Gravitational Pull

Something weird has been happening to me lately. On Sunday, I spent the entire day with my boyfriend and then came home and promptly spent another 30 minutes talking on the phone with him. Completely new experience for me. Wanting more from someone that I just saw, that is.

I have always been the type of person who spends time with others, gets my fill and then is happy for time to myself. I like my space. I like to do my own thing. I have a cap on the amount of time I can spend with people before they start to get on my nerves. I may like you, I may love you. But there is a limit before I start getting your coat and ushering you quickly out the door.

See ya!

I seriously always pictured myself as one of those women who was somehow flawed; some sort of aberration…devoid of the Mommy gene and the Marrying gene. I had this notion of myself as the type of woman who would take lovers, but always keep a separate home from them; one who would quite happily see out her days in a Katherine Hepburn-esque existence. In love but (*deep booming voice*) IN CHARGE. Forever keeping my wits about me.

Well, har de har, har har. Joke’s on me.

There is this invisible force around me, around us. It is pulling me towards him despite my best efforts to maintain my footing and stand my ground. I am reluctant to get swept up in the force of it, lest it be a black hole, a vortex, a no-man’s land out of which I will never be free. It’s like he is his own planet, with his own orbit. And pretty soon, we are going to collide. And pretty soon, I am going to be in deeper than I would like. So deep that getting out unscathed will be impossible. Are we there yet? At the point of no return? It’s inevitable. It’s like I’m on a plane that is about to crash and burn; I’ve still got my finger on the button that will catapult me out of the Ejection Seat to safety. But if I wait too long, there’ll be no turning back.

It’s starting to really sink in, the reality that we could actually really be together long term. It’s seeping in, trickling through my bones and taking root. And it’s scaring the shit out of me.

I told him this last night, how I am fighting his gravitational pull. And what a new experience it is for me. I rambled a bit, trying to gauge his reaction.

Quiet, as usual.

And eventually: ‘Are you even listening to me?’

He just said calmly: ‘I feel the same way. Our orbits will collide, and pull us to the Centre of the Universe.’

‘What’s at the Centre of the Universe,’ I asked him.

He replied: Love. Respect. Honesty.

~SWOON~

If this is where he is taking me, then so be it.

Great Expectations

I think the foundation of any relationship is built on two things: the first is communication and the second is on managing expectations. Attaching too much onto a relationship is a recipe for disaster; not enough and suddenly you’re settling.

I have a confession: I suffer from obscenely high expectations. I always have. My whole life has been about gauging and checking my unfair, unrealistic expectations to avoid spending all of my time in a permanent state of disappointment.

I have learned over the years to temper my crushing perfectionist tendencies with realism. I used to be hard both on myself and those around me. I see now that this was done out of deep insecurity and crippling loneliness. Thank goodness I was blessed with really solid and stalwart friends who always saw past that insecurity and took the time to get to the goods...for there was always much good to get to.

Nowadays, what constitutes a good friendship for me? Two words: low maintenance. And I am not talking about a no maintenance friendship; just LOW. That doesn’t mean I don’t invest time and energy; that means that we don’t get trapped in a cycle of defensive over-explanation.‘Cause here’s another thing: relationships change. They are constantly evolving. In my opinion, good friendships are about learning to go with the flow. And my role as your friend is to make your life easier and smooth out the bumpy patches in the road. I think that friendships should enrich and enhance our well-being; a good friend offers support, compassion, understanding and sometimes a little kick in the pants. Duh.

In my 30s, I don’t care to surround myself with people who pull guilt trips or have expectations of me that I simply can’t or won’t meet. I know some of my oldest and dearest friends will probably find this last statement laughable. Ha! Because I’ll admit it, back in the day, I owned my own 'Unrealistic' tiara and 'Expectations' scepter. (Truth be told, I was Miss Queen GUILT TRIP 1995.) I put a great deal of pressure on my friendships to be my be-all and end-all; I looked to them to fulfill a need in me and put an unnecessary burden on them to ‘complete me’. Yes, really. Bottom line: I’ve learned. Bottom line: I grew up. Bottom line: I’m 34.

So the irony is not lost on me that I have recently attracted friends in my life who are a mirror for who I used to be. I get it, Universe. Ha.ha. And I am trying to take that same compassion that was generously bestowed upon me and pay it back. But it's hard. And I am stuck between deperately trying to maintain my image (another no-no, I know), managing expectations--both my own and others'--and the stark reality of my situation.

The truth is, my situation has changed drastically esp. these last 9 months. It is a permanent change; I am working to improve it and make it better, but until then, I really need friends around me who get it, who support me and who check the guilt trip at the door. My priorities have shifted. And if I were to throw the shutters open on my life and be PERFECTLY HONEST, I hide how bad the situation really is, even from my boyfriend. It is my dark secret.

I feel like I am stuck in some Poor Man's Limbo--caught between being a victim and telling the truth.

Maybe I should just draft a letter up right here and right now.

Dear Friends,
I am broke. Just thought you should know.
Thanks,
k.


I am frustrated and most of all, I am deeply ashamed. My self-worth has always been wrapped up in my net worth. So it is a daily struggle for me to feel worthy when I am worthless. Money is a most deadly and complicated affair for me—I would say it is even more detrimental to me that my relationship with food. I can't maintain the same lifestyle I used to have. I can't afford big, fancy meals and epic nights out at the bar. And you know what? I'm fine with that part of it. That is my choice and I'm sorry if it doesn't jive with your free-wheelin' lifestyle. Do I miss it? Hell yes. Do I want to sacrifice my well-being for it? Not on your life.

So, you can shift along with me, or not. The choice is yours.

Climate is what we expect, weather is what we get.
~Mark Twain

******
And like you, E, I hesitate to post this, 'cause gah. 'Cause I don't want sympathy or platitutes--and I certainly am not asking for help; I'm just tired of hiding it.

Renouncing Joy & Conquest

I have been watching as my writing career slowly gets sucked down the drain…and have no one to blame but myself. I have turned into an unreliable writer: I miss deadlines; I don’t do what I say I am going to; I'm spinning my wheels. And I can see it happening. I am sitting here watching it and letting it slip through my fingers.

Why?

This is why:

“Oscar Wilde said: ‘each man kills the thing he loves.’ And it’s true. The mere possibility of getting what we want fills the soul of the ordinary person with guilt. We look around at all those who have failed to get what they want and feel that we do not deserve to get what we want either. We forget about all the obstacles we overcame, all the suffering we endured, all the things we had to give up in order to get this far. I have known a lot of people who, when their personal calling was within their grasp, went on to commit a series of stupid mistakes and never reached their goal—when it was only a step away.

This is the most dangerous of the obstacles because it has a kind of saintly aura about it: renouncing joy and conquest. But if you believe yourself worthy of the thing you fought so hard to get, then you become an instrument of [the Universe], you help the soul of the World, and you understand why you are here.”

-Paulo Coelho, the Alchemist

The first time I read this, I sucked in my breath and cowered a bit; for it was like he was speaking directly to me, reaching up through the page and sliding a cold, bony hand around my throat.

The writing, the love I have for it will never go away. Whenever I attempt to start something else or go in a different direction, it pounces, it pushes me to the floor and pins me down, as if to say: 'uh-uh. Not so fast.'

I am freed from it as much as I am imprisoned by it.

And worst of all, I feel like I am betraying myself and my Truth. So many people are wandering around with no purpose, hoping to one day discover their mission. And here I am, having found it, knowing perfectly well exactly what it is...and I am now attempting to turn my back on it.

Haunting me even more is a Napoleon Hill quote about our greatest success being merely a few steps beyond our greatest failure.

So the question is, how far is too far? How much and how often do I have to fail before I cry Uncle?