Words of Wisdom

My father has a tendency to make up his own quotes every once in a while. Some of them are pretty silly, like:

“Those who indulge, bulge.”

And then there are the mean ones like:

“The sweetest revenge is when the children have children of their own.”

So, if I never have any kids in future, you know why...

But one statement of his has constantly replayed in my head time and again, and at this point of my life, I find that it’s one of the greatest and most valuable lessons I could ever learn:

“Some couples are not in love with each other. They’re in love with the idea of being in love.”

It’s really not easy being single and unattached, especially not within the liberal social culture of today where arranged marriages are no longer predominant, and opportunities to interact and even flirt are rife. Yes, it’s very easy to envy those around me who seem so blissfully happy. And among my closer friends, whom I’ve known for years, the difference in their lives since finding a boyfriend or a girlfriend is even more obvious, because that level of familiarity I have with them makes the subtle signs and cues so very clear that there are some things that I am not privy to.

That sense of detachment and isolation from a close friend only serves to make the loneliness harder to bear. And under that kind of subconscious pressures, it’s no wonder that some – if not many – people give in to that emotional emptiness and long for fulfilment.

I’ve seen far too many relationships fall apart because one or both parties dived in too quickly, swept up by the emotional thrill; by being in love with the idea of being in love, rather than being in love with the person before them.

There is no denying that romance and that emotional rush is all part of what makes a relationship last. It’s a special magic that keeps the fire going when maintained well, and, very naturally, the rush is usually like a torrent at the beginning. But, in the end, that is never enough to make things last. Familiarity breeds contempt, and when the mundane and the normal start taking over, and the rush fades, we’re faced with the question of whether there’s anything in the relationship to aim for, or worse, whether it’s still worth working towards that goal with someone whom we’ve started to get a little tired of. Not all relationships end in traumatic pain and bitterness. Most of them die slowly, and it is, in fact, these gradually fading romances that take the most out of us and leave us emotionally drained and jaded.

And that is why I’ve always maintained my cautious stand where relationships are concerned. I, for one, cannot understand that school of thought that advocates that love and friendship have to be mutually exclusive, though I’m willing to accept that it might work for some people out there. I mean, who am I to judge?

For me though, I’ll take the slow, long road any day. Even if it means no emotional high or pounding hearts; even if it means dull, mundane normalcy, at least I know that I’m accepted for who I am, and I’ll also be more comfortable and secure knowing her for who and what she is, and what I’m getting myself into.

I’m not looking at the here and now, but at the next 50 years of my life, when I’ll have more than enough opportunity to get sick of seeing her face and hearing her nagging voice and to fight the temptation of screaming at her to shut the hell up. Because when that happens – and happen it will – the only thing that can keep the relationship from falling apart is a conscious, rational decision based on obligation, duty and genuine love. Emotions have little relevance then.

But on the other hand, I sometimes think that I’ve taken my father’s words to heart just a little too deeply, to the point of paranoia. I do know, for a fact, that a certain traumatic incident in my family some 7 years back – I’ve witnessed my parents’ marriage almost come to an end after 23 years – contributed a lot to this inherent fear that I have against being premature in allowing myself to get too emotionally involved.

Perhaps I’ve even lost a chance or two by hesitating at the wrong time, but, in the end, I still find that I’m better off this way. Maybe I could do with a little more risk-taking, but I’ll never allow myself to fall away so badly and disregard this little pearl of wisdom just to find an escape from my constant game of solitaire.

It’s easy to fall in love with the idea of being in love, especially when the cold emptiness of isolation bites deep – whether from envy of friends around us; from the sudden and disorientating absence of the warmth of an ex who recently walked away; or from a general discontentment with our singlehood.

In the end, however, the undeniable truth is that we owe it to ourselves to be happy in our relationships, because no one can give or make that happiness for us. A relationship may involve 2 people, but it also completes the lives of the individual. And just as each life can only be lived by the one who wields it, to love and to allow to be loved is a choice that only we can make for ourselves. It’s a choice we owe to ourselves to make, for our happiness, but it’s not one to be made lightly.

Stupid Entry

My mum complained that I was having far too much meat in my diet and insisted that I eat more vegetables. So I made a bargain with her and said I would go on a vegetarian diet.

 I would eat only vegetarians.

 (No, this is NOT an actual occurence. It's a STUPID ENTRY as the title says.)

The hardest emotional struggle to resolve isn't in accepting that someone doesn't love you, but in accepting that you are sincerely and deeply loved - just not the way you would prefer.

Because, then, hardening your heart, shutting the other out and moving on is no longer an option, but an act of selfish betrayal. Acceptance of reality is the only recourse, and not everyone has the courage to achieve that.

What does it mean to pick up the pieces and get on with your life?

To try new things you never did before?

To go against whatever has become the grain or norm in your life?

To do anything to change your environment and emotional state to try to convince yourself that it's a fresh start, away from everything the past represents?

To try to become who or what you want to be, rather than just who you are or were?

Or is that all merely escapism?

How long before you realises that all that strays away from who you really are deep down?

How long before the past catches up and you realise that the emotional metamorphosis is all a futile lie?

Would you ever even realise that the problem isn't about trying to let go of the past and moving on, but about growing and learning?

That the real trick to surviving lies not in the things you do, say or find around you, but in what is within...

Teddy Bear People

When was the last time you hugged a teddy? When was the last time you looked into those little eyes and took in that cute, furry muzzle smiling at you, and smiled back?

That is, until you felt your smile slowly slip away with the realisation that you were smiling at an empty vessel. Because as cute and cuddly as the stuffed bear is, there’s no heart behind that smile. There isn’t a stitch of emotion at all within the stitches of synthetic fur.

Lately, I couldn’t help but think that sometimes, the people around us are no better than a teddy bear. Maybe, the way we handle some of our relationships with our friends and other close persons make us no better than teddies as well.

It’s easy to be a trash receptacle and soak in all the rants, raves, tears and emotional displays from another. Soaking is always easy. All one needs to do is simply be there and be passive about it. Soaking doesn’t require a response or any kind of reaction; it doesn’t require returning feelings or giving empathy.

Maybe that’s how it is with many of our relationships with others. They’re teddy bears that we look to for a quick cuddle every now and then, but it’s always been a case of one-way emotional traffic. We just hold onto that bear and stroke its fur until we feel better in our own hearts, then place it back on the shelf again. It’s good for a brief recollection and remembrance every now and then; to indulge in the pleasure of knowing it's there and that it's ours, but for most part, it’s just neglected and forgotten. Not that it really matters anyway. The teddy never really responds. It’s just willing to be there to be picked up every now and then, and quietly waiting for the next cuddle in the meantime - a convenient; no strings attached kind of a deal.

Or maybe we have turned ourselves into teddies for others. Keeping us open to them when they need a shoulder or an ear, but never really contributing anything. What’s there to say anyway? Better to keep silent than try to do too much and end up being presumptuous or judgemental over a situation that, basically, isn’t any concern of ours to begin with. So long as the person feels better after dumping it all out, hey, that’s enough, right? That counts for something, right?

But, the thing about teddy bears is, they never reciprocate any of the love or affection or other forms of emotional expressiveness that you show to it. The plastic eyes see nothing. The sewn-on smile keeps smiling; even when the bear is set on fire and turning to ash. It’s an emotional dead-end, and any kind of emotional solace gained from it is as significant – or permanent - as a cocaine fix.

How many emotional dead-ends have we come right smack against in this life? How many teddy bears have we collected? And lost? And how much of a teddy bear have we become ourselves? Perhaps it’s really not all that hard to understand why we’re so jaded with the world and feel as isolated and lonely as we do. We’re all teddy bears, it seems.

Loneliness has been described as a lot of things, but, perhaps, the underlying truth is simply that loneliness is when no one reciprocates.