On Honor.

[judecorp]

This is the second in a sporadic series of installments intent on processing my previous relationship. As is often the case, it will be snipped so you can avoid it if you should so desire. I offer that option now.

I keep all of my promises. This is one of the things, if not /the/ thing, that I am most proud of in my life. I use the words "I promise" very sparingly. Even when I don't say those words, though, it is often easy to tell when I have given my word. And I don't use "I didn't say 'I promise'" as an excuse. Ever.

When I was 18, I learned a very valuable lesson. I learned that you can never promise someone forever. I learned this in the ultimate Training Ground - the high school relationship.

Yes, I was one of those who thought I was going to marry the other half of my first serious relationship. That is, of course, until I went to college. Isn't that always the way?

I'm going to make a confession here, boys and girls (and in-betweens). I'm going to tell you that I got married for what, in hindsight, was probably not the smartest reason in the world. But it was my reason. And it's true. This isn't the voice of the bitter ex. It's the voice of the knight.

I got married because I said I would. Because I promised.

I don't really believe in marriage, not in the legal sense here in the US. It's sexist, patriarchal, heterosexist, and ridiculous. It's not for me. I don't feel that people should need a legal document to seal their commitment. And I don't feel that people's commitments should be considered invalid if they are unable to obtain a legal document. Because of this reason, and many others, I am opposed to marriage.

Marriage, however, was very important to A. I heard over and over that this was a big deal, that it meant a lot to the parentals, that there were benefits to compromising my ideals. Insurance. Tuition remission. Ceremony. Ritual. In the end, it goes back to the feelings echoed in my previous installment: I'd rather live in his world, then live without him in mine. With this in mind, I accepted his marriage proposal. I wore his ring. Proudly, even.

In the time that passed between the engagement (December 1997) and the wedding (August 1999), my reservations grew. And grew. And I fell into a depression the likes of which I have never known (not even with all of the crap that went on this summer did I feel even a third as bad as I did in Maine, where I would sleep 12-14 hours a day on average). In May of 1999 I had a brief affair with the owner of the Pillowcase of Angsty Love. If I was unsure about the whole wedding thing before, I was completely conflicted after she and I parted ways wistfully. The energy between us made what little physicality existed between A. and me seem ridiculous in comparison. The desperation with which my heart linked to hers was eye-opening as well.

When push came to shove, though, I had made a commitment. I had made a promise. And there was nothing, not my ideals or my happiness that was going to make me break my word. I walked down the aisle. (We won't even talk about the fiasco that preceeded this event, or the phone call to my mother that morning letting her know I wasn't going through with it.)

I don't know what's crazier - the fact that this is the reason I got married (and now have to get divorced) or the fact that I actually /told/ people that this was the reason I was getting married, and no one tried to stop me. No one challenged me on this. I think one person laughed awkwardly. "That's a hell of a reason." Something like that.

I am honorable to a fault. Sometimes in too high doses, virtue becomes vice. Do I hide behind my principles? Do I burrow in my ethics? Did I use honor as a way of avoiding the admittance of defeat?

Hindsight is 20/20, they say. Would I have done the same things over again? Perhaps. For love, I would do anything. For the people that I love, I would sacrifice myself. I would rather be hurting than see pain on the faces of those I care about. But in hindsight, perhaps I would not have grown so attached to someone who knew how I felt about marriage and insisted on it anyway. Who knows? Learning experiences, all.

~//~

Today in class, my professor commented that there are several paths to self-awareness. One of these is therapy. Another is an intimate relationship, she said, with someone who knows you and helps you to analyze your thoughts and actions. Last night on the phone with Jennifer, I was confronted and challenged three times. That's three times more than A. did in the entire course of our relationship.

Was he worth my promise? Of course, because I loved him. I wasn't, however, worth his. Well, that's not fair. I can't possibly hold everyone to my twistedly stubborn standards. :)

Comments

[ralphmelton.livejournal.com]

To me, going through with something because of the force of a promise seems entirely right. Perhaps we're both on the same edge of normality here.

[jeffholton.livejournal.com]

long word, catharsis
it's hard to fit in haiku
nonetheless, we do

...I'm amazed by you...

[aliandra.livejournal.com]

To be able to look back, and really get the motivations, to understand what happened even if what happened wasn't pleasant.

Looking back, my ex and I were kinda in the same boat. I played along that I'd be the dutiful wife, and that I'd always do what was expected from me.

My situation was different from yours, though, in that I broke that promise. Not for myself, mind you. I watched for 8 months as the men in /that/ house insulted and imprisioned the mother into being nothing more than a ghost of a woman, bound to their whims. I began to even travel down the same road, thinking that giving of myself over to things that others wanted was a pure form of love. A sacrifice for the other person.

I would have done as you did, married because of a promise. Married for the ideal of love, not the actuality of it, but the thought of it.

What stopped me?
*grins*
A beautiful baby girl. She's powerful. She gave me the reason not to roll over and play dead. Because I refused to have her brought up in any situation where she'd be thought of as less than perfect and beautiful and powerful and ....Did I say perfect?
My daughter is ... such an elemental person. She burns fiercely. She feels passionately. She creates freely.
And I'd not change a thing, I suppose. I learn from her daily. Any of the pain I may have felt was worth the gift of having her in my life.
She gave me the courage to demand the best for myself, because it would be the best for her.
I love her dearly. She's awesome!
And she was definately worth breaking a ill-given promise. She was worth being true to myself.
She's an inspiration.
You'll have to meet her someday.
*grins, and hugs*

[dch4.livejournal.com]

Promises are powerful things. There are those of us in this world to whom our word means more, in many ways, than our life. No, that's not exactly right. There are those of us to whom our word is our life. Our sense of honor is tied up intimately in who and what we are. Once our word is given, we hold to it as long as we can.

There times, however, when that's given idealisticly (in this I refer much more to myself than you) and reality crushes that ideal, showing it for the thing of sunshine and reflection that it was.

There comes a time, however, when you have to realize that the honor you present to someone in holding to your word isn't worth the effort you put into it unless the other side reciprocates. It doesn't lesson your offering any, but it shows you that, in many ways, it was perhaps misplaced. You offered up an ultimate sacrifice of your ideals, identity, and desires to someone who wasn't willing to make that same offering to you. Instead, they accepted your offer without understanding the depth of what it was and, in the end, squandered the beautiful thing you had offered them.

Even though I don't say it nearly enough or often enough, I love you and adore you. While we disagree on many issues, the vigor, desire, and personal fortitude with which you pursue your goals and ideals is a constant source of inspiration to me. I look at my own pursuit of such things and hold it up your own as a measuring of stick of how far I have left to go. Over the years, I've taken advantage at times of what you offered to me in the friendship, and for that I apologize.

Regardless, thank you for being in my life and being my friend. And don't stop making promises and keeping them. Just be sure to be a little more sure of those to whom you're offering them. I'd hate to have to take up a career of breaking the kneecaps of people who squander your trust.

[goldispikes.livejournal.com]

Okay, Clint just said everything I wanted to say. He so rocks.

I totally agree, when you are walking your path with honor, it is an impossibility not to keep a promise. But one important point is this: do not incur giri (obligation) to a dishonorable person (ie. one who does not value your gift, intend to reciprocate, have respect for you as a person).

I too experienced this in my marriage. I have my painful secrets and baggage like everyone else. When I met this man, I laid them all out on the table, and asked him for two simple things (same as I ask from everyone): 1. honesty 2. respect. He gave me neither, as it turned out. I learned, three years into our relationship, that he was a completely different person that the one he presented. I also realized that I had become a totally different person than before I had met him. And I didn't like that person. By adapting myself to my situation, and indebting myself to a dishonorable person, I dishonored myself.

But I moved on, and learned. I'm so happy to see you doing the same thing.

As my sensei said last night: If you were perfect, what would be left for you to do? It would be boring. :)