I am drawn to articles; to studies, to stories about girls who are anorexic; who cut, who appear to have it all yet struggle to exist in their upper class, privileged neighborhoods. Articles about girls who excel in school, take all AP classes, dance and sing and volunteer, who go to good universities and get good grades there. Girls with big smiles and designer jeans and bright eyes. I am drawn to these articles and read them obsessively but they are all about girls. What I am looking for are articles about what happens to these girls when they can no longer be classified that way. Young women, middle aged women, women who are caught somewhere between.....women who feel just like those girls that they used to be. Women who have acquired somewhat better coping mechanisms through years of therapy but still wake up wondering what the hell they can possibly do to fit in, to be successful, to find love, to not question their right to exist. Women who then decide, knowing full well that it doesn't work, that if they can just run farther, eat less, bleed a little and climb one more career mountain, that things will be better. Where are those articles? Do we care about the girls once they become those slightly lost women? I fear that we don't. My fear is that it's not possible to fully shed that girl; the girl who knows deep in her bones that she will never be good enough. It's a fear, it's not truth. I have been told that numerous times. But on mornings like this one, lonely mornings without the structure that keeps all of those urges in check, the climb can seem insurmountable and the desire to make the struggle visible to the naked eye is enormous. So, I continue to surf the internet looking for the one article that will give me the answer. I have yet to find it.

Silence........

I forget, sometimes, to turn on music in my house. I often feel silenced when I walk in the door and then feel stuck there, moving quietly, almost as if I don't belong, ignoring the fact that I have the power to change my situation, to make some noise.

I often find myself in the same situation out in the world, refusing to be seen or heard, forgetting that I have the power to make some noise. Making noise can mean a thousand things; standing up for yourself, creating something new and exciting, fighting a political battle, even saying no. It can mean stepping out on a limb and asking for something. "Hire me, like me, love me...." I find there is noise in the seemingly remote possibility of opening up my heart to someone else. The cracking and breaking of the wall around my heart will be loud, really loud. Most of the time, I'm not sure that I could take it.

I've turned on some music. Soft, melancholy singer/songwriter tunes waft through my little cottage. The days are starting to darken early, and my cottage is golden inside...the artificial light makes the pale yellow walls glow. Silence is golden too. It's safe and clean and a known quantity. But, if I am to be totally honest, it's also almost unbearably lonely. I think that it might be time to break it. Silence is full of secrets and pain and past shame. With the silence, the past retains it's power and in doing so keeps all of the wonderful cacophony of the present moment at bay. Ultimately, it gives the ever present voices in my head much more space than they deserve, and in doing so, feeds the illusion that is safer to be stuck in this little golden cage than to live.

I'm taking on a challenge; making noise. Starting with breath....breath that is audible, daring and deep. Breath that supports song and life and growth and most importantly, truth.