Posted on | December 16, 2014 | No Comments
I don’t understand why people don’t want to give speeches at funerals. For me that would be a big moment. I would write the hell out of it. People would cry. People would cheer. I would momentarily be your grandmother’s hero.
I’m not saying I’m ghoulishly excited about the death of those close to me. I’m more concerned about what happens before death. The idea of no one inviting me to give a speech.
I’m not waiting to give a speech at your funeral. I’m just thinking about that disconnect where people are worried about public speaking rather than the loss of a connection with someone who is close enough to you that they would want you to speak at their funeral. There has to be a very few people who would want me to speak at their funeral. And I don’t think this is where my writing career is headed. I don’t want to be a freelance funeral speaker. I would obviously be very good at it.
What I want to focus on is how much we fear awkward conversations. Even though we know the people we love could die. How many times have we jettisoned meaningful relationships because we didn’t want to get in a fight with them about we feel they’ve mistreated us? Two hours of feeling uncomfortable or stop being friends with someone who loves us and for some reason annoys the fuck out of us at this particular moment?
My tendency is to let things drift.
If you are anything like me you fear arguments for a simple reason. You suspect this might just be the moment when someone reaches behind the curtain and grabs the little man working the wires, that terrified little midget that lurks at the heart of all humans, that inner child panicked and crying at adult life who is sure people understand how little he is able to live it. And then drag the little man around to meet everyone else you know. And suddenly you aren’t allowed to do your job. Or associate with your friends. Because you’re a fake. Because you don’t deserve it. And they might know you well enough to know it and explain it.
Or maybe not. Maybe you can somehow rationalize how bottling up your feelings will be beneficial to everyone. That the people around you have big enough problems that they don’t need to deal with yours. So instead of opening up, getting into an argument or serious discussion you quietly drift out of their lives forever. Because you’d rather let a relationship die than face your own culpability in the situation you find yourself in.
It’s interesting to me how we lose important connections because we don’t want to feel momentarily awkward. Because we fear not bad situations but confirming the truth of them. Think of all the people who stay married when the love is dead, who stay in friendships where they no longer have anything in common. Because we fear the truth. We think it might be truth etched out of the same poisonous material that makes up our minds.
We would rather be in a situation that is rotting and dying than have to suffer a surgery to excise the cancer. To learn that we don’t love perfect people. That they don’t love us because we are perfect. To learn that the more you love a person the more conflict you will experience.
This is inspired by nothing in particular in my own life. But a podcast considered to be the greatest podcast of all time. Where Mark Maron and Louie CK deal with the ups and downs of their close friendship. Where Mark Maron’s insecurities pushed him away from people who could note them.
I’m at a time of change. Where I’m striving with everything I have to reach my goals and as yet have little to show for the struggle. Where I don’t really want to talk about my life with people. Because I can see are at different places and I’m at a different place than I want to be. I wonder if this shame about my own life means that I’m not there for the people who need me. Because I don’t call because I don’t want to spend money that socializing entails. Because I am so concerned with getting where I want to be that I don’t check in to see where you are.
Well I love you. And I want to be there.
Even when my life isn’t great to talk about. I want to hear where you are at.