clock has struck, and there are no rules.

The idea you had of me, who was she? All of me changed like midnight.