When I give, I give 100%.
Not that I'm perfect or anything (far from it, as you've seen from the content of this blog). When it comes to my relationship or my family (or even my relationship with myself), I tend to think I can do it all, I can be perfect, and I preach about how to "be". That never goes down well and backfires and I usually laugh at myself whilst swimming around in the abyss of ridiculousness and complication that I stirred up. Martyr, me? Nah. *wink*
However, oddly enough, when I give to friends, I do what I preach.
If I talk about extending a hand or a hello, I act on what I say.
If I say I'll come over, I'll come over.
If I haven't seen someone in a super long time, I'll make sure I try and see them as often as possible when I can.
If I say I'll do "x, y, z" for them or call them if I haven't seen them in a while, no matter how chaotic my life is, I'll call.
If I don't have much to give, then I'll be honest in the blink of an eye and email/call/text "Hey, I'm busted. I'll give you a shout soon. Thinking of you."
Do I expect a constant barrage of "hey, how's it going"s? Not at all. But there's a balance, and only the friendship can figure out within itself what balance works. But you start up again right where you left off, normally, and that's because there's been some contact here and there.
I can count on one hand how many close friends I have that I can trust to give back as much as I give to them. Most of them are men, to be honest. I don't expect it, but a friendship is a two-way street, and it's nice to receive the love. I can give as much as someone needs, but there has to be a point where that other person says "hang on a minute... what's my contribution to this relationship?"
I'm at an age where I'm really tired of pursuing friendships that give nothing back. I'm tired of sounding righteous in my quest to find that friend that gives me time, just like I give them time no matter that I have two kids and a full-time job. It can be upsetting and disappointing. Everyone told me "oh, it all changes when you have kids... you can't find the time, it's hard to manage..".
Bull. There's always time to write a 2-second note to someone to put a smile on their face. Yes, having kids DOES change things. It makes you realise who your true friends really are. And if there's nothing really there, then no sense in wasting time trying to make it work.
Like I said, I'm not perfect in any way, and probably too honest, too pragmatic and too sarcastic to have very many close friends. Maybe I'm a bit weird. Maybe I'm too loud. It's possible I probably give too much, and it makes people retreat a bit. But reaching out is the one quality that I have that's 99% consistent. And after a while, it gets pretty old when there's radio silence on the other end.
Thank you for listening. Please excuse the vitriol, but I think it's a long time coming.
Saturday 12 November 2011
Sunday 6 November 2011
Habits and confessions of a perfectionist.
You would think that after being married to a Brit, living in London... that I would learn.
But I don't.
I'm a talker. I'm a very emotional, mushy, lets-talk-about-our-feelings kind of person. Always have been. He calls it "too much love". It's in my DNA. I was raised in a touchy-feely house, I was allowed to express my emotions, whatever they were, and it turned me into a person that is an open book. My face says it all. If I'm upset, if I'm sad, if I'm happy, if I'm lying. My eyes read like chapters, my face is the binding.
I don't have many friends here that I'm close to. I have 1, in fact. I have another close friend in the states that I talk to on an almost-daily basis on email, which is lovely- she and I share our lives together and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I talk to my other half.
Poor guy is sometimes bombarded with "oh, I don't know... what if.."s and "I feel a bit cloudy and weepy and clingy and I have PMS"s. I cry from nostalgia about the kids growing up, or about my separation anxiety going back to work. I can spin a bit in my weepiness. It drives him in loops and frustrating circles, because he's not a listener (even though he does listen), a lot of times, he'd rather be a do-er. He wants to help me. To solve the problem and scratch the itch. I've heard most men are, but Brits are much more pragmatic, from my experience. Brits (both men and women) don't talk to each other about their lives/problems/feelings very often in detail. The men put their heads down and keep going, and the women pretend their lives are very organised, sex lives raunchy and kids perfect. They want to get it done and get on with it. Keep Calm and Carry On. That motto courses through their veins.
If I'm being honest, that quality is one of the reasons why I'm in love with my guy.
That being said, I can't reign it in sometimes, and if I don't manage to talk in little bits here and there, once a month it all comes out like a giant volcano, and it can get fiery, and it can get heated, and it can end up with me in tears for absolutely no reason whatsoever other than just plain frustration and defeat.
Habits need to be broken, considering I'm in my 30s and should know better. I've said this many times. But it's the one habit that I can't seem to manage very well. If I'm eating well and not so tired and taking my vitamins, then I'm fine. But caffeine, exhaustion from my 2 babies and a sparse diet can take its toll on me. I point the finger at other women and think "See? they have it together. They get it all done with a smile on their face and skip in their step, what's wrong with me? Why am I so rubbish at that? Why can't I just let go and relax for a minute?" But they're probably saying the same thing about the woman next to them.
I'm still learning. I still feel like a kid in my head who's scared of the world sometimes and that people won't like her. And then alternately like this organised, happy, capable woman that is married to her dream guy and has 2 amazingly clever kids.
Maybe this will never change, and I'll always be a bit of a contradictory, eccentric nutcase. I just have to figure out how to dust myself off a bit quicker and look at the brighter bits.
But I don't.
I'm a talker. I'm a very emotional, mushy, lets-talk-about-our-feelings kind of person. Always have been. He calls it "too much love". It's in my DNA. I was raised in a touchy-feely house, I was allowed to express my emotions, whatever they were, and it turned me into a person that is an open book. My face says it all. If I'm upset, if I'm sad, if I'm happy, if I'm lying. My eyes read like chapters, my face is the binding.
I don't have many friends here that I'm close to. I have 1, in fact. I have another close friend in the states that I talk to on an almost-daily basis on email, which is lovely- she and I share our lives together and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I talk to my other half.
Poor guy is sometimes bombarded with "oh, I don't know... what if.."s and "I feel a bit cloudy and weepy and clingy and I have PMS"s. I cry from nostalgia about the kids growing up, or about my separation anxiety going back to work. I can spin a bit in my weepiness. It drives him in loops and frustrating circles, because he's not a listener (even though he does listen), a lot of times, he'd rather be a do-er. He wants to help me. To solve the problem and scratch the itch. I've heard most men are, but Brits are much more pragmatic, from my experience. Brits (both men and women) don't talk to each other about their lives/problems/feelings very often in detail. The men put their heads down and keep going, and the women pretend their lives are very organised, sex lives raunchy and kids perfect. They want to get it done and get on with it. Keep Calm and Carry On. That motto courses through their veins.
If I'm being honest, that quality is one of the reasons why I'm in love with my guy.
That being said, I can't reign it in sometimes, and if I don't manage to talk in little bits here and there, once a month it all comes out like a giant volcano, and it can get fiery, and it can get heated, and it can end up with me in tears for absolutely no reason whatsoever other than just plain frustration and defeat.
Habits need to be broken, considering I'm in my 30s and should know better. I've said this many times. But it's the one habit that I can't seem to manage very well. If I'm eating well and not so tired and taking my vitamins, then I'm fine. But caffeine, exhaustion from my 2 babies and a sparse diet can take its toll on me. I point the finger at other women and think "See? they have it together. They get it all done with a smile on their face and skip in their step, what's wrong with me? Why am I so rubbish at that? Why can't I just let go and relax for a minute?" But they're probably saying the same thing about the woman next to them.
I'm still learning. I still feel like a kid in my head who's scared of the world sometimes and that people won't like her. And then alternately like this organised, happy, capable woman that is married to her dream guy and has 2 amazingly clever kids.
Maybe this will never change, and I'll always be a bit of a contradictory, eccentric nutcase. I just have to figure out how to dust myself off a bit quicker and look at the brighter bits.
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