I was talking with a friend recently about not sweating our romantic situations.
We both share a case of the crazies called love-sickness. We both fall nice and hard and fast, see rainbows and butterflies and stars, and then we choke the fuck out on our own anxiety over dropping the ball. Then, we psyche ourselves out and drop the ball.
So my friend chatted me recently that he was worried about coming on too strong with this new girl. And I told him not to worry about it. I told him you always have to follow your heart, and be true to your passion. Because if you're operating from your passionate side and the other person can't handle your passion, fair enough.
At least you both know where both your heads are at, and what you can and can not deal with. And after you clear that up, you're free to move on to whoever's next. But if you're operating from anxiety, from fear of being too aggressive, then none of your actions can be authentic because everything is done with caution and trepidation and fear. And who needs that? Who wants that?
I'm currently practicing withholding my passions - not so much out of my fear of intimidating anyone, or coming off too strong for the object of my lust-sessions. My object knows he's my object. How he feels about that is up to him. I always lay my cards flat out, face up on the table. (there are so many directions to run with that...take a joke and have at it...) But right now I'm not pressing.
I've pressed. I've felt the passion flood every sense of my body, from my eyelashes to my toenails. I've been so riddled with amorous feelings, I couldn't see straight sideways. On top of all that I'm prone to the choke.
I explained this once to a male friend of mine as the "relationship sweats." I get these heavy after I've been kind of seeing someone for a month or more, especially if we're talking often and spending lots of time together. One day it hits me that he's going to figure out I'm nuts, and magnificently unstable. He's going to discover that I'm not really obedient. He's going to realize that as much as I have a boner for his boner, I have an equally swollen boner for the bottle. The list goes on, and the end result of this list is that he's going to want to reign me in somehow. He's going to tell me to quit smoking, or drinking. He's going to tell me I talk too much, or I'm too opinionated. He's going to ridicule my opinions, etc.
I've pressed. I've felt the passion flood every sense of my body, from my eyelashes to my toenails. I've been so riddled with amorous feelings, I couldn't see straight sideways. On top of all that I'm prone to the choke.
I explained this once to a male friend of mine as the "relationship sweats." I get these heavy after I've been kind of seeing someone for a month or more, especially if we're talking often and spending lots of time together. One day it hits me that he's going to figure out I'm nuts, and magnificently unstable. He's going to discover that I'm not really obedient. He's going to realize that as much as I have a boner for his boner, I have an equally swollen boner for the bottle. The list goes on, and the end result of this list is that he's going to want to reign me in somehow. He's going to tell me to quit smoking, or drinking. He's going to tell me I talk too much, or I'm too opinionated. He's going to ridicule my opinions, etc.
So begins the choke and the sweats. Then I realize I don't even know what the hell a relationship is in the first place. I couldn't even begin to imagine myself in one. I mean if I had to pull a frame of reference for "relationship" I've had about two and they were both so gnarly, so filled with fireworks and flames, I don't know if I'd want to compare anything to them. Any situation that doesn't involve cellphones flying into walls, or repetitious 3am calls that force you to unplug/turn off the phone is a step in the right direction.
But you never really know how it will turn out, do you? And chances are that a cellphone could, in all likelihood, go flying. You know what they say? Once you get injured, your odds for injury automatically go up. If I think I could stand a chance of falling for someone, or accidentally slip into a relationship, by allowing for a natural course of events, I immediately flashback to the fire and brimstone and sweat and choke it out. I have a mental block that will not allow me to attach myself to being completely involved with someone else.
I absolutely 1,000% do not trust a man not to tell me a lie. He may not be lying now, but he will lie, eventually. (I acknowledge that my trust issues are larger than the mansion in Calabasas, CA I hope to one day own.)I also believe that if I'm too nice to him, he will interpret my affections and confections as weakness, and he will insult my vagina by smashing another bird. I convince/remind/convince myself that nothing lasts forever, that people are idiots and as I am a people and he is a people we are both morons and better off unattached.
But you never really know how it will turn out, do you? And chances are that a cellphone could, in all likelihood, go flying. You know what they say? Once you get injured, your odds for injury automatically go up. If I think I could stand a chance of falling for someone, or accidentally slip into a relationship, by allowing for a natural course of events, I immediately flashback to the fire and brimstone and sweat and choke it out. I have a mental block that will not allow me to attach myself to being completely involved with someone else.
I absolutely 1,000% do not trust a man not to tell me a lie. He may not be lying now, but he will lie, eventually. (I acknowledge that my trust issues are larger than the mansion in Calabasas, CA I hope to one day own.)I also believe that if I'm too nice to him, he will interpret my affections and confections as weakness, and he will insult my vagina by smashing another bird. I convince/remind/convince myself that nothing lasts forever, that people are idiots and as I am a people and he is a people we are both morons and better off unattached.
But at the start, at Jump Street... Boy, at Jump Street I'm ready-set-Freddy to pull the trigger. I'm hollaring cupid's name loud as motor bike down a one-way street on the first warm night of May. I'm going to kiss you like I've waited my whole life to kiss you. I'm going to wrap my arms around you and press my fingers into every part of your shoulders and back, because I'm convinced I can feel your soul, and it's pure and magnificent and it ignites me.I realize a large part of my love sickness is due to an over-hyper-active imagination that's prone to embellishment. But this is a part of my psychological make-up I'm not willing to sever ties with. I need my insanity to create. If I have to suffer being single for it, oh well. Being single isn't nearly half as much a chore as being involved can be. Being single doesn't hurt, it doesn't sting, and it never bites you in the ass (unless you're into that).
Being single is being free, and when I think this way about, anxiety jumps out the window. I think the anxiety that accompanies a love affair comes from our fears of being alone. But when I remember that I'm okay being alone, that I'm good as is, and that nothing is wrong with being singular then everything is suddenly fine. And so long as I'm single, I'm accountable only to myself, and my work - which is the best place to place my passions, non?
The point is - regarding romantic relations, creative endeavors, personal ambitions, or professional gains - as long as our activities are laced, spiked, doused, and draped in passion, then we can't possibly fail, as long as we forge ahead, despite all potential roadblocks and concerns we can get to where we'd like to go. But as long as we operate from an anxious frame of mind, rooted in fear, then we perpetuate the worst possible outcome.
Things don't always go according to plan, or wishes, but they usually do always work out - just so long as we keep our passions up, and our focus sharp.
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