The personality disorder
I was objectively watching friends parenting the other day – the style conflict, the subtle way that one wants to dominate the other’s actions. What a mess. I was thinking about this in the morning when before me in this Sunday’s New York Times were two articles, one on the unfortunate fact that the sudden opening of gay marriages will also swing open the door to sticky, messy gay divorces and the second was in the magazine talking about how Infidelity can actually help. I wonder about that – but I haven’t read the article yet.
I was cruising iTunes still having some purchases left on my gift certificate and feeling the need for a summer playlist and came across Beyonce’s Your The Best Thing That I Never Had because I saw a man the other day, a someone who I had had a thing with, and wow, I don’t remember him. It’s almost like I murdered him and that entire part of my memory, the premeditation, the action, the aftermath are all blacked out of my mind. Like poof, he/we never happened. And I wonder if that is the mind’s way of allowing my memory to co-exist with my current inner bliss (or rather the state I aspire to).
I want to say I have learned this about life, that I can’t even vouch for myself and my past actions or even predict my future ones, so how difficult is it to understand another human being whose head you are not in or privy to? What motivates the people around me or makes them who they are? And now try to translate that into co-parenting. I watched my friends navigate the awkwardness of having spoken without thinking, having set off a chain reaction based on past interactions, and then having arrived at no better place than when they started except maybe a place that was more raw, more tender to the touch as if a scab had been picked.
In the summertime, people go crazy and kill each other, and most killings are crimes of passion, but the worst crimes are not the ones that are lethal, the true crimes are the every day cuts, that accumulate overtime and leave us like a sieve incapable of holding onto any emotions even the supposed keepers.