Atoosa Unedited
Atoosa Unedited
One Last Secret
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One Last Secret

And it's one even I didn't know about!
These portraits of me (by Donald Robertson) hang in my office like a vision board. But, I learned, the truth of what I want is woven through with invisible ink.

hey!

For the last three years, together, we have picked through my dirty laundry.

Did you see it all?

Believe it or not….No.

But I think you will agree that you’ve seen puh-lenty.

In fact, maybe it was more period-stained undies than you wanted (or needed) to see.

I am reminded of a line from Forrest Gump:

“My momma always said, you got to put the past behind you before you can move on. And I think that’s what my run was about. I had run for 3 years, 2 months, 14 days and 16 hours. I’m pretty tired now. I think I’ll go home. And just like that my running days was over.”

That’s what this column was about. Putting the past behind me. 3 years, 3 months and 21 days. All of my stories shared privately in deep dialogue with my closest friends on the phone and over long walks. And almost all of it shared with you, dear reader.

You may wonder why I opted to share it with you. It was not my catharsis. I have always been well supported by my friends and therapist of 23 years. I shared it with you because I have loved you since you were a teenager and now as I have teens of my own, I wanted to model for you (and them…and their future children, my grandchildren) what I wish I had known when I was a teen and a younger-than-50 adult: Truth telling. Hard truth telling.

You do not have to be a good girl.

I told you about my abortions. I told you about the worst things I’ve done and some of the worst things done to me. I told you…and many, many people in my life who previously only knew me as this always friendly, shit-together upstanding member or even leader of their community. In other words, this project wasn’t just a letter that went out to former teen magazine readers that I’ve never met and would never meet. Anyone could read it. And did. Including people I have a more formal relationship with. This part was for me. I was sick of having an image that felt discordant to who I really am. No more costumes for me. No more perfect performances for people on the outside.  No more showing up to some event I’m dreading because “it’s the right thing to do.” No more overriding my comfort to assure someone else’s. It took three years to break the pattern of living to feed some external perception of me. Like many of you, as a child, I was programmed to perform for my parents. I’m not sure if we are naturally supposed to evolve to simply stop being led by external approval, but I suspect not. Look at the success of Instagram. But after this project, there are no more shoulds in my life. I am here for me.

The only way I found to truly put the past behind me was to look it in the eye. To sit with it. Like a big box of trash that requires the same love, attention and care as a big box of family heirlooms. You explore each piece. And no, it’s not easy. I had many (very close) friends say about my Substack, “I just don’t know if I can read this one.” Picking through trash is not for the faint of heart. But we, my sister, are not faint of heart. We are brave beyond measure. Pick your people…even your one person. (Not your romantic interest.) It can be a therapist, a true long time best friend, or even your journal. But tell someone EVERYTHING. And not everything except “that.”

Say THAT.

Let me say it again.

You do not have to be a good girl.

What I know for sure: Exploring the depths of our interiority, our sometimes bloody and oozing interiority…the parts of us that are decidedly not ready for Instagram, is integral to living our best life.

Like, I cringe when I remember telling Charlie Rose about my AMAAAAAAZING childhood living with my various relatives as one big happy immigrant family (leaving out the part about how two of them sexually abused me) and my easy breezy life as an Editor-in-Chief. I had taken every bit of ugliness and shoved it way down below the surface of my being. The world at large certainly didn’t need to know what I was hiding in my basement. Except, well….you can’t keep bags and bags of oozing, foul garbage in your basement without it eventually stinking up your living room. At the very minimum, I needed to acknowledge, accept and clean up what was in my own basement.

Listen, we all have garbage aka trauma. Sure, some people more than others. And it’s all relative. But our true strength comes from what we have endured….not whether or not we can pretend it never happened. In my experience, pretending it never happened keeps the trauma alive, and so in some ways, it’s still happening to us. By trying to ignore it, we are adding to what we need to endure instead of ending the difficult chapter and beginning to process it so we can move forward.

The true difficulty is not in the sharing.

The true difficulty is in the NOT sharing.

Case in point: In my last Substack, I was sitting with my anxious back and forth pacing about my next step. What will it be? Why isn’t it coming to me?  Who AM I, if not Someone Important?

I felt like a hunter with nothing to hunt. If you have a cat, you know how they sometimes wildly stalk some unseen prey in our homes. It was explained to me that it’s left over in their nervous systems from when they were wild.  The hunt still thumps inside them.

Through the process of sharing with you, I finally understood what I was hunting for.

My single biggest epiphany of the past three years.

My unspoken secret…that was even a secret from me.

And YOU, dear reader, helped me unearth it in the comments section of the last Substack.

The very first comment was from Alexa.

No-Atoosa-Comeback - I think it’s already happened. Not in the traditional overachiever business way but in the you came back as your true authentic self way. The real you, with your new values and priorities, is the comeback!

And Francis

So funny… I (a business owner that can now be absent/successful) has these thoughts every day. I also am divorced and cook dinner for my kids every night cause it’s our time together. Yet, I was yearning for more even though I also burned out from overworking in the past. The overachiever in us isn’t comfortable yet we are thankful in many ways for the privilege to be present mothers. A week ago I finally got my answer.. we are EXACTLY where we are supposed to be! I made peace with the constant voice that is always searching and just embraced being a full time mom to twins that are in their junior year of high school. They will both be leaving for college in a year and a half and I will be an empty nester. I have faith that life will show me the way when the time comes. We just have to quiet those voices that make us think that time is running out. Atoosa, you are just getting started and you are blessed!

Until I read these two comments, I may have been unconsciously aware that I am at my destination. But there was a very old part of me – I think of it as a remaining splinter from the original wounding of not being “enough” that had me still pacing back and forth trying to architect My Worthiness.

In that time since I shared with you….and some of you generously shared back with me in the comments and via private messages, I have relaxed into my truth:

What I had wanted my whole life…My. Whole. Life….is closeness with my family.

I have a very nice family of birth. There isn’t a person on earth who would say a bad word about any of them. But we were not a close family. As many children do, I wordlessly assumed the blame and responsibility for this lack of deep connectivity. And so, with the maturity of a small child, I made decisions as an adult. It never occurred to me that there were cultural and ancestral reasons for this lack of intimacy and closeness. My child’s mind thought that if I was impressive, I would finally earn this mythical unconditional love and connection. This hidden desire drove my early success. The child within me kept recalibrating each time I would achieve the milestone that I thought would SURELY bring the closeness I wanted…and yet, didn’t. And it wasn’t all career related. It was marriage, my children, my home(s), my hostessing of various holidays, my generosity, on and on and on. I kept feeding this small child’s yearning for closeness. Over time, it felt like feeding a ravenous monster. I tirelessly fed this bottomless pit… unaware of its existence.

I had NO conscious idea closeness with my family was what I was seeking.

We can make as many vision boards as we like, but I found that despite our best intentions, we tend to organize our lives around what is unspoken. And as long as it’s unspoken, our actions are unconscious and our choices are not coming from our known values, but from what’s hidden. As such, our lives can feel like an enigma to us.

I have learned that a family is not close because we always make a point to get together for holidays, special occasions or have an active group chat. A family is close when we can hold space for each other when it’s most difficult and inconvenient. When we love and accept each other unconditionally. And loyalty. Blood is thicker than water. I really understand this now. I realized that while I love my family of birth, I will likely never have a close family. And yet, I DO have a close family. I have these three magical human beings I birthed. That I love unconditionally. And who love me unconditionally. I choose them first, always. I finally unconsciously created that closeness. I am here. Right now. The chase is over. And it’s been over for years. My family unit is a living breathing thing and I want to tend to it with loving care for the rest of my life. That is my most important calling.

Today, I love my life. I have peace. I have freedom. Even with some very difficult emotions during the past few years as I have cycled through dating various people, divorce and cancer…to write about it with complete honesty? Girl, that can ONLY come from a place of freedom and empowerment. But it’s also bizarre. I had to live through so many versions of what I THOUGHT having my best life looked like, until I had my big lightbulb moment.

Living your best life is not about what it looks like.

It’s about what it feels like.

Duh.

xo atoosa

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