My therapist recently told me to think of my relationships with other people in terms of concentric circles. I really liked this concept, and I have been thinking a lot about it, so I wanted to share it.
Here's basically how it works. At the very center, I have my "inner circle", those people that know me the best and that I share more with than anyone else. They are the ones I turn to in times of great joy or distress, and they are my primary support network. They know and accept my faults, and I theirs. The next ring includes those people that I care about but just don't share as much with. They might be people that I am close to, but only in one context. They may also be part of my support network, but to a lesser degree. The third circle consists of people that are more like passing acquaintances. We might be friendly and say hi regularly, but we don't really share the details of our lives with one another. Beyond that are people that we may see regularly but really have little or no interaction with.
I've been thinking lately about where various people in my life fall within those concentric circles. It may surprise some to find out that most of my family is not, in fact, part of my inner circle. I share very little with any of them except one sister-in-law. In fact, I consider my inner circle to be quite small, only about 6 people that I can think of, all of them very far away from here. The next ring includes a large number of people, including a couple of old college friends, many former co-workers, some fellow derby girls, and yes, some Twitter folks. Beyond that circle are many of the people I follow and interact with on Twitter, and a subset of friends on Facebook.
When considering where different people fell within these circles, I had this notion that certain people should fall within a certain circle. The point was made that there is no right or wrong place to "put" people, and in fact, different people may move from one circle to another and back again depending on the circumstances. In many ways, we don't choose who ends up where. It just happens. And just because someone is in our inner circle, for example, it doesn't mean we are in theirs. Just like the idea that you may not be the person that your best friend considers their best friend.
This thought can certainly muddy the waters a bit, but I still think it's a very useful perspective on relationships and the amount of energy one should expend on worrying over a given relationship. This means that the ones closer to the middle are worthy of more energy and effort than the ones that fall in the outer circles. I think this is basically another way of saying that we should give more thought and care to the relationships with those that mean the most to us. Which is why it's ironic to me that I am often kinder to total strangers than I am to my closest friends or my spouse. I think this occurs subconsciously and it happens because I believe those closest to me will forgive me my failures, whereas strangers often won't. Strange logic, but our minds are often a mystery, even to ourselves.
Have you thought about where the people in your life fall using this approach? Does it help you to keep relationships in perspective?
Friday, July 30, 2010
Sunday, July 25, 2010
My Mid-life Whatever
About two years ago, what I have been referring to as my mid-life crisis began. At right about that time, my whole world and future changed radically. The trigger was our decision for my husband to accept a job in Salem, Oregon, which meant we would be moving across the country from our home in Cincinnati, Ohio, far away from everyone and everything we knew up to that point.
When we made the decision, we were feeling a little disconnected from the community in which we lived, we were both dissatisfied with our jobs, and we knew that we had always wanted to move west. In addition, we knew that a major chapter in our relationship would be ending as we awaited the inevitable death of our dog from cancer she'd been fighting for a year already.
The agreement was that my husband would begin working for this company to help them open a plant in southern Kentucky, 2-1/2 hrs from home, and eventually we would make the transition to Oregon when we were ready. This meant I would be alone 4 days a week every week, while my husband stayed in an apartment near his job, coming home on weekends. So during this time, we had to prepare our house for sale in a shaky market and watch our dog die, and I had to decide what I was going to do for a job when we moved.
I think all of that spurred me, a basically introverted person that shared my deepest feelings with very few people, even in times of great need, to change into someone that was unrecognizable. Knowing I was leaving, I began to try to cultivate relationships more earnestly than I had before, and at the same time, I began to take risks and move outside my comfort zone in a way I never had. I went from someone that hid my innermost feelings from almost everyone, sometimes even my husband, to someone that was more open and honest about my feelings than some wanted me to be.
I felt lost, and that's why I always referred to it as my mid-life crisis. However, as I look back on that period, that is starting to become a memory, I realize that it might have been a mid-life re-discovery, rather than a crisis. I opened myself to a lot of new things, but I also spent a lot of time trying to be what I thought other people wanted me to be or what I thought other people would like. So in some ways, this was a good experience, because it forced self-examination on me, and I moved outside of my own box of what I was supposed to be to evaluate all my assumptions and beliefs about myself and others. On the other hand, sometimes my self-examination led to a wholly self-centered attitude, in which I neglected those close to me in my efforts to be someone different.
As the time to move grew near, I didn't want to leave Cincinnati. Even after we moved, I clung to new and old friendships and my memories of my home there desperately. Only very recently have I started to accept my new home and appreciate it. The people in Salem are wonderful, and this is really a great place to live. On the whole, I am actually very happy living here, and I am glad we had the courage to make such a change.
I am not sure I am entirely through this mid-life process yet, but I am on the tail end of it at least, and I have learned a lot about myself from it. I now know that there is no peace in trying to be something I am not in my heart. My true nature has to be allowed to come through, and I have to realize that the rest will fall into place, regardless of where I live. There will always be some people that accept and understand me for who I really am, as well as those don't. The former are the ones that matter to me.
When we made the decision, we were feeling a little disconnected from the community in which we lived, we were both dissatisfied with our jobs, and we knew that we had always wanted to move west. In addition, we knew that a major chapter in our relationship would be ending as we awaited the inevitable death of our dog from cancer she'd been fighting for a year already.
The agreement was that my husband would begin working for this company to help them open a plant in southern Kentucky, 2-1/2 hrs from home, and eventually we would make the transition to Oregon when we were ready. This meant I would be alone 4 days a week every week, while my husband stayed in an apartment near his job, coming home on weekends. So during this time, we had to prepare our house for sale in a shaky market and watch our dog die, and I had to decide what I was going to do for a job when we moved.
I think all of that spurred me, a basically introverted person that shared my deepest feelings with very few people, even in times of great need, to change into someone that was unrecognizable. Knowing I was leaving, I began to try to cultivate relationships more earnestly than I had before, and at the same time, I began to take risks and move outside my comfort zone in a way I never had. I went from someone that hid my innermost feelings from almost everyone, sometimes even my husband, to someone that was more open and honest about my feelings than some wanted me to be.
I felt lost, and that's why I always referred to it as my mid-life crisis. However, as I look back on that period, that is starting to become a memory, I realize that it might have been a mid-life re-discovery, rather than a crisis. I opened myself to a lot of new things, but I also spent a lot of time trying to be what I thought other people wanted me to be or what I thought other people would like. So in some ways, this was a good experience, because it forced self-examination on me, and I moved outside of my own box of what I was supposed to be to evaluate all my assumptions and beliefs about myself and others. On the other hand, sometimes my self-examination led to a wholly self-centered attitude, in which I neglected those close to me in my efforts to be someone different.
As the time to move grew near, I didn't want to leave Cincinnati. Even after we moved, I clung to new and old friendships and my memories of my home there desperately. Only very recently have I started to accept my new home and appreciate it. The people in Salem are wonderful, and this is really a great place to live. On the whole, I am actually very happy living here, and I am glad we had the courage to make such a change.
I am not sure I am entirely through this mid-life process yet, but I am on the tail end of it at least, and I have learned a lot about myself from it. I now know that there is no peace in trying to be something I am not in my heart. My true nature has to be allowed to come through, and I have to realize that the rest will fall into place, regardless of where I live. There will always be some people that accept and understand me for who I really am, as well as those don't. The former are the ones that matter to me.
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