Being human is just so darn funny sometimes. I gave C my key, which after 6+ months and having a key under my welcome mat (yes, I am a living cliche) of which she was aware the entire time, I figured no big deal, right? Ha! Not in my disease-addled brain. Pretty much from the minute I casually handed it over, I started looking for reasons why she wasn’t good enough for me. And, as my therapist has pointed out on many occasions, I could find something to pick on about anyone. George Clooney – couldn’t you just stop being such a prankster for once? Mother Teresa – that burlap really doesn’t do anything for your complexion. I know, I know, but in the moment it all feels so fucking real – the committee is saying the same stuff I pull out every goddamn time I’m feeling threatened, and we all know the power of sirens…like a zombie, I return, repeating “she’s not worthy, she’s not worthy…”
Thankfully I have a sponsor whom I believe in and whose relationship I respect, so when she tells me it’s my disease picking the fight, I listen. And then something magical happens – I find out she’s right, and get to see my own part in the drama. And that’s always the biggest relief, honestly, to find out it’s not her, but me; that I can’t control what she says but I can control my attitude about it, where I decide to take it. I am a verbal snob, ridiculously nimble on my conversational feet. If I have to choose between someone who is loving and grounded and communicative versus someone whose energies go into being a good sparring partner, I’ll gladly take the former, and besides, it’s not a Chinese menu, I’ll take one from column a and one from column b and in neat little containers with a set of chopsticks comes my perfect mate.
I just wrote to an old friend that there is good awaiting us of which we cannot even conceive because we don’t yet have a template for it. If most of what I got as a youngster was criticism, anger, and volatility, how can I possibly conceive of a different model on my own? We have to be shown new ways in order to live them ourselves. That’s where other people come in, where the growth potential is infinite depending on who we choose to walk with. Someone in one of my meetings said that perception is merely evidence-gathering for our own beliefs, and I think that’s so profound: we don’t see reality as it is, we see reality as we are. We notice what stands out to us, and what stands out does so because of our own histories, because of what has been made apparent or familiar to us. So the trick is to get that shaken up a bit, but in a good way. The trick is to step out of one’s comfort zone, but in a healthy direction. Therapy can do that if it’s really good, and 12-step meetings can because people share their experience, strength and hope through incredible adversities, and because they don’t judge one another for the lessons that get us there. The other day, someone in an open AA meeting was counting days, and he had 6. 6 days of sobriety, and when he said it out loud, everyone clapped loudly. No blame. No finger-pointing. Just welcome back, you’re in the right place, the prodigal son returns.
What I vigorously don’t believe is that we can do it alone. With only my brain, I can only think my thoughts, through the filters of my experience. That limits me tremendously. I realize meditation can serve as a channel to something higher, but if my translator isn’t familiar with the language, I’m not going to hear it or understand. So I keep coming back. To meetings, to my sponsor, to my girlfriend, to sources of wisdom I believe have been placed in my path as loudspeakers for the messages I need to hear. My job is to remain open to them, but the rest comes from humility and connection.
Therapy is good….when it’s good. I’m in analysis now and have been for the past six months. A lot of life happened to me all at once last October and I had to admit, I couldn’t handle it alone. I didn’t know how or where or even if I could process the laundry lists of negatives that were filling the crevaces of my well worn life.
I learned that my car accident, the loss of my jobs, the break up with a man who meant a great deal to me and my inability to handle that triple threat of nasty, was merely a symptom of a much deeper problem.
As I’ve often told you, we see,m to be twin sisters of different mothers. Perhaps we had mothers that were/are quite similiar. I was raised by a spineless father and an incredibly cruel narcissistic mother. My sisters and I were hit, slapped, pinched, kicked, whipped and called ‘worthless, lazy good for nothing three toed sloths that will never amount to a hill of beans’. My father often read the paper in silence as this was happening. He didn’t defend us. We had no support system. Mother never nurtured us and there was no way to win her approval. We were punished for failing and ignored for winning.
That said, you’re right. When your core growth period as a child is thrust into incessant turmoil and because your parents are your first real connection to the real world and adults, all you know is what you know. It’s beggage you carry from
I couldn’t agree with you more regarding conquering horrific experiences alone. I’ve known a handful of people who say they were able to do solo. I admire the people who can escape from cruel and intolerable childhoods and emerge as healthy adults. But that’s not the case for most of us. Therefore, as adults, we operate within in the perameters of what’s familiar. Those “parent tapes” that play in a continuous loop in our psyches remind us that we’ve always been “three toed sloths”. The paradigm shift needed to repair the psychic wounds is not easy to come by, but ultimately, vital that we achieve it.
I would be remiss if I don’t tell you what a stunning writer you are. I come here to break away from brevity to get my “instrospection on”.
LK