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kaleidescopeeyes88
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Name: kaleidescopeeyes88
Metro:
Gender: Female
Interests: Being snarky, more than anything else.
Expertise: ACK! WHY ARE YOU PRESSURING ME???
Occupation: Working on a PhD in English
Industry: Education/Research
Message: message me
Member Since:
9/13/2005
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| How to Start Mending a Broken HeartEven though the EX?-BF and I have yet to have our conversation about where our relationship should go next, I've decided that I have to get into an emotional and psychological space where I can be okay with the possibility of a permanent break-up. (That's probably why his wanting to breakup on Tuesday was so gut-wrenching; I simply was not prepared for it in the slightest, and could only react with the desperation of saving the relationship.) I've been doing a whole lot of thinking, not only about what could have been better in our relationship, what I want from him, what I'm willing to give, etc., but also about what I want for my own life, whether or not he continues being a part of it. Whether or not I want to be with him will depend on some key questions I want to ask him and the answers he'll provide.
If it weren't for the expectation of talking to him in a few days, I probably would be inching toward "Fuck Him" mode. I'm quite good at being bitter and wishing ill upon those who have wronged me. Despite what those New-Age, hippy-dippy, self-actualization folks say, sometimes it does help to immerse oneself in truly negative thoughts. As one of my best friends said, "I know conventional wisdom is to try to remember the good things and chalk it up to experience, but I always thought that was stupid. Remember the crappy stuff right now... Once you've got some distance from the thing, then go ahead and remember the good stuff, but for now it'll just make you miserable. He's an asshole who's afraid to get hurt later so he'd rather hurt YOU now." I actually don't hate EX?-BF for breaking my heart, nor do I think I ever will hate him, regardless of how our next conversation will go. Tallying all the crappy stuff isn't pushing me toward wanting to walk away from him, either. But it is keeping me from feeling sad. And I am definitely tired of feeling sad.
More than anything, being surrounded by love and concern has really helped me feel better and stronger. I've gotten so many messages (email, voice, text, comments on blog posts) from friends, family, and even strangers. Some messages were from people with whom I had lost touch these last several months, like one friend who sent me a quote that she knew (because we both kind of relish in the depressing) I would find heartwarming: "Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men/women must, I think, have great sadness on Earth" (Fyodor Dostoevsky). Some were from people who I didn't even realize took an interest in my personal life, like my friend who messaged me on facebook and told me about his own case of personal heartbreak. I have never felt more loved or more humbled.
Spending time with my family has been a blessing. These are, after all, the people who know best and who love me unconditionally. My family doesn't pry into my personal life, but will listen with empathy should I bring anything up (which I did when I was under the influence of my cousin's killer margaritas). They will hate the EX?-BF if I want them to, but they will also be fair-minded if I set that tone. (I've been doing the latter.) My parents have been letting me sleep as late as I want (and I've been doing a lot of sleeping-- amazing how emotional exhaustion can take a toll on the body), and taking me out to restaurants I've been missing. Today, I went on a shoe shopping spree with my aunt (who bought me one pair) and my mom (who bought me two). I don't think I've allowed myself to be pampered this way from my family since I was in college. I'm also really loving that my little brother is calling me every day, which he also hasn't done since I was in college. He doesn't even have to call to ask explicitly, "How are you doing?" That question is already implicit when he calls in the middle of the night and asks, "Hey, have you ever tried operating a sewing machine completely drunk?"
So I guess this post is just a big Thank You to everyone who's helping me through this. I don't think I could have gotten to this healthier place so soon without you all.
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| It Ain't Over 'Til It's OverEX?-BF came over this morning, at my request, to pick up some of his stuff he left at my place. I hadn't slept all night, and he said he hadn't, either. He said that he was up thinking all night about one thing that I said to him when he broke up with me the day before: "All I ever wanted was for you to show me that you love me." He said that he had been thinking that maybe what was at the root of our problems lately had a lot to do with misunderstandings. What made him want to break up was his impression that I wanted a different kind of boyfriend, that I wanted to be with someone who was distinctly not him. And now, thinking back at our conversation, he was starting to realize that his impression could be wrong. He said that he's not as sure about his decision anymore.
I was relieved when he said these things, not because they gave me hope that we could get back together (I'm not expecting that), but that at least we were talking about the possibility of having a real conversation about what our issues have been without making false assumptions about each other. We didn't decide to get into all that at that moment. We both agreed that it would be a good idea to spend a few days clearing our heads and thinking about what we want. (I'm now at my parents', and will be taking that trip to Disneyland with my cousins on Sunday.) When I get back, he said, we should talk.
I'm tempted to write about the things that I want and the things that scare me. But it's probably best not to, since there's a chance he'll check my blog-- There's always the chance of misunderstanding and misinterpretation if he were to read what I write, and I want us to start at the same level if/when we have this conversation. I had planned to write several entries about the breakup and our relationship for the next few days, mostly for therapeutic reasons. (It's amazing how heartache seems to create more material than happiness, isn't it?) But I'm thinking now that's not such a good idea. So I think it's back to taking a break from blogging for a little while.
Thank you, readers, for your words of comfort and sympathy. I realize that I don't know most of you in person, but I appreciate your comments nonetheless. It's always helpful, too, when other people, even complete strangers, say that they have felt and experienced similar pain. I will let you all know what happens next.
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| When the BF becomes the EXBack in March, during spring break, I went down to Pasadena to visit the BF's family. He took me to one of his favorite spots in his hometown, which was Eaton Canyon. I'm not a nature girl by any means, and didn't even have a proper pair of shoes for a hiking trip. I strapped on a pair of his mother's boots, which were about two sizes too big, rolled up my jeans, and put on a t-shirt that I normally wear as pajamas. There was a lot about the trip that was uncomfortable-- I was uncomfortable in the too-big shoes that were getting sopped with each stream we had to cross, I was getting sweaty and sunburned, I was becoming increasingly aware of how out of shape I was as we hopped across rocks, I had to get over my fear of falling down and breaking my neck. I also thought about the fact that he brought his ex-girlfriend to this very same spot and knew that I had to at least outperform her, and was uncomfortable with the possibility that he was comparing me to her. I was uncomfortable, but I was happy. I was happy to be doing something new and unfamiliar. I was happy to be getting a glimpse of his life that I hadn't seen. I was happy to be doing something with him that he enjoyed. I was happy that he was proud that I didn't quit midway in spite of my discomfort.
I feel that in relationships, there are lots of moments like these, though not always as blissful as a search for a waterfall. I was often uncomfortable about the filthy state of his apartment. I was uncomfortable with him sometimes seeming more interested in his dog and video games than the curves of my body. I was uncomfortable with him seeming incapable of planning something until the last minute. I was uncomfortable with him not being much of a romantic. I was uncomfortable that we were two very different people. I was uncomfortable, but not unhappy. I was happy to receive his late-night telephone calls. I was happy to share his nerdy penchant for obscure historical facts. I was happy to enjoy simple pleasures like making quesadillas and watching stupid dance competition shows on tv. I was happy to have found someone who didn't make me feel weird for having the entire RENT soundtrack memorized. I was happy to be with someone who seemed to be able to handle conflict with grace and patience and not egotistical defensiveness or spastic cowardice. I was happy to share with someone a similar world-view and passion for social justice. I was happy to be with someone who thought that I was beautiful and witty, even though I kind of think I'm funny looking and awkward. I was happy that he was willing to meet my friends and family, even though social situations make him uncomfortable. I was happy that between thinking about him the second I woke up in the morning and thinking about him the second before I went to sleep at night, I thought about him at various moments throughout my day, for no particular reason whatsoever. I was happy that because of our differences, I was constantly learning new things about him and about myself. I was happy to have my normal ways of operating challenged. I was happy to feel like I was growing as a person from being with him.
But when the BF broke up with me today, he didn't see things the way I did. He conflated discomfort and unhappiness, and prescribed that those things that made me uncomfortable were indicative of me being unhappy. He said that he was feeling like he was never able to make me happy. He said that we used to be happier. He said that the problems we've been having are only going to escalate and never get resolved. He said that he doesn't think he can ever change.
I asked him when he started feeling this way, and he said since the beginning of the summer. I admit that we have had a rough month. It was at the beginning of this month that we had our first real fight. I was worried that we hadn't talked about how the summer was going to pan out, and was anxious about him not seeming to care if he was going to be spending the summer where I am or back home. I was afraid that his not being proactive about making it possible so that he could spend the summer with me was indicative of his indifference towards me. He had assured me that this equation was untrue; He had been operating under what was familiar to him, which is the assumption that summers are to be spent apart. (That's how college relationships always worked.) And while I had to explain that college feels like a really fucking long time ago to me, I believed him when he said that he would prefer to be close to me, and that he loved me, and that his not being more proactive was a reflection of his general tendency to procrastinate and not his feelings about me. We had another fight about sex. I was getting frustrated because we hadn't been doing it for quite some time, and one night he seemed to finally want to, but then changed his mind. I was afraid that his not wanting to be intimate had to do with him losing interest in me or not desiring me. He assured me that it wasn't that. He was just simply too tired. I believed him, because I saw that he was. He had just started a job on campus which he managed to find, and was still getting used to the heavy work schedule. On top of that, he enrolled in a Spanish class that met at 8 in the morning, so his days were particularly long. I understood what he was going through, and decided that this lack of intimacy was a temporary problem. I figured that once things got settled, we'd figure out ways to find time and energy to be intimate with each other. He said he was hopeful that we would, so I felt fine. The last fight we had had to do with a trip we were hoping to take together. My cousins were planning a trip to Disneyland. At the time the trip was being planned, he had agreed to go because he didn't foresee any schedule conflicts. But after he enrolled in his Spanish class, he realized that he couldn't miss class and had to back out of the trip. I was upset and disappointed, and annoyed that he couldn't have planned out his schedule better. I was also disappointed that he was unwilling to try to commit to both-- If it were me, I would have asked the professor to give me work in advance and to grant me some leniency. (And as someone who has taught summer school, I know that this is totally typical.) But ultimately I honored and respected his decision to take his class seriously; In fact, I was really proud of him. I also decided that I couldn't necessarily blame him for not foreseeing the time conflict-- We had simply planned the trip sooner than when he possibly could have known he was not going to be able to take it. Things come up. Plans fail. It's not the end of the world. And he said that he was sorry and that he was going to make it up to me, which was all I wanted from him. I was happy that he seemed to want to make me happy.
He said today that our problems were never resolved, and in some ways I agree-- There were patterns. But while he thought that our problems were insurmountable, I had thought that we were actually handling them pretty well. After all, every relationship, especially one that reaches that phase where things are changing, involves bumps in the road-- I was ready to see where we would go next, because I thought we were a team. Besides, the root of each thing that made me anxious, annoyed, or uncomfortable (but not unhappy) was based on my need for assurance from him that he loved me and wanted to work on this relationship together-- So long as he gave it, so long as I felt that he wanted things to work between us, I trusted him. And perhaps he might have thought that my need for that assurance was another insurmountable problem (and, granted, I had on occasion wondered if he would ever love me in the way that I wanted to be loved), I was learning to see all the other ways that he made me feel loved and valued. And that's partly why I was okay with us experiencing these problems-- I figured we were still learning about each other. And as anxiety-inducing as that sometimes might be, it was still exciting to me. I never expected that he would one day be rid of all the tendencies and habits that upset me. I never expected that these issues wouldn't come up again. But I did expect that he would at least want to try to navigate through all the different things, good or bad, that may come up in our relationship.
Quite frankly, despite his claims that we've been trying to work things out and have been failing at it, he never gave us a chance to really see if we could resolve our issues. To me, a fight is not a real conversation. No resolution can possibly come out of a fight. To resolve problems, you have to step outside of the visceral moment and talk about it. What he should have done was tell me, when he was first experiencing these doubts about our future, that there are things about himself he doesn't foresee changing. He should have asked me if I would ever be okay with that. He should have given me some indication that he was totally freaked out about our fights and asked me what I thought of them. He should have told me that he had been feeling unhappy lately. (I remember asking him some time ago if there was anything about me or our relationship that was making him unhappy, and he claimed that there wasn't.) So I suppose what hurts the most is that he sat and stewed, made unfair assumptions about what I wanted and what made me happy, and decided on the fate of our relationship before we ever had a real conversation about it. We still haven't, really.
I'm feeling a lot of things right now. Kind of numb. Still shocked (because I never thought he would be one to break my heart... or maybe he thought I would one day break his, so he figured he'd beat me to it). Angry that he handled this so poorly. And sad because this is the end of what, for a long time, was something really great. Friends and family have tried to console me, and probably will for some time, by saying things like, "You'll find someone who deserves you," or "He's just too immature and is too much of a coward to know how to handle problems like a grown-up" or "He's just freaked about growing up and taking up responsibility in general, and it's too bad that you bore the brunt of that" or "He'll soon realize how lucky he was to have you and how stupid he was for ending it." And perhaps sometime soon these statements will make me feel better. Perhaps sometime soon I'll tally up all the bad in our relationship and reach the conclusion that we never had a future. I've already tried doing that. But the thing that's funny about love is that it defies all logic. I could probably tally up all the things that I don't like about him. But that doesn't change the indescribable thing that I feel for him-- that thing that makes me want to be with him and continue discovering where we will go. So when he's decided that where we're going is doom, it feels like he just doesn't feel for me in that same way. That maybe, despite his saying over and over again, "But I do love you," that maybe he really doesn't. Because if he did, he would want to fight for us. Maybe we have fundamentally different ideas of what love is and how it should be reciprocated. Maybe he never loved me in the way that I thought I was being loved.
And yet, I don't want to go down this line of thought. Because doing that would be to second-guess the happiness I felt when I was with him. And that's one thing that I will never concede. He's flat-out wrong. I was happy. Sometimes uncomfortable, but always happy. I know this, because I now no longer feel that way. I feel devastated. And heartbroken.
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| In Defense of the Anal RetentivePopular culture is not kind to uptight people in general, and certainly not to uptight women in particular. Sex and the City's Miranda is a practical-minded career woman with a severe hair cut. The film would have us believe that she's partially to blame for her husband's infidelity-- She gets too caught up in fulfilling her obligations as a mother and lawyer, that she neglects to fulfill her husband's sexual needs (which also has something to do with neglecting to wax her vagina). In Desperate Housewives, Bree Van de Kamp's obsession over hospital corners and perfectly manicured lawns drives away her husband and children. And in Gossip Girl, Blair's icy need to protect her social status contrasts Sabrina's effervescent spontaneity. (Even their wardrobe reflects this-- Blair's look is a throwback to the 1950's debutante, complete with a string of pearls; Sabrina is all sun-kissed, tousled, bohemian chic.) We see uptight men in popular culture, too, and interestingly enough, they're often portrayed as effeminate or homosexual. Felix Ungar of The Odd Couple cooks, cleans, and preens, to a point where his poker-playing, cigar-smoking buddies throw gay jokes at him. And if we go back to Sex and the City, Charlotte's first husband, the WASP-y Trey, ends up having a flaccid penis problem. I don't know if this is a reflection of American culture in particular, Western culture more broadly, or the human condition in general, but anal retentiveness (hmm, interesting sexual politics implicit in that term...) appears to be a distinctly feminized trait, and it's one that makes a person ridiculous and unlikeable.
I'd like to think that I'm not anything like these characters. I often find myself going along with other people's preferences even if I would prefer to be doing something else. I'm pretty adaptable to new and unfamiliar environments. I think I'm flexible enough to be able to handle unforeseen obstacles. My room is more often messy than tidy. Nonetheless, I admit that a big part of me gets seriously annoyed with too much whimsy, flexibility, and unforeseeability. A huge pet peeve of mine is tardiness; I am almost always punctual, and I get anxious when people are late. It takes a lot for me to accept when people who back out on agreements, even if the reasons given are totally valid. I don't always mind when an itinerary I set gets changed, but I almost always have to have one, whether it has to do with traveling or planning out how much work I need to get done in a given day and how much play I'm allowed.
I've noticed, though, that while I think my demands are reasonable, I still feel guilty for enforcing them. Many people I love self-identify as "laid back". (The BF, for one, isn't much of a planner, and tends to just go with the flow. I seem to have made friends with plenty of people who have a hard time committing to anything before the last minute.) So maybe I feel bad for getting annoyed with them. Maybe I start feeling as if I've projected my neuroses onto them and can't accept them for who they are. Certainly, popular culture tells me that I'm being selfish and short-sighted. Life is a journey, right? A box of chocolates?
But lately, I've been getting tired of feeling guilty for wanting people to follow through on their word, for expecting that my time be spent well and efficiently, for needing to have some plan for my immediate and distant future. I don't understand why we don't acknowledge that "laid back" people can be equally oppressive in what they impose on others. When someone asks you for your opinion because they care about your comfort and happiness, the least helpful (not to mention unappreciative) thing to do is to answer, "Whatever." Laid back people also often fail to acknowledge that while they're chilling out and going with the flow, people around them are making plans and getting shit done just so there is a "flow" to "go with" in the first place. When laid back people fail to commit to an engagement until the very last minute, they fail to see that their unresponsiveness causes a lot of stress for some of the other people involved-- Even for a simple visit, people (like me, for example) need the time and energy to make make sure the fridge is stocked, that the bathroom is clean, that the guests will be comfortable. Plus, preparing to entertain is also an emotional and mental endeavor.
Sure, a laid back person's response might be, "But none of this matters to me. Just do whatever you want. I really don't care." But this kind of deference doesn't make things easier for people. It's actually downright rude. If I have any kind of respect or affection for you, I'm not going to treat you as if you don't matter. I'm not going to simply subject you to my day-to-day routine (or lack of one). I'm going to make an effort to plan my day/week/life around you being in it. I'm going to show you that I value your presence. And sometimes I'll do this even when I'm having a bad day or am feeling like shit. So if you're going to respond with indifference or apathy, of course I'm going to feel hurt. Not only are you not recognizing my efforts, but you're also not bothering to make an effort yourself. How am I supposed to know that I matter to you?
It's no surprise that my feeling hurt makes me look like an overly sensitive woman. I don't know how typical this is, but most couples I see consist of an uptight woman and a laid back man. In my family, it's always the women who have to plan out our get-togethers and all the specifics that they may entail. The guys just go with the program. (Or, in the case of some of my male cousins, they don't respond to your invitation and flake out on you at the last minute, even though you've already made allowances for how much food they would have eaten.) I'd like to see what would happen to Christmas if all the women in my family decided to go on strike. I'm convinced that men and boys are so often allowed to be lackadaisical. In my family, anyway, when a boy acts moody or refuses to tell his parents when he'll be home, the response is always, "Boys will be boys." Whereas that kind of behavior is unacceptable for the girls. I grew up understanding that as soon as we have guests over, I have to jump up to the door, act friendly and respectful, engage in what's going on, even if the only thing I want to do is brood in my bedroom. And as a woman, the "bearer of culture" and all that bullshit, there's more pressure for me to arrange my life around my family's-- I'm expected to live close to home, to learn my family's customs, to care for my parents when they age. I'm expected to plan. I'm not allowed to act according to my personal impulses or whims.
I don't want to hate on laid back folks. Or on laid back men. Temporality, obligation and courtesy are socially constructed, after all. And I have no more of a right to impose my expectations on people than they do theirs on me. And I know that laid back people don't actually mean to be disrespectful, that men don't always mean to take their independence for granted. I also acknowledge that I'm possibly perpetuating these gender dynamics even as I complain about them. Still, it bothers me that being laid back is so often associated with traits like open-mindedness, accommodation and tolerance, while people who need agendas and commitment are called "control freaks" and "anal retentive." And it also bothers me that people don't acknowledge that uptight women so often learned to be that way not from being selfish, but from accommodating to the demands of others.
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| When My Mother Talks About SexI know that my mother has very conservative views on sex. I know this not because she's talked about her conservative views on sex, but because she doesn't talk about sex at all. Whenever she sees love scenes on television, she immediately switches the channel. When I was a kid, I never got the "birds and the bees" talk-- Everything I knew about sex I learned from sex education classes at school or Judy Blume novels (like Forever and Deenie, not Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing) my best friend and I would borrow from the library. My mother genuinely acted with shock and condemnation when she learned of my cousin inviting his girlfriend to spend the night with him. And now, whenever she calls me on the phone in the evening and knows that I'm hanging out with the BF, she'll be sure to tell me, "Don't stay too late, and make sure you drive home safely!" It's as if she's deliberately blocking out any possibility that I might be spending the night at his place. I'm certain that she was a virgin when she married my father at the age of 28, in what might as well have been an arranged marriage.
At the same time, my mother is also starting to itch for a grandkid, probably because one of her sisters has two adorable ones. Or maybe because she's just bored and desperately needs a hobby. This desire for grandchildren will sometimes conflict with with her impulse to deny that sex exists in the world in which her children inhabit. Conversations with her often leave me confused. Take, for example, this one that I recently had with her on the phone.
Mom: Do you have any friends who are having babies soon?
Me: Yeah, actually. I have one friend who's due in November.
Mom: Oh, good. I just knit a baby blanket, so maybe you can give it to her as a present.
Me: You made a baby blanket? What for?
Mom: [laughs] Well, I thought it would be nice to make a blanket for a grandchild, but I guess I won't have one until a long time. So you can just give the blanket to a friend.
Me: Um, okay. Thanks, mom.
Mom: How's BF?
Me: He's fine.
Mom: Things are good?
Me: Yeah, things are fine.
Mom: No need to rush anything, okay? Make sure you look very carefully before you decide to get married.
Me: Okay, mom. [teasing] Does this mean you don't like BF? You don't want me to marry him?
Mom: No, no. I like him just fine. I'm just saying be careful.
Me: [still teasing] Did YOU look carefully enough before you got married? Would you have married someone else if you did?
Mom: [laughing] Come on, your dad's not so bad. I'm just saying that you're still young.
Me: [agreeing with her, but surprised that she should say this] I'm not in any hurry. But you know, I'm almost the same age as you were when you got married.
Mom: Yes, but things are different now. You can wait.
Me: Yeah, I know.
Mom: But if anything happens, get married.
Me: Um, okay...
END.
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Now, I'm not sure what my mother means when she says "if anything happens." The logical translation would be, "Should you get pregnant, make sure you get married." But the thing is, I'm pretty sure she's still not accepting the possibility that I might be having sex. This is partly my own fault, since I let her believe that I'm her obedient, chaste daughter-- I zealously hide my birth control pills when I visit, and I sometimes lie and tell her that I'm at my apartment when she calls in the morning and I've just spent the night at the BF's. So, "if anything happens" could also mean "Before you two decide to start having sex, make sure you get married first." I wonder what she would have said if I had actually asked for a clarification.
I told my brother about this conversation I had with our mother, and he told me of an even weirder one that he recently had with her. She had called him on a Friday night, when he was getting ready to go to a party.
Bro: Can I call you back tomorrow, mom? I have to go to a party.
Mom: Tomorrow? You're not doing anything bad, are you?
Bro [answering in the ridiculous way he always does whenever he's trying to deflect her scrutiny]: Yes, mom. I'm going to do lots of drugs and drink a lot and have lots of sex. And get lots of women pregnant. In fact, I might have already gotten somebody pregnant without knowing it.
Mom: Well, if you do get anyone pregnant, I could help you take care of the kid, you know.
Bro: Huh?
END.
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My brother was expecting mom to freak out or to just dismiss his hyperbolic response entirely. So for her to actually be okay with the idea of her 19-year-old son having a kid really gave him a mindfuck. If our mother was at all the kind of person to play with people's heads (she isn't, unlike our dad), we would think that that was exactly what she was doing. Initially, I was getting annoyed at the double standard, which is so typical of a mother who has always openly said, "Of course we're going to treat you and your brother differently. He's a boy, and you're a girl." But I have another theory: I think that this is mom's way of finally acknowledging the possibility that her son has absolutely no interest in having sex with women, let alone having babies with them. She would rather have him be a young, unwed and ill-equipped father than a homosexual. But I guess that's a set of issues for a whole other story...
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