Complete vs. Complement

“I don’t think you can really, truly be the partner you want to be until you know on an absolute level that you are a complete person on your own.” ~ Sophia Bush

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“You complete me.”

“My life was complete when I met you.”

Even now I cringe when I hear those phrases.  Words intended to be complimentary, loving, open, but . . they can also convey dependence, pressure, and responsibility.

Every one of us . . .whether we feel it or not . . . is a complete person.  We may experience loneliness, feelings of being different, aimlessness, even hopelessness.  Those are feelings.  All people, at some point, experience those feelings.  It doesn’t mean we are incomplete, it means we are human.

Along comes someone who complements our life, our lifestyle, our beliefs, our view of ourselves . . . and it is mistakenly referred to as completeness.

When one person in the relationship does not realize the difference between the two, it can place undue pressure on the other.  It becomes a dependent relationship.

“You complete me” can actually mean “I depend on you to make me feel complete”

I don’t want that responsibility.  I will fail.  I am human.  I will make mistakes, say the wrong thing, hurt people’s feelings and be inconsiderate (altho not consciously).  And in those moments, that “feeling” of completeness may start to erode.

What is referred to as completeness, is actually a sense of complement.  A relationship which is comfortable.  Shared understanding.  An ability to play off each others strengths and weaknesses.

I am a blunt person.  I have Aspergers and as such have a tendency to be painstakingly honest.  I don’t do it to be hurtful.  I hate hurting anyone’s feelings.  I value truth and transparency which makes it very difficult to lie.  I can be tactful, but I will be honest.  I am not lacking emotion; I tend to let logical thought rule my actions.

I am a complete person – take it or leave it.  The people that I allow close to me complement me as a person.  If I choose to have someone in my life it is because I want them there, not because I need them there.  People come and go.  I will not die without having any particular someone in my life but life is much nicer and more enjoyable with those who are involved in my life.

“We complement each other.”

“My life is much more enjoyable with you in it.”

Complement.  Not complete.

Chicken Alfredo

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I love to cook — I believe we established that in an earlier post. It has been difficult to do so, but not impossible. Upon moving in, the existing electric stove worked. Kind of. The two small burners worked, the larger ones did not. The oven worked, but whatever had been burned in it years ago remained and despite my scrubbing efforts, would not budge. (I believe it may have been ancient chex mix that had hardened and fossilized.)

It wasn’t until this last trip to Missouri that my crockpot came to roost in the Alabama house. And I put it to use immediately. That particular recipe will be shared at a later date. Today I am sharing a delicious chicken alfredo dish that is keto based, rich and delicious and would be tasty served over cauliflower rice or zucchini noodles. I’m sharing it today because when I came home to wait for my new stove delivery (woot! woot!) I pulled the leftovers out of the freezer for my lunch. As I devoured it, I thought to myself, “I should really share this recipe!”

Chicken Alfredo

  • Servings: 4
  • Difficulty: easy
  • Print

Ingredients

1# boneless chicken breasts, thawed and diced

2 T. Butter

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 t. Italian herbs

2 T. parsley

1 cup green onions, sliced on the diagonal, about 2″

1 cup sliced mushrooms

1 1/2 c. heavy cream

1/2 c. cream cheese

1/2 c. fresh Parmesan cheese

1 T. olive oil

1/2 t. salt

1/4 t. black pepper

Directions

Heat the olive oil in an oven safe skillet over medium-high heat. Preheat oven to 375. Add the diced chicken to the frying pan, salt and pepper, stirring until thoroughly cooked. Remove from pan. Melt the butter in the chicken drippings. Stir in the garlic, mushrooms, green onions and saute until tender, 4-5 minutes. Add the cream cheese, stirring until melted. Add the heavy cream to the pan with the parsley and Italian herbs, stirring to combine. Bring to a simmer and cook 5-6 min, stirring until the sauce starts to thicken. Return the chicken to the pan. Sprinkle with Parmsean cheese. Bake 18-20 min until golden and bubbling.

If I were a great blogger, here . . . .is where I would insert a picture of the finished product.

But being just a good blogger, here . . .is what’s left.

Three Days

“One of the best pieces of advice I ever got was from a horse master. He told me to go slow to go fast. I think that applies to everything in life. We live as though there aren’t enough hours in the day but if we do each thing calmly and carefully we will get it done quicker and with much less stress.” – Viggo Mortensen

It seems to have worked out that approximately every three weeks I make the long drive back to Missouri. This is for several reasons:

  1. I get a chance to see an important-to-me person who keeps me grounded and gives me a place to rest and relax (while I’m there) with no responsibilities.
  2. I get a few hours to spend with my children, loading more items in the trunk of my car to transport to Alabama and then spending time hearing about their weeks, school, friends, sports, etc.
  3. I get to work an EMS shift on the ambulance. Nurses in Alabama aren’t allowed to work ground EMS, so this gives me a chance to do the work of my first love of a job and keep my skills current as well.

I’ve worked out quite the routine before I make the trip — check the mail, pack the backpack, take the dog to the vet to board, fuel up and . . . . GO! I have designated stopping points for fuel, audio books, coffee and potty breaks. I usually arrive in the wee hours of the morning and manage to get some sleep.

As I start the return trip, I usually have the beginning of a headache and some shoulder stress. This occurs simply from having to deal with the ex- . . . either he’s late getting the children or he changes the pick-up/drop-off location unexpectedly or he attempts to delay me in some fashion by being “helpful.” Each time, I am reminded of why I chose to accept a job so far away, and other than the children, I have no regrets.

Of course, it is the wee hours again when I arrive home and I stumble to bed to wake after a few hours and return to work. Monday nights are my bubble bath, candles and Smirnoff nights. Following those weekends, it is a very necessary de-stress routine. The second day I am less exhausted, but still tired. By the third morning, I am almost top notch, but not enough to wake early for a morning run. The magic number to recover seems to be three days.

This morning was my fourth day and I was up with the first sound of the alarm at 0520, ready to roll out the door for a run before work and it was glorious. While the music of my playlist is uplifting for me, several things contribute to my enjoyment of an early morning run. The sound of the pavement against the soles of my shoes is satisfying. The work of my breathing as it increases with effort is invigorating. Watching the sky change with the sunrise and hearing the birds start their trills is a reminder of the beauty of life. Having to stop and stretch to relieve the tightness in my hips and back, yes . . . even the pain. . . is a vivid reason to be grateful for the joy of life.

I look forward to this weekend as my best friend will be here for a few days. (They say you should marry your best friend. LOL) Plans to eat, visit friends, hike and run together as well as go to church and relax have a huge smile playing across my face. Again, there is the magic of three days.