Stepping On Rakes Since the Fall of the Soviets

Dear Aster,

You know that saying about the wise man and the fool, and the different ways that they learn? I doubt it would surprise anyone to know that in this scenario, I am definitely the fool: stubbornly waiting for my own experiences to knock me down and teach me all the things about life, while ignoring the experiential wisdom of other people. I can’t help it. I will watch countless dumbasses get their tongues stuck on a frozen metal pole, and still proceed to lick it just to test it out for myself. And then, of course, I will regret it and act all dramatic and woe-is-me.

Because of this nonsensical approach to learning life’s lessons, I actually had a lot of trouble coming up with a lesson I learned easily. So, I am going to reinterpret the lesson-learned-easily part of your query to mean that it was one of the few that stuck immediately and permanently. (Usually, it takes a lot of repeated pain and anguish for true wisdom to penetrate and settle in my noggin.) To dig this one up, I’m going to have to take you all the way back to a very small and gullible Orchid, crying her eyes out in a bathtub, before coming across an instantaneous realization that has largely defined her life decisions.

The Easy: Don’t Chase The Things That Don’t Chase You

When I was about 4 or 5 years old, we lived in a ‘двор’ with lots of families and kids my age. (For the non-Soviet reader — a Russian двор is essentially a large courtyard in between several apartment buildings that acts, among many other things, as a sort of unsupervised communal playground. I’m sure it’s hard to understand how parents were totally cool with letting toddlers out to play by themselves at all hours of the day, but it might just be a weird piece of Russian culture that will remain a mystery forever. Anyhooms, back to the story.)

As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, I was never keen on hanging out with kids my age when I was little. However, every now and again, I did feel an urge to connect and be accepted by my peers. So, one day, I cautiously ventured out in search of some social interaction. I ran into a group of older girls — maybe 6 or 7 year olds — who seemed like a fun bunch. I said ‘hello’ and asked if I could play with them. They agreed, and we decided to go tree-climbing. We had a lot of climbable trees in the courtyard, and climbing was my favorite thing to do. I got super excited that I found this awesome new group of friends, who shared my interests and accepted me.

Except the more we hung out, the more I realized that by the time I managed to climb up to keep up with them, they would jump off and run to the next tree. I ran after them, but they were bigger, and it was getting more and more difficult to catch up. I was scraped and bruised, getting more sore and out of breath. I kept begging them to wait, but this only seemed to amuse them and make them run away faster. It took me way too long to realize that they were enjoying messing with me. And when I did finally understand what was happening, I just broke down crying, exhausted and hurt. I ran home, and I can still hear their laughter behind me.

When I got home, my mom put me in a bath to wash off all the dirt and leaves, and I just sat there and cried. This incident seems silly now, but to my fragile little self, this discovery of cruelty meant the world. My mom tried to console me, but I just felt so crapped on and unwanted, that nothing seemed to help. And then, I have no idea why, but I just stopped crying and started talking to myself. I asked myself, “why did you keep chasing them?” and when I couldn’t find a suitable answer, I realized that there is no reason for me to pursue something that doesn’t want me ever again.

It was a very clear, instantaneous, and lasting realization. I have carried this lesson with me throughout my life, applying it to romantic relationships, friendships, jobs, classes, etc. In retrospect, this incident was a small price to pay for a lifetime of knowing when I don’t belong and having the strength to walk away as soon as I know it.

The Hard: Love and Passion Do Not Guarantee Happiness

This one is, well, harder. I mean, there are sooo many lessons I learned the hard way: wash your hands before putting in contacts; make a full stop when turning on red; avoid 7-11 bathrooms when feeling drunk and mischievous; raise your freelancing rates… But the one that is the most recently formed is the realization that the popular notion that love and passion are key components of happiness and success is utter bullshit.

I know, I know — all the motivational memes and merch about following your passions, loving hard, etc. do make excellent points about the importance of emotional investment in relationships, careers, and other crucial aspects of life. I’ve gone through years of tumultuously passionate romantic relationships and, more recently, the heartbreak of rejection in a beloved profession. As a result, I am convinced that love and passion are simply the cherry on top of the sundae, not the ice cream that is the main event, nor the bowl that holds it all together.

In terms of romance — trust, reciprocity, respect, patience, and communication are much more instrumental in building a harmonious and happy life. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore my partner; I still get butterflies whenever I see him, and I fall more and more in love with him every day. But it is not these admittedly awesome feelings that get (and have gotten us) through the obstacles that would have destroyed us.

In terms of professional fulfillment, I know way too well that feeling passionate about your job is an irreplaceable and wonderful feeling. However, this passion and dedication to a single craft leads to a certain inability to think rationally and make calculating decisions that ought to contribute to actual success in that craft. Loving my job as a teacher with every fiber of my being made me feel like my career was a living breathing thing; I nurtured it, I invested into it, I relied on it for emotional fulfillment. I believed that my profession loved me back because I was successful and happy in the moment.

Except a job is not a person. It does not remember all the things you’ve sacrificed for it. It doesn’t feel compelled to reciprocate the care you’ve bestowed upon it for half of your life. It is cold, and irrational, like all things without a soul, and it will shit on you on a whim. And that’s exactly what happened to me. All of my passion and devotion simply led me to ignore the red flags and warning signs early on, resulting in a shattering heartbreak and a lesson painfully learned.

The Ongoing: Not My Circus, Not My Monkeys

This one, unfortunately, might remain unlearnt forever. I love that phrase: not my circus, not my monkeys — essentially, stop worrying about things that don’t concern you directly. It aims to get control freaks like myself to let go a little, and stop trying to make the entire world our garden to tend. I have always been a fixer of all things around me, and I have trouble discerning what is and isn’t my business. As a result, I often end up entangled in situations I do not need to even be present in, which adds to my already-long list of anxieties. Perhaps this quality of mine will go away as I get older and wiser, but I guess we will have to see.

Love,

Orchid

P.S. So, I recently caught myself at the precipice of an argument with a beloved human. Nothing bad, just mundane life stuff. And as I was about to dive into the abyss of questioning and nagging, I heard a little voice inside me ask if this was truly the hill I wanted to die on that day. And I listened to the voice, and I recognized that no, that hill was really not the one. And then I realized that this is a relatively new quality that came about with age. Because in my early 20s, all the hills were to be died upon.

So, I am curious — what is your thought process before, during, and after an argument or a fight? How do you decide that it is, indeed, worth it to don your battle armor? What are the things that set you off? What do you pay attention to or try to accomplish during the altercation? How do you feel after? Do you have a typical remediation process? Are you happy with the way you handle arguments? Walk me through it, babe.

[Currently listening to “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire” by the Ink Spots. Something about the sun and the snow on this beautiful afternoon makes me crave oldies.]