At 35, she gave birth to their second child and, at 36, their third. She loved her children. She still loved the man. She wasn’t sure she loved herself or the dog. Darkness crept into the tiny spaces left open by the secret and waited there, along with the young girl thrown away 20 years earlier.
When the girl was 38, she beat back the body invaders and reclaimed her health. She didn’t think of herself as a survivor or lucky or anything really. Still, she bought a bright pink raincoat to remind herself that there is always a rainbow after the rain.
But still the darkness grew. Resentment now crawled into bed with her, taking up the space between her and the man. She had to remind herself that she loved the man. She had to remind herself to live. She didn’t love herself. That was too much to expect.
When the girl turned 40, the man quit his job for her. Resentment sat at the breakfast and dinner table and gloated. The girl worked, struggled to move up the ladder. She took every assignment, worked every hour asked and more. The girl never moved up, only over. The man warned her. She would not listen.
The girl#x2019;s first daughter turned 10. The girl felt uneasy, struggled to sleep and started seeing the once forgotten young girl in the corner of her mind again. But she never spoke of it for she knew people would think she was crazy. She wasn’t really there. She was a myth, a demon, a foreboding.
When the girl turned 44, she moved her family to China. She believed that this assignment was the payoff for all of her hard work. She was happy but lonely. She loved her children. She loved the man even though it seemed hard to remember and even harder to give him a reason to love her back. It is hard to love when you are numb. They had a new dog.
The girl’s first daughter turned 14 and the darkness spread. The girl no longer slept and often did not eat. She worked. Harder and harder, longer and longer. The girl avoided her oldest daughter, unaware it was happening. The girl’s daughter felt her Mother’s rejection. The darkness saw opportunity and seized it.
The girl took a trip the States in winter. It was cold. The man kissed her when she left and told her it would be okay but she knew that wasn’t true. It had never been true. At least, it had not been true for almost 30 years. She felt it but could not say it. She could say it was cold but could not feel it. The girl was quiet and slowly smoldering.
When the girl was in the States, she cried. The man had been right. Hard work and long hours would not pay dividends. Not for the girl. They did not want girls. She would be thrown away in the same way she had been before. She knew it. She felt it. The smoldering in her soul continued, increased and was at risk of becoming a raging fire.
The girl took a trip to see her parents. She let her father hold her. Her mother stroked her hair. They talked about ambition, strength, power. Her father told her to press on and believe in herself. He told her she was bright and talented. The girl went back to China believing she was a failure.
The man met the girl at the airport and held her close and she cried. Resentment was not allowed in their bed that night. Sorrow and compassion took its place. The girl felt safe but insecure. She cried often now in the arms of the man. The man held her, kissed her and told her he loved her. The girl felt worthless but grateful.
When she was 45, the anger overtook her. Worse, the darkness overtook the girl’s first daughter. The girl knew she was responsible. It was the secret, though the girl did not know this yet. Afraid and angry, the girl worked harder, longer. She avoided her daughter and then her son and then her younger daughter. Happiness seemed impossible.
The girl was lost. The man worried. Their children were confused. The ticking of the clock grew louder inside the girl’s head.
Anger replaced resentment in the bed of the girl and the man. The passion was intense and intoxicating but passion from anger is not the same as passion from love. The girl was searching. She loved the man, she knew it, but she often behaved as though she hated him. In bed, hate and love exploded and the darkness and the secret plotted.
The girl was 45 and 16 at the same time. The man loved her more each day than he had the last. He would not let her throw herself away. And, so the man marched her to the medicine man.
The medicine man forced her to accept help not for herself but for her first-born daughter. The girl was hurting her, though she didn’t intend to or even realize that she had. The girl loved her children. The girl’s daughter grew older, increasingly closer to 16. As she did, the secret grew more powerful and an alliance was struck between the darkness and the secret.
The darkness moved out of the tiny spaces and overtook both the girl and her daughter. The child in the corner of the girl’s mind taunted her. Crazy. Crazy angry. Crazy scared. Crazy, maddening sorrow, disappointment and regret.
The man sat in the waiting room. The girl slowly confided in the medicine man.
After, the man took the girl to lunch. They drank beer and held hands. Eventually, the girl confessed her secret to the man. The man cried. Slowly, the child in the corner of the girl’s mind retreated along with the darkness and the secret. Not gone completely, but caged to protect the girl and her daughter.
The girl turned 46. Her first-born daughter was happy again. But the girl was still a girl. And, though she did what they said could not be done, she was a girl and so she was forced to the back of the line. The man let her cry, but not for long.
Though disappointed by the boys club, the girl was in love again. That made her happy. And, her happiness made the man happy and their happiness made their children happy.
The man saved the girl. Again. Resentment, anger and the secret no longer lived in their bed. Passion, love and forgiveness took their place and filled their bed, their lives and moved them forward.
The girl, the man and their children survived and were stronger, better, tighter, closer. China was the greatest, hardest experience of self-discovery the girl ever endured. It was so great that the girl even learned to love the dog.
Random Thoughts of Despair & Anger
February 2013
Shanghai
Ever sit on a plane and think to yourself that the best outcome would be for the plane to go down? I know, pretty dark. I found myself on a virtually empty Air China flight tonight — which is rare in China — and that was exactly what I thought and thought and thought. I decided it would be best to get some sleep. I shut my eyes and may have slept some but I’m not sure, really.
Of course, now its 1:20 a.m. and I can’t sleep. I landed at 10:30 p.m. and as I turned my phone on it rang. Call from South America asking me if I was okay. Well, if thinking about plane crashes means you are okay then, yes, I am great! Made my way out of the airport to see my greatest supporter waiting for me. And, by the time we got home, I managed to pick a fight with him. Stellar!
An “old” friend suggested I just get it all out but I really can’t talk about it. Or, rather, we don’t want to talk about it with the children just yet. No one is dying or anything tragic. It will be fine. It is always fine whether it feels that way or not, whether you believe it is or not — if you have kids, then it is always fine and always going to be fine. And, so it is.
When I arrived in China 20 months ago, I didn’t think I could be any more lonely. I was wrong. So very, very, very wrong. China has, in some respects, been one of the most isolating experiences of my life. And, in other ways, I have never felt closer to my husband, our children and my family. I can’t reconcile these emotions in my own head other than to acknowledge that my personal life seems to be getting back, if not staying, on track — despite this evening’s fight — and my work life is a mess.
I know I have to take ownership of my failings. And, hard as it is to believe, I have acknowledged that I could have handled some things better. But, I also did what everyone said could not be done, would not be done and, now, I find myself sitting on the outside looking in and not understanding what happened. And, try as I might, I don’t seem to be able to fix it. Hell, I can’t even get the same answe
r twice.
Today was hard. Very hard. I have refused to defend myself because there is nothing to defend. I’ve been over this with my consigliere (aka Dad) and there is nothing to defend. But, in doing so, I had to let others define me, define the situation and the next steps.
The communication about the change in leadership in Asia Pacific began today. An email went out to the global team advising of the changes to the organizational structure, including my move back to the States. I, of course, was not told when this would be done. In fact, I was on a plane to Beijing when it was delivered.
After landing, I went straight to the office where the China regulatory team is located. We had meetings scheduled with our joint venture partner to review changes in China’s regulatory standards affecting our industry. Awkward does not begin to describe the scene. Shock. The faces looking at me as I unpacked my laptop from its bag were shocked. I smiled. It’s all good and I apologized: “I thought I would have a chance to tell you first. I am sorry you found out this way.”
Questions. The team had questions that I could not answer. Or, at least, I didn’t think I should answer at this point. I had no idea what the email said – I still had not seen it. There would be a meeting the following morning with the new senior executive (a member of the “real” leadership team) in charge of Asia Pacific, who would remain located in the States, when everyone would learn more
Teams gathered in conference rooms across Asia Pacific to listen to our new senior executive. The exact words escape me but the message was:
Jennifer is returning to the States after doing a great job in Asia Pacific pulling the team together and laying a strong foundation for growth. The Interloper (my word) will be taking over to allow Jennifer to return to the States. Her experience in Asia Pacific is needed to help get Europe and North America aligned to the new global structure. In addition to the Interloper and myself (the senior executive), Asia Pacific is now also supported by a global manager located in Europe . . .
I sat at the table in the Beijing conference room trying to keep my composure. I knew this would happen but I was under the impression that we would resolve the issue of when I would actually repatriate before making an announcement. But, no. Effectively, at that moment, I was out of the job. Tossed aside.
I interjected and thanked the team, gave my support to the new leaders and the new structure they would bring to Asia Pacific, and then I excused myself so the team could talk candidly with the senior executive and ask any questions. I almost delivered my brief nod to my successor without showing my pain. Almost. My voice cracked at the end.
Conversations like this were taking place that day all over the globe. One senior executive led the call with the Americas and another handled Europe. I only participated in the Asia Pacific call.
My counterpart in Brazil called me this evening. The phone literally rang as I was getting off the plane from Beijing. She told me about the conference call with the Americas. They heard a very different story than the one told in Asia Pacific.
Within the hour, a friend in the States who attended two meetings — one for the Americas and one for local North American mangers – called and relayed another version that had been told in the smaller group meetings. In that version, I was incompetent. And, as was told in Europe, I requested to return home. None of these stories — not the one told in Asia, Europe, Brazil or the States — represents the truth. At least not from where I sit. I don’t recognize those stories. I am angry. I am hurt. I am disappointed. I am lost for the moment.
Isolated.
When you no longer recognize yourself in the person others describe, have you lost your sense of self, have you lost perspective or are you the person you believe yourself to be despite the chatter? Standing alone for what you believe in and think is right is not only hard, it is isolating, sometimes heartbreaking and, for me, it will come with a degree of humiliation as I try to hold my head high and find my way back.
I think the first step is the one up the stairs to find my husband . . . maybe I can get lucky!
Big Girl Pants
February 2013
Shanghai
I have to put on my big girl pants, as a friend of mine kindly reminded me.
Each Monday, I lay in bed clinging to my husband wishing the morning away. But, children must be woken, fed and put on the school bus. And, a woman must grab her big girl pants, her stilettos and go to the Salt Mine. I feel humiliated and I have to keep going to the very place and see some of the very people who make me feel this way. It is much easier to tell someone that they have nothing to be ashamed of than it is to be the person shamed. Still, I hold my head high, smile and pretend that all is well with Five for Chinese.
What else do you do?
Fact is, we have very little information about what is happening to us, our family or my career. My career is the least of our concerns, though it is the source of immeasurable misery lately. My own fault. Too many years defining myself by my career and not by the things that actually create a life worth living — family, love, forgiveness, personal values, me. I am on the road to changing that dynamic but it will not happen overnight. Old dog that I am. Still, I intend to honor my New Year’s Resolution — to invest my time more wisely.
What keeps me up at night is the uncertainty. The looming separation. And, the sense of responsibility I feel for those I love and who have sacrificed for me, my career, the Salt Mine. There is a silver lining, though. Our children have seen the world. We have seen the world. More of the world than most humans ever have the opportunity to see. I am grateful. But, I also earned it.
So, in the mixing bowl of emotions, which is what I am these days, I put on my big girl pants and my lipstick and greet the day. This does not mean that I am not grieving. I am. I have lost my identity, or what I thought was my identity. And, again, it is my fault for allowing others to determine my value and believing their assessment. What was I thinking?
When will the grieving end? When I have concrete information, facts, data, timetables and every excruciating detail about the next steps, including the care of my family. I cannot complete the grieving process without this information and the Salt Mine seems unmoved by my requests even when made as a desperate mother worried about her children. Instead, the cycle keeps repeating itself with each new or updated piece of information that drips from the Mothership like the last drops of syrup from the bottle.
So each Monday, I put on my big girl pants and I go on with my life, our lives. But, armed with no information, my better half and I have had to keep this secret from our children. And, this secret is hard, destructive and will bring a mix of joy and sorrow. We will focus on the joy and work to minimize the sorrow. But, we can’t do that yet. Stuck.
I wear my big girl pants during the day and weep in the darkness of the night. My emotional roller coaster is extreme. Fortunately, extreme emotion seems to focus me. Maybe only great loss can focus you in the way that I feel focused. Great loss and fear.
Courtesy www.keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk
I am — in some very strange way — grateful for the opportunity to focus. I am more aware of who I am at the core, what my value system is and how I want to invest my time — more than I have ever been before. I hired an executive coach to help me, to challenge me and to force me to keep my focus and not allow me to fall back into the pattern that has defined me up until now: the pattern of a workaholic.
Really big shoulder to cry on — got that too. I am a lucky girl, after all.
27 Days
February 2013
Shanghai
I saw that movie 27 Dresses the other day. When I woke up this morning, I realized that I may have only 27 days left in China. I still cannot confirm whether I have 27 days, 47 days or 10 days. The details of my life are unimportant to the Salt Mine.
Being on the clock, however, did require us to make some choices. Each day has been a series of choices. This morning, we made another choice. We told the kids. We to
ld them what we know, which is that Mom has a new job and it is in the States. They get to finish the school term in China. Mom is not sure when she is leaving but she will not be away more than a few weeks at a time (even if it bankrupts us). And, it’s all good. It’s really great news. Time to go home.
And, that is true. We’ve had a great adventure over the last two years. You almost could not plan a better ending, actually. An amazing production of Grease, football drills with Ndamukong Suh on the Saturday before the SuperBowl and a couple of gold medals in swimming. Not such a bad send off.
I’ll admit it would be nice to know what the hell is actually going on with our lives. But when you are just a little family of five trying to make your way in the world, you don’t attract much attention. All you are to the Salt Mine is an employee with an identification number who happens to have three kids and a large husband and a dog. What’s the big deal? How hard can it be to move a family back — oh, no, my mistake — how hard can it be to leave a family behind, while the employee ID number returns to the States? But, I digress.
In truth, in the end, it won’t be that big a deal. We’ll manage it. Ironic, really. Doing the impossible, my boss used to say, was what I did best. So, it’s not a big deal. I mean it isn’t impossible.
Our children are citizens of the world because they have lived and played with other world citizens. Their horizons are broader, wider and deeper and more colorful than they ever would have been without this experience. Still, a twinge of bitterness remains. A twinge that I likely will carry with me for some time. Never mess with a women’s kids. Never.
At this point, you have to make some plans. Forget manning up. Women plan better, particularly when planning their revenge. It took about 2 hours and the plan was complete.
Sheryl Sandberg, China & Me Page 19