Part of the lure of social media is that it allows us to present ourselves the way we want to be seen. And while pictures can be curated to make it seem like we have the ideal relationship, the ideal job, the ability to travel, close relationships, a great workout routine, etc., there’s just something about writing that holds more truth. We connect with words. Pictures of our lives are meaningless without words. Language sculpts our identity more than a perfectly posed picture ever could. With words we are seen, with pictures we are idolized. When I write, I’m more connected to myself which enables me to connect much easier to others. When I’m on social media, I feel needy and superficial.
I’ve been watching Sex and the City for the first time ever lately. I’ve always connected with Carrie Bradshaw because she’s a writer, she has blonde curly hair, she has freckles on her legs, and she has an aura and sense of style about her that is all her own. If anyone else tried to wear what she wears, they wouldn’t be able to do it. I’m attracted to that type of uniqueness because my authentic self craves it and has it as well. Or at least, there is a part of me that likes to believe that — which I guess is classic of the type 4 Enneagram, or the individualist. The Individualist is independent and free-spirited but they also feel misunderstood by others. They can be melancholic and isolate themselves — valid.
I also love the fact that Carrie Bradshaw is 32 at the start of Sex and the City. I’m turning 32 next month. It’s been fun for me to watch the show in parallel with my life. A show that was born in the 90s is showcasing the same issues I deal with in my own dating life. The only issue really is that their lifestyle of cigarettes, martinis, and early-morning parties aren’t really my thing. Of course, it makes me think about my own dating life though. The only topic it seems I can come back to — love.
I had a relationship recently. I knew right away that he wasn’t “the one” but for the first time in my life I think I was just lonely and wanted to be with someone. Don’t get me wrong — there are plenty of qualities he had that I loved. He was more sensitive than anyone I had ever dated. And while there was an aspect of that that made me feel as if I was in my masculine energy, there was also an aspect of it that touched my heart and made me love him. The vulnerability was everything and at the same time, there were flaws in it that I could neither accept or wish to take on as a project. There was a side of me that got too comfortable too. So comfortable that I felt irritation come out at the things I couldn’t say to him. And when he understood my irritation instead of putting me in my place, I lost respect. If I’m being a brat I would rather someone tell me than try to empathize with me. Or maybe there is a way to do both. I think there is.
The truth is — the fact that the relationship existed meant that I wasn’t living in alignment. And it showed in my life. Bad things started happening. For three months, I kept getting sick right before my period. My van had a 5,000 dollar issue come up, my generator started smoking which of course threw off my whole electrical system. It was one thing after another. And yet he was there for me the whole time, even when I was irritated. It sucks when you’re dating someone who is so nice and yet they’re just not the one. When I broke up with him, he was upset. Saying I didn’t want to grow with him. And that’s true, I didn’t. But is that what love is? This boring intention to grow with someone? I don’t want that. I want more. I want passion and lust and I want to be scared. I want it to be that important. I think some would say that that’s just me craving some type of trauma bond. “It only feels exciting because it’s not good for you.” But I think it is more in line with the human need of uncertainty. That’s what desire is — not having all of something. It’s honestly refreshing to write this because it reminds me of how important it is to maintain separate identities in a relationship. That was something my younger brain couldn’t grasp.
Lately, I’ve been studying for my comprehensive exam that I’m taking in 10 days. There is one section on career development that dives into all of the career theories. It talks about the shift that has happened in developing a career from one of just “paying the bills” to one of self-actualization.
One of the most annoying things about relationships is the fact that you are usually dating someone who is at a different level in their development than you, but in different areas. For example, careers. Or really just — money.
I’ve been in so many relationships where a major issue was that the man wasn’t settled in his finances. It kinda reminds me of that saying “You can’t love someone else until you love yourself.” It’s almost as if society values men being providers so much that they can’t be satisfied with who they are until they reach financial security. Or at least, they have to go through that existential crisis at some point before either transcending where they are or accepting it.
It’s funny because lately I feel too poor to date — which yes, I know is a scarcity mindset. The interesting thing is that … I’m never paying for dates. Never paying for dates, and yet too poor to go on them. Ridiculous. It makes me empathize with men though. If I feel too poor to date, then how do they feel? Feels like they should just focus on themselves and their future — feels like the all too familiar avoidant attachment style. I get it.
I get it because I’m at a place developmentally where I feel the same way. I look back on times in my life when I was too attached to someone and how I was in limbo during that time. I knew what I wanted to do, but I was waiting. Waiting to get into grad school. Waiting to finish grad school. Waiting to really get started. Now that I’m at the end of my master’s program (graduating next month!) it feels like I finally get it. I relate. I just want to be alone. I want to focus on myself and get my career underway because guess what — there’s no white knight headed my way.
It even makes Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs make perfect sense. The most basic physiological needs are at the bottom — food, shelter, water, sleep. We all know these are essential. And yeah, I could check those off. But next comes safety and security — health, employment, property, family and social ability.
…Is it embarrassing to admit that there is a part of me that is stuck here? I’m not completely stuck, but I’m just not satisfied with the quality of this level. So can I really ever reach the upper levels of love and belonging, self-esteem, and self-actualization? I think I can get a taste of them, but something tells me I won’t quite be satisfied until I figure out the career part on the safety and security level first. I truly feel that finding a career that I enjoy, that fits the ideal schema of who I want to be, and that satisfies areas of my life where I’m lacking is going to propel me into a future where everything around me is better. I guess you could say that emerging as a therapist has taught me my worth, that the world is a mirror, and that I’m actually on my way.
I’ve also realized how happy I am when I’m alone. Alone — it’s so funny to even conceptualize the idea of being “alone” because it’s different for everyone. The times I feel alone are a joke — a self-imposed joke. It’s almost like being poor. I was listening to Jordan Peterson the other day and he was talking about how real poverty is not having opportunity. It almost feels like real loneliness is the same — the absence of an opportunity to love and be loved, to belong, and to socialize. The potential is there in ways that it’s not for others. So am I really so alone?
There is this one scene in Sex and the City that sticks out in my head. For the first time ever, Samantha is in love. She finds him cheating on her with another woman and they break up. After weeks of trying to get her back, Richard finally succeeds. His actions are reformed. He would never hurt her again. But after what happened, she is constantly feeling paranoid about his infidelity. Thinking she is going to catch him in the act when he says he is staying home to catch up on work, she runs up 8 flights of stairs in heels. She finally barges in on him and — bam! …
He is alone. He is sitting there doing exactly what he said he would be doing. But Samantha looks at him as she pants from her run up the stairs and she basically says, “Richard, I love you. But I love me more. It’s over.” What she meant was that she loved her own piece of mind more than she could ever love being in a relationship with him.
Sometimes I feel like that’s where I’m at. I just don’t have any proof that love is worth it.
On the other hand, sometimes I wonder if the people I love can feel that love even if we don’t talk. Like quantum entanglement. I actually found an article on Medium that summed up exactly what I thought to be true. While this idea of love came from me first learning about quantum entanglement, the author here seemed to take the opposite approach — working backwards from intuition. Here’s an excerpt from his article:
“So, what do you think about love?” she asked. Channeling my inner philosopher, I responded: “Imagine two particles. Each has its own vibrational frequency, and sometimes they meet other particles that resonate in a complementary way. They don’t become one; instead, they dance around each other, creating a vortex of energy — the force we call love. External forces can distance these particles, but they remain connected, always able to support and elevate each other’s existence. When they’re in sync, the universe rewards them with synchronicities.”
I wonder if that could be true of someone we have never met. Like if I’m doing bad, can they feel it? What about the people I have met and loved? The ones I still love. Can they feel it?