I went to a Catholic high school. I'm not religious. If I was, I would be Jewish. However, the Sister who taught my religion classes for my Junior and Senior year was full of wise words. She was very modern for a Sister. She wasn't an extremist when it came to homosexuality or birth control or even religion, for that matter. She was just a very sweet woman who found a life path which worked for her. One of her many wise sayings that has stuck with me and has become a bit of a personal quest is this: "The opposite of love is not hate, it is antipathy. For to hate someone still requires that you care, which is also required for love. Antipathy is the real opposite of love because it requires the absence caring".
The last few weeks I have been doing a lot of hard work with regards to two very difficult relationships in my life: my mother and my ex (my daughter's father). I am trying to let go of the deeply held negativity that I have. The hate. I am trying to allow myself to accept the grey area with regards to those individuals. That they were neither fully good nor fully bad. They were human.
Interestingly enough, I am finding it to be much easier to do this with my mother than with my ex. I would have expected the opposite. With all of the things that I have been through as a result of my relationship with my mother, I thought that I would have a far more difficult time acknowledging any good in her. Yet, the wounds that my ex inflicted upon me have proven to be far deeper than what I had originally suspected.
I went through a similar process with my ex from high school. My "first love". The one who took my virginity and then turned into a drug addict with no moral compass. When we initially split, I was full of this sort of righteous anger. Which proved to be a need to show myself that I didn't need him. Something that was a valid concern for my 19 year old self. I then went into this phase where I found myself dismissing all of his wrongs and trying to remember the good. I believe that this was in an attempt to soothe my own conscience for having stayed with the guy for so long. This backfired and I suddenly went through this almost post-traumatic phase where I relived all of the horrible things that I had been trying so hard to dismiss. Finally, after about a year and a half, I was able to acknowledge that he was just a kid and he never meant to hurt me. That I was the one who was allowing the hurt to perpetuate and continue impacting my life.
I say that it was a similar process in a very loose way. The reality is that my process with my daughter's father is far more complicated and intense. I think that I have primarily made it through the phase of righteous anger. For the most part, that reached its peak close to a year ago. It still rears its ugly head upon occasion; but it is no longer the central focus. I also think that I burned through trying to acknowledge the good things about the guy in the nearly three years that I attempted to perpetuate our broken relationship. However, I am trying to find some things so as to not feel my heart break every time that our daughter has to be with him. I think that I am currently immersed in the phase of post-traumatic reliving.
I really do mean that it is similar to post-traumatic stress. The thing that perpetuates PTSD is the way in which the victim understands time. To someone with PTSD, to remember a traumatic experience is not to recognize it as something that has happened but to experience it as though it is happening all over again. The memory is relived through emotions and sensations. It is not correctly placed in the past, where it belongs.
That is what I am currently experiencing with my memories from my ex. I am not sure how best to go about overcoming them. I don't know if I should try to spend some time delving into them and allowing them all to come to the surface and to process through them all. I don't know if I should just allow the phase to continue as it should naturally. All I know is that this is having an impact on my current relationship. In fact, both of these past figures (mother, ex) are haunting my current intimate relationships (friends, family, boyfriend).
The biggest area which is impacted for me is trust. It is so hard for me to trust. My mother made it hard with everyone from the start. My ex made it seem impossible within the context of an intimate relationship.
I constantly feel as though I need to protect myself. That I need to ensure that I am not put in a compromised position again. That I make it clear from the beginning that I don't intend to bend on any of the things that are important to me. That I will not lose anything or anyone to maybe gain one person. I find myself bristling my fur. Expecting that I will have to deal with the same kind of opposition that I had before. When, in reality, I am shouting "FIRE" at the lighting of a match.
Last night, I had this sense that my past was impacting my current relationship all but confirmed. I took a strong defensive on something that had been a serious issue with my ex, even though I should have known it was a non-issue with this man. At the end of the conversation, I heard in a very loving and understanding voice "I get that this is your shit. I'm patient. I am. But how long is it going to take until you realize that I am not him? That I am not like all the douchebags you have dated?". All I could say was "I don't know. A while".
I wish that I could say in a month. I wish that I could say that I would be able to process through nearly 6 years of emotional, psychological, and sexual abuse. I would love nothing more. That would be a lie. That would be a feat that not even my level of determination could achieve. Granted, I have already been trying to process through all of this for the last 10 months or so. I am still angry. I am still hurt. I am still scared.
I came to expect that all of my wants, needs, feelings, and desires were irrelevant. That there was no point in expressing them because it only made matters worse. It was better for me to be complacent and simply do what he wanted. I mostly have to forgive myself for that. I should have stood up to him. I should have walked away. I came close dozens of times. Then he would always reel me back in. He would play on my insecurities and my fear of being alone. He would tell me pretty lies to make me believe that it would be better this time. I wasn't stupid. I knew that it wouldn't be. Unfortunately, he made me believe that I wasn't strong enough to leave him. That nobody else would want me. That my body, my mind, and my heart were broken. He told me that they each were. I am not being metaphorical here. He told me I was crazy. He told me I was fat and a horrible lay. He told me that I was a bad girlfriend to him and that he cheated because he didn't feel loved. I never told him any of the things that he made me feel. I never told him any of the things that were wrong with him.
I have to wonder if that will be the closure that I need. I don't want to feel spiteful. I don't want to feel as though it is driven by a need to grind his face in the dirt and do a pirouette on the back of his head. I don't think that it is; but, I couldn't stand myself if it turned out to be. I just would love to tell him straight up how awful he was to me. How deeply he has hurt me. How spineless he is. How selfish and childish his actions are. I want to be able to express these sentiments to him for his own knowledge and potential growth. I want to be able to express all of this in a way in which it feels mature and steady; not desperate and heated.
I think that will require that I come to terms with all of it on my own. That I acknowledge the totality of both of our roles in the way that the relationship played out. The unfortunate thing is that there is no easy way to understand it. It's not like how it was with my ex from high school. I can't say that he was just a kid and he never meant to hurt me. That's a lie.
He meant to hurt me. There were plenty of times when he would apologize and say that he had said or done things, that he didn't mean, just to hurt me. That it made him feel better to know that he had hurt me. I don't know how to forgive that kind of behavior. It is more than behavior. It is his personality. His motives were not just to hurt, but also to control. He balanced every abhorrent behavior with a loving one. He would buy me flowers or take me out. He would watch our daughter so I could sleep in. He would make me breakfast. It was all very tactical. Yet, it was confusing nonetheless. It completely wreaked havoc on my ability to view any actions as being without motive. My love life became a murder mystery.
I have to work so hard sometimes to just allow things to play themselves out. To suspend my disbelief and try to trust that someone actually cares about me in the same way that I care about them. I pull back when I am in doubt. I don't want to leave myself open for that kind of hurt again. I am willing to dive deep if they are diving just as deep; but, I can't always get the proof necessary to know that. That isn't practical. Life doesn't work that way. Love doesn't work that way.
I spent over 5 years under someone's thumb. Walking on eggshells and putting up with things that now fill me with disgust. I finally severed that relationship almost a year ago. I have done my best to forgive myself for staying when I knew I should have left. I have done my best to believe that I am capable of taking care of myself. The last year has shown me that much. Now, I must work on recognizing the differences in people. Further, I must begin to trust in my own judgment again.
Maybe I can allow myself to trust for the time being. Maybe I can play the wait and see game? Suspend my disbelief for long enough to allow someone to show me it is safe? The thing is that I don't think that is actually possible. In my mind, I will always wonder when is it done? When do I start to hear that I am broken again? Maybe not always. The sad thing is that I really do think of it as a maybe. I don't know if I will every really put any stake in the concept of permanence.
People come and people go. It is the impression that they make on you in between that counts. Right?
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Friday, February 10, 2012
When You Roar and it Comes Out as.... Meow
There are a lot of things that I am still learning about myself and
my place in this world. Especially about my place when it comes to the
people in my life.
I have a love/hate relationship with people.
On the one hand, I love that people enrich and fulfill my life. I love that every individual brings their own unique perspective and experiences to the table. I love that I can learn something new from the people that I allow into my life. I love that I can smile and laugh and share things with people.
On the other hand, I hate that people are unpredictable and uncertain. I hate that I cannot see inside the little black box of the minds of everyone in my life. I hate that I cannot be everything that I want to be to everyone. I hate that I will always let people down. I hate that people will always let me down. I hate that I can cry and gasp for air and ache for people.
I am constantly warring with myself over this dilemma. I do not discriminate based on the status of the relationship. I fret over my relationships with: friends, classmates, lovers, exes, family, hairdressers, old flames, people at the grocery store, my professors, my therapists, and well... everyone that I interact with to be completely honest.
What about?
Well, I am somewhat certain and somewhat confused. I know that I constantly wonder whether or not I should be sincere or be what I think they want or be on auto-pilot. I desperately want to be sincere. However, I still don't quite know what that is. I know better at this juncture in my life than I ever have before. Yet, I am still running headlong into my own misconceptions about myself and others. It is somewhat safer for me to be on auto-pilot. However, it feels cold and unsatisfying. Further, it leaves me with too much time in my own thoughts. It keeps me from being present. When it comes to being what I think that other people want me to be. Well, that ends up filling me with immeasurable amounts of doubt.
Balance and authenticity are a constant quest for me. I am still shedding the rough scales that I grew over the course of my life. I am still fighting the good fight. I am still trying so desperately to drop the things which have held me back. To come to grips with who I am.
Often times, that quest becomes sloppy and fumbling. It becomes frantic and confused. It is as though I begin to treat my life as a grand experiment to see how it will work out if I try option A and then option B and then vice versa. I become somewhat disconnected in these moments. I know that this seems counter intuitive. Yet, when I opt to take these difficult courses of action that will get me the answers which I feel that I so desperately need, then I tend to revert to this safe place until the shit stops flying. I sit back. I put myself behind the glass, so to speak. I become an observer of my life rather than a participant of it.
It is as though I am still trying to prove to myself that I can do things. That I am no longer paralyzed. I know that I am no longer that sobbing girl on the floor. I just feel as though I could become her again at any moment. That anything could come out of nowhere and knock me back a few years. It is completely irrational. However, I know that it is valid.
I don't like to admit it. I like to put on a front. I like to wear a happy face and pull my shoulders back. I like to stand tall and "fake it till I make it". Yet, the truth is that I am a very battered woman. I am damaged. I am torn and faded and cracked and covered in scales and armor. My ears are constantly pricked, my eyes are always pealed, I am constantly on the balls of my feet and ready to run at the slightest indication of a threat. The hair on the back of my neck will prickle at any sign of emotional, psychological, or physical injury. I will bear my teeth and I will hiss. I will dare anyone to continue to love me.
I will show my own insecurities and my inner turmoil. I will try to roar and demonstrate my strength. Unfortunately, it is all a show and I really jut want to run under the couch and meow until someone picks me up and scratches me behind the ears.
It is pathetic.
I look in the mirror and I see: brains, beauty, determination, strength, heart, courage, and sheer stupidity. The reality is that I don't ever want to believe that I am better than anyone else. To ever contemplate the idea makes me feel queasy. I am not smarter. I am just good at tests. I am not more beautiful. I just have different features. I am not more determined. I am just ready. I am not stronger. I am just more seasoned. I don't love more. I just try to. I am not more courageous. I am just better at faking it. I am pretty god damned stupid, though.
I am afraid of allowing myself to accept that image in the mirror because I don't want it to get torn down. This way, when I get rejected, it is anticipated. Why wouldn't I be rejected? I am no better than anyone else. There are plenty of other options.
This inner turmoil has an obvious impact on my relationships. There are those few friends who have hung around long enough to understand. To recognize the totality of the situation. To pat me on the back when they see me doing the little things that they know are hard for me. Well, really there are only one or two of them. Unfortunately, the majority of people become just as confused as I am.
Unlike me, they don't have to stay and sort it out. There is nothing binding anyone to me. In fact, nobody should be bound to me at this point. I can't even tolerate myself a lot of the time. Why in the hell would anyone else want to put up with it?
Well. I guess because I do my best to keep those insecurities on the down low and optimize my performance for others. I accept that I will probably never be satisfied with myself and decide to funnel my energies into others. It is easier to take on other people's problems than it is to confront your own.
The thing is that something has to give. I have to decide what is more important to me: safe solitude or risky camaraderie? Facing my own problems and overcoming them or continuing to ignore them and survive?
What are the real sources of those problems? Where do my insecurities come from? Why do I so desperately seek people out when I am bound and determined to keep them out?
I don't like blaming things on my mother. It seems like a fucking cop out. However, the reality is that the role of a parent is to be reliable, dependable, and to teach a child how to trust. I didn't get that from my parents. Don't get me wrong, my dad is a great guy. Unfortunately, he wasn't around very much during my formative years. My mother was. I haven't ever been able to truly trust anyone in my whole fucking life. Not a single person. I don't trust my dad, my sister, my friends, or my lovers (any of them at any point). The only person I trust is my daughter. That is only because she can't hurt me. That isn't a mature form of trust. That is simply a bond.
I have always felt isolated and alone. I don't know if that will ever change. I think that there is a chance. I think that I am determined to change it. I just have to actually have someone demonstrate to me that they are trustworthy. I have a couple of people that are trying to do that for me right now, I think.
I just have to wonder how long it will be before I try to roar at them, too? I have already roared at one of them. Interestingly enough, I don't regret it.
Not because I got what I was hoping for. Because I got what I thought I would get (to an extent). I got to confirm my fears. I got to learn that I was right about a few things. I also got to learn that I was wrong about a lot of things. I finally got someone to call my bluff.
To tell me no and yes at the same time. To walk over and scratch me behind the ears while they told me that I was going to have to sleep outside until I learned not to hiss. I didn't get kicked out the door. I also didn't get placated like a little child. I had someone tell me the truth. For once.
It is unsettling. To actually encounter someone who will tell me that they disagree with me and set boundaries without attempting to eliminate me. Someone who isn't a coward. I was not expecting it.
The thing is that I already know they won't last for the duration. Not just from them telling me. From my ability to gauge what it is that is best for them and what they want. It is only me, for now. Not because I am presenting a desirable situation. Only because I am intriguing and stimulating.
Should I say only?
I have never had anyone so accurately tell me what is wrong with me and then follow it up with a desire to be around me. Further, I have never had anyone make no demands on me other that I attempt to enjoy myself. As I elaborated on quite thoroughly in my last post.
I have a lot to learn. I have to decide if I am ready for that kind of a mind fuck or not. I have to decide if I am capable of settling back and allowing someone else to take the reigns away from me. In reality, I probably shouldn't even be steering a damn car, let alone a relationship.
I think that to be ready for that requires me to accept one thing. That I am good. That I am ok. That I am capable of keeping myself that way. That it isn't determined by anyone else.
I am capable of accepting that when nobody is involved. When it is just me. Yet, for whatever reason, I have a great deal of difficulty hanging onto that confidence once someone else has entered the picture. It has happened before.
I am still trying to put that little girl inside of me at ease. I am still trying to brush her hair out of her face and look her in the eyes to say "You will not only survive this day, my dear, you will thrive into the next".
She needs to hear it a lot. I can't say it enough, yet. I still feel so vulnerable in this life of mine. I know that I will be secure in my own means before I know it. Yet, I am still holding my breath for something to stop me.
Can I stand tall for real? Can I recognize the goodness of fit in boundaries? Can I acknowledge my own faults and work to rectify them without allowing it to spill over?
It is a tall order.
I have broad shoulders, pile it on.
Right?
I have a love/hate relationship with people.
On the one hand, I love that people enrich and fulfill my life. I love that every individual brings their own unique perspective and experiences to the table. I love that I can learn something new from the people that I allow into my life. I love that I can smile and laugh and share things with people.
On the other hand, I hate that people are unpredictable and uncertain. I hate that I cannot see inside the little black box of the minds of everyone in my life. I hate that I cannot be everything that I want to be to everyone. I hate that I will always let people down. I hate that people will always let me down. I hate that I can cry and gasp for air and ache for people.
I am constantly warring with myself over this dilemma. I do not discriminate based on the status of the relationship. I fret over my relationships with: friends, classmates, lovers, exes, family, hairdressers, old flames, people at the grocery store, my professors, my therapists, and well... everyone that I interact with to be completely honest.
What about?
Well, I am somewhat certain and somewhat confused. I know that I constantly wonder whether or not I should be sincere or be what I think they want or be on auto-pilot. I desperately want to be sincere. However, I still don't quite know what that is. I know better at this juncture in my life than I ever have before. Yet, I am still running headlong into my own misconceptions about myself and others. It is somewhat safer for me to be on auto-pilot. However, it feels cold and unsatisfying. Further, it leaves me with too much time in my own thoughts. It keeps me from being present. When it comes to being what I think that other people want me to be. Well, that ends up filling me with immeasurable amounts of doubt.
Balance and authenticity are a constant quest for me. I am still shedding the rough scales that I grew over the course of my life. I am still fighting the good fight. I am still trying so desperately to drop the things which have held me back. To come to grips with who I am.
Often times, that quest becomes sloppy and fumbling. It becomes frantic and confused. It is as though I begin to treat my life as a grand experiment to see how it will work out if I try option A and then option B and then vice versa. I become somewhat disconnected in these moments. I know that this seems counter intuitive. Yet, when I opt to take these difficult courses of action that will get me the answers which I feel that I so desperately need, then I tend to revert to this safe place until the shit stops flying. I sit back. I put myself behind the glass, so to speak. I become an observer of my life rather than a participant of it.
It is as though I am still trying to prove to myself that I can do things. That I am no longer paralyzed. I know that I am no longer that sobbing girl on the floor. I just feel as though I could become her again at any moment. That anything could come out of nowhere and knock me back a few years. It is completely irrational. However, I know that it is valid.
I don't like to admit it. I like to put on a front. I like to wear a happy face and pull my shoulders back. I like to stand tall and "fake it till I make it". Yet, the truth is that I am a very battered woman. I am damaged. I am torn and faded and cracked and covered in scales and armor. My ears are constantly pricked, my eyes are always pealed, I am constantly on the balls of my feet and ready to run at the slightest indication of a threat. The hair on the back of my neck will prickle at any sign of emotional, psychological, or physical injury. I will bear my teeth and I will hiss. I will dare anyone to continue to love me.
I will show my own insecurities and my inner turmoil. I will try to roar and demonstrate my strength. Unfortunately, it is all a show and I really jut want to run under the couch and meow until someone picks me up and scratches me behind the ears.
It is pathetic.
I look in the mirror and I see: brains, beauty, determination, strength, heart, courage, and sheer stupidity. The reality is that I don't ever want to believe that I am better than anyone else. To ever contemplate the idea makes me feel queasy. I am not smarter. I am just good at tests. I am not more beautiful. I just have different features. I am not more determined. I am just ready. I am not stronger. I am just more seasoned. I don't love more. I just try to. I am not more courageous. I am just better at faking it. I am pretty god damned stupid, though.
I am afraid of allowing myself to accept that image in the mirror because I don't want it to get torn down. This way, when I get rejected, it is anticipated. Why wouldn't I be rejected? I am no better than anyone else. There are plenty of other options.
This inner turmoil has an obvious impact on my relationships. There are those few friends who have hung around long enough to understand. To recognize the totality of the situation. To pat me on the back when they see me doing the little things that they know are hard for me. Well, really there are only one or two of them. Unfortunately, the majority of people become just as confused as I am.
Unlike me, they don't have to stay and sort it out. There is nothing binding anyone to me. In fact, nobody should be bound to me at this point. I can't even tolerate myself a lot of the time. Why in the hell would anyone else want to put up with it?
Well. I guess because I do my best to keep those insecurities on the down low and optimize my performance for others. I accept that I will probably never be satisfied with myself and decide to funnel my energies into others. It is easier to take on other people's problems than it is to confront your own.
The thing is that something has to give. I have to decide what is more important to me: safe solitude or risky camaraderie? Facing my own problems and overcoming them or continuing to ignore them and survive?
What are the real sources of those problems? Where do my insecurities come from? Why do I so desperately seek people out when I am bound and determined to keep them out?
I don't like blaming things on my mother. It seems like a fucking cop out. However, the reality is that the role of a parent is to be reliable, dependable, and to teach a child how to trust. I didn't get that from my parents. Don't get me wrong, my dad is a great guy. Unfortunately, he wasn't around very much during my formative years. My mother was. I haven't ever been able to truly trust anyone in my whole fucking life. Not a single person. I don't trust my dad, my sister, my friends, or my lovers (any of them at any point). The only person I trust is my daughter. That is only because she can't hurt me. That isn't a mature form of trust. That is simply a bond.
I have always felt isolated and alone. I don't know if that will ever change. I think that there is a chance. I think that I am determined to change it. I just have to actually have someone demonstrate to me that they are trustworthy. I have a couple of people that are trying to do that for me right now, I think.
I just have to wonder how long it will be before I try to roar at them, too? I have already roared at one of them. Interestingly enough, I don't regret it.
Not because I got what I was hoping for. Because I got what I thought I would get (to an extent). I got to confirm my fears. I got to learn that I was right about a few things. I also got to learn that I was wrong about a lot of things. I finally got someone to call my bluff.
To tell me no and yes at the same time. To walk over and scratch me behind the ears while they told me that I was going to have to sleep outside until I learned not to hiss. I didn't get kicked out the door. I also didn't get placated like a little child. I had someone tell me the truth. For once.
It is unsettling. To actually encounter someone who will tell me that they disagree with me and set boundaries without attempting to eliminate me. Someone who isn't a coward. I was not expecting it.
The thing is that I already know they won't last for the duration. Not just from them telling me. From my ability to gauge what it is that is best for them and what they want. It is only me, for now. Not because I am presenting a desirable situation. Only because I am intriguing and stimulating.
Should I say only?
I have never had anyone so accurately tell me what is wrong with me and then follow it up with a desire to be around me. Further, I have never had anyone make no demands on me other that I attempt to enjoy myself. As I elaborated on quite thoroughly in my last post.
I have a lot to learn. I have to decide if I am ready for that kind of a mind fuck or not. I have to decide if I am capable of settling back and allowing someone else to take the reigns away from me. In reality, I probably shouldn't even be steering a damn car, let alone a relationship.
I think that to be ready for that requires me to accept one thing. That I am good. That I am ok. That I am capable of keeping myself that way. That it isn't determined by anyone else.
I am capable of accepting that when nobody is involved. When it is just me. Yet, for whatever reason, I have a great deal of difficulty hanging onto that confidence once someone else has entered the picture. It has happened before.
I am still trying to put that little girl inside of me at ease. I am still trying to brush her hair out of her face and look her in the eyes to say "You will not only survive this day, my dear, you will thrive into the next".
She needs to hear it a lot. I can't say it enough, yet. I still feel so vulnerable in this life of mine. I know that I will be secure in my own means before I know it. Yet, I am still holding my breath for something to stop me.
Can I stand tall for real? Can I recognize the goodness of fit in boundaries? Can I acknowledge my own faults and work to rectify them without allowing it to spill over?
It is a tall order.
I have broad shoulders, pile it on.
Right?
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Growing Pains
If there is one thing in my life that I can say has been constant, then it is being needed.
I have never had a single relationship in my life that has not required something or another from me. Where the person has not needed me to fill some void or unmet desire. From my mother, to my sister, to my friends from elementary school through college, to every boyfriend or every co-worker. There has never been a relationship where my sole purpose was not to provide.
Until now.
As much as I have always complained about how stretched thin that others have made me feel, I have gotten used to it. I have spent the last 24+ years creating the niche of "need-filler-extraordinaire" for myself. I know it well. Very well.
I do not know how to interact with someone when I can't do anything for them. Even more disconcerting is when my help is not wanted. I just don't know how to behave. It is like being a fish out of water. My natural environment has been eliminated.
The thing is that I know I will grow to like it. I know that, once I ease into it, I will be more at ease than I have ever been. Ba dum chi.
I know that I have enough on my plate to not have to worry much about another person. Yet, it is something that I need to adjust myself to: not worrying. I am so used to having to placate or make allowances or prove my worth. For fear that I will lose. That I will be left.
I do not know if that fear will ever disappear.
However, I do know that the more I focus on myself. The more that I hone in on the things that I need to do, the more I realize that I don't need to do things for anyone else. The more that I realize that the one thing that I need is someone who doesn't need me.
Further, someone who doesn't need me for any reason but to want me.
This is such a foreign concept to me. One that I never really recognized as being at the core of so many of my problems. So much of my anxiety, so many of my issues with my body, so many sleepless nights are due to my fretting about others rather than myself.
Over the last year or so, I have tried my best to connect every action that I take back to me. To recognize how things that I do serve me and how they do not. That has helped me in several respects.
Yet, I am primarily looking without. I have not been looking at how I can alter my actions to better suit me. I have been focusing on finding purpose. What I need to do now is to recognize how to modify my actions when they are not truly serving my best interests. Which, obviously, requires me to develop a hierarchy of what my priorities are.
This will be a bit of a tricky process. It is likely to be unpleasant. It is likely to not be fun. It is likely to force me to be more grounded and present. It is likely to be quite exhausting.
This will be a very rewarding process.
Growth is always painful because it forces us to push past the things that are holding us back.
I have never had a single relationship in my life that has not required something or another from me. Where the person has not needed me to fill some void or unmet desire. From my mother, to my sister, to my friends from elementary school through college, to every boyfriend or every co-worker. There has never been a relationship where my sole purpose was not to provide.
Until now.
As much as I have always complained about how stretched thin that others have made me feel, I have gotten used to it. I have spent the last 24+ years creating the niche of "need-filler-extraordinaire" for myself. I know it well. Very well.
I do not know how to interact with someone when I can't do anything for them. Even more disconcerting is when my help is not wanted. I just don't know how to behave. It is like being a fish out of water. My natural environment has been eliminated.
The thing is that I know I will grow to like it. I know that, once I ease into it, I will be more at ease than I have ever been. Ba dum chi.
I know that I have enough on my plate to not have to worry much about another person. Yet, it is something that I need to adjust myself to: not worrying. I am so used to having to placate or make allowances or prove my worth. For fear that I will lose. That I will be left.
I do not know if that fear will ever disappear.
However, I do know that the more I focus on myself. The more that I hone in on the things that I need to do, the more I realize that I don't need to do things for anyone else. The more that I realize that the one thing that I need is someone who doesn't need me.
Further, someone who doesn't need me for any reason but to want me.
This is such a foreign concept to me. One that I never really recognized as being at the core of so many of my problems. So much of my anxiety, so many of my issues with my body, so many sleepless nights are due to my fretting about others rather than myself.
Over the last year or so, I have tried my best to connect every action that I take back to me. To recognize how things that I do serve me and how they do not. That has helped me in several respects.
Yet, I am primarily looking without. I have not been looking at how I can alter my actions to better suit me. I have been focusing on finding purpose. What I need to do now is to recognize how to modify my actions when they are not truly serving my best interests. Which, obviously, requires me to develop a hierarchy of what my priorities are.
This will be a bit of a tricky process. It is likely to be unpleasant. It is likely to not be fun. It is likely to force me to be more grounded and present. It is likely to be quite exhausting.
This will be a very rewarding process.
Growth is always painful because it forces us to push past the things that are holding us back.
Friday, February 3, 2012
The Whole Motherhood/Womanhood Dilema
My daughter will be three years old in four months. There are still some days where I don't quite feel like I have figured out the "mother" role yet. I mean, i get up in the middle of the night, change wet bed sheets, detangle curls, and clip little bitty finger nails. Yet, I still don't know if I have settled into it.
The last few weeks, I have been recognizing patterns in hers and my behavior. Some of which I like. Some of which I don't. I think that this has a lot to do with triggering memories about my mother and I. Which, regardless of how I fight it, brings forth an avalanche of conflicting emotions.
I think that the foremost example of this is my daughter's "know it all" attitude. I love it about her. It cracks me up. Yet, it can be a bit trying on my patients when I have to listen to "don't say that to me!" and "No it NOT!" for the entirety of a thirty minute commute. Since I was the exact same way as a child, I know that arguing with her outright is entirely futile. So, I ask her to explain it to me.
Well, this little interaction is a complete throwback to my childhood. I can remember plenty of times where I would ask my mother a question and she would respond "Well, how about you tell me. You are much smarter than I am". I would. Which was great in the sense that it bolstered my self concept and made me feel like I knew everything. I am sure that I do not need to explain the double-edged nature of that sword.
The significance of all of this is that I am slowly coming to realize that I will have to come to terms with one of two things: a) my mother was a good mother who wanted me to be a strong-willed and independent woman OR b) I am falling into the same bad parenting patterns that my mother did which set me up for inevitable let downs later on in life. Neither of which are pleasant to consider.
I am sure that it seems a bit confusing to most that the first option is unpleasant for me. Why would it be difficult to come to terms with my mother having been a good one?
Simple.
The only way that I have managed to cope with my mother's death after five years of necessary estrangement has been to convince myself that she never cared about me and that I was better off without her.
It is far more heart-wrenching to consider that my mother was a woman the same as I am, now. That she loved her daughters and fought her demons. That she tried her best to give us a better start in life than she had. That she was a good mother and there for us when we were small. Before the drugs and the mental illness took her away. It is much easier to cope when you have convinced yourself that you didn't lose anything than it is to acknowledge that you lost the person who (for better or worse) made you who you are.
I try my best to recognize the things that I do each and every day which bring back painful memories of my mother. I try to remember so that I can avoid the same pitfalls. Yet, so much of it is deeply entrenched in who I am and what I do. So, how do I become a better mother without losing who I am in the process?
One of the things that drove me crazy as a child was how my mother was never satisfied with what she saw in the mirror. To me, she was a vision. My mother was tall with thick brown curls and gray blue eyes that were set off by her olive skin. She had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, curvy hips, strong thighs, and could more than adequately fill out a pair of jeans. She always felt soft and smelled rich. That is the best I can explain it, rich. She truly was a very beautiful woman. Yet, she never thought so.
I can remember sitting there in my shorts and t-shirts with my keds on and my long blonde hair in a pony tail at the nape of my neck, watching my mother spin around in front of the mirror for what seemed like hours. I had gotten dressed in a matter of minutes. What on earth was taking her so long? She looked just fine to me. Apparently, I was missing something. My being a tomboy and incapable of even braiding my own hair (until high school) must mean that I am a bad judge of what looks good. So, I sat and I watched and I did my best to learn what looked good.
Flash forward around 8 years or so and I was the one spinning around and pinching at myself in the mirror. If I made it out of the house after trying on less than five different outfits it was either a miracle or because I had to go to school (uniforms). I would be pinching at the rolls above my underwear lines or how my shirt clung too tight to my "flabby" abdomen. If I could even feel a single inch of myself that was constrained it meant that I looked bad and I had to change. It was a nightmare. There were plenty of times that I just never left the house because I had given up.
Funny thing, though. Whenever I got it right, my mother would say one of two things to me: "Look at how beautiful my littler girl is getting" or "What took you so long? You need new jeans". Point is that I either got reinforced for having spent that long in front of the mirror hating myself or I got admonished for not having gotten it right even after spending that long.
Well, flash forward another 8 years. I wake up in the morning, rinse my body off in the shower and then run a bath for my daughter. She inevitably wakes up right as I am getting out and have a towel on. "Mama, were you stinky agaaaaaain?" "Yes, baby, go potty and then it is time for your bath".
I plop my daughter in the tub, and quickly put on the first outfit that I settle upon. I do mean settle upon, I spend a few minutes running through my wardrobe and what might feel good to me before I dare to try anything on. I limit myself to two songs to adjust and spin before I have to go and wash her hair. I ask her what she wants to wear and get a blank stare until I make a suggestion. I pick it out, comb her hair, get her dressed and say "What do you think? Don't you look darling?"
I see where I am doing better. I can also see where I am still not doing as well as I should be. I have learned to cope. Yet, I have not entirely overcome it.
I know not to do the spinning in front of my daughter, so I put her in the tub while I appease myself. I know that I don't have the time to go through "clothes trauma", so I force myself to wear whatever it is that I put on. I may change once or twice if I actually have something big going on for the day; but, I generally make it out with the first outfit that I "settle upon". Granted, the fact that I still have to settle upon something bothers me. I make it a point to pay as much attention to my daughter's appearance as I do my own. At least in the end result. I don't change her. I pick something out, put it on, and tell her that she is adorable. I want her to know how beautiful she is. I don't want her to think that she has to work at it. Primarily because she doesn't.
My hope is that I can give my daughter a better start than I had. Mine is probably better than my mother's; but, it still is fraught with challenges. I don't want her to ever feel like she has to primp and prune to be beautiful. I don't want her to ever see her idealized female figure (me) agonizing over appearances. It is a constant effort for me. I try not to let her see that.
I worry about what will happen when I can't just stick her in the tub anymore. I worry about when she will want to sit and watch me get dressed. When she will want to learn how to accentuate her beauty. I hope that by the time that day comes, I will be ready to show her how to do it. I hope that I will have practiced enough on my own by then.
I am fighting my demons. The same as my mother did. Mine are lesser than hers were. Yet, I am still aware that there are things within me which impair my abilities. I do my best to keep them separate. Yet, I can't help but wonder if my mother tried to do the same thing. I think that she must have. She held it together for a long while. Sadly, I will never know.
Accepting who I am as a woman is a critical component to settling into my role as a mother. I try not to let it become consuming. There are plenty of days where it is a non-issue. I am not saying that flippantly. There really are several days each week where I can run out the door or walk past a mirror without wondering if I would meet my mother's inspection with approval. I am actually able to meet my own approval. That is shocking in and of itself.
I am growing to have compassion for my mother's process. It is painful for me. To come to terms with the fact that she really did try for us. To recognize that she was just further behind than I am. Or at least that is my hope. That I am able to carry on the process that she could not.
My mother always said one thing to me that I have little issue with:
"I have broad shoulders, honey. So, lay it on me. I can take it."
It was her way of conveying the importance of strength to me. Sadly, there have been times when I interpreted it to mean that I should just take whatever is thrown at me because if she could do it, then I should, too. Well, I can. I don't need to prove it anymore. Yet, I still want to show my daughter how key strength is in beauty.
I have always really liked my shoulders. They are broad. Just like my mom's.
The last few weeks, I have been recognizing patterns in hers and my behavior. Some of which I like. Some of which I don't. I think that this has a lot to do with triggering memories about my mother and I. Which, regardless of how I fight it, brings forth an avalanche of conflicting emotions.
I think that the foremost example of this is my daughter's "know it all" attitude. I love it about her. It cracks me up. Yet, it can be a bit trying on my patients when I have to listen to "don't say that to me!" and "No it NOT!" for the entirety of a thirty minute commute. Since I was the exact same way as a child, I know that arguing with her outright is entirely futile. So, I ask her to explain it to me.
Well, this little interaction is a complete throwback to my childhood. I can remember plenty of times where I would ask my mother a question and she would respond "Well, how about you tell me. You are much smarter than I am". I would. Which was great in the sense that it bolstered my self concept and made me feel like I knew everything. I am sure that I do not need to explain the double-edged nature of that sword.
The significance of all of this is that I am slowly coming to realize that I will have to come to terms with one of two things: a) my mother was a good mother who wanted me to be a strong-willed and independent woman OR b) I am falling into the same bad parenting patterns that my mother did which set me up for inevitable let downs later on in life. Neither of which are pleasant to consider.
I am sure that it seems a bit confusing to most that the first option is unpleasant for me. Why would it be difficult to come to terms with my mother having been a good one?
Simple.
The only way that I have managed to cope with my mother's death after five years of necessary estrangement has been to convince myself that she never cared about me and that I was better off without her.
It is far more heart-wrenching to consider that my mother was a woman the same as I am, now. That she loved her daughters and fought her demons. That she tried her best to give us a better start in life than she had. That she was a good mother and there for us when we were small. Before the drugs and the mental illness took her away. It is much easier to cope when you have convinced yourself that you didn't lose anything than it is to acknowledge that you lost the person who (for better or worse) made you who you are.
I try my best to recognize the things that I do each and every day which bring back painful memories of my mother. I try to remember so that I can avoid the same pitfalls. Yet, so much of it is deeply entrenched in who I am and what I do. So, how do I become a better mother without losing who I am in the process?
One of the things that drove me crazy as a child was how my mother was never satisfied with what she saw in the mirror. To me, she was a vision. My mother was tall with thick brown curls and gray blue eyes that were set off by her olive skin. She had broad shoulders, a narrow waist, curvy hips, strong thighs, and could more than adequately fill out a pair of jeans. She always felt soft and smelled rich. That is the best I can explain it, rich. She truly was a very beautiful woman. Yet, she never thought so.
I can remember sitting there in my shorts and t-shirts with my keds on and my long blonde hair in a pony tail at the nape of my neck, watching my mother spin around in front of the mirror for what seemed like hours. I had gotten dressed in a matter of minutes. What on earth was taking her so long? She looked just fine to me. Apparently, I was missing something. My being a tomboy and incapable of even braiding my own hair (until high school) must mean that I am a bad judge of what looks good. So, I sat and I watched and I did my best to learn what looked good.
Flash forward around 8 years or so and I was the one spinning around and pinching at myself in the mirror. If I made it out of the house after trying on less than five different outfits it was either a miracle or because I had to go to school (uniforms). I would be pinching at the rolls above my underwear lines or how my shirt clung too tight to my "flabby" abdomen. If I could even feel a single inch of myself that was constrained it meant that I looked bad and I had to change. It was a nightmare. There were plenty of times that I just never left the house because I had given up.
Funny thing, though. Whenever I got it right, my mother would say one of two things to me: "Look at how beautiful my littler girl is getting" or "What took you so long? You need new jeans". Point is that I either got reinforced for having spent that long in front of the mirror hating myself or I got admonished for not having gotten it right even after spending that long.
Well, flash forward another 8 years. I wake up in the morning, rinse my body off in the shower and then run a bath for my daughter. She inevitably wakes up right as I am getting out and have a towel on. "Mama, were you stinky agaaaaaain?" "Yes, baby, go potty and then it is time for your bath".
I plop my daughter in the tub, and quickly put on the first outfit that I settle upon. I do mean settle upon, I spend a few minutes running through my wardrobe and what might feel good to me before I dare to try anything on. I limit myself to two songs to adjust and spin before I have to go and wash her hair. I ask her what she wants to wear and get a blank stare until I make a suggestion. I pick it out, comb her hair, get her dressed and say "What do you think? Don't you look darling?"
I see where I am doing better. I can also see where I am still not doing as well as I should be. I have learned to cope. Yet, I have not entirely overcome it.
I know not to do the spinning in front of my daughter, so I put her in the tub while I appease myself. I know that I don't have the time to go through "clothes trauma", so I force myself to wear whatever it is that I put on. I may change once or twice if I actually have something big going on for the day; but, I generally make it out with the first outfit that I "settle upon". Granted, the fact that I still have to settle upon something bothers me. I make it a point to pay as much attention to my daughter's appearance as I do my own. At least in the end result. I don't change her. I pick something out, put it on, and tell her that she is adorable. I want her to know how beautiful she is. I don't want her to think that she has to work at it. Primarily because she doesn't.
My hope is that I can give my daughter a better start than I had. Mine is probably better than my mother's; but, it still is fraught with challenges. I don't want her to ever feel like she has to primp and prune to be beautiful. I don't want her to ever see her idealized female figure (me) agonizing over appearances. It is a constant effort for me. I try not to let her see that.
I worry about what will happen when I can't just stick her in the tub anymore. I worry about when she will want to sit and watch me get dressed. When she will want to learn how to accentuate her beauty. I hope that by the time that day comes, I will be ready to show her how to do it. I hope that I will have practiced enough on my own by then.
I am fighting my demons. The same as my mother did. Mine are lesser than hers were. Yet, I am still aware that there are things within me which impair my abilities. I do my best to keep them separate. Yet, I can't help but wonder if my mother tried to do the same thing. I think that she must have. She held it together for a long while. Sadly, I will never know.
Accepting who I am as a woman is a critical component to settling into my role as a mother. I try not to let it become consuming. There are plenty of days where it is a non-issue. I am not saying that flippantly. There really are several days each week where I can run out the door or walk past a mirror without wondering if I would meet my mother's inspection with approval. I am actually able to meet my own approval. That is shocking in and of itself.
I am growing to have compassion for my mother's process. It is painful for me. To come to terms with the fact that she really did try for us. To recognize that she was just further behind than I am. Or at least that is my hope. That I am able to carry on the process that she could not.
My mother always said one thing to me that I have little issue with:
"I have broad shoulders, honey. So, lay it on me. I can take it."
It was her way of conveying the importance of strength to me. Sadly, there have been times when I interpreted it to mean that I should just take whatever is thrown at me because if she could do it, then I should, too. Well, I can. I don't need to prove it anymore. Yet, I still want to show my daughter how key strength is in beauty.
I have always really liked my shoulders. They are broad. Just like my mom's.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Major Mind Shift
A couple of weeks ago, I went to the group that my old treatment facility offers every week. A major topic of the group was "shifts" in thinking and behavior. Primarily, about how individuals in recovery tend to have major epiphanies and leaps forward for years after the cessation of symptoms (or even while symptoms are simply dropping off in frequency or severity). Well, I recently had one.
I pride myself on being someone who is true to their heart in all matters. It is something that I have worked very hard at over the last several years. Even before I began my recovery in earnest, I always did my best to ask myself "what does your heart tell you?". I recently realized, that I wasn't listening to what it told me.
I asked the question, but I was frequently far too afraid to actually do anything about what my heart told me to do. Sadly, I spent many years not heading my own advice. Worse yet, I got to the point where I was so incredibly shut off from what I wanted that my actions became a drastic departure from my beliefs. My self and my self concept were completely torn. (Self concept= how you think about yourself).
Yet, I can have an incredible amount of compassion for myself over this great divide that I created. It was far easier for me to change my thoughts than to change my actions. I had a philanderer for a boyfriend. I had a mother that was out of the picture. I had a raging eating disorder. I had a lot of things going on in my life that would have destroyed me had I actually faced them. My hiding from my feelings is part of what kept me alive. I would have hated myself far more than I already did at that time had I tried to listen to what my heart was actually telling me.
The thing is that I no longer need to hide from my emotions. Yet, I am having an incredibly hard time tapping into the deep ones. Every time I get close, I start to cry. I can't control it. I just start to cry. It isn't because I am upset about something at that moment, it is just that there is SO much emotion that has gone unexpressed for so long. I have gotten too good at being strong, so much so that I have a hard time being vulnerable.
Which brings about how this shift actually happened. I was at my most vulnerable. Any girl who has ever had an issue with their body image will understand what I mean when I say that your mind and your body are completely separate entities. This is especially true when it comes to sex.
Even when I was first in recovery, I recognized that the only times I was ever aware that my body even existed was during physical activity or sex. Well, that is great and all except that it wasn't because my mind was actually attached to my body. I was still completely and totally divided, the only difference was that my body was in charge.
Notice that I have not yet mentioned the presence of my heart in this vulnerable space. Well, that is exactly what I noticed. All of these years, I was focused on giving my body an outlet. Yet, I had to keep my heart out if it. Which connects directly to my inability to listen to what my heart said in the first place. I spent a long time having sex with people that I actually despised. Well, maybe despised is too harsh of a word. How about, that I had been deeply hurt by. There was no room for emotion in sex. I had no positive emotions to attribute to the people that I was with. Which lead me to spend years having completely and totally superficial erotic experiences.
Let me wrap this up a little nicer.
In all areas of my life, I have previously spent a considerable amount of energy on keeping myself from listening to what my heart had to say about it. It was a lot easier to just keep on doing what I was doing and telling myself that my heart was mislead and then eventually just completely shutting it down. This lead to a great divide between who I wanted to be and who I was. This division of the self fostered a huge divide between my mind and my body. Such that even when the mind and the body should be fused, mine was not.
Recently, I experienced what it is "supposed to be like". Meaning that I actually had a moment in my life where my mind, body and heart were not divided. They actually agreed with one another. I was not allowing my body to do something that my mind or heart was opposed to. I was not shutting my mind off. I was also not remaining completely in my mind and allowing my body to stay on autopilot. I was actually fully present for the first time in my life that I can actually point to and know for certainty.
It scared the living shit out of me.
Suddenly, I recognized how many times I had neglected my own wants, needs, and desires. And for what?! The simplicity of being able to just glaze over everything and avoid conflict. Out of fear. Out of complete and utter conditioned callousness. What does that mean about me? What does that mean about my relationships? What does that mean about what I like or don't like? What does that mean about my propensity for being a victim?
It means that it won't happen anymore.
A shift has occurred. I have recognized that there was a previous flaw in the way that I was living my life. I have realized that there is something better than what I had previously experienced.
My world won't end if I let it all in. Now, I just have to prove that to myself.
I pride myself on being someone who is true to their heart in all matters. It is something that I have worked very hard at over the last several years. Even before I began my recovery in earnest, I always did my best to ask myself "what does your heart tell you?". I recently realized, that I wasn't listening to what it told me.
I asked the question, but I was frequently far too afraid to actually do anything about what my heart told me to do. Sadly, I spent many years not heading my own advice. Worse yet, I got to the point where I was so incredibly shut off from what I wanted that my actions became a drastic departure from my beliefs. My self and my self concept were completely torn. (Self concept= how you think about yourself).
Yet, I can have an incredible amount of compassion for myself over this great divide that I created. It was far easier for me to change my thoughts than to change my actions. I had a philanderer for a boyfriend. I had a mother that was out of the picture. I had a raging eating disorder. I had a lot of things going on in my life that would have destroyed me had I actually faced them. My hiding from my feelings is part of what kept me alive. I would have hated myself far more than I already did at that time had I tried to listen to what my heart was actually telling me.
The thing is that I no longer need to hide from my emotions. Yet, I am having an incredibly hard time tapping into the deep ones. Every time I get close, I start to cry. I can't control it. I just start to cry. It isn't because I am upset about something at that moment, it is just that there is SO much emotion that has gone unexpressed for so long. I have gotten too good at being strong, so much so that I have a hard time being vulnerable.
Which brings about how this shift actually happened. I was at my most vulnerable. Any girl who has ever had an issue with their body image will understand what I mean when I say that your mind and your body are completely separate entities. This is especially true when it comes to sex.
Even when I was first in recovery, I recognized that the only times I was ever aware that my body even existed was during physical activity or sex. Well, that is great and all except that it wasn't because my mind was actually attached to my body. I was still completely and totally divided, the only difference was that my body was in charge.
Notice that I have not yet mentioned the presence of my heart in this vulnerable space. Well, that is exactly what I noticed. All of these years, I was focused on giving my body an outlet. Yet, I had to keep my heart out if it. Which connects directly to my inability to listen to what my heart said in the first place. I spent a long time having sex with people that I actually despised. Well, maybe despised is too harsh of a word. How about, that I had been deeply hurt by. There was no room for emotion in sex. I had no positive emotions to attribute to the people that I was with. Which lead me to spend years having completely and totally superficial erotic experiences.
Let me wrap this up a little nicer.
In all areas of my life, I have previously spent a considerable amount of energy on keeping myself from listening to what my heart had to say about it. It was a lot easier to just keep on doing what I was doing and telling myself that my heart was mislead and then eventually just completely shutting it down. This lead to a great divide between who I wanted to be and who I was. This division of the self fostered a huge divide between my mind and my body. Such that even when the mind and the body should be fused, mine was not.
Recently, I experienced what it is "supposed to be like". Meaning that I actually had a moment in my life where my mind, body and heart were not divided. They actually agreed with one another. I was not allowing my body to do something that my mind or heart was opposed to. I was not shutting my mind off. I was also not remaining completely in my mind and allowing my body to stay on autopilot. I was actually fully present for the first time in my life that I can actually point to and know for certainty.
It scared the living shit out of me.
Suddenly, I recognized how many times I had neglected my own wants, needs, and desires. And for what?! The simplicity of being able to just glaze over everything and avoid conflict. Out of fear. Out of complete and utter conditioned callousness. What does that mean about me? What does that mean about my relationships? What does that mean about what I like or don't like? What does that mean about my propensity for being a victim?
It means that it won't happen anymore.
A shift has occurred. I have recognized that there was a previous flaw in the way that I was living my life. I have realized that there is something better than what I had previously experienced.
My world won't end if I let it all in. Now, I just have to prove that to myself.
The Basics
I am starting a new blog to discuss the final leg of my recovery from an eating disorder. Due to personal issues, I had to shut down my old blog. It seems to have happened at a convenient time with regards to my head space.
Previously, much of my blogging had revolved around my eyes opening to the things that were going wrong or how they were beginning to change. It was incredibly raw and delved deeply in my process as it happened. Although I have no reason to believe that these kinds of entries will not carry over, I do have reason to believe that they will be slightly less prevalent.
Why?
Primarily, I have reached a point where I am relatively capable of handling everyday stressors and processing them as necessary without needing to hash it out on here. My new challenge is going to be recognizing what to do differently when these stressors come up. Further, recognizing the deeper faults in the way that I approach my life and my relationships. This will require me to be delving rather deeply into issues that I have pigeonholed away for safe keeping.
Why?
I have been able to achieve a relatively high level of functioning over the course of the nearly 4 years since I left my residential inpatient facility. However, much of this has had to do with my ability to let go of painful things in my past in order to move forward. This has been incredibly beneficial for me and has enabled me to recognize my own strength. Yet, there are still situations which are not stressful in their own right but end up invoking an incredible amount of anxiety in me. Recently, I have come to recognize that this is due to the things that I have put out of my mind for many years.
Over the course of the next year or so, there are several topics which I feel will be necessary for me to confront and truly hash out for my continued peace of mind. They are as follows:
- My Mother
- My Prolonged Abuse of My Self
- My Ex Boyfriend(s)
- My Household
- My Body
- Sex
These may seem to be trivial subjects on the surface. However, I can recognize how unresolved issues from these areas in my life continue to surface. My ultimate goal in recovery is to be able to understand and let go of EVERYTHING that contributed to my developing and maintaining my eating disorder for as long as I did. This also applies to the those things which impacted my ability to recovery from my anxiety, depression, and insecurities which ensued after the behaviors of my eating disorder ceased.
I encourage anyone who is recovering from an eating disorder, drug addiction, anxiety, depression, and/or negative life experiences to contribute to comments and discussions. I want this blog to be an aid for others, not simply an outlet for my self. I also encourage treatment professionals to contribute.
There are going to be a lot of difficult topics discussed. This won't always be a happy go lucky kind of blog. My goal is to allow my confrontation of difficult topics to give others the strength to confront their own. It has taken me several years of dealing with the surface issues to recognize that I am strong enough and capable of handling them without fearing a relapse. I don't want to trivialize how much has happened prior to this point. Someone who is still dealing with symptoms or is early in their recovery should not try to undertake these kinds of topics within themselves. However, my hope is that they will recognize that these issues will not go on forever. Rather, that everything which has happened to you can be fully understood once you are in a healthy place. That painful events do not always have to be painful to you. That a day will come where you can look back on the things that you have done or that others have done to you or that have simply happen to you with compassion and understanding.
This is the first step onto the last path of my long journey towards becoming a recovered individual.
Previously, much of my blogging had revolved around my eyes opening to the things that were going wrong or how they were beginning to change. It was incredibly raw and delved deeply in my process as it happened. Although I have no reason to believe that these kinds of entries will not carry over, I do have reason to believe that they will be slightly less prevalent.
Why?
Primarily, I have reached a point where I am relatively capable of handling everyday stressors and processing them as necessary without needing to hash it out on here. My new challenge is going to be recognizing what to do differently when these stressors come up. Further, recognizing the deeper faults in the way that I approach my life and my relationships. This will require me to be delving rather deeply into issues that I have pigeonholed away for safe keeping.
Why?
I have been able to achieve a relatively high level of functioning over the course of the nearly 4 years since I left my residential inpatient facility. However, much of this has had to do with my ability to let go of painful things in my past in order to move forward. This has been incredibly beneficial for me and has enabled me to recognize my own strength. Yet, there are still situations which are not stressful in their own right but end up invoking an incredible amount of anxiety in me. Recently, I have come to recognize that this is due to the things that I have put out of my mind for many years.
Over the course of the next year or so, there are several topics which I feel will be necessary for me to confront and truly hash out for my continued peace of mind. They are as follows:
- My Mother
- My Prolonged Abuse of My Self
- My Ex Boyfriend(s)
- My Household
- My Body
- Sex
These may seem to be trivial subjects on the surface. However, I can recognize how unresolved issues from these areas in my life continue to surface. My ultimate goal in recovery is to be able to understand and let go of EVERYTHING that contributed to my developing and maintaining my eating disorder for as long as I did. This also applies to the those things which impacted my ability to recovery from my anxiety, depression, and insecurities which ensued after the behaviors of my eating disorder ceased.
I encourage anyone who is recovering from an eating disorder, drug addiction, anxiety, depression, and/or negative life experiences to contribute to comments and discussions. I want this blog to be an aid for others, not simply an outlet for my self. I also encourage treatment professionals to contribute.
There are going to be a lot of difficult topics discussed. This won't always be a happy go lucky kind of blog. My goal is to allow my confrontation of difficult topics to give others the strength to confront their own. It has taken me several years of dealing with the surface issues to recognize that I am strong enough and capable of handling them without fearing a relapse. I don't want to trivialize how much has happened prior to this point. Someone who is still dealing with symptoms or is early in their recovery should not try to undertake these kinds of topics within themselves. However, my hope is that they will recognize that these issues will not go on forever. Rather, that everything which has happened to you can be fully understood once you are in a healthy place. That painful events do not always have to be painful to you. That a day will come where you can look back on the things that you have done or that others have done to you or that have simply happen to you with compassion and understanding.
This is the first step onto the last path of my long journey towards becoming a recovered individual.
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