A Response to Tomballery
So Kristine (of “Hey my friend Kristine…” fame) started a blog and this excites me for many reasons. 1) She’s funny. 2) She’s a fellow armchair philosopher. 3) It’s called Tomballery and if ever there was a topic to blog about, it’s Tomballery. Of course, she provides an excellent definition of it over at the blog itself: http://tomballery.blogspot.com which you should definitely check out…all 3 of you…but I’ll provide the context of the name. We were discussing a friend of mine who really struggles with confrontation of any kind who, in his avoidance of it, actually creates confrontation for me. Through our conversation we said he was basically outsourcing his balls–completely ducking out of the way of his mess knowing that I’ll then get smacked with the effects of his problem and, because I’ll deal with them, I’m actually doing his dirty work. Hence: Tomballery. Similar to Tomfoolery, except we’re talking about guts (okay, balls) and not foolishness.
Anyway, I digress. She wrote a very interesting post about relationships and the point in which a relationship crosses the line from mutual responsibility to me just letting someone else off the hook for not giving me what I need. But the one thing that really made me think was her question about the “sunsetting” of relationships–the natural falling away of those who once served a very important purpose but have since grown more distant and, sad to say, less important. At the very least, our relationship to them has changed significantly. I have to say, this notion both terrifies and intrigues me.
I have always been something of a warrior princess. If I think something is important or worthwhile, I will clamp on to it like a vise and fight to the death to keep it. What I often lose sight of is that the process of holding on generally turns it into a mangled, ragged version of what it once was while I’m standing there sweaty and out of breath. It would have been better for the integrity of whatever I’m holding and for me if I’d have just let it go and slip away quietly…and maybe beautifully. There’s a certain grace to letting things go the natural way.
On the other hand, if I’m being sunsetted…well, that’s just about my worst fear which I’ve come face to face with before…and it’s still my worst fear. Being let go always feels to me like a total rejection with a side of shame. In whatever way, I’m so disappointing in this relationship that they’re not even going to try anymore. Personally, I’m scarred by this–yes, I’ve been sunsetted–and frankly, I’ll always be a little skittish when I suspect someone’s leaving me before their time. Kristine knows. For one day a couple months ago I thought she was moving to Tampa and I freaked. No, sunsetting and I will never meet in a spirit of love and friendship no matter who’s doing the sunsetting. But it’s not because it shouldn’t happen. It just always hurts.
I think we’ve become used to having our own comfort at our control. We have things when we want them. We have choices…lots of choices. We can artificially sustain things as long as we want (except life, but we’re pretty close to that too.) That kind of life has allowed us to lose touch with the natural cycle. Birth leads to life leads to decline leads to death. That’s how it’s always been. And I think there’s a truly natural wisdom in that. And if we let each stage have its moment and respect it, I think there’s something inherently beautiful about each.
Letting go, I think is easy. Accepting that something’s run it’s course. That’s just about the toughest thing we have to deal with. I think because we’re all a little bit warrior princess.