I Ought to Know

I’m one of those idealistic optimists who will grasp something long after its unused potential has expired. As I’ve aged, it’s been a challenge for me to let go of my perceptions of how things “should” or “ought” to be. Whether it was a friend who “ought” to understand my viewpoint, an employer who “ought” to defend my work, a lawbreaker who “ought” to know better, or someone I loved who “ought” to love me back. Time, offering me the sight of a bigger picture, has helped me understand that to grow, I had to let go of these notions.

I was recently reminded of this lesson when my wayward tabby cat offered a peek at my heart. When he was a kitten, he was very lovable and devoted; the attention he provided was wonderful. However, when he was a few years old, he was hurt and it changed everything about him. He became distrustful and distant, not letting me come within yards of him. I tried to coax him to revert to his previous ways. Over time, he would let me in closer proximity to him, but never less than an arm’s length. I couldn’t understand how a soul could change so drastically and not have an inclination to return back to trusting and loving. In my mind, obstacles only exist for us to fight for and defend our right to freely love and trust. After a year passed, I finally accepted that he had permanently changed, and there was nothing I could do to alter it. I had to adapt my expectation of his behavior, and accept him as he now was, not for something I knew him to once be, or hoped for him.

I realized that I had this same experience when I was younger, with people that I loved. I would cling to the hope that they would revert back to a time where they could freely love and trust, and share that with me. (I saw it happen, but only once-the difference being that person wanted the change before I came along.) Everyone else emotionally struggled with me, tiring of the fight, wanting me to declare surrender and exit the battlefield. As the years passed and I sought self-reflection, I then began to understand that as I changed and expected everyone to accept “the evolved me”, I better understood how others could ask me to accept their altered identity of distance and distrust. In this acceptance, I realized that each day, each of us form who we decide we are, going forward into the future. None of us are ever static, because time has a way of slowing revising us, molding us into the person we either consciously choose to become or letting life’s experiences form our identity. It is in this that I understand the concepts of caring detachment, objective acceptance, and that “ought” can also mean “nothing”.
-- Angela Frisby