Can you ever love two people at the same time? Is the human heart capable of holding on to such a strong emotion for more than one person or do we fool ourselves into believing that we can love someone else, even if there is still another inside our heart. This is something I have struggled with for months - a question that weighs on my mind even now. What lengths will we go to to convince ourselves that missed opportunities and failed chances are in our past and how many will we hurt?
In my experience. I find it hard to hold and express the love I feel for just one person, so how could I hang on to two? I know I struggle to let things go, and while I may seem a success at replacing cherished ones easily, I do not. I feel as though my heart is riddled with caverns. Places where love lived and died and now stands an empty testament to broken promises and dreams. Or perhaps I should compare them more to banked fires - they may seem not to burn anymore, to be nothing but cold dead ashes but somehow are sparked to life with the slightest of fancies.
And what of the feeling - to be one among many? To wonder if you hold a place in someone's heart or if you merely fill a need for them? Some gap that becomes less obvious with you there, but a void none the less. Do you slip into the void - slowly, inexorably, until you become subsumed with in it? And when you do, is that when you become discarded? replaceable? tossable?
Monday, April 28, 2008
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Just Friends?
The hardest part of moving here to England has been making friends. I know that I am not the only one to have uprooted their life recently and jump to a new city or country, but it seems so much harder these days for me to meet and make friends with people that I can consider individuals I trust and want to be around. It has been the hardest thing and it is the thing that is slowly making me question whether I made the right choice: should I have left everything - EVERYTHING - I know behind on some half thought out whim? On an idea of showing someone that my intents were serious, that I can keep a promise, even if that promise means nothing now?
Since I have come here, I feel as though I have walked in at the end of the conversation. I feel as though everyone had their circle of friends, the ones they call on when they need help or just need to talk, the ones who can meet them at the pub on a moment's notice for beer, bravado, and bitter honest advice. But I am not sure I have found that yet. I have no housemates, choosing to live on my own based on personality and circumstance, so no shared space to create a shared bond. I have few family here, even less that are within my age range so that I can comfortably co-opt their friends. I adore my co-workers and consider some of them dear friends, but sometimes, a connection based on shared nine to five roles seems superficial at best, and down right glossy at other times. Like a fortunate accident.
And so I thought I had discovered friends here. Friends with a mutual pursuit but a group that I could find fellow like minded souls within. I thought I was making headway into fitting into, into feeling a part of things, and now I am no longer sure. So many breaks have occurred. So many individuals have either willfully or wrongly misunderstood what I have said. And when I have tried to explain, then where the truth lies emerges. They don't want my explanations, they don't care about my feelings. And i wonder: did I really make the right choice? Why leave all that I was comfortable with because I felt like I was stifling when I know nothing here and I feel like I am dying? Just a bit more everyday.....just a little bit, but I am slowly getting crushed under this.
What does it mean - to be just friends? I have used that phrase in so many situations - to shield myself from scrutiny when I am unsure where my feelings lie about someone else, to conceal all the things that occur that means we are not friends - that we are more and sometimes less. I have heard people use that phrase as a way of placating me, into some false sense of security. I have heard people say those words and turn around and deceive me. And explain it away by saying we are just friends. Does friendship mean so little these days to most and so much to me, that I could come to regret what I thought would be my last flight, that I could start to wish to run anywhere but here, all because I seem to lack the one thing I need.
In the end, I am not sure why I placing so much of my happiness and importance in life on this: on being friends, on having friends. But perhaps, it's because I need someone to turn to right now and that is not anyone for me. I need to talk about so many things in my head and heart and there is not anyone to listen. And I am so afraid that I have completely erred and I have no idea where to go. As I said, I am being crushed by the weight of this. I am being crushed, feeling so all alone and I am being crushed by the lack of understanding. I am lost because I no longer know whom to trust with what I feel and think, and even if I trust them, how much can I truly say? How do I know that like everything else, their friendship is not fleeting. For the first time, I wish I were home. For the first time, I don't consider this my home. And I hope this too passes. I want to be happy here and yet, I am not sure I can be. And I start to wonder yet again: if not here, then is there anywhere for me to find my happiness?
Since I have come here, I feel as though I have walked in at the end of the conversation. I feel as though everyone had their circle of friends, the ones they call on when they need help or just need to talk, the ones who can meet them at the pub on a moment's notice for beer, bravado, and bitter honest advice. But I am not sure I have found that yet. I have no housemates, choosing to live on my own based on personality and circumstance, so no shared space to create a shared bond. I have few family here, even less that are within my age range so that I can comfortably co-opt their friends. I adore my co-workers and consider some of them dear friends, but sometimes, a connection based on shared nine to five roles seems superficial at best, and down right glossy at other times. Like a fortunate accident.
And so I thought I had discovered friends here. Friends with a mutual pursuit but a group that I could find fellow like minded souls within. I thought I was making headway into fitting into, into feeling a part of things, and now I am no longer sure. So many breaks have occurred. So many individuals have either willfully or wrongly misunderstood what I have said. And when I have tried to explain, then where the truth lies emerges. They don't want my explanations, they don't care about my feelings. And i wonder: did I really make the right choice? Why leave all that I was comfortable with because I felt like I was stifling when I know nothing here and I feel like I am dying? Just a bit more everyday.....just a little bit, but I am slowly getting crushed under this.
What does it mean - to be just friends? I have used that phrase in so many situations - to shield myself from scrutiny when I am unsure where my feelings lie about someone else, to conceal all the things that occur that means we are not friends - that we are more and sometimes less. I have heard people use that phrase as a way of placating me, into some false sense of security. I have heard people say those words and turn around and deceive me. And explain it away by saying we are just friends. Does friendship mean so little these days to most and so much to me, that I could come to regret what I thought would be my last flight, that I could start to wish to run anywhere but here, all because I seem to lack the one thing I need.
In the end, I am not sure why I placing so much of my happiness and importance in life on this: on being friends, on having friends. But perhaps, it's because I need someone to turn to right now and that is not anyone for me. I need to talk about so many things in my head and heart and there is not anyone to listen. And I am so afraid that I have completely erred and I have no idea where to go. As I said, I am being crushed by the weight of this. I am being crushed, feeling so all alone and I am being crushed by the lack of understanding. I am lost because I no longer know whom to trust with what I feel and think, and even if I trust them, how much can I truly say? How do I know that like everything else, their friendship is not fleeting. For the first time, I wish I were home. For the first time, I don't consider this my home. And I hope this too passes. I want to be happy here and yet, I am not sure I can be. And I start to wonder yet again: if not here, then is there anywhere for me to find my happiness?
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Least Expected
I think most of my friends are aware that I have been going through a rough time in the past couple of weeks. I have been unsure of things, unsure of myself, questioning everything, racked with sadness, fear, blame, guilt, and just general malaise. I have been finding solace where I can, but finding myself unable to make the effort sometimes and wishing, wishing that I could just be done with feeling the way I have.
And along the way, I talked through everything I felt and thought. My friends have listened to my crazy ramblings and my hysterical sobbing, my friends have offered me solace, comfort, perspective, and hope. And my friends have always offered me the thing I needed most: their friendship. And somewhere through all this, for some indefinible reason, I made it through. Sometime on Monday, as people wished me happy birthday, as I contemplated dragging myself out but not feeling the desire or inclination, I made it through. Whether it was talking to Jenn about what I have gained from being in a relationship with James, or pestering Simon about the drink he owes me, chatting with Nik and Verity about plans for Friday night, or playing scrabble in rapid action pace with James, somehow I just decided I was done feeling sad and upset.
I had had my cry; I needed to be over it. And like that, I was. It is hard to explain. Maybe it was everything my friends were providing at the time, and maybe it was none of that. Maybe I had just had the time I needed to feel, heal, process, and move on. But I was done with feeling the way I have. And I have not looked back since. I miss things about being in a relationship with James, I miss him sometimes. His friendship, his jokes, his very very bad puns, and the stories I have heard a thousand times =) but I figure that at some point, we can be friends, so I hopefully won't have to miss that forever.
Instead, I am looking ahead. I have come through this with some incredible friends at my side. I have had meaningful conversations late into the night with most of them, and I have been able to smile through the tears because of them. I have had friends who have walked beside me just to be outside, come over to eat or drink just to cheer me up, and stayed through the night in order to let me have someone to hold on to. And all of these things mean so much to me. And they are small things, things they give willingly, but the things that made the most impact - the biggest difference.
And I have had the opportunity to finally put ghosts in my past to rest. I have finally been able to embrace what I need for myself, embrace things that caused me pain and seen the good in it. Even this - this end - is good. Out of it, I might have a friend I can turn to, who knows things others don't. Out of this, I know I am no longer willing to sublimate what I consider important in a relationship, hoping it will get better and pulling away when it does not. Out of this, I actually know I have the ability to give my heart wholeheartedly, to not be afraid of falling in love, of being in love - and of falling out of love, if that is how it must be.
A thought for my birthday was "what does not kill you only makes you stronger" and that seems to go hand in hand with an oft said comment from someone I know: "birthdays are good for your health; those who have the most live the longest". What I least expected two days ago was to be smiling, to be looking forward with pleasure, and looking back with nostalgia, but I am. I am content and happy. I have plans over the coming weeks that I look forward to, I have friends I can count on, who can count on me in return, and one thing remains unchanged: I have no regrets in my life - about things done, said, or held only in my head.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
One Year Older, Perhaps a Bit Wiser
I seem to always reflect on things around my birthday. I know perhaps it makes more sense to do so as the old year is on its way out and the new year is being ushered in; to evaluate and make resolutions based on things I want for myself and things I would rather not have repeated. But for me, I would rather mark the passing of another year of my life by turning inwards now; I turned twenty-eight at this time a year ago and now I am turning twenty-nine. And what a difference a year makes.
Last year, as I became that much older, I was not sure where I was going. It had taken me seven months, but I finally felt like I was back to my old self. I had gotten over my first serious relationship, the love of my life, and my friends all said the same thing: "it was good to see me happy again". But because of how I had been feeling for months, I knew my life needed a change. Whether it was going to be sticking with my doctoral programme, moving to another state for a job or moving home, or even moving country, I was not sure. I was weighing things over and just trying to figure it all out as I celebrated making it to the milestone.
When I did finally figure things out, I was scared. I had weighed all my options and kept coming to the same conclusion: I needed to be in another country. I wanted to move to England, I wanted to give things a try - far enough away from everything I had become accustomed to. I wanted to see if I could be 'adult' - whatever that meant to me at the time - and make it on my own. So, I got the permission to live and travel to England, I sold everything I could, and stored everything I did not want to get rid off. And I bid my friends and family goodbye, even my dog Cam, and moved across the ocean to settle somewhere new.
And it was strange. I felt like I had moved here to prove something to myself, but also to prove something to my ex. That the plans I had made with him, the things that I considered important, would still stay with me. That even if he never believed that I could do this, I knew that I could and I had. So, I landed in England not sure if I would find a job or a place to live or so many other things, but hopefully that I could make it through.
And I had the support of family that I knew, but had never gotten the chance to know well. It was strange, suddenly being far away from all the family I had grown up with and knew well over the last twenty-eight years and then suddenly finding family again, and getting to know them for the first time. I am glad for it. I would never have spent so much time with my nephew had I not moved here nor would I have gotten to know my cousins as well as I did. And spending time with them meant I realized that I wanted what they had: a strong marriage, mutual respect and love, and wonderful children. A good life. Maybe not perfect, as I think nothing ever really is, but perfect for them.
And after getting to know my family well, spending time with them and their friends, I started to branch out on my own. I wanted to meet people that were a bit more similar to me and not related by blood. And so I made friends at work. My co-workers started out as people I could go and grab a drink with after work in the student union (happens when you work on a university campus) or get lunch away from my desk with to people I confided in and trusted. And as I got to know them, they introduced me to their friends. And so on and so on. And I felt like I belonged in London...I felt like I was making a home here.
Feeling more at home here made me realize I needed a home of my own. So, with that in mind and some money in hand from the job, I finally got my own place. Somewhere I could call home, somewhere I wanted to come back to at the end of the day. And somewhere that Cam would be happy. Because I knew that she would be in my life again soon enough, though it felt like it would be too long for me, no matter how short the time. And once I had my home, I started to really feel like a Londoner. So I made friends, I joined groups, and I found S1L (Single in London). And out of that, I have made so many friends - too many to count.
And throughout the last four months, I have fallen in like, I have fallen in lust, and I have fallen in love. I have found all three in one person, and I have lost. I have gained friends from different walks of life, with different outlooks and pursuits and passions but sharing the one common element that matters most: integrity. Depth of feeling. And I have rediscovered friends I thought I had lost - friends who came to me when I needed them and have not let me go since.
And as I look back over my year, that is what stands out to me. All the friends who have made it the year it was. Those who I have known for decades and those who I have known for months. The ones who encouraged me to pursue my life, no matter where it led, and the ones who hold my hand or my head when my life is not as happy as it could be. The ones I can call on at any time of day or night, and the ones who offer me advice or simply observations about where I have been and where I am going. It is my friends who make me what I am, not the things I have been through. Because the milestones in my life would be meaningless without people to share them with, people to help me understand them, and people to create new milestones with. So perhaps as I celebrate this year - being older, wiser, more sure of myself yet never knowing my path - I will celebrate with friends. Without them, I could not be where or who I am. And without them, I would not have reason to celebrate.
Last year, as I became that much older, I was not sure where I was going. It had taken me seven months, but I finally felt like I was back to my old self. I had gotten over my first serious relationship, the love of my life, and my friends all said the same thing: "it was good to see me happy again". But because of how I had been feeling for months, I knew my life needed a change. Whether it was going to be sticking with my doctoral programme, moving to another state for a job or moving home, or even moving country, I was not sure. I was weighing things over and just trying to figure it all out as I celebrated making it to the milestone.
When I did finally figure things out, I was scared. I had weighed all my options and kept coming to the same conclusion: I needed to be in another country. I wanted to move to England, I wanted to give things a try - far enough away from everything I had become accustomed to. I wanted to see if I could be 'adult' - whatever that meant to me at the time - and make it on my own. So, I got the permission to live and travel to England, I sold everything I could, and stored everything I did not want to get rid off. And I bid my friends and family goodbye, even my dog Cam, and moved across the ocean to settle somewhere new.
And it was strange. I felt like I had moved here to prove something to myself, but also to prove something to my ex. That the plans I had made with him, the things that I considered important, would still stay with me. That even if he never believed that I could do this, I knew that I could and I had. So, I landed in England not sure if I would find a job or a place to live or so many other things, but hopefully that I could make it through.
And I had the support of family that I knew, but had never gotten the chance to know well. It was strange, suddenly being far away from all the family I had grown up with and knew well over the last twenty-eight years and then suddenly finding family again, and getting to know them for the first time. I am glad for it. I would never have spent so much time with my nephew had I not moved here nor would I have gotten to know my cousins as well as I did. And spending time with them meant I realized that I wanted what they had: a strong marriage, mutual respect and love, and wonderful children. A good life. Maybe not perfect, as I think nothing ever really is, but perfect for them.
And after getting to know my family well, spending time with them and their friends, I started to branch out on my own. I wanted to meet people that were a bit more similar to me and not related by blood. And so I made friends at work. My co-workers started out as people I could go and grab a drink with after work in the student union (happens when you work on a university campus) or get lunch away from my desk with to people I confided in and trusted. And as I got to know them, they introduced me to their friends. And so on and so on. And I felt like I belonged in London...I felt like I was making a home here.
Feeling more at home here made me realize I needed a home of my own. So, with that in mind and some money in hand from the job, I finally got my own place. Somewhere I could call home, somewhere I wanted to come back to at the end of the day. And somewhere that Cam would be happy. Because I knew that she would be in my life again soon enough, though it felt like it would be too long for me, no matter how short the time. And once I had my home, I started to really feel like a Londoner. So I made friends, I joined groups, and I found S1L (Single in London). And out of that, I have made so many friends - too many to count.
And throughout the last four months, I have fallen in like, I have fallen in lust, and I have fallen in love. I have found all three in one person, and I have lost. I have gained friends from different walks of life, with different outlooks and pursuits and passions but sharing the one common element that matters most: integrity. Depth of feeling. And I have rediscovered friends I thought I had lost - friends who came to me when I needed them and have not let me go since.
And as I look back over my year, that is what stands out to me. All the friends who have made it the year it was. Those who I have known for decades and those who I have known for months. The ones who encouraged me to pursue my life, no matter where it led, and the ones who hold my hand or my head when my life is not as happy as it could be. The ones I can call on at any time of day or night, and the ones who offer me advice or simply observations about where I have been and where I am going. It is my friends who make me what I am, not the things I have been through. Because the milestones in my life would be meaningless without people to share them with, people to help me understand them, and people to create new milestones with. So perhaps as I celebrate this year - being older, wiser, more sure of myself yet never knowing my path - I will celebrate with friends. Without them, I could not be where or who I am. And without them, I would not have reason to celebrate.
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