Annals of Things for Which I Am Thankful
I watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind with human_loser on Sunday.
The film left me contemplating how we fight with those we love. I grew up in a fighting household. Some of my earliest memories are of my parents screaming at each other, of my mother storming into my room, because that was the only place she figured my dad wouldn't follow her in order to keep the fight going, of imprecations and crockery flying through emotionally charged air.
For all my chequered romantic history, I haven't had many fights with lovers. Arguments, yes. Intense discussions, certainly. Multi-day tearful negotiations, not infrequently. But never the kind of fight that degenerates into imprecations or hurtful things being said simply to cause pain, to make the other person cry.
Sometimes people have been hurt nonetheless. I don't think it's possible to never hurt the people you love, though it's important to try to avoid hurthing people. Sometimes it hurts to hear truths about oneself, or to face the fact that one's behaved badly. Sometimes one's own needs come into conflict with one's lovers' needs or desires. Lots of times one can give hurt without meaning to, and one can be hurt despite anyone's best intentions.
But even my first boyfriend, whose insecurity management techniques ran to never doing any activity at which I might be better, and undermining my sense of self and accomplishment never looked for ways to hurt me. Even The Emotional Sucking Chest Wound for whom the guilt trip was a preferred courtship technique never cast aspersions or said horrid hurtful things just for the sake of hurting. Even my ex-husband who tried to suck me into the dysfunctional co-dependant relationship between his mother and himself, and who refused to sign the divorce papers, because the marriage, with me miserable and trapped, was more important to him than I was, never called names or used my inability to get into graduate school against me.
Maybe they were more subtle than that. But I prefer to think that for all the unwise choices I made, for all my mistakes, for all the worlds of hurt, I've been fortunate (and perhaps even wise) enough to find friends, lovers, and involvements who drew the line at causing deliberate and malicious hurt.
And I think that's something to be thankful for.
The film left me contemplating how we fight with those we love. I grew up in a fighting household. Some of my earliest memories are of my parents screaming at each other, of my mother storming into my room, because that was the only place she figured my dad wouldn't follow her in order to keep the fight going, of imprecations and crockery flying through emotionally charged air.
For all my chequered romantic history, I haven't had many fights with lovers. Arguments, yes. Intense discussions, certainly. Multi-day tearful negotiations, not infrequently. But never the kind of fight that degenerates into imprecations or hurtful things being said simply to cause pain, to make the other person cry.
Sometimes people have been hurt nonetheless. I don't think it's possible to never hurt the people you love, though it's important to try to avoid hurthing people. Sometimes it hurts to hear truths about oneself, or to face the fact that one's behaved badly. Sometimes one's own needs come into conflict with one's lovers' needs or desires. Lots of times one can give hurt without meaning to, and one can be hurt despite anyone's best intentions.
But even my first boyfriend, whose insecurity management techniques ran to never doing any activity at which I might be better, and undermining my sense of self and accomplishment never looked for ways to hurt me. Even The Emotional Sucking Chest Wound for whom the guilt trip was a preferred courtship technique never cast aspersions or said horrid hurtful things just for the sake of hurting. Even my ex-husband who tried to suck me into the dysfunctional co-dependant relationship between his mother and himself, and who refused to sign the divorce papers, because the marriage, with me miserable and trapped, was more important to him than I was, never called names or used my inability to get into graduate school against me.
Maybe they were more subtle than that. But I prefer to think that for all the unwise choices I made, for all my mistakes, for all the worlds of hurt, I've been fortunate (and perhaps even wise) enough to find friends, lovers, and involvements who drew the line at causing deliberate and malicious hurt.
And I think that's something to be thankful for.