Passionate Protection

Posted on by stilllearning2b

One of the most common complaints in a relationship that has gone the distance is the lack of excitement. Of passion.

The spark fades and is replaced by a sense of comfort.

Of predictability.

It’s natural to look for stability in our relationships. We want to feel safe. We want to limit that oh-so-scary feeling of vulnerability. We may be willing to trade some of that early excitement for the comfort of knowing that our partner will be there and that we will be safe. We exchange passion for security.

The problem with this transaction is that security is merely an illusion. There is no such thing as a relationship that is divorce-proof. There are no guarantees. We are trading real goods for the promise of a return that may never come.

It makes sense to take certain precautions. Much like most pay their rent on time so they don’t have to live with the daily fear of being evicted, it makes sense to be cautious in love. But not so cautious that you trade all excitement for the false promise of invulnerability. Even perfect rent payments do not protect your home from burning down around you.

There are problems inherent with assuming too much security. You become complacent. Bored, even. You may begin to seek excitement and novelty outside of the the relationship. Eventually, your internal narrative regarding your spouse changes to match your perceptions, reinforcing the idea that the lack of passion is par for the course with him or her. The very assumption of stability can erode away the foundations of a relationship.

You can maintain passion. You can draw out excitement. But it does mean letting go of the illusion of security. It means protecting your passion even when it can be scary.

Try listening to your partner with an open mind rather than leading with assumptions. He or she will surprise you if you allow it. When you believe you know all there is to know about someone, you begin to fill in the gaps automatically. But if you listen, really listen, you may discover something you didn’t know. Of course, that something may also be against your preferences. There’s the trade-off.

Look at your partner as an individual. Watch them in their element. See the best side of them come alive. It may or may not be a characteristic that you normally witness in them. See it. Appreciate it. Recognize that you are a team but not a single entity. Your partner is his or her own person. As you are yours. Maintain some separation, some mystery. In that way, you always leave room for discovery.

Be proactive about maintaining experiences as a couple outside of routine. Routines allow us to function but they also become suffocating if you never deviate. Try new things. The excitement will transfer to the relationship. Embrace a certain amount of unpredictability. Don’t restrain laughter. Be willing to try and look foolish.

Don’t depend upon your partner to create passion. Find it yourself.  Explore the things that bring you joy, that give you purpose and allow you to create. Your partner may not share your interest in gardening or ju-jitsu, but you can share the energy that  it brings you. Take responsibility for your joy. Passion has a way of being contagious. Pass it on.

Amusement parks have created an entire industry around the balance of security and excitement. They know how to give you the feeling of vulnerability, with its associated joy when you emerge unscathed,  without too much of the risk. You can find that balance in a relationship as well.  Let go of the illusion of security. Actively seek excitement and novelty within the relationship. Protect your passion as diligently as you protect your heart.

Related: Of Teddy Bears and Security Systems

In the Midst of Chaos

Posted on by stilllearning2b

In the midst of chaos, recognize what works. And find peace.

I had two harbingers of good will yesterday:

1) I had quite a bit of wall patching and painting to do at our current rental to appease the great and powerful landlord. I had appointed myself this task last night. I removed all hardware from the walls, spackled and sanded and yogaed while waiting for the pink spackle to dry to white (seriously, I think this stuff is one of the best home improvement innovations in recent history, especially for those of us who tend towards impatience). Most of the walls on the “to be fixed” list were covered in the paint they came with. Paint that the landlord said resided in a can in the garage.

I located two promising cans, hacked the paint-encrusted top off of one, stirred to blend the separated mixture and swiped a test strip on the wall. No matchola.

No problem. I opened the second can (actually, the remains of a 5 gallon bucket). I wished I hadn’t. Umm…can latex paint spoil? This bucket smelled like it had been used to hide a body not hold Summer Chaff, or whatever the color inside was called. Trying not to breathe, I mixed the questionable fluids within. What? It may stink, but I needed to cover the now-white spackle and the evening was getting from me.

This one wasn’t a match either. Damn, this was starting to feel like online dating.

I looked around my mostly empty office as I pondered what to do. Panic was starting to set in. Fixing these walls is critical to getting our deposit back and every dollar counts right now.

My eye fell on a plastic bag filled with paint, counter and flooring samples that I collected for renovating the new house. There was a large paint chip placed on the top of the pile. Could it be? Could it really be? I snatched it up and held it to the wall. Seamless. Suspicious, I moved to another room, cloaked in the same paint, but with very different lighting. Perfection. A quick trip to paint department, and all is well. I wish it was as easy to patch holes in my life as it is to patch holes in the wall.

This is not the first time I have had to color match an existing wall. (I wonder if the apartment complex I lived in ever found the 1″x1″ square cut out of the drywall in the closet and used to obtain a match?) But this is the first time I have ever had success with a paint chip. Especially one that I already had. Especially the first one I touched.

And speaking of fingers,

2) In all the craziness, we are trying not forget to take care of the final details for the wedding. Like buying wedding rings. I had already decided to buy mine off Amazon (I know, how very modern and practical). The problem? I had no idea my ring size. We got the engagement ring from a private jeweler and he just sized it to fit. I could have gone to a brick and mortar to determine my size, but that takes time and I hate abusing sales people when I know I don’t intend to buy. Enter the coolest app ever to come to ring shopping: Find My Ring Size. All you need is a ring that fits and a standard credit card or driver’s license card. Use the card to make the screen display true to size and then hold up your existing ring against the images to find your correct size. Now, $80 later, I have the perfect slim and plain white gold band. That fits.

Two tasks have now been checked off the list. But even better, they were moments of alignment amidst the chaos. That brings peace and a space to pause and breathe before the world overwhelms again.

I actually have that paint chip sitting where I can see it so that when I feel panic starting to set in, I can remind myself that sometimes, things just work.

The Dragon’s Lair

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Somewhere around 2006, when I was working on my master’s degree, my ex husband moved his office from the second floor (across from mine) down to the basement. His reasoning made sense. He was working from home, our undersized AC couldn’t keep up with the strong afternoon sun that beat down on the upstairs location and he needed more desk space than the small bedroom could offer. It wasn’t an easy move; the basement was entirely unfinished and the HVAC wasn’t run to the bottom level. He spent several weeks framing the space, hanging the drywall and building a custom coffered drop ceiling. It was soon filled with his books, computers, a TV and a couch.  I thought it was his office. In reality, it became his lair.

The downstairs location offered him the security of uninterrupted privacy. He had the sound of my footsteps on the wood stairs as a warning prior to my arrival. He had space where I rarely ventured to tuck away items he didn’t want found. He could carry out conversations far away from any opportunity of being overheard.

I thought it was his office. In reality, it became the mission control center where he destroyed his life and our marriage.

As a result, the fear I never had of basements as a child materialized as an adult.

It took a while for this distrust to become apparent. For 2 1/2 years, I lived in homes without a basement. And then Brock and I moved into our current rental. With a basement. That, because of the configuration of the home, would house his office.

I had trouble at first as he expressed his desire to upgrade the pretty much unfinished space. Each plan of his spurred flashbacks of the old. It turned out that the house had my back; the basement pushed back with its moisture issues and bad smells, driving Brock to move his office to the dining room before the first year was up.

I didn’t even realize that I still harbored my fear of basements until recently. In the new (hopefully “our” in a couple weeks!) house, both offices will be upstairs but the basement will house Brock’s dream – a “man room” complete with home theater. This may be his dream (I just can’t understand the desire for another TV room when it’s just the two us but, then again, he doesn’t understand my obsession with ferns and hydrangeas), but he has made it very clear that it is “our” space.

And, even more importantly, I have zero reason to think that he is building out the basement for any reasons more sinister than to watch some silly (at least to me) animated movie featuring Superman.

But still my mind throws up flares of panic.

The damn dominos are set in my mind: marriage>basement>bigamy. Yeah, dumb, I know. Otherwise, wives all over the place would be backfilling their basements. But minds aren’t always rational.

Even worse, I wasn’t even aware of my brain’s protestations as I normally am. (I’m blaming this on the sheer amount on my brain at the moment, by the way:) ) Instead, I made comments like, “I’m never going to see you again” as we discussed the plans for the man cave. Sarcastic? Yeah. But still a cry for attention from a panicking brain.

I’ve come a long way from the woman who halfway didn’t expect Brock to pick her up at the airport (could that actually be over three years ago?!?). I know he is not my ex. I trust him.

But apparently I don’t trust basements.

Much like it takes time to layer over triggers, I also need to layer over cause and effects (or correlations) from my past.

It may be a basement, but that doesn’t mean it’s a lair.

After all, I slayed the dragon.

I think this basement is more a bat cave for a wanna-be superhero.

I can live with that:)

Too Many, Too Much

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I met up with a friend this morning for a run. She’s at a point in her life where she wants to make some changes and she has many options open to her. Sounds good, right? Well, much like research has shown, too many options are simply too much for us to handle.

(Some find too many choices in online dating; personally, I loved the endless streams of men!:) )

My friend has been stationary for the last several months as she carefully weighs the pros and cons of each opportunity presented to her. To make the decision even more challenging, she keeps casting a wider and wider net and finding yet more possibilities. 

Her mind is frantic. Yet she remains paralyzed by indecision. She has tentatively explored some of the options, yet is spread too thin to give any one choice her all.

After listening to her new proposals and plan de jour, I suggested that she needs to simply choose one path, invest in that one 100% for a set period of time and hold the other options in reserve if the chosen one ends up being a debacle. I went on to say that by not choosing one path, she was setting herself up for failure with all of the potentials because she couldn’t invest enough time and energy to succeed.  Of course, that’s assuming she could even break her paralysis enough to move at all.

After I finished my short recommendation, I glanced over at her. Her stride had picked up, her shoulders settled back and down. She visibly looked lighter. 

I remember that paralysis of infinite choices all too well. For a year, I existed with a future full of untethered possibilities. I had given notice at my school and stated my intention to leave my friend’s home. I was dating but, as yet, had not met anyone that I felt particularly pulled to. I was unhappy with my career and exploring the idea of switching tracks. I knew I needed to leave the area where I was living, but apart from a vague desire to relocate to Seattle, had not made any concrete plans. 

As the end of the school year drew ever closer, I knew that my endless cyclical thoughts needed to become some sort of reality. I decided to start by deciding to remain in education and set about applying to jobs in the Seattle area. My endless and open choices became targeted resumes and cover letters, organized with my inevitable spreadsheets. Even though the future was still entirely unknown, I felt calmer and somehow more in control once I had a task to tackle. 

It’s funny how just the illusion of control can bring some peace. The jobs in Seattle never materialized and the spreadsheet was abandoned soon after I started dating Brock. But it served its purpose. It became a focal point, a light showing me a path when I was busy spinning in the dark. The efforts were not wasted; the decisions and resumes were simply applied in a new arena where they turned into a new job. 

As for my friend, I don’t know what our next run will reveal but I hope that she is able to break from the immobilization of too many and too much. I hope that the feeling of being out of control and overwhelmed can be replaced with a feeling of determination and intention.

As for me, I’ve decided to practice what I preach. I was feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of paint chips I had amassed to pick colors for the new house. I am beginning by limiting my choices and then selecting from that smaller pool. And then I just may decide to take a nap:)

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Three Things

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I’m enjoying my first slow cup of coffee since the start of the new school year. My tired feet are enjoying their morning free of heels. My throat, scratchy from overuse, is relishing a day without the need for much in the way of vocalization. This, the first pause of the school year, is when I finally get a chance to get to know my students.

From almost my first year in the classroom, I’ve started the year with the same homework assignment. It’s simply titled Three Things.

Three Things

Please write in complete sentences.

What are three things you like about math?

What are three things you don’t like about math?

What are three things I should know about you?

It seems so simple, doesn’t it? Basic questions that should elicit basic responses. Yet, every year, the papers that turned in tell me more than you can imagine about the person behind the writing.

Of course, I learn the basics. I learn if they follow directions. I can tell if they struggle with communicating in writing. Some never even complete the assignment at all and I certainly learn important information from that! I discover who prefers algebra to geometry and who likes to perform computation (not me!). I find out cool facts about each of them that would not be revealed in class (these kids have some great taste in music and hobbies!).

But it goes way deeper.

I learn about their history, both with schooling and with math. Their attitude towards the subject and themselves is clear upon the page.

Some celebrate the challenge of math and discuss the joy of struggle followed by success. They realize that we all fail. They are not afraid to try and try again. They do see themselves as failures even when they fail.

Others share their frustrations when they do not understand something and they internalize the message, calling themselves “dumb” or “stupid” or “bad.” They see their failure as fixed. They are usually timid in class, afraid to try. Many will hide their discomfort behind behaviors, becoming the class clown or the “bad” kid. They would rather not try than to try and risk failing, adding yet another tally to negative view of themselves. When describing what I should know about them, they often say things like, “I try hard even when it seems like I don’t,” “I get upset when I don’t understand things” or “Even though I can be bad in class, I’m really a good kid.”  They want people to know that they are more than their grades. More than their failures.

Those are the kids I focus on from the beginning. Before I ever teach them how to graph a line, I have to reach them. I have to start to change their view of themselves, show them that they are smart and capable. Help them see that everybody struggles with something. Let them experience the pride and accomplishment that comes from hard work and perseverance.

These are the kids that believe that they can’t do math. And the thing is, they’re right. But only because they’re limited by that belief. I have to help them change their beliefs about themselves first. And then I can teach them anything.

It’s amazing to me how ingrained these internal messages can already be in a thirteen year old kid. Just imagine what ours, as adults, must be. What beliefs do you have about yourself that you have been carrying around since childhood? What things do you believe you’re bad at or simply can’t do? Are those beliefs accurate or are they self-fulfilling? Do you ever become the adult version of the class clown or the “bad” kid to hide your own insecurities and feelings of failure? Are you limited by your beliefs?

My homework for you is to complete the adult version of my Three Things assignment.

Please think in honest sentences.

What are three things you value in yourself?

What are three things you believe about yourself?

What are three ways you limit yourself?

Don’t worry; I won’t mark it late if it’s not in by Monday morning:)