For those of you that are not wired intensely, I am sure you read things from writers like me and roll your eyes. Why doesn’t she just chill out?
It’s hard to explain how my brain and emotions work. When people say, “Don’t over-analyze,” they don’t realize they are asking me to stop breathing. It’s involuntary. It’s second nature to me.
When an intensely wired person pairs up with another intensely wired person, the dynamics are… uh, well… intense. Shocking, I know. Truthfully, there is usually just an overwhelming sense of relief and connection. Oh my God, I am not a total freak of nature. He gets me. He feels and thinks this stuff too. The aching loneliness that ranges from dull to raging is finally over. It is glorious. It is euphoric. It is surreal. You pinch yourself often to make sure you aren’t dreaming.
Of course, you know the reality of bittersweet and ying/yang and all that jazz. That also means the heartache is equally as overwhelming. As life unfolds, you will naturally find yourselves disagreeing about things, maybe even at odds. Maybe at opposite ends of the spectrum. So you intensely get disappointed and then start trying to understand. You talk. And talk. And discuss. Two steps closer to understanding, three steps back. Five steps forward, one step back. Then a grinding halt.
I think life at 50 though, is so much wiser than earlier. At least it should be if you have spent some of those 50 years working on growing your emotional intelligence. When you work at improving yourself, understanding who you are, how you are wired, you gain some insight and awareness that helps you.
A decade or two ago, I would have never thought that anything less than a perfect resolution would ever be acceptable. I would have never believed that one strategy would be to simply cry, “Uncle!” and that would be incredibly effective. I would have been shocked to know that I could actually sit back after all that intensity and tears and say, “Jeeze, Darcy. Lighten up. Don’t take yourself so seriously.” Now, I have to admit, that message (for the most part) probably has to come from me or a very, very trusted source. I most likely wouldn’t take too kindly to someone tossing that out to me. But when I arrive at that place on my own or from another intensely minded person? It seems like brilliant advice.
And then life is beautiful again. You can be mindful of the connection that you cherish beyond words. You can just be close again. You don’t need perfect resolution. It isn’t even important anymore. The connection and love resumes it rightful spot. It’s the priority, rather than solving the world’s insolvable problems.
So often I have wished that I could be rewired. So many, many times in my life I have wanted to not be me so that I wouldn’t feel so lonely on the planet. But then other times, like now, I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. Those moments of connection are worth every second I’ve waited for it.
Remember this lesson, Darcy. Honor your thoughts and your agony, but then just cry, “Uncle!” and lighten up. Life is too short. And love is too amazing.