Finding a way...

When you're a child, you look forward with excitement to adulthood.  The whole world conspires, or so it seems, to slow down the journey into growing up and you wait with eagerness for responsibility and the perks that come with it.  Your curfew is slower extended but your chores and duties grow as well.  High school means meeting new people and staying out with friends, but it also weighs you down with homework that keeps you up all night and concepts that are hard to understand.  Driving your parents car means freedom to go shopping without the hour long bus ride, but it also entails paying for gas and arguing with your parents to even use the car.  You begin to experience those wonderful and elusive things that you saw your parents doing, but the cost seems steeper than ever.  Coffee, watching any movie want, going out for fancy dinners, eating dessert with every meal, drinking a beer or glass of wine, consorting with the opposite sex...suddenly all those things are at your fingertips, ripe for the taking.
Somehow I think we get tricked as a child.  Perhaps it's our naivete that allows such a thing to happen, maybe our parents should shatter the illusion sooner than later in life, but all of a sudden we wake up and realize that all the things that seemed so wonderful when we were kids have become just normal parts of life and we no longer desire them the way we used to.

Yes, that is the way of life.  When we get what we desperately we want, we usually discover that it isn't exactly what we wanted, or we find that we get used to it and eventually begin to take it for granted.  Such is the strangeness of life.  I remember when I first moved into my apartment, I took solace in the quiet lonely nights where the constant shouting and noise from my siblings disappeared.  I valued being able to come and go as I pleased without giving an ETA to anyone, I loved being the boss of myself.  Gone was the need to check in with my parents or to disclose the choices I had made and give my rationale for them.

After living alone for about 18 months, my sister moved in with me and I realized quickly that I had missed having someone close in my life.  The chaos and hubbub of her arrival was enjoyable and I loved coming home after to work to someone sitting in my living room, ready to talk and discuss the day's events;  it was a great change and I find that I very much cherish living with her. 

Now things have changed once again and I find myself living with my boyfriend who slowly but steadily grew into my life.  I can't imagine not having him at home with me, sitting alone and having space with no one to talk to, no one to confer with, no one to confide in.  The silence I once loved is no longer welcome and I miss him when he is out.  Slowly I am learning to accept that he can't be there all the time, but I continue to savour the moments we have together.

Back to the first paragraph, as I have gone on a frightful tangent...I feel duped at times, discovering that the responsibility far outweighs the perks, that everything must be worked for and sought after.  It's not easy to grow up and suddenly come to that understand and often times I wish I was ten again, viewing life with excitement and anticipation, not trepidation over whether I'll be able to pay my hydro bill.

If I have learned anything in the past ten months spent with M., it's that I can change and I can grow.  I must change and I must grow in order for the relationship to prosper and be functional...I continue to struggle with that acceptance and how to manifest it entirely in my life.  I tell M. that he must be a different person for our to be together but I find it hard to give in even the smallest ways.  I know how hypocritical I sound and that knowledge hangs over me, burdening my heart.  I want to be a good girlfriend, I want to make him happy, but I also realize that our happiness cannot hinge on each other and I must be true to myself in order to remain in a relationship.

Sorry if this post is odd or confusing.  I know that it's hard to understand what I'm saying when I don't go into intimate details, but I do want you to know that I am the adult that I dreamed of being when I was a child, though sometimes I wish I wasn't. 

Peace.

Bend, not break

Flexiblity:  a character trait that I am learning anew each and every day.  It's an important aspect of life...to go with the flow and be accepting that things change.  Being rigid and inflexible is behaviour I have noted in my parents and I have made the resolution since childhood that I do not want to live my life the same way.

In the off chance, in fact, in the most likely chance that I feel angry or frustrated with my Person over ways that I feel he has failed me, I like to write down memories of things that he has done to go back and read, reminders to myself of all the kind ways he has treated me, the actions which he has displayed his love to me through.  It helps me put things into perspective, when I read about all he has done, and I usually end up relaxing and being more flexible and understanding.

So here it is--the latest in a series of M. related posts that no one really needs to hear about but what I need to write about...I have to. 

Today I was scheduled to work 7-3, which is a bizarre shift for me. I  normally go in to work at 3 in the afternoon and I had to get up at 6 in the morning to go to work??  I haven't woken up that early since I went to bed that late.   M. ended up going out to see a movie with some friends and then get some food after.  When he texted me and said he was ordering food at a restaurant with friends around 9:15pm, I was immediately cranky. 

Number one, I wanted food!  There's nothing like a delicious late evening appetizer.  Number two, I wanted him to come home and fall asleep with me not stay out late with friends.  Number three, he had originally said he would be back at nine, then amended that statement to "no later than ten" and suddenly he's ordering food at 9:15?  I knew that wasn't going to be enough time and I felt like saying, "Fuck you, don't come home after!", punishing him for once again going back on what he said would happen.

But then I thought, 'He hardly ever goes out with his friends anymore.  Almost all his time is spent with me.  I need to be more flexible and encourage him to spend time with his friends, especially friends that I like.  Plus, we're both adults and I won't be able to fall asleep before 11 anyway, because I slept in so damn late this morning'.

With all the maturity and good will in my heart, I texted him back and said, "Hope you have a good time.  Pls don't be later than 11 or go to your parents to asleep".  And I added a ":)" to the end of the text to convey the good will I was attempting to feel in my heart.  I walked Licorice alone and felt sad that my friends don't care to go out with me for an impromptu movie and late night snack.

11, I thought, was a good compromise.  I had to get up at 6, which meant at least 6 hours of sleep, something I could function on.  I did some writing when I got home and at ten-thirty I brushed my teeth and started to head to the bedroom.  At 10:56 I heard the key scraping in the lock and the sound of his footsteps in the hallway.  He creaked into the bedroom and climbed onto the bed.  I felt like saying something irritable like, "Wow, cutting it really close there" or "Whatever happened to 9?", but as he kissed me awake, I wrapped my arms around his body and slipped my hands up under his shirt, I discovered he was slick with sweat and the realization flooded over me:  he ran to get here on time.

All the little things that drive me crazy, the eccentricities and odd quirks that he has seemed to melt away and disappear from my mind as he kissed my nose and cheeks and sweat all over me.  I know it doesn't sound very romantic--almost disgusting actually--but that is the stuff that relationships and love is made of:  not the exciting moments that make your heart beat faster, although those are of course wonderful... But it's the moments when you realize how much that person loves you and how far and fast they would run for you, in those moments you start to value how much the person means to you and what love truly is. 

End note:  I am proud of my self control.  I didn't freak out or get mad.  We lay together and talked, enjoyed each other under the cover darkness and I fell asleep cradled in his arms.  What could have been another huge fight was avoided because I chose to remain calm and accept that some things are beyond my control and I need to be more flexible;  I need to bend, not break.

Happy Friday to you all.

my sometimes faith

My parents are devout Christians.  When people hear that phrase "devout Christians", they immediately conjure up ideas of what a devout Christian is constituted of;  as I continue to explain the way my parents function and what they believe in, they are surprised at the fact that such people exist in our modern day society.  I suppose in some ways they affiliate my parents' devotion and discipline to the Amish or Mennonites.  Not using birth control and trusting that whatever happens is up to God's divine power seems bizarre to them, that being only one of the many faith driven approaches my parents have taken in life.

Myself, having grown up with such a mindset (whatever happens is within God's allowance and will happen no matter what action we choose) have found myself becoming fatalistic in my view of life.  The choices I make may be mine, but God still knows every contingency and is prepared for whatever actions we make.  Therefore, nothing I do is a surprise to God, everything was meant to happen the way it did and all I can do is make the best of the current circumstances.

In some ways, my parents frighten me with their absolute faith in a being, who I believe exists but who remains ineffable and ethereal.  My father has a personal relationship with God, something I have struggled for but it continues to elude me, despite my praying, reading long passages of the Bible and talking about my doubts with other Christians.  I found that the church drove me away from seeking God instead of compelling to seek and desire more;  I would attend the services, walking in and out without one person saying a single word to me.

Anyway, during our informative years my parents bombarded us with Bible stories, proverbs, tales of warning, instructions on how to live a godly and Christian life, cliched statements and interesting thoughts on how one becomes a better person through a relationship with Jesus... All of this was a cumulative attempt to prepare us for a life on our own, even though they never practically offered any advice on curve balls life would inevitably throw at us, such as:  peer pressure, drinking, pre-marital sex and birth control, situational ethics, etc.  The real issues would avoided and my parents lived their life strictly black and white, no grey matters, situational ethics rigorously rejected.

I wonder now, what I am or what I believe in.  I feel as though I'm spending my life trying to reconcile the choices I am making with the thoughts in my head, theology I have been propagated with my entire life.  I want to write my own life story, to decide things based on my own decisions, uninfluenced by anyone or anything else, but there are all these voices telling me what I should believe and what I should do.

Most overwhelmingly is the thought that I'm in a relationship with someone who doesn't have the exact same religious views that I do, and each time he disappoints me or leaves me feeling sad and alone, I wonder, 'Is this all worth it?  Is this the person I'm embracing instead of the God I was taught to believe in?'  In moments when he lets me down, I realize I can't trust him fully and I definitely cannot hinge my happiness on him. 

Only people who have this exact background will understand what I mean.  I attach meaning to everything I see and choices I make, but I'm unsure of what the meaning is and I worry that it will remain unclear until the end of my life.  I believe I may be thinking and worrying my life away instead of simply living it. 

I have no answer to these thoughts.  It's NaNoWriMo. I'm not writing a novel but I am writing and I am going to try and do so every day.  Good luck to you if you are embarking on this endeavour!