I woke up with a headache, scratchy eyes, and the taste of doom in my mouth. Wrung out. Ragged-y. Walking into the corners and edges of 53 years of experience. Ouch. It’s not a bad morning, really, I am just having this moment, right here, and it isn’t a perfectly lovely one. That has to be okay, too, or how will I swim life’s currents, rather than being swept away by them?

A very different point of view.

I had a delightful evening with my traveling partner, after a fairly good day. At the very end of the evening, we struggled through a shared moment of difficult emotions and differing perspectives. I did my best not to escalate the intensity of the moment when I began to feel emotionally attacked – holy shit that’s hard work! The thing is… he’s having is own experience. I’m having mine.

As deeply and intimately connected our partnership feels, we are still unique and individual, separate from each other, our own self, our own soul… and like it or not, the world does not look the same to him, as it does to me. Could I have chosen a better moment to bring up wanting to enjoy more of his time, or found a way to do so that explicitly acknowledged that I am aware this is a temporary situation, seasonal, and that in a few more weeks he’ll likely be spending a great deal more time with me? I could definitely do a more skilled job of listening – that’s a weak area for me, and although I work daily to overcome the challenges of my brain injury, I sometimes find myself frustrated and feeling a sense of futility – “Is this as good as it will ever get?” It’s not uncommon to cry about it in the darkness, until I sleep, at the end of a frustrating day.

We each have our own perspective on our shared experience. There’s no getting around this particular puzzle. It’s how we’re made. The most honest and truthful of lovers will still tell their stories differently, one from another, even if they spend every moment of their lives in each others arms. That’s some messed up shit right there… or seems to be, sometimes, when I want very much to be well understood, and instead feel… alone. Few things feel lonelier (again, my perspective, here, and my words) than the pain of being misunderstood, or not heard, by someone dear. What I find I have often lost sight of in the past is that if I am having that heart-stomping, breath-robbing, emotionally gut-punched experience of being misunderstood by my lover… chances are, in that identical moment, and from their own perspective, my lover is feeling it too. We are each having our own experience, but we are also all in this together, interconnected, emotionally entwined. He hears my words, feels my hurts, shares my moment… but… I am hearing his words, feeling his hurts, sharing his moment… what gets us twisted up is not that our perspective on a situation differs, but that we forget that it can’t be any other way, and become frustrated by the differences, instead of nurturing our lover’s wounded heart, and accepting with compassion and non-judgment that their experience is what it is, and demonstrating we are still there for them. Well, no kidding, right? It’s hard. We’d so much rather spend time trying to force each other to recognize the validity of our own experience – correct the other person’s “obvious mistakes”. (Note to self: emotional experiences are 100% subjective, personal, based on perspective, and not subject to argument, or disagreement. Choose another approach.)

It’s easy to wake with this headache and want to say “fuck emotions”. I can say it all I like, of course, being human doesn’t offer up an “emotion-free option”. We are beings of both emotion and reason… and frankly, emotion skips to the head of the line all the damned time. lol I may as well continue those practices that tend to improve how skillfully I feel… and how compassionately I honor the feelings of others. 🙂

Today is okay. I’m okay right now, too. There’s nothing wrong, and love endures a lot of misunderstandings between lovers who love truly, and who invest in good communication, healthy values, and each other. The weekend is here. My traveling partner will be away. I’ll spend time thinking over things he said in anger (and frustration, and hurt) that would have been easier to hear without it, and I’ll come to understand him more clearly.  I’ll forgive the anger; it can be hard to communicate emotion in a way that others can hear it comfortably. I’ll enjoy the summer weekend here at home. He’ll enjoy it elsewhere. We’ll each have our own experience, and return to each other with tales to tell, stories to share, and love.

Wherever we travel over the course of a lifetime, I hope we always return home to love. 🙂

Perspective matters. I often find it here. 😉

Today is a different day than I expected it might be – even knowing that having expectations of what the day would be like, or what it might hold, is beyond foolhardy; even with committed detailed planning, real-life is very unscripted, imbued with the unexpected, and playing host to change. Today is different from yesterday in two specific ways: I slept decently well (without AC) in spite of the heat of the day, and the morning, this morning, is quite cool.

Sunrise. A chance to begin again, every time.

I practice maintaining a mindful perspective, and attempt to refrain from holding expectations built on assumptions. (I find, myself, that the rate of error for most assumption making is really just too high to let it be the foundation of  my thinking, my emotional experience, or my decision-making.) The practices of fact-checking assumptions and avoiding attachment to expectations have been huge for building emotional resilience, emotional self-sufficiency, and a commonplace experience of contentment day-to-day.

There is so much value in perspective.

A simple example proves the point. Let’s take the heat, this week, and start with that? If I had gone to bed assuming that the heat would continue unabated, I may not have taken the opportunity to cool the apartment this morning, when I woke shortly before 4:00 am; it didn’t help much yesterday, because the nighttime temperatures didn’t drop low enough to be helpful for that task. On the assumption that it ‘wouldn’t do any good anyway’, I may have chosen to fitfully sleep, tossing and turning and hoping for more rest, sticky with sweat, until the sun woke me – too late to cool the apartment in any case. My decision-making, instead, was based on thoroughly exploring my assumptions (I checked the weather forecast, instead of guessing, for example), and my actions were consistent with new information; I got up early, opened the windows to the cool pre-dawn air, and started the day, after (again) checking my assumptions – by verifying that the morning air was indeed cool, before I opened all the windows. 🙂

Conversations about the weather are easy. Simple. “Common sense” (although really, we weren’t very good at predicting the weather, as human primates, in the times before satellites and meteorology). I find it more complicated to sort out assumptions I’ve made about people and the behavior or thinking of people than I do the weather. I can check the weather on my convenient hand-held bit of technology – “there’s an app for that”. Checking my assumptions about people generally requires clarifying questions, deep listening, and consideration – and also an authentic and sincere desire to enact my will in the context of honest intentions, and a fact-based understanding of each human being involved. I mean, seriously, if I don’t care about the outcome for anyone but myself, it matters far less that I be correct about who other people are, what values they hold dear, and what assumptions they may be acting upon, themselves.

Same flowers, same day, same sunlight.

Practices take practice. I still get all mixed up when I overlook checking my assumptions. One day recently, my traveling partner asked me if I would be coming by…on a day we’d specifically discussed that we didn’t (either of us) expect to have time/availability to hang out. I could have – with excellent effect – clarified what he meant by ‘coming by’. I didn’t. Instead, with great delight I up-ended my loose planning for the day entirely to make room in my day to hang out with my partner. No regrets – I enjoy the time we spend together, and consider it time well-spent – but I also threw off his plans for the day in my eagerness. He ‘expected’ that I would just stop by – because he thought that’s what he asked me about. I know he enjoyed the time we shared, too. I could have communicated more clearly, though. I keep practicing. 🙂

My assumptions can cast a long shadow over my experience.

Perspective is a big deal for emotional resilience and finding balance. I find it much more challenging to maintain a sense of perspective if the assumptions I’ve made, and not explicitly confirmed with questions or reliable data, are erroneous – and frankly, many of them are. The emotional assumptions, those assumptions I make regarding how someone else feels, are possibly the trickiest – and most unreliable. If I am having a bad day, how much worse do I make it for myself by also assuming I am not valued, not loved, or worse? How likely is it that those terrible dark assumptions are actually true? (Not very) It’s definitely a ‘best practice’ to fact-check assumptions… but… emotional assumptions? How do I fact check those? Asking, I guess, is a good start… Simply that; ask the person how they feel, instead of assuming. Period. These are their feelings, right? Then they know. I do not. Not really. What if I disagree with the answer a person gives me, when I ask about their feelings? Well… here’s the thing about that… I don’t get to identify, define, or place limiting details on how another person feels. I mean… I can go through the motions of doing so, and even insist that my opinion on the matter has greater weight than their own, but… I’d be in the wrong to do so (without regard to whether my notion of what they are feeling is more or less correct than what that person said about their feelings). It’s not for me to say how someone else feels. It just isn’t.

I look at that last bit again. I ‘hear’ a much younger me, in the background of my thoughts, protesting that ‘sometimes people lie about how they feel’ – and that’s true. Sometimes people do lie about how they feel. Sometimes people don’t want to talk about how they feel. How a person feels belongs to them, entirely. It’s not up to me to force the truth from them – or to tell them how they feel. We are each having our own experience. Openness is one of my Big 5 relationship values because I personally do need – and require – people with whom I am in an intimate relationship to be honest with me about their feelings (because they wish to and it feels comfortable and appropriate to do so, otherwise – we’re unlikely to be in an intimate relationship, at all). It’s a requirement for me – but I can’t dictate someone else’s values, or tell them how they feel. I can choose to leave a relationship that lacks openness, or has its foundation in some vague or deceitful narrative. That’s enough.

Today is a good day to pause, and listen.

Thoughts about perspective, expectations, and assumptions on a quiet summer morning. I don’t know where the day will take me, but it is off to a good start. 🙂