I made a useful distinction today that I don't want to forget: Taking responsibility for others lives leads to pain and frustration, while taking responsibility for one's self is liberating and empowering.
Boy, I wish I'd realized that 40 years ago.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
How much am I worth?
Recently I had a conversation with my business partner about how much I’m worth. I was calm on the outside, but shaking on the inside, near tears even. I felt like I was being asked to defend the value of my contribution to our business.
I don’t think that was the conversation we were having, but that was the conversation I was hearing. “You’re not valuable, what you bring anybody could bring and the real value here is what I do.” That’s what I heard. And it really cut me. I’ve given a lot to this business, and have worked as a partner, making sacrifices, working long hours for low pay, working on vacations, constantly overdelivering for clients as part of our business development strategy.
We were talking about compensation, and how to split the profits from our business. But, sitting there, I realized why these conversations are so hard for me, and it’s because I have a very hard time justifying my value at all. I think in the past I had less of a struggle with it because I didn’t realize the assumptions I make about the value of my contributions. I was perfectly willing to let anyone and everyone else tell me how much I was worth.
But now that I’m learning that I can define myself and I don’t have to let others define me, I’m terrified of overvaluing myself and having someone “catch” me, and ask “do you honestly think you’re worth that much?”
I’ve seen bad employees, mostly men, fail upward. I’ve seen talentless and ignorant people succeed. What these people all have in common is that they are innately valuable. They believe they are qualified, and therefore the world falls in line.
This innate belief in my own value, my own qualification, doesn’t come naturally to me.
I think this is where action is more important than though and planning. If you put your butt in a seat and write, you’re a writer, and you’re more likely, talented or not, to get published than a brilliant writer who is not writing.
How do I move from being afraid of being discovered as a fraud to someone who does what I want because I want to, and feels confident that my interest and desire are all the qualifications I need?
And the deeper question: Now that I’m beginning to think in terms of defining myself instead of being defined by others, how do I develop confidence in my definition, and the ability to stand up for my own definition of self, so that when that moment comes and someone says to me “do you honestly think you’re worth that much, because I don’t,” I can take that in without being devastated or defensive, and stand my ground?
I don’t think that was the conversation we were having, but that was the conversation I was hearing. “You’re not valuable, what you bring anybody could bring and the real value here is what I do.” That’s what I heard. And it really cut me. I’ve given a lot to this business, and have worked as a partner, making sacrifices, working long hours for low pay, working on vacations, constantly overdelivering for clients as part of our business development strategy.
We were talking about compensation, and how to split the profits from our business. But, sitting there, I realized why these conversations are so hard for me, and it’s because I have a very hard time justifying my value at all. I think in the past I had less of a struggle with it because I didn’t realize the assumptions I make about the value of my contributions. I was perfectly willing to let anyone and everyone else tell me how much I was worth.
But now that I’m learning that I can define myself and I don’t have to let others define me, I’m terrified of overvaluing myself and having someone “catch” me, and ask “do you honestly think you’re worth that much?”
I’ve seen bad employees, mostly men, fail upward. I’ve seen talentless and ignorant people succeed. What these people all have in common is that they are innately valuable. They believe they are qualified, and therefore the world falls in line.
This innate belief in my own value, my own qualification, doesn’t come naturally to me.
I think this is where action is more important than though and planning. If you put your butt in a seat and write, you’re a writer, and you’re more likely, talented or not, to get published than a brilliant writer who is not writing.
How do I move from being afraid of being discovered as a fraud to someone who does what I want because I want to, and feels confident that my interest and desire are all the qualifications I need?
And the deeper question: Now that I’m beginning to think in terms of defining myself instead of being defined by others, how do I develop confidence in my definition, and the ability to stand up for my own definition of self, so that when that moment comes and someone says to me “do you honestly think you’re worth that much, because I don’t,” I can take that in without being devastated or defensive, and stand my ground?
Friday, May 21, 2010
How do I re-establish intimacy?
I’ve been struggling with this for a long time. And I don’t mean just sex, although that’s part of it.
Finding out that Husband, my best and most trusted friend, had been secretly having sex with prostitutes for years, while also being the guy who would say in a very definitive way that he couldn’t understand infidelity, shifted the world as I knew it. Which, at 43, was unexpected to say the least.
Part of the way I’ve handled being so deeply betrayed is to take the Buddhist perspective (as I understand it) that the only constant in life it that things change. In that context, to expect a human being to be consistent or predictable is to set one’s self up for disappointment at best.
To expect someone to always love you, always have good judgment, always have my best interests at heart…to always be 100% well-adjusted and always have great communication skills, always be 100% aware of their impact on others…to reach a state of perfection and STAY there. Well, that’s living in denial of the One True Constant. (I capitalized those words, not the Buddha.)
As I write, I hear that I’m nothing if not an absolutist. In all fairness to myself, that changes too.
So, my logic continues, the only person you can really count on to secure your well-being is yourself. (Not that we always do this for ourselves, but we always have the option of taking up our own cause; whereas we don’t have any control over whether or not someone else does right by us.)
Since adopting this philosophy I’ve made great effort to be my own advocate and champion. I try to get clarity around what works for me and what doesn’t, and then speak up or steer myself away from getting stuck in the muck or banging my head against unresponsive walls.
The problem is that in my attempt to be fully responsible for myself and not place my well-being in the hands of others, I’ve gotten to the point where I could say again what I said to Husband that hurt him so much when we first started dating: “I don’t need you.”
It may well be that no man is an island, but I’m pretty good at it myself.
But that’s not where I want to be, because that’s not the existence I want. I don’t want to feel separate all my life. I believe humans in their healthiest state are coupling animals. I have no lack of loving relationships in my life, but I want to have an intimate, loving, long-lasting partnership.
So here’s the catch.
How do I develop that when I believe people are unpredictable? (How, when in fact I have hard evidence of this unpredictability?)
Trust seems to be such a big ingredient in intimacy. But I don’t know. Maybe that’s just a line I read in a book somewhere. Maybe you can be intimate without the vulnerability required by trust.
I was wondering today if the intimacy people feel when they are codependent is just not possible without enmeshment. Am I looking for an intensity that simply isn’t available when one practices loving detachment? Or is there a different kind of intimacy that I have yet to experience?
In my favorite quotes on marriage, Rilke said "even between the closest people infinite distances exist..." So is there an equally satisfying intimacy that arises when we lovingly co-exist, and accept the risk of the mystery that each of us is to the other?
Sure sounds nice. But I’m not there yet. And I don’t even know if there’s a there there. So instead I’m a little sad and lonely.
Where is that balance? Where is that place where I’m not defined by Husband, my happiness is not bound to Husband, where I am whole and complete without Husband, and yet I share a deep, intimate connection with Husband and trust him enough to be vulnerable? How can I trust, knowing that people, like all things, are ultimately unpredictable?
Husband may not lie again, but he might drop dead tomorrow. If I allow the deep kind of connection I had with him before, I open myself up to that great loss all over again. How can I be whole and complete and still feel such a great sense of loss? That doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t understand where that sweet spot exists – where a healthy self-reliance overlaps with putting my heart in the hands of an unpredictable human being.
Deep love feels to me like that trust game you play in drama class, where you close your eyes and fall back into the arms of the group on faith that they will catch you. But if the world is unpredictable, how can I let go and trust that someone will be there to catch me?
I know I can pick myself up, but it’s the pain of falling when you had so much faith that I just don’t want to bear again.
Is all this reflection and philosophizing may just be my way of obscuring from myself that I’m just afraid and protecting myself? In the Carnes book I'm reading (which I highly recommend) it talks about how thinking things through can become a tactic for avoiding action.
Maybe the self-reliance I think I’m practicing is just plain old withdrawal and unwillingness to let myself be hurt again. Maybe it’s the same emotional lockdown I went into when I found out my dad was lying to us about running off to seek treatment for terminal illness when I was 12. That was when I decided I’d never need men, and I carried that with me into my relationship with Husband until it was slowly replaced by trust.
A lot of questions and not many answers these days.
Finding out that Husband, my best and most trusted friend, had been secretly having sex with prostitutes for years, while also being the guy who would say in a very definitive way that he couldn’t understand infidelity, shifted the world as I knew it. Which, at 43, was unexpected to say the least.
Part of the way I’ve handled being so deeply betrayed is to take the Buddhist perspective (as I understand it) that the only constant in life it that things change. In that context, to expect a human being to be consistent or predictable is to set one’s self up for disappointment at best.
To expect someone to always love you, always have good judgment, always have my best interests at heart…to always be 100% well-adjusted and always have great communication skills, always be 100% aware of their impact on others…to reach a state of perfection and STAY there. Well, that’s living in denial of the One True Constant. (I capitalized those words, not the Buddha.)
As I write, I hear that I’m nothing if not an absolutist. In all fairness to myself, that changes too.
So, my logic continues, the only person you can really count on to secure your well-being is yourself. (Not that we always do this for ourselves, but we always have the option of taking up our own cause; whereas we don’t have any control over whether or not someone else does right by us.)
Since adopting this philosophy I’ve made great effort to be my own advocate and champion. I try to get clarity around what works for me and what doesn’t, and then speak up or steer myself away from getting stuck in the muck or banging my head against unresponsive walls.
The problem is that in my attempt to be fully responsible for myself and not place my well-being in the hands of others, I’ve gotten to the point where I could say again what I said to Husband that hurt him so much when we first started dating: “I don’t need you.”
It may well be that no man is an island, but I’m pretty good at it myself.
But that’s not where I want to be, because that’s not the existence I want. I don’t want to feel separate all my life. I believe humans in their healthiest state are coupling animals. I have no lack of loving relationships in my life, but I want to have an intimate, loving, long-lasting partnership.
So here’s the catch.
How do I develop that when I believe people are unpredictable? (How, when in fact I have hard evidence of this unpredictability?)
Trust seems to be such a big ingredient in intimacy. But I don’t know. Maybe that’s just a line I read in a book somewhere. Maybe you can be intimate without the vulnerability required by trust.
I was wondering today if the intimacy people feel when they are codependent is just not possible without enmeshment. Am I looking for an intensity that simply isn’t available when one practices loving detachment? Or is there a different kind of intimacy that I have yet to experience?
In my favorite quotes on marriage, Rilke said "even between the closest people infinite distances exist..." So is there an equally satisfying intimacy that arises when we lovingly co-exist, and accept the risk of the mystery that each of us is to the other?
Sure sounds nice. But I’m not there yet. And I don’t even know if there’s a there there. So instead I’m a little sad and lonely.
Where is that balance? Where is that place where I’m not defined by Husband, my happiness is not bound to Husband, where I am whole and complete without Husband, and yet I share a deep, intimate connection with Husband and trust him enough to be vulnerable? How can I trust, knowing that people, like all things, are ultimately unpredictable?
Husband may not lie again, but he might drop dead tomorrow. If I allow the deep kind of connection I had with him before, I open myself up to that great loss all over again. How can I be whole and complete and still feel such a great sense of loss? That doesn’t make sense to me. I don’t understand where that sweet spot exists – where a healthy self-reliance overlaps with putting my heart in the hands of an unpredictable human being.
Deep love feels to me like that trust game you play in drama class, where you close your eyes and fall back into the arms of the group on faith that they will catch you. But if the world is unpredictable, how can I let go and trust that someone will be there to catch me?
I know I can pick myself up, but it’s the pain of falling when you had so much faith that I just don’t want to bear again.
Is all this reflection and philosophizing may just be my way of obscuring from myself that I’m just afraid and protecting myself? In the Carnes book I'm reading (which I highly recommend) it talks about how thinking things through can become a tactic for avoiding action.
Maybe the self-reliance I think I’m practicing is just plain old withdrawal and unwillingness to let myself be hurt again. Maybe it’s the same emotional lockdown I went into when I found out my dad was lying to us about running off to seek treatment for terminal illness when I was 12. That was when I decided I’d never need men, and I carried that with me into my relationship with Husband until it was slowly replaced by trust.
A lot of questions and not many answers these days.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Tip of the iceberg?
I have a sick feeling that my experience is only part of the tip of a very big iceberg that we face as a very troubled society.
Dan Rather's article in the Huffington Post describes the trafficking of child prostitutes on the west coast.
It's so sad and disturbing, because I see our society getting worse before it gets better because inappropriate sexuality is so accepted in the mainstream.
But all the more reason to speak out, to shine light where there is darkness, misinformation and denial. It's time to start talking about what is HEALTHY rather than what people want to do. Because sometimes what people want to do, (or what they're willing to do) even if it's legal, isn't healthy and we need the tools to be able to make that distinction. Do what one will, fine. But let's have a clearer line about what results in healthy, well adjusted adults who are able to have intimate relationships.
Dan Rather's article in the Huffington Post describes the trafficking of child prostitutes on the west coast.
It's so sad and disturbing, because I see our society getting worse before it gets better because inappropriate sexuality is so accepted in the mainstream.
But all the more reason to speak out, to shine light where there is darkness, misinformation and denial. It's time to start talking about what is HEALTHY rather than what people want to do. Because sometimes what people want to do, (or what they're willing to do) even if it's legal, isn't healthy and we need the tools to be able to make that distinction. Do what one will, fine. But let's have a clearer line about what results in healthy, well adjusted adults who are able to have intimate relationships.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Thoughts on how to define God hunger
I've been working on Step 2, and I realized I didn't really know how I would define god hunger. Is it searching for meaning or purpose in life? Searching for answers? Searching for love and safety?
When I think about spirituality, what I get out of that now is strength that comes from faith. Faith that the pain and obstacles that come my way have purpose in my life, that they are opportunities to be with discomfort and fear and to find out where I can go when I don’t run from those or distract my self or numb myself.
What I got from Husband was a sense of safety – a knowledge that no matter what – everything was going to be okay.
So maybe that’s the god hunger – looking for assurance that everything is going to be okay. Somehow this is related to definition of / relationship with self, because as I’ve become healthier, I’ve assumed more and more responsibility for my own well-being, and find that I rely less on others to see that I’m okay.
So perhaps god hunger is that relationship to myself – looking through the lens of non-duality and seeing that I am a wave in the ocean that is divinity – I am the wave, and as a wave I am also the ocean and that I am whole and complete and have everything and am everything because I am not separate from anything. Maybe that's what I’ve been hungering for – to know myself as not separate from all there is, good, bad, known, unknown, not separate from god – so that I can be at peace. Is god hunger simply a hunger for peace and serenity?
What is it that’s missing, what is it that needs to be filled? What is it that fills that void?
People fill the void with tasks, obsessions, pursuits, or numb the pain of that missing with drugs, alcohol and other addictions. Maybe god hunger is the need to feel peaceful and safe no matter what is going on in life. To know that god will protect you, god will heal you, god will redeem you, god will save you, god will love you, and you can do all these things because you are not separate from god. Maybe god hunger is a desire for the power to provide all these things. So is the missing thing power?
Or maybe the missing thing is unconditional love – the love we feel from our parents before we know any different. And perhaps the missing comes when we begin to understand the conditions under which we’re loved.
Loved for being good, loved for being pretty, loved for being smart, loved for being witty, loved for being sharp, loved for being talented, loved for being quiet, loved for being no trouble, loved for being difficult.
But not just loved for being.
And because we are not taught to love ourselves unconditionally we begin to look for that other who will give us the love that was snatched away from us as we became sentient, as we began to define the world, as we began to understand that there was “us” and then there was what was not “us.”
As we began to distinguish ourselves as separate from other things, which we needed to do in order to survive, we lost that knowledge of ourselves as not separate and therefore not deficient, not unworthy, not undeserving, not unlovable.
So here it is. Maybe my God hunger is my search for unconditional love that I am only now beginning to learn to provide for myself.
When I think about spirituality, what I get out of that now is strength that comes from faith. Faith that the pain and obstacles that come my way have purpose in my life, that they are opportunities to be with discomfort and fear and to find out where I can go when I don’t run from those or distract my self or numb myself.
What I got from Husband was a sense of safety – a knowledge that no matter what – everything was going to be okay.
So maybe that’s the god hunger – looking for assurance that everything is going to be okay. Somehow this is related to definition of / relationship with self, because as I’ve become healthier, I’ve assumed more and more responsibility for my own well-being, and find that I rely less on others to see that I’m okay.
So perhaps god hunger is that relationship to myself – looking through the lens of non-duality and seeing that I am a wave in the ocean that is divinity – I am the wave, and as a wave I am also the ocean and that I am whole and complete and have everything and am everything because I am not separate from anything. Maybe that's what I’ve been hungering for – to know myself as not separate from all there is, good, bad, known, unknown, not separate from god – so that I can be at peace. Is god hunger simply a hunger for peace and serenity?
What is it that’s missing, what is it that needs to be filled? What is it that fills that void?
People fill the void with tasks, obsessions, pursuits, or numb the pain of that missing with drugs, alcohol and other addictions. Maybe god hunger is the need to feel peaceful and safe no matter what is going on in life. To know that god will protect you, god will heal you, god will redeem you, god will save you, god will love you, and you can do all these things because you are not separate from god. Maybe god hunger is a desire for the power to provide all these things. So is the missing thing power?
Or maybe the missing thing is unconditional love – the love we feel from our parents before we know any different. And perhaps the missing comes when we begin to understand the conditions under which we’re loved.
Loved for being good, loved for being pretty, loved for being smart, loved for being witty, loved for being sharp, loved for being talented, loved for being quiet, loved for being no trouble, loved for being difficult.
But not just loved for being.
And because we are not taught to love ourselves unconditionally we begin to look for that other who will give us the love that was snatched away from us as we became sentient, as we began to define the world, as we began to understand that there was “us” and then there was what was not “us.”
As we began to distinguish ourselves as separate from other things, which we needed to do in order to survive, we lost that knowledge of ourselves as not separate and therefore not deficient, not unworthy, not undeserving, not unlovable.
So here it is. Maybe my God hunger is my search for unconditional love that I am only now beginning to learn to provide for myself.
Thoughts on how to define God hunger
I've been working on Step 2, and I realized I didn't really know how I would define god hunger. Is it searching for meaning or purpose in life? Searching for answers? Searching for love and safety?
When I think about spirituality, what I get out of that now is strength that comes from faith. Faith that the pain and obstacles that come my way have purpose in my life, that they are opportunities to be with discomfort and fear and to find out where I can go when I don’t run from those or distract my self or numb myself.
What I got from Husband was a sense of safety – a knowledge that no matter what – everything was going to be okay. He was the great wing under which I was protected but not oppressed.
So maybe that’s the god hunger – looking for assurance that everything is going to be okay. Somehow this is related to definition of / relationship with self, because as I’ve become healthier, I’ve assumed more and more responsibility for my own well-being, and find that I rely less on others to see that I’m okay.
So perhaps god hunger is that relationship to myself – looking through the lens of non-duality and seeing that I am a wave in the ocean that is divinity – I am the wave, and as a wave I am also the ocean and I am whole and complete and have everything and am everything because I am not separate from anything. Maybe that's what I’ve been hungering for – to know myself as not separate from all there is, good, bad, known, unknown, not separate from god – so that I can be at peace. Is god hunger simply a hunger for peace and serenity?
What is it that’s missing, what is it that needs to be filled? What is it that fills that void?
People fill the void with tasks, obsessions, pursuits, or numb the pain of that missing with drugs, alcohol and other addictions. Maybe god hunger is the need to feel peaceful and safe no matter what is going on in life. To know that god will protect you, god will heal you, god will redeem you, god will save you, god will love you, and you can do all these things because you are not separate from god. Maybe god hunger is a desire for the power to provide all these things. So is the missing thing power?
Or maybe the missing thing is unconditional love – the love we feel from our parents before we know any different. The love that lets us feel safe, peaceful and affirmed in the world. And perhaps the missing comes when we begin to understand the conditions under which we’re loved. And because we don’t learn to love ourselves unconditionally we begin to look for that other that will give us the love that was snatched away from us as we became sentient, as we began to define the world, as we began to distinguish that there was “us” and then there was what was not “us.” As we began to understand ourselves as separate from other things, which we needed to do in order to survive, we lost that knowledge of interbeing. Loved for being good, loved for being pretty, loved for being smart, loved for being witty, loved for being sharp, loved for being talented, loved for being quiet, loved for being no trouble, loved for being difficult. But not just loved for being.
So here it is. Maybe my God hunger is my search for unconditional love that I am only now beginning to learn to provide for myself.
When I think about spirituality, what I get out of that now is strength that comes from faith. Faith that the pain and obstacles that come my way have purpose in my life, that they are opportunities to be with discomfort and fear and to find out where I can go when I don’t run from those or distract my self or numb myself.
What I got from Husband was a sense of safety – a knowledge that no matter what – everything was going to be okay. He was the great wing under which I was protected but not oppressed.
So maybe that’s the god hunger – looking for assurance that everything is going to be okay. Somehow this is related to definition of / relationship with self, because as I’ve become healthier, I’ve assumed more and more responsibility for my own well-being, and find that I rely less on others to see that I’m okay.
So perhaps god hunger is that relationship to myself – looking through the lens of non-duality and seeing that I am a wave in the ocean that is divinity – I am the wave, and as a wave I am also the ocean and I am whole and complete and have everything and am everything because I am not separate from anything. Maybe that's what I’ve been hungering for – to know myself as not separate from all there is, good, bad, known, unknown, not separate from god – so that I can be at peace. Is god hunger simply a hunger for peace and serenity?
What is it that’s missing, what is it that needs to be filled? What is it that fills that void?
People fill the void with tasks, obsessions, pursuits, or numb the pain of that missing with drugs, alcohol and other addictions. Maybe god hunger is the need to feel peaceful and safe no matter what is going on in life. To know that god will protect you, god will heal you, god will redeem you, god will save you, god will love you, and you can do all these things because you are not separate from god. Maybe god hunger is a desire for the power to provide all these things. So is the missing thing power?
Or maybe the missing thing is unconditional love – the love we feel from our parents before we know any different. The love that lets us feel safe, peaceful and affirmed in the world. And perhaps the missing comes when we begin to understand the conditions under which we’re loved. And because we don’t learn to love ourselves unconditionally we begin to look for that other that will give us the love that was snatched away from us as we became sentient, as we began to define the world, as we began to distinguish that there was “us” and then there was what was not “us.” As we began to understand ourselves as separate from other things, which we needed to do in order to survive, we lost that knowledge of interbeing. Loved for being good, loved for being pretty, loved for being smart, loved for being witty, loved for being sharp, loved for being talented, loved for being quiet, loved for being no trouble, loved for being difficult. But not just loved for being.
So here it is. Maybe my God hunger is my search for unconditional love that I am only now beginning to learn to provide for myself.
Sunday, May 9, 2010
A little input from higher power?
I subscribe to the Tricycle Daily Dharma, and today it had this to say about what is needed in order to challenge "the whole identity of your life:"
"...The strength that's needed is the courage of heart to remain undefended and open, a willingness to touch the ten-thousand joys and the ten-thousand sorrows from our compassion, the deepest place of our being. This is a different kind of fearlessness, which requires as much or more passion and fire."
-Jack Kornfield, "The Sure Hearts Release"
So I guess that's today's input from higher power regarding yesterday's post about my struggle with deep connection and intimacy with Husband.
So the next thing I'm wondering is how to be undefended and open and still maintain healthy boundaries. What is the right balance between those two things?
"...The strength that's needed is the courage of heart to remain undefended and open, a willingness to touch the ten-thousand joys and the ten-thousand sorrows from our compassion, the deepest place of our being. This is a different kind of fearlessness, which requires as much or more passion and fire."
-Jack Kornfield, "The Sure Hearts Release"
So I guess that's today's input from higher power regarding yesterday's post about my struggle with deep connection and intimacy with Husband.
So the next thing I'm wondering is how to be undefended and open and still maintain healthy boundaries. What is the right balance between those two things?
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Digging deeper again
Watching an episode of Lost last night. Jun and Sun were in a sinking sub, and she was pinned in, despite his desperate attempts to rescue her. At one point, she grabbed his head and kissed him deeply, like he was the most beloved thing in her life.
I remember feeling that way. And the thought that crossed my mind in that moment was, “but that’s not real.”
One of the things that has helped me tremendously in processing Husband’s betrayal is taking the perspective that the only constant is impermanence, and because all things change the only thing you can count on to ensure your happiness is yourself. You can’t rely on anyone else, no matter what you think or what they say, or even what they do. Things can change. This too shall pass….whatever it is.
Even relying on yourself can be questionable, because you can also change.
But acting under the assumption that things change has helped me be at peace with human failings. People are unpredictable. A worst-case, they may lie. At best they may die. Either way, not something you can really count on to provide safety, love, or stability.
What I’m thinking though, is that I’ve begun to use this concept of unpredictability as another way to keep myself safe. Without realizing it, I think I’ve become absolutist about it.
Rule: Things change. The only thing predictable is unpredictiblity. Therefore, count only on yourself to ensure your well-being.
Outcome: I am in control of my happiness, and can protect myself 100% from experiencing deep pain and anguish.
I’m suspicious of this. I’m suspicious because I can see that I’m getting a sense of peace from being in control of the situation, armed with this understanding of unpredictability. Once again, I’m trying to prevent myself from being hurt by attempting to make sense of human nature and taking full responsibility for my own happiness and well being.
The problem with this is that it leaves me with an inability to achieve the intimacy that I used to feel with Husband. But not just with him. I can’t imagine ever feeling that connecting and intimate with any other man.
I do feel deeply connected with Son, and we share a pretty unfettered emotional intimacy. I wouldn’t really say I count on him because he’s eight and that doesn’t feel appropriate to me. But I think he feels he can count on me, and we are very close. We talk, argue, hug and kiss, wrestle, play games, hang out, lose our patience with each other, apologize, say I love you, yell, laugh…I try to let everything be there on top of a foundation of unconditional love. Who knows…maybe I’m making a mess of it all…but I’m trying to be a good mother, and I think he feels security and love and consistency and structure, which are the things I want him to be able to count on from me as a parent.
While my ability to feel deeply connected to my child is a bright spot, it doesn’t address the issue of my lack of connection and intimacy with Husband, or my inability to imagine connection and intimacy with any partner.
There are plenty of other examples of people I feel connected to.
I love my mom, but I see her flaws and know how I can count on her and how I can’t, and that ultimately in our relationship I’m responsible for my well-being. And I feel comfortable and satisfied with that.
I love my best girlfriends and I know they love me and I know they would always provide love, support, shelter and anything else I might need in this life should I have to turn to them. That feels right to me, too.
So I don’t have a problem with intimacy and connection in general. It’s only in the area of a partner that I feel all fucked up.
I know I’ve gone through cycles like this before, so I need to go back and read what I’ve written to remind myself and let some of that sink in again and more deeply.
But I also think there are things - pains, fears - that I haven’t addressed. I’m such an avoider, so desperately wanting to understand and move forward because it’s the logical and reasonable thing to do. And it’s what I’ve been trained to do from childhood – exterminate bad feelings. But pain and fear will not go undealt with, no matter how ninja I am with intellectual understanding and processing of things. There is something deeper that has not yet been faced.
I really want to feel that intimacy again. And I really think it’s possible. And I think Husband is a great person to do that with. I just don’t know how to do it on a consistent basis. Sometimes I feel like I get there, but I always seem to retreat to this safe place. It’s comfortable, it makes sense, it mostly works. But it leaves me lonely, too. And sad for what I had, which I now think of as born of delusion.
But what about the possibility that deep love, connectedness and intimacy can exist along side of betrayal and unpredictability? (I know I’ve considered this before, and I can go there intellectually, but my heart/body has not been able to get there.) It would mean opening way up to pain and anguish again. And the pain and anguish I felt 3 years ago is something I just don’t think I want to revisit.
But I think the deep feelings that I miss so much are related to that kind of openness and vulnerability. And if I have to face the fact that I can’t ensure my own happiness 100% of the time, or protect myself 100% from feeling any pain, then I suppose I might as well take that risk for the reward of the deep connection that I miss so much. Knowing what I know now, being who I am now, it would have to look different somehow. But I maybe I would have some relief from the underpinning of sadness that comes from being my own island when it comes to my relationship with Husband.
I remember feeling that way. And the thought that crossed my mind in that moment was, “but that’s not real.”
One of the things that has helped me tremendously in processing Husband’s betrayal is taking the perspective that the only constant is impermanence, and because all things change the only thing you can count on to ensure your happiness is yourself. You can’t rely on anyone else, no matter what you think or what they say, or even what they do. Things can change. This too shall pass….whatever it is.
Even relying on yourself can be questionable, because you can also change.
But acting under the assumption that things change has helped me be at peace with human failings. People are unpredictable. A worst-case, they may lie. At best they may die. Either way, not something you can really count on to provide safety, love, or stability.
What I’m thinking though, is that I’ve begun to use this concept of unpredictability as another way to keep myself safe. Without realizing it, I think I’ve become absolutist about it.
Rule: Things change. The only thing predictable is unpredictiblity. Therefore, count only on yourself to ensure your well-being.
Outcome: I am in control of my happiness, and can protect myself 100% from experiencing deep pain and anguish.
I’m suspicious of this. I’m suspicious because I can see that I’m getting a sense of peace from being in control of the situation, armed with this understanding of unpredictability. Once again, I’m trying to prevent myself from being hurt by attempting to make sense of human nature and taking full responsibility for my own happiness and well being.
The problem with this is that it leaves me with an inability to achieve the intimacy that I used to feel with Husband. But not just with him. I can’t imagine ever feeling that connecting and intimate with any other man.
I do feel deeply connected with Son, and we share a pretty unfettered emotional intimacy. I wouldn’t really say I count on him because he’s eight and that doesn’t feel appropriate to me. But I think he feels he can count on me, and we are very close. We talk, argue, hug and kiss, wrestle, play games, hang out, lose our patience with each other, apologize, say I love you, yell, laugh…I try to let everything be there on top of a foundation of unconditional love. Who knows…maybe I’m making a mess of it all…but I’m trying to be a good mother, and I think he feels security and love and consistency and structure, which are the things I want him to be able to count on from me as a parent.
While my ability to feel deeply connected to my child is a bright spot, it doesn’t address the issue of my lack of connection and intimacy with Husband, or my inability to imagine connection and intimacy with any partner.
There are plenty of other examples of people I feel connected to.
I love my mom, but I see her flaws and know how I can count on her and how I can’t, and that ultimately in our relationship I’m responsible for my well-being. And I feel comfortable and satisfied with that.
I love my best girlfriends and I know they love me and I know they would always provide love, support, shelter and anything else I might need in this life should I have to turn to them. That feels right to me, too.
So I don’t have a problem with intimacy and connection in general. It’s only in the area of a partner that I feel all fucked up.
I know I’ve gone through cycles like this before, so I need to go back and read what I’ve written to remind myself and let some of that sink in again and more deeply.
But I also think there are things - pains, fears - that I haven’t addressed. I’m such an avoider, so desperately wanting to understand and move forward because it’s the logical and reasonable thing to do. And it’s what I’ve been trained to do from childhood – exterminate bad feelings. But pain and fear will not go undealt with, no matter how ninja I am with intellectual understanding and processing of things. There is something deeper that has not yet been faced.
I really want to feel that intimacy again. And I really think it’s possible. And I think Husband is a great person to do that with. I just don’t know how to do it on a consistent basis. Sometimes I feel like I get there, but I always seem to retreat to this safe place. It’s comfortable, it makes sense, it mostly works. But it leaves me lonely, too. And sad for what I had, which I now think of as born of delusion.
But what about the possibility that deep love, connectedness and intimacy can exist along side of betrayal and unpredictability? (I know I’ve considered this before, and I can go there intellectually, but my heart/body has not been able to get there.) It would mean opening way up to pain and anguish again. And the pain and anguish I felt 3 years ago is something I just don’t think I want to revisit.
But I think the deep feelings that I miss so much are related to that kind of openness and vulnerability. And if I have to face the fact that I can’t ensure my own happiness 100% of the time, or protect myself 100% from feeling any pain, then I suppose I might as well take that risk for the reward of the deep connection that I miss so much. Knowing what I know now, being who I am now, it would have to look different somehow. But I maybe I would have some relief from the underpinning of sadness that comes from being my own island when it comes to my relationship with Husband.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Ready or not...
Husband recently gave me a book he's been using in his therapy group. "I think you'll like it," he said. I just finished reading the introduction, and was completely inspired by the last few sentences of it.
"A whole new level of being present to life can result with recovery. Life is never the same. There is no going back. Consider yourself called." - Recovery Zone by Patrick Carnes
That definitely resonates with my experience.
As I read on, I realized that I have chosen to try to stay with my family, I have chosen to try to stay with my marriage...but I don't know if I've actually chosen to stay with Husband and I think until I make that choice, I won't be able to do some of the deeper healing that I feel is available to me. I think I'm still holding Husband at a distance (not surprising considering that he decimated the world as I knew it, and his actions were the source of deep pain and anguish for me) but that is painful because the intimacy that I want to have is not there.
I do feel a whole new level of being present to life. I do feel that life will never be the same, and that there's no going back. And I do feel called into something greater than I ever imagined. But something is still missing. And I think that missing thing is the intimacy that I can have with Husband now that we're both actively in recovery, and continuing to reap the discoveries made possible by that work and by therapy.
I think that distance is layer of protection, and that layer as well as my realization of it are all part of my process. Nothing to regret, but something to ponder.
How do I achieve that intimacy with someone who feels so threatening?
As always, I think the answer is surrender. Surrender to the possibility of loss and grief and pain, and to the fact that no matter what, I can't protect myself from those things 100%, especially if I want to live my life to the fullest.
I get that, but it's scary. It feels like the hardest miles of a marathon, and I don't know if I'm ready. But it's probably more a matter of finding the willingness to surrender, rather than the readiness.
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