Dependence.

Here’s a conundrum: we are encouraged to rely upon others yet be independent, to be self-sufficient yet depend upon our friends. Troublesome, yes? We admire ambitious go-getters, uncontrolled fireballs who make it on their own after walking on hot coals and not being taken by “the man”, fighting the system and the power. Because anything you can do, oh hell yeah, doing it better. Rock on, free bird.

We also have a high opinion of those who wonder where all the flowers have gone, and being in possession of a hammer, they get up early and hammer in the morning, cooperating and selflessly working toward common good, the betterment of the village, sacrificing for others so that generations to come experience freedom and hope because this land was made for you and me, for gosh sake.

I reckon we’re screwed in this riddle.

As a child, I concluded that the only person who could take care of me was me. I had encountered some difficult family situations and that coupled with uprooting and relocating numerous times, gave me a sense of aloneness in the world. Without a shoulder to lean or cry upon, I strived for complete independence. I was willful, strong, determined, and purposeful. Promoted to store manager when I was twenty-one, I bought my first condo less than two years later. Kicking up my heels and swinging round a lamppost, I was on my way. I was never a rip-roaring giant head, hoarding my minimal wealth and dismissing others with scornful spit. Picking up bar tabs, sending checks to Greenpeace, and slipping Jacksons to friends in need were commonplace. It was fine for others to receive assistance from me, but ignominious for me to rely upon them. One of the synonyms for dependent is minion. Sweet. That’s how we feel, though, isn’t it? We feel as if we are subordinate to others, that perhaps we were on equal ground and now that we have asked for assistance, we have dropped a level and are beneath others. We feel helpless when we ask for help. And yet, if others ask us for help, we don’t think of them as weak, we don’t judge them to be powerless, obsequious followers. Why do we judge ourselves differently than others? We all have peaks and valleys; we just feel much more comfortable peaking. We never know how deep the valleys will be. We toddle along thinking that rainbows and a Starbucks are just over the ridge. When we see vultures circling over us and bleached bones poking up from the sand, we think, ‘Well, that can’t be good.’

Not too long ago, I encountered modifying factors. What might those be? I prefer the term to “circumstances.” The reason for that is because it sounds less vulnerable. We all have a contingency factor, right? Some kind of conditions that influence or determine the outcome, and quite frankly, most of the time, circumstances are unpleasant. It’s rare for one to hear, “Due to circumstances, she overwhelmingly succeeded in life!” Nope. She succeeded because of hard work and drive, because of fate or angels or prayers, because of daddy’s investments and mother’s connections. We hear, “Due to circumstances, she was broken down, wiped out, poor and nearly dead.” That’s not happy. Due to those snidely circumstances, I found myself experiencing a muckle of madness. Without my friends and family, right now I would be homeless. I’m a pretty scrappy gal, but I’m not sure how I would handle that. If I were to venture a guess, here’s what I think would happen: drugs, a lot of freakin’ drugs. I would be a toothless, emaciated skank in a very short period of time. This is not because I don’t have confidence in myself, that I don’t believe I can pull up them-there bootstraps. This is because everyone has a bottom, a place they hit hard and cannot climb out. I have learned through forty years that I can be sick, I can be poor, I can be challenged, I can be broken, but I cannot be alone. I cannot be without those I love who love me back. Despite my Pee-wee Herman quoting of being “a loner, Dottie, a rebel”, I cannot be without support and guidance and wisdom from others. At times, I rely upon others whether emotionally, physically, or financially. Does it make me weak? Somewhat, but is it a defect or is it fragility? Is it fault or vulnerability? For me, the difficulty comes from the essence of feeling unfree. But, that is my own doing, my own twisted thinking. The restraints I feel are in opposition to the liberation others are giving me by providing me independence by allowing me to depend upon them. That’s a labyrinthine, tortuous tangle.

So then, how do we resolve accepting assistance without internal self-flagellation? I pondered this for a short time which resulted in three ideas: 1) Wear soft shoes and pretend all of your friends are Cheyenne; 2) designate Miss Manners as your shoulder angel; 3) read books on Adlerian psychology and nursery rhymes at the same time. I’m going to expound on this so as not to give the impression that my intellectual faculties are deteriorating. First, if your companions are all Cheyenne, they would never judge a man until they had walked two moons in his moccasins. Eh? See? Very Polonius of me, yes? Next, if Judith Martin was sitting cross-legged with hands folded upon her knees, resting smugly on your shoulder (and, of course, she was very, very tiny), she would whisper in your ear to be nice, gracious, and express your thanks, then shut your pie-hole. I believe she’s edgier when she is miniaturized. Finally, keep in mind that the song lyrics are, “See saw sacradown, which is the way to London town? One boot up, and the other down, and this is the way to London town.” Simple, playful, nonsensical, just as traditional verse for children should be. The lyrics are not, “See saw Nero’s crown, narcissist or meltdown? Ego up or self-loathing drown, inferiority complex will jumble you ‘round.” When it comes to mindfucks, stand on the pivot bar.

In my defense, I mulled this quandary over right before fading into a hazy pseudo-nap in which the last thing I heard was, “The Final Countdown” by Europe and the last thing I did was eat mango sorbet too quickly which resulted in my blood vessels swelling from brain freeze. I think maybe I should just say, “Thank you,” and retire for the evening.

To my friends, thank you.