My friend J uses the term "kindred spirits" as someone who "gets" you - I think it's the most apt term I've ever heard. There are friends and lovers, and then there are kindred spirits. I was discussing the concept of kindred spirits with my friend B last night, and she said that she has only one kindred spirit, her best friend who she has known for 10+ years. I told her I think I have 4-5 kindred spirits which surprised her, but I think it's because we may have different definitions of what a kindred spirit is. To me, a kindred spirit is someone who truly gets you, sees you for not only who you are but for all the potential you possess (good or bad) and still loves you. But I don't think kindred spirits have to agree with everything you think or believe, or even get every single aspect of you. I guess that's why I think I have 4 or 5 kindred spirits - I have different people in my life who I think see me - or perhaps 80 or 85% of me - which I think is a pretty darn good number, and I consider those people my kindred spirits. B on the other hand defines a kindred spirit as someone who pretty miuch gets 100% of who she is, and there's only one person in the world in that category.
Interestingly enough, that person is the friend who knew her at her darkest moments in life, the friend who also suffered through her own dark moments during the same time. They are friends because they knew the lowest points of their misery and darkness together, so that they can fully understand each other even now when things are good for the both of them.
I met my kindred spirits at different phases of my life, but I definitely didn't meet any of them during the darkest period of my life.
And I think this says a lot about what we choose to define us, and how we cope.
When my life was darkest, I withdrew into myself. I didn't let anyone in, and I definitely didn't let anyone know how I felt. It wasn't any of their business. Many years afterward, when that period was just buried as a difficult time in my life, I would tell certain of my friends about it, but in a detached way. Shit happened, it sucked, life went on, let's not talk about it anymore. What I don't tell them - what I've buried behind me - is how I felt during that time. The anger, the hurt, the hate. Pretty much all directed at God, the universe, life itself. I wasn't suicidal - in fact, I've until recently always held the view that suicide is the most selfish, cowardly act that anyone could ever commit. I simply wished to not exist, and there is a difference. I would never have ended my own life, but I wished every day that I had not been born. I don't know what's worse.
Afterward, when life slowly got better - because time really does heal most things, albeit with large indelible scars - I put that period behind me. I didn't want to talk about it because I didn't want to bring up memories of how I felt at the time. I willed myself to be happy, I willed myself to be positive, I willed myself not to feel sorry for myself. And it worked.
And that's one of the essential things about who I am. I 100% believe in mind over matter. There are, of course, many things in life over which you have no control - most things, actually. I believe God gives you a certain set of circumstances in life, then environmental factors such as the people in your life and the ways their decisions impact you add an indentation to the potential path your life will take. Those things are not within your control and there's no point in really trying to control those things. But while life, the universe, God gives you a set of circumstances that are not within your control, you do have control over your own decisions on how you will approach or react to a situation. I believe that you can choose how you feel, and not only can you, you must - to the best of your ability, and with the grace of God. Which is not to say that I don't feel grief, or anger, or sadness - of course I do, because I am human. But I despise allowing such feelings to fester, and so I don't. I let myself feel whatever I need to feel, but I try to do it in a concentrated way (usually spending a day in isolation in my room bawling my eyes out works), then tell myself to buck up and get the hell over it. And for the most part, I do.
I have three big fears (actually probably four, but I don't know that cockroaches get to count as a big fear). Loneliness, which is why I constantly seek the company of others. Prolonged excruciating physical pain, which is why childbirth scares the hell out of me and why I think an aneurism or heart attack is a pretty good way to depart this earth. And losing control - control of myself, my situation and my emotions.
Which is why the characteristic in people that causes the most awe, admiration and fear in me is the one that is completely and utterly incomprehensible to me - the ability to lose control. Whether it's succumbing to an addiction to gambling/drinking/drugs/sex or even just getting into a simple situation where you have no control, it's mentally difficult for me to grasp and terrifying for me to think about. And I guess there's a part of me that just doesn't believe it - I don't buy into the fact that addiction is a disease over which people don't have control, because to me, of course you have control. Control is simply a pattern of thinking a situation through, considering the consequences, and making the reasonable, logical choice. You made the choice to gamble again or drink again, it did not just happen to you.
But I'm beginning to understand - slowly - that in fact, people are not all wired that way. And in fact, my need for control is a weakness and a hindrance to allowing myself to feel what I really feel, do what I really want to do. I am tightly wound, but I'm afraid of who I would be if I untethered myself.
Interestingly enough, that person is the friend who knew her at her darkest moments in life, the friend who also suffered through her own dark moments during the same time. They are friends because they knew the lowest points of their misery and darkness together, so that they can fully understand each other even now when things are good for the both of them.
I met my kindred spirits at different phases of my life, but I definitely didn't meet any of them during the darkest period of my life.
And I think this says a lot about what we choose to define us, and how we cope.
When my life was darkest, I withdrew into myself. I didn't let anyone in, and I definitely didn't let anyone know how I felt. It wasn't any of their business. Many years afterward, when that period was just buried as a difficult time in my life, I would tell certain of my friends about it, but in a detached way. Shit happened, it sucked, life went on, let's not talk about it anymore. What I don't tell them - what I've buried behind me - is how I felt during that time. The anger, the hurt, the hate. Pretty much all directed at God, the universe, life itself. I wasn't suicidal - in fact, I've until recently always held the view that suicide is the most selfish, cowardly act that anyone could ever commit. I simply wished to not exist, and there is a difference. I would never have ended my own life, but I wished every day that I had not been born. I don't know what's worse.
Afterward, when life slowly got better - because time really does heal most things, albeit with large indelible scars - I put that period behind me. I didn't want to talk about it because I didn't want to bring up memories of how I felt at the time. I willed myself to be happy, I willed myself to be positive, I willed myself not to feel sorry for myself. And it worked.
And that's one of the essential things about who I am. I 100% believe in mind over matter. There are, of course, many things in life over which you have no control - most things, actually. I believe God gives you a certain set of circumstances in life, then environmental factors such as the people in your life and the ways their decisions impact you add an indentation to the potential path your life will take. Those things are not within your control and there's no point in really trying to control those things. But while life, the universe, God gives you a set of circumstances that are not within your control, you do have control over your own decisions on how you will approach or react to a situation. I believe that you can choose how you feel, and not only can you, you must - to the best of your ability, and with the grace of God. Which is not to say that I don't feel grief, or anger, or sadness - of course I do, because I am human. But I despise allowing such feelings to fester, and so I don't. I let myself feel whatever I need to feel, but I try to do it in a concentrated way (usually spending a day in isolation in my room bawling my eyes out works), then tell myself to buck up and get the hell over it. And for the most part, I do.
I have three big fears (actually probably four, but I don't know that cockroaches get to count as a big fear). Loneliness, which is why I constantly seek the company of others. Prolonged excruciating physical pain, which is why childbirth scares the hell out of me and why I think an aneurism or heart attack is a pretty good way to depart this earth. And losing control - control of myself, my situation and my emotions.
Which is why the characteristic in people that causes the most awe, admiration and fear in me is the one that is completely and utterly incomprehensible to me - the ability to lose control. Whether it's succumbing to an addiction to gambling/drinking/drugs/sex or even just getting into a simple situation where you have no control, it's mentally difficult for me to grasp and terrifying for me to think about. And I guess there's a part of me that just doesn't believe it - I don't buy into the fact that addiction is a disease over which people don't have control, because to me, of course you have control. Control is simply a pattern of thinking a situation through, considering the consequences, and making the reasonable, logical choice. You made the choice to gamble again or drink again, it did not just happen to you.
But I'm beginning to understand - slowly - that in fact, people are not all wired that way. And in fact, my need for control is a weakness and a hindrance to allowing myself to feel what I really feel, do what I really want to do. I am tightly wound, but I'm afraid of who I would be if I untethered myself.
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