Dear Jim/Jamie:
“There is a recurring dream I’ve had all my life. In the dream I am by myself but wearing girls clothes. All of a sudden I hear people coming and I panic; looking for somewhere to hide. I’m can’t find anywhere to hide and I’m running in circles, terrified of being seen. The humiliation of being caught would be too much to bear. I get in such a panic that I usually wake up at this point.”

I responded to part of my understanding of your dream earlier, the part that girls SHOULD wear girl clothes and boys should wear boy clothes, the social conditioning to that effect. From there my mind jumped to my mother saying Rita- the child beater- was everything a woman SHOULD be. Shoulds…. So much suffering caused to you for SHOULD. It is nothing but social conditioning. Men wearing women’s clothes is often an element in comedies. You were and are, so unfortunately, against such a potent social convention. I am overwhelmed by the thought of being in your shoes, against such conditioning. It means nothing really, it is of no real offense to anyone and yet, there is no way you can walk around in women’s clothes without a big fuss- not by yourself.

Back to that woman, Rita. i don’t know if my mother knew about Rita beating Harley, her son. My mother did beat me, last time was in my early twenties when I stood up for myself for the first time by exerting just enough force against her so to keep her immobile. She didnt attempt it again to my dismay… I was so angry that the beast I imagined her to be was so easily defeated. Why, i wished I did it years ago. I can’t tell you the humiliation of being kicked, hit, slapped and called a big nothing and many bad words i blocked out so efficiently.

Your dream is amazingly interesting. Running around in circles. The panic. I have an image: I am walking in a mall with little Jim/ Jamie, holding the little boy’s hand and the little boy is wearing a flowery dress with a lacey collar, and short brown haircut and a dreamy, little boy’s smile. And your hand in mine, I am an adult, a grown woman. And it doesn’t matter who looks or what, your hand is tight in mine, secure and nothing and nobody can hurt you.

Is it strange, I wonder, for me to have this image? If I was to conjure an image of me being the little girl that I was, you, Jim/ Jamie the adult walking with me in the mall, my little hand in yours, maybe you are wearing a dress and I don’t care at all who is looking or not. One of the people walking and looking at us is my mother andshe disapproves of me and of you but I don’t care becaue my hand is in yours and you look at me with affection and I know I am okay and I look up to you and you are okay. And nothing else matters.

It is hot here this afternoon, a heat wave in Western Washington. So hot. How strange life seems to me these days. What is it…? Funnyh, having lived my life the way I have, so remote from who I was and who I am. Isn’t it the strangest thing- a lifetime of hiding and running in circles, afraid to be found out.

Hiding and running in circles.

If someone asked me: tell me about your life. I may say: I ran in circles.

…. anita

Dear Jim/Jamie:
You do regret so that time you had the opportunity to tell your mother, to get then the support you so needed as the years progressed. Full of compassion as she was, I imagine she would have given you the love you needed to not run in circle for decades to come, or at least that could be so… It did get cooler here later in the day. Rabits everywhere. Rabits in the morning, rabits in the evening, rabits, rabits everywhere. Birds singing all the time except for a few hours late at night. First singing is after 3 or 3:30 am. I was born in Israel, grew In as I say there. Been in Virginia once i think. Lived in NYC for a little while. My husband is a great cook. I wonder what you like to eat, what you like to do- what you look like. I wonder about the dream. I wonder a lot…
anita

Dear Jim/Jamie:
That is you then, wow, my goodness- you look fabulous. It is not a close shot but you do look incredible- such a nice, delicate bone structure, and those legs, wow- WOW and you are in your late 40s there? I wonder if it is the bike rides keeping you slim and wow- love the small frame, narrow bones, legs- my goodness, for some reason I am pleasantly surprised- why did I view you in mind’s eye as less attractive, I do not know. Maybe because reality is most people are overweight- the great majority of people, especially at a certain age. Just seeing someone who is not in this obesity epidemic world is the exception to the rule. My mind’s voice keeps saying WOW as I type this, keep wow-ing. My goodness! Wow. Here I said it again.

I wonder how tall you are and how much you weigh. I am 5’5” and i was skinny until my middle 30s. I gained and was 150lbs in my early forties. For the first time attempted weight loss- made it. Then got off heavy duty psych meds i was on from 35 years to 52. As I got off- failed and got off again, I developed a DSM eating disorder that I am recovering from. At one point I weighed 103 lbs. I most often weighed around 108 for years until this year. My binge eating caught with me and I gained only I refuse to go on the scale. I recently placed my zero size pants up on a shelf as well as any number under 4. But I am doing better, eating is still involving anxiety but I am eating less. I no longer go from deprivation to bingeing. I do love to eat- although the anxiety added via my latest torture of few years is “raining on my parade” of enjoying food.

Anyway, I am going on and on about my weight triggered by your photo- did I say WOW already? What a beautiful dress! So very white- you do look good in it! In my mind’s eye I thought you wouldn’t look good walking in the mall with woman’s clothes but I changed my outlook now- how can you look so good in a dress? Beats me. I mean, I can’t imagine anyone, woman, man or alien looking any better than you in that prom dress.

Isn’t it strange how I go on about this- yet, there is nothing calculating about my response here- I type what and as I feel it. I figure it takes someone meant to be in this dress to look so good in it.

Okay, enough. I don’t like riding a race like bikes- only the bikes with the handles high, hope you know what I mean. I have a good memory of riding such a bike in a Kibbutz in Israel in early 80s. No cars only bikes (a few cars for everyone’s use were in a central location in the kibbutz. Most areas were free of vehicles. So quiet, trees and nature and the dining hall for all who are interested- how lovely. My only problem there was that I was so lonely. I left Israel in 1985 with a plane ticket to San Francisco, lived in NYC Sept-feb 86, flew to New Orleans, back to Israel, NY, Las Vegas, lived there, then Los Angeles, stayed there, teacher of some kind (Public Schools) substitute, then got married finally at 49 (a couple of mean-nothing marriages of shortest duration before) and left not alone, this time to Wash State.

My life was mostly misery, really. I believe I am over the great pathology characterizing my life of five decades. My pahtology, severe, overwhelming – has been my mother in my life and in my psyche. Like in the movie Psycho, the original, well kind of like it, seriously debilitating- I BECAME HER. I did not view my life and myself through MY EYES but through hers. Of course it was me, but psychically it was her, her representation in my mind. It has been terrible. a Torture. It is only recently through a lot of work… I can’t believe how horrible it WAS.

Hope you are enjoying your day off work. I had my daily 3.5 mile up and down walk this morning and was able to walk briskly. Love the exercise.

Another… wow. Donefor now wow-ing you.
anita

Dear Jim/Jamie:
very pleasing to the eye, indeed! Very pleasing. Good looking guy!

My goodness. You look good both ways although there is special magic to the prom dress photo, here you are a good looking guy, there you are a stunning delicate … flower is the word that comes to my mind…

later- your photos make me smile and that is a good thing!
anita

Dear Jim and Jamie:
It was something else yesterday, I felt very lively, full of life seeing Jamie’s photo and writing to you. It puzzles me only because, I suppose, I … normally don’t get excited about things or people. Said in a better way- I often don’t let myself get excited about anything much. The pleasure of eating, for instance, often enough frightens me. Letting emotions take me where they may scares me. It crossed my mind last night as I was thinking, that the very going-on that I did in my post to you, wow-ing Jamie, that this post will get me kicked out of tiny buddha. Just crossed my mind and I realized that i find it that when I get freely emotional, I get scared that I will be attacked or rejected and a punishment will be there. I asked myself: why did you get excited? What is wrong with (me)…

This is all part of the shame. Feeling that feeling itself, that my feelings are shameful, bad, wrong, just wrong… and will get me in trouble. Of course, this is a replay of my horrid (I believe the word “rorture” that I used refers to this) childhood where I was attacked often enough not knowing why, just for feeling good, maybe. I think i was attcked for the times I felt good, happy, excited… I was punished for it. So I feel off, weird whenever I do get excited as if I lost control. There is a sense of losing control in excitement, just writing whatever the emotion leads me to write…

You write about being Jim and being Jamie as two different people: fun, compassionate, loving jamie and scared, cold and regimented Jim. It is my analytical mind perhaps trying to understand, to see more of what is: tell me more, if you will… about the interactions between Jim and Jamie and is there a manager of sorts with you that navigates who is on who is off and when- and is one subdued when the other is active…

I like you feeling like we are best girlfriends… I do long for a girlfriend, have for a long time and I do cherish our communication very much.

anita

Thank you gorgeous Jamie- will be back to computer later and hopefully read your post!
anita

Dear Jamie:
I am so … what are the words, reading your note feels like fresh air to me, like fresh air of childhood, that hope… being under the clear blue sky and gently shining sun, that promise of long ago- I feel it now. Reading your post above makes me think: I will not betray your trust in me, the feeling of safety to be seen, that you describe. That little Jim, that little Jamie trusting ME- oh, I will not hurt little Jim or little Jamie, neither, both. I will not hurt you. That precious trust, that vulnerability. Please let me know- do let me know if anything I write/ communicate to you doesn’t feel right to you, ask me to clarify. Misunderstandings/ inaccurate projections do happen. My intent and committment is to be completely worthy of the precious trust of the child in you, the child (or children) part of you. Let me know if you feel badly about anything I write so that I can review what I said, examine it and communicate with you honestly about whatever it is.

I feel honored because I know what it takes to trust someone. I am open and willing to be and become and continue to be your best girlfriend. I am. I am. I am.

My core belief of being shameful, the feeling of shame attaches itself so very often to almost anything. I may express an opinion and immediately feel shame about what I expressed, feeling that distress, discomfort. It seems to happen dozens times a day, if not more often: catching a view of me in the mirror, no, I think more like hundreds of times a day, only I am becoming aware of some of those times. A very pervasive thing… At times I feel good. One day I felt good was when we both were in Orange County, CA- my first trip to DisneyLand, September 1985 (You may have been deployed but you lived then there)- a magical day, extremely short lines and i went on rides like a child, beautiful time. Knots Berry farm the next day and Universal Studios the next, magical three days, DisneyLand shining the brightest. Following psychotherapy and healing of few years since 2011, I had moments, more and more of peace of mind when I thought I was done with the shame but it came back again and again, often catching me by surprise when I am tired, someone says hello while I was spaced out and I think I was caught in all my inferiority and shame and I say to the person: “I was spaced out… it’s so hot”or something like that, explaining why I was … not right, not up to standard as they must have seen, I figured.

I realize this very morning and hope I remember well that shame will come back again and again, accepting the inevitable is better than denying it and being surprised again… and again.

I just looked again at the photo of Jamie- I feel like saying the same words I said before and I am smiling again. There is lack of pretentiousness (is there such a word?) in how she is standing, lack of pretense, hands in the back, head straight, not tilted up or looking down. Something very simple, direct, natural, not complicated, about her standing there.

Looking forward to your next note.
anita