Worst Post Yet (Some Babble About Attachments)

ImageThere’s an extension  Buddhist thought that talks about attachment to others in metaphorical terms. It describes our connections to people as a cord which grows out of our stomach, and latches itself to another person (of our choosing). Apparently, the energy from ourselves is then received by that person, and we open ourselves to being receptors of their energy. The author depicting this picture went as far as to say that many people can opt of an attachment with someone whom they were once willingly connected with, but the recipient may not be ready to detach, and hence toxic attachment begins. After one person has expressed desire to leave the friendship/relationship/poisonous life sucking tube, but the other does not comply, the leaving person then walks around with this dangly cord, unable to make healthier connections with others because they keep tripping over their ex’s bulky wire.

I’m not a believer in Karma. I think it’s a big old cushy idea, and I’d love to think that people I’ve had lingering cords with were actually effected by my demanding, crawly, life-of-it’s-own connection tube, but I doubt it. When people cut ties, its because they’re usually ready to, and really truly, the universe does not give a flying fack about anyone’s left over strings of attachment–it’s busy making sure back holes don’t consume everything. What might happen to the cord-ee (that is, the person who isn’t ready to let go), is that they will release other cords (insert bad punny joke here, Andrew) that search out connections eerily similar to the one that’s been lost. Having not allowed themselves to properly separate, accept, over even morn their lost person, Cordee then finds people with the same eyes. jokes, bluntness as Meanie who Left Them, and unhealthy attachment perpetuates itself.

We all know where I’m going with this (What? You mean my writing is incoherent and doesnt have direction?? My bad.), so let’s put you in the victim’s seat and pretend you are the Cordee. You wander around aimlessly latching your tentacles to anyone that will let you. Before you know it, youre 40 with a silver flask, and a poor schlup whom you originally dated because his jawline is strikingly similar to The Only Ex that Matters. The flask (or what’s in it) takes the edge off the sadness that is ebbing away at your existence, but you constantly ask yourself what you ever saw in him. By now, the jawline is becoming more like a jowl-line, and, in your middle-age, you’ve forgotten what a shallow, lost, 20-something you were. Maybe every once in a while, he’ll make a corny joke that reminiscent of someone you knew once, but indulging that thought brings up a horrid sadness that threatens to turn stale and bitter any day now.

My point, in this, The Worst Post I’ve Ever Written, is the horrible danger that lies in our somewhat natural need to look for connections that are similar to the ones we’ve known before. Though the drive to find familiarity might’ve been useful in Caveman days (I must find man who can use a club to kill as good as Caveman George did right before he dumped me for not picking enough berries. hard life.), it is all but useless now. I don’t need men to hunt for me,  so it really doesn’t matter if you’ll be as good as my last reproductive friend at punching deer over the head with a bat. In its failure to inhibit itself then, the familiarity drive arguably endangers us, and the familiar friend, at least on an emotional level.

In terms of us, the Cordees, it can be an emotional pitfall because it almost always brings about disappointment ( same jawline, different everything else). Everyone under the sun has dated someone because their essence reminds them of someone else. Some people even date familiars to a serial extent, convinced they’ll find someone that fits oh-so-closely into the etch of their original ex. Obviously, this is flawed logic in  that people are not meant to fit into etches, and definitely don’t deserve to be shoved under the bell-jar of expectation to be like somebody that you used to know. That’s where disappointment on both ends occurs simultaneously, the Cordee because the new friend just isnt the same as the original, and the corded, because they don’t know what the fuck just happened/and or where they went wrong.

I have a friend, with whom, I’ve had a falling out with recently. Actually, truth be told, there are 2 friends who I’ve struggled with in the past week so. In all my over-analysis of my terribly insignificant life, I’ve realized that the root issue with both these friendships is the familiar connections I associate with them in my blog. One of them reminds me of someone that hurt me fiercely, and the other, reminds me of my Original hurt. I’m seriously starting to hate my overcapitiazation of everything. But I Just Can’t Stop. Is this fair to these friends? Of course not. Is it cowardly that I’m writing this is a post they’ll never read because it’s the Worst Post Ever? Of course. But who knows, maybe I’ll do something more direct about it. In the meantime, I’m just waiting for my testicles to drop.