Living with Other People

There is so much I want to write about. So much I need to write out. 2012 promised loads of ‘clay’ for lyrical sculpting, most of it decidedly unwelcome but definitely edifying. But, work commitments are currently demanding. I dare not begin just yet.

However, I have stolen a moment to broach a topic reared in conversation today, so that I don’t forget to speak of it later. It tenders interesting thought-chow, in my opinion. And MY blog remains MY opinion.

Just this afternoon I savoured a chat with someone very dear and close to me who is married to and lives under the roof of a control-freak who is also a misogynist, to address but two features of this… err, human being. Yes, this might sound particularly harsh and judgmental, and we know that everyone who claims to be good is by no means judgmental, oh no!  That is yet another subject worthy of a dedicated airing. But not right now.

Let me dispel YOUR judgment with the following single memory she shared with me - only one memory out of 14000+ married days filled with memories…

She had been gifted a fluffy, good quality white towel set with her name embroidered on each towel, further embellished with some lavender sprigs which is one of her favourite plants, and lavender her favourite colour. How special this gift was to her is presented in the nutshell-context of her having always gone without even the basic things that makes a woman feel like a woman, for most of her life.  It was HER towel set and when she used it, for those moments, she felt like the goddess that she is.

This ingrate, who has oppressed and denigrated her for the little lifetime she has shared so generously and faithfully with him, felt that he was wholly entitled to her service as his household slave, for one.  He kept her on a tight budget though, granting her a pittance of a monthly allowance with which she had to get by, despite rising costs and inflation. A misanthrope by choice [probably because the reference ranges out there would deem his behaviour and outlook pathological or, worse still, WRONG!], he had no idea of how much things really cost, from clothing to groceries to toiletries.

On one particular morning, he used the toilet and found that they had run out of toilet paper… sorry, correction: that she [yes, his wife and mother to his children]  had FAILED to maintain the toilet roll supply. Incensed, he proceeded to use one of her smaller embroidered towels to wipe his excrement-soiled anus, and then threw it on her as she lay in bed sleeping. After all, in his warped mind, she needed to be punished. So stop reading and disappear if you think I am being judgmental. I am, in fact, being VERY polite in keeping this memo ‘all English’.

When she told me this story, she even said a few minutes afterwards, “I am sure a lot of people would think that I am overreacting, and that it is not such a big thing, but I was so crushed.” My God, he had successfully alienated her enough from ‘normal’ for her to believe that this was NOT as horrific as it truly was! Now you know why I love Dexter. You love Dexter when you have come face to face, directly or indirectly, with unadulterated EVIL.

Back to the topic: living with other people. My Dear One I just spoke of was getting nostalgic about how much pride she took in her home when she lived solo for a brief part of her life. Cleanliness and tasteful décor were very important to her. Despite the fact that she was not terribly well-heeled, her modest home gave the impression of wealth to all visitors, she recalled. Before she married Mr Hyde, Dr Jekyll had carpentry and interior decoration on his resume, and she envisioned, with delight, a shared home perpetuating her penchant for an aesthetically-pleasing domicile, reflecting her creativity, her tastes and her essence. Alack, alas...Ebenezer bah-humbugged all of that the moment the ring was on her finger. That was NOT the only essential part of her he crushed.

The bottom line is we underestimate the importance of compatibility in terms of co-existence. Yes, there will be an element of compromise on each person’s part, when more than one lives together. But it should never be at the ‘expense’ of one or the other. As Kahlil Gibran said in his missive on Marriage: “And the Oak tree and the Cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.”

It is healthy to get some practice before you marry and have a family… like I did living in communal abode during my University years. It’s true when they say, “You don’t really know someone until you live with them.” I had to temper my particularities for my own sanity. I became more tolerant of clutter, but remained relatively intolerant of filth, and found myself living with the odd ‘dirty’ person. Rings around the bathtub, and food-caked dishes left overnight, come to mind. It irked me no-end, but I soon realized that their priorities were entirely different to mine, and it was not my calling to change or try to change them, just as they weren't going to change me. Whilst I consensually lived with them I either had to accept it, manage it independently, or leave it! Yes, it was unfair to find myself washing other people’s dishes at night… or scrubbing and disinfecting the bathtub before I used it… but that’s what I had to do to meet MY standards, even if they were, at times, incongruent with my housemates’.

Everyone’s priorities are different. Are they largely and companionably aligned with yours?

I recall a family which we, my family, were close to during my Youth. In all the decades we've known them; their house or home had and has been in a constant state of renovation or disrepair. However, their entertainment systems were top-notch . That was their priority, and it ‘worked’ for them. They emerged a happy family unit to all appearances. I have met people who dress like Kings and Queens but live in squalor. I have met people who live minimalistically and are wealthy.

I could go further and say that this 'co-existence compatibility' stretches yet further, beyond the superficial and material. I remember, whilst living in digs, waking up in the middle of the night to go to the loo, only to be met by a strange voice of a man emanating from the ablutionary-abyss telling me, “Sorry, Busy.” One of the many strange men one of my housemates used to bring home. Thank goodness nothing negative ever came of that. I felt very unsafe in the wake of these shenanigans. As far as I am concerned, she was putting all our lives in danger. In my world, your home is supposed to be your haven.

Certainly, there’s a bit of compromising to be done when two or more people live in the same space… but there’s a lot to be said for being ‘equally yolked’ to some degree. Whilst we need to appreciate that individuals are different and have different priorities, and that we are not united in relationship [in whichever form] to necessarily change each other, but rather to complement and bring out the best in each other… it’s really no wonder that ‘birds of a feather, flock together’ most harmoniously.