I actually have a lot to say but it is all a bit personal. I am wearing a business suit right now. I would like to eat a cheese sandwich. I am still teetering on the edge of changes-following and chasing some boldly, and cowering in a corner shying away from others like a little coward. At what point do you put your heart on the line and just tell a person something that could result in plunging you back into an abyss of self-doubt and irrational confirmation of worthlessness?
Seriously I may not be that fragile BUT I MAY BE. Hence the fear. HENCE. I could write about it forever and bring in all the old weapons, books I've read, therapist's advice, parent's advice, happily married friend's advice, but I will not. Partly because I do not have time but mostly because it does not matter. What matters is courage. And the tiny little secret wish that the person I need courage about will jump all over it and preclude my need to have the courage. Mostly because that is more romantic, and partly because I think it would be easier for me.
The voice inside my head says if he doesn't say anything it's because he has no desire to, and therein lies the issue. I mean, I had someone recently have the courage to ask me, but he wasn't the right one. I was like, um, can we take your question and put it on another person? But that was kind of rude so he was upset. Just kidding, I did not say that. We are friends now so I must have been nicer than that. Hmm, thought I wasn't gonna get personal. Even warned you about it. Shoot. There I go again. Ok I am done. Completely done. Finito. Please don't read this.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Pervasive Pennies for Thought
I once had an ex-boyfriend tell me with absolute conviction that he thought he could never, ever, ever have children because he was too afraid he would turn into his father. His father was a cruel and neglectful person, abandoning him and his sister when a son's love still held the shape of big, round, saucer eyes and a belief in real-life daddy superheroes. He was saying this in response to a story I had just told about my own personal recovery, years in therapy and hours upon hours of self-exploration, from the child abuse I experienced as a child.
I was 20 years old at the time of our talk, and our teenage love affair was nearly 4 years in the past, and not surprisingly, we had never got around to talking about that time in my life. So as we sat on the train to Chicago, reacquainting ourselves with one another, the stories unfolded and I remember very clearly and resoundingly rejecting his statement with something like encouragement mixed with disgust. 'But KNOWING,' I told him, is half the battle. Once you know that something like that has affected you, you can fight it. He did not believe me. I believed me, because I remembered clearly, still remember clearly, each new epiphany as it occured, and the dazzling joy just the realization caused, and the power and confidence it gave me. And the strength. I tried to talk him into it but after he miserably rejected everything I tried to tell him I got bored and decided that it was a really good thing we broke up all those years ago. I mean, who wants to date someone so stupid? Ah.....my twenties. Wise and knowledgeable and decisive and full of cockiness....so awesome.
It is now ten years later and he is happily married in Texas and.....planning on having babies. Go figure, right? Anyway I bring all this up because the truth is, my last big epiphany, the one that led me to the Faith and has kept me going like a steam engine in the 20s these last three years, has made itself known to me again and reminded me very strongly that knowing isn't enough. I forgot to work on that part of myself back then and here it is in all it's glory.
I would get into it in detail, but it's personal enough and complicated enough that I am not sure it would translate well in writing without divulging a lot of background story that would take far too long to write about. And I'm afraid it woould require me to reveal far too many minute details that are not necessarily things I want in writing until I publish my tell-all scandalous biography 10 years from now, when 40 will be the new 30 and I will be a super fabulous and famous person for inventing..oh I'm not telling you yet. Thought you could get that out of me...but I digress.
Let's just say this. I have a streak in me-my better friends all know what it is because sadly I have unleashed it on them-but they love me and continue to do so, which is good. But basically it IS a tendency towards wanting reassurance all the time, and just the knowledge of the need makes me feel ashamed and a little pathetic. My brain says 'you are too smart and good for you to not see the truth of the situation'. But my poor little neglected abused baby girl self does not see the truth. And she is a very noisy person sometimes.
I thought it was over but it came back. And I sort of freaked out on a friend the other day, and then with my tail between my legs I went back and apologized. Ultimatums belong in the trash, I think. (To paint myself in a better light, I did not actually give any ultimatums, just thought about giving one) I am not sure about how to quell it, these thoughts of ridiculuousness, except lots of prayer and maybe a visit to my old therapist. I think writing helps. It's why I put it here. Where I will read it again. And maybe someone else will read it and then provide words of insight and/or support. Which would be lovely. If not, that's ok too.
I was 20 years old at the time of our talk, and our teenage love affair was nearly 4 years in the past, and not surprisingly, we had never got around to talking about that time in my life. So as we sat on the train to Chicago, reacquainting ourselves with one another, the stories unfolded and I remember very clearly and resoundingly rejecting his statement with something like encouragement mixed with disgust. 'But KNOWING,' I told him, is half the battle. Once you know that something like that has affected you, you can fight it. He did not believe me. I believed me, because I remembered clearly, still remember clearly, each new epiphany as it occured, and the dazzling joy just the realization caused, and the power and confidence it gave me. And the strength. I tried to talk him into it but after he miserably rejected everything I tried to tell him I got bored and decided that it was a really good thing we broke up all those years ago. I mean, who wants to date someone so stupid? Ah.....my twenties. Wise and knowledgeable and decisive and full of cockiness....so awesome.
It is now ten years later and he is happily married in Texas and.....planning on having babies. Go figure, right? Anyway I bring all this up because the truth is, my last big epiphany, the one that led me to the Faith and has kept me going like a steam engine in the 20s these last three years, has made itself known to me again and reminded me very strongly that knowing isn't enough. I forgot to work on that part of myself back then and here it is in all it's glory.
I would get into it in detail, but it's personal enough and complicated enough that I am not sure it would translate well in writing without divulging a lot of background story that would take far too long to write about. And I'm afraid it woould require me to reveal far too many minute details that are not necessarily things I want in writing until I publish my tell-all scandalous biography 10 years from now, when 40 will be the new 30 and I will be a super fabulous and famous person for inventing..oh I'm not telling you yet. Thought you could get that out of me...but I digress.
Let's just say this. I have a streak in me-my better friends all know what it is because sadly I have unleashed it on them-but they love me and continue to do so, which is good. But basically it IS a tendency towards wanting reassurance all the time, and just the knowledge of the need makes me feel ashamed and a little pathetic. My brain says 'you are too smart and good for you to not see the truth of the situation'. But my poor little neglected abused baby girl self does not see the truth. And she is a very noisy person sometimes.
I thought it was over but it came back. And I sort of freaked out on a friend the other day, and then with my tail between my legs I went back and apologized. Ultimatums belong in the trash, I think. (To paint myself in a better light, I did not actually give any ultimatums, just thought about giving one) I am not sure about how to quell it, these thoughts of ridiculuousness, except lots of prayer and maybe a visit to my old therapist. I think writing helps. It's why I put it here. Where I will read it again. And maybe someone else will read it and then provide words of insight and/or support. Which would be lovely. If not, that's ok too.
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