Vulnerability
Feb. 5th, 2004 12:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judecorpI was reading ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
grrlpower's journal this morning, and she was waxing about relationships (as she is wont to do). I really wish I had more opportunities to talk with Andrea in person rather than online, because I don't feel like I express my thoughts correctly online and end up sounding like a rambling mess. One of the things I like about Andrea is that she spends a lot of energy on introspection and self-analysis, especially when it comes to affairs of the heart. In plainer language, "The girl makes me think."
We were typing back and forth about the difference between wanting a certain person and wanting /any/ person, and in my head that's a difference between wanting because you need, and needing because you want. Andrea (and her friends) stated that she had a problem with the idea of "need," and the resulting vulnerability. I realized while I was responding to her that my perceptions of need and vulnerability have changed considerably over the past several years.
There were so many downfalls in my previous serious relationship that it is impossible to say that one reason (or even one handful of reasons) was the mortal wound of the partnership. In truth, time and memory have hazed my perceptions of the relationship and the events so much that I'm not even sure if my self of three or four years ago would even agree with my self now about these reasons. I was so clouded with anger and self-deprecation and frustration and the phenomenon of being overwhelmed that my mindset was definitely skewed, but yet at the same time my current removal from the situation skews as well. Regardless, I'd say it is pretty fair to say that the fact that I did not allow myself to need my former partner even for a minute certainly did not help the (already doomed) relationship.
I've always prided myself on my independence and self-reliance. One of the reasons I think I was able to emerge from my childhood home fairly unscathed is that I was not emotionally dependent on my family members, who could be inconsistent at best and abusive at worst. I know I was in no emotional position as an adolescent to be vulnerable, and so I was not - I even kept my closest friendships at arm's length. I dated often, and shallowly - quick starts and stops, frequent breakups, a general devil-may-care attitude. There was always someone else. The attention was more important than the giver.
I met my ex-husband during this period, and it shows. I wasn't really ready to invest so much energy into a partner. I was just starting to learn how to give so much to a friend. Before my ex-husband, I loved three people: my best friend in early high school, my best friend in late high school, and my college roommate. With Jodie (the college roommate), I felt those first twinges of need - that first realization that I would do nearly anything to resolve a conflict because the total picture was worth significantly more than any incident or experience. It never struck me, though, that this was a relationship-building tool because, well, she was my college roommate, not my life partner, right? (Little did I know that Jodie was my Lesbian Training Ground, though we were never involved romantically.)
I had no reason to need A. because everything else was in place. We were dating long-distance and saw each other rarely. Visits were vacations, not life-builders. I didn't need him because I had everything I needed (namely myself) with me all the time. Distance allowed our relationship to become more serious when it shouldn't have, and when distance was gone and the relationship soured, it was external pressure that kept it standing. I am not proud of this, but I am honest.
It was so easy for both of us to walk away from each other and start over again because there was no vulnerability - the ultimate pull. I liked it that way because let's face it: vulnerability is uncomfortable and lessens our control. We all like control. I am no exception, a self-diagnosed Control Freak (and proud of it!) who learned to ease my angst not by controlling food, or calories, or cuts, but emotions.
I look around today and things have changed. I Am Vulnerable. And yes, that still frightens me to the core of my Control Freaky heart, but I have learned to cope with this fear because the benefits outweigh the discomforts in much the same way that I deal with the annoyances of my job because the thought of living without a paycheck is unacceptable.
Wow, I just compared my partner to a paycheck. Move along. You didn't see that. No, really. Look, a bear!!
Yes, I could live without Jennifer. If she did not wake up with me tomorrow morning I would still know how to get up, take a shower, and go to work. I would still remember my friends' phone numbers, I would still eat at restaurants I can't always afford, I would still plan to move away from Ohio, and I would still smile at my coworkers. I would settle into my own routines of yore, of this I have no doubt. My life would not resemble the songs of those chroniclers of codependence, Chicago. I don't wanna love nobody else. I don't wanna find somebody new. I don't wanna live without your love. I just wanna live my life with yoooooooooou.
Yes, I could live without Jennifer. But I don't /want/ to. I know that I have made some changes in myself since we got involved, and I know there have been some adjustments to my personality (especially since we got serious), but I don't feel like I've "lost myself" or "become her" or that I'm in some way losing my independence or self-reliance. Her presence in my life has forced me to go out of my comfort zone in places, and I have adjusted accordingly. Her presence in my life has created new time commitments, and I have adjusted accordingly. Her presence in my life has opened me up to vulnerability... and I have adjusted accordingly.
Vulnerability has taught me, yet again, that I am willing to gloss over individual incidents for the larger picture. It has taught me that tears today don't mean suitcases tomorrow, or even that tears today don't mean sadness tomorrow. It has taught me that maybe the effortless walk-away isn't the healthiest of mental states, even though it may be more painless. It means that sometimes I freak out about stuff, and the Emotional Control Freak in me HATES it, and in an hour or so it remembers that opening the spectrum means I get to freak out on the /good/ side, too. And that's pretty amazing.
I learned vulnerability from Jodie, and I've never lost it. And that's a damned good thing, because in a few years I want to embark on the ultimate of vulnerabilities: parenting.
So I guess it's good that I'm accepting it now.
grrlpower's journal this morning, and she was waxing about relationships (as she is wont to do). I really wish I had more opportunities to talk with Andrea in person rather than online, because I don't feel like I express my thoughts correctly online and end up sounding like a rambling mess. One of the things I like about Andrea is that she spends a lot of energy on introspection and self-analysis, especially when it comes to affairs of the heart. In plainer language, "The girl makes me think."We were typing back and forth about the difference between wanting a certain person and wanting /any/ person, and in my head that's a difference between wanting because you need, and needing because you want. Andrea (and her friends) stated that she had a problem with the idea of "need," and the resulting vulnerability. I realized while I was responding to her that my perceptions of need and vulnerability have changed considerably over the past several years.
There were so many downfalls in my previous serious relationship that it is impossible to say that one reason (or even one handful of reasons) was the mortal wound of the partnership. In truth, time and memory have hazed my perceptions of the relationship and the events so much that I'm not even sure if my self of three or four years ago would even agree with my self now about these reasons. I was so clouded with anger and self-deprecation and frustration and the phenomenon of being overwhelmed that my mindset was definitely skewed, but yet at the same time my current removal from the situation skews as well. Regardless, I'd say it is pretty fair to say that the fact that I did not allow myself to need my former partner even for a minute certainly did not help the (already doomed) relationship.
I've always prided myself on my independence and self-reliance. One of the reasons I think I was able to emerge from my childhood home fairly unscathed is that I was not emotionally dependent on my family members, who could be inconsistent at best and abusive at worst. I know I was in no emotional position as an adolescent to be vulnerable, and so I was not - I even kept my closest friendships at arm's length. I dated often, and shallowly - quick starts and stops, frequent breakups, a general devil-may-care attitude. There was always someone else. The attention was more important than the giver.
I met my ex-husband during this period, and it shows. I wasn't really ready to invest so much energy into a partner. I was just starting to learn how to give so much to a friend. Before my ex-husband, I loved three people: my best friend in early high school, my best friend in late high school, and my college roommate. With Jodie (the college roommate), I felt those first twinges of need - that first realization that I would do nearly anything to resolve a conflict because the total picture was worth significantly more than any incident or experience. It never struck me, though, that this was a relationship-building tool because, well, she was my college roommate, not my life partner, right? (Little did I know that Jodie was my Lesbian Training Ground, though we were never involved romantically.)
I had no reason to need A. because everything else was in place. We were dating long-distance and saw each other rarely. Visits were vacations, not life-builders. I didn't need him because I had everything I needed (namely myself) with me all the time. Distance allowed our relationship to become more serious when it shouldn't have, and when distance was gone and the relationship soured, it was external pressure that kept it standing. I am not proud of this, but I am honest.
It was so easy for both of us to walk away from each other and start over again because there was no vulnerability - the ultimate pull. I liked it that way because let's face it: vulnerability is uncomfortable and lessens our control. We all like control. I am no exception, a self-diagnosed Control Freak (and proud of it!) who learned to ease my angst not by controlling food, or calories, or cuts, but emotions.
I look around today and things have changed. I Am Vulnerable. And yes, that still frightens me to the core of my Control Freaky heart, but I have learned to cope with this fear because the benefits outweigh the discomforts in much the same way that I deal with the annoyances of my job because the thought of living without a paycheck is unacceptable.
Wow, I just compared my partner to a paycheck. Move along. You didn't see that. No, really. Look, a bear!!
Yes, I could live without Jennifer. If she did not wake up with me tomorrow morning I would still know how to get up, take a shower, and go to work. I would still remember my friends' phone numbers, I would still eat at restaurants I can't always afford, I would still plan to move away from Ohio, and I would still smile at my coworkers. I would settle into my own routines of yore, of this I have no doubt. My life would not resemble the songs of those chroniclers of codependence, Chicago. I don't wanna love nobody else. I don't wanna find somebody new. I don't wanna live without your love. I just wanna live my life with yoooooooooou.
Yes, I could live without Jennifer. But I don't /want/ to. I know that I have made some changes in myself since we got involved, and I know there have been some adjustments to my personality (especially since we got serious), but I don't feel like I've "lost myself" or "become her" or that I'm in some way losing my independence or self-reliance. Her presence in my life has forced me to go out of my comfort zone in places, and I have adjusted accordingly. Her presence in my life has created new time commitments, and I have adjusted accordingly. Her presence in my life has opened me up to vulnerability... and I have adjusted accordingly.
Vulnerability has taught me, yet again, that I am willing to gloss over individual incidents for the larger picture. It has taught me that tears today don't mean suitcases tomorrow, or even that tears today don't mean sadness tomorrow. It has taught me that maybe the effortless walk-away isn't the healthiest of mental states, even though it may be more painless. It means that sometimes I freak out about stuff, and the Emotional Control Freak in me HATES it, and in an hour or so it remembers that opening the spectrum means I get to freak out on the /good/ side, too. And that's pretty amazing.
I learned vulnerability from Jodie, and I've never lost it. And that's a damned good thing, because in a few years I want to embark on the ultimate of vulnerabilities: parenting.
So I guess it's good that I'm accepting it now.
