I guess I’ve been stepping out of my emotional deep-freeze so slowly that I didn’t even notice that I’ve thawed.
First things first? Therapy is, without a doubt, saving my life. Without it, I don’t think I would have survived the last few months with and the continued onslaught of drastic changes. Since June, I’ve broken up with a partner, moved, started grad school, and found out that my mother has cancer. That’s a lot to deal with in 5 months.
The more subtle thing that therapy has done for me is what I want to talk about, because though it is subtle, it is very, very crucial to my being able to live a whole and happy life. Therapy has helped me crack through some very bitter layers that were calcifying around my soul. The process has allowed me to look at my self and others in new ways. It has brought me to today, a day in which I realized that I still believe in love and commitment and caring. I do believe that we can nurture both our own selves and others and not get lost in the process. I still think it is possible for people to be committed to themselves, to others, to living a full and examined and honest life.
Through some magical/alchemical process, I’m transforming despair into hope…and it is messy and tear-stained and sometimes full of laughter but it is real.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Seriously? 12 Years?
“Far too many people are looking for the right person instead of trying to be the right person.”- Gloria Steinem
I was just thinking about where I’m currently at romantically after the Big Move of ‘08, and I realized something:
This is the only time I can remember in the last 12 years where I wasn’t in a relationship, pursuing a relationship, or infatuated with a boy.
I am somewhat appalled and somewhat fascinated. Going back just through my twenties, I dated Dane for three years, then dated and married Justin and was with him for 3 1/2 years, and then dated and lived with Jon for almost three years….no real breaks between them. From 16 to 19, I dated Bill and then after we broke that off for the third time I was involved in a lot of short, casual relationships…but I never took a break from being in love, or looking for a relationship, or being interested in a boy.
No wonder I have novels in my head that haven’t been written. No wonder I have paintings I haven’t painted and books I haven’t read and hobbies that I haven’t taken seriously. I’ve made the pursuit or the maintenance of love relationships a large part of my life for, well, the whole of my adult life. Yes, love relationships are important, but I can say now, and with a clear head, that not taking a break between relationships (at least between my major relationships with Dane and Justin and Jon) and always wanting to have someone to focus my attentions on wasn’t healthy for me in the past. Pursuit has taken me away from me, away from my own thoughts and desires, projects and plans. Pursuit is a really convenient way for me to avoid my own life.
So yeah, I spent 12 years looking for the right person. I’m going to try being the right person for a while, and we’ll see how that goes.
I was just thinking about where I’m currently at romantically after the Big Move of ‘08, and I realized something:
This is the only time I can remember in the last 12 years where I wasn’t in a relationship, pursuing a relationship, or infatuated with a boy.
I am somewhat appalled and somewhat fascinated. Going back just through my twenties, I dated Dane for three years, then dated and married Justin and was with him for 3 1/2 years, and then dated and lived with Jon for almost three years….no real breaks between them. From 16 to 19, I dated Bill and then after we broke that off for the third time I was involved in a lot of short, casual relationships…but I never took a break from being in love, or looking for a relationship, or being interested in a boy.
No wonder I have novels in my head that haven’t been written. No wonder I have paintings I haven’t painted and books I haven’t read and hobbies that I haven’t taken seriously. I’ve made the pursuit or the maintenance of love relationships a large part of my life for, well, the whole of my adult life. Yes, love relationships are important, but I can say now, and with a clear head, that not taking a break between relationships (at least between my major relationships with Dane and Justin and Jon) and always wanting to have someone to focus my attentions on wasn’t healthy for me in the past. Pursuit has taken me away from me, away from my own thoughts and desires, projects and plans. Pursuit is a really convenient way for me to avoid my own life.
So yeah, I spent 12 years looking for the right person. I’m going to try being the right person for a while, and we’ll see how that goes.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Ramblings on intimacy
Intimacy is not easy. It is not a feather flying on the wind. Intimacy is more like an ox plowing a field.
In general, it is easier to not be intimate, to not require things of others or allow requirements to be put upon the self; that is why the first flush of friendship or love appears light and freeing- there are no burdens to bear for each other. When a relationship is new, those that are in it are like wanderers who meet upon the road. There isn’t anything that they must carry for one another, as they have just met, and wouldn’t presume to give their hardships to a virtual stranger- thus, all that exists is the simple joy of piecing through the other’s baggage, playing at show and tell, bringing out the best treasures, learning what is inside the more glamorous packages. If the relationship is to continue, eventually the two travelers must get up and move on together; moving together, as a team, they will have to acknowledge and deal with the full load that the other carries. It cannot be avoided.
We may not realize that no matter how lightly we tread when first relating to a new person, eventually our interactions will pile up, multiply, and create the heft of living in relationship. Eventually, there will be requirements. Difficult things will be asked for. Expectations and obligations, often both joyful and painful, will sprout. On a long journey, we may be asked to shoulder things that are cumbersome, awkward, or downright maddening.
Intimacy is heavier than most of us would like it to be.
In general, it is easier to not be intimate, to not require things of others or allow requirements to be put upon the self; that is why the first flush of friendship or love appears light and freeing- there are no burdens to bear for each other. When a relationship is new, those that are in it are like wanderers who meet upon the road. There isn’t anything that they must carry for one another, as they have just met, and wouldn’t presume to give their hardships to a virtual stranger- thus, all that exists is the simple joy of piecing through the other’s baggage, playing at show and tell, bringing out the best treasures, learning what is inside the more glamorous packages. If the relationship is to continue, eventually the two travelers must get up and move on together; moving together, as a team, they will have to acknowledge and deal with the full load that the other carries. It cannot be avoided.
We may not realize that no matter how lightly we tread when first relating to a new person, eventually our interactions will pile up, multiply, and create the heft of living in relationship. Eventually, there will be requirements. Difficult things will be asked for. Expectations and obligations, often both joyful and painful, will sprout. On a long journey, we may be asked to shoulder things that are cumbersome, awkward, or downright maddening.
Intimacy is heavier than most of us would like it to be.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Choosing my own adventure.
I trust my therapist; I think that’s why I’m ok with going down this road toward healing, a road that’s been getting steeper and more terrifying with every step.
Dr. Annie is great. She listens to what I have to say, but she definitely doesn’t let me run the therapy session, and that’s something I value; I am savvy enough to skirt around my blind spots and larger issues, and she just doesn’t let me do that- she’s very adept at steering me back to talking about the things I’m avoiding (consciously or subconsciously). She reminds me of a herding dog, but don’t tell her I said that.
Anyways, last week was a breakthrough sort of week. I went to see Annie with a mouthful of things to say, and they poured out of me in a pretty steady stream- what I was thinking about J, how I had figured out parts of our dynamic, things that were wrong, things that were becoming right, etc. I finished up my diatribe by asking her how I could stop getting involved with men that are emotionally distant, how I could avoid getting into a relationship in which I feel a need to “help” my partner (I have a track record).
Instead of giving me advice or answers, she asked me what I got out of my interactions with emotionally unavailable men- she kept asking things like “Why do you hold onto relationships like that?” and “What do you get out of feeling like you need to help your partner?” etc. I kept thinking, and thinking, and finally, it hit me.
I *do* get something out of these relationships, something very important to me. When I’m in a relationship that I’m not satisfied by, I’m not really in a relationship at all, and that makes me feel safe. If the man I’m with is emotionally distant, or if I feel like I need to “help” him become more outgoing or creative or whatever for our relationship to truly be at it’s full potential, I’m not really in the relationship, inside it, being loved and loving. When I’m in these “helper” relationships, I’m simultaneously totally focused on the other person in the relationship (How can I get So-And-So to be more ______________? How can I work on our problems? Maybe if I just work harder at _________, things will get better) and distanced from being in the relationship by my intellectual analysis. I feel completely and totally absorbed and yet I am not present because of that absorption, if that makes sense. When I am not present, I am safe- I get to stand outside of the experiment, playing the role of the invested yet distanced researcher; I may not be happy, but at least I’m not totally invested, totally me, present to myself and my needs, not trying to heal someone else, not trying to be perfect for someone else, not trying to carry someone else’s burdens for them. It seems terrifying to just relax into being me, to not bear the whole of the responsibility for the relationship. By being so absorbed in what I feel I need to do to be loved, I never stop to think about the sort of person I would want to love. I keep chugging along like the Little Engine That Could…if he was all cracked out and co-dependent.
After I said all of this to Annie, she smiled and said, “Does this remind you of your mother’s relationship with your father? She’s so focused on how he’s ruined her life so she never has to look at her own responsibilities to herself, her own decision to stay engaged in a relationship with him. Who really ruined your mother’s life?”
What can I say to that? That’s painfully true.
So I have all of this new information to chew on. I have a new way of looking at my own role in my unsatisfying relationships.
Now I get to start figuring out what to do with all of this. I am scared shitless, but I’m going to find my way out. Right now, I’m rewriting the choose-your-own-adventure book that is my life, and the choices are going to be healthier, dammit.
Dr. Annie is great. She listens to what I have to say, but she definitely doesn’t let me run the therapy session, and that’s something I value; I am savvy enough to skirt around my blind spots and larger issues, and she just doesn’t let me do that- she’s very adept at steering me back to talking about the things I’m avoiding (consciously or subconsciously). She reminds me of a herding dog, but don’t tell her I said that.
Anyways, last week was a breakthrough sort of week. I went to see Annie with a mouthful of things to say, and they poured out of me in a pretty steady stream- what I was thinking about J, how I had figured out parts of our dynamic, things that were wrong, things that were becoming right, etc. I finished up my diatribe by asking her how I could stop getting involved with men that are emotionally distant, how I could avoid getting into a relationship in which I feel a need to “help” my partner (I have a track record).
Instead of giving me advice or answers, she asked me what I got out of my interactions with emotionally unavailable men- she kept asking things like “Why do you hold onto relationships like that?” and “What do you get out of feeling like you need to help your partner?” etc. I kept thinking, and thinking, and finally, it hit me.
I *do* get something out of these relationships, something very important to me. When I’m in a relationship that I’m not satisfied by, I’m not really in a relationship at all, and that makes me feel safe. If the man I’m with is emotionally distant, or if I feel like I need to “help” him become more outgoing or creative or whatever for our relationship to truly be at it’s full potential, I’m not really in the relationship, inside it, being loved and loving. When I’m in these “helper” relationships, I’m simultaneously totally focused on the other person in the relationship (How can I get So-And-So to be more ______________? How can I work on our problems? Maybe if I just work harder at _________, things will get better) and distanced from being in the relationship by my intellectual analysis. I feel completely and totally absorbed and yet I am not present because of that absorption, if that makes sense. When I am not present, I am safe- I get to stand outside of the experiment, playing the role of the invested yet distanced researcher; I may not be happy, but at least I’m not totally invested, totally me, present to myself and my needs, not trying to heal someone else, not trying to be perfect for someone else, not trying to carry someone else’s burdens for them. It seems terrifying to just relax into being me, to not bear the whole of the responsibility for the relationship. By being so absorbed in what I feel I need to do to be loved, I never stop to think about the sort of person I would want to love. I keep chugging along like the Little Engine That Could…if he was all cracked out and co-dependent.
After I said all of this to Annie, she smiled and said, “Does this remind you of your mother’s relationship with your father? She’s so focused on how he’s ruined her life so she never has to look at her own responsibilities to herself, her own decision to stay engaged in a relationship with him. Who really ruined your mother’s life?”
What can I say to that? That’s painfully true.
So I have all of this new information to chew on. I have a new way of looking at my own role in my unsatisfying relationships.
Now I get to start figuring out what to do with all of this. I am scared shitless, but I’m going to find my way out. Right now, I’m rewriting the choose-your-own-adventure book that is my life, and the choices are going to be healthier, dammit.
Monday, March 31, 2008
She is buried.
Pressed by the weight of muffling mattresses,
Small and insistent, the knot in my neck come morning,
Dreams of half-eaten marzipan passions
Lying dormant under strata of excuses
She is buried, alive.
Is that all that is left, a tiny seed of wild life poking into my slumber?
Don’t give up, little one.
I’ll remember I’m a princess.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Avoidance and Meaning
I just finished my first read-through of the Diana’s Grove Mystery School Pisces packet, and I can’t get these lines out of my head:
“Just do the work that is before you to do, ” she said. “When is your search for meaning simply avoidance? When is your search for a calling a way to ignore the prayer that stands before you?”
Wow. That hit me, hard. I can think of so many times when I want to look past what is right in front of me, what I can make right in front of me, in search of a calling, a “greater” thing, “more meaningful” work. I think of all the times that I rush through the day-to-day interactions, trying to get them out of the way so that I can….what? Wait on a revelation? Search for something I don’t have that I need, I must have, to make a difference? Yes, probably, certainly- I have done that. I continue to do it. I have ignored the prayer of my days, the prayer of the moments of my life. In longing for an excellent moment, I miss out on the chance to make my moments excellent.
I feel called to focus- on my moments, on each step, each dish I wash, each piece of laundry I fold, each conversation I have. I want to make each moment sacred, each small task and process a testament to my devotion to the song of life (can you hear my Virgo Moon speaking to you?). And yet, I know at times I spin away into searching for more- a larger role, a grand place where I am handed my own meaning (that’s my Leo Sun). When I am truthful with myself, I know that that moment of brilliance may never come. I know and yet I still succumb to the dream. I have a 12th house.
The question that has been helpful to me is not “How do I stop avoiding?” but “How can I notice that I’m avoiding?” I don’t have the whole answer…but I know that, for me, it lies on a path that starts with listening to my breath, noticing my behavior patterns, questioning my stories, and as the bartender in the packet says, doing the work of not looking away. Yikes.
“Just do the work that is before you to do, ” she said. “When is your search for meaning simply avoidance? When is your search for a calling a way to ignore the prayer that stands before you?”
Wow. That hit me, hard. I can think of so many times when I want to look past what is right in front of me, what I can make right in front of me, in search of a calling, a “greater” thing, “more meaningful” work. I think of all the times that I rush through the day-to-day interactions, trying to get them out of the way so that I can….what? Wait on a revelation? Search for something I don’t have that I need, I must have, to make a difference? Yes, probably, certainly- I have done that. I continue to do it. I have ignored the prayer of my days, the prayer of the moments of my life. In longing for an excellent moment, I miss out on the chance to make my moments excellent.
I feel called to focus- on my moments, on each step, each dish I wash, each piece of laundry I fold, each conversation I have. I want to make each moment sacred, each small task and process a testament to my devotion to the song of life (can you hear my Virgo Moon speaking to you?). And yet, I know at times I spin away into searching for more- a larger role, a grand place where I am handed my own meaning (that’s my Leo Sun). When I am truthful with myself, I know that that moment of brilliance may never come. I know and yet I still succumb to the dream. I have a 12th house.
The question that has been helpful to me is not “How do I stop avoiding?” but “How can I notice that I’m avoiding?” I don’t have the whole answer…but I know that, for me, it lies on a path that starts with listening to my breath, noticing my behavior patterns, questioning my stories, and as the bartender in the packet says, doing the work of not looking away. Yikes.
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