The need for affection and love

Back in the day, when I was in my twenties, married women who were the age that I am now often struggled with the idea that they could make a life of their own. It's not that they couldn't entertain themselves perfectly well, or find meaningful ways to engage with the world and support good causes. Rather, what they would have loved was for their husbands to come along with them in the new chapter of their lives, post-family raising; perhaps to travel the world, or simply to enjoy life in their own neighbourhood, spending some quality time together having fun. It doesn't have to be grand. My brother and his wife travel about Australia in a caravan (trailer) and have a blast.

As Anna Murdoch discovered when she tried to insist Rupert change, some things are entirely impossible. He was never going to quietly shift into a semi-retirement era of his life. Lonely, she turned to study and writing (hmmm, ring any bells??) and then later they divorced. Still beautiful and full of life, she found another man.

There are other options, of course. I had conversations with a woman in her late 50s at that time, when I was in my 20s, and she told me what a struggle it had been to accept an invitation to a cocktail party on her own. Eventually tired of declining social invitations, since her husband was so often unable to attend, she took the bold step of seeing her life in another way and started attending these occasions on her own. She would have adored for her husband to attend with her, but she reached this point where she realized that he wasn't going to come her way and thus, she didn't leave him, but she did create a life of meaning for herself in other personal and commercial pursuits. She took the next best step.

There is no doubt about the fact that I am an old-fashioned gal who very much wanted a close marriage and to raise a loving family. A little introverted, not really a party gal, for many years I was relatively happy to put much of my energies into raising a family. I did very little under my own steam, often explaining that I couldn't do this or that because of some family or wifely duty or other. For example, the next door neighbour, when we lived in the States, invited me to walk with her after dinner, but I couldn't conceive of leaving the family each evening to do the dishes on their own. (Don't skip over the last sentence. This is what many women do - little sacrifices for the happiness and convenience of others. It can quickly get out of control, so if you do this, remember to respect your own needs. Learn from me, that's the secondary reason for this blog!)

But, something happens to a woman in her 50s,  at the time that her intense mothering duties come to an end. She wants to attach herself again to her husband, or I do, and to reach more deeply into the union; to have some fun and lightness in the marriage. Still, I recognize, like Anna, that my husband is unlikely to change his ways, not in the near future and maybe not at all. I'm just starting to realize that I may have to partake some activities and fun on my own. I've booked myself into a meditation retreat later in the year and that's a huge step for me.

There's the additional factor that I am kinky. I have been shown what heaven it is to melt into the bimbo, empty-headed sexual space, and I suffer when I am not led there, or supervised there on a regular basis. Ideally, that space is far more than a sexual space. It is also a spiritually enriching experience for me; an opportunity for me to feel at home in my own skin, accepted for all that I am. But, even if I can't be entirely accepted for all that I am - my husband would never have expressed himself in this way to me, if I hadn't confessed of my kinkiness to him - I experience great succor from the sexual/sensual experience itself.

We had words recently and it is in these moments that people might reveal themselves. 'Unless you get that BDSM stuff...' There it was; a put down of my kink. This hurts more than I can say and I pull away again from having my needs met. I am happy to say that he does fulfil my needs on occasion and enjoys doing so, but it is the curse of someone who has needs out of the mainstream when their partner who can live without it speaks like that.

I had written this post up to this point when I went to my weekly group meditation. At the 50 minute point, maybe the 55 or 56 minute point, something happened; a consolidation I am sure of the reading that I have done this past week.

'I love myself' I said in my head.

I allowed the statement to be thought several more times since I have never had that happen before in a meditation and nor do I run around thinking that thought at all. This was a new thing.

Now, I have used another strategy off and on for the past few years. When I am sorely lacking in love, or feeel that way in any case, I hold one hand in the other, or allow fingertips of one hand to touch the other, and I tell myself, 'You are your own best friend. I won't ever leave you.' But, I love myself, that's a completely new thought. I definitely want to work some more with that.

Once upon a time, a good and kind correspondent of mine asked me what would be enough; how much love would be enough? It's a good question, and maybe the fact that this 'I love myself'  thought is entirely new in my late 50s speaks to this notion: How much love is indeed enough?

A month or so ago one of my sons met a girl. He didn't really want a 'relationship' with her but she got under his skin and that's what they currently have. She's been around to the house many times and last night my son asked if I had some beef casserole and brown rice for her. 'Of course,' I said. He whispered, 'She is eating crap right now.' As I passed over the bowl of food she began to tear up. 'Is it the steam?' I asked. She shook her head and moved away. My son whispered, 'She's overwhelmed at the kindness.' 'Darling, you are very welcome here,' I said. My heart wept for her.

She's had an awful start in life, a most unpleasant family life and she's trying hard to make it on her own. My son got up at the crack of dawn to take her to work because she has an injured back at the moment and he didn't want her lifting the heavy crates of milk. Apparently, the boss couldn't care less. It was at that moment I realized that my son is a carer. He likes to take care of people and it was no surprise that she wanted him as a boyfriend, sorely in need of love and care as she is.

I have zero doubt that our early experiences shape our needs and that some of us are left needing more shows of affection and love than others. At the same time, some of us are left needing to care for others more. That feels entirely right to them.

There are theories that abound about the love addict (chronic craving for romantic love) and the love avoidant (I want to care for you but don't smother me). This is important research and should be taken seriously. However, I think there is the simple scenario of some people needing to feel affection in and on their bodies due to their childhoods, and those that are particularly good about understanding this and providing it. I think of a 'Latin Lover' when I say this, someone who comes up behind his spouse/partner regularly and squeezes her, telling her that she is beautiful. It doesn't take all that much to keep such a person happy.

Being noticed; noticing

It's so common these days to wear black. I do it myself. It is not only useful, to work around black in a wardrobe, but it's a safe and practical option. It allows people to melt into the crowd of a sea of dark colour. I have no idea if people think like that, to melt into the crowd, but that's the result. If you sit at a cafe and watch the people walk by, especially in cool climates, of course, there is a non-descriptiveness about the crowd.

I was walking along a street in a neighbourhood suburb recently when I noticed a red, raspberry to be exact, woolen dress in the window. Given the grey skies, mid-winter here, it caught my eye immediately. I really loved it. At the time, price was the inhibiting factor, but now it is on sale. I want that raspberry dress and yet I vacillate. I'd like to say that they are noble reasons. I can live without it. I can save the money. Both are good reasons for letting the raspberry dress go. Yet it's not at all expensive now, won't break the bank, and I've already imagined in my mind the times when I can enjoy wearing it, to go to a restaurant or a show in town, or for a dinner.  But here's the thing. How do you hide in the crowd in a raspberry woollen dress when all about you are wearing black?

I sat with this question. Why is that so confronting for me, to be seen, to be watched; to be noticed? Why do I fear that the microscope is turned on me and yet why do I have moments of pleasure in being aware that on this or that particular day, I feel good and thus I probably look good?

I wonder if it is a bit of perfectionism. If I am aware of my faults, I too may be worried that they are also obvious to others. Or, am I worried that I have now reached an age of invisibility? Am I wanting to wear  a raspberry dress to remind myself that I am still a living force; maybe a greater living force than I have been in the past. There is that push and pull of opposite notions: a fear of being noticed at the same time as there is a part of me that wants to be noticed.

Last week we attended a dinner and we were introducing ourselves to the other people at the round table; standing and shaking hands before we all took our respective places. There was a short woman who was to sit next to my husband  and she and I vaguely remembered one another from the past. 'I think we did Pilates together, didn't we?' I said. You could see the recognition come over her face. 'Oh, you're the woman we all envy; the flexible woman who can do anything.'

It always surprises me that anyone should be jealous of me or talk behind my back. I can't explain why I would think that I am some sort of exception, but I suppose it goes to the fact that I tend to think I am lacking in various ways and to live in my skin on some days is not an enviable state.

Yet, on other days, like yesterday, until about 5 pm, I think most people would have loved a piece of my disposition. I felt light and happy; cared for and loved. Driving along on the way to a family gathering, lunch, I felt full of love and even more so when the various generations of my side of the family shared a few happy and connecting hours together.

It's up and down, I know, when what I seek and aim for is stability and flow. I'm grateful for the good feelings, absolutely blessed, but wish I could short circuit the debilitating downs.

A young man ran into my car on the freeway yesterday afternoon. He stopped and put on his emergency lights but I made the decision to keep going because it would have been extremely dangerous for both of us to stay where we were. He followed me for about 20 minutes until he finally found an opportunity to indicate to move to a emergency space and we very civilly handled the matter. I shook hands with them both and they wished me a good weekend. I was shaking like a leaf but still, it's who I am, to try to cope and to contain any upset, and to be pleasant.

The accident was a reminder of how we as humans must be prepared for circumstances which can destabilize our nervous systems and do our best to return to stability. A friend of mine who was in a much more serious accident last year quite literally shook for weeks after the event. Being a spiritual person she had faith it was part of the recovery process but it's destabilizing to feel so shook up. I have come to loathe this sort of nervous system disruption.

We carry these wounds within us, don't we; wounds that are triggered all over again in some conversations and some situations. I read recently that we need to learn to love ourselves, including those parts of ourselves which we wish weren't there.

I suspect that it is via the skills I am garnering in the meditation process that leads me to a more aware state of my own moments of insecurity and feelings of failure. I have wondered lately if what I have done to date is to run from those aspects of myself that I don't like rather than to accept them as part of the package that is me, this self in this body, made up of strengths and weaknesses.

I have become more aware that certain people in certain relationships are more capable of triggering a painful experience or moment from my past, a pain that lingers in the body and the unconscious mind. It's not necessarily the case, or at all the case, that they did something wrong but rather that they stepped on a wound that had yet to heal. I've come to realize that this circumstance has less to do with them as it does with me and unconscious wounds.

I think that when this sort of self-knowledge starts to simmer up into the consciousness the best strategy is to be kind to oneself. You're a good person with wounds. Now that you know that; can see and feel the wounds, they are intensified. I suspect, however, that the intensification means that the wounds will heal faster.  I think you have to be prepared to go to the place of grief about some circumstance or event, but if you can manage that, the discomfort starts to lose its grip on you. Maybe the inner child is heard and heals.

Mindfulness of emotions

I happened to be sitting next to a brother in law over the weekend, at a dinner, in a situation where he didn't have any flexibility to move about. Sure, he played with his mobile phone under the table but he was forced to remain still. This is rare so I made use of this opportunity to ask him questions. He is in the medical field and a most capable practitioner who keeps many of his opinions to himself.

What had been wrong was his father, was it bipolar, I asked? He discarded this thought, seeing the upside of the condition, the mania, as needing to be far more pronounced and severe than he had seen in his father. Well, what of his sister, was that a long depression, or a state of intense anxiety that had lasted her whole life? He saw it as depression, and gave the depression a fancy medical name. This is why she went into hibernation for long stints, he said.

It was at this moment that I felt sorry for him. Here he was, a most capable and knowledgeable medical practitioner who knew his family members needed treatment, but being family, and wanting to have relationships with them, he could do nothing to help them in the mental health sphere due to their lack of self awareness and denial.

I admitted something to him; something that I felt compelled to say out loud. I said that I was vehemently opposed to guns because if I had had access to one in my life, there had been moments when I might have turned it on my husband. He made me manic at times. "The only thing he understands is when someone gets as angry as he does," he replied. "That's the thing he pays attention to."

"Yes!" I said. "That's absolutely right. I hadn't thought about it quite like that. Just that I had come to the end of my rope, but yes, that's the way it goes. When I get mad that settles him down right away."

"Well, don't you think this is all more than a co-incidence," I asked him. Very quietly, he said, and wow, what an incredible thing for him to say out loud to me, "It's a gene. It must be a gene."

A little part of me healed in that moment; that what I had thought and what I had experienced for decades was real.

On the Sunday we were in the car, looking for a park in the city which wasn't forthcoming, when we saw a car park.

"How much is it?" my husband asked.
"$14 flat rate" my son replied clearly from the back of the car.
"What?" my husband shot back, panicky.
"It's $14", I said, slightly louder.
"You don't have to use that tone with me", my husband replied angrily.
I said nothing back.

 "What gets into him?" I asked my son when we were walking along together out of earshot.
"Mum, when he feels anxious anything said is experienced in an elevated tone. You need to speak very softly when he is experiencing anxiety."
My goodness, that kid is perceptive. He's a creative sort, but in another life he really should do psychology.

It's the situations in which I have found myself, both moment to moment and finding myself without the ability to have some control over my own life generally, that have lead me to find ways of peace in a frazzled environment. Recently, I've been using a strategy called 'mindfulness of emotions' and I am putting a link to an information sheet here.

Instead of running away from the harmful and/or distressing emotion I am experiencing, I go to my meditation cushion and acknowledge the emotion. I sit with it and determine where it is in my body that the emotion sits. Invariably I find that my throat is constricted, that my chest is tight and that my left shoulder and lower to middle back is experiencing pain. I breathe into the constrictions and pain. I breathe slowly acknowledging the in and out breath and the gaps between the in and out breath, and, bit by bit, I start to feel the body recovering. I start to feel my mind relaxing.

I like to exercise out of the house every day, but not in an angry way. I don't like taking any negative emotions for a walk. Rather, I sit very still with upsetting emotions these days and let them pass. I stay in the moment as much as possible and acknowledge the full length and breadth of all and every emotion.

It probably all sounds voodoo to those not used to these strategies or this sort of challenge in life, but I am happy to say that it is working. I see things more clearly. I settle more quickly. I feel more comfortable within myself. I no longer feel a victim. There is an impermeability to my sense of peace. I can love wholeheartedly and with empathy without feeling burdened by the happenings about me. My meditation cushion is my most valuable possession. I would go to no desert island without it.

Self-awareness

It was when I was listening to Herman Koch in interview that a truth appeared to me in all its simplicity. Colm Toibin had, in fact, appraised me of the same truth in a similar styled interview, but at that time I hadn't thought of it as some sort of universal truth; rather a fact about his own mother and no more than that.

The more I hear novelists speak the more apparent it becomes that we all tend to do, more or less, the same thing. We observe people, very closely. Observing closely as we tend to do, characters for stories form. In my own case, the starting point is a name. The character simply must have a name and I spend considerable time on that, sometimes changing the name somewhere into the story because I didn't get that right in the first place.

A character is, generally speaking, a composite of a few different people, but not always. Sometimes, someone fascinates us so much that we more or less steal that person's personhood for our book character. I've been in endless discussions about the morality of this behaviour but in the end the consensus lies in the fact that it is fiction. When writing fiction you can get away with an awful lot.

However, I have been plagued with doubt at times at the correctness of this position and my main fear is that I should hurt that person. I had a small character for a chapter not yet written based on a real person but was being held back by that thought, until I discovered she had died and this opened the door, I felt, to write the character as I wanted to write her.

It was Koch together with Toibin who made it clear that scruples are entirely unnecessary, for this one reason. You can write the real life person just as they are, all the nastiness in full glory, and guess what? They won't have a clue that you have written about them. People often don't have the vaguest insight into their foibles and downfalls and won't pick them up in your novel. Now, maybe someone who knows them might wonder, might point it out to them, but in all likelihood even then they won't see themself in the character. Isn't that absolutely fascinating?

In Toibin's case, his mother came to him to register her complaint that he had used a habit of hers. Instead of setting the table for the family as all good Irish mothers did at the time, she had a habit of throwing the cutlery into the middle of the table and the children would fetch their set from the pile. She was most upset that he should have a character do this. Colm's response: 'And in the whole novel, in which you abound, that's what you noticed???'

It tickles my fancy. It terrifies me that we have so little self-awareness.

The mystery of desire

When I think about themes or ideas for stories that old theme of 'desire' comes up again and again. In the spiritual world desire is a bit of a dirty word, since the understanding that desire holds us back is considered to be fundamental to a spiritual awakening. Nevertheless, it's there, isn't it; the desire for some sort of intangible feeling of satisfaction, glow; vibrancy.  I don't narrow my thoughts about desire to a sexual experience because desire can be satiated in the head, the heart and the soul as well as in the loins.

To digress for a moment, I've been thinking about poetry lately and how those with a mathematical mind, or a musical mind are probably best suited to writing poetry rather than narratives, long pieces of writing. My mind doesn't work like that, rather soaring over ideas and then needing to write something down to make sense of them; almost to 'catch' them, or better yet, to contain them; put them in some sort of order, sentences. Nevertheless, thinking about poetry my mind played with two words: desire and admire.

I thought about what I desire. What came to mind was closeness, mystery (opposites!), puzzles, the other's focus. I also desire to admire. Whilst on an intellectual level it's obvious that we all fail sometimes and that we all have our failings, it's a downer for me to come up close and personal with them. Falling in love is such a wonderful experience because for those giddy months/years we can put the other on some sort of pedestal and study them with awe, much as we might study the Statue of David endlessly and find it perfect. It's quite a jolt when, on closer inspection, we might come to see a crack. We don't like it, not at all, because now the illusion is shattered and we find ourselves in the company of someone who disappoints. (N.B. I get that ideally a person loves, accepts and embraces a person, warts and all, but I'm dealing right now with what we think deep inside of our minds rather than what is ideal love.)

I wonder if this is why some people hold back from being known; that understanding that we desire to admire. Or, perhaps there is some other reason why some people are happy to be known whilst other people give so little of themselves but expect others to be quite transparent; an imbalance in the relationship.

Here's one of my failings. I much prefer to be handled than to handle. It's an imbalance that my husband considers unfair and unreasonable, which is why I try to push out of my comfort zone. He tries to push me out of my comfort zone too but relents when he sees how truly uncomfortable it is for me. I wish to be taken, to be revealed. I seek to reveal because when I reveal it is such a rare and liberating event. I am private, not privy to revelation (except here in an anonymous sense) and so to reveal is special. I offer it as a gift and hope that the receiver wants to experience what I have to reveal.

I have wondered if it is a dominant thing, or a male thing, or something else altogether as to why some people do not wish to reveal, rather encouraging the other to do that 'work'. Perhaps they enjoy the imbalance; the urging of revelations. Perhaps, through relevation of another person's mind, they have material with which to work; to tittilate, to seduce and to torment...

Back in the day when I was working at a financial institution a full size cardboard cut out was made of one of the Managers. He was smiling and looked personable. The idea was that customers who saw the cardboard full size cut out would get a sense that to ask for a loan from this person would be a pleasant, non-threatening experience.

My boss referred to the cardboard cut out as a "cardboard cut out of a cardboard cut out". What he meant was that behind the facade of the cut out was a person of no real substance. He wasn't hiding anything. There was nothing more to know. It was a naughty thing to say because everyone has a story, but perhaps it is possible that we ask to know more of someone and they refuse not because they are being difficult but because they simply have nothing to say, or they feel they have nothing more to say, or such a conversation bores them. They want to know about you because that interests them, or it is in their interests.

In the interests of doing my bit to save the world from a most unpalatable and even dangerous experience I note that Tony Schwarz who 'co-wrote' 'The Art of the Deal with/for Donald Trump has revealed that Trump was an impossible subject to interview. He offered next to nothing to the process of Schwarz gathering information about him and his business/life via asking him questions. Trump's answers were more or less monosyllabic. It was so useless an exercise that it was agreed that Schwarz would listen in on Trump's phone conversations at a desk just a couple of feet away from Trump and gleam what he could of the man and his deals in that way. Make of this what you will.

Could it be that desire emanates from mystery, the unknown? You tell all to someone and they eventually tire and move on, a phenomena of the current dating scene, I'm told, whereas they tell next to nothing to you. The mystery in which they enshroud themselves provides the hook for you to remain interested; perhaps forever, if you enjoy puzzles enough.

Working on yourself

I first came to know of Ram Dass when I saw him in a UTube clip in discussion with Eckhart Tolle, perhaps a year ago now. In 1997 Ram Dass suffered a stroke and in the clip I watched his speech was quite labored, slow and deliberate. So, I found it remarkable that the presentation was having such a profound effect on me. I immediately felt that I was watching someone with huge presence.

Perhaps seeing how Ram Dass has suffered - confined to a  wheelchair and with difficulty finding the right words and speaking them - made the words he did manage to speak very relateable to me. Here was a spiritual person in action, facing the limitations of his life but still  finding great joy and meaning in his life; unstoppable. It's the resilience that I respect in the face of whatever life throws at him. Since that day I look out for Ram Dass's words and I never fail to get something very positive from them.  I saved the following words:

"I think in relationships, you create an environment with your own work on yourself, which you offer to another human being to use to grow in the way they need to grow. Parents are environments for their children, lovers are an environment for their partners.
You keep working – you become the soil – moist and soft and receptive so the person can grow the way they need to grow, because how do you know how they should grow."

 I suspect that for some people of a dominant frame of mind, those who want to be responsible for and to control another person in a power dynamic relationship, there is an innate sense that they are creating the environment for their partner. It's not quite what Ram Dass had in mind, but a dominant is, in the best scenarios, creating an environment for (positive) change and/or growth.

Possibly force or strict demands are in place, and the dominant person would argue that this is entirely necessary and viable since they want the other person to change and grow in ways that please him or her, and/or in ways that would be best for the submissive and the relationship as a whole.

Is this the way this particular person should grow, was meant to grow? No-one can really answer this question, except, maybe, to say that the person is happier now under the dominant's tutelage; getting happier and more content all the time. It's hard to argue with happiness. But, let's try.

I think it is fair to say that we are all on our own particular and unique journeys through life. I like to say (to myself) that we are all walking each other home because as I get older and have been on this planet for longer, that is exactly how it feels to me. Some of us evolve towards an inner wisdom and calm within ourselves, perhaps an innate understanding of the whole process of life and death, and some of us do not go close to thinking about it much at all. Some of us are 'go go go' and some of us are introspective types. We are where we are at any place in time. It is as it is. We learn when we learn, or we don't learn much at all in this particular life. Or, maybe we are not all meant to learn much. Who knows for sure?

For many years I had a hard time with feeling that I was 'right' about something and yet I struggled to influence 'the other'. This is a tough place in marriage because a very bad decision effects both people, and the family. I don't so much blame this situation on a power dynamic dilemma as on my own limitations to have a voice and to assert my boundaries. I have such a strong desire to hand over decision making to the other that I reneged on my responsibility to say forcefully enough, when I vehemently disagreed with a decision, that I could not offer my support. This is a huge mistake and one that I won't make again. I have learned to speak my truth when necessary.

Having said that, I am the person I am, and I am in a power dynamic relationship of sorts. If push comes to shove I know I must withold my support when I absolutely disagree. Other than that, I have not found it helpful to insist, or even to expect, change or growth. For a time people will change a bit for you, if they must, but their strongest tendency is to return to their default position, to be their natural selves as they have evolved so far in time. The only person you can really change in a permanent sort of way is yourself.

This is not to say that there are no other tactics at your disposal because to change yourself is to create an environment for growth in the other. This is what Ram Dass is eluding to. When you create an environment where you grow, where you are receptive and open to the other's individuality, the other grows too. This is what I focus on.

To talk in generalities isn't helpful so I'll get specific. Over several weeks I've felt quite isolated. My husband is immersed in a project and is working particularly long hours, highly highly focused on it. This focus is 7 days a week, day and night. For a while I'm supportive and understanding but quietly, silently, over time, I become dejected. I need contact. When he doesn't provide it, I tend to isolate myself from him both emotionally and physically, as if to convince myself that it is less painful to go my own way. It isn't less painful at all and inside my own head I can feel myself breaking down, trying hard to find the patience and tolerance for his hyperfocus, but eventually and inevitably unable  to be a superhuman who is not troubled or effected by this behaviour of a spouse.

My mind tends to flirt with the worst scenarios. I imagine that he might become very ill through this overwork. I try to imagine my life without him. I can even imagine in moments that I would be in a better place on my own, not having to have these particularly painful thoughts and experiences of abandonment, or what feels like emotional abandonment to me.

Knowing that I cannot do anything to change his behaviour, certainly not permanently (see above) I began to meditate daily and to get closely in touch with my headspace. I acknowledged not just the difficult emotions that come with a sense of abandonment but I also investigated, through quiet, close observation of my thoughts and bodily reactions, where the thoughts came from. They came through fear.

I fear that things that have happened will happen again. I fear that there will be no growth, no change. I fear that we are stuck in 'park'. I fear that his behaviour is in a set pattern; rigid and dull. I fear that he simply does not know how to live life differently. I fear that, refusing to acknowledge or address his ADD symptoms, we simply can't advance to a more joyful and balanced state together.

Co-incidentally, my husband ruffed me up a bit on the couch two nights ago. He has this way of discombobulating me in the nicest of ways; reminding me that I am loved and belong, that I am safe. He told me a little of his plans, what he has in train, and whilst I can't be the eternal optimist that he is able to be; the resilient never-say-die guy that he is; I felt momentarily better just knowing that he is that guy and he's my guy and it will all be all right in the end, one way or the other.

Maybe, through the meditation and the calmness I achieved there, as well as an understanding of that fear that sits in my bones, I created the environment for him to approach me the way he did. And, maybe, by him approaching me the way he did, I was able to reach out to him in the middle of the night and embrace him, taking the chance that I'd wake him when he was dog tired. He told me on the phone just now not to worry about waking him, just to get the love I need when I need it.

These are small, but significant changes. The best I feel I can do is to create an environment for him to grow as he was meant to grow; not to grow as I would want him to grow for me, but to grow as he was meant to grow; to be his best self. I'm not in control here. Nor is he in control of how I was meant to grow. All he can do is create an environment to the best of his ability and focus where I can be as I was meant to be.

He most likely won't achieve perfection in my eyes and nor will I achieve perfection in his eyes. But, in respecting our uniqueness we are creating a space of belonging to one another at the same time as we walk our own paths through life and learn as we learn. There is a mismatch, there is no denying this. I continue to find ways to look at the mismatch and to work with and respect our different ways of operating in the world. I'm never going to stop wanting affection and tenderness in a regular sort of way and he is never going to stop needing a lot of his energy to be focused on his business life.

In many ways it is not unlike parenthood. A child is born and we experience its personality and traits. We, as parents of that child have a duty to honour that particular child; to appreciate the child as a unique being and to provide an environment for the child to grow as he or she was meant to grow. We steer the child this way or that, but if we are wise, we study the strengths and remind the child of those strengths at the same time as we quietly work with the weaknesses. We respect that the child has his or her own path to walk, not the path that we think is best. We accept the package at the same time as we provide a safe and nourishing place of shelter where the child may flourish with integrity.

I'd like to think that there are plenty of people out there who consider Ram Dass's thoughts before they take on the responsibility of a submissive, or a child. If the Dominant can't work on himself, or herself, to create an environment where their submissive can grow as she or he should, then what is created within the bond may have a false value.

It is what it is

Back in the early 80s I felt moved to buy a book simply entitled 'Emotions'. I haven't spotted it for many years but I think it is still on a book shelf somewhere. Thinking back, I must have been trying to understand my emotional states from a young age.

I do remember in that era feeling my emotions very intensely - love, anger, frustration, happiness. I remember one lunchtime standing at a pedestrian crossing and looking up the hill of Collins Street and feeling a burst of light-headed happiness at simply being alive in that moment, in that spot, on Earth. There was no particular reason for the onset of that emotion. It simply came over me.

I also remember, in that same era, being very disappointed one day by someone's behaviour. I remember going outside in my little garden and sitting on a chair and not moving at all for an hour; just trying, by way of complete stillness, to overcome my deep feelings of discombobulation and despair.

I have made a study of these emotional states, mainly because I aim not to feel life so intensely. I am not trying to mitigate the positive emotions; the swell in my chest when the sun finally made an appearance this morning after weeks of grey sky and rain, or the delight I experienced when on my walk yesterday I came upon a group of young children making a film.

However, I really could do without the derailing emotional moments when I might feel, that if only some people could behave a little more like I wished they would behave, life would be so much better. I hope you smiled when you read that last sentence because I do understand how silly that sounds. But, it would, wouldn't it, be so lovely if people didn't disappoint us?! I've struggled with this so, of wishing for change that isn't likely to come.

I did a meditation with a group last night and in the group was a young man I know who has a touch of Aspbergers. I am not sure if this is typical of the condition but he was saying that he came in for a session with a healer type of person when he realized that the mayhem he had caused in a group of friends didn't trouble him. He realized that the fact that he wasn't troubled by what he had done, didn't feel guilty, wasn't right, and so he chose to do something about it. I think that is quite an evolved state. So many other people would choose denial, or defence, against their behaviour.

It's frustrating to me to feel that sometimes I am speaking another language; that my choice of words are not really going to make a difference to the outcome. I'm just not going to get through to some people. I struggle with the fact that they are not going to change. At all.

Years ago, going through a dilemma, I remember saying, 'Just tell me when it will end. If you can give me a finishing date then I can work towards that.' I meant that I wanted an idea as to how long I needed to hold on. The thought of being in turmoil endlessly was too much, so just tell me how long I need to be brave, and then I can measure it, control it, contain it; make do.

As time has gone by I have come to realize that some things don't actually change because it doesn't occur to people that they need to change. 'Oh, that's Mary' someone will say. Or, 'Jack is always late'. Or, 'Sally always put herself first'. Or, 'Meg would do anything for you. She's always been like that.' If you wait for someone to change to suit your specifications, you'll be waiting a long time.

I sat and contemplated my frustration for a time yesterday. I could feel the frustration sitting in my chest; bubbles of upset that refused to scatter. It became apparent over the day that being still wouldn't help me so I called the dog and off we went for a long walk. It's my own expectations and hope for change that causes me such grief. It's a sense of 'acceptance' that brings me peace; acknowledging the constancy of behaviours.

I understand that communication is considered the key to people coming to a mutually acceptable outcome, but what if only one person requires change; if the only mutually acceptable outcome is that there is no change. Isn't it then official that one person is left to sit terminally with their dissatisfaction? Does the offical status make it better?

Looking for answers, I read that when frustrated it is a sign that the way you are doing something doesn't work, and that this tells you that you need to make a change in the way you are going about it. This makes sense but it doesn't speak to the notion that to expect some people to change is to bang one's head against a brick wall, no matter which strategy you use. They have to want to change themselves, not you wanting them to change. What are the chances?

So, I think the change has to come from within. Accept that some things and some people don't change. Minimize the damage to your mind. It is what it is. That feels so much better.