The part of this brain tornado that is driven by thinking and emotions is the knowledge that I must change from what I was into something / someone new. This is a very difficult task at its best and a horrific task at its worst. Fortunately for me, I own the difficult and I am past the horrific. What is difficult about it is that who I was, was very cool. I fit my belief systems about what is good and right. I fit into my idea of stylish and witty, smart and even pretty. Changing feels like doing something wrong – or else – was I already wrong?
If everything was right, how can a transformation be right? The truth is that there are a lot of different ways to be and do right. Many of them are wildly different from each other. The issue is my own: I would sometimes say to myself “I don’t want to be anything like her or even him.” So my own justification came from making someone else wrong, an ugly practice, but real all the same. Certainly there are behaviors that are not to be copied or emulated, and it’s okay to be clear about all that. My brain sometimes took it a step further and justified my actions by casting aspersions on other’s actions. Sometimes I would create the other/me dichotomy. In stepping forward, I must re-examine all of that, I must let that go.
I’m guessing that the turmoil, that the tornado is caused by the self doubt that must precede life changes. Who I am no longer fits my life. Who I am and all of the behaviors that are comfortably me are not needed here. My entire universe tells me to move on. It is I who lingers on the precipice doubting my next step, it is I who wishes that change would not be change. It is I who must take that next step knowing that what was, was beautiful, and what is, can take my breath away.
Here is the deal: we always have a different goal in mind than the goal that is accomplished with the sarcastic and mean comment. A sarcastic and mean comment accomplishes: hurt feelings, more anger, and a diminished sense of relationship. Whenever I ask someone what they are trying to achieve they hardly ever tell me “I’m trying to diminish my relationship.” Every once in a while a very immature person will say “I want her to feel bad, she made me mad!” Every once in a while; someone will admit that they are being vindictive.
Ah yes, the time honored value of vindictiveness – that urge to make someone hurt as much as they have hurt you. If you are interested in destroying the other person, because there is no hope of continuing the relationship, by all means continue with behavior that is diminishing, because for sure, you are not only destroying the relationship, but the person’s feelings for you. Here is where vindictiveness is a bit of a paradox: if you are truly done with the relationship, then why continue to put effort and energy into it? Any kind of energy you put into it is draining and negative energy can be particularly draining. Vindictiveness is a kind of “mental masturbation” it creates nothing, merely repeats a final message. It surely doesn’t accomplish a continuation of the relationship.
Sooo, back to sarcastic and mean: what do you want to create in your relationships? Hurt feelings, angry responses, injured pride? What do you really want? If you are hurt, frustrated and angry, what’s wrong with simply stating it? “I am so pissed off right now!!!” “I am hurt by what you just said!!!” “I am frustrated with this conversation!!!”
I am sure that if you are willing to express what is really happening with your feelings, then your chance of saying “I love you” and “You make me happy” will increase exponentially. But, that’s only if your goal is to HAVE and KEEP the relationship.
While my writing has its own life – a life that “comes upon me”, there is a difference between that “which must be written” and that “which does not need to be written”. Grief and pain hold some shadow of doubt, a life tension that casts a shadow on all thoughts. Happiness holds confidence and joy and there are no shadows lingering about. I think it is that life tension that must be written so that each piece of doubt, each shadow of anguish can be examined and perhaps – purged. It is the act of writing that makes the nonsensical make sense; it is the act of writing that sheds light on anguish.
Joy needs no sense; joy needs no explanation, it is satisfactory the way that it is. So is it true that artists need to be tortured souls? Well versed in heartbreak and woe? Must a good story include what is hurtful, bad and evil before shedding light on what is joyful, good and right?
Is there any thing or any relationship that is all about joy? Ah, but no. It does not exist, there is no such thing as a uni-faceted relationship. There are times in a relationship that are joyful, new and beginning relationships share this characteristic of happiness. Newborns are born into a celebratory atmosphere, weddings are celebratory events, as many newly formed relationships begin with a “honeymoon”.
As surely as we lay our head on our lover’s shoulder sighing deeply in satisfaction, we will also be hurt and angry in turns and at times. Some people choose to pursue only new relationships in the hopes that they will never have to experience the hurt and anger of a long term relationship. Some people are in fear of long term relationships and would rather not commit love in any long or lasting manner. Then of course, there is the dilemma of love: the more intensely you love, the more your passion and your joy for another is, the more you can be hurt by your relationship with your loved one. It is the very intensity of the love that dictates the depth of despair you may feel. Then there is the other relationship dilemma and that is the choice to not love another, which is a real tragedy, though a silent and quiet one.
I have given a lot of thought to this idea; the idea that writing out my grief and despair is so much easier than writing out my love. When I am feeling love, I am usually engaged in love and thus have no time to put the thoughts to paper. When I am feeling despair, I am likely to be alone and thus can befriend my laptop and spend long hours in thought. But, I am thinking that it might be important to express my love and my happiness. It may be important to find a way to write about what is right about my life. It may be important to express the joy and the love that occurs daily in my life.
To be engaged in love is a singular experience and can happen no matter what type of relationship it is. Being engaged in love is creating a cocoon with another. Inside of the cocoon emotions shoot like sparks and ricochet around only to be caught by the other who is in the cocoon with you, thoughts will randomly attach to your loved one as well. Eye contact is utterly intense and can move your heart in all different ways. Small movements can be profoundly intimate and warm touches can be magical. Hearing your loved one can change the response of your whole body and feeling the presence of your lover can make your body go through changes. Loving is a joyful experience that brings happiness to those who give it and to those who receive it. Finally, love compels sharing. Feeling love in my heart always pushes me to reach out, either to say “I love you” or to touch, hug, or kiss, but love is always compelling, it compels all of us to give.
So what madness is this that writing about love is awkward, while writing about hurt and grief is like putting on comfortable pajamas? That, my friend, must change. Because – while I have had my share of broken hearts, it certainly is not the definition of my life and therefore cannot be the definition of my writing.
Oh, but wait, care about humans and the world – farther and broader than American borders. I want to say that health care is a right, but in Africa, tens of thousands of humans cannot get clean water. “Safe and clean drinking water and sanitation is a human right essential to the full enjoyment of life and all other human rights, the General Assembly declared today, voicing deep concern that almost 900 million people worldwide do not have access to clean water.” 28 July 2010 – “Studies also indicate about 1.5 million children under the age of five die each year and 443 million school days are lost because of water- and sanitation-related diseases.” (United Nations General Assembly 2010)
How luxurious is health care in comparison to the need to get clean water? Water is a matter of daily survival, while health care is a matter of exceptional survival, we need health care as an exception – water we must have no matter what.
Here is what is the same about both issues: We have enough of both, health care and water. What we do not have is an equitable means to distribute them. What is lacking is the saddest fact of all, the way to equitably distribute water and health care- that will save MILLIONS of lives each year is to redistribute wealth, because with wealth, anyone can buy health care and an African village can buy anything, including clean, fresh water.
For more info: blogactionday.change.org
There was one more point of the cigarette – and I really didn’t discover this until the last decade: it provides space between myself and others. I could use the cigarette to get another person to move away from me, to get them to give me room and / or, just to, flat out, get away from them. A cigarette can be a tool of rejection.
The problem with all of that is that I can’t control the cigarette, it would control me. So even when I was not done with a project, I would have to stop in the middle of it and go have a cigarette just to get rid of the nicotine craving. This is a very unpleasant feeling and can be an unwelcome interruption to any activity (particularly the you-know-what activity). Even when I don’t want to reject someone, the cigarette would reject them – because after all – what non-smoker wants to be in the middle of all of that mess?
So here I am, a self professed non-smoker, struggling with all of the craving and lingering detoxification of nicotine. Each day when I wake up, my first thought is: “Will I fight it today? Will it work without a fight?” Either way, the outcome is same – same. I will not smoke a cigarette.
While contemplating my future many months ago, I remember saying to myself – “self, don’t let go of your internal discipline because you need that tight hold to keep your life from capsizing.” “Not true” said my inner party girl, “What damage can a little bit of fun do?”
Now, let’s just be clear about what I mean by discipline…I have very rigid behavior surrounding my home and my work life. Little ground rules, if you know what I mean. For example, 28 years ago when I was pregnant with Johanna, I decided to lay out my clothes for the entire week on Sunday. I’ve kept that discipline for 28 years. I rigidly get all of the laundry done on Saturday and then I rotate clothing forward to be used for this week….
I have dozens of little rules like this, work hard, work early, get all of the chores done first, ALL of them, then I can sit down and relax. Always pay the bills first, no matter what my little heart wishes for. Take care of my kids, on schedule, on time. Now there were very good reasons for all of these disciplines; I raised seven kids. It’s a herculean task that requires a lot of organization, time management and above all, efficiency. Budgeting is a fine art, as is house care, and it’s all there to be completed by the end of the day.
Empty Nest: So no one needs me, there are no beautiful children’s faces gazing at me with adoring eyes. Who am I without all of that to keep my inner crazy in check? I’ve always functioned within the context of motherhood. Now that motherhood recedes there is this woman who wants to get out and play. Who the frick is she?
So -my dilemma is that for the last several months, I’ve been riding the slippery slope. “I can do laundry later, groceries, who needs groceries? Sleep in a little bit, what difference does it make? Checkbook, what checkbook? Money, where did I put the money?” I’ve even been practicing drinking, yes drinking! I’ve never indulged in alcohol aside from a holiday here or there and one puke-drunk per year:) Dozens of my friends tell me that they drink wine every day. So how did that little pleasure pass me by for the last two decades?
There has always been this dark corner in my brain about extremes. In other words, I think of extremes as the reality of my person. I’m either a bad girl or a good girl. There is no place in-between. I see this dark edge of behavior that I could easily slide off into and the next thing you know, I would be sun-bathing nude on the coast of Spain with intellectuals and winos contemplating the meaning of the sand. I would abandon my children, leave creditors in the lurch and laugh deliciously at all of my boyfriends who wish for me to settle down.
My good girl wears baggy pants, wants to bake cookies and coo at babies. My good girl is still alive and well, she is industrious, caring and competent. My bad girl wants someone else to go to the store and buy cookies for her, and babies are just for fun. My bad girl is lazy, uncaring and doesn’t need competence, just confidence – who cares about the rest?