This is just rambling around in the space inside your dialogues, and happy they're happening. Me, still talking.
Glad you wrote all that, Amber. It makes so much sense that your chosen solitude is also curative for an enmeshment pattern. (BTW, I think B and Mike have real dependency in common and that'll be as big a challenge for me as it was for you...)
I think I'm scared of being controlled or dominated (but much less since that call). I have huge reflexive push-back and in fact am over-defensive. I was telling my T how hypersensitive I am to feeling pressure of any kind whatsoever (we're talking near-oppositional feelings...). Tried to come up with an image and got this:
I remember some glam events when I was younger. All purtied up. And a man escorting me wherever, would often place his hand at the small of my back as we entered a room. I got up and pantomimed for T, you know, that "gentleman escorts lady" gesture...? Then I said, imagine that you're wearing heels, walking carefully in a long dress. Then imagine that he slightly pushes you forward. His hand isn't just resting at your back, he's pushing a little, steering a little. We could call it "guiding" but that wouldn't be true to resistant-oppositional-near-paranoid me, who now thinks of that gesture with a huge desire to throw off the hand entirely. And kick him with my steel-toed fancy flats. (A grownup woman could just say calmly, I'm more comfortable walking on my own...or something like that.)
Nothing gracious about the inner reflex (and btw, this isn't even a situation, just an illustration) but I don't WANT to be "guided, steered" or especially "pushed" -- even subtly. I don't feel cosseted with such gestures, I feel diminished to "lady" (not strong woman with two feet) and, sorta, "trophy" not person. So even at this age I'm still navigating my rejection of all thaaaaat old stuff, while wanting genuinely to be grateful and kind and respectful of the good intentions that could accompany the gestures too. (You guessed it, B opens car doors. While I shiver, waiting...since I move faster than he does, I get there first. It's silly but I ain't fighting it.)
Believe me, neither of my two husbands could be bothered to do anything traditionally gentlemanly or let's call it basically considerate even apart from the feminist lens, so in fact, if I look at it that way, it could sometimes feel pleasant. Sounds like a reasonable thing, if I could try reasonable....
Anyhow, I digress. What is really mattering to me, before B and I even try entering his kind of penultimate social soirees sometime maybe, which I imagine wouldn't even be that frequent...is in the now, he's been listening. Truly listening. And being respectful. I can't explain how reassuring that long conversation was the other day.
Although I have pathetic physical radar and dulled bodily intuition (thank you Lighter for the inspiration to pay more attention to this---remind me more!)...I do have pretty strong recognition of voice, the breath, rhythms, and words used in conversation. It may come from decades of poetry. I heard sincerity, effort and serious intent to do it well in B on the phone that day. Not a con.
Dunno why I'm falling on the floor so thrilled about that piece, except that it's a huge contrast to what I've experienced in relationships before.
(I think the reason being on the phone helped was: 1) He's goofily distracted and too swoony when I'm there --for now, it'll wear off-- for me to concentrate hard on verbal content; 2) When I need to talk about something I feel defensive or urgent about, maybe due to my ADD, I am less distracted on the phone. The phone concentrates what's happening into my ear and mind; in-person can overwhelm me if something feels very important or emotional. Huh. I never thought about it that way before, the possibly-ADD piece. But it's making sense now that I type it....(yup, took the meds this morning, hence typetypetypetype....)
I digress, ramble and interrupt. Eager to listen to y'all, carry on...
Oh wait. I forgot to tell y'all something. It's pretty self-explanatorily obvious and not a deal breaker. Not even creepy. But you'll get a better sense of where he is and what he's still processing as a not-quite-two-years widower after 46 years....
On our third meeting he asked me if I'd be interested in any of his wife's clothing--I think for two reasons: 1) the subconscious message which truly is fairly oblivious and 2) I think he's sensitive to me being relatively low-income and he's very frugal and concrete. And intends to be kind. To be gracious I accepted a nice corduroy shirt but her colors are generally not good for me and I don't want her stuff. Anyway, here it is two months later and the other day he asked again because he's ready to move it all out (and the practical piece--he goes, some of these things are lovely and still have the tags--meaning new). What's different is that this time I said, "You know B., I'll be honest. I would feel uncomfortable wearing your wife's clothing in your presence." And he immediately said, "Oh. Of course." (I thought I heard a forehead smack, not literally, but his tone was like that.) And the next day he just said he'd bagged it all up and taken it to donate. Sounded relieved.
So weird and unaware as it was, the moment he "got it" he did something appropriate about it. I wasn't creeped out. He's just a pretty transparent guy, I'm thinking. And that thought is making him feel better to me.
love
Hops
