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Forcing Connections

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Old habits die hard.

I can remember when I quit smoking over 20 years ago. Of course, I knew cigarettes were bad for me. “Bad” is such a minimizing word. I knew they could kill me. And still, it was so hard to stop smoking. I wanted to be healthy. I knew I would feel better without them. I was at the point where I didn’t even like how they made me feel. I felt dirty and ashamed after sneaking “just one more” when I was trying to quit. Eventually, I was successful. Though not after trying and failing multiple times. Cravings are no joke. Even for the strongest of the strong, addiction is hard. And changing your behavior is painful. No one likes feeling pain, right? Eventually, I missed them less and less, until the feeling went away.

I haven’t had a cigarette since I was 24. I rarely drink alcohol. I don’t use recreational drugs. I don’t spend hours numbing out in front of the tv or go shopping instead of thinking about uncomfortable things. I don’t eat to feel safe and comforted. I don’t keep my needs and opinions to myself. I don’t do any of the things I used to do to avoid feeling my emotions. The things shame taught me to do.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I still have shame. I think we all do. Maybe sometimes we don’t recognize it, or maybe some of us have more of it than others. It’s sneaky. Like a chameleon. You never see it coming. Just when you think you’ve purged it all from your soul, it manifests in unrecognizable ways. Like, why am I crying about my credit score?  Or, I wonder if that guy stopped calling me because he discovered my blog?

Old habits. I’ve learned the reason I keep playing out the same pattern in my relationships is because there’s this “false narrative” running in my brain. Leftover from my childhood. A bunch of crap that’s been brainwashing me my entire life. When you grow up being taught to feel this way, you have no idea it’s false. It’s all you know. You hear that voice in your head from day one. You think you ARE the voice. But you’re not. It’s just a narrative your brain came up with. I’m slowly learning that this voice in my head is just that…a voice. It’s not me. It does not define me. I’m in the process of teaching myself how to mindfully listen to what it has to say, and then make my own decision. Well, I do this when I remember.

Of course, that stupid voice does control me most of the time. I can’t help it. If I’m not actively focusing on not listening to it, I just default and do what it says. My current problem with what it has me just “instinctively” doing is forcing connections where there are none. Well, that’s not true. It’s more like trying to reconnect after the connection has been lost. Yes, that’s better. Though, if you ask some of the people on the receiving end, they might think “forcing” is the perfect word. Oh, there’s that chameleon again.

I love fiercely. I’ve been told it’s intense. I cherish my emotional connections and I work extremely hard to reconnect when I’ve lost someone I love. I suppose this comes from growing up associating love with having to earn it. From being taught that fierce love like mine will never belong to me. A lifetime of chasing love and validation from those who were expected to give it to me and just weren’t able to. I tend to love people who are just like that…unable to give it to me. Well, that’s not true either. I tend to love people who give it to me briefly, and then spend an eternity trying to get it back. And I have spent a lifetime doing this and beating myself up for it. Feeling ashamed and unlovable. Silly, when you think about it. I choose these incapable, emotionally unavailable people and then feel ashamed because they can’t love me. Of course they can’t love me. They can’t love anyone. Even when I thought they loved me, it wasn’t real. And as soon as I figured out how to shine my light, they left. Sometimes, the light shines on things no one wants to see. If only they knew that the way to the light is THROUGH those places you don’t want to see. They say you can only love someone as much as you love yourself. Maybe all this fierce “love” I’ve been giving people really isn’t love at all. Maybe I confuse it for something else…like anxiety. Well, that’s not really true. It used to be true, but it’s not anymore. My love feels differently now, now that I have the light in me. I do love myself. I do think I’m worthy of great, fierce love. I do not think I should have to earn it. Or change my ways to deserve it. Or lower my standards or needs or wants or desires. I know this. The right love will fit perfectly. Like my boys. Their love fits perfectly with mine. That is where I am setting the bar. Mutual fierceness only.

But, old habits die hard. I still get caught up in the idea that if I just love them enough, the light will draw them back, and help them heal and not be the human equivalent of cigarettes to me. Kind of a dreamer attitude. And highly unlikely. The people who truly love me think I’m crazy for not walking away from those who have hurt me. Maybe they are right. Codependency at it’s best, but at least I’m aware of it. And honestly, I like the idea of forgiveness and unconditional love and shining my light for them. I like having hope. I like the idea of everyone deserving love. Everyone. So, I keep trying. I can’t seem to quit it just yet. Cravings are no joke, remember? Eventually, I think I will miss them less and less, until the feelings just go away.

And shame? Fuck shame. It can only live in silence and secrecy. It can not survive if you identify it and talk about it. Put it on a blog and it disappears. You should try it.

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Reservation for 7

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I’m nearing in on 2 years of being single after a 20 year relationship.  Where I am at right now, I am quite content. I enjoy my independence and have found that transitioning to being single at this stage of my life has been one of the most empowering things I have done. I think I am brave and love myself fiercely. I kick ass at a job I love, I’m raising 2 amazing boys and I surround myself with friends who love me. Life is good.

Each Wednesday, my friends and I go out to dinner. “Supper Club” we call it. It’s usually 3 to 5 couples…and me. We make a reservation for 7 or 13 and sit at a long table and enjoy each other’s company. I often joke about being the “7th wheel” or “13th wheel”. When I occasionally find a man I might want to date, and it inevitably doesn’t work out, the men in this group put their arms around me and say, “who cares about that guy? You’ve got us.” Yep…I’m dating my friends. My girlfriend just got a new car…a 7 seater. She said “It’s perfect for the 3 couples and you!” At first, I laughed…but then realized it’s not only funny, but kind of sad at the same time.

We were at Supper Club the other night. Reservation for 7. Each couple sat across from each other, with me at the end, looking at an empty seat across from me. I couldn’t really see or hear my friends at the other end of the table too well, so I leaned in over my friend’s lap so I could be part of the conversation. He put his arm around my shoulder and I jokingly snuggled  into him. It was all in fun, his wife sitting across from us, and we were all laughing about it. That’s what’s so great about this group of friends. We all truly love each other, and no one feels threatened by their husband putting his arm around me and hugging me. As we chatted, I thought about how his arm felt on my back, and realized something, which I softly said aloud to his wife…”No one touches me anymore”. It was kind of a sad thing to say, and I’m really not sure why I said it out loud. It just sort of happened. She looked at me with a sad face, and told her husband to keep touching me, which he did. Just a gentle rub on the shoulder, while we finished our conversation. Seriously…how lucky am I to have friends like these? I think pretty lucky…

So, we will continue to make reservations for 7, or 13, and enjoy the company of good friends…but I wouldn’t mind if, some day, we made it an even number.

 

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS June 16/18

 

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Rebirth, part two.

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What’s with me and all these rebirths? You’d think one would be sufficient. That’s the thing about me…if I’m going to do something, I’m going to DO it. I’m hard-core like that.

I had a rebirth last year. That’s what I like to call it…”rebirth“. It’s easier than saying “I lived my life traumatized, numb and in pain until I couldn’t take it anymore and experienced PTSD, spent a year in therapy, learned to meditate, had a spiritual awakening, learned to write, sold my business, left a bad marriage, told my soul piercing embarrassing shame story to the world…and to my family…, released 30+ years of shame and guilt, discovered my self-worth and emerged a new me“. A “Rebirth” is easier, right?

I felt like I was back in a cocoon this past month. Even though I emerged as a butterfly last year, I never really took flight. I came out with my new wings and just sat there for a bit, looking at them in wonder. I even got comfortable moving them up and down, feeling a little pride in having them. Earlier this summer, I thought I was about to take that first flight. It was pretty amazing to realize it was finally happening. I can remember saying to my therapist, “don’t you think it’s too soon?” I was scared. However, my inner voice was telling me this was a go, so I went. If I’ve learned one thing this year, it’s to listen. So, I flapped my wings and got ready for flight. But the flight got canceled. Dammit, I hate it when that happens! You get all packed up, build anticipation, make all the plans…and they cancel the damn flight. And like most people, when your exciting travel plans abruptly disappear, you get pissed. I became angry, sad, even in denial for a bit. I kept trying to talk them into rescheduling the flight, explaining why I needed it so bad. Nope. Once a flight is canceled, you just have to suck it up and wait for the next one.  My problem is, I had a hard time sucking it up. I was like a little kid, stomping my feet, pouting, crying…”Whyyyyyyyyy????  Even though I knew exactly why. Intellectually, I understood everything. Emotionally? Hell no. My inner child still needs some work. She’s fragile. I get it. She’s been through hell. I don’t blame her for feeling rejected, resentful, hurt, unworthy… that’s what traumatized inner children do when flights get canceled. And those feelings are so painful, they decide, “well, I’m never going to try to fly again, if this is how it’s going to end up!”  I ended up believing her, for a bit. That’s been our survival tactic our whole lives. Numb, avoid, protect. So easy to slip back into. My inner voice was telling me to stop, but my inner child is a little bit louder…

Here’s the thing…all those things I wrote in the first paragraph, describing my original “rebirth”…those things don’t just go away. So sure, I spent some time feeling unworthy, swearing I’d never fly again. But it didn’t last long. Not long at all. And to tell you the truth, the flight wasn’t even cancelled. It was just rerouted to a place I wasn’t expecting to go to. It’s like booking a trip to Hawaii and as you’re buckling your seat belt, they announce you’re going to Cuba. “Wait…I think there’s been a mistake. I’m supposed to be going to Hawaii. I paid for Hawaii. I packed my hula skirt and everything….”  Too bad the pilot doesn’t care about what you planned for. He’s the one flying the plane. Flying that plane.  So, I did some thinking. Did I want to try Cuba? I’ve heard some people go there now, but not many. It’s rich with culture, but not the safest place. There’s a pretty decent chance you are going to get hurt there, even if there are some nice parts to it. No, I decided….I did not want to go to Cuba. Even though it hurt to know my Hawaii dreams were dashed, I didn’t want to take the risk of getting hurt in Cuba. I’m pretty sure they have a sub-par medical system there, and most likely, the hurt I receive there won’t be as easy to heal. My inner voice was telling me I was worth so much more than Cuba, and I listened. So, I unbuckled, grabbed my bags, and cried my way off that plane. Picture one of those kids in the toy store having a temper tantrum. Yup, not pretty. I cried for a few weeks, wishing I could change the past. Angry at the pilot for making me think we were going to Hawaii. Angry at myself for not noticing the fine print on the ticket. Sad at the realization I was never going to get that hula lesson, even though I was SO damn ready to try the hula.

Here’s where the rebirth comes in….

In the old days, I would have stayed on that plane. I would have put my desires aside and taken whatever was handed to me, because it was better than nothing. I still would have cried and felt the anger, even though I was on a trip. I would have shamed myself for doing so. And those negative feelings would have lasted FOREVER. Seriously…they may fade, but they leave an imprint in your soul and shape the rest of your life.

Now, since my first rebirth…since I filled up my emotional tool box… I got off the plane. I allowed myself to have the emotions, because hey…it does suck when your plans are foiled. We’re talking HAWAII, people!!! It’s disappointing. I even shamed myself a bit, but…and here’s the great part…I realized what I was doing. I noticed the old behavior. I could tell I was back in my cocoon again and was about to feel that familiar sense of suffocation. And even though it took a few weeks of struggling…I changed my thought process, and I am now out of that cocoon. Maybe Hawaii will happen some day, maybe it won’t. But I sure as hell am not going to Cuba.

Instead, I went to the jewelers. I’ve been procrastinating having my wedding band cut off. It was my grandmother’s, and we all know how attached I am to her, and this ring. But we also all know I’m never going to get back to my marriage weight in order to get it off my fat finger, so I had it cut off yesterday. Damn you, French fries!! I may never meet my soul mate, but I’d hate to miss on him taking me to Hawaii because he kept walking when he saw my ring. Or maybe I’ll just take myself to Hawaii. Either way, it’s time for a new me…again. My wings are out and I think they’re ready. Commence “Rebirth, part two”.

 

 

 

 

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Sept. 2/17

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