Violating the Holy Contract

I have discovered that my work style is much like that of a border collie-- given an open-ended, at least somewhat creative task and much autonomy, I will happily tear off in the direction of the end goal, rounding up stray ideas and quickly, productively, droolingly come up with something to show for my efforts. Also like a border collie, if I am foiled by nonsensical delays or contradictory instructions or just plain bass-akward-ness, I will set about destroying my environment. These days I am chewing on drapes. Metaphorically, of course.

Instead of elaborating, which could get me in more trouble, I will instead take a moment to reflect on what I am away from (and a good portion of the time during) work.

I am happy.

This is a revolutionary statement for me, because if my teenage self ever said this, it would be with biting sarcasm and existential despair. If my early-twenties self said this, it would be because I was drunk. My mid-twenties self says it now because I've had a good weekend of doing nothing with my husband-- wandering around a huge grocery store, grilling portabella mushrooms, teasing the pets, and finally agreeing on what breed of collie Richard Gere looks like (it's those weird short-haired ones with the teeny eyes-- apparently they're really great at herding and leading blind people around, and after watching too many Richard Gere movies I'm thinking maybe he should give these other activities a try and leave off acting.)

But right now I'm happy. I've found lots of people I like, who are good for me and good to me and to whom I am good in return. My husband is one, my brother is another. I've also got a handful of really good friends who each make a different part of me more whole, like when I talk to them, different parts of me come through with better reception, and in vibrant, shimmering Technicolor.

I'm also in a situation I never predicted for myself. Actually married (I honestly didn't see that coming-- a string of "learning experiences" left me feeling very educated, but also Bad at Life), and to someone who's in the military (REALLY would not have predicted that) and liking it, unironically liking it. We're moving a lot, and each time I have to find a new place to temporarily bond to, a new job, and new friends. Plus, fucking hurricanes have chased us, so each time we move I not only have to wrap my head around adopting a new temporary home, I also have to envision it completely wiped out. It's hard to know who I am right now. What I do is temporary, where I am is temporary, where I'm going is a constantly evolving calculus-- I am constantly and ruthlessly reminded that there are a few essentials and the rest is just details.

So here's what I'm thinking about today-- the paring away of layers, the natural process of sloughing off things no longer useful, or of separating the self from harmful contaminants. Let's get specific: people we don't talk to anymore. Enemies, some. Ex-friends, others. Mine occasionally pop up in my thoughts, like how sometimes amputees think their missing limbs itch. Like they're not completely gone. This disturbs me for a whole slew of reasons. For enemies I wonder, with an amazing amount of guilt, am I keeping our conflict alive? And if I can do that, does it mean that the whole thing is more my fault than I suspect? For ex-friends, it's much more painful. There are only a few. I've given a stupid amount of brainspace to reviewing the thing frame by frame, and in the end, I still believe that what I did and said were the best and truest ways for me to be me in that situation. Not that everything I did was right, just that given the mighty Life Editing Pen, would I change how I acted? No. But God sometimes it still hurts.

Part of me believes that all can and should be reconciled, like it's this to-do list I have to complete before I die. The Polyanna in me will someday force me to go hunt down every asshole I've had a falling out with and try to "talk it out." Part of me believes every, every, every harm can be undone. And part of me believes, just as strongly, that there is a Right and a Wrong way to treat people, and that forgiveness should not be compulsory and is sometimes just impossible.