The question for this moment is simple. Is love enough?
Is love enough for you to embark with another person on the journey through life when the rest of the world, or at least their world, is against you?
This subject came up in conversation last week and I was reminded of my own situation when at the age of 22 I ended a wonderful relationship for that reason.
I wasn’t in the field I’m in now, but through my current day-to-day work as a Coach and Therapist, and having spent a good 10 of those years working in the relationship field and helping people (often men) to release and resolve their emotional baggage, I have seen the aftermath of people living a life for someone else rather than for themselves.
My philosophy for me is that life is too short to try and please everyone by living my lives through them or for them.
However, that blanket statement cannot necessarily be applied across all cultures. If someone has been brought up in a particular way, with a particular set of rules or expectations, what might seem odd to me or an outsider is their version of normal.
Throughout University and for a year or so afterwards I had a Sikh boyfriend. Now the Sikh boys were unofficially allowed to do what they wanted before they got married. Who they were,’ ehem’, supposed to doing it with always baffled me given that they would all be marrying a pure untouched wife. I soon realised that were boundary lines and a hierarchy back then, and if it was the choice between fooling around with a black girl or a white girl, the families could turn a blind eye to the latter. The former however was out of the question.
Our relationship went beyond fooling around, and we even rented a house together during the latter years. Back then I would have married that man in a heartbeat. He was funny, intelligent, goofy, smart, well educated, had oodles of common sense, loved cooking (I love eating and hate cooking so this is always a big bonus), had an engineering mind and could turn his hand to anything, loved music, enjoyed going out clubbing and staying in on the sofa, loved clothes and was a smart dresser. He was ambitious and successful in everything he did, had confidence and humility, and relished a good philosophical debate. Although we had such different upbringings and backgrounds we saw the world through similar eyes.
We were almost inseparable throughout those 5 years, and when we were on our respective industrial placement years or travelling abroad would sit and write almost daily letters.
None of this ever changed, so why did I end it?
The beginning of the end started a good year or so before the final decision was made. Although we would never dream of being seen together in his home town, within the confines of the campus bubble we were out and about like any other couple.
I distinctly remember the day. We were out, holding hands, laughing, kissing, and waiting for the traffic to stop for us at a zebra crossing. A car stopped, we said thank you, and skipped across. I kind of remember what the car looked like some 20 years later because for some reason I noticed it at the time, and my boyfriend said that he unconsciously recognised it too. It transpired that the driver of the car in question was one of my boyfriends many uncles. By the time we arrived home his phone was ringing off the hook and the news had not only been relayed to his now distraught and shamed parents, it had probably circulated much of India.
His mother cried, his father raged, his sisters (one of whom already knew) hung their heads in shame and contemplated how they would ever find a good husband for an arranged marriage now, with this hanging over the family. He assured them he’d end it.
Thereafter he started to go home a little more to attend family functions. He would return with hilarious tales of his parents very unsubtle attempts to introduce him to a nice Indian girl.
When University ended he spoke of marriage. He wanted us to pack our bags and head off to start a life together. I was tempted, oh so tempted, and then one night I had what can best be described as a future flash.
My family welcomed him with open arms and he and my dad got on brilliantly. Upon hearing that he planned to marry me, his father by comparison literally had a heart attack and had to be taken to hospital because through all the rage started to experience pains in his chest.
Although we rarely argued, one day, out of the blue I had a future flash of us falling out over something and him retorting with: “I gave up my family for you!”
Those words had never crossed his lips and he was willing to give it all up although I had never asked him to, and I lived more in the world where ‘they’d come round one day’, he assured me that they wouldn’t.
Another conversation about where we might live was being had and I just started to cry and said I thought we should bring the relationship to an end so that he could get on with the life that had already been mapped out for him.
With that future flash came the dawning realisation of what our relationship, as happy as it was, also really meant.
“The relationship meant giving up.”
Our relationship meant him giving up his mum and his dad, his sisters, his uncles, his aunts, his cousins, his distant cousins, his family in India, his extended family everywhere. It meant giving up on him taking over the family business, giving up his inheritance, and possibly ruining his sisters chances of having a good arranged marriage in keeping with their place in the caste system. Of course he had the odd relative who didn’t give two hoots who he married, but on the whole he would be giving up his entire community.
As I contemplated that I realised that I wasn’t willing to carry the weight of that responsibility.
It could have been that it would never be an issue and that the new community that we would have created for ourselves would have been fine, however I couldn’t at the time risk it and allow someone to make that decision or require them to do it on my behalf.
Would our relationship and the life that we would have built made up for or replaced all that would have been lost? Could somebody truly be happy being cut off from everything that they had grown up with and been supported and surrounded by their entire life?
At 22 I didn’t know the answer to that question, and to be honest I’m still not entirely sure now.
“Did you give it all up for love?”
If you have given it all up for someone, or been the one who someone gave it all up for I’d love to hear your comments and views. I’d also love to hear from Sikhs and those of you from backgrounds where the culture partially dictates how and with whom you live your life, so do leave your comments below or e-mail me.
And so I close with my original question, is love enough?
ABOUT MARILYN DEVONISH
Marilyn Devonish is a Freelance Writer, Life and Executive Coach, TranceFormational Change Agent, and thought leader in the field of transformation. She works with those who want to expand their thinking, transform beyond their perceived limitations, and live a more fulfilling and magical life.
Website: www.tranceformationsTM.com
E-mail: marilyn@tranceformationsTM.com