Narrative...

We all have them.  Some of them are even true...or true’ish.

I am not sure about all of you, but my mind writes a lot of narrative all day long, forever.  And I have been around long enough to know that this is what we do as humans, write narrative to make sense about our lives and living.  And probably more accurately, we write narrative to give us a feeling of agency and control in a world where we really do not have the level of say so we think we should have in this whole living experience.

I write narrative to fill in the perceived blanks.  The places in my life where I am unsure, not clear, need to find meaning but the universe, for whatever reason, is being somewhat cagey about its intention.  I fill in the blanks.  Which is probably a better moniker for narrative.  Narrative fills in the blanks that make us so uncomfortable...

Someone snubs you, “that is because she doesn’t like me because _______.”

Someone doesn’t return your call or text,  “that is because I said that thing as we got off the phone the other day and so now he is upset with me...”

Someone ghosts you, “that is because I am not worthy of being loved, valued or cared for...”

We all write them, all the fucking time and they are no more true than the shit I just made up above.  I think the real harm to ourselves is the narrative, blank filling obsession stops us from doing what is vitally important...being curious.  Asking questions.  

I know for me, I like to solve all the issues in my relationship by bothering you as little as possible.  I have said that I am capable of having an entire relationship, I just need the idea of you and I can do the rest!  We can date, fall in love, have problems and break up and you don’t even know we fell in love.  The idea of you is enough for me to write the entire love story and then subsequent break up story without you ever knowing much at all.

I do this because I want and need control.  If I am over here writing the script then I can control the ending.  If you do not follow your part in my life play, I can just write you out, kill you off, ghost you or otherwise summarily rid my storyline of your character.  And make room for the entry and introduction of a new character that will perhaps play their part better and more to my liking.

Except, they can’t.  Because so long as I am writing the whole show, you have little to no say about the whole endeavor...which is, of course, the problem!

Instead of filling in the blanks and just making shit up, I could, instead, inquire, “why did you do that?”  “What are you doing?” “Where did you go?”  “Why do you feel that way?”  If I am asking the who, what, where, why, when questions, I feel like I am co-authoring the script with you.  But when I am not asking those questions at all or I am only asking them inside my head and then answering them for you, then I am just over here writing narrative for the fiction I am rapidly creating.

And I do this because asking those questions of you requires a comfortability with being vulnerable.  When I invite you in to co-create the relationship, then you can go off script, insist on different outcomes, and totally fuck up what I want and where I want to go.  But if I do not allow you the risk of intimacy, I am really just using you.  And perhaps, you me.  We are not intimate with each other, we are just agreeing to be subplots in the other’s story until such time as our plot lines cross and create a dramatic ending.  Which, often, the other one never sees coming.

Intimacy requires curiosity.  It requires me to ask the hard questions that do not suggest the answer I want you to give, allowing you the freedom to answer with authenticity and genuine reflection and meaning.  Narrative writing kills intimacy.  It murders our ability to connect and relate to each other.  If I am not asking you how you feel, why you think/feel/believe/act that way, then I am just filling in the blanks so that I can continue or curtail our loosely mutual plot line.

Relating, true, intimate relating requires a willingness of both parties to put down the pen, and be present for the other. To understand that each person wields the ability to destroy or create, to love or leave, to augment or fracture.  And hopefully a slower roll into intimate relations gives us all a break from our own neurosis and traumatic responses that we can pick a more intentional and sane response to things that trigger us and vex us and make us afraid.

I write narrative because I care more about having control than I do the outcome.  And that has been a very hard truth for me to admit, own and begin to unpack.  I cannot lay down the narrative until and unless I am willing to give up control over the situation, you and the outcome of our encounter.

And I am learning, oh so fucking slowly, that my stories always end the same:  me cutting you off before you even get close enough to matter, and being alone, again.  If I want something different, I HAVE TO BE WILLING TO DO IT DIFFERENTLY!

And for me, I have to stop writing the fictions in my head and take the risk of asking you hard questions, instead of answering for you by filling in the blanks that exist and come up in intimate relationships. I have to be vulnerable enough to ask and then listen for your reply, trusting that I will then be able to make an actual intelligent choice about my next step. If I make the decision before I ask, I am just narrative writing and calling it dating, or relationshiping or whatever the fuck we are all doing these days.

If I want to know you, feel you, love you, I have to let you be you. And I have to have the courage to be me, and allow you to do whatever you are going to do with me as I am...

And I have surrender the narrative writing over and over again, still...