Being overly cautious can lock you out of the richness of life

Q: Have you ever heard Bruce Springsteen's "Secret Garden"? I felt like my own garden was so ravaged, violated and scorned that I securely barred every entrance. What is the fallout of this type of protectionism? On the one hand, I feel safer and in control. On the other hand, this defense excludes me from being a mutually giving partner in a serious relationship. I haven't seriously gotten back into the dating game for many reasons, but one of them is that I'm afraid I'd be leading men on. A shallow, flirty player. What is the emotionally healthy way to deal with this type of defense? Since heartbreak appears to be the more common outcome of intimate relationships, is it really that bad to be extremely cautious about who is allowed into one's heart? -- D.M., Las Vegas

A: As so often happens, D.M., you answer all the questions you ask.

Springsteen's song speaks of a woman who dates men. The woman in the song appears to enjoy life. She's open to the occasional romp. But ultimately the song is a warning to men: Don't think for a moment that you will ever be invited into places in her heart that really matter.

There is a real sadness to the song, both for the woman and for the men who cross her path.

What is the fallout of a guarded heart? You said it. Like all defenses, it simultaneously protects you and excludes you. Our relationships with our defenses are always on some level "deals with the devil." Our defenses defend us, and sometimes rightly and appropriately. But they also threaten to turn on us. Isolate us. Render us nonparticipants in life.

Reminds me of a tragic story of an old woman I knew in Arizona. Her house was robbed. Worse than the loss of her possessions was her loss of a felt sense of security. She spent hundreds of dollars on deadbolts. Bars for the windows. She locked the darkness out. And two years later she died in a house fire. You guessed it. She couldn't get out of her own house. In locking the darkness out, she didn't realize that she had also locked herself in.

You've chosen to refrain from serious dating. You know you don't have a lot to give right now. You don't want to hurt people. Some would say your only obligation is to be honest and upfront about these limits, and let your date then take responsibility for his own choices. Works on paper, but not always in real life. I'm saying I admire your caution, not only for your own heart, but for the way your limits might countermand another's life, even if that other person swore up and down that he understands your limits and has no expectations.

Expectations have a mind of their own. Expectations have a way of erupting when you swore to yourself you wouldn't have any. Especially if sex is involved.

Is it bad to be extremely cautious? You know your question is rhetorical, D.M. If we respect ourselves at all, we are always cautious about who "sees us naked," metaphorically speaking. But enlightened self-interest is one thing. Opting out of joy for fear of pain is another.

You say "heartbreak appears to be the more common outcome of intimate relationships." Are you going for irony, D.M.? Or deceiving yourself? Heartbreak is the only possible outcome of intimate relationships. The best possible outcome of participating in a lifelong, profound and faithful love affair is that one of you ... dies.

Love, if it is love, must include suffering.

When I meet people with fiercely guarded hearts -- when I myself have a guarded heart -- and I hear sweeping statements such as "I'll never love again" or "I'm just not ready," I often wonder if we're just one magical introduction away from being ready to love again. I'm saying "I'll never fall in love again" often means "I won't be falling in love with you."

But either way, the road before us is obvious and well-marked. If we mean to be in love, then that means embracing agony and ecstasy. If we let another imperfect human being into our Secret Garden, they will, at minimum, trample some plants. Just as we will be clumsy and hurtful in their garden.

Ever see the movie "Love Actually"? There's this little boy whose widowed father is struggling with your question. And he says to his father, in reference to a potential love interest, "Come on, Dad, let's go get the (stuffing) kicked out of us by love."

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Counseling and Wellness Center in Las Vegas. His columns appear on Tuesdays and Sundays. Questions for the Asking Human Matters column or comments can be e-mailed to skalas@reviewjournal.com.