Living for the Future
I was watching a TV show where one of the characters was in the hospital, on his deathbed. Despite having a troubled life, and a painful disease that was finally killing him, he remarked to his daughter that, “it was worth it, I would live my whole hard life again, just to have the time I did with you.”
“Not me”, I am thinking, “that whole ‘better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all’ crap is BS.” I think about all my past partners, not long after each breakup, after I had moved-on, I honestly didn’t feel like the fights, jealousy, insecurity, etc. were worth the upsides of the relationship to begin with. After all, with 20-20 hindsight it is easy to see that it didn’t work out. “Go me, the Dhamma Ninja” I’m thinking, I can so clearly see the suffering of my past for what it is; just as I was basking in my awesomeness, a little voice in my head whispered, “But what about the future Alana, can you see that for what it is?” Ughh…buzzkill…
With hindsight, I may not think the past suffering was worth what I got for it, but that hasn’t stopped me from working so hard, holding out hope, for a better future. What clearer example is there than the way Eric and I work, and scrimp, and save for our retirement dream. For that hazy fantasy of a life — filled with travel, maybe an RV and a fluffy dog, or a couple of houses to shuffle between, some hobbies and ‘infinite’ time together — we live in a place we don’t want to live, we compromise on how much time we see each other, Eric works like a dog under constant stress, we pinch our pennies and fore go our pleasures, suffering now for our imaginary future.
But, aren’t the past, that I can see so clearly, and the future I gaze at through rose-colored-hope-filled glasses basically the same thing? Both will have good parts and bad: Mostly I will work hard to get the good parts, fight to hold onto them, stress when I am threatened with loosing them and then, devastation, loss and longing when I loose those good parts. Rinse and repeat, looking for more good parts to acquire, cling to, loose and mourn. Small deviations in duration and details, that is the difference between one cycle of clinging and the next.
Perhaps it would be useful to explore a few past examples to really see this dynamic in action:
- For time with my beloved father, for feeling special and valued when he loved and approved of me, I had a childhood suffering with an ill mother, bullying, being jealous of my brother, striving for popularity and friends, and then shattering pain and loss when Dad died.
- For time with my ex Fede, and the imaginary future of a long happily-ever-after marriage, I had to deal with him prioritizing his studies over time together, his years of absence when he went to study abroad, his condescension and withholding of affection, for sexual deprivation and ultimately the sorrow of a bad breakup.
- For my time with my ex Alex I had years of sexual tension between us, the fear of losing a friend, his acerbic comments, worry about him and drugs, awkwardness of losing my virginity, getting used for a final stand, all for a few weeks together and then me sobbing away our breakup.
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For my job I had years of anxiety trying to prove myself, frustration with my boss, stress of employees, embarrassment of not being more senior and anger at being constantly reminded of it. Uncertainty, feeling like I was undervalued in the search for the director’s replacement, travel back and forth, stress on low pay, all for a few moments when I feel exhilarated, pride at being a part of something I identify with.
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For my beloved Eric, I trade the stress early dating if he was the one, stress being domesticated and feeling like I cant go out , be sexy, build my identity and worth off of everyone wanting me, stress of him being distant in early Uber and dating days, stress of the times I feel like I have disappointed him, stress over his health and his jobs, feeling dragged around, under valued in one way and undeserving in another, stress of missing him and of having him there, all for the moments and memories of joy and hope for more later. And definitely an end where, either I leave him and worry for his wellbeing, jealous Ill be replaced, worried we wont meet again, worried I will owe him. Or he leaves me and I am lonely, I miss him, my identity is shattered, my sense of safety and wellbeing is shook, my financial and logistical worries take over, I worry about if to ordain or keep lay living, of where to go and what to do with myself when I exhaust the imagination of a partner shaped object beside me while I enjoy life, to make me enjoy life more and prove it is enjoyable. And the pain when my hope for finding my happy ending is dashed.
The problem is, though I have seen this pattern play-out again and again, as long as my imagination can still hold out hope for the future, I am fooled, no matter how clearly I can see the flaws of the past. For even the possibility of a good future I will suffer pain now. But for a partially good past, like a relationship, that I already know ended badly, that I don’t think is worth it. In other words, for the 1 in a zillion lotto ticket that might just win, that is worth it, but the loosing ticket I bought to last week’s Powerball, not worth it. But, this is crazy — the only difference between these two lotto tickets is time and the knowledge, the truth, and the necessary disillusionment that comes along with it.
Since countless times have I failed to find satisfaction in the past, and the past and future are essentially the same, why on earth do I still believe the next time will be different?
