It's Sunday. My mood is elevated. I'm in Atlanta until tomorrow. I have a show this evening for a Foster Care conference. Oh, no! I've come full circle. When I was in grad school, I worked as a foster care counselor for three years. At times, it was a rich and rewarding experience. I am thinking right now about what "tricks of the trade" I will use tonight. I love doing things differently each time. Repetition breeds contempt; not always, but often enough.


How are you today, friends?


I received an email the other day from an individual who was asking me how they should handle the situation when a friend just stops communicating with them. No rhyme or reason. A complete cease fire.


That's a toughy. I've been in that situation a good few times. What do you do? It depends. If you think that your friend is just going through a tough stint and needs time to sort things through, let them have their space. Make a reasonable amount of gestures, but learn to let go. I do not say these words lightly. Trust me. It is one of the most difficult things to do. I struggle with it. In fact, if I make frequent attempts to communicate with those whom I love, and if they fail to remotely give something back, it P's me off! Not right away, but if the communication ceases for months upon months, after numerous attempts of phone calls and emails, I get charged. I have a mean streak; not so much directly belligerent, but more torturous, more subtly annoying; mono as opposed to pneumonia; an aching back as opposed to a fractured skull; dripping faucet as opposed to finger nails on chalkboard; stink bomb as opposed to hand grenade. I'm much more innocuous, than vicious. Yet, I am well skilled at getting under someone's skin. In another life, I must have been one of those "special" agents trained to relieve individuals of information. I truly believe this, but I digress.


What should be done? For starters, be above their behavior and reach out to that individual, if they say that nothing is wrong, accept it . . . at first. If this condition of ignoring you persists, challenge them on that theory. If they still refuse to be honest with you, begin that slow process of letting them go or at least giving them enough space. Hopefully, if you give them their space, they will start to recognize their behavior as being dysfunctional for healthy relationships, and at the very least, give you an honest response to your inquiries. Or maybe they won't. Or maybe your friendship or love relationship has come to a transitional period. Adapt.


There have been friends with whom I was much closer at one time, but because of life we have gone separate paths. At times, it was my choice to separate, and at times, it was the other individual's choice. What frustrates me is when the other person assumes that I'm an idiot and gives me garbled answers of, "I'm doing well. Everything is o.k." or "Nothing's wrong. I'm just busy." or "I'm fine." And I do not need to tell you what F.I.N.E. stands for. At least, I won't say it on my public blog.


My response to people's evasion becomes very calculated when I feel unsafe. I do not take life very lightly. I think most people do. I think we divide ourselves over stupidity and nonsense, then when death hits us, it's "I wish. I wish. I wish." I can't take my relationships with that level of flippancy. It irks me to no end. I understand that people are busy. I do, but please don't insult me when I call you on something and I'm correct. Ugggh!!!!! I don't have much respect for that.


As I write this response, I realize that there are four individuals who swirl in my head. They withdraw without warning. They leave me clueless. I can confront, but if they don't respond truthfully, what am I supposed to do? Aah, we're back at the question.


Here's are a couple of successful stories. My darling kindred friend, Jennifer has been disconnected from me for quite some time. About a year ago, she had a daughter. I knew that this would create flux within her core, and it did. I must have called and emailed her more than a dozen times. No response. The only response I got was mass emails. (This action, by the way, for all my friends who think about doing this in the future, is NOT the best direction to go with me. It doesn't count as a response. In fact, it counts as a negative for me.) I figured, if you can write a mass email, could you not write a line to me? No such luck for months upon months. Then I had an epiphany -- let Jennifer go. Contact her no more. Withdraw. Create safety within yourself again. And I did. I withdrew. I refused to call or write, then one day (very recently) she wrote to me and explained. She's been struggling with adapting motherhood into the other pieces of herself. I wasn't surprised by this response -- like I said, we are kindred souls. I've struggled with the same issue. We just handle it differently. I need to write it out or talk it out, not always, but certainly more often than not. Today, I sent her a copy of my blog reflecting on fatherhood. I told her that I still have deep love for her. I can't wait for her to emerge. I miss her.

The other success story comes in slight reverse. It involves me less frequently touching base with this dear soulful, kindred friend; a true d-girly for sure. We would communicate through email almost everyday at one point, then my schedule got more hectic, and the email exchange cut back to couple times a week, then to once every other week, mostly because of me. The communication has picked up lately, which is beautiful, especially since much of the disconnect was due to me. She continued to pop emails over to me, and I would at times leave a message on her work machine. The success of this story is what I did. I did not totally disconnect with her and I let her in to what was happening in my life. I refused to totally disconnect. Being busy or my personal life problems were not enough to disengage completely. Not good enough as an excuse for me. D-girly let me know that she understood, but I know that she understood in part because I did not shut off completely, and I made her feel safe to know that it was not her or my rejection of her as a friend. Very critical.

So, I understand this struggle my friends about what to do in these situations. I live it. Every day. Jennifer is a success story -- relatively speaking, of course, but there are others who still perplex me and withdrawing is the only avenue I know. Ultimately, I don't feel safe with them, though I have a lot of love for them. And it makes me wonder from whom do I withdraw? Have I made those people feel unsafe because of my conscious or unconscious withdrawal?


Hmmm . . . I need to call my older friend today. He's a good soul and sensitive like me.


PEACE.

That I could go this long without even whispering a desperate word . . . now that says a lot. Truth be told, it is not that I haven't had plenty going on in my life (for believe me, I have), but where does one start when one is buried underground? How does one dig up when up is as relevent as time is in death? My soul, deep in its cavernous state, searching for meaning amongst a whole host of hurdles and doubts and questions and emotions, all with teflon durability, has been clawing for peace; but peace, comes in stillness, and stillness is one wave that has only erratically visted my shores.



But today I begin a new leaf, I am not completely to the surface, but in my stillness, I am emerging.



Fatherhood
Why is it that people often glamorize (to a fault) or pessimize (not a word, but you can follow my meaning from the root pessimism) a given event, tradition, or experience? This reaction shortchanges the gestalt of the experience. Take fatherhood. As you are aware, if you've read my blog, I am a father. My baby, Saskia, is 13 months today. I love her deeply and desperately. I do, but when I listen to the rhetoric of many parents it follows some drafted, mundane script: "It's the greatest experience ever." "I think everyone should be a parent." "I've grown so much as a person by being a parent." "Having children is the greatest thing I've ever done." "The early years are the best years, before they hit their teenage years and just drive you crazy." And so forth.

What people cower to say are the things they don't like about it. As if by uttering any disagreeable word, they will jinx the experience, or they will somehow be less worthy of parenthood. Bullochs! My intention, right now, is to do just that. I am about to qualify, because some of you readers need qualifications to calm your qualms. Qualifyer: I love Saskia deeply. I would not trade her for my previous life. She is a wonderful blessing, and for however many years or days she is given to me on loan, I will do my best to institute love in all my actions. Now the meat. I don't like what fatherhood has done to me, thus far. I have become more anxious as an individual. I have more nightmares now than I did as a child. I worry about her constantly. I have dreams of her falling down stairs; of her being murdered; of kidnappings and rapes. I am nervous most days when I am around her; my breathing is altered. I am more disconnected with my friends. "What's the use?" I say to myself. "I won't be able to go to there or here with them, without feeling chided in my spirit for leaving her solely with Tessin." It is easier not to call my friends, (though I've refused to adopt that principle completely). I know how to be a father; there exists no awkwardness in my comfortness towards Saskia. I enjoy my connection with her, but there exists a schizm within myself. Parts of Mykee gets lost. I am less integrated, and I do not like this. I know time will take care of many of these concerns, but then I ask, "But will it?"

I look at my father and I see him as a father or a religious man, but I do not see the child in him anymore. Where did it go? Is this result the culmination of years of fatherhood? Where is the spontaneous man? Where is the boy who travelled to Scotland? Where is the youthful man who hid in the closet to scare his children when they came home with their mother? Where is the teaser? the prankster? Where did he go?

These are the questions I have today. This is only part of the soil which has choked me, and I share this with you my friends who seek to know me beyond the stage.