Well, I was going to come up with some snazzy thing to write about for today’s blog post, but inspiration seems to have taken a dive into the proverbial garbage bin (what do you mean there’s no such thing as a proverbial garbage bin?) so I decided to just spill some of the most recent thoughts that have been running through my mind, just for the heck of it.
You know, for the longest time I swore I would never have any biological children, and even if the urge were to come upon me to have messy little people running around my legs around the house (that’s presuming I’ll even be able to afford a house at sometime in the near future) I would adopt instead of having to go through the complicated and painful business of childbirth. After all, there are indeed quite a lot of children without mothers and fathers in this world, and this, coupled with the problem of overpopulation, makes adoption the most logical, intelligent and humane choice.
But then I got to thinking, and realised that perhaps childbirth and adoptions were two entirely different kettles of fish. I think there is something in the connection a mother feels with her own child, one she gave birth to, that is absent from the connection a woman has with an adopted kid, no matter how much she might love the child. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s hormones. Maybe something else. All I knew was, at the end of that bit of pondering, I realised I did actually want to have my own children one day, even if at this point in my life the very thought of being in a relationships seems a laughable impossibility.
Which then got me thinking about other relationships, and so forth. I’ve realised that the best way to determine whether a relationship is any good for you is whether it feels good. A lot of people, when they form bonds with other people, don’t take into consideration whether the other party makes them feel very happy and comfortable, which is why a lot of people end up in bad relationships. Instead, they form bonds for the wrong reasons—such as looks or status—or for unconscious reasons, such as in an attempt to replicate a relationship they had with a parent so as to, on a subconscious level, obtain the love of their mother and father they never received as a child. Good relationships, no matter how short the duration—an exchange with a cashier at the grocery store is a relationship, brief though it may be—make you feel good, and therefore if someone doesn’t make you feel good and happy, then maybe you should question whether you should let them remain in your life or allow their opinions and attitudes to affect you.
When it comes to relationships, you should never settle. This was a lesson I learned the hard way. For many years, I spent time around people I didn’t like and didn’t care about, ignoring the feeling of “wrongness” inside my gut whenever I was around them, smiling when I didn’t want to smile, talking when I didn’t want to talk, and, in the end, those relationships trailed off into nothing. What I learned from that very dark period of my life was this: it is better to be alone than to be in bad company. Take it from me. Being surrounded by the wrong people can honestly make you feel like you’re dying a very slow and painful death, the blood gushing from your mouth and eyes in red tides, while no-one around you seems to notice. Not a nice feeling. Not at all.
Something else I have been pondering a great deal about recently is the small matter of loneliness. All my life, I’ve struggled with loneliness, and it has only been in recent times that I’ve had a good look at this dark little portion of my soul and tried to come to terms with it. And I think I finally have. Accepted loneliness, that is. Accepted it, good and proper. In the past, I never really did. Whenever I got lonely, I would just let it eat away at me on the inside, like rats chewing away at my guts. But the thing is, loneliness is one’s only lifelong companion, from birth to death, and so the only way to deal with it is to accept it, and try find a way to happy in spite of it. That’s the way I see it, at least.
You know what’s something I’ve always thought was rather strange? The fact that there are such an awful lot of people on this planet even while relationships are so very gnarly and tangled things. I mean, how do people even manage to get together, and get close and intimate enough as two human beings to produce children? Is there some unseen and very powerful mechanism which allows the human species to continue, or are we only surviving because a billions of people over the course of history have decided they like sex a very great deal and think children will provide more meaning to their life? It’s the most puzzling thing, and it’s something I haven’t exactly figured out yet—though I’ll be sure to tell you when I do.