On the Nature of Closure and Cowardice...

There's an aspect of my nature I've been pondering lately, one of which I'm not terribly proud.

Everyone is afraid of something, no matter what else they may face in the course of their lives. When it comes to physical confrontation, even the idea of open battle, I doubt there's a single person who knows me that would refer to me as a coward. Large, dangerous animals, enemies in combat (military or otherwise), inexplicable things bordering on the supernatural -- one and all, it's just in my nature to stare right back with a gimlet eye, unflinching, mouth turned downward or even drawn back in a snarling grimace.

No fear.

Sure, spiders creep me out, especially the large ones; and I'm as leery of snakes as the next guy, especially when startled by something which suddenly moves in the grass at my feet; come on, who doesn't have something which unnerves them at least briefly, a thing which gives them chills even if they bravely force their way past or through any given situation?

But that's not where my question lies; it's not the part of my very being I look at and wonder about my nature as a Man.

Where I really tend to suck is in dealing with people; that's what scares big, strong Me.

Oh, I'm not afraid of any man for illogical reasons; I have no reason to be. It's... well, relationships where I tend to fall apart and be lacking.

I suspect a lot of this has to do with the way I was reared; still, logically, shouldn't I be able to get past my particular shortcomings once I'm able to recognize them? Or perhaps there's more to it than mere recognition. I don't know.

I was raised not to trust anyone overly much. It wasn't as though there were active classes in Distrust, merely that given the kind of family I came from a constant undercurrent of lack of faith became the norm. People not only said things, they said them lightly, they said them with a lack of consideration for the meanings and patterns of the very words they used. "Black" could very well mean black... or white. Virtually nothing could be taken at face value and yet sanity necessitated taking things at face value, because otherwise what rhyme or reason was there to the Universe at large? How could day-to-day interactions be managed at all if every day was, or possibly was NOT "Opposite Day"?

But that's how my life was as a child. Still, it's only the precursor to the problem. You see, with that sort of perpetual distrust comes a defense-mechanism of distancing oneself from others. Growing too trusting inevitably led to disappointment; growing too enamored led to the same sort of thing, only much more cutting.

By the time I left home for the military I was, technically, perfect for Military relationships, fleeting in nature, temporary. Today one person is in charge of you; next week it's someone else. People come and go with unnerving frequency and yet a kind of intensity which is difficult to describe. One, along with one's coworkers and comrades, works in an intense atmosphere, wherein intense work must be done.

That sort of intensity forges, perhaps through nature or perhaps through necessity, quick bonds which are powerful. One comes to either trust or not trust depending on critical performance and feedback; one comes to lean on comrades; and yet somewhere in the back of the mind lies a strange combination of close, intimate hug and arm's length distance...

...because tomorrow this person you actually love in the strange way of close camaraderie will be gone elsewhere, never to be seen again. You'll write for a while, call, but inevitably drift, lose that X-factor which made you so tightly bonded for a while you seemed inseparable.

Some people seem capable of moving past that, able to maintain deep and abiding friendships and a sense of comrade-in-arms across mind-boggling distances and measures of years.

I don't seem to be one of them, perhaps because despite a deep and abiding sense of loyalty I wasn't forged into this loving-yet-solitary creature by the military, but by my entire upbringing.

And I don't understand it, not in the least.

It has affected my relationships, both friendly and romantic, familial and professional throughout my years. I don't understand why people need to be in contact, or why if we are out of contact for extended periods we cannot simply pick up where we left off.

I just know someone is going to try to explain to me that this is not normal for Humans; trust me, I already know this is not normal for Humans. It's the whole point of wondering just what the hell is wrong with ME, trying to figure this thing out.

A few years ago I was dating a woman from Finland. We began as cyber-acquaintances, hit it off smashingly, became good friends (a few ups and downs, but good friends), eventually drifted into the romantic arena. I finally spent time with her in her home and it was wonderful. However, time and distance were factors despite that she was the (not "one of," but THE) kindest, sweetest woman I've ever known. In the early days she was adamant about never wanting children, yet as we grew closer she began to discuss it occasionally. I think somehow I sensed she would be doing it for me, not for herself, and it always bothered me subconsciously. She needed to pursue education, I was already out in the world doing things in distant lands.

I felt a sense of guilt for holding her, felt a sense of relief and wonder for having her.

None of it made sense. It all made perfect sense.

After I returned to the States it all began to bother me. I wondered what would be next, wondered what the future could possibly hold. I broke it off with her romantically but vowed to stick to the friendship. Then, out of nowhere, I had a couple of busy, busy weeks when I wasn't able to get to the computer or phone.

She wrote to me, accusing me of simply breaking all contact off; it wasn't true, but she was feeling hurt and anxious.

Rather than call or write back and reassure her, I took the coward's way and opted out. It made no sense for me to do this, made no sense in any manner; further, she absolutely did not deserve it in any fashion -- and yet in my weird, stupid mind it was the perfect time and circumstance by which to distance myself, retreating once more into the reptile portion of my brain; self-preservation.

That is the very worst of the examples, but I've lost other acquaintances and friendships over the years because of this. It's not a thing I understand, try as I might, this tendency to simply let go; but there it is, nonetheless.

Perhaps it's something I'll never fully comprehend or get over; I don't know.