Always choose your family

The other day, someone on fb asked "what are you passionate about?" and without hesitation, I said "being madly in love with people and places." Ok, not exactly, but that was the boiled down intention.

So often and recently, I'm humbled by how many people I get to love, how many kids who look up to me are in my life, how many friends I can honestly consider close. It's overwhelming really, how much time I get to spend with people I truly adore.

I'm reminded of an entry I've worked on for awhile but I couldn't articulate the message. It was about the ways in which we live with, care for, and choose our families. I made distinctions I didn't really want to make at all, so I abandoned that piece and set off to find some new inspiration whenever, and wherever, that inspiration struck me.

It turns out, I found it right here in the course of regular life. We choose to be family. Let me say it again, because it's true: everyday, and with all those people we live for and love, sometimes blissfully, sometimes tragically - we choose to be family.

It doesn't seem like that makes sense since none of us get to choose our moms and dads. We sometimes get saddled with brothers and sisters, or aunts and uncles we certainly didn't ask for. And yet, it remains true. Family is a choice.

We choose to spend time sitting around a table shucking oysters and laughing with brothers and sisters. We choose gathering on holidays instead of solitude. We choose graduation parties on a moments' notice, because a wonderful woman graduated from nursing school. We choose nail salons on hard anniversaries. We choose adventures in karaoke instead of protecting our pride. We choose to love.

Sometimes the family you were thrust into isn't the family you choose at all. My family is loud, crazy, and boisterous --- and loving, fun and close --- but even sometimes I choose to make more room for the other family I am so lucky to have. Sometimes the family you choose is an obligation, a chore, or a responsibility, but even those things are born out of knowing that some kind of love drives us.  Why? Because, we choose love.

I have so many people who get to be family - my mama and The Bald Eagle, my dad, senior, jdogg, MandolinMan, Swati and Nani of course. But there so many more than I can barely keep track. My oldest friend, my UnlikelyFriend, Teach and PAG3, trespagjr, little TF who couldn't possibly be more important to me if he tried, Roomie, kittykat. Family sometimes falls away, like TxB or Pepper. And sometimes you know in your heart you've already met someone to add. You don't just make him family; he earns it. Nevertheless, your heart has already chosen.

If anything has struck me over the last several months, it is that there is no end to how many people can be in our families. There's no rank order to categorize or prioritize who we love "the most." A person's capacity to love is only limited by her willingness to open her heart, and for all the fear that may bring, the rewards returned are exponential.

Value lessons

Sometimes I find courage in moments I never thought could even happen. I ask questions I don’t really want answered because I know there’s a potential for an answer I don’t want to hear. But then I surprise myself with a realization that things don't always have to end up just exactly as I expected.

A few months ago, I wrote about how the idea that letting go of something I always thought I would have isn't the same thing as accepting defeat. And though I believed it when I wrote it, it’s awfully hard to accept. I don’t actually know why. Maybe I find peace in believing it’s always cowardly to put old dreams aside for awhile to explore new ones. Or maybe I think it’s wise to cling to The Plan; you know, the one that will no sooner be realized than the last time I considered it. And what of distraction? There’s no option for distraction when I have to go get something I always wanted, even if that “distraction” may well have been much more if I only I had explored it.

My ever practical father has always said :

You can do whatever you want, as long as you have values that are your own.

He encouraged me to define them, refine them, embody them, and make every decision, day in and day out, based on those values alone. "They can be different from mine", he said, "but you must have them."

And so I have them. My values emphasize love and compassion for people - old and young people, “my” people, strange people – all people. I’m known for compromise – the ever steadfast diplomat in all things work, family, and personal; though that may easily transform into losing parts of myself, the fight for being fair and decent makes me a reasonable, trusted friend – a friend who is fluent in the delicate art of giving and taking in all relationships. But the one that defines me most is my dedication. I have an unwavering mind after decisions are made. It’s all consuming. I’m determined, in spite of all obstacles, all naysayers, all logic, and even in spite of myself, that what was decided will be so. In my academic and professional life, this has served me well. I have a talent for taking chaos and turning it into order.

Yet I’m now asking myself, what else has that done for me? Has my never-ending obstinacy and arrogance given me all the people and relationships I've wanted in my life? Are my lists of stark “unfavorable” dealbreakers wise? After all, this ever forgiving diplomat can overlook behavior like manipulation, control, self loathing, and addiction. Does it make me wise then, to dismiss something simply because the answer wasn't what I was looking for after the exhaustive list of questions have been asked? What if that something is something you never even knew you wanted? Or worse, that you could have?

It’s wise, of course, to keep doing the things I believe in. It’s wise to make decisions and have goals to work towards. And it’s wise to be ever protective of my heart – or the heart of someone I care about. But isn't it also wise, my friends, to sometimes look deep inside and wonder “aren't there sometimes things worth exploring, even if it doesn't track to my goals?”

And well, I think the answer is yes; if, and only if, the core of your values are in tact.

When priorities misalign

As a kid, my mom talked a lot about priorities.

"Get your priorities in line, young lady!"
"School work is your priority and everything else comes next."
"My priority is you kids."

Priorities, priorities, priorities. BOR-RING.

I think we use the word incorrectly sometimes.  Not that my mom did - thank god she nagged me about priorities because mine weren't in any sort of order.  But as a grown person with grown friends, I find we throw it around a lot.  And I wonder, why do we always have opinions about other people's priorities?  Why do we judge them?  Why can't your priorities just be different than mine?  Why must I explain the ones I have that seem a little out of the ordinary?

What are my priorities now?  Well, my top priority is myself and that means I'm putting the things that make me happy at the top of my list.  Right now, there's a lot of joy in quality time spent with family and friends.  There's a lot of fun in getting to know someone new and seeing what becomes of it.  There's a lot of peace in being a role model for my little buddy TF. And there's a lot of value in allowing myself to find deep satisfaction by taking care of and helping the people in my life whom I adore.

These priorities are no longer misaligned with my lifetime hopes and dreams.   Once, they were.  But, everyday I find something new that challenges me, humbles me, or satisfies my need for connection with other people.  

I've always talked, hoped and dreamed about a family of my own, and I've really only meant my own kids.  I'll always want and need that, and someday, whenever the time is right, I will have that.  Lately though, I am reminded about something amazing; I already have pieces of my family now.

And those pieces --- well, they are my priority.

Timelines

I play out situations over and over again in my brain.  Situations from two minutes ago.  Situations from two years ago. Longer even.

In these plays, I rewrite a line or two and it changes everything.  A different word. A different action.  A different intention.  And then a new timeline is built.

In some timelines, I walk away before we even begin.  In other timelines, a baby is born, a wedding is planned, a bad breakup is less bad, and a sour relationship never went sour at all.

Unfortunately life doesn't come with a rewind button.  And, if it did, there infinite numbers of possibilities and outcomes that are unpredictable.  Plus, even if multiple timelines exist in me, there's no breaking out of this one. Parallel universes are just science fiction mumbo jumbo. Right?

In rare moments, something happens to me and I find myself replaying without changing my words.  It's the same scenario over and over again.  In those instances, I realize I don't need an alternate ending; what transpired is all that need occur.  Whatever could have been different is no longer, or never was, in my control.

My hope for my life, and for the lives of those I love and cherish, is that these multifaceted endings die out.  I want to be secure in my decisions, unwaivering, unwilling to second guess my motivations or emotional state. My wish is that all these parallel timelines fade away into the layers of ourselves where healing has already begun.

Let us not rewind. Let us simply play out.

Just let it go

Just let it go.

Ever heard that?  Ever notice how hard that can be?  I think it actually may be hardest part of healing.  

We all have to do it.  It's good for us to stop clutching these imperfect expectations of what we wanted our lives to be.  It makes us more productive with our days because the weight of all those unrealized expectations no longer drag us down.  We probably sleep better at night having accepted that our lives have been altered from "the plan" and it's ok.  And you know, that final act of letting go can sometimes soothe our hearts when they have been battered or bruised or worse --- broken.  

Sometimes it's a simple thing like letting go of an idea that we'll always love our job or that we should always argue when we're right. Other times I think it's hard to workout just exactly what it is that's holding us back at all.  

We have these things, these expectations deeply rooted in our families and values.  When we let go, have we rejected those who love us most?  Can they handle our decisions to make peace with ourselves?  Because maybe, just maybe, we could let go of these things if everyone else could let them go too.  

Then I think we wonder - when is letting go really giving up?  Isn't it important to follow our hearts, our dreams, our passions?  It's always occurred to me that the line between the two is thin and very feint.  So what's the difference?

For me, the difference is emotional.  When we let go of heartache, confusion, stress, and the shame of unrealized dreams, it's like calling a time out. It becomes a moment to look at our options and redirect our strategy.  It gives us a chance to take a breather and get our heads back in the game.

By contrast, giving up simply means it's over.  It's a defiance towards growing or learning.  It's an opposition to being flexible about what our dreams were and what they could be now.  It's resigning ourselves to this idea that happiness isn't an option any longer.  Frankly, it sucks.

We've all found ourselves stuck somewhere in the middle, I think.  We give up because we are afraid to let go.  We define ourselves by what we wanted to be and not by what we are.

We shouldn't do that.  We should be open to possibilities and answers we never conceived of before.  

Let go.  Let go of the things that kept you down. Let go of the things that didn't work out.   Make room in your life for the things you don't want to give up on. Your bruised or battered or broken heart will thank you.

The balance of fear

Perhaps the quintessential question of humanity is "what are you so afraid of?"  Everyone asks it.  Everyone receives it.  I can't think of anyone who likes to answer it.

Fear is so complicated.   Sometimes it's easy to put on a brave face; other times, we're lucky just to get out of bed.  It can simultaneously paralyze and kickstart us into action.  It holds us back, it pulls us forward, or it allows us to hang lifeless in stasis.  I don't think anyone reacts to fear consistently, because there external factors that weigh on us: how we feel about ourselves, how we feel about our loved ones, how we feel about people who might not even exist.  Sometimes the factors aren't people at all but instead money, risk, inadequacy, friendship, vulnerability - and sometimes we couldn't identify the factors no matter how hard or carefully we try.

I don't know what today's message is.  I've just been personally wondering what makes us react so differently in similar moments of our lives.  Why did a new job opportunity at 25 scare me so much?  Why does it scare other 25 year olds?  Why doesn't it scare me now?

Why wasn't I afraid in relationships from the past, but in the future I see I should have be?  Why does some of that linger, spilling over into the new ones that come to me?  How much space do I let fear take up in my head or my heart?  How much effort do I spend to let my guard down?  How much energy do I spent, alternatively, to keep it up?

I'm afraid of a lot of things.

Afraid to disappoint; afraid to be disappointed.

Afraid to fall in love only to have a broken heart; afraid to guard my heart from breaking so that I never fall in love.

Afraid of asking for what I need for fear (see what I did there) I wont get it; afraid of becoming someone who can never give anyone what (s)he needs.

Afraid of never having the family I so long for; afraid of having the family I so long for.

Today these things seem less scary, but tomorrow I could wake up with a whole new twist on something to fear.  All I can do is adjust.  All I can do is make the right decisions in the moment - and fret about whether it was the right one at all.

We all have fears.  We all have things that keep us up at night.  All the stupid adages about getting over our fears and doing it anyway --- I don't know what the point of those really are, except perhaps to give us something else to worry about.

Maybe all we can do is just navigate through this life letting today be scarier than tomorrow, or the other way around.  Maybe instead of trying to fight it, we support each other when someone admits that fear is part of their lives.  Or maybe, the only way to deal with fear is to just simply pretend.

When people do you wrong

In the last few weeks, it seems a few friends and I have found ourselves being tested - our patience, our love, and our capability to forgive.  It's become like some sort of surprise exam you didn't know you needed to study for.  The only question printed on the top is "why do you, [insert person of choice], have to make this about you?"

Why do they, indeed?

It seems to me that so many of our friends, our families, our coworkers, our churchgoers, our neighbors, our book club partners --- they have agendas.  Sometimes it's innocuous.  Sometimes I'm not sure they even know it.  And sometimes, it's at the forefront of all things they do or say.

We all have our shit.  We all have these experiences and memories, bad juju or karma, things that paint and cloud our judgment.  There are things we feel self conscious about, things that never go away, no matter how much work we do to make it so.  In one moment, that little bit of confidence we hold so dearly onto can be washed out by these people who are supposed to love us unconditionally.

A friend, who likely means well, can shatter even the smallest glimmer of hope that somebody out there can understand your reaction to something.

A father can latch onto the things you feel the most insecure about, and turn it back on you.  As if, you know, you needed his reminder.  As if, in fact, you didn't already know it on your own.

A boyfriend, a man who is meant to support you, understand you, and value you, asks you a question so deeply unfair that there is no alternate choice but throw up your walls, a decision you will no doubt, hear about again and again.

So why is it that these people you are supposed to love and trust, the people who are filling all of the archetypal relationship roles in your life, can so systemically break you?  And why do the other people around us offer up sayings like:

You can't change people.
You're offense collecting.
Don't take everything so personally.
Your reaction is wrong.
You are overreacting.

I think we ought to be allowed to be scared of our demons, even if everyone else doesn't understand.  I think we ought to feel safe being ourselves, expressing our opinions, our grievances, and our insecurities to those who proclaim they love us.  And we ought to find validation when we are so utterly disappointed by these reactions that break us down.

As there always is, I find myself rolling a lyric around and around inside my brain lately.  A sweet indie Lilith Fair artist sang her heart out about what it feels like to find your own way, only to find that those around you are disappointed in who you have become.  Even my fourteen year old heart was pulled when I heard it, though I didn't know how much of a reality it would become in my thirties.  Her sad and sweet words, grasping for answers read:

There's just one thing I need to get a handle on; 

People can love you, and still do you wrong.

So how do you get a handle on it?  Where is the reconciliation of asking to be loved in your way, and accepting the best love someone is capable of providing?  Where is the line between forgiveness and protection drawn?  When do we get to decide that these people who love us are unable, incapable, or unwilling to give us what we need?  And when we do decide, why does it take us so long to feel good about it?

This is a world full of exams we didn't know to study for.  I challenge you, as the people you love, as the people who love you come to you, don't try to rationalize why you should talk them out of something.

It's hard to be vulnerable and ask for help; so when your loved ones push you, pull them back.  Open your arms and hug them.  Open your heart.  Nothing replaces the need for safety like finding it.