Will-They/Won't-They's

You know those proud, happy people who say they have no idea how Ross and Rachel went back and forth so much?  Or who think Booth just needs to go ahead and jump those Bones already?  Or maybe they're the kinds of people who instead think that Jim and Pam were great in the early years, but post-season three the show wasn't even worth watching.  Who think that Frasier fell apart once the A-plot-disguised-as-a-B-plot of Niles wanting Daphne dissolved.  There are both kinds of people in the world: the people who hate those fictional will-they/won't-they relationships and the people who revel in them.

Personally, I feel that I have no room to talk.  Most people watch those relationships and get incredibly caught up in them, no matter which view they take on the idea of will-they/won't-they's as a whole.  They think that these kinds of relationships only happen on television, or if they do happen in real life it's only to people who are too stupid to say enough is enough.

Well, I can't really claim that the latter part of that is wrong, but I can tell you that as someone who has fallen prey to two consecutive back-and-forth's, they do actually exist in real life.

Let me first say that all of that fun you have watching them on tv?  That excited, frustrated need for your fave couple to figure it all out?  Yeah, that doesn't exist.  In real life, everyone is rooting against you.  Personally, I think that greatly contributes to the failures.  If all of your closest friends are rolling their eyes and telling you he's not worth it, at what point do you start listening?  

It's funny, because I have a friend who started dating her boyfriend over a year ago, and everyone has loved them and supported them the whole time.  The frustrating thing for me is that I seem to be the only one who sees just how flawed their relationship is.  It's too perfect, too flawless.  They don't talk about the important stuff enough and they like to pretend they're completely happy, when in fact I think they're both just content.  I think they're too scared to ask for more, and that makes me sad for them.  I've no doubt they care about each other, but what about that extra something, that thing that makes a relationship really last?

Again, though, it's not that I would know a lot about lasting relationships.  Not personally, at least.  I guess you could say I'm kind of the relationship guru of my friends.  They come to me for advice or just to vent, and I listen and offer my input when needed.  It's really great to be able to help them so much, but it really sucks to not be able to take my own advice.  One of the perks of will-they/won't-they's is that you get the experience of like fifty different (excuse my hyperbole) relationships in one neat package.  I know so much in part because I'm just a really intuitive thinker, and in part because I've experienced a whole heck of a lot given that I've only had two real boyfriends.

Another thing that contributes to my infinite wisdom is seeing my brother's and my parents' relationships.  My brother has only had one really serious girlfriend, but it was a long relationship and he matured a lot because of it.  My parents have had their ups and downs through the course of their lives, but they have been very happily and very successfully married to one another for nearly thirty years now.  In a way, I feel somewhat jipped by their happiness, like I never got to see how people work through the rough spots and instead only got to see the ideal dream.  But that also helps me to see what a great relationship can be like, though I may not want their exact relationship for myself.

But here I am, intuitive, experience-filled, and extremely thoughtful of others, and I have now fallen into the trap of a back-and-forth relationship twice in a row.  I've never experienced a healthy relationship.  I've never had the opportunity to be truly happy with another person, and that makes me really sad.  My relationships have been bottomless wells of gossip and criticism  and no one, not even my very best friends, want me to find happiness in them.  Because really, they're aware of something I just can't bring myself to see: if we're having that much trouble finding a way to be happy together, it probably won't ever happen.  Happiness with someone can have difficult spots, but it shouldn't always be hard.  Unfortunately, by the time I realize this, I'm usually in too deep to pull myself out, because I've spent so much time wanting happiness that I've given the relationship the benefit of the doubt, until I finally decide that I need it to happen.  I would love to end up with a Chuck and Sarah kind of relationship (preferably with the hotness of Sarah and the nerdiness of Chuck), but how realistic is that actually?  I'm a very strong-willed, strong-minded person, and I don't have self-confidence issues, so why am I putting myself through this?  What I really need is to find a way to stop myself next time, to see the warning signs and do something about it.  If any of you have any experience or ideas, feel free to let me know below.  I know that I can't be the only one suffering from this problem, and I'm sure we would all be forever grateful if you found a fix.

In the mean time, check out this great list that has some of the greatest will-they/won't-they relationships of all time: http://www.ew.com/ew/gallery/0,,20304425_20670120,00.html#21273144

I Am An Empath.

My name is Kate Bowden and I am an empath.  If you ever type this word into your computer or smart phone, you will probably notice that beneath it appears the little red line that angrily and obstinately tells you this is not a word.  Well, no.  No, it's not.  But "empathy" is a word.  Now, many of you out there will hear this word and think that it's a synonym for sympathy.  Perhaps you even use the words interchangeably in your daily life.  But actually, there is a difference.
Webster’s Online Dictionary describes sympathy as “an affinity, association, or relationship between persons or things wherein whatever affects one similarly affects the other.”  Webster's also describes empathy as “the action of understanding, being aware of, being sensitive to, and vicariously experiencing the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another of either the past or present without having the feelings, thoughts, and experience fully communicated in an objectively explicit manner.”  They’re pretty wordy, right?  In case you got a little overwhelmed with all the impersonals and commas, this is basically what each one is saying (by my interpretation):

Sympathy: When something happens to one person, the other person feels similar emotions because these two people have some kind of relationship to one another, so they must be compassionate.
Empathy: Being sensitive to the emotions of others to the point of experiencing their feelings and thoughts vicariously, without those thoughts or feelings being explicitly communicated to you, and without feeling obligated to experience this compassion.

Well, there you go.  Webster’s wrote it, it must be true: there is a difference between sympathy and empathy.  The largest distinction that strikes me when reading these two definitions side-by-side is that sympathizing with someone implies some kind of common ground, or at the very least some kind of common emotion running between the two people.  Empathy requires no common ground.  Empathy requires no familiar experience, no intentional compassion.  Empathy (and here I depart from the Webster’s definitions) is driven by a feeling of love for another person.  A person needs only two things to experience it in full force: an emotional attachment to another individual and a natural, insatiable craving to bear as much of this individual’s burden as possible.  The latter part is particularly important, especially if you want to have that self-destructive, codependent thing going on.
Now, plenty of people in the world have some of these attributes in spades.  But they are missing the crucial word that separates a typical, loving person from an empath: insatiable.  Many people feel empathy for those they love in particularly difficult or particularly wonderful times, but even this is usually directed towards boyfriends, girlfriends, fiancées, spouses, or children.  An empath not only feels empathy towards a broader spectrum of acquaintances, but also finds this empathy everlasting.  They are constantly aware of the underlying emotions of those around them.  They feel the pain of a bitter remark directed towards a friend, they rejoice in an honor or award bestowed upon a loved one as if they, themselves, were the ones reveling in success.  Anger has a way of catching like wildfire in an empath, temporarily wiping out the ability to think anything but acidic thoughts about the angerer.  But most difficult of all is that biting, wall-crumbling, heart-gripping pain they feel for a loved-one who has been hurt.  It really can become the center of their universe, to the exclusion of their own problems, or sometimes just in addition to them.
To those of you who have never experienced this, I both congratulate you and feel sorry for you.  It hurts like hell, but this kind of love is unimaginable.  And if you ever have the chance to take that leap and feel it, don't hesitate.  It's worth it.
And to my fellow empaths, welcome.  Welcome to the story of a girl who went to college expecting to grow, and learn, and become someone new, but who never expected to discover so much untapped potential within her own self.  You've probably had different experiences than I have, and you've probably felt different things at different times in different ways.  But I am writing, hoping that you find some common ground, something that makes you realize you are not alone.  Because the only thing that got me through my emotional hard times was knowing that my best friend absolutely understood my insanity, and that I was not as crazy as I felt.  And if I was, who cared?  I was crazy with someone I loved.

And Everything In Between

Friend,
There’s always more to it than that two dimensional black and white photograph that you all envision as life.  You think that when I am black I am weak, and insane, and perhaps just a self-serving person.  You think that he is white and that he is somehow exempt from those infallible verdicts and judgments you let fall upon me.  And perhaps someday you will all grow up and see that these things that you see now—that you want to see—they aren't real life.  You’re still playing dress-up in your mother’s shoulder-padded button-down dress and black heels, desiring to be so much older and wiser, so much more than you are, and yet reveling in the fact that the shoes don’t fit.  I see the world for all the shades of grey that it has, just as I see people for all of their shades of grey.  Grey doesn't make something bad, it makes it interesting and complex and deeper than anyone is really fully aware of.  But oh, how you like to pretend you live only in white.  How you like to pretend so many things, in spite of the grown-up that you are supposed to be.  It’s alright, because I have enough maturity to fill all of you twice over.  I have lived, and I have felt, and seen, and heard, and wept.  And for all that pain, and for all of the pain you caused me in your lack of sympathy, I survive yet and will not be beaten down, not by you, not by any soul, or feeling, or any idea.  And if you never see that, if you never understand the world that you are blind to right now, I will pity you.  Because for all of the hardships, there is always some hope for looking back.  But you…all you see is now, because there is no back to look towards, and you don’t see a future.

The Ramblings of November 27th

There are those times in your life when you feel so philosophical that you just know you aren't yourself.  It’s this strange hyper-aware feeling, like every molecule in your body is completely aware of whatever your mind is aware of.  It’s sparked by something: a picture, a song, a movie, a book, a show.  It’s like a muse uses this feeling to speak to you, to have her art made, as if she possesses you for a time, fills you up so that you are temporarily more than the sum of your parts.  And it’s so strange, because she takes pieces away from you too—feelings, memories, reason, sanity, thought.  And it’s so strange, because she gives those same pieces back to you.  And it’s so strange because there’s no point to it.
I, in this moment, am all thought, no action.  I, in this moment, am reason without purpose.  I feel the potential, that gnawing feeling she inspires, and I know that the only thing I can do with it is write.  Write and I will be free.
But she’s selfish, isn't she?  For where in this mess of jumbled up runes am I becoming?  Where in this hail storm of thoughtless words and wordless thoughts does she give me anything in return?  I am a vessel.  She uses me.  I am thankful for this.  Why?  Why fill me with drive for something that, in the end, gives me nothing—no happiness, no ending, no sense of release?  Writing of him will not make him mine, and writing of others will not make me theirs.  Wanting is nothing—another vessel she may use, just as important as my mind, my limbs.  Wanting, desire—they are man’s most fantastic strength and his greatest downfall.
But I am woman.  I am not to feel desire.  I am not to want.  I am to be wanted.  I am to be pursued.  I am to be won, taken, stolen.  But what man fights for me?  Where is that brutish gentleman, that noble thug?  The muse, she invents him.  She recalls a memory long since forgotten by all others.  She thrives on the pain and joy of eternity in equal measure.  But from all of time to the infinitesimally smallest of seconds, she thrives.  In time, in love, in personalities, in memories…she works equally well in all mediums—the true artist.