Month: May 2016

I have been in an Other Woman situation. The situation where you find something out, a text, a conversation, a rumor and it’s right. The moment where the floor drops away and you feel like you are the last to know, when it seems like everyone is looking at you with pity. I’ve actually been in it a lot over the years (not so much recently).

I remember the first time I found out, the floor falling away and my denial and shock invading my rational mind. I didn’t even want to believe it and so for a moment I thought this must not be what I read. But then it happens again and again and each time I can remember that feeling so well, that moment when your world seems shattered and your heart falls to the floor. I never thought it would happen again, until it happened again of course. It feels pretty awful because suddenly nothing makes sense. The person you’re with is different, you feel worthless and your relationship feels like a sham.

When I was younger I directly blamed the other woman, berating, hating. Because I saw our relationship as okay until someone else nosed their way in, disrupting our balance and happiness. But that wasn’t what happened. Our relationship wasn’t balance or happy, because if it was, there probably would be no Other woman. But blaming someone else, not the partner, was easier, it meant that it was a mistake and the fault of that noisy meddling individual, not the one right in front, the one who says that they will change and that this is the last time.

Stemming from this misplaced blame was an illusion I thought they had shattered: our happy home. But in reality I was the one living under the illusion that we even had a home to start with. The other woman didn’t disrupt anything, didn’t shatter anything that wasn’t already broken. Thankfully I learned my mistake pretty fast and realized this, but I always hear people in the same situation. It takes a lot to break an illusion, especially one of our own fabrication. They are tough and built of stern denial. It is easier to believe that it is someone else’s fault than to admit that the person who promise to love us betrayed us and may not be the person we thought. We were wrong. We were betrayed and duped. Our hurt fuels our anger and our misplaced blame. Trying to help us, but instead fooling us even further and playing into an age old competition. Laying the blame at everyone else’s feet than the perpetrator.

 

What does love mean?

When I was younger I believe love was this magical fairy dust power. It wasn’t supposed to be hard, it just happened, fell right into pieces. If it was meant to be, it would be. Love would always win, would trump all obstacles. Nothing was more powerful than love. It would always be enough.

Now that I am older, I realize how naive that view of love was. Don’t get me wrong, some things I still believe, like that love is powerful. But what I’ve learned and realized is that love is not a magical power. Love is work, because things rarely if never fall right into place. Thinking that the world will stop because of love is not true. There are wrong times and places were love could have grown. Love is not like a rainbow cloud. It is like a plant, requiring good soil, water and sunlight. It requires weeding and tender care. Love does not trump all obstacles, there are some that are insurmountable, and love is not always enough. It is not like superglue and sometimes it cannot hold things together. Sometimes love is there, but you have to leave. Love cannot make people change, it can help them to change themselves, but it is not a force of change. I tried to make love work for me all the time, to make it be enough for me. To think that my love for another person was enough to stave off the despair and the pain, the betrayal. That’s not how it works.

So what did I learn besides becoming more cynical and less jaded? Love for yourself. That is the love that you have to protect even more. Love for yourself to know when you have to walk away, to set your own limits, to stand fast to your principles, to say no. Love for yourself to know that love for another person will not save you. Loving yourself is the only way. Love for yourself to cut out the toxic, to leave the emotionally abusive. I believe in second chances and change still, despite everything, but I also believe that the love I really truly need, not just want or choose, is the love of myself.

Today marks the day that I embark back to Germany. It is amazing how fast time goes and how bittersweet goodbyes remain. There is no easy way to say goodbye, to broach the breech within my heart. It is the pain of living with two homes, two pieces of my self, the foundation and the future. It is the pain of change and progress, that we must undergo to move forwards. No matter how much this growth will be good or how much it will present new opportunities, it hurts. Change is uncomfortable at the least.

Will I ever leave feeling as if I leave whole? No. It always feel like little bits of me remains in each country, each side of the expanse. Sometime through the plane, walking through the airport, and in my bed I pickup the other parts of myself, assembling again and regaining that familiar ache. I don’t even know if I would recognize myself without some sort of ache of homesickness. It’s okay because I have learned how to get over it, to move forwards and live my life.

Happy endings are still endings.

I love watching movies on the plane for multiple reasons. I can rarely sleep on the plane and this is my chance to watch the newer movies I have missed in the theatre. I used this opportunity to watch Brooklyn, Carol, The Danish Girl and the Big Short.

My friend had asked if I wanted to see Brooklyn, but I had previous plans. When catching up with her I asked her if she enjoyed the movie and she said she loved it and it made her cry. Going into the film with those expectations, it lived up and it made me cry too! Brooklyn is a story about a young Irish woman who leaves her live in Ireland (family responsibility, rigid society) for New York City. After being quite homesick, she meets someone who shows her the City and they instantly hit it off. Cured of her sadness, she embraces her life there, her freedom, and her independence. A family tragedy forces her to go home and she is confronted by the differences (in herself and home) and struggles to resist the pulls of home. I don’t know if this resonated with me because I could relate to the homesickness and leaving behind my family. Probably. There were a few elements I couldn’t really relate to, but the ones I could were a winner. I loved the ending a lot and I felt she was a complex character (there were moments I wanted to yell at her and cry with her). I understand leaving home and going to a new place where things are very different. So watching how she handled it made me remember how it was for me.

Carol was less touching for me in a personal sense, but uplifting. It didn’t make me think of myself. Carol struggles in New York in a time where homosexuality is frowned upon. She cannot deny her true nature and separates from her husband when she meets the other character (where they have a love affair). But her desires cause her problems when her husband wants to take her child away and she does try to conform. It reminded me of Elizabeth Gilbert’s discussion about how ugly divorce can be (she even says in the movie “we’re not ugly people”). Her journey trying to take care of her child, while stay true to herself is touching. It made me sad as well that people had to struggle so much in this situation. I really enjoyed the movie because of Carol’s character (she is an extremely strong woman).

The Danish Girl was by far the saddest. The Danish Girl is about a couple, two painters, and the husband is quite famous. One day when modeling for his wife, he realizes that he feels that he is a woman trapped in a man’s body. This obviously causes a lot of problems for their marriage and their life. It was so sad for me to watch how society and doctors treated Inar/Lily (trying to get him committed). It was also so sad to see how Gerda (the wife) deals with losing her husband in the sense she knew him, how hard the transition is on her. So in the end I felt so deeply for both characters trying to fight and argue on both sides. I don’t want to spoil what happens, but if you are looking for a movie that won’t make you cry, this is not the one.

The Big Short was about some people who saw the collapse of the housing bubble in the US before it happened and their actions. This was the most light hearted, but also pretty sad when we see the aftermath. All of these movies had a pretty sad angle actually. But the movie tried to be similar to a documentary drama and it tried to be humorous. It was definitely interesting to see their realizations and how corrupt the market was.

All in all, it was a pretty emotional plane ride.

Similar to the past post, I suppose (although I didn’t intend it to be).

I have taken a lot of blame in my past. Maybe I didn’t take the right blame or even enough in some situations. But I am specifically talking about in my past relationship. I took the blame, personally, and thought that if I did this, that was fine. If it was my fault I could fix it. If our problems were my issues I could fix them, because they weren’t going to. And so I took the blame and said sorry a lot. Sorry for things that were never mine to be sorry for. I shouldered the blame as if it meant that I cared more, as if it would fix my relationship, as if this would be my grand gesture, as if each time would bring me closer to my goal. All it ever did was push me further down into a life, into a person I didn’t want to be or live. In the end, it wasn’t my fault at all. And it was right to walk away (even if it was too little too late).

And so now I am more cautious with blame. Maybe too cautious, to the point where sometimes I cannot see that I am to blame at all (when some belongs to me). Because it takes two to make something work. Maybe there should be an idealistic relationship or mindset not to blame (and believe me I’m working on it, so if it’s out there, I’m coming for you). But blame seems to be so ingrained into our lives, that while it is here, I have to confront it. I don’t want to ever slip back into the mentality that things are my fault when they’re not. It’s destructive and it chips away at the core self.

I have done too much of it already.

I’m far from perfect. But I am trying every day. To be unapologetic, but also owning up to myself and my actions. Showing up for myself. Practicing self care. Blaming less. Saying sorry more.

I was recently discussing with a lot of my friends about what marriage/divorce means to them. Everyone has a totally different and personal interpretation of what marriage and divorce are. In that is wrapped up of expectations and limits. So I thought I would talk a bit about what my thoughts are.

I am not a very religious, if at all, person. So the sanctity of marriage in a religious sense doesn’t hold much weight for me. There is no external force that influences how I feel about the commitment. When I do take vows, it will  be ones I made. So maybe let’s start there then?

Vows. I want to write my own vows. “I want it to be a conscious choice everyday to love you. I am saying these vows because I want to be with you today and the next. All I can promise you is that each day I will choose to love you. This vow is just part of that commitment. Just like I choose to be with you each day, I choose to recognize this choice publicly in the presence of the important people in my life.” Or something along those lines. The real thing will be quite different. But I think it illustrates my feelings about marriage. I don’t think of marriage as one day that seals your fate or you future. I think it’s a public recognition by the state and others that you are choosing to make that commitment each day, beginning with that day. There are not many differences, to me, from a committed relationship and a marriage. But like life, marriage should be dynamic and flexible to me. There will be days that are harder, but my commitment is each day. Each day I re-choose to be with someone. Each day I acknowledge change, and progress, and growth.

That doesn’t mean I don’t envision my commitment to be for my life. It doesn’t mean that at all. It means I am flexible enough. I am flexible enough to allow my definition of marriage to be free of judgement of others. To be understanding and compassionate. To understand that people change. I don’t want a promise binding me to one person forever. I want to choose every day to love the person in front of me, flaws and all. It’s not a hall pass. It is the recognition that marriage, with its foundations of commitment, is about the daily things, the every day choice.

My definition of marriage also includes the possibility that things can change. People can change or never change. Issues may not be able to be resolved. And if that happens (to anyone), I want my definition of marriage to enfold them like a hug. To be non-confrontational, non-judging, and accepting. I want it to be next to them when they have to acknowledge that no matter what we do, some things can’t, won’t, or don’t want to work. That things can be beyond our control. That sometimes love isn’t enough to look past the shadows or the betrayals. And that’s okay. My interpretation of marriage will catch you. It will embrace you and your mistakes, your flaws, your happiness. It will celebrate your independence, your commitment. It will be there on your anniversary, or on your moments alone. It is a recognition that marriage is different for everyone. It sees that marriage is personal, that it should be in the benefit of all those involved.

Maybe this seems like a blanket statement, or a non judgement policy. That’s fine. It is. And everyone can lie beneath it (or I hope so).

Similar to last post. There are moments when we come up against our limits. When we have exhausted ourselves to the maximum and cannot imagine going further. I think the tendency nowadays is to push further. To break our limits and to keep pushing. I do not think that is wise, I think part of growing up and taking care of yourself is acknowledging when you should not do this. There are limits you can push, and we do. There are also ones we should not push. Over time we learn which ones we can push, which ones are disastrous, which ones will hurt us. Trial and practice proves to us which ones will push us backwards, which ones we cannot ignore, which ones we can bend. We learn continuously, have good and bad experiences.

I am still learning tremendously, and now I am erring on the side of caution. Taking myself out of more things, knowing I need more time of quiet, more time of myself. That things weigh on me and then suddenly dump on me like a hat box in the back of the closet that tips closer to falling, until suddenly you’re covered in hats. I need consistent me times and days of solitude. Really. Who would have thought it? I used to want to be as busy as possible and I would always be so stretched and stressed. But now I am trying to cut back. I hope I am becoming wise (or at least wiser, which is all relative). When I snap I know I need to check myself, and take myself some time, a walk alone, some music/singing time, a day alone. Maybe when I was younger I wanted to be someone I wasn’t. Now I realize I am really not that. I can be alone. While I like to be social, I am learning more about balance.

You need both rain and sunshine for plants to grow (or most ones)

Guilt is one of those emotions that lurks behind your eyes. It may not tell you it’s there, but it will be there, weighing on your subconscious, infecting your footsteps. It eats you up, makes you question yourself, everything really. It’s infectious and destructive.

It haunts you, shadows your every move. I don’t know how to get over guilt, I have a sneaking suspicion it’s about being comfortable and accepting every move. Knowing you did all you could, and made the decision with the information you had. Making peace with the past, knowing you can’t change it.

That’s pretty hard. Acceptance. Perhaps dealing with, because let’s be real it’s not about overcoming it, is about acceptance and forgiveness.

Accepting you did all you can. Accepting you can’t change it. And Forgiving yourself. The two hardest things, in my opinion.

We are fallible, we make mistakes, we choose wrong. We are human. It’s basically our destiny. Yet it’s still so hard to accept our mistakes and our limitations. Even if we manage to do that herculean task, then we have to forgive ourselves. Of course what did we do wrong? Make a mistake? Yet it always feels so grievous, so terrible. It really isn’t, but it feels that way, and you can’t argue with your feelings (no matter how irrational).

So it’s about accepting our fallibility, and forgiving ourselves for that inevitability. We will make mistakes, and we will again. We should forgive ourselves when we can’t see past our own toes, when we come up against our limits, when we can only make the best of a bad situation. When we can’t change the present or the past.

Recently a friend of mine and I were talking about baby names. I have already mentioned on my blog that I want to keep my baby name gender neutral. Why? Well, briefly, because I prefer them and I want to keep a lot of raising my children gender neutral (clothes, toys, etc). I don’t want to place so much emphasis on the important of their gender, and by importance I don’t mean not mentioning it or emphasizing it. I just mean using it as a means to discriminate, or to discriminate them from others. Gender can be a feature, but I think there’s too much emphasis on the gender being a discriminatory factor (not one that necessarily brings discrimination,  but one that exists to identify difference). Why? well let me talk about this post.

My friend, who is Austrian, actually said that would be illegal in Germany, a gender neutral name, because people need to know how to address people. I had heard how important titles and formality and addressing people is in Germany (so it’s important your status in relation to others). I always assumed if you had a doctorate or a professor you would address them as such, but I was told you address them as Herr/Frau Dr/Professor So and So. I don’t understand why it even matters. There is certainly more freedom in English, and they said that there was more freedom in English, but it is a traditional and typical German convention. So when people would address others, they use a dear so and so, but this dear form is already conjugated based on the gender of the assumed person. With a language that has basically no gender, speaking German is a pain, where everything is gendered. I have already thought, I want my name to not sound like an infectious disease when spoken in German, but I never knew, or thought about this problem. How people would address my kid.

Oh Germany. Making me always think of things I never thought people even cared about.

So they asked me what I would do for/to my child in this situation with this new info. And I said, the absolute same thing. I am going to name them a gender neutral name. Maybe this is part of my whole, bring down the conventions that enslave us, or all that jazz (anarchy maybe?) but it’s also, WHY? Why do we have to address people like this? I mean, I know it’s a convention, so perhaps I should be culturally sensitive, but why? In an age where gender is fluid, subject to change, why do we have to define ourselves by only this? Why do we have to know? What is this preoccupation, this uncomfortability with not knowing? Why can’t we just say, Dear Adam Smith, Dear Xilighgha Pognah. Why do we have to write Dear Mr. Adam Smith? I really don’t understand it.

It seems like a tradition that has existed to make us comfortable, to assure our knowledge of their gender. I can’t just stop wondering why. Really.

So they asked me, so you’ll have your child be the first generation to have to deal with people not knowing how to address them? And I said yeah. I will. I know people may say I’m making them endure more hardship then necessary. I have many things to say about this.

1. Why is it so damn important? Why do I have to maintain this archaic tradition? That I don’t believe in, just so my child can conform? Why do they need to be a square? I want my child to learn, maybe from their very name, that societies can change. They need people brave enough, strong enough, to change them, brick by brick. I want to raise a child who isn’t afraid of their name. Who knows the power of names. Who knows their parents wanted to inspire them to not accept the world they know, but instead begin by building the one they want to live in. It may be a hard life, even harder than their life would be. But maybe it would make people confront that uncomfortability. And so it’ll be their first lesson to themselves: to dare to dream and to break conventions, to be the very essential being of themselves no matter what people try to say.
2. If they really hate it, they can change their name when they’re 18, or they can complain to me for a straight period of time and we’ll change it. I don’t want to make them unhappy, but I do want them to know why I named them this.

So there. That’s my thoughts. We shall see how it turns out, eh?

 

Yesterday I was thinking how different, maybe even unrecognizable, I am from when I was younger, specifically high school (that is the time period that is always on my mind). During that time period I went through a lot of struggles and change, moments where moments of my life were to be decided. I was thinking about how different I am to who I used to be. I wonder if people would even recognize me if I went back into time and visited.

How strange and foreign everything is, almost a different place entirely. That is the feeling I get when I am home and walking around all these moments that used to mean so much. I feel somewhere between a ghost and an alien; I can remember where I used to walk, feeling these echoes of memories, but at the same time everything is different and these differences make it seem completely foreign. The only thing I recognize is the shadows of the old memories, not the landscape, because that has changed so drastically.