A blog intensifying the flavor of life and toasting those who share in the feast, rather than settling for a dry, plain, melba toast existence.

Friday, September 13, 2013

old enough to know better

With age comes wisdom . . . in theory. In reality, I often just find myself repeating the same situation, always hoping for a different outcome--a definition of insanity. Where I continue to fall short is in holding onto this hope, that comes from some unknown place since I am definitely NOT an optimist, and continues to get me to believe that something good will happen. Let go of the outcome, I've been told, and do not have expectations about anything. How does one live without ANY expectations?

Do we not all expect to make it through the day? Do we not expect that our spouse and children will come back home at the end of the day and we can regroup and start over tomorrow? Do we not expect that our jobs will be there when we walk through the door? Do we not ALL have some basic expectations in this life? To say we are not to expect anything sounds very Zen, but the idea that I'm going to be able to pull this off in the midst of an emotional crisis is expecting too much.

Emotions surface when special events are made known. This is when I go into my default mode resembling an adolescent girl and I wonder who wants to be my friend and invite me to the party. I would like to think I'm not alone in this thought process but do not find many willing to admit their fears of being left out. No one wants to think he or she will be left off the list. Maybe to say it out loud will somehow jinx it. No one wants to be on the outside looking in, overhearing others talking about how much fun the party will be or how awesome it was.

And yet, after all of these years of living, I find myself retracing my steps and taking that very familiar path. I am somehow shocked that it is again happening to me. You would think I would learn, but I don't. Sometimes I wonder just how many times I can recover from a broken heart.

"Friend" is one of the most difficult words for me to define. "A person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection . . ." is the way one definition begins. It is the "mutual" part that trips me up. How does one know whether or not the other person feels the same way? Isn't that demonstrated by actually sending the invitation with the expectation the recipient will accept it?

Too many memories of these failed attempts at "mutual affection" clutter my thoughts. I think of being asked to come to a party--in order to be a servant, not a guest. I remember coming to offer a tribute to the guest of honor and being told that tributes were offered earlier at another party--the one I was not invited to. And then there is the, "See you at the party" comment followed by me swallowing hard and trying not to let the tears spill out of my eyes as I am confronted with the fact that I will not be seeing that person at the party because I am not even supposed to know there is a party. I am, in fact, supposed to pretend there is no party so that the next time I see the host of the party, I will bear that person no ill will, especially if that person is my "friend." It becomes my burden to deceive the person into thinking all is well when it is not, at least for me.

So what are my choices? If invited, I can go and enjoy the mutual affection of those I consider friends, and laugh, celebrate, dance and savor the moments of shared joy. If not invited, I can once again try to gather together all of the pieces of my heart and begin another long recovery especially reserved for those of us who are sensitive enough to truly love and to risk doing so in the midst of almost certain failure. What can anyone say to alleviate the pain? It is what it is. And it hurts like hell.




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