Facing Old Fears, Reclaiming Yes...

I've been going through old boxes from my past, trying to edit down my "stuff," and finding things I'd thought I'd lost. Frankly it's a job I've been terrified of. It's one that moves me to tears and I've been avoiding it like the plague. But I've challenged myself of late to look deeper at those scary dark corners of my past with a "beginner's mind" and curiosity to see if I can open up more space, and understanding for myself, and above all to hear and feel more "Yes" and recognize more the "Permission Slip from God" when it shows up.

The boxes hold the details of lives I've given up. In one case that means the artistic gift business I was in with my ex-husband for about ten years, in another its bits and pieces of the research and work I did on a website I created and hosted dedicated to sensuality, and in still others are the few pieces of artwork throughout the years that I've actually held onto instead of giving away as gifts.

I started the website dedicated to sensuality in 2000, but gave it up when the migraines and my financial situation worsened to the point that I really thought the universe was telling me no. The photo above isn't from that time, it's from 1984, and another time I thought the universe was saying no to a dream when it was likely telling me yes. That was the year I was a fit model for the Barefoot Miss and Athena Swimwear lines in Tustin (owned by RAJ Manufacturing, the only big bathing suit manufacturer left in the OC).

The year I was 20 was a memorable one for many reasons, most not happy. I was so paranoid about my crooked nose, and small scar under one eye, that even though I was very honored the bathing suit company wanted me photographed along with other models for their catalog, I was terrified that they'd have to reshoot the photos I was in once they saw how un-photogenic I was.

As you can see that didn't happen. The photos came out fine (though if you could see the whole catalog you'd have a good laugh with me at the big hair which is starting to creep back into style now). No, they were more than fine. Coming across the old brochure stuck in with other old photos last Sunday I see what everyone else but my parents saw - a remarkably pretty girl, with a group of other pretty girls, all of whom look great in a bathing suit.

My parents thought my being a fit model was fine for the moment, but didn't want me to go further into the modeling world - that they were pushing my younger sister too. The message we got was that she had the face, I had the body, but if she could just keep her weight down she could really make it.  I, on the other hand, was only 5' 7 1/2" and was a bit too short and curvy to be anything but sportswear model, and with a crooked nose and a small scar under one eye, most likely only for local California companies.

That categorizing, begun when we were even younger, would lead to heartbreakingly challenging body issues for both my sister and I. We are not yet free of them, but we've made great strides. Now in middle age peace glimmers on the horizon. Did my parents mean to be so, well, mean? No, they were voicing their own fears of not being good enough.

While being a sportswear model in So Cal would have been fine for me, my parents weren't interested in local, they were interested in Big. My Mother worked for one of the top high end Italian tour companies, my Father was spending his last few months as the VP of Marketing for Fender Guitars. Soon the entire executive team would be laid off as CBS decided to sell the most famous guitar company in the world - and my Dad would then go into hyper drive trying to find the resources and team to help him buy it.

He wouldn't be successful in that bid (the company had already been secretly sold to his old boss. My father would end up suffering more or less a nervous breakdown from the stress, and at one point would drive a Super Shuttle in order to help pay the bills).

What I learned in 1984 was to give up on dreams and focus instead on what was smart. I was supported by the bathing suit company to try more modeling, especially by the designer, but since I had no support from home (and my world revolved around my glamorous parents) I only made small half hearted attempts and heard many no's that were actually yes's.

My parents did not think fashion or the arts were a smart choice unless it was from the business side, or you were overwhelmingly and automatically brilliant. To my parents I was a talented flake with no focus. I was floundering around in college, cutting more classes than I went to. I'd gone to one year of fashion marketing at FIDM but hadn't liked it and it was too expensive for what it offered. I was sort of going to Orange Coast, but I was also obsessed with the welfare of my younger sister and brother (who was only nine at the time) and my parent's ongoing battles that I was having a hard time focusing.

When a family friend visited from Florence for the summer Olympics and invited me to come to language school the following year I took her up on the offer. It was a chance to escape my parent's war. By the time I was 22 I was working fulltime in International Shipping, driving an hour + each way to LAX, wearing suits to make myself look older. I would stay in that industry for ten years to try and make my parents happy and no longer be a flake. I hated almost every moment.

Now when I meet young people (and now I see that 20 is young, I didn't back then) I tell them to follow their heart, to do what they love, to get in on the ground level and work their way up. The world has been turned upside down since the 80's, there are no longer any "safe" choices - and the truth is there weren't safe choices back then either if one was denying their own truth.

And what I see much more clearly now, in these old boxes that hold so much of my vision and creativity, that I have not lost nearly as much as I thought I had, and that I can go back and reclaim old no's now and turn them into yes's. I have the opportunity now to go for it again if I choose to.

Comments

[Mike Watters]

This is a beautiful story, Mel. Thanks for sharing.