Nearly four years ago now, three months after I got engaged, I hopped a plane to Oxford to spend a year earning my master’s degree (and, obviously, browsing bookshops and strolling gardens and eating my weight in scones and Digestive biscuits and paninis from On the Hoof).
This dream year was not without its opportunity costs, most notably the steady full-time salary I’d been enjoying (hello, student loan debt), and time with Jeremiah, my longtime boyfriend and newly-minted fiance. He stayed in Abilene to pursue his own master’s degree, and while we emailed every day and had weekly Skype dates and visited each other at Christmas and Spring Break, man oh man did I miss him.
Most people were totally understanding about this, as long as I didn’t whine about it all the time. One of my Oxford housemates was in a similar situation (her fiance was in North Wales). But a couple of friends had one standard response to any complaints I made about missing Jeremiah, the exchange rate, the wet English weather or any other difficulties. It consisted of one phrase: “Well, you chose it.”
Translation: Stop whining. You landed yourself in this situation on purpose, so you better suck it up.
Now, I don’t discount the power of an occasional dose of tough love, particularly when someone is engaging in self-destructive behavior, or when they’re doing nothing but complain. But usually, when I was venting my feelings, that wasn’t the case. I didn’t really wish my situation were different. I knew I’d chosen this year in Oxford, and – let’s be clear – I was having the time of my life. Those struggles were part of the deal, and I knew it. But I didn’t always have to like it.
That tough-love phrase has stayed with me since I left Oxford, and I’ve wondered about it in the context of various day jobs (some of which were true choices and some of which were necessities), and especially since our move to Boston. Lately, in the face of wet, dreary summer weather and missing Texas and crowded commuter trains and a case of the general blahs, I’ve wondered: Just because I/we chose Boston, does that mean we always have to like it?
I don’t think so.
Now, I really do believe in making the best of any situation. I believe in blooming where you’re planted and practicing gratitude and all those other platitudes (which can actually do wonders for your spirit). I don’t believe in whining, constant negativity, or refusing to see the good in a person or place or situation. But I believe in being honest about how things are going; I don’t think ignoring the bad stuff will make it go away. We all need to vent sometimes, and responding with that knee-jerk phrase when someone’s asking for empathy can make them pull back in hurt and frustration. (Believe me. I know.)
So I’m trying to be gentle with myself these days, when this still-new Boston life brings with it frustrations or loneliness or other kinds of strain. And I’m trying to be gentle with others who vent about their jobs or their cities or other frustrating things in their lives. Because honesty and a listening ear go a long way toward true friendship and being seen. And that is ultimately what I want to pursue – even if it means listening to – and voicing – a few complaints along the way.
cakes, tea and dreams 
I know exactly what you mean. Thanks for sharing this!
I appreciate your thoughts here, Katie, and, as always, your transparency. We had many of the same feelings when we first moved to Boston from Abilene. When we first got here, a number of days were as you described: full of homesickness, questions about our place, longing for what we’d left, difficulty making connections, etc. But I think it took us making the mental shift to say, unabashedly, “This is our new home” to snap us out of our funk and help us in enjoying each day we were given. And now — five years later (wow … has it been 5 years?!) — we can’t imagine living anywhere else. Our closest friends are here. It is here that we feel both “seen” and “known.” We’ve come to appreciate the beauty of this place, as different as it is from what we’d come to know. It’s taken years, but it happened. And more times than we can count that inspiration to keep on came from the unlikeliest of people. (as it tends to do)
On the other side of the token, we can name several couples / individuals we’ve known here who have moved to Boston only to quickly go back to wherever they came from. They assigned to these moves a variety of reasons (jobs, family, etc), but one reason that almost always was mentioned was their not feeling at home in Boston. And this after anywhere from one month to a few years here. (we really had some new friends move back to TX after just one month …) We humans have such a tendency to romanticize both the past and the future, don’t we, while ignoring (or at least downplaying) the beauty of the present?
My point is this: Contentment and joy in one’s place is as much a choice as it is a feeling, we’re discovering. Choosing to be present in the place you’ve chosen. Choosing to reach out for that which you desire. Choosing to stick it out. If, in the beginning, we’d left any room for thoughts that Boston is merely a brief stopover on our way to somewhere else, we never would have invested the emotional energy into choosing contentment and joy. It’s hard for one’s heart to be (equally) in two places at once.
I’ve been talking about you a bit lately and keep thinking about the funny way the Brits pronounce your name…. K Teeee, vs the Kadee that I roll off my tongue. You are very loved.
Well said, and very well understood!
[…] Venting once in a while (because even if I chose something, I don’t always have to like it). 2. Having a style uniform instead of always dressing creatively. 3. Indulging in the occasional […]
This idea of, “well, you chose it,” sounds similar (in purpose, if not in meaning) to parents being told, “just wait until…” If you dare complain about not sleeping, a fussy baby, laundry, teething, whatever, someone will pipe in with, “you think this is bad, just wait until they say no/conk their brother on the head/land in emergency/come home with the police/whatever”.
On my best days, I make room for a higher purpose here, where the speaker wants me to enjoy the moment, find something good. But most of the time, it feels like poison. Especially when it is the response to something good. e.g. my child is sleeping/eating/doing well in school/happy. Then, when someone chimes in with, “yeah? Well, just wait until…” it is a wet blanket for my little happy picnic.
Both are ways to minimise feelings. Both put distance between people.
I agree, you don’t have to like everything about every choice you make. If we deny our feelings, we lose something significant of ourselves – our authenticity. Feeling sad or lonely or grumpy are all valid. So is reaching out to someone we hope will be an empathic listener.
And being heard is as important as being seen. When we are free and safe to be vulnerable, we are also free and safe to return to our normal cheer, when we are ready. And if we feel safe, we are far more likely to make room for another’s vulnerability – a worthy act for our human village.