relationships

A Lesson from a Fool for Love

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A teacher by profession, I spend a good part of my day working with first graders. This year I’ve spent time working with a girl who’s a select mute. She has a voice, but chooses not to use it, at least not in the school setting. I take her to my closet-sized classroom and read to her. I read or talk; she nods, points, and smiles.

Despite the limitation of her silence, I’ve managed to find some common ground with her. On the way to my classroom, she grasps her female superheroes t-shirt, pulling it slightly away from her. “Do you have a favorite superhero?” I ask. She points to Wonder Woman. “Really? Wonder Woman is my favorite superhero! In fact, when I was your age, I had a Wonder Woman birthday cake!” A smile spreads across her face.

A few days later, I bring a copy of a picture from my seventh birthday party, children gathered around the table–me in pigtails, my sister in her pageboy haircut, the neighborhood girl in her Holly Hobby dress, and the Wonder Woman cake in the middle of it all. “Would you like to keep the picture?” I ask. She smiles and nods.

After fanning out some picture books for her to select from, she eagerly grabs Milton the Early Riser, a book with a panda on the cover, pointing at the panda for emphasis. “Is that your favorite animal?” I ask. She nods emphatically. “Wow, pandas are my favorite animal too!” I say, her body jolting in happy surprise. “When I was your age,” I continue, “I didn’t have a teddy bear, I had a panda bear.” She smiles. Again, I bring her a picture, this time of my beloved panda bear. We have found connection.

She feels safe with me. But I haven’t heard her voice, and perhaps I never will. Her anxiety is a barrier. She’s afraid of something, but what? Even with the privacy of my classroom, I might not be enough to assuage her fears and help her find her voice. But like her, I know fear, I know anxiety, and I know the desire for connection. I too was painfully shy as a child. I too have suffered from anxiety. I too grasp for connection.

My extended family is extensive. At family gatherings when I was a child, such a large audience inhibited me. The words I would say caught in my throat, only squeaking out as whispers in my father’s ear. He was my mouthpiece.

And how many times did I play alone, watching other children playing together with envy, but feeling the social divide insurmountable, my legs grounded like a statue, not knowing how to approach. Or when I did play, quietly going along with the group, wanting to be liked, never strongly asserting my point of view. That seemed too big a risk. What if they didn’t like me? It seemed so easy and so natural for others. Why was it so hard for me? I craved connection but didn’t know how to connect. I was lonely. I wanted to be like them, but somehow I felt different, an outsider.

Perhaps I was different, perhaps I am different by nature, but with hindsight, I realize that much of the social divide I felt was self-inflicted, a consequence of not overcoming my fear, of not saying the words I had to say.

Writers are commonly introverts, and by necessity observers. I am both. I’ve always been curious about other people. Where are they going? What do they do? What do they think about? What do they want? Are they happy? Are they loved? I have my own rich inner world, but I’m curious about my fellow beings, I want to know their stories, and I want to better understand them. I want to share in their worlds and I want to share mine. I don’t just want to be an onlooker of life; I want to be a participant. I want connection. I want to love and be loved.

As a girl I was susceptible to the dream that Disney sold young girls—of someday finding my prince and living an effortless happily ever after, that someday someone would find me lovable. I no longer believe in fairy tales, but I haven’t stopped believing in love.

Though my social skills and perspective have matured over time, I’ve spent a large part of my life alone or lonely, craving a companion, craving connection, craving love—both to give and receive. There has been no greater desire in my life than to love and be loved. I realize now that love is not easy, that love takes work, that there is risk involved, that I might get hurt, that I might lose, and even that I might end up alone. But I believe in Love and want to do the work of love, because connection is a precious thing.

Human beings need connection and in our fast-paced social-media world, deep connection can be elusive. To have a loving partner to share your world and dreams with is one of the most sacred gifts of this life. There is a reason marriage is considered a sacrament. Love is sacred. But love can tarnish, so it must be polished and cared for.

I’ve been ruminating on a line from Shakespeare recently. It’s not a famous line, and it’s spoken by a rather foolish character, Sir Andrew Aguecheek in the play Twelfth Night. Aguecheek is a ridiculous name for a ridiculous character. The name literally means fever-cheek, and pronounced, it sounds like a sneeze, “Ague-cheek!” “Ahh-choo!” Shakespeare is having fun here, methinks. Nevertheless, it’s Aguecheek who speaks my favorite line in all of Shakespeare, even if it isn’t Shakespeare’s finest line. Upon Aguecheek hearing his drunken companion Sir Toby remark that Maria adores him, Aguecheek replies, “I was adored once too.”

“I was adored once too.”

This line has always struck me as a profound and wounded statement. It’s a devastating line. An entire tragedy lies buried in these five words. The implication is a happier time, a fulfillment, followed by loss, grief, pain, and regret. Love, lost.  And it’s particularly ironic coming from such a comic fool of a character.

Shakespeare probably did not intend for this line to have much resonance. An actor friend of mine who’s performed in many a Shakespeare play certainly doesn’t see the attraction of this particular line. And Shakespeare, prone to soliloquy, certainly doesn’t follow it up with any words or action to sustain that line of thought. Nevertheless, Shakespeare’s writing is prolific with literary gems, as well as sage insight into human character. I find a melancholy beauty in this line.

“I was adored once too.”

The play itself is about adoration. Olivia adores Viola disguised as a man, then she adores Sebastian, Viola’s twin brother—a real man. Orsino adores Olivia, then Viola. And once Sebastian’s on the scene, Sebastian falls for Olivia. Shakespeare’s comedies tend to be a bit madcap at times.

But it’s also a play about not quite getting what you want, or rather, what you think you want. The alternate title of the play, What You Will, hints at this. Orsino thinks he wants Olivia, then he is confused by his feelings for his man-servant Cesario, until Cesario is unmasked as Viola. Olivia thinks she wants Viola, but when the veil of Viola’s disguise is lifted and Sebastian’s on the scene, they both come to the realization of what they want, or what they will.

And isn’t love like that? Love isn’t about getting exactly what you think you want, but making compromises. In the compromise, what you will ends up looking a little different than what you think you want. But that is how you tend to love. Companionship and connection are dynamic, they are the combined energy of two people. To keep that energy positive takes mindfulness and compromise from both energy sources.

But what of this line of lost adoration given to the foolish Aguecheek? Is he somehow seen as unworthy of sustained adoration? Of love? If not, it gives this otherwise lightweight character some poignancy, and I doubt that is Shakespeare’s intention though I find poignancy in the words themselves.

But to crossover from the play to life, when I reflect on my own pursuit of love and those five words, “I was adored once too,” I can identify with the fool and would-be lover, whose present quest for Olivia’s love is futile and whose past love ended in defeat. But unlike Aguecheek, I try not to succumb to my tendencies to be the fool, but to learn from them, to persist and keep striving.

I’ve strived to be my best and to be a good partner. I cannot hope for Love if I cannot do the work of Love, take care of relationship, and be a good partner. I don’t do everything right, nor does anyone, including my past and potential partners; we are human. Love continues to elude me, nevertheless, I still believe in Love and shall persist in trying to be the best person, solo or partnered, that I can be.

Perhaps someday I’lleven get a return on my investment and find a man who’lldo the same for me. Until then, I shall do my best to walk in Love, regardless. I may be a fool for Love, but I don’tthink that makes me a fool. I think it makes me human. 

Getting to Boxless

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This blog was born out of a desire to unbox my writing. After working on my memoir for over three years—writing it, finishing it, revising it, receiving constructive feedback on it, and starting it again from a new point-of-view—I was uninspired. I had ideas, but lacked passion for the project which had driven me for so long. I needed space from it. I was tired of writing in a bubble. I wanted to write new things and I wanted to share my writing in a viable way. I wanted to get out of my box and I dared to hope for an audience. I was seeking connection and I wanted to be read.

I‘d already unboxed myself in so many other ways, such as the day I told my parents that I kicked my then-husband out of the house because he wanted to sell pot-vaporizers to help people and that I’d taken him to the psych ward days later because he was having delusions of grandeur coming off of a too-high high. At the time I thought, “If I can tell my parents this, I can tell anyone anything!” It was an empowering moment. I felt free. I didn’t have to hide my truths anymore. I didn’t have to pretend my marriage was something it wasn’t. I didn’t have to try to be something to please somebody else. I could just be me and try to be the best me possible and deal with the shit life threw me the best way I could and be honest about it.

Being a single working mom, I had to continually unbox myself. I had to take on new responsibilities. I had to learn to take care of my household alone. I had to make big decisions alone. I had to try to become handy, something very foreign to me. And with time I became self-reliant and independent. My potential was stretched to new extremes. I began a process of self-discovery, a re-discovery and a re-creation of self. My memoir is a record of that process.

A few months ago, I had the honor to be interviewed by Bruce Feiler, author of books such as Walking the Bible and Abraham. My copy of the latter contains underlined text, starred passages, and notes in the margin, so to find myself Skyping with Bruce Feiler for his current project, What Shape is Your Life? was a true privilege. And there I was, seeing him in live time with the intimate background of his home—he has lots of books of course!—talking with him like we were old friends who were getting reacquainted.

In the course of our conversation, Bruce and I discussed this unboxing and re-discovery of myself. I narrated the story of myself as a young woman in my early 20s, a woman on the cusp of her life but in the throes of despair, a woman whose self-esteem was in the trash, and how one day I swept all my graduate school applications into the trash as well, literally throwing my future away. I gave up. But no more. With my divorce, I had the chance to resurrect myself, to try again.

Bruce was intrigued by the idea that I turned back the pages of myself to an earlier time as part of my re-creation, that I wasn’t simply “starting a new chapter” of my life. And he’s right. At the core I am that same woman, but I’m older, wiser, and stronger. To move forward in my life, first I had to re-discover who I am and unbox myself.

Inevitably we discussed my memoir as it was such a vital part of my re-creation. He was encouraging regarding my manuscript, and coming from an author I admire that carried a lot of weight. I left our interview reinvigorated. It was time to return to my manuscript.

The original working title of my manuscript was inspired by the artist Frances Whitehead. When you visit her website, you’re immediately greeted by the word possibility. I love that. I read a document by her in which she poses the question, “What Do Artists Know?” Her answer is multi-faceted, but my favorite conclusion is, “Artists do not think outside the box—there is no box.” And what is a box, but a variation of a cage? I was determined to start living boxless and brave, with possibility, no longer afraid to follow my dreams.

This idea of living without a box embodied for me where I wanted my own life to be, it gave me something to strive for, and out of this came the original manuscript title—Getting to Boxless. My friend David S. wasn’t enthusiastic about the title however, gently suggesting that it was a bit contrived. After some reflection I had to agree. Nevertheless, the idea of living boxless remained a major impetus for me.

As I recently began to reread my manuscript rewrite, I was struck by how I’m repeating the patterns of my past. Patterns which I worked so hard to break free from. I read about pushing my feelings down in an effort to get along in my marriage and make it work, suppressing myself for my relationship, boxing myself in. Ultimately it didn’t work, and the disturbing part was the realization that I did it again.

My marriage ended eight years ago. The subsequent two years were devoted to stabilizing my life—making sure my children were okay, making sure I could pay the bills, hoping I could keep the house, restructuring routines, learning how to run a household alone, learning how to fix a clogged drain, and taking on everything because everything was now my responsibility. Dating wasn’t on my radar. I was lonely and craved love, craved relationship, but I was in survival mode. My life was a war zone, and I was responsible for keeping everyone safe.

After those first two years things settled down and I began dating. Coming off an unsuccessful marriage where I’d married the wrong man for the wrong reason, I was determined not to make the same mistakes. I learned a lot about dating, about men, and about myself during this time. This is when I wrote my manuscript. And finally, I met Stanley.

We were lovers for four years. The only man I was with longer is my ex-husband. And after all the lessons I learned from dating and reflecting on my marriage, I thought I’d chosen my lover carefully. Stanley is a good man, a loving man. He’s smart, funny, and attractive. And yet, somehow, I boxed myself up again and found myself in another toxic relationship. Somehow, I felt the need to push down my feelings to be loved and to make the relationship work.

Perhaps there was some part of me that was afraid that I was unlovable if I owned my truth. Other men I’d cared for had left. Stanley, like my ex, stayed. Perhaps also, it’s some female instinct, to swallow down your pain to make your man happy. And perhaps it’s even bigger than that—some social female-male dynamic where women instinctively nurture and deny themselves while men, even in the 21st century take for granted that it’s a man’s world.

Ideally, the work of a loving relationship should be fairly equitable over time. But I found that once again, I was in a relationship where I was putting in the bulk of the emotional work. I realized that to live true to myself, I bore the responsibility to stay unboxed. I chose to be heard and to live my life openly, and to that end, ultimately, I had to unbox myself from Stanley. He kept trying to push me back in the box. To free myself from the box, I had to free myself from him. Afterward, I asked my nineteen-year-old son what he thought about it. He astutely replied, “I like Stanley, but you shouldn’t have to stand up for yourself that much.”

So, for now, I continue to be single. I still look for, hope for, that lasting loving relationship that has so far eluded me. And while the men I’ve loved have to date all disappointed me in one way or another, I only need one man to get it right with and to do right by me. I keep looking for Him. The man who can see my expanses, love me, and who has expanses to open to me in turn. The man who expands my Universe rather than boxing me in. 

Communicate Clearly

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“The single biggest problem in communication is the illusion that it has taken place.”  George Bernard Shaw

This is one of a series of lessons adapted from my manuscript about my dating experiences.

Lesson Learned:

In my marriage, I was never heard. I said words, but they weren’t really listened to. If I tried to express how I was feeling, my words were turned against me, “I’m not the one who does that, you are,” he’d say. If we had differing points-of-view, then by default I was a fool for disagreeing with him. He regularly presumed my intent and because he never really listened to me, he never truly knew me. So I gave up. I resigned myself to my relationship reality. I stopped caring about my relationship and learned to swallow down my feelings and my words in the interest of just getting along.

Our marriage coasted along for several years until my husband, on a manic high, woke me up late at night and told me he was going to sell pot-vaporizers to “help people.” I made my displeasure clear, and this was followed by two days of mutual silence, a silence finally cracked upon his arrival home from work Monday when he announced, “I almost quit my job today….”

This was a pivotal moment. My first thought was that the boys’ health insurance was through their father, quickly followed by how untenable this whole situation was as both a mother and a schoolteacher in a non-420 friendly state. He was not partnering with me at all. Able to swallow my words no longer, I found my voice and told him to leave.

Communication goes two ways and involves two different skill-sets—finding the right words to express what you’re trying to say as accurately as possible, and listening to and trying to understand the message the other person is trying to convey. In my marriage, communication was a one-way street eventually leading to a dead-end.

When I started dating, communication wasn’t a big issue initially. With each man I carefully shared what parts of myself I felt comfortable expressing. I was clear about the parts of me I chose to share, but equally careful with what parts of me I held back. It wasn’t until I went out with Isaac that I realized I needed to be more clear in my communication.

Isaac was a light-bulb moment. He was the man who made me realize, “Oh, this is the kind of man I want to date.” The problem was, he was a non-native species. I knew I wasn’t going to find another single man like him in Nebraska. Suddenly, the stakes were much higher. Simultaneously I was more interested and my attractive options had abruptly narrowed. I wanted this man to like me. With other men this hadn’t been much of an issue. And Isaac was a professional art critic—how would he critique me?

On our first date, he disclosed how busy he was with work and how he lacked balance in his life. I responded, “As a full-time professional and single mother…,” only he apologetically interjected, retracting his difficulties before I could complete my sentence. He assumed I was downplaying his schedule, or perhaps vying for the spot of who-has-it-worse. Rather, I explained, I was affirming his difficulty and that I understand how hard it can be to strike a good balance. I was being empathetic rather than dismissive or competitive. Here I took the time to clarify my meaning. And, ultimately he heard me. Something my ex had failed to do.

My dating profile at the time stated that I’m Christian. Over dinner Isaac inquired, “Do you really believe all that stuff?” Wanting to own my truth yet not ready to delve deeply into religion on a first date, thinking that discussion could be explored later if we had connection, I simply responded, “Yes.” Later, I realized this was a mistake—by saying little, I allowed him to assume much.

My answer had been truthful enough, but it lacked clarity.  Being “Christian” could mean anything from a fundamentalist, which I am not, to a spiritually-inclined intellectual, which I am. If the issue was important enough for Isaac to bring up on a first date, my skirting the issue because I didn’t want to deal with it yet wasn’t going to improve my odds with him.

Ultimately, he was either going to like me and be open to the possibility of relationship or he wasn’t. That I wanted him to like me wasn’t going to change anything, it just made my reality more difficult. Regardless, I needed to be clear on who I am, and pass or fail on that alone, because the truth is I’m a fairly marvelous being and I don’t want to just be accepted, I want to be appreciated.

Communicating in a relationship is intrinsically different than communicating in a dating situation. I dated Stanley for four years. I worked on saying what I needed to say. He worked on being a good listener. We both worked on trying to see each other’s point-of-view and speaking in love, not in anger. For whether or not anger is justified, it impedes communication and it’s a destructive force. Speaking in anger never helped me resolve anything, it only created new problems.

When I’ve said things in anger, I found that my argument wasn’t heard, even with additional volume, and that I ended up equally mad at myself for the way I handled the situation. I learned that when I’m upset, I need to take a step back and give myself time to calm down and reflect. I need that time to find the words I really want to say and the composure to say them in the way I want them to be said. I want to speak gently and with kindness even in disagreement, because ultimately I want my relationships to be about love. And I want love to be part of the problem-solving process.

With Stanley, there were also things I left unsaid. Things I didn’t say to protect Stanley, or to protect us. Thoughts and feelings that I was afraid would over-burden the relationship, even after four years together. Being afraid to speak your truth is problematic, because then you are living an untruth. His actions failed to match his words and ultimately, I didn’t trust him. I’d invested enough time in the relationship, in us, and I wasn’t going to wait around anymore. He’d had his chance and failed. Trust is another lesson. Matching words and actions is another yet.

The Lesson’s Essence:

Communicate who you are clearly and confidently. If someone doesn’t like you, it doesn’t mean you aren’t enough, it only means they aren’t the right person, even if you want them to be. All you can do is be the best version of yourself and communicate who that is to the world.

When reading profiles, I don’t mind if someone tells me what they are looking for in a partner, but it’s a red flag when it becomes a checklist of what I need to be. One of the things that drew me to Stanley’s profile was that rather than tell me who I should be, his profile inquired, “What about you? What do you like?” I thought, “Wow! He really wants to get to know me!”

To be a good communicator, you must hone both your expressive and receptive skills. I’m an English major. I believe in the power of words, and in trying to find the best ones to communicate what you’re trying to say. And good communication requires doing your best to understand the message that’s being sent. If in doubt, paraphrase. Restate the message you heard to see if your interpretation matches the intention. And in the spirit of good relationship, trying to see your partner’s point-of-view and honoring where they are coming from is a love-move. And if you do your best at these, you deserve a partner who does the same. A successful relationship takes mutual effort.

Some people enjoy drama, I know because I was married to one of them. But I don’t. If you don’t like drama, then don’t create drama. If you’re angry, step back. Give yourself time to calm down and regain your composure, until you’re able to say what you have to say from a better frame of mind.

Good luck out there!

 

Love Does Not Judge, It Affirms

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“We do not judge the people we love.”  Jean-Paul Sartre

Coming from an un-loving marriage, when I ventured out into the dating world post-divorce I did so with the hope of finding a loving relationship in this lifetime. I had a sense of what love could feel like, what love should feel like, but I hadn’t had a relationship like that since my college days—almost two decades prior. How to rediscover that mid-life?

My first date out-of-the-gate was with a drug and alcohol counselor who was in recovery himself. That was hardly his only baggage—his wife had cheated on him; his stepson had died the year prior; and he was separated-not-yet-divorced. His baggage was fresh and he hadn’t had time to adequately lighten his load. He wasn’t ready to be in relationship with me or anyone.

It’s easy to see the wrongness of us in the rearview mirror, but at the time it was nice to have the male attention of someone I enjoyed (Okay, it was nice to have sex again too.). I like Scott. He’s a kind and insightful man with a good sense of humor. But ultimately, I had to walk away and take care of myself because he was unable to be supportive of me the way a lover should—he was overwhelmed with taking care of himself and his son.

As often happens with former lovers, he showed up again. We talked, and he made overtures to get back together, following this up with the question, “What would you change about me?” This caught me off-guard. I responded that I didn’t know, that I’d have to think about it. Then he said, “There are three things I would change about you…” At this point, I walked away from the conversation. Certainly not the best approach when you’re trying to reconcile with someone. But also not something you should say When You Really Love Someone.

I did, however, reflect on what I would change about Scott and I came up with—nothing. I believe Scott would own that he’s a deeply flawed human being—that’s part of his recovery and something he was always able to acknowledge—yet I accepted him for who he was knowing that he has a self-awareness and a desire for self-improvement. It is his job to initiate change in himself, not mine to tell him how to fix himself.

Isaac furthered my instruction on this point. Intelligent, worldly, and witty, he’s fun company and we always have a good time together. A professional critic, an art historian/former curator/director, he literally earns his living with his critical and discerning eye. And he’s very good at it. But this practiced critical discernment leaches into his personal life. He judged me to be worth knowing, but as well as we got along, I was too Christian, too settled, had too many children, etc. There was always some excuse or some reason that I seemed to fall short in his eyes.

I wanted to get to know him for the person he is, not the person he could be, but his interest wasn’t enough that he could do the same for me. Over a decade, we’ve slowly weaved into each other’s lives a little more, but there are always limits. He’s gotten to know and value me more with time and I’ve learned to accept his limits as part of who he is, and I value who he is and his presence in my life. And that’s love, isn’t it?

One man would have changed me, the other made me feel as if I wasn’t enough (even though I’m a pretty good package). With time, I learned that I am enough, that only I get to determine my true worth. That was a lesson in self-love and self-worth that took years to master. I am enough because I am a good loving talented person, regardless of whether or not I’m in a relationship, or whether any specific man does or does not want me.

When I am in relationship, I find it important to give and get plenty of affirmations. That doesn’t mean to be ridiculous or insincere, but it’s important to maintain a mutual sense of appreciation for each other, to not let relationship lapse into taking each for granted. And while disagreement is a normal part of any relationship, it’s crucial not to let disagreement slip into judgment. Judgment is condescending and as such is an inequitable stance in a relationship. And if I want love rather than judgment, I have to do my best not to sit in judgment of those I love, even when we disagree.

The Lesson’s Essence:

As long as you do the best to be the best person you can be, that’s enough. You are enough.

If you are in a relationship where you feel more judged than affirmed, you might reconsider your relationship.

If you want love and affirmation rather than criticism and judgment, you need to be able to give what you want to receive.

Relationship 101: Bumps in the Road

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I’m currently single, until I find a man worthy of reconsidering my status, but when I do commit to a man, I take that commitment seriously, prioritize it, and work hard to make the relationship work. All relationships take work and it’s important that both parties do the work of the relationship. Lacking parity, the relationship won’t thrive, and likely, won’t survive. I’ve uncommitted myself when the bulk of the work and compromising consistently fell to me.

Even healthy loving relationships have bumps in the road. Learning how to navigate those bumps in a healthy way is a skillset to continue to build on over the life of the relationship so that the relationship can continue to thrive.

I’m a reasonable person, but I’m also a very feeling person. Keeping these qualities in balance can at times be tricky for me, especially when an issue or conflict arises. Historically, I haven’t always dealt well with discord.

As a former painfully shy introvert and coming from a marriage that had conflict but lacked conflict-resolution, the idea of standing up for myself to the point of potentially alienating a beloved was a scary thing that used to cause me great anxiety. At times, it still does. I want harmony. I want to be in good relationship with those I love.

I choose my intimates carefully and would bend over backwards for them, and I know they would do the same for me. But I cannot bend to the point that I break. And I shouldn’t have to. Over time, lovers will encounter issues to navigate and conflicts will arise, it’s inevitable. I’m pretty easy to get along with, and I’m a loving and supportive partner when I’m in relationship, but what to do in one of these tricky spots? How to take care of self and partner when interests collide? Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

Drama Should Not Be the Relationship Normal.

(Unless it’s something that both partners enjoy, and then, be careful of the children, please.)

My ex taught me this lesson well. He knew how to upset me, and he’d wind me up and pick a fight. Once I was engaged in the argument, then he’d tear me down. I was trying to have a relationship that he wasn’t interested in, a mature loving partnership, but he got off on drama and exerting power over me.

The verbal and emotional abuse was hurtful, and never being heard was frustrating as hell. Sometimes I’d find myself yelling just to be heard, but volume wasn’t the problem, lack of respect was. In retrospect, I can see that his need to exert power over me speaks to his own feelings of inadequacy, but it doesn’t make the behavior okay, and I won’t live in relationship like that again. Better to be alone.

Try to See Their Point of View.

Conflict arises from clashing points-of-view. We each come with our own interests, desires, and points-of-view. Of course we want our own interests to prevail, but that isn’t relationship, that’s power.

If you’re in a loving relationship with someone, then you’re interested in their well-being as well as your own. Try to understand what is motivating them and how the issue looks from their perspective. Hopefully they’ll do the same for you. Maybe in this, you can both shift a little and find a new shared perspective, or at the very least get to empathy and understanding.

Don’t Take Everything Personally.

This is hard one, but a decision or action that seems hurtful may have nothing to do with you. And sometimes people have issues or do stupid things or make bad choices that are hurtful, but that isn’t necessarily about you either. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, but it does mean that hurting you may not be intentional even if it’s a side-effect. And remember, sometimes you have issues and do stupid things and make bad choices that are hurtful too.

Look to Your Friends who Have the Kind of Relationship You Seek.

I look to the model of my friends who have a healthy, loving, balanced relationship and have made it work over time. Single, this gives me a model for the kind of relationship I seek. In relationship, it models an example to help me navigate and grow the skillset I need to help my relationship successful.

Compromise is a Relationship Win.

Not every issue can be resolved through compromise, but in a relationship you have to be willing to bend for the relationship to maintain its balance, otherwise it gets lopsided. Standing strong may lead to standing alone, and at some point that may be the thing to do, but it is not the thing to do at every point, nor very often at that.

Don’t Talk When You’re Overly Upset.

Take time to calm down so you don’t say or do something you will regret. This will also allow yourself time to think and to find your wise mind—the place where rational mind and emotional mind meet. For more on wise mind: https://www.therapistaid.com/worksheets/wise-mind

Find Your Wise Mind.

I find that the later in the evening it gets the less rational and more emotional I am. Perhaps, like a child, I’m tired. Or perhaps I’m just not at my freshest-best. Regardless, for me this is not a good wise mind time, therefore not a good time for me to have a really serious conversation if it can be delayed for another time.

Never Have an Important Conversation via Texting.

This is a never-ever. In fact, an important conversation shouldn’t be had via any electronic form for that matter. It’s hard to read tone and can lead to misunderstanding. It’s also disrespectful to your partner and the relationship to talk about something important via a casual medium. Give your relationship and partner the respect and care they deserve. Talk.

Own What is Yours to Own.

You can’t expect an apology if you can’t give one. Where there is fallout, take responsibility for your role and your actions. Be specific about what you’re sorry for.

Don’t Expect an Apology.

Apologies are to be given, not taken. A good partner should be able to give apologies when they are in order. If your partner can’t give an apology, that’s problematic.

In ten years of marriage, my ex never apologized to me. He only apologized after I kicked him out of the house, and then it was a generalized, “I’m sorry.” I don’t think he even knew what to be sorry for, he just wanted me to take him back (it was a means to a hoped-for outcome), but by then it was too late.

Put Sleepless Nights to Good Use.

As a sometime-insomniac, my insomnia visits me fiercely when I’m upset. On occasions when an argument has erupted, I inevitably pass a good part of the night tossing and turning both mind and body. My mind will race while my body is exhausted, the storm calming. I find that I actually do some of my most productive conflict-resolution problem-solving apology-forming type of brainstorming in this restless peace. I might as well—if I’m not getting any sleep at least I can try to solve the problem that’s keeping me up.

One Incident Doesn’t Define the Entire Relationship.

(Unless, of course, it’s a whopper of an incident or a weak relationship.)

Couples fight and disagree, this is normal, though it shouldn’t be the relationship normal. Committed loving couples find their way back to each other, they compromise, they apologize. Relationships aren’t always easy and peaceful, but that doesn’t mean the relationship is on the brink, bound to collapse. Tend to it and work to mend it, so that it can recover.

If You can Skillfully Navigate Discord in one Relationship, You can Learn to Apply that Skill-set to Other Relationships.

Arguments with my ex were ugly. If I tried to state my point of view, I was either stupid for thinking that way or the situation was turned around on me so that I was at fault, “I’m not the one that does that, you are,” was a common refrain.

Our arguments would become heated and often loud. But increasing my volume never helped him hear me, it only fed the tempest and gave it power. Our arguments would gain fuel from the debris of our relationship which got tossed around with tornadic fury, creating more devastation.

With divorce and time, I’ve learned to deal with my ex. I’ve learned to stay on-point. If he brings up a list of grievances he has against me, I ignore them and address only the situation at hand. If he throws a tantrum, instead of taking it personally, I realize that is who he is and I can’t change that—I stay rational. And if he gets verbally abusive, I disengage and stop communicating.

If I can grow that skill-set in a frictional relationship then I can learn to apply those skills in a loving relationship. If I can find my wise-mind with my ex, I can learn to better master staying in wise-mind with the man I love.

Don’t be afraid to try therapy.

All relationships will have bumps, it’s inevitable. But there are skill-sets to help navigate those bumps. Sometimes it’s helpful to get professional help with this. A skilled counselor/therapist can help you as an individual or couple navigate the bumps in relationship and give you think-abouts; give you a different and impartial perspective; and help you develop new skillsets.

It’s crucial that both partners are aware of the role of therapy. Therapy isn’t about declaring a “winner” of an argument, its role is to help you navigate your relationship in a healthy way. Ideally, the relationship is the winner, not an individual.

Before ending my four year relationship with Stanley, we tried couple therapy. One of our exercises was in empathy. We had to try to state each other’s point-of-view. He was unable to state my perspective without arguing against it and assigning motives to my behavior. This, despite the therapist intervening multiple times instructing him to only state my point of view.

Stanley was unable to admit the validity of my feelings and actions. His priority was winning. Ultimately, that was a loss for the relationship. He won the fight, but he lost me.

And sometimes, you need to find the exit.

If I commit to a man and relationship, I take that commitment seriously and do my part to make the relationship work, but I’ve found the exit when the relationship wasn’t working for me. If the relationship is unhealthy or toxic, it might be time to bail rather than continuing to give it oxygen.

We remove cancerous growths from our bodies, likewise, if a relationship is cancerous, consider whether you’d be healthier removing yourself from it. Here are some considerations:

Does the relationship make sense?

Despite our compatibility, there were myriad things about my relationship with Stanley that didn’t make sense to me, including his co-dependent relationship with his ex. I tolerated the situation much longer than I should have (that was a personal lesson in self-worth). If a relationship isn’t making sense, you might consider why you are in it, and if it’s worth it.

Is it a balanced partnership?

Do both partners have equitable input? Do you respect each other’s point of view? If there is imbalance, is it acceptable to both partners, or is there a rationale for the imbalance? I didn’t feel adequately heard or honored in either my marriage or my relationship with Stanley. For that reason, I’m no longer in either of those relationships. I give better, and I deserve better.

Pay attention to how you feel.

Is your relationship mostly satisfying with occasional bumps or do you feel unhappy/upset most of the time? In my marriage, the drama of the blow-ups, the ongoing dismissiveness, and the feeling of being unappreciated left me feeling unhappy and lonely (lonely, even though in a relationship). With Stanley, I regularly felt anxiety about our relationship. Ultimately, I got to the point in both relationships that I didn’t like the way I felt in the relationship, so I got out of them.

I value relationship and hope someday to find a man worth committing to, one who I can build a loving partnership with. And should I find him, I will gratefully put in the work of relationship. But until that day, it’s better to be alone and take care of myself, than be with a partner who does an inadequate job of valuing me. I value myself too much for that. If I don’t feel good in a relationship, why would I choose to keep being in it?

Final Thoughts

It’s normal for a relationship to have bumps to navigate. Maneuver the tricky spots with care so the bumps doesn’t get bigger than they already are, and do so as a team, rather than adversaries. If you can’t manage that, you might have to undergo some deeper reflection regarding your relationship. Good luck!

Healthy Relationships

/ blackbirddiaryblog

Lesson: A Healthy Relationship is a Balanced Equation

“…the power in all relationships lies with whoever cares less…but power isn’t happiness, and I think that maybe happiness comes from caring more about people rather than less.”—Ghosts of Girlfriends Past

Lesson Learned:

Always a Lover, I’ve striven to put love into the Universe, hoping to receive love in turn—generally, platonically, romantically. To some degree, this has worked for me. I love and am beloved by many. In this, I’m blessed. But you can’t be friends or lovers with just anyone. Life and love are more complicated than that. People are more complicated than that.

When I’m in a romantic relationship, I put in the time, energy, and effort to help it be a successful loving partnership. Not everyone is willing and capable of doing that. Keeping a relationship healthy and balanced requires choosing/having a partner (or friend) who is willing and capable of likewise putting in time, energy, and effort. How that time, energy, and effort look and how much is desired will look different in different relationships. Some people and partnerships will desire more and others will require less, but if the dynamic is too out of balance, at least one of the individuals will likely be unsatisfied.

My marriage was lopsided. Ours vows were, “I will do my best by you,” but if my ex gave his best (I suspect he didn’t), it wasn’t good enough. Aware that I was willing to do the work of relationship and valued being in good relationship, he let me carry the weight of the relationship work, not caring about me enough to bother.

If he ever loved me, he didn’t show it. No matter how much work I put into the relationship, it was never enough. I was never enough. If we disagreed, by default, I was wrong and foolish. If my feelings were hurt, somehow it was my fault. On our anniversary he routinely took me out for dinner, then he’d pick a fight with me. I’d committed myself to living in an inequality. By staying, I allowed myself to be devalued. When we got to a crisis point in our marriage, the reasons for leaving far outweighed the reasons to stay. Leaving, I finally realized my worth. I finally had the power in the relationship, but I still didn’t have love.

I came out of my marriage feeling like I’d settled, that I deserved better, but also questioning and doubting myself and my value. After all, I’d had ten years of training, hadn’t I got the message? Yet I couldn’t help thinking that I was worth loving. Could I find the kind of love that I believed in? I was hopeful, but unsure.

When I started dating, it was a world of inequalities. Sometimes I was the greater quantity—the men who couldn’t keep up with me; the nice guys and not-so-nice guys who bored me; the one-date wonders. Other times, it was the men who had the power—the few men who I did want to get to know better, to explore possibility with—the men who I wanted, but for one reason or another didn’t want me. It’s a hard thing to want to be wanted.

Then I met Stanley, a good man: smart, kind, funny, fun. A man able to both forgive and apologize (my ex couldn’t). A man whose modus operandi is to make people happy and solve people’s problems. He was good company and we were compatible. He loved me and treated me well—most of the time.

The problem: he had a codependent relationship with his ex, who held an unhealthy sway over him. As Princess Diana said of her marriage,”…it was a bit crowded.” It was an improvement over verbal and emotional abuse, but I still didn’t like how I felt in the relationship and it never made sense to me. It was still an inequality, and though I cared for Stanley, I didn’t like the way the relationship felt. For four years, I tried to make it work, but most of the compromising fell to me. Ultimately, I left, because I deserve(d) better. That’s when I got the power in the relationship, but I still didn’t have love.

I’m still single, still looking for my equation, but since Stanley, I’ve failed up and better in my search. I’ve dated some wonderful and accomplished men. Men who’ve been stimulating company and treated me well. I’ve even loved. The power balance has been better, even though my relationship equation hasn’t fully manifested. But, at this point, I won’t settle for less than my full worth.

Despite my relationships failings, I’ve learned quite a lot about balancing relationship equations. It takes finding/having a partner who will do their share of the balancing. Though it should go without saying, I’ll say it: a healthy relationship requires good communication, caring, and empathy. I’ve learned to be honest about my feelings and insecurities, something that hasn’t always felt safe in my relationships.

Even with the right person, the right relationship won’t always be in balance. Sometimes there are tricky issues to negotiate. Sometimes one partner needs more than another or has less to give. Life happens—health issues, job losses, insert-crisis-here. The other partner might need to carry the weight for a while. You do that out of love.

Love is a gift that you give, not something to be taken. In a healthy relationship, both partners will put the effort in to give as they are able and ideally, over time, the equation is balanced. I’ve borne witness to this kind of love. I believe in this kind of love, even though it hasn’t been mine to have. It’s a beautiful thing, two people working in concert to love each other rightly and do well by each other, not taking each other for granted. I would like to have that some day.

Will I find that kind of love in this lifetime? I don’t know. But I know that I can’t have right relationship with a wrong person. I know that I cannot expect to receive that kind of love unless I am capable of giving it. I don’t want power over a man, and I won’t give my power away again. I don’t want power; I want love. To that end, I continue to try and manifest a healthy loving presence in the Universe.

If You’re Wondering if a (Wo)Man’s Interest is Waning, it is.

/ blackbirddiaryblog

An entire manuscript exists about the lessons I’ve learned while dating. Here I have re-tooled some of my lessons for this space. They’re written from the perspective of a woman, but are also applicable to men. Here’s the first lesson I recorded, an early one–it’s a very apropos place to begin because not only was it my first lesson, but it’s been a recurring experience in my dating life. It’s a good one to own, because it helps in navigating your reality.

Lesson Learned:

I learned this lesson early, from a couple of different men. Scott was the first man I dated after my divorce. I’d been divorced for two years, but he was only separated at the time. This in itself was a big mistake, dating someone who’s only separated (but that’s another lesson). He wasn’t quite over his ex and though he was into me, he wasn’t into me enough. A behavior I’ve experienced with many men—they like me, but they aren’t sure how much; they get eager in the beginning, then they get scared because the longer we date, the more “commitmenty” it is. This was further compounded because of his conflicted feelings about his ex. He wanted a distraction from his feelings for her (which were confused), but he wasn’t sure about his feelings for me (because it was too soon). He simply wasn’t ready to date.

Over time, instead of spending more time together, we spent less. I was marginalized. I didn’t like the way this felt but I didn’t want to give up on the relationship either. After all, he was the first guy I’d dated after being single for two years, what hope did I have of finding someone else? (Ha! There are apps for that.) So I told him I wanted a break, a month, so we could both figure out what we wanted.

A week later he called, wanting me. That felt good. He took me out to dinner for the first time in a long time. He said that it wasn’t that he was ashamed of me, but of his situation. He felt funny taking me out in public when he was technically still married (Reminder: don’t date someone who is only separated!). But this night, he made me feel the way I wanted to feel. We were on-again.

Only it didn’t last. Quickly and predictably, as no issues had been resolved, it devolved again. A couple of months later, we were back to the same place. He was distant, cool. This time I called him on it and made him tell me his truth. I made him break up with me, because he wasn’t ready for me. Scott said he wanted to put me on the shelf for a while and maybe take me down in a couple of months. I told him I won’t live on a shelf. At the expiration of a couple of months he called, but I’d already moved on.

Isaac and I met online (On one of those apps for meeting people!). Isaac was the first man I dated who taught me what I wanted in a man rather than what I didn’t want. He was the first man I dated who I had no doubt that I wanted to be with. He was brilliant, witty, successful, worldly and oh-so-manly looking. How could I resist? I’m an elementary schoolteacher in Lincoln, Nebraska who works in a big box-of-a-building all day surrounded by children and mostly female colleagues. Where would I meet a man like this again (I have, but they are rare gems.)? He was so different from the other men I’d dated. And he seemed interested in me. But even from the beginning he was hedging, hinting that he wouldn’t stick around Nebraska long, that he wasn’t sure about dating someone with kids, etc. Nevertheless, he continued to correspond with me.

In his presence, I was nervous, a little trembly. He was exciting company. The physical attraction was strong, the conversation stimulating, the date sexy and fun. He asked me out on another date, but vaguely. We kept in touch, emailing, but I could feel the distance growing, the flirtation ebbing on his part, the interest waning. And then finally, confirmation. He didn’t think it was a good idea to see each other again. He liked me, but he didn’t see a future between us, he’d found new reasons that we were incompatible. It was best to just not pursue it at all.

The Lesson’s Essence:

With both men, I sensed in a change in the weather. I wasn’t being paranoid, it was based on a change in actions and interactions. I saw the end coming before it happened. Pay attention to shifts in relationship, the weather can shift at any time whether you’re just getting to know each other (Isaac), you’ve been dating for a while (Scott), or you’re married (that’s what divorce is, right?). Don’t be paranoid, just be mindful. Tend to yourself and your relationship. If you sense a change, have a rational conversation about it and face your truth the best you can. Better to live a truth than pretend a lie and better to face the truth than live in a state of anxious limbo. I’ve dated many men since the two who initially taught me this lesson. I’ve found that if I sense something is off, there’s a reason. And even when I’ve been hurt and disappointed, I’ve always been grateful to know my truth.

For men et al:

I write from the perspective of a woman, but my lessons cross genders. My friend Erik recently had this experience. A woman he’d been dating took issue with his calm demeanor in reaction to her over-the-top drama. “Why didn’t you call me on my bad behavior?” she asked him. She’d wanted a challenge, someone to take her on. He felt her cool to him after that and when he approached her about it hoping to have his fears eased, she dumped him instead. It’s okay to be hopeful, we need hope, but now he knows his truth and he can move on and find a woman whose personality is better suited to him. And who’s less dramatic.