“Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”
- Dr. Seuss
I bought myself flowers today, and it was a far more satisfying act of self-care than I would have anticipated. I’m not big on flowers, and I’ve rarely had fresh flowers in my living space. My mom never liked flowers either, so I think I just never got the appeal from not often having them in my home growing up.
When I lost my dog, some very close friends sent me some sympathy flowers, and they were beautiful. They made me think of their love for me during a hard time, and I found myself regularly appreciating them.
So, having a slow morning, I went for a coffee that happened to be next door to a flower shop. Next thing you know, I’m in there asking for a simple, bright colored bouquet to put in a vase at home.
They are just lovely.
I took them home, and as I was getting ready to plop them in the vase, but as I unwrapped the bouquet I noticed the most beautiful piece of string tied around the base, holding it all together.
A pretty string, tied too taught to un-knot, needing scissors to cut. I lamented at the destruction I’d have to bring upon this delicate, simple, pretty piece of string.
I sliced it open and it fell onto my counter, and I looked upon it conflictedly, should I hold on to this string?
Why do I need to hold onto things I take a liking to? Why do I have to hold on to this string, possess it further, what would I possibly use it for? A broken loop, two misplaced lengths knotted together too tightly. Just appreciate this pretty little string for what it is and toss it in the wastebin accordingly!
Losing a dog is a hard thing to process outwardly, I know – I’ve talked about this incessantly over the past month so I guess I’m not having that much trouble with it, right? But the point stands.
Having a sibling with special needs is similar, in that the trauma comes with guilt – it’s hard as the one who’s less-affected to recognize that it is okay to say “that shit was tough” or, “this continues to be a challenge”. You risk the chance that someone who cannot wholly relate might scoff at the emotion, in a lack of understanding, and perceive you as selfish or ill-willed.
These things in life that are hard to get until you get them – like most things that come up amidst the chaotic nuance of the human experience, I would imagine. Where’s the gap in our understanding? What keeps us from taking a second to ponder the experience, and choose empathy? What keeps someone on the other end from expecting that their experience would be perceived with that empathy? What’s with the paranoia of judgement?
I think a lot of the noise that creates that void is generated around our collective inability to just appreciate the pretty little strings, the moment we inhabit for just the moment. It will pass, and all we’ll have afterwards is the recollection of whether or not we held our truth, honored our reality. There are so many things that tell us not to, and I’m wondering today why we listen to them, attach to them, try to control them, as much as we all tend to do. Trust me, myself included.
My therapist asked me this question the other day;
What does it look like for you to receive love?
I responded, “I have no idea”. I don’t know what felt love is supposed to feel like, although I haven’t had any lacking of it channeled my way throughout my lifetime. My parents love me in their ways, unconditionally. My brother loves me in his way. My dog loved me purely. My friends love me – as it fits within their lives. My exes loved me to extents, but I never returned it equally and never felt it wholly.
What does it look like for you to receive love?
The need to have, latch onto, to possess these pretty little strings of life instead of processing, appreciating, and letting them go, has shown up in my life and is likely related to this concept of anxious attachment that I’m trying to work on.
I’m an anxious-avoidant, and I’ve found I require reassurance of the strength-in-connectivity within a relationship, or I fill that void of not knowing with reasons why I’ll be abandoned – and they are always rooted inward – it’s always my fault. My heart swings in pendulum between the fear of abandonment and a strong desire for intimacy, which I’m told is rooted to my childhood trauma. As all things are I guess. But in the fatigue of those pendulum swings, I vacate premises and avoid connection entirely because that intimacy becomes terrifying; I get overwhelmed by the volatility of my own perception of the relationship, while also desperate for a sense of independence.
It's exhausting, and very likely why I’m still single. But in this journey I’ve learned a lot more about myself, and what I’m looking for, as well as what I sincerely need to work on.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to receive someone else’s love, but it’s never been someone I’ve found myself mutually excited about. Tragically, the only people I’ve ever actually been excited about, didn’t feel the same way about me.
Enough about my desolate dating life though, this is about pretty strings and appreciating the little things. Like buying yourself flowers, and appreciating them wholly, down to the string that binds them together in transit back to your vase at home. Accepting that they will wilt away in time, as everything fades. Love, laughter, life. Our choice is whether to lament on the loss of moments passed, or practice gratitude for retaining their memory in our minds and hearts.
Everything fades.
Pain, discomfort, grief, fear, all included. They all fade, and all we have in the next moment is the knowing that we either faced it head on, or turned away.
My intention this week is to face things more head on, to stay true to the reality of my perception, because it’s all a fantasy anyways 😉
Thanks for being here. Love.