Personal Questions: A Long Distance Relationship Is Still A Relationship!

"A long distance relationship? Oh, that must be hard."
"When is the next time you'll get to see him?"
"What is the next step in your plan after this?"
"Do you Skype all the time?"
"How do you trust him?"

All real questions I have been asked recently regarding my personal life. Seriously.

Isolated, or in passing, perhaps these comments wouldn't seem so invasive to the average listening ear. I am sure no harm was meant by them. But good gravy, does it start to get annoying after a while when the most interesting thing people can seem to think of to talk about with you, is the status of your relationship, as if there aren't any other meaningful things happening in your life at the same time.

I can tell you right now, I won't be sharing any juicy details about my personal life in this blog post, or really, anywhere else online; so if that's what you're looking for, you can stop reading right now. I'm not Carrie Bradshaw. As part of my coming of age, I have learned that relationships are best kept private; with the majority of details shared only between you and the person of your affection. Period.

What I am interested in hashing out, though, is how downright irritating it is to be asked these kinds of questions. Especially when they compound on one another because it's not just one person asking.

First of all, the very nature of these questions is probing. It crosses the line into a territory of topics which I would prefer not to discuss flippantly with just anyone. I am a naturally talkative person, but I expect for my privacy to be respected, just like anyone else. I can promise you, if I wanted to discuss these kinds of things with you, I would come to you, rather than waiting for you to broach the topic with me. So if I'm not talking to you about what a struggle something is, that's probably because (gasp) it's not actually a struggle.

Secondly, I find these comments to be so rude because I don't imagine they would be directed at someone who lives in the same zip code as their significant other. I'm guessing you'd be less likely to pry into the business of a couple who lives together. I get it: people are fascinated by what they don't understand. But long distance relationships are not unicorns; you can find them anywhere. Maybe the real question here should be, what is it about them that is so difficult for you to comprehend? They are still relationships, and you're still not entitled to be a part of mine. Google exists. Please consider using it, instead of relying on me to share with you personal details about my life for your mind-opening education.

And third, these kinds of comments put an undue amount of pressure on a situation where there simply is no need for it. Contrary to popular practice, a relationship is a sanctuary of love and peace, a bond of acceptance, effort, support, and teamwork. There is very little room for pressure in a place that is so uniquely reserved for giving you life instead of bringing you stress. So pardon me, but who the hell are you to demand that pressure and stress be entitled to a single square inch of this love, for which you are not one of the architects? If I'm pretty chill about it, I'm not quite sure why you're so worked up on my behalf.

I don't mean to seem overly sensitive, because they are, after all, just questions. Questions, which others have asked me because, I presume, they care enough about me to know the answers. But is that really it? Or are you just so perplexed by the easy existence of what you think is unnatural, that you feel suddenly insecure in yourself because, as you say, "[You] would never be able to do that"?

You can't do it? Great. Then don't. No one is asking you to.

I can do a lot of things. Some of which, I presume, you cannot. And vice versa. There are plenty of things that others can do, which I cannot. But I don't go around casting these things as bizarre or outlandish and asking probing, personal questions about how they do it, or why they do it, or if they plan to keep doing it a few years down the road. So I'd expect the same courtesy in return.

Work on yourself first. That's the best answer I can give you, and it's in response to you sticking your nose in other people's business, rather than to a single one of the questions you asked. Why are you so interested in the inner workings of my personal life? What's missing from your own that made you so concerned about mine? That's the first question I think you should really be worried about learning the answer to.

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What Happened When I Followed My Heart

I have spent a lot of my life doing what other people want me to do. I have spent so much time adhering to the expectations placed before me, the loose guidelines of what any number of things is supposed to look like: success, happiness, inner peace, a good role model, a worthy scholarship recipient... Without even realizing it, my life has been plagued with these ideas of what I am supposed to be and the things I am supposed to attain.

Now, I realize my life is much easier than that of a lot of people. I do not discount that fact, nor take it for granted. However, I am able to clearly notice the small, yet meaningful, differences in my own consciousness when I am doing something for someone else as opposed to when I am doing it for myself.

Some people -- okay, a lot of people -- would say I have a bad attitude. They would say I am negative, pessimistic, and always complaining about something. It's true. Other people -- fewer people -- would say that I have a positive attitude, compassion, wonderful insight, and plenty of big ideas to offer this world. For the longest time, I was conflicted by those two opposing opinions of who I am. How on earth can one person be perceived in such polarizing ways by others?

Then I paused for a moment to examine what it was these people saw in me. I stepped out of my shoes and into theirs and I tried to imagine myself through their eyes. If I were to ask these people what it is I am always so unhappy about, what would they say? I can create a list of my most common complaints from my own memory: being stared at by strangers, inconsiderate co-workers, lazy classmates, being talked down to, and having too much homework. All in all, not unreasonable irritations.

All right, but what about the other people who would say I am a hopeful beacon of light for the future? If they were asked what it is that makes me so great, what would they say? The compliments I receive most often include: being mature and professional for my age, being intelligent, giving solid advice, being inclusive, and being able to see things from another perspective.

Now, perhaps the most important question: who are these people? Who are the people in my life that seem to think I am nothing more than a Negative Nancy? Conversely, who are the people who see the raw material I'm working with and encourage me to mold it into something more? What positions do all of these people hold in my life and why do I even listen to them, anyway?

This is when I understood the reason why I was so disappointed by trying to live up to the expectations of others. Each individual person expects something entirely different from me. By worrying so much about having good relationships with so many different people in my life, I neglected to have a good relationship with myself.

The people who have made me feel badly for being "too negative" are greater in quantity, but noticeably less in quality. They are acquaintances, co-workers, classmates, and even strangers I encounter in passing, who know only the surface of my life. They comment on what little behavior they witness from me, and they honest-to-goodness believe they have me all figured out: I complain too much and I'm so unhappy and I am always angry or in a bad mood. (Do you know what actually makes me unhappy? Feeling the need to defend my happiness against people who barely took any time at all to know me before judging me.)

On the other hand, when I think of the times I have had awe-inspiring, hopeful, optimistic conversations about the future, I think of an entirely different caliber of human being. I think of teachers, mentors, parental figures, and even a few very close friends. These are the people with whom I have discussed my worries about today and my plans for tomorrow. They are the ones who have taken the time and interest to more closely observe some of the things that make me tick; they're people who have read what I wrote or heard what I said and understood with a single look into my heart and mind that I had it (whatever it is), and then pushed me to be more.

Because of all the ambivalence I felt from such opposing forces, I was unsure for a while even who I was. Was I this mean, hateful person that so many people painted a picture of? Was I an insightful, wise-beyond-her-years, eclectic individual with something deep within her soul that stirred the interest of kindred spirits? Or did I fall somewhere in the middle and fluctuate slightly between good and bad days? I didn't really know for sure, and it resulted in a miniature identity crisis for me, at the age of 21. (Which, granted, is a better age for a crisis than 45, when I'd probably have many more long-term commitments.) So many people wanted me to be so many different things. But what did I want myself to be? Through all this struggling, I was able to find some answers by myself.

You see, I was so preoccupied with worrying about these two very different perceptions of my personality, that I forgot to take into account one very important opinion on the matter: my own. I became so worried about why I might seem bitter and cold to a mere acquaintance, or if I were falling short of the exemplary mark set for me by a mentor, that I failed to leave enough time and energy for me to examine how my personality was measuring up to qualities that I valued.

I can't pinpoint an exact moment when it happened, and I can't even tell you the exact sequence of events that led up to it, but there was a moment in time when I just quit. I didn't quit listening, I didn't quit trying, and I didn't quit caring about the people in my life. What I did quit, was concerning myself so much with the validity of others' opinions. I quit caring more about how they perceived me than about how I perceived myself.

In that moment, I stood up for myself. I realized that what was in my heart was the only thing with any true consistency -- the only thing that really mattered -- and I decided I would give following that a chance, instead. It occurred to me that I was always going to let someone down if I kept trying to please so many different audiences, so I might as well try to please the one audience I knew best: me.

I didn't know where else to start, so I just asked myself, "what do you want, Alyssa?" My heart answered, and I made sure to listen closely. It spoke softly to me about all of the glorious, adventurous, beautiful things it wanted to see and feel. After it was finished whispering many splendored things to me, I started with the smallest, easiest item on the list: writing.

I had procrastinated accomplishing anything at all with my writing for months, and I had made excuses for myself about how busy I was with my life. I let other things (albeit credible things like class, work, and family) dictate my actions. I did not make time for what my heart really needed. I had not been listening to my own desires, and I had suffered because of it. But that was about to change.

I sat down one afternoon, and I wrote. I applied to publication after publication, and I sent several different samples of my work into numerous websites which I had previously scouted. And when I was finished, I felt so good about myself. I felt accomplished, like I had just crossed something very heavy off of my heart's to-do list... finally.

A few short days later, when I began to receive email responses with positive answers from those publications, I was absolutely elated. My heart was so happy and I felt so pleased with myself, because I knew that I had made this happen. I was the one who had done the hard work which earned me this reward. Because I chose to finally listen to myself and value my own opinion above others, I took action toward my dreams and I had now reaped the fruit of my labor. I did it all by myself and I was beyond proud.

This is what happens when you follow your heart. It applies to every area of your life: personal, professional, academic, and even athletic. When you act based on your own heart's wishes, you will be happy with the results. As soon as I stopped allowing the perceptions of others to set boundaries and expectations for me, I opened myself up to endless possibilities for joy with a horizon limited only by my own imagination. I reminded myself that I don't have to impress anyone else, fans or critics alike. I always took for granted that I knew this before, but society has a nasty way of creeping up on you and ingraining things into your mind before you are even aware it's taking place.

I think that's what happened to me. I spent so much time listening to so many mixed messages from everyone else, that I lost myself among the noise. The only thing louder than all that racket was the consistent, steady beating of my own heart. I chose to focus on it, and soon its reverberation rose above all the external static, until eventually it was the only sound I could hear.

Friend or foe, the opinions of others are irrelevant to your existence. You are the only one living your life; and ultimately, you are the only one affected by the decisions you make. So save yourself some stress and follow the instructions written on your heart. They are the words that will lead you exactly to the place where you are most happy. They have always been there, and that's where they will remain, for you to fall back on when the commotion of everyone else becomes too loud.