We may appear to be fucked on both sides as Generation X but we also are the wisest and fiercest generation. I was sent a fantastic video from two women friends this weekend about a woman on IG Kat Hurley who encapsulates our Gen X women fuckery in this reel here.
What I have realized in this year in the 5-5, writing my second book (getting to the finish line people on this book proposal with the brilliant Robin Colucci who is saving my author soul and breaking open parts of me I didn’t know existed) and the two years I have been writing the column on Permission - we may be the authority on how to get s**t done as the “sandwich generation,” but we need to give ourselves a break. We are harder on ourselves than anyone else is on us. We beat ourselves up on all sides. We have every tool and philosophy and mindset baked inside us… we just need to chill the f**k out and inward focus.
We are quick to the chase and if we calm down. and take our smart, savvy as something we don’t have to give away, we will realize fast we don’t need to be told we need self-confidence or self-worth. I don't need to read a whole book to tell me I am worthy. I know! We have read ALL the books. We just don’t know how to believe if we give ourselves 45 minutes with our sphincter unclenched, the world won’t fall apart. We simply want to eke out a 10-20 minute session of self-solitary yes-ness. A complete oops-worthy carefree state of being which doesn’t completely mean we are dismantling the very fabric of our power. We are scared we have to protect our sanity and serenity all the damn time, which is understandable based on the generational trauma and internal fear of losing ourselves after being completely absorbed by the boomer’s obliviousness. But we have to let go of the reins. Unclench the sphincter. Release the clutch.
I did this at the poker tournament this Saturday.
When I found myself at the main table with the remaining other player three hours into the tournament, I was pitted against a super drunk dude in a cowboy hat and dark glasses with $4000 big blind bets. Everyone at the tournament was crowded around to watch. The place was loud. I knew even if I lost to him, I had 2nd place. I was happy but I thought, I came this far. Maybe I could have first, but I wasn’t attached to it. I already went way farther than I thought I would, and that was tripping me out.
Never once in the whole tournament did I think, I can’t do this. Never once did I think, here’s where it ends. I used all the tools I have orchestrated the last five decades of my life in all the variables of drama, trauma and triumph. I was calm, stayed steady, and when my chips were real low (I mean 30 minutes in I was almost out of cash), I pulled back on my wild betting a little and just folded for a bit till I got back my legs. It didn’t matter that the gal next to me was cleaning up. I cheered her on and took in her steady energy. What mattered was four of the 8 of us were going to advance to the other table that was also whittling down. I didn’t know if that would be me, but as I treated this experience like when I do something for just myself in life - I ignored some of the chiding from other players when they knew I had a bluff hand, or a high card, and held my seat. Two hours later, I took my seat at the second table.
While this is a tournament where you do it for charity, the amount of “money” were were throwing around initially was based on a $150 buy in. We were given way more than that in chips to start, but every dime I had on the second table was earned in the steadiness. I mean, I had like $40,000 at one point. People at the party were loud and drunk. While I was playing poker, they were drinking. I didn’t socialize with anyone. I peed for a quick five seconds. I didn’t drink anything but water and I didn’t eat. As I watched players drop on the second table, and I saw a pair of 7’s land in my hand, I knew I had the tournament against the drunken cowboy if the dealer turns a third seven. Life’s big IF. When he did, I felt a hard adrenalin rush. I have stared down life’s adversity and unexpected twists and turns with a calm just like this. I enjoyed the adrenalin rush silently. I didn’t need anyone to know until I threw down my cards. I went all in with my chips. I knew that I had him.
By the time I won, I was shocked. I went there with zero expectations. To have a nice mocktail, play for 30 minutes, lose my shirt and go home. But when I won after 3 straight steady hours of playing poker, I was shocked but also knew why. I went all in when needed and I pulled back to bide my time. I ended up winning a 2 night all paid lake cabin in Lake Arrowhead worth $1100. All for a $150 buy in for charity.
We are the steady generation. I have nothing more to prove. I have done all the work. I can sit at the table when there is chaos all around me and be the one who zens out. I can be the observer, and the knower, and at the same time, reap the fun and joy out of rocking the house.
The next day I was in shock. Okay, truth, when I won and everyone was cheering and people were taking pictures of me, I was also a little stunned. I wanted to leave immediately. I saw how tired I was. I saw how much I loved playing poker. I don’t sit down and do something not talking for 3 hours except writing. I don’t even play drums for three hours. I had not only found something I completely loved, but it wasn’t an overnight success story. I had played women’s poker every month for a couple years at my friend Malin’s house for fun. Then I won a tournament.
Like I talked about in Billy Joel’s doc. He had a “win” and then a let down. He had a success story long before he was a success, but he was considered no one. He wrote Piano Man but still didn’t have a solid hit. It wasn’t until he wrote “Just The Way You Are” that he blew up. He wrote about his wife Elizabeth, and while it was a sappy song, it connected with the world. He just stayed in what he knew. Slow and steady. Trusting the talent.
Of course, I am at the part of the doc where he starts to abuse himself with drugs and alcohol which we as Gen X can do if we don’t have relief from the pressure (including from yours truly) so we have to lean more than most into the self-love to get out of the pressure cooker.
The next day, I was so tired. I was like floored tired. My brain was exhausted from focusing that long on cards. I dreamed of Ace high and a pair of Jacks. I allowed myself a day off. I kept it simple. I went to church and then I laid on the beach with my partner and we boogie boarded, and read books, and listened to New Orleans jazz. It was heaven. Summer is seemingly over for the tourists here in Venice and we have the beach back to ourselves as locals. The sky was stormy and blue at the same time, and as I laid there, when my brain was like “you didn’t do this for your kid” or “did you call your mother?” or “What about that email you were supposed to send for that client?” I was like, motherfucker, we are in a serious day off. I just won a poker tournament. What is wrong with you!
In the business of living as the “sandwich generation,” our biggest fight is to see ourselves as the ones who need the break. To stop not believing in how radically cool and incredible we are. To lean into seeing how effortless we can be in rising to the top. No begging, clawing, screaming, carrying on. We hold the power. We have the skid marks. We have lived many lives.
We get to enjoy the slow and steady knowing we are moving faster than anyone else still.
I heard a woman in one of my AA meetings this past week say something brilliant and I quote her here: “I am done lighting myself on fire to keep other people warm.”
Drop the mic.
If you love my column, and you want to be in the know on what is happening with my book, and all the stuff around the gathering of this community, please become one of my heralded paid annual subscribers. It makes the algorithm adjust when someone plops down $30 and I get to rise in the Literature category, which was as much of a shock this past week as winning the poker tournament. But there is a comparison. I played women’s poker every month for a couple years and then won a tournament. I have written this column every week, now twice a week for the same amount of time and got #86 in Rising Literature. So you keep putting your neck out there, put your money on the table. Say Yes. And you continue to rise.
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