The Trouble with Texts

I'd been throwing myself a pity party. It was a good one, it went on for a couple of weeks.

I had been feeling... well, somewhat unloved, I guess. Recently, two people I adore said 'I don't know when I'm free ' when I asked if they would like to meet up. Those exact words. From both of them. Out of context, and without knowing the full story behind my relationship with these two, it would be easy to dismiss them, flick 'em the Vs and say 'Sod you, then!'

Intellectually, I understand, and accept, that they lead extremely different lives from me, and that if the positions were reversed, I am sure I would have done the same. Emotionally, I was having trouble.

So let's analyse why I should feel so hurt. I suppose, given how close we were, I expected somehow that they would value my company as much as I valued theirs. That if I was part of their lives, then I'd already be part of the schedule.

The brutal truth was: I am not. They are a part of mine, but I am very resolutely not a part of theirs. I merely orbit their "real" lives.

The key word above is adore. I do. I like them exceedingly -- that's the problem. I get too attached to people, which makes me vulnerable. I hurt easily these days.

It's remarkable how an afternoon spent in a garden with a kind friend can make a difference.

Marcel Proust said that people who make us happy are the gardeners that make our souls blossom. I am deeply, deeply thankful for those who are at the core of my life. They nourish my spirit and I hope I do the same for them. My life would be so much less without them in it. These are the ones I see every day, every week, every month -- the important thing here is that I see them. See, hear, touch, breathe the same air, eat the same food, share the same space. They are my real life. Unlike these two. Sure, our lives intersected a few times but all we really have are words on a screen and a few brilliant days.

The practical thing now is to let these two go from my life: cut the ties, say goodbye. But...  Today, I experienced a shift in perspective. Subconscious me had been percolating this for weeks -- I'd been so concerned about how they relate to me that I hadn't really considered how I relate to them. I finally really understood that relationships built from mostly text messages are like spun sugar constructions*. Light, delicate, and sometimes, breathtakingly beautiful, but oh so fragile - easily disintegrated with just one breath. Or one message.

I realised that I'd become too dependent on the medium to sustain my friendship with them. Just because they don't keep in touch as often as I want, doesn't mean that they don't value my friendship. It's easy to come to that conclusion but the reality is often not so.

My happiness is my own responsibility -- sometimes I forget that. I can't control how they act, but I can control how I react^. So, I shall re-direct my restlessness and energy to nurturing the friendships that occur outside my phone, the ones closer to home, the ones I can enrich with my senses.

I miss my two but I know the best course for me is to stop trying to get them to do what I want, that is, to be a more substantial part of each other's lives. Our friendship may wither away. Or maybe it will die down for a season or two, to be revived and blossom even more beautifully later on in our lives.

Pity party over.

*Or Doozer sticks!
^ Well, most of the time.

Occupied! Love and other matters of import

Grateful that I could stop and stare.

Last Friday, I stopped in a park to watch the birds in a field and felt... content.

The Happy Jar is quite full but we've not been committed to writing a note every day. Predictably, Little Monster lost interest a few weeks back, and I haven't been religiously writing one at the end of every day, but I try. Each happy note makes me smile -- it is like re-savouring a great meal.

Astonishingly, I have been offered employment! I have now completed a week's worth and the boss hasn't told me not to come back. It's a job I've never done before and certainly did not think it was something I could be good at. We shall see.

I still aspire to start my own business and write that screenplay (among other things) and Subconscious Me is still pondering what I value in my life. Early reports suggest the following: time for myself to explore inner space and be creative;  rich, multi-layered relationships, however ephemeral; deep friendships; and time with people to talk, laugh and just be. Oh, and love. Always love.

I am also continuing to meet a wonderful plethora of beautiful, interesting people. The latest has been especially fascinating. And... enchanting. I may be in danger here of liking them a little too much. It would be very easy to fall and fall hard. So, I am being especially careful with this one. Fortunately, actual, physical distance is conducive and it will be quite a while before we would be able to physically meet. For all I know, it could burn out before then.

My life feels satisfyingly full at the moment, despite the goals left unmet, the tasks left undone. I am still penurious, and a part of me yearns to be on different soil. But for now, I am grateful, deeply so, for the wonderful things that have occurred and the marvellous souls I have had the pleasure of meeting.

Happy Jar, Sad Jar

My daughter is full to her brain with wisdom.

Our Happy Jar

On 1 January 2016, we started a Happy Jar. The basic premise being, at the end of every day we each write a note describing what made us happy that day. At the end of the year, we'll open the jar and read the notes. Last week, she said 'Mummy, where's the Sad Jar?' and then went on to say that we also need an Angry Jar, Disgust Jar and Fear Jar (you see where she was coming from). And it got me thinking: actually she's right.

Happiness is a good thing* but then so are all the other emotions -- can't have one without the others. It's a complete package. Sometimes, the sad can be overwhelming, and can lead to tragedy. As when anger becomes an all-consuming rage that burns your bridges. Fear can be paralyzing and disgust can lead to shame. Can you have a surfeit of happiness? I imagine that such a thing would be ecstasy, unsustainable and one must come down eventually. Being happy all the time is equally untenable, I should think.

When people talk about being happy, like it should be one's default state, as though to be otherwise is a tragedy, I am always reminded of Buffy's lament in season six: "I was happy... I was warm ... and I was loved ... and I was finished. Complete." Sounds heavenly, right? Well... she was also dead.

I wonder what our "resting" state should be. I know it should not be a constant melancholy (been there: it quickly spirals into a "make it stop" death wish), nor anger (little sparks will sting those around you), nor fear or any of the others. What of happiness? It can only be a force for good, no? Is there a neutral zone, where we feel... nothing? Or are we always feeling?

I am, at this moment, happy. It's a low-level sort of happy, in that I can smile easily and all is right with the world. I wonder how quickly I will reach irritability? Perhaps this is contentment, which is of course, a form of happiness.

I am still looking for that elusive thing called "meaningful work", and I continue to chafe a little at what I perceive as the restrictions of my current situation. But I am beginning to appreciate the opportunities this time is giving me: a deepening understanding of myself, time to really work out what it is that I am seeking, time to be me, something I had spent so many years suppressing.

My friend Yo, whom I spent a perfectly congenial morning enjoying a slow breakfast, asked a pertinent question: what do I value in my life? She suggested that when I know, I should put those things in my life. I think it's sterling advice and something I shall be meditating on. Well, at least let my subconscious chew on it for a while.

In the meantime, my daughter shall have her Sad Jar and together, we'll record both the highs and the lows of this year, like the very best stories and paintings - rich in contrasts.


*But I hesitate at the pursuit of it. It seems counter intuitive to strive for something that should be effortless and light.

Womanning up

These past few days have been a little revelatory*.  It seems my "This Is A Bad Idea" alert has malfunctioned.

I wonder at my unthinking capacity to be used. A couple of incidents over the last few weeks have made me wonder if I am such a people-pleaser that I don't even notice when I am being ill-treated until the damage is felt. And even then, the discomfort only surfaces hours or even days later. It's almost as if I go into shock.

I don't really know why I don't care for myself as well as I should. I believe I do value myself -- removing myself from a situation that was extinguishing me is an indicator -- and yet, I find myself doing things just to please someone I barely know. Or rather, so that they would, god help me, like me.

So, I am saying to myself, "What are you? A child? Woman up for fuck's sake!" This is a perpetual tussle within me. But I have a new frame. She comes in size 12 shoes, and wants only for me to be with her, to be present for her. I am her world and right now, who and what I am, she sees and learns from. If I don't love myself, and show her that I do, only bad things can ensue. Sure, she'll learn from them, but I'd rather she have a role model that she can be proud of.

And I'd rather be a role model I'd be proud of too.

*Then again, since I left my old life, every other day seems to throw up something new about myself. It's like I had been shattered into millions of little pieces, then scattered all over the place. Each day, as I journey, I uncover a different piece, so shaped by its environs that it no longer fits into its old spot. So I have to study it anew, and make a new place for it within the new me.