Navigating 'Tolerationships'.
Don't bother looking it up. It's one of those words people like myself invent while sitting on the toilet when there's no other word like it in the dictionary that describes, so well, how we all tolerate the many different types of relationships within life's great journey - from birth to death.
And it's not exclusive to people either. It could be one's relationship with work, just as it could be applied to other areas of our lives. Maybe we have addictions, perhaps, even other types of health issues. Anyway, whatever. Give me a break for further thought as I've not long pulled my trousers up and sat down at the keyboard.
As per usual, and, as some of you more hardened readers of the tripe I write will know full well, my day begins at as close to ten o'clock as possible, and, having abluted myself, off I pop for copious hot chocolates, where my time is fully engaged in watching the world go by as I reach for whatever inspires me to write on my return home - which is invariably somewhere around two o'clock. That's it, Monday to Sunday, and without fail.
Anyway, today's inspired moment fired me up to write several paragraphs on our all new, and almost exciting Prime Minister. I was so proud of myself for pulling what I felt to be quite a catchy little headline out of thin air in one of those sudden bursts of inspiration and got as far as "Number 10 Will Now Be Renamed 'The Toolshed', plus a whole load of material after that, such as seeing better cabinets in Ikea, for example, and then it all went tits up on arriving home shortly after.
Firstly, I noticed an unexplained, random bottle lid out of place, sitting - if ever such an item could sit, by the kettle. Knowing full well that neither my housemate Eric, nor myself, would ever do such a thing I was baffled, until some minutes later I saw the bottle that matched the lid on the other side of the room. Now, in full knowledge of the cats not having shown any previous predilection for sweet chilli sauce, and ruling them out completely from the mystery so far, an errant spoon was found on the lounge floor; a clean frying pan next to the fridge that should have been hanging above the cooker; a coffee mug in pieces; an abandoned bath full of clean water; and, in my bedroom, all items I wear on a day-to-day basis moved from where they should be to where they should not, and I am now unnecessarily having to search for my own stuff in what’s starting to look like ‘Sale Day’ at Primark.
All of the above is the result of less than twenty-four hours Keisha living. The cycle of a chaotic mind creating chaotic living conditions, that circle back to a chaotic mind, and even worse chaotic living conditions that lead to an increasingly chaotic mind, etc, etc. The loop continues to get bigger, and bigger. Except in my home.
Now, for the benefit of those of you not in the know already, Keisha inhabits two entirely separate worlds, both of which are drug-influenced. She has a great desire to be with me, as I'm the first entirely drug-free, older, and more responsible male ever in her adult life. Plus, she is also carrying a baby I was apparently party to in the conception stage. And then, there’s also the otherwise quite normal, lucid Keisha. So, okay, three worlds.
As far as her historical drug habit is concerned, Keisha's use of crack cocaine, and smoking heroin, in her words "holds her together." Now, bearing in mind she is still only 30 years old and has had her habit since the age of fifteen, this is one hell of an addiction. Added to this, she hasn't enjoyed the best of relationships with guys over the years as they have also been addicts, and, there has been violence shown towards her in the past through drug use. In all, not the best of backgrounds, by any means, and one certainly nowhere even close to my field of more in-depth knowledge.
Consequently, we have our occasional verbal blow-ups because there are behaviours that, up with I will not put. One of which being, in my view, excessive consumption of both drugs. Especially in light of her now three-month pregnancy.
Anyway, to cut a long story short, and via numerous remonstrations on my part that didn't go down particularly well at the time, the wisdom of my words was noted, and Keisha decided that she would replace the crack with weed, and also gradually cut down, and finally out, her heroin smoking habit. Well, so far she has made good on this, and this is now her second day smoking weed - again, not in any way at all ideal, though, in one sense better than the crack.
However, on the downside, I now have a total pothead who doesn't realise her actions while she's away with the fairies. Little clue from one minute to the next, and at others, as near to lucid as I suppose any straight and functioning person can be, when, at least a conversation is possible. The only challenge then being one of not allowing her to dominate the conversation defensively when all I've tried to do is calmly challenge her behaviour. So, I've given up trying now.
Keisha, bless her, copes with her issues via drugs. No matter if they are past or current, it seems her answer to everything is another hit, and I can never be the solution she needs as much as the foetus inside her cannot be either - if, it survives. By all accounts two historical attempts didn't, and to her, this time around appears to mean more to Keisha than ever before, like something she can actually call 'hers'.
Although, in honesty, I don't see it as being third-time lucky. If anything, quite the opposite, and it's sad. Very sad, indeed, because Keisha, in reality, isn't even capable of looking after herself, and I don't mean that to sound harsh in any way at all. Underneath all her past issues and drug addiction, Keisha is an otherwise well-mannered, and polite, sweet, loyal person with a huge amount to give, and that's what makes this so heartbreaking. Apart from a seriously strict course in behaviour modification; that's way beyond the time, patience, love, and dedication I can offer in my state of health that, otherwise, I feel I more than likely would, and take that gamble. Though, I'd still be uncertain, having heard her mother on the telephone, who very clearly doesn't want Keisha any further than the perimeter of her own life for greater reasons than me.
It pains me to say this, but Keisha is way too egocentric and disruptive, possibly even narcissistic in the manner she thinks the world revolves around herself where drug addiction is concerned, for anyone other than a high-dependency carer to manage, and it will be a 24/7 job, to boot. I am so torn, because as much as I love having her around in many ways; and feel absolutely awful in having to be probably one of many who've rejected her before me, my own health is actually deteriorating while she is in my life as fully as she has been, and continues to be.
Trust me, I am not the most emotional person in the world - far from it, in fact, but I totally feel for her, as I know exactly what it's like from historical previous experience to remain stoic in the face of rejection. When deep inside there's feelings of hurt, anger, abandonment, and bewilderment. You keep asking yourself what you did that was so wrong, and become a victim of your own circumstance without getting a grip on the situation, and how you were the active participant in creating the situation in which the circumstance(s) came about. If that makes sense.
A circle that continually completes itself with no visible, breakable link out of it to escape from. That's it, pretty much summed up.
Trust me, it's a horrible bloody place, the pits, in fact. So, naturally, I feel for those who are there. At the same time, though, I personally have to realise that my life isn't a rescue service, and everyone has their own path to follow, and the only thing any of us can be certain of is that we cannot be certain of anything. It's up to all of us as individuals to create the life we want, and to live each day surrounded by that which brings us happiness. Moreso, to not allow the sadness of our past and fear of the future ruin our happiness today. Equally, though, if we risk nothing, we risk everything. So, what do we do?
Help, Ignore? The human me always errs on the side of 'helping' - while my arguably more, stoic, sensible, spiritual leaning/Buddhist interest side tells me that we all have our own pathway in life, and, as difficult as it may feel at that time, pass those along the wayside with love while acknowledging their presence and circumstances - and provide assistance, where possible, in the moment, before moving on.
As much as we may not like, or understand the lifepath of others, it is their journey until they make the decision to divert and find another way: if at all.
Whatever, don't pay too much heed to me, I'm still learning. You may already have gathered that for yourself. Well, everyone is a teacher in their own way, and Keisha certainly meets that role description. More than, perhaps, anyone more recently before her she has taught me the value of 'oneness' with myself in this great university of life.
While ‘oneness with self’ may sound all very ‘new age’ and Glastonbury speak, in reality, it’s very ‘old age’. It can be traced back as far as Marcus Aurelius (AD 121-180) who wrote in his book entitled Meditations:
“Be mindful at all times of the following: the nature of the whole universe, the nature of the part that is me, the relation of the one to the other, the one so vast, the other so small. No one can ever prevent me from saying and doing what is complete conformity with the whole of which I am so small yet integral part” (I,9).
I wish I could be so spiritually aware and enlightened as that. Though, I guess back then, as much as the world had its own unique set of challenges applicable to that time, the exponential post-growth to where humanity is nowadays, by comparison, would probably see Aurelius as an alcoholic hypochondriac in 2024, and diagnosed with every mental illness known to the world of psychiatry. He, quite frankly, wouldn’t cope with the total screw-up humankind has become over the millennia. I can just about manage myself, and I’m a simpleton by comparison.
To sum up, ‘oneness with self’ means to me, finding a feeling of inner peace and contentment in a world with little evidence of either. It’s being aware of the madness outside of my own four walls, and reluctantly accepting it for what it is while distancing myself from it as far as I possibly can, and, at the same time having to live as a part of it by means of ‘Tolerationships’.
I’m still learning.
