My inner critic is a bitch. She’s strong. And she’s smart. She knows exactly how to play the game, waiting for just the right time to open her mouth. Right when I’m feeling I’m about to do something good or have something amazing happen to me. “Hold on a minute, Jami…who do you think you are?”
This inner critic has run the show for the better part of my 47 years. I didn’t even realize she existed until recently. I always thought she was just me. That’s how good she is.
I’m sure you all know what I’m talking about. We all have one. That voice of self-doubt, shame, uncertainty, negativity…it’s like a chameleon, able to change it’s tactics on a whim and keep you wondering. So smart.
But I’m smart, too. And if I’m going to be brutally honest here, I can be a pretty spectacular bitch, or so I’ve been told. I’m on to her now. Yes, it might take me a few days, but I’ve learned her tricks, and all of the stealthy ways she camouflages herself. And I shut her down. Because really, all she is composed of is fear. Fear, along with old coping mechanisms and faulty childhood wiring. Turns out, her strength was fed by my ignorance. Now that I know who she is and what she’s made of, and I know who I am and what I’m made of, she’s not so strong anymore…but I am. My strength feeds off her weakness.
Excellent plot twist.
This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday
When it’s easier to hide, I step into the light. Bravely.
Pain can be comfortable, if it’s familiar. One can spend an entire lifetime choosing to live in pain, in that dark and familiar place, thinking they are avoiding it. Going about life, unconsciously playing whichever role has been assigned. Perpetuating cycles built on faulty programming, sleep-walking in a constant state of survival mode. We stay in this unconscious state because of fear. Fear truly is powerful enough to keep a soul from living. Waking up is hard work. Choosing to stay awake is brave. They say brave is the new beautiful, you know.
I stay awake by stepping right into the uncomfortable parts of fear. Head on, and scared like hell. Like jumping out of an airplane for the first time. Reprogramming faulty thought patterns, developing new coping skills, trusting myself, finding my voice, speaking my truth… even if my voice shakes. Falling down, getting hurt and picking myself up. I will not sleepwalk again. I will forever choose to step back into the arena, battle scars and all…and I will do so, bravely.
This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday. Check out the link below.
Late night ride home from the city last night after a concert. It was 1am, and my friend and I were pleasantly exhausted after a great show. We easily kept each other awake talking about life. We are both 40-something single moms and the conversation inevitably turned to dating…no easy thing to do living on a peninsula, but makes for a great time-killing topic.
One of us asked the other about love. Something along the lines of “did you love him?” or “did he love you?” At first, we approached it as a simple yes or no answer, but soon discovered there’s a bit more to it. As I pondered the thought of “love”, I flatly stated, “I don’t think I know what love feels like”. I’ve read that the butterfly in the stomach, excited “chemistry” feeling I’ve often had at the start of relationships wasn’t the love that I assumed it was. It was really anxiety, a triggered attachment response, as I tended to choose men who were emotionally unavailable, and the chaos and instability/insecurity of the whole situation resulted in those triggered anxious attachment feelings. My deep rooted abandonment from my childhood spilled into every relationship I’ve had as an adult. I developed a pattern of clinging to people who were incapable of staying. I acknowledged that I probably wouldn’t know what love felt like, even if I had the real thing. My girlfriend told of a conversation she recently had where she asked a man about past love, and he replied, “love is just a word”. Love is just a word? I wondered what that meant, for a minute…and then it came to me. What if, instead of identifying love as a feeling, we talk about what love looks like? What actions demonstrate love?That made it easy…
To me, love looks like him going out of his way to do something for me, happily. It’s knowing I can count on him, without feeling like a burden. Love is him texting me, just to tell me he’s thinking of me, or to tell me something funny that he just thought of. It’s him pausing in the parking lot, telling me I’m beautiful. Love is me setting boundaries, and him respecting them. And love is him setting boundaries, just the same. Love looks like us making each other laugh, and laughing at ourselves. It’s a grateful caress. I think love looks like me lifting him up when he’s sinking in things I don’t understand…and him letting me. Or maybe I just sit there with him in that dark place, allowing him to sink for a bit, but with me by his side, so it’s not so isolating. It’s being comfortable enough to not hold back from each other to avoid being judged. Love is being able to share our emotions without fear of retribution or abandonment. Love is wanting to know how things are going with each other’s families, jobs, friends…love is asking questions and being inquisitive. Love is relaxed, and love is work…but not one sided work. Mutual work. It’s relaxed because we both have self love, because really…you can’t love someone else if you don’t carry it for the self. Love is being vulnerable, authentic and patient. It’s having realistic expectations. It’s the ability to argue, talk through things and make up. It’s knowing each other’s triggers and being willing to postpone a debate until those triggers are calm, and not taking it personally when our demons make us a bit unlovable. Love is equal, but not keeping score, and a willingness to learn from each other, instead of proving yourself right. Love is investing in each other. Love makes us a priority. Love is trust.
Wow, this reads as a list of affirmations. Love affirmations. It’s funny, because I’m still not sure that this is what love is, as I have yet to experience any of the things on this list, other than self love. For all I know, this is a fairy tale. That’s OK. I always likened my life to Cinderella…minus going to the ball. As unrealistic as fairy tales are, if you are already living a bad one, then it’s justifiable to hold out for that better ending. Even if that better ending is by myself.
This post was written in response to Linda G Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday
