you could say it’s my instinct, yes, I still have one. there’s no time to second guess it. yes there are things that i’m still so afraid of … but my courage is roaring like the sound of the sun.
here it is, what seems like the requisite “airplane ride home from new orleans processing life” post.
recently, i’ve had a few separate things happen which i described later as “not knowing how much i needed that until it was given to me.” and i’m sure this stems from working through my minor issues around ‘feeling’ and ‘needing.’ the thing about these silly issues that that there are two levels to actually work through. first, there is actually allowing and admitting to myself the feeling or need. second, the conversation about or expression of those needs and feelings with whom you hope to validate or fulfill them. and all of this plays out practically in my life as me trying to stop my ‘play it cool’ (ie: have no needs) attitude with people i care about.
that’s where getting something i didn’t even know i needed comes in this time: the initiation of a tricky, feelingful conversation that needed to be had (that i never would have actually had if not for his initiation). mostly because it was a conversation about a need (that i wasn’t allowing my self to need).
anyway, in this feeling centric conversation i reacted with my typical mode of operation: play it cool. i didn’t respond, in the conversation. i reacted. without conscious choice in the matter (i even thought, ugh, why am i saying this?). but in this conversation, my ‘play it cool’ flat out lie (to myself and him) was not taken at face value. it was actually met with understanding. and then i was called on my bullshit.
he didn’t take ‘play it cool’ as an option. and he called me on my bullshit in a perfectly kind and understanding way that actually allowed me to open up. and discuss my feelings honestly. and he cared enough to get to that point. he didn’t take the easy way out, initiate a conversation about needs and feelings because he knew it was the right thing- but then jump on any chance to end the conversation before having to discuss them.
and this conversation keeps replaying in my mind because every single thing about it represents exactly what drives me to do and love all this relationship stuff that i write and discuss. stress and highlight the importance of talking. of actually communicating in relationships.
we just get so scared that our needs won’t be met, or that someone won’t want to try and meet them, that we stop asking. we stop talking about them. because if we’re not asking for anything, we can’t be let down. and that’s precisely where i was.
but in this conversation he not only allowed me to have feelings, and discuss them, he demanded it of me.
i guess that’s the thing. when you care about someone it’s not actually hard to talk about the tricky stuff because you care about their needs, and feelings.
it all seems so simple.
and overwhelming, actually. i am overwhelmed with ‘how to process this’ thoughts about the validation i felt after the interaction. and it’s weird. sometimes getting what you want is scary. and when things happen exactly how you need them to it can be as emotional as if they went disastrously. validation is an intense and powerful thing. to give, and receive. and when someone close is able to validate a need that you didn’t even know you had, you can’t help but to be a little overwhelmed… and thankful.
so this particular love letter to new orleans is in fact a note of thanks to someone in particular. someone who had the difficult conversation. because it was the right thing for me. not the easy thing for him. to someone who most certainly has no clue how much he has inadvertently taught me about myself and relationships in general. who seems to, oddly, know more about some things that i need than my overly reflective and analytical self.
all done with simple, and genuine acts.
so as i ponder more and more what this all means in life. and why things are the way they are, i say thank you one more time. for demanding that i be true to my feelings. and being willing to deal with whatever that meant. for validation, kindness, authenticity, and care.
yes, there are still things i’m still quite sure of. i love you this hour, this hour today. and heaven will smell like the airport. but I may never get there to prove it, so let’s not waste our time thinking how that ain’t fair.
i’m an animal, you’re an animal too.
Posted: February 17th, 2010 | Author: steph | Filed under: feelings, trusting the universe | Tags: care, dating, feelings, hard conversations, needs, opening up, talking about relationships | No Comments »
you write the moral, and I’ll write the lesson. we could read a love that kept us guessing.
i’m a story teller. i believe in connection through words. through detail. through interest and intrigue. through sharing. if you know me in real life, you’d probably say that this is an understatement.
i am obsessed with the story. any story. i want you to want to know every detail. it’s how i connect. i want to tell you things. i want to share, and explore, and feel like you hear me, and understand me, and imagine being there. or appreciate the serendipity, or agree that we are all here, interacting with one another for a reason. and it’s important to me.
i want to hear your stories. small or large. i want the details. i want to know what things you will emphasize, what things you value. what you notice, why you care… about life.
this weekend i was talking with an amazing girlfriend of mine about dating. shocker. and i told her a story, about a boy. and she told me one. and she said most matter of factly, “of course it’s about the story. when is it not?” and for some reason it hit me. she understood. really understood. it IS about the story. it’s not that we all want some romantic comedy like meet cute for because it’s romantic.
well, there is nothing wrong with that even. it’s the story that begins “us,” as friends, lovers, soul mates, as fateful friends. and she and i, this nbff (newbestfemalefriend), we have a good story.
women often share stories and secrets in relationships with one another. it’s how we connect, and support one another. men often do things together, play sports, or give advice. gendered communication. it’s all there, whether it’s socialization or genetics the research has been done.
but what my friend said to me, and how she said it, made me feel like someone finally got it. that telling stories, the story, isn’t about me being a female, and telling secrets is what we do on the playground. it’s bigger than that.
and it suddenly came to me, everything i know about story telling, and creating a narrative, from an academic perspective. when thinking about dating, i often reference, in my own brain, things i learned in grad school. i don’t know why it always surprises me. i mean, isn’t that the point. to learn, remember, and apply? well, yea, every emotion i have is processed through this crazy rational virgo filter, and often times using academic research is what makes me feel more healthy about about being so pragmatic.
the narrative. it creates meaning. it provides us a view to understand how we see ourselves in a larger group (society). it gives us a space to emphasize who we want to be. the parts of us, and things we’ve done of which we are proud. stories allow us to test our normalcy in relation to the rest of society.
by telling a story, we are sharing ourselves. whether outwardly, or cryptically, we tell stories to connect. to share our hopes, and dreams, and wishes. to show faith in the universe. to understand our place in the world. the art of storytelling is much more than just an art. it is what keeps society moving. stories of what was, what could be, and will never have to be again.
stories provide us frame of reference in which to relate to one another. we find common ground through the telling of our story, and we gain interest in hearing others.
this being said, no wonder i’m obsessed with storytelling. in general. and more importantly, no wonder i’m obsessed with “the story.” the how we met story. it’s a way of showing exactly when the connection started.
most surely, the few boys i’ve swooned hard for, have a brilliant story attached. there is something romantic about the way
events unfold with passion and caring and attraction and mystery creased into every page.
romantic |rōˈmantik; rə-|
adjective
1 inclined toward or suggestive of the feeling of excitement and mystery associated with love.
there you have it- romantic is the feeling of excitement and mystery. and those feelings are felt, not given. not attributed. being romantic is not something that it can be learned, or enacted. it is the excitement of life, and every crazy messy turn it takes. and when there is connection to be made with someone else, with whom you are attracted and compatable- that is romance.
and with all of this glorified unpacking of the concept of the story and its function in relationships, it becomes obvious- my obsession with the story. in general. in life. in love.
my love for storytelling (which i am only now starting to identify as such and embrace, own, and love) comes from the excitement of watching the universe unfold in front of me every second of the day. each event adding meaning to another. that the story developing in front of us is a sign. that this is all deliberate. and precise. that this is exactly where we should be. and what should be happening.
i have some good stories to tell from how my life has evolve thus far. but what excites me is waking up and having the possibility to create more.
the possibility of creating and continuing ‘our’ story. the one with twists and turns of serendipity and kindness, not so random winks from the universe, challenges and successes.
and with this, i am positive, not hopeful, that when ‘he’ finds me (or the page turns in an existing narrative) ours will be an anecdote with the elements of legend. because, though i need to keep modesty afloat and use the word ‘hope’ when i refer to how it will unfold, i already know. because if nothing else, he will embrace, love, and value the construct of a story as much as i do.
the story of the human race is the story of men and women selling themselves short. -abraham maslow
Posted: February 2nd, 2010 | Author: steph | Filed under: romantical, trusting the universe | Tags: connection, dating, how we met, love, relationships, story, story of connection, story of love, storyteller, storytelling, the how we met story | No Comments »