Arguments

My friend Jesse likes girls. He tells me about the girls whose phone numbers he gets, the girls who write on his facebook wall, the girls who he thinks are cute, the girls who he thinks are hot, the girls who bother him, the girls who call him, the girls who come to him with their petty guy issues (guilty), the girls he flirts with, the girls he e-mails. You get the idea - girls, girls, girls. Personally, I don't think anyone will ultimately find satisfaction in life through flirting. I think guys ought to stop focusing so much attention and energy on whatever attractive, hot girl is around to flirt with at the moment, and shift their focus towards a meaningful, lasting relationship with a female who represents more than just a sex object to them.  

I should mention that I do think Jesse is an awesome person and friend. We talk on chat, and on the phone, and have coffee dates, and I think it'd be safe to say that we're good friends. However, if Jesse moved to Minneapolis, or we hung out less, or talked less, my life would go on without too much trouble. I might cry a few tears once or twice, and there would certainly be times I would miss him, but I wouldn't be a wreck, or get an auto immune disease out of my upset-ed-ness. I care about him, but just not to that extent.

Last week, after having tacos at Moes, I skipped across the parking lot with Jesse to Starbucks for some caffeine. After taking probably ten minutes to order our beverages we sat down by the window, and Jesse told me how hot one of the girls behind the counter at Moes had been. I nearly spit my coffee out - I'd labeled the girl as fake looking, and was somewhat disgusted that this is even remotely attractive to guys. The two of us had a heated discussion about what girls look like, and continued on and off for the rest of the evening about this. Every time a girl walked past the window he'd ask me if I thought she looked fake, too. I went home, though, and forgot about the whole thing (until I was needing an example for this blog post). It certainly has had zero effect on my friendship with Jesse.

A few years ago, after having some sort of disagreement that lasted for a few days, I asked a friend of mine if he was angry with me. He said no, he wasn't angry, and that he'd only ever cared about three women enough to be angry with them. At first I thought this theory was wrong, because I argued with people I didn't care deeply about all the time. My argument with Jesse is a perfect example.

Then, one day, I cared about a man enough to get angry with him. I'd raise my voice, or give him the silent treatment and stomp out of his car without a hug goodbye. Then, I'd go lay in my bed with a pile of tissues and cry for a little while. The predominant thought in my head, though, was rarely "That jerk! I could kill him!" but "Why didn't I just hug him, and smile, and move on?"

I see myself do this all the time. I tiptoe around the emotions of people I'm not tied to, and lash out at the ones I truly care about. Instead of saying my piece and then letting it go, I let it get personal, and then I let it explode. I'm not the only one who does it, I see plenty of other people do it, also. I don't know why people do this - maybe because we feel safe to let our emotions out with people we are closest to? I think we all so often forget the last step of arguments, when it comes to the ones with people we care most about - the part where you just forget about it, forgive/makeup, and move forward as normal.

If we forgive the people we don't really love so easily, then wouldn't it make sense to be even more forgiving after arguments with those we do care for?

What Hurts The Most?

I met my friend Dave when we were both 15. We talked on and off for most of high school, but really connected when we were 18. We didn't see each other much. I was in college in central PA and he was up in NY working random jobs. When I was home on break we'd go to movies, or wander around the bookstore for hours, or eat fried foods at Friendly's. Once we threw knives at cardboard to test how well they worked.

When I was off at school we talked. We talked on AIM, we e-mailed, we had phone conversations. We talked so much I had to buy a bluetooth headset for my cell phone. I'd cook dinner while we talked, and then we'd watch the same TV show while talking on the phone. I told him nearly everything; we were best friends.

After nearly two years of this Dave enlisted in the army. He spent a few months in boot camp, then got sent to TX, and then a year later was preparing to go Iraq. I was a wreck in the weeks preceding his departure. I remember sitting in his jeep, not wanting to get out and watch him pull away, because maybe I'd never see him again. He told me he loved me. He told me he'd be back in the US by the following Christmas. Nothing made me feel better - watching your best friend go off to war just isn't easy.

The evening before he left we talked on the phone until he had to shut it off to put it in storage. I told him I'd e-mail. We said goodbye, and I hung up the phone, and started crying. I was sitting in my desk chair, and let myself fall onto the floor, and cry. My friend Sylvia came and hugged me while I cried. The next day, in an attempt to make me feel better, my friend Chris got some french fries from the cafeteria, and we went to play the organ for a few hours, but I felt too sick the eat the french fries.

I felt sick the next day, and the next day, too. I recall telling Dave how sick I felt in several e-mails. The sickness didn't go away, but got worse. I was exhausted, and took 3-4 hour naps every day. My stomach was cramping, and sometimes the pain was too intense to even sit/stand up. I started eating bland foods, chicken broth and saltine crackers, but that didn't help. I couldn't digest a single thing.

When my doctor diagnosed me with celiac disease a few months later, more things than just my stomach cramping and energy level improved. Problems I'd had for years and years, such as dizziness, skin rashes, and hair loss, disappeared, too. Everyone wondered what caused the celiac to become such a problem when it did, but I figured it out quickly, especially when I read that a possible trigger is emotional stress.

Sometimes, people ask us to downplay our emotional turmoil. We're told to just keep smiling, to "fake it 'till you make it", to keep living. Sometimes people tell us to be thankful that we're not sick with cancer or whatnot. I'd like to argue that hurt is hurt, pain is pain, and the lines between physical and emotional are not well defined. The things that hurt us the most, that get under our skin and stay there, are powerful. I don't care if it is an infection or a person - huge, all-encompassing hurts are possible.

I'm not saying all this to say that my life is terrible, or my disease is terrible (it isn't), or that dying of cancer isn't terrible (it is). I'm just acknowledging the emotional pain and physical pain are linked, and in many cases, just different manifestations from the same root cause.

My Dad explained it to me very simply once, when I was about 13. The word disease can be broken down into "dis" and "ease". It simply means to not be at ease.