New Home

Sitting alone in another new home, I am ruminating on the way time circles itself. There have been so many new homes for me; always shifting, always a new place to get used to. I always seem to be settling in somehow, somewhere.

Of course I am lonely again tonight. I am reminded of my first weekend in the last apartment, how the space felt so overwhelming and large. I remember feeling isolated and yet vindicated, justified finally in staying home alone on a Friday night: no one to see me, no one to pity me.

It’s sad to think that circumstances have changed so little in all this time. One year to the next, I find myself always in a new place, ruminating on my isolation. But it is also fascinating to reflect on all that has happened since that last move, and to realize that these new homes most often mark periods of new transitions in my life. Perhaps that is what drives me to move, or perhaps moving simply marks the closing of one chapter most appropriately.

The last year has been full of ups and downs. Some things have not changed. I am still working at the same job and still experiencing the same frustrations. But soon that too will change, as my boss moves on and is replaced by an as-yet-unknown entity. I still have many of the same friendships, although their lives have shifted around as well. Natalie is in Ashland now, several hours farther away, Lauren is now my roommate, Adina and Shahar my new neighbors. Rena is leaving work and no longer just a jaunt across the bridge, but I feel strongly that our bond is not jeopardized by these shifts. My sister is married, and the long road to that beautiful day newly challenged our relationship in ways I am not sure how to heal. Our tentative new bond is icy and frosted over now, but I have faith that it will once more thaw with time. My brother was there and gone again in a flash, but I was reminded how much he means to me, how he is still a special and unique personality in my life, still someone I treasure above all others. My parents are closer and farther away at the same time. A growing sense of maturity that felt like it was balancing our relationship was recently compromised and I feel myself pulling away again, seeking my old drive for total independence at all costs.

And my loves of the past year- how fast they have come and gone! My relationship with Colin really marked my last move, and almost coincided with it perfectly. I associate my time in that apartment very strongly with him. Colin’s granola on the counter, his key above the door, his toothbrush next to mine in the bathroom. Making love on the living room floor, looking out at the view from my balcony. Or lying in a pool of winter sunshine together, soaking up the unexpected warmth. Rediscovering meditation in that apartment was also a gift from him, and the sense of peace that brought was a wonderful surprise. I will remember taking mushrooms together on his birthday, listening to music in my bed and then heading out to wander in the city. That was a wonderful day of discovery and lightheartedness with him so early on. And that was also the day I met Romi. It is so strange to reflect on how those two encounters overlap; such a beautiful day with Colin but also the beginning of another love. Now Romi looms large in my heart, and his absence is bitter to me this week. Not long ago, he was here in this space with me. He called it a blessing and made me feel instantly at home. He always made me feel at home, no matter where we were. He filled the empty spaces of my life so completely with his beautiful light. Like a common fool, I am deeply sad that I did not seek him out sooner. I feel sorrow that I might have known his love so much more completely. But his departure is inevitably the bookend of my time in that apartment. Our last night together in that space will stick in my mind forever.  The intensity of our long, languishing moments in bed. Listening to Otis Redding and Al Green so loud the wall shuddered. Sleeping entwined through the early morning and awaking as usual to hot chai and his beautiful form sliding through the door. Showering together and his simple, heartbreaking smile. And finally, the last embrace outside as the city seethed around us. Our last kiss and then walking away in opposite directions, both turning around immediately to smile a final farewell, to capture the image of our lover in memory like amber. Romi in all his beauty and light and magic is the last strong memory that space now, and leaves me with a feeling of warmth that spreads all through my body. As much as I long for him now, I have never known such a sweet goodbye. In truth, I have never known such a sweet love.

But now all that is done, and I’m here again, alone. One year, two loves, and then right back where I started. Of course I have learned some things about love. Of course, I feel like I am ready to try once again. I think I am ready to fill this space now with a new love, a sweet love that is also here to stay. Ready to believe in the momentum of this new beginning and let it carry me into the next important stage of my life. But it is also hard letting go, and I hope this move will help me release those loves and focus on finding my next love. Hopefully I will find MY love in this stage. Hopefully, the next move will include him and I will not find myself here again for a long time.

But here is not so bad, all things considered. I am making progress in so many ways. I no longer feel lost, or hopeless. I don’t feel worthless either. I know I am doing good in my own little way, sowing seeds that I will be around to nurture for several years still. I know I am working toward more freedom, more options, toward making more of the world accessible to me physically, professionally, spiritually. I know I am doing these things with an open heart and a foundation of love. I know that I get scared sometimes, and often I am still frustrated with myself and my circumstances. But it has been a long time now since I have regretted a choice I made. I am pushing through the fear and panic, the monotony and daily stresses, to build something for myself. I know that teaching is probably not my ultimate goal, but I feel a conviction that it is the vehicle that will lead me to the next stage in my life. I am learning that it is ok to pick up professions like puzzle pieces, and to also let them go when the time is ripe to move on. It is ok to spend money in one direction, even if my next destination lies in the opposite direction.  My path in life seems inevitably circuitous, and I think I am learning to embrace that. I may not have found myself early, but I found the journey young and now get to spend my life walking the winding road to self-awareness and fulfillment. Maybe I am learning to teach now in a general, practical sense, so that I can be prepared to teach a truly vital lesson later on. I still have hope that the world will change, and that I can be an important part of the new order. I still have hope that my purpose simply doesn’t exist yet in this badly made world. I still have hope, in general, and so I know I can carry on looking, loving, learning, and giving.

  

Bitterness

Last night, I went to sleep feeling guilty and woke up feeling worse. Who am I kidding? I'm not ready for love! I think I might be ruined for love.

Bitterness is overwhelming me. Self-pity and a feeling of victimization is also growing within me. Taking root in the shallows of my heart, it is spreading slowing into my deep soul. What a curse!

I am too bitter to love. Love requires vulnerability, empathy, patience, and forgiveness. Bitterness obscures all of these things. Bitterness, although more subtle, is the same as blind rage. Bitterness, although opposite, is as powerful as blind passion. But all these things- these states of blindness- are death knells to love. They are weeping widows at the feet of lost love. They are the mess left behind when a lover moves out. They are the legacy of the lonely.

Last night I became a vicious cat. All my fur stood on end as I lashed out with sharp claws at someone I love. Where did the violence in my heart begin?

I am so calloused over by bitterness that my defenses are rigged with a hair-trigger now. At the slightest sign of retreat, I blast my lover with viciousness. I employ a scorched-earth policy now in my heart. One slight and I will obliterate your existence. The bitterness burns away all the beauty and joy of my love for you. It burns away all the hope and inspiration I found in you too. I burn away any recognition within my heart that I once dreamed of you, and then I turn away from the black and smoking remnants of our brief and budding love and march on...to the next disaster.

As the bitterness grows, I become more and more eager to burn. Each time it is less chilling to walk away from the destruction. I become more and more convinced of your culpability, and less attuned to my own. Bitterness also obscures the reality of my own crimes. Bitterness makes me feel strong and invincible, but only because it locks away my vulnerability.

The bitterness began with pain, of course. More pain made it stronger. Repeated heartbreaks made it more powerful. Slowly, my perception shifted; away from hope and optimism, and toward cynicism and anger. That was more painful even than the heartbreaks. Walking around angry all the time made the whole world vibrant with pain, and everything I touched seared me. So I had to become impenetrable. Bitterness encased me layer upon layer until I was able to touch, but no longer able to feel.

At some point, the anger died away. I remember a period of time when I couldn't stop laughing and the world felt entirely surreal. That time was eerie and alarming, but it felt like progress to let the anger go. I felt it drain out of my soul and I thought- " I'm ready for love." Then came another heartbreak, more pain. Such pain this last time! I knew I dare not touch anything around me. But eventually, I did try again and then I realized that it didn't really hurt. I was shrouded in bitterness and so I could go about my business without fear of vulnerability.

Now, I feel like I am waking up in a nightmare. My bitterness is a body cast and I am trapped inside. Lying prostrate in my lonely bed, I fear I have burned all the people who might have come to my aid. No one has been here to feed me in a long time now, and I feel the atrophy concealed inside the cast is too gruesome to bear. I am equally terrified of being left inside this grisly plaster tomb and of seeing it cut away to reveal my withered heart. I want somehow to free myself, but I think I am too weak now. I need help to cut away my own bitterness. I think I'll need a lot of help to love again.

Who will help me? How do I find them? How can I communicate my need? How can I build up my strength now, so that emerging from my cast of bitterness won't be so shocking? I don't know, I don't know. I am floating now in sadness, buoyed only by the bitterness that inspired it. This feels like an impossible trap. I think I'll need a lot of help to love again, and maybe a lot of time as well. 

Patience

The first day of July. Tonight I feel lonely again. It's been a few days now since I felt it this acutely, mostly because I've been keeping myself very busy. I know distraction is not an answer though, and soon I will have to face it more directly.

I want Romi, but it definitely doesn't feel right. He's such a child in so many ways. He also seems scared of me- intimidated most likely. I feel like I'm falling into old habits with my crush on him- tall, dark, man-child who will look at me as an idol instead of a partner. Finding myself here again, I have to ask: where did I go wrong with Colin? He still seems like the opposite of everything I naturally incline toward and therefore logically exactly what I need. But he doesn't need me in any way. He might like me, but he doesn't need me and maybe that is what I really crave. I want to be needed, like so many other women. I don't feel unique at all when I think of it that way. I guess I'm just another woman and he is just one more man like all the rest. But...

I'm so tired of looking for love! I'm ready, damnit! Universe, please send me someone to love! Yet, again tonight there is no one for me and so I must reluctantly conclude that I still have something to learn. Maybe the only real lesson left for me is patience. Maybe that's all there is for me now: the hardest lesson of all lies in the long wait for my turn at love.

I feel like I am losing my vitality (and my mind) in all this waiting. I feel I am growing lifeless and losing courage, will, and drive in the long, interminable wait. I fear I am losing my capacity to give love fully and also to receive or accept love from others. I am losing my ability to recognize the expression of love when I see it. How much longer can this wait go on??

I will walk to the ends of the earth for love. I will give up anything you ask of me. I will push through any challenge and defy any foe for the chance to really love again. Unfortunately, there is no path to tread, nothing to sacrifice, and no enemy at the gates. The only real obstacle is time, and the only action I can take now is to cultivate patience.

Please, just give me something to do! I beg you to let me battle my way to love. I grovel at your feet, Divine Mother, and ask you to send me to the front lines. Let me die in the passion and power of my crusade for love. Don't doom me to this miserable half-life, this purgatory of patience!

Where is my love tonight? Where is the phantom that menaces my heart? There is no face for me to dwell on, no sweet remembered kiss to conjure up as I touch myself in the darkness. Only the black, infinite void in which my love resides.

Of course I know that void is within my own heart, and the love I seek is there as well. I know how foolish, how pointless this fantasy of the phantom lover is. I know that love is not dependent on an object, or an image. Love is greater than such transient things as bodies or faces. Love is greater than a kiss, greater than touch, greater than the ache of separation or the joy of reunion. Greater still than trust, loyalty, fidelity. Far greater than my lifetime, far greater than time itself. I know that love is beyond all these things... and yet these are such beautiful ways to express it! In the end, as body-bound humans with such a short and limited existence, what more do we really have -or need- than the beautiful expression of love?

I think I am coming to understand that I can both know the infinite nature of love and find joy in the tangible, earthly expression of it. A joy that surpasses anything else I might ever encounter. A joy that both contains and transcends everything that makes me human. Knowing that love transcends attachment doesn't bar me from finding beauty, peace, understanding, and forgiveness in the expression of love that is engendered by mindful attachments to others. This kind of attachment, balanced with an understanding of the infinite nature of love, might more suitably be called CONNECTION. I don't want to shy away from connection anymore.

I'm ready for love. I'm ready to fully express my love to another limited being who can reciprocate to the best of their own abilities. I am ready for connection. I am even ready to be dissapointed or have my perspective drastically altered. I'm ready for anything, really, except this endless wait. The last lesson BEFORE I find love.

"Patience, darling, it will come", whispers the moon tonight.
"Patience, patience" sigh the clouds that obscure her milky face.
"Patience, patience, it will come", says the cold night air, pregnant with a stillborn summer.
"Patience, darling", sings my inhaled breath as it caresses my restless heart.
It will come. But when?

Unsubsidized, But Not Unaffected!

Grad students are now and will still be able to take up to $20,500 in Stafford loans a year. But while demonstrated financial need currently determines how much of the loan burden is subsidized, all Stafford loans taken by graduate students will be unsubsidized. Though the change will cause an uptick in long-term costs, it's not likely to stop a future graduate student from pursuing higher education, says Kevin Michaelsen, director of financial assistance at North Carolina's Meredith College. 

"I think that when they are looking at loans, some will opt to not take the unsubsidized, but most are trying to make a change in their career, so the only way they can is to take that loan," Michaelsen says. "They likely will go ahead and take that loan because that's the only route available."  -usnews.com/education

After so much heartache and emotional torture over my decision to enroll in a graduate program this fall, I think I may have to let the dream go. Despite the confidence of university financial directors and US politicians, I don't think that I can justify taking out 30,000 in unsubsidized loans at a fixed interest rate of 6.8% so that I can join the long breadlines of unemployed teachers. And I don't think I'm alone, Mr. Michaelsen. If the politicians and heads of universities really believe that young people who are already overburdened with undergraduate loans, no job prospects, no savings, no affordable housing, no welfare support and no health insurance are really going to continue lining up in droves to borrow money at unconscionable borrowing rates from greedy universities, I have to call bullshit.

How long can those in power continue to disenfranchise the young? How long will the young people of this country continue to quietly endure the loss of opportunity while waiting blindly for a solution to be handed down from above? How long will aging parents continue to support their 20 and 30- something children by holding on to jobs that young people desperately need? How long will middle-aged commentators continue to force-feed the outdated, WWII wisdom of "work more, work harder, live more frugally" to young people who are working longer, harder hours for less pay and higher living expenses than ever before? Who can't even seek treatment for work-related injuries and are still living in cramped shared houses or their parent's basement at 30?

Yesterday, I worked 12 hours. I was paid for only half of those hours, despite the fact that the extra six hours were for grading and evaluation work that is considered "mandatory" for my position. I am lucky enough to have health and dental insurance through my employer, but when I tried to find a dentist recently, I was told that there was only one in my network. I live in an income-restricted apartment but over half my paycheck goes to pay my rent. I drive the same 20 year old car that my parents bought for me in high school, but most of the time I can't afford the gas, so I take the bus or walk. I walk a lot. I prepare all my meals at home, and I take my lunch to work everyday. I have a $200/month budget for all living expenses. I'm lucky. I'm so lucky.

My friend is 21 years old. He didn't go to university because he simply couldn't afford it. From 18 to 20, he worked in a factory in Nevada. Now in Portland, he is unemployed and living with 3 others in a one-bedroom apartment.

My friend is 26. She has two college degrees. She has never made more $12 an hour her whole life. She has a job, but can't get full time hours. She has nearly $60,000 in student loan debt.

My friend is 28. She is finishing her second master's degree. After completing her first MA, she briefly had a good job, but was laid off after just six months. She lived on unemployment until it ran out, but failed to find another job. When she finishes her current program, she will have over $100,000 in student loan debt. She has just six months job experience, an ivy league education, and no prospects.

My friend is 28. She has a master's degree. She has full-time job in her field, but makes just $15/hour. As part of her job, she has to live outside the city for 2 week periods of time. Unable to find affordable housing, she simply crashes on couches when she comes "home". Nearly all her paycheck goes to loan payments. She loves her job and her position is desperately needed, but chronically underfunded. She doesn't see herself getting a raise for at least 5 years.

My friend is 29. He was diagnosed with cancer at 23. He didn't have health insurance. He had over $250,000 in medical bills. He declared bankruptcy at 25, along with his parents. He hasn't been able to rent an apartment or qualify for a student loan since. He never went to college, and now doesn't think he ever will. He works in construction in california. He still doesn't have health insurance.

My friend is 22. He works at coffee shop. He went to university for 2 years with loans that were co-signed by his grandmother. During his second year, she passed away and he was unable to find another co-signer. He was forced to drop out of school and defaulted on his loan payments. His credit is not good enough to rent an apartment, and he was never able to finish his degree. He is, however, still making payments on his loans.

I am 26. I work as an ESL teacher at a for-profit school. I want to work with immigrant populations in public high schools, but I need a master's degree to become a state licensed teacher. I applied to several programs, and was enthusiastically accepted by all of them. Directors raved that I am "exactly what public schools are looking for" and my skill set is "desperately in need". But with school budgets slashed around the state and more than 400 Oregon teachers laid off this fall, I don't feel any sense of security. In fact, despite the acknowledged need, ESL programs were among the first axed from local school districts, who prefer to contract the work piecemeal through private contractors. Not one of these private contractors is required to provide health insurance, full-time hours, or pay for preparation time. Like so many of my friends, I'm not trying to live the dream of a big house in the suburbs or wasting my money buying frivolous things. I genuinely seek to help those in need, earn a living wage, and be self-sufficient.

I don't think that the young people in this country are lazy, I think they are desperate. We were raised with a strong belief in our own abilities and a faith in the old formula of: hard work in school + a university degree = a good job. We never expected to find ourselves here, after we did everything right. And the hardest part is the fact that so many people who should know better keep telling us to just work harder, while demanding social security and retirement benefits for themselves. I recently listened to a radio commentator tell me that "if you're in your 20's and not saving for retirement, you should be scared of your prospects for the future." Saving for RETIREMENT? I'm trying to save for dinner tonight. I'm trying to save for the past- trying to pay off the degree you insisted would land me a job!

So now, here I am, losing sleep and sanity over the hard choice in front of me: more debt, more loans at gouging borrowing rates with no job security in the future, or more of the same daily struggle to make ends meet?  In my opinion, American society seems unable or unwilling to validate the struggles of the young. Why? I think it's time to take a reality check. I don't want to be enslaved by my own debt. I still want the opportunity to make choices about my own future. I still want to believe that I can do anything if I just work hard enough. I still dare to hope that things might get better, not worse, in the future. But I might have to let go of these old dreams in the face of my new reality. I might have to find my own way, even if people think I'm wrong. Even if I sometimes think I'm wrong. The important thing now is to make a decision and stick with it, no regrets. But with the understanding that change is inevitable and I might find my way back to this same place in the future.

Life Gets...Lighter?

Lately, I think I've felt a little bit duped by life. Like so many young people, I was raised to believe that life in my 20's would be fun, fulfilling, and full of hope and momentum. At 26, I have not yet found this to be very true. No one told me life would be this difficult, this uncertain, and at times this heartbreaking, when I was growing up. Why would they, right? But I kinda wish someone had been more honest with me along the line, so that I could have done away with these unreasonable expectations of a "great time" in my 20's.

To clarify, I have had many incredible experiences and I found life in college to be a revelation. I have learned to be more fearless, persistent, open-minded, responsible, professional, and personable in my 20's. I have learned how to be a better friend, daughter, sister, lover, and employee. I have learned to love myself in ways I once thought impossible and to support myself through obstacles that seemed insurmountable. It certainly hasn't been bad or unproductive these last 5.5 years; it just hasn't been very much fun. It has been a lot of work, a lot of heartache and difficult decisions. More than anything, it has been a lot of agonizing over uncertainties. In some ways, I feel like I have had an abusive relationship with my 20's- surviving beatings of all forms only to be drawn back in with a crumb of proffered hope for a future plan, then beaten down again. Over and over, I've tried to love, to choose a career, to find a place to live, to build strong friendships and support networks, and again and again I've seen all of my well-laid plans crumble completely at my feet. I pick up the pieces and find a new way, always, but how long will this abuse last? When is it my turn to have some fun?

I know I'm not the only who feels this way. I don't actually know anyone in their 20's who feels like they are having fun. Lately, I've started to see many people in their early 30's who already seem nostalgic about their 20's. I would believe them had I not been present at their heartbreaks and hangups, their false starts and agonized decisions. We all have so many setbacks at this time in our lives, but the hardest part is just NOT KNOWING.

I don't know what to do 90% of my life. I don't know what career, school program, job, apartment, boyfriend... to choose. I don't know how to pay my rent, my student debt, my credit card debt, my electric bill, my health expenses, my monthly food bill. I don't how to maintain friendships when people are at such drastically different points in life- some married with children, some just getting married, some divorced, some unemployed, some making it big, some living with their parents, some still partying and abusing drugs, some abstinent and living in religious communities, some actively protesting the government and some working on capitol hill. I don't know how to be satisfied with my job or ask for a better position when I look around me and see no standard or precedent to follow; some of my friends are toiling away at unpaid internships while others are buying houses. I don't know if I should seriously be seeking marriage or a committed partnership or if I should just be at peace with the uncertainty of my current relationship. I don't know if I should push for more or be content with what I have. I don't know what my life will look like next year, or even next month. I don't know what to believe anymore, and I don't know who to ask for help. I just don't know. I just don't know.

It isn't very much fun to live with all this uncertainty. I carry around a low level of worry and stress at all times. I have erratic swings in my self-image; feeling successful one day and like a huge mess the next. I am constantly seeking guidance and direction and I've become strangely superstitious as a result; I see signs in everything around me. These days, the world is like a giant magic 8 ball and I am wandering around, throwing questions at the universe and trying frantically to glimpse the answer as it surfaces from the black gloom.

But can life with so much uncertainty also be fun? As much as I worry and wonder about my future, I suspect that I might also one day stress about having things more concrete and settled (if that ever happens) and long for the tumult and indecision of these turbulent years. I think this is what I hear in the nostalgia of my 30-something peers: a gentle desire for not knowing again. I think what makes it so hard to endure the suffering of uncertainty now is the sheer number of things about which I know nothing. I have never really felt secure in any major aspect of my life: love, profession, money, friendships- all of these feel simultaneously uncertain and unstable. I just want one thing to depend on, to cling to in this tempest.

As I continue to explore my nagging sense of loneliness, I know that this desire for a rock is at the core of my feelings of isolation. With everything in my life so uncertain, I feel like I'm living all alone in the eye of the storm. Everything rages around me, always shifting, always changing direction and form, while I feel like I'm not moving or progressing at all. I suspect that by the time things start to feel more secure and the wind dies down a bit, I will be able to look behind me and see what an incredible distance I really covered in so many ways. But that doesn't make it much easier to feel confident in my decisions now, or feel hopeful about my future turning out ok. I just don't know, and not knowing renders me emotionally blind.

I've started reading a book called "Life Gets Better" by Wendy Lustbader, one of my sister's grad school professors at University of Washington. As you might guess, it is a whole book about this struggle! Read it if you find some synergy in my words here, it contains a lot of wisdom. I'll share a quote with you and leave you to think:

"The quest to be somebody, to stand out from the crowd, can become injurious to the spirit...If we secure some kind of status, we usually do not grant ourselves the peace of savoring what we have achieved... Aging becomes a profound equalizer as getting older reveals what we hold in common. We see through the arbitrary divisions and designations of status, realizing that the only real difference between people is how readily we each embrace our shared humanity. Life gets so much lighter."

I ache for a little lightness in my life, yet I want to believe that I don't have to wait for age to gift it to me. I want to seek out greater lightness, a freedom from the tyranny and terror of not knowing who I am, what I want, or how to survive, and simply learn to be at peace with my own humanity. I want this now, at 26. I want this now and from this point forward. I want to be the master of the storm.
 

Panic

Today was a dark day. I suffered a panic attack, something I haven’t experienced in years. I felt physically sick and emotionally feeble. I lay on my sofa for most of the day, and was consumed by my own anxiety. I have felt a rising sadness in me for some weeks now, and I think it is coming to a head with this panic. I don’t really understand what is happening to me, or why. I can’t connect the dots between the way I feel and any likely causes. I can identify some vague sources of uneasiness, but nothing so specific that I might tackle it. I will keep searching, but in the meantime I must find a way to be at peace.

I must trust in the other power. Tonight, Rena said “Hollow can feel empty, or it can mean that there is an infinite space within you.” I have the power to fill that space however I choose, or to open my heart to the universe that is already there. Right now I feel like I am sitting in a dark room all alone. I feel empty, isolated, abandoned, and terribly afraid. I feel like I have tried to venture out into the darkness, to feel my way along the path somehow. But finding nothing, I feel I have failed and started to panic. I am afraid to sit still because my rising panic chases me around. The dark world feels so empty, so lonely, so vast. So I need to sit still and trust that things will be ok. Be fearless in this way, and I suspect my eyes will soon adjust to the darkness. I don’t think the room is truly empty, I just can’t see the shapes around me yet. I think the entire universe is contained within this room, as it is contained within my own body and again within my own heart. “As it is in the macrocosm, so it is in the microcosm” says the Upanishads.

I am changing the form of my life pretty profoundly. I have entered a mysterious place that is wholly unfamiliar to me. I have been forced to embrace ideas that I have actively disparaged in the past. And I have been humbled by the blindness, uncertainty, and fear I feel now. I have been grasping desperately at the darkness around me, seeking a form I might lean on and draw comfort from. But if I do not give myself time to adjust to my new surroundings, I might very well clutch at the wrong thing, and risk being blind much longer. Still, I am terrified as I sit trembling in this darkness and I think I am only now realizing how much. I have always embraced change as a moving force, but when it requires me to sit still I am so easily cowed. I must be fearless in a new way now. Fearless like the Buddha, not the warrior. Strong like the mountain, not the river. Perhaps then I will find peace and a clear direction along this new path.

Lonely In Love

I'm pretty sure I've hit a low point tonight. I'm sitting on my couch in oversize pj's, frantically polishing off a bag of potato chips, sobbing so hard I can feel my blood pulsing in my temples with each ragged inhale. I expertly utilize the time between sobs to stuff some more chips into my mouth, willing the salt to penetrate and somehow make me feel the taste more acutely than the anguish. Life does not seem very rosy right now, camped out in this low point, and all I want is to be able to see just a little glimmer of a happy future.

Here's the problem: I just feel so alone. It's an old, familiar feeling and I know I've spoken about it many times before. I have probably filled hundreds of pages with my commentary on my own loneliness. It is perpetual and overwhelming. It often leaves me feeling drained and hopeless. Sometimes it makes me cry, like tonight. Other times I scream and rage against it.

 For so many years, I tried to eradicate it by fixing myself in some way- being more social, less withdrawn, less serious, less anxious. Transformations of character came and went but none of them helped me feel even a little bit less alone. Later, I tried to distract myself from it by traveling and moving as often as possible. I pushed myself to be in motion almost ceaselessly, and for very small, isolated moments I succeeded in feeling triumphant. But I was triumphant in my exquisite loneliness; triumphant because the only way I came to be in those extreme situations was by being so completely alone. Eventually I realized that I was chasing loneliness as much as I was running from it, and therefore only circling the beast.

Lately, I’ve tried to stop running (or chasing) and I’ve stopped trying to force myself to change. I came back to a place I know well and tried to find a community here. Tried to find love. Tried to simply understand this loneliness and why it has always made me feel so negative about myself. I just want to know where it comes from and why I can’t be at peace with it. I want to understand exactly how it makes me feel, what parts of myself it eats away at, and how. I came here to dissect my loneliness.

What have I learned in the last year here? I have learned (again) that friends can be fickle and communities are fluid. We form bonds with people because we can help one another in this moment. We have common struggles or common searches; common adventures to live or common suffering to endure. Because I have something to learn and you have something to teach. Communities grow out of necessity or fantasy and require a lot of inspiration and momentum. They are sometimes spontaneous and sometimes calculated but they make sense only in the moment of their conception and in the struggle to create something tangible. Each successive day is only a step toward dissolution, and eventually they drift apart or lose something vital. I think about this with Burning Man a lot- has this vibrant community lost something vital this year? Or is the strength of Burning Man in its enforced temporary status? In a way, Burning Man lives in the conception and creation alone- the actual event is so short-lived that there isn’t even time to see the fractures. All of this reflects the life cycles of nature. Life and death is a part of everything we create. This is beautiful and sad. This is the struggle of humanity; the struggle of being human.

I’ve also learned that my conception of “true love” is a fantasy. I want a partner in life- a friend for keeps. To me, that is the true heart of the symbolism of marriage, and it is beautiful. My sister is getting married this summer, and it is beautiful. She sees her partner as her constant companion and has planned her life with him. She thinks of her future as joined with his from now on. Of course there are many other aspects to marriage, but this core partnership was what my own parents modeled for my siblings and me in their long marriage. I have long resisted the idea of marriage for myself because it also has a connotation of staying put (of restriction) that I can’t abide by. But I can’t lie and say I don’t long for that sense of companionship. Is marriage the only way to find that? Why can’t we also see our friendships in this way? Why do we place so much more value and importance on our love relationships?

What I learned this year is that even marriage cannot give us that kind of life-long companionship. There are no guarantees that your companion will stay. It is still a fantasy, one that people all over the world continue to indulge in because it is beautiful. Love is no more enduring than any other relationship. It is also the victim of change and death.

What hurts me so much about Colin is that he refuses to engage the fantasy with me. He refuses to pretend for even one moment that love like that could exist. He, like me, is fully aware of the true nature of life and love and so there is no space for fantasy between us. He can’t commit to staying with me for more than a few months in the future because that is the reality of life. Instead of lulling me into a comfortable fantasy with false promises like “I want to be with you forever”, he truthfully tells me with an open heart, “I want to be with you right now. I can’t say anything about the future.” Anything else would be a lie or an unnecessary restriction. I understand so well. Yet I have never felt so lonely in a relationship. By refusing to engage in the fantasy of life together, he prevents me from seeing myself as a partner and makes me feel like I am temporary. In our relationship, we are two people spending time together, not two people building a life together. I must be vigilant to maintain my independence and individual support networks, because he could go at any time. I must be my own person, fight my own battles, and find my own answers. I must always be enough for myself. I can never “need” him.

This kind of relationship is so contrary to the vision of love crafted and marketed to us by a consumer society saturated in the fantasy of love that it is easy to wrinkle your nose and proclaim that I deserve better. But just stop for a moment and consider the truth in this: How many people have you seen crumble and shatter in the face of divorce or the death of their partner? How many people (especially women) neglect their support networks and forget to pursue their own interests when they are in a long-term relationship? How many people see dating as a race to reach the finish line of marriage, but don’t have a clue what to do when they get there? I have fallen into all of these categories in the past and have suffered horribly every time. What Colin is doing is a gift- he loves me but he pushes me to be a whole person all the time. In this way, I think our relationship has offered me the unique opportunity to finally break out of the destructive cycle I was in: one in which I built myself up, only to lose myself in the novelty of a partnership, only to start all over again when the relationship ended. For the first time in my life, I don’t fear losing my lover, I know that I remain strong and capable with or without him.

Instead, I mourn for the feeling of partnership now, while I am still with him. I ache for the fantasy of building a life with someone and the excitement of envisioning future adventures together. I feel hollow and dull, even restricted by his inability to engage with me in this way. It feels empty. It doesn’t feel like love at all. So, what is the greater loss? What is the greater risk? There is beauty in both the fantasy and realism. There are restrictions and freedom in both. I think I can find strength and empowerment in both.

What I can’t seem to find in either, is peace or a reprieve from my loneliness. I am trapped between losing myself and losing my partner. What is the answer for me? Is there a way to combine these things- fantasy and realism- into something like the relational equivalent of a Gabriel Garcia Marquez novel? Can my heart live in a world of magical realism? Would this relieve the burden of my loneliness? Perhaps I will always feel lonely, but maybe if I could find some way to suspend my deep and painful awareness of my loneliness in a state of innocent, playful enchantment, I could finally live alongside it instead of under it.