taking a poke at the weasels (and no, that's not a masturbation euphemism...)
earlier this week , j_v_lynch posted a link to this article on becoming an equal in a relationship that, in the midst of everything that's been in my head and on the table since last week, hit me like the proverbial tonne of bricks.
in particular, the article's author wrote something that resonated so loudly for me that i literally skipped off the page and walked out of my office, and didn't come back to make myself finish reading the article until much later in the day. the button-pushing content was this:
One of the things that I've been committed to in recent years has been the notion that transformation and change is a never-ending opportunity, and an unavoidable responsibility. The battle-cry of my teens and twenties in relationship was "Accept me as I am! This is my nature!" [...] part of growing up in relationship is letting go of the idea that one's childhood, one's parents, or one's previous relationships are an excuse for not doing hard spiritual and emotional work.
I'm not proud of the fact that I prolonged a sulky and mercurial adolescence for nearly two decades. I'm not proud of the fact that I chose to spend years and years stuck in the role of the irresponsible boy who wouldn't grow up, who both wanted women to take care of him and resented the hell out of them for doing so."
hello, and welcome to Karen. holy fuck, but doesn't that just read like the script of who *i* have been most of my adult life (albeit reversing the genders, and maintaining that sulky and mercurial adolescence for the better part of three decades now).
it ties in with a musing point my good and dear friend lapsedagnostic made in the comment trail to my post on monday: "Theory? You're about to get married, you have a man that won't let you weasel, and part of you is terrified of a future where you don't always have the final vote, so you find a method to bail. Or to cause him to bail. Matthew's great in that he's self aware, communicative, and tries to live according to his stated goals. He's terrifying in that he won't let you either steamroll him, or bullshit him."
i want all the freedom and autonomy, and none of the responsibility: not for my actions, certainly not for their consequences. i want someone (matthew) to take care of me, and i haven't yet (apparently) come to grips with the fact that our household isn't working out that way, or i'm chafing against it if i have (on any number of fronts, perhaps). when i started dating matthew, i was still smarting from being dumped by J for not being willing to grow into what he wanted me to be - all i wanted was someone who would "Accept me as I am", and love me for it. and up until now, i have pretty much gotten my way a frightening amount of the time. but now there's been a line drawn in the sand, and the costs of my actions are increasingly apparent to me...
...and i'm having problems accepting it. i *want* to change, i *want* to not be resentful of matthew's desire to have a grown woman be his partner, rather than a willful and selfish six-year-old princess as his ward. i see the value of the path of change, but damn, if it's not an unpleasant thing to start out with the acknowledgements of my own over-extended juvenile behaviours. (and by "unpleasant", i mean "can i just skip the words and go straight to eviscerating myself with the rubber spatula now, please?")
this isn't me being hard on myself unnecessarily. but it is taking a look at myself through other people's words, and comparing my evolving values to those espoused by similar perspectives and experiences. i look at other people who started where i did, and where they are or are going, and measure my experiences against theirs, looking for a toehold up wherever i can find one.
Q was right: i am terrified of matthew. i am terrified of the fact that he will draw lines in the sand and negotiate boundaries. but i'm also? more? terrified that i will *choose* to sacrifice that artificial sense of freedom that shapes my adolescent rants, and that in accepting the relationship and mutual happiness as being of the utmost importance to me, i will bow my head to some kind of indefinable yoke, and submit to the "Joint Responsibility" at the expense of being free to do as i want. the terror comes from knowing that if i *choose* to honour those priorities, i will have no-one on which to foist the blame for my actions but myself, no one to claim the responsibility for them... but me. i cannot externalize my blame and project it elsewhere. i know; i've tried already. matthew will have none of it, and he calls me on it, every damned time.
here's the kicker: most of my friends in my age range or within a couple of years of it, already have, to a large degree, made the ostensible transition to "adulthood" (and yes, i know for a fact most of them are no happier about it than i would be, because they tell me themselves that they're no happier about it). they have day jobs, they have mortgages and car payments, and they have (many of them) kids. they have already buried their adolescence in the need to be the responsible, mature caretakers themselves. i cannot count the number of friends in this category who have told me over the years how they envy me my freedom. nor did i realize how much *i* clung to that freedom as the thing that makes me different from them, different from the societal standard. i didn't rebel from having children because i thought i would be a horrible parent, but because i didn't want to sacrifice that much of my freedom to something so completely and long-term dependant upon me. i never made the financial decisions that got me closer to owning a house because i didn't want to be tied to a mortgage or a home in one city; i didn't want to sacrifice my financial nestegg to one thing when i could use it to do more flighty things, like travel. i refuse to give up my car (in spite of the incessant car payments and the need to remain employed so i can maintain those payments), because my car, to me, is the ultimate symbol of my freedom.
my adult life has been all about clinging to those images and ideals of "freedom", including the conflicting adolescent demands for autonomy without responsibility, freedom from consequence.
i wonder how i can achieve that perceived sense of mature adult responsibility in a matter of a few weeks' time, *without* having to buy a house and get knocked up in the process?? how do i balance - or should i even be *trying* to balance?? - the remnants of that adolescent urge for utmost personal freedom, with the need to prove myself a responsible, thoughtful, self-aware and considerate-of-others'-needs adult??
there should be a handbook for this shit, and i'm trying not to resent (too much) the fact that it feels like *i'm* writing the handbook as i go.
(i am mindful of a comment thetamermaid made to me at the party last night, looking up from where she was sitting on the floor at me feet; she asked if i minded her following me around for a while, because she wanted to learn from me. she asked, "How did you learn to be so wise?", and all i could think of in answer was, "Trial and error... mostly error." it's always validating when the lessons i learn can help other people, but sometimes i'd like to *not* be the one making with the "learning experiences" and "personal growth opportunities" for once, you know?)
in particular, the article's author wrote something that resonated so loudly for me that i literally skipped off the page and walked out of my office, and didn't come back to make myself finish reading the article until much later in the day. the button-pushing content was this:
One of the things that I've been committed to in recent years has been the notion that transformation and change is a never-ending opportunity, and an unavoidable responsibility. The battle-cry of my teens and twenties in relationship was "Accept me as I am! This is my nature!" [...] part of growing up in relationship is letting go of the idea that one's childhood, one's parents, or one's previous relationships are an excuse for not doing hard spiritual and emotional work.
I'm not proud of the fact that I prolonged a sulky and mercurial adolescence for nearly two decades. I'm not proud of the fact that I chose to spend years and years stuck in the role of the irresponsible boy who wouldn't grow up, who both wanted women to take care of him and resented the hell out of them for doing so."
hello, and welcome to Karen. holy fuck, but doesn't that just read like the script of who *i* have been most of my adult life (albeit reversing the genders, and maintaining that sulky and mercurial adolescence for the better part of three decades now).
it ties in with a musing point my good and dear friend lapsedagnostic made in the comment trail to my post on monday: "Theory? You're about to get married, you have a man that won't let you weasel, and part of you is terrified of a future where you don't always have the final vote, so you find a method to bail. Or to cause him to bail. Matthew's great in that he's self aware, communicative, and tries to live according to his stated goals. He's terrifying in that he won't let you either steamroll him, or bullshit him."
i want all the freedom and autonomy, and none of the responsibility: not for my actions, certainly not for their consequences. i want someone (matthew) to take care of me, and i haven't yet (apparently) come to grips with the fact that our household isn't working out that way, or i'm chafing against it if i have (on any number of fronts, perhaps). when i started dating matthew, i was still smarting from being dumped by J for not being willing to grow into what he wanted me to be - all i wanted was someone who would "Accept me as I am", and love me for it. and up until now, i have pretty much gotten my way a frightening amount of the time. but now there's been a line drawn in the sand, and the costs of my actions are increasingly apparent to me...
...and i'm having problems accepting it. i *want* to change, i *want* to not be resentful of matthew's desire to have a grown woman be his partner, rather than a willful and selfish six-year-old princess as his ward. i see the value of the path of change, but damn, if it's not an unpleasant thing to start out with the acknowledgements of my own over-extended juvenile behaviours. (and by "unpleasant", i mean "can i just skip the words and go straight to eviscerating myself with the rubber spatula now, please?")
this isn't me being hard on myself unnecessarily. but it is taking a look at myself through other people's words, and comparing my evolving values to those espoused by similar perspectives and experiences. i look at other people who started where i did, and where they are or are going, and measure my experiences against theirs, looking for a toehold up wherever i can find one.
Q was right: i am terrified of matthew. i am terrified of the fact that he will draw lines in the sand and negotiate boundaries. but i'm also? more? terrified that i will *choose* to sacrifice that artificial sense of freedom that shapes my adolescent rants, and that in accepting the relationship and mutual happiness as being of the utmost importance to me, i will bow my head to some kind of indefinable yoke, and submit to the "Joint Responsibility" at the expense of being free to do as i want. the terror comes from knowing that if i *choose* to honour those priorities, i will have no-one on which to foist the blame for my actions but myself, no one to claim the responsibility for them... but me. i cannot externalize my blame and project it elsewhere. i know; i've tried already. matthew will have none of it, and he calls me on it, every damned time.
here's the kicker: most of my friends in my age range or within a couple of years of it, already have, to a large degree, made the ostensible transition to "adulthood" (and yes, i know for a fact most of them are no happier about it than i would be, because they tell me themselves that they're no happier about it). they have day jobs, they have mortgages and car payments, and they have (many of them) kids. they have already buried their adolescence in the need to be the responsible, mature caretakers themselves. i cannot count the number of friends in this category who have told me over the years how they envy me my freedom. nor did i realize how much *i* clung to that freedom as the thing that makes me different from them, different from the societal standard. i didn't rebel from having children because i thought i would be a horrible parent, but because i didn't want to sacrifice that much of my freedom to something so completely and long-term dependant upon me. i never made the financial decisions that got me closer to owning a house because i didn't want to be tied to a mortgage or a home in one city; i didn't want to sacrifice my financial nestegg to one thing when i could use it to do more flighty things, like travel. i refuse to give up my car (in spite of the incessant car payments and the need to remain employed so i can maintain those payments), because my car, to me, is the ultimate symbol of my freedom.
my adult life has been all about clinging to those images and ideals of "freedom", including the conflicting adolescent demands for autonomy without responsibility, freedom from consequence.
i wonder how i can achieve that perceived sense of mature adult responsibility in a matter of a few weeks' time, *without* having to buy a house and get knocked up in the process?? how do i balance - or should i even be *trying* to balance?? - the remnants of that adolescent urge for utmost personal freedom, with the need to prove myself a responsible, thoughtful, self-aware and considerate-of-others'-needs adult??
there should be a handbook for this shit, and i'm trying not to resent (too much) the fact that it feels like *i'm* writing the handbook as i go.
(i am mindful of a comment thetamermaid made to me at the party last night, looking up from where she was sitting on the floor at me feet; she asked if i minded her following me around for a while, because she wanted to learn from me. she asked, "How did you learn to be so wise?", and all i could think of in answer was, "Trial and error... mostly error." it's always validating when the lessons i learn can help other people, but sometimes i'd like to *not* be the one making with the "learning experiences" and "personal growth opportunities" for once, you know?)