Last weekend Son and I came home from Son's sports lesson to find Husband passed out drunk on the couch. Not great by any standard, but really fucking bad because Husband was supposedly not drinking because of the last time he'd been secretly drinking and lying to me about it.
Four months ago I spelled out for Husband again how painful it is for me to be lied to, how much damage it does to my ability to trust him, and how difficult it makes repairing our relationship. But husband is sick, and he's still not dealt with the things at the root of his sickness.
I've been trying to decide what to do now.
Instead of relying on only myself and withdrawing into problem solving in my head, I immediately called my three close girlfriends to get their perspective. They share my values, they all have kids (which gives me confidence that they understand my need for Son's well-being to be top priority,) they love both Husband and me and are mature enough not to take sides, and so I trust them to help bring clarity when there is too much fog on my path.
I can feel how much progress I've made in terms of boundaries, self-definition, and recognizing what's mine to deal with and Husband's to deal with. This weekend's incident brings into sharper focus where I still have work to do.
Husband lies to me for two reasons: He feels entitled to the things he does that he thinks I disapprove of him doing. And he's afraid of my response, my anger, disdain, or disappointment, if he does something I don't like. I've taken this as reasonable. Of course someone might lie if they're afraid of the consequences - afraid of losing something they value. And this is where my sickness comes in.
Living with somebody who is willing to lie costs me dearly in ways that are not immediately evident. Just like last time, I thought something was off. He'd come home smelling like alcohol after work sometimes. I even asked him about it once or twice and instead of getting defensive like I worried he might, he'd smile warmly and say "no, I haven't." Then I'd apologize for asking. But mostly I wouldn't ask, because I knew he was working hard, because he is a great dad and partner, because he is a good person, and because he'd made a promise to me after hearing clearly how much it hurt me to be lied to and hearing my explicit request for total honesty between us. I was sure I could trust him.
So what I did was I readily, willingly negated myself, my sense of smell, my concerns, my ability to protect myself - I negated my own thoughts and instincts - in order to believe and give the benefit of the doubt to someone who has a history of repeatedly lying to me.
Ah, the river Denial. It's depressing and embarrassing to be floating on your waters after five years of hard work. To be making this mistake, to still find blind spots (chasms?) with regard to my co-dependency. After all the progress I feel like I've made. I guess humility is part of this growth opportunity as well.
I'd stopped going to my weekly meetings because things were on an even keel. I was feeling closer and more loving and accepting toward Husband each day. Work was demanding, and I wanted to be sure to have time with Son while he still wants to spend time with me. So I let my meetings slide.
Lesson #1 (again): If I want to change lifelong patterns I'm going to need ongoing support - even after I feel like I've conquered those patterns. Five years is not enough practice to master the unlearning of behavior I've cultivated over a lifetime. Anon meetings need to be a regular part of my life. Maybe forever. (Ugh. I don't want to accept that.)
Lesson #2: Trust myself above all else. This is part of self-definition. I WILL SAY if things seem okay to me, and not rely on others to say that things are ok. And I will not trust known liars, no matter how repentant they are or what kinds of promises they make.
Lesson #3: Trust actions, not words. Promises mean shit. Actions are what make the difference. I know Husband loves me, he says he loves me, and his actions make him a great dad and partner to raise a child with. But his actions DON'T make him a good adult relationship partner, no matter what he says, how sorry he is, how different he wishes things were.
When Husband disappeared after our argument about his drinking this weekend and Son started asking where Daddy was I couldn't make up a story - I couldn't lie to Son. I didn't know where Husband was or when (if) he'd be coming back. So asked Son if he remembered how we'd talked about addiction and alcoholism in relation to drinking. He said yes, and I told him that Daddy actually had that problem, and that when we'd come home Daddy was passed out from being drunk. I told him that Daddy had been secretly drinking and lying to me about it. And that we'd had an argument and I didn't know where Daddy was but that he'd probably gone for a walk and would probably be back.
I've been not telling Son about any of our issues for the last five years. But I felt like the ground had been laid for a relatively frank discussion, and I wasn't going to lie to Son and break the trust in our relationship to cover up for Husband. I kept a positive tone, told Son that Daddy and I would be working on these issues. He seemed sad, and wanted time to himself. I let him know that Daddy was still the same Daddy and that we both loved him and that we could talk about anything whenever he wanted. I asked if he had any questions or concerns or worries. We talked a bit more and then he went up to his room "to think about things and listen to my story." (He loves to listen to stories on the iPod.) I asked him if he wanted to call any of his friends for support. "Not yet," he said.
I'm trying to get to a therapist to help me work out my next steps. If
it was just me I'd throw in the towel, but I want to do the best I
can to work on our issues for Son's sake. But Son is old enough now and has enough emotional maturity and enough tools to handle what may come with support from Husband and me, and professionals if necessary. And I don't want to set the example that betrayal is trivial.
And another thing worth noting is that because Husband is willing to lie, I can't be sure that there aren't other things he's lying about as well. I don't think there are, but this is where Lesson #3 above comes into play, right?
Thinking about the input I've received from friends and from my Anon meeting, I'm pretty sure I'm ready to say that this is the last time. I'm willing to continue to work, but if husband lies to me, deceives me, betrays my trust again I'm going to get a divorce. That is really scary, because it's giving up a lot. Husband is a wonderful father, a great partner in many ways, a relatively responsible provider, he loves me, he's my champion, he's smart and warm and funny, he only wants the best for me. But I think sacrificing my Self in order to keep the positive things I get out of having Husband in my life is not going to turn out well for me. Living with lies confuses my relationship with the core of myself. It doesn't feel like a good thing to do because it requires not trusting myself. I have to write this here so that I have a plan to refer to if the going gets rough.
I am trying to hang on to the life I want, but the truth is I just don't have it and I never did. A hard thing to process at 47 years old. Another thing I don't want to accept.
God...please, please, please...grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, help me find the
courage to get the support I need to change the things I can, and help me hold on to the clarity and the wisdom to know the
difference.
I don't feel that clear right now.
Showing posts with label relationship with self. Show all posts
Showing posts with label relationship with self. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Talking, listening, and opportunity
I decided not to give weight to much of my conversation with Husband Thursday night. I'm not at my best when I'm drunk, so I chose to give him the benefit of the doubt. Friday morning he apologized for walking out on our conversation, and for the things he said. As I suspected, throwing in the towel was just a drunken gesture.
So we have work to do.
We both lost our wedding rings this year. He on a balmy September day at the beach, me a couple months later. I don't know where. I'd been thinking about what a new ring might symbolize for me, and I'd decided that instead of "forever" the circle would be an "O" and represent opportunity. Because our relationship is that for both of us - an opportunity to confront the deeper things we need to grow and develop as human beings. As long as we can maintain a healthy environment in which we're both working and progressing, I'm willing.
We went out tonight and had some good conversation. Mostly I talked, actually, and he listened. I talked about how much his lying hurts me, presses on the places where I'm tender - where my feelings of unworthiness reside. I told him that I hoped he'd try to get to the roots of the things it seems his addictions are servicing - his fear of being left, his resentments for being undervalued and unacknowledged, the entitlement that arises out of that, and his fear of inciting my anger. I'm an absolutist, but I'm not an angry, irrational person. His mother is. I'm not her, but I'm paying the price for their relationship and I'm not willing to stay in that role. I told him that, too.
I acknowledged some of my own issues that contribute to our dynamic: My absolutism, my deep seated feeling that I must never need a man so I won't be vulnerable to dependency, and my need to make sure men I'm in relationships know that I'm not dependent on them. Of course they fit neatly into his issues. I guess we really do seek out that which we need to learn.
He went to his first AA meeting today, and wasn't surprised to find he was in the right place. He told me he'd always avoided going to AA because he wasn't an alcoholic, and didn't want to give up drinking. But he said that recently all the problems we've been having - the lies he's told - have revolved around his drinking. He talked about how he'd stopped having boundaries around work, and let his practices and meeting attendance slip because of it. He's going to return to regular spiritual practices, regular meetings, and to regular exercise as well - the things he needs to do to take care of himself.
Addicts slip. We all do. But he's willing to own up to his mistakes, willing to take responsibility for his actions, for his well-being, and for his part in building a healthy relationship. He's willing, as I am, to choose to move toward his challenges instead of running and avoiding.
So things are better. I don't feel so lost. In fact, because I am more grounded in my own self now and less reactive, I feel stronger and more peaceful.
There is still work to be done, for sure. The difference now is I've learned that I'm up to the task.
So we have work to do.
We both lost our wedding rings this year. He on a balmy September day at the beach, me a couple months later. I don't know where. I'd been thinking about what a new ring might symbolize for me, and I'd decided that instead of "forever" the circle would be an "O" and represent opportunity. Because our relationship is that for both of us - an opportunity to confront the deeper things we need to grow and develop as human beings. As long as we can maintain a healthy environment in which we're both working and progressing, I'm willing.
We went out tonight and had some good conversation. Mostly I talked, actually, and he listened. I talked about how much his lying hurts me, presses on the places where I'm tender - where my feelings of unworthiness reside. I told him that I hoped he'd try to get to the roots of the things it seems his addictions are servicing - his fear of being left, his resentments for being undervalued and unacknowledged, the entitlement that arises out of that, and his fear of inciting my anger. I'm an absolutist, but I'm not an angry, irrational person. His mother is. I'm not her, but I'm paying the price for their relationship and I'm not willing to stay in that role. I told him that, too.
I acknowledged some of my own issues that contribute to our dynamic: My absolutism, my deep seated feeling that I must never need a man so I won't be vulnerable to dependency, and my need to make sure men I'm in relationships know that I'm not dependent on them. Of course they fit neatly into his issues. I guess we really do seek out that which we need to learn.
He went to his first AA meeting today, and wasn't surprised to find he was in the right place. He told me he'd always avoided going to AA because he wasn't an alcoholic, and didn't want to give up drinking. But he said that recently all the problems we've been having - the lies he's told - have revolved around his drinking. He talked about how he'd stopped having boundaries around work, and let his practices and meeting attendance slip because of it. He's going to return to regular spiritual practices, regular meetings, and to regular exercise as well - the things he needs to do to take care of himself.
Addicts slip. We all do. But he's willing to own up to his mistakes, willing to take responsibility for his actions, for his well-being, and for his part in building a healthy relationship. He's willing, as I am, to choose to move toward his challenges instead of running and avoiding.
So things are better. I don't feel so lost. In fact, because I am more grounded in my own self now and less reactive, I feel stronger and more peaceful.
There is still work to be done, for sure. The difference now is I've learned that I'm up to the task.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Family of origin and self esteem issues
On Wednesday nights, Son and I usually go to a hobby group together. Sometimes Husband joins, and sometimes Son and Husband go without me.
Husband is working late tonight, as he has been of late with his still-new job. So Son and I have gotten into a routine of meeting my mom for dinner before our hobby group.
I'd stayed up too late last night (watching Battlestar Galactica in bed on my iPad!,) gotten up early, and had a long day. As we waited for the check, Mom asked how my day was and I mentioned that I was pretty bushed. She thoughtfully offered to go to hobby group with Son. Since she'd accompanied him a few times before I didn't think he'd mind.
But when I told him Mom was going with him instead of me, he began to protest and continued to beg me to go as we made our way to the parking lot. I was surprised, and torn because as we approach the end of Son's single digit birthdays, I have a limited number of such opportunities left.
He continued to cling to me and whine (not too passionately, but stubbornly nonetheless.)
My mom absolutely couldn't tolerate it.
As I listened to Son's faux-whining and gave further consideration to my decision, she immediately tried to shut him down - I think in my defense, although I hadn't asked to be defended.
"It's okay, Mom, he just wants me to go with him," I said, soaking in the feeling of Son's arms wrapped around me in his attempt to obstruct my progress toward departure. But she kept offering alternatives and telling him to stop being upset.
I quickly lost my patience and told her the conversation was between me and Son, and to stop involving herself in a discussion that didn't involve her.
And then came the truly astonishing, revealing part of the conversation:
She doesn't understand that she was trying to make him feel guilty for wanting me to come with him to hobby group, and she doesn't get the concept that she's teaching him to feel responsible for everything that happens in the world.
If you want your mother to come with you to hobby group when she's tired, and then she does, and then she has an accident, it will be your fault for begging her to go.
She can't see that she's teaching him to try to anticipate how things will turn out and then shape his desires, needs and feelings around that, as if anyone can really anticipate the future.
She can't grasp that she's telling him that he has the power to keep his mother alive by not expressing what he wants in that moment.
No wonder I've lived most of my life unable to validate my feelings, needs and desires in a healthy way.
No wonder I feel responsible for things beyond my control, and believe deep down that if I'm just fill-in-the-blank-enough, all bad things will be averted (and then conversely if they're not averted, that some failure on my part must be the cause.)
It further amazes me that until recently I would have been unable to even recognize the unhealthy dynamic transpiring.
Aside from explaining my particular fucked-up-ness, this interaction is a succinct illustration of the fact that people who love you can mess you up just as much as people who don't love you.
Being really exhausted and knowing I have a full day ahead of me tomorrow, I told Son I really wanted to go home this time, and that I'd go with him next week for sure.
"Oh, fine!" he harrumphed, assuming a mildly British accent. "And you're going to make me late, woman!" (One of the many things I cherish about Son is his keen sense of humor.)
As we parted I called out to my son, "Don't let your Grandmother make you feel guilty!"
And then I turned to my mom. "Thanks, Mom."
"Well get some sleep!" she said. "And don't forget to get gas!"
Ackkkk!!!
God! Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change!
Courage to change the things I can!
And the wisdom to know the difference!
Quick!!!
Husband is working late tonight, as he has been of late with his still-new job. So Son and I have gotten into a routine of meeting my mom for dinner before our hobby group.
I'd stayed up too late last night (watching Battlestar Galactica in bed on my iPad!,) gotten up early, and had a long day. As we waited for the check, Mom asked how my day was and I mentioned that I was pretty bushed. She thoughtfully offered to go to hobby group with Son. Since she'd accompanied him a few times before I didn't think he'd mind.
But when I told him Mom was going with him instead of me, he began to protest and continued to beg me to go as we made our way to the parking lot. I was surprised, and torn because as we approach the end of Son's single digit birthdays, I have a limited number of such opportunities left.
He continued to cling to me and whine (not too passionately, but stubbornly nonetheless.)
My mom absolutely couldn't tolerate it.
As I listened to Son's faux-whining and gave further consideration to my decision, she immediately tried to shut him down - I think in my defense, although I hadn't asked to be defended.
"It's okay, Mom, he just wants me to go with him," I said, soaking in the feeling of Son's arms wrapped around me in his attempt to obstruct my progress toward departure. But she kept offering alternatives and telling him to stop being upset.
I quickly lost my patience and told her the conversation was between me and Son, and to stop involving herself in a discussion that didn't involve her.
And then came the truly astonishing, revealing part of the conversation:
Son: You have to go, and that's that!Oh my god, how instantly she can transport us to another universe!
Mom: Stop that! She said she's tired. Do you want her to drive while she's tired and get into an accident?
Me: Mom!! Stop trying to make him feel guilty!! Stop trying to make him feel responsible for things that he's not responsible for!
Mom: Well he has to know the circumstances!
Me: But that's COMPLETELY MADE UP!!! That hasn't happened, and it's not going to happen!But she couldn't see it.
She doesn't understand that she was trying to make him feel guilty for wanting me to come with him to hobby group, and she doesn't get the concept that she's teaching him to feel responsible for everything that happens in the world.
If you want your mother to come with you to hobby group when she's tired, and then she does, and then she has an accident, it will be your fault for begging her to go.
She can't see that she's teaching him to try to anticipate how things will turn out and then shape his desires, needs and feelings around that, as if anyone can really anticipate the future.
She can't grasp that she's telling him that he has the power to keep his mother alive by not expressing what he wants in that moment.
No wonder I've lived most of my life unable to validate my feelings, needs and desires in a healthy way.
No wonder I feel responsible for things beyond my control, and believe deep down that if I'm just fill-in-the-blank-enough, all bad things will be averted (and then conversely if they're not averted, that some failure on my part must be the cause.)
It further amazes me that until recently I would have been unable to even recognize the unhealthy dynamic transpiring.
Aside from explaining my particular fucked-up-ness, this interaction is a succinct illustration of the fact that people who love you can mess you up just as much as people who don't love you.
Being really exhausted and knowing I have a full day ahead of me tomorrow, I told Son I really wanted to go home this time, and that I'd go with him next week for sure.
"Oh, fine!" he harrumphed, assuming a mildly British accent. "And you're going to make me late, woman!" (One of the many things I cherish about Son is his keen sense of humor.)
As we parted I called out to my son, "Don't let your Grandmother make you feel guilty!"
And then I turned to my mom. "Thanks, Mom."
"Well get some sleep!" she said. "And don't forget to get gas!"
Ackkkk!!!
God! Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change!
Courage to change the things I can!
And the wisdom to know the difference!
Quick!!!
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Update from Recoveryland: It's Working
Husband is a writer. The other night he asked me to read something he'd written.
As I read along, I realized one of the characters was a prostitute. A prickle went through my body and the hairs on my arms and neck rose. Not because he was writing a character that was a prostitute. It was her name: Angie.
"I hope you enjoyed your time with Angie."
Those are the words that blew apart my world 4 years ago. Angie was of one of the many prostitutes Husband had sex with, whose name I accidentally found in an email one day.
Husband was asleep beside me in the bed. I didn't wake him. I had lots of feelings, and I wanted some clarity before bringing it up with him.
Lesson number 1: There will be triggers. Maybe forever, maybe not. Right now, they're part of this path that I'm on...my life. Even after 4 years, there will be triggers.
Next day, when he asked what I thought, I told him about that name. He looked clueless for a moment, then ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said.
"You don't need to apologize," I said. But I would have been angry if he hadn't felt bad about it. "You didn't mean anything by it."
HOW could he not remember that name??? I read him that email! HOW could he not think about me?? Fuck him that he has a whole slew of "prostitute names" stored in his head to draw from! And why Angie? Was she a favorite? One special gal he keeps hidden in the folds of his memory as the rest of that secret life slips away as he progresses in recovery?
Lesson #2: Husband will probably always have narcissistic tenancies. He's a wonderful person in many ways, but he's human and, by definition, flawed.
I could feel the anxiety swirling...the unwanted thoughts and images cascading down on one another. I pushed that away.
Would he ask me to read that piece again later in another draft? Would I have to be reminded again, brought back to that moment in time when my lips got numb and my face and hands grew icy and my field of vision seemed to shrink as I tried to grasp what was happening to the life I thought I'd had? Or would he do the thoughtful thing and change that name? If he didn't, I'd be pissed. Resentful that he still seemed not to grasp the enormity of how his actions had impacted me. I would make a mental note.
I could still feel that dark swirling vortex sucking at me, and it would have been easy to sink into those thoughts and feelings. Even now they don't feel very far away.
But another part of me knew that I had a choice.
Lesson #3: After working hard on recovery, focusing on my side of the street, I no longer have to get helplessly broadsided by every trigger that screeches across my path.
I took a deep breath and focused my attention on the present. What does life look like right now? What am I feeling right now? What do I need right now?
I wanted Husband to change the name of that character. And I was going to be angry and resentful if he didn't. I wanted to wait and see if he did it without me asking.
But I also knew that I was being presented with an opportunity to voice my needs, and not wait for them to be detected. (My interpretation: Higher power at work.)
Lesson #4: In order to move forward in my own growth, to take responsibility for my own experience of life, I need to rid myself of the thought "If he loves me, he'll know." Husband does love me, and he can also be a clueless, thoughtless buffoon (or asshole.) Those two things are not absolute - they can and do coexist.
Later that evening, I told Husband that I wanted him to change the name of that character because I didn't want to be reminded of things I was trying to put behind me. He said of course he'd do that - he'd already been planning on it.
He could have responded any number of ways. The victory is that I said what I wanted to say, I stated my needs, without knowing what the outcome would be.
I felt better. Because he was going to change that name, and because I'd said what I needed to say. I had taken care of myself by asking for what I wanted. (Funny, that feels like a such risk.)
So...
As I read along, I realized one of the characters was a prostitute. A prickle went through my body and the hairs on my arms and neck rose. Not because he was writing a character that was a prostitute. It was her name: Angie.
"I hope you enjoyed your time with Angie."
Those are the words that blew apart my world 4 years ago. Angie was of one of the many prostitutes Husband had sex with, whose name I accidentally found in an email one day.
Husband was asleep beside me in the bed. I didn't wake him. I had lots of feelings, and I wanted some clarity before bringing it up with him.
Lesson number 1: There will be triggers. Maybe forever, maybe not. Right now, they're part of this path that I'm on...my life. Even after 4 years, there will be triggers.
Next day, when he asked what I thought, I told him about that name. He looked clueless for a moment, then ashamed. "I'm sorry," he said.
"You don't need to apologize," I said. But I would have been angry if he hadn't felt bad about it. "You didn't mean anything by it."
HOW could he not remember that name??? I read him that email! HOW could he not think about me?? Fuck him that he has a whole slew of "prostitute names" stored in his head to draw from! And why Angie? Was she a favorite? One special gal he keeps hidden in the folds of his memory as the rest of that secret life slips away as he progresses in recovery?
Lesson #2: Husband will probably always have narcissistic tenancies. He's a wonderful person in many ways, but he's human and, by definition, flawed.
I could feel the anxiety swirling...the unwanted thoughts and images cascading down on one another. I pushed that away.
Would he ask me to read that piece again later in another draft? Would I have to be reminded again, brought back to that moment in time when my lips got numb and my face and hands grew icy and my field of vision seemed to shrink as I tried to grasp what was happening to the life I thought I'd had? Or would he do the thoughtful thing and change that name? If he didn't, I'd be pissed. Resentful that he still seemed not to grasp the enormity of how his actions had impacted me. I would make a mental note.
I could still feel that dark swirling vortex sucking at me, and it would have been easy to sink into those thoughts and feelings. Even now they don't feel very far away.
But another part of me knew that I had a choice.
Lesson #3: After working hard on recovery, focusing on my side of the street, I no longer have to get helplessly broadsided by every trigger that screeches across my path.
I took a deep breath and focused my attention on the present. What does life look like right now? What am I feeling right now? What do I need right now?
I wanted Husband to change the name of that character. And I was going to be angry and resentful if he didn't. I wanted to wait and see if he did it without me asking.
But I also knew that I was being presented with an opportunity to voice my needs, and not wait for them to be detected. (My interpretation: Higher power at work.)
Lesson #4: In order to move forward in my own growth, to take responsibility for my own experience of life, I need to rid myself of the thought "If he loves me, he'll know." Husband does love me, and he can also be a clueless, thoughtless buffoon (or asshole.) Those two things are not absolute - they can and do coexist.
Later that evening, I told Husband that I wanted him to change the name of that character because I didn't want to be reminded of things I was trying to put behind me. He said of course he'd do that - he'd already been planning on it.
He could have responded any number of ways. The victory is that I said what I wanted to say, I stated my needs, without knowing what the outcome would be.
I felt better. Because he was going to change that name, and because I'd said what I needed to say. I had taken care of myself by asking for what I wanted. (Funny, that feels like a such risk.)
So...
There will be triggers.No more waiting for others. I have a relationship with myself such that I'm empowered to call the shots in my own life.
Husband will probably continue to exhibit narcissistic tendencies.
Because of the work I've done, I'm no longer at the mercy of those things.
I can ground myself in the present, accept the responsibility (and consequences) of voicing what I want and need, and free myself to create a life that works for me.
Friday, February 4, 2011
What I learned from Facebook
I think this talk by Facebook COO Sheryl Sandberg speaks to some of the issues faced by women in their personal lives, as well as in their professional lives:
Monday, March 29, 2010
Parenting, re-parenting, and getting back on the horse
As a recovering co-dependent raising a little son with a recovering sex addict, I often worry about whether or not my child has any chance of developing into a healthy person. (I'm half kidding when I say this, but only half.)
In a post with what I think are several excellent points on parenting, GentlePath said: "...my most important job was to help my children develop a working inner compass..."
I can see that neither Husband nor I were validated in that way as children. His needs and feelings went unnoticed, and mine were only acceptable within a narrow range. I was often comforted with explanations of why I didn't need to feel the way I was feeling. It was all well intentioned, but I developed into someone without a strong inner compass.
For over 40 years I looked at how others responded to me to understand myself in the world. I had no sense of self-preservation because thinking of yourself above others was something good people didn't do in my black and white upbringing.
As part of the recovery process I've become aware of this dynamic, and I've been able to develop a stronger relationship with my self, a better ability to self-validate, and a deeper understanding/belief that I alone am responsible for my responses, and hence my experience of life.
This means not only looking for the most empowering interpretation of a situation, but also expressing my needs and boundaries, surrendering to all good things that come my way, and approaching things I want with the attitude of "why not me?"
These things continue to be challenging in practice, but since I've come to believe that the path I'm on is the path I'm on, just getting back on the horse seems to be the most sensible thing to do.
I recently put myself up for a dream job. The opportunity came out of thin air, and I grabbed it before my fear could push it away. My mind was screaming at me that I was unqualified, that there were million reasons why they'd pick someone else over me, that who was I to think I should be considered for this chance.
But with a lot of deep breathing I muscled those fears aside and called up my "why not me?" attitude. I dove in and prepared, let myself envision myself doing the job, immersed myself in a lot of creative thinking about my take on what I'd do in the position. I continued feel scared, but by the time I walked into that interview I also believed I was as deserving, worthy and qualified as everyone else I knew who was up for the job. (I knew most, if not all, of the other candidates.) The work I'd done after declaring "why not me?!" had given me a foundation for truly feeling confident.
The interview went really, really well. Ultimately, though, I didn't get the job.
But because I was determined to allow "why not me?" to sit alongside my fears, I know I showed my very best. And now that I've done it once, I know I can do it again.
Fortunately for my son, Husband and I have always prioritized validating his feelings and experiences, and have tried hard to support him in resolving his own problems rather than trying to fix, solve and resolve things for him. So I think he will have some form of inner compass.
But I also need to remind myself that as much as I want to be the perfect parent and make sure that he's happy and healthy forever and ever, my ability to do that is limited. I can do my very best with the tools I have to give him a good tool set of his own, and then he will be on his way, walking his own path, learning, or not, to surrender and to get back on his horse.
In a post with what I think are several excellent points on parenting, GentlePath said: "...my most important job was to help my children develop a working inner compass..."
I can see that neither Husband nor I were validated in that way as children. His needs and feelings went unnoticed, and mine were only acceptable within a narrow range. I was often comforted with explanations of why I didn't need to feel the way I was feeling. It was all well intentioned, but I developed into someone without a strong inner compass.
For over 40 years I looked at how others responded to me to understand myself in the world. I had no sense of self-preservation because thinking of yourself above others was something good people didn't do in my black and white upbringing.
As part of the recovery process I've become aware of this dynamic, and I've been able to develop a stronger relationship with my self, a better ability to self-validate, and a deeper understanding/belief that I alone am responsible for my responses, and hence my experience of life.
This means not only looking for the most empowering interpretation of a situation, but also expressing my needs and boundaries, surrendering to all good things that come my way, and approaching things I want with the attitude of "why not me?"
These things continue to be challenging in practice, but since I've come to believe that the path I'm on is the path I'm on, just getting back on the horse seems to be the most sensible thing to do.
I recently put myself up for a dream job. The opportunity came out of thin air, and I grabbed it before my fear could push it away. My mind was screaming at me that I was unqualified, that there were million reasons why they'd pick someone else over me, that who was I to think I should be considered for this chance.
But with a lot of deep breathing I muscled those fears aside and called up my "why not me?" attitude. I dove in and prepared, let myself envision myself doing the job, immersed myself in a lot of creative thinking about my take on what I'd do in the position. I continued feel scared, but by the time I walked into that interview I also believed I was as deserving, worthy and qualified as everyone else I knew who was up for the job. (I knew most, if not all, of the other candidates.) The work I'd done after declaring "why not me?!" had given me a foundation for truly feeling confident.
The interview went really, really well. Ultimately, though, I didn't get the job.
But because I was determined to allow "why not me?" to sit alongside my fears, I know I showed my very best. And now that I've done it once, I know I can do it again.
Fortunately for my son, Husband and I have always prioritized validating his feelings and experiences, and have tried hard to support him in resolving his own problems rather than trying to fix, solve and resolve things for him. So I think he will have some form of inner compass.
But I also need to remind myself that as much as I want to be the perfect parent and make sure that he's happy and healthy forever and ever, my ability to do that is limited. I can do my very best with the tools I have to give him a good tool set of his own, and then he will be on his way, walking his own path, learning, or not, to surrender and to get back on his horse.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
So how do you cultivate self esteem?
On the Pat Morrison radio show yesterday, Rabbi Harold Kushner said "I would make a distinction between curing, making a problem go away, and healing, which is giving a person the emotional, spiritual resources to cope with a problem that isn't going away."
I think this is an insightful way to describe the process I've been going through since I discovered Husband's sex addiction.
There is no making my past go away. But I've been gaining the emotional, spiritual,and psychological resources to cope with the reality of life. I've been healing.
One area that remains unclear for me is building my self esteem. In June 2008 I declared a Year of Self Definition and yet 16 months later I still feel a bit stumped about how to cultivate a strong relationship with myself.
I have glimmers of it. I've gained a lot of tools and insight from therapy, support groups and reading. But I also have a lot of persistent patterns that originate in self-loathing.
I felt a flash of clarity in the reading I did today in Pema Chodron's The Wisdom of No Escape. In the chapter called Satisfaction she said that "one of the major obstacles to what is traditionally called enlightenment is resentment, feeling cheated, holding a grudge about who you are, where you are, what you are."
This passage really caught my eye because I recognized myself in it, and I began to start thinking about how I could re-orient my thinking and feeling about what I lack and focus instead on everything I have, everything I am. Gratitude for my life, and loving-kindness toward myself.
How would I treat myself, regard myself, be with myself if I were someone I loved? Certainly much different than I do now. I think exploring this question is on the path of developing / creating a relationship with myself that supports health and peace.
I think this is an insightful way to describe the process I've been going through since I discovered Husband's sex addiction.
There is no making my past go away. But I've been gaining the emotional, spiritual,and psychological resources to cope with the reality of life. I've been healing.
One area that remains unclear for me is building my self esteem. In June 2008 I declared a Year of Self Definition and yet 16 months later I still feel a bit stumped about how to cultivate a strong relationship with myself.
I have glimmers of it. I've gained a lot of tools and insight from therapy, support groups and reading. But I also have a lot of persistent patterns that originate in self-loathing.
I felt a flash of clarity in the reading I did today in Pema Chodron's The Wisdom of No Escape. In the chapter called Satisfaction she said that "one of the major obstacles to what is traditionally called enlightenment is resentment, feeling cheated, holding a grudge about who you are, where you are, what you are."
This passage really caught my eye because I recognized myself in it, and I began to start thinking about how I could re-orient my thinking and feeling about what I lack and focus instead on everything I have, everything I am. Gratitude for my life, and loving-kindness toward myself.
How would I treat myself, regard myself, be with myself if I were someone I loved? Certainly much different than I do now. I think exploring this question is on the path of developing / creating a relationship with myself that supports health and peace.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Walking off a cliff
This past weekend I took a workshop about developing and performing solo work. I was terrified, so I knew I must be heading in the right direction.
After the first meeting on Friday I almost pulled out, full of that nagging fear that I have nothing to say, nothing to offer. But over and over again I brought myself back the new mandate I've given myself: Give my gifts and celebrate what has been accomplished.
And as it turns out, once again, I'm glad I didn't run away from the fear as my body so wanted to do. Once again, I got so much out of staying.
Over the course of the weekend I developed this piece, which I performed last night for a small audience in a tiny theater:
The Perfect Gift
Gifts have been an issue for my husband and me since early in our relationship.
We met in Seattle in 1988 doing fringe theater. He was sharing a room in a crack house with 3 other guys (not crack addicts, just alcoholics) and working at a popcorn stand under the monorail. Future husband material, right?
But smart, funny and creative are my drugs of choice when it comes to men and he was all of those things.
The $70 a week he made selling popcorn supported his life as one of the founders of a small theater. This theater was started by a group of old friends just out of college. It was a labor of love and produced astounding original work fueled by the arrogance of youth, pitchers of beer, sex and cigarettes.
Probably the first gift he gave me, though I didn't recognize it at the time, was teaching me improv. In improv you make it up as you go. You get a location, you say yes, you define the space, define your characters – high status, low status - you give your partner gifts, you give up control. If you have faith in the process, you can create great art. Or at least, funny art. Or you can suck.
It was in those rehearsals that I learned to walk off a cliff. Sometimes I'd fly, sometimes I'd crash an burn. But I learned about living in the present moment and trusting that even though you don't know what's going to happen... something's going to happen. And that no matter what, after that, good or bad, there's a new moment and a new possibility.
Life in Seattle was good. It was a fertile time. Nirvana was playing all ages shows around town. Microsoft and Starbucks were heating up. And Seattle was a theater town. Regional theater, Fringe Theater, children's theater, theater in the park. A lot of theater. It was also a great city for food, and Husband and I discovered Thai food. We loved it all, from the authentic but pricey place on Capital Hill to the cheap place in the U District that used ketchup for their Pad Thai sauce.
Husband prided himself on his cooking. Although looking back the only thing I remember him cooking is spaghetti sauce. But I was smitten and really didn’t notice that he wasn’t exactly a prolific chef. So that Christmas I got him a gift I was sure he’d love - Tommy Tang's Modern Thai Cuisine Cookbook. Perfect, right?
Well, he hated it. In fact, he was offended. Somehow it (and I) had failed to meet his expectations. I was crushed. After that, giving him gifts got hard because there was always that underlying anxiety of getting the wrong thing. But we made it through that little bit of pain and kept going.
Nothing major happened in the gift area for several years until one Christmas. That was the year he couldn't wait and gave me my present early. He got down on his knees at the end of our bed, totally naked, and proposed. I was filled with love. The ring was beautiful. I said yes. That was a good gift.
After we'd been married for about 4 years he asked me if I wanted kids.
“Yes, but I don't think I'm ready yet”
“Sometimes it takes a long time. So maybe we should start trying. Just in case.”
“Okay.”
That sounded reasonable.
Nine months later we got the best gift we'd ever given each other: Our son.
I remember that feeling – coming home from the hospital with stitches in my gut and a prescription for Vicodin thinking, “Please! Don’t send us home! We have no idea what we’re doing!” But nope. They pack you up, wave goodbye, and then your in your car and on your own. But as it turns out, for the first few months the baby mostly eats, sleeps and poops, so it’s not a complex as you’d think it would be.
So, very little expertise, and not much sleep either, but once again we made it through.
Having a kid is one of the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it’s also the best thing I’ve ever done. It’s a really good gift.
The first Christmas after Son was born all the presents Husband had bought got stolen out of the trunk of our car, including a huge basket of fancy beauty products from Kehil’s. So he went back to Kehil’s to get more presents and ended up telling them the story of his stolen gifts. A charming guy with a good story, right? The manager disappeared for a moment and returned with a basket full of shampoos and soaps and lotions and scrubs – for free! So now, we’re Kehil’s customers for life. That’s a good gift!
My recent attempts, however, have proved only moderately successful. The $400 iPod that he lost almost immediately. The beautiful watch I got him for our 10th anniversary that got left at the gym. Somehow I feel like I’ve missed the mark. I still haven’t found the Perfect Gift that he loves and treasures.
On June 1, 2007, I found out that my husband of almost a decade, the love of my life for close to 20 years had been keeping a secret – leading a double life of sorts. The person I knew and trusted more than anyone else in the world had been hiding things from me since before we were married. In an instant, my very best friend, my partner, my lover...died and I found myself in an intimate relationship with a stranger.
Now at this point I know at least some of you are wondering, “What was the secret? What did he do?” And I’m gonna tell you that it’s irrelevant, because it’s not about him. It’s about me.
So what do you do when the world as you know it falls away and there is no ground on which to stand? Not even a branch or vine to grab on to and you feel so raw, like your skin has just been seared off with a blow torch?
I wanted to do what I’d done when I was 12 and my dad went camping and never came back. His note claimed that he was leaving the country to seek experimental treatments for some disease. Five months later we found him in a hippie commune trying to "find himself."
I wanted to do what I’d done then. To shut him out. To swear off trust. To swear off needing anyone else ever again.
But, there was the matter of that earlier gift he’d given me. So it wasn’t just about me and my pain. I had a son to raise. I didn’t want to just walk away. I wanted to stay – in the midst of fear and groundlessness –to see if I could still give my little boy this family we’d started together.
It’s been almost two years now, and during that time I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve made my husband responsible for my happiness. I’ve trusted what he thought and said over my own better judgment and intuition. I draw with a Sharpie instead of a pencil. So...no room for mistakes. And I’m so afraid of conflict because of what it might mean about me that I immediately invalidate, fix and change without listening. Great wife material,right?
Staying with the pain and discomfort of betrayal, not running, not distracting myself, (though I have to admit I went through a lot of single malt scotch in those first few months) I’ve discovered that I CAN take care of myself. Not as a stop-gap until I find someone else to do it. Not as a defense. But as a way to be awake and conscious in my life.
I can make the choices and decisions I used to leave to others. I can move forward on my path even in the face of the scariest shadow of all – the unknown.
And so, 20 years later, my husband and I find ourselves doing improv together again. Trying to be in the present moment, to let go of past mistakes and create a new relationship without any idea of what the future might be. It’s a pretty big cliff and it’s definitely frightening. But he’s working hard, I’m working hard, and we make it up as we go.
I read a quote recently. It said, "only to the extent to which we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us."
That is the gift my husband has given me. And it’s a really good gift.
After the first meeting on Friday I almost pulled out, full of that nagging fear that I have nothing to say, nothing to offer. But over and over again I brought myself back the new mandate I've given myself: Give my gifts and celebrate what has been accomplished.
And as it turns out, once again, I'm glad I didn't run away from the fear as my body so wanted to do. Once again, I got so much out of staying.
Over the course of the weekend I developed this piece, which I performed last night for a small audience in a tiny theater:
The Perfect Gift
Gifts have been an issue for my husband and me since early in our relationship.
We met in Seattle in 1988 doing fringe theater. He was sharing a room in a crack house with 3 other guys (not crack addicts, just alcoholics) and working at a popcorn stand under the monorail. Future husband material, right?
But smart, funny and creative are my drugs of choice when it comes to men and he was all of those things.
The $70 a week he made selling popcorn supported his life as one of the founders of a small theater. This theater was started by a group of old friends just out of college. It was a labor of love and produced astounding original work fueled by the arrogance of youth, pitchers of beer, sex and cigarettes.
Probably the first gift he gave me, though I didn't recognize it at the time, was teaching me improv. In improv you make it up as you go. You get a location, you say yes, you define the space, define your characters – high status, low status - you give your partner gifts, you give up control. If you have faith in the process, you can create great art. Or at least, funny art. Or you can suck.
It was in those rehearsals that I learned to walk off a cliff. Sometimes I'd fly, sometimes I'd crash an burn. But I learned about living in the present moment and trusting that even though you don't know what's going to happen... something's going to happen. And that no matter what, after that, good or bad, there's a new moment and a new possibility.
Life in Seattle was good. It was a fertile time. Nirvana was playing all ages shows around town. Microsoft and Starbucks were heating up. And Seattle was a theater town. Regional theater, Fringe Theater, children's theater, theater in the park. A lot of theater. It was also a great city for food, and Husband and I discovered Thai food. We loved it all, from the authentic but pricey place on Capital Hill to the cheap place in the U District that used ketchup for their Pad Thai sauce.
Husband prided himself on his cooking. Although looking back the only thing I remember him cooking is spaghetti sauce. But I was smitten and really didn’t notice that he wasn’t exactly a prolific chef. So that Christmas I got him a gift I was sure he’d love - Tommy Tang's Modern Thai Cuisine Cookbook. Perfect, right?
Well, he hated it. In fact, he was offended. Somehow it (and I) had failed to meet his expectations. I was crushed. After that, giving him gifts got hard because there was always that underlying anxiety of getting the wrong thing. But we made it through that little bit of pain and kept going.
Nothing major happened in the gift area for several years until one Christmas. That was the year he couldn't wait and gave me my present early. He got down on his knees at the end of our bed, totally naked, and proposed. I was filled with love. The ring was beautiful. I said yes. That was a good gift.
After we'd been married for about 4 years he asked me if I wanted kids.
“Yes, but I don't think I'm ready yet”
“Sometimes it takes a long time. So maybe we should start trying. Just in case.”
“Okay.”
That sounded reasonable.
Nine months later we got the best gift we'd ever given each other: Our son.
I remember that feeling – coming home from the hospital with stitches in my gut and a prescription for Vicodin thinking, “Please! Don’t send us home! We have no idea what we’re doing!” But nope. They pack you up, wave goodbye, and then your in your car and on your own. But as it turns out, for the first few months the baby mostly eats, sleeps and poops, so it’s not a complex as you’d think it would be.
So, very little expertise, and not much sleep either, but once again we made it through.
Having a kid is one of the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But it’s also the best thing I’ve ever done. It’s a really good gift.
The first Christmas after Son was born all the presents Husband had bought got stolen out of the trunk of our car, including a huge basket of fancy beauty products from Kehil’s. So he went back to Kehil’s to get more presents and ended up telling them the story of his stolen gifts. A charming guy with a good story, right? The manager disappeared for a moment and returned with a basket full of shampoos and soaps and lotions and scrubs – for free! So now, we’re Kehil’s customers for life. That’s a good gift!
My recent attempts, however, have proved only moderately successful. The $400 iPod that he lost almost immediately. The beautiful watch I got him for our 10th anniversary that got left at the gym. Somehow I feel like I’ve missed the mark. I still haven’t found the Perfect Gift that he loves and treasures.
On June 1, 2007, I found out that my husband of almost a decade, the love of my life for close to 20 years had been keeping a secret – leading a double life of sorts. The person I knew and trusted more than anyone else in the world had been hiding things from me since before we were married. In an instant, my very best friend, my partner, my lover...died and I found myself in an intimate relationship with a stranger.
Now at this point I know at least some of you are wondering, “What was the secret? What did he do?” And I’m gonna tell you that it’s irrelevant, because it’s not about him. It’s about me.
So what do you do when the world as you know it falls away and there is no ground on which to stand? Not even a branch or vine to grab on to and you feel so raw, like your skin has just been seared off with a blow torch?
I wanted to do what I’d done when I was 12 and my dad went camping and never came back. His note claimed that he was leaving the country to seek experimental treatments for some disease. Five months later we found him in a hippie commune trying to "find himself."
I wanted to do what I’d done then. To shut him out. To swear off trust. To swear off needing anyone else ever again.
But, there was the matter of that earlier gift he’d given me. So it wasn’t just about me and my pain. I had a son to raise. I didn’t want to just walk away. I wanted to stay – in the midst of fear and groundlessness –to see if I could still give my little boy this family we’d started together.
It’s been almost two years now, and during that time I’ve learned a lot about myself. I’ve made my husband responsible for my happiness. I’ve trusted what he thought and said over my own better judgment and intuition. I draw with a Sharpie instead of a pencil. So...no room for mistakes. And I’m so afraid of conflict because of what it might mean about me that I immediately invalidate, fix and change without listening. Great wife material,right?
Staying with the pain and discomfort of betrayal, not running, not distracting myself, (though I have to admit I went through a lot of single malt scotch in those first few months) I’ve discovered that I CAN take care of myself. Not as a stop-gap until I find someone else to do it. Not as a defense. But as a way to be awake and conscious in my life.
I can make the choices and decisions I used to leave to others. I can move forward on my path even in the face of the scariest shadow of all – the unknown.
And so, 20 years later, my husband and I find ourselves doing improv together again. Trying to be in the present moment, to let go of past mistakes and create a new relationship without any idea of what the future might be. It’s a pretty big cliff and it’s definitely frightening. But he’s working hard, I’m working hard, and we make it up as we go.
I read a quote recently. It said, "only to the extent to which we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us."
That is the gift my husband has given me. And it’s a really good gift.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Why I can't express anger
In therapy today I had an epiphany. I realized I really don't know how to express anger in a healthy way. Not only do I not do it, I don't know if I know how. And I think it's because I was raised in an environment where it wasn't okay to say something that you might need or wish to take back later. Good people didn't say mean things. There was little tolerance for bad, messy anger in the heat of the moment. There was no understanding or forgiveness for saying something that might be hurtful.
So the only way I know to deal with angry feelings is to look for how I can be understanding or how I can be reasonable, until I get to the point where I can't take it anymore and get mean. But even that's difficult, because I've realized that I interpret anger, mine and others', as meanness. When I talk about being angry at my mom, I usually talk about being mean.
And the odd thing is that I am often mean to my mom now - short, sharp, intolerant of who and how she is. And she still loves me. It's like MPJ talks about - my mother can do the doublethink so that I still end up perfect and worthy of love.
The other thing we discussed is the need for me to create a relationship with myself. In couples therapy I realized that I look outward rather than inward to see if things are okay and if I'm okay. And if even one external indicator points to some kind of flaw, my whole sense of self shatters or at least is vulnerable. So I've defined a very narrow range of ways of being that are acceptable for me in order to shelter myself from the possibility that something will happen that might shatter that sense of self.
I realized that I can access this relationship with myself by developing an alter-ego. I do believe that we come into this world with everything we need to be okay. We arrive complete, and gradually are fractured by life experiences, and the judgements and world views of others and of society. Sophia used to tell me about her alter ego she created to ask questions of, and at the time I thought to myself that she was accessing parts of herself, subconscious or unconscious, that held the answers for her. Around the same time I read that this is actually a documented phenomenon - this accessing other parts of consciousness via an alter-ego.
So my tasks are to work on this relationship with myself, and to begin to identify what I think are healthy expressions of anger.
So the only way I know to deal with angry feelings is to look for how I can be understanding or how I can be reasonable, until I get to the point where I can't take it anymore and get mean. But even that's difficult, because I've realized that I interpret anger, mine and others', as meanness. When I talk about being angry at my mom, I usually talk about being mean.
And the odd thing is that I am often mean to my mom now - short, sharp, intolerant of who and how she is. And she still loves me. It's like MPJ talks about - my mother can do the doublethink so that I still end up perfect and worthy of love.
The other thing we discussed is the need for me to create a relationship with myself. In couples therapy I realized that I look outward rather than inward to see if things are okay and if I'm okay. And if even one external indicator points to some kind of flaw, my whole sense of self shatters or at least is vulnerable. So I've defined a very narrow range of ways of being that are acceptable for me in order to shelter myself from the possibility that something will happen that might shatter that sense of self.
I realized that I can access this relationship with myself by developing an alter-ego. I do believe that we come into this world with everything we need to be okay. We arrive complete, and gradually are fractured by life experiences, and the judgements and world views of others and of society. Sophia used to tell me about her alter ego she created to ask questions of, and at the time I thought to myself that she was accessing parts of herself, subconscious or unconscious, that held the answers for her. Around the same time I read that this is actually a documented phenomenon - this accessing other parts of consciousness via an alter-ego.
So my tasks are to work on this relationship with myself, and to begin to identify what I think are healthy expressions of anger.
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