My friend Liliana wrote a very insightful entry examining the overemphasis we place on investing our time and devotion to someone who just won't reciprocate our feelings. Originally, I meant for the following information to be a comment on Lily's post. But seeing as I exceeded the limit on typed characters in the comment box, I decided not to let it go to waste. So here it goes...
Most of us live under the delusion that it's better to have loved than to not love at all. Or some variant of this statement.
Right now, I'm reading this book called Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, and I was both surprised and amazed at the fact that this woman has gone through much of what Liliana discussed in her blog entry (it's Gilbert's memoir). Liliana's post post reminded me of it, and I felt that I have to share this excerpt from the book with you, because I think it's terribly relevant (pages 65-66):
"I barely had an adolescence before I had my first boyfriend, and I have consistently had a boy or a man (or sometimes both) in my life ever since I was fifteen years old. That was -- oh, let's see -- about nineteen years ago, now. That's almost two solid decades I have been entwined in some kind of drama with some kind of guy. Each overlapping the next, with never so much as a week's breather in between. And I can't help but think that's been something of a liability on my path to maturity.
Moreover, I have boundary issues with men. Or maybe that's not fair to say. To have issues with boundaries, one must have boundaries in the first place, right? But I disappear into the person I love. I am the permeable membrane. If I love you, you can have everything. You can have my time, my devotion, my ass, my money, my family, my dog, my dog's money, my dog's time, -- everything... I will give you all this and more, until I get so exhausted and depleted that the only way I can recover my energy is by becoming infatuated with someone else.
I do not relay these facts about myself with pride, but this is how it's always been...
Dear God, I could use a little break from this cycle, to give myself some space to discover what I look like and talk like when I'm not trying to merge with someone... When I scan back on my romantic record, it doesn't look so good. It's been one catastrophe after another. How many more different types of men can I keep trying to love, and continue to fail? Think of it this way -- if you'd had ten serious traffic accidents in a row, wouldn't they eventually take your driver's license away? Wouldn't you kind of want them to?"
So there. We all want to believe that something as wonderful and as magical and as powerful as true love exists. We go out searching for it, trying to confirm this bias, trying to persuade ourselves that things will get better (even if they hardly ever do). Sometimes we just end up settling. Why?
Because it's better than considering the alternative -- the thought of being a single complete human being, independent of another person's heartbeat pulsing. In other words, we mistake being single for being alone. For being lonely and forlorn, for being utter romantic failures. And this hurts like a bitch.
Then comes the cycle of self-pity, of self-deprecation, of self-doubt in one's self-worth. But what, praytell, is the SELF?
Who is this "I," this "me," this "my," this "mine"? WHO?
I don't know if this is the case for most people, but I think that's the central problem here. Often, we lose our sense of self because we "disappear into the person [we] love." We're fools who can't see anything of consequence until the cracks break right in front of us.
So maybe, like Miss Gilbert has realized and implies in her book, we have to find ourselves first and come full circle before we give of ourselves completely to that person.
As far as I can tell, Love -- in its truest, sincerest form -- displays symptoms of dissociative identity disorder (or split-personality, if you will). Despite the flaws and the petty fights, Love will still cherish, adore, and care unconditionally for as long as Love is welcome to stay.
We just have to learn to let Love BREATHE for a change. Forcing it will only make Love bitter and declare war on us. Best not to aggravate it. Love's fatigued and overworked as it is. ;)
This is beautiful. My favorite line: "In other words, we mistake being single for being alone. For being lonely and forlorn, for being utter romantic failures. And this hurts like a bitch."
ReplyDeleteThat's the thing that bothers me the most about people who always want a boyfriend/boy toy/other romantic stuff: They can't stand being alone! I never understood why being alone is considered such an unfortunate circumstance. And I agree with your conclusion of how we need to be complete within ourselves to "give" ourselves with someone else. In a sense, it's about acquiring a level of maturity to be in a functional relationship. Otherwise, you end up having arguments over a text message that goes on for days.
"We're fools who can't see anything of consequence until the cracks break right in front of us." I absolutely agree. Love really does make people blind.
I want to read Eat, Pray, Love. From my understanding, the author takes a vacation that changes her life after her divorce? I'm pretty sure it's more complicated than that but it sounds very interesting. I'm glad she came to the conclusion about her own mistakes in love but it took her almost 2 decades! Well, better later than never, I suppose!
I'm so glad you posted this! It's amazing!
I have to quote the same line Lily did: "In other words, we mistake being single for being alone. For being lonely and forlorn, for being utter romantic failures. And this hurts like a bitch."
ReplyDeleteThis is so true. I mean, of course I'd love to be in a relationship, but I want one that's going to be fulfilling and bring me happiness, not one that's full of drama and stress just for the sake of being with someone. Forced love never turns out well, and it's sad that it's so difficult for so many people to realize that.