A little light bulb went on for me tonight in my 12-step meeting. Not something completely new, but something that finally clicked.
When I was younger, my mother often counseled me to "let it go." She was typically referring to feelings of anger or upset. "You don't gain anything by being angry. Just let it go."
It seemed reasonable, seemed to make sense, seemed to be something a nice, understanding person would do.
And as a child growing up in an authoritarian household it was her only option.
But it didn't ever feel right. If you're violated, how do you simply "let it go?" Isn't that just denial? Isn't that just stuffing it down, taking it, being a door mat?
Turning the other cheek never felt right to me inside. It felt like giving up, giving in, shortchanging myself. And it never felt honest. And it was never really gone.
So tonight when we were talking about "let go and let God," that phrase was snagging me.
But then our speaker phrased the question in a way that landed in my gut.
"How do you let go and let God? How do you take an appropriate action without being attached to the result?"
Clouds parted! That's right! That's the difference!!
What was missing from my mother's advice was the part about taking an appropriate action.
When someone is an asshole, the healthy way to let go is not to deny or oppress your feelings or response; it is to TAKE AN APPROPRIATE ACTION and then turn it over to your higher power (in other words, not be attached to the result.)
That is not giving up.
That is standing up for yourself, taking care of yourself, without being attached to a certain outcome (in other words, not expecting someone to change because you're pissed off, or validate your perspective - which they may not) and being willing to do it again as necessary until you feel heard and complete.
Letting go in the denial sense leaves me feeling angry, resentful and unresolved.
Letting go in a healthy way leaves me feeling empowered and peaceful.
Ahhhh.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Monday, October 24, 2011
Choosing to get off the fence I didn't know I was on
As I listened to my unhappily married friend talk about flirting with other men, I found myself wondering why she stays on the fence, frozen, with one foot out the door. "Why don't you just choose and then dive in? Be MARRIED, or be SINGLE, but don't waste your life in an impotent version of both by not making a choice. This is your life! Time is moving even if you're not!"
This is an example of higher power doing for me what I haven't been able to do for myself.
Those thoughts were immediately followed by a realization: She is me.
By keeping distance in my relationship with Husband, I've been in stasis just like my friend. By holding myself back, by not being willing to be vulnerable, yet not willing either to leave, I've been caught in suspended animation between being in a relationship and not being in one, depriving myself of the fullest experience of what my life can be.
My friend also said some very wise things to me as we talked about the anger and resentment that continue to surface from time to time, and my nagging suspicion that if Husband truly valued me he would never have done the things he did.
"Stop punishing yourself over bad choices someone else made!" she said.
And that's exactly what I've been doing.
As Husband has been actively growing and changing, in addition to doing my own growing and changing I've been lingering with pain, anger and resentment over his past lapses in judgment (and perhaps sanity) and nobody is paying a bigger price for this than me.
The folly of this was crystal clear as soon as she spoke those words.
I realized that making the decision to finish suffering over these things isn't letting him off the hook, it's letting me off the hook!
A street is just a street. A building is just a building. A hotel is just a hotel. Without the energy I give them, these things are just objects. They can't hurt me. My own constructs are the source of my pain.
So all of this is leading me to the edge of a cliff I'm scared but now also compelled by reason to jump off.
I want to take a deep breath, and then get off the fence and be fully in my relationship.
I want to stop clinging to my pain, no matter how justifiable.
I want to dive 100% into creating a deep, loving, fully connected relationship with Husband, not knowing how it will turn out, not knowing for sure that I won't be hurt all over again, not sure of anything except that I believe Husband is in my life for a reason, and I'm willing to take this risk to have a life that is lived to the fullest.
I want to be in my life, not observing it from a safe distance.
This feels like a huge, huge risk.
But one of the best things I've learned from this part of my journey is that courage in the face of fear is a gift I can give myself, and I deserve nothing less.
This is an example of higher power doing for me what I haven't been able to do for myself.
Those thoughts were immediately followed by a realization: She is me.
By keeping distance in my relationship with Husband, I've been in stasis just like my friend. By holding myself back, by not being willing to be vulnerable, yet not willing either to leave, I've been caught in suspended animation between being in a relationship and not being in one, depriving myself of the fullest experience of what my life can be.
My friend also said some very wise things to me as we talked about the anger and resentment that continue to surface from time to time, and my nagging suspicion that if Husband truly valued me he would never have done the things he did.
"Stop punishing yourself over bad choices someone else made!" she said.
And that's exactly what I've been doing.
As Husband has been actively growing and changing, in addition to doing my own growing and changing I've been lingering with pain, anger and resentment over his past lapses in judgment (and perhaps sanity) and nobody is paying a bigger price for this than me.
The folly of this was crystal clear as soon as she spoke those words.
I realized that making the decision to finish suffering over these things isn't letting him off the hook, it's letting me off the hook!
A street is just a street. A building is just a building. A hotel is just a hotel. Without the energy I give them, these things are just objects. They can't hurt me. My own constructs are the source of my pain.
So all of this is leading me to the edge of a cliff I'm scared but now also compelled by reason to jump off.
I want to take a deep breath, and then get off the fence and be fully in my relationship.
I want to stop clinging to my pain, no matter how justifiable.
I want to dive 100% into creating a deep, loving, fully connected relationship with Husband, not knowing how it will turn out, not knowing for sure that I won't be hurt all over again, not sure of anything except that I believe Husband is in my life for a reason, and I'm willing to take this risk to have a life that is lived to the fullest.
I want to be in my life, not observing it from a safe distance.
This feels like a huge, huge risk.
But one of the best things I've learned from this part of my journey is that courage in the face of fear is a gift I can give myself, and I deserve nothing less.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
A way to move forward
When I first discovered Husband’s secret life, I immediately turned to my go-to tool set: Think about where I want to end up, and do what I need to cause that outcome. Be reasonable. Be nice. Be understanding.
These things often serve me well, but they fell short of helping me say thing things that I really needed to say in those early days and weeks and months.
What I didn’t have when I discovered Husband’s betrayal were tools to express the deep anger and resentment I felt about what he did.
With years of therapy behind me, I’ve learned new tools and I’m better able to say what needs to be said, to talk about my feelings, including anger, and better at facing conflict and situations that frighten me. So when feelings of anger and resentment come up, I’m more able to talk with Husband about them.
But when I try to express the anger and resentment I feel today about those past events, it’s confusing to both of us. Husband doesn’t stop me, but I know it’s hard for him because he feels so different from the person he was. And it’s hard for me because I know, after years of therapy and recovery work, he’s a different man, and it doesn't feel like anything is being gained in our relationship by me purging myself of these things that feel like they need to come out.
What I realized after talking with my close friend (who also happens to be a therapist) is that the person I have unresolved issues and unspoken anger and resentment toward is gone. The person I need to yell at - scream at, curse at - has disappeared.
I don’t know exactly what to do about my issues with an absent perpetrator (especially as I don’t feel very satisfied by role playing, yelling at pillows, or writing unsent letters,) but it’s very helpful to distinguish because it clarifies a couple things for me:
These things often serve me well, but they fell short of helping me say thing things that I really needed to say in those early days and weeks and months.
What I didn’t have when I discovered Husband’s betrayal were tools to express the deep anger and resentment I felt about what he did.
With years of therapy behind me, I’ve learned new tools and I’m better able to say what needs to be said, to talk about my feelings, including anger, and better at facing conflict and situations that frighten me. So when feelings of anger and resentment come up, I’m more able to talk with Husband about them.
But when I try to express the anger and resentment I feel today about those past events, it’s confusing to both of us. Husband doesn’t stop me, but I know it’s hard for him because he feels so different from the person he was. And it’s hard for me because I know, after years of therapy and recovery work, he’s a different man, and it doesn't feel like anything is being gained in our relationship by me purging myself of these things that feel like they need to come out.
What I realized after talking with my close friend (who also happens to be a therapist) is that the person I have unresolved issues and unspoken anger and resentment toward is gone. The person I need to yell at - scream at, curse at - has disappeared.
I don’t know exactly what to do about my issues with an absent perpetrator (especially as I don’t feel very satisfied by role playing, yelling at pillows, or writing unsent letters,) but it’s very helpful to distinguish because it clarifies a couple things for me:
- Husband’s recovery doesn’t invalidate my lingering unresolved issues.
- It’s possible to be angry with “old” Husband, while trying to live in the moment and have a loving relationship with “new” Husband; it’s possible to let them be two different people so I can move forward with the healthier person who’s in front of me now.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
Getting to the root
Tonight at my meeting I heard tools that I can use:
1) Return to morning practice of connecting with my higher power (so other things, for example my anger and resentment, don't become my higher power.)
2) Return to step work and reading fellowship literature
3) Look farther back in my life to see if I can identify where this quality of being unforgiving, and these feelings of and this clinging to anger and resentment originate. What am I afraid of?
In talking with others after the meeting I realized that I still do feel that if I was valued enough this never would have happened; I realized that anger and resentment feel safer than forgiving; and that I hate the phrase letting go because to me it means being a good girl and not being upset, because I know it's the right thing to do. (My mother uses that phrase, and yet she never lets go of anything. Perhaps I have no role models for authentic letting go.)
These are concrete things I can do, and it feels good to have actions to take instead of staying mired in a fog of anger, resentment, sadness, confusion, and emotional isolation.
We read Step 6, and it said "It takes a brave person to step unarmed into the arena of the unknown, desiring only to relate to God and others with honesty and intimacy for the first time."
I need to remember that this is why it gets hard sometimes: The life I'm trying to live requires that I put down my defenses, and that is scary, especially when I lose touch with higher power.
My journey is my own, but I'm not alone.
Wednesday, 10.12.11, 12:20AM - Like a reassuring hand on my shoulder, a non-answer to my questions, Pema Chodron showed up in my inbox just now:
"To stay with that shakiness—to stay with a broken heart, with a rumbling stomach, with the feeling of hopelessness and wanting to get revenge—that is the path of true awakening. Sticking with that uncertainty, getting the knack of relaxing in the midst of chaos, learning not to panic—this is the spiritual path. Getting the knack of catching ourselves, of gently and compassionately catching ourselves, is the path of the warrior. We catch ourselves one zillion times as once again, whether we like it or not, we harden into resentment, bitterness, righteous indignation— harden in any way, even into a sense of relief, a sense of inspiration." - From The Buddha Is Still Teaching, selected and edited by Jack Kornfield, © 2010.
1) Return to morning practice of connecting with my higher power (so other things, for example my anger and resentment, don't become my higher power.)
2) Return to step work and reading fellowship literature
3) Look farther back in my life to see if I can identify where this quality of being unforgiving, and these feelings of and this clinging to anger and resentment originate. What am I afraid of?
In talking with others after the meeting I realized that I still do feel that if I was valued enough this never would have happened; I realized that anger and resentment feel safer than forgiving; and that I hate the phrase letting go because to me it means being a good girl and not being upset, because I know it's the right thing to do. (My mother uses that phrase, and yet she never lets go of anything. Perhaps I have no role models for authentic letting go.)
These are concrete things I can do, and it feels good to have actions to take instead of staying mired in a fog of anger, resentment, sadness, confusion, and emotional isolation.
We read Step 6, and it said "It takes a brave person to step unarmed into the arena of the unknown, desiring only to relate to God and others with honesty and intimacy for the first time."
I need to remember that this is why it gets hard sometimes: The life I'm trying to live requires that I put down my defenses, and that is scary, especially when I lose touch with higher power.
My journey is my own, but I'm not alone.
Wednesday, 10.12.11, 12:20AM - Like a reassuring hand on my shoulder, a non-answer to my questions, Pema Chodron showed up in my inbox just now:
"To stay with that shakiness—to stay with a broken heart, with a rumbling stomach, with the feeling of hopelessness and wanting to get revenge—that is the path of true awakening. Sticking with that uncertainty, getting the knack of relaxing in the midst of chaos, learning not to panic—this is the spiritual path. Getting the knack of catching ourselves, of gently and compassionately catching ourselves, is the path of the warrior. We catch ourselves one zillion times as once again, whether we like it or not, we harden into resentment, bitterness, righteous indignation— harden in any way, even into a sense of relief, a sense of inspiration." - From The Buddha Is Still Teaching, selected and edited by Jack Kornfield, © 2010.
Monday, October 10, 2011
The question of trust
When I was in my 20s, I was nanny to a little boy from when he was born until he was 3 1/2. After I moved away, we continued to visit for years.
Once his parents brought him down to a sea-coast hotel in California near where I was living. I came to the hotel one night to stay with him while his parents went out to dinner. He was still little - maybe only 4 or 4 1/2.
The hotel faced the ocean, and the terrace had a beautiful view. I scooped him up in my arms and walked outside to show him the beach and the stars. As we approached the railing he said in a simple, sweet way, "Don't frow me over, okay?"
I suppressed my giggles of amusement, put on a serious face, assured him that I would do no such thing, and together we enjoyed the nighttime view.
But what if I had thrown him over?
What if I'd broken the bond of trust established between us over the years and thrown him over that railing? Would he ever again let me scoop him up in my arms and take him out on the veranda to enjoy the view?
What is trust?
On the one hand, it can bond hearts over distance and time, stronger than vows, or laws, or even beliefs. But at the same time it feels as delicate as the wing of a cicada - easily broken with a careless gesture, rendered seemingly irreparable in an instant.
How can something so delicate be healed?
Longing to go back, longing for what was: Those things bring suffering.
Many broken things heal, but not all.
What use to the cicada is a broken wing?
Can a broken thing heal and become something new, and equally whole? Or does it always remain a compromised version of what it was?
I wish answers came as easily as questions.
Once his parents brought him down to a sea-coast hotel in California near where I was living. I came to the hotel one night to stay with him while his parents went out to dinner. He was still little - maybe only 4 or 4 1/2.
The hotel faced the ocean, and the terrace had a beautiful view. I scooped him up in my arms and walked outside to show him the beach and the stars. As we approached the railing he said in a simple, sweet way, "Don't frow me over, okay?"
I suppressed my giggles of amusement, put on a serious face, assured him that I would do no such thing, and together we enjoyed the nighttime view.
But what if I had thrown him over?
What if I'd broken the bond of trust established between us over the years and thrown him over that railing? Would he ever again let me scoop him up in my arms and take him out on the veranda to enjoy the view?
What is trust?
On the one hand, it can bond hearts over distance and time, stronger than vows, or laws, or even beliefs. But at the same time it feels as delicate as the wing of a cicada - easily broken with a careless gesture, rendered seemingly irreparable in an instant.
How can something so delicate be healed?
Longing to go back, longing for what was: Those things bring suffering.
Many broken things heal, but not all.
What use to the cicada is a broken wing?
Can a broken thing heal and become something new, and equally whole? Or does it always remain a compromised version of what it was?
I wish answers came as easily as questions.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
It works if you work it
I've had a feeling lately. A feeling of choosing.
I find that I'm effortlessly choosing to not regret the past.
Not that being betrayed is a past I'd choose if I had a choice. But I don't.
And it's not a Big Deal, this choosing. No "doing the right thing," no looking for the silver lining or deep breathing needed.
I simply wake up having chosen.
Liberty Bradford wrote recently that "There is a turning point of acceptance one must reach on the path of grieving and recovery from trauma...We will all be survivors eventually."
I think that's true for me.
And I think on my particular path one of the things I'm accepting is myself, separate from any event, separate from the evaluations of others. I'm accepting that I am not lacking, that I am whole and complete in my flawed packaging. I'm accepting that I'm on the journey that is meant for me, and that pain, obstacles, and frightening situations are simply opportunities to deepen my relationship with myself and with my Higher Power. I'm accepting the value of faith to my life, and between two unknowable things, I choose to ground myself in faith over truth.
Some things I have faith in are that loss is an expression of change; that while things always change, the Self I have come to know, the Self that is both a single wave and the whole ocean, will always be whole; and that clarity, consciousness and joy are the products of leaning in to life.
Those are some of the things related to where I am and how I feel right now.
I'm full of gratitude for the life I have. And I'm not afraid of what the future holds, because I know it holds everything I need.
Of course, peace, like everything else, one day at a time.
I find that I'm effortlessly choosing to not regret the past.
Not that being betrayed is a past I'd choose if I had a choice. But I don't.
And it's not a Big Deal, this choosing. No "doing the right thing," no looking for the silver lining or deep breathing needed.
I simply wake up having chosen.
Liberty Bradford wrote recently that "There is a turning point of acceptance one must reach on the path of grieving and recovery from trauma...We will all be survivors eventually."
I think that's true for me.
And I think on my particular path one of the things I'm accepting is myself, separate from any event, separate from the evaluations of others. I'm accepting that I am not lacking, that I am whole and complete in my flawed packaging. I'm accepting that I'm on the journey that is meant for me, and that pain, obstacles, and frightening situations are simply opportunities to deepen my relationship with myself and with my Higher Power. I'm accepting the value of faith to my life, and between two unknowable things, I choose to ground myself in faith over truth.
Some things I have faith in are that loss is an expression of change; that while things always change, the Self I have come to know, the Self that is both a single wave and the whole ocean, will always be whole; and that clarity, consciousness and joy are the products of leaning in to life.
Those are some of the things related to where I am and how I feel right now.
I'm full of gratitude for the life I have. And I'm not afraid of what the future holds, because I know it holds everything I need.
Of course, peace, like everything else, one day at a time.
"If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves. Are these extravagant promises? We think not! They are being fulfilled among us – sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them." (Alcoholics Anonymous, pp.83-84)
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, July 1, 2011
Why I am no longer a brain-dead extremist: Finding my middle way
Listening to playwright David Mamet talk about the transformation of his politics on the radio yesterday made me consider the (I think Darwinian) tendency for people to react to the heartbreaks and disillusionments of life by growing more frightened and closed minded. It makes sense that in a survival-of-the-fittest world we're programmed to learn to identify what seems harmful or painful, to judge as instantaneously as possible if it is a potential threat, and to destroy it or push it away if so.
And it makes sense that it's more efficient (and more likely to keep us from getting eaten) to compare current experiences to past experiences in that evaluation process. So that we don't think "Hm, what is this thing bounding toward me? It's large, it's brown, it has a mane and big teeth and looks like that lion that ate my brother. I wonder what it is?" but instead think, "that looks like the thing that ate my brother so I'm going to run!"
Rapid, almost unconscious categorization of possible threats is useful in many, many situations. But in some, it becomes an obstacle to seeing what is really there.
Because this can be the path to a "men will hurt you, never trust them" response, rendering impossible the individual evaluation of different people and relationships, and the potential for someone to be more trustworthy than people you've encountered in the past. That certainly keeps you safe, but it also assures that you won't meet trustworthy men because untrustworthy has become part of your definition of man. Fine if it doesn't diminish the quality of your life (and that's a judgment one can only make for oneself.) For me the thought that I might never have a deeply intimate partnership again leaves me feeling like I'll be missing out on the fullest experience of life, and I don't want to be resigned to that sacrifice.
In my case, this Darwinian evaluation of Husband, based on experience, looks like "Husband will hurt me." To create an opening for a different possibility between us, my thinking needs to be along the lines of "Husband of 2007 without the therapy, recovery, self-awareness and tools he has today hurt me, but Husband of 2011 may be different and requires separate evaluation."
Mamet's evolution / devolution made me realize that it takes conscious effort to remain open and unbridled by the fear and pain one inevitably knows intimately, having lived a number of years as a human being.
The same applies to my relationship with Husband. It will likely require a conscious effort on my part to remain open and courageous in the face of the fear and pain I associate with him. The betrayal was so profound, it may never be second nature to be vulnerable with him. But if I want an intimate, satisfying experience in our relationship, vulnerability is required (albeit with boundaries and a better understanding of our humanity and flaws.)
Since I have chosen to stay and work on working things out, I must choose Husband, not just be with him, not just stay with him. I must wake up and choose him each and every day, (or have the courage to choose something else if that what needs to be done,) or suffer the regret, sadness, and dissatisfaction of a wasted life.
I need to read this daily, or stick a Post-It to my head.
And it makes sense that it's more efficient (and more likely to keep us from getting eaten) to compare current experiences to past experiences in that evaluation process. So that we don't think "Hm, what is this thing bounding toward me? It's large, it's brown, it has a mane and big teeth and looks like that lion that ate my brother. I wonder what it is?" but instead think, "that looks like the thing that ate my brother so I'm going to run!"
Rapid, almost unconscious categorization of possible threats is useful in many, many situations. But in some, it becomes an obstacle to seeing what is really there.
Because this can be the path to a "men will hurt you, never trust them" response, rendering impossible the individual evaluation of different people and relationships, and the potential for someone to be more trustworthy than people you've encountered in the past. That certainly keeps you safe, but it also assures that you won't meet trustworthy men because untrustworthy has become part of your definition of man. Fine if it doesn't diminish the quality of your life (and that's a judgment one can only make for oneself.) For me the thought that I might never have a deeply intimate partnership again leaves me feeling like I'll be missing out on the fullest experience of life, and I don't want to be resigned to that sacrifice.
In my case, this Darwinian evaluation of Husband, based on experience, looks like "Husband will hurt me." To create an opening for a different possibility between us, my thinking needs to be along the lines of "Husband of 2007 without the therapy, recovery, self-awareness and tools he has today hurt me, but Husband of 2011 may be different and requires separate evaluation."
Mamet's evolution / devolution made me realize that it takes conscious effort to remain open and unbridled by the fear and pain one inevitably knows intimately, having lived a number of years as a human being.
The same applies to my relationship with Husband. It will likely require a conscious effort on my part to remain open and courageous in the face of the fear and pain I associate with him. The betrayal was so profound, it may never be second nature to be vulnerable with him. But if I want an intimate, satisfying experience in our relationship, vulnerability is required (albeit with boundaries and a better understanding of our humanity and flaws.)
Since I have chosen to stay and work on working things out, I must choose Husband, not just be with him, not just stay with him. I must wake up and choose him each and every day, (or have the courage to choose something else if that what needs to be done,) or suffer the regret, sadness, and dissatisfaction of a wasted life.
I need to read this daily, or stick a Post-It to my head.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Beyond aversion and separation
Seeing our oneness is the beginning of our compassion, and it allows us to reach beyond aversion and separation. -Sharon Salzberg, “A Quiver of the Heart”
I think the "oneness" Salzberg talks about is integral to my concept of Higher Power.
Higher Power as defined on the SAnon website:
1. A source of help greater than we are; 2. A source of help we define ourselves (for example, the group, nature, God as defined in an established religion, etc.); 3. An ever-present Power greater than ourselves that gives us an increased feeling of peace and comfort when relied upon.
And I think it's through my relationship with this oneness, a power greater than myself, through faith in this bigger picture that I don't always immediately perceive, that I'll be able to reach beyond aversion and separation with Husband, and get to the love that persists.
For truly, I cannot do it alone.
I say this because that's so easy for me to forget. Even after 4 years of recovery, the self-sufficiency that has helped me survive and thrive is my go-to response and the direction in which I drift when I am lulled by the day-to-day into unconscious living.
I think the "oneness" Salzberg talks about is integral to my concept of Higher Power.
Higher Power as defined on the SAnon website:
1. A source of help greater than we are; 2. A source of help we define ourselves (for example, the group, nature, God as defined in an established religion, etc.); 3. An ever-present Power greater than ourselves that gives us an increased feeling of peace and comfort when relied upon.
And I think it's through my relationship with this oneness, a power greater than myself, through faith in this bigger picture that I don't always immediately perceive, that I'll be able to reach beyond aversion and separation with Husband, and get to the love that persists.
For truly, I cannot do it alone.
I say this because that's so easy for me to forget. Even after 4 years of recovery, the self-sufficiency that has helped me survive and thrive is my go-to response and the direction in which I drift when I am lulled by the day-to-day into unconscious living.
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