Thursday, May 5, 2016

Heartache Burger

So. This is what I call the Heartache Burger. It's a burger I bought on April 11th during a creative team meeting for an upcoming May project. I announced to the table that it was the Heartache Burger. Rightfully, it was medium rare and had an over-easy egg on top. Duh.

Notice, I requested a side salad, rather than FRIES. I have limits when it comes to comfort food. I must. I have a figure to attempt maintaining.

I'll be fine. The Heartache Burger is over someone I have not actually been dating, but rather someone I have, in my usual way, just naturally built the strongest of feelings toward (openly made apparent, mind). Is there something wrong with affinity building? I'm not so sure there is...But that might be my past life as a Victorian heir talking... Just call me David Wuthering Heights Marian Halcombe Nando Emily Dickinson Jane Eyre Bronte Rodgers.

You know, I like to think I have "standards." And I do- for relationships. Yes, I've been a naughty guttersnipe from time-to-time when reactionary loneliness feelings settle in. But, oh, do those quick fixes feel empty, and shallow. They feel great in an instant, like a cheap bandaid from the Dollar Tree that slides off the moment you take a shower. These are without rapport and love and kindness; they are not integrated within my whole self, though I acknowledge they are a part of myself. The whole self actually aches for collaboration and revelation, and that takes certain types of folks.

My body is like a can. It's an aluminium can, softened by the elements, and it peels open over my heart, my stomach (specifically on my left side), and my eyes. These areas are portals to emotions held inside areas of the body. I remember five years ago around this date was the first time I experienced true heart break (though unfortunately embellished with self worthlessness, which wasn't that boy's fault). The day after the inciting incident, I was so open, I could not handle a single sentence or breathed utterance in my direction. Thoughts were things, and those "things" swam within my body, compulsively torturing me and wishing to fall out like a flood, my intestines and soul in their hands. It's as if my soul had bold, Arial font words explaining my deepest secrets. Obviously this isn't something one can rationalize from a solely human way of thinking. I am humble enough to believe that there are things about our nature truly more mysterious, powerful, and downright spiritual than we can ever hope to comprehend.

My ex-best friend, who became increasingly distant and unable to communicate as the years pressed on, once articulated to me over the phone, "It's very difficult for people to want to hang out with you. Not because you are mean or cruel. Actually, many people like you. But you expect so much honesty and forthrightness from yourself and others, that they can't help but be afraid of processing those feelings when in your presence." She fell victim to this fear she herself had defined in others. Not necessarily because of me. It was another example of a relationship I should have ended sooner, but, because I had seen her, I refused for too long to write her off (lacking a better term, here).

Years later from the heartbreaks, this quote defines my search in life for peace. It's what I believe to be a key ingredient of the most successful friendships and partnerships-
"Beyond your challenges, beyond your successes, beyond the events with which life has molded your spirit, there is a placeless place within you. It is a place of peace. It is a place of freedom. It is the place where the Self you have been seeking resides." -Barbara De Angelis, PhD
It's not that I lack self-love (that's something I worked on for FIVE years), but it's the maddening effect of not collaborating with someone on this enlightenment that dampens me. I seek and ponder and downright pray for guidance as a single person. I don't know if I can accept, like some Catholic leaders I knew in high school purported about themselves, that I am "called to a single life." What does that mean? And what does it entail? Is it a life of sacrifice? And why such a sacrifice? I don't have the answers. Perhaps I should embrace that mystery...

But this self awareness doesn't make me perfect. In fact, it implicates my fault for being placed in heartaching situations. And my self-awareness is off-putting to many, as noted above. However, at the same time, is an unexamined life worth living? And is a life without risk or attempts of particular interest?

I grew up in a family of absolutes, and, generally, what I perceived at the time to be conditional love. Some children copy their parents, others try to be the total opposite. At this point in my young adult life, I have attempted to be the polar opposite. The problem is that I embrace the gray of the human spirit too intensely, too patiently, and to the detriment of my own self respect and sanity. I cling to the exquisite potential in a man, and, because I want to practice patience and be intentional, I have yet to draw a clear line as to when enough is enough and to understand he's just. not. it.