Merry Christmas.
I wish I could say I feel merry and that I am anxious for Christmas, but that would be an outright lie.
The holidays -- and all other significant days (hey, aren't they all significant?) -- seem to lose all luster and all meaning when the one you love is gone from your life. Instead, holidays become just another day one must endure on his or her way to the final day, the final hour, the final minute. There is no good reason to give Christmas or any other day any special weight or significance because it just is another 24 hours to fill with useless and meaningless activity meant only to eat up what little time you have left on this earth.
After all, Christmas is just an arbitrary day, a date chosen long ago to be the one day to celebrate the birth of the Savior. But really, shouldn't we celebrate His birth, His sacrifice, His example, His life every day? It seems rather silly of us to act as if Christmas is the only day to really celebrate the greatest sacrifice ever made.
But while the rest of the planet finds extra joy and additional happiness on Dec. 25, for some of us it is just another day to endure, to survive, to get through. We may do that in the company of family or friends or we may do that alone, with only our thoughts and sorrow for company. We simply can't find that extra joy or even regular happiness in a world devoid of the one we love. Oh, we may force a smile, pretend to be merry, even drink a little more than we should in the hope the alcohol will numb the numbness or that it will melt the iceberg that has taken up residence in our hearts. But nothing works, nothing can fill that which only can be filled by the presence of one person, the one we love with all of our hearts. Everything else is simply the square peg in the round hole. A nice idea, but it simply does not work.
In fact, these holidays sometimes are harder than any other day because that person is absent. We can handle their absence better on those days when everyone else is going through their daily motions and living out their equally meager existences. It is worse, however, on a day when the rest of the world seems to be filled with joy, with happiness and is surrounded by all the people they love, most especially the one they love the best. And we have to watch them and see, in them, what once was but now is not; to be reminded again of who and what is missing from our lives and how empty and meaningless those lives are without the love we had with them.
So, please, have a Merry Christmas. Just remember that for some, it is neither merry nor worth celebrating.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
GRIEVING THE LOSS
The death of a relationship is a lot like a death. You grieve it, miss it, long for it, cry about it, get angry over it's loss, come to grips with it and finally come to accept it, even though the loss and the ache will never go away.
There are some differences, however. For one, most people won't even know you had a relationship, let alone that is it over, so many will not understand why you are edgy, cranky, aloof and generally not yourself. Secondly, some people will not accept that men can or will grieve the loss of a relationship since this is territory most often reserved for women.
Men, we are told by movies, television, books, etc., from a young age, just love 'em and leave 'em and move on to the next one without a moment's remorse. I guess I didn't drink that Kool Aid because I have never done any of those things. All my life has been a search for that one true love, that singular relationship, that soulmate, that collaborator, that muse, that best friend, that one person for whom I was created. I have far too much respect for women to treat them as one-night stands or to lead anyone on, at least not on purpose. I'll admit, in my naive youth, I missed a lot of signals and hurt the feelings of a young woman or two, but never with any ill intent. And I felt badly that I hurt them unintentionally.
The other exception to the normal rules of grieving is that the other person in this lost relationship still lives. She's still out there, breathing, living and going on with her life too, albeit maybe with less loss and less anguish than what you are suffering since, afterall, we are assuming she ended it and not you.
That creates some issues for those grieving. Do you live on in the hope one day she will realize what she lost and return to you? Do you live out the rest of your life as if trying to prove to her what a prize she missed out on? Do you try to reconnect with her, or do you just let her go? Do you stay near her in the hope she might see you again or do you move as far away as possible so that you never are reminded of that pain and loss?
And what, if you stay, do you do if chance brings you back together again, say, in a public place? Do you act as if you don't care, even when it is eating you alive inside? Or do you let her see how hurt, how lost, how empty your life is without her?
And does any of that really matter at all?
Because, after all, she ended this. Don't you think she probably did so because she wanted it over, that she really doesn't want a relationship with you? Don't you think all she wants is for you to go away, to disappear into the background of her life forever and ever? Don't you think that last thing she wants is to run into you?
This assumes, of course, that this woman actually did care for you at one time and may still want to remain friends with you. All bets are off if she, however, is one of those people who draws pleasure from torturing former lovers and cats, not necessarily in that order. Then you are risking more than just your heart and self-esteem when you tangle again with her.
If, however, she really did care at one time, she clearly does not feel that way anymore or the two of you would still be together. So you had best just get on with the grieving. Once the tears have dried and the acceptance begins to sink in, pick your heart up, put it back on your sleeve and step back out into the world.
Look again for love. It is out there, somewhere, waiting for you, looking for you. If it happens that the love looking for you is her, then time will bring her back to you. If not, then search on and never give up until love finds you.
All the same, realize it gets harder and harder to step back out there, to risk it all for love, with each loss, with each rejection. But it is worth the risk, even if you never do get to win.
There are some differences, however. For one, most people won't even know you had a relationship, let alone that is it over, so many will not understand why you are edgy, cranky, aloof and generally not yourself. Secondly, some people will not accept that men can or will grieve the loss of a relationship since this is territory most often reserved for women.
Men, we are told by movies, television, books, etc., from a young age, just love 'em and leave 'em and move on to the next one without a moment's remorse. I guess I didn't drink that Kool Aid because I have never done any of those things. All my life has been a search for that one true love, that singular relationship, that soulmate, that collaborator, that muse, that best friend, that one person for whom I was created. I have far too much respect for women to treat them as one-night stands or to lead anyone on, at least not on purpose. I'll admit, in my naive youth, I missed a lot of signals and hurt the feelings of a young woman or two, but never with any ill intent. And I felt badly that I hurt them unintentionally.
The other exception to the normal rules of grieving is that the other person in this lost relationship still lives. She's still out there, breathing, living and going on with her life too, albeit maybe with less loss and less anguish than what you are suffering since, afterall, we are assuming she ended it and not you.
That creates some issues for those grieving. Do you live on in the hope one day she will realize what she lost and return to you? Do you live out the rest of your life as if trying to prove to her what a prize she missed out on? Do you try to reconnect with her, or do you just let her go? Do you stay near her in the hope she might see you again or do you move as far away as possible so that you never are reminded of that pain and loss?
And what, if you stay, do you do if chance brings you back together again, say, in a public place? Do you act as if you don't care, even when it is eating you alive inside? Or do you let her see how hurt, how lost, how empty your life is without her?
And does any of that really matter at all?
Because, after all, she ended this. Don't you think she probably did so because she wanted it over, that she really doesn't want a relationship with you? Don't you think all she wants is for you to go away, to disappear into the background of her life forever and ever? Don't you think that last thing she wants is to run into you?
This assumes, of course, that this woman actually did care for you at one time and may still want to remain friends with you. All bets are off if she, however, is one of those people who draws pleasure from torturing former lovers and cats, not necessarily in that order. Then you are risking more than just your heart and self-esteem when you tangle again with her.
If, however, she really did care at one time, she clearly does not feel that way anymore or the two of you would still be together. So you had best just get on with the grieving. Once the tears have dried and the acceptance begins to sink in, pick your heart up, put it back on your sleeve and step back out into the world.
Look again for love. It is out there, somewhere, waiting for you, looking for you. If it happens that the love looking for you is her, then time will bring her back to you. If not, then search on and never give up until love finds you.
All the same, realize it gets harder and harder to step back out there, to risk it all for love, with each loss, with each rejection. But it is worth the risk, even if you never do get to win.
Monday, December 5, 2011
CONVENTION VS. UNCONVENTIONAL
I've always flirted with the unconventional, while still being a bit conventional.
I know that sounds contradictory, but then, again, I am an avowed contrarian.
Still, let me explain. Throughout my life, there has always been a part of me that swerves well outside the mainstream, into the odd and unusual. So while much of my life is quite conventional, there is that part that defies convention and prefers something different.
Growing up, for instance, I was a huge football fan. I devoured everything I could read on the subject. Then I saw my first Canadian Football League game and was hooked. Here was something unconventional, unusual and it fit me just fine. I read about it, studied the game and the players and even subscribed to magazines and newspapers devoted to the game.
I lost interest in that once I reached college, so music took its place. I listened to what was popular, but then I joined the staff of the college radio station. The station, at one point, was ditching piles of records of unknown and unheralded artists. I took many home, found music I loved, and listened to these people often. Of course, no one else had heard of them or cared, so the music was my effort at being unconventional. I still enjoy finding the new and unusual in music and prefer it over what is popular.
When I was younger, and had just learned to drive, I fell for un-American car racing -- LeMans, Formula 1, Can-Am, rallying -- anything that wasn't limited to left-hand turns for lap upon lap. No one I knew shared this passion and while it waned for several decades, it returned when cable television started airing the Speed channel, back when European rallying and Formula 1 were among its regular programs and which still shows the 24 hours of LeMans from start to finish.
I was into distance running before it got big and stayed with it until health issues forced me to stop. I still remain a fan who can watch a marathon or track meet on television without a moment's remorse or guilt. Then I got into cycling, another European sport for which I have a deep and abiding passion. If I talk to people about it, they get this puzzled look on their faces since, after all, they stopped riding a bicycle in their teens and can see no reason to return to human-powered travel, except possibly if they are camping. And then only if they have to. To admit that, on Saturday, I logged nearly 30 miles in the rain and cold, simply draws looks of disbelief and an effort to get away from the crazy man.
I read whatever books and magazines interest me, which also draws me into the unconventional. For I am an incurable romantic, who still believes in the power and beauty of real love and is convinced that, in time, it will return for me, regardless of how long that may take.
While this may paint a picture of someone hiding an unconventional streak, I believe I am not alone in this. Though I have yet to meet another, I believe there are others out there who find their passions in areas the rest of their small world does not recognize or respect. Like me, they, too, long to find someone with which to share at least some of these passions, while recognizing that no person will, or should, match them passion-for-passion. Instead, we recognize and appreciate the differences in people and know our passions may ignite interest in another just as their passions may well inspire us to look further at something we previously had not considered.
Life does not have to be an all-or-none proposition. You can be conventional in part of your life, unconventional in the rest. You truly can be of two minds, one that enjoys what everyone else does and the other which strives to find that which no one else around you has ever experienced before.
Don't bow to convention. And don't limit yourself to an unconventional life. Be both. For as much and as often as you like.
I know that sounds contradictory, but then, again, I am an avowed contrarian.
Still, let me explain. Throughout my life, there has always been a part of me that swerves well outside the mainstream, into the odd and unusual. So while much of my life is quite conventional, there is that part that defies convention and prefers something different.
Growing up, for instance, I was a huge football fan. I devoured everything I could read on the subject. Then I saw my first Canadian Football League game and was hooked. Here was something unconventional, unusual and it fit me just fine. I read about it, studied the game and the players and even subscribed to magazines and newspapers devoted to the game.
I lost interest in that once I reached college, so music took its place. I listened to what was popular, but then I joined the staff of the college radio station. The station, at one point, was ditching piles of records of unknown and unheralded artists. I took many home, found music I loved, and listened to these people often. Of course, no one else had heard of them or cared, so the music was my effort at being unconventional. I still enjoy finding the new and unusual in music and prefer it over what is popular.
When I was younger, and had just learned to drive, I fell for un-American car racing -- LeMans, Formula 1, Can-Am, rallying -- anything that wasn't limited to left-hand turns for lap upon lap. No one I knew shared this passion and while it waned for several decades, it returned when cable television started airing the Speed channel, back when European rallying and Formula 1 were among its regular programs and which still shows the 24 hours of LeMans from start to finish.
I was into distance running before it got big and stayed with it until health issues forced me to stop. I still remain a fan who can watch a marathon or track meet on television without a moment's remorse or guilt. Then I got into cycling, another European sport for which I have a deep and abiding passion. If I talk to people about it, they get this puzzled look on their faces since, after all, they stopped riding a bicycle in their teens and can see no reason to return to human-powered travel, except possibly if they are camping. And then only if they have to. To admit that, on Saturday, I logged nearly 30 miles in the rain and cold, simply draws looks of disbelief and an effort to get away from the crazy man.
I read whatever books and magazines interest me, which also draws me into the unconventional. For I am an incurable romantic, who still believes in the power and beauty of real love and is convinced that, in time, it will return for me, regardless of how long that may take.
While this may paint a picture of someone hiding an unconventional streak, I believe I am not alone in this. Though I have yet to meet another, I believe there are others out there who find their passions in areas the rest of their small world does not recognize or respect. Like me, they, too, long to find someone with which to share at least some of these passions, while recognizing that no person will, or should, match them passion-for-passion. Instead, we recognize and appreciate the differences in people and know our passions may ignite interest in another just as their passions may well inspire us to look further at something we previously had not considered.
Life does not have to be an all-or-none proposition. You can be conventional in part of your life, unconventional in the rest. You truly can be of two minds, one that enjoys what everyone else does and the other which strives to find that which no one else around you has ever experienced before.
Don't bow to convention. And don't limit yourself to an unconventional life. Be both. For as much and as often as you like.
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