Seeking Stasis

"What toothpaste are you?"

One day you find out,
after all those years of believing otherwise,
you squeeze the toothpaste from the
middle, and fool yourself later by
squeezing the remains to the top.
You stand motionless, wondering
what this says about your life--
while life continues to flow around you
unabated.
-November 7, 2012

Last month, while riding with my mom and listening to the radio, she turned to me and said, "Aw, I love this song. When I was a teenager, I always wished for a love like this. I wondered if it would ever be possible for someone to love me like that."

I had no idea what to say. I've never felt that way.

I don't remember pining for love as a teenager. Even before that, I don't remember playing wedding as a kid. From a young age, I remember other girls my age talking about dresses and flowers and what-not, but the closest I ever got to that was pairing up my stuffed animals. No matter what, my animal friends always had companions. They were either friends with the other animals or in heterosexual, monogamous relationships in my head. I never really thought about any of them being married, but they were never alone.

Then again, I was kind of a weird little kid.

By extension, I never really worried about dating as I got older. Sure, I had some crushes on certain guys as a teenager, but they were always short-lived and easily forgotten. The few relationships I had in that period, which were all dysfunctional, ended up being very similar. I fell into them because it seemed like something I should be doing rather than having any genuine interest. Hell, my first kiss was with this dude in the backseat of his friend's car, and it didn't even occur to me that that was a possibility. I was mostly there so my sister wouldn't be alone on her date with some guy she met on the internet. He decided we were dating after that, and I wasn't terribly broken up when he left me a few months later for refusing to sleep with him. So it goes.

What I remember more is throwing myself into school and being completely consumed by angst. If I thought about love, it was more in the context of melodramatic songs about depression and heartbreak rather than wondering if anyone would love me. I didn't like songs about endless love or how much someone couldn't live without someone else or all that other popular dreck. No, I listened to minor tones and anything dark and melancholic in those days (and I still tend to gravitate toward this kind of music and find it hard to express myself though any positive and straightforward love songs), maybe because it was easier for me to dislike myself as a whole rather than wonder what parts of me weren't good enough for other people to like.

Really, finding love wasn't as important to me then, probably because I felt like I had all the time in the world. What mattered was getting a stable life, being successful and knowing I could live comfortably no matter what. For some reason, though I truly hated myself back then, I felt like love would find me later, and preferably after everything else was settled. Even if I couldn't picture the rest of my life or how I'd ever meet the person I would fall in love with, I had some naive faith that it would happen somehow. I put it out of my mind and went about my life, confident that it would be beautiful and perfect when it came even if I wasn't anywhere close to it.

Oh, was I ever wrong about that.

By the time I actually fell in love, it was a disaster. College hit, and I didn't hate myself quite as much. Then out of nowhere love hit me over the head, dragged me around for a few months, then left me for dead. (Okay, so I still have a flair for the melodramatic.) After that sort of experience, I wasn't the same. I don't think anyone really can be. Still, my point is it was only after getting my heart broken that I had any sort of fear that I was not enough and that no one would love me, and this left me with an anger I never quite acknowledged.

Through time, I healed somewhat and threw myself into other relationships. I had a companion, but it didn't work out. I tried again with my first love with similar results. I waited for a while and found love again only to have it collapse years later after on and off bullshit.

But I'm not here to talk about my history. What I've realized is a lot of what I've been yearning for throughout those relationships is a return to stasis. I desperately wanted to go back to feeling like I would be successful and find love again even if it seemed impossible. Though I enjoyed being in relationships, I also pined for my younger self, if only for her belief that things would work out no matter what I did. I wanted to be loved, but I also wanted to go back to being ignorant, to believing that I was the only person who could hate me, even if that was pretty unrealistic. Even if it meant I was still alone, at least I knew I wasn't going to walk out on me.

What I didn't understand is what I really wanted all those years was to be able to get back to that earnest feeling that I was enough. I wanted to be able to go through life feeling like love would happen again, and even it didn't, I'd be okay. Either way, it would work out in the end. In the middle of everything else life had to offer, I wanted stasis. I wanted it all back, but I also wanted myself.

I think that, while I've had periods of being single, I didn't take enough time to appreciate myself and come back to that sense of stasis between relationships when I was younger. However, I've also come to think that perhaps I was remiss in thinking that sort of stasis was impossible within the context of a relationship. Perhaps I only thought this because it takes a lot to maintain stasis, and it's really easy to become complacent and forget to appreciate who you are and what you have, even if it's not ideal. Sometimes it takes a horrifying event to jar you our of your normal day-to-day life and remind you to take care of yourself, but that's not necessarily something that happens only when a relationship ends (and doesn't have to be something terrible either). Maybe being aware of this sort of thing and being okay with yourself regardless is enough. Maybe having faith that things will work isn't so naive after all. Maybe lots of things are still possible.

I really don't know. I've tried writing this entry so many times, and it's still not quite right. This is something I'm feeling out for lack of a better phrase. Really, it's probably one of those things I'll never figure out. Still, I am hopeful and open, and I'm happy with myself and where my life is going and who I'm with. Right now, that's good enough for me.