We've all had friends like this, friends who don't seem to understand how not to be selfish. They are the people who know how to take, but not how to give. We all know these people and probably have a few in our lives. In the age of technology, the use of cell phones and the proper etiquette is going to come into question. There is no book, no magical recipe for when it is appropriate but rather the importance of establishing a guideline in terms of politeness and perhaps a general rule of consideration that should apply.
It should be common knowledge that one shouldn't use their cell phone during a movie, but clearly there are people that do not have that level of consideration as the movie industry still has to put up a message to remind people to silence their cell phones.
Should you really have to remind someone to silence their cell phone when you're in a social situation or when you're engaged in a conversation with someone? How disconcerting is it to be speaking to someone only to have them interrupt you by picking up their cell phone to reply to someone else or to answer their phone?
Ultimately, it not only becomes a matter of being impolite, but also defines the level of respect in the friendship. For example, I have a friend who constantly seeks advice about matters he feels are of great importance in his life. Truly, what happens in his life only matters to me in that I am his friend. I listen out of respect and consideration because his friendship is important to me. I offer advice whenever possible and patiently try to help him work through his own self doubt. However, where is the reciprocation?
The balance of friendship is not in my favor, because when I try to talk about something in my own life, he conveniently picks up his cell phone and responds to a text or answers the cell phone. That immediately tells me just exactly how important I am to him: so unimportant that a random text message at that very moment is more important than whatever it is I might have to say.
Most of the time,, I choose not to say anything. But ultimately, my constantly giving in this "friendship" and not getting much in return ultimately bothers me. I politely try to piont it out when we are all together in a social situation; his other friends have also noticed and tried to point it out.
"Do you want my attention?" His voice is dry and almost sarcastic. That statement stood out to me, bothered me a little, because a part of it is true--but not for the reason he almost seemed to imply. Yes, when listening to him, he expects--wants--my attention. Is it not fair to expect the same thing in return from him?
The saddest part about it is that he has barely a clue as to what is going on in my life; I don't ever get the dance to even talk about it as I'm constantly interrupted by his problems or his cell phone. Are you starting to see a tred? Sometimes I wonder if it's always going to be about him. I don't even know if he considers me a friend or just someone who is a convenient sounding board for his problems and issues. Yes, in some ways it's about wanting his attention, but it's also about wanting my half of the friendship too.
Friendship, like any relationship, is a two way street. It sometimes means taking, but it's also about giving. I don't mind listening to his problems and I'm happy to do it--but I think I deserve the same level of respect and attention that I am giving to him. I asked myself when was the last time he actually asked me (or even seemed to care) how I was really doing? Did he even give a thought to all the stuff I've been going through lately? He probably had no idea all the turmoil I had been going through... because he is so self-absorved. I realized he rarely takes the time to ask me or really listen. It's hard to tell someone anything about yourself, or get your half of the friendship, when you are constantly interrupted by the BING! of yet another text message.
To be fair, I too have been guilty of this offense. Until one day, one of my friends had the courage to point it out to me. She sat me down and told me how much it bothered her when I did that. I realized how selfish I had been and remembered that the whole point of my friendship with her was to enjoy each other, not always focus on myself. When I realized that, I put the cell phone down, left it down, and became a better friend in the process.
I end with this: we all have cell phones and we are all busy and important people. But in the end, is that text message or phone call more important than the friend you have sitting in front of you? If it is, then you don't deserve the friendship. The balance of friendship is more than just about you--it's like the scales of justice-meant to be balanced.
A friendship is about more than just getting someone to listen to you, having a good friend means a responsibility to be one too.
Showing posts with label Friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friendship. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Modern Day Miracles--Are They Possible?
I do not know how long my internet will last (I am "sharing" with a neighbor) but I wanted to take a moment to write down a couple of things that happened in the process of this move that ... I don't know, shocked me. If there was a message to be told, I think it came across loud and clear.
A few roommates ago (one of the "bad ones") I remember we discussed the idea of God. I am constantly struggling with the strength of my faith. I have beliefs that are constantly tested and challenged by the day to day of real life and the painfulness of reality.
I remember my roommate said something thar really stuck with me. He said he didn't believe in God because he'd never witnessed a miracle. It was the tone in his voice that caught my attention. It wasn't the sort of smug self-important tone he usually had, but one of genuine longing and disappointment. I got the distinct feeling that perhaps he might change his mind if ever he had the chance to see a true miracle.But what is a miracle? Is it as the Bible would have you believe, those who can't see suddenly regain their sight? A person who cannot stand or walk can suddenly dance out of their chair, forever healed by the power of God? Or are miracles something that, if you look closely enough, you see every day?
It's difficult for me to think that we are somehow all connected or that everything means something. It's difficult because I don't understand why in all the universe, I have yet to find someone who is willing to go the distance with me, someone who wants real love and a lifetime to explore it in. It's difficult for me to imagine that all those times I was beaten as a child, and lay awake in fear and silent resentment, that there was a bigger purpose for it all, a deeper meaning that only God himself understands or plans for us.
What if we do witness miracles every day but don't notice them when they happen? What if we were cognicent, even for just a moment, of the bigger picture?
I say all this not to confuse the issue or pontificate on the idea of God's bigger plan or even to be so bold as to say that I myself understand the purposes we serve here on this planet. But I do know, that for some reason, I have been allowed to see a few things lately that gladden my soul.
After leasing my apartment, I had to get renter's insurance-yet another hidden cost to renting I'd forgotten all about. I'd never gotten insurance before and didn't know the first thing about it. I said a few quick prayers and made my way to the local AAA office to inquire about it.
It wasn't a busy day and I went in the middle of the week. I sat on a chair and waited, almost as if one would wait for an interview, until I was greeted by the agent who was planning to sell me the insurance.
I was expecting the usual sales pitch and customary attempt to sell me more than I needed. I hoped that I could wade through the BS and walk away with the cheapest plan possible. But in the end, I got more than I bargained for ...
Long story short, at some point, as is usual, he had to ask me what I did for a living. We started talking about my job and I hadn't even gotten to the part where I was going to tell him that I worked with juveniles. But we fell into this sort of easy conversation that I felt was necessary on a level I didn't understand. My feeling of this was confirmed a few minutes later when, after a few questions from me, he told me that he and his wife had considered becoming foster parents but weren't sure they should do it. Having come from a similar background, I found the voice inside of me rise up and tell him that not every foster care comes out of the system broken. Some of us make something of ourselves. I encouraged him that it was a good thing to do ... and at the end of our conversation, he only sold me the insurance I needed, and told me the complete truth about what I needed and what I didn't. In exchange, I think I managed to encourage him that being a foster parent was a rewarding experience and it is my belief that he and his wife would make wonderful surrogate parents to those unfortunate enough to find themselves in less than ideal houses where abuse and mental illness can sometimes capsize a family.
As I left the building, I was overcome with a sense of pride and joy. For the first time in a really long time, I felt as though I had done a truly good deed. It was as if I was supposed to be there that day to answer his questions and alieve his fears ...
Could that not be called a miracle? The child he takes in and saves today is the person who saves your life tomorrow. The heart that's rescued at its most vulnerable moment is the soul that breathes love into relationships in the future.
But that is not the only miracle that I have may had inadvertently been a part of.
It also has to do with leasing this apartment itself and the guy who showed it to me. He showed me the apartment and, I don't know how to explain this but, there was a sort of energy between us (not a romantic one---I later found out he had a girlfriend anyway) but a sort of energy that tells me that something else is yet to come. It's as if we have known each other before, without a formal introduction. I found myself asking him questions I would never have the couarage to ask someone, let alone someone I just barely met-questions about his life and how he came to be living in California. I should mention that I detected his slight accent and somehow we just fell into easy conversation.
Anyways, after I leased my place, part of the requirements was for me to tell him what I did for a living. I didn't actually write it down, but rather faxed over my pay stubs as was required.
When I came in to see him, to sign the paperwork, there was a knowing gleam in his eye. "I really want to talk to you." he said to me. Well, it turns out that he has wanted to get a job like mine for years. He has wanted to make a diffierence in people's lives and has never had anyone tell him how to do it or encourage him to go for it. He got stuck in the leasing business because he feels he's a good salesman, but something else has been tugging at his heart ...
We are supposed to go to coffee on Friday and I find myself so excited. Rarely do you get the opportunity to tell someone (knock on wood) what a great job you have and how much it means to you to be a part of something bigger than yourself.
Even if we don't end up meeting, it's as if a giant seed was planted there in his heart-a seed that has encouraged him to grow and perhaps seek out that job where he is helping people. Perhaps it will be where I work, and perhaps it will be somewhere else. But it was like watching the sun as it lights up the darkness. It was like watching that moment when the genius discovers some universal secret they have forever been trying to grasp.
Anyways, I am not sure if these things I have witnessed count as miracles. Perhaps they are nothing more than my being in the right place at the right time. But seeds have been sown and thoughts taking root within open hearts and that is something that will have a positive impact on another human being for years to come.
It was almost as if I was supposed to move so that I could run into these people so I could help plant these seeds so that they could go on to fulfill whatever plan God has for them. Wow. I don't know if it's even as grandiose as that, or even if it's as meaningful as I seem to make it. I don't know if that was part of God's master plan or I don't even know ...
All I know is that, if you asked me, I would tell you that miracles are possible. We just have to open our hearts to their endless posibilities and wait for that magical moment when they appear and change not just someone else's life, but our own lives as well.
I don't know what the master plan is and I do admit I continue to struggle with faith and loneliness and a million other things ... but these miracles, even in their smallest measure, convince me that there has to be something out there in the cosmos even if we don't always see it for ourselves.
Perhaps we don't just walk the path to witness a miracle, perhaps in many ways, we are the miracle.
A few roommates ago (one of the "bad ones") I remember we discussed the idea of God. I am constantly struggling with the strength of my faith. I have beliefs that are constantly tested and challenged by the day to day of real life and the painfulness of reality.
I remember my roommate said something thar really stuck with me. He said he didn't believe in God because he'd never witnessed a miracle. It was the tone in his voice that caught my attention. It wasn't the sort of smug self-important tone he usually had, but one of genuine longing and disappointment. I got the distinct feeling that perhaps he might change his mind if ever he had the chance to see a true miracle.But what is a miracle? Is it as the Bible would have you believe, those who can't see suddenly regain their sight? A person who cannot stand or walk can suddenly dance out of their chair, forever healed by the power of God? Or are miracles something that, if you look closely enough, you see every day?
It's difficult for me to think that we are somehow all connected or that everything means something. It's difficult because I don't understand why in all the universe, I have yet to find someone who is willing to go the distance with me, someone who wants real love and a lifetime to explore it in. It's difficult for me to imagine that all those times I was beaten as a child, and lay awake in fear and silent resentment, that there was a bigger purpose for it all, a deeper meaning that only God himself understands or plans for us.
What if we do witness miracles every day but don't notice them when they happen? What if we were cognicent, even for just a moment, of the bigger picture?
I say all this not to confuse the issue or pontificate on the idea of God's bigger plan or even to be so bold as to say that I myself understand the purposes we serve here on this planet. But I do know, that for some reason, I have been allowed to see a few things lately that gladden my soul.
After leasing my apartment, I had to get renter's insurance-yet another hidden cost to renting I'd forgotten all about. I'd never gotten insurance before and didn't know the first thing about it. I said a few quick prayers and made my way to the local AAA office to inquire about it.
It wasn't a busy day and I went in the middle of the week. I sat on a chair and waited, almost as if one would wait for an interview, until I was greeted by the agent who was planning to sell me the insurance.
I was expecting the usual sales pitch and customary attempt to sell me more than I needed. I hoped that I could wade through the BS and walk away with the cheapest plan possible. But in the end, I got more than I bargained for ...
Long story short, at some point, as is usual, he had to ask me what I did for a living. We started talking about my job and I hadn't even gotten to the part where I was going to tell him that I worked with juveniles. But we fell into this sort of easy conversation that I felt was necessary on a level I didn't understand. My feeling of this was confirmed a few minutes later when, after a few questions from me, he told me that he and his wife had considered becoming foster parents but weren't sure they should do it. Having come from a similar background, I found the voice inside of me rise up and tell him that not every foster care comes out of the system broken. Some of us make something of ourselves. I encouraged him that it was a good thing to do ... and at the end of our conversation, he only sold me the insurance I needed, and told me the complete truth about what I needed and what I didn't. In exchange, I think I managed to encourage him that being a foster parent was a rewarding experience and it is my belief that he and his wife would make wonderful surrogate parents to those unfortunate enough to find themselves in less than ideal houses where abuse and mental illness can sometimes capsize a family.
As I left the building, I was overcome with a sense of pride and joy. For the first time in a really long time, I felt as though I had done a truly good deed. It was as if I was supposed to be there that day to answer his questions and alieve his fears ...
Could that not be called a miracle? The child he takes in and saves today is the person who saves your life tomorrow. The heart that's rescued at its most vulnerable moment is the soul that breathes love into relationships in the future.
But that is not the only miracle that I have may had inadvertently been a part of.
It also has to do with leasing this apartment itself and the guy who showed it to me. He showed me the apartment and, I don't know how to explain this but, there was a sort of energy between us (not a romantic one---I later found out he had a girlfriend anyway) but a sort of energy that tells me that something else is yet to come. It's as if we have known each other before, without a formal introduction. I found myself asking him questions I would never have the couarage to ask someone, let alone someone I just barely met-questions about his life and how he came to be living in California. I should mention that I detected his slight accent and somehow we just fell into easy conversation.
Anyways, after I leased my place, part of the requirements was for me to tell him what I did for a living. I didn't actually write it down, but rather faxed over my pay stubs as was required.
When I came in to see him, to sign the paperwork, there was a knowing gleam in his eye. "I really want to talk to you." he said to me. Well, it turns out that he has wanted to get a job like mine for years. He has wanted to make a diffierence in people's lives and has never had anyone tell him how to do it or encourage him to go for it. He got stuck in the leasing business because he feels he's a good salesman, but something else has been tugging at his heart ...
We are supposed to go to coffee on Friday and I find myself so excited. Rarely do you get the opportunity to tell someone (knock on wood) what a great job you have and how much it means to you to be a part of something bigger than yourself.
Even if we don't end up meeting, it's as if a giant seed was planted there in his heart-a seed that has encouraged him to grow and perhaps seek out that job where he is helping people. Perhaps it will be where I work, and perhaps it will be somewhere else. But it was like watching the sun as it lights up the darkness. It was like watching that moment when the genius discovers some universal secret they have forever been trying to grasp.
Anyways, I am not sure if these things I have witnessed count as miracles. Perhaps they are nothing more than my being in the right place at the right time. But seeds have been sown and thoughts taking root within open hearts and that is something that will have a positive impact on another human being for years to come.
It was almost as if I was supposed to move so that I could run into these people so I could help plant these seeds so that they could go on to fulfill whatever plan God has for them. Wow. I don't know if it's even as grandiose as that, or even if it's as meaningful as I seem to make it. I don't know if that was part of God's master plan or I don't even know ...
All I know is that, if you asked me, I would tell you that miracles are possible. We just have to open our hearts to their endless posibilities and wait for that magical moment when they appear and change not just someone else's life, but our own lives as well.
I don't know what the master plan is and I do admit I continue to struggle with faith and loneliness and a million other things ... but these miracles, even in their smallest measure, convince me that there has to be something out there in the cosmos even if we don't always see it for ourselves.
Perhaps we don't just walk the path to witness a miracle, perhaps in many ways, we are the miracle.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
A Puzzle
So I can't think of a title to this blog. But have you ever had one of those days where you make all kinds of mistakes and you look back over your day and were like, "Oh my goodness, did I actually do that?"
This was one of those embarassing days where I want to run and hide in my cave and not come out for a really long time.
It was a friend's birthday last week, and today was his birthday party. I was a little nervous going to this since I probably would be one of the only single people there and always have a difficult time talking to strangers. It used to be so simple when I was with S or J. S would go with me and mope about until we left (he hated parties and groups of people) and J would make up some reason not to go. So it was always easier for me to make excuses for coming by myself. "S wasn't feeling well." or "J couldn't make it." Both of those sound better than showing up alone especially when children of all ages are clinging to their parents and they are all exchanging funny tidbits about their children while I can only smile and nod at what they are saying.
My friend Denise ended up rescuing me, and doing a fantastic job of it. Her quick wit and easy-going personality is always a welcome addition to what might have otherwise been a disaster for me going alone. Of course we were met with the usual "couple" jokes, but in the end, it proved better than me showing up by myself.
But here's where I got stupid. First of all, I'd been packing all morning, then ran to Ikea (a cool place to get home decorating ideas) and my wardrobe is lacking at the moment because practically all of my clothes are packed tightly into boxes stacked in the living room.
Anyways, I didn't really have anything decent to wear, didn't really have a chance to put makeup on or look cute, and my hair--well let's just say that it looked like I walked through a wind tunnel. That's what happens to curly hair when you try to straighten it without an actual straightener. Trust me on this.
So I'm sitting across the table from a co-worker whom I actually respect and think is cool, and he brought his girlfriend. She seemed as shy as he was and didn't even seem to acknowledge my existence. Of course she didn't introduce herself so I guess I shouldn't feel too terribly bad (but I do) because I didn't even say a word to her ...
Okay, so a little history here ... normally speaking, this guy and I work together. He's a great, intelligent, nice guy. But the thing is, it seems as though we can barely come up with two words to say to one another and I can't figure out why! When we're in a group, it doesn't seem to be a problem. But when we're alone, it's like there's this strange awkwardness and I am not sure what it is. We have a ton of things in common, so you'd think that it would be easy to communicate... as easy as talking about the things we're both interested in technology, computers, whatever. But it wasn't until today that I realized what element was completely missing from our little ... "friendship."
So we're sitting there, and he starts talking to me about "work" stuff... and is asking me questions and for the first time ... EVER, I didn't want to answer him. Actually, I didn't want to talk about work at all. Work was the last thing I wanted to think about let alone talk about. I wanted to talk to him about life, ask him questions about what his plans were for Father's day, whatever--anything--but all I could do was choke out some lame reply back to him and then we sat there in silence. When I leave work, I try to literally leave it at work. So when I'm home, or when I'm in a social situation, it's strange to then talk about work again. Yeah, it's fun to relive stuff and reminisce on funny stories, but at that exact moment, I drew a complete blank. I'm sure I sounded like a dumbass. Why didn't I introduce myself to his girlfriend and ask her questions about her?
Anyways, so I've spent weeks (months actually) trying to be friendly to this person because I don't want to feel awkward when we meet one another. I don't know why it feels that way. I get the feeling that I'm the last person he wants to talk to and yet ... we have so much in common it doesn't make sense. I put myself on a one person mission to befriend him and convince him that I wasn't too scary to talk to ... I was hoping that strangeness that seems to prevent us from having a normal comfortable conversation would just melt away and the barrier would be broken.
But I figured out today that ... despite all of this time I have been trying to befriend him, it hasn't worked. He's kept me at a clear distance and perhaps I should chalk it up to the fact that maybe he just doesn't like me. But what does it hurt to be personable?
That's when I figured it out! I share personal details with him (I'm moving, I'm doing this, I feel that--blah blah blah) in the hopes that he would open up and give me SOMETHING I could talk to him about. Something I could relate to and could ask him about. There's only so much work stuff you can talk about and beyond that, it comes down to what makes up who you are. At least his partner will tell me things about his family, his friends, projects he's doing, etc. and it gives me something to ask him about later, "How are you projects going?" "How's baseball?" "How are the kids?"
But if I don't know anything personal about the other person, I am only able to have a superficial and therefore superficial relationship with that person. So in the end, it's no wonder that we stare at each other when we're alone. He won't let me in, for whatever reason. What's strange is, I have worked with him for ... almost a year now and he knows plenty of things about me. I would hope that in knowing things about me, he would understand me better, and therefore wouldn't be hesitant to talk to me or ask me things. But in the end, there's this strangeness there and it still isn't going away ...
I guess this is one of those situations where I'm not going to win. I'm going to walk away from this one and throw in the towel and admit defeat. I feel like I really tried; then again, I wish I wasn't so shy in large groups. Perhaps I could have gotten to know his girlfriend a little bit and so then I could have at least asked him about her and how she's doing.
So anyways, the whole situation is a puzzle to me. I'm not sure I should blame myself and my lack of social etiquette today or just realize that it's clear he doesn't want anything to do with me and leave it alone ...
But that's the funny thing too-we seem to communicate through e-mail just fine. But I still never learn anything new about him. It's like he just answers my questions and that's it. Nothing personal, nothing real. Nothing real. Interesting... Anyways, so it's all a mystery.
I feel bad because I am finding myself starting to purposely avoid him or actually slightly relieved when he doesn't come along to certain events. But at the same time, I am bummed when he's not there. Since we do have so much in common, there's so much stuff I want to talk to him about. But I'm just not sure how to bring it up, if that makes any sense.
Well, I guess it doesn't matter. It's just strange and I've never encountered a situation like this before. What do you think? Am I doing something wrong?
This was one of those embarassing days where I want to run and hide in my cave and not come out for a really long time.
It was a friend's birthday last week, and today was his birthday party. I was a little nervous going to this since I probably would be one of the only single people there and always have a difficult time talking to strangers. It used to be so simple when I was with S or J. S would go with me and mope about until we left (he hated parties and groups of people) and J would make up some reason not to go. So it was always easier for me to make excuses for coming by myself. "S wasn't feeling well." or "J couldn't make it." Both of those sound better than showing up alone especially when children of all ages are clinging to their parents and they are all exchanging funny tidbits about their children while I can only smile and nod at what they are saying.
My friend Denise ended up rescuing me, and doing a fantastic job of it. Her quick wit and easy-going personality is always a welcome addition to what might have otherwise been a disaster for me going alone. Of course we were met with the usual "couple" jokes, but in the end, it proved better than me showing up by myself.
But here's where I got stupid. First of all, I'd been packing all morning, then ran to Ikea (a cool place to get home decorating ideas) and my wardrobe is lacking at the moment because practically all of my clothes are packed tightly into boxes stacked in the living room.
Anyways, I didn't really have anything decent to wear, didn't really have a chance to put makeup on or look cute, and my hair--well let's just say that it looked like I walked through a wind tunnel. That's what happens to curly hair when you try to straighten it without an actual straightener. Trust me on this.
So I'm sitting across the table from a co-worker whom I actually respect and think is cool, and he brought his girlfriend. She seemed as shy as he was and didn't even seem to acknowledge my existence. Of course she didn't introduce herself so I guess I shouldn't feel too terribly bad (but I do) because I didn't even say a word to her ...
Okay, so a little history here ... normally speaking, this guy and I work together. He's a great, intelligent, nice guy. But the thing is, it seems as though we can barely come up with two words to say to one another and I can't figure out why! When we're in a group, it doesn't seem to be a problem. But when we're alone, it's like there's this strange awkwardness and I am not sure what it is. We have a ton of things in common, so you'd think that it would be easy to communicate... as easy as talking about the things we're both interested in technology, computers, whatever. But it wasn't until today that I realized what element was completely missing from our little ... "friendship."
So we're sitting there, and he starts talking to me about "work" stuff... and is asking me questions and for the first time ... EVER, I didn't want to answer him. Actually, I didn't want to talk about work at all. Work was the last thing I wanted to think about let alone talk about. I wanted to talk to him about life, ask him questions about what his plans were for Father's day, whatever--anything--but all I could do was choke out some lame reply back to him and then we sat there in silence. When I leave work, I try to literally leave it at work. So when I'm home, or when I'm in a social situation, it's strange to then talk about work again. Yeah, it's fun to relive stuff and reminisce on funny stories, but at that exact moment, I drew a complete blank. I'm sure I sounded like a dumbass. Why didn't I introduce myself to his girlfriend and ask her questions about her?
Anyways, so I've spent weeks (months actually) trying to be friendly to this person because I don't want to feel awkward when we meet one another. I don't know why it feels that way. I get the feeling that I'm the last person he wants to talk to and yet ... we have so much in common it doesn't make sense. I put myself on a one person mission to befriend him and convince him that I wasn't too scary to talk to ... I was hoping that strangeness that seems to prevent us from having a normal comfortable conversation would just melt away and the barrier would be broken.
But I figured out today that ... despite all of this time I have been trying to befriend him, it hasn't worked. He's kept me at a clear distance and perhaps I should chalk it up to the fact that maybe he just doesn't like me. But what does it hurt to be personable?
That's when I figured it out! I share personal details with him (I'm moving, I'm doing this, I feel that--blah blah blah) in the hopes that he would open up and give me SOMETHING I could talk to him about. Something I could relate to and could ask him about. There's only so much work stuff you can talk about and beyond that, it comes down to what makes up who you are. At least his partner will tell me things about his family, his friends, projects he's doing, etc. and it gives me something to ask him about later, "How are you projects going?" "How's baseball?" "How are the kids?"
But if I don't know anything personal about the other person, I am only able to have a superficial and therefore superficial relationship with that person. So in the end, it's no wonder that we stare at each other when we're alone. He won't let me in, for whatever reason. What's strange is, I have worked with him for ... almost a year now and he knows plenty of things about me. I would hope that in knowing things about me, he would understand me better, and therefore wouldn't be hesitant to talk to me or ask me things. But in the end, there's this strangeness there and it still isn't going away ...
I guess this is one of those situations where I'm not going to win. I'm going to walk away from this one and throw in the towel and admit defeat. I feel like I really tried; then again, I wish I wasn't so shy in large groups. Perhaps I could have gotten to know his girlfriend a little bit and so then I could have at least asked him about her and how she's doing.
So anyways, the whole situation is a puzzle to me. I'm not sure I should blame myself and my lack of social etiquette today or just realize that it's clear he doesn't want anything to do with me and leave it alone ...
But that's the funny thing too-we seem to communicate through e-mail just fine. But I still never learn anything new about him. It's like he just answers my questions and that's it. Nothing personal, nothing real. Nothing real. Interesting... Anyways, so it's all a mystery.
I feel bad because I am finding myself starting to purposely avoid him or actually slightly relieved when he doesn't come along to certain events. But at the same time, I am bummed when he's not there. Since we do have so much in common, there's so much stuff I want to talk to him about. But I'm just not sure how to bring it up, if that makes any sense.
Well, I guess it doesn't matter. It's just strange and I've never encountered a situation like this before. What do you think? Am I doing something wrong?
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
No Life is Insignificant
As I was driving today, making my way up the hill toward the place I call home, I nodded toward a tree on my right, as I always do as a way to pay my respects. It is the only tree on the drive whose trunk has been colored a shade of red. On the ground, surrounding the trunk, I have seen bouquet after bouquet of fresh flowers. Sometimes, there is a ribbon placed around the tree, a reminder that the person whose life was ended at that particular spot, is still remembered.
I can still remember when my friend Crystal called me one day and told me in an anxious tone, that there was a stand-off at the bottom of the hill. There were police cars everywhere and they were trying to convince a man who had apparently barricaded himself in his car, to give up his weapon. Apparently, at some point, for whatever reason known only to him, the man decided to take his own life.
I didn't know him, know anything about him, know how old he was, or know who he left behind. All I noticed is the amount of cards, gifts, and flowers that were left when he passed from this world to the next. What saddened me was that this man, this stranger to me, had probably felt that way about everyone else. He felt he had no way out, no place to go, no reason to live. But if only he had seen all of the love and all of the people who loved him, whom he left behind.
What strikes me about that particular place is that, when you look out at that particular spot, you can see so much beauty. If you turn and look down the hill, you can't help but see the most amazing view of Saddleback Valley. It was as if he could not see the beauty, because he was trapped in his own prison of pain. If only he could see how much he must have meant to someone here that was perhaps waiting for him to return home, waiting for the man who would never arrive.
So I remind myself, each time I pass that spot, that each person is significant. Each life matters. Each person important in some way. Every life is important; he was important, even if he couldn't see it.
I don't know this person, or what he looked like, or what kind of life he led, but somehow, in some small measure, he has changed my life, and changed the way I look at things. Sometimes it's easy to become bitter and angry and tell yourself that things aren't that great. But one breath of life is always better (in my opinion) than death. The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, the sound of the rain as it falls on the rooftops, the feel of warm clothes upon my skin, the feel of someone's arms around you, giving you a real hug ... There are so many little things to be thankful for, and so many people who would miss you if you were gone.
Every person touches someone else's life in some way, whether or not we realize it. Each thing we do has an impact on another living thing. Don't for even a moment, underestimate yourself or the ultimate power you have in this life. Enjoy every single minute of it. Enjoy your time with other people, for one day they will be gone. Enjoy your life, because it is never insignificant.
I can still remember when my friend Crystal called me one day and told me in an anxious tone, that there was a stand-off at the bottom of the hill. There were police cars everywhere and they were trying to convince a man who had apparently barricaded himself in his car, to give up his weapon. Apparently, at some point, for whatever reason known only to him, the man decided to take his own life.
I didn't know him, know anything about him, know how old he was, or know who he left behind. All I noticed is the amount of cards, gifts, and flowers that were left when he passed from this world to the next. What saddened me was that this man, this stranger to me, had probably felt that way about everyone else. He felt he had no way out, no place to go, no reason to live. But if only he had seen all of the love and all of the people who loved him, whom he left behind.
What strikes me about that particular place is that, when you look out at that particular spot, you can see so much beauty. If you turn and look down the hill, you can't help but see the most amazing view of Saddleback Valley. It was as if he could not see the beauty, because he was trapped in his own prison of pain. If only he could see how much he must have meant to someone here that was perhaps waiting for him to return home, waiting for the man who would never arrive.
So I remind myself, each time I pass that spot, that each person is significant. Each life matters. Each person important in some way. Every life is important; he was important, even if he couldn't see it.
I don't know this person, or what he looked like, or what kind of life he led, but somehow, in some small measure, he has changed my life, and changed the way I look at things. Sometimes it's easy to become bitter and angry and tell yourself that things aren't that great. But one breath of life is always better (in my opinion) than death. The smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies, the sound of the rain as it falls on the rooftops, the feel of warm clothes upon my skin, the feel of someone's arms around you, giving you a real hug ... There are so many little things to be thankful for, and so many people who would miss you if you were gone.
Every person touches someone else's life in some way, whether or not we realize it. Each thing we do has an impact on another living thing. Don't for even a moment, underestimate yourself or the ultimate power you have in this life. Enjoy every single minute of it. Enjoy your time with other people, for one day they will be gone. Enjoy your life, because it is never insignificant.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
To Thine Own Self Be True
I've noticed a trend lately in the things I've been writing. When I first started this blog, I just wanted to put random thoughts down on paper ... the funny thing is, I keep a journal, write a blog, and work on my novel all at the same time. Somehow, the original idea of what this blog was meant to be has gotten lost over the last two years and has, instead, focused a lot more on relationships / love. This has a lot to do with the fact that of all the things I write, the ones that get the most feedback always happens to be ones I write about relationships, love, trust, whatever. People write to me from all over the US (don't ask me how they found my blog-but whatever) and strike up a conversation with me.
Usually, I end up hearing their tale-whatever it may be-and it sparks within me inspiration for my next blog topic.
Recently, a friend asked me to write about unrequited love, and the topic is an especially difficult one for me to talk about-for many reasons. My point in telling you the fact that the meaning of my "blog" has somehow gotten lost over the past two years is not because I regret that-going off the "path" is sometimes an integral part of anyone's journey. However, what is especially interesting is that, my heart started out in the right place when I set out to write these blogs. I wanted a place I could just "let it all out" and there was (at least in the beginning) a sense of anonymity, where I could write with reckless abandon and my heart wasn't really too invested in the idea of adding "friends" to my pages-so I didn't have to worry about hurting anyone.
What's ironic about the topic my friend asked me to write about is that unrequited love is a circumstance that, I feel, starts out much the same way as I started out with this blog.
Unrequited love, quite simply put is love that is not returned to the other individual. But I dislike using the word "requited" because it is, essentially, another way to say "returned." So, for the purposes of this blog, unreturned love has to start somewhere.
It usually starts in the heart of one person who is interested in another person for whatever reason. Now, before I continue, I would like to differentiate between scary unreturned love and normal unreturned love (is there such a thing?) … Anyways, I am purposely excluding those individuals who take unreturned love to levels that includes (but is not limited to) stalking, violence, and extreme vindictive behavior.
So it starts with interest. But what defines interest? Some would argue that "interest" is little more than chemicals in the brain that cause us to be attracted to another individual. It is those little chemical signals given off by the brain that cause us to seek out certain people and not others. Personally, I think it is a combination of many things.
The truth is, I can't explain why some people are attracted to other people for no inexplicable reason. I can't explain what causes someone who promised they loved you one minute, only to ignore you the next. I can't explain why someone would talk about marriage in one breath only to complete stop talking to you the next.
There are some things in life that just don't make sense, no matter how much we want them to. We want to find a way of explaining things to soothe our hearts when we feel lost and alone. It's so hard to find someone we connect with (because it's so rare these days) only to discover that they have no interest in you or don't return the level of interest you have in them.
The only explanation that I can offer in circumstances like these is one. Perhaps this explanation will not soothe your heart (you know who you are) and perhaps it can't fix what's already been broken. But the truth always wants to be found, and perhaps this idea is something to consider …
I think what happens is that when we begin to like someone, for whatever reason, we begin to idealize them-place them up on a pedestal where they are impervious to being human. What I mean is, we have somehow made them god-like in our minds without realizing it. Until we can take off those rose-colored glasses, we can't truly see the person in front of us. We want to believe the best in them-so we give them the benefit of the doubt even to our detriment.
I have myself done this a thousand times. When I'm interested in someone, I forget about all the bad habits I see them displaying because I'm so busy picturing how wonderful they are in my head. Don't think I'm crazy; I'm sure that other people do this too. You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. In the beginning, we want to believe that they like us back-so our heart fills in all of the little questions we ask ourselves about their character, their judgements, and their personality.
So when they ditch us after promising us the world, we can't figure out why and we're left hanging only to ask ourselves, "what happened?"
Worse, there's a feeling of loss that often accompanies these feelings because we feel as though we are losing something special, something that meant something to us. What becomes readily apparent is that these feelings that we had are clearly not shared by the other person because otherwise, they wouldn't treat us that way. At least, that's what we tell ourselves anyway.
I think the main reason I fell in love with J (and really felt he fell in love with me) is because when we first met, there was no need to think about each other in an idealistic way. We accepted each other because we were both taken at the time. Yet years later, when I sought his advice, I noticed something that I think is key …
When two people fall in love, they go through the same "rose colored glasses" stage. They idealize each other and then, when the feeling wears off, realize that they still love one another. But what happens when they idealize one another, it wears off, and they realize that it's not a good fit? Someone is bound to get hurt …
It just sucks when that person getting hurt turns out to be you. It sucks to have invested your heart and your time and your whatever into a person that will never return how you feel.
This has also happened to me a time or two; I think it happens to all of us. Everyone gets their heart trampled on, stepped on, and sometimes broken. No one is exempt to getting hurt unless they never open their heart up in the first place.
But if you don't open your heart, you'll never be willing to let someone wonderful, faithful, reliable, honest, etc. inside. But at the same time, if you just openly give your heart to each person who promises you the world, you'll run the risk of getting cut open like a fish fillet.
So what is the ultimate answer? I don't know … I do know that you deserve to be loved. You deserve to have someone who appreciates you and knows what they have is great. I've said this a million times, I know, but you should never have to convince someone of how great you are.
Either you're great, or you're not. The right person is going to think you're great and isn't going to let you go no matter what.
One thing I've often seen is how many excuses we give other people when we don't want to date them. "I'm really busy" or "I'm not ready for a relationship" or "I don't know what I want." Etc. etc. While those things may be true, there is one thing I know to be true.
If I wanted my favorite ice cream, and I knew I wanted it, and I knew it wasn't in the freezer, I would go and get it. I probably wouldn't let the cost hold me back, or how much time it took me to get to the store to get it. I certainly wouldn't be (too) annoyed to stand in line and wait as the cashier rang me up. Why? Because it's something that I really wanted. Put whatever it is you've really wanted into the sentence. Computer. T.V. Whatever. My point simply is that if you want something badly enough, nothing is going to stand in your way.
It's like the girl (or guy) that you perceive to be too "shy" or too whatever to ask you out on a date. I've heard one friend in particular (and yes, even myself a time or two) say over and over again how she has to ask guys out because they are too shy to approach her. But the truth of it all is this … (and the truth sometimes hurts) … if he liked you as much as you liked him, he wouldn't let anything stand in his way of asking you out.
Because real life is about finding someone wonderful to spend your time with. Real life isn't what we see on television. Real life means that you could die tomorrow. And if you died tomorrow, would you be happy with what or who you have right now? Because if not, then you'd go out and get whatever it was or whomever it was that you thought even had a possible chance of making you happy.
So that's how I feel about this. It's a tough subject because I'm personally terrible at decoding interest. It's always so much easier to give advice than to take my own …
But anyways, I just want you to know that there is someone out there who is going to love and appreciate you. You won't have to decode them or figure out what their secret word is or why they've abandoned you or why they aren't speaking to you or whatever. If you are dealing with that, my only advice is to try and let them go so you can make room in your life for someone better.
I know it's difficult to let someone you love, someone whom you've shared your dreams with, go. I know because I've been there; it took me 2 years to get over J. But in the end, perhaps instead of focusing on what you don't have with them, maybe it's time to focus on what you do have within yourself. Perhaps instead of looking at the love you are missing out on, you should spend time to know and love yourself.
A good healthy relationship starts from the inside out. When you love yourself, you can love another person. I think that Shakespeare said it best when he said, "To thine own self be true …"
Usually, I end up hearing their tale-whatever it may be-and it sparks within me inspiration for my next blog topic.
Recently, a friend asked me to write about unrequited love, and the topic is an especially difficult one for me to talk about-for many reasons. My point in telling you the fact that the meaning of my "blog" has somehow gotten lost over the past two years is not because I regret that-going off the "path" is sometimes an integral part of anyone's journey. However, what is especially interesting is that, my heart started out in the right place when I set out to write these blogs. I wanted a place I could just "let it all out" and there was (at least in the beginning) a sense of anonymity, where I could write with reckless abandon and my heart wasn't really too invested in the idea of adding "friends" to my pages-so I didn't have to worry about hurting anyone.
What's ironic about the topic my friend asked me to write about is that unrequited love is a circumstance that, I feel, starts out much the same way as I started out with this blog.
Unrequited love, quite simply put is love that is not returned to the other individual. But I dislike using the word "requited" because it is, essentially, another way to say "returned." So, for the purposes of this blog, unreturned love has to start somewhere.
It usually starts in the heart of one person who is interested in another person for whatever reason. Now, before I continue, I would like to differentiate between scary unreturned love and normal unreturned love (is there such a thing?) … Anyways, I am purposely excluding those individuals who take unreturned love to levels that includes (but is not limited to) stalking, violence, and extreme vindictive behavior.
So it starts with interest. But what defines interest? Some would argue that "interest" is little more than chemicals in the brain that cause us to be attracted to another individual. It is those little chemical signals given off by the brain that cause us to seek out certain people and not others. Personally, I think it is a combination of many things.
The truth is, I can't explain why some people are attracted to other people for no inexplicable reason. I can't explain what causes someone who promised they loved you one minute, only to ignore you the next. I can't explain why someone would talk about marriage in one breath only to complete stop talking to you the next.
There are some things in life that just don't make sense, no matter how much we want them to. We want to find a way of explaining things to soothe our hearts when we feel lost and alone. It's so hard to find someone we connect with (because it's so rare these days) only to discover that they have no interest in you or don't return the level of interest you have in them.
The only explanation that I can offer in circumstances like these is one. Perhaps this explanation will not soothe your heart (you know who you are) and perhaps it can't fix what's already been broken. But the truth always wants to be found, and perhaps this idea is something to consider …
I think what happens is that when we begin to like someone, for whatever reason, we begin to idealize them-place them up on a pedestal where they are impervious to being human. What I mean is, we have somehow made them god-like in our minds without realizing it. Until we can take off those rose-colored glasses, we can't truly see the person in front of us. We want to believe the best in them-so we give them the benefit of the doubt even to our detriment.
I have myself done this a thousand times. When I'm interested in someone, I forget about all the bad habits I see them displaying because I'm so busy picturing how wonderful they are in my head. Don't think I'm crazy; I'm sure that other people do this too. You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. In the beginning, we want to believe that they like us back-so our heart fills in all of the little questions we ask ourselves about their character, their judgements, and their personality.
So when they ditch us after promising us the world, we can't figure out why and we're left hanging only to ask ourselves, "what happened?"
Worse, there's a feeling of loss that often accompanies these feelings because we feel as though we are losing something special, something that meant something to us. What becomes readily apparent is that these feelings that we had are clearly not shared by the other person because otherwise, they wouldn't treat us that way. At least, that's what we tell ourselves anyway.
I think the main reason I fell in love with J (and really felt he fell in love with me) is because when we first met, there was no need to think about each other in an idealistic way. We accepted each other because we were both taken at the time. Yet years later, when I sought his advice, I noticed something that I think is key …
When two people fall in love, they go through the same "rose colored glasses" stage. They idealize each other and then, when the feeling wears off, realize that they still love one another. But what happens when they idealize one another, it wears off, and they realize that it's not a good fit? Someone is bound to get hurt …
It just sucks when that person getting hurt turns out to be you. It sucks to have invested your heart and your time and your whatever into a person that will never return how you feel.
This has also happened to me a time or two; I think it happens to all of us. Everyone gets their heart trampled on, stepped on, and sometimes broken. No one is exempt to getting hurt unless they never open their heart up in the first place.
But if you don't open your heart, you'll never be willing to let someone wonderful, faithful, reliable, honest, etc. inside. But at the same time, if you just openly give your heart to each person who promises you the world, you'll run the risk of getting cut open like a fish fillet.
So what is the ultimate answer? I don't know … I do know that you deserve to be loved. You deserve to have someone who appreciates you and knows what they have is great. I've said this a million times, I know, but you should never have to convince someone of how great you are.
Either you're great, or you're not. The right person is going to think you're great and isn't going to let you go no matter what.
One thing I've often seen is how many excuses we give other people when we don't want to date them. "I'm really busy" or "I'm not ready for a relationship" or "I don't know what I want." Etc. etc. While those things may be true, there is one thing I know to be true.
If I wanted my favorite ice cream, and I knew I wanted it, and I knew it wasn't in the freezer, I would go and get it. I probably wouldn't let the cost hold me back, or how much time it took me to get to the store to get it. I certainly wouldn't be (too) annoyed to stand in line and wait as the cashier rang me up. Why? Because it's something that I really wanted. Put whatever it is you've really wanted into the sentence. Computer. T.V. Whatever. My point simply is that if you want something badly enough, nothing is going to stand in your way.
It's like the girl (or guy) that you perceive to be too "shy" or too whatever to ask you out on a date. I've heard one friend in particular (and yes, even myself a time or two) say over and over again how she has to ask guys out because they are too shy to approach her. But the truth of it all is this … (and the truth sometimes hurts) … if he liked you as much as you liked him, he wouldn't let anything stand in his way of asking you out.
Because real life is about finding someone wonderful to spend your time with. Real life isn't what we see on television. Real life means that you could die tomorrow. And if you died tomorrow, would you be happy with what or who you have right now? Because if not, then you'd go out and get whatever it was or whomever it was that you thought even had a possible chance of making you happy.
So that's how I feel about this. It's a tough subject because I'm personally terrible at decoding interest. It's always so much easier to give advice than to take my own …
But anyways, I just want you to know that there is someone out there who is going to love and appreciate you. You won't have to decode them or figure out what their secret word is or why they've abandoned you or why they aren't speaking to you or whatever. If you are dealing with that, my only advice is to try and let them go so you can make room in your life for someone better.
I know it's difficult to let someone you love, someone whom you've shared your dreams with, go. I know because I've been there; it took me 2 years to get over J. But in the end, perhaps instead of focusing on what you don't have with them, maybe it's time to focus on what you do have within yourself. Perhaps instead of looking at the love you are missing out on, you should spend time to know and love yourself.
A good healthy relationship starts from the inside out. When you love yourself, you can love another person. I think that Shakespeare said it best when he said, "To thine own self be true …"
Friday, September 21, 2007
The Perfect Churro
In Search of The Perfect Churro--inspired by Denise a.k.a. "sugar and spice and everything nice."
I don't know about you, but finding a good churro is a difficult process.
Sometimes, you go to Costco and you get a churro there--because it's one of the only places you have seen churros. After all, where does everyone else find their churros?
You usually accept the churros you are given at Costco, no matter how bad they taste. You notice that there's not enough sugar on it, but you've already bought it, so you figure that the best thing you can do is keep eating it, hoping that it will eventually taste better. And you begin to doubt yourself. This is what a churro is supposed to taste like, you tell yourself. And yet, a part of you wishes for something more. A part of you wishes it was just a little bigger, a little hotter, had a little more sugar, had a little less sugar, or just was a little bit more satisfying and didn't leave you wanting something more.
There are times when the perfect thing comes from the most unexpected of places. When you buy a churro at say, El Pollo Loco, and you worry that with a name like "Crazy Chicken" the churro will reflect yet another poor choice you've made in food. Clearly, a place that specializes in chicken could not possibly make the best churro.
But sometimes, you are wrong. Sometimes, you fear the worst--but you buy the churro anyway. You reluctantly hand over your dollar and change, watching in horror as a quarter slips from your hand and falls to the ground-and now the churro that you were already doubting-cost more than you intended. You start to second-guess yourself. Is the churro going to be worth all the trouble?
You take a deep breath, and fish more change from your purse--hand it to the clerk, and wait patiently for what you expect will be yet another mundane experience. But it's not.
It didn't come in the best packaging and it didn't look like the best churro you'd ever seen-but you take a bite and in an instant, you realize that something you've never noticed before has suddenly become one of your favorite things. In that moment you take the bite, and then another, your expectations of what you thought it would be like melt away and complete satisfaction replaces all your worries and doubts.
You don't bother to notice your churro is smaller than the one you ate at Costco, or other churros you've eaten before ... you merely take the time to enjoy the experience for what it is. And suddenly, something on the menu that you've never noticed before, has become one of your favorite things.
The thing about is, it's really a great churro. It's just the way you like it-just hot enough, has enough sugar, and is crunchy on the outside and soft and chewy on the inside.
After you reluctantly finish your churro, you realize that now that you've had such an amazing churro, you can never again accept just any churro. Because now you know what a churro can be and how good it can taste when it's made right.
If you get a chance, find a good churro. Don't settle for too big or too small or too sweet or too hard. Find a good churro. You never know, you may just find something amazing in the "craziest" of places.
I don't know about you, but finding a good churro is a difficult process.
Sometimes, you go to Costco and you get a churro there--because it's one of the only places you have seen churros. After all, where does everyone else find their churros?
You usually accept the churros you are given at Costco, no matter how bad they taste. You notice that there's not enough sugar on it, but you've already bought it, so you figure that the best thing you can do is keep eating it, hoping that it will eventually taste better. And you begin to doubt yourself. This is what a churro is supposed to taste like, you tell yourself. And yet, a part of you wishes for something more. A part of you wishes it was just a little bigger, a little hotter, had a little more sugar, had a little less sugar, or just was a little bit more satisfying and didn't leave you wanting something more.
There are times when the perfect thing comes from the most unexpected of places. When you buy a churro at say, El Pollo Loco, and you worry that with a name like "Crazy Chicken" the churro will reflect yet another poor choice you've made in food. Clearly, a place that specializes in chicken could not possibly make the best churro.
But sometimes, you are wrong. Sometimes, you fear the worst--but you buy the churro anyway. You reluctantly hand over your dollar and change, watching in horror as a quarter slips from your hand and falls to the ground-and now the churro that you were already doubting-cost more than you intended. You start to second-guess yourself. Is the churro going to be worth all the trouble?
You take a deep breath, and fish more change from your purse--hand it to the clerk, and wait patiently for what you expect will be yet another mundane experience. But it's not.
It didn't come in the best packaging and it didn't look like the best churro you'd ever seen-but you take a bite and in an instant, you realize that something you've never noticed before has suddenly become one of your favorite things. In that moment you take the bite, and then another, your expectations of what you thought it would be like melt away and complete satisfaction replaces all your worries and doubts.
You don't bother to notice your churro is smaller than the one you ate at Costco, or other churros you've eaten before ... you merely take the time to enjoy the experience for what it is. And suddenly, something on the menu that you've never noticed before, has become one of your favorite things.
The thing about is, it's really a great churro. It's just the way you like it-just hot enough, has enough sugar, and is crunchy on the outside and soft and chewy on the inside.
After you reluctantly finish your churro, you realize that now that you've had such an amazing churro, you can never again accept just any churro. Because now you know what a churro can be and how good it can taste when it's made right.
If you get a chance, find a good churro. Don't settle for too big or too small or too sweet or too hard. Find a good churro. You never know, you may just find something amazing in the "craziest" of places.
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
Rehab
Since when did it become trendy to go to rehab? It seems like everyone is doing it these days from Spears and Winehouse to Wilson. Even people I know are coming and going into rehab. There are even songs about going to rehab and it's played on the local popular radio stations at least once a day!
What bothers me the most is that it's become so commonplace that people talk about it as if it were an everyday occurrance and nothing out of the ordinary. "What have you been up to?" Answer: "I went to rehab, I blah blah blah." Worse, we are actually expected as a society to embrace it and congratulate those who go as if it is a step in a positive direction.
But since when have we become a society that looks up to, or idealizes, addictions and the necessity of going to rehab? What happened? Are people really so bored with their mundane lives that they need to be broken in order to feel alive?
How can we encourage our children, our family, our neighbors, our friends that these are bad things when it's depicted in such a way by the local media?
We scoff and laugh at people like Paris Hilton who "can't make it" in jail, but we forget the point: she went to jail for breaking the law! And by focusing on her as much as we do, we are sending a message that lets everyone know that negative behavior will get you more attention. Drinking will get you attention, but drinking in excess will get you more. Breaking the law will get you attention, but breaking the law and making a scene will give you more.
It's strange to think that instead of focusing on the problem, we actually encourage it. Suddenly, it's the new thing, like the pair of sunglasses that "everyone is getting."
Now just to clarify, I am not desparaging normal people who suffer from addictions and use rehab to their benefit. I am merely noting that suddenly, people going to "rehab" has suddenly become like an epidemic and is getting out of control.
Maybe we should focus on showing more of how dangerous addictions are to the public, rather than idealizing a life in excess. Maybe then, we won't appear hypocritical to our children because we will lead by example and won't just do what's "trendy" but we'll actually do what's right.
What bothers me the most is that it's become so commonplace that people talk about it as if it were an everyday occurrance and nothing out of the ordinary. "What have you been up to?" Answer: "I went to rehab, I blah blah blah." Worse, we are actually expected as a society to embrace it and congratulate those who go as if it is a step in a positive direction.
But since when have we become a society that looks up to, or idealizes, addictions and the necessity of going to rehab? What happened? Are people really so bored with their mundane lives that they need to be broken in order to feel alive?
How can we encourage our children, our family, our neighbors, our friends that these are bad things when it's depicted in such a way by the local media?
We scoff and laugh at people like Paris Hilton who "can't make it" in jail, but we forget the point: she went to jail for breaking the law! And by focusing on her as much as we do, we are sending a message that lets everyone know that negative behavior will get you more attention. Drinking will get you attention, but drinking in excess will get you more. Breaking the law will get you attention, but breaking the law and making a scene will give you more.
It's strange to think that instead of focusing on the problem, we actually encourage it. Suddenly, it's the new thing, like the pair of sunglasses that "everyone is getting."
Now just to clarify, I am not desparaging normal people who suffer from addictions and use rehab to their benefit. I am merely noting that suddenly, people going to "rehab" has suddenly become like an epidemic and is getting out of control.
Maybe we should focus on showing more of how dangerous addictions are to the public, rather than idealizing a life in excess. Maybe then, we won't appear hypocritical to our children because we will lead by example and won't just do what's "trendy" but we'll actually do what's right.
Monday, February 26, 2007
A Random Letter To A Friend
Before I take you back, let me tell you a little about what is going on with me this week. A lot of it is not going to make a lot of sense (as I have yet to explain) but it will give me a place to start...
Tomorrow is another day at work for me. I will rise early and get ready to go to work. The only thing is, it will be difficult, as it always is, to get out of bed. I'll want to get up early-setting my clock for 6:30 a.m. like I do every night before I go to bed. But when 6:30 comes around, I'll hit the snooze button, like I always do, and I'll roll over and go back to sleep.
When I finally do make it to work, I discover that I don't know where to start. There is so much work to be done-and I'm behind as usual. There are at least five to ten messages on my answering machine-parents who want to talk to me about how their children have behaved, teachers informing me of a kid not at school for the entire month, and people wanting to know where their children are and why they have been arrested.
I like my job, but sometimes when the phone rings, I don't want to pick it up. I want to concentrate on all the other things I have to do before I can possibly even attempt to tackle a new task. But inevitably, the loud ring of the phone startles me into the reality that it is part of my job to answer the phone.
Pretty soon, it will be lunchtime. I'll want to go somewhere, get away for my lunch hour, do anything but sit inside in the dungeon where I work that has no windows-but I don't because that will mean I'll have to leave an hour later. Instead, I sit quietly at my desk, munching on whatever I managed to scrape together the night before to bring to work.
I can hear my co-workers talking and laughing down the hall. I want to talk and laugh with them, but there are two obstacles. The first is that I have so much work to do, I fear that spending time talking with them will only prevent me from getting any real work done. And the other obstacle simply is, I don't really feel as though I have a connection with them; sometimes I get the feeling they don't really like me. But then the feeling passes, and I just keep on working.
Pretty soon, the day is over and I gratefully pack my stuff and leave my office much the same as I found it-cluttered with files and odds and ends and tons more work to be done tomorrow. I head up the stairs, finally getting to see light (and see that it is now growing dark outside) and hurry to my car. If I'm lucky, there will be good songs playing on the radio to keep me company on my 40 minute-or so drive home from work. As I drive, my mind wanders to every place you can possibly imagine. I revisit the event of the day, think about the work that must be done tomorrow, and try to hurry home as fast as possible so that I can take Brinkley, my dog, outside before he goes to the bathroom in the house.
I don't want to go back home most of the time-it's cold and empty and I currently live with a roommate who has few morals and even less feelings. But I will talk about him later. I keep thinking, especially lately, of all the friends I left behind in Oregon.
My thoughts shift to my friend Norma (you) who was my very best friend while I was there. I start to feel as though I have let her down, and I am ashamed. I look back on how we used to watch Friends every night, eat ice cream, and laugh about the antics of our days. Times seemed simpler, easier then. Everything seemed all right and so great-before I journeyed off to college. And that, it seems, is where I left myself. Somewhere in the halls of the dorms or perhaps the classrooms, the Sarah that you might remember still stays there, trying to find herself. But it is a journey I would like to take you on. Perhaps together, we can discover what happened and where she went.
I loved my college. It made me feel so important and special that I could attend a college as prestigious and great as Pacific University. My opportunity to live in the dorm was like embarking on an adventure that I had never even dreamed of before. I would be surrounded by people, and for the first time in my life, could do whatever it was I wanted.
My first roommate, Faith, was the kind of roommate we don't want to remember. She had mousy brown hair and a sort of drawn face that made you think that she frowned a lot and her face had stayed that way. She complained about everything. She rearranged her bed to hide the microwave from the Resident Assistant. Her boyfriend was named "Christoper" but he went by the name "Topher." He was enormously tall and had stinky feet. Inevitably, the disgusting smell would find its way to my bed at night and prevent me from sleeping well. Worse, they both snored so loudly, it felt as if an earthquake happened every couple of minutes. I found it especially ironic that Kathy visited not too long after I first moved in-and Faith was away at her parents house. Well, Kathy had this habit of wearing shoes without socks and the wet weather made her old shoes smell obnoxious. So she came and spent the night and wearing a different pair, we came back to my room to discover it smelled like rotten things in my room. So someone got the genius idea to wrap up the shoes in Faith's blanket. I laughed until I cried when Faith casually noted her blanket smelled bad upon her return. I suggested that Topher had "struck again" and never told her the truth.
During this time, I wasn't sure how to make friends. Growing up in a small town caused the inevitable to happen: you have automatic friends because you see every one of your classmates so often. The people you grow up with end up being your friends. At college, there were so many different people, I didn't really know where to start.
A girl named Jodi lived down the hall and her roommate (whose name I can't remember) was obnoxious. Jodi was from Alaska, the state where the male population supposedly outnumbers the female population by 5 to 1 (although Jodi would argue that it was untrue). She was independent, fun-loving, and loved Pepsi. She had quite a collection of cans in her room. Oh, and she loved frogs too. She was short and athletic and had dark skin and eyes; she was very beautiful to me. I liked her instantly.
Another girl, Emma, lived upstairs with a roommate I cannot recall. Somehow, I befriended a girl named "Melissa" whom Emma introduced me to. Emma was trying to be in a sorority "Theta Nu Alpha" and it seemed cool to me, so I asked to try out for it too.
Emma was loud and obnoxious and her nickname was "squeaky" because of the way she squeaked about everything. Everything about her was larger than life. She was a big girl, yet skinny in a strange way that I didn't understand. She was from Reno, Nevada. There were problems with her and her mother and she had a really big anger problem. But underneath it all, Emma was a wonderful, genuine girl.
So we tried out for Theta Nu Alphas together. Of course they said that hazing was illegal, but they made us do it anyway. We had to do stupid stuff all week (I can't remember exactly what now) and it all culminated to a late night trip to Safeway blindfolded and ending at the bathroom where we were supposed to touch "poo" in the toilet (still blindfolded) as a measure of trust. But all it really was was a banana and chocolate sauce. You supposedly got extra points if you ate it. I knew the trick in advance (my friend had clued me in) and still refused to eat the banana. Ewwww…. It was in the toilet after all.
Meanwhile, Faith (my roommate) became more and more obnoxious. She made demands and let Topher sleep over every single night. I wasn't opposed to her having a boyfriend, but why they couldn't sleep in his room was beyond me.
So Emma and I decided to become roommates. She had slowly become a really good friend. And the some of the "sisters" in the sorority Alice and Eliza, were really amazing people.
Part of the way I paid for college was to do the "Federal Work Study" program which enables the student to get a job on campus as a way to pay for part of their tuition. My job was to work in the computer lab several nights a week. Boy did I get an easy, awesome deal. All I had to do was sit in the computer lab and answer questions and make sure no one walked off with any computer goods. The only bad part about it was that sometimes I was stuck there late at night during the evenings and weekends when it was the last place I wanted to be.
I remember one night, a few of my sorority friends camed and "rescued" me shortly before midnight. Alice drove up in her car toting Emma and Eliza and they wanted to get away they said and couldn't leave without me.
The four of us quickly became the best of friends. Alice was the nerd in the group-if you could even call her that. She was short and chunky with dark hair and giant old-lady glasses that were reminiscent of a style that died in the seventies. But she wore them proudly; she was like the mother of the group. She was really smart, loved theater, and was from Arkansas. She came to Pacific University on a free ride; her father worked as the head of campus maintenance. Eliza, whom I grew to respect immeasurably, was tall and thin and had short dark hair that contrasted her milky white skin. She was wild and wacky and always had an opinion on everything. You'd swear there was always a cigarette somewhere nearby because she loved to smoke. It was her thing. She represented to me the sort of wild, unbridled freedom that I always envied.
For a while, it felt like I was on top of the world. We'd go out, the four of us, and sing crazy "Friends" theme songs or whatever. We'd go to Shari's at unimaginable hours just for something to do. We would sit and laugh and make friends with the waitresses who knew us all by first name.
We loved Shari's and The Olive Garden. But things, like time, has a way of changing.
But that story I will share with you another time.
Tomorrow is another day at work for me. I will rise early and get ready to go to work. The only thing is, it will be difficult, as it always is, to get out of bed. I'll want to get up early-setting my clock for 6:30 a.m. like I do every night before I go to bed. But when 6:30 comes around, I'll hit the snooze button, like I always do, and I'll roll over and go back to sleep.
When I finally do make it to work, I discover that I don't know where to start. There is so much work to be done-and I'm behind as usual. There are at least five to ten messages on my answering machine-parents who want to talk to me about how their children have behaved, teachers informing me of a kid not at school for the entire month, and people wanting to know where their children are and why they have been arrested.
I like my job, but sometimes when the phone rings, I don't want to pick it up. I want to concentrate on all the other things I have to do before I can possibly even attempt to tackle a new task. But inevitably, the loud ring of the phone startles me into the reality that it is part of my job to answer the phone.
Pretty soon, it will be lunchtime. I'll want to go somewhere, get away for my lunch hour, do anything but sit inside in the dungeon where I work that has no windows-but I don't because that will mean I'll have to leave an hour later. Instead, I sit quietly at my desk, munching on whatever I managed to scrape together the night before to bring to work.
I can hear my co-workers talking and laughing down the hall. I want to talk and laugh with them, but there are two obstacles. The first is that I have so much work to do, I fear that spending time talking with them will only prevent me from getting any real work done. And the other obstacle simply is, I don't really feel as though I have a connection with them; sometimes I get the feeling they don't really like me. But then the feeling passes, and I just keep on working.
Pretty soon, the day is over and I gratefully pack my stuff and leave my office much the same as I found it-cluttered with files and odds and ends and tons more work to be done tomorrow. I head up the stairs, finally getting to see light (and see that it is now growing dark outside) and hurry to my car. If I'm lucky, there will be good songs playing on the radio to keep me company on my 40 minute-or so drive home from work. As I drive, my mind wanders to every place you can possibly imagine. I revisit the event of the day, think about the work that must be done tomorrow, and try to hurry home as fast as possible so that I can take Brinkley, my dog, outside before he goes to the bathroom in the house.
I don't want to go back home most of the time-it's cold and empty and I currently live with a roommate who has few morals and even less feelings. But I will talk about him later. I keep thinking, especially lately, of all the friends I left behind in Oregon.
My thoughts shift to my friend Norma (you) who was my very best friend while I was there. I start to feel as though I have let her down, and I am ashamed. I look back on how we used to watch Friends every night, eat ice cream, and laugh about the antics of our days. Times seemed simpler, easier then. Everything seemed all right and so great-before I journeyed off to college. And that, it seems, is where I left myself. Somewhere in the halls of the dorms or perhaps the classrooms, the Sarah that you might remember still stays there, trying to find herself. But it is a journey I would like to take you on. Perhaps together, we can discover what happened and where she went.
I loved my college. It made me feel so important and special that I could attend a college as prestigious and great as Pacific University. My opportunity to live in the dorm was like embarking on an adventure that I had never even dreamed of before. I would be surrounded by people, and for the first time in my life, could do whatever it was I wanted.
My first roommate, Faith, was the kind of roommate we don't want to remember. She had mousy brown hair and a sort of drawn face that made you think that she frowned a lot and her face had stayed that way. She complained about everything. She rearranged her bed to hide the microwave from the Resident Assistant. Her boyfriend was named "Christoper" but he went by the name "Topher." He was enormously tall and had stinky feet. Inevitably, the disgusting smell would find its way to my bed at night and prevent me from sleeping well. Worse, they both snored so loudly, it felt as if an earthquake happened every couple of minutes. I found it especially ironic that Kathy visited not too long after I first moved in-and Faith was away at her parents house. Well, Kathy had this habit of wearing shoes without socks and the wet weather made her old shoes smell obnoxious. So she came and spent the night and wearing a different pair, we came back to my room to discover it smelled like rotten things in my room. So someone got the genius idea to wrap up the shoes in Faith's blanket. I laughed until I cried when Faith casually noted her blanket smelled bad upon her return. I suggested that Topher had "struck again" and never told her the truth.
During this time, I wasn't sure how to make friends. Growing up in a small town caused the inevitable to happen: you have automatic friends because you see every one of your classmates so often. The people you grow up with end up being your friends. At college, there were so many different people, I didn't really know where to start.
A girl named Jodi lived down the hall and her roommate (whose name I can't remember) was obnoxious. Jodi was from Alaska, the state where the male population supposedly outnumbers the female population by 5 to 1 (although Jodi would argue that it was untrue). She was independent, fun-loving, and loved Pepsi. She had quite a collection of cans in her room. Oh, and she loved frogs too. She was short and athletic and had dark skin and eyes; she was very beautiful to me. I liked her instantly.
Another girl, Emma, lived upstairs with a roommate I cannot recall. Somehow, I befriended a girl named "Melissa" whom Emma introduced me to. Emma was trying to be in a sorority "Theta Nu Alpha" and it seemed cool to me, so I asked to try out for it too.
Emma was loud and obnoxious and her nickname was "squeaky" because of the way she squeaked about everything. Everything about her was larger than life. She was a big girl, yet skinny in a strange way that I didn't understand. She was from Reno, Nevada. There were problems with her and her mother and she had a really big anger problem. But underneath it all, Emma was a wonderful, genuine girl.
So we tried out for Theta Nu Alphas together. Of course they said that hazing was illegal, but they made us do it anyway. We had to do stupid stuff all week (I can't remember exactly what now) and it all culminated to a late night trip to Safeway blindfolded and ending at the bathroom where we were supposed to touch "poo" in the toilet (still blindfolded) as a measure of trust. But all it really was was a banana and chocolate sauce. You supposedly got extra points if you ate it. I knew the trick in advance (my friend had clued me in) and still refused to eat the banana. Ewwww…. It was in the toilet after all.
Meanwhile, Faith (my roommate) became more and more obnoxious. She made demands and let Topher sleep over every single night. I wasn't opposed to her having a boyfriend, but why they couldn't sleep in his room was beyond me.
So Emma and I decided to become roommates. She had slowly become a really good friend. And the some of the "sisters" in the sorority Alice and Eliza, were really amazing people.
Part of the way I paid for college was to do the "Federal Work Study" program which enables the student to get a job on campus as a way to pay for part of their tuition. My job was to work in the computer lab several nights a week. Boy did I get an easy, awesome deal. All I had to do was sit in the computer lab and answer questions and make sure no one walked off with any computer goods. The only bad part about it was that sometimes I was stuck there late at night during the evenings and weekends when it was the last place I wanted to be.
I remember one night, a few of my sorority friends camed and "rescued" me shortly before midnight. Alice drove up in her car toting Emma and Eliza and they wanted to get away they said and couldn't leave without me.
The four of us quickly became the best of friends. Alice was the nerd in the group-if you could even call her that. She was short and chunky with dark hair and giant old-lady glasses that were reminiscent of a style that died in the seventies. But she wore them proudly; she was like the mother of the group. She was really smart, loved theater, and was from Arkansas. She came to Pacific University on a free ride; her father worked as the head of campus maintenance. Eliza, whom I grew to respect immeasurably, was tall and thin and had short dark hair that contrasted her milky white skin. She was wild and wacky and always had an opinion on everything. You'd swear there was always a cigarette somewhere nearby because she loved to smoke. It was her thing. She represented to me the sort of wild, unbridled freedom that I always envied.
For a while, it felt like I was on top of the world. We'd go out, the four of us, and sing crazy "Friends" theme songs or whatever. We'd go to Shari's at unimaginable hours just for something to do. We would sit and laugh and make friends with the waitresses who knew us all by first name.
We loved Shari's and The Olive Garden. But things, like time, has a way of changing.
But that story I will share with you another time.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Winds of Change
Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow share their dreams
With you and me
Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream
away in the wind of change--The Scorpions
If you typically asked a person whether or not they liked change, I wonder if the majority would say they like change, or whether or not they prefer things that are stable, routine.
I think most of us like to think we like change. When one politician gets into office and does a poor job, we can't wait to see what the next new person can bring to the table. We can't wait for the change. Sometimes, their term of office seems too long to wait.
I think that we have become such an impatient society that we want others to think that we like change, when in reality, change is difficult.
Change is difficult. Change can't happen overnight. This has been said so often, we cannot forget it. It seems as though adults have a less easier time adapting to change because, I think as we get older, we get more settled into routines that we are comfortable with. Once happy with an everyday adventure, as we age, we begin to prioritize our lives and our time differently. I think that we begin to see time as something we don't have enough of. We rush to have others change, but are slow to change ourselves.
In relationships, some people want to see a change in their partner... but when a change is made, they do not know how to deal with it-because they had become accustomed to the way things used to be as opposed to the way things are.
We want change, we bring about change, but then fight it when it comes around. The couples, it seems to me, who make it-are the ones who adapt to change well and who understand that process.
The question then becomes how to adapt to change when the last thing we want is for things to change. It's easier for us when things stay the same because then we don't worry so much or have to do as much work. For example, in my six year relationship, eventually my boyfriend and I settled into a sort of routine that worked for us as a couple. We'd come home and do our own thing, content to share the same space without constantly feeling the need to be tangled up with each other. The problem was, when change came about-it threw our relationship off.
I was laid-off from my job when it was bought out by another company. Suddenly, I had the opportunity (as scary as it was) to change my career and start over again. But I think that S (as I'll call him) was afraid of change, afraid of how it would affect our routine. Instead of being supportive, he became hurtful and mean and made me feel as though he didn't think I could do it. He actually told me that. "I don't think you're going to like it." he said. "I think you won't be able to handle it." It wasn't just about my getting a new job, it was about the changes it would bring about in our relationship.
I think that when things change in a negative way, it's easier to blame someone or some outside influence or source as the reason for why things went wrong. But the truth of it all is, life and the people in it, are constantly changing. If we want to have someone change but then aren't prepared when they do, then perhaps we should find the answers to our questions within ourselves and really figure out why we do not handle change well.
Personally, I don't think I handle change well. I'd like to think that I used to and that I handle it as well as most. As a person who has never really settled down in one spot, I am constantly in flux, constantly unsettled, changing. My roommate changes, situations adjust, feelings change, etc. and instead of always embracing it, there are times when I too get angry. Part of the reason I became so upset after J left was because it forced me out of a comfortable routine, a routine that I coincidentally loved. It forced me to reevaluate my life and do things a little differently. I had to move, had to make new friends, had to start over. That was a whole lot of change almost overnight.
Part of the reason I feel that some of us get over lost loves slower than others is because I think a part of us is still attached to that routine, to feeling loved, feeling safe, feeling secure in the routine.
I know that I don't always handle change well and it becomes more difficult to adjust to as I get older. In fact, as one ages, I think life beckons us to slow down and change less. We begin to place more emphasis on families, and watching the next generation grow, and place less emphasis on ourselves. Suddenly, change is reserved for those younger and those starting their lives with that same sense of adventure and curiosity that drove us as children.
Today, I realized that one of the driving forces that makes me happy to get out of bed every day knowing that I am going to deal with crappy, cranky, unhappy children in an attempt to fix their lives is because this: since I am no longer able to change as quickly or like it as much, I cannot help but be drawn to those who do or can.
To see the light go on in someone else's heart as they make a realization and make a complete change is so rare, that it feels like a miracle when it happens. It is that miracle that I think parents love witnessing in their children. For example, a child realizes they like horses and so they change. Suddenly a room that was full of Winnie the Pooh is replaced by "My Little Pony" and pictures of wild, dusty places. This change, this enlightenment, is the driving force behind much of what I do.
I see that I have an opportunity, ever so slight, to witness change. To see a child (or teenager) take an opportunity and run with it-really make a positive, healthy change in their life and really realize what it's all about. That sort of self-actualization is so rare in a society that seems to place emphasis on staying the same.
Witnessing the miracle of change makes everything I do worth it. To see a child smile or feel loved or get off drugs, or graduate from high school is a proud moment. To see them realize their full potential is truly an amazing thing. It's truly like witnessing a miracle. How else can you explain a complete change of heart, change of point-of-view, change of a life?
I think that we get angry with change when it doesn't benefit us. But we appreciate change when it brings about what we want. Change is necessary because it helps us grow-even when we don't get what we want. Change helps us be more flexible and helps push us in new directions we had not considered before.
Instead of fearing the journeys we are taking, we should embrace them. But it's easier said than done, I admit. I look at people who are open to change and I look up to them, respect them. When I see someone who's life is in flux, and who deals with it in a positive way, I can't help but appreciate and admire their strength and courage. Those people who flounder and complain with change, truly make me feel that they're not growing and they never will until they see that going in another direction might just be better or more amazing than the path they took to get there.
Meanwhile, I sort of sit back and watch as the people change around me-hoping to see more of these miracles at work, and praying that the ones who can't or won't change will someday see the light. I pray too, that I learn from them, and learn to accept change because like it or not, tomorrow will be different than today, and the winds of change will begin to blow ...
Speaking of which, it reminds me of the song by the Scorpions about the winds of change when the Berlin wall finally went down and brought about a change in Germany. Change can be the thing that breaks down walls and builds up hearts. Let's hope that we never stop changing.
Take me to the magic of the momentOn a glory nightWhere the children of tomorrow share their dreamsWith you and meTake me to the magic of the momentOn a glory nightWhere the children of tomorrow dream awayin the wind of change
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow share their dreams
With you and me
Take me to the magic of the moment
On a glory night
Where the children of tomorrow dream
away in the wind of change--The Scorpions
If you typically asked a person whether or not they liked change, I wonder if the majority would say they like change, or whether or not they prefer things that are stable, routine.
I think most of us like to think we like change. When one politician gets into office and does a poor job, we can't wait to see what the next new person can bring to the table. We can't wait for the change. Sometimes, their term of office seems too long to wait.
I think that we have become such an impatient society that we want others to think that we like change, when in reality, change is difficult.
Change is difficult. Change can't happen overnight. This has been said so often, we cannot forget it. It seems as though adults have a less easier time adapting to change because, I think as we get older, we get more settled into routines that we are comfortable with. Once happy with an everyday adventure, as we age, we begin to prioritize our lives and our time differently. I think that we begin to see time as something we don't have enough of. We rush to have others change, but are slow to change ourselves.
In relationships, some people want to see a change in their partner... but when a change is made, they do not know how to deal with it-because they had become accustomed to the way things used to be as opposed to the way things are.
We want change, we bring about change, but then fight it when it comes around. The couples, it seems to me, who make it-are the ones who adapt to change well and who understand that process.
The question then becomes how to adapt to change when the last thing we want is for things to change. It's easier for us when things stay the same because then we don't worry so much or have to do as much work. For example, in my six year relationship, eventually my boyfriend and I settled into a sort of routine that worked for us as a couple. We'd come home and do our own thing, content to share the same space without constantly feeling the need to be tangled up with each other. The problem was, when change came about-it threw our relationship off.
I was laid-off from my job when it was bought out by another company. Suddenly, I had the opportunity (as scary as it was) to change my career and start over again. But I think that S (as I'll call him) was afraid of change, afraid of how it would affect our routine. Instead of being supportive, he became hurtful and mean and made me feel as though he didn't think I could do it. He actually told me that. "I don't think you're going to like it." he said. "I think you won't be able to handle it." It wasn't just about my getting a new job, it was about the changes it would bring about in our relationship.
I think that when things change in a negative way, it's easier to blame someone or some outside influence or source as the reason for why things went wrong. But the truth of it all is, life and the people in it, are constantly changing. If we want to have someone change but then aren't prepared when they do, then perhaps we should find the answers to our questions within ourselves and really figure out why we do not handle change well.
Personally, I don't think I handle change well. I'd like to think that I used to and that I handle it as well as most. As a person who has never really settled down in one spot, I am constantly in flux, constantly unsettled, changing. My roommate changes, situations adjust, feelings change, etc. and instead of always embracing it, there are times when I too get angry. Part of the reason I became so upset after J left was because it forced me out of a comfortable routine, a routine that I coincidentally loved. It forced me to reevaluate my life and do things a little differently. I had to move, had to make new friends, had to start over. That was a whole lot of change almost overnight.
Part of the reason I feel that some of us get over lost loves slower than others is because I think a part of us is still attached to that routine, to feeling loved, feeling safe, feeling secure in the routine.
I know that I don't always handle change well and it becomes more difficult to adjust to as I get older. In fact, as one ages, I think life beckons us to slow down and change less. We begin to place more emphasis on families, and watching the next generation grow, and place less emphasis on ourselves. Suddenly, change is reserved for those younger and those starting their lives with that same sense of adventure and curiosity that drove us as children.
Today, I realized that one of the driving forces that makes me happy to get out of bed every day knowing that I am going to deal with crappy, cranky, unhappy children in an attempt to fix their lives is because this: since I am no longer able to change as quickly or like it as much, I cannot help but be drawn to those who do or can.
To see the light go on in someone else's heart as they make a realization and make a complete change is so rare, that it feels like a miracle when it happens. It is that miracle that I think parents love witnessing in their children. For example, a child realizes they like horses and so they change. Suddenly a room that was full of Winnie the Pooh is replaced by "My Little Pony" and pictures of wild, dusty places. This change, this enlightenment, is the driving force behind much of what I do.
I see that I have an opportunity, ever so slight, to witness change. To see a child (or teenager) take an opportunity and run with it-really make a positive, healthy change in their life and really realize what it's all about. That sort of self-actualization is so rare in a society that seems to place emphasis on staying the same.
Witnessing the miracle of change makes everything I do worth it. To see a child smile or feel loved or get off drugs, or graduate from high school is a proud moment. To see them realize their full potential is truly an amazing thing. It's truly like witnessing a miracle. How else can you explain a complete change of heart, change of point-of-view, change of a life?
I think that we get angry with change when it doesn't benefit us. But we appreciate change when it brings about what we want. Change is necessary because it helps us grow-even when we don't get what we want. Change helps us be more flexible and helps push us in new directions we had not considered before.
Instead of fearing the journeys we are taking, we should embrace them. But it's easier said than done, I admit. I look at people who are open to change and I look up to them, respect them. When I see someone who's life is in flux, and who deals with it in a positive way, I can't help but appreciate and admire their strength and courage. Those people who flounder and complain with change, truly make me feel that they're not growing and they never will until they see that going in another direction might just be better or more amazing than the path they took to get there.
Meanwhile, I sort of sit back and watch as the people change around me-hoping to see more of these miracles at work, and praying that the ones who can't or won't change will someday see the light. I pray too, that I learn from them, and learn to accept change because like it or not, tomorrow will be different than today, and the winds of change will begin to blow ...
Speaking of which, it reminds me of the song by the Scorpions about the winds of change when the Berlin wall finally went down and brought about a change in Germany. Change can be the thing that breaks down walls and builds up hearts. Let's hope that we never stop changing.
Take me to the magic of the momentOn a glory nightWhere the children of tomorrow share their dreamsWith you and meTake me to the magic of the momentOn a glory nightWhere the children of tomorrow dream awayin the wind of change
Tuesday, July 11, 2006
The Importance of Keeping One's Word
I recently watched a movie called, "The Promise". So many little truths and realizations jumped out at me that I thought I would share some of them. In the movie, there wasnt just one promise made, there were many. And as the movie progressed, I realized that there are often consequences to not keeping ones word. The damage doesnt just occur to oneself but also to the people who suffer loss from the broken word or promise. If someone promises something and does not follow through, then the individual who was counting on and put their faith in that persons word learns mistrust. That lack of trust may extend beyond the person who broke the promise towards others as well. Following this logic, the health and structure of a society could be affected. Therefore, the lack of integrity is a double-edged sword. It cuts both the giver and the receiver. The giver of the promise will no longer be trusted and can no longer trade or work with the betrayed based on the strength of that persons word. Both parties have lost. If the ripples of betrayal extend beyond the two people, many people can be affected. In the case of a personal relationship, the cost of a broken word is more than just the loss of trust, it includes the inflicting of deep hurt on the person who was mislead. For example, the vows of marriage are supposed to be sacred. The personal and emotional cost for breaking them can be devastating for both parties. If there are others involved, such as children, it can wreak havoc on them as well. Their lives will be disrupted by the break up of the family or at the very least the ensuing cloud of mistrust that exists between the leaders of the household. In business, a persons word has to be good. If you cannot keep true to your word, you cannot be trusted and when that happens, how can you continue to conduct commerce? Credit lines will be cut and personal contacts, which are so valuable in the business world, can be lost. Integrity is important at every level and in every aspect of society. Without integrity the very fabric of a system, unit or society can begin to crumble. Without integrity, what is a human being? A person loses everything through lack of integrity. He loses even respect for himself in the end. When the truth of it dawns on him, he may even begin to believe himself to be worthless. The solution is to cultivate integrity. Strive to be a good and truthful person. In fact, integrity is something that has been taught throughout history. It is hinted at everywhere, when you tune into it. Even in modern times the founder of a meditation practice called Falun Dafa, teaches Truthfulness, Compassion and Tolerance. He must think integrity is important. In fact, one can find the idea and importance of integrity emphasized in many religious teachings throughout every age of man. Dont the noblest of people hold the idea of integrity as dear? Integrity is more than just an idea. It is a practical and necessary character trait in order to have any lasting success in this world. True, some can achieve success through a serious lack of integrity, morals and ethics. However, it is like a house built on shifting sand, bound to fall sooner or later. And if the fall or payment for lack of integrity doesnt happen in this life, perhaps the payment manifests in a bad way in the next life. Whether you believe in reincarnation or in going to heaven upon death, or that you transcend and survive death in any way shape or form, it seems that it would be hardly worth rejecting integrity in the present. Even for a person who believes that nothing happens upon death, that life simply ends, the practical aspects of integrity in everyday life are evident. There are rewards in business and personal relationships for acting with integrity, loss of status and pain await those who overlook this virtue. Wouldnt it be a good idea to cultivate integrity in our daily lives and actions right now? If we each work on our personal integrity as individuals, we can collectively begin to build a better world and a better society for our children and ourselves. Isnt that worth striving for? David Snape writes for All Things Pondered: http://allthingspondered.com He also writes for http://tobeinformed.com - To Be Informed!
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