This blog is supposed to be about finding one's self among the plethora of options available to our generation. Of all the things that I am passionate about, which one am I meant to be doing? Not necessarily which one will pay me to survive...but that does always help.
Somehow, though, my blog has become about love and romance. I feel bad. Romantic woes have become a distraction from my search for a living, like so many other things in my life. I feel pressure to find my purpose. To find my way. To work towards improving my financial situation through something that I am passionate about. ... until it hit me this morning.
Last fall, my last "begining," I fell into a relationship. It allowed me to realize my path - the next chapter of my life - and I felt empowered to make drastic changes for my happiness, and my health. Did he "complete" me? No. He inspired me. He empowered me. Knowing there was some one there who supported me however much I was about to screw up my life allowed me to let go of my fears, forget the "what if"s and start pouring my work ethic into something that I actually loved.
And then he broke my heart. ... Or I let my heart get broken, however you want to see it.
This week, I had lunch with an older, wiser friend. I brought up the topic of relationships and my anger with this concept that women are brainwashed into needing to be "rescued" by love. She shown a great light on this concept for me. It's not that women aren't strong enough to save themselves, but they're so busy solving the day-to-day problems, taking care of life's smaller details and rescuing the children (or people in this state) that they can't rescue themselves. This is why women desire somebody not to "rescue" them, but to protect them from the larger threats out there, such as bankruptcy, homelessness, or loneliness. This is why we really don't want to go through life alone.
So, here I am.... following what I love without that one protective person beneath me, encouraging and supporting me to follow my dreams. Instead, I have many people offering their words of encouragement, belief in the fact that I can do it, and room to let me make my mistakes, fumble around for a few months, few years, or however long this is going to take... By then, I'll probably be so toughened by the world, that I won't need the protection...but it might be nice to cuddle...
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationships. Show all posts
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Friday, 18 March 2011
Little Red Riding Hood
The latter half of my university career continues to have a major impact on my life. I believe the upper level years of university should be formative for anyone with a degree. The upper level courses take you from a level of understanding to a level of thinking for yourself. Looking back on it, I feel as if I didn't quite understand how to do this at that point, but the seeds were planted then. Now, I can look back at many of the seeds planted by professors, my reading, and even my choices in courses taken to understand life on a deeper level.
One of the courses I randomly took was Children's Literature. Some friends from my program thoroughly enjoyed children's literature and would often refer to books from their childhood as "high-art" books. As I had never read most of them growing up, I felt left out, and like I would gain something from reading them even as an adult. And so, I took a Children's Lit class hoping to gain a better childhood... It didn't change what happened to me as a child, but it did help me understand my world at the time. For my first example, let's take Little Red Riding Hood, a classic fairy-tale derived from the oral Story of a Grandmother:
There was once a woman who had some bread, and she said to her daughter: "You are going to carry a hot loaf and a bottle of milk to your grandmother."
The little girl departed. At the crossroads she met the bzou, who said to her: "Where are you going?
I'm taking a hot loaf and a bottle of milk to my grandmother."
"What road are you taking," said the bzou, "the Needles Road or the Pins Road?"...
Thus began my own journey to Grandmother's House...
The most popular (and feminist) analysis of this oral tale revolves around these two paths. It is assumed that this path represents a woman's maturity. During the popularity of this tale, it was customary for young women to spend a year working for a seamstress. Although cloaked as a year of apprenticeship, the intention was more for refining one's self, or "maturing." Just another name for a Quarter Life Crisis? Of course, if it were a real apprenticeship, the woman would find herself sewing clothes for the rest of her life, which always sounds like a dream come true! If the woman was business oriented, of course, this would have been. And, during this time, "business oriented" meant that you would spend the rest of your life as a spinster. This time of "maturing" is represented by the path of the Pins, objects the young women would spend their time collecting as apprentices. The other path, that of Needles, is suggestive of Prostitution. In many European areas, during the height of this tale's popularity, prostitutes would wear a needle on their blouse to indicate their profession.
Despite the last hundred and fifty years, I have found that these two paths for women have not changed that much. We may be able to run companies, fly planes, stay at home with our children, or choose whatever career we want, but we still have to fit in one of two sexual categories: spinster or prostitute.
So, what's wrong with being a spinster?
Hmmm...now, let me think:
What's wrong with being a slut?
Being A Slut Is Not That Bad...
Have you ever watched Sex and The City (SATC)? If not...well, do me a favour and watch an episode of it. Here you will find the BEST example of a sexually confident woman, Samantha Jones. And, despite Ariel Levy's rant against Girls Gone Wild, this ideal of a sexual confident woman existed BEFORE the show gained its notoriety for allowing women to expose their bare chests in order to win a free T-shirt. In fact, I have a memory from grade school (of all places) where we discussed the loss of one's "V-card" based on how an older girl walked. Later, I would realize that losing one's virginity does not change one's posture. Being confident with one's body, on the other hand, does. Are the two intrinsically linked?
Being A Spinster Ain't That Bad Either...
No. Confidence is superfluous to sexual activity...or maybe that's the other way around. Just think about those women you know who are so very focused on their careers. Climbing to the top of the company has had NOTHING to do with their level of sexual activity. That's right - smart women don't have to sleep their way to the top. And that young woman "saving herself" for marriage has some of the most amazing confidence I've seen in somebody that young! People mock them, people judge them, but spinsters by choice are the most wonderful peopl I know...if only because they never seem to get all wrapped up in this whole concept of the two different paths laid out in front of us.
So?
A few weeks ago, on a similarly sunny afternoon, I found myself reading old women's magazines in a library I used to frequent during the beginning of this Crisis. I'm not even sure what it was I was looking for, but what I found was one of the most helpful articles I have ever found in a women's magazine. And I've read a lot of magazines since university - specifically searching for the kind of inspiration and confidence that this article was able to provide me.
The writer went through her own journey through the troublesome "single" twenties...and thirties. Her embarassment came from always having to tell new dates how long her last serious relationship had been, rather than the non-existence of one. She went through stacks of books on "how to catch 'the one,'" be the "perfect girlfriend," or even just how to "pick up men." All of them said the same thing: change yourself - be perfect - and he'll find you. "Bullpucky!" she said. Many of her friends in relationships were complete and utter messes, yet they'd found somebody to spend the rest of their disastrous lives with. How? She realized they had just been lucky. It had been magic that finally worked for her friends...not some miracel book, cream, or a set of rules that they had followed...
So, she waited. She focussed on her career, and her life, and may not have made herself "perfect," but was happy enough with who she was, as most women in their forties finally become. And then "magic" happened. She started dating a divorcee who eventually asked the inevitable question, "how long since your last long-term relationship?" Her response of the last fifteen years of dating disasters did not scare this "magical" man awy... "Hmmm, their bad luck, I guess, and my good luck..."
And Other Fairy Tales We Create For Ourselves....
So, it's not the girls of the 21st century who need the fairy tale stories anymore, but the single women. Here we are in a society where the average age of one's first marriage is 27 and we begin to worry about getting there by 19. We need all the stories of "magic" to get us through those next eight to twenty years if we have any hope of remaining sane throughout it all...
We're not alone, though. I realize that this whole discussion of heterosexual dating choices has been entirely based on the woman's perspective, but men struggle with it, too. And that's the real aftermath of the sexual revolution. We've gotten the vote, we've gotten the position of CEO, and then we threw out the wolf with the big bad heart ("all the more to love you with, my dear") just to avoid ever having to walk down those two paths again.
Maybe that's why I have such a problem with "progress"...
One of the courses I randomly took was Children's Literature. Some friends from my program thoroughly enjoyed children's literature and would often refer to books from their childhood as "high-art" books. As I had never read most of them growing up, I felt left out, and like I would gain something from reading them even as an adult. And so, I took a Children's Lit class hoping to gain a better childhood... It didn't change what happened to me as a child, but it did help me understand my world at the time. For my first example, let's take Little Red Riding Hood, a classic fairy-tale derived from the oral Story of a Grandmother:
There was once a woman who had some bread, and she said to her daughter: "You are going to carry a hot loaf and a bottle of milk to your grandmother."
The little girl departed. At the crossroads she met the bzou, who said to her: "Where are you going?
I'm taking a hot loaf and a bottle of milk to my grandmother."
"What road are you taking," said the bzou, "the Needles Road or the Pins Road?"...
Thus began my own journey to Grandmother's House...
The most popular (and feminist) analysis of this oral tale revolves around these two paths. It is assumed that this path represents a woman's maturity. During the popularity of this tale, it was customary for young women to spend a year working for a seamstress. Although cloaked as a year of apprenticeship, the intention was more for refining one's self, or "maturing." Just another name for a Quarter Life Crisis? Of course, if it were a real apprenticeship, the woman would find herself sewing clothes for the rest of her life, which always sounds like a dream come true! If the woman was business oriented, of course, this would have been. And, during this time, "business oriented" meant that you would spend the rest of your life as a spinster. This time of "maturing" is represented by the path of the Pins, objects the young women would spend their time collecting as apprentices. The other path, that of Needles, is suggestive of Prostitution. In many European areas, during the height of this tale's popularity, prostitutes would wear a needle on their blouse to indicate their profession.
Despite the last hundred and fifty years, I have found that these two paths for women have not changed that much. We may be able to run companies, fly planes, stay at home with our children, or choose whatever career we want, but we still have to fit in one of two sexual categories: spinster or prostitute.
So, what's wrong with being a spinster?
Hmmm...now, let me think:
- The occasional case of the Lonelies: a dipildating disorder often accompanied with depression, the drinking of red wine, alone, in your apartment, while searching through the most recent on-line dating service to catch your attention.
- The constant feeling of inadequacy because you don't begin every story with "we," "my boyfriend says," or "while waiting for ____ to get home..."
- Quietly grinding your teeth in agony when people laugh at the movie, "40-Year-Old Virgin" as you fear you may awkwardly become one.
- Having new friends look at you in awe when you reveal your curse of singledom since "You're so outgoing! How did that happen?"
- Feeling ridiculous about beginning every story with "my cat," although he's the only male who has the capacity to love you (...because you feed him and he has to).
- Cheating at the "Have You Ever" game so that people don't realize you really are that innocent...and still being the most sober person at the end of the night...
- And above all that, despite the short flings you've had with random men over the years, a friend mistakes you for a lesbian and you begin to believe that's why your relationships have never lasted longer than a month... You then begin to regale her with tales of your most recent heterosexual "conquests."
What's wrong with being a slut?
- Winning the "Have You Ever" drinking game...even by ignoring the few items brought up because "what you don't remember, didn't really happen."
- The nickname of "BJ" for all the work you do in the men's washroom...and never being able to wear pigtails again.
- Having the condom fall out in the hostel's communal washroom and trying to remember the man's first name, let alone hoping to find his phone number.
- Your best friend from high school looks you up on Facebook after spotting you on the latest edition of "Girls Gone Wild."
- Being drugged by a friend of a friend because you wore a mini-skirt to the party when everybody else was wearing jeans. Believing that you deserved it: "It's not rape if you giggle..."
- Knowing that the scariest thing to come from a one-night-stand is not a pregnancy, but allowing your coworkers to believe that's why you need to leave before the clinic closes for the night...
Being A Slut Is Not That Bad...
Have you ever watched Sex and The City (SATC)? If not...well, do me a favour and watch an episode of it. Here you will find the BEST example of a sexually confident woman, Samantha Jones. And, despite Ariel Levy's rant against Girls Gone Wild, this ideal of a sexual confident woman existed BEFORE the show gained its notoriety for allowing women to expose their bare chests in order to win a free T-shirt. In fact, I have a memory from grade school (of all places) where we discussed the loss of one's "V-card" based on how an older girl walked. Later, I would realize that losing one's virginity does not change one's posture. Being confident with one's body, on the other hand, does. Are the two intrinsically linked?
Being A Spinster Ain't That Bad Either...
No. Confidence is superfluous to sexual activity...or maybe that's the other way around. Just think about those women you know who are so very focused on their careers. Climbing to the top of the company has had NOTHING to do with their level of sexual activity. That's right - smart women don't have to sleep their way to the top. And that young woman "saving herself" for marriage has some of the most amazing confidence I've seen in somebody that young! People mock them, people judge them, but spinsters by choice are the most wonderful peopl I know...if only because they never seem to get all wrapped up in this whole concept of the two different paths laid out in front of us.
So?
A few weeks ago, on a similarly sunny afternoon, I found myself reading old women's magazines in a library I used to frequent during the beginning of this Crisis. I'm not even sure what it was I was looking for, but what I found was one of the most helpful articles I have ever found in a women's magazine. And I've read a lot of magazines since university - specifically searching for the kind of inspiration and confidence that this article was able to provide me.
The writer went through her own journey through the troublesome "single" twenties...and thirties. Her embarassment came from always having to tell new dates how long her last serious relationship had been, rather than the non-existence of one. She went through stacks of books on "how to catch 'the one,'" be the "perfect girlfriend," or even just how to "pick up men." All of them said the same thing: change yourself - be perfect - and he'll find you. "Bullpucky!" she said. Many of her friends in relationships were complete and utter messes, yet they'd found somebody to spend the rest of their disastrous lives with. How? She realized they had just been lucky. It had been magic that finally worked for her friends...not some miracel book, cream, or a set of rules that they had followed...
So, she waited. She focussed on her career, and her life, and may not have made herself "perfect," but was happy enough with who she was, as most women in their forties finally become. And then "magic" happened. She started dating a divorcee who eventually asked the inevitable question, "how long since your last long-term relationship?" Her response of the last fifteen years of dating disasters did not scare this "magical" man awy... "Hmmm, their bad luck, I guess, and my good luck..."
And Other Fairy Tales We Create For Ourselves....
So, it's not the girls of the 21st century who need the fairy tale stories anymore, but the single women. Here we are in a society where the average age of one's first marriage is 27 and we begin to worry about getting there by 19. We need all the stories of "magic" to get us through those next eight to twenty years if we have any hope of remaining sane throughout it all...
We're not alone, though. I realize that this whole discussion of heterosexual dating choices has been entirely based on the woman's perspective, but men struggle with it, too. And that's the real aftermath of the sexual revolution. We've gotten the vote, we've gotten the position of CEO, and then we threw out the wolf with the big bad heart ("all the more to love you with, my dear") just to avoid ever having to walk down those two paths again.
Maybe that's why I have such a problem with "progress"...
Saturday, 5 February 2011
Pain, Love, and Crazy Girl Episodes
“Every little girl knows about love. It is only her capacity to suffer because of it that increases.”
~ FRANÇOISE SAGAN
Okay, alright, if one Crazy Girl episode gives me this much insight and inspiration, I'm okay with them happening occasionally. Just maybe, though, could they possibly stop happening when I really don't have time to rock back and forth in the shower, sobbing over love's labour lost?
~ note to myself, January 16, 2011, after writing madly through the pain for an hour...
There is value in that pain. It has sparked a lot of inspiration for me to write. And, this is okay. But, there is so much pain in the world outside of my own self and my pain that I wish I was writing about instead.
The pain has been extinguished. I sit, emotionless in reaction to any more news. I don't look for any more news. My eyes are on other people, including me - my own self. And there is less pain there. I may be a bit guarded, but that's ok for now. I have lived in a bubble before. I became who I am today because of that bubble. This bubble is a bit more fluid...but it will protect me just as much, I hope...
If not, though, what's wrong with that? It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, right?
~ FRANÇOISE SAGAN
Okay, alright, if one Crazy Girl episode gives me this much insight and inspiration, I'm okay with them happening occasionally. Just maybe, though, could they possibly stop happening when I really don't have time to rock back and forth in the shower, sobbing over love's labour lost?
~ note to myself, January 16, 2011, after writing madly through the pain for an hour...
There is value in that pain. It has sparked a lot of inspiration for me to write. And, this is okay. But, there is so much pain in the world outside of my own self and my pain that I wish I was writing about instead.
The pain has been extinguished. I sit, emotionless in reaction to any more news. I don't look for any more news. My eyes are on other people, including me - my own self. And there is less pain there. I may be a bit guarded, but that's ok for now. I have lived in a bubble before. I became who I am today because of that bubble. This bubble is a bit more fluid...but it will protect me just as much, I hope...
If not, though, what's wrong with that? It is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, right?
Wednesday, 29 December 2010
It Gets Better (Part Two)
The original campaign, and my previous point about this phrase was that life only improves as we get older. As we age, we become wiser, we appreciate things more, and life is rarely as difficult as high school. Well, life is generally more difficult than high school, but people and our emotions tend to become more manageable...
I had a bigger point to make, though, and I've waited almost a week to finish making it.
I have a friend who is faced with a difficult romantic decision. For the entirety of our relationship, she has wanted to fall in love. She has had numerous suitors, and a handful of crushes, but nothing as serious as the situation she finds herself in now. At this moment, she is dating two different men, and is concerned about which one, if either, to continue dating. I've heard the pros and cons of both, and privately given her my opinion; and I've also given her the advice of "it gets better"...
Romantic "It Gets Better"
On average, we all (not just women) have this ideal in our minds of who are perfect match is. As we meet a potential new mate, we weigh them against the list we have in our mind of what it is we are looking for. For some people, the suitor should have an idea of where they're going in life, perhaps be able to drive, or make x amount or more every year. Other times, it is more about what the person does not have: no children, no pets, no body fat, no debt, etc. And, on average, we all need to find the other person attractive: dashing eyes, cute smile, firm butt, toned arms, etc. The criteria changes for every person, luckily, and so it should work out that eventually, one day you will find somebody that has you described on their list and they will fit the person you have on your list, too.
This is where I think online dating sites may have ruined the dating game forever, or at least for some people. You log onto the site, you put in your list and you generally find five or six people who fit eighty percent of what you're looking for. Before even meeting them, they're discarded, though, because that twenty percent is the most important part. Now, don't get me wrong, I know many people who have found the love of their life on dating sites, and I think it's nice to have another way of meeting people. And, I shouldn't blame online dating sites entirely. I think, even without them, we would have these impossible lists for our suitors to match. Listing off everything you're looking for and not finding it is extremely disappointing.
I've discarded my list. Friends and family describe my ideal mate to me, and that's fine. As for me, right now, I'm preferring to drift along, without a list to compare any potential suitors to. My theory is that when it's right, it'll be right and he won't have to meet all the requirements that I created before I met him. Who I am changes over time, and that goes along with what I like as well...and if who I am only improves, what I like will only get better, too.
Consoling my last broken heart, a dear friend used the "It Gets Better" line to me. "The next one will be even better...and if he isn't, than it's not worth sticking with." I liked that thought. If, in your new relationship, you're still thinking about the old one, then the new person is probably not any better, and you should move on.
Taking this concept, I gave advice to me friend faced with this certain dilemna. Both of her suitors possess the same number of positive qualities on her list, but neither of them meet all of them. So, I told her to jump in, have fun, and be willing to get hurt. At some point, she'll know which one to chose, and he might break her heart. That's ok, though, because the next suitor will be even better. It only gets better...
Plus, we're only in our twenties. There is only a certain amount of years where it is acceptable to date for fun. We might find the love of our life right away, but it is WAY too early to be stressing about meeting the person we will spend the rest of our life with at this point. Right now, we should be kissing a few frogs; it will make the prince that much better ;-)
I had a bigger point to make, though, and I've waited almost a week to finish making it.
I have a friend who is faced with a difficult romantic decision. For the entirety of our relationship, she has wanted to fall in love. She has had numerous suitors, and a handful of crushes, but nothing as serious as the situation she finds herself in now. At this moment, she is dating two different men, and is concerned about which one, if either, to continue dating. I've heard the pros and cons of both, and privately given her my opinion; and I've also given her the advice of "it gets better"...
Romantic "It Gets Better"
On average, we all (not just women) have this ideal in our minds of who are perfect match is. As we meet a potential new mate, we weigh them against the list we have in our mind of what it is we are looking for. For some people, the suitor should have an idea of where they're going in life, perhaps be able to drive, or make x amount or more every year. Other times, it is more about what the person does not have: no children, no pets, no body fat, no debt, etc. And, on average, we all need to find the other person attractive: dashing eyes, cute smile, firm butt, toned arms, etc. The criteria changes for every person, luckily, and so it should work out that eventually, one day you will find somebody that has you described on their list and they will fit the person you have on your list, too.
This is where I think online dating sites may have ruined the dating game forever, or at least for some people. You log onto the site, you put in your list and you generally find five or six people who fit eighty percent of what you're looking for. Before even meeting them, they're discarded, though, because that twenty percent is the most important part. Now, don't get me wrong, I know many people who have found the love of their life on dating sites, and I think it's nice to have another way of meeting people. And, I shouldn't blame online dating sites entirely. I think, even without them, we would have these impossible lists for our suitors to match. Listing off everything you're looking for and not finding it is extremely disappointing.
I've discarded my list. Friends and family describe my ideal mate to me, and that's fine. As for me, right now, I'm preferring to drift along, without a list to compare any potential suitors to. My theory is that when it's right, it'll be right and he won't have to meet all the requirements that I created before I met him. Who I am changes over time, and that goes along with what I like as well...and if who I am only improves, what I like will only get better, too.
Consoling my last broken heart, a dear friend used the "It Gets Better" line to me. "The next one will be even better...and if he isn't, than it's not worth sticking with." I liked that thought. If, in your new relationship, you're still thinking about the old one, then the new person is probably not any better, and you should move on.
Taking this concept, I gave advice to me friend faced with this certain dilemna. Both of her suitors possess the same number of positive qualities on her list, but neither of them meet all of them. So, I told her to jump in, have fun, and be willing to get hurt. At some point, she'll know which one to chose, and he might break her heart. That's ok, though, because the next suitor will be even better. It only gets better...
Plus, we're only in our twenties. There is only a certain amount of years where it is acceptable to date for fun. We might find the love of our life right away, but it is WAY too early to be stressing about meeting the person we will spend the rest of our life with at this point. Right now, we should be kissing a few frogs; it will make the prince that much better ;-)
Monday, 13 December 2010
Breaking Hearts
With red eyes, she quietly whispered confessions of a broken heart.
Part of 'figuring this whole thing out' is getting your heart stomped on a few times. This process does not always require the involvement of other people, but the healing process normally involves blaming them...
"you give until you've given up and you are sure to find the perfect man"
A few nights ago I was talking about my romantic past. "I've had my heart broken a few times," I admitted, "but I've never broken anybody's heart." The statement rolled out of my head, as many statements do, before I had ever consciously conceived the idea. And so began me analysis of it.
Have I really never broken somebody's heart? The first few times my heart was broken, I know that I was hurt while the other parties were left unharmed. I was young, and naive - without a layer of ice permanently surrounding my emotional centre. Like tumble weeds, those people blew out of my life, and I eventually got over it. But then came the bigger breaks...
The first time I may have broken somebody's heart is something I have refused to take ownership of. I was older, but no less naive...and my innocence hurt me more than he led on it hurting him. When it ended, I was sick, both physically and emotionally, and I've always blamed him for that. I've only recently began to forgive him for everything that's happened. And taken some responsibility for creating an environment where I could get hurt. The strangest thing is that we've both left a channel open for forgiveness to flow through. Which makes me wonder about his emotions...
I thrive on analyzing relationships, the behaviour of my peers and even their emotions. It fascinates me, and I also feel I have a lot to learn from others. Educated as a social scientist, I will never be able to turn the analysis off. A colleague told me the other day that the analysis makes life worse for me. Analyzing these things keeps it ever-present in my mind, which inevitably leads to me being attached and getting hurt.
This video is truly incredible and worth watching. If the video isn't working, go here:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wigqKfLWjvM
The last time my heart was broken, I was told to sever all ties with the individual involved in the breaking of it. "Don't agree to be friends," my good friend instructed me, "because no matter what happens, you'll always have this hope that the friendship will become something more than that." That hope, as I have learned, is toxic. Logically, it makes sense that this hope runs both ways. If I cling to a friendship wishing that it might one day become more than that, does it not make sense that the other individual is doing the same? Likewise, if I cling to the friendship because the hope of it makes the pain of the heartbreak less severe, could he not be suffering from the same pain?
Somewhere, somehow, Greg Bernhardt and many other romantic advisors to women are clasping their heads in agony. Has my broken heart - now mended and encased in ice for safe protection - still managed to turn me into a desperate woman looking for a man to love? Or, is it worse than that? Has my ego created this person who thinks her strength of love demands to be returned? Or, merely, have I become sympathetic enough to realize that those "jerks" out there who break my heart have feelings of their own?
This morning I woke up looking into the amber eyes of a male who will never break my heart. Well, at least until he passes away, which is merely a fact of life. It's the best relationship I've ever had, and it will last the length of his life. Not all love is romantic in nature. It's a bit like being a mother... In fact, I've been his surrogate mother since the day we met - and there's no Oedipal complex with that. We fight, we play, I care for him and he cuddles with me when I'm mending my broken heart. Maybe I am "that" lady, but it's ok. I have a lot of love to give...and Jito soaks all of it up, when he wants to.
And that may be the greatest lesson of love out there. You can't force it. Even when you find it, you can't cling to it. You can't control the breaking of a heart - whether it's yours or anybody else's. The only thing you ever control is yourself...and how you mend your emotional wounds...
Part of 'figuring this whole thing out' is getting your heart stomped on a few times. This process does not always require the involvement of other people, but the healing process normally involves blaming them...
"you give until you've given up and you are sure to find the perfect man"
A few nights ago I was talking about my romantic past. "I've had my heart broken a few times," I admitted, "but I've never broken anybody's heart." The statement rolled out of my head, as many statements do, before I had ever consciously conceived the idea. And so began me analysis of it.
Have I really never broken somebody's heart? The first few times my heart was broken, I know that I was hurt while the other parties were left unharmed. I was young, and naive - without a layer of ice permanently surrounding my emotional centre. Like tumble weeds, those people blew out of my life, and I eventually got over it. But then came the bigger breaks...
The first time I may have broken somebody's heart is something I have refused to take ownership of. I was older, but no less naive...and my innocence hurt me more than he led on it hurting him. When it ended, I was sick, both physically and emotionally, and I've always blamed him for that. I've only recently began to forgive him for everything that's happened. And taken some responsibility for creating an environment where I could get hurt. The strangest thing is that we've both left a channel open for forgiveness to flow through. Which makes me wonder about his emotions...
I thrive on analyzing relationships, the behaviour of my peers and even their emotions. It fascinates me, and I also feel I have a lot to learn from others. Educated as a social scientist, I will never be able to turn the analysis off. A colleague told me the other day that the analysis makes life worse for me. Analyzing these things keeps it ever-present in my mind, which inevitably leads to me being attached and getting hurt.
This video is truly incredible and worth watching. If the video isn't working, go here:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=wigqKfLWjvM
The last time my heart was broken, I was told to sever all ties with the individual involved in the breaking of it. "Don't agree to be friends," my good friend instructed me, "because no matter what happens, you'll always have this hope that the friendship will become something more than that." That hope, as I have learned, is toxic. Logically, it makes sense that this hope runs both ways. If I cling to a friendship wishing that it might one day become more than that, does it not make sense that the other individual is doing the same? Likewise, if I cling to the friendship because the hope of it makes the pain of the heartbreak less severe, could he not be suffering from the same pain?
Somewhere, somehow, Greg Bernhardt and many other romantic advisors to women are clasping their heads in agony. Has my broken heart - now mended and encased in ice for safe protection - still managed to turn me into a desperate woman looking for a man to love? Or, is it worse than that? Has my ego created this person who thinks her strength of love demands to be returned? Or, merely, have I become sympathetic enough to realize that those "jerks" out there who break my heart have feelings of their own?
This morning I woke up looking into the amber eyes of a male who will never break my heart. Well, at least until he passes away, which is merely a fact of life. It's the best relationship I've ever had, and it will last the length of his life. Not all love is romantic in nature. It's a bit like being a mother... In fact, I've been his surrogate mother since the day we met - and there's no Oedipal complex with that. We fight, we play, I care for him and he cuddles with me when I'm mending my broken heart. Maybe I am "that" lady, but it's ok. I have a lot of love to give...and Jito soaks all of it up, when he wants to.
And that may be the greatest lesson of love out there. You can't force it. Even when you find it, you can't cling to it. You can't control the breaking of a heart - whether it's yours or anybody else's. The only thing you ever control is yourself...and how you mend your emotional wounds...
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