I am a nurse by trade, but most of my days are spent doing something much bigger.
I seek out miracles.
It sounds like a long-shot, but I am successful. Every day.
It’s 11am on a Saturday, and here’s today’s miracles…so far.
1. I woke up.
We are in the middle of a pandemic. Many people went to sleep last night praying for this miracle, and did not receive it.
2. I don’t have too much pain today.
As a person with chronic illness, even a mild reduction in pain is a blessing.
3. My children are happy (as far as I can tell) and safe.
Research statistics on addiction/bullying/foster children/suicide. Too many parents pray for this miracle which has been given to my family.
4. I am sharing company with a man who authentically shows up for me every single day.
I am only capable of receiving him because I learned how to show up for myself first. Anyone who follows along with my journey understands this miracle.
5. I have learned to allow space for opinions that differ from mine, at least for today.
To be able to craft a well-written response to a political comment, then delete it before posting because you remember that you don’t have to show up to every debate you are invited to is a miracle. At least for today…
It’s 11:45am. The sky’s the limit, my friends. What’s your miracle?
This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday
I’m one of those people who goes on vacation and doesn’t unpack their suitcase until the next trip. Or, until something essential is needed from the bag. I still haven’t unpacked two of my beach bags from last summer. At this point, we are getting close enough to the next summer, so why bother? Is it laziness? Maybe. Or maybe it’s efficiency. Maybe I’m just prioritizing. Some unpacking is more important than others. Like unpacking parts of my life that don’t belong with me anymore.
Have you ever unpacked your soul? I have. I didn’t realize how much baggage a person could hold on to throughout a lifetime, until I started unpacking. Emotions, resentments, unhealed childhood wounds, negative thought patterns, toxic relationships (friends OR family who just can’t seem to lift you up)…the list goes on and on. The soul is a hell of a big suitcase.
Unpacking your soul isn’t for the weak. You are so accustomed to the weight of it all, the heaviness becomes normalized. It’s difficult to let go, even when you can clearly see that what you’re holding on to, isn’t yours to hold. Prying your fingers open after a lifetime of gripping is painful, like they are breaking, so most of us change our minds and keep holding on, because carrying the weight around is a familiar pain that we are used to. Who wants to feel like they are breaking, just to let something go? Trust me…YOU do! I’ll tell ya… once you make the break, the lightness of it all is heavenly. Heavenly.
I’ve been writing in this blog for over three years now. Processing. Growing. Healing. Taking two steps forward, one step back. Sometimes, a dozen steps back. Or sideways. I’ve been working out my “stuff” in here. Trying to figure it out. Trying to rewire. Trying to learn how to let go, let be. Sometimes, just trying without knowing what I was trying for, but doing it anyway. Sometimes, giving up. But always starting again.
I haven’t “had” to write in here too much lately. Do you know why? Because, I did it.
I figured it out.
The lightness of it all is most definitely heavenly. I’ve unpacked almost all of it. I’m not sure we are ever truly “done” with the unpacking… the healing. I don’t even think that’s the end goal, after all. I think our purpose for being here is to understand that the goal is to simply be aware enough to know what needs unpacking. Then, being brave enough to try.
I’ve unpacked a lot, and even though I’m not completely empty of it all, I’ve unpacked “enough.” Enough to allow peace into my life. To allow happiness into my life. To allow LOVE into my life. This is more than enough. My soul is smiling now. I am light.
Do you feel heavy, in places? Is your soul smiling? What do YOU need to unpack?
This post was written in response to Linda G Hill’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday. It’s funny, because I just recently realized I’ve been calling it Stream of “Social” Consciousness Saturday for years now. I suppose that’s fitting for most of what I write.
Sometimes, my heart feels drained. It’s weird, because at the same time, it feels overflowing. I’m trying to learn how to regulate it. It’s a work in progress.
Learning how to not let it overflow where it doesn’t belong…will I ever learn how? My brain knows, but not my heart. My heart thinks if it just flows freely enough, it will heal strained relationships. Spunky lil fella, eh? Good intentions, for sure. Not so much good outcomes.
All the love in the world isn’t enough if there’s none there to receive it. But I keep trying. Maybe I’m really just going through the motions now.
There’s something about strained relationships… the loss of love is tough. Or maybe it’s the loss of what could be. I’m learning it’s possible to grieve the loss of what could have been. Knowing there will be no more memories made. The loss of hope.
Hope is my savior. And my downfall. It keeps me in places I have no business being in. But it also keeps me living wholeheartedly. It powers my climb.
For a long time, I thought there was something inherently wrong with me. Everyone said, “It’s not you, it’s them”. But there’s so many of them. I’m the common denominator. It has to be me.
Yes, it is me. But it’s not anything that’s wrong with me. I’m growing. Evolving. Outgrowing.
I’m learning. Sometimes, I confuse triggers for love. And sometimes, my love is really just a trigger for someone else. We are all doing the best we can. A bunch of scared little kids walking around in grown up bodies. Pretending until we can’t pretend any longer.
Hope. I’m setting an intention to stop holding on. I can’t climb any mountains when I’m holding on to them.
I have hope I’m going to figure this all out someday. Actually, I know I will.
This post was written in response to Linda G Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday
They say your vibe attracts your tribe. Like attracts like. I guess I’ve still got some work to do, because I don’t always see this.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve got some kick-ass people in my life. There’s actually quite a few Jami-tribes around here. I’m good. I laugh. I smile. I belong. I’m surrounded by love.
But…
There’s those few. I might work on this the rest of my life and never truly understand how anyone can so easily walk away from love. Friend love. Romantic love. Family love. My love. Yes, I understand how our experiences affect how we respond to things. I get it.
But no, I don’t really get it. Despite shitty experiences or faulty conditioning or lack of emotional toolboxes, how fear can be so strong, miscommunication…I just don’t understand. Life is so fleeting. We get this one brief blip, one shot, and then we are gone.
Or maybe you are still here, but I’m gone.
I believe there will be regrets.
My attachments are fading. As much as I’ve been praying for this, part of me doesn’t want to lose them. I don’t want to get used to letting go of love so easily. I ache letting go of love. Love is a gift, a blessing… but I don’t think you realize this. Maybe like doesn’t really attract like, after all.
My tribe is strong. Solid. I’m good. But I’m holding space for you, just in case.
This post was written in response to Linda G Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday, found at the link below. I’m grateful for the weekly writing nudge.
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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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
I was recently told by someone that I “confuse love for other things”. At first, I almost became defensive, but that feeling passed quickly. If I’ve learned anything these past few years, it’s to not take anything personally…and that anything is possible, even learning something new about myself. I do it all the time, yet sometimes, I feel like I don’t know me at all.
I supposed I’ve known for some time now that I confuse love for other things. I think the struggle lately has been to figure out what those “other things” are. I’ve read enough about what they are to have an idea, but to apply it in real life, well, that’s tricky. But hey, I am on a journey to self-discovery, so this stuff takes time.
I’ve become a firm believer of the philosophy that if you just quiet your soul a bit and be still…observe…what you seek will find you. God, it’s SO much easier when what you seek finds you, rather than chasing that shit all over the place. My soul is exhausted. I’ve been searching for love everywhere. We all know this. I started searching last year, which is funny, because before that, I was ECSTATIC about the thought of spending my life alone, never to see man-parts again! I had broken free from my shackles of shitty life circumstances and I was free, baby! Bye Felicia! Quite unstoppable, actually. Remember how I fixed my washing machine? How about when I changed the freaking motherboard on my refrigerator? Hell yeah! I was a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no man…till I met one. That’s all it took, was meeting one single random man who stirred something in me when I was least expecting it. Next thing you know, I’m spending my days waiting for a text. What the hell happened there?
As Elaine Benis says, “yada, yada, yada….” and our relationship ended as quickly as it began. Typical, really. This is how it’s been my entire life. Me falling hard for someone who is unlikely to fall for me. I never did it intentionally. I just thought I had shitty luck in love. You know, one of those girls who only wants what she can’t have. The nice guys, who would’ve treated me like gold, worshiped me and put me on a pedestal, well…they stirred nothing within me. Pure Vanilla. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted those things. (I still do) I just only seemed to feel chemistry with guys who never seemed to be able to love me (I still do)…but dammit, I tried. I tried hard (I still do), because that chemistry, well…you can’t control that shit, you know? They say the heart wants what the heart wants.
Now that I’ve done more and more (and more!) work on myself, I’ve learned about attachment types and triggered responses and such, and it’s helped me a LOT. It’s helped me learn how my free-flowing communication and intimacy triggers that kind of guy’s anxiety and avoidance behavior, and how his avoidance behavior triggers MY anxiety. I don’t blame anyone anymore. It’s not his fault he’s not where I am. It just is what it is. I’ve also learned that a man’s inability to love me or be emotionally intimate with me is not a reflection of who I am. I know this, I truly do. I know this shit inside and out. It has helped me intellectually accept why things never seem to work out for me. Intellectually, I say.
Here’s the thing: I am confident of my lovability. Is that a word? It is now. I am also confident that I bring joy into peoples lives, because I’m all amazing and shit. Seriously, get to know me and you’ll see. I wore a full faced Kim Jong Un sweatshirt to an ugly Christmas sweater party with plastic tiny Trump hands. I AM a good time, dammit! I know this. I believe this. I am extremely secure in this. It wasn’t always this way, but it is now, and that’s all that counts. Herein lies the struggle: how to turn of that “chemistry” with the wrong people and turn it on with the right people. Seemingly impossible! All year, I’ve been working on how to let go of the unwilling and let in the willing, and God, it is NOT as easy as it sounds. And I’m not just talking potential romantic interests. This also includes the men in my family (the root of most of my dysfunction, but that’s a story for another day). Funny how spot on they are when they relate how you choose men to how your family relationships are. So damn funny. Effin riot.
So, on my journey to self-discovery, I came across this tidbit the other day. You can read it here...
“People of the emotionally unavailable species are always seemingly impossible to quit because of their ‘unpredictability’, which we mistake for ‘chemistry’ or ‘true love'”.
Oh. I see…
“These are the mysterious, ambiguous guys that will always keep you guessing and keep you ‘on your toes’ (aka in a perpetual state of mixed signals, mind fucking and the questioning-everything-kind-of-insecurity, insanity, WTF-is-wrong-with-me-I-must-be-going-crazy, miserable existence that you’d rather be in and try to ‘fix’ than be out and alone”
Interesting…
“You know you can’t fully have all of him, and there lies the ‘chemistry’. Emotionally unavailable guys are so luring because even when you ‘have’ them, it never really feels like you do. It gets all your validation seeking antennae all amped up because you’re addicted to this perpetual cycle of tying your worth to trying to turn the reluctant project into an emotionally reformed, responsible guy that’s capable of an authentic connection”.
Bingo! And there we have it, folks. Of course I confuse love with other things. Of course I do. This perpetual cycle started when I was 9 years old with the man I loved the most and it hasn’t stopped. Each man I encounter with his energy keeps it going. Even when I have him, it never really feels like I do. Yes. This is it. This is how I have always felt. Always. I have no idea what love is. I only know how to chase love. And I certainly know enough to not trust love. That shit can be yanked away at any time, with no warning. Hence, the chase. It doesn’t matter who. I gotta be on my toes…
I only know how to chase love.
I confuse love with trying to make the unavailable available. It’s all I know.
Scratch that. It’s all I knew. Just wait.
I’m still unstoppable.
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You’ll probably be surprised to see I’m writing about love and shame and worthiness and acceptance tonight. Just kidding. We all know it’s pretty much all I know…
I spent a good chunk of this summer treading in the swamp of unworthiness, barely keeping my head above water, trying to force relationships into being what I need/want/expect them to be. It was a struggle. Sure, I’ve struggled with this many times before. Actually, it’s been an unconscious cycle throughout my entire life. Sure, I broke free from it somewhat last year, but to really break free from a lifetime of this shit takes a few tries, you know? And life tends to throw you curve balls just when you’re least expecting it. That’s what makes it so interesting, right? So, yeah…I started to repeat my old cycles, the one’s I go back to with every relationship I have with emotionally unavailable people, because that’s all I knew. That is, until now.
I can’t say for sure which experience triggered this newfound acceptance. Maybe it’s a combination of the landslide of rejection and betrayal I thought I was experiencing. (Perception). Maybe it was the result of all the therapy and meditation and writing I’ve done over the past two years. (Most likely) .Maybe it was that I’ve just had enough of treading water for people who really don’t even want to swim. (Ah-HA!)
I can vividly remember the day it started to unfold. December 3rd. As I shamefully uttered persuasive words to someone who I had spent a great deal of time trying to turn into someone they just aren’t ready to be, I realized the words I was uttering weren’t really true anymore. I was just so used to saying them, to feeling that way, that it’s all I knew to say. I heard them coming out of my mouth and a small voice in the back of my head said, “Why are you still saying that? It’s not true anymore”. I hung up the phone and felt a shift inside me. And I realized it wasn’t just about this particular person, but about multiple people in my life who I’ve become codependent with. No, that should read had been codependent with. Because at that point, I knew I was codependent no longer. To me, codependency is like setting yourself on fire just to keep others warm. That’s an awful thing to do to yourself, isn’t it? So, I’m not doing it anymore. I miss them. I’d love to have them in my life in a healthy way, but I don’t need them.
I think I got to this point by finally learning how to not take it personally when someone can’t love me the way I need to be loved. God, that sounds so simple, doesn’t it? Intellectually, it is. Emotionally, not so much. But, somehow, I’ve finally figured out how to match my emotional self up with my intellectual self, and it’s pretty damn amazing. I mean that. Amazing. The dark swamp in the bottom of my soul is gone now. Replaced with a glowing light that shines so brightly, so strong…no one can dim my sparkle now. I’m a rock star, dammit.
These people, they are on their own journeys. Just like me. Hell, I took 45 years to even realize I needed to start my journey. And it’s only by the grace of God that I figured it out. Who am I to demand someone start theirs RIGHT THIS MINUTE, just because I’ve started mine? Just because I tell them to? I mean, of course I know they should start their journeys, but we all know you can lead a horse to water… you just can’t make it drink. It is NOT a reflection of me that these people are incapable of loving me, or incapable of facing their own darkness, or incapable of meeting the expectations I place on them. It has absolutely nothing to do with my worth. So, I’m learning to let them be. Just be.
At least today I am. Tomorrow very well could be a shit show.
I’ll close with a quote I found on Jeff Brown’s Facebook page. It’s enlightening and beautiful and so appropriate for me right now. My light is shining.
“Sometimes people walk away from love because it is so beautiful that it terrifies them. Sometimes they leave because the connection shines a bright light on their dark places and they are not ready to work them through. Sometimes they run away because they are not developmentally prepared to merge with another- they have more individuation work to do first. Sometimes they take off because love is not a priority in their lives- they have another path and purpose to walk first. Sometimes they end it because they prefer a relationship that is more practical than conscious, one that does not threaten the ways that they organize reality. Because so many of us carry shame, we have a tendency to personalize love’s leavings, triggered by the rejection and feelings of abandonment. But this is not always true. Sometimes it has nothing to do with us. Sometimes the one who leaves is just not ready to hold it safe. Sometimes they know something we don’t- they know their limits at that moment in time. Real love is no easy path- readiness is everything. May we grieve loss without personalizing it. May we learn to love ourselves in the absence of the lover”
This post was written in response to Linda G Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday
I cried at the gas station today. Just a little. It came out of nowhere, I think. Well, I’m sure all the country music I’m listening to isn’t helping. All in all, I think I’m doing pretty damn well. I’m continuing to make impacts with my patients at work. I’m loving having routines again with the boys being back at school. Family dinners are the best! I’m keeping social with my good friends, the one’s who love me and check in on me and value me. I’m meditating, and attending my meditation class every week. I’m going to therapy, working on getting back to being happy just being me. I’m getting there. But today, as I’m driving around to see my last few patients, I became sad. For some reason, I started thinking those stupid unlovable thoughts again. I hate them. Why can’t they just stay away? I’m doing EVERYTHING I’m supposed to be doing to rid myself of them. Fake it till you make it, then fake it some more, I guess.
I’m standing there, pumping gas, with one more patient to see. The sun is shining warmly. There’s hardly any wind. A perfect afternoon to sneak a few hours in on the boat. But work is work and you just can’t predict how long it’s going to take, and today took longer. That’s probably another thing contributing to my sadness…putting the boat away soon. For all I know, I could’ve had my last day out there already. So anyway, I’m standing there, pumping the gas, and I see a man across the way, finishing fueling up. I look at him. He glances at me and carries on. Nothing special about it. Just an average guy who happened to be pumping gas at the same time as me. Next thing you know, I’m crying. Flooded with the thoughts of my inner critic, or inner child, or whoever the hell it is that knows I’m never going to find the love I’ve been craving my entire life. Boom, back in an instant. I’m swallowing hard, blinking away the tears, wondering why the fuck I’m crying at the gas pump over love. God, what is going on with me? Last year, I was perfectly fine to never have even a conversation with another man again, and now I’m aching with emptiness at the knowing of it’s not ever happening for me.
I think my problem is that I finally opened my heart enough to admit I wanted it to be loved. Yeah, I think that’s it. It’s easier to not want love when you seal that sucker up. Safer. You’re protected that way.
But no, I had to go and open the damn thing up, exposing its vulnerability. And when you open it up, and nothing happens, it’s a weird kind of fragility. It kind of starts to close and harden, like it’s going to heal, but not like the old shell. Just a light scabbing occurs, and as soon as you move, it cracks open again. And it bleeds…right out your eyes and down your cheeks at the gas station. So yeah, I suppose if I just stay home, lying around, doing nothing with anyone, just being still, stuffing it all down, numbing myself with TV or Facebook or nothing…it might harden enough to last. Harden, mind you. Not heal. Big difference. Because I don’t want to harden my heart. That’s armor. Protects you enough, but doesn’t let anything in at all. I also don’t want it to be raw and hurting, either. Because then, when nothing comes in at all, it burns. Neither one is significant of good living. What I truly want is for this heart to be loved and nurtured and adored and held gently. I want it to be needed. I want it to be healed. God, that’s vulnerable just to admit, isn’t it? To acknowledge I want my heart to be loved, yet admit it isn’t? Admit it hasn’t ever? Admit it most likely never will be? Not the way I need it to be. I’ve learned that lesson. Excessively. Doesn’t mean I won’t still try, even though I know the lesson. I just don’t like the alternative. Which I guess is why I cried today. I don’t like this alternative at all, and apparently, I’m totally onto the fact that I’m faking it. Damn.
I’m getting better, though. I kind of love myself enough to know what I deserve and not to take less, just because that’s all that’s offered. Kind of.
I’m turning 46 this year. I think that’s kind of a long time to go without being loved. Or loved in the right way. I know some people never find love. Never have children. Never got to grow up having family. So many of us never find what we yearn for. I’ve been told by just about every man I’ve been with that I want too much. I always felt so ashamed for that, trying to figure out how to stop being so needy and how to just be happy for what’s offered to me. I’m trying to not do that anymore. Though there’s not really any men in my life to try it on, so I guess the “trying” part will have to wait. However, I’ve just recently discovered the concept of “attachment types” and let me tell you, it’s opened my eyes. (Thank you, Deborah!) You can read about them here. I’ve got to figure out how to stop being attracted to these “avoidance” types. Or, figure out how to change myself to a “secure” type. Not happening any time soon, I’m sure. In the meantime, I’m filling my days with work, my kids and my friends. (I’ve got my drum lessons in an hour…working on a Metallica song!) Trying to fill up as much of the day as I can so I don’t notice what’s lurking. But I notice, anyway. Funny how you can be surrounded by people and still feel lonely. I know I won’t be able to stay this way forever. It will either harden back up, or it will just break. So for now, I’m just protecting it and loving it the best I can, and hoping someday, my love for myself will be enough.
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Well, you know shit’s going down when I write two posts in a week…
My last post was about the power and beauty of being vulnerable. I talked about how that’s the only way to truly connect with people…to be real, open and honest about who you are and how you feel. I talked about how it’s so hard to do, because it’s risky. You risk having your heart stepped on if you hold it out to someone in wide open vulnerability. But, if you want someone to hold your heart and nurture it, then you gotta pull it out and cross your fingers. It’s the only way to feel love…by being vulnerable and putting it out there.
Yeah, it’s risky for sure. It takes courage, no doubt about it. You actually have to be pretty damn brave to be vulnerable. Well, to consciously be vulnerable. You don’t see weak sissies holding their hearts out there, all exposed, all vulnerable and shit. Nah, they wall off their hearts like a fortress. No one’s getting anywhere NEAR that tender spot. And if they do become vulnerable, it wasn’t on purpose. Someone snuck up on them. It’s easy to protect yourself by not holding out hope to avoid disappointment. Who wants to feel the pain of a broken heart? Well, apparently…I do. Over and over and over again.
Jesus, then that must mean I’m a fucking warrior.
I don’t feel like a warrior right now. I feel like a baby deer that got hit in the middle of a dark road, and the driver stopped, but didn’t take it to the vet. He just looked at that broken, damaged deer…feeling sorry for it, but at the same time, blaming it for running in front of his car like that. I mean, why would someone take a deer to the vet? It’s just a deer. There’s millions of deer out there, and they get hurt and die slow deaths every day. Why go out of your way to save this one? Sure, the driver might start to feel a little guilty, but he pushes it out of his mind fairly easily. Come one now, all he was doing was driving along. It’s not his fault the deer got in the way. Deer are stupid…
OK, that analogy got a bit off track, but you get the gist…
So, I’m walking that oh so thin tightrope right now, where one side is me falling into the pit of despair. You know, the place of shame and self-doubt, the place where I realize it’s not all these other people who have the problem…it’s me. I’m the damaged one. The place where I feel pretty damn comfortable admitting that I’m not good enough. That I’m too needy. That if I just say it a different way, or if I just act a different way, then the person I just handed my heart to will pick it up and love it. And the other side of the tightrope is where I feel empowered and worthy of someone taking me to the damn vet after they accidentally run me over. Or maybe I’ll just take myself to the damn vet. Maybe I don’t need a driver at all! My problem is that I can’t consistently stay on either side. I just keep swinging back and forth between the two, and if you don’t pay close enough attention to what I’m doing, you might think I’m bat-shit crazy. So pay attention.
Tonight, I had a revelation. I thought about how I work so hard to heal people. How I have these amazing experiences where I make people feel like they matter, where I don’t judge, where I accept things for what they are. People tell me all the time how compassionate and loving I am when they hear these stories, or get to experience them first hand. They tell me I am special, loved and worthy. But I’m wondering tonight…am I only doing those amazing things with people to overcompensate for what’s wrong with me? If I create these experiences with my patients, with strangers on the street, with my friends…experiences that result in people accepting my love and giving it back in return…does that make up for the other people in my life who don’t want my love, the people who can’t seem love me? Is that why I’m doing it all? Am I trying to create love in places it wouldn’t normally exist, in order to ease the pain of it not existing where it should? Do I think this will make me feel less “lessthan”? Does it even matter? I think it might. Or maybe not. Lately, I’ve been asking what it is about me that keeps love just out of reach. It must be something about me, as I end up repeating the same scenario over and over and over. Sure, these people like me. They actually think I’m kind of great, in certain scenarios. But, as soon as I ask for too much, I’m not so great anymore. Maybe I want that kind of connection so badly, people just can’t handle the amount of love I have to give. I really do have a lot of love to give. Maybe too much. Maybe I’m too intense, and that type of connection I’m craving really doesn’t exist anywhere, so I’m setting myself up for failure by even wishing for it. Maybe I really am too demanding. Maybe I should tone it down a bit. All of it. My expectations. My passion. My needs. My wants. My desires. My love. If I did that, then maybe I could get something, and maybe getting something is better than getting nothing. Does anyone ever really get more than something? Does that really exist?
Wow, that’s almost kind of easy to talk myself into. Of course it is…that’s how I’ve rolled my entire life. How’d that work out for me so far? Not so good. Yet, I’m finding myself leaning towards doing it again tonight…
Yeah….I think maybe I’ll hold out hope for a little bit longer. At least, that’s how I feel right this minute. Tomorrow, I might beat myself up again, but right now I think I want to hold on to the idea that I’m not craving something that’s just a fairy tale. Sure, I still feel like that baby deer, alone, bleeding and crying in the middle of a dark road. The driver has since moved on to wherever he was going. People feel bad when they hit a deer, but they tend to forget about it once they go back to their daily routine. Oh, and you know, there’s more than one driver in my life, by the way. One who just keeps circling me from time to time. “Oh, here he comes….oh, nope…he’s leaving again….” I’m just going to have to get used to the fact that he isn’t ever going to stop long enough for me. It sucks, but it is what it is. All I can do is feel the pain, for as long as I need to, and hopefully find myself dancing in the woods again. Ha ha…that’s so easy to SAY, isn’t it???Just get used to it. Good one, Jami….
The good thing is, I’ve lied in this road before. I know I will stop bleeding. Eventually, I always do. How do you think I got all these scars? Warriors have scars, they say. So yes, I will try to hold out hope for a little bit longer. Faith is taking that first step, even when you can’t see the staircase. God has a bigger plan for me, and this, right now, bleeding in the road alone…is not it. There’s got to be someone out there who’s searching for an intensely loving, previously traumatized, tightrope walking deer, right?
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