This is my column in the new issue of Rending the Veil. I thought I’d share it here, since it’s relevant to events in the recent past. The title is in the subject line, and my regular column goes under the general title of “Into the Aethyr.”
Over the past seven or eight years as I’ve progressed substantially in my personal practices, I’ve encountered many people who wished for me, Meridjet, or both of us to mentor them. While initially this struck me as patently ridiculous for my part, I have always been willing to act as channel for whatever Meridjet wished to do to help, and over time I’ve grown more open to the idea that perhaps I have something worthwhile to offer. By some high cosmic irony, there are people who feel that I am wise and approachable. The humor of this is not lost on me.
As it happens, Meridjet has a way of using whatever situation is available to teach me, and these relationships have provided very fertile ground for those teachings. I’ve screwed up these situations in pretty much every way you can imagine, and not the least of them was to assume depth or friendship where there wasn’t any. I’ve failed utterly at establishing personal boundaries until far too late, and then set them too abruptly so that I pushed people away. I’ve leaned where I should not, and allowed myself to be leaned upon when I was improperly equipped to fulfill that role. These lessons continue to roll in on an almost daily basis for me.
Tragedy has struck on several occasions, and usually when a situation implodes, everyone involved feels like a victim. Perhaps everyone involved is a victim, but usually that is only the result of our own misplaced efforts, trust, and loyalties. I’ve had people who once admired me grow to despise me for my mistakes, while denying their own, and I’ve allowed myself to repeat stupid behavior in the hope that it would lead to a different result (the stereotypical definition of “insanity”). Whether or not I ever intended harm is immaterial; the fact is that harm was done or perceived to be done. And despite efforts to cooperate in healing, I am never able to repair any damage because the person no longer trusts me. I’ve become someone with an Ulterior Motive™. It’s funny and sad how black and white a situation like that can become. What once was beautiful is now ugly, and what once held promise now only inspires fear.
A couple of people stand out in my memory as folks who really didn’t take well to having boundaries drawn up in our friendship. When you start out giving everything and over time learn not to do that, the recipient of your good will begins to see your self-preservation as a personal affront and even as an attack. As one old friend once put it, “You lost me when you started to ask for something for yourself.” For a long time, I was really confused as to why this kept happening. I mean, regardless of how many “crazy people” one meets, eventually one must ask what one is contributing to the situation. Even if the circumstances are different each time, there is going to be something the same, something that you (or I, in this story) are contributing.
Recently, I lost another one who initially sought me as a mentor and later deserted me as a friend. Her perspective is undoubtedly quite different from mine, or else there would be no loss on either side. We reached critical mass and fwoomp! it all fell apart like a used up Howler in a Harry Potter story. As usual, I didn’t see much of what was happening until it was too late. And this is only one of my errors.
I didn’t want to write about this for my column, but it won’t be ignored. I’ve had several epiphanies since things imploded for my friend and me, and not all of them were bad. What would be the point? I mean, if all you get out of an experience is negativity and hate and anger, you’re not really learning anything you can use. It’s only going to eat at you, and scar you, and affect how you deal with future friends. That’s taking the victim role a bit too far, in my opinion. You need to find what you gained in a situation, because I promise you there is something that you gained that would not be a part of you or your life without that experience.
For my part, I’ve gained enormous understanding into why boundaries are necessary from the beginning, particularly when someone seeks you out as a mentor or a teacher. It’s a bad idea to enter into an intense friendship with a person who admires you, because admiration is based on very limited information — it’s a pedestal thing, at first, and then when you start to show flaws, you are not forgiven them because they are a sort of betrayal to that person’s faith in you. They committed to something that didn’t exist, and when faced with the reality, they are appalled at your humanity. Sins that might be forgiven in a sister, a high school chum, or a spouse are not forgiven in a mentor, because the mentor’s job is to shine the way for the admirer. This seems obvious, and it’s even a bit trite, but it’s harder to see from within — particularly when one is accustomed to rejection. A person’s trust tends to open you up, and that’s even more likely to reveal your flaws. It’s not a pretty sight.
I’ve also gained the understanding that my solitude is not something to be overcome; it has value beyond the transitory “personal space” that everyone craves. I don’t live well with others. I am a strange person in too many ways. Beyond the woo woo stuff that people seek out in these cases, I am a perfectionist and something of a control freak. Put me in a house with another control freak and good things are not in the cards. I am OCD in the sense that I have a particular way of doing things, and it bugs me when that is ignored or misunderstood. One example: I hate confrontation, and so over the years I learned how to compensate for that in my communication. I might start out irritated and work my way into talking things out, but if the other person isn’t actively engaging the discussion, I’ll just keep going, trying to draw them out. My usually reserved nature suddenly reaches verbal overdrive, and people overdose quickly. In type, it’s fine. In person, it’s intolerable.
I’m learning what I don’t need that I thought I did. I’m learning that distance from my emotional reactions is a lifesaving skill for me, and bless Meridjet for teaching me how to attain it. I’m learning that not everyone I have deep discussions with has to be my best friend forever. I’m learning to refuse to be guilt-tripped when I feel that my actions are for self-preservation and are absolutely essential to my sanity and well-being. I’m learning to say no, and damn the torpedoes. And once again, as I do on a perennial basis, I’m learning to feel gratitude for the blessings in my life. From the outside, my life doesn’t look like much. But I like it just fine.
I’m grateful for so many things, but the one thing I’m most grateful for is the very ability to feel that gratitude. It changes everything, and makes it all meaningful. Pain is only pain, and you have to let it go. There is joy waiting to take its place if you only let it in.
About Sheta Kaey
