Love Wins

I no longer live in a world of black and white. I live with options, with ambiguity, which has proved itself a far more difficult locale. Feeling settled or having closure is a luxury, not the norm. I am learning to be okay with situations and emotions, even when they aren't well-defined.

Sometimes, my life's direction is vague. My career isn't following a clear trajectory. Sometimes, I want to do two conflicting things or I am not sure how strong my desire is. My emotions and instincts don't seem to have a clear point or reason. I may not have any hard-set opinions on a given topic. Not being able to label something right or wrong can test my patience because I can no longer accumulate feelings of righteousness by judging from a lofty post.

I can no longer avoid bad things and do good things because "bad" and "good" are not so easy to define and may not even exist! Sometimes, I like a person while not liking certain things about him or her. I live in the gray, a hard area to explain, but a place where I have found immense freedom from rules I had created for myself. I do not punish myself here, and I am not "bad." I am me. And I choose what to believe as I walk along.

However, I still long for definite rules, something that will work every time. If I need to make a decision, and the choice is between A and X, and A is always the best thing, my decision becomes much easier. But in the land of gray, X could sometimes be better than A. Sometimes, it might even turn out that A is B, or that the decision never really mattered at all. It's a rough place here in the land of no absolutes. It's harder, but it's better. And I rely on my higher power much more to guide me. Greater faith is applied here.

But back to the longing for rules, for right and wrong, good and bad, should and shouldn't. I think that today, I may have found a solid rule. We will see if it holds up in the long run. Here it is:

Always choose love.

Now, deciding what loving truly is may deserve some thought in each specific instance. I often think I'm loving when I'm actually trying to control a situation or get what I want. Sometimes, loving means seeing things from another person's perspective. What might feel loving to me might not feel loving when applied to another person, and it's hard to determine what another person sees as loving sometimes. Maybe the most I can say is to aim for kindness.

In every interaction, do the kind thing. Choose not to say the hurtful word. Choose to love exuberantly if it feels good. Love more quietly if your heart does not want to do the elaborate love thing.

Many people have hurt me. However, I do not regret any instance when I chose to tell someone how much I cared about him or her. I have not regretted one cheesy card sent, one kind word, one loving touch. If any of those things had been done out of manipulation, I wouldn't feel so good about them. That isn't kindness; it's reaching for control. And I do not like it when I try to manipulate the behavior of others by pretending to care about them. But when I honestly care for someone and reach out to them, when I am hurt but choose to respond in a loving way toward myself and the other party, I regret nothing.

I may feel pangs of humiliation when I receive nothing back or am rejected. It hurts when invitations are repeatedly turned down or when I am made fun of for being so "dramatic." But the humiliation passes, and I am calmed by realizing that at least these other people know how I feel. At least they know they are loved. That's what I want. And I will give it while remembering that in order to love others well, I must first love myself.

This week, I received some love back. I received some rejection. But what I received love-wise far exceeded anything lost by lack of reciprocation in another situation. Love wins. If I refuse to expose my heart, it can never be loved. If no one knows my soul, they can only love a shell of me.

I prefer that the core of me, not just the surface, be wrapped in pure affection. One day, someone will not freak out at my authenticity. In fact, some people in my life already see that and love me for it. Others are not quite able to embrace my intensity. And this is understandable, for I certainly am intense.

Today, instead of living in black and white, where intensity is bad, I see intensity as a part of who I am, a part that makes me great. It makes me interesting. I may have to deal with additional challenges because of my tendency toward the dramatic, but living as me certainly beats suppressing parts of myself so that I can get through life a little more easily. I don't care about climbing corporate ladders, and I don't have to "snag a man" to enjoy affection. Those things are only worth it if I get them while being MYSELF. To be myself is to love, and I am free to love in big ways if I feel like it.

I could and have felt angry and vengeful toward those to whom I gave truckloads of love while never receiving anything back. Those feelings have always eventually passed, though. And I feel that I am stronger for having loved. If I had played it safe and not tried to love, I would never have known if those people could have loved me in return. The question would have hung over my head, and I would never have touched other people who saw me giving that love. I would have simply stayed silent and still, wondering and feeling unexpressed, depriving people of the affection I held within.

Instead, I feel full and whole, having witnessed the outcome of loving in those situations. I also learned how to love better by practicing love. Loving is worth the work and the risk in the end, when I am able to love exquisitely. Eventually, someone will appreciate my love and want to pay me back in kind. Until that time, I'm paid back in love for myself. After loving, I love myself more. I treasure this person I've become, who can be "bad" and love at the same time, who can be humiliated but also feel prouder of herself than ever. Perhaps love is the absolute authority in this land of no absolutes...or maybe I simply enjoy loving right now.

Tunes, Dude

If you have not heard her music, please do. Garrison Starr definitely rocks!

http://garrisonstarr.com/

And I have a lot of love for MuteMath, let me tell you.

http://mutemath.com/

Relationships

Relationships are difficult for me. Not just romantic relationships, but any kind of social interaction. I tend to put on my performance face when I’m with people because it takes a less personal kind of energy to entertain than it does to honestly share who I am. But relationships teach me things no other tool can. Books, personal reflection, writing, music, therapy, and anything else I use to examine my heart cannot match the uncovering power of relationships. However, when I use those other tools to examine the dynamics I experience with other people, it always amazes me what I discover.

Now, to many people, the importance of relationships is rather obvious. Not so for me. I long denied that anyone had any need for anyone else. And truly, maybe we don’t need others. But history shows (when one looks at recluses and isolated artists) that life is typically much shorter and much darker without regular interpersonal exchange. So, what is it that I am currently learning from others? Why do I choose not to shun people and turn completely inward? I require an enormous amount of room for introspection, but I am finding that I need a regular social injection in order to achieve a peaceful balance.

For today, my relationships are teaching me that I need love and need to give love. Secondarily, they teach me how to love others and how I need to be treated in order to feel love. How about a summary of some points recently brought to my attention?

First of all, I need attention. I need a lot of attention. I crave it. I fear that if I don’t receive enough, I will go slipping off the face of the earth, and no one will ever notice. It seems that many people need much less of this precious commodity than I. And I tend to berate myself for craving so much from others. But once I accept my need for attention, I see that there are many people out there more than willing to give it. Besides, I am always excited to attend to others. When people bless me with their interest, they receive it back. The difficulty, for me, is asking for this attention.

I also need touch. I used to shun physical contact. I was so protective of my body, I couldn’t handle any sort of invasion. Now, I long for someone to reach out and hold me. I ask for hugs. I need them. I need these things. No shame in that.

I also need challenge. I need people who challenge me intellectually, especially. And this can be hard to find. I’m an intelligent woman, and I find myself bored by some crowds. It’s a treasure to find someone I can learn from. Of course, I learn something from everyone, even people who might be categorized as “less intelligent” than I. Perhaps emotional intelligence is more specifically what I crave. People courageous enough to look deep and make bold statements fascinate me. Knowledge of politics, engineering, history, or any particular topic only half-impresses me. People with self-knowledge and a spirit hungry to learn more…now that intrigues me.

I try to cultivate these same abilities and interests in myself as I interact with others. I seek not just to learn facts, but to remain hungry for any kind of knowledge. I pay attention to what people say and do and attempt to verbalize things I notice. And I am willing to touch others, to give myself to them. All of these developments come at their own pace within me. It can be tough to sit still and truly be with someone, to put my racing mind on the backburner. But it hurts people’s feelings when I am only partially with them. I can turn off my cell phone and release my to-do list long enough to have a thirty minute conversation. I hope to receive that from others.

I can be vulnerable and give someone a hug, come closer and really look someone in the eye. I can ask people questions about their lives instead of always trying to give them advice about how I think they should live it. They probably know best what to do for themselves. Personally, I want help making up my own mind, not the ideas of others forced upon me.

It can be difficult to remember these things when faced with people who have not developed these characteristics or curiosities. I can forget how important it is to truly pay attention to someone when I am not being paid attention to in a kind, caring way. I begin to think that that sort of self-involvement is perfectly fine. But it’s not. I can be concerned with myself. I must take care of myself first. But when I am engaged with someone else, I must ALSO consider the other person. I am not the only one who matters. Being with people who are overly concerned with themselves is tiring and frustrating. Distraction like that impedes connection. Perhaps there are relationships I have grown away from. People change, after all, and we cease to connect sometimes.

So I cherish the reminders I receive from people as they pay attention to me. It spurs me on to pay attention to others. When touched, I am more ready to touch. When challenged, I am more ready to challenge. Love is out there. And I’m learning where I can expect to receive it, where I like to give it, and where I am not receiving what I need. In the end, I hope to let it all go and pursue true love.

I am ready to take care of myself. And I am ready to be taken care of. Relationships teach me how to do these things.

Random Words

Don’t hurt yourself! You just tripped on my cloak of fabulosity!

I know it’s tempting to tread on my amazing qualities, but please don’t. I want you to glory in your shining, authentic self. Please let me glow in mine.

And do not try to force me to wear your cloak. I like who I am. If you want me to be like you, I need to reexamine how close I let you get to my wardrobe.

Late Bloomer?

I heard stories yesterday about people’s pasts. Every now and again, curiosity crops up in me about what life would have been like had I not been so distracted by my eating disorder during high school and college. In many ways, I feel like I fell behind, and these recovery years somewhat reflect a struggle to catch up with my peers.

Many people my age won promising internships during college that have enabled them to step directly into the field of their choice, receiving healthy paychecks for work they are trained for and talented at. Others were able to get into fabulous schools out of high school and college, and such schools often provide stepping stones and assistance in job placement. I feel like others spent time figuring out what they wanted to do, while I was busy flailing about, knowing only that I didn’t want to be doing the things I was doing then.

I see people who are successful in graduate school, well on their way to professorships. I see people working as assistants or even editors in the publishing field thanks to prestigious internship programs. I see others acting or singing, recording songs and even selling them because they spent time honing their craft and meeting significant people.

And I feel left behind. I still don’t feel secure enough in recovery to devote myself to more graduate study. I missed the publishing internships, which is definitely a strike against me; no two ways about it. But I cannot change that past. I never joined a band, never made music contacts, but I can’t change my previous disinterest and fear. I can only live now. I can take this life for what it is. However, that doesn’t make me feel like less of a failure when the thoughts come.

But last night shifted my perspective a bit. I sat in a room with other women of different ages, all with eating disorders. None of them are bums, nor would I consider any of them unsuccessful. But many started late. And here’s the kicker, they’re stronger for it.

I began to see my life as a flower that did not bloom late, but in perfect time. I have been given things I’m ready for as life has prepared me for them. And now, I am starting to see how recovery has prepared me for things I would not be able to understand or embrace without it. And if I had been given an internship or if I were still in graduate school, I would not be having a pleasant time. My recovery has come at just the right moment. I feel strong. When I am in a recovered state of mind, I love life as it is, without attaining any dreams. Paradoxically, as I let go of endless striving, many of my dreams have been fulfilled.

I strongly believe that I exude a maturity only developed through facing such a difficult personal trial. I am still immature in many ways. I often feel not quite as experienced as most others my age. However, many of those people do not have the same type of hard-fought personal maturity I do. They do not know how to be alone with themselves or what introspection means. They can’t empathize with people who struggle with personal strongholds (though they will surely experience one themselves at some point). They may be more socially astute, more sexually experienced, and at a more prestigious place in their careers, but many lack the depth I saw in the women I spoke with last night. They will get it eventually. Everyone learns the same lessons, just at different times in life.

I saw so clearly last night that my job matters very little in terms of advancement or prestige. What matters is that I truly enjoy doing it or that I can make enjoyable somehow. I am where I need to be. And I honestly believe that.

I have significant space in my life allotted for recovery, significant space for friends, for introspection, for writing, for music, for family. I don’t work sixty hours per week, and I would not want to. I do not enjoy my job nearly enough for that. But I also have no residual stress from my job. I have flexible hours and great friends to talk to throughout the day. My work location is convenient, and I do get projects I get lost in from time to time. When I’m not engrossed in a project, I deal with the boredom by reaching outside my work and living life even while there. I have numerous gifts.

I saw that one’s occupation need not define her. Some people identify closely with their work. Eventually, I hope to, too. To be a “writer” or a “musician” or a “speaker” who makes her living by her craft definitely appeals to me. But for now, I do not identify greatly with my job. People ask what I do, and I tell them. But I also tell them that I am a writer at heart, that I do music, and that right now, I’m concentrating on friends, family, and personal development. Those are my real occupations.

And I can trust that the time will come for me to experience my vocation. One day, I, too, might have a family and get swept away in that. I might do just about anything. But recovery appears to be a precursor to all of it. When I deny that, my need for recovery asserts itself, as I’ll find myself having difficulty with food or anxiety. The world doesn’t value recovery and often doesn’t understand it. But attention must be paid to that area first in order for anything else fulfilling to happen. I gain no prestige for the time I take off to go to therapy, to try new foods, to stretch myself. The world does not mark these on a scale of success. But I do. I am successful. And yes, I may not reach the upper echelons of corporate life or garner an enormous paycheck. I may never have a highly respected profession. But I will have a fulfilling life.

I had graduate school. I lived in another country. I did all of that. And I was miserable because I couldn’t figure out how to stay in recovery there. Daily, I choose to give up the things the world prizes for a deeper peace. And it’s okay. I see how these other women’s lives have taken turns without much manipulation or scheming on their part. They simply recover, follow their dreams, and move with life. So will I. And I will be happy.