Sliding doors

As I was driving home from my boyfriend's place tonight, I got to thinking how much my life feels a bit like the movie "Sliding Doors" the last two months....except instead of seeing two alternate realities of life based on choices made or not made, my alternate realities exist because of life circumstances that happened within close proximity to another. One amazing door opened shortly before another heartbreaking, tragic door closed.

I met my future boyfriend on October 23, 2012 and the best most loving friend I've ever had in my 35 years on this planet died November 19, 2012. As you may imagine, this turned my world completely upside down. I thought, "What the hell, universe? How could you open such an exciting door of possibility at the same time you took away the one person who often knew me and loved me better than I knew and loved myself?" This made absolutely no sense and totally fucked with my head, more so my heart. I felt angry. I felt confused. I felt guilty for focusing so much on this new man in my life and more so for being happy in his presence when I *should* have been in mourning 24/7 after Rajiv's death (or so that critical side of me told myself).

Two months later and it still feels weird, though I'm not going through extreme emotions anymore. Now I just find myself thinking of my life experiences and memories in terms of two significant time periods: "Before Dragos" and "After Rajiv." In order to understand the significance of these time periods, I must explain why I see my life via these 'sliding doors.'

Door #1, "Before Dragos" (there was Rajiv)

Anyone who knows me well knows that I have relationship issues (or lack thereof would be more apropos). One would think that most 35 year old women have had a plethora of significant other relationships, including even being married by that age. Not me.There have been men I briefly dated, exciting crushes that fizzled out/went nowhere, and developing feelings for male friends. All of them had two things in common: emotional unavailability and no prospect for long term potential.

Though I met my best friend Rajiv a year or two prior to approaching my 30's, he knew my terrible romantic history all too well. Not only did he know my history well, he had this almost magical power of predicting my romantic future (for good or bad) when I'd give him a snapshot of my experiences with a particular guy I was feeling unsure about at the time during our six and a half years of friendship. He was almost always right, my magic 8 ball best friend. "Outlook not so good." "Most likely." "Don't count on it."

While I usually felt clueless when it came to men romantically, Rajiv grounded me and brought me back to reality. His perspective always helped me in some way, even when he said something I didn't want to hear. In some strange way too, I feel like I got 'practice' to completely be myself with a man....open, honest, and intimately knowing one other (minus the romance/sex aspect). He didn't know it, but he was "preparing" me for an emotional intimacy I would soon also share with Dragos.

Here's where the sliding doors emerge.

Door #2 "After Rajiv" (Taking risks without my magic 8 ball)

It's now been 3 months since Dragos and I started dating, 3 weeks now into the 'in a relationship' stage. Rajiv died before I even had a chance to tell him about Dragos. The first man with whom I'm truly embarking on a new and exciting relationship (and chapter in my life) and the man whom loved me so completely unconditionally for the good, bad, ugly and everything in between....these two will never meet, will never know each other, will never know me through the eyes of the other. I will never get to share with Rajiv all the exciting "firsts" I have experienced or will experience with Dragos....or the various thoughts and feelings I have as the relationship progresses. I'll never have my magic 8 ball to give me the thumbs up or thumbs down on this man, though sometimes in my mind (when I'm spending time with Dragos) I picture Rajiv smiling at me or laughing with me.

Dragos will never know what a gift Rajiv gave me....that of feeling worthy of a caring, intimate relationship and capable of going beyond my comfort zone despite how scary it feels because the rewards far outweigh the perceived costs. Dragos will also never know how little things he says or does at times remind me of Rajiv in a funny or comforting way.

These sliding doors that initially gave me an existential crisis now give me an abundance of opportunities....that of love, meaning, growth, and most especially the confidence to become my own magic 8 ball.

Love you always and forever, Rajiv. "It is decidedly so."

Trust: the "faith" of relationships?

There are numerous reasons I could list on why not to trust someone, but I'm more curious to ponder the opposite: What is it that drives one to take the blind leap of faith and choose to trust another human being? Is it dependent upon the relational dynamic? Is it easier or harder to trust an individual vs. a group entity? Are we more likely to trust others with our secrets, feelings, passions? How much trust do we invest when it comes to trusting someone with our life, fidelity, money?

These are questions I've been pondering since I watched the Martin Scorsese movie "Casino" last night. Throughout the movie, I noticed and found it funny that characters repeatedly (and emphatically) made comments about needing to be able to trust one of the other characters....funny because it's a movie that centers around the mob and  there's major underlying deception going on among multiple characters. As much as they can hold their own in certain situations, the ultimate downfall is that the characters chose to trust when it wasn't in their best interest to do so. And the price for trust? Loss of money, loss of mental sanity, loss of love, loss of friendship, loss of life. With so much at stake, why do they trust? Why do any of us trust?

Perhaps trust is to relationships what faith is to religion....belief in something "higher" or better despite the unknown lurking in the shadows. A yearning for connection on an intimate level (whether with a friend, lover, or spouse) overpowers the risk it takes to trust and the consequences that may unfold as a result of that trust. Could it be that we would rather see the humanity in each other than be jaded and completely closed off? Maybe there's hope for humanity after all. Or so I trust.

Organically intimate

Opening up. Letting go. Surrendering. To oneself. The moment. To opportunities for organic intimacy with the self and with friends or lovers. How often do we allow ourselves this in the age of iPhones, iPads, texts, social networking, cyber chats, busy lifestyles and instant gratification? How often do we pick up the phone to share something of depth and meaning with another? Share laughter, spark intellectually stimulating conversation, swap life stories, or otherwise hidden secrets?

We fidget, we resist, we avoid ourselves and each other, we escape into machines and addictions. The humanity that can be found in connecting is fading in the dwindling creative process that takes place when people interact and relate in organic ways....face to face, heart to heart, verbal conversations, eye contact, touch, body language, expression of visceral uncensored emotion, vulnerability (being emotionally "naked," open, honest, and transparent with nothing to hide behind/from).

I could be in the minority that finds these experiences few and far between, but I highly doubt it. Having recently experienced a significant number of these experiences more than the usual (ie, rare), I got to thinking how much different I feel with them vs. without them. Connected. Alive. Joyful. Hopeful. Seen, wanted, desired, understood, known. Real experiences evoke real emotion. Virtual is an illusion that numbs and leaves one extremely wanting. It's no wonder why we as an American society are more depressed, disconnected, empty, unhealthy (physically and emotionally), and overly medicated now more than ever. But it doesn't have to be that way.

It will likely feel very uncomfortable to relax and completely surrender to your physical environment when you've been tethered to the ease of virtual living for so long. But you will feel alive. Earlier this week I had one (of many) such moments. I've recently discovered a new interest and appreciation for relaxation yoga and meditation, something that never struck my fancy until I was at my wit's end with a painful rib injury that left me desperate to try just about anything to heal that much quicker. Sadly, this was my only motivation for going. I'm oddly grateful for that injury though because it gave me the priceless gift of yoga. It's done wonders for my soul. I'm able to relax and let go completely, which speaks volumes since I can rarely turn myself completely to "off" mode. Since I've been practicing this yoga once a week, it's becoming a little more natural and likely I can do so when I'm not in the class.

Then there's meditation. I've never been one to meditate. I never thought I could do it the "right" way, even thought it to be boring, futile, and even a little pretentious. The other night, however, proved me wrong. Within minutes of being asked to think about and visualize those in my life who have been my greatest teachers, mentors, and loving supporters....my eyes (which were shut) filled with tears as I found myself surprisingly overcome with emotion, triggered by memories of people dear to my heart. I was filled with such joy to be reminded of this love and gratitude that could have gone unnoticed otherwise.

As I have been challenging myself, I challenge you to seek out opportunities to live in the organic....that which kindles intimacy and self-discovery, sparks genuine self-expression.

Real is slow, organic, random, messy, risky, at times even ecstacy. A puzzle to be put together. Layers of an onion to be peeled. A gift to be unwrapped and savored.

Intimacy, redefined

I'd like to share an excerpt from a book I'm currently reading ("Mating in Captivity" by Esther Perel) because it really resonated with me. I've been reflecting on this quite a bit lately...how it pertains to my own relationships with people.

"In my work with patients I stress that intimacy isn't monolithic; nor is it always consistent. It is intermittent, meant to wax and wane even in the best relationships. The family therapist Kaethe Weingarten steers us away from looking at intimacy as a static feature of a relationship; she sees it instead as a quality of interaction that takes place in isolated moments and that exists both within and without long-term commitment. There's the synchronization of dance partners, the sudden identification between strangers on a plane, the solidarity of witnesses to a catastrophe, the mutual recognition of survivors---of breast cancer, alcoholism, terrorism, divorce. There's the intimacy between professionals and those they serve---doctor and patient, therapist and client, stripper and regular. While we expect to experience these discreet moments of recognition in ongoing relationships, they are not necessarily bound to any overarching narrative. They can be circumstantial, spontaneous, and without follow-up. Informed by Weingarten's ideas, I no longer look at relationships as being either intimate or not. Instead, I track each couple's ability to engage in a series of intimate bids rendered over time. Sometimes the emotional weaving is done through talk; often, it is not. Building a bookshelf for your lover, changing the snow tires on your wife's car, and learning to make his mom's chicken soup all carry the promise of connection." ---Esther Perel

I have intimate conversations with people on a regular basis during my "sessions" as a therapist. The interesting thing is that unlike most relationships, this form of intimacy is built upon an unreciprocated relationship. The client reveals his/herself, while the therapist provides unconditional support, trust, and "safety" to do so. Despite the best of professional intentions, it is sometimes impossible and sometimes even important for the therapist to reciprocate even the slightest of intimacy in return (appropriately, of course) when it can further enhance an intimate 'space'. This may be revealed in certain words of wisdom imparted to the client, based on the therapist's personal experience. Sometimes it can be a client's recognition of the therapist's observable idiosyncrasies. In any case, I think it speaks to our human need to connect in intimate ways.

This excerpt really resonated with me because I agree with the idea that intimacy is not a constant. Nor would we want it to be. We may think we do (I certainly have), but think about it. Where is the mystery, meaning, and sense of fulfillment that comes with nonstop intimacy? How can one appreciate intimate connections without periods of disconnection and complacency? I can say this only in hindsight. Of course, it is easier to reflect upon than during times when intimacy seems like a distant memory in one or more relationships...where complacency seems to never end. I love how it continues to pleasantly boggle my mind though. For instance, how you can go the longest time feeling so incredibly close in a relationship (whether romantically or in friendship, with family, even colleagues)....only to feel you don't really know the person, or they you when something 'new' is revealed, or something 'old' remains hidden.

As I'm realizing, however, it's not black and white. It's shades of glorious gray. As stated above, it waxes and wanes. Instead of judging and/or placing expectation upon intimacy in relationships, we can allow ourselves the freedom to let go and let it happen in its own time. I think there's a tendency for people (myself included) to automatically personalize an absence of (or what feels like a "decrease" in) intimacy. Insecurity gets the best of us. We think we're not trustworthy, attractive, or "enough" of whatever particular quality for intimacy to 'kick in.' It can be easy to get stuck in a mindset that intimacy follows some pre-packaged cookie cutter style of progression instead of an intriguing and more often than not, spontaneous process.

Awareness, reflection, and compassion (for ourselves and the other) is key to savoring opportunities for true moments of intimacy, in all kinds of relationships. We can bitch and complain about what is 'missing,' or we can shift our perceptions to something more meaningful in the long run. Interestingly and paradoxically, I have found that when I release the necessity for intimacy, that it flows more freely.

Opening yourself up to intimacy within yourself is also significant, recognizing your own vulnerabilities and how that may help or hinder intimate interactions. I have been working on this alot lately. I have a tendency to allow my moods to be influenced by my relationships, specifically in regard to people I am close to and ones I yearn for that sense of closeness. Sometimes I drive myself crazy with why this particular person isn't attentive to me (or at least to the degree I'd like) or why another person won't open up to me. I'm learning I don't always need to know the reason and if I do, it will make sense in time.....with a sharing, a revealing, an undefinable gesture. That is intimacy.