I touched on insecurity a bit yesterday, but the truth is, it’s deeper seated than that. Well, let’s back up for a moment. I start with insecurity and then, once I’ve pushed beyond that a smidgen, I move into the realm where I am able to recognize that what I am seeing is not what I’m getting. Everything looks sparkly and fabulous on the outside, but when I dig just below the surface, things are not so shiny. That’s not to say that I think relationships need to be easy. Not even close. I guess what I’m saying is that there has to be some sort of emotional analysis done where each individual decides whether the muck that lies beneath is worth it. A very realistic appraisal of what is and then a question as to whether that’s enough.
For some, there is simply the thought that they have an Instagrammable situation and that’s all they could ever want in life. They don’t need to look too closely at what lies ahead, because they are able to relish that moment. The pretty photo, the feeling of togetherness (no matter how substantive or alternatively, faux), and the sense of having something that others may be lacking. That entire package is sufficient[ish].
The problem with me is not that I fail to conduct the analysis properly. Not even close. It’s not that at all. My real issue is that I have a paralyzing fear of failure. So, when I think that others can hack it/something and I seem to be falling down on the job, my inclination is to do what I need to do to correct. Typically, that means eating shit and staying. Usually, that means putting up with far less than I deserve or definitely less than I actually want. To cope, I find that I rarely ask myself what I want. If you don’t broach the topic, there’s little room for self-reflection and even less space for disappointment or [gasp] change.
I think it is absolutely important that we be as specific as possible here, so we are on the same page. I have friendships that I find cause me more grief than joy. They are fraught with conditionality and punishing silences and selfishness and all the things that one would never want when making a list of an ideal bestie. And still, I remain. I tell myself that I must be the cause of whatever treatment is coming my way. I must have triggered something. After all, I am the common denominator. It must be me. I have to get my shit together. I have to stick it out. I can’t just bail at first sign of difficulty. Hell, I can’t let go after the 150th sign that things aren’t going so well.
I taught myself at a young age to be a fixer. My go-to was solicitous behavior. I kissed ass. I talked, a lot. I was frivolous with my words and quick to apologize and was comfortable making a fool of myself so long as everything was made nice by the end of my court jester performance. On the rare occasion that I dug my heels in and demanded more, better, different, I folded as soon as the anger or coldness was escalated. I couldn’t find my way through. My fear of loss and exclusion was so insane that I did whatever I needed to do to get myself back in the good graces of whatever human was torturing me.
I think it’s obvious if we know each other well by now, but I am a human who takes responsibility for my behavior. What I’m sharing right now has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I am a perfect person or a pristine friend and I never trip up. I do. I fuck up all the time. I still think that there are threshold considerations for certain behavior. That is to say that there are some reactions that should not result, no matter the flaw or fault of the other person. Mostly, because that kind of treatment is typically not productive. There isn’t much growth that results from one human freezing another out. I’ve never seen the silent treatment bring about togetherness and intimacy. Instead, that interaction seems to reinforce an unspoken power dynamic.
There is always one person that seems to have command or control over the other and that’s just the ways it’s going to work, to infinity and beyond.
What does this have to do with anything I was talking about yesterday, or today even? Well, let’s remember that I started by diving into the complications of female friendships. If I’m honest though, there is nothing that much more troubling than that of the male-female dynamic, whether platonic or romantic. It doesn’t really matter. I mean, it does, and there are nuances that are specific to the nature of the relationship, but when we are talking big picture? It’s all the same shit. No question.
Relationships are complicated. I think the real trouble with female relationships (and of course, I am speaking about them because I am a female that has engaged in friendship with other females) is that there is some nod to solidarity. There is some thought that based on a strand of DNA, there will be some like elements. There will be compassion and understanding. Even when things become challenging, there will be an overarching respect that will dominate and rule the day and fix everything that feels decidedly icky.
That’s not true though. And because the expectation is that there will be something equitable in the interaction, it feels more jarring when it’s horrible. It feels like a betrayal. How could this human who seems so much like me, act so differently? How could they just stab me in the back that way? Why wouldn’t they try and talk me through? Why wouldn’t they want to put in the effort to work through the sticky bits? How is it so easy for them to act out/walk away/disengage?
Well, the same sex doesn’t mean the same sex. Because like magnetism repels. Because people are generally shitty and women are absolutely no exception. For all the reasons that we know and contemplate, but don’t admit. And then, for all the reasons we don’t articulate because even though we know they are around, we aren’t ready yet. Not yet. We feel more comfortable sitting in denial for a moment. Just one. Until we can sort things out. That feels more reasonable.
Is it though?
x
L.
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