When three family members and friends tell you that your partner is no good for you, dump that partner. Take their advice. It’s that simple. They are right. You and your partner are wrong. Just cut off the relationship and tolerate the discomfort. You will be glad you did.
How do I know? Because I just got out of a relationship with a guy who was wonderful in the sack. He was wonderful intellectually. We shared similar philosophical ideas. But he was a machista man who would never admit to his jealousy or insecurity or doubts of any sort whatsoever. He made it seem like I was to blame for every problem and every moment of tension between us. Honestly, in my year with him, I cannot think of one instance of him reflecting on a wrong position of his, apologizing, and changing his behavior from that point on. He apologized on three occasions, quickly, but they were apologies nonetheless. But, he never altered his tough stance at all.
He believed his standard to be the best one, and one that I had to meet, period. Never mind that I had a standard for interacting respectfully. When I suggested more fair ways of communicating, such as sharing 50/50 airtime during conversations, he categorically refused.
When I talked with two close friends and a family member, they said that I deserved better, and that I should have nothing to do with him, even if I needed the money that I could earn by working with him. For the first time in my life, I listened. I was able to let go easily, because I knew that my friends and brother knew me better than my boyfriend ever did. They had my best interests in mind, unlike him, who had his best interests in mind, even though he claimed he was trying to help me.
Now I get to have normal interactions with people. I don’t feel confused anymore. I don’t feel weary. Sure, I miss him. But, truthfully, I don’t really miss him.
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Heeding Repeated Warnings
You're in love, and in the sack with your man at every possible opportunity.
But, some part of your brain pulses warnings that distract you, sometimes WHILE in the throes of sexual pleasure. Warnings about differences in religion or class or education, or a combination. Sisters, pay attention.
Okay, okay, I will do the p.c. thing by adding a cavaet that indeed some marriages have survived a difference in religion, class and education level, but very very few. Very, very few.
Let me talk about how a difference in religion deeply affected my marriage. I was raised Catholic. In my teenage years, I rebelled. I refused to attend mass because I did not feel it was fair to the believers in the pews for them to suffer my hostility toward their beliefs. I also couldn't stand how suffocated I felt in church.
What kept me interested in the topic was a profound need to feel connected to this intense drama of life around me. And an intense desire to understand my parents, and for them to understand me. While I came to the conclusion that Jesus Christ was not my savior, I allowed that he could be the savior of others, even people as bright as each of my parents. I read about Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, and about catholic saints in "The Autobiography of a Yogi" by Paramahansa Yogananda, one who bled from his palms every few days, and another who subsisted on nothing but air and love. I did not doubt that these people actually existed.
Reading on these venerable catholics was part of a broader effort to find my own beliefs. I became a vegetarian (now I am not), I practiced yoga intensively for years, I read "Women Who Run With the Wolves" by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, I fasted for three days, and chanted sanskrit mantras until 1am. I read books like "The Tibetan Book of the Dead" and "The Cloud of Unknowing" by an unknown christian monk. I completed half of the credits for a Masters degree in Humanities.
My efforts paid off. I was able to accept that my parents held their beliefs and I held mine. I want to emphasize EFFORT. All that fretting, reading, thinking and writing consumed much of my energy during my twenties. While I was not a catholic or christian, I was a believer, not agnostic, not atheist, but a believer. I believed that something ordered the universe, and I was part of that order.
My boyfriend who became my husband was not a believer. His beliefs, like mine earlier, were barely formed. When he learned about my battle with Catholicism, he was relieved, because he too rejected that religion. He deeply resented the culture of fear propagated by the fire and brimstone version of Catholicism that he was taught as a boy.
What I failed to convey to him was that my rejection of Catholicism was one thing, The fact that I was a believer was the more important fact. In all fairness, even if I had tried more rigorously to reveal this aspect of me, a fundamental one, I am not sure I would have succeeded.
Now, my young friends, in the next post I will explain how this major difference between us played out in my marriage.
But, some part of your brain pulses warnings that distract you, sometimes WHILE in the throes of sexual pleasure. Warnings about differences in religion or class or education, or a combination. Sisters, pay attention.
Okay, okay, I will do the p.c. thing by adding a cavaet that indeed some marriages have survived a difference in religion, class and education level, but very very few. Very, very few.
Let me talk about how a difference in religion deeply affected my marriage. I was raised Catholic. In my teenage years, I rebelled. I refused to attend mass because I did not feel it was fair to the believers in the pews for them to suffer my hostility toward their beliefs. I also couldn't stand how suffocated I felt in church.
What kept me interested in the topic was a profound need to feel connected to this intense drama of life around me. And an intense desire to understand my parents, and for them to understand me. While I came to the conclusion that Jesus Christ was not my savior, I allowed that he could be the savior of others, even people as bright as each of my parents. I read about Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton, and about catholic saints in "The Autobiography of a Yogi" by Paramahansa Yogananda, one who bled from his palms every few days, and another who subsisted on nothing but air and love. I did not doubt that these people actually existed.
Reading on these venerable catholics was part of a broader effort to find my own beliefs. I became a vegetarian (now I am not), I practiced yoga intensively for years, I read "Women Who Run With the Wolves" by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, I fasted for three days, and chanted sanskrit mantras until 1am. I read books like "The Tibetan Book of the Dead" and "The Cloud of Unknowing" by an unknown christian monk. I completed half of the credits for a Masters degree in Humanities.
My efforts paid off. I was able to accept that my parents held their beliefs and I held mine. I want to emphasize EFFORT. All that fretting, reading, thinking and writing consumed much of my energy during my twenties. While I was not a catholic or christian, I was a believer, not agnostic, not atheist, but a believer. I believed that something ordered the universe, and I was part of that order.
My boyfriend who became my husband was not a believer. His beliefs, like mine earlier, were barely formed. When he learned about my battle with Catholicism, he was relieved, because he too rejected that religion. He deeply resented the culture of fear propagated by the fire and brimstone version of Catholicism that he was taught as a boy.
What I failed to convey to him was that my rejection of Catholicism was one thing, The fact that I was a believer was the more important fact. In all fairness, even if I had tried more rigorously to reveal this aspect of me, a fundamental one, I am not sure I would have succeeded.
Now, my young friends, in the next post I will explain how this major difference between us played out in my marriage.
Beware Lust
Recently, it was shown that a brain in love was almost identical to a brain on heroin. Think about that. Think about that. Young friends, with your optimism and young bodies, the physical love you feel with your partner has seduced you. In fact, it has shut down the rational part of your brain and electrified the emotional part. The same thing has happened to your partner.
So, you're thinking about marrying this guy? So, you're thinking about marrying this guy, despite a few pesky repeated warnings emanating from a certain part of your brain. You are thinking (choose one or several), screw it, no relationship is perfect, life is short, what the hell, I will deal with the consequences, I am getting older and this might be my last chance to get married and have kids, he's got these other qualities (fill the 1-3 that he does possess) that are important, I can always get divorced, etc.
No matter what you use to convince yourself of taking the plunge with this guy, the problem is, young friends, those pesky repeated warnings ARE of consequence. Those repeated warnings usually boil down to three major areas: religion, class, and education.
More later.
So, you're thinking about marrying this guy? So, you're thinking about marrying this guy, despite a few pesky repeated warnings emanating from a certain part of your brain. You are thinking (choose one or several), screw it, no relationship is perfect, life is short, what the hell, I will deal with the consequences, I am getting older and this might be my last chance to get married and have kids, he's got these other qualities (fill the 1-3 that he does possess) that are important, I can always get divorced, etc.
No matter what you use to convince yourself of taking the plunge with this guy, the problem is, young friends, those pesky repeated warnings ARE of consequence. Those repeated warnings usually boil down to three major areas: religion, class, and education.
More later.
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