This Much I Know Is True: Part III

And now, ladies and gentlemen, the first of the oh so important lessons learned about love and relationships.

5. Singleness is not a problem in need of a solution.

Life is good. I am generally quite happy with where things are at. I have a rewarding job with likeable colleagues, a beautiful home in a beautiful city, a reasonably functional and loving family, awesome friends, a fantastically decorated bicycle, and more scarves and shoes than I could ever wish for. Still, sometimes when I share my contentment with life at present, there are those who say, “Now we just have to find you a good man.” They mean well; I know. They love me and believe I deserve someone to share my life with. As one of my dear friends said, “I just want a good guy to come along and think you’re as awesome as we all think you are.” So I appreciate the sentiment, but their well-intended wishes imply that my life will never be fully complete until I am once again partnered up. A “good man,” they suggest, is the missing piece to my puzzle (that sounded kind of dirty even though I didn’t really mean it to).

But who can blame them? The message is everywhere. Few girls dream of growing up to become satisfyingly single. We plan our weddings long before we have even met our grooms. We talk about the future with the accepted assumption that someday- after our days of wild, reckless and restless youth, once we’ve explored and experimented and found ourselves, when we’re ready, when the time is right- we’ll partner up and settle down. We believe it for even the most hardcore partyers and the most dedicated bachelors. In fact, we wait and watch with great anticipation for the girl who will finally get him to say good-bye to his womanizing ways, or the guy that will truly whisk her off her feet forever and always.

Coupledom is what we are taught to strive for. Miserable coupledom is often regarded more highly than happy singleness. In fact, singleness, to some, indicates selfishness, stubbornness, or unsuitability. The belief is often that if someone is single for a prolonged period of time, there must be something wrong. You hear it all the time: “What?! You?? Single? How is that even possible? A smart, pretty girl like you?” The insinuation is that if I am reasonably attractive enough, there must, then, be some other reason for why I am still on my own. That’s when the speculating begins: “Maybe she’s just not ready.” “Maybe she’s got too much baggage.” “Maybe she doesn’t know how to trust men anymore.” “Maybe she comes off too independent.” “Maybe she snores too loudly.” “Maybe she has webbed feet.” And the funny thing is that if I were to say that actually, I’m totally okay with being on my own, or that I am truly enjoying this newfound space, there is often this little knowing smirk, the There, there, honey. You just keep telling yourself that look, as if it weren’t possible to be both single and happy.

For the first little while after I became single and happy, I was not too concerned with finding myself a ”real” boyfriend (and I specify single and happy quite intentionally here, because in the pre-happy phase of my singleness, when I was barely keeping my shit together, I was so fragile and broken that I practically hissed at anything with a penis that dared to even look in my direction, which means the idea of actually letting someone close enough to make me consider being unsingle did not even enter my mind). And I think, at that moment, most would agree, I was off the hook- for the time being- from the societal expectation of finding someone. I was new to the game and enjoying my freedom and doing what I have come to affectionately call “practicing,” a term which in and of itself suggests that I too believed that, eventually, when I had gotten my jitters out and built up my confidence and figured out what I wanted, I would ready myself and begin the quest for the real deal, the new Mister Right who could remake an honest woman out of me.

Then I got bored with the practicing, quite honestly, because it’s kinda fun but also a whole lot of bullshit. And then, once I felt like I was actually ready to maybepossiblylegitimately entertain this whole boyfriend idea, there wasn’t really a readily available Mister Right, or even a Mister Almost Right. I was “ready” but single, which usually felt (and feels) totally okay, except that there is still this looming, unspoken expectation and assumption that I will of course someday become unsingle. And that’s when I started to have these twinges of insecurity and confusion, because, on the one hand, I am happy- legitimately so, sans partner, and I truly enjoy all the little delights and perks of single living, but then the skype calls and emails always ask about the men. Have you met someone? Have you met someone? Have you met someone? (Again, I don’t blame them, as the stories of meeting/starting/trying/dumping/humping are usually quite fantastic.) But sometimes, those questions, combined with watching recently uncoupled friends recouple so quickly, and seeing all sorts of facebook pictures of engagements and honeymoons and romantic getaways, and witnessing the 73 likes of someone’s change of status to “in a relationship”, start to make me wonder if maybe there is something wrong with singleness after all. Should I be out there more? Should I be trying harder? Am I running out of time? Does that even matter? Is it okay to be okay with being on my own or am I just lying to myself so I don’t feel like a rejected, unwanted loser? Is it acceptable to build my life around the me here now, and just be satisfied with simply being lil ole single me? Am I as valued as a single woman/friend/citizen as I would be partnered up? And that’s when I read this article: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-20219349, and as I read it, I found myself saying, “Yes, yes, yes” because this guy articulated so clearly what I had been feeling, and I felt like finally I had permission to just be single- not shamefully single, not single and looking, not single for now, just single- one adjective in a whole long list of adjectives that describe me.

So, my point is this: I am single and happy. The “and” doesn’t mean the two words are causally connected. I am not happy because I am single nor am I happy in spite of being single. I just want to be happy, and as far as I can tell, happiness has to do with being content with current circumstances while being open to the possibility of the future. I don’t want to adopt a narrow view of what my life should or could look like. I don’t want to become a jaded, cold-hearted bitch who has decided if she is single now, she will be single always, leaving no room to let someone new in, nor do I want to succumb to the pressures of attaining coupledom by settling for a Mister Good Enough simply because I can’t handle the questions, the speculations, or the lonely moments, because- believe me- there certainly are lonely moments. They arrive at Christmas and New Year’s and on my birthday, those occasions when I can’t help but remember and compare and be reminded of all the togetherness that highlights my on-my-ownness. And there are, of course, those few days each month when my babybox hormones work their PMS self-pity magic and whisper hateful prophecies of my future life as a crazy cat lady. And there are also those moments when I get a little, how you say, “twirly”- you know- hungry for a good make-out session on the couch or for a strong man arm wrapped around me in bed. And every so often, I miss some of the tender side-effects of togetherness- the kisses on the forehead, and how arms and legs that know each other well fit so nicely together; but then I remember all the other stuff, and I know that while I certainly want to keep my heart and mind open to the possibility of some gentleman’s awesomeness complementing mine, I am not willing to sacrifice the great of my current singleness for just a so-so togetherness.

I guess what I’m saying is that I don’t want to live my life in the sphere of not yet and someday, believing that until a “good guy” knocks on my door, my life will never be as full and rich and complete as it could be. I want to continue building a beautiful life now with single me at the centre.

I want to make decisions about my future confidently as a strong, big-hearted, single woman who has a hopeful and flexible vision of what’s to come. I want to be totally and completely okay with being on my own today and tomorrow and maybe even for always, but I also want to be open to letting someone else come in and share all of this with me. And I suppose, I just want to encourage others around me to see singleness the same way, to recognize that being single is totally okay. Totally. Those of us who are unattached don’t need to be pitied or prayed for or matched up or consoled. There is nothing to fix here, nothing to cure, nothing to solve.

Let me leave you with this little bit I read the other day- another article that had me nodding my head in agreement: http://www.xojane.com/sex/stuff-not-to-say-to-your-single-30-something-friend

Now, I have more to say about all this love and relationship business. My next two lessons learned were biggies, namely, that love (or something like it) is pretty much always worth it, and also that you shouldn’t have to convince people to spend time with you, but I got a bit carried away with this one, so the rest will have to wait until tomorrow.

This Much I Know Is True: Part II

Here is yet another idea to add to my list of lessons learned during this last spin around the sun- something else I absolutely positively know to be true….

4. Balance is overrated.

For years, I have beaten myself up for not ever being able to achieve that elusive balance between work and play, between self and others, between spending and saving, between routine and spontaneity. I always seem to be bouncing somewhere away from the mid-line. Don’t you worry- I am not a completely insane roller coaster of outrageous and dangerous mood swings (At least I don’t think so! Though please tell me if you think otherwise- just maybe make sure I am not holding a knife at the time), but I do have a tendency towards “all or nothing” and towards big emotions. I get full-on giggly about a beautiful sunset, I would be tempted to instagram my joyous discovery of the inside of a perfectly ripe avocado, and a busted stapler could quite possibly throw me into a brief yet curse-laden rage. I also often work too much, sometimes drink too much (though always unintentionally and with great surprise at the end result), I pile too much onto my plate (both literally and figuratively), I sleep too little, exercise too little, and I am just very rarely right on the middle line with anything. I mean, look at the freaking adjectives I use. There’s just no such thing as meh or fine or good in my vocabulary; adore or despise, amazing or horrible- it’s almost always extreme and either/or, never in the middle. For a while, I tossed around this idea that imbalance is actually what brings about change and acts as a driving force in life; so my “bounciness”, so to speak, is actually a step towards making positive change in my life and in this great big world around me, an idea I sometimes kinda sorta believe, but the problem is that it still focuses on this idea of there being some kind of centre- either the before one or the after one- that I need to continually strive towards. I should probably also say before I dive into this great big contemplation on the value of becoming a more “balanced” me, that there is also the alternative of just not thinking about all this stuff and just being, but I think for folk like me- all big and bouncy and sensitive- we can’t help but get a bit reflective about all this stuff, if only to make sure we are not completely insane and are still safe within the “normal” zone.

Something struck me recently while teaching a class about systems theory. I was explaining to students that we often talk about these two different kinds of equilibrium. The first is static equilibrium, which is like a pile of books that remain in the same state until, let’s say, some gust of wind topples them over, and then you have to stack them all up again and create a new equilibrium, which will also pretty much remain unchanged unless acted on again by an outside force. I think for a long time, this was my idea of what balance meant, which I realize is inaccurate. I didn’t recognize the dynamic nature of maintaining equilibrium, perhaps because I didn’t feel like I knew what equilibrium or balance actually felt like.

Then there’s steady-state equilibrium, this idea that, within a system, there can be all sorts of fluctuations in response to the world around it, and these are reactions to varying levels of input or disturbances outside, and each reaction depends on the sensitivity of the system itself, but in spite of all these fluctuations, the system will always return to a functional equilibrium. Body temperature is an example of this. We don’t freak out if we measure our temperature and it is not exactly 37 degrees. We understand that there is a whole range of “normal” and that our body is such a beautifully evolved system that it generally, in most cases, sorts itself out. We shiver if we’re too cold to warm ourselves up; we sweat to cool ourselves down. There might even be long-term changes in a system that could alter the equilibrium completely yet still respect the integrity of the system. A forest growing back after a fire is a great example of this. It’s still the same forest, in spite of a massive disturbance, and even though what grows there, and how it grows, might shift, the forest will still be the same forest.

Even still, while I like this idea of a steady-state equilibrium a teensy weensy bit more than my previous understanding of balance, and I like how easily these ideas can be applied to the system of the human psyche, these words like “steady” and “balance” make me a bit nervous. I’ve become almost allergic to them, partially because I know the typical idea of breath-in, breathe-out, mindful, reflective, come back to centre balance is simply something I don’t feel I can attain, and also because I don’t really know if I want to. I know that if I am to respect the integrity of who I am as a person, I need to be okay with my high highs and my low lows and my swirly, twirly bits in the middle. My excitement about the little things in life that others might overlook, and my sensitive soul that makes me snot and sob all over myself when watching Marley and Me or listening to Hallelujah, these responses to everyday events that might seem irrational or unnecessarily “unbalanced” or over the top, are part of my integrity as a person; and the people around me who know me well know that what might seem to outsiders like unpredictable or inexplicable behaviour actually really fits the system of me.

The truth, though, is that I’ve kind of completely rejected the idea of balance altogether as something to strive for. Maybe I misunderstand this concept. I have this idea that balance has something to do with a sensation of calm, of inner peace; and peace is just not me. In spite of my best efforts, I am restless, hyper-active, busy pretty much all the time, even when I am completely alone and obligation-free in the middle of the jungle, and if I use this idea of balance and peace as my measuring stick of whether or not I’m doing okay, then I will absolutely always fall short. And that, first of all, doesn’t feel too particularly good, and secondly, is just not realistic, because if I look at my life, I am actually doing pretty okay. Life is good, even if, by definition, it sometimes seems a bit “unbalanced”.

If I think back to times when I was a complete mess, when there was definitely something in the system of me that needed to be tweaked in order to bring things back to fully functioning capacity, my barometer isn’t really balance. It’s joy.

Some might say happiness is a superficial concept, and not a sufficient means of measuring if things are as they should be in my life. I think my evangelical upbringing might argue that happiness is kind of selfish, and that righteousness might be a better measuring stick. Perhaps, others might argue that happiness is temporary and relative and unreliable. But here’s my argument: If there is one thing that I think defines me as an individual, it is my capacity for joy, for seeing the light in the darkness, and recognizing the good- this is the core of the integrity of my system, so to speak. So, when I find myself in a space when I feel a sustained unhappiness, when I lose that capacity, when I begin to feel resentful and negative, then I know that it is time for a change. Sometimes, that change might have to do with reflecting on something inside of me, shifting my approach to life, and sometimes that change might mean altering my circumstances. Sometimes- actually, often- it’s simply about self-acceptance and understanding.

A few years back, when I was at my messiest, my sister used this beautiful analogy to describe my situation. She told me that I was a strong flower capable of growing deep roots and reaching high but that I had spent so long in conditions that didn’t allow me to grow. I was in bad soil in a dark room without enough nurturing. She had said, “If we get you out of that bad soil, bring you into the light, and give you a little love, you’ll be just fine.” (I’m probably making her wise analogy a little prettier and more poetic but I just can’t help myself.) So, it seems that only in these last few years, out of the bad soil and into the light, I’ve been able to get a better sense of who I actually am and how I function in good soil. And what I’ve discovered is that, oddly enough, simply understanding when I seem to feel my highest highs and my lowest lows, as well as what triggers the occasional spikes of unsustainable work habits and sleeplessness, and then respecting the role of all these elements in developing my capacity for empathy and creativity and growth, has been very significant. Also, recognizing that there are limits in the process of self-actualization is freaking huge! What’s that they say? A leopard can’t change its spots? I have to accept that I am always going to be a bit bouncy, and that my bounciness is okay, and that understanding it and accepting it and sometimes even anticipating it can keep me in my own self-defined “normal” zone, and can prevent me from wasting so much energy trying to be something I am not or, even worse, wasting energy getting mad at myself for not being able to become something I am not. After all, trying to change your spots into stripes is not only impossible, it also just makes you feel so damn inadequate and miserable, not to mention tired.

So, back to my barometer. Balance has its value; otherwise we wouldn’t talk about it so much. But the idea of balance that I have come to understand simply doesn’t work for me. And I admit that happiness perhaps in and of itself isn’t enough. So here’s what I am striving for: harmony- the beautiful blending of these two concepts. I love the dictionary definitions for harmony: “a pleasing arrangement of parts” and “the state of being in agreement.” Harmony is fluid, flexible, dynamic, and it integrates this idea of the importance of things not only aligning and balancing but doiing so pleasingly. It hints at joy. It’s about shifting the proportions of the different aspects of my life in such a way that they fit and function and please. This means that sometimes there will be bouts of excessive work and not enough exercise, and sometimes there will be too much socializing and not enough meditating, but that if it all fits together reasonably congruously, and the whole system is functioning and maintaining its integrity in spite of continual fluctuations in its complex parts, and the result is a relatively pleasing arrangement, then- it turns out- I am doing ay-okay. 

This Much I Know Is True: Part I

I figure there is no better way to end the year and start a new one than to reflect a little on lessons learned during this last spin around the sun. That's what you'll find here over the next few days: my biggest Aha moments of the year. Now, some of these lessons I learned for the first time this year, some I re-learned for what seems like the gazillionth time, and some of these I am still in the process of figuring out. Hopefully, you can find one or two lessons to relate to. And, if you read my growing list and find yourself shaking your head and saying, "Girl, took you long enough," then you should probably contact me so we can talk about you becoming my guru or life coach. Seriously.

But here you have it- the first few ideas that, thanks to the passing of another 365 days, I finally absolutely positively know to be true:

1. Time ripens all things.

I’ve been scribbling this little Cervantes quote in birthday cards for years, but this year, I think I finally started to believe it. If I think back to many of the big decisions I’ve taken and the important changes I’ve made, they often seem to the outside world to be either unforeseen impulses or plans that I talk and talk and talk about but never actually do. The truth is, I’m a "percolator". I sit on things for a loooooooong time. I used to think this was fear-based, and maybe sometimes it is, but, really, so what. I know many say that when you have a wish, a dream, a vision, a goal, you should just go for it, but I know I have to let things soak in, let the seeds take root, feel it out from different scenarios, hum, haw, and then one morning, I’ll wake up and be ready. It’s taken a long time of living inside this head and going through the decision-making process to finally recognize that this is my process, and that my process is totally okay. If you think about it, all these years of living on this spinning planet have allowed me to invest in myself, hone my intuition, gain skills and experience and hopefully a little wisdom along the way, so that when the time is right, I’ll know it. Few huge decisions need to be made overnight. There’s rarely a need for urgency. This means that if an opportunity comes up and I’m not ready, then I’m not ready- as simple as that- but someday I might be, and if it turns out that when I’m ready, it’s actually too late, that I’ve missed out on some once-in-a-lifetime awesomeness, chances are that some other equally awesome opportunity will very likely come my way. And recognizing that is a fantastic relief!

2. It is almost never actually the end of the world.

This, I suppose, is an idea connected to the first truth. I figure if I can trust that I will know when the time is right, I can also trust that I will know what to do in a time of crisis, that I can probably handle any worst-case scenario thrown my way. Sure, maybe I might need a little help, maybe I might need a little time, maybe there’ll be some unfortunate cost, but seriously, I have yet to encounter a situation that truly deems the anxiety I bestow upon it. I sometimes think I am addicted to anxiety, that I can’t handle stillness so I create catastrophe, and creating catastrophe all the time is so bloody exhausting. The truth is that in spite of hitting some pretty low spots over the last few years health-wise, money-wise, relationship-wise, there’s never been a hole so deep that I haven’t somehow managed to find my way out. I have to remind myself of this constantly- that the world will keep on spinning in spite of my missed deadlines, messy house, unclear vision of the future. There are very few things that warrant an urgent sense of crisis. The funny thing about anxiety, though, is the (dis)connection between the physical response- the knot in the stomach, the heaviness in the chest, the shortness of breath- and the mental understanding of the response. Sometimes, I physically feel the anxiety first, and because I feel the physical sensation, I assume I must be legitimately in need of worrying, justified in my panic response. In these moments, there are two things I try to remember. The first is that it is very difficult to argue with Anxiety. You can pretty much always find something to worry about. Always. So trying to rationally approach Anxiety doesn’t really work. It will always argue back, which is why I jump directly to the worst-case scenario. If I can imagine it, and then understand that I can handle it, then I can believe that it is not the end of the world after all, and then somehow I can give myself permission to not let the physical sensation dictate what should be going on in my head space. The second thing I try to remember is something I learned from a wise woman this summer when I was in Costa Rica. She told me that when we find ourselves in a freak-out swirl of worry, it helps to just “drop into the now” and breathe. If you are really, truly focusing on your breath, there is no room for worry. Now, I can't really truly focus on any one thing at a time so I haven’t quite mastered this one, but trying is a very good start!

3. “No” doesn’t need to be followed by “but” or “because”.

Now, this one has taken me a very long time to learn, perhaps because of all these years I’ve spent arguing with teenagers in my classroom about why my “No means No”, answering their “Why”s and their “But that’s so unfair”s with detailed explanation as I try and guide their still developing brains to an understanding of delayed gratification and the value of foresight. This has all somehow made me believe that I must offer others an explanation when I say “No” to undertaking a project, to participating in a meeting, to offering extra help, to attending a dinner party, but the truth is that very rarely does anyone ever ask why I am saying “No.” Funnily enough, most folks seem to assume that if I said “No”, I must have a perfectly good reason. In fact, asking me for a justification of my response would actually be kind of rude! And, a little addendum here, it turns out that when the request happens to just be for a favour, the decision to ask me specifically very, very, very rarely has to do with the asker valuing my unique expertise, but much more so with the fact that my long-standing reputation as an infrequent naysayer has landed me the spot of first target on their quest for a sucker who will say “Yes”. 

More later.