The Ugly . . .

Well, here it is. The naked ugly truth. Love is a very selfish enterprise. I am reminded of the episode of "Friends" where Phoebe and Joey were debating the legitimacy of altruistic behavior. Can you truly commit a selfless act? Even in doing for others, we are never completely and totally selfless. Even if all we get out of it is a "good feeling," that renders it self-serving. The episode ensued with Phobe trying to prove Joey wrong in this perspective so much so that she started doing things for people that were not merely self-sacrificial, but actually personally painful to make her argument. Yet, he countered with the point that now that she is consciously making an effort to do a kindness that is detrimental to her so she can not feel selfish,  that is in itself a self-serving act.

So, what does that have to do with anything? Well, it speaks to an epiphany I have had over the last few days. From a very pragmatic, if unromantic, perspective, we have a tendency to be very self-serving. We never want to be dumped, often to such a degree that we race to the end of a relationship just so we can be the one who walks away rather than being the one who gets left. Whether or not we want a lifetime with someone, we are driven by the egotistical need to be the center of someone's universe. We may not want them, may know that this is not the person we are supposed to be with, but that doesn't mean we don't have this unspoken desire for them to drift into eternity longing for us with that unrequited love. Don't pretend you haven't thought it. It might not be the most admirable of feelings, but it is human.

So, seriously, is this wrong? Is this tragically cynical? Is this excessive negativity? No, I really don't think so. I do think it explains why it makes it so very hard to move on at times. It is the irrational reason for clinging to something that wasn't meant to be. It is the unproductive motivation for analyzing and over-analyzing what someone says and does to try and get at what "might have been." We talk a lot about closure and while I hate over-used psycho-therapy speech, I will use this term for what is epidemic. We need to close a book on a relationship -- and I mean WE need to be the one to close that book, to decide when the story ends. If someone takes the book away from us, or if the book stops abruptly, or perhaps pages are missing, it is impossible to let it lie. We will track down another copy, go ask others what you missed, rent the movie just to have CLOSURE.

It is never easy to be rejected. It is even harder to be rejected when you had your foot out the door but the other person beats you to the punch. So, what do we do with that? Well, first we get really honest with ourselves. Whether you are the hanger-on or you are the one racing to the door, it is important to face up to the fact that matters of the heart very rarely get at the heart of the matter. We are so motivated by selfish interests and self-preservation that we are loathe to fully surrender to the potential of a relationship and we avoid seeing them for what they are and calling them what they are when we aren't willing to surrender the hold we have over someone else to move on and let them do the same.

Once we have the ugly truth before us, we can begin to do another little dance to the tune of  the Serenity Prayer and "accept the things you cannot change (about yourself, your partner, or the relationship), have courage to change the things you can (about how you approach relationships), and find the wisdom to know the difference (between love, convenience, and the fear of being alone.)"

The Bad . . .

So, here's the bad news. I am failing. I am a big fat failure. I have tried and tried and cannot master the art of keeping my mouth shut. I promise myself and others that I will hold my tongue when there is nothing good to come of speaking up. And, I am no good at it.

It is destructive to relationships and detrimental to trust. A wise man I encountered not long ago shared a quote his dad often recited: "Always tell the truth, just don't always be telling it." That is some wisdom I would so very much like to embrace, but I get in my own way over and over again.

I apologize, promise to do better, intend to do better, and then get lured back up onto my soapbox. Maybe it's under the guise of concern that I rant. Maybe it's through the misguided notion of teaching that I rave. Perhaps it is through the blindly arrogant notion of sharing wisdom that I pontificate. Most likely it is from insecurity, fear, and uncontrolled rage that I go on for days purging my frustrations and venting my aggravations. Whatever the motivation or intention, it only serves to alienate the ones I am most hoping to draw near in the process.

I'd like to say I am turning over a new leaf, but I know that would be an empty promise. I get my hackles up over injustice and I tilt at windmills and I talk through my feelings and I over-share. I'd like to think I can rein it in, but then I ask myself: Do I really want to? Am I wrong to feel passionately about the things that move me to words and action? Is it so bad to want to fix what is broken?

For the sake of my relationships, I will make an effort to tone it down, be more selective in my audience, and share the wealth so no one person bears the brunt of all my outbursts. But that's really as good as it's going to get.

The Good . . .

I may have said this before -- it's hard to keep track of all my pithy wittiness -- but I have been tempted, if not for the nausea-inducing self-actualizedness of it, to change my Facebook relationship status to "In a Relationship . .  . With Myself."

While this sounds like something you would hear either from that quirky side-kick in a RomCom who has been in therapy for decades, or a hippy chick who is in love with everything, it does actually represent my current status fairly accurately.

Oh, but don't cry for me Argentina! I have moments of loneliness and boredom, but I would have that in a relationship with an additional human being anyway, and I am kind of digging where I am. It really isn't over-compensation or a PollyAnna outlook for a pathetic situation. It's also not a badge of honor I am wearing like a militant Independent Woman. It just is. I am content with my life as is at the moment and I love my job and really want to put all my effort into taking my career to the next level. Also, the West is calling to me so very loudly and I am focused on getting there soon. And, in the mean time, I have some really fun projects with some truly amazing friends to keep me busy.

This doesn't mean I am not open to possibilities. It just means I am not lamenting my singleness. I honestly am just enjoying what I've got and waiting to see what is in store. The only thing about my situation that I would change at this point in time is I would like to have this life in LA.

I have been told that love finds you when you least expect it, when you aren't looking for it. I don't know if that's true.What I do know is you can't fake the "peace" or the "resignation" or "disinterest" hoping to force that little adage to manifest. (Believe me, I and several others I know have tried.) Maybe it does happen that way. Or maybe you are so not looking for it that you are oblivious when it strolls past.

Either way, I am at this place: You know when you go out to dinner and you've had a lovely meal and your server comes by and commits that criminal act of offering dessert and you think, Well, I could have dessert. I'm not completely satiated, but if I eat a whole serving of something I will be over-full. Maybe I could split something, or just have coffee. Yeah, I am not sure I want to pass on it altogether, but maybe just "coffee" is what I can do. I definitely don't have room on my plate for anything big.

At any rate. Here's the Good: My job is good. My friends are good. My family is good. My outlook is good. Anything else that is added to that mix is also going to have to be good for me or it doesn't get to be there. Why muck up a good thing with something superfluous if you don't have to have it. Keep it simple until it can't be. Kinda like taking a good cup of coffee and complicating it with the creamer and sugar and flavors and on and on. Hmm, did I go too far with the metaphor?

The Family You're Given and the Family You Choose

It's been quite a while since I posted anything, but I am working on making time again for this and my relationships in general. I wrote this over the weekend. If you are a Facebook friend you may have already seen it, but it's about relationships and worth repeating. . . .

In the last two weeks I've lost two women very dear to me -- my Aunt June and Granny Dot. June was my dad's last living sibling and Dot was like a surrogate grandmother.

At my aunt's funeral I overheard my dad say two things that not only made me ponder a lot about life (and which prompted me to write this), they also made me appreciate him and see him in a new light. To one person who had offered condolences and shared some very special memories of my aunt to him he said, "You know, there is one good thing about out living the rest of your family. You get to hear really great things like this about them that help you know them in an entirely different way." The second thing was to a woman who was a cousin by marriage. He said, "Thank you for loving and taking care of my family." I wept each time because it offered some insights into things my stoic dad keeps to himself and revealed some really important life lessons.

The first is that the family we are given is, in fact, a gift. (Granted, it's sometimes a gift you'd like to return.) Regardless of how you get along with them, it is the foundation for who you are. You rarely get to be as raw and exposed with anyone else the way you are with family. The rest of the world sees the "you" you want them to see. We wouldn't dare display to colleagues, acquaintances, service people, neighbors, or friends the harsh honesty and the TMI stuff we do with our kin. For better or for worse, they are with us from beginning to end.

But, your friends are a part of who you become. They shape your interests and your insights. They expose you to the world outside your insular family existence. In many cases, even though they may see only the "you" you want them to know, it's the best of you that is brought out through that. If you get to have one or two really good friends who know who you are and who you want to be and love you because of all of it, you are one of the fortunate few. Often, because families do grow apart and our lives take us in different directions, it's the friends who are there for us in later life when our family can't be there.

With each of these women I saw both realities but from different angles. With my aunt, I had that strong family bond, that inexplicable connection that is a part of sharing blood, while observing others who felt just as great a loss because they were her chosen family. With Granny Dot, I felt as though I'd lost my grandmother, even though we weren't related because she was like a mother to my dad for all these years he spent without his. She loved my family as though we were hers because she chose us.

At the end of all of this, the one thing I take away is that whether someone is dear to you because of genetic ties or life experiences, count yourself so very lucky to have had them at all.

Between the two of them, these things were said: She loved with her whole heart. When you were loved by her you had no doubt of it and were better for it. She left a legacy of people who were inspired by her, whose lives were changed by her touch, who considered themselves blessed to have known her. She lived fully, richly, and honestly. She was fiesty and called it as she saw it. She was courageous and honorable. She knew how to enjoy life.

If, at the end, I am regarded in a shadow of the light they were, I will know I lived a good life. If I have had an impact on half the lives they did, I will know I have done well. If I experience even a fraction of the love they did, I will die complete.