What breed are you?

There is a type, a tribe, a breed of people. Always. Thats why we choose, filter and group up with those that we connect with and relate to. It's seen in men, women, kids and animals. There's an obvious pack mentality or groupism involved when it comes to selecting who we spend time with and eat with and it's the characteristics that we exhibit & share that bind us. Let me tell you about my type.

Through the years and many belly butterflies later, I've realized my breed, my values, what defines me as a woman & as an individual.

I intentionally refuse to use the clichè 'heartbreaks' and would like to replace it with belly butterflies, because that's what it feels like when my sense of security or my value as a person is being fidgeted with and if you're a sensitive woman like me you'll react to it at its most nasant stage as well. These life lessons and realizations havent only come via the men I've crossed paths with. A many not so lovely or let's just refer to them as women that belong to another tribe (one that I'm glad not to be part of) that I'm not proud of, I don't look up to because I do not condone their behaviour and simply don't agree with on various levels, have added to my clarity of thought, on what I stand by, what I believe in and what I would never do. But thats a blog for another day.

For now, my biggest realization has been that there will always be a breed of women who will refuse to give in to a man's primal instinct to curb, oppress or domesticate a woman to his liking. My tribe. Proud breed. But one that arrives at this destination after being pummelled to the ground. The only winning point is that once we are on our backs the only way to look is up.

Men....not all men, but of a particular tribe, do this. They want it all, the love, the sex, the attention. The trophy wife or girlfriend.

There's a classic dance involved here, characteristic to this male tribe. Chase you and then tease by pulling away so that you now chase them. Which should be fine if the game is equally rewarding and exciting for both sides. Like a game of tag! But do they want be the tagger for a change? NO! Its a simple no.

Initially yes, maybe when they know you're not fully into the net yet. Do they wanna partake in the art of reciprocation? NO! Reciprocating is a task for this tribe. Shouldn't the nice healthy drill be....... One for you, one for me, one for you, one for me?Not here. After a few pretentious rounds, suddenly a switch goes off...and THAT...is the beginning of the art of grooming, domestication, oppression, whatever you'd like to name it. One for me, one for you, two for me, one for you, three for me, none for you. SMACK......GOTCHA! Before you know it, or as you slowly realize it, you're only the giver, the chaser, hoping to get something back. Some people do it transparently and shamelessly. Others, package it better but serve the same meal.

And the likes of my tribe, fearing the feeling of abandonement, keep playing this unfulfilling game, suffering nights of belly butterflies (not heartache), tears that fog our vision while we drive or walk in the park, franctically wiping away tears as if it was sweat to fool anyone whose eyes may fall on us, while also avoiding twitches in our facial musculature that will clearly let someone know shes dying inside.

Until the morning comes when we realize that while others may have abandoned us, standing up for ourselves and walking away when we've hit rock bottom is the only way upwards & onwards. We stick to our bleeding guns and don't give in to what does not feel good. We refuse to be lessened, be made to feel less in a relationship, be given less and be made to bow to agree to someones expectations of us so that then.....and only then will we be loved and that too in measures deemed fit by them, when we know in our hearts we deserve more because we give more than required.

Maybe thats our fault. We love the game of tag but we get tired being made to chase. Where's our thrill of being caught? But THAT....thats my breed and the price we pay for it is to be left alone because when we stop chasing, the game ends. We are now left shooing the butterflies in our bellies away.

We may be hurting but the love for ourself is so much more important for our self preservation and self esteem, than to be spent emotionally! At 43 after so much of life has happened, how many of us have the bandwidth to give in to someone's game playing? I don't. Effortless should be the flavor of the day.

Why's it even called heartache? I feel it all in my belly. The most centric and sensitive part of my being. The joy, the pain, the excitement and the hurt. Its all there. At the core. For now though, my belly needs no more butterflies. Alone my belly. Alone is better. Shhhhhh.......