I grow a penis.
I'd like to think that I'm the one who gets up early each day to go to the gym, then grabs a hot shower as coffee is brewing...a full day of work, then an errand or two...kids get to activities, homework gets done, trash cans get out to the curb on time. I'm at work with nice makeup with my hair done looking like a strong bunny nursing princess. Like magic. Unfortunately, my ideal in my head is far from my truth.
Thus far, this is pretty much the scene...a week before, I start getting solemn. The heaviness of what is to come begins to settle in. He gets increasingly distracted with his tasks at hand. Big, enormous ARMY green bags large enough for one of my children to sleep in come out of closets and make their way onto my floor as contents start filling them up. Equipment and ARMY boots and uniforms litter my hallways and trash my laundry room as items are washed, wrapped, folded, and packed. He's gone a lot, off to meetings at odd hours...like a Saturday at 5pm. When he isn't running around, he's on the phone. The more distraction I sense from him, the more it feels like the mission is taking over my life and my relationship, and the more internal I find myself becoming. I start closing up. I become quiet. I become introspective. I become independent.
When he leaves, I feel like in many ways he was already gone. The physical separation is just a continuation of the emotional separation that has been occurring in our home for the days leading up to the event. It's usually a quick kiss, not a long embrace. Then, like a flash, he's off.
I come home and move the coffee pot. I put his blender away on a shelf. I rearrange everything in the home to put it in a manner that's going to serve me. I set up a few massages. I concentrate on my upcoming work schedule. I arrange child care and transportation for my kids. I go with them on walks. I cook dinner...not his huge, elaborate dinners...but pot pies. From the freezer section. I pull out the list of things I've been waiting to do until he's gone, and I roll up my sleeves and get to work.
I remember who I am and what I'm made out of. I remember that girl who fought her way out of the trailer park into a swimming scholarship at a Division I University, and I connect with her.
I call it The Push. It's my own #bosslife, my version of Sasha Fierce, if you will. I've noticed characteristics of her, this woman I become, when he's gone. Instead of putting him in front of her, or my children in front of her, this #bosslife woman stands alone and puts nobody in front of her. She can do it all. She sets up the coffee on a timer the night before. She arises early before her alarm has gone off not to work out, but to go to work and get paid what she's worth. Her children are in amazing hands because she does her vetting with childcare. She teaches them, not through her words, but through her actions...what a strong woman looks like. She comes home, visits with her children over another dinner courtesy of the freezer section, discusses their days, and is off to bed, sleeping five hours instead of her normal eight. She searches for moments to find her children wherever they are emotionally and connects with their souls, not with their activities....those, she leaves up to them.
Emotionally, she's only open to certain kinds of energy. Instead of the usual openness and kindness and sensitivity towards others that I'm accustomed to feeling, #bosslife has turned off the heat in all the rooms she's not using while he's gone in order to conserve her energy. She has zero tolerance for bullshit. The passive aggressiveness and manipulation that the world brings don't go far with her...she's lost her patience for those. If it serves her, she includes it. If it doesn't, she's quick to cut it off. She doesn't have time for games in her dog-eat-dog mindset. Get in her way, and you'll feel her bite. It's nothing personal, it's just her way.
When I become this version of me, I remind myself of a man. My normal, highly feminine energy that is sensitive to the universe completely shifts into a masculine, task-oriented, zero tolerance person...the kind of woman who would get up in the 400 IM against TCU as the fourth seed and win the event. The kind of woman who says, "You fucked with the wrong woman on the wrong day..." She has no patience when children aren't doing chores, when coworkers are being lazy, or for anyone's drama....subtle or not. When I connect with her, it's like an old friend coming for a visit. I remember how much I used to be her, how I found her somewhere in the depths of hell and she took over my entire being for the climb. She's a part of me I don't have to use very much anymore, but it's comforting to me to know that she's there in The Push. I'm glad I can call on her when she's needed and she happily emerges with her badass self.
When he comes back, it's another story. #bosslife's highly masculine, strong energy takes up a lot of space, and she's quite directive. She's the kind of woman who cuts through traffic without apologies, and her confidence can come off as being a bit of an asshole. She's not a giver, and she refuses to receive anything she didn't earn herself. She has no time for anything that isn't in her sights...which is probably why she's profoundly asexual. She's someone I love deeply and admire greatly, but I don't like very much. When she's here, it screws up the polarity in the relationship with his highly masculine energy. I mourn as I see her go away, as she was there for me when I needed her. I fall apart a little...after having kept it all together and making sure everything got done the way it needed to during The Push. As I see her walking off in the distance, a wave of emotion and sadness sweeps over me as she departs.
Conjuring our strength is an important part of being a woman. Connecting to our softness, our beauty, and our femininity is also important. Some women can be strong and soft at the same time...that is an art that I have yet to discover. It takes time for my kindness and tolerance to re-emerge after she's gone. He'll make dinner. We will go to the gym. He'll pour wine and ask me how my day has been, and the furnace that has been turned off in each room of my soul will be lit one by one, pop on, and eventually I'll begin to feel their warmth. I'll begin to feel sultry again. My voice will become smooth as I start to purr. From my heart outward, I'll start to glow. Like a flower in the sunshine, I'll open up and becoming vulnerable once I'm certain it's safe to do so.
I'll say goodbye to my strong, fiery friend for awhile...knowing the next Push isn't too far away, and she's always there when I need her. And, God....how I've needed her.