The test revealed that I am not only masculine, but very masculine, much more masculine than I care to tell. Maybe this explains why I’m on the path to ubber femininity, the journey to understanding my sexy body, my moody nature, and my dancing soul.
Was I born that way, more masculine that is? Or was I pushed in this direction by my family, my community, our society which in the 1980s prized women for being as man-like as possible?
My own mother was very feminine and in my opinion, very weak. Was the little girl Stella aware of these deficiencies on some cellular level and adjusted her personality to deflect the potential of ending up similarly. It was my sister who seemed to want my mother’s life more than me. In a lot of ways, she got it, although differently.
I do remember feeling like in order to be seen, I needed to be smart, I needed to prove my abilities and outshine my competition. I started working at a young age saving money and make plans for my life that included well-tailored suits and high-paid salaries. I thought then that success in a career would make me happy and if nothing else at least secure.
Like a lot of women, I still wanted a husband, a partner, someone to share life with. But also like a lot of women, my masculine energy was affecting the natural balance of my relationship with men. I wasn’t a supportive mate, the yin to his yang. I was more of a desperate roommate. Of course it took my awhile to see the problem for myself.
How strange it is to be here, now, finding my security in a man, my husband, the exact opposite of my original plan.
They say every 7 years you change. It was exactly 7 years ago when I was deep in my work figuring out what I needed in a potential mate and how I needed to change in order to attract him. I was going through my divorce, writing a book about it so I could learn from the earth-shattering experience. I had decided then that I was done proving my worth to men.
Gone was the girl who jumped in the driver’s seat to show her college date she could drive his stick shift sports car. Gone was the girl who pushed to pick up the tab for dinner expecting her independence to make her more desirable. Gone was the girl who called first, drove the farthest, and gave all she had to give. Gone was the girl who had to earn love before expecting him to give his.
In her place, I found a girl who demanded more. She needed a man to prove how amazing he was for her before any of her giving would begin. I was teaching myself to be feminine, understanding in some dark shadow of my heart that I needed to open it up, airing it out and be more vulnerable in order to find him.
Here I am 7 years later at another fork in the road. How feminine do I really want to be? Am I capable of being swallowed whole by this family? Not having to make money is the ultimate test of authenticity. It’s making me really questions the dreams I’ve have for me.
I really don’t understand life without striving or needing to make money. Growing up in a middle class home, I heard more often than not how we “didn’t have money for this” and “didn’t have money for that.” The answer seemed to always be, if only your mother worked, we could do better, we could have more. She could be of more use to us there. I learned that building the family at home wasn’t worth much. Money is what we lacked, more money would make all of our pains go away.
But mom and dad weren’t a team, they really didn’t even like each other. They weren’t on an upward spiral of healing and happiness. They weren’t finding shangra-la together. They were two people drudging through life under the same roof.
At 23 I believed only I needed to make good money. The more I made, the more love I’d earn.
By 30 I realized Mr. Right needed to make money too. I needed to have a security blanket although I certainly didn’t plan to use it.
At 37 Mr. Right and I have fully merged into one strong financially secure team. I question if making money is even what I need to focus on or do. Is there another side of life I can conquer and explore, a side that has so far been buried and unseen?
Did Michelle Obama lose herself when she quit her career to become first lady? She thought she did in the beginning. Her husband’s career swallowed hers completely and left her in the world without a list of daily duties more than simply fabulous living.
So was my goal of being a career woman only about making money and being secure? Or was it about something more? I’ve always wanted excitement, adventure, freedom, and notoriety… something my mother didn’t have. But did she lack grandeur because she lacked a “job” and didn’t make money? Or did she lack excitement because of her fear of tasking risks coupled with the negativity of her marriage to my dad?
If I could have excitement, adventure, freedom, and notoriety outside of the confines of a money-focused career, what would that look like? What if I let my husband focus on wealth building and allow myself to dive deeper into what brings me the most pleasure?
Seems like a recipe for a larger life for both of us, the expanded circle of more. Seems like the true definition of 1 + 1 = 3. But do I have the courage to let go of what I “should” be? Can I instead allow myself to stumble upon what I’m meant to be? Working hard has never been a problem, but striving most certainly has. God, I want peace of heart and a humble journey of yummy, sexy feminine magic at last.