Why The People in Our Life

Do you ever wonder why the people that are in your life, are there?

Sometimes it is just because we see them everyday. We work with them, we go to school with them, we ride the same bus as them.

But why do we make relations with the one that we do?
What at home, drives us to seek and attatch ourselves to those people?

Are we lacking attention from our boyfriend? Are we going through a rough time that makes us vulnerable? Do we just need someone to listen to us for a week?
Are we using them to fill a void of ours?

Why are we in THEIR life?
What do we fufill.
If we didn’t have this issue in our life, would we continue to talk to them?
Are we selfish in our desire to keep them around because they make us feel good?

Are the levels of both sides, being met? Or does someone want more.

Would it really be greater if all this were known?

The Importance in Questions

This week I figured out why I value questions.
They are important to me because it is the way that I reveal myself.
I became interested in communication in highschool. I didn’t know it then, but that is what was happening. I realised that people like to talk and that there are a lot more talkers out there then listeners. And I’m a people pleaser.
So I became quiet and listened and didn’t say much.
Until I’ve reached this point in my life where I’m making things more difficult because I am not speaking.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that then?”
“Because you didn’t ask me.”
” I thought you would just tell me whatever you wanted. You know I want to hear anything you have to say.”

I have had these conversations numerous times. With my old best friends.

I know I have tried to be better. To assert myself and to give out information freely.
But it is so easy to not.
It is so easy to sit back and glide with the current of all the others.
It sounds terrible. I know.
But I learn a lot this way.
I learn a lot about myself.

I learn how naive people can be. How much they can not not know about their ‘friend’.

My friends don’t know who I am anymore as a result of my silence.
I’ve been open. I’ve been free and fine to tell people a lot of things.
But they haven’t asked me.

So I find myself in this room of doubt.
Maybe I don’t want them to know these things about me.
It has started to become way too comfortable. It has become something I use.
Guilt becomes less of a threat because noone is asking me things that make me feel it.
To make me turn in on myself.

It is a dangerous place but this is how I came to the understanding of why questions are important to me.
Now what.

I Question My Decision

I awoke at 430am with my head launching repeated questions and thoughts of one of my lifes biggest decisons. The mind spinners that make your tummy ache alittle and your heart race a lot. The thoughts that are so powerful you dont even really have space to be angry with them for keeping you up.

Five years ago I made the decision to come to Thailand. Between now and that first decision, I also made the decision to live here. I don’t remember when it was, I don’t even know that there was a specific moment.

And so here I am laying in bed, wondering if I will regret this ten years from now.
Wondering if I will regret leaving behind all my solid friendships, taking myself out of the equations back in Canada and making one new one here. Will I wish that I would have held off? Will I tell myself that I should have let my early twenties be my drunk, silly and friendship-focused days? I feel a bit saddened and sorry, a bit lonely and worried. I feel outside of Canadian life and maybe that won’t ever really go away..

It scares me.
To think that maybe there will come a time when I will question all that I’ve done and wonder why I chose to do what I did. Maybe I will hate myself for having left people I loved, for moving away from so much laughter and happiness.
I think back to those years leading up to my departure. So much overflowing goodness in them that it forces me to question why. Maybe now that those memories are only just that, they have more of a rosey tinge than actuality. Maybe things had petered out and my friendships were dragging. Maybe it wasn’t as fun as I think it to be now. Maybe it got old.
Maybe in the end I won’t understand why, but I will just accept and believe in whatever reasoning it was back then.
I’ll probably have faith in my own self, to know that I did what was best in that time.

These thoughts continue to circle until I reach this deafening point.
I believe that things happen the way they are supposed to and if I did not meet my husband here and if i met him but did not love him enough to stay, then frankly, I couldn’t say I know a love as strong as this.

I have stayed because of love and that reason is the best conclusion I’ve ever had.

Names that Don’t Wear Flipflops

If someone was talking about you and your best friend to someone else, whose name would come first? Would it be Jack and Lisa? or Lisa and Jack?

When you hear your mom talking to Aunt Liz on the phone about how you and your boyfriend are going to Cuba next week, whose name comes first? Yours or his?

You see, there’s a pattern.

Often times it starts where most things…do.

The beginning.
Bert and Ernie were always Bert and Ernie, right? How often do you hear Ernie and Bert?

Take Will and Grace or Mary-Kate and Ashley. It’s rarely said the other way around.

And Calvin and Hobbes?
What about Chip and Dale or Bonnie and Clyde?

Why do you think this is?
What is the significance of these un-flip-floppy names?
Any ideas?