A line cast, a hope followedMonday, February 16, 2004
Where do I stop and you begin?
Love for me has been one huge mess of blurred boundaries.
I'm afraid I didn't consider that, once I had settled down inside someone else's psyche, it might leave little room for me, and sometimes crowd them. I wonder now why everyone else's thoughts, feelings, motives were so much more interesting than mine. I am sick to death of walking around wishing that someone was as interested in rooming with my psyche as I am with theirs.
During my marriage counseling, I described wanting a mate that couldn't wait to talk to me about their day, that wanted to know what I was thinking, someone that was not only comfortable with my infiltration, but that wanted to infiltrate me. Actually, the word infiltrate just occurred to me now. My husband said I was being idealistic and naive to think I could find that. Besides, who would want to share that level of intimacy? I guess I look back now and wonder if I was too idealistic, or worse yet, oblivious to the problem I caused ranging unconfined. Years later and I think about why I would have wanted to uncover every darkened corner in his head. What was it that needed to have every frikkin hope and fear exposed for me to see? Do I really want to put myself and someone else through that now? But isn't there more to a relationship than a discussion about the weather report? At least every other week (or something), some feelings shared, opinions voiced, risks taken?
At the time of my divorce, there was someone who seemed very happy to share this version of a relationship with me. But not in person. It seemed like a better deal than my marriage though. A person who couldn't wait to talk to me, long distance, or a person who never talked to me over the dinner table. In the end I walked away from both.
I guess I can't figure out what a connection between two people looks like if it doesn't include some curiosity, some overlap, some blending. I suppose the trick is for both people to have balance in the equation, so one does not swallow up the other. I think tonio was commenting about that a few days back here. It describes one aspect of what happened to my marriage. The part I share some responsibility for.
But how much of the "house" that contains your relationship do you need to keep to yourself? John Welwood says "to fall in love is to feel the basic openness of our being." I want to be asked inside, rather than shut out. I'd like to be a polite guest, not the sort that trashes the hospitality.
Love for me has been one huge mess of blurred boundaries.
I'm afraid I didn't consider that, once I had settled down inside someone else's psyche, it might leave little room for me, and sometimes crowd them. I wonder now why everyone else's thoughts, feelings, motives were so much more interesting than mine. I am sick to death of walking around wishing that someone was as interested in rooming with my psyche as I am with theirs.
During my marriage counseling, I described wanting a mate that couldn't wait to talk to me about their day, that wanted to know what I was thinking, someone that was not only comfortable with my infiltration, but that wanted to infiltrate me. Actually, the word infiltrate just occurred to me now. My husband said I was being idealistic and naive to think I could find that. Besides, who would want to share that level of intimacy? I guess I look back now and wonder if I was too idealistic, or worse yet, oblivious to the problem I caused ranging unconfined. Years later and I think about why I would have wanted to uncover every darkened corner in his head. What was it that needed to have every frikkin hope and fear exposed for me to see? Do I really want to put myself and someone else through that now? But isn't there more to a relationship than a discussion about the weather report? At least every other week (or something), some feelings shared, opinions voiced, risks taken?
At the time of my divorce, there was someone who seemed very happy to share this version of a relationship with me. But not in person. It seemed like a better deal than my marriage though. A person who couldn't wait to talk to me, long distance, or a person who never talked to me over the dinner table. In the end I walked away from both.
I guess I can't figure out what a connection between two people looks like if it doesn't include some curiosity, some overlap, some blending. I suppose the trick is for both people to have balance in the equation, so one does not swallow up the other. I think tonio was commenting about that a few days back here. It describes one aspect of what happened to my marriage. The part I share some responsibility for.
But how much of the "house" that contains your relationship do you need to keep to yourself? John Welwood says "to fall in love is to feel the basic openness of our being." I want to be asked inside, rather than shut out. I'd like to be a polite guest, not the sort that trashes the hospitality.
