Zero Fucks To Give

When I was a kid I loved watching The Addams Family on TV even though it debuted two decades before I was born. I loved watching them, even in black and white and interrupted with commercials (remember those?). When the movie came out in 1991 I fell in love with the kooky family and their wacky antics all over again. Who wouldn’t with Raul Julia and Angelica Houston as the leads? Christina Ricci as Wednesday, yes please! They are supposed to be the antithesis of normal, yet they are who we should aspire to be.

My favourite thing about them is they are unapologetically themselves. There is no judgement or reprisals for choices. There are frank conversations, and encouragement to pursue what makes them happy. Even if that happiness is honing homicidal tendencies.

Can you imagine a world that lacked judgement, expectations of ‘normalcy’ and everyone gets to be themselves? A world where honesty, openness are the norms for communication, and fear is beige wallpaper. Where everyone is accepted. That’s it, just accepted. You are who you are, and as long as you’re not a dick, you’re in!

It’s more than that though. You have a loving husband and wife, still desperately in love and crazy about each other. A brother and sister who actively engage and like spending time together. Extended family members warmly embraced, never seen as a burden but contributing partners in the household. A butler and ‘pet’ who are intimately included in all aspects of their lives. They are not periphery, but are sought for counsel and companionship.

They actually like one another. It’s not exasperation of “well, they’re family, what are you gonna do? You have to love them.” There is no front or keeping up appearances. No feelings of obligation. They are together because they want to be. It’s the family we all want, but wrapped in odd clothes and a dusty house, so that can’t be normal. They also have genuine love for one another. A love we all seek and, perhaps, only in my jaded mind, almost impossible to come across these days.

I’ve always wanted a relationship like Gomez and Morticia. To be obsessed with, and obsessed over. To seek time together but encouraging independent hobbies. To have the security that you can be apart, but there is no question you’re together. To have a fiery ember of desire just waiting for a look, a word, a touch to set the world aflame with passion.

I envied Morticia, married to a zealot for joy and happiness. Never second guessing his actions, words or feelings because Gomez hides nothing from his wife. He means what he says with open honesty and good intentions. He actively woos his wife, expressing his love and desire, daily. He listens and engages with his kids, learning and encouraging their hobbies, even if it’s torture and low key attempted murder. He doesn’t judge and lets them follow their hearts.

I always wanted to be loved by someone like Gomez.

‘Til I realized, I am Gomez.

You see, that’s how I love, wholly and completely, with everything. My all goes into my work, my hobbies, my family and my friends, lovers and partners. I want those in my life to know exactly how I feel, to know how important they are to me. I will tell you I love you, no matter what I believe the response to be. I do not shy away from those words. It can be off-putting to hear them spontaneously, especially from someone you just met, or known a short time. Even on the first date!

(Yes, that happened. No, he didn’t run screaming. Yes, we still dated for a bit. No, it ultimately did not work out. Yes, I believe in part, because of those words. No, I do not regret it. But that is a story for another day.)

Key note, I didn’t say IN love, because that is a different depth of feeling. To love and to be in love are two different actions. We love family and friends, random pets and characters from books/movies, why not strangers? In my experience, I’ve found we’ve disassembled love to only a handful of people. That it’s an exclusive club that you can only invite a few people at a time to.

Poppycock!!

Why shouldn’t you proclaim love to people who should, and very often need to hear it? How often have we sat, surrounded (physically or metaphorically) by the people we hold dear in our lives and wondered, do they love me? Where do I fit in their lives? Am I important to them?

Fuck. That. Shit.

You will never have to wonder with me. I will tell you. Over and over and over again.

Because I love you all.

That’s right. Each and everyone of you reading this, and all those who aren’t. Love is not a finite feeling. You can’t run out.

I think of it as a cup. A Cup ‘o Love, if you will indulge me.

When I give it to you it’s full. Right to the brim. It never overflows because as the relationship grows so too does the cup. If the relationship has run its course the cup has reached its maximum, but it will never shrink. The love in it will never disappear or abate. The love I felt stays, even if I’m angry about the end. I still hold love for all those who are no longer active in my life. I love past boyfriends, lovers, husbands, friends and the strangers I’ve met along the way. I continue to wish nothing but the best for them.

It’s the same for jobs and school and hobbies, really anything I throw my energy behind.

I’m very good at my job(s) because when I’m working I’m all in. I burn out and get exhausted, frustrated and ready to turf the computer out the window, but I come back to it day after day. Until my energy is depleted and I find something new to snake my attention. I typically change jobs about every five years due to lack of interest, motivation or challenge. The exception seems to be my most recent career choice, mainly because it’s constantly changing directions (like me) that I am never bored, always learning and challenged.

I’ve gone back to school three times since High School. I have a diploma in Corrections with the plan that I was gonna be a criminal lawyer. Turns out that was gonna get boring real quick. Then I tried my hand at history, receiving a degree in Ancient and Medieval Studies. I outlined the plan to go on and get my masters in English, then PhD in Comparative Literature. The ultimate goal was to teach literature in historical perspective. I started my Masters but was told by not one, but two, profs that I don’t write literature well, but I nailed the history component. So I stopped. Focused my attention on hobbies instead.

I tried puzzles but fell asleep. I tried gardening but the black thumb strikes again! I tried crocheting and my friend took away the needle. I tried sewing but do not have the patience to measure twice, cut once. I tried woodworking, wood burning, cricketing, knitting, and almost any other kind of crafty endeavour that I have zero talent for. Instead I write. I snap pictures with my phone like I’m Annie Liebovitz (minus the talent). I cross-stitch. I read. I hike. I workout. I attend the theatre, for all varieties of performing arts. I dance, I paint, I doodle and this week I’m going to learn how to sculpt a gargoyle.

I try it all and keep what works, setting the failed projects aflame like a Viking funeral. To me, it’s the experience of trying new things that makes me happiest. I don’t have to be good at it, but I’m damn well gonna make the most of it!

I’m Gomez with a foil and a new sparring partner. Morticia with a new batch of roses to debud. Wednesday with a new crossbow. Pugsley with a new torture device. Grandma with a new spell. Fester with a new lightbulb. Thing with a new wine recipe to try. Lurch with a new clock to dust.

I am The Addams Family. You should be too.