Category — relationships

I learned today that I have limits regarding PDAs – and now I must share it with the Intarwebs and give you something to giggle about:

I went to my local DeSerres store today for some blank cards and clear bags for the fabulous stick people creations that are going to make me tens of dollars.

Anyway, I got the cards and the bags and was waiting for the #10 bus when I saw them – the couple that helped me find the outer limits of what I can just shrug off when it comes to PDA.

He was an older guy, probably early 50′s and she was mid to late 30′s – she’s wearing black high heels, black capris with a shiny belt and a black sweater. I watched him put his hand on the small of her back. Fine – that’s sort of sweet, but then! oh, then – he slipped his hand down the back of her pants and started visibly brushing his fingers across the crack of her bum! IN PUBLIC!!

She kept walking and he kept wiggling his hand down her pants and I couldn’t stop staring – which caused a few people to look at what I was looking at and then quickly avert their eyes.  I finally lost sight of them behind a Brinks truck and that broke the spell.

If Joe ever did that to me I’d tear his arm off and beat him with it. Arm around the waist? Fine. Holding hands? Sweet. Putting your hand down the back of my pants and grabbing my ass – NOT COOL.

Have I missed something? Is exploring your honey’s bum crack the latest way to say I love you?

What do you think? Am I a shriveled up old prude? What are your limits on PDA for yourself and other people?

The signs are all there: irrationally crabby, moody, easily annoyed and withdrawn.

I need a vacation.

My first thought upon realizing this was “A vacation from what exactly?”

Let’s face it, I have a pretty sweet life. I have a fantastic (and cute!) fiance who has been extremely supportive and encouraging in my quest to run my own business and do what I like for a living. He is my best-friend. We live in a nice apartment, we have lots of books and toys to amuse ourselves with and we eat like kings most nights.

But, amidst all this happy “we”, a canker is blossoming.

I need time alone. I need to get away from our nice apartment, away from my best-friend, away from our toys and routines. I need to regain my sense of space and self. I want to come home with a sense of eagerness and come back to our life with the ability and renewed desire to participate in it fully.

I felt guilty for wanting it, for needing it – I questioned myself about it endlessly. Do I love Joe less if I need to be alone? Does this mean that I’m a selfish person? Does my need to sprawl out across the whole bed without running into anyone supersede my responsibilities to our relationship?

The answer to all those things is no.

I discussed everything with Joe and I should have known that this would be his response: “You should go – a couple of days of doing nothing by yourself will be good for you.”

Rilke said it best:

“I consider the following to be the highest task in the relation between two people: for one to stand guard over the other’s solitude. If the essential nature of both indifference and the crowd consists  in the nonrecognition of solitude, then love and friendship exist in order to continually furnish new opportunities for solitude.”

My thoughts about love and relationships have changed drastically over the past two years. Yet, there is still this nagging voice in my head (the product of too many romantic films and novels) that needing to get away, alone, from your regular life for a few days was disaster in the making. That real love means merging together as one person forever and ever, it means being a mirror for the other, it means bringing them into your fully-realized world where you entertain them with endless delights and teach them how to live within you.

Now I understand fully that those perceptions are all garbage.

I don’t want to submerge myself in someone else’s personality (nor do I want them submerged in mine). I cannot be anyone’s mirror. I refuse to let some half-finished, disorderly mess of a person come and live in the internal world I’m still building for myself because they find it easier than building their own world.

I find myself agreeing with Rilke again:

“[Young people] (who by their very nature are impatient) fling themselves at each other when love takes hold of them, they scatter themselves, just as they are, in all their messiness, disorder, bewilderment…:And what can happen then? What can life do with this heap of half-broken things that they call their communion and that they would like to call their happiness, if that were possible, and their future?

And so each of them loses himself for the sake of the other person, and loses the other, and many others who still wanted to come. And loses the vast distances and possibilities…No area of human experience is so extensively provided with conventions as this one is: there are life-preservers of the most varied invention…society has been able to create refuges of every sort, for since it preferred to take love-life as an amusement, it also had to give it and easy form, cheap, safe, and sure, as public amusements are.”

Before now I had simply withdrawn deeper into myself to come to the solitude I need to be happy. Now I know that Joe and I can create space for the other to live in and leave out all the guilt that is supposed to be associated with needing that space.

So I booked my two day/two night trip to Victoria, BC (I got an amazing deal with Pacific Coach Lines) and that’s that.

Two days of keeping my own counsel and focusing on my own inner needs will go a long way to regaining and preserving my happiness!

Before I even begin the post I need to state this plainly: I did not write this to garner pity or condolences. I’m writing because I’m curious about my own thoughts and about yours.

To be blunt, my Grandad is dying. He knows this, the DNR is signed and he’s in a good frame of mind all things considered.

When I first found out, my immediate and emotional response was to get myself on a plane to Ontario and go see him and the rest of the family. I can’t change the inevitable, but I hoped I could maybe do something useful (pretty nebulous thought really) and more selfishly there is a part of me that thought, “If I don’t see him now, I’ll feel horribly guilty later.”

Apparently some relatives of my Grandad’s in the U.K. had the same idea and wanted to fly here to see him. My Grandad was not at all happy about this and said no.

For my grandparents (and probably most people),  visitors create an obligation to entertain – to be civil, polite, cheerful and, well, entertaining. When these same visitors are there because you’re ill (and especially if you’re terminally ill) it creates the additional obligation of being kind, reassuring and soothing to alleviate any possible guilt your guests might feel about your illness or death.

And that last part is what bothers me now: how did something as personal as death become more about the people left behind and less about the person facing their own death?

How is my need to feel OK after he’s gone more important than his need now to spend whatever time remains to him with his wife of 60 years?

I’ve decided it isn’t.

Visitors are trying when you’re sick. They see you at your worst – weak, tired, loopy on pain medication, or just in pain and cranky. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be dying, but I can imagine the annoyance of having people seeking comfort and some kind of absolution from me when all I want to do is sleep or maybe just daydream a bit.

I have no aversion to his being ill or even seeing him sick – he’s always going to be Grandad to me. My love, respect and regard for him will never change. However, whether or not I have an aversion to seeing him now, he has asked for space and quiet; denying him that and forcing him to endure a visit that will tire him so I can feel better would be extremely disrespectful.

So, I’m staying in Vancouver until I get that final phone call. I saw him last November when he was still reasonably well and we got to hang out, talk, poke fun at stuff and share a nice meal together.

I get updates from Mum about them and she’ll let me know the days they might be up for a brief phone call just to say hello and share a little news – otherwise that’s all.

It still makes me feel utterly useless, but all I can offer is whatever they ask for.

What are your thoughts?