I've been thinking a lot about love lately. Not because it's the marketing month for it, but because I think I've reached a point in my life where I've achieved a certain level of satisfaction with my life and it's the one ingredient I don't have. Don't get me wrong, there is always room for improvement and I still have other unfulfilled dreams, but when it gets down to it, life is pretty good. Great career, great apartment, great friends, great...missing piece?
I received sad and incredibly mysterious news about a family member separating from his wife after 22 years. My brother and I talked about it and his comment was, "I thought I was emotionally unavailable." Before I knew what I was saying I replied, "well we all know where I stand with that one. I'm still single at 31."
Did I just suddenly realize something totally obvious about myself? Is it possible to be greatly emotional and emotionally unavailable at the same time? How do I know if I've never been in a relationship where being emotionally unavailable described my behavior? Or maybe always being single is the number one sign of someone who is emotionally unavailable?
I'm working on theory to give myself a little hope- maybe being emotionally unavailable is not the same thing as being emotionally 'on-hold'. For all my excuses and explanations for how I have ended up where I am today, I know that after constantly pushing the thoughts of love and boyfriends and relationships and sex into the back of my mind, somewhere along the way whatever the reasons were evolved into a kind of shutting down so I wouldn't have to think about it at all. Despite that (not thinking about it) not working, the repression still did. Maybe...maybe it's just a different kind of unavailability, one that will surely change once I meet someone worth sharing life with. Because I do want to share my life. I'm thinking that alone kicks me out of the unavailable group. Sigh of relief.
I remember feeling like I was meant for something bigger when I was in my teens and early twenties. I used to joke with friends all the time, "am I famous yet?" As asinine and naively pompous as it was, I felt it. Or perhaps, I thought myself into feeling it. At any rate, it lead to a lot of wondering and waiting around for something big to happen, someone to recognize my talent or maybe even I would somehow end up doing something worthy and it would give my life meaning. I spent many years frustrated and irritated at myself for not reaching that higher ground. I always felt like there was more out there for me, more than just growing up, getting a 9 to 5, having a family, settling into the suburbs, etc etc etc. The thought scared me I realize now, because in my mind it translated into being nothing special. Just doing what everyone else was doing. I always wanted to be different, for as far back as I can remember. It never occurred to me that love could make what I deemed 'nothing special' bigger and more amazing than it could ever be seen or felt by me from the outside. Considering what a romantic I am, this is weird. Why wouldn't I believe that love makes people's lives better, no matter how they live it?
(I just finished reading Revolutionary Road and the cynicism I found in it reminded me of my old assumptions that people who lived 'nothing special' lives were either unhappy with them or kind of blind to the repetitive emptiness. This is very strange because I grew up in the suburbs in a very traditional house, albeit my mom wore the pants, and had a wonderful childhood and great family life. Where did I get so many negative ideas? What did I see that I didn't want to become? I still want no part of the suburbs, but I wonder where it all stems from? Perhaps it's nothing deeper than not wanting to live suburban style?...but I suppose that's a quandary for another post...)
And so yes, to anyone else who is not me, falling in love is the big, glaringly obvious thing I've been waiting for all my life (while at the same time destroying any potential for it). Being the staunch independent I am, I somehow convinced myself that love was something that would happen, but wouldn't give my life meaning. God forbid I depend on anyone else for anything, especially self-worth. I spent a long time trying to find meaning in my life and it wasn't until I realized I am the only one who can give my life meaning that I reclaimed part of the happiness I felt before I began questioning my existence. Ah the blessed obliviousness of childhood! It is now in retrospect I see that I was mixing up life meaning and life change. In one respect it's ok because I managed to find happiness and life meaning within and by myself. In another it means I've denied myself the unique experience of finding love and sharing my life because I thought it meant I would be co-dependent. For some people this may be the way it works...but for me, I know my life will only be enriched. It can only get better. Even despite the drama it will surely bring, it's a life experience! And all my life I've been so concerned with having every kind of life experience! How could I have been so blind!?
So here's to feeling famous because you're in love.
Does it matter that I still didn't put the sheep first?
Put the following animals in order of their importance:
pig, sheep, horse, cow, and tiger.
(check comments for silly symbolic meanings)
