My sister recently recommended “Better date than never” as a feel good reality show. And, as it happened, after a particularly challenging day at work, I plonked myself down on my couch, turned on the tv, and discovered with delight that an episode had just begun.
Approximately 30 seconds into a simple scene with one of the dating hopefuls, a middle aged trans woman called Di, I had tears trickling down my face. Di was eating scones with her mother and discussing why it's been so hard to find her person. Later in the show, another BLTN star, Charles, gets hopelessly tongue-tied during his first ever date, and then Di offers her date a thoughtful gift, and towards the end dancing queen Olivia is brimming with excitement on a second date. I find myself cringing, smiling and celebrating along with them. My heart is full.
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| Screenshot of Better Date than Never on Iview |
Each of these people speaks openly and with vulnerability about their yearning for connection, and equally powerful fear of rejection. I begin to think of my own life in relation to this tricky tension. I've ended up in 3 back to back breakups lately, with each one being painful in its own way, regardless of whether I made the decision or the other person. And yet, as my therapist would say, each has provided an opportunity to learn about myself, others and the age-old tussle between fear of rejection and yearning for meaningful connection.
Sometimes we act on that fear, either clinging to something not quite right because we are afraid of being alone and feeling rejected, and sometimes we pre-empt and avoid that rejection by quickly ending things ourselves. Sometimes we act with love, either letting someone go because we know the vibe isn’t right and then celebrating when they meet someone who truly sparks joy for them, or we lean in and explore what might be possible when a new and surprising connection forms, even if it means feeling even more disappointed later when it doesn’t work out.
I also think of other, non-romantic situations where similar dynamics have played out. When the other person has behaved in a confusing or aggressive way, I have tended to reflect later that they might have been in the pain of feeling rejected, or been hoping for a stronger connection but haven’t known how to ask for it.
This morning I was reminded in a facebook post (one of the ones that are “suggested” for me) of Rumi’s message that the wound is the place where the light can enter. I’ve resonated with quotes along similar lines - that cracks are what let the light in, or that pain and discomfort are our teacher. I am inspired by the phrase “Broken and Tender” used by Quaker theologian Margory Post Abbot to describe not a person in pain, but a community that is thriving, nourishing, open and connected. The broken part talks of breaking open our hearts enough to allow the light to shine in, or breaking the earth in order to allow a seed to grow. The tenderness is about tenderness to the spirit, or an openness to being led in unexpected directions. A broken and tender community contains people who have “broken apart the bounds of the ego”, and experienced pure love. It is ready and able to be tender in the care of its members and more passionate in its concern for the wellbeing of the world.
Art by Annie Hanman, part of "suggested" facebook post
As I tend to my own thrice broken heart, I can see the opportunities for learning, and begin sowing the seeds of an even stronger me. I’m grateful for friends and communities who remind me of the abundant, beautiful and nourishing connections that have been so important to me in my life.
And, as the courageous characters in BDTN are showing us, rejection is a natural part of the journey towards connection. Sometimes our spirited seekers found themselves rejecting others, and sometimes they themselves are rejected, but they all manage to handle these situations with grace and kindness and a sense of gratitude for the learning experience. I hope the rest of us can be more that way too.
