Tag: friends

  • Friends for Enemies

    Friends. I’ve always found this to be a quaint notion. Something that offers a sense of endearing companionship while providing a comforting distraction from our isolation in this world. I’m obviously cynical on the subject because I’ve experienced and witnessed true friendship quickly recede when reality became unpalatable. So I wonder if there is really something called true friendship?

    I think it’s all about that beautiful old principle about what’s in it for me. More than this, it also relates to our inflated sense of self, and how well the friendship nurtures that self-image. There are memes in abundance regarding the nature of true friends that would point out your shortcomings and not only make you feel good. But there are unfortunately not nearly an abundance of friends who want their shortcomings pointed out.

    One of my favourite sayings in this regard has been attributed to a number of different historical personalities, but its truth remains…well, true. It says that the friend of my enemy is my enemy, which in turn implies that the enemy of my friend is also my enemy. I guess that also means that the friend of my friend is my friend and the enemy of my enemy is also my friend. Anyway, point is, those that hate what we hate find a sense of association with what we value, and vice versa. Most would confine the understanding of this with just the relationship that they maintain with others, but I think it goes beyond that. In fact, I think it’s safe to say that it is more accurate to view this within the context of our characters, and which good or bad traits we recognise as friends or foe.

    Within the above context, suddenly the person that hates my bad traits and looks to encourage me to abandon such traits becomes my friend. However, that assumes that I sincerely want to improve that aspect about myself. It assumes that the bad trait is not something I hold on to as a definition of my self relative to a defence I need to prevail in this world. It assumes that I live with conviction, and that I strive to improve with every day that is offered to me. That’s a grossly inaccurate assumption. I struggle to find people that actively and sincerely seek to better themselves. To recognise their shortcomings and to bravely embrace the changes that are needed to raise the standard of their contribution to this world.

    Most are bent on embracing those struggles or shortcomings that resonate with others, and nothing more. When we show the world how brave we are to face off what everyone else is struggling with, it feeds our ego more than it develops our character. It proclaims that we are bold while others are meek, and in so doing gives us the courage to fight that good fight that defeats so many. And so we prop up our egos and assume that we’re sincere about improving who we are, while in the process convincing the shallow ones that we are indeed striving to improve. Yes, I speak with contempt of such endeavours because it only entrenches the insincerity that has eroded the wholesomeness of society and life in this self-indulgent world.

    The one who reflects, recognises the ugly inside of them, and then simultaneously celebrates the beauty within, is more likely to demonstrate gratitude for their lot in life than the one who only sees the ugly and tries to disguise it as a noble struggle. Those that live their lives out in the social network limelight need the affirmation that is lacking when they look within. They need to see themselves through the lenses of others because their own lenses offer little or no comfort at all. Their enemies become their friends, and robs them of peace and energy as they go through life painstakingly maintaining the defenses that they need to make them feel whole.

    The enemy of my enemy is my friend. The one who recognises the ugly in me and sincerely advises me about it is the one whom I should embrace. Not the one who convinces me that my darkness within is not a bad thing because everyone else has it. Not the one who tries to convince me that my darkness or my handicaps are not so bad because they want me to pull them closer for making me feel better about myself. They are self-serving at my expense, and I am left wanting because of it.

    With friends like these, indeed, who needs enemies. Friends or enemies both offer the opportunity for growth, but only if we are honest in our reflections and introspections about who we really are, and what we stand for. If we’re comfortable glossing over our shortcomings because we’re more inclined to celebrate our few strengths or successes, it will be a short while before we lose our footing and feel the stench of complacency strangle the peace out of our lives because at some point, everyone gets that wake-up call. Everyone has an innate desire to shrug off the yoke that has held them back for so long and to move forward with or without the significant others that pacified them while they carried that yoke around. That’s when relationships are truly forged and defined, or discarded.

    But it requires courage, and it requires conviction, and it requires brutal honesty, all of which are in short supply in a world of instant gratification where friends can be acquired and lifetime companions can be discarded in favour of a synthetic life. The more virtual our reality, the less real our lives will be. But death is not a virtual outcome. It’s not the end of a level or the expiration of a time limit on some game with in-app purchases. Perhaps that should read ‘inept purchases’. That is what we do. We sell our souls in favour of short term gains because we lack the courage to forge ahead into the unknown. We seek the comfort of certainty in the outcomes of our decisions, and therefore make decisions when we can rely on the predictable outcome, rather than making decisions because we uphold the principles that we profess to live by.

    Still think you have friends? In fact, still think you’re capable of being your own best friend? Go on, be honest. I dare you!

  • When Family and Friends Collide

    Being torn between my loyalties towards family versus friends was never pleasant. I recall specific events where I was treated with disdain after returning from an afternoon with a friend in my neighbourhood. It was not just from my father, it was pretty much from the whole family. Having a social life seemed wrong, and being socially awkward was my default disposition. I suspect the two went hand-in-hand.

    The insecurity of a family unit that grows insular by default rather than necessity is often a reflection of the insecurity of those that yield the most influence on them. It’s almost cult-ish by nature. The indoctrination that suggests that choosing the company of others automatically implies that you place less significance on your own family members is unnatural and stifling. Having to choose between your absolute loyalty to family that precludes any other bonds from being established and wanting a space for free expression unattached to your family should not be a choice that anyone should have to make. It sets the scene for a precedent that can rarely, if ever be met.

    The underlying principle is a simple one. If you impose limitations on others, limitations that don’t shape their moral or ethical standing but instead is aimed at defining their movement and free association with others, you need to be damn sure that you’re in a position to offer them what they would otherwise get from those social circles. Family can be toxic as much as they can be a blessing. Often, in a less healthy environment, they stifle the growth of each other and root themselves in a point from the past based on the belief that they need to protect each other from a perceived, but often unrealistic threat. Simply stated, a family of victims of society are more likely to restrain the social activities and affiliations of its members than one that is secure in their collective individuality.

    But that begs the question as to how do we become a family of victims to begin with? Again, I look towards the most influential members of the family, typically the father, or the mother, or both. They set the tone for what is perceived to be healthy and balanced, versus what is unacceptable or intolerable. Their fears and insecurities are often passed on as truths and realities, while preventing sufficient exposure for any of their children to determine the veracity of such claims themselves. This ensures that the established authority in the household remains unchallenged, and that the balance that is comfortable for the insecure, remains above reproach. Despite its best intentions, it is a sick environment in which to raise a healthy mind.

    I’ve often witnessed first hand how such environments yield common chronic health conditions. The kind of conditions for which most are happy to blame faulty genes, while remaining oblivious to the stress and strain our bodies face when subdued in such an unnatural way. Occasionally one member of the family will be free from that condition. They will generally have a more optimistic or healthy outlook on life, including a healthier social experience. However, the inclination under such circumstances is for the rest to believe that that one individual is fortunate, and since they are not afflicted with the same ill-health, it is therefore possible to live a healthier and more meaningful life. That is simply rubbish.

    When we stop to consider the impact of our emotions on our physical wellbeing, and stop writing everything off as a disease that attacks us from without instead of within, then hopefully we’ll stand a chance of breaking the cycle. The stress coping techniques that we adopt as we grow are learned from those we’re most exposed to. When that exposure is limited to only an insular family unit, it stands to reason that the resultant ill-health will be a common experience as well, hence being misconstrued as a genetic inheritance.

    The cycle can be broken, but it requires exposure to other frames of reference for us to develop any reason to question the truths that we hold dear about life. Of course the reverse is also true. If that insular family unit is balanced in its embrace of life, then it also stands to reason that the individuals that it spawns will be balanced by nature. This is unfortunately rare, if not impossible, because a healthy balance would unwittingly provoke broader inclusion in society, including the necessary contribution towards remedying the ills of that society.

    The greatest irony of society is that it is most severely criticised by those that are in fact an inherent part of its make-up. When we assume a level of aloofness and distance ourselves from the ills of society, we become party to the problem, rather than the solution. Too often those that break the cycle extract themselves from the environment that spawned them. While it may be healthy for the individual to do so, it robs the very same society of the resources and influences that are needed to uplift its social fabric to be one that is healthier and more wholesome. That societal structure can be as small as a single family, or as big as a community of families. Either way, we are an inherent part of it, even if we remove ourselves from it. That absence defines our contribution, whether we like it or not.

    The test of our character therefore arises when we find ourselves needing to hold on to the new-found freedoms experienced external to that sick cycle, while acknowledging our responsibility to assist others to see that there is a life that is possible beyond the unhealthy indoctrination that defined our reality before that point. Empowerment lies not in liberating yourself only, but in liberating those with a similar affliction as your own.

  • Awkwardly regrettable

    Awkwardness is having to tell your friends that have turned into acquaintances about an important milestone in your life while suppressing the demons that beckon the memories of the mocking ridicule that was disguised as friendly jabs at the news of your last divorce. The laziness and callousness of people is most evident when they see fit to make fun of a traumatic event without having embraced the reality of it first.

    I have always had a tendency to take things in my stride, regardless of the pain or humiliation that accompanied the experience. More than anything else, this provided a graceful exit for those around me that were handicapped in their skills at dealing with such grave circumstances. I was raised in a family where physical shows of affection were avoided at all costs. The odd embrace would be a formality of greeting at specific occasions only. Even on occasions of death, there was always an awkwardness in the embraces received from siblings, if received at all.

    I chose to finally share the news of my recent marriage with some ‘friends’ of mine. It wasn’t a very long list, and it didn’t really qualify as friends for the most part. More like acquaintances that I’ve allowed into my personal space. Having a friend is a foreign concept for me. It requires a level of trust and acceptance, not to mention commitment, that I’ve grown weary of. Friends have been a convenient presence in my life until the point where my life’s experiences became too burdensome for them. By the way, that convenience was on their part, not my own.

    Betrayal has become a clichéd part of my life. I don’t expect it, but I don’t dismiss it either. More often than not, the reason for betrayal has been the weakness on the part of the betrayer rather than any inherent sense of dishonesty in the person that I may have once trusted. That weakness manifests itself when it demands commitment, selflessness, or most often, when it demands that we face our past demons in the experiences of those close to us. That’s when most recede because the experience is suddenly too close to home.

    To the one that’s betrayed, the reason or justification is irrelevant. It still remains what it is. And trying to define it only nurtures the regret and the awkwardness. So instead, I’ll leave it to fester so that I have a companion to look forward to when I’m peering at the end of the road on the horizon waiting…just waiting.

  • It is better to sit alone than in company with the bad; and it is better still to sit with the good than alone. It is better to speak to a seeker of knowledge than to remain silent; but silence is better than idle words.

    Sahih Bukhari

  • When I was younger I used to be quite the loner, and still am like that on most days. I used to go ‘out’ on my own and stay out till late just mingling in crowds where I was the odd one out, or barely being noticed. And it felt that way when I was around people and when I was home.

    I remember on one occasion when I was at a friend’s house, his brother had been away for an extended time without any contact which sent his family into a panic. On that particular day my younger brother was with me when he looked at me and said, “See? That’s how everyone panics when you come home so late without telling anyone where you are.”

    I don’t think I said anything in return, and I don’t know why I’m suddenly reminded of this. But the one thought that did occur to me right now is that despite him saying that, I still didn’t think I was significant enough for anyone to give a damn about where I was or when I’ll be back. They fussed about me from time to time, but they rarely did anything with me. And I wonder how many others feel equally neglected but loved at the same time? It’s a weird feeling. 

    I guess being told you’re important or significant or part of a family or social circle is one thing, but having reason to believe that there’s a genuine interest in what you like, what you want, and what really interests you is a love of a different kind that is needed even more. I think we get this kind of love from partners or love interests in the early stages of a relationship, but when it dwindles, when that interest in us dwindles, despite the professions of undying love, we withdraw because suddenly we’re just as significant as family. And everyone knows we take family for granted, because they’re family, right?

    But we don’t want to be ‘family’ to the one we allow into that sacred space of fragility. When we allow someone in there, we expect them to worship us, but not smother us…they must hang on every word we say, but have something interesting to say themselves. They must need us, but not be needy or clingy or parasitic. We must be the centre of their universe, but they must give us space. 

    We’re an odd bunch, aren’t we? Or am I again a loner in feeling this way?

  • Someone recently accused me of making it easy for people to leave me. They were right. I do that because I can’t bear the thought of people doing anything for me out of obligation. It must be sincere or not at all. Otherwise I feel pathetic because it seems as if they’re doing something for me out of pity for the supposed state I’m in. I’d rather be alone than be surrounded by people that view me pitifully.

    Incidentally, the very same  person that accused me of this also promised never to stop the ‘friendship’. It’s been a while since they felt like a friend, or even bothered to reach out and see if I’m ok. Fortunately (or unfortunately?) I’ve been through this cycle enough times to see it coming a mile away. No, it’s not a self-fulfilled prophecy. I’d rather make it easy for people to leave because that way, at least I have the comfort of knowing that anyone who sticks around is there either because they genuinely give a damn, or because they need something from me. And it’s quite easy to tell the difference. Isn’t it?