“But me I’m not a gamble
You can count on me to split
The love I sell you in the evening
By the morning won’t exist”
-Bright Eyes, “Lua”
The spirit of this newsletter is honesty, and it’s my responsibility to live up to that. I’m on a flight to Chicago for an event I’m running tomorrow, and looking through my “Ideas” folder I have one topic that I’ve been putting off for weeks – commitment (or lack-thereof). I find it easy to be open and honest to a certain point, but I’ve noticed that there’s a place beyond comfort that I don’t ever want to go. It’s my own “Place Beyond The Pines,” filled with all my demons and regrets. Today’s topic lives in that place, and although all I see is a neon “Thou Shall Not Pass” sign blinking in front of me, I’ve decided to push through, let it out and let it go.
I have commitment issues. Serious commitments issues. I’ve never been in a relationship longer than two years (not counting tumultuous on and off relationships). When I look back at my life, I imagine all of the versions of myself I could have been if I had only stayed. If you’ve never seen the movie “Mr. Nobody” with Jared Leto, watch it. This is the exact premise of that movie – we see the different versions of the main character as he would have been if he ended up with various loves he had in his life. It’s beautiful and haunting, and considering the topic, it’s no surprise to me that it’s my favorite movie ever. For the sake of this article, I’m Jared Leto, looking back on all the things that could have been…
At this very moment, I could be on the mountains of Wyndham with Elizabeth (changing names for the sake of anonymity).
I could be running marathons and getting hammered every weekend with Anne.
I could be living in California and raising a sober family with Courtney.
I could be living a fulfilling life in the suburbs with two kids and a dog with Theresa.
I could be in Paris, writing and making love with Suzanne.
These are the lives that could have been. If you believe in the multiple universes theory, there are versions of myself out there somewhere that are actually living these lives. That’s quite the mind-fuck. When I look back and think about each path, I’m glad many of them didn’t work out. For a few of those to work (“work” here is used lightly), I couldn’t be sober. There’s a few, though, that I look back on with a deep sadness. I can’t help but ask myself, “What the fuck is wrong with me?” Every time I left I imagined something better, but what does “better” even mean? Without fail, my definition of “better” was a far cry from the fantasy I had in my head. There’s a lesson here – my will never leads me to the places I actually want to go.
This is not a woe-is-me, doom and gloom story. I’m incredibly happy with my life and being alone. I’m obsessed with the things I do, and at this point in my life they take up all of my time (whether that’s healthy or not is a topic for another day); however, I do want to share some of the things I’ve learned from being the guy who runs…
The grass isn’t actually greener on the other side.
It’s so easy to convince myself that life beyond the confines of any relationship is “better”. Fantasy is an absolute bitch. I’m bombarded with images of gorgeous women on social media day in and day out, and slowly but surely my partner begins to look, for lack of a better term, dull. Then I start thinking about all the reasons why maybe she’s “not a good fit”. In a vacuum, these flaws that I get so picky about wouldn’t bother me at all, but the idea that there’s M-O-R-E out there is like a carrot that’s always being dangled in front of me. That’s the thing, though – I never actually get the carrot. Maybe I break up with my partner and begin attempting to live out the fantasies in my head, but without fail I realize that’s exactly what they are - fantasies. Was any of it worth it? Absolutely not.
My issues with my partners are (99% of the time) my own issues.
Every time I’ve taken up issue with a partner, it’s on me in some way. Most of the time, it’s old childhood narratives that bubble up and make me want to run away. Being in a relationship is a mature act of adulthood, and I have this monkey-child inside of me that just wants to romp around and run away when things get uncomfortable. I’m also a huge culprit of attempting to push through deal-breakers “in the name of love” rather than not getting into relationships in the first place. Deal-breakers are deal-breakers, end of story, and we all have our own. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what they are or what they look like, but trying to make something work in spite of a deal-breaker is like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. No matter how hard I try, it’s not going to fit, and what better excuse to run than than that.
Every relationship has its shit
This one is pretty straightforward. There are no Disney relationships in real life. Life is difficult and demanding, and no relationship is perfect. The more I expect any relationship to be perfect, the more I set myself up for disappointment. Also, each relationship is unique and has its peculiar idiosyncrasies, so why not celebrate those rather than harp on all the imperfections?
I’ve learned a lot in my journey navigating relationships. Maybe I just simply haven’t met “the one” yet, but I don’t think I believe in that. Love isn’t just a warm, gooey feeling we get inside when we think about someone. It’s a choice we have to make every day, and I’ve had some major blockages within myself that have prevented me from continually making that choice. But alas! Onward and upward. For the first time in my life, love and relationships aren’t at the forefront at of my mind. I’m much more concerned with helping recovering addicts, getting my daily workout and writing my daily article than meeting “that special someone”. There is so much freedom that has come with this change. I’m experiencing what I thought only love with someone else could bring me – serenity and acceptance – and I’m doing it on my own. It feels like this was always the way it was supposed to be.
I can’t help but think of C.S. Lewis (when do I not). He spent his 30’s and 40’s (and most of his 50’s) convinced that romantic love was just not in the cards for him, and he wasn’t bitter about it. He laughed about it and spoke of it in jest. Although I’m sure he faced the same loneliness that we all experience, he found his serenity and peace in his writing and in his God, and that was enough for him. I could see the same for myself – I can honestly say that would be alright with me. If I told this to my eighteen year old self, he’d think I was on drugs (the irony!).
I’m not sure if I have my usual moral take-away for this one – this was for me, for exorcising my demons. The purpose of the first 100 days of this newsletter is to find my voice, learn how to provide value and find my truth. It’s just as much for me as it is for you, and selfishly that’s why I love doing it so much. I’ve learned more about myself in this short period of writing than in a decade of on-and-off therapy (I’m not kidding). Now that I think about it, I do have something to say - write. Write for yourself. Write for people. Put your thoughts on display and see what happens. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.
P.S. C.S. Lewis married the love of his life, Joy Davidman, at 58 years old. Never say never.