Danger! Lost in space...

In one of his classic comedy routines, George Carlin says that a house is "just a pile of stuff with a cover on it," and, "If you didn't have so much stuff, you wouldn't need a house. You could just walk around all the time." I see his point and I raise him one. I think a house is also a guardian for our "space," which is just as important as the stuff we cram into that space.

This routine reminds me of a close friend that I have known for many years. She can't commit to marriage or cohabitation. Why? I believe it's a "space" issue, as in "my space is my space." She is unwilling (or unable) to share her space on a permanent basis. This "unwilling to commit" friend owns a nice large house, and has for quite a few years. She is in a long-term monogamous relationship with a significant other who also owns a nice large home. On a weekly basis, this couple goes between two houses. One night here, two nights there, a couple nights alone, and so on. This has been going on for years. Now, the significant other has started to rock the boat, and jeopardize her space. Yes, things are beginning to heat up in their relationship. Unfortunately, I don't mean in the bedroom.

I've been here with this couple before and they've always worked it out, which is shorthand for keeping the living arrangements separate but together. This time I'm worried. I fear that my "unwilling to commit" friend may lose something precious. She may lose someone she truly loves and respects — someone who loves and respects her. This friend's more than willing to commit significant other is finally getting impatient (if you can call six years impatient). Personally, I think it's time for my friend to fish or cut bait. The problem is that she doesn't want to cut bait. She wants to fish — but from separate boats.

A few years ago, this friend (reluctantly) and her significant other entertained the possibility of selling both homes and buying a new, larger home — together. Never happened. They spent a few afternoons looking at new homes before one of them (I think you can guess who) decided that it would be too expensive. After all, my friend told me, there are taxes, landscaping, and new furnishings and window coverings to consider. Instead of roommates, they became stalemates. Danger lurks around every corner. Every time this couple attends a wedding, or simple family gathering, someone invariably says, "Hey, what about you two...isn't it about time you guys finally got married?" They never enjoy a pleasant drive home from these events. No matter which house they return to, their boats are rocking so much that they're in peril of capsizing.

Okay, I hear a little grumbling out there. Yes, it could be that this friend hasn't committed to the act of matrimony because her significant other is not the right one...her one and only. I don't think this is the case. This couple has a vacation home together, joint estate trusts — even health care directives. They spend the majority of their nights together in one or the other's home. They even have pets together...if you can call this arrangement "together." Besides, even if we take the wedding rings out of the picture, my friend still can't commit to living together 7-days a week — which is all her significant other really wants. He doesn't want to be a guest in her home anymore, and he doesn't want her to be a guest in his home. He wants to be together. Together-together.

So, after months of listening to my friend tell me the same story over and over again, I finally weighed in. I told this friend that she is "lost in space," and that she's in danger. I told her that if she truly loves this man (and I know she does), she must find a way to compromise. I told her that he wants to grow as a couple, not just exist as a couple. He wants to plan for their retirement life together...not just the finances. I told her that he is tired of running between two households like children shuffled back and forth between divorced parents. I tell my friend that she should take his desire to live together as a couple into consideration — that it isn't all about her anymore. I also tell her to be careful because she just might get what she wants: Space — and plenty of it.

I'm not being mean, or insensitive, to my friend's plight. Just the opposite. I understand her situation very well. I used to be lost in space. I couldn't commit until I was well into my thirties...and barely even then. Space used to be my best friend. I remember how comforting my space was back then. I could enjoy it whenever I wanted, whenever I needed, or whenever I had a disagreement (fight) with a boyfriend. I could go to my space alone. I could be alone. I could answer to no one but myself while in my space. Plus, I could keep all of my "stuff" there. My friend Mary could tell you about the extreme anxiety attacks I suffered when I gave up my place to move in with my husband a year before we married. I lost 10-pounds in one week. The wedding was actually anticlimactic as far as anxiety goes. Space was no longer an issue. My stuff was in storage. Eventually we moved into a larger home and my stuff came out of storage. It was all mish-mash, nothing matched. We ended up getting rid of most of my "stuff" and most of his "stuff." Then we went out and bought some new "stuff" together and piled it into a 3-bedroom, 3-bath house. End of story? Not quite.

Once you're a space junkie (even a reformed one), you're always susceptible to regression. I know I was. Right after my husband and I married, I started a new business with an office in Newport Beach. Can you guess what I did? That's right. I started collecting more stuff to put in this new space. Yes, my office quickly became my space. I loved that office. I loved the space...and I loved filling it up with my stuff. I realize now that my office was a glorified apartment. I could live there if need be. With the extended hours I worked, I nearly did. So, déjà vu. When I closed this office almost two years ago, to take a much-needed sabbatical, I suffered those same anxiety attacks I had years earlier. Another interesting thing happened. I had to fight my way back into the space I had called home for over five years. Seems my husband liked his space as much as I liked mine. While I was busy spending too much time in my office, he had staked claim to almost every portion of our home, including which brand of milk we bought, or coffee — even the type of paper towels and toilet paper we used. All I had left was my car. Unfortunately, it was over on mileage, so I had to park it for six months and drive our weekend car – which is really my husband's tricked-out Yukon, complete with a nifty Trout Unlimited tow hitch. Point is, I survived.

I recognize now that this attachment to my office prompted my decision to "come home." Once I realized how important that physical space had become to me, I knew I had to make a change. My husband and I were in dangerous waters...we could easily drift apart. Our nest was almost empty. The youngest son was leaving for college and we had no pets for the first time in years. There I was in my space worried that my husband would be lonely in his. Sure, I was burnt out from working long hours, but I could have kept it up for a few more years. The home front was another matter. It wasn't as forgiving. Giving up my office was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made — especially as I didn't know all of my reasons for doing so at the time. What I did know was that I needed to do it quickly. What I didn't know was that my husband had prostate cancer. Neither did he. He was too young; the test was just a precaution. Nevertheless, there they were...those nasty little cancer cells threatening to ruin our lives, just as we finally started living them again — together.

I've had a while to think about those little cells, and it's time I let them off the hook. Sure, I can be a bit magnanimous now, as my husband is cancer-free and with no side effects. However, I am thankful for more than my husband's physical health. I am grateful for our positive emotional health together. Even though it's taken me awhile to get here, I can finally admit that those scary little cells played a major role in calming the dangerous waters that threatened to drift us apart. You see, that space issue was going to be a problem. Like a husband who retires and gets in his wife's way, I was in my husband's way. Constantly. I didn't park his Yukon in the garage correctly. I didn't load the dishwasher correctly and I stocked up on too many jars of mayo and other condiments. Most importantly, I didn’t buy Miracle Whip...I bought Best Foods. This went on for several months, until the day of my husband's surgery. Then my husband let go of his own space issues and let me in. He trusted me. He let me love him and care for him. Thank goodness I was there for him and happy to do it...and not worrying about a senseless deadline that didn't really matter. He let me do things that he normally insisted on doing himself. In turn, I stopped missing my space — my office, my clients, even my car. I also started buying Miracle Whip (once in awhile).

If my husband and I had only been "dating," or dividing our time between two households, or even between my space in my office and his space in our home, we might not have made it over this road bump as a couple. Sure, I expect that another bump will come along again (and again). How happy I am that I came home from my office. I'm thankful that my friend Mary helped me through those long ago anxiety attacks – and that I married my husband. Finally, I'm happy that my husband no longer nags me about which toilet paper I buy or how I load the dishwasher. We're still working on the parking thing.

So, if George Carlin is right, and "If you didn't have so much stuff, you wouldn't need a house. You could just walk around all the time," then I know that I could give up my stuff and my house because I am confident that I would still walk through life — content, and with my husband by my side. I'm not sure how this would work out for my "lost in space" friend. She may end up walking solo, or inhabiting that cherished "cover for her stuff" all by herself. This might be perfectly okay...just what she wants today. What about tomorrow — when she hits one of life's little road bumps?

Please don't think I advocate staying with someone just to be with someone. I'm simply pointing out that we can lose someone we truly care about just because we can't find space for them in our lives. Finding space is not the answer. We have to make the space. Like that long ago trip to the moon, a little space exploration may be worth the effort. This usually involves one small step for one person; and one giant leap (of faith) for another. Sure, it could be a wild and bumpy ride, but I believe Neil Armstrong said it was the ride of his life.

“Fly me to the moon and let me swing among the stars. Let me find what springtime's like on Jupiter and Mars...”

Dedicated to my "Lost in Space" friend: Sometimes there are reasons why we should (or shouldn't) do something — reasons that don't reveal themselves until after the fact. Making a decision in the face of the unknown involves trust...trust in other people, trust in ourselves. I trust you get my point.

© 2006 Teresa G. Franta