Laurie - Buddhism for Breakups

When my marriage was ending, I desperately searched for a Buddhist book about break-ups, but I couldnt find a single one. Maybe its because monks and nuns are celibate. I once heard someone ask His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama if he ever regretted not being married or having a family. He replied that if he ever finds himself thinking that way, he just talks to his married friends. Then he started chuckling, and his eyes sparkled mischievously as he added, Soon Im thinking celibacy is better for peaceful life!

I started pulling together bits and pieces myself from lots of different Buddhist sources, and quickly discovered that break-ups are an excellent prism through which to study Buddhist principles, because they highlight so many of our human fears and frailties. No matter how unique we think we are, a broken heart challenges us all in very similar ways, ways that tend to be closely linked to our most primitive selves. Buddha realised that these issues and the ways we cope with them are the foundation of our emotional lives. They determine how happy we are. He developed a road map for gaining control, so that we can create happiness, rather than just stumble around hoping to randomly run into it.

Lets face it: were still pretty primitive beings in a lot of ways. Until someone develops an app that makes us relaxed and happy no matter whats going on around us (drug-free and with no comedown), Buddhas step-by-step ancient self-help program is about as simple and effective a model as youll ever come across. Its perfect for our modern lives and you wont need to buy any machines or exotic fruits for this spiritual detox. Just read through these principles and allow yourself some quiet time to think about them. All you have to do is take the leap and face yourself.

Let me explain how I came to do that.

No matter how good they look, someone,
somewhere is sick of their shit.

Thats my all-time favourite piece of graffiti wisdom. It was written very high up on a wall in the sticky back room of a pub where I performed stand-up gigs at least once a week in my early twenties. I dont know who said it first, but Im pretty sure it wasnt Buddha (although I dare say hed agree with the sentiment).

In those days, when I wasnt gigging at pubs I was spending my time falling in love with Adrian. Tall, slim and classically handsome, with thick brown hair, full pouting lips, high cheekbones and big blue eyes, Adrian definitely looked good. And, sure enough, he told me straight away that there were a few ladies around the traps who were well and truly sick of his shit (as well as handsome, Adrian is unfailingly honest and self-deprecating what a package, huh?).

But I refused to believe Id ever be sick of anything about this lovely man who somehow managed to pull off sexy and goofy, straightforward and shy, sensible and artistically dreamy all at the same time. I jumped in with both feet and married him, six months to the day after we met on the smokers landing at a compulsory work-for-the-dole program. (As you can see, the omens were fabulous!)

Not long before the wedding, I ceased a friendship with someone when I heard shed made a nasty comment about us. Meshels only marrying Adrian because hes the first man whos ever said he loves her, this woman was reported to have said. How rude!

But how true. At twenty-three, Id never had a boyfriend before. A few friends with benefits, sure. The odd accommodating stranger? Of course. But no-one to call my own. No-one who told me they loved me. You might not be surprised to find out that I had a difficult relationship with my father in my teens and early twenties. Now Adrians love meant everything to me, and I was determined to hold onto it with everything I had.

I didnt want to listen to anyones misgivings about our rush to the alter. At that stage in my life I was a big fan of avoiding unpleasant feelings whenever possible, by whatever means necessary. In fact, I was using heroin when Adrian and I first met. Luckily for me, he didnt like the idea and Adrians attention comforted and numbed my pain so much that I stopped using. The fact that he was attracted to me was intoxicating. His love was the best drug Id ever tried. It blocked out every bad thing that had ever happened or which I feared was possible. Adrians desire to be with me made me feel, for the first time since early childhood, that I had a place in the world.

Of course I wondered what on earth this wonderful being saw in me. When I asked him, hed mutter, I dont know Youre just nice, or something equally profound.

On one memorable occasion, when asked what he was thinking, Adrian replied dreamily, Oh, Im just thinking about smiles.

I literally wept with joy at finding myself on a mattress on the floor of a dingy share house in Brunswick with such an ethereal poet.

(Eventually he felt guilty about my emotional reaction and admitted that Smiles was the name of the souvlaki shop around the corner. Turned out he was just hungry.)

I wept with joy a lot in those early days. I couldnt believe he wanted to be with me. Looking back now, I think my biggest appeal for Adrian was that I offered him an idea of a future. He admits he was pretty lost at that point in time, and I probably looked as though I was going somewhere because I was very ambitious. When youre heading nowhere, someone elses somewhere can look pretty comforting.

In contrast to Adrians share house, I lived by myself in a nice flat in St Kilda. Our respective dwellings were symbolic of our different approaches to life. I have always been driven to go out and make stuff happen, whereas Adrian often feels overwhelmed and exhausted from dealing with what life throws at him. The more time he can spend hiding from the world, the happier he is. Although neither of us had a lot of money, I had a knack of juggling and hustling which meant I had a pretty comfortable lifestyle. I lived in a cool suburb. I had a car. I went out for beers with my friends. I felt good about my life! In comparison, Adrian lived in a dump, with jerks, and felt like a loser. Paying for my lifestyle was a constant challenge, but I accepted it, while Adrian liked to keep his challenges to a minimum and his creature comforts reflected this.

But despite these differences, like most couples, we found a way to coexist. We became a team. After my third or fourth sleepover at Adrians place, stepping carefully over the gaping hole in the bathroom floor and creeping outside at night to the toilet (in inner suburban Melbourne in 1996), I proposed we base ourselves at my place. Thus began nineteen years of cohabitation. I didnt realise it at the time, but I was signing an unwritten agreement that would eventually hang like a weight around my neck. I became the president, vice-president and only staff member of the juggling and hustling department of our relationship. Our comfort or, more specifically, paying for it became my responsibility, and Adrian was never shy when it came to adding requirements for me to fulfil. I spent many sleepless nights wondering how I was going to pay our rent or mortgage, which worried Adrian not one jot! Not his department.