Nonstop

by Martha Medeiros

  The era of narcissism has us spellbound, but as in any relationship, time takes its toll. What are we to do? Perhaps we should forget a little who we are, forget the first person, forget our isolation and think more of what we represent together. I’m tired of so much “me, me, me”, including myself.

  With or Without You

  We find out what our love story was like when we look at how it ended. The way we put an end to our relationships makes clear the true dynamic we used to have with our partners.

  What kind of ending do we hope for? Preferably, none. Everyone wants an everlasting love, so long as it remains fresh, exciting, passionate, untroubled, buoyant and interesting. In a word, a miracle. Since the odds are against miracles, it’s normal that relationships last a few, or many years, and then end. It’s the law of life. We go through hell, but you’ll rarely meet someone who’s never had a broken heart. What can we do to ease the pain? Maybe we need to analyse the ending to understand what we had before.

  There’s the so called civilised ending. Both parties realise the relationship isn’t working anymore, so they talk about it, they give it another try, they talk about it again, they drag it along for a few months, they see it’s not improving, they wait until Christmas and New Year are over, they make one last attempt, and then they decide – the end.

  It’s dreadful, of course. It’s never easy to pack our cases, divide our belongings, and if we have children make arrangements to see them. Loneliness lurks in our future and frightens us. Our feelings almost falter when we give that last embrace. But it is an ending without bloodshed.

  How do people manage such a feat?

  Probably because they always listened to each other, because their relationship wasn’t a battlefield, because arguments were exceptions and not the rule. It’s also possible they were led more by tenderness than passion. There’s a clear distinction between love and passion. In any case, despite their pain, their story had an ending worthy of the good times they had together.

  Now let’s take a look into the other type of ending. Get the children out of the living room!

  This relationship usually ends after hurling insults, despairing cries of “I can’t take it any longer”, floods of tears and an exchange of accusations. Perhaps their love was more intense than that of the couple who separated in a more reasonable manner, but they lost their patience with one another, and also all respect – their relationship reached its limit. But why, after all the tussle, didn’t they try a friendly conversation? Well, they had no idea of what this means. They had always been tormented by jealousy and petty arguments. When this love-hate relationship ends, there come vile comments behind each other’s backs and even plots of revenge. It’s not a pretty ending!

  Once I heard a neighbour shouting at his girlfriend on the phone, “I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t be with or without you.” The fact that the whole building could hear him didn’t seem to matter. Anyhow, I’ve always found this to be a dreadful situation. It’s hard when you only have two choices – to go or to stay – and both feel equally terrible.

  When the end is sweet it means you were happy together and there’s nothing to regret. When it’s bitter, it means you had a chaotic relationship and so there’s nothing to regret either. In both cases, the final performance helps us to understand what kind of life we shared and also prepares us for a love that will never end.

  In theory.

  The Right to Disappear

  A few years ago I published an article called The Right to Disappear, where I talked about this need we have to keep in touch all the time when we are away, be it by email, Skype, WhatsApp or whatever. A sort of anxiety that didn’t exist before when we went away on holiday and nobody expected more than a letter, the odd phone call or two, or a post card. It was still possible to feel free and alone, far from all others and closer to ourselves. These days, because of social media, we can’t disappear. We are easily tracked down no matter where we are. It’s an advantage for those who stay at home and miss us, but if we are unable to disconnect even when away, we miss a rare opportunity to do something we often want – to disappear.

  I’m bringing this up again because of the strange news I read about France Télécom (now Orange S.A.). In a period of eighteen months 24 staff members committed suicide, not to mention the other 13 who tried without success – maybe success isn’t the right word, but there you have it. I don’t know the details, but what caught my attention was that these deaths were all work related. They were all working under a lot of pressure. As far as I’m concerned this doesn’t justify someone taking their own life – pressure is part of every business in any corner of the world. However, there’s a point to be considered here – the tidal wave of messages that crammed their computers and phones was linked to the stress they were under. It makes perfect sense. Some people can’t tell their personal lives apart from their professional lives. They spend so much time connected to others that they lose sight of themselves.

  Blackberry and iPhone, for instance, are dreadful. I know people who wake up at night to check their mail, a compulsive and insane behaviour, to say the least. People get anxious when they are out of reach; they feel left out, as if privacy and solitude means exile. It’s a bitter misjudgement: they only feel alive with the acknowledgment of others, like an empty shell with nothing to be discovered from within.

  Obviously there ought to be other reasons for a myriad of these suicides, yet we should reflect on this 24/7 addiction. Whether it arises out of habit or professional demand, we must not lose sight of our right to disappear, to have a healthy break, either when we are away or in our everyday life. All we have to do is to disconnect the internet, turn off our phones and enjoy our own company. Otherwise more people will be jumping off bridges in a final attempt to disappear.

  Grow Up and Have Fun

  I’ve been away following some premieres of the film Divã (2009), which is based on my book. It’s been great fun – especially as the result is so gratifying! What I love about this film are its clarity and the way it tugs at my heart strings; and alongside that it still manages to provoke me. The main character, Mercedes – played by the talented Lília Cabral – is in therapy and she takes to the clinic many of her uncertainties about life, up until the moment she realises that there’s no way to live life other than with her frustrations; then she relaxes. Taking this into account her analyst suggests she be discharged, to which she retorts: “Discharged? Now that I’m having so much fun?”

  I had forgotten about this part in the book and when I saw it on the big screen it seemed crystal clear to me: one of the symptoms of age is to regain our youth – not of the body – for which we can only do so much, but of the mind, so much more significant. Are you really a grown up? So stop whining, stop wishing for the impossible and expecting to be perfect. Stop trying to make sense of everything and working out the pros and cons of every situation. Stop judging others and trying to keep your life under strict control. Just… have fun!

  Not that it’s easy. While a well-toned body requires exercise, workouts, diets and close attention to habits, a calm mind needs the exact opposite: to break free of its chains. So stop planning every detail of your life, allow yourself to make mistakes, don’t make too many sacrifices; after all, we all have the same inescapable fate. It’s important to know when to take your foot off the accelerator. Besides, who wants to cross the finish line early? I’d much rather enjoy the journey.

  The other day I received an email from an angry and dispirited woman and I thought how hard it must be for her to live life without letting go, trapped in her own pain, without joy. She wasn’t attacking me personally, but expressing her annoyance and hatred for the world. I’ve never met her, perhaps she suffers from depression and is in a difficult situation – I don’t know. But I do know that some people have a fighting spirit that others lack and even the depressed ones don’t give in to bitterness. They are fortunate enough to have a strong survival instin
ct.

  We all have our own struggles, but what makes us fuel them for so long? I believe we get desperately attached to them because if the pain goes away we have nothing to replace it with, so we revolve around it, victimising ourselves to the extreme. Why do we do this to ourselves?

  Perhaps to mature means to recognise that suffering and loss are inevitable, but we don’t need to cling to the pain to justify our existence.

  Aristocats

  I never thought I’d have a cat. In part because I have always lived in apartments, and I thought that if I ever lived in a house I’d have a dog. Therefore, the idea of having a cat was out of the question. When people spoke to me about cats I’d resort to the old clichés: cats are cold creatures, they don’t interact.

  Now, in love with my five month old kitten and still living in an apartment, a quote from a certain Wesley Bates comes to mind: “There’s no need for a piece of sculpture in a house with a cat.” I agree; cats are glorious and elegant creatures. Plus, they look adorable nestled among the cushions.

  Still, I wanted to get to the bottom of it: why had I fallen in love with a cat against all my prejudices? I started reading some ironic and unflattering quotes about cats. According to Mark Twain, “A cat is more intelligent than people believe, and can be taught any crime"; Francis Galton, "The cat is the only anti-social domestic pet”; Rob Kopack, “If cats could talk, they’d lie to you”; Saki, “A cat is domesticated only up to a point.” That explains it: don’t we all have a thing for the breezing insouciance of the “cat” that walks alone?

  It must be great to have a dog: loyalty, companionship, mutual love. I know, I’ve watched Marley & Me. Dogs are nice. It’s just that my favourite dogs were never Marleys; they were more like the Tramp. Remember him? The one who shared spaghetti with Lady. As they eat they get closer and closer, until…! I’d swap those well behaved blonde princes of Snow White and Cinderella for the free and audacious Tramp any day. He was my childhood hero, and now I know why: that dog had the soul of a cat.

  I imagine that I’ve just revealed my least noble side here. What about my image as a sensible and mature woman? Ha! I have another side. It took me more than forty years to understand that I don’t need someone who wants to be at my disposal all the time, who spoils me, who adores me, who comes as soon as I call, who invites me out every day. If he is charming, keeps to himself, and is a bit condescending, there’s a chance.

  Jeez, it took a cat to make me realise I’m a bad boy’s girl.

  How Well it Turned Out for Us…

  Women are still paid less than men and so feminists carry on fighting to change this injustice. But now I’m unsure whether this fight for equality is a good idea or not. After seeing the results of a research conducted by Harvard University, I felt inclined to think that we might be better off keeping things as they are. The research, named Schooling Can’t Buy Me Love, confirmed that studying really pays off and women who apply themselves get further in life. Nevertheless, it also shows that successful women have less chance to get married. Men, it seems, aren’t yet prepared to yield the supremacy that their role as the family’s provider bestow on them. Even the more liberal ones who support their wives’ independence get insecure if women become too high-ranking. It’s OK for a woman to earn her own money, but to have a higher profile than her husband? How ludicrous!

  Fine. So what are we to say to our daughters? Study, but a PhD is going too far, a cookery course would be more sensible. Have your own opinions when talking to your friends, but at home just nod and smile. Spend your money on clothes, jewellery, and cosmetics, but forget about travel, or the theatre, or books. When you want to express your love, swap “I love you” for “I need you” or “I’m nothing without you”. Men want to be needed, just loved isn’t good enough.

  What a muddle the feminists got us into. They encouraged us to think for ourselves, to have self-esteem, and to reach our full potential. Undeterred, we pursued our ambitions believing that this would be great for all concerned. At last love needn’t be a shield to protect us from financial insecurities. It became more genuine as men and women united in the same needs, exposed their weaknesses, shared their anxieties, and sought support from one another. We need each other equally, but some maintain that men only need to be indulged and women only need to be looked after, end of story.

  I’d never thought I’d still be writing about it today. I thought men had realised how much they gained by having a real woman by their side rather than a trophy on their arm. I believed that competition had given way to a healthier and more exciting relationship, where everyone could feel proud of their achievements and find support during the setbacks. How naïve of me. It doesn’t work like that, girls. These career driven women out there who don’t cook, don’t iron, don’t do the laundry, aren’t a good example. They think themselves funny and clever with their important jobs and their trips to New York, but in reality they should be pitied, they will end up lonely and will die hugging their laptops, you’ll see…

  We’re screwed.

  If Only

  If only people who fight for a better world knew that every revolution starts from within.

  If only instead of victimising themselves, people recognised that they are responsible for everything that happens to them.

  If only differences were more naturally accepted and our sole resistance was against injustice.

  If only all religions were true to their principles and preached love and peace without interfering in their followers’ personal choices.

  If only we realised that everything we do for love – jealousy and possessiveness not included – is sure to bring a positive outcome.

  If only different opinions were respected without provoking hate.

  If only we chose our clothes and decorated our homes spontaneously instead of being dictated by social standards.

  If only we were not so frightened of loneliness and therefore didn’t behave so foolishly trying to avoid it.

  If only everyone read good books.

  If only people knew that their money is better spent on things like travel and cinema as opposed to endless shopping sprees.

  If only we knew how to appreciate a hot dog as much as haute cuisine.

  If only we looked at life from a different angle understanding that there isn’t such a thing as an unhappy life but that all lives have unhappy moments.

  If only we saw the difference between a fantastic life and a fanciful life.

  If only we could realise that the government is there to help us and that we have the right to expect its support.

  If only those who lack any sense of humour understood that life is unbearable without it.

  If only people weren’t so aggressive just to prove their superiority.

  If only our fight wasn’t against age but against stupidity.

  If only.

  The Extraordinary Women of Our Lives

  Every International Women’s Day I try to avoid the victimisation that seems to come with it. I know that women still have many challenges. To reconcile family and career, for example. This is a struggle for many of us, and to achieve it we need the support of the State and of our partners. Happiness requires team work. But women have already proved that they are here to stay. So I won’t use this 8th March to talk about women’s hardships. This year I’d rather put society and family aside and take this opportunity to raise my glass to those who play a vital part in our lives – our girlfriends.

  After watching a film as sweet as its title, Caramel, a French-Lebanese production, I had the heart-warming feeling that despite our losses and struggles throughout life – time slips by, our children grow, our hearts are broken – our friends never desert us. As with every film that touches upon friendship and the intrinsic solitude of women, Caramel gives us solace by bringing out our best qualities – our passionate nature, our fearlessness and our good spirits – despite our most regrettable sorrows. Caramel is the story of five women. Layal loves
a married man, Jamale is horrified at the prospect of growing old, and will do anything to retain her youth; Nisrine is soon to be married but dreads her fiancé will discover he isn’t the first; Rima is attracted to a gorgeous customer in the beauty salon, and then there is Rose, who has forsaken love to look after her disturbed sister. Each with a different story, every single one of them just like us: conflicted women who can always count on each other.

  We need women around us. Friends, daughters, grandmothers, granddaughters, sisters, sisters-in-law, aunts, cousins. We are more complicated than men, but we are also extremely giving and understanding. We quickly overcome life’s adversities and we always have sound advice to offer, be it a good film, a good bargain, or a good recipe. Competitive? Maybe, but that doesn’t stop us from being affectionate, from understanding our shared fears, from embracing each other in moments of pain, from recognising our mistakes and being courageous – we not only defend our own cubs, but those of the pride as well.

  We share our virtues and shortcomings and are capable of infinite forgiveness. We’re sweet and sharp at one and the same time, which astonishes and fascinates those around us. It’s true that we fight a lot – we have long nails for a reason. We’re endowed with a capacity to see the beauty of small things. We value true friendship. Someone who we met at school can still be a close friend fifty years later. Likewise, someone we’ve just met, but with whom we clicked immediately, can become our confidante on the spot. We love our men, but married, really, we are to one another.

  When We Truly Die