"If you have to ask, then that’s your answer."

Warning - NSFSA (not safe for some audiences ... you know who you are)

This article, "Fuck Yes or No," pretty much says what I've been trying to say for forever. Manson and I have some different fundamental beliefs about sex [1], but other than that, we're more or less on the same page. I've been concerned for years with the all-too-common relationship approach of "this is good enough for now" or "I just don't want to be alone" -- if we're friends, you've probably heard my opinions about this firsthand. They might even have been directed at you. What I never feel I convey, however, is that it's so sad to hear people give terrible excuses for staying with someone they shouldn't be with. Not because I'm a hopeless, sunshine-and-unicorns-romantic [2], but because it reveals that people I care about don't think they're worth something/-one incredible.

You're worth it. Waiting for that person is worth it. I know, I know, it's easy for me to say because I have my person--but allow me to remind you that we fought for it. And the road wasn't always wonderful. [3] And before that happened, I came up with a lot of reasons to stay with other people when deep down I knew they were bad ones. Reasons, that is. Because ultimately, the Law of Fuck Yes or No doesn't say "this person is terrible and you should leave them"--it supports the idea that two people have to connect.

That being said, I want to comment on the two problems Manson observes at the end of his post. Ultimately they both sum up to "the problem is you." I mean, that's pretty much the argument he makes in general: if you're not happy, it's your responsibility to consider why, and what you're doing or not doing to cause it. And to some extent--yes. You're the only one responsible for your choices and actions. But I want to add that just because one person realized they weren't happy and needed to pursue something else doesn't mean that the other person was somehow screwing it up. Manson's Two Problems make it sound like if you aren't connecting with someone, it's your own fault, and I don't think that's true. I know some really incredible people who haven't met their person yet. I've witnessed seemingly-happy relationships blow up out of nowhere. Sure, everyone can use some self-examination and -improvement, and sure, sometimes your lack of self-actualization can prevent others from seeing who you really are, or bring about the end of a relationship. But not always.

Sometimes you just have to have the chance to meet the right person. Sometimes what seems like a "fault" on one side or another is really just a disconnect that wasn't very evident to one or both parties. Sometimes people just up and leave for "no reason" (essentially, because they're not saying Fuck Yes) and can't give a good explanation as to why. Usually I end up asking these questions: if the person you are interested in doesn't see how great you are, do you really want to try to establish a relationship with them? Do you really want to be with someone who doesn't care about you enough to work through their issues with you? [5]

I guess I'm just trying to cover both sides. You can't generalize and say that you've missed your chance because of something you did or didn't do. You also can't generalize and say that you're perfect and anyone who doesn't realize that is a loser. The point Manson is making--and that I am agreeing with--is that relationships are about connection. If you have to ask whether you are connecting, there's a good chance you aren't. If attempting to connect with someone is harder than it is successful ... maybe neither of you are saying Fuck Yes.

---
[1] primarily the whole "not doing it before you're married" thing
[2] I mean... I am. but that's not the point here.
[3] I'd love to tell you the story sometime. Because I love to tell the story. Although if you're reading this, there's a good chance you know it already and really have no desire to hear it again.
[4] They usually work in the course of a semi-objective, rational discussion. They're not quite as effective right after the breakup, but then, I'm not really great at being comforting. I do like sad movies and wine and ice cream, so maybe we could compromise with those?

baby don't hurt me

If you're side-bobbing your head, you already know what this post is about.

Various people in my life have been talking lately about "love," and what it is, and whether it's attainable. So naturally, because I have some intense ideas and opinions about the topic, I felt the need to chime in. [1]

why is love so complicated?

Honestly, in many ways, it's not. We love our families and our friends, and we don't usually question it, even when they make us crazy. Non-romantic love is something we accept, something we are willing to put effort into. And usually, we do it without really realizing how much.

From our family, ideally speaking of course, we learn a permanent love, the kind that exists regardless of the fights we have with siblings or parents etc. We even admit that we love, at least in some capacity, those relatives we might not necessarily like or connect with, or even someone who has wronged us. Family is family; they aren't going anywhere. So without the option of just "not being family anymore," we learn to adjust, and by adjusting, we establish a relationship. [2] From friends, we learn what it is to find people and love them for how they are. Unlike siblings, friends don't share the same genetics or upbringing, and therefore our friendships add dimensions to our perspectives as well as to our lives in general. Usually each relationship is unique unto itself, and as such we find different ways to interact with different friends. Because we are choosing to spend time together, we are also choosing to invest time and emotion in another person, and to some extent our friendships change and grow us.

So romantic love, as I see it, should fall somewhere in between: a combination of choosing to spend time with someone and working through differences instead of walking away from them. I have noticed, however, that most people try to make romantic love into something much more magical and complex. Some people come at it with a preconceived idea of what it's supposed to feel like, and are ready to run at the first sign that "the spark" might be gone. If we don't just automatically know about a person, it can't be right. Others (and I typically used to fall into this particular category), believe that it has to be love because it's convoluted and intensely emotional--a mix that tends to result in a good deal of fighting and even actual abuse. [3] An alarming amount of people idealize relationships that can be summed up as "people don't usually get us," as though these kinds of relationships are SO incredible that no one else could possibly understand. This is not to say that people haven't ever experienced "love at first sight" (at least some of those cute old people stories have to be true), or that there aren't successful relationships that don't make sense to the outsider. The problem I am trying to identify is really less to do with relationships themselves, and more about the expectations we bring into them.

It seems that most people fully support the concept of "being friends first" but then treat romantic relationships completely different from friendships. And yes, there is a lot more at stake in a romantic relationship than in a friendship, because you're looking to find someone to trust with all of your secrets and vulnerabilities. But if you choose to be friends with someone based on the way you interact and the things you have in common, why should the initial groundwork be any different for a boyfriend or girlfriend? And once you're in a relationship, and looking toward marriage--essentially, trying to establish a family of your own--wouldn't it make sense to treat it as though you will be working on it for the rest of your life?

Equally as complicating as our expectations going in to relationships, however, is the issue of sex. I here refer to it as a concept, which includes mackin' or even just cuddling. Once the physical element is involved, it is suddenly harder to approach the relationship from a friendship perspective. Don't get me wrong, I'm definitely not a "don't hold hands until you're married" kind of a person. But once you've crossed certain lines, they can't be un-crossed, and you've just invested a great deal more than you may have originally planned. I mean, who doesn't like sex, and doesn't want to continue having it after it's started up? Exactly. But barreling down this hill means that the other emotional/intellectual parts of you are still kind of waiting at the tops of their respective hills, and usually you're too busy rolling around in the grass to notice. Until suddenly you DO notice, and then you don't understand why the emotional and intellectual aspects of your relationship are so hard to work out. [4] The fact is, sex (and physical interaction in general) is connected to emotions, no matter which way you look at it. [5] The more you interact physically with someone, the harder it is to stay objective about your relationship. Not to suggest that subjectivity is a bad thing--in fact, it's not at all helpful to be completely objective--but without a certain element of reasonableness, relationships tend to spiral downward into a hot mess of heightened emotion and defense mechanisms.

okay, but what does it look like?

I'm gonna go here, you guys. It has to be done. I feel like a lot of people have heard this explanation so many times that they don't really think about what it means and how it is relevant. Which is too bad, because the Bible straight-up hands us a how-to guide on love:

• Love is patient and kind
• Love does not envy or boast
• Love is not arrogant or rude
• Love does not insist on its own way
• Love is not irritable or resentful
• Love does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. [6]

Kids, this is what love looks like. It is both far easier to break down than people want it to be, and a hell of a lot more work than people expect. It's not magic, it's not inexplicable sensation. It's being patient with someone when they drive you nuts, and not being petty or irritable. It's being kind and not rude or self-centered. And it's hard, because by nature we lose our patience, we are resentful of someone for something they do (or don't do!). I certainly don't like it when things don't go the way I want them, but there it is.

I should mention that this explanation of love is talking about love for everyone--your mom, your lab partner, your best friend, that obnoxious guy you work with, etc. Jesus instructs us to love one another, [7] so the list is really talking about an entire lifestyle. I know someone who actually gets annoyed that people use this in the context of romantic relationships, because it doesn't indicate anything about romance or marriage. And really, when you think about it, if you don't have a foundational perspective and definition of Love, how can you possibly expect a romantic relationship to survive? [8] In fact, without a foundation, "love" appears only in the form of emotions, which are fluid and temporary and therefore unreliable.

sometimes love just isn't enough

Two things:
a) that depends on how you are defining "love"
and b) enough for what?

Okay, I admit it: I do understand the sentiment behind this statement. But I'm me, and it's far too ambiguous for me to simply agree with it.

Love, as defined in the list above, and as exemplified in the perfect life, death, and resurrection of Christ, is absolutely enough. Enough to be happy, to live your life fully, and to establish healthy and enjoyable relationships with those around you. [9] It's even enough to bring us from this life into eternity: for God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. [10] If we live our lives loving one another, and trying to imitate the love of Christ, that true love then becomes the foundation of our relationships and the underlying current that directs our emotions. This is especially true in romantic relationships: if you love someone with a love that is patient, and selfless, and rejoices in the truth (and if they have the same foundation, and are approaching it the same way you are), it's going to be much easier to work through the challenges you face.

But "love" in the mushy romantic sense is not enough of a reason to commit yourself to a relationship, let alone a marriage. Absolutely a true statement. There's a lot more to stable relationships than the way you feel about them, because those feelings may or may not be permanent. Relationships are hard work, and this kind of "love" won't always stick around through the fights and the difficulties. [11] I've been married almost two years now and I can tell you for sure that all the giddy romantic stuff is there much less than it used to be. [12] But I can also tell you that this isn't a bad thing. It's not that "the spark has gone out"--our relationship has simply changed. You grow out of that initial head-over-heels feeling and into a different kind of warm fuzzies. And no, it's not that incredible headrush of the first kiss, but it's a comfort and security that you can't possibly achieve right away.

then how do you know you're in love?

Honestly, I'm not sure how to answer this one. To some extent, I think it's kind of obvious: you'll feel it, you'll breathe it, you'll know it with every ounce of your body. But whether that means you're ~in love~ as in, THE love, the person you're going to marry? I think that has to be a different feeling for everybody. And it probably depends on your views about "The One."

My views, since you asked, are sort of in the middle of "there is One Person out there for you" and "you can theoretically marry and be happy with anyone." Before I met Aaron, most of the married people I asked about this told me "oh, you just know." And of course I didn't really believe them, because that sounded like a load of crap and I was far too practical for that. True love, after all, isn't magic and fleeting emotions. But as it turns out, I did "just know." I knew it so well that to this day I haven't questioned it, and I haven't needed to.

I believe that God is using my choices and circumstances to provide me with everything I need, and to bring me, ultimately, through life and into an eternity in heaven. [13] I believe it strongly enough to write about it, even more than once. So my beliefs regarding marriage and "soul mates" fall, naturally, within this structure: certain choices that I have made have led me toward the person I married, and I believe completely that God brought us together on purpose (which includes, I should add, the idea that God also used Aaron's decisions and circumstances to guide him toward me). But I think that if I had made different decisions somewhere along the line, or even that external forces had led me in another direction, I would have met someone else who was equally as perfect for me as I am for him. So in a way, I believe that I could have married any number of different people and have been just as happy as I am now, but it's no different than thinking about what would have happened if I had gone to a different college or decided on a different career path.

so what is love?

Love is putting someone else before yourself. [14] Love is an active decision you make every moment of your life, and it's not always easy. But love isn't necessarily any different between friends or family or spouses. Our relationships and the ways we express our love are all different, but at the core, the foundation remains the same. And yes, loving people puts you at risk. It's actually a little bit terrifying to think how vulnerable you become when you are willing to truly love someone. But when you're looking for a husband or a wife, and when you both come at it with the same foundation and beliefs, you already have the answer for a lot of the problems that arise on the surface. And when you're both in it together, loving each other as God loves you, then you can't go wrong. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. And the best part is, love never ends. [15]

---
[1] For all of you skeptics out there, don't worry, I have already been informed by multiple people that anything I have to say on the matter is rendered invalid by the existence of my wedding ring, as it indicates that I am no longer capable of sympathy or empathy for the lovelorn. Because clearly that's how it works. </snark>
[2] Of course, I'm speaking in ideals here. Certainly, and unfortunately, I am aware that a lot of hurt and awfulness can occur within--and as a result, separate--families.
[3] Not to make light of abusive relationships, because those are a psychology chapter all to themselves.
[4] I mean, not like I have ever done this before.
[5] Even if that means you shut your emotions off, and pretend that your sexual experience has no bearing on the rest of your perspectives. But that's still a connection, and it's not a healthy one.
[6] 1 Corinthians 13:4-6
[7] John 15:12 -- This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.
[8] Yep, you bet that I realize that I am presupposing a foundation of faith in order for any of this to work. I also realize and acknowledge that not everybody shares this foundation. To be honest, though, I don't think there is a better, all-encompassing explanation or approach than that list.
[9] 2 Corinthians 12:9a -- But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
[10] John 3:16. Go team.
[11] If you're interested, I've even written a post about what I have learned to be important to a healthy relationship. Keep in mind that I do know everything.
[12] Not to say that we aren't sort of mushy and gross sometimes. Because ... we are. lol.
[13] Romans 8:28 -- And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.
[14] John 15:13 -- Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.
[15] 1 Corinthians 13:7-8a

marriage - i think we're doing it wrong.

Yesterday we celebrated our one year anniversary. Which is really weird, because I kind of feel like I just got married. But ... I also feel like I've been married for years. Aaron and I joke that now that we've made it a whole year, we're going to have to stop enjoying our relationship, since according to the media and social commentary, this is supposed to be a battle. Men are lazy and selfish and only want sex, and women are underappreciated but the only reason anything gets done. Of course there's also the opposite side, where men are the breadwinners and women are supposed to be subservient and housewifey, but that this makes men into workaholics who don't care about their families, and it makes women into drones and nags. Either way, it's obvious to me that we're doing something wrong, because none of these sound anything like our relationship.

I know it's only been a year, and color me pretentious for already having some commentary on marriage. Trust me when I say I definitely do not believe I know everything about how this works, and that I am counting on many more years of lessons (both the fun and the hard). But what I have learned, aside from the (many) little quirks of Aaron, are (I think) relatively universal insights into how relationships work, and how they can be improved. It should come as no surprise that the underlying key is communication--which, I discovered, is not exactly what I thought it would be.

So, in no particular order, allow me to share some thoughts I've had about my relationship.
Like, for example,

patience.

This is one of those concepts that I always knew was important, but never realized how much. I always used to think that being patient meant being able to wait in a chronological sense, like for your mom when she's talking or to open your Christmas presents. But patience, as it turns out, is also about waiting to lose your temper, waiting to react, waiting to become offended. This is chronological too, technically, but has more to do with self-control. Patience, essentially, is a form of expressing your love for someone by putting them before yourself.

Typically, we Christians like to explain love with 1 Corinthians 13. Love is patient, love is kind, etc [1]... it's just one of those automatic definitions we use. It certainly isn't all-encompassing--it doesn't deal with forgiveness or selflessness or commitment, all of which are universally-accepted (maybe?) aspects of love. If you think about it, this verse doesn't even define love as much as it gives us a list of instructions on how to love. So most commonly we just file all these attributes in the folder marked "love, etc" and let it be. But I think it's very worth noting that the first thing Paul says about love is that it is patient.

Here's the thing, and maybe you knew this: I'm a nerd. so I went and looked up the original Greek text of 1 Cor 13:4. The Bible uses the phrase Ἡ ἀγάπη μακροθυμεῖ, which breaks down like so:
Ἡ ἀγάπη (agape) = the love (noun)
μακροθυμεῖ (makrothumei) = it is patient (verb)

The word makrothumeo (I am patient) is a compound verb, formed from the words makros--meaning "distant/long"--and thumos, which translates most easily into the word "passion," but (depending on prefixes and forms and such) can imply anything from desire to rage to lust. Uncle Robbie calls it "the fire in your belly." The verb makrothumeo literally means "I suffer long." Patience isn't just about waiting for things or biting back the snappy remarks. It's about being willing to suffer, and not just temporarily, but for a long period of time. It takes conscious effort, and (because we only suffer the things we don't like) it's not often rewarded. And, as previously mentioned, that's the very first thing Paul says about love: love is long-suffering.

Hold the phone, I'm not suggesting that it's only love if you are suffering. Because that's not the case either--see the actual Scripture at footnote [1] down below. And it doesn't necessarily mean that the person you love hurts you, because the perfect love from Christ does not cause us to suffer. Existing in the sinful world, however, does involve suffering, and sometimes suffering at the hands of other people because of that perfect love.

The fact is, people are flawed. It doesn't matter how much you care about each other--you're neither of you perfect, and your imperfections are, at some point, going to hurt the other person. It's easy to say that loving someone means treating them well, but we often forget that it also means being understanding when the other person makes a mistake. And being patient is very closely connected to

compromise,

which is what I really meant when I said "communication" up at the top of this post. Like so many of my little discoveries, this too turned out to be not as simple as I thought it was before I was married. When you're growing up, you learn to compromise as a means of conflict resolution. You both give up a little bit and then reach a conclusion that can make both sides happy. Important life skill? Definitely. But compromise isn't just about resolving issues--it's about preventing them. Compromising between spouses is an active, ongoing decision, and it requires the willingness to communicate.

I am of the opinion that everyone has their own language. Not as in English or Spanish, but as in a form of communication, a way of perceiving the world that you use when you express your thoughts. For example, Aaron thinks in clear cut words and ideas, and expresses them concisely and directly. He says exactly what he means, and no more and no less (usually...lol). But I, on the other hand, think in concepts and spiderwebs, with everything connected and under the lens of whatever emotion I am feeling the most at that time. Needless to say, this difference has been more than a little bit of a problem when it comes to working things out. At the root of most of our arguments is the fact that we are speaking to each other in different languages and we don't always remember to bridge the gap.

Compromise, however, is what I mean when you try to understand where the other person is coming from. It means taking the time to meta-communicate (psych term!) about your relationship, to understand why the other person says what they say, or why they get upset with you for just saying what you say. Aaron's directness can really put me off until I remember that he just cuts through the fluff and gets to the point. On the other hand, my emotional thought-train tends to frustrate Aaron, until he remembers that it's all a network of ideas and ~feelings that build up to my actual point. Compromise happens in two ways: both when you try to express your ideas in the other person's language, and when you try interpret what the other person is saying using the rules of their language. And both Aaron and I have had to learn to be patient (vocabulary word!) with each other, to hold back the reactions caused by our personal language in order to understand the language of the other person.

Moving on to other useful tidbits of advice, such as

keep your mouth shut.

Ha, ha.
No, but really.

Last year, at my friend Paul's wedding, they did the couples dance where at certain points you have to sit down if you've only been married for X amount of years. The last couple dancing had been married for ... 60? years or something, and the DJ asked them what their secret was. The man, who was totally beaming at his wife the entire time, just said, "keep your mouth shut."

Of course everyone cracked up about this. Because isn't that what society jokes about when it comes to husbands--just shut up and let your wife have her way? Personally, I got a little riled. But the more I thought about it, the more it began to make sense. It's not about not speaking your mind, or about one person having a "better" opinion. It's about being aware, and about picking your battles (even if it doesn't seem like a battle at the time).

Before I was married, I was convinced that the key was sharing everything, the good and the bad, the every-moment thoughts, the things about my husband that bothered me. Because this was "good" communication; it meant that we were open and honest with each other. But what I have discovered is that all things, including sharing, need a little bit of moderation. I definitely advocate being honest and open, and I believe that keeping secrets is the first step to closing yourself off to someone. But I also think that people tend to swing too far to the other side, and share everything, all the time, without regard for the situation or what is going on with the other person (and by "people" I mean "piera"). The trick is timing. If it's a problem that needs to be addressed, usually it's better to wait until you've both wound down from your day, and that neither of you are distracted or already upset about something else. More importantly, if you're in the middle of a fight, it's never helpful to make all the snappy comebacks that you want to, because all it does is make the problem worse. Keeping your mouth shut is a hard trick to learn (and I definitely haven't mastered it). Learning when and how to share is also difficult, but creates less conflict in the long run.

take each other seriously

This kind of seems obvious to me, because if you respect and love someone, it would follow that you respect their opinions and perspectives. I have learned, however, that that is not necessarily the case. I know for a fact that there are some things that bother Aaron that don't bother me, and vice versa. And more than a few arguments have occurred as a result of one of us going "well that's a dumb thing to be upset about." Because the fact of the matter is, it's important to one of us, for whatever reason, and even if it's objectively mundane and petty, it's still something that we are affected by. Certainly we could both learn to let it go, and to be less bothered by it, but that is an ongoing life improvement issue and can't be fixed in one instance. Even if the circumstance calls for a "honey, I think you're overreacting" (which it probably does), it's important to remember that the other person's opinion is still valid simply because it is his/her opinion.

...but not TOO seriously,

because sometimes you both just have to let it go. Especially about each other. It's so easy to pick out little things and let them get to you, but these little things are a part of that person as a whole, and they are unlikely to change. This is related to the concept of patience above, but I am applying it here in a broader, less-important sense. You could spend your whole life fighting about stuff, or you could just shrug most of it off and accept that this is the way it is for that person. Of course--this doesn't necessarily apply to actual sinful behavior, nor does it mean that you shouldn't talk about problems you have. But some things aren't going to change, and there's no point in letting them make you miserable for your whole life.

pride!

(huh! what is it good for! absolutely nothing)

Obviously, being overly proud is a bad thing. I bring it up, however, because I never realized until I was married just how much of it I have. It comes out mostly in arguments, at the moment that I realize I'm fighting a losing battle. This is when I stop making reasonable arguments and start saying whatever I feel like saying, because I don't want to be wrong, goram it.

But although this is where I can see it flaring up, I think I recognize it most in the moments when I fight against it. It seems that human nature values its dignity and pride above most other things, and making the choice to not put it first is ... well, scary. Without my pride as a defense I am suddenly a lot more vulnerable than I want to be, which means I have to remember to trust Aaron even though we're both mad at each other. It takes actual effort to decide which route to take, and that moment of decision has a tendency to add a little perspective to the situation. Which is also a bonus.

putting each other first

is at the heart of all of this, and I feel like it sort of goes without saying, but ... then again, maybe it doesn't. It's one thing to die for someone, but it's another thing entirely to live for them. [2] If you love someone, you put them before yourself--not in a worshippy sort of way, but in the sense that you look out for their best interests. This means that you exercise patience in arguments, in order to find out what the other person is trying to say. It means you think about how your comments and actions will affect them. It means trusting each other, and allowing yourself to become vulnerable to someone--because if you're both taking care of the other person, you don't need to take care of yourself. What it means, and what a lot of people don't want to believe, is that you allow yourself to be changed in order to better care for the other person. This doesn't mean that you should bend over backwards to be whatever they want, because that isn't "caring" for them in the overall sense (plus, it's destructive for both of you). In fact, it's good to stand your ground, and let the other person learn from you. I need to work on thinking in concise, clear-cut terms, and my relationship with Aaron has helped me with that a great deal. And sometimes it's good for Aaron to let go of the little things that I let go, and I think he is learning from that as well. But at the heart of it all, if you're going to commit to spending the rest of your lives together, you have to give up part of yourself for that person. You have to be willing to change, or you will spend the rest of your life in a standoff, and nothing will ever be accomplished. Plus you'll both be miserable.

Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes I want things to go MY way, and sometimes I just want Aaron to meet me where I am. But all of the time, everything works out for the best if we both try to meet each other on the other person's level. Nothing in my life has ever been this much work, or--sometimes--this hard. But nothing has ever been this awesome, either. Because when we stop trying to fight each other, and remember that all we want is for the other person to be happy, everyone wins.

---
[1] 1Cor 13:4-8a, 13 Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. ... So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
[2] This is a loose quote from ... someone. Aaron maybe? please let me know which of you lovely people said this, because it's golden and I can't take credit for it.
[3] I am really painfully aware of how much colloquial mismatched person is happening in this post ... all the "their" when I just mean "he/she" and don't want to do the work. But you know what, it's my on goram blog and I'll misuse grammatical rules however I want to, and you just need to meet me on my level. Ha.

crazy concept of the day ...

It's not even that I'm too lazy to add anything to this article ... it's just that it says everything that needs to be said. Except for the fact that you could swap the genders and replace the term "husband" with the word "wife," and the article would still be entirely true.

Thanks to Keaton for posting it on the Book of Faces.

the human condition

My friend Jasmine found this article, and it actually doesn't sound like a terrible idea.

Arguments happen. Two people in a relationship will not always agree, and this results in a conflict. This is normal, and this is a part of what makes life interesting, to say the least. But I am always so confused when those arguments become actual fights ... because even while they're happening, a part of me is standing on the outside going "what the hell is wrong with you guys?!"

Don't get me wrong. I fight, and I fight dirty, and usually there isn't much to bring me down from my passionate indignant moment because I'm right, dammit, and the other guy is being a total moron, and why can't he see that? But you have to admit, once you've got a little space, you can look back and go "wow. that was kind of pointless." Because usually, they are. Well ... sort of. Usually the specific fight is pointless. But the big thing underneath the fight, the usually-unspoken-(semi)permanent-issue, is something that still needs fixing. And that's the thing that it's so hard to talk about, because sometimes it's even beyond our actual conscious thought process.

I guess the question I'm getting at is why do we fight. And the initial answer is pretty obvious. We have frustration with one thing in our lives and we take it out on the unfortunate person next to us. We have baggage from past relationships and project those issues on to the unfortunate person next to us. The person next to us does something that irritates us, and for whatever reason (see above) we snap and lash out at them for ticking us off. Heck, sometimes that other person is just being a jerk and we don't like it--and that actually gets closer to the question I'm asking.

What is that moment between "argument" (a conflict of interest) and "fight" (the kind with yelling, and slamming doors, and being so sure you're right that you refuse to see the other person's point). How does that happen? Why do we suddenly lose control and need to win? What are we even trying to win?

In my experience, these fights only happen with the people you love. Namely here the person with whom you are in a romantic relationship. And in that scenario, isn't the idea to work together? To take on the rest of life side by side (or back to back, depending on the situation)? So why is it that it's so easy for conflict to put the two of you at war with each other?

... I don't have an answer for this, if that's what you're hoping for. I mean obviously people fight because they perceive that something they value (usually about themselves) is being attacked. And then they want to defend it, and when people are defensive they are also ... offensive. And that's where the fights start. And yes, let us not forget that there is sin in the world and no one is perfect. Selfish nature wins involuntarily over love, and we put our own bad self (see what I did there) over the other person's well-being, and a fight is begun.

Okay. I get all of this. So that's where the fight sparks to life. But what keeps us going? Where do our brains GO in that half hour, and why can we come back together at the end of it, or even a day later, and go "wow that was stupid, let's never do THAT again"? Are we no longer ourselves when we fight? Do we just check out and let the territorial angry-animal side take over for a little while? Why is it so impossible to take a minute to try to see it from the other person's point of view, and try to understand what is bothering them, and (most importantly) put that person's interests before our own and therefore not only resolve the dispute but also help that person?

I know, I know. Original sin. Sinful human nature. I guess the answer is obvious; it's just not an answer I want, because I can't do anything about it. So maybe a safe-word would help, because that distance from each other is what clears heads and helps people think more rationally. More like themselves. The problem is that you have to have a certain amount of humility to call that time-out, and when I'm all crazed and animal-like it's kind of hard to muster that up.

post script: muster is such a weird word

in which piera admits that blogging is a relatively cowardly way of voicing her thoughts

(because I know that not a whole lot of people read this blog, and I'm pretty sure I know all of you anyway, and it's not a public mini-feed forum like facebook)

Fact: I hate getting involved in political discussions, namely because I rarely know enough to form an opinion worth having. I have vague ideas of opinions, but since I'm too lazy to do research I just try to stay away altogether.

Fact: I dislike getting involved in religious discussions, because they are largely political, and because I am afraid to misrepresent that which I believe. I also hate getting into heated debates when it is obvious that there will not be a clear "winner." Most people get pretty worked up when you suggest they might be headed in the wrong direction (heck, just say the word "wrong" to most people and you might as well be talking to a wall), and I have not found the courage to step into a discussion like this, because at the end of it I am afraid of ruining my relationships. Therefore I usually shy away from discussions with people who do not share my general perspectives on faith and its relevance in everyday life. I am not proud of this fact (and this habit tends toward [is?] the sin of omission), but this is, as previously stated, just a fact.

Another (unfortunate?) fact is that I don't always voice my opinions in the Lutheran realm either. I have found that I stray toward the liberal side of conservative, and if I speak up without a well-armed artillery of reasonable support for my thoughts, I find myself not only talking to a wall, but talking to a wall who will spend a decently long amount of time convinced that I am straying from the one true God. Or the one true doctrine, depending on the person/wall. This is unfortunate, because I have several great topics of discussion that I wouldn't mind getting into (and I definitely wouldn't mind some feedback, or having more things to ponder)—but there are always the possibilities of misrepresenting my thoughts (or beliefs), or of taking the discussion from "intellectual" to "emotional and personal" and therefore causing problems between myself and the other person. So I pick and choose my battles discussions, and keep quiet about the rest.

All of that having been said, I wish to post an image that I will not, for all of the previously-stated reasons, share on the facebook.

Comments are welcome, but I will be scared of them. Regardless of who you are.

an unpopular opinion

These are more or less my thoughts exactly, so I present this article without additional comment.

Except, of course, for mentioning that I cannot wait to get married.

i have no fear of drowning... it's the breathing that's taking all this work

(work / jars of clay)

I'm a better person when I'm alone.

Somehow (and I'm still not sure how) I've managed to have long-term boyfriends for the better part of the last 7 years, and when I wasn't actually in a relationship I was working toward one, which is a form of relationship in its own right. And frequently when I talk to my single friends about relationships, I am uncomfortably aware of the fact that I haven't spent a whole lot of time on my own. I imagine that if I spent most (or all) of my life single, I would feel a decent amount of resentment toward the girls who managed to find a guy without trying too hard, and I always feel somewhat guilty when I talk to lonely girls who are looking for someone with whom to share their lives.

But here's the weird thing... I don't know if my lengthy experience with relationships has necessarily been ideal. When I am alone, it doesn't scare me as much as I think it should. Those brief periods of singledom tend to be accompanied by independence and clarity of thought, and I am much more focused on my faith and my intellect than when I am with someone. Granted, it's entirely probable that I'm more afraid of being alone than I realize, and as a consequence I automatically turn toward what I know to be an immovable foundation, but the underlying reason is less important than the result it provokes. I also have never had to deal with being alone for more than a few months, so this theory might not hold up after a year of loneliness. But that's not the point either.

What I'm getting at is this: it's so much easier for me to be a person when I'm on my own. I always tell people that it's no good to change your personality when you meet someone you like, because if you want to be in a relationship you have to be honest. So when I am alone I am pointedly myself in my behavior, I keep my own counsel, and I have less trouble making decisions. I have plenty of projects to work on and I'm something of a hermit these days, so I don't mind spending time by myself. It's actually a pretty good setup all things considered, because I don't mind taking care of my own business leaving well enough alone.

But I also love the adventure and the challenge of relationships. I love the concept of marriage, and what it means to love someone, to create one life out of two, to balance strengths and weaknesses and personalities. I want someone to love, someone who looks at marriage and life and family the way I do.

It's just that when I'm actually in a relationship, I become someone else. I have a traditional/conservative understanding of gender roles and I want a man who isn't afraid to step it up and be responsible—but somehow my brain translates "stepping back to let him work" into "acting like a complete fucking idiot." Now that I have someone to talk to about my ~~feelings~~ and to bounce ideas off of, I do it ad nauseum until I turn into a nervous wreck. I believe so strongly in honesty that I go overboard, and not only do I feel everything, I have to share it and talk it out and make sure that my feelings haven't had the wrong effect and what are his feelings and what do we do about this?

... it gets to the point that I hate myself, because ... I'm not myself. I'm someone else. Someone pathetic and useless and really just plain obnoxious.

It's easier to be alone, because there's so much less on the line. It's not that relationships are work (although they are) ... it's that I'm afraid they're going to end. And that fear ends up biting me in the ass because I'm so busy trying to be perfect that I forget to be Piera, which is what landed me the gig in the first place.

So when it comes down to it ... this is why I've never spent that much time single. Because I don't need to—my challenges lie in the relationships themselves. I let the fear of losing someone get in the way of trusting God; I create a ridiculous image of the girlfriend I "should be" and beat myself up for not being able to be her. I periodically wonder if it would be better to just give up and be alone. I'd be missing out on the family/kids thing... but at least I'd keep my figure...?

And then I remember, and am consequently completely humbled by, the fact that God's design even includes putting us up against the very things we fear and hate, just so we learn to fight them.

I just wish I could realize this in the actual moment, instead of in the bizarre occasions when I am taken out of it.