There’s a great scene in the movie With Honors, when Simon Wilder – played by Joe Pesci – shares a regret with Monty – played by Brendan Fraser. 

Monty, having been on the receiving end of the trauma that Wilder exacted on his family – reacts from an angry and wounded place:

Simon Wilder: When it comes to relationships, everyone’s a used car salesman. 

Monty: Is that your philosophy? Don’t trust anyone?

Simon Wilder: No, you’ve got to trust people. But you can’t believe in the warranty.

The film is full of incredibly moving and poignant scenes, portrayed with humor and tenderness. This particular scene is beautiful because it goes to the heart of the human longing for consistency in a world where everyone’s a mixed bag.

To connect wholeheartedly without attachment; without pride; unconditionally. 

To open yourself up to whatever may come. To be complete on your own; yet enjoy the company of others and be grateful for the connection. 

That’s the dream. Yet, the idea of pain, vulnerability, needing anyone is an uncomfortable one. 

So, I’ve always veered toward not needing anyone. That naive and counterproductive wish to steel myself from loss by inflicting it upon myself first has been my go-to coping mechanism. 

But that’s no way to live a fruitful life and enjoy all the bounty that it has to offer.

–

This week I spoke to a close friend in a way that surprised me. 

Though we’d been in contact for a few weeks, I didn’t realize that not having had a full-on conversation with him had bothered me. 

Let’s be honest here. Bothered is an understatement. Let’s say that anger had been festering underneath – until it wasn’t.

It all started with me schooling her on the importance of communication. What surprised me was all this pent up frustration that was surfacing. I saw words float uncontrollably out of my mouth – words that made no sense, but apparently had to be said. Where is all this coming from? 

If I was honest with myself, I would have shared that I missed sharing life’s happenings with her. 

But I didn’t know I felt that way. And when she pointed it out – well, my emotions were off the charts by then…so I couldn’t let her be right now, could I? 🙂  

So off I went, my shadow self taking over completely. 

Why was it so hard to say, I’ve missed our chats? Or, when’s a good time to chat?

Haven’t I known this person for a long time? Hasn’t she been sincere, honest and earnest?  Why would I assume malintent, center the conversation on me, and withhold the very empathy that I know I’m capable of giving?

–

As I fought with her on what I thought was bothering me (valiantly… though my words rang hollow), it later dawned on me that I hadn’t done the work.

I hadn’t checked in with myself to ask what was really bothering me, so that I can come to terms with it. Only once I was completely honest with myself, could I accept what I was fighting: the futility of resisting a vulnerable moment that was stripping me of my pride.   

It’s ego that kicks, screams and demands its petulant way. That uses 20 nonsense words when only a key few are needed. That creates a semblance of shallow logic – desperate to keep up the facade while drowning in quicksand. That creates a wall where there should be a door. That does ridiculous mental gymnastics. 

It’s pride that narrows our view of self. Boxes us into how we’ve defined ourselves (strong, independent). Instead of who we really are, which is so very vast.

Real, deep connection – whatever its nature – does not need these labels. It doesn’t even need an explanation, because it just is. 

You are who you are. 

That’s what makes any connection such a gift. The idea that no moment is guaranteed. And as much as we want to steel ourselves away from real and imagined hurts, hurts will come. But isn’t that worth the price of admission?

Towing the line between living rich, fulfilling lives of deep connection that are rooted in their own spacious existence, is the journey.

–

All these things are relatively easy to say, but a lot harder to live by. What if I committed to living a more honest and intentional life? One where I’m not afraid of exploring my demons; instead, I own and befriend them? 

This resistance – the unwillingness to turn and face the shadow – makes it stronger. It further alienates the part of ourselves that we do not own, and sadly uses people in our lives to trigger us. 

–

As I reflected on how I showed up that day and how she light heartedly countered the conversation, I couldn’t help but bury my face in my hands. 

She knew. 

The whole time, she knew. 

That I need to be more honest with myself. 

More vulnerable with others. 

More accepting of myself.

She was just waiting for me to get there. 

Damn.

–

If I’m being completely honest, it was never really about her. She’s a metaphor; a mirror, inviting me to take a look at all of me and decide, where does healing need to occur? 

Having others in my life is wonderful, beautiful and rewarding. But this does not make up for the journey to keep cultivating a deep sense of connection, security and love for myself. Only when I embrace my wholeness, will I be able to nurture deep connections with others unconditionally. 

It makes the love that I offer come from fullness – not a sense of deficiency. A choice, not a necessity.

To keep these relationships a safe space to come back to as life gets complicated and as we forever evolve, is what close relationships are about.

I’m glad to have someone with whom I can do that. 

I awkwardly laugh at myself as I realize that I’ve subjected her to the Crazy, with a capital C.  But hey, we’re all a little crazy.

–

With Honors resonated with me for this reason. Despite longing for a “black and white” existance, we all are a mixed bag. 

Including me. 

So, why not tread though life lightly. Trust in people, without attaching ourselves to a warranty. 

Being okay with falling apart. Being honest. Being less resistant to vulnerability. 

Holding space for all of it – the messiness, the realness, the grayness.

Theirs, and our own.