Thursday, March 10, 2011

To Marry or Not to Marry; That is the Question


The concept of marriage has been something I’ve questioned—okay I confess, I opposed, since as far back as I can remember . Sorry! Let me also confess, it is something that, after falling in love, I have also seriously considered, and come close to—but thankfully, did NOT ever follow through with. As a child, I remember looking around, and not knowing a single happily married couple. I knew several married couples, some for many, many years, however, none married happily. I recall adamantly telling my father, “I NEVER want to get married when I grow up. I don’t know any happily married couples” to which my father lovingly smiled and agreed. My stepmother however, replied, “You say that now. You’ll change your mind when you grow up and fall in love.” They are no longer married.

But my stepmother was right. I did grow up, and fall in love. My first love and I met when I was 15. By 20 I was engaged. However, never having celebrated any of the major milestones in my life (no Sweet 16, no prom, no H.S. graduation—I skipped it). I longed for a nice wedding, but we couldn’t afford one, and so decided to wait & save up for it. Well, while we saved, we had a baby (the most beautiful & pleasant surprise of my life), I graduated college, and then, just when we had enough money…I realized I didn’t think forever, would really be forever. What does a 15 year old know about forever? I was now a woman, with different goals, needs, and expectations, and while I evolved, he (a lot older) remained the same. We were together for 15 years. It was a beautiful time in my life. I chose an amazing father. I have absolutely no regrets—not about the relationship, or the break-up.

During the years following, I was free to be fully myself. Relationships require compromise, however sometimes, we compromise too much & no longer feel like our authentic selves. I immersed myself in the writing scene with like-minded individuals, got back into sports, and taught my daughter, as I was taught, how to be an independent woman. The ability to blossom into the me, I was meant to be, was fulfilling and an essential source of my happiness. 

After a second brief but intense relationship, where I once again found myself embracing the idea of marriage, I found myself reflecting on the entire concept. I went away on a much needed vacation, where as my body lay on the shore, allowing the tide to rise up and cool me down, I watched an older couple walking along the beach, hand in hand. I wondered, “How many years have they been together? Are they as happy together daily, as they appear right now? What sacrifices did they make for the sake of their marriage? Were they fair? Were they equal? Did the good times outweigh the bad? Given the choice, would they do it again? Was theirs a marriage of love, or convenience? Did their partner thwart, or encourage their ambitions? Did they compromise too much, or not enough? What obstacles did they overcome…are they still overcoming? Infidelity? Alcoholism? Illness?”

As they continued past me, my thoughts returned to my own situation. On the brink of getting married, I discovered some truths which averted a major mistake. I grew spiritually, emotionally and intellectually from the failure of the relationship. I realized the irrelevance of my possessions. Giving up your apartment, giving away all of your furniture and finding that you can still be happy---truly happy, will do that. My ability to laugh, hope, and enjoy life—with nothing more than clothes, books and little else, allowed me to realize my spiritual strength, resilience and fortitude. Hence, the experience was in retrospect, a positive one; the lesson extracted from it—transformative. 

I see all experiences and people, not as coincidences in our lives, but as lessons presented to us in various forms--lessons essential to our growth. One of the many I’ve learned on my journey is to “never say never,” for almost all of those things I have said never to, I’ve done! So, I will never say that I will never get married. I’m a romantic sentimentalist whose favorite quote ( or rather one of my favorites) is: “A foolish consistency is the hobglobin of little minds”—Emerson. How could I say such a thing as “never”? Conversely, I also struggle with the premise of forever in marriage, which is, in essence another form of the word “never,” as in never divorce.

We are all constantly evolving--products of our experiences, environment, people … How can we be certain about what this evolution may bring about in the future? Perhaps the future brings about the realization that the marriage is thwarting our full potential. Perhaps time reveals that that particular partner was necessary for our evolution, but only up to a point. Why fight such a truth? “Change is the only constant” (forgot where I read that). This awareness has been *epiphinal in my life, and allowed me to rid myself of the destructive habit of attachment, comfort and security. Nothing is wholly “safe”; it’s but an illusion. That being said, how does one who does not believe in never, commit to forever? For “forever” means never ending. 

Hence, I now present my own view of marriage: It is a beautiful idea. It is an idea, I am open to. However, I am open to the idea only because when faced with rational versus emotional thinking—even when knowing on a rational level that I should probably do “A”, the sentimentalist in me tends to follow my heart and choose “B.” That’s what love does though. A recent study of the brain showed that a brain in love is akin to that of a drug addict. Our ability to reason is affected—perhaps compromised. Therefore, it should be no surprise that in spite of my reservations, I may one day, many years from now, succumb to it. 

Let me add, while my ability to reason is still intact, that I think people come into our lives as lessons. When relationships fail, and we part, it may be that we have fulfilled our purpose with one another. I think it’d be beautiful to fall in love, and have forever actually be forever. And while I will embrace love, if and when it comes, marriage is not a goal, nor is it something I view as essential to my happiness. It is in fact a concept that I see as very often counterproductive to our personal goals, illogical and unrealistic in expectation, but within the flaws—beautiful, for however long it may last. 
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Using my creative license to create. The word "epiphinal" is variation of the word "epiphany" that I created. It does not exist. Use it anyway. Let's get in into the next edition of Webster.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Writing: A Means of Excavating My True Self

We all have a story—a history interesting enough to write about. I write, not because I feel mine is any more tragic, significant or extraordinary, but because writing has always been a great source of serenity for me. It’s brought solace in the midst of chaos, clarity in the midst of confusion, and hope in the midst of despair. When left with nothing, but tears and fears, I've had the meditative solace writing brings. Those tears became the water I used to poured into my most poignant pieces--stories chiseled from suffering, that made me, me. I am convinced that part of the reason for many heartaches and seemingly tragic events, is the creation of great art—be it music, poetry, visual art. Kurt Coban was convinced too: "Thank you for the tragedy. I need it for my art." Consider the following songs:

Phil Colins' “In the Air Tonight,” Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car,” Fruko y Sus Tesos’ “El Preso,” Rob Thomas’ “Lonely No More,” Lisa Stansfield’s “All Around the World,” 2Pac’s “Dear Mama.”

Or poems:

Frost’s “The Road Not Taken,” Lord Byron’s “When We Two Parted,” Miguel Algarin's "HIV," Sylvia Plath's "Daddy."

Would these--could these works have been created without sorrow? Absolutely not.
Recognizing that often, from great suffering comes great art, I also recognize that during those transformative moments, we are made, as Paulo Coelho so eloquently put it, “stronger, despite, or because of the scars.” (The Witch of Portobello).

Recently, I lost what to others may seem like a lot. I gave up my 2 bedroom apartment & all of my furniture to begin a new life with who I thought was to be my future husband. I uprooted my 13 year old, introduced a man into her life (something I vowed never to do unless I was to walk down the aisle)--& it failed. Luckily, I did not get around to selling my car. God knew I needed it to get my daughter to and from school. After leaving home at the age of 20, I found myself living back with Mom. Shock to my system I tell ya. Always independent, I began working as soon as I was legally able, 14, but I am comforted with the knowledge that this is only temporary and life will often throw us unexpected curve balls, to move us forward.

Oddly enough, I'm not bitter. Instead, I recognize that sometimes, we must lose everything to focus on that which is truly important. I was losing MYSELF. I wasn’t writing. I had subconsciously sacrificed that dream, for another—a family. Funny thing though--before he came alone, marriage was not a desire. I had resigned myself to a happy life of singledom, consisting of poetry events, softball, travel, exposing my young lady to the writing world, and HER world: dance, art--making new memories in our beloved Prospect Park; regular heart to hearts with my dear friends, over wine. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy being in a relationship. I love taking turns making beautiful dinners, eating as a family, sharing the holidays together. However, the perfectionist in me, that struggles with being the perfect wife, mother, homemaker, financially independent woman, writer, friend, felt that perfection in all areas was not possible, at least not all at the same time. I was okay with that. I made a conscious decision to focus on writing and raising my daughter. And JUST when I made up my mind, BOOM—he came along, and all of that rational thinking, went out the window. But that’s how it is with love. You surrender to it, and I did. I should have known it wasn’t going to work, when before I moved in, he asked, “Are you going to continue with your poetry events after you move in?” Ohhhhhhh inside, I was devastated that he would even ask such a thing. Ginormous red flag. Why WOULD one ask such a thing? I addressed it. We spoke, and he convinced me that he understood me, and looked forward to a new kind of relationship (I gathered the previous lacked self-esteem, or goals, or something vital to maintaining their identity).


Now, apartmentless, furnitureless, a $13 toll away from my daughter’s school, and living with my often difficult to get along with mother—I will tell you, I have no regrets. I needed this experience to reiterate that which I already knew, but suppressed—shushed with constant activity: I must write.

What a risky endeavor for an undisciplined, procrastinating, perfectionist. Nonetheless, it is such a part of who I am, that I feel it as essential to my being as eating, drinking, sleeping. I'm actually sacrificing sleep right now so that I may continue to write.

Know, that this blog is not intended to be a forum for the details of a break-up, but rather a revelation of my journey and how it’s brought me to this place of acceptance, peace, and renewed ambition. My complacency has been replaced with passion, my bitterness with pity, my disappointment with the awareness that I am bountiful in true, kind & loving friends.

I can write on forever & I intend to, but for now must say good night. Thank you friends, for being curious enough to catch a glimpse of my soul.