Emotional Virgin

He was a big time speaker out from America and I was the younger female Aussie.  I was flattered to be asked to speak at the same conference.

 In the weeks leading up to this event I would find myself opening the glossy conference brochure that had my photo next to this internationally acclaimed speaker's professional head shot.  I would marvel at the fact that the organizers thought me qualified enough to be there.  Even though I was obviously his support act, I was more than happy to be so.

 I also knew he was being paid about six times more than I and dreamed of the day when I could feel unapologetic for even being paid at all.  You see I have been speaking for charities and disadvantaged groups for the past decade.  Charities rarely have a budget so getting paid to present for the first time back in 2000 was actually extremely uncomfortable for me.  It was one of many emotional firsts I have faced, throughout my recovery.

I remember having to pull over whilst driving home from my first paid speaking event because the tears were blinding my vision.  I had driven to Ballina which is a few hours' drive from my home town of Brisbane.  I had presented five, one hour keynote presentations at five different schools in one day.

Back in 2000, the male counterpart that was speaking with me had a huge cult following nationally.  He was a radio commentator who spoke on behalf of the government, on talk shows and was known as the expert to speak about drug and alcohol abuse.  He was an academic who knew statistics, medical information, clinical studies, and latest research findings and had an educated and polished answer for anyone with any question.  He was also a Sydney boy who was hip, slick and cool and could couple all of that with being quick witted, politically correct at all times, and professionally very successful as a speaker. 

When I was asked to accompany him, they offered me $1000.00 for the day, a great deal less than his fee, but I would have done it for free, and at that time would have preferred to.  I had to stop myself from saying my standard response when the question about my fee was raised which was "Oh don't worry about a fee, it is for a good cause, I am happy to donate my time". 

I had already won a Volunteer of the Year Award, and used to bullshit to myself and others that I was just wanting to give back.    That statement was true, but there was also another reason behind my need to speak for free.  It was that I didn't feel deserving, I didn't feel smart enough or educated enough.  I was more comfortable sharing my story about my work for free.  It felt wrong to be paid for doing something I felt privileged to be asked to do and that bought me so much personal joy.  I felt like getting paid was prostituting myself in some way. 

My therapist had spent years telling me that if I really care about continuing my work I need to take payment when organizations that can afford it offer it.  I could still continue to donate my fee to charities and disadvantaged groups, but for those who had the budget allocated, to accept their payment gracefully.  So I did my emotional homework when that first offer of paid work came back in 2000 reluctantly and said "Yes I can do it, I will mark it in my diary now".  However I really expected them to call me back and cancel.  I knew Mr. Hip, Slick and Cool was the draw card and I was sure I was just an afterthought.  When they called to confirm a few days before the five school speaking day tour, I was honestly very overwhelmed. 

In hindsight I would say no today to five back to back one hour presentations in one day, that also included a return drive to Ballina and back in the same day.  I was emotionally exhausted after that day from having young teens after the event, collapse in tears in my arms.   They would share about their and or their parent's struggles with addictions and violent stories of abuse that they would be going home to that evening.  My ability to self care in those days was very limited and I often overdid it.  

It was on my drive home back to Brisbane after that day, that I hit emotional overload.  I was coming over the Tweed Heads hill and the beauty of the ocean whilst listening to Van Morrison singing "My Mama told me, there'd be days like this" cracked my heart wide open.  Hot and heavy tears started filling my eyes and I could not blink them away. 

I pulled my four wheel drive over to the side of the road and put my head on the wheel.  I silently sobbed.  I had just had my first taste of living my dream and it was like sacred and beautiful love making.   It overwhelmed me.  There was nothing for me to do than to surrender to tears of relief and joy. 

Being paid for doing something I love, could I have this life?  I was scared I would get in trouble from someone for being happy.  I was uncomfortable being happy, I had not yet built up my tolerance.  I had become accustomed to being comfortable with unhappiness.  I could control that state more.  Disappointment and dissatisfaction were far more familiar.  I had been called a clumsy scatterbrain all my life.  Could scatterbrains really have a great life? 

I have come a long way since those days.   Ten years later I accept more readily paid gigs, but still internally struggle at times with my worth.   Most often when it comes to sharing the podium with men. 

This John Wayneish mature cowboy was the male keynote and I the Aussie female.  He had white hair like Gandalf in Lord of the Rings, the kind of perfect white hair, almost silver that made him just look wise before he even opened his mouth.  He had a chain attached to his cowboy like belt with the AA symbol hanging from it.  I felt excited to know that he was publicly notifying anyone who knew the famous anonymous triangle that he was in recovery himself and felt keen to hear his story.   I guessed he was late fifties early sixties, a handsome man with a heavy American drawl. 

I had heard many great testimonials about his work and was keen to meet with him and learn from him.  He had been on Oprah, written 15 books to my 2 books and had been on the speaking circuit for over 30 years.  I on the other hand had just clocked up my first decade. 

"Emotional Virgin that's a good title, that's a book title have you used it yet?" he quizzed looking directly at me as if he was the headmaster.   I felt pressured to come up with a good answer to please him. 

"Well, um no, not yet".  I was flattered but for some reason, all of a sudden, felt very protective of my notes as he kept scanning the conference program workbook.  

"Weapons of Mass Distraction" powerful statements.  Are you going to use Emotional Virgin?" He wanted a clear answer. 

"Well yes at some stage I'm going to".    I hadn't planned to exactly use it as a book title, but felt the need to control a strong urge to take the conference notebook out of his hand and not let him read anymore of my stuff. 

"If you don't use it, I will".  He threatened, he was not joking.  I was taken aback by his brashness.  But got my notepad out and scribbled a reminder to myself "Emotional Virgin" good title as he walked away. 

I have been pregnant with my third book for a while now as I shared with you in my very first blog.  He let me know loud and clear that I had better be prepared to see his next bestseller Emotional Virgin on bookshelves and Oprah raving about the great title, if I didn't get busy soon. 

We were due to start the weekend conference in about fifteen minutes.  Just enough time for me to go to the loo and go through my ritual.  This consisted of a mediation, to centre myself, a top up of my favourite fuchsia pink YSL lippie, a breast adjustment (any woman who has had kids will know exactly what I mean).  I would conclude my ritual with a generous spray of Chanel Mademoiselle and then be ready to get my show on the road!  But my zip broke.  I could not do up my trousers and had to ask some of the delegates in the ladies room to help pin me together with safety pins.  A humbling start, as I had my Bridget Jones "suck em in" undies underneath.

The conference centre was on Sydney's beautiful Harbour and a view of the Opera House was visible from the lectern.  Good I thought to myself, Ellie Elephant can stand in the water for me so I can see her for moral support.  Ellie is one of my meditation friends who is the size of the Opera House and she files.  She wears a pink peony rose behind each ear and has a ribbon around her tail.  Her soft wise eyes are sky blue.  I hold her in my hearts eye often before I present as she gifts me with feminine strength.

(I will write a blog about my meditations friends and visualization techniques soon for those who would like to explore this subject.) 

The weekend conference went well as we shared the stage and discussed life, the human spirit and intimacy.  The concluding workshops involved the American speaking to all of the women in one conference room, and yours truly addressing the men in the other. 

I had conducted many workshops with men before in jails and rehabs.  But never to this many men (over 150) in one hit.   And never after having spoken for two days straight before hand.  My head it seemed had written a cheque my heart was going to have trouble to honour.  As I entered the conference room the mass of male energy was palpable.  I was the only female in the room.  All I could see was a sea of males sitting back in their chairs, arms folded, legs apart waiting for me to impress them for the next 90 minutes. 

These men were all clinical professionals and I felt out of my league.  My heart started to pound and I felt all of a sudden, incompetent, weak and overpowered.  I wanted to run.  My flight response was the first to kick in, and as leaving the room was not an option, my fight response then wanted to take over and impress them with how tough and intellectual I could be.  Neither of these two reactions was going to serve me.  All this was going on through my head as I was introducing my workshop. 

I paused, looked out of the window at visualized Ellie standing in Sydney Harbour winking at me, I looked back at them and smiled.  I had slowed my breathing so I could get back into my heart.  As I stood there and felt the fear, vulnerability rose like vomit in my throat and I wanted to cry.  So I did. 

I began to speak about my years as a recovering smother mother using the lessons I had learned about transferring my fears onto my two sons.  I shared about past lovers and husbands admitting how little I knew about the male heart, and how little I knew about my own.  

I shared with these men about the vulnerabilities, frustrations and fear I had felt and many women feel when it comes to matters of the heart and connecting with males.  Tears gently rolled down my cheeks as I spoke about my sons and the mistakes I have made, that many mothers, perhaps even their mothers sometimes make.  As I invited them into the world of my heart, they uncrossed their arms and began to lean forward. 

I perspired a great deal during this presentation.  We were due to conclude after 90 minutes but the men stayed on for another 45 minutes asking questions.  The conference organizers came in to wind us up as the afternoon tea break was over and the women were wondering what the holdup was. 

I birthed a new part of myself that day.  I did feel like an emotional virgin, similarly to how I felt when I first started my recovery.  My heart experienced many feelings and emotions for the first time.  I had never been emotionally and sexually intimate with a male without the aid of drugs and alcohol up until age 33. 

Emotional Intimacy and Spirituality was the theme of this weekend conference.  Unless I could truly be present to my truth in front of these men, I was just talking the talk, not walking the walk.  There are, I believe, still many firsts for me to experience with men, but this workshop in particular was sacred and encouraging.  Never before had I experienced and overwhelming feeling of safety, respect and genuine gratitude from a group of males that were complete strangers.  

My emotional virginity is a work in progress.   I have so much catch up homework to do.  I was emotionally absent from my own heart and the heart of males for the first 33 years of my life.  Gentlemen are everywhere; however we must be gentle women to attract them into our lives. 

So I will sign off for today with these words vitamins for us both to ponder.  

"What is most beautiful in virile men is something feminine; what is most beautiful in feminine women is something masculine."  Susan Sontag