Loving oneself
Anyone who reads this blog will know that the following covers all the themes I reiterate. It was penned apparently by Charlie Chaplin on his 70th birthday. Or perhaps it was a speech he gave, as some sources say. And maybe it was even written originally in French (though I somehow doubt that because it sounds very natural in English and differs sufficiently from the French for it to not be a translation). All I can say is that I’m glad it hasn’t taken me till the age of 70 to work it out. I might not live till 88 like Charlie Chaplin did!
As I began to love myself I found that anguish and emotional suffering are only warning signs that I was living against my own truth. Today, I know, this is “AUTHENTICITY”.
As I began to love myself I understood how much it can offend somebody when I try to force my desires on this person, even though I knew the time was not right and the person was not ready for it, and even though this person was me. Today I call it “RESPECT”.
As I began to love myself I stopped craving for a different life, and I could see that everything that surrounded me was inviting me to grow. Today I call it “MATURITY”.
As I began to love myself I understood that at any circumstance, I am in the right place at the right time, and everything happens at the exactly right moment. So I could be calm. Today I call it “SELF-CONFIDENCE”.
As I began to love myself I quit stealing my own time, and I stopped designing huge projects for the future. Today, I only do what brings me joy and happiness, things I love to do and that make my heart cheer, and I do them in my own way and in my own rhythm. Today I call it “SIMPLICITY”.
As I began to love myself I freed myself of anything that is no good for my health – food, people, things, situations, and everything that drew me down and away from myself. At first I called this attitude
a healthy egotism. Today I know it is “LOVE OF ONESELF”.As I began to love myself I quit trying to always be right, and ever since, I have been wrong less of the time. Today I have discovered that is “MODESTY”.
As I began to love myself I refused to go on living in the past and to worry about the future. Now, I only live for the moment, where EVERYTHING is happening. Today I live each day, day by day, and I call it “FULFILLMENT”.
As I began to love myself I recognized that my mind can disturb me and it can make me sick. But as I connected it to my heart, my mind became a valuable ally. Today I call this connection “WISDOM OF THE HEART”.
We no longer need to fear arguments, confrontations or any kind of problems with ourselves or others. Even stars collide, and out of their crashing new worlds are born. Today I know THAT IS “LIFE”!
Let’s talk about sex – part 2
This post has been a long time coming (no pun intended). Last year, I posted part 1 about women’s slowly changing attitude to sex despite the continued judgement of society. Now I want to turn the focus on midlifers. Yes, I know that one of the biggest tags in my cloud is “sex”, but I’m not just talking your common-or-garden variety. As I mentioned a couple of posts ago, people over the age of 40 seem to be more and more open to “alternative” forms of relationship. But my experience is showing me that they are also open to engaging in sex in ways that might have even horrified them a decade or so ago.
Let’s talk about society and the way it frames our lives and sets up expectations and paths to follow. At a recent book fair, I perused a survival guide for girls entering their teenage years. It wasn’t this one, but it could have been. The thing that struck me, apart from all the really great advice, was how hetero-centric it is. And I don’t mean that it briefly touches on nascent homosexuality; it doesn’t mention it at all! And I always thought that adolescent crushes on members of the same sex were supposed to be ‘completely normal’. In addition, the book I browsed through, unlike the one I linked to above, didn’t even consider being single as an option. It actually exhorted the young reader to close one eye then to open it again and see how much better the world looks through two eyes – voila! that’s just what being part of a couple is like!
While this may be a horrifyingly obvious example, there are certainly many more that are less obvious. The fact is that, from a young age, we are brought up in the Judaeo-Christian tradition that we should find a mate and settle down (read “get married”) to have children. Sex, of course, is a way to procreate. In more permissive times, it is recognized as more but is still primarily seen as a way of holding a couple (read, “heterosexual couple”) together. Sex for the pleasure of sex starts to open a can of worms that includes ‘cheating’…
Let’s try and step outside the paradigm of happily-ever-after. In a world where, say, procreation was taken care of in some other way, and pair-bonding was no longer necessary, don’t you think the focus would be on maximising pleasure? And what exactly would that entail? If you put yourself first, where exactly would you go?
Apart from sex, other major tags in my cloud are self-discovery and acceptance. These are important motivators for midlifers-in-crisis. Additionally, we are at a been-there-done-that stage in our lives as far as marriage and children are concerned, or else we are comfortable that this is no longer in our future. Physically speaking, we may no longer be capable of the same gymnastics we managed in our twenties, or else we’re not getting the same satisfaction from them.
No wonder then that many of us are more open to pushing our boundaries with role play, and even investigating such ‘alternative lifestyles’ as BDSM. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find any statistics that corroborate my observations. However, browsing the online dating profiles of sex-positive midlifers quickly reveals a trend that cannot be ignored. It would seem that many men brought up in a post-feminist society that advocates sexual equality and, (rightly so), demonises violence against women, have found it within themselves to readily use a riding crop on a willing feminine backside. And many women of the same era welcome it.
It is said that a desire to dominate is often linked to a general feeling of lack of control, and a desire to submit is born of being overwhelmed by responsibility. Could this be a backlash to post-feminism? There is much sociological debate about how men no longer know their role in society and the family, and women, having claimed the right to have a career, now find themselves doing two full-time jobs inside and outside of the home. It would make sense. It absolutely makes sense to me, personally. How about you? Are your desires different from two decades ago?
To have and to hold
The other day I watched the latest Woody Allen film, You Will Meet A Tall Dark Stranger.
It struck me as being a story of people’s expectations about relationships and their disappointment because these expectations often had nothing to do with what the other person was willing or able to give.
It made me wonder if that’s normal. Are we all operating with a set of expectations that aren’t necessarily aligned with those of the people with whom we are in a relationship? Take the very word “dating”, what does it mean exactly? Do we all have the same idea of its significance?
As a European, I have no clear idea of what the word means at all, so I asked an American. He said that dating meant “hanging out on a regular basis”. Hmmm. About.com says dating is “getting to know someone over an extended period of time to determine if a relationship is something worth pursuing.” The forum discussion referenced in that article mentions “interest in something for the future.” But a forum discussion on POF about the difference between “hanging out” and “dating” shows it’s not all that obvious…
Add into the mix such terms as “casual dating”, “short-term dating”, “long-term dating” and “relationship”, and it’s even more confusing. How often should we be seeing each other? Should we be having sex? Should we be seeing other people? How often should we be contacting each other? What sort of activities should we be doing together? (Only ones that allow us to talk and get to know each other, or ones that allow us to share things?) How should we refer to each other? Should we hold hands or kiss in public or otherwise indulge in “romantic” activities? The list goes on.
Personally, I don’t like having to ask myself these sorts of questions. We Europeans (for once) are not so complicated as North Americans seem to be. If you go out with someone in Europe, either you’ve already slept with them or you intend to that night. If you’ve already shagged someone then you aren’t going to go back to kissing them on the cheek when you see them. But that doesn’t mean till death us do part or even that there is any set-in-stone expectation that you will shag them again.
The added dimension is, of course, that of midlife. The playing field has changed. Many of us are no longer looking for that ideal. We’ve redefined our assumptions. We’re open to other forms of relationship or we’re actively avoiding putting ourselves back into the same situation we just got out of. We don’t want people to put pressure on us and so we try to avoid putting pressure on others. We’re more honest with ourselves as far as our sexual desires go and we’re more demanding about getting them fulfilled. We are less willing to compromise on our desires.
That’s a good thing. It’s authentic. And I’m convinced “perfect” is possible, as long as we don’t believe that there is only one. But I’m also thinking that the only clear way of making sure we get what we want is to just come right out and say what our expectations are.
Love thy neighbour
I have noticed lately that a growing number of people in the early forties age range are questioning the validity of monogamy. Interestingly, they’re not all just out of an acrimonious divorce.
Opinions on non-monogamy differ though. Some talk about “polyamory” but really mean swinging. Others conceive of it as just an open relationship, where each person pleases themselves within, I assume, specified limits. Yet others are looking for or living “true” polyamourous relationships as described, for example, in this excellent article from Newsweek. As usual, Wikipedia does a decent job of disambiguating.
I wonder why it seems more common now. Is it that we’re the jaded children of “broken homes”, refugees of failed marriages or long-term commitment-phobia? Or have we just, finally, given up on the “happily-ever-after myth”?
This cursory article still has one or two interesting points:
- apparently, some of us are more inclined to non-monogamy
- we all have sexual thoughts about people other than our partner, and suppressing them is at the root of many of our relationship problems
Interesting. Some researchers go even further though. In this article, psychiatrist Judith Lipton is quoted as saying that monogamy isn’t natural, but the result of 2000 years and more of socialisation.
And that socialisation makes it hard for us to embark on any other relationship model. While many of us like the idea, in practice it’s not so easy to mix free love and commitment. As the Times article says, it requires empathy and maturity that many of us just don’t have. We are self-centred and self-critical, lacking in self-worth and self-confidence. We are prone to trust issues and jealousy.
But if we could just get over those, accept ourselves, accept others, not need to own someone else, the world would be a vastly different and no doubt, more connected place. Many people deplore the advance of individualism; maybe polyamory is the antidote.
D.I.V.O.R.C.E.
Lately, divorce has been much on my mind. In main, this has been because I am thinking about my own. Yes, I am still married. I’ve been told that mediation is the way to go: In four sessions and some homework, we will have an agreement on custody and the split of our assets. It’s clean, fair and cheap. Why would you want to do it any other way?
But many people seem to. My very good friend is currently watching from the sidelines as his best friend and wife scar their children for life. In roughly two months since she served him with divorce papers, they have got to the stage where they can no longer talk to each other except through their lawyers: avatars who will thrash each other in the courtroom to vent the couple’s inability to communicate.
Another friend told me of a man who took a friend, or lover, to pose as his wife at the notary’s office, and re-mortgaged the conjugal house. Then, of course, he took off with the money and left the repayments to her. And the kids.
I just don’t get it. I don’t understand how people don’t seem to realise or care about the effect on their children. I am the first person to say that one should be true to oneself and, inevitably, that entails hurting other people, but I do not advocate revenge.
That is what it seems like to me: a desire to exact retribution for the pain suffered before you found the courage to end it. Do you think you’ll get closure from making the other person suffer? Shouldn’t you just face up to the fact that you should have left earlier, before the pain got so bad?
As for those who have been left, I understand that you might feel betrayed and like your time was wasted, but hurting your ex won’t make your own hurt go away. Hanging out on so-called support forums with other fragile, hurt people, slagging off anyone who dares to leave a marriage also won’t help.
Figuring out how we contributed to the end of this marriage enables everyone to move on and avoid the same mistakes in the future. Recognising that our relationship was not a failure but a learning experience, not a waste of time but productive, paints things in a positive light for our children especially, and sets up a healthy future for co-parenting.
What men want
While surfing the blogosphere recently, I came across …And That’s Why You’re Single – a wonderful dating advice column/community for the middle-aged. Ha! That sounds funny, but seriously, things aren’ t the same when you’ve had at least one long-term relationship. (Some might call it “baggage” but if you haven’t got baggage, you haven’t travelled!) Anyway, the blog started out as one woman’s dating journal but has evolved into a place where she gives advice, as do the readers, both male and female. It’s actually a wonderful example of the power of the Internet.
On a recent post, a comment got me thinking. The commenter posed a question: If you do meet the perfect person, what do you have to offer? She also quoted the original poster as saying she had a good job and no debt, and that these were not things that men wanted.
The question is an excellent one. I’m miffed I didn’t think of it before. After all, when you write a resumé, you know that potential employers are more interested in what you can do for them than in what you can do in general. Why should it be different for relationships?
A long time ago, I conducted a little study of “lonely hearts ads” – in the days before the Internet. What I discovered was that women tended to say what they want and men tended to say what they are like. The women wanted someone with a good job and a sense of humour. The men said they had good jobs and a sense of humour. I simplify, but you get the picture.
So, like any good marketing student, I am now saying to myself that my “offer” should be in line with men’s “demand”. But if they aren’t interested in my good job and my sense of humour, what exactly are they looking for?
A quick perusal of Plenty Of Fish shows many men advertising for a “best friend”, a “soul mate” or “the one”. Obviously, none of us can speak to that requirement, except perhaps to offer friendship. I’m not sure what that means though. Women and men don’t see friends the same way, do they? If I say I’m a good friend, according to my girlfriends, is that any gauge of my abilities? If I say I am according to my guy friends, will that be misinterpreted? It’s a mine field…
Another category is looking for a “simple” and “real” woman who is “not in to mind games”. Interesting. This category tends to specify “someone who knows what she wants”. Still others make a point of saying they’re looking for a woman who “knows how to take care of herself”. Such criteria are surely telling of past relationships.
But it isn’t much to go on, is it? So I googled it and found this list. Now we’re talking!
Arbeit macht frei
I’ve talked a lot in this blog about relationships and how they are affected by the midlife re-evaluation. But changes in the way we view ourselves affect other aspects of our lives as well.
One of my colleagues, who is over a decade younger than I am, puts in an inordinate number of hours. She works longer than the requisite week at the office. And then she goes home and does even more. She doesn’t have much of a life. I’m not sure whether it’s the reason she works so much or whether she has no life because of how much importance she accords her job.
The thing is, I remember when I was like her. I remember when I stayed at work till 11pm to finish up for a deadline. I remember when moving up the corporate ladder was important to me. Part of that was conscientiousness, integrity and being results-oriented, as it is with my colleague, but part of it was also expectation. I grew up knowing that I was lucky to have so many opportunities, to be able to do whatever I wanted, to be able to succeed, and it seemed almost criminal not to.
Do you recognise the title of this post? It means “work sets you free” and was the sign above the entrances of such famed establishments as Auschwitz and Dachau concentration camps. Hmmm…
I was lucky though. Events in my life made me realise that life is too short to spend it all working. Events made me realise that there were more important things and more important people to take care of than my superiors, and who would appreciate it more. It became obvious to me that more money, status and power would never be substitutes for time spent with your loved ones, time to discover yourself, time to just be.
People who have not been so lucky may come to the realisation on their own, as they approach midlife. Sometimes you hear them talking about the “rat race”, or the desire for a greater work-life balance, or “selling up and moving abroad/to the country”.
Without necessarily doing something as drastic as emigrating or changing careers, it is possible to scale back one’s ambitions (I don’t, for example, apply for departmental management jobs, despite having the experience and skills), to cut down on the commute (is public transport an option?), or to try and view work as part of who you are rather than the sole or even principal defining factor.
Easier said than done? Perspective is important. Life coaches often use the self-evaluation tool of the wheel of life with their clients. It is split into eight sections and you must assess how much of your time/energy is spent on each section. Why not get more personal? Why not replace those sections with a different aspect of your personality? For example, if you were Steve Miller, you might write “picker”, “grinner”, “lover”, “sinner”, “joker”, “smoker”, “midnight toker” and, errr, “peach-tree shaker”, and rate how much of your life they take up.
Inevitably, there will be disequilibrium. But this isn’t a mathematical exercise; before you start deciding how to restore balance, you really need to know how you feel about each aspect. Decrease those facets that take up a lot of your life and don’t make you happy; increase those that are fulfilling.
Try it. This could be your epiphany.
It’s got to be perfect
Back in the 80s, Fairground Attraction had a hit with Perfect. My cynical realist side loved the song but scoffed at the lyrics. It was obvious to me that it was asking too much to expect perfect. But I know now that perfect doesn’t mean flawless. It means not compromising oneself.
I had reached an almost zen-like stage with Henry. His attempts to flee made me sad, but I understood. I fought my frustration and summoned calm and reason to dissipate the emotion. It helped that his acceptance of my love had enabled me to get off the emotional rollercoaster I had been riding – the natural result of my mission to feel – and to find a more healthy balance between the intellectual and the emotional.
But then he changed the game plan, in fact the entire playing field. He became overwhelmed by the feelings he had for me and began talking about leaving his partner. I didn’t know what to think. I didn’t want the responsibility his leaving might imply (and I had been there before), and I resented losing the equilibrium I had found. The foundations of my fragile world began to crumble.
And then my father died.
And Henry abandoned me.
I was bereft not once but twice. Neither of them chose to hurt me. Neither of them was capable of stopping it. Ironically, they both occupied a similar place in my heart, and the departure of one precipitated the leaving of the other. And I was alone.
I don’t judge Henry. I still believe in him. I owe him much. He was my guide into unexplored realms, enabling me to become the whole person that I am today. He helped me find happiness again. He showed me what a passionate, lustful, empathetic, sympathetic, respectful, secure, deeply connected, intimate and altruistic love can be. Now I know it is possible. And I also know that, despite his troubles, he was perfect for me. For then. And there are plenty more perfects for the times to come. Not good compromises, but perfects.
Love is…
In the post that spawned these cathartic ramblings, I asked, what is love? More than anything else, I believe that it is a feeling that the object of your affections is more important than you are, and that you would do anything, even at personal cost, for their benefit. As the realisation that I was in love with Henry dawned on me, I wondered what it changed in our relationship. I decided that it meant that I could be his friend; I could give him what he wanted; I could be his confidante.
I didn’t want to tell him that I was in love with him because I knew it would only make things complicated. But it came out – without actually being said – and he admitted that he was also in love with me – without actually saying it. And so we moved into a new phase of our relationship.
In a much earlier post, I theorised that to really appreciate the highs that life offers us, you have to be able to also feel the lows. Otherwise our existence is merely mediocre. The love I shared with Henry, the near complete communion I felt with him when I looked into his eyes as we climaxed simultaneously (something I thought only existed in romance novels), made me so happy, I literally cried tears of joy when I thought about him.
The flip side was that, as I learnt more about his home situation and his true feelings about it, I “reasoned” that if he was not getting what he wanted and needed at home, but he still stayed, it was because I wasn’t good enough. In truth, I did not want him to leave his partner for me, but I did want him to be happy and fulfilled, and I would have liked to see if we could have gone further together.
So I pushed him. And when I did, he ran away. Quite literally. And I found myself staring at an empty chat room. So I backed off. But it wasn’t only his home life that had this effect on him. I was also working with him to assess his professional skills, a process which requires a certain amount of introspection, and whenever I pushed to go a little bit further, he tried to run away.
We weathered these storms though and I came to understand that he was, in a sense, fragile. But it didn’t matter to me. I still trusted him to keep me safe. I still wanted him to do whatever he wanted to me. I still felt so happy when I thought about him. And I still wanted what was best for him. So I accepted that this was just for now. I lived in the moment, making the most of every sensation and every emotion he made me feel, knowing that one day it would end, that I would be ready to move on and we would part ways.
Don’t think. Just feel.
Realising that to cope with my life I had distanced myself from my emotions, I resolved at the end of my marriage to get back in touch with them. My new mantra became, “Don’t think. Just feel.” – going from one extreme to another. I felt it was important to concentrate on not thinking and analysing and intellectualising everything. I felt it was important to make the most of every sensation and every emotion that surged in me.
When I embarked on my affair with Henry, I was really only just beginning to feel. The nature of our interaction enabled me to literally just concentrate on the sensations. Often I was blindfolded, especially to begin with. It helped me to centre on what I perceived, to not be distracted by movement, by light, by thoughts of what he might be going to do with whatever he had in his hand. The nerve-endings in my skin became more sensitive. I even identified new erogenous zones (the cleft just above the centre of my upper lip, for example). I became aware of new pleasure centres because he pushed me to go there, and because his ever-present reassuring voice, reflecting back at me, in words, the sounds I was not conscious of making, forced me to tune in to what I was really feeling.
In the tradition of old Pavlov’s canine research assistant, I would get warm and very wet as soon as I saw him, in fact, as my train arrived at the metro station where we most often met.
But Henry didn’t just help me with physical feelings. On our very first playdate, after he had bewitched me with his box of tricks and impressed me with his in-depth knowledge of both the female anatomy and his own (“in this position, the bend in my cock is at just the right angle to stimulate your g-spot”), he surprised me by talking of the affection he felt for me already. Over the weeks to come, we discussed what each of us wanted from this relationship. He said he wanted a friend, with benefits. But I, on the other hand, just wanted the benefits. Friendship seemed too much for me. I didn’t want to know about his frustrations at home. I didn’t want to talk about my difficulties. I just wanted to be, when I was with him. I just wanted to feel, and knowing that once a week we would meet and have dirty sex, where I didn’t have to do anything but be me, kept me sane.
I knew he was attached to me though. Too attached, really. I knew I should give him up, but I didn’t want to. I’d spent so long not being seen, that to have someone make such efforts to keep our connection alive, even phoning me from vacation, was something I wasn’t willing to do without unless I had to. In addition, our relationship had evolved. We weren’t just stealing hours during the day, we were going out on almost proper dates and, inevitably, we had come to share a lot more about ourselves.
Four months into our affair, I sat folding laundry and thinking about him. I was aware that I thought about him every day, and that I was happy. It was a revelation. Some nine months before, I had seriously asked myself what happiness was, how to define it. Now I knew that it didn’t need to be defined, it needed to be felt.
But I also knew that I had no right to be happy with him. I didn’t even call him by his name because I had no right to. So I resolved to let him go and, as I thought that thought, I began to cry. Oh fuck! Too late! I’d fallen in love.
