Pleasure Notes

A few days ago, I mentioned my need to change priorities when it comes to relationships. As part of that endeavor, I must acknowledge the lessons learned along the way and the trail of debris left behind…

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Dear Child Star: Of course we had to end. I could never admit how I felt and you didn’t know how to ask. No relationship can withstand the pressure of partners who are stuck only playing parts; neither of us knew of a way to put aside the masks we’d created to navigate the world at large.

Dear Greek God: You made me see stars and I wasn’t prepared for a trip to the moon. Passion that intense is the antithesis of safety. Control and ridicule kill passion with brutal efficiency. I am a skilled assassin.

Dear Angry Man-Child: Emotional safety is not the same thing as financial security or physical protection. I don’t think I really knew that until you. Love was never on the table but it took a while to realize that meant the table was just empty.

Dear Tennis Ghost: We met under false pretenses, using fake identities. How is it we were both caught off guard and so thoroughly disappointed when unmasked? We should have seen it coming; if one buys a diamond thinking it is cheap plastic, no one should be surprised if it ends up in the trash.

Dear Hitcher: You were everything I didn’t want – kind, approachable, responsible, giving, funny, loving. I didn’t know that’s why I turned you into the villain in our story. I can’t rewrite it but I hope you found another one with a happy ending.

Dear Driver: I thought you should know when I stopped playing games. I’ve since learned I never should have started them.

Dear Starbucks: You thought I was a risk-taker because I didn’t shy away from physical danger. Silly man. I have a million reasons why jumping off a cliff is child’s play compared to asking you… anything.

Dear Red: I waited for you to prove you would protect me from the inevitable. I waited so long that the inevitable happened. And the idea of getting burned twice? Inconceivable.

Dear Climber: I bought the package without any real interest to discover what was inside. I should have glanced at the list of contents. That might have saved us both a great deal of drama.

Dear Lost In Translation: You got blasted to kingdom come by the power of my intentions. I hope you can laugh about it now. I’m beginning to do the same.

Dear Moustache: I never knew manipulation could be so easy until I met you. That is heady knowledge to have. It’s taken me a while longer to realize I don’t have to act on it and that, in fact, I’m much, much happier when I don’t.

Dear Gargoyle: You wanted a wife and I hated you for that. I wanted a toy and I hated me for that. Neither one of us would have known how to be in the moment if our feet had been cemented into it. You did more for shattering my preconceptions in the midst of our confusion, however, than anyone else. I’m grateful for that, and for your willingness to concede when I demanded your defeat.

Dear Cheater: I played with fire. I got burned. I can’t blame the fire. I also can’t continue to stoke it while expecting it to retreat. I simply need to occupy myself with other elements, regardless of the allure of flames.

Dear Boy with the Band: You revealed a side of me I didn’t know. I thought I could fake it in your world without having to commit to anything. I didn’t realize I was just being a grifter until the con fell apart. I’m sorry I drew you in to such a mess. I’m even more sorry it didn’t come off a success. Honestly, I’m still intrigued by the idea of pulling it off with aplomb.

Dear Bazzaar Find: You kept me safe when I didn’t even realize I was in danger, and I will always honor that truth. But having you reveal the mine-field you’d just taken me through, I was too shaken to continue walking in your footsteps. I had to stop. I don’t think I’m cut out for navigating a war zone, and I’m beginning to be okay with living without the adrenaline rush.

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Have I really let go of my need for danger? Am I really ready to embrace emotional nakedness and honest love instead of the edgy roller coaster that accompanies what I identify as emotional safety – relationships that I instinctually know to be doomed or destructive so I’m already braced for the crash? I guess only time will tell…

Is it more important to feel SAFE or to feel LOVED?

This question was posed to me a few days ago and it has since haunted me. I don’t have a particularly admirable track record with relationships, I’m not in one at the moment, and I’m circling back around to wishing for that to change but, of course, for the dynamics and outcome to be different. Patterns are difficult to break, however, if they haven’t been identified and, more importantly, if the motivations behind the creation of them haven’t been illuminated.

After much contemplation, it has somewhat suddenly occurred to me that, for most of my life, the answer to the above question has been…

SAFE

I scuttle to emotional safety every damn time I’m in a sticky situation. And any situation that demands vulnerability, honesty, truth… real nakedness… is A VERY STICKY SITUATION. Or at least that’s how my primitive brain processes it all.

I’ve always blamed myself for choosing the wrong men, and I’ve blamed many of them for being asshats. But I think I’ve been wrong.

The truth is, I’ve chosen exactly the type of men I wanted, men with whom I NEVER had to be emotionally naked, men from whom I could easily reject love in favor of safety or from whom I knew I’d never receive any love that could threaten that safety.

And while some of them were Class A schmucks in our relationship, the ASSHAT moniker is too big and simply to label their behavior, and indicates nothing about how they might behave with someone else.

I’m ready for something different, now. I’m very grateful for all I’ve learned, truly. But it is time for love to be more important than safety.

What do you think?

I’ve just spent a week in Boston to help out my newly pregnant, severely nauseous, and head-cold-suffering sister-in-law keep tabs on my adorable, brilliant and exuberant 2-1/2 year old niece while my brother was out of town. It has been one of the most delightful, simple and exhausting weeks of my life.

Having spent my entire adulthood living hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away from my family, the days and nights when I am with them hold particular significance. Getting to watch the little girl who slays my heart every single day from morning til night for numerous days in succession is a rare privilege. Slipping into leisurely and spontaneous conversations with my sister-in-law over piles of clean laundry is just as special. Watching the ground-shaking joy that lit up my niece’s face and enveloped all of us when my brother arrived home last night is a memory I will treasure.

My heart expands. My throat tightens. It is love.

I’ve always been fiercely independent, perhaps too much so. Only recently have I realized been struck dumb by the awareness of how very much I miss the unique community that family provides. The tight, protective hug I receive from my brother. The giggle shared with my sister-in-law. The cuddles and stern instructions given to me by my niece. I want these things in my life more than once every year or so.

I miss my family. Terribly. Now I must act on that awareness.

What is your view of family – the one you grew up with rather than the one with whom you share a home? Is your engagement with your family what you wish it to be? How would you change it? And what about it do you value?

Veyrier, Switzerland

Whether or not you get into the chocolate hearts, red roses or Hallmark moments today, take a moment to open the gates of your heart just a little bit wider. Smile at a stranger. Say I love you to at least one person, and mean it. Write down five things you love about yourself. And have a scrumptiously delightful Valentine’s Day.

xo

It seems this is the week I’m consistently inspired by others’ blogs. Today’s ramblings are all Doniree’s fault. She’s gotten me thinking about how “I got so independent that I forgot how to let someone else in,” to quote her firecracker wisdom. It’s entirely true. I have over twenty years of independence, very little of it shared with anyone. I have no idea anymore how to move over and give someone else room to sit down and stay awhile. Yesterday, I said I wanted to change the theme in the next chapter of my life. Today, I realized if the chapter is going to be any good, a bit of planning needs to be done. I must outline what I HAVE and what I WANT…

Maybe I’ll go alphabetize my bookcase and clean the bathroom…

Why is articulating what we WANT so very intimidating? It’s such a powerful exercise. Taking this action doesn’t GUARANTEE an outcome as conceived. That’s what stops me from doing it. Why be vulnerable? Why reveal my dreams if they might not come true?

What if I thought of dreams as gusts of wind or rays of sunlight? A gust of wind will move something even if it’s not what I wanted moved or not in the direction toward which I was aiming. A ray of sunlight will help something grow even if what grows reveals itself to be a different species from the one I planted.

I wholeheartedly embrace movement and growth!

So what, in all my independence, have I learned about myself that I value and want to keep with me as I make room for someone else?

Actually, I kinda love who I’m becoming, who I’ve become. I’m not much of a drinker, but I’ll appreciate a nice glass of wine that accompanies a special meal. I love curling up on the couch to read a good book or watch engaging television. I’m equally happy wandering through a gallery or museum exhibit. I think real travel requires a passport and the expectation of hearing a foreign language; very little gives me as much of a thrill as traveling to places I’ve never before been. I go nutty if I don’t write and/or if the sun doesn’t shine for more than a couple of days. I really, really like yoga pants. I cry in joy and sadness. I enjoy watching sports, but I don’t care to make it a habit. I have no desire to ever enter another gym. My girlfriends are my lifeline. I need time entirely along, and space entirely my own.

I WANT a man who embraces my independence and loves me for my loves. I want a man who has the same eagerness to explore the world in order to understand the world, who empathizes with others’ pain and who knows how to transform it into joy. I want a man who reads books, and not just the ones found at an airport seller. I want a man who LAUGHS, with me, not at me and definitely not at others. I want a man who can access emotional greys and is willing to teach me about them. I want a man who sees in color. I want a man who is equally awestruck by the ocean and the mountains, but even more so by me. I want a man who sees me, hears me and feels me, one I can and WANT TO see, hear and feel as well.

Now, I just wonder where he is…

Does this feel kind of like you landed on a dating site? Sorry about that! My point is not to subject you to my want ad– well, actually, that IS my point. I’m learning to articulate what I WANT, and encourage you to do the same, whether it be in a relationship, career or simple dinner order.

Do you have what you want? If so, what is it? If not, articulate it now!