Legos and the Gestalt Adult

Eric and I were both huge fans of Legos when we were little. Eric made complicated RVs and I made cars for Teddy...mostly because I gave up on ever understanding how to make a house that was more than one level without having a balcony instead of a full second floor.  It's a fact that everyone who played with Legos had their pet projects that kept being remade bigger, better, and stronger each time. Honestly, what fun would Legos be if you couldn't break down masterpieces (and not-so-masterful pieces) and then make something newer and better?  How can you rebuild anything without first breaking it down to the pieces?

We are who we are today because after every hurt, failure, and flop in our pasts, we were reduced to pieces and forced to rebuild. When you have everything in pieces, you can combine the good and the bad into new, stronger forms. If I hadn't had my heart broken many times and had to keep coming back together with new knowledge of what to do or not to do, I never would have gotten to the point when I was ready to meet Eric. I would have simply told him I had already met my lifetime engineer quota and to move along. The experience that we gain through much effort and anguish is what makes us so wise and capable - and greater than simply a sum of our pieces. 

When you have all of those pieces after being broken, you can recreate, reorganize, remake yourself into someone who has more wisdom and experience and a pathway forward.  The catch in this is that we have to have access to all of those pieces to be able to rebuild.  If you've left part of yourself in the hands of the person/thing/circumstance that broke you, there's no hope of fully rebuilding. When you give an outside force the power to keep you from rebuilding, how can you possibly clean up the mess? That force may be some remote possibility of a defunct relationship ever starting up again, the constant reliving of a mistake or bad experience, or even a constant physical reminder of that broken moment. Or, you may not be letting yourself have access to all of the pieces.  You have to have those pieces in front of you to even know what the possibilities for rebuilding can be.

And, when you get yourself mostly together and the moment is right, you find friends and partners who let you combine all of your pieces with all of theirs to create a bond that is hard to break when tough times come along.  Using everyone's strengths and lessons learned compliments the collection of weaknesses that the group may have.  When, someday, Eric and I finally combine our Lego collections, we'll be able to build bigger and better RVs and maybe a house with a full second (or third, fourth, fifth...) floor. After all, sometimes it's hard to let go of your pieces and be open to giving them to others - as well as accepting theirs.

I've found that the individual pieces of my past and even somewhat present can be an asset.  Knowing what you're made of and what the possibilities are with those pieces makes you a more effective compliment to those friends and family who are there with you.  For example, I've conceded that Eric has most of the logic on our team, and that he knows how to deal with things calmly and linearly.  Case in point, Eric had a nightmare the other night that he was being chased by a giant Lego Man (the guy who comes with Legos, not a man made o' Legos). Even in his sleep, he knew that he could get away from Lego Man by going upstairs because Lego Man doesn't have knees.  Without understanding what you and others can bring to the table to create a better, faster, stronger entity, no one would know how to outrun Lego Man...or how to navigate life with the benefit of the whole, rather than dealing only with the pieces.

"Can't is the cancer of happening"

My dad and I are both impulsive overachievers.  To the point where it drives my mom crazy since we're always coming up with half-baked schemes for weird certifications, degrees, and qualifications.  My mom just doesn't get us...she tells me that all she ever wanted was for me to be "normal" and not go about trying to do anything extra or out of the ordinary.  What fun would it be if I didn't sign up for strange things on a whim?  Also, being able to get Mom riled up and spittin' tacks about how ridiculous I am is a big part of the fun.

In the summer of 2009, I pulled an Elle Woods and woke up one day and said, "I think I'll get a Ph.D."  I did a quick Google before work to find an English Lit doctoral program, realized that the school that I wanted to go to didn't have a program higher than Master's for that, I decided to find the closest thing, and, therefore, landed on Communication.  I applied that morning to start the program on temporary non-degree status (since it was a month before I wanted to start and 7 months after the application deadline) and suddenly, I was starting a Ph.D. program before I had lunch.  I'm impulsive, if nothing else.  Mom thought I'd lost my mind that day.  Dad was all like, "Yaaaaay! That's totally normal."

Fast forward two years.  Yesterday I advanced to Ph.D. candidacy, and since Eric is out of town, my parents and I went out to celebrate at the Olive Garden (don't judge).  My dad had two Xanexes before we left, so he started to let out secrets by the end of dinner.  He spilled that he was thinking about getting his pilot's license, because, why not, right? Since Dad paved the way and Mom had already used up some of her trademark logic and energy, I took that opportunity to announce that I've applied to the community college to start taking French classes next semester.  I'll only be writing my dissertation and teaching one class after work then, so I'm pretty free. My mom stopped mid pilot rant to cough out, "What is wrong with you?!"  Of course, that only made us talk about all of the Associate's degrees we could add on to our doctor titles, which also made Mom madder.  We got all the way to planning how we're going to get our pilot's licenses, boating licenses, CDLs, scuba certifications, certificates in phlebotomy, and Associates' in radiology, construction management, emergency medical services (since Dad already has a book), and welding. 

You'll be glad to know that I got my acceptance letter from the community college today, so the world is my oyster.  I called my mom and told her that I had earth shattering news.  She's still not speaking to me, although it was tough for her not to comment on shirtless Derek Hough on Dancing with the Stars tonight.  She's a woman of willpower.  Someone has to be "normal," here right?