The Little Prince and the Fox

There’s this song by Bruce Springsteen, “The Wrestler”, with a refrain that often comes into my mind 

“… 

I always leave with less than I had before 

…”

But it comes to my mind by contrast, i.e. it comes to my mind when I actually feel the opposite, that “I leave with more than I had before”.

One of the main themes of this blog is friendship: when I started writing this blog this past spring, I felt mainly compelled to do so because I felt the need and desire to share my thoughts and experiences regarding friendship, which for me is the “highest” or “best” or “most wonderful” of relationships, but also intended by me in a very broad sense (which sometimes can make things complicated for other people). Over the course of these months, I’ve already written several times about many of my close friends, to put into words the lovely moments I’ve had with them, to treasure and celebrate our friendship, and to thank them. 

Today, I’m going to do so again, and even more explicitly. I really want to say how much it means to me that these persons — some of them maybe reading these words now — are in my life. How much it means to me that we spend time together, talk, listen to each other, have a laugh (or a cry, or both) together, go for a walk and ice-cream, share books, connect. 

It is with you, my friends, that I feel that “I leave with more than I had before”: when I walk or drive or ride home from an afternoon or evening or weekend spent with you, my friends — that’s when that refrain comes to my mind and I feel a full heart and literally like I have more than before that meeting. That “more” has been a hand-made mug or cup by a friend who does pottery, or particular food (knowing my weird tastes and nutritional constraints), or books, a shared meal, an extra plate for me at the dinner table — but truly it’s the thoughtfulness and affection and love going into those objects/actions, the time spent together, the hospitality: that is that invaluable “more”. And for that I wish I could do more than just say “thank you” — and maybe these words here are part of what I can give in return.

Rebuilding. That’s how it feels to me at the moment. Almost from scratch but with a heap of gained experience — or rather, it’s up to me to choose what I want to keep and what I want to shed for this rebuilding process. 

Scary. But also full of opportunities.

OMG, it just dawned on me why that clarifying conversation with the boulderer two weeks ago brought me such a mix of relief and grief (and maybe more grief that I had been expecting)! It’s because the closure with that specific person actually for me was the letting go and leaving behind of so much more, of other people and relationships of my past of which that particular situation reminded me.

So basically, I have been letting go of, and grieving, some very old stuff, almost “losing” some of it for the second time. It’s old grief resurfacing in some ways. And thus more intense grief but also more intense relief. More intense relief because only by letting fully go of those past situations, only by getting true, final closure, only by shedding all that baggage from years ago, from an altogether different phase of my life, only then can I truly be open to what life is presenting to me now. Only this way can I open up my arms and heart to these new experiences and persons and feelings, welcoming and embracing them fully. Scary as it may be. 

Sometimes one same situation can bring me such different emotions, depending on the moment, on how I’m processing it or what phase I’m in. 

In the past two weeks I’ve often been feeling that relief and sadness can be the two sides of the same coin for me. 

Two weeks ago, all I was feeling was a wonderful relief, made even shinier by some joy, pride, sense of liberation and empowerment. I felt that I had made yet another step forward in a very strong and positive way. 

Since then, in the past ten days or so, my feelings have acquired layers and tones and shades — and shadows. I still do believe (& feel) that with that clarifying and liberating conversation I made an important step forward for my own good, my own growth (as well as for the situation with that particular person). I still do believe (& feel) that I put something behind me, at last, that needed to be shed. But taking a step forward and leaving something behind also entails loss, and thus sadness. 

Grief comes in waves, I know. And this grief is not too hard, I know — I’ve experienced much bigger, deeper losses. But this particular grief is also more complex, in some ways, as it has to do with a situation that mixed so many different levels and aspects of my life. 

I think the biggest source of pain for me in this situation is within myself: giving up, and leaving behind me forever, a dream. 

I tend to be an optimist and a dreamer, and sometimes this makes things worse, I guess. I have a hard time letting go of my dreams. 

This is where staying in the “here & now”, plunging myself into the present moment, really helps me: this is why work and intense exercise and being in the company of the right people is so helpful and important for me. Almost a lifeline to keep me connected to reality. A little tricky when “doing my own things in my moment” leads me to involuntarily run into or be reminded of the specific situation l’m leaving behind, but such is life, I guess… After all, there’s two sides to every coin! 

I’ve met someone I like in a way that is very different from anyone I’ve ever liked before (or like at the moment). 

We met within one of the groups of climbing buddies and have climbed together three times in the past few weeks, twice with other persons from the same climbing group and once just the two of us. 

They’re non-binary, in sort of a similar way to me, i.e. they’re generally assumed to be female and people tend to use “she” pronouns for them until they’re told to do otherwise — as for me. But there’s something very gender-neutral or androgynous about this person I like — at least in my opinion — in a way that I like very much and resonate with. 

I feel drawn to this person in a sweet and delicate, yet powerful, way that I’ve never experienced before and that feels quite scary. Because I’m afraid of somehow “scaring them away”.

I’d like to get to know them better, to get closer, but I don’t know how to go about it… I know I can be very forward: I have actually been told by several men that I am “bold” or “brave” and that I “can come on pretty strong”. But those were all situations in which, for one reason or another, I wasn’t afraid of “scaring the other person away”. Now I am: I’m afraid of possibly ruining something sweet and delicate and lovely. I really don’t know what to do and it feels so strange and new to me… 

Yesterday I was able to rediscover — or rather, once again express and give resonance to — an important part of myself: the more extrovert, playful part of me who wants (and even needs) to just share simple fun.

I’m neither fully an introvert nor really an extrovert, I’m somewhere in between, needing a lot of time/space to myself but also together with other persons. And while in general I tend to seek one-on-one interactions that often allow me to connect more deeply to someone, I also truly enjoy spending time with small groups of people (if they’re people with whom I feel comfortable — I can be so “socially awkward”!). Despite my quirkiness, there is a part of me that really is — or can be — the “heart of the party” or the “cheer-leader”: given the right circumstances, I truly love organizing gatherings/activities/meetings with a group of friends or buddies. I’ve done it throughout my life for my birthday and other occasions such as housewarmings or any random excuse to celebrate or have relaxed fun. 

In the past couple years, I had done much less of this; partly, like most of us, because of COVID, but partly also because of some of my own emotional and professional roller-coasters. 

But yesterday all of the stars seemed to align again, at last: it was a gorgeous, warm beach day in my neighborhood and I was able to find a few good friends who were available to drive over, impromptu, to have a “beach dinner party”. And it was truly lovely: to be able to be outdoors in good weather surrounded by people who sincerely like and value me as I am, to just relax and chat and have a beer and be my unfiltered self in such comfortable, safe and fun company — what a wonderful gift! I hadn’t had something like this in so much time that I had almost forgotten that it’s possible: I had almost forgotten that I can be truly relaxed, melting into the sand, sharing the sunset, letting myself be hugged by the starry sky and lulled by the ocean waves. And that I can do it together with other people, with persons who truly care and enjoy and value doing this with me. 

I can be fun! 

Yes, I can be “difficult”; but I can also be fun: truly, simply, playfully fun! 

“The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.” [Victor Hugo]

Last week I was having a conversation with a person to whom I’ve grown close in some weird ways and hadn’t seen since before my amazing trip this summer, so we were catching up and he was asking me how I’m doing. And to explain the extent to which I felt well — healed, liberated, empowered — after my wonderful summer experiences, I said, “Basically, I came into myself and out to the world, and found an accepting, loving, welcoming, warm response from the people around me”. 

Now I’m realizing how that combination of ingredients was so important and good for me this summer: thanks to specific, nurturing or encouraging circumstances and persons, I was finally able to come fully into myself, as a sort of culmination of year-long processes, and found the courage to come out to the world as wholly myself; but this wasn’t sufficient, or the only aspect of my well-being: the fact of feeling accepted and welcomed and loved by those around me, just as I am, just as I was manifesting myself to them — that’s what truly gave me the ultimate joy. 

And that’s what I feel I’m lacking here now. 

I’m not saying I’m not loved or accepted here. I do have some very close, good friends who love me and on whom I can count here, too. But there’s something of the environment here that seems to lack the warmth or open-arms-welcome I had felt over the summer. And while I’m probably in one of the best places in the world to express my non-binary identity fully, I somehow feel that many parts of me (of how I am or how I behave) are unacceptable or unwelcome or considered “inappropriate” here — or maybe most people are just less interested in close, warm connections here as their goals lie more in the direction of professional/financial success? In which case, I would be a misfit here anyway… 

I don’t know exactly what is going on with me but I feel like I’m on the top of a mountain or edge of a cliff: high up, having reached a high point and achieved some wonderful goals, but also in an extremely precarious situation and unstable equilibrium. There are days, or even just brief moments, when my mood soars, everything feels so wonderful — usually connected to a good workout, fun/close company, satisfying work, or sunny weather. But then, the moment the weather turns gray and foggy again, or none of my friends are available or my climbing buddies are all busy or make different plans and cancel with me — then everything can turn black for me, I feel an unfathomable sense of loneliness. 

This wild swinging of my emotions and mood causes problems in two ways. 

Firstly, it is very painful for me: in the bad moments, or hard days, everything seems so black that life almost seems unworthy to be lived or I feel like I’m some “monster” and I wonder what is wrong with me and despair of ever “fixing” it/myself. Which then, in turn, makes me feel angry towards “society & its conditioning” that I should even feel that “I have to fix myself”. 

On the other hand, it seems to cause problems for me in socializing and making friends or lasting connections — at least here in California. So it becomes a real, practical problem because it increases my sense of loneliness, thus feeding the vicious circle. 

I grew up in a mixed-culture household: one in which strong emotions where particularly common and evident, and often went unleashed. Something that I myself often struggled with and tried to avoid, to a certain extent, while growing up and then decided to leave behind me as an adult. So now my emotionality and my way of dealing with strong emotions is quite different from my nuclear family’s — I have also done a lot of psychological/therapeutic work on myself, which I believe has helped me to grow and become more balanced. But I still do feel and show strong emotions. I’m often being described as “passionate”, “full of energy”, “fiery”, and “intense” — and here in California more than ever. The first three labels are often intended as compliments or, at least, in a positive way. But the last — “intense” — is definitely meant as a “defect” or criticism. And this is one thing I really don’t like about many people here, the way they say “She/He’s intense” with a derogatory tone in their voice, almost with condemnation. 

First of all, I think emotions are intense, not people: people can be emotional, but intensity pertains to emotions. 

Secondly, I don’t see what the problem is with emotions being intense. Yes, emotions can be intense. Emotions often are intense. That’s life. Does that affect the rosy picture of Hollywood movies for people here? Or is it “inappropriate” to show one’s emotions? Or are there only some specific “appropriate” or “good” emotions that one is allowed to share/show, depending on gender, age, race, etc.? 

I think I’m hurt and angry in this moment. Maybe because I was really hoping to “find home” here at last, after so much seeking and wandering in my life, and now I feel that this might be the wrong place for me, after all, but also that there might never be a “right place” for me because of my culturally mixed background: I’ll never really fit in anywhere. 

I guess what I can do now — my “next right step” — is to try and parse out the extent to which there’s a cultural issue between me and the environment in which I currently live, and where instead the problem is my own in the sense of my own past wounds and traumas playing out and triggering and keeping me in unstable balance on the tip of this mountain instead of on some nice plateau… and remembering that there have been places and times where I have connected deeply and easily with people around me… 

So yes, there might be a “monster” in me, and I need to get that “monster” healed, but maybe I’m not fully a monster… 

Courage to me means owning my emotions: acknowledging my own feelings to myself, admitting what I feel, allowing myself to feel that way and, if necessary, telling people around me who might be involved/connected/affected by my emotions. 

Courage to me yesterday meant walking back into a full classroom, after being away from campus for a year and a half because of COVID, and telling my students, almost with tears in my eyes, how overwhelmed I felt and how scattered my brain was.

Courage to me today means writing here that the relief I felt so intensely and proudly for a couple days last week after the conversation with the bouldered was then replaced by a sense of loss, and thus sadness, over the weekend. 

Courage for me today means writing that I am afraid. Afraid of not ever finding what I really want, especially now that it’s becoming more and more clear to me. 

The sense of loss that overcame most of my other emotions this weekend is not related to that one person or conversation specifically; it’s more that that clarifying and relieving conversation, which brought me so much well-deserved liberation and closure (and pride!) last week, has brought to the forefront issues in which I seem to keep incurring. 

I would like (a) partner(s) with whom I could share more closely my lively, adventurous, playful, even childish approach to life — someone with whom I could share a weekend of camping and rock-climbing, or sailing; or take off for a road trip and go exploring; or walk aimlessly along the beach taking photos; or sit and (not) talk. Someone with whom to build “something” without that “something” being a “traditional family” or a “shackled relationship”. 

And over the course of my life, I have met people with whom I’ve gotten close to this type of relationship or “dream”. My first two “loves” were really close to this “ideal” I have — and for this I am extremely grateful: I will always cherish and treasure those persons and relationships, also knowing that the love I had with them helped me to go into life with a “buoying gift in my heart”. And then, since moving to California, I seem to have been getting closer to persons who want similar things in life as me, but it’s never quite “right”. In the end, there always seems to be some big “deal-breaker” or “wrong timing” or “emotional unavailability”. My vision seems to turn into a mirage, as if I had seen — or imagined — something that wasn’t truly there…  

So am I imagining things? Is the strength of my own imagination overshadowing reality and not allowing me to see what is truly there? Or is it more of a cultural or maturity-level issue?

Many of these persons have been unable (or unwilling) to face “elephants in the room” with me until I brought it up. I might have partly caused their incapacity (or unwillingness) to be fully open and honest with me because I am so strong (or “intense”, as people often say here). But stating one’s own boundaries and feelings is the sign of a person’s maturity and, often, also an act of compassion towards other person(s) — And for this specific reminder, I am very grateful to the friend who visited with me yesterday evening and phrased it so well: thanks! 

So maybe my take-away message for today is that courage also lies in — or can be expressed through — emotional maturity and compassion… 

Just a few days ago, I saw this sticker I really liked at my climbing gym: a rainbow flag with the words “Courage is different for each of us” written on it. And Wednesday’s conversation with the boulderer (which reminded me in many ways of some other conversations I had in the past few yeas with a couple close friends) really brought home to me this “relativity of courage”.

I have often been told — and I am very often still being told — that I’m “brave” (or “bold”). And I believe it to be true, I see or feel it as a defining characteristic of me. But now I also see more clearly that “brave is relative” and maybe another way of describing this trait of my character (or my way of going about life) is that I “feel more comfortable than average with danger/risk”. At the end of the day, what I saw more clearly from that conversation on Wednesday is that I can get very close to, and tolerate, dangerous or risky situations, probably more than average — for better or for worse. And this holds in most realms of my life, whether it’s interpersonal relationships, personal hardship, physical activities, or fun adventures. 

I realize that danger or risk is actually what often makes me feel alive. In a sense, maybe that’s my “drug of choice”… 

Yet I’m not fool-hardy: whether it’s survival instinct, self-love, or simple knowledge of how I function, I also plan my escape routes and safety nets pretty well (or as well as I can) around the risks I take. On Wednesday, for instance, I filled my day with activities that gave me joy, to help ground and boost me before that conversation; then, I rode my motorcycle to the meeting with the boulderer, which I know always helps to get me in “my Zen place”; and I had already planned to get together with one of my closest guy friends for dinner after that meeting, which was a great way of processing the whole thing immediately afterwards. 

And now that I am totally unburdened from this situation, at last, I know that my next step will be to get out into the world to socialize more, because that’s what I need now. I am working and exercising and climbing in pleasant company and making nice connections with new “climbing buddies”, but I know I also need something more — or different. I would also like to have — as icing on my cake — closer, sexual/romantic relationships with persons who are “emotionally available”, and I probably won’t find those unless I push myself out of my “work/workout comfort zone”… 

So I guess that’s what courage is to me at the moment — and what I need to do next: push myself out of that comfort zone of mine to go and meet and connect deeply with “emotionally available” persons, and let them in under my armor of muscle and intellect…