On going the distance (part 2)

It's past midnight on a Monday, and I'm talking to my boyfriend.  It's been over a week since we've last been able to talk - he's been on tour with his orchestra, and they didn't have internet or phone signal at his hotel.  But now he's on a bus to Venice, and thanks to a German phone borrowed from a friend, we are finally able to have a conversation without racking up astronomical long distance charges.

The last week has been difficult.  A series of missed calls, Tolstoy-novel-length texts, and desperate searches for wifi.  We have both felt the absence of our regular Skype chats.  And every time I send an email or a facebook message, it feels like sending a message out to sea - I have no idea when or if it will be received.



Sadly, he would never get to see that hilarious youtube clip...

I don't have a perfect relationship.  I don't even have a perfect long-distance relationship.  In the perfect long-distance relationship, we would have bottomless bank accounts so we could jet over to see each other every weekend.  We would have limitless access to internet and mobile phone networks, so that we could constantly stay in touch.  We would have near-identical schedules, so that it would be easy to find time to talk.

But nothing, as we know, is ever perfect.  Especially when it comes to relationships.

It's been over a year now since my relationship became long-distance.  In the year since I last wrote about it, a lot has happened.  I have learned things about myself and my boyfriend, and about relationships in general.  At times it has been challenging, hilarious, heartbreaking, ridiculous, inspiring, and joyful.  And I thought I'd take the time to share what I've observed and learned.

I always knew that I was going to miss my boyfriend.  I expected to feel sad and lonely when he wasn't around.  And I was right about that.  I always miss my boyfriend - it's a dull kind pain that's with me every day.  What I didn't expect was that I would get used to this pain, that I would stop noticing it.  What I didn't expect was that we would both get used to being apart, and this was a much bigger problem.

In a long-distance relationship, as you spend time apart from each other, you both become more independent.  I mean, of course you do.  You have to.  If you spent all your evenings at home pining for your other half, you'd be on the short track to clinical depression.  So you go out, you make new friends, you find new hobbies.  You get used to doing your own thing, following your own schedule.  And eventually you fall into a rhythm that works for you.  Which is great.  Until of course, your other half comes to visit.

Suddenly, everything changes again.  You can't just follow your own schedule anymore - there's another person to consider.  You've spent all this time filling up the big gaping hole they left behind, and now you have to fit them in again.  Of course, they were a part of your life when they were away too.  But there's a big difference between an scheduled hour's chat on Skype, and being together 24/7.

And then there's the jealousy.  Not romantic jealousy, but friendship jealousy.  I've struggled with this a few times on visits to Sweden.  You see, my boyfriend has this whole social life apart from me.  Of course he needs this social life, and I'm very happy he has it.  But when I come to visit, I can't help feeling a bit left out.  I can't catch up on all the bonhomie these people have shared.  These are people who can take him for granted, who get to hang out with him every day.  They share banter and dance tunes and drinks and inside jokes with him.  They probably even get to hug him more than I do.  How is it fair that he hugs his buddies more than his girlfriend?

At this point, I'm sure a lot of people would love to chime in and tell me that I'm fighting a losing battle.  That long-distance relationships never work.  Well, as my brother says, scratch any cynic and you'll find a wounded romantic.  In my experience, most of the nay-sayers out there seem to be hurt, embittered, or angry about a failed long-distance relationship in their past.  I have also been in unsuccessful long-distance relationships.  Nonetheless, I do think a long-distance relationship can work.  Maybe not for every couple.  Maybe not in any given set of circumstances.  But it can work.

I think a big key to making a long-distance relationship work is to fight the two romance-killers: routine and lack of communication.

I know you're probably sick to death of hearing how important communication is in a relationship.  Well I hate to break it to you, but it's true.  Almost any problem in a relationship is surmountable - if you talk about it openly.  If you don't talk about the problem, it will only get bigger, breeding resentment and misunderstanding.

Now I know what you're thinking.  It's really, really hard to talk about relationship problems when you hardly ever see each other.  The problem is that you want every visit to be nice.  You want to make the most of your time together, and leave with lots of happy idyllic memories.  Memories of strolling down the street hand-in-hand, visiting the zoo, or having a snowball fight.  The kinds of things couples do in a romantic comedy montage.  You don't want to leave with memories of having long, emotional discussions about your relationship problems.  And so it's very tempting to just stick on a smile and pretend that everything is fine.

Yes, everything is just wonderful!



But trust me on this one.  It is always better, if possible, to talk about these things face-to-face.  No technology in your way.  No sketchy wifi connections or crackling phones.  Just the two of you, looking each other in the eye and speaking honestly.

It's also important to communicate with each other about the relationship as a whole.  What kind of relationship is this?  Where is it going?  What do you both want?  You need to be on the same page about these things.  Otherwise you'll discover - far too late - that you are in two completely different relationships.

"Monogamy?!  I thought you said mahogany!"

Which brings us to the second romance killer: routine.  Yes, things can get routine, even when your significant other lives on another continent.  Maybe it's not the routine of ordering in Chinese every Friday, or quibbling over who makes the coffee every morning.  But even routines like talking on Skype every night can put your relationship in a rut.  You start to think of your conversations as an obligation.  You start to let your attention wander, and do things like checking facebook mid-conversation.

I will never forget a particularly cathartic conversation in which my boyfriend and I finally told each other how sick we were of talking on Skype.  Not that there's anything wrong with Skype per se.  It's just that after a while, anything can get boring.  And after all, what is natural about sitting down to speak to each other at an appointed hour, for an appointed period of time?  This should be a relationship, not a business meeting!

So what did we do?  We took away the pressure of talking on Skype all the time.  Instead, we tried talking more through instant messaging, spontaneously, when we felt like it.  And we got creative.  We looked for other ways to reach out to each other.  Whether it was writing romantic texts, sending silly photos, or composing the odd limerick, we found millions of little ways to say "thinking of you".  One of my latest discoveries?  You can send a video message up to 3 minutes long over Skype.  It's a great way to send a message when the other person is offline.  And if you happen to be under the influence of alcohol whilst recording your message, I assure you that hilarity will ensue. 

I am not at all speaking from personal experience.  Nope.  Not me.

Some people will tell you that a long-distance relationship is not a real relationship.  It's just a delusion, a fantasy.  In a way, these people are right.  A long-distance relationship can never be the same as a real relationship.  There is no replacement for being together in person.  Of course, your feelings for each other may be very powerful and very real.  But most of the time, your relationship is more like a promise of a relationship.  A promise of what will be the next time you're together.  This is why it's important to always look ahead.  Plan your next visit.  Get excited about it.  And more importantly, have an end point.  Know that at some point, one or both of you will move so you can be together.

Like any relationship, a long-distance relationship takes work.  You can't just sit back and expect things to run smoothly.  The Beatles say that love is all you need, but I don't think it's that simple.  You also need honesty, trust, kindness, and respect.  You need to never take each other for granted.  Keep showing each other how you feel, whether with romantic surprises or small everyday gestures.  And you need to keep the lines of communication open - if you're not happy, for God's sakes talk about it!

Am I a hopeless romantic for believing in long-distance relationships?  Probably, yes.  But so what if I am?  I'd rather be a hopeless romantic than just plain hopeless.  Call me crazy, call me naive, call me deluded.  But I think that when two people really love each other, and they really want to make it work, anything is possible.

On being far away...

This year for Christmas, my boyfriend gave me a wallet.  Perhaps it doesn't sound to you like the most romantic gift in the world, but I love it.  Not just because it's made by a label called "Puccini".  And not just because it has lots of little compartments that help me organise my various foreign currencies and bank cards.  I love the wallet because I use it all the time, and every time I use it, I think of him.  I don't know about you but I think that's pretty romantic.

Every day I feel lucky to be where I am, to be following my dreams.  But every day I also deal with the fact that I am far away from the people I love.  Even now, when I am visiting my boyfriend in Sweden, I am far away from my family in Canada.  People often ask me if I miss Canada.  To be honest, I don't often miss Canada.  But I always miss my family.

I consider myself very lucky to have been born into such a large and loving family.  My family is full of character, curiosity, and passion.  Many of us are musical, and most of us are avid readers.  And although we don't always agree on everything, most of the time we get on very well.  We love to gather, usually over loads of food, and talk each other's ears off.  I love my family and I love spending time with them.  This is a part of my life that I miss very much now that I'm living abroad.

I also miss my boyfriend, who understands me in a way most people don't, and who always knows how to make me laugh.  When we were living in Glasgow I knew he was the right guy because I felt at home when I was with him.  Now that we live in different countries, he's still my home away from home - but he's no longer a 20 minute bus ride away.

Despite their absence, I have found many ways to surround myself with the people I love.  Of course, like anyone living abroad I stay in touch with my family over email and skype.  Obviously I can't stay in touch with everyone this way (there are a LOT of us), but I find that facebook is another great way to keep track of people.  I'm always grateful for the regular updaters in the family, who post pictures and videos and status updates, keeping me up to speed on my nieces and nephews' latest escapades, my cousins' latest projects, or my brothers' latest concerts.  But while the internet is a wonderful thing, the most beloved connections I keep with my family are the tangible ones.

I have a collection of keepsakes scattered around my flat.  There are the photos from my brother's wedding, and the homemade keychain and pencil case from my niece.  There are cards and letters from my boyfriend, and a photo of him which his mother framed for me.  There's a crystal hanging by my window which turns the sunlight into rainbows - a beautiful gift from my parents.  There are letters and postcards from friends and family, and countless trinkets and souvenirs from all the places I've been.

But my all-time favourite keepsake is a sign that says in colourful bubble letters "Welcome home Brynne".  It's from a difficult Christmas a couple of years ago, when I came home a complete mess.  I had just been dumped.  I had also been rejected several times in a run of unsuccessful auditions.  I had lost all my confidence and conviction.  And when I arrived home from the airport, feeling heartbroken and downtrodden, this cheerful sign was stuck on the door.  Waiting for me.  Welcoming me.  Letting me know that no matter what happened, my home and my family were always there.

I now put that sign up on my door -  that is, the door of wherever I'm living at the moment.  It's a reminder that I am home no matter where I am.  I am home because I am always surrounded by the unconditional love and support of my family.

This weekend was my grandma's memorial, an event that I was sadly unable to attend.  But while the prices of plane tickets kept me from crossing the Atlantic, I found other ways to be with my family at this time.  My mom has been sending me regular email updates these last few months, from the time Grandma went into the hospital, to when she went into palliative care, to her final hours.  So I had some time to prepare for her passing, and to think about how I could send my love in a tangible way.  I knew how much my keepsakes from the family meant to me, and I wanted to be able to send something similar to my family.

Naturally, if I was there, I would be singing at the memorial service.  I always sing at family weddings and funerals.  And it would mean a lot for my grandma because she was a singer too.  I decided that the best way to send my love was to record one of my grandma's favourite hymns and send it to my parents so it could be played in the service.

I wasn't able to be at my grandma's memorial, or at the big family gathering that surrounded it.  But I was able to read the text of my dad's eulogy, and to see pictures of my nephews emailed through my mom's BlackBerry.  I was able to skype with the family, getting passed around the sitting room on my brother's iphone.  I even "met" my new baby nephew for the first time (we had a fascinating conversation involving lots of squeals and flailing arms).  My uncle made a video of the service for myself and other absent family members, and I look forward to watching it and "being there" in my own way.

It's not the same as really being there, of course.  And I still get pangs of guilt about that sometimes.  But that's just the way it is right now.

The saddest part of going on an adventure is the people you leave behind.  Every birthday, every anniversary, every wedding and funeral that you miss - it stings.  But real love is more than a physical presence.  It's something that can cross borders and oceans, that can be felt from far away.  I feel the love and support from my family every day.  And I hope they feel it too.

These keepsakes I treasure so much, they aren't important in themselves.  They're important because they remind me of something that's already there.  Every day, no matter where I am and no matter what I am doing, I am surrounded by love.  And my boyfriend and my family are surrounded by it too.  We can't always be there for each other physically.  But we are always there for each other in spirit.

On running your own race...

I was in Sweden this week auditioning for a position in an opera chorus.  It was a rather intimidating experience, to say the least.  Walking into the giant opera house, navigating a labyrinth of stairways and floors, wandering past all the costumes and wigs from past productions, following the millions of signs to the warm-up rooms, and all the time feeling really stupid for not speaking Swedish.  As I warmed up and waited for my appointed audition time, I found myself checking out the other singers and hearing a very familiar internal monologue...

"Oh my God, her voice is so much bigger than mine!  What if my voice isn't big enough?"
"She seems to really know what she's doing - maybe I'm not experienced enough to apply for this."
"She has a nice dark sound - maybe that's more what they're looking for."
"Oh God, she already knows everyone in the company, they're like BEST FRIENDS.  I don't stand a chance."

Then suddenly, I heard my Scottish teacher's wise words in my head: "Stop looking sideways.  Put on your blinkers and run your own race!"

This horse ain't getting distracted by his competition!

And I knew she was right.  Here I was, about to sing an audition for a major opera company.  I needed all the focus, energy and confidence I could muster.  So what on earth was I doing thinking about the other singers??

Unfortunately, this is something we singers do all the time.  It's hard not to pay attention to the competition - especially when you are in an inherently competitive field.  The fact is, these are the people you're up against.  For jobs, for roles, for concerts, for places in courses and opera studios, for scholarships, and for competition prizes.  It's only natural to be curious about other singers.  And so we size them up.  And we play the Comparison Game.

"She's got such better high notes than me."
"He's younger than me and he's so much further ahead."
"How come everyone else in my year is doing better?"

And if you don't watch out, the Comparison Game gets bitter and ugly.

"Why does she get all the roles when I work so much harder?"
"This is so unfair.  I deserve that job more than him."

What does it lead to in the end?  At best, you'll waste a lot of energy that's better used in your singing.  At worst, you'll totally psych yourself out and ruin all chances of success.

The Comparison Game: like the Hunger Games, only deadlier.

Why do we do this to ourselves?  Why do we obsess over other singers and let ourselves succumb to fear, jealousy, and feelings of inferiority?

Most of the time, I think, it stems from insecurity.  We worry that we're not good enough, so we look for confirmation around us.  Or we're so desperate to be "the best" that we don't think anyone else should succeed.  Wanting to succeed is great.  But not wanting others to succeed?  That's just stupid, not to mention needlessly cruel.  What does someone else's success have to do with you, anyway?  It's their success.

If you think about it, what does comparing yourself to others actually achieve?  Does it make them any worse?  Of course not!  Does it make you any better?  Don't be ridiculous!

If you "go compare", strangely enough, you won't magically become a better singer.

In the end you are just different singers, on different paths.

Notice that I said "different", not "better" or "worse".  We are brought up in a world that loves using words like "better" and "worse".  But these words are hardly accurate, or helpful, when it comes to singing.

My friend once told me that she feels optimistic about her career because nobody else has her voice.  She knows she has something unique to offer, and someone out there is going to really like it.  I had never really thought about it that way.  But once I did think about it that way, I felt a lot better about the idea of competition.  Don't you?  I mean, every singer is a completely unique individual, with a unique voice and personality.  And every director, conductor, and agent out there has their own unique taste.  When it comes down to it, it's not so much a matter of being a better or worse singer.  It's a matter of who you are and what that person likes.

If you spend all your time comparing yourself to other singers, trying to emulate what they do well, or getting discouraged when they succeed and you don't, you stop cultivating your own unique talent.  You stop focusing on your own journey.  You start trying to fit into a cookie-cutter idea of what a "good singer" is.  And that is exactly what every director, conductor, and agent hates.  They don't want a cheap imitation of another singer.  They don't want a pretty porcelain doll who sings with perfect technique (unless they are casting Olympia for the Tales of Hoffmann).  They want YOU.  They want to hear what makes you special.

Here's another thing about "running your own race": your race is completely different from everyone else's.  You have your own unique path to follow, with its own bends and dips.  So maybe the singer next to you is at a peak right now, and you're not.  So what?  That doesn't mean you won't reach your own peak at a different time.  Everyone progresses at different rates.  Everyone experiences highs and lows at different times.  And maybe the job that someone else won just isn't part of your path.  You have other jobs ahead of you.  Different jobs.  Not better or worse, just different.

There's no point in focusing on what someone else is doing.  They're doing what's right for them, and you're doing what's right for you.  If you tried to follow their path it would be like forcing a square peg into a round hole.  And that's just uncomfortable for everyone.

It's so easy to get caught up in what others are doing, in wondering how you measure up.  But imagine if you took all that energy you spend thinking about others' paths and focused on your own?  Surely you would achieve so much more.  And in the immortal words of Frank Sinatra, much more than this, you would do it your way.

We don't need more jealousy and insecurity in this profession.  We need individuals.  Individuals who can bring their own unique experience, talent, and personality to the table.  Every moment you spend thinking about other singers is a moment you don't spend focusing on your own progress.  Your own path.  So let's all try to stop playing the Comparison Game.  Let's put on our blinkers and run our own race.

On going the distance...

I'm currently writing from Gothenburg.

I know what you're thinking - I seem to be in a different city each week!  Honestly though, I really am living in Belgium now.

It's just that my boyfriend happens to live in Sweden.

Of course it would be nice if we lived in the same country, but as we all know, Life Is Never Simple.

I have a feeling that things used to be simpler - at least when it came to relationships.  About 50 years ago, your average Joe would meet your average Jane in school.  They would marry right after graduation.  Joe would get a job, and Jane would stay home to take care of the cooking and cleaning and - eventually - their 2.5 children.  If Joe got a new job in Arkansas, Jane and the 2.5 children would move there with him.  Simple.

What's that, sweetie?  We're moving to the South Pole?  How lovely!

These days most Janes have careers too.  Which, don't get me wrong, I think is awesome!  But it does make things more complicated.  And to further complicate things, most people are spending longer in school.  And even after graduation, they might spend years moving between several different internships and jobs before really "establishing" themselves in a career.  So it might be quite some time after graduation before Joe and Jane can think about marriage.  And in the meantime, what if Joe gets into grad school in Chicago while Jane gets an internship in New York?  What will Joe and Jane do???

I'm getting really emotionally invested in this whole Joe/Jane situation.

Well, Joe could ask Jane to move to Chicago with him and forget about the internship.  But that internship might have been essential for Jane's career.  Without it, she'll end up in a dead-end job that she hates.  Meanwhile she'll watch Joe's career take off with growing jealousy.  She'll resent him for making her sacrifice her career for him.  She'll always wonder what things would be like if she'd done that internship.  Joe will see that Jane is unhappy and he'll feel guilty.  Nobody wins.

If Joe and Jane are both dedicated to careers, and they both want what's best for each other, they may need to accept that for now they have to be in different cities.  And this is exactly what lots of young Joes and Janes are doing.

More and more young couples these days are finding that they have to "do the long distance thing" for a while.  Because at this stage of life you can't really be picky about your opportunities.  You have to go where the work is.  Or where the grad school acceptance letter is.  And chances are, they won't be in the same place for both of you.

This is exactly the situation I've found myself in.  I met a lovely tuba player while I was in Glasgow.  And shortly after I got into the opera studio in Ghent, he got into an orchestra academy in Gothenburg.

So here we are now, living in different countries.  And yeah, it's not ideal.  But it's not all bad either.  Thanks to modern technology, there are millions of ways to stay in communicado with a long-distance paramour.  Email, snail mail, facebook, phone, text, carrier pigeon - and of course, Skype.

I pretty much think Skype is the best thing since sliced bread.  Except, of course, when you're having that all-important pivotal conversation in your relationship and it suddenly decides to stop working.

-What, you're breaking up with me??
-No, I said you're breaking up!!!!!

The thing is, now that we have Skype and everything, it's easy to talk to each other anytime.  But it's not the talking that you'll miss.  It's all the other things.  No, I'm not just talking about the obvious things here!

Making out!!!  And other stuff...

I'm talking about the little things.  Walking down the street holding hands.  Eating a meal together.  Cuddling on the couch watching episodes of Scrubs.  Or Mad Men.  Or whatever floats your boat.

Or simply just being together - no talking necessary.  Just enjoying the togetherness.

That's the stuff you really miss.

And even though you'll want to visit each other as much as possible, let's face it, neither of you have wads of cash or big chunks of free time in your schedules.  So finding the time and money to visit each other can become an almost-impossible task.  It's like fitting an elephant into a pair of jeggings: it may be possible, but only after a LOT of stretching.

However.

I do believe that in the right relationship, distance can help you appreciate each other more.  Because when you do get to see each other, it's amazing.  Nothing beats that feeling you get when you see your sweetheart get off that plane.  And suddenly all those little things you used to take for granted when you lived in the same city - holding hands, eating meals together, and so on - are the most awesome things ever.  You'll savour every little moment like you never did before.

Absence makes the heart grow Fonda.

And let's not forget, for a relationship to really work, you need to have bigger things in common than a postcode.

I love that my boyfriend is a musician, because it means we're on the same page here.  We understand why we both have to take these opportunities and be where we are.  And while we're not in the same place physically, we are in the same place in life.  We're both setting off on this adventure - new country, new school, new possibilities - at the same time.  Which is really, really cool.  Same journey - different locations.

So it's not easy.  It's not ideal.  It is what it is.  But with the right person, it's worth "doing the long distance thing" for a while.  In fact it may even strengthen your relationship in the long run.

And in the future?  Well, who can say?  Of course I hope that eventually my boyfriend and I will be able to find work in the same country.  But for now I'm just happy to have someone who really gets me.  Someone who makes me laugh.  Someone who calls me on my bullshit.  Someone who always seems to know the right thing to say.

Someone who happens to live in another country.

But you know what?  Some things are more important than that.