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.
Linda asked us to write about our favorite word today. That’s a tough one, as there’s just SO many good ones out there. I suppose it all depends on my mood. Lately though, I’ve been enjoying the meaning of this certain word quite a bit. Vulnerability. I know, at first glance it reads like a bad word. Like describing someone who isn’t safe, or scared, maybe. It’s uncomfortable. I suppose that’s kind of true. When you are vulnerable, you are at risk. Sometimes, you get hurt. Or sad. Or scared. But those things are exactly what I like about vulnerability. I purposefully place myself in the position of being vulnerable as often as I can. It’s where I’m real. No walls up, no defensive coping mechanisms, no pretending. Just raw, honest, real…me.
When you step into the uncomfortable arena of vulnerability, it’s like being a seed which has been buried for weeks, germinating in the cold dirt, and finally the shell cracks open. It feels like total destruction, but really…that is the moment when you begin to grow. It really is quite beautiful to experience.
I’ve been published again. I’m in this month’s issue of Nursing 2018. This is my second article published in a nursing journal, but this one doesn’t seem to be getting quite the accolades from my friends as the first one. This one shines a light on uneasiness and vulnerability and shame…and that’s exactly what I love about it…
I’m a crier. Hard core. You know, one of those people who can’t seem to hold it in AT ALL, who wells up even when she’s not sad. It happens when I’m mad, when I’m frustrated, when I see a mother love a newborn baby, when I watch videos of soldiers surprising their kids with an early homecoming, or maybe when I’m too hungry and something super minor happens…like when they mess up my order at the pizza place. Well, come on…you can’t just PICK OFF olives, you know. That oil soaks IN, dammit. Anyway, I turn into a mess, and get emotional and it kind of bubbles up and ruins whatever conversation I was supposed to be having and turns it into feelings overload. Not a big deal with the soldier videos, but kind of a big deal when it’s from me being hurt or frustrated. Basically when my emotional expectations are not met.
That being said…I haven’t done that in quite some time now. Months, really. It’s actually kind of awesome to have this new sense of calmness about me. I mean, sure… I still cry. When sad things happen. Or when I think long enough about sad things. That’s normal. That’s what people do when they are sad…they cry. And I enjoy the cry when it’s about something beautiful. I don’t ever want to lose that type of cry. But, I don’t do much of the over crying about people not meeting my emotional expectations anymore. Especially when I want to talk to someone about something important. Last summer, every time I talked to someone I cared deeply for, about things between us that was hurting me, it always ended up with me hard-core emotionally crying, which caused them to completely shut down and run away. I was trying so desperately to get them to see my point of view, and it simply was impossible. Frustrating, devastating at times, but inevitably impossible. Ugh.
A few of these people, well…we haven’t talked in months. In the weeks that followed us not talking, I still did all the heavy-duty crying, just all by myself. I was no longer trying to get them to see my point of view, but I still wanted them to. Or at least, I wanted them to understand my point of view, except that was never going to happen with all of my emotions, combined with their emotional unavailability. That’s an incompatible, yet common mix right there. Anyone who’s been reading my blog understands that I’m a magnet for emotionally unavailable men because I was raised in a family of emotionally unavailable men. (Yes, it’s THAT easy to figure out!) I’m not sure if me crying to myself was better or worse. I’m sure MUCH better for them, but not so much for me. I still felt all those feelings, and had to hold on to them. Well, I didn’t have to, but I did. That is, until I didn’t.
Want to know how I finally realized how to not hold on to those feelings anymore? Letters. Yep. I wrote them letters. Long, organic, messy, handwritten, stained with tears letters. I poured the contents of my soul out in those letters. Vulnerable, raw and honest. I wrote all the things I couldn’t get out of my mouth, either due to crying, or due to fear, or due to interruptions or whatever other reason keeps one from getting their point across. I was able to say the things I that were eating away at my core. I got them OUT of my body, my mind, my soul. When the words left me, they took the emotions with them. Emotions were meant to be felt and released, not ignored and hidden. Many of the things I wrote were things my insecurities would NEVER allow me to say to someone. But in those letters, I was free to say it all…the good, the bad…the ugly. Because, no one was ever going to read them. That’s right, I never sent them. Sure, I’ve sent people in my life plenty of emotional letters over the past few years…that’s what I do. I write. But these letters, these ones are different. These are therapy. These release angst and lead me to the path of inner peace, by gracing me with the gift of letting go.
Those letters, along with many other things I do for myself, have helped me to let go of any expectations from people I love. I don’t seek validation from them anymore. I accept their decisions as things I have no control over, and that they are not any reflection of me. I only cry once in a while, and it’s just to clear out the cobwebs of sadness from them not being in my life anymore. If I cry more than that, I’ll just write another letter…but I haven’t written one since December…
I have been neglecting my blog. Even worse, I’ve been neglecting my friend’s blogs…my community on here. I’m sorry.
There’s so many things to blame it on…I’m back in college now, at age 46. No easy task for a single mom who works full time. Not to mention I still take drum lessons, go to church and attend my weekly meditation class. I’m keeping up with book club, and socializing with my friends. My boys are growing, and we are spending time getting them new clothes, new shoes, track gear, hair cuts…we even toured a few colleges last week (yikes!)
One of our Yarmouth police officers was shot and killed in the line of duty last week. Our town is still grieving the loss. Life is fleeting and each day is a gift…please don’t ever forget that.
I started this blog amidst turmoil in my life. I didn’t know what was going to happen to me, if I was going to be able to handle things…if I was going to heal. Well, turmoil still rears it’s ugly head from time to time, but I’ve learned how to remain at peace while it surrounds me, so it doesn’t really matter anymore. And yes, I sure can handle things now. Like a boss. And of course…I did heal.
I suppose accomplishing all these things is what’s kept me from here lately…I’ve been living…really living. Experiencing each day with intent, with purpose, with gratitude. I think about everyone on here…you all know who you are. The ones who supported me, cheered me on, lifted me up when I didn’t know how to do that for myself. I didn’t seek you out…the universe brought each one of you into my life for a reason. My amazing blogger friends, so dear to me. You all take turns popping in my head at random times. My tribe. That’s how you know who your tribe is…you can go quite some time without a single word spoken, yet still be an active part of each other’s existence. I know we all have friends like this in our lives, but you guys are different…we’ve never even met. I think that’s something special…don’t you?
Well, this is NOT where I thought this Stream of Social Consciousness was going to go, but I suppose that’s the whole point of this thing. I thought I was going to simply write about why I haven’t been writing. Turned out to be a lesson in gratitude.
This post was written in response to Linda G Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness. Check it out at the link below. She rocks.
So far, I’m okay. It’s been over a year and a half since I told them about all the things that happened to me when I was a kid, and subsequently, an adult. Most difficult words I ever had to say. I knew the risk I was taking when I made that decision. But really, it wasn’t a decision. God lays out a plan for you and you can fight it or follow it. I spent most of my life ignoring it, and then I started fighting it for a bit, and finally I woke up, and eventually started following it. His plan was for me to tell my story, no matter what the outcome. I knew this in my soul to be true. I was warned by others that the outcome could be horrible… that I could potentially lose them. I was afraid of that scenario for sure. I love my family intensely. Losing them was not something I wanted to face. Still, I told.
Turns out, that outcome is exactly what happened. I’ll save the details of why for another day…they’re your typical dynamics of a co-dependent family combined with common responses to people reporting abuse. It’s funny, because at first, they were all so shocked at what I had to say, that I actually received genuine caring responses from them. For a week or so, I thought my decision to tell was actually bringing us all closer…what a great surprise! But, as all families like mine do, they quickly realized they did not have the capability to deal with it, and went back to easier ways of denial, avoidance, gas lighting, lying, shaming…you name it. Whatever it took to make the family “function” again, in it’s co-dependant dysfunctional way. I became the scapegoat. Let me tell you, that is the worst role in this type of family. Trust me. When this happened, I had a hard time. Hell, I still do. But it’s getting easier each day. The more I learn about how textbook we are, the less I cry. Knowledge is power. I actually feel sorry for them, most of the time. I’m not angry any more. I do still wish for things, though I know they are useless wishes. The fairy tale I’ve been dreaming of my entire life, I know in my head, and mostly in my heart, that it’s not reality. I’m actually finding that I’m starting to outgrow my family a bit. I miss them, but when I imagine seeing them, with them still stuck in this dynamic, it feels dark, and it doesn’t feel good. Still, I wish…and so far, I’m still okay.
This free-flowing, organic post was in response to Linda G Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday
“I’m fine”. Wow. Crazy how those two words can mean such different things, depending on where you’re at in life. “Hey, your mom and I are getting divorced, and she’s moving across the country…OK?” “I’m fine”, replied the little 9-year-old girl. Except she wasn’t fine. She wasn’t sure what she was, but it definitely was not “fine”. She just said that because she knew it was the expected answer. She knew better than to say otherwise. She knew her role, without even being instructed, or handed a script. Her role was to be “fine”, and I’ll be damned if she didn’t play that role with perfection. She rarely even had to say the words…as long as she acted fine, that was all that counted. Acting fine kind of comes easy, after a while. Even when things couldn’t be more opposite of “fine”. She acted just fine during that period of time when that hormone fueled teenager effectively ended her childhood. No one had a clue. She acted just fine when she was treated like Cinderella…that is, Cinderella before the ball. You know, when she was the despised step-child and made to do all the work and was unloved, while the golden children lived a life of adoration? Yeah, that Cinderella. She acted just fine when no one blinked an eye at her being that Cinderella step-child. Just fine. Not one person blinked a damn eye. I suppose she acted that way because it’s all she knew. If it’s just fine to everyone else, then it must be just fine, right?
She played that role right through high school and into adulthood. Boys and men doing things…it’s just fine, right? I mean, it was just fine when she was a kid, so…
She played it to Golden Globe status as an adult. She was sleep walking by this time. Just sleep walking through life, through that script written out for her. No improv. All script. At this point, it wasn’t even her anymore. Just some typecast actress, playing the same old role, over and over and over, until one day…she woke up. When you wake up while sleep walking, it can be pretty jarring. You most definitely are NOT fine. Everything you thought was real turns out to not be real, and you realize there’s some real shit in your life you pretended didn’t exist. Or you didn’t understand, because you were never taught to think otherwise. She absolutely became not fine. She started to speak about how not fine she really was, and all the people who expected her to play that fine role became nervous. They were playing roles, too…and now they didn’t know how to act. God, NO ONE ever steps out of character! Who did she think she was??? They tried to force her to say the lines that narcissistic director demanded, but she just didn’t have it in her anymore. She realized she just might love her new role a bit more than she needed that conditional love from her co-stars. She asked if she could just play her new role, and let them continue to play their roles, and still be in the same movie…because she did love them, regardless of the conditions. But those character actors are sticklers for routine, you know? So, they kicked her out of the movie. Just like that. No getting together for coffee, no catching up. No “it’s not you, it’s me”. Just out. She found herself alone, sad… and not fine. Sounds horrible, doesn’t it? Well, it’s not, I swear…
Even though she loved her co-stars more than anything, she really hated the endless movie they were all acting in. Seriously, it was a movie with NO ending. Who would sit through a movie like that? No one. It’s exhausting. Her sadness eased as she realized that them kicking her out of the movie was not a reflection of her, but a reflection of them. It was actually textbook behavior of a co-dependent family. Textbook. She began to feel sad for that 9-year-old girl, and the teenager she became, and learned how to nurture that inner child. She learned how to nurture herself, as an adult. I mean, God…SOMEONE had to do it, right? She learned how to nurture others, in a healthy way. She learned so much, and continues the learning process to this day. Definitely not perfect at any of it, but at least she’s wide awake now, and is following her own script. And though she misses her old co-stars more than anything, she can sleep at night with her decision. She’ll always be waiting, with open arms, for them to wake up and join her. She can do this because she’s been touched with grace for traveling the path of the awakened. She experiences everyday miracles. Who do you know that you can say that about? Not too many, I think. It really is quite magnificent. Healing is quite magnificent. Now, for the first time in her life, she means it when she says, “I’m fine”.
This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday. Check out her page at the link below. Anyone can join…
Last night, I dreamed of her. It was another one of those dreams… the kind of dream that you wake up from knowing it meant something. Heck, you even kind of know it’s a message while you’re dreaming it, it’s that meaningful. Rarely have I dreamed of her, so that in itself is something.
Let me preface this with a quick summary of my family. I was raised in a co-dependent family. No, none of us had a clue that this is what was going on. Only I do, now, after a few years of therapy. Once this revelation came to me, I decided to no longer participate in the co-dependent behavior, which, unfortunately for me, is a condition of membership.
OK, so that’s the summary. Don’t feel too badly for me. I’m grateful I woke up. Yes, it’s sad. And yes, I cry…from time to time. But no, I will not go back to those conditions, in order to be “loved”. That’s not real love, anyway. Even you can see this, right?
So, back to the dream. In real life, I have not seen her in at least two years. In the dream, I am at her home. It’s a surprise to both of us, yet we do not clash. We both seem cautious, yet calm. Like one waiting for the other to react, yet we don’t. We look at each other, without saying a word. Her eyes are soft, something I’ve never seen before. Both our eyes speak for us. They say, “I hope we can pull this off”. By “this“, we mean being in the same home without conflict, as I’m there to see him, and he is ill. Something I’ve been dreaming of in real life…as he really is ill…knowing it will never be allowed. In the dream, we pull it off. Sincerely. No conflict at all. I am there to love him, and she lets me. It was quite perfect.
God, I miss him.
My time with him in the dream is too brief. Next thing you know, I’m out of his room, never to see him again. I passed by a different one, one who is no longer talking to me, not since I broke the co-dependency requirement. She stood up to hug me, saying, “You know I love you, Jami…more than you probably know. You know why I had todo it”. I guess I do know why she felt that way, even though I knew it wasn’t right. I forgave her. She disappeared from the dream.
I move on, and find myself in another bedroom in the home, leaning on my side on a bed. She comes in. In real life, I suppose this is when the conflict would take place. But this is my dream, and we are calm. She looks at me, eyes still soft. So very soft. I really just can’t get over how soft her expression is. It’s surreal. I find myself patting the bed next to me, gesturing for her to lie down. She does, cautiously nestling her head in the crook of my elbow, like a child to her mother. She is curled on her side, with me around her, like I’m protecting her. I stroke her hair. It’s stiff and uncomfortable, but I do it anyway. She looks up, as if she’s partially nervous, yet aching for this connection. I stroke her hair, comforting her…nurturing her. Yes, I was nurturing her. She was like a homeless, injured dog you see videos of people trying to rescue from an alleyway. Scared of everything, running from everyone, fighting with whoever crossed her path…yet desperately wanting to be loved. Her guard was down for the first time in her life. She was vulnerable as she lied there in my arms. So vulnerable. You just don’t see vulnerability in someone like her, I think because she’s just been so hurt in the past. That’s why all we see is her armor…her anger… in real life. In real life, we will never see her vulnerable side, as I think she’s just too fragile to take off that armor. All that would be left is fear, and no one wants to just be fear. I will never connect to her in real life, so it had to happen in the dream. It felt like a gift. Even while the dream was occurring, I knew something was happening. I think God gave me this dream to resolve a bit of the pain in my real life. He gave me a gift of closure I’ll never get in reality. All my futile hopes and dreams in the real world will never come to fruition, but they did last night. I don’t yearn for reconciliation or closure with her in real life, but I do yearn for it with him. I think God knows how these two go hand in hand, and because of that, it’s just not meant to be… in the real world. It almost feels like it really happened. I suppose that will have to do.
This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s “Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday”. Linda is a master of badassery, in all aspects of her life. Check out her author page, and read her amazing books. You can find her by clicking the link below.
I’m nearing the two-year anniversary of what I affectionately call the “Shock and Awe” part of my journey. Back when the shit hit the fan in my life and I basically cracked open and let the pieces fall where they may. “Traumatic” is one of many words that easily comes to mind when I think of those times. Wow. Two years. So weird how it seems like the blink of an eye, while at the same time, an eternity. A lifetime. Can a lifetime really fit into just two short years? I think so. I feel like a completely different person compared to two years ago. Except I didn’t change into someone different. I just became more myself.
Settling into myself feels good. I wish I knew this version of me a long time ago, but that just wasn’t the plan. I don’t think it would feel the same, if I had always been this version of me. I don’t think I would appreciate it nearly as much. No, I think one has to go through the shock and awe of it all in order to appreciate the value in finding one’s “self”. Funny, I never even realized I had no sense of self, until I found it. Until I found her. And damn, she’s amazing. I love her…
Relationship dynamics are so complex. It doesn’t matter which type of relationship you look at…romantic, friends, coworkers, family…there’s fragile framework in a lot of them. Sure, some are pretty rock solid, but as far as I can tell, many are like a house of cards. It can look nice, and be fun to participate in…but you’re always mindful and know that one misstep can make the roof collapse.
It’s funny how you can live in a house of cards your entire life, and not even realize it. Maybe you think everyone’s house is made of cards. Or maybe you know your house is made of cards, but you don’t want to let anyone else know about that shoddy construction. Or even more likely, you don’t want to admit to yourself that there’s just no real support around you. So, you tell yourself everything’s just fine. “This is SO normal”, you say, as you walk on eggshells, trying to keep everything in place.
OK, this analogy is getting away from me, sorry. It sounded so good in my head when I started. Let me switch gears here… some people create these little ecosystems of lives. Like Sandy Cheeks on Sponge Bob. She’s a squirrel living in the ocean. As a land animal, she needs to put her entire home in a bubble in order to survive…her own little ecosystem. Except Sandy is living there because she wants to enjoy life with her friends. The people I’m talking about, well…they create these ecosystems because they are hiding. Not so much from people, but from the truth. I’ll let you interpret the truth in any way you choose…the truth of a painful past, the truth about their insecurities, the truth about their guilt, the truth about toxic behavior, the truth about shame… pick whichever one suits your fancy. Or maybe they’re hiding from a toxic person. An abusive person. Or addiction, or abandonment, or neglect. Or past failures. For this conversation, let’s call the truth and/or the toxic person/environment “The volcano”. So, if you spend enough time in their ecosystem, you don’t even realize what’s going on isn’t normal, because everyone living in the bubble is acting just like you are…walking on eggshells to keep the volcano from erupting. Acting like it’s perfectly normal to live in this giant, explosive shadow. Or like it’s normal to live with shame and guilt. Or like it’s normal to live with abuse. Keeping the lid on the volcano becomes automatic. It’s a survival technique. No, it doesn’t always work…that sucker still blows it’s top from time to time, but if everyone tiptoes around enough, it settles down. Till the next time….
The trouble brews when you finally realize, “Hey, I’m thinking maybethis isn’t so normal, after all”. You take a step back, outside of the bubble, into the sun. At first, it’s too bright….so bright, it hurts. Because you’re used to living in the dark. Like living in a cave. It’s so much easier to hide in a cave. The dark corners can feel safe, although they are cold and lonely. You sort of end up picking your poison. So, you find some sunglasses and do some hard work…facing things no one else wants to face. You face the truth. You face the toxicity. You face the guilt, the shame, the insecurities, the pain…you even start to talk about it. And trust me, that’s a big deal. NO ONE talks about what goes on in the bubble. No one. But you do it, anyway. Because it’s freeing. And once that’s said and done, you realize walking on eggshells hurts like hell. You can’t believe you never noticed the pain those shells cause you. And then you look at everyone else in that bubble and wonder how the hell they can stand it in there, bleeding from walking on shells, just to keep a volcano from erupting. The sun doesn’t hurt anymore. You throw your sunglasses to the ground and yell to your loved ones “Just leave the volcano, for crying out loud! Save yourselves!” They look at you like you’re crazy. They are wincing, from having to look at you in that bright light of the sun. “Leave the volcano? God no!” and just like that, you are the black sheep, because change is hard. They get mad at you. Maybe some of them gaslight you. Maybe some of them shame you for talking. Maybe some of them resent you for doing and facing what they are incapable of doing and facing themselves. They might even allow you to come back in, IF you stop talking about “it”…whatever “it” is that makes them so uncomfortable. God, you even think about it for a while. I mean, these are the people you love, for God’s sake! You want to be with them, to be loved by them… accepted. Chosen. You really think about it, without even noticing that these conditions they are putting on you means they aren’t choosing you at all. So, you try, but soon discover, in order to survive in their bubble, you need to let go of your light. And you find you can’t do that, even if you wanted to…because you realize, you ARE the light. They just don’t realize that the light will stop hurting once they face it, and there’s not a damn thing you can say to make them understand. Oh, you try alright. But it doesn’t work. They just become more angry, more reactive, more withdrawn. All because you cracked open their bubble, their fragile ecosystem, their house of cards. The light shined on them, and on all the things they are hiding from. It’s blinding. They are not ready to look at those things. You really can’t blame them…you lived in the bubble your entire life, just like them. Coping. All you can do now is love them from afar, and pray for God to give them just a touch of grace, like he did to you…back when you found the light. A touch of grace to allow them to see the light. Just enough to find their path out of the cave.
P.S. I will always be waiting at the end of the path to share my light with you.
This post was written in response to Linda G. Hill’s Stream of Social Consciousness Saturday. No edits allowed! (none needed…this flowed from my soul…)
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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
