howeverbrief (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
howeverbrief) wrote2012-12-02 09:34 pm
howeverbrief) wrote2012-12-02 09:34 pm
Entry tags:
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.
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.
no subject
It's mike jones!
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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.
Same, and this is still the case. I remember being mindblown by a friend during my study abroad who had been dating her boyfriend (and they're now married . . . ) since they were 14, so she literally could not relate to any of the sad/angry heartbreak songs I chose to sing at karaoke (this being just after the dramatic dissolution of the multi-year unrequited thing I nursed through much of college), and everything she ever sang was positive saccharine love songs I couldn't relate to.
But I think you can be a whole, stable you and still in a relationship. Especially once you reach adult maturity. In fact, I frankly think a relationship shouldn't be any other way. (These songs glorifying unhealthy *I'd lose myself/die without you* and *We're so fucked up and our relationship is fucked up and that's what makes it so hotttttt* and shit should really go die in a fire, because they're broadcasting precisely the wrong idea to everyone). And I don't think it matters what your history is that brings you to that point, whether you've had some lengthy explicit Eat Pray Love journey of self-acceptance or you've been single a total of one month since puberty, though that may affect the way you approach it. I'm glad you're reaching a point where you can have both and accept it!
/rambly . . .
no subject
Hehe, what's funny about this is a previous version of this entry had a whole paragraph about my consumption of popular culture and society's views of what's supposed to happen romantically in general. Great minds. My parents (or mom really since my dad's mostly focused on his own pursuits) definitely pushed us all to focus on school more than anything else. They supported us no matter what, though.
I never really understood girls preplanning their weddings anyway. I agree that it should be more a symbol of union between two people rather than what the lady pictures as *her* perfect day. Then again, I've never planned a wedding, so maybe I just don't get it! I took a class on estate planning while getting my paralegal degree, and while it's weird to think about what'll happen to all my effects after I die, I bet it's easier to figure that out for yourself than it is to plan a huge shindig wedding. Yikes. Uh, anyway...
Yeah, I definitely can't relate to the great majority of "I love you so much, baby boo!" songs out there. Whenever someone pointed out this really romantic song they liked, almost always it would come off as either unhealthy or creepy to me. (Why are there so many stalker-iffic love songs out there anyway?) I don't know. I find myself wanting to be more romantic lately, but at the same time, I can't seem to change my style. It's either slightly melancholy (more realistic or genuine sounding to me) or nothin'!
Also, I'm glad you got something out of that. By the end of it, I was kind of confusing myself with everything I have going on in my head. I think I'm trying to weave too many things together. I tend to make things overly complicated when it comes to my own feelings from time to time. It amazes me how I can read other people's general moods really easily but am utterly clueless about my own sometimes. I don't necessarily think this thought process is completely dependent on my history and experiences, though they have influenced them somewhat. I do think it may be possible to reach certain levels of stasis where I'm okay with myself and being in a relationship, but they are not meant to last, probably because we're ever evolving creatures and can't stay still or overly defined for too long. It's the journey and all that, the trial and error, and no reaching plateaus lest we get too comfortable or something. Once again, kind of going weird in my head, but you get the idea. Thanks.
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Robert and I were discussing recently how we don't really have *a song* (like something we could play at a first dance at a someday-wedding reception). The songs I associate with him are mostly from when we were long-distance (kind of out of place once we've long been reunited and are getting married) or just songs we both happen to like, which are mostly dark in tone, and the vast majority of them are not really your standard wedding reception fare, like they're classical, electronic, or new age or something and have virtually nothing to do with "Yea, love!"
Gosh, so many songs are unhealthy. The very first song I ever decided I hated, at age 11 or 12, was Aerosmith's Don't Want to Miss a Thing, primarily because it was overplayed but also because I was starting to notice lyrics, and the idea of a guy being so obsessed by his partner that he literally could not close his eyes because he would miss her was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. I once encountered an article about a teacher or health counselor doing a lesson in which students had to identify if various songs represented a healthy relationship or not. I think that might be seriously useful for some people.
(And on a side note, the song Butterfly Kisses as a father-daughter song has always skeezed me out a little bit, too. Actually, many of the father-daughter songs. Maybe I just have a really reserved, unaffectionate father or something (well I mean, I do-- I love him and I know he loves me, but he's hardly a big softie), but I always feel like they border a tad on the incestuous O.o).
Yeah, the "stability" we all seek may just not be possible for very long. We change, partners change, life changes . . . I guess it's more about keeping up and agreeing you'll step in tandem as best you can than picking something that works at the moment and assuming it will stay that way . . . because it never does . . .
no subject
and I plan to wear a long white dress, but primarily because what other day of your life can you do that and not seem insane? Haha! Perfect.
The song I associate with Mike the most doesn't have anything specific to do with "Yay, love!" either. Kind of funny how that works. Still, I don't necessarily think that sort of thing or any of the songs you associate with Robert would be entirely out of place in a wedding, even if they aren't specifically about love. Again, it's about celebrating both of you. I dunno.
Oh good lord, someone else feels the same way I do about Butterfly Kisses. I hate that song. Why do they have to play it at every wedding? It's awful. Then again, I don't have a terribly close relationship with my father, so maybe I don't get it. The very first thing he said when I was born according to my mother is, "Oh, I have to pay for another wedding?" Super. If there's much of anything in terms of a relationship there, it's more intellectual than anything else, with him talking about his projects and me trying not to set him off on politics or anything else he'll say that'll end up offending me. I love him because he's my father, but it's not a "HOMG, butterfly kisses!" thing. Ew, gross.
Haha, also that Aerosmith song (as well as the movie it was featured prominently in) was pretty cheesy and terrible. My sisters and I dedicated the animal cracker version of the song to my brother because we were dicks. Every time I hear it, I still laugh. I guess you can get a bit of an idea of our opinion of that song (pretty close to yours). Completely ridiculous and unrealistic.
I guess it's more about keeping up and agreeing you'll step in tandem as best you can than picking something that works at the moment and assuming it will stay that way . . . because it never does . . .
Basically. Oh well. That's life, I suppose. You take certain risks and hope it works out, and if it doesn't, you do your best to adapt. It's always harder when you throw someone else in the mix, though. Whatever works, I guess?