Keep everybody out your business, that’s how you do it. And I mean everybody. It ain’t about having a relationship outside of the house. It’s about having a relationship within each other. When something go down don’t be calling your sister or your mother; I’m not gonna be calling my brother or uncles. We’re gonna work it out.
I never would have thought that Ice Cube would be the one to provide the quote that describes my approach to my relationships. But he’s been married to his wife for over 20 years, and I’ve never seen them in the tabloids. (Disclaimer: I also wasn’t looking.)
What he said struck a chord deep in my heart, and I feel like his sentiments are incredibly true. Privacy in a relationship is the best way to keep it intact. The relationship is between two people and only those two people have to live with their decisions and experiences. As such, those two are the only ones who should be privy to all of the good (and not-so-good) details and making decisions that affect it.
In Part 1, I reflected on my tendency to rationalize around my happiness. In Part 2, I talk about how I changed.
So after all of the reflection on my life, I realized that my happiness was my problem, and mine alone. I had to resolve to figure out how to make myself happy. I didn’t know what the hell it was that would make me happy, but I knew that only I could figure it out because I don’t think it’s acceptable to expect someone to give me something I can’t give myself. And frankly, I think it’s unfair to put the burden of my own happiness, mental health, etc. on another person.
What makes the difference in my happiness is my choice to make my life fulfilling for me, regardless of the different factors I faced on a day-to-day basis. I’ve always had a mix of the things I felt I needed to consider myself established, content, and even happy, albeit not always at the same time. However, until now, I didn’t stop to think critically about their purpose in the grand scheme of my life. I seriously think a switch was flipped and it was like “Look, you have what you say you want. Why isn’t it enough?” It was because I hadn’t consciously made a decision to reflect on what’s important to me and why. Why the hell does it matter?
Recently, I was having a conversation with someone about my family. In describing my parents, I referred to my biological father as my “real dad,” something I picked up as a kid when I became a part of a blended family. After using the term a couple of times, the person I was talking with stopped me and casually asked me to “please use biological.” I was caught off-guard and quickly apologized, realizing I could easily have offended them.
Externally, I just kept relaying my story with the appropriate term. Internally, it stopped me dead in my tracks. I was mortified. If I could have crawled under a rock, I would have. I felt so small and simple-minded in that moment and couldn’t believe that someone I respected quite a bit caught me in a moment of ignorance.
I consider myself a fairly progressive person. Perhaps because of my career field (student affairs), I am hyper-sensitive to issues of identity and inclusion and the language associated with them. So why, for nearly 30 years, had I thought that “real” was an appropriate way to describe a parent-child relationship? read more…
I think I’ve lived my entire life in the pursuit of happiness. I want to get to a place in my life where although everything isn’t perfect (because that doesn’t exist), I’m content and have genuine joy in my heart, not the feeling of obligatory gratefulness for having found a certain level of good fortune in life.
My relative sanity fluctuates greatly depending on a ridiculous amount of factors. My work life, my home life, my friendships, parenting experiences, finances, health, relationships, etc., all play into whether I wake up excited for to face the world or whether I stare at the ceiling while I coax myself up to deal with whatever I know is on my plate that day. But those are temporal. For me, there was something deeper, lurking beneath those stressors that changed how I looked at everything.