A WORD on Patterns...and I'm Not Talking About What's on Your Mama's China...

Recently one of my best friends in the entire world (whom I love so much I wouldn't DARE reveal her name...) went through another heart break. As we shared a meal together in a semi-outdoor setting, we talked it through. "You know," she said, sighing, as she put down her water glass, "in many ways it's a lot like what happened with ____." (again, we are going for anonymity here, people). With a wry smile, I shook my head and said "Oh God, it's official, we're old enough to have patterns...and to know that we have them."

You'd think we'd all be a little smarter. At any given time, there are thousands of people out there getting their hearts trampled on, myself included. And I can hereby stand in front of this keyboard and affirm that it is one of the worst pains you can experience. Here is my own carefully thought-out metaphor for how a broken heart feels: like someone poured acid all throughout your insides. Your outside still looks fine (with the possible exception of puffy eyes), but inside you are so raw the I.C.U. probably wouldn't be a bad idea. You don't think you'll ever not hurt again, but then, very gradually, you don't. Amazing how our memories of our hurt often fail us and we dive right into very similar situations again...as my dear friend did, as I have done, as you have done, and as most of the living and breathing human race has done.

When you think about it, however, developing a pattern makes sense...at least in the beginning. You get hurt the first time, and its easy to blame the one who hurt you. It was something he/she did, you were the one daring to trust someone with your heart (how brave you are). When you follow your same formula and get hurt the second (or even third and fourth) time, well, then it's time to recoil in horror, and put on some Britney Spears' "Oops, I Did It Again." (Alright, I'll let you follow it with "Toxic.")

But yes, I can try to make this blog as light-hearted as I want with references to currently-knocked-up pop icons, but when it comes down to it: discovering you have patterns is horrifying. Oh my God, I had some control over this situation afterall?! How is it that I am once again kicked in the bum?! Remember when Carrie went after the guy she met in the waiting room of her therapists' office? They have a great time together and after they finally sleep together Carrie dares to ask "So, why are you in therapy?" Her beau responds that he actively pursues women, sleeps with them, and then completely loses interest... over and over again (and note, people: at this point the sheets haven't cooled down yet). He, in turn, asks why she's in therapy and she looks dazed and ill as she replies "I pick the wrong men..."

Ha! Well, at least Carrie was able to identify what her tragic patterns were herself with the help of a therapist. I, on the other hand, have them pointed out to me by my staff of well-meaning and irritatingly blunt friends. Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful that they have done this because it has helped me make a lot of changes in the last few months that I feel have put me on the right path. Dealing with this honesty, though, has been tough since I have had to digest the fact that they all had valid points that I was definitely not aware of as I'd gone about my bumbling life. For the sake of good writing, I will share some of the things that have been discovered by the passengers of the S.S. Mary: That I (like Carrie) choose the wrong men, that I tend only to take romantic leaps in situations where I feel very comfortable and I need to dare to not be comfortable, that it takes me ages to move on, and that guys like to keep me around as a girl they'd go after when they're 'really ready' (ouch!). Amidst this journey, a friend also determined that the song "Hey Jealousy" is about my life (she went through it, line by line, pointing out concrete examples...she had enough backup to write a thesis on it! At least that erased the sting of being compared to the back up girl):

Tell me do you think it'd be alright
If I could Just crash here tonight
As you see I'm in no shape for drivin'
And any way I've got no place to go

ARGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!

So you see, these are worriesome patterns indeed. As a result, I have recently embarked on a 'social purification' plan of sorts. Erasing phone numbers, replacing them with new and hopefully non-toxic ones, being open to new people and experiences, and (at least for now) adopting a new motto: "keep moving." I also want to make it clear that I'm still on speaking terms with all the people that made me face the truth about my downfalls. They're performing a vital service, after all, because often times we are so blind in our own situations but we can clearly see where others are faltering in theirs. I think the essential thing, though, is to point this out to friends after they are rid of their situations and can see a little more clearly. Trying to make a valid point to a woman in love is like trying to have a conversation with my grandma when she's left her hearing aid in her 'good' purse...she won't hear a blessed word you are saying. Example! The same recently-heartbroken friend pointed out to me that after she'd endured the heartbreak previous to this one we'd been talking on the phone. She'd said "You know, I thought I knew everything about guys before this, but now I'm not so sure." I apparently replied, "Um, I knew you didn't from the beginning." Blatant honesty, spoken gently (don't worry!), but at the same time I was also acknowledging that we need to be allowed to make our own mistakes otherwise we'll never grow from them (pushy bad-a-lax friends or not ;O)

And who's to say that we'll ever be fully rid of patterns. As humans we like ritual...for instance, I like having enough time after I shower every morning to make a little breakfast and then eat it while I watch NY1 at from 7:40 to 7:51am precisely (first is 'weather on the 1s,' followed by 'In the Papers,' followed by 'This Day in New York City History,' followed by 'Weather on the 1s' again because something might have changed in the forecast in the last ten minutes). I guess my hope is that we go from ugly patterns that no one wants anything to do with (like orange and lime green polka dots) to nicer, saner patterns (hmmm, like a real classy houndstooth). As we come out of heartbreak, and we find that we survived it, we also evolve.

And I will leave you for now with a discovery that I recently made with a friend (who is a guy, this time): in discussing our dismal experiences over a caramel macchiato, he wondered what it all was for. In a moment of bare-bones, my-insides-are-showing sincerity I said "well, it's almost like you have to go through it." And then I looked down, thinking "god, he must think I'm such a corny mess." But instead I got an enthusiastic "YES!" in return. He said that these kind of experiences make you a better person. I hadn't thought of it that way before, but all of the sudden I realized how much better I've liked myself since I had to go through what I did, and much of this liking of myself has been through being more generous and thoughtful of others. Sitting here now, I can't tell you the precise ways surviving a broken heart has made me a better daughter and granddaughter, friend, coworker, cousin, niece, neighbor, etc, but I know that it has. Maybe those first few people that you really fall in love with open doors in your heart that remain open even after they have proven themselves unworthy of this love. It's tragic when a person doesn't want your love, but I assure you all, it doesn't go away and you find other, much more valuable ways to spend it.

Won't my dear friend be relieved.