Posted on by shirindawna

get on the broom.

after watching wicked, the musical that somehow manages to be about witches, systemic injustice, and friendship all at once, i’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to find the people who will get on the broom with you. if you’ve seen the stage production, you know the story goes beyond “defying gravity.” but if you’re only familiar with the upcoming movie, that’s where it ends—a moment of defiance, courage, and choosing to rise above the noise.

it’s the perfect stopping point, really, because that’s where the magic happens. elphaba makes her choice, and she flies…but she doesn’t do it alone. it’s her friendship with glinda, complicated and imperfect as it is, that gives the moment its weight. watching that, i couldn’t help but think about how important it is to find the people in your life who would stand by you at that edge. the ones who wouldn’t just cheer from the ground but would climb on the broom too.

the truth is, not everyone will. some people will hesitate, worried about what the crowd will think. others might step back entirely, afraid of what it costs to stand beside someone who’s choosing to go against the grain. some people avoid conflict at all costs. they shrink to fit in, stay quiet to keep the peace, and dodge anything that feels uncomfortable. it might seem harmless until you need them. if they’ve never stood up for themselves, why would they stand up for you? when the pressure is on, they hesitate. they retreat. maybe they even excuse it with, “i didn’t want to make it worse,” or “i wasn’t sure what to say.” and just like that, you’re standing at the edge, broom in hand, flying solo. and that’s okay. not everyone is meant to take that ride with you.

…those who hesitate, the ones who can’t quite make the leap? they’re the cowardly lions of your life. they may mean well, but fear keeps them grounded, unable to roar when it matters most.

but the ones who do? they’re everything. these are the friends who don’t need to be convinced. the ones who are ready to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you, even if it means risking their own comfort or reputation. they don’t just go along for the ride when it’s easy…they show up when it’s hard.

it’s a theme that’s been on my mind a lot lately, not just after wicked, but also after reading the lion women of tehran. the women in that book remind me of elphaba in so many ways. they are fierce, defiant, and willing to risk everything to stand up against oppression and fight for what’s right. they don’t just follow the crowd. they roar against it. but what struck me most about them was their strength as a collective. their power wasn’t just in their individual bravery but in their willingness to support one another, to build a sisterhood that refused to be silenced. they didn’t just get on the broom, they carried each other when it got too heavy to fly alone.

life has its share of mobs. crowds that will try to pull you back down to the ground. that’s why you need friends who can hold their ground, who choose integrity over ease, and who will always have your back. the lion women of tehran had that kind of strength. they remind us that true power comes from solidarity, from finding the people who will fight beside you, even when the world is against you.

maybe this resonated with me because, truth be told, i’ve always been a little witchy myself. not in an obvious way, but in the sense of owning the parts of me that feel a little rebellious, a little unconventional. witches (and lion women) have always been a symbol of women who refused to play by the rules, and i’ve never been one to follow a script. and like any good witch, i know that my power is amplified by the people who stand beside me. the ones who see the magic in me and aren’t afraid to rise alongside it.

watching wicked and reading the lion women of tehran reminded me that those friendships and alliances aren’t just nice to have…they’re essential. whether you’re defying gravity or standing up against a system that wants to silence you, you need people who will get on the broom. if you don’t have them yet, don’t settle. hold out for the ones who remind you that flying together isn’t just easier…it’s everything.

and if you already have those people in your life, hold on tight. there’s nothing more powerful than a friend who chooses you, every single time.

Posted on by shirindawna · 1 Comment

we were girls together.

i had every intention of writing something wise, something soaked in meaning and sentiment on my 44th birthday. something that would wrap up the year and put a neat little bow on it. but you know what actually happened? i spent the day with an old friend, one of those rare ones who’s been around since i was…eleven? we were girls together, trying to grow up faster than we should have, figuring out life as we went. we met in junior high, survived high school, and even when she switched schools our senior year, we stayed in touch. life has a way of pulling people apart and tossing them back together at the oddest moments. seeing her again felt like coming home, like slipping on a favorite, worn-in jacket i hadn’t worn in years but still fit perfectly.

we spent hours talking, catching up on the past few years, diving deep into our lives and all the ways they’ve unraveled and tangled back up again. naturally, the conversation turned to people from those early years, friends i’d kept around for way too long. i filled her in on a few names and mentioned the latest drama. she laughed, shaking her head, and somehow that laugh held this perfect mix of familiarity and validation, as if we both knew i’d finally let go of things that never quite fit.

it wasn’t a day of profound reflection or planned revelations. it was simple. full of laughs, of catching up, of that easy comfort that only comes with a friend who’s known you for decades. it reminded me that some connections stay rooted, no matter the years or distance.

so here’s to 44. i have no idea what’s waiting for me, but maybe i don’t need to. maybe all i need is a little laughter, a few good friends, and the reminder that sometimes coming home isn’t a place; it’s a person who knew you back when.

Posted on by shirindawna · 16 Comments

the call is coming from inside the house.

this is a hard one to write.

my head is still spinning and i don’t even know where to start, but writing is my therapy so i need to get it out…

earlier this week, someone i considered a close friend expressed that my public breastfeeding (of my almost 4 year old) makes her uncomfortable and voted that i wean my child. (it is an election year after all, things are gonna get weird).

i very clearly stated that i’m not at all uncomfortable. and there is no need to spend time with me if it’s an issue for her.

also, and here’s the part that matters to me, my body went through infertility. and cancer. it survived. and is alive! and i will never ever feel shame for using my breasts, AS INTENDED.

when i shared with her that this mattered to me deeply…that i still feel like my body failed me with cancer, and not being about to get and stay pregnant on my own. after miscarriages, and years, and tears, it’s finally something my body can do and provide for my child. i’m proud of that. i’m thrilled about that. i was not able to use my own eggs to have my child. i LOVE that my body produces milk and nourishment and comfort for him. her response was something along the lines of: my feelings are my own and not attached to your story.

true.

and so dismissive.

i don’t expect my friends to agree with every choice i make ~ that would be crazy…AND i was terribly hurt by the nature of her response. if your feelings are your own and you’re not attaching them to my story, then why did you feel the need to share with me? what exactly was the goal? if not to shame me and try and make me feel weird about my choices? (which i don’t. and won’t. i feel hurt and sad that a “friend” is so judgmental and quick to dismiss vulnerability.)

even more unfortunate is that my husband watched her roll her eyes the last time we were together and i breastfed my son.

(before you ask, yes. she’s a mom.)

the funny thing is, my husband always assumed someone would say something to me about breastfeeding at some point.

…we just NEVER ever thought it was going to come from someone who was inside our circle.

i honestly thought we were past the point of telling women what to do with their bodies. this will never compute for me. a completely asexual activity (literally, feeding my child) is somehow seen as something…inappropriate?

what a weird thing to care about.

so…where do we go from here?

Posted on by shirindawna

storybook love.

once upon a time, i met a boy. he seemed perfect. attractive, attentive, romantic…i thought he was exactly what i needed. looking back now, i realize i may not have been completely over the one before him. i wanted to be. so, our whirlwind courtship was welcomed with open arms. he said everything i wanted to hear… (here are some snippets)

I truly think we will define “power couple” BTW.

If I’m being honest, my four letter “L” word is quickly morphing into something other than “like”. I’m resistant but it’s (you are) truly overpowering. I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.

Is that even normal after what… A week-ish?!

We have always been on the same page. It’s a page I never want to turn, even as we turn the pages of our life. You are the first woman with whom I’ve been so eager to see, do, know, touch, taste, & hear everything with for the rest of my days.

I know that’s a whole lot but it is what it is & I’m not ashamed.

For me it was the flash snapshot of you, looking at me, in a wedding dress. While that’s never happened to me EVER before, my mind said I should be freaked out, but all I wanted was to see it on real life. Strapless, hair up, natural makeup, medium length train… Everything & everyone else was a blur. I think it was a premonition, a sign.

This is getting way too long so I’ll stop for now. I’ll have the rest of my life to tell you how wonderful you are

It’s what true “L” is supposed to be. Took me 32.25 years to find it & I’m not looking backwards or forwards, just into your eyes.

I hate that you are thinking exactly what I’m thinking at the exact same moment. I won’t say “it” via text but I’m very confident & certain you’re the one. I’m excited, exhilarated, passionate, challenged, motivated… All by looking in your eyes, touching your skin, reading to you… Never leave me, “L” me forever & I promise to do the same.

All this in such a short time. I feel like we’re an old movie script. We’ve talked about kids names, I can almost see their faces (wild to realize); how about Taylor (F) & Roman (M) to start?

so, yeah…i swooned. i wanted it to be real.

when he met one of my besties and her husband for the first time, he went on and on about how the way he feels about me should redefine love in the dictionary. and about how we are meant to be together. and about our kids. and on and on…until my bestie said ‘this is the most forward thinking conversation i’ve ever been a part of.’

which made me think…but only for a second – because he was seriously dreamy. and i was ready to dive in.

which made me ignore red flags. (seriously hindsight, you’re SUCH a bitch)

and to be fair (to myself), he did a really good job of hiding some serious issues. and i did an even better job of pretending they weren’t that big of a deal.

there were times when i’d ask him what made him happy and what he liked…and he couldn’t answer. he didn’t know. he hadn’t ever cultivated an identity of his own. so, i encouraged him to discover who he was.

i thought if he didn’t know who he was, he couldn’t know what he wanted for the future. and that scared me. i wanted to be with someone who KNEW what they wanted…not just said what they thought they were supposed to.

on that same vein, i suggested we stop focusing on these future landmarks and just enjoy our present time together. he always agreed. and then we’d revert back to future planning within days.

when we first started dating, i told him about how i loved my alone time. time to write, reflect, and just be. he said he was fine with it. the first time i took a night to myself to write he showed up at my door. unexpectedly. it took me a minute to get to the door and by the time i did, he was gone. and i had an irate message on my voicemail. the next time i went to his home he showed me a dent in the freezer. he punched it that night thinking i was with someone else.
i stopped writing.

i have a group of close besties who mean the world to me. and i don’t see them as often as i wish… so, when we would spend time with them he would end up feeling neglected. and acting out. like a child. i’m talking temper tantrums, drinking himself into oblivion, and one time actually striking me (he claimed it was an accident…and i believed him).

there were friends that i never wanted to introduce him to – because i knew they’d see through him. and it wasn’t a reality i was ready to accept.

looking back now, it seems ridiculous that i stuck around. it doesn’t sound like something i would put up with…but i did. we’d have an issue, i’d start wondering if we should be together. he’d say all the right things. i’d carry on with him… i thought we were working through problems really well.

until i realized that they were the same issues that kept coming up. we weren’t working through anything, he was just playing the part that he was trained to play. reciting his lines. and in the beginning, it was enough for me.

when he first suggested moving in together, i was against it. i didn’t want to move in with anyone until i was engaged. so, we looked at rings. and he asked for my dad’s permission to marry me. just a couple weeks before i lost my dad, i gained a new roommate.

i’m glad he was there in that time. i was a shell of a person. my dad was my world. i still have trouble describing the pain in losing him…when we were in public, my boyfriend was perfect. he was affectionate. and attentive. and charming.

at home, he didn’t have any idea how to talk to me about how i was feeling. i told him i understood. and that i wouldn’t know what to do either. and i’d love if he could just hug me.

he started drinking every night. something i think he was doing before we moved in together…but it was easier to hide.

i asked him about it.
he became defensive.

we started growing apart.
i felt it. i knew it was happening.
i blamed myself.
he felt pressure to live up to my dad’s memory.
i just wanted a partner.
i tried to talk to him about it…
he became defensive.

in his world, acknowledging problems was not allowed. admitting our relationship wasn’t perfect was not okay with him.
i told him fights would happen…and we would need to work through them if we wanted to get to the other side.
he didn’t agree. he said relationships should just flow. there should be no discord.
i loved his idealism.

but i knew better.

relationships are where your issues arise..and where you have to face them. being alone is easy.
he wanted easy.

i went to visit my best friend on the east coast. she has two gorgeous kids. and a husband. during my time out there i realized more strongly than ever how much i wanted a family. my priorities had shifted after losing my dad, but being in the thick of it – i knew i wanted it. and sooner than later. i loved the temper tantrums, the negotiating, the reliving of my childhood through her kids.

when i got back to town, he noticed a change in me. i told him where i was at. the absolute terror on his face told me everything i needed to know… we were broken up within weeks.

after the split, i discovered that he had fidelity issues. (remember my mention of him wanting easy? he got it! she was the epitome of easy.) my friends focus on this as the reason for our break up. it was certainly an underlying factor, but the split was inevitable.

we want different things. the hardest part of letting go was knowing that my dad would never meet whoever i would end up with, that was unfathomable to me.

i had a hard time accepting that my storybook ending wasn’t going to come true. that my fantasy was just that: something made up.

it’s an exact replica of a figment of my imagination. looking back, there’s the terrible weight of memory, but also a love story.