Online Dating.

Online dating? No. Never. Ever. Ever. Not. In. A. Million. Years. Ever. 

That was me...up until the end of October.

Over the course of my life, I've been proposed to three times. I took two of the three up on their offers. I had very little turn around time between husband one and two, which basically means that I'd been a married woman for about 10 years. Prior to that were two other somewhat significant co-habitating relationships which lasted for a couple of years each. This means I haven't been single since I was a teenager.

At seven months in, this is the longest I’ve ever been single. Imagine being in a relationship for all of your adult life, then bam! The unexpected happens, and there you are. A grown woman, and mother who has never dated. Suddenly, I am in unchartered territory...this including online dating. Women friends close in age who are happily married hear this, and clutch their husbands a little tighter. Horrified, they tell me they could never imagine being in my position, and couldn't possibly do it. I get it. I had the same reaction to stories of the unthinkable over the years.

I can totally remember hearing about something called match.com for the first time close to a decade or so ago. This was a place where you looked for a partner online! I thought that if people had to resort to this, then they must be totally and completely desperate. How sad for them. I also felt very lucky, if not a bit smug, because I would never need that sort of thing.

But here we are. And you better believe I had residual judgement coming with me into this new chapter of my life. But at almost three months into online dating, my thoughts about it are completely different than what I ever could have imagined.

I quickly learned that in 2018, having tinder and bumble is hardly different from having snapchat and instagram. Everybody's doing it. I've heard complaints of "hook-up culture", and the confusion of "hanging out" rather than legit dates. I'd gone out on a few set-ups which were complete duds (and ghosters). So, despite my nervousness about it, I knew I would need to take matters into my own hands. One night, I poured a glass of champagne and downloaded the first of the two.

I am going to be keeping my private life private for for now, but I will tell you what I’ve learned.

It is absolutely possible to meet men of quality online. Handome, successful, gentlemanly men. Yes, at times there is nonsense to weed through. Such as men reaching out who are completely inappropriate for you. Be it a man old enough to be your father (no), or a long time social media “friend” who feels he should now “take the opportunity to say something” (no). The countless men who fill my various inboxes with little more than a “hi”. No introduction, no questions, no effort to start an actual conversation (no). The men who will try more than once to contact me, even though I didn't reply to begin with (also no). The men who ask for a phone number in a first message (uh, NO).

But. There are the ones who are doing it right. Making an effort, and getting to know me both over social media, over text...and in real life.

I have to say that my situation is tricky, too. I am busy with mom duty most of the time, and rarely give it up unless my boy is away. So, to date me means respecting and working with that. But come on, everyone is busy, and it’s all very simple in the end. If a man wants to make an effort, he will. If a woman wants to make an effort, she will. Even if it’s going to be more slow-going with me than with women with older kids, or no kids at all. 

This also allows me to be extremely picky with who I give my rare free time to. I don’t have time for anything other than quality. I see myself through a new filter now, the filter of “Charlie’s Mother” and she can only accept the best.

But the greatest part I’ve realized, is that it’s put me into contact with men I would never normally meet! Our paths would otherwise never cross. It’s really opened my eyes and my mind that there are handsome, awesome guys everywhere and I had no idea. I had it in my head that the dating scene is bleak, options scarce, and  I would never be attracted to anyone ever again. But, it's actually been very positive! It lets you expand your world, and do it in a way that is far less time consuming than going out and about to put yourself in new settings and scenarios (which I also appreciate, don’t get me wrong. It’s just you know, all that stuff I said about a little toddler, and time).

Online dating has also made me relax. I’m a lot less rigid and scared of meeting new men, or men who want to meet me. I may accidentally swipe, or “super-like” someone that I didn’t mean to. But I find myself laughing about it, learning there is no harm in conversation, and everyone you brush paths with has something to teach you if you take a minute to let them. I'm also getting comfortable in my boundaries, being clear when I need to be, that it's a no. Clear communication is cool, ghosting is not.

I'm constantly learning more about what I do, and don't want. As I've gained experience and can compare, it's easy for me to see who I'm drawn to, and why. The why is important to me, as I want to be as smart as I can about this. I'm also able to learn and practice new skills that I hadn't had to before. It's been nice for me to build my confidence with dating, after feeling so low this summer. I don't know that I'm back at 100%, but I'm coming "back" more every day. And the only way to ensure this keeps happening, is forward momentum, and moving on with my life. 

I don’t know what the future has in store. I don’t have a single expectation at the moment. I honestly don’t. But what I do have, are the occasional butterflies, a nice evening with a nice guy, and something I hadn't felt in a really long time...hope.

.
.
.
.

me, too

Written 1/7/2018

I’ve never posted about #metoo but after those POWERFUL Golden Globes tonight, I want to try to give words to what’s been swirling in me for months. First of all, I’ve learned I am incredibly lucky not to have a Me Too story to tell. I have never been a victim of sexual harassment or assault. Not in the way so many women have in the stories I’ve read. And for that, I’m SO fortunate. 

However, there are other ways men have wielded power over me, and I did NOT come out unscathed. I have encountered in my past privileged, entitled, holier-than-thou men who have never been stood up to. Who have never been told they’re wrong. Who have never been met with resistance. Who have never had a light shone on their weaknesses, to be faced and dealt with. Who have never owned up to their mistakes. Who never apologized for their mistreatment of women (me). Who never saw their mistreatment for what it was. And who always made sure I knew my place was under their rule and thumb. I first experienced this in my early 20’s. It would not be my last. I encountered men who tried to make me feel small, and question my own WORTH using fear tactics, threats...among other things. 

I’ve thought SO much about what a terribly sad disservice it’s been to these men, to have been brought up in a world where this behavior (and view of what a woman is in relation to them) is OKAY. In a household where this is OKAY. These days, as I move forward with a little man by my side, I’m constantly thinking about how I can make sure he is an integral part of this NEW wave. The new movement, and a part of the solution. My biggest hope is to preserve the softness, and sensitivities I see in him. To raise him to VALUE equality, empathy, compassion, and communication. To teach him that these things don’t make him less of a man, but a bigger and better person. To have respect for his fellow man/woman/human. And to know the inherent difference between right and wrong. 

The unity and the POWER of women right now is palpable. I can almost reach right out and touch the momentum. It has reminded me I am not alone. I am not small. And makes the ground under me feel a little more solid on days I still may wobble.


. . . . . . 

"Part of what keeps you sitting in that chair in that room enduring harassment or abuse from a man in power is that, as a woman, you have rarely seen another end for yourself. In the novels you’ve read, in the films you’ve seen, in the stories you’ve been told since birth, the women so frequently meet disastrous ends."

-  The economics of consent by Brit Marling 

.
.
.

Well-Read Women

It's almost Mother's Day, and I'm especially excited since it's the first one I'll be celebrating! Until then, I'm going to be posting some of my favorite gift ideas from Got Beauty! 

First up, Well-Read Women

Portraits of Fiction's Most Beloved Heroines 

by Samantha Hahn

Beautiful quotes and illustrations from the famous ladies of Romeo & Juliet, The Great Gatsby, The Wizard of Oz, Madame Bovary, Lolita, The Scarlett Letter, A Doll's House, and so many more. $19.95

What's on the inside

I have sat down to write about my personal pregnancy journey this far (nearing week 34) a few times now, and it never comes out right. While it feels good for me to purge my thoughts, it doesn't end up being something I want to post. I suppose that falls in line with how I've felt all along the way. Tidbits are fun to share, but only to a point. This is such a private, vulnerable, and intimate time. I am reluctant to let the world in. I'm not even sure what I want to say today.

I saw this photo and it touched me deeply. The phrase that sprang into my mind was, "It's what's on the inside that counts." I giggled to myself, but these words have never rang more true to me as they do with pregnancy. This may be repetitive to you if you've been following my blog, but I've had a hard time with everyone commenting on appearance. Mine, and pregnant women in general. It's like it's the only thing anyone can, wants, or knows how to talk about. They compare you to others, or their former pregnant selves, they hijack your stories to talk of their own experience, and they offer unwelcome advice.

It's hard enough to trust your own body, which is now doing something it's never done before, and get comfortable in skin you've never lived in before. With all the information out there, books to read, the focus narrowed to our outward appearance of what our growing bellies look like, all that's sacred about pregnancy is easily lost in the shuffle.

I've had quite an internal struggle with the concept of trust. The further I get and can look back on my pregnancy, I see (knock on wood) it's been fairly smooth sailing. The problem is, I've spent the majority of my pregnancy afraid of what my body will or will not do. It's been a time of great stress for me. It's been eye opening to see that for most of my life I haven't trusted my own body. I've been waiting for it to fail me in some way, and for no reason. It hasn't done so yet.

Why aren't we helping to empower pregnant women instead? Why aren't we simply listening to whatever they choose to share about their experience, or expressing genuine happiness for them and leaving it at that? Why do we instead offer unsolicited advice? Or tell them they look bigger than her, or smaller than her? How is this helpful in any way? Why aren't we connecting deeper as not only women and mothers, but as fathers and humans?

This is the time to reshape the frame we hang any and all ideas of what womanhood and human life mean. 

I am reminded once again that life and birth are part of the same whole. Until you experience it (especially that earth-shattering first), there is no way you can fully relate. With both there is transformation. There is the deepest permanence. An end, and a beginning. A metamorphosis that can only come with life, and with death.

It's a rearranging of identity, and purpose, and intention of how we will now choose to live.

It can be fun to document through imagery a growing belly. For my sake mostly, but also for my family and friends. But that's just the external. Belly size, maternity clothes, and weight gain are the last on the list of what's interesting about pregnancy, not to mention what matters.

It's my journey of pregnancy, yes. But even more, it's his journey. It's his journey into life.

I'm merely a vessel. 

I prefer to concentrate on the depth of what this experience is as the two of us race toward the finish line. Our combined energy is palpable. I prefer to think about how I will explain the world to him when he is here. I'd rather wonder how sensitive, dreamy, and wise my little pieces may or may not be, and how no matter what he is I will never label it. I will never tell him he should be one thing, or should not be another, or should have any other interest or love than whatever he will innately bring into the world. I will teach him from day one that the universe is vast, the possibilities are endless, and the only right way is the right way for him. I'd rather focus on what it may feel like in six-ish weeks from now when my body, heart, and soul crack open in ways I can only begin to fathom. When I get to meet someone I somehow know, but have never seen.

This, this, all of this...

This is for him.



"There is no way out of the experience except through it, because it is not really your experience at all but the baby's. Your body is the child's instrument of birth."
-Penelope Leach 



xo Deena Marie

The women we don't speak of.

I've been thinking about this for awhile. This is probably one of the most personal entries I could ever write. The internet and social media is saturated with mommy bloggers. Women posting about their pregnancies, and what they're learning as they set off on the journey of new mom. It's a club you don't belong to until you become a mother yourself. Babies. Toddlers. Everywhere. Women sharing jokes, and advice, and parenting tips among themselves, all able to relate to each other. This isn't hard to find. You're probably a click away from finding one now.

Then there are stories of women who tried to get pregnant, but weren't able to. There are blogs and articles dedicated to infertility. There aren't as many dedicated to this side, but they're out there.

Lately, I've found myself asking the question, "what about the in-between?" There is a group of us who lie in the haze of the middle. The group of women currently trying. We are floating in the grey area, without belonging to one category or the other. It's a strange, anxious, and superstitious place to be. Half of the month you may be sure you aren't. This is either a hopeful or hopeless phase, depending, I've found. More on that in a bit. The next half of the month you are with, and without. You proceed accordingly, but what does that mean? You may treat yourself as though you are, but if you find you're not, it's back to square one. 

This is the hardest place. It's hard not to be frustrated. To scare yourself by wondering if something is wrong. To put pressure on yourself. The emotional roller coaster is constant.

I find it spills over into many aspects of my life. It obviously affects what I eat and drink, but also my mood, and what activity I may choose to do on a weekend. It affects conversations, and how social I may feel. You must dance around your conversations and plans because you don't yet know yourself. You can't plan something months ahead since you have this priority, yet you don't know for sure, and you don't know when. You can't really talk about what you're going through, so you try to adapt as best as you can to this new existence where it all revolves around trying. A couple of weeks of extreme hope, and a couple of weeks of extreme disappointment. How I'm going to behave that month purely depends where you catch me. I'd say sorry, but I'm not. My husband, my well being, and this future family trumps everything. That's why this is hard. 

When you tell someone you're trying, in hopes of some support, you wish you hadn't more often than not. Even other women, and women who are mothers, seem to forget that before they had their babies they too went through this fragile, sacred time. A time that will be short for some, long for others. 

They ask you when. When hurts. It's impossible to know. If only we had control of what month we could get pregnant. What month we'd like a baby to be born. If only. Some know you're trying, but ask when anyway. Some make jokes. Some tease you that you are, or going to be soon, when they don't know what you've embarked on, and what you've already been experiencing. I've already written about the insensitivity of this for YoU Mag (Are you pregnant yet? Page 13) . You don't know your ultimate outcome, and what if (god forbid) you end up falling in the can't category?

Why aren't there blogs or articles dedicated to us? Who live in half hope, half disappointment each month? Who don't yet belong to a can or can't category? Who buy expensive test after test, heart pounding as we wait for the result. Who are dying for this to be the time we get to tell our husband, "I'm pregnant!" Who can sometimes power through, with faith that it's just not our time. But who sometimes spend the day crumbling, fighting back heartbreak, sure it's never going to happen. Those days, and very well the days that follow, I retreat from the world. I feel I have failed. Again.

I know I'm not alone, and I'd sure like to hear the words of others who get it. We're our own club. There is more to it here in the club of trying than I'd expected. It's definitely different than life before. I'm no longer a woman existing as I did before we decided to join.

I am reluctant to write this. This means letting even more people in on my most personal plans. But I'm in the category of women that we don't speak of, so I'm speaking about us. I'd like to meet my others. This is it's own club and I'd like to know where my women are that exist this way each month, emotionally exhausted, and wondering when it's finally going to end. 

~DM 

yoU Magazine

Have you heard about yoU Magazine?
The new creation from powerhouse Nineveh Dinha?
Talk about girl power, talk about inspiration, talk about empowerment! Women supporting women. Yes. More of that, please.

I got to contribute to the latest issue.  And I went there.
Take a look here! Are you pregnant yet? Page 13.

Full article:

Six months ago, I married the love of my life.  The morning after we got engaged and made the rounds telling family and friends our news, I was bombarded with questions.  Who would my bridesmaids be? What colors would I pick? What kind of dress did I want? Did we set a date? Meanwhile, I was just trying to process the fact I was now a fiancé.  I wanted to soak in the night, and the fact that I had just been proposed to by the man I love.  I wasn't anywhere near deciding what kind of cake I'd have! Fast forward through the process of making those decisions and pulling off the wedding of my dreams, settling in over the last half of a year, to the new question that I'm often asked.  The big one.  The, "so when are you going to have a baby?" I'm not sure what my reaction is supposed to be to this, or how most women respond, but it makes me cringe.  It's the quickest way to make me instantly uncomfortable.  I start sweating.  You see, I just don't think this is a casual question.  It's loaded.  It's the most sensitive of topics.  

I usually make a joke and quickly change the subject.  I know that when someone asks this it's coming from a place of excitement, and it seems to be what society has taught us is the natural question to ask a newly married couple.  Just like when you announce your engagement, the next questions are all about the wedding day itself.  

The reason why I get so sensitive, is because it I don’t think people realize it’s asking a slew of personal questions all at once.  Are you and your husband financially secure yet? Are you off birth control? How's your sex life? Are you actively trying? If not now, when will you be? Are you two emotionally and mentally on the same page? Are you tracking your ovulation cycle? When will you be at a place in your career when you can plan for a baby? Is your body ready? Are you prepared for the changes to your body? Have you two experienced enough to know how you’re going to raise, teach and explain the world to a brand new human being? It's also assuming you both want to become parents.  

Maybe it’s the day and age we live in.  Maybe it’s too much media and information overload, but I have witnessed a variety of stories from couples over the years.  I have learned that it’s not always smooth sailing for two people get married and automatically have a baby.  Some get married with no intention to have children.  Some can't seem to be on the same page at the same time.  One might even want one, and the other might not.  

I also know women who have suffered multiple miscarriages.  Women who have chosen to end pregnancies.  Women who have wanted nothing more than to become a mom, only to realize that due to health issues either for them or their partner, there was going to be a struggle ahead.  I've seen women go through rounds of in vitro.  Sometimes it's been a success, and sometimes it hasn't.  I've seen adoptions.  What I’m saying is, I've seen it all.  I've seen far too much for it to be an easily answered questions. 

It’s made me beyond superstitious.  Personally, I was always confused about motherhood.  My mom told me she knew her whole life she wanted to be a mom.  I've always been great with babies and kids, but I didn’t know that motherhood was something I desired.  That is, until recently.  Until I’d had a career for more than a decade, and met the love of my life.  Suddenly I’ve found myself in a place where work seems secondary.  And now that I've found my partner, it makes all the sense in the world.  Actually, and I'm reluctant to tell you this because of how long it took me to discover it, it’s what I want most.  

I’m not sure women can ever change being asked this question, but maybe we can change the way we think about it? Maybe we can approach it with a deeper sensitivity? Or maybe, we don’t ask at all.  But let a new mother to be let us in on the news.  So how do I answer the question, “When are you going to have a baby?” Well, it's a giant unknown.  And it's deeply personal.  I've already let you in on more than I should.  Yes, we want it.  As for the when? Maybe the first try, maybe the fiftieth.  That's between myself, my husband, and our future baby.  Whenever and however it happens.  And it’s only for us. 

Instagram: Deena_Marie
Twitter: @DeenaMarie
FB: Facebook.com/TheDeenaShow

Thanks for reading!


DM

Getting older.

4/5/2015

I never expected to be saying this, but I LOVE getting older. I recently had a birthday, and it was one of the best I've had. I look better than I ever have, and I attribute it to being so much more together internally. I know myself. I have wisdom. I have experience. I have insight. I have no fear. I follow my heart and I am in tune with my truth. I know just what I want. I know what I will accept, and what I won't allow. I know what I still have to learn, and where I want to invest my time and energy.  I've been wanting to put together a little list of what I love about getting older for awhile.  After a conversation with one of my best friends last week, I was inspired to do it.

~You know how to accept a compliment. How to accept it genuinely, and leave it at that.
~You don't feel guilty for saying no, and you are getting better at not having to explain your reasons.
~You understand that stressing out about five or even ten pounds (be it overweight, or underweight) is trivial. You've lived enough life to experience real trauma, real heartache, and it's given you a deeper appreciation for life. It's all about health. Your well being physically, emotionally, and mentally.
~You know yourself so much more. You're done with self consciousness and uncertainty.
~You no longer care what others think about you. Your wisdom has taught you that when someone judges, it's truly all about them and their perceptions.
~You are much more stable emotionally, because you don't have a desire to let drama into your life, or to create it.
~ You are calmer. You've survived the angst. The chaos. The growing pains.
~ You accept and embrace being open to life. You've learned time and time again that setting a rigid path for your life is small, and limiting.  That life always has a better idea for you in store.
~ You get braver every year. The more you get to know yourself, and what's true for you, the less time you're willing to waste forcing a fit or making yourself stay somewhere because it's an old version of what you once wanted. The only option is to grow.
~ You love the growth.
~ You understand that your imperfections are perfection. You are a one of a kind living breathing creature existing right now in space and time on planet earth.  Aren't you lucky! I read somewhere recently, "just to breathe is enough".  You're starting to get it.
~ You see the stark difference between the way you live in self absorption in your youth, and how you now long for the experiences that take you outside of yourself. You relish in this difference. It's real.
~You only have time for what's real, and authentic.
~ You don't feel a need to be anything other than what you are. No facades, no elaborating. You are who you are, and you know it's enough.


Instagram: @Deena_Marie
Tweet me: @DeenaMarie
FB: facebook.com/TheDeenaShow


Thanks for reading,


Deena Marie

To the women.

Just a thank you to the women in my life.
As I've grown up I've come to appreciate you all more.
To value, cherish, to need you.
Family and friends.

To those who've stood by me through hard times.
To those who've listened.
To those who asked the questions to help me clear my heart and head.
To those who asked nothing, but were simply there by my side.
To those who moved on along with me when life carried me to all sorts of unexpected places.
To those who revealed your deepest secrets to me, to let me know I wasn't alone.
To those who were there before and could tell me what they learned.
To those who've never been there but still loved me unconditionally.
To those who have always made an effort to be a presence in my life.
To those who have seen me cry.
To those who have seen me flounder.
To those who have celebrated successes with me.
To those who have let me talk and talk about the same thing in circles, because I needed to.
To those who changed my diaper, played barbies with me, let me play dress up in your clothes.
To those who didn't tell me what to do, but told me they'd love me no matter what.
To those who went to bat for me.
To those who encouraged me.
To those who raised me, who taught me to walk, and talk.
To those I don't remember who met me as a baby and would never see me grow up.
To those who I am named after.
To those who let me be me.
To those who continue to make the effort to get to know the me I am in the present, now, today, as I change through the years.
To those who taught me to cherish the value of female relationships, simply by being you.
To those who've brought me a sense of sisterhood.
To those who have gone above and beyond for me and leave me wondering how I'll ever repay you.
To those soul sisters, who regardless of location, makes me feel loved by our unwavering connection.
To those I've never met in person but who give me strength from afar because of how brave you are.
To those who teach me in ways they'll never know not to shrink but to grow.


Deena Marie