Jenny Block on living a private life in public
We never really know what’s going on in anyone else’s marriage. Social media exacerbates that situation. There’s a vomiting of personal information… except that it is all perfectly curated so that we only see exactly what the person wants us to see. Even #unfiltered is a curation of sorts — curating by not curating.
And the more content there is, the more we feel like, “This must be real. Look at all of it. There’s no time or space for anything else.” But there is, and it’s what we don’t see that just might be the most telling of all.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot with the majority of us still quarantining, all of us alone or in our little pods or bubbles; all of us allying ourselves within one of two camps on every front: “Putting on the quarantine 15” versus “Using this time to get #ripped;” “Feeling grateful to have more time with my kids” versus “How early is too early to start drinking;” Embodying Marie Kondo versus figuring we can just move and leave it all behind when this is all over.
And people are very clear via social media about where they stand.
This goes for relationships, too: “Finally, time with my bae” versus “Can you break up with someone you have to keep living with?”; “Creating an aquaponic farm with my love” versus “Is it possible to live in 2,500 square feet and never bump into the person you live with?” #Blessed versus #Stressed.
The truth most likely lies somewhere in between, and remembering that that is true for most people regardless of their social profile can make it a lot easier to stop comparing how your own home fires may — or may not — be burning.
People can keep the most incredible secrets: loneliness. abuse, addiction and, sometimes, love. Because, yes, the awful stuff is what most of us want to keep to ourselves. I don’t need anyone to know how hopeless I am on a bicycle or just how much you do not want to be around me if I am hungry, tired or cold … and not necessarily in that order. But we also don’t always know the depth and breadth of people’s relationships or even the nature of them because some people can’t, or don’t want to, reveal that.
Chadwick Boseman’s tragic passing has certainly brought this to mind. He was so sick for so long, and, yet, there, he was, playing — literally and a figuratively — a superhero on the big screen. He got married in secret with zero fanfare or exposure. I think I know why he kept both of those things private. It must be as difficult as it is spectacular to be famous. You are so wholly adored you may also become wholly swallowed, and no one wants every looky-loo in their beeswax, and there are some things you want to keep all for yourself because they are either too dreadful or too wonderful.
The release of the new documentary Surviving the Silence is about a female colonel who was forced to oust an army heroine for being a lesbian while she herself was in a longtime closeted relationship. All those years, Pat Thompson and Barbara Brass had hidden their relationship, posing as friends and roommates. They even had a secret door installed between their two bedrooms. And then Thompson, many, many years later had to lead the effort to have Margarethe Cammermeyer removed from service because of her sexual orientation.
What must all of those women have been thinking? How did they manage, day after day and year after year, to hide behind a lie? How does love grow in such shadow? Those are the questions the film addresses, of course. And the answer, I might add, is, “Quite beautifully.” But all of those answers left me with even more thoughts and questions about how little we really do know of one another and what a terribly dangerous thing that can be.
That guy who cut you off on the highway? He just lost his job. That young waitress who was so slow and inattentive? She just found out she’s pregnant. That boy who can’t concentrate in class? His dad hits his mom. And that couple with all the #CouplesGoals photos? They fight with such venom that the psychological bruising is as bad as any physical ones.
Why does any of this matter? Because it’s easy to hate people whose stories we don’t know. And, so, too, is it true in reverse. It’s hard to hate those whose stories we do know… .
That doesn’t mean we have a right to be in everyone’s business. We don’t have to access every sordid detail. What it does mean is that we need to be respectful and cautious, because we simply don’t know. This is true when it comes to the world at large. But it is equally true when it comes to our own little lives within our own four little walls in our own little relationships.
We can never truly know another person. Not entirely. Hell, it’s hard enough just to know oneself. So tread lightly. Give your partner the benefit of the doubt. Be kind in both directions. She is not able to know your every thought and pain so don’t lash out at her when unspoken expectations aren’t met. And you don’t know her every pain and scar — especially those of which she may not be wholly aware, so don’t internalize words that may land on you but are not meant for you.
There are no perfect relationships. There aren’t. I think there are some that come pretty close. Those that are, are the ones that remain conscious and active. To love is an action verb. It requires constant action, a commitment to wanting to love and be loved enough to care for the relationship like any other living, growing, breathing thing. I’ve said it before: We are not perfect. Not a one of us. But living by The Four
Agreements is what gets us as close to that as humanly possible.
The one thing I do know is that what you see is not the whole story. Ever.
So be gentle, with yourself, with your partner, with others, with the world.
We know not of what we know not.
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