Friendship

My whole life I have sort of trudged ahead, relentless, in pursuit of the 'next goal' and 'that which I presumed would bring me recognition and respect from others' in a shallow hope of finding peace with myself. I've sought to please others as a means of validating my own presence. I've gone above and beyond what is a very basic representation of respect in order to secure some kind of favor and/or commitment from my intended target of affection or devotion. I've given much more of myself than I've ever received. In platonic, professional, personal relationships, I've essentially sold my soul for the price of admission and acceptance into the other person's Ego Faire. The result of friendship is often one where I feel left out, desperate and inauthentic.

I looked up friendship online and the result was this: true friends consistently demonstrate the following (Wikipedia definition of friendship):
1. Empathy: The tendency to desire what is best for the other;
2. Honesty: even in situations where it may be difficult for others to speak then truth, being honest regardless of fears;
3. Mutual Understanding: enjoyment of each other's company or ability to express one's feelings and make mistakes without fear of judgment.
4. Compassion: ability to go to each other for emotional support;
5.Reciprocity: equal give-and-take between the two parties; ability to be oneself.

All of these, coincidently, I did not have with my ex-husband. How did I ever expect to retain a functional relationship with this person should we not have these very basic tenets between us?
I have a rare set of friends and family for which most of these tenants are part of the relationship. Gosh, I wonder, do I create this environment for my son?

Is it possible that the degree of implement-ability may indicate the depth and strength of the friendship?

In different cultures, the word "friend" means different things. For instance, I know from experience the nuance of using the term "Amigo or Amiga" in Spanish to refer to someone you know. Because in Spanish, you must differentiate the sex or gender of the person, whereas in English, you can simply refer to someone as a "friend" not indicating in any measure for which one could extrapolate if there was a romantic connection or not.

Not that opposite sexes cannot be friends. But let me just say, that from my experience, I've not met many guys who have wanted to be friends with me without also wanting something more, and for me likewise. It's when you truly find someone who is willing to trump empathy, honestly, trust and reciprocity in favor of sexual pleasure that you begin to embark on a winning platonic relationship.
Now, can friends become lovers? And, more interestingly, what is the success rate? According to several online sources on Google, friends becoming lovers is a rather popular topic. The keyword search for "can friends become lovers" gets over 85 million hits. There are numerous articles and blog sites expounding on the topic.

There is research that suggests this can be quite possible, and that, the stronger the bonds of trust are between two people in a relationship, the greater chance of survival. And, ultimately, bonds are developed over time, through trials and experiences that test the level of supportiveness and responsiveness of partners are to one another. Friendships are great testing grounds for such pilot projects of love.

If I could find a person who said to me, “let’s try and build a friendship first and see if an intimate relationship makes sense” I guess I would be at first confused and then secondly, I’d be quite attracted to the idea of learning how to be with someone prior to actually committing to being with someone forever.

And where does this leave the BFF? I've had many a good BFF throughout my years. Women who stood by me, regardless of my mistakes, women who held me when I fell apart and women who helped build me up to who I really am. And where do they fit into this discussion?

Do BFF's usurp our bonds with family? Can a friend take the place of a family member? Is the friendly exchange and humorous banter something that can survive months of authenticity? Years? Decades? How many people can I say I've been friends with for over a decade? One, maybe three at most. How do I compare to our cave-dwelling ancestors? Just curious.

I try and imagine what life was like for the average cave-girl. Did she visit her BFF's family cave and check out the latest kill? Did they spend endless hours pouring over the latest in wolf's skin clothing? And, as one developed, both mentally and physically, were they supportive of each other or were they competitive? Because, as we know, survival was more important than connection at that time in our history as a human race. Or at least, we presume.

In the end, I can say that friendships have been one of the richest and most rewarding part of my experience in life. Not to say that my family relationships are not as meaningful, but I guess, that, to a certain extent, I give my family a lot more in terms of empathy and understanding, whereas, with those I am not physically related, I expect a bit more in terms of their overall demonstration of character before I divulge my deepest, darkest secrets.

Sweaty Bicycle Mama

I commute most places via bicycle.  I have a child seat on back, where my 3.75 year-old son rides co-pilot, snacking on dried fruit and juice.  In front, there is a huge basket,which is often heavy-laden with bags and totes filled with daily necessities.  Many days, I arrive at meetings, to work, or special events and even social gatherings sweaty and worn out yet proud.  My makeup is melting.  My panties are all bunched up.  I can barely exit my bike without toppling over.  It is in this moment that I quietly summon courage and strength to smile graciously. 

I’ve seen the fairly put-together; high-maintenance women stare at me in wonder.  I’ve seen the well-groomed and playful metro-sexual men raise an eyebrow then casually make steadfast to the previously-mentioned put-together woman standing attactively across the way.  Some people respect it.  Some people are envious.  Some people are curious.  Some people simply don’t get me.  And yet, I wonder.  How does a professional, educated, self-aware single-mother in her late 30’s continue to ride a bicycle like she’s a teenager riding home from soccer practice?    

And the truth is that I don’t know why I do it.  I could choose to drive my car instead.  It’s comfortable, convenient, efficient and considerably more professional.  I could try and be more organized; for example, pack my make-up, clean clothes and heels to change into later.  But I don’t. I am often late and frankly I am disinterested in being “organized”.

Recently, a man commented on my appearance in general, saying, that, when I put effort into how I look, I look good.  Otherwise, he said, I am sort of plain and unappealing.  He’s obviously been crossed the list of “possible suitors” and yet, he has something for which makes me ponder.  How much of whom I am is embedded in what I look like?  How much of whom I am rests on my outward appearance? Part of me indignantly barks out that it shouldn’t matter what I look like in any moment.  My old favorite quote was “to know me is to love me”. But, with age, and as I spend more of my life single than coupled, I start to wonder; maybe I should re-think this indignant stance on beauty.  What is beauty?  The old saying, beauty is more than skin deep makes me think of the story of The Ugly Duckling or Shrek.  Aristotle said beauty is a gift from God and I think Ernest Holmes would agree.  Beauty is a “God Quality” that we, in Science of Mind, attest is something inherent in our very being.    

So, being put-together and pretty in appearance is one aspect of beauty for sure.  Being pure in heart and completely authentic in oneself is equally as beautiful. Being both is extraordinarily competent and impressive.  Being okay with yourself, just as you are, and being surrounded by others who accept you unconditionally, is exactly where I want to be. 

Something's Gotta Give

September 5, 2012

I immersed myself in my past these last few days. Thinking about the “what if’s and what for’s”. I try to believe that I have no regrets. I see my son half of the time he is alive and that is a blessing. When I see him, it is as if he has grown a year in one week. He’s thoughtful, amazingly creative, funny and very, very sweet. His voice, his kisses, the way he opens up to strangers and friends….. I am so blessed to have the life I have.   I am glad that he is happy and healthy.

And yet….

I am so sad for the lost time away from him. I feel, somehow, like a failure, a wretched, selfish, loser who has no right to be his mother. I feel like I am losing time with him.  Time that is irreplaceable; forever lost. I feel weak and unable to fight back.

I recently watched a movie I hadn’t seen in years. “Something’s Gotta Give” with Diane Keaton and Jack Nicholson.  When I saw it years ago, to me, it was trivial and unrelated to my life. Today, it spoke to me.   Amazing how a few years can add on perspective, eh?

For those of you who have not seen the movie, the basic plot is that there is this womanizing man in his mid-sixties who hooks up with a girl in her pre-thirties and they drive out to the family summer house where, unfortunately, her mother shows up unexpectedly.  Things happen, and he has a heart attack and has to stay at the house for an extended period of time. Hence, the ensuing romance between the like-aged main characters. They fall for each other but life, alas, always draws them apart into conflict, therein continues the plot for the movie. She was tense and unhappy. He was blissful yet, lonely. In the end, however, with much romantic fanfare, they come back together and it is, after all, how Hollywood has ingrained in us since birth,  we all will live“happily ever after”.

At one point in the movie he says more or less, that he has found that he arrived at being himself from hearing the same story over and over again. It was in this way, he says that “my life begins to add up”.  To me, it seems he is trying to say that it was other's opininons that shaped who he became. 

We live our lives, at most times affected without intention or understanding as to what or how or to whom things happen the way they happen. A lot of times we live in judgment and fear with our explanations held tight around us like security blankets. Many times, we avoid reconciling the events which displace us, in an attempt to ‘move past’ that which makes us sad or feel vulnerable. We live embroiled in the pain and forget to reflect on the bigger picture.

As a single parent, attempting to co-parent with my son’s father, at times, unsuccessfully, I see this idea of our human stories as preeminent in our development as individuals. How often I want to hold onto the story that “he just doesn’t understand” or “he’s selfish and impetuous”. But the truth is that, I live this tragic story daily out need for consistency so that I can remain the comfortable space of who I have become. That feeling is most often based upon what my misguided ego perceives as my true self.   But my true self does not rest in stories and in egoistic visions of my past. It is always lives unteathed in the Now. 

What an amazing invention to have at our very own fingertips. The power to reinvent yourself at this very second. Your thoughts create your reality. Choose another thought and your reality shifts.

My son is in the hands of someone who loves him unconditionally. And I am at peace knowing that there is only good in this world for him. I choose NOT to focus on the old stories. I know that, for happiness to prevail, something’s gotta give.