It is not very often that I go to bed surrounded by confusing clouds of love, hate and anger swirling over my head. But last night, I did. I was seized by one of those heart-gripping moments-- you know, moments that threaten to change your values, your beliefs, and your perception of reality. And I was terrified. Terrified because last night was only the third night of my marriage.
A few years ago-- and I cannot for my life remember under what circumstance we were in to be having this conversation-- my bestie gave me this advise for which I would adhere to over the years: Never go to bed angry. It works every time. But what if confusion became the dominant feeling before bed?
Love, hate and anger. If I drew a Venn diagram, the only virtue or emotion that occupies the common area formed by these so vastly different yet inter-related characteristics that I could think of is this: exhaustion. But there is something wrong with my Venn diagram. Shouldn't love be the centre of everything? Late nights and long trips eventually resulted in a blanket of immeasurable silence that predominates over those failed conversations and missed connections, which I am still trying to paw my way through in the hopes of having interactions deeper than linguistic understanding.
In the wake of the Newtown massacre, my newsfeed is flooded with updates of the shooting. There is an article in the New York Times titled "Tips for Talking to Children about the Shooting". In that article, child psychiatrist Dr Abramovitz suggests asking the child questions as such: "Remember the last time you were afraid? Remember what you did to calm down?". I don't remember the last time I was afraid, but I do remember writing calms me. So I am writing this now and asking you: Does love always triumph over hate and anger?
At the signing table
[Pic stolen from my friend Kim's Facebook]