2025.114 (109-112)
Over the weekend, I was in Mexico City
Over the weekend, I was in Mexico City for the first time, tragically infected with some snot & cough-generating virus. I consumed food I couldn't smell & tasted snot on my lips while looking at Vuillards. With chapped lips, scratchy throat, & with every inch of my body painfully stimulated, I felt something mystical would come to me– an articulation of some knowledge I never fully grasped, or a faithful understanding of the most ambiguous. & this would be a long-time-coming thing, not brisk or miraculous, as I've constantly, albeit unsuccessfully, reached towards it.
I pushed myself to have a drink when I could, one glass of wine or two if I could handle it. I pushed myself to eat as much as I could stomach. I pushed myself to dress the way I intended to, rather than the way I feel inclined to when I feel like a wraith. I talked the way I would if I cared about the things around me, not just the sensation of my soft throat tissue being grated by gasps of dry air. The reason behind this pushing forward wasn't simply a case of FOMO, but rather an experiment of mind over body– how much pain could I tolerate in the hopes of an ultimate gain? & this gain would not be an illusive kind, unlike the relief brought by pain killers every four hours.
On our last day in Mexico, A tells me it's petty, but it's annoying that I've been breathing with my mouth open. I tell him it's because I can't breathe through my nose. He tells me my defensiveness makes it hard for him to communicate his frustrations. He asks me to have enough confidence in myself & avoid self-pity. I ask if I've been breathing loudly. He tells me I've not. I ask him why it bothers him. He says that it isn't attractive. I ask him if it's frustrating when I do unattractive things. He tells me yes. Then tells me that although he is frustrated with the lack of grace & empathy in the ways we give & receive criticism, he feels better now that we've talked. I think of what Didion said about self-respect: To have that sense of one's intrinsic worth which constitutes self-respect is potentially to have everything: the ability to discriminate, to love and to remain indifferent. Is this what he meant when he asked for self-confidence? To be indifferent to his words while maintaining the desire to love him as a whole? What I think of as consideration (letting go of an impermanent annoyance to avoid hurt) is to him a secret that will slowly tear our relationship down (a nondisclosure of annoyance turning into resentment over time). I stand dumbfounded, because all of this is important information for a woman to evaluate. Why is it that my grandmother endured so many attacks of ridiculous expectations & managed to bite her tongue on every single one of her husband's shortcomings, & decades later, I am tolerating a man's audacity to speak of such minor inconveniences he's experiencing? Could it be that I am dating a stupid man?
There is also a matter of my ego– I have to accept that I want & choose to be in a relationship with a man who is, in some areas, perplexingly stupid. The gap between his serious intelligence & emotional non-regulation is disorienting. It's a hard truth that a man who is quite perfect for me is not a perfect man at all. He needs me to tell him that some of his opinions are not worth being said, or are bad, without growing suspicious of his intentions. He needs me to tell him that his words hurt me, without holding those words hostage in an argument. Up to this point, less than a handful of conversations were enough to burn many bridges in my life, & if a past lover read this, they would perhaps think this is an unfair development. But this is the growth I intend to cradle: accepting the pain of an imperfect sentence because we're home, where we don't silence each other. Because to run away from any pain is to live a life robbed of the possibility of thriving– I've known nothing beyond survival until him.