What Do You Need in a Relationship? Besides "Love."

Here's my top five things:

1.  EMOTIONAL CLOSENESS:

     Do I feel heard and understood?

2.  FUN:

     Do I have fun with you?

3.  TRUST:

     Are you a safe harbour where I can moor my boat?

     Is it safe to come home?

     Will I be nurtured and cared for?

4.  PHYSICAL CLOSENESS:

     Is my body accepted and loved by you?

     Is a hug or cuddle available or withheld?

     Are my physical needs validated or mocked?

5.  RESPECT:

     Do you respect my concerns or devalue them?

These components are provided in varying degrees at various times.  We might prefer 100% of these all the time, but we find we can be happy with some other percent.  Some days, we are only able to give 70% ourselves.

What are your desired components?

What do you give?

Ask your partner.  It might be a scary conversation, but it seems like a genuine one and might keep you from being blindsided by some imagined dissatisfaction down the road.

What Does It Mean to Face Your Problems?

Wouldn't it be easier to avoid facing one's problems?  Even suffering is easier than facing one's problems -- for a while.  Eventually we put on our big girl or big boy pants and deal with things.  Here's a poem I wrote on the topic in 2005 about things that had happened years earlier.  Here it is years later and there are still many things that need facing - probably always will be.

FACING IT

 "Maybe you never get over anything. You just find a way of carrying it as gently as possible."  -- Bronwen Wallace

Facing it is deciding not to wipe blood off the floor

Well, not so much deciding, as letting it sit there, declaring itself.

          Facing it is sitting alone, 

          watching your 8-year-old play baseball

          in a park on a sunny day

          And when she makes her way around the bases, you think

                   If this is as good as it gets –

                   This is pretty good.

          Facing it is saying to a new lover,

          “What makes your life meaningful?”

          And if he says, “My gun collection,”

          disarming him with a smile

          and cancelling the next date.

          Facing it is seeing it in others

          – an isolated student or neighbour

          entombed in anger

          on the verge of explosion.

          So you listen, just listen – 

           a candle in a cave.

          Then facing it is writing it

          telling it

          to yourself, to another

          to the world.

          Facing it is accepting it

          with compassion and grace

          letting your heart grow wider

          and eventually

          scrubbing the blood off the floor

          packing up and moving on

                   and carrying it with you,

                     . . . gently

What Did You Learn about Yourself from Your Last Relationship? Part II

I've discussed this before and will probably discuss it again.

Relationship are a great source of affection and companionship.  Relationships help us to experience the depths and heights of love.

At their best, relationships can create a profound sense of belonging in the world and feelings of connection that transcend the here and now.

At their worst, relationships help prepare us for our next relationship -- especially if we are reflective and able to assess our contribution to every stage of the relationship.  After all, we were a co-participant.

You don't need to break up to learn about yourself -- but the break-up lessons are vital and unique.  A break-up is painful and you want to avoid the pain next time you venture into a love relationship.  Often, though, we paddle headlong into the next cohabitation collaboration without pausing to reflect.  We follow our heated heart and hope for the best.

Here's some things I learned about myself from past relationships:

Lesson:  An emptiness caused by a lack of direction in my own life will not be filled by a relationship.
Resulting Action:  Find out what I want to do and do it.

Lesson:  A trip across the continent to get away from an unsatisfying relationship will not necessarily protect you from the next unsatisfying relationship.

Realization:  You don't have to leave town.

Lesson:  I can be a magnet for psychopaths because I tend to overlook bad behaviour.
Resulting Action:  Don't trust my own judgement.  Screen for psychopathology.  Ask my 50 closest friends about a potential romantic partner.

I also learned that I'd rather be alone than be in an unequal or unsatisfying relationship. That was probably the best lesson.  I had to learn to live without someone reflecting back my value.  If I needed someone's love to feel worthy, then my value disappears when the relationship ends.

What did you learn?  About yourself?  From your last relationship?

What Made You Know the Relationship Was Over?

Did you know suddenly?

Did you know gradually?

Was it something she said?  He said?

Was it something he did?  She did?

Were you surprised to get the text?

or read the billboard?

Knowing is one thing; making it end is another.  Making it really end might require packing up and moving or shipping someone else out of your life.  Both options can be cruel and time-consuming.

But this blog is not about leaving.  It's about the moment of knowing.  When I knew for sure that I had to leave a relationship, I felt like Brutus when he realized he would join the rebels and murder Julius Caesar:

Between the acting of a dreadful thing
And the first motion, all the interim is
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream (Act 2, Scene 1)

I suspect that many relationships just peter out.  One or both of the parties involved become unmotivated to keep it going.  They know, on some level, that it's over, but have not admitted it to themselves or each other - and besides, they are too busy to act on their knowledge.

Falling out of love -- which is all dread and fear and disappointment is much more nuanced and complicated than falling in love -- which is all hope and hormones and happiness.

Falling out of love is the rude awakening, the realization that you made a mistake, the coming down from a trip.  The first response is to blame the other person.  Only much later do you admit your own responsibility in the situation.  You grow up.

I've written before my belief that you never hit bottom, but sometimes if you're lucky, the universe will come up and kick your ass out the door.  That is, you knew you had to leave, but for many reasons you did not make the move.  What was the moment of knowing?  How many of us actually knew the relationship was over before we got married and had kids?

Maybe you had a moment of knowing it was "over" or would be over in due course.  Here's a few of mine:

1. He said, "We can have a child, if you really want to."
2. He said, "I'm not sure we can be in a relationship if you only want to be a teacher and not an aerial photographer."  [Yes, he had his pilot's licence and insisted that I become an aerial photographer.]
3. He (a different one) had a psychotic breakdown and was hospitalized.  When they let him out, he denied it had happened and didn't want to talk about it.
4. He (a different one) threw a cast iron frying pan across the kitchen (that was before the wedding). [I know how to pick winners, eh?]
5. He (a different one) said, "OK, let's go for therapy."  I said, "It's too late."

What about you?  Was there a moment when you knew the relationship was over?

What Do I Say Next? A Love Story for Shy People

This blog was inspired by my student, Mehdi, who wanted to know what to do about silences.

Location:  a meetup or party

Time:  midnight

"Let's have a conversation," he said.

"About what?" she said.

"About you.  About me."

Silence

"In a conversation, I talk, then you talk," he said.

"OK," she said.

Silence

"Is talking hard?" he said, trying hard to get it started.

"I never know what to say," she said.

"You have nice eyes," he said.

Silence

"Let's keep trying," he said.

Silence

"Is it too noisy here?" he said.

"Kinda," she said.

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Where?"

"Nearby, maybe a coffee shop or a bar.  Maybe along the waterfront."

"Is it safe?" she said.  "It's late."

"I have a 3rd degree black belt," he said.

Silence

"That's your cue," he said.

"Cue for what?"

"To continue the conversation."

"What's a 3rd degree black belt?" she said.

"Excellent!" he said.  "It's what I tell women when they are afraid to go for a walk."

Silence

"It's when I pull my belt tight, to the third hole."

"You're funny," she said.

"Have you ever been in danger?" he said.

"I'm always in danger," she said,

"I don't know what to say next," he said.  "I'm thinking one of these things:

a) You should protect yourself.  You should carry pepper spray and a whistle.

b) Considering the way you dress, I'm not surprised.

c) We all are.  These are dangerous times.

d) That's why I learned karate - to protect myself.

e) It's OK.  I'm here.

f) It must affect your life to feel that way.  You must feel anxious about trying new things or meeting new people."

"That last one is good," she said.  "You're right.  That's how I feel."

Silence

"Let's go for that walk," she said.

"Really?" he said.

"We can hold hands," she said.

Do You Remember the Moment You Fell in Love?

I'm talking about a moment of realization, a moment when, in the blink of an eye, the person you've been seeing morphs into the love of your life.

No, no, I've said that wrong:  You morph into someone who wants to hang on to this lovely person that is hanging on to you.

Maybe it happens to both of you at the same time.

Hank told me that while in college, he met Melissa in a gaming club. They were both shy, but they both liked video games, particularly Halo 3.  He began going over to her place once a week to play. After a while, it seemed like he was going over every night.  Games can be quite addictive -- but so can girls.  At one point in the middle of a game, Melissa said, "Are we dating?" That was the moment.

My mother told me this story:  A suitor had hoped she would marry him.  He pursued her like a businessman seeking a merger or an amalgamation.  He was eagerly hoping to close the deal.  When she turned him down, he cried.  That was the moment when she fell in love with him.  His human side emerged and she reversed her decision.

"I remember the moment that I knew Jacob was the one."  Hannah told me this at lunch today.  She said, "I remember sitting on Jacob's bed at his mom's house.  I was 17, he was 21.  He was showing me his Buddhism books.  He was open and not self-conscious at all.  It was fun and joyous because we were so present and alive.  He wasn't teaching or lecturing or barraging me with his ideas - he was sharing his deepest state of being with me."

That's all well and good for them with their innocent, unjaded youthful love.  What about people like me?  I've been around the block so many times, the city gave me my own passing lane.  I see the transition from friends to life partners mathematically: 

When the respect (r), gratitude (g), and fun (f) you experience is greater than the frustration (fn) and irritation (i) you experience, you decide that perhaps this one is a keeper:

when r+g+f > fn+i = ♥

That's the theory.  Here's what actually happened:

I had been seeing him for a while, but I was not worried about where it was going.  We lived in different cities and we had our own lives.  A year into the relationship, I accompanied him to Margate, Florida, to look after some of his mother's issues.  Afterwards, we took a side trip to Key West.  We left cold, snowy Canada for the warm, sunny Keys.  It was fun and kind of amazing being there.  I remember the exact corner where I was standing when I wisely connected those feelings to the fellow who had brought me there.  I remember thinking, "I should take this guy seriously."

I did.  I still do.

What about you?  Was there a moment?

Just to balance the romantic love moment with reality, an equally worthy blog could be on the topic, "Can you remember a moment when you knew it was over?"  Now created by request.  Here.

Should I Lend My Boyfriend Money? Part 2

Besides robots, who reads blogs?

Robots troll my blog.  They spam my blog for the same reasons they spam email:  to spread malware, mine email addresses, or get me to visit commercial websites.  At least 10% of my loyal readers are robots.  Most of the other strangers who accidentally find my blog are people who worry about lending money.  My blog statistics show that at least 10 people a day from all over the world, find their way to my blog by typing phrases like these into Google:

• lend money to boyfriend
• should I lend my boyfriend money
• boyfriend borrows money from me
• boyfriend keeps asking for money
• do you lend your partner money
• have you lent money to your friends with benefits
• is it okay to lend my boyfriend money
• boyfriend borrowing money
• feel uncomfortable giving boyfriend money
• boyfriends that ask for money

I posted the blog "Should I Lend My Boyfriend Money" almost two years ago, but it was fluff.  When I saw how many people were seeking answers to that question, I made some specific suggestions about what to say; however, I find the whole issue unsettling.

Money-lending has always been a delicate issue, but it's particularly delicate when your romantic partner (male or female) wants your money.  Why?  What's up?  Why are they asking Google?  Why are you 100% willing to have sex with your boyfriend (or girlfriend), but feel uncomfortable about lending the love object money?

Obviously (to me) when people ask Google the money question, it's not so much about money as it is about confidence, courage, and commitment.



Let me get back to sex for a moment.

• The only math involved in sex is 1 + 1
• You are hungry for sex.
• It is potentially more collaborative.  
• There is mutual give and take.  
• You feel cherished and appreciated.

On the other hand,

• Lending money will involve lots of math, mostly subtraction.
• You are not usually hungry for lending money.
• It is collaborative when you both spend money on shared goals, not when your partner borrows it for his own goals.
• Lending money is only give on your part and take on the other person's.
• You might feel briefly appreciated.  You also might feel a little dirty.

So let's reframe "Should I lend my boyfriend money?" in terms of the real questions being asked:

Do I have CONFIDENCE in this relationship?
Do I have confidence in my own worth?
Do I have confidence in my own instincts and judgement?  Will my loan genuinely get this person through a temporary bad patch, or am I setting up a long relationship of dependency?

Do I have the COURAGE to risk being dumped or resented over the money question?
Do I have the courage to have dreams and save my money so I can pursue my dreams?
Do I have the courage to stand up for myself?
Do I have the courage to ask for a shared vision of our lives together?

And finally, are the two of us equally COMMITTED to this relationship or
     am I mostly committed to doing anything necessary to avoid facing my core loneliness?

If you know in your heart that lending him money will only prop up your illusion of a relationship for one more week, until he asks again, find a way to say no.  Some suggestions are here.

Harsh, maybe, and there are many exceptions to the picture presented above - but if you are one of the hundreds of people who found your way to this blog by Googling "Should I Lend My Boyfriend Money?" -- then this one's for you.

That Giant Hole in the Backyard - Is It Yours?

Late in my first marriage, my husband began to dig a hole in the backyard.  When friends came over to chat or party, he soon had them digging too.

The swing set kept moving further and further back.  By the time I blasted my way out of the sand trap of my marriage, the hole must have been at least 12-feet wide, 16-feet long, and 9-feet deep.  I should have surrounded it with rope and danger signs.  

I left.  Then he left.  The hole stayed.  Eventually I was able to move back into my house and start anew.

One night - a knock on the door:

     "Yes?"

     "That hole in the yard - is it yours?"
     "Maybe."

---  Was I breaking the law?  Will I be arrested?  I'll admit nothing.

     "I live around the corner," the friendly man said.  "My yard backs onto your yard.  I noticed the hole out there and I was wondering if you needed it for anything."

---  A graveyard?  A bomb shelter?

     "No, not especially."

     "I ripped up my old driveway to build a new one.  I need to get rid of a lot of gravel, asphalt, and soil.  Could I dump it in your hole?  I could take the fence down and just push everything into the hole with my tractor."

Once again, the universe stepped up to the plate.

THE I-BEAM

i.

I said, “Stop smashing glass!!”

He said, “I’m angry.  What do you want me to do?”

“When you’re angry,”  I said, “go dig a hole.”

So he began to dig          and dig          and dig.

He told the neighbours he was digging a fishpond –

then          a well              a pool          a crater

digging until he forgot why he was digging

digging and digging till the hole filled the yard

“Don’t fall in,”

I told our daughter as she made her way to the back

where the swings still stood

amid the mounds of stone and soil

excavation of madness

archeology of pain

ii.

He came home all excited from work one day
with a 20-foot I-beam
Three friends pulled it off his truck

Carried it to the back, laid it next to the hole –

“This’ll come in handy,” he said.  “It’ll hold up a ceiling.

I can build a garage.  You don’t find these every day,

that’s for sure.”

iii

I never understood the I-beam or why we needed one,

but there it was in the yard:

The giant, yearning I-beam

and the vast, empty hole

side by side -- 
my marriage.

------------------------------------------

Years went by and the hole became a garden.  I sold the I-beam for $100.

Are You Holding the Wrong Hand?

The neurosurgeon found me in the hospital waiting room and said the surgery had been a success.  After four hours, it was finally over.  He had  removed most of the spousal unit's meningioma.  A meningioma is a benign tumor growing in the lining of the brain.  You can see where it is from the MRI, but you don't know what you will find until you get in there.  If it's spongy, you can suck the tumor out with a straw.  If it's hard, you have to chip away at it.  In any event, the surgeon got most of it out and Ron was doing great.  He was being transferred to the intensive care unit, and I could go up in 15 minutes.   I was relieved and eager to see him.

To get into the ICU, I had to identify myself through an intercom.  If acceptable, they would buzz and the doors would open.  The first time I tried, they told me to come back in 20 minutes.  The second time, the high wide doors parted like the Red Sea.

A nursing station was in the centre of the ICU area.  Around the perimeter of the room were 18 curtained areas, each containing an ICU bed, a patient, and numerous beeping monitors.

These cubicles were numbered.  Number one was to my left.  A nurse emerged from one of the rooms and I asked her where my husband was.  She thought for a minute, then said, "Room 10."

I walked around to Room 10 and peeked inside.  A man is lying under a sheet, moaning and snoring.  He looked awful.  The shape under the sheet seemed to be about the same height and girth as my husband's.  His head was covered with a turban of bandages.  His beard had been roughly shaven.  I had never seen my husband without a beard.  I had never seen anyone immediately after brain surgery.

I was ready to love this ragged, shipwrecked man.  I took his hand and stroked it.  He'd been through a horrible ordeal.

I held his hand, said soothing words, and waited... and waited.  He didn't wake up.

Hadn't the surgeon said that he was awake and asking for me?  I noticed a clipboard at the foot of the bed.  I delicately placed the hand back on the bed, and went to read the name on the clipboard.  Damn, I'd been holding the hand of some other guy.

I peeked in the adjoining rooms and found Ron in #12.  Except for the 50 staples in his head, he was his same handsome, bearded self.  "What took you so long?" he said.

**********

Whose hand are you holding?  

Could you be holding the wrong hand?

Getting Over It: How Do We Recover?

Mid-heartbreak, you wonder if you will ever get over it.  You don't even know what "over it" looks like.  Your grief is twice the size of your life.  You stumble through your day.  Contact with people seems to be through thick bullet-proof glass.  You hear someone say, "How's it going?" and you can barely find enough breath to say, "fine" or "ok" before the tears start.

"The person who falls in love is not the person who remembers falling in love."  - Junot Diaz

In the same way, the person in the midst of heartbreak is not the person remembering heartbreak.  Love, said Diaz, "has the power to transform what we otherwise take for granted."  Everything we take for granted about ourselves and our world changes when the hurricane of love tears through us.  Even our body chemistry changes.  In the aftermath of love, everything changes again.  When we are ready, when we are able, we start to put our lives back together again.

If you were dumped, you have to rebuild your confidence so you can feel as amazing and worthy as you did when you were adored.  Even when you're the one to break off, you might have to keep reminding yourself why you bailed out of that love boat.

Back in the 1990s, freedom rose above my horizon like a new dawn.  In the aftermath of love, I was responsible for my own life and had to learn to live with myself.  I lived in a small house with my six-year-old daughter.  Collages of pictures and poems covered every wall.  On the side of a kitchen cupboard, I posted pictures of previous romantic partners under the words, “Boyfriend Graveyard.”  This was one of my techniques for recovery from heartbreak, a reminder of what "over" meant to me, a reminder of why I left, a reminder of what I didn’t want.  I would not go back to unhappiness.  It was better to be alone than to live in a bad relationship, and single mothering was easier than parenting in a war zone.

My friend Doug Moore used to say that relationships are like car accidents:  There would be a collision.  Some time after, the bodies are pulled from the wreckage.  The vehicles are towed away and the debris is cleaned up.  In the end, all that's left are the skid marks.

In 1995, I left the house where the “graveyard” was, and by 1996 my exes started dying off for real.  I remember them more for the amazing things about them, for the things they taught me, and for saving my life as best they could, before I learned to save my own life.  Those are the skid marks:  the deep impressions they made on me.

"Maybe you never get over anything. You just find a way of carrying it as gently as possible."   Bronwen Wallace

How did you get over heartbreak?  Did you take action or just wait it out?