The love stories of real life

Or "A journey – part four: coming home"

If you read some of my earlier posts you will see that I have a thing for a mermaid. The mermaid is a figment of my imagination. It was fed by very real facts as in huge obstacles between two people: religion, geography and marriage. It is, actually an idea of love that can be traced all the way back to the romantic era: we want love to be so strong that it can overcome all obstacles. Earlier there may have been some reason for this idea, just because there were actual obstacles to overcome, like war, disease, religion in a world that wasn't secular. I have mentioned this problem with our way of thinking before: ideological incoherence in time. When we insist to see ideas or feelings in the light of an era long gone, it makes sense that it loses its meaning. If love has to overcome almost impossible obstacles in order to prove its strength and worth, most loves in a postmodern welfare society must seem meaningless.

Maybe this thought can be traced as far as to why so many of us seem to cling to relationships that seem doomed from even before they were, due to the thought that if love can conquer in this constellation then you never have to doubt the value of that love ever again. I have recently begun to think, though, that this might be a trick of the mind. Relationships that seem to have a lot of problems may not be enriched with more meaning than the relationship between the two, that never wanted anything but each other and who live a quiet life maybe passion less but also without trouble. When so many of us are drawn to the dramatic relationships, it could be because these have more spark, more passion or more excitement. I am thinking that it may be a question of point of view: the lower the lows; the higher the highs.

If you are in a relationship with someone like the mermaid, you will frequently experience deep, unconditional, wild and powerful love and passion. On the other hand these feelings may turn to hate in a matter of seconds without you ever realizing whatever went wrong. Thus he may take you higher than you have ever dreamt if going, but he will also leave you coldly, claiming that it is your fault that he hates you. The fact that he will bring you to the lowest of lows, makes the higher seem higher. You remember that cold, lingering feeling of loneliness and self loathing that he left you to – and when he returns to take it all back you seem to reach a even higher place; a truer love. But this is the optic delusion: the high isn't really that high, you are just looking way down in to the depth of the low.

The relationship I am in is nothing like this. We may not have deep and meaningful conversations on a daily basis. We may not even have passion that often. But he is there and he isn't going anywhere. I think I may have tested him in every shape, angle and size I could make up a test for his commitment, and he is still here, loving me unconditionally. It may not bring me into the clouds, but it doesn't bring me to the deep lows either. It is truly unconditional.

I told him of the mermaid some time ago. He knew already and had forgiven me before I said anything. Even more so, he had forgiven the mermaid. He may not know Soeren Kierkegaard or care much for philosophy and religion, but when it comes to life, he is so much wiser than me and the mermaid together. We know nothing; we just wrap our ignorance in pretty words and create a fragile beauty. He does not use that many words and sometimes he appears less than thoughtful, but his actions show a thoughtfulness and wisdom that I can only dream of obtaining.

This is the love of real life; no obstacles, low highs and high lows. It is that he will be there to kiss me goodnight every night and lend me an arm whenever I ask. He will let me fly off and let me stay in. He has room for every aspect of me. Obstacles are removed by respectful dialogue instead of being blown out of proportion by big tempers. He says he loves me even when he is mad at me. For all these reasons and many more, he deserves my love, my respect and my loyalty. This is the love of real, contemporary life. There is not that many obstacles to overcome; only the ones of your mind.

A journey - part three

On my own

I left the couple alone for some hours today to wallow in their love. Even though they didn't want to admit it, they needed it – and I needed to do a bit of wallowing on my own. So I borrowed an IPod and walked through the town, knowing that these are not my streets. I have borrowed them from the mermaid. He is not here. I carefully chose the time to come based on the information that he would be visiting Scandinavia – my home – while I am here. I smile at the irony in this every day and still I feel an old dream stirring that I might just bump into him and be able to look him in the eyes. It is a dream with underlying tones of a nightmare, because I know that I would never meet the mermaid; I would meet a man. A man that cannot handle to see me; a man that I cannot handle to see.

His words are so beautiful, but they reveal the ugly truth to the one that wants to see it. Walking these streets, the mermaid becomes more vivid and more beautiful once again. But the reality also becomes more real. Words like "His wife is actually quite a nice lady" are uttered and I have to face that this might be the truth instead of what I believed.

I walk around this town, I see things he told me about, and things that I can imagine have inspired his thoughts on several subjects. I understand more and at the same time I understand less. Being reminded of numerous conversations about how great it would be if I could find an excuse to visit his town, I am constantly also faced with the fact that if he were to meet me, it would be awkward and tense and filled with negative emotions and my apparent urge to flee from the scene. Meeting would not be what we dreamed of, and that is ok; but I could not meet this person and pretend that everything was fine and that the dream had never been. I don't want that dream meeting; I want nothing at all: I especially do not want a meeting where every word and every gesture is meant to conceal all conversations we ever had. On the other hand I do not want to be the object of shame either. I am, however. There's not much to do about that; what I did and what I accepted from him was wrong in every sense of the word, and I should not have done so.

Thus I am the object of shame. He will be running away from the idea of me from now on and probably till he forgets there ever was an idea like me. It hurts being something to be ashamed about. Therefore I want to punch him. To remind him that instead of turning his back on me, he can face me and tell me to go away, and I would respect that. It would be nice, though, to feel one's presence acknowledged, but I know that won't happen. He has disconnected, he has returned to another life struggling to keep the facade in place; hoping that if he is perfect on the outside, then maybe one day he will be so inside as well.

I cannot handle having him in my life more. I cannot be the secret friend and I will not have a friendship that no one can ever know the origin of. I tire of this and will soon leave these streets behind. The city of the mermaid will stay here and I will leave and help him forget me. This was my goodbye. I won't look back – I hope..

A journey – part two

The abyss from the edge and the deep

In my first mail to the mermaid I talked to him of Soeren Kierkegaard applied to contemporary life: sometimes we feel like we're standing at the edge of an abyss within our minds. We know we have to leap into the deep to achieve that transition in life we strive for. Whether it's dealing with a childhood trauma or starting a new career or education, it may seem like a terrifying huge step where everything can go bad in an instant. When you're standing there on the edge, staring into that abyss of unknown occurrences, every rational thought seems to drift out of your head, leaving only the panic behind, the thought of all the bad things that might happen; thoughts of your inevitable doom. Kierkegaard enters this picture with his thoughts on faith. He says believing is like throwing yourself into a thousand fathoms of water. The abyss in my mind is these thousand fathoms of water. The more faith you have, the more likely you would be to take that leap into the unknown.

A side note on this is that the first mail from the mermaid felt like going over such an edge without even knowing it was there. I spent 15 minutes reading his confessions, and it felt like falling, losing the grip on my life without even knowing that there was any edge in the proximity of my life at that point.

The abyss can, however, consist of much less romantic aspects of life; for instance going on a journey on your own and suddenly realizing the thousands of things that might go wrong; the thoughts of travel doom!

The thing about these abysses of the mind is that once you have taken that leap and you are in the middle of it, you tend to find peace again. I found this after 2 hours on the train. Suddenly I could not understand what could possibly have been so scary about the trip. I was calm and actually enjoying the trip; I am actually quite capable of taking the train on my own; plus my IQ is more than sufficient when it comes to reading the departure tables. Sometimes it seems so silly, the things you were afraid of before embarking on them. But whether your concerns turn out to be valid or not, once you are within the thousand fathoms of water, we all seem to manage somehow. It might seem terrifying before we start and we may look back on an abyss we've already crossed and find the journey through it unbearable, but it seems we rarely realize this while we are in it.

In the physical world, objects appear smaller when viewed from afar, but the nature of mental abysses seem to be reversed to this, they seem to be bigger seen from afar than they really are when you are fighting the masses of water as they may come. Still, it would be a shame not to admire the people that take their abysses on and without hesitation leaps over edge after edge in striving for new experiences or a better way of living. They have faith. Faith in themselves, in life and in other people; they will not be stopped by thoughts of doom. I like these people and want to be one one day!

The mermaid, however, never got this idea. He turned me into an object he could hold on to in the abyss. I think a most important feature of every journey over an edge is that if you do it on your own without relying on others as the ones to show you the way or act as a safety net, then and only then will you emerge from the deep stronger than you were before. I may praise independency too highly, because it might also just make me isolated, proud and frustrating to be around. But I do like myself better, when I go there without a safety net and make my own way through.

To sum things up:

• My journey went smoothly
  
• Both friends are delightful company
  
• Optimism should always be the new black to me
  
• Walking the mermaid's streets makes him forever present in my mind
  

 

A little note on hurt

I want to punch you in the face
Don't get any ideas -it's not because I like you or anything


a punch in the face wouldn't hurt half as bad as I'm hurting
but I don't care - as long as you hurt a little

and just on a side note: if you decide to stop talking to someone; the least you can do is tell them!

A journey – part one

What the heck am I doing?
I just got on the train. I have settled down and trying to get to terms with the idea that I will have to use discretely urine scented public restrooms for the next 24 hours. However, there are thoughts that are a lot harder to come to terms with. I am going away for a week. Going to the city where the mermaid lives, actually. I am not seeing the mermaid. I am seeing mutual friends of ours. People I have not met, but with whom I speak on a nearly daily basis.
I took the step and ordered the trip, because the friend I am staying with was starting to get upset with me for always saying that I wanted to come, but couldn’t face planning the trip. So I bought the ticket. I felt quite exhilarated at first; then my mind wandered off to other things like my new job that starts when I return home in a week and gaming and my boyfriend.

But then yesterday, I had my Euro, I was nearly done packing, and then it hit me like a hammer: WHAT THE HECK AM I DOING?? I have planned to spend an entire week with two people I have never met in person. One is depressed and over emotional; the girl with whom I staying. The other is fascinating, interesting and an awesome friend plus the girl’s boyfriend. On the other hand, I am his first friend ever. He is 29 and has up until recently treated other people like a strange breed of helpers that might come in handy on rare occasions, but otherwise he has stuck to himself. Now he has a girlfriend and a friend, and we are meeting up all three. I seem to be the one that is most nervous about this. They only know my inner life; my humor, my thoughts, my dreams. They do not know that I can get very shy, silent and insecure. What if I get this way and these two fragile beings take it as rejection? None of them deal well with hurt and rejection. I know I can come off so cold and strange if I get insecure. I just hope they know me well enough not to be freaked by this.

Then the next thought appears: what if they are nothing like what they seem to be on chat? What if they are not funny? What if they are too touchy-feely when I am present? I am going to spend a week with these two people. What if we hate each other in real life? What was I thinking ordering such a long trip? I must have been out of my mind!

I am going by train; all the way! I will not reach my destination for another 20 hours. I have to switch trains in three hours. I am so scared of making any mistakes; getting on the wrong train or being late… being LATE!! I have made sure that I have 90 minutes to switch trains. My grown up self tries to tell that other, scared part of me that everything will be fine. And if worse comes to worst, I will take another train home again and the only thing lost will be a sum of money and a week that I am so worried about right now. That’s not something to be so scared about that your body starts pumping out stress hormones. “Just .. go with the flow” I tell myself. Wherever you end up, it’s where you are supposed to go. I cannot shield myself from making mistakes. Mistakes are bound to happen, and they will always look like they are the right thing to do at that time.

I am drowsy from pills against motion sickness. I take them just in case. I hate the thought of being sick and even the fear of getting sick can make me sick. So I take a pill and forget to worry. I started to fade out drowsily, thinking about my new life that starts when I get back: my new job at a new school. It’s the perfect job for, but the distance isn’t, so for the first month, I will have to go by train. I did that once before, but back when I was doing a job I really hated. In the mornings on the train, I would often dream about not getting off the train, but just keep going and end up in Europe somewhere and just stay there indefinitely, doing nothing but what ‘I really wanted to do.
Now the dream is becoming reality: I am traveling. It might only be for a week, but I am going out there, down the road; and apparently I have trouble enjoying that I’m living the dream.

Loving the Mermaid

I have recently recalled a short-story I once read: "The Song of the Mermaid". A group of people have sailed out on a lake on a quiet summer evening. Every one is enchanted by the feeling, the sounds and the colours of this beautiful evening and lost in dreams. The calmness is interrupted by a strange tune to which they can see no source. Slowly the fear creeps up on them one by one and they hurry back to shore. It turns out that the sound was produced by a man sitting in the boat who now laughs at their folly. Even though he convinces them of the natural explanation to the music, they all feel strange and have a vague image of a singing mermaid lingering in their minds.


A while ago a person entered my life. I didn't mean for him to enter, and especially not for him to have the impact he had. Maybe he meant to enter. I am not sure. I do know he was looking for something, but I doubt if his morals would have let him look for what he found.

It started out as casual chat about food, the weather, pets; but something led us fast to more profound subjects; marriage, the meaning of life and love, religion, existentialism. To great surprise for both of us we found that not only did we seem to have a whole world of ideas in common - we also quickly trusted and liked each other. Chat let to messenger, let to Facebook and before I ever got the chance to stop and think, we were writing each other hundreds of words every day; confiding like never before.


I excused myself with finding it tricky to meet a new male friend. The way my stomach turned, the way I thought about not much else than him; it couldn't be love, it couldn't mean that I was cheating on my fiance.

I was astounded by his almost brutal level of honesty. He would tell me his deepest, darkest secrets. Slowly I began to give some secrets back. Letting down masks that I had kept up for ages. For the first time, I uttered the words that maybe I wasn't really happy in my relationship. He listened to it all, gave me feedback. I listened and tried to comprehend his horrible life story revealed mail by mail.

I fell in love. He seemed perfect to me; even his flaws were perfect.

He was accepted. He needed that. He fell in love because I accepted him and his story and did not judge.

I may have accepted. But I did not listen. I did not hear or understand the truth behind having been diagnosed with borderline. I couldn't really fit this condition in with the perfect man I spent hours talking to. I could not comprehend how he could be in love yet know that he had no desire to ever meet the object of this love.
I would be upset by the thought that I was only an illusion; that this kind of love was nothing but an illusion; that I would never be as perfect in real life as I was with him.
I was seduced by the chance to be perfect. Even though I wrote him of the deepest darkest corners of my soul, I felt next to perfect. Even though my depression was slowly breaking through, I felt more complete and alive than ever before.

Though his mails were real, I read what I wanted to read. That is all any of us can do. We can never read what the other person wants us to read. I created a beautiful tune on a string stretched too far, combined with magical evening breezes.
This imaginary song told me of his growing self confidence; that he would no longer accept to be abused by the people closest to him: he would break free and stand strong on his own. I must admit that this last sentence goes on: and one day, we would meet and every thing would be perfect.

But mermaids are illusions. Strength can fail, relationships are rarely black and white: maybe his wife treats him badly, but there are reasons for this behavior. People may create strong visions of their future life, but they can also turn their backs on these visions and choose that the less perfect life is actually suitable for them.
I openly admit I fell in love with a mermaid. The one with the most beautiful song I have ever heard. For a while I experienced the dangers of a mermaid's song very vividly. I lost all sense of my life, my obligations and other hopes and dreams. All that mattered was reaching the mermaid.

Fortunately the mermaid had too high moral standards to lead me all the way out to sea, so that there would be no turning back.
Now I just have to learn to live with the memory of this: that lingering strange feeling that also touched the characters of the short story, knowing that I will never be the same, and still having to own up to my actions and choices and know that I reacted so strongly to a mere figment of my imagination - because every grown up knows that mermaids aren't real.

A True Rant on Freedom and Belonging

I wish I were alone.

I wish I could be happy in my relationship.

Recently the urge to go off on my own has grown stronger. After a couple of years being one half of a couple, I feel like testing my independence once again. It is complex, however. How do one tell one's better half: "I am going to apply for a job in China, can we please set our life on pause for six months"?

If it were him throwing this thought to me, I would probably scream, cry, ask why, doubt his love for me. Eventually he would stay at home or I would break up with him. I think. On the other hand I might reluctantly support him in his venture and wait for him to come back.

How can I be 32 and still want to explore the world?

The culture, I was born into, pretty much dictates that by now I should be going crazy to have a baby. However, recently I am thinking that this pressure to feel a certain way, might be what is driving me crazy. Maybe some of us are born without that maternal instinct or biological clock that seems to tick so frantically away in most women from the age of 20.

I have taken an education specializing in educating children, I should be dying to have my own and educate them. I should be happy that I have a lovely man in my life that isn't going anywhere whether I fly around the world or lie on the couch for a month. All he wants is my love and the occasional chance to a grab at my butt. I really should be happy. So now I am beating myself up for not being happy, for not wanting the small-town, steady job, family life.

Last summer he proposed to me. I said yes. By now, the plans of an actual wedding are very remote. I have a valid excuse: the depression diagnosis, but I really doubt if that is the reason. Long before it all went really bad, just thinking about that wedding was stressing me out; I didn't know what I wanted. There are so many options and I couldn't really feel which dreams were actually mine and which were the creation of weddings seen on TV, my mother's dream for my wedding and weddings as they appear to my friends and family.

I'd like to be free, but still belong somewhere, to someone. I wonder why we all want that: to belong. Why is it that it seems so hard for us to truly embrace the postmodern way of life and be free, move around the world to our liking and let relations to others be what they are; fleeting connections that come and go in accordance to our own needs and the needs of others; much like our jobs.

It is today a rarity that people stay in the same job for their entire adult life. A sociologist by the name of Zygmunt Baumann says that we are all likely to have approximately 11 different jobs throughout the working years of our lives. We get a new job when the old one doesn't hold the prospect for development anymore or the needs of our workplace has shifted in a way that we no longer wish to fill these needs. This is becoming more and more OK, though some people, at least where I come from, still stick to the work-ethics of the industrial society; to get a job and keep it by doing what is asked of you, but not much more than that.

Another sociologist talks of what signifies our way of living today as "ideological incoherence in time". For instance we try to keep up the ideals of partnership all the way back from an agri-cultural society-form; at this time marriage was for life. They had good reason for it back then; the marriage was not as much a question of love as of financial security and social acceptance. Today, the financial security matter is pretty much non-existent. Most of us can take care of ourselves if we want to.

On the other hand, there might be a thing about the social acceptance. I think singles everywhere will recognize being haunted with the relentless questions about your love-life from friends and family. We might not want to be affected by this, but I think most singles are subconsciously affected; they know that what the people closest to them want most of all from them, is that they will go out and find that significant other and thereby gain the social acceptance symbolized by a halt in the relentless questions.

For my own part, this social acceptance also plays a big part. People relate a lot better to me buying furniture with the man and nesting, preparing for a baby-boom (doom?), than for me getting all worked up about going to China or discussing existentialism.

I guess there is no real chance of changing this ideological incoherence of our time. So in the best existentialistic way, I guess the choice is up to me: Do I want to fly off and see the world and leave the adorable, but quite boring hubby-to-be, behind? Or do I want to fold my wings, give hubby a hug, pat the dog and embrace the life in social acceptance and the feeling of belonging?