Voicelessness and Emotional Survival Message Board
Voicelessness and Emotional Survival => Members' Stories => Topic started by: sKePTiKal on November 18, 2011, 09:19:49 AM
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I didn't know where to put this, especially since I'm still laughing...
on the phone this evening with my mom (she's fully into her monologue sturm & drang rerun conversation) - while I'm still scrubbing away at the floor - and I'm ready to move the bucket/long handled brush... when CRASH - and an OH SH*%!... my brush handle got tangled up with a nice bottle of white wine in the wine rack (sniff!! I'll miss it) and now I had glass to clean up... so my mom hung up!
I'd like to credit my unconscious self for this selfless act of protecting me, at all costs. (She really liked that wine...)
So. Now I know where to put this.
The part I didn't mention in the vignette above... was that my mom was ranting, railing, all worked up about my SIL and niece, again. Apparently niece has taken to saying things like "well, I might as well kill myself". She's 13 and has the usual age-related mom issues, which of course have been totally muddled by Grandma's contradictory behavior controlling, mind-control, guilt-trip, and boundary-less interference. NMom had a ready answer, when I told her kids that age said things like that, a lot.
NMom said, well Aunt So-So's 12 yr old did exactly that; he was under too much pressure. That must've been 40 years ago. And she flatly states: nothing is ever that bad that you have to do that. ***
Cue: crash, swearing & hanging up and that jarring time/space warp sensation of having entered a universe where no (sane) man has gone before.
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I have been in what I believe is my "last lap" around the healing the circle (I hope)... trying new approaches to solving this issue of self-harm. It's not something that can be addressed by immersing myself in feelings nor memories alone, nor open to change by fiat and head-on confrontation. So I've learned that I can indirectly, in a side-ways fashion, gain collaboration with the part of me which copes with difficult things - and through force of habit, anything which represents my lack of awareness of my own needs and meeting them - with self-harm. I haven't been able to explain how this works - not even to myself. The feral cat metaphor/analogy, I think, is still the closest.
So a light bulb went off in my head, a little while ago - social science! OK... wasn't sure where this came from or why... or what I hoped to find there. And granted, the author I read might've been too professorial - he sure does like talking about his studies and the results of them! And when the first book "Adaptive Unconscious" only teased; hinted at a piece of information without just coming right out & stating it... I read another book by him. Still, I felt like this wasn't going to yield anything useful.
After all, my experience was kinda unique - what would social science & social psychology, which deals with "group" patterns and dynamics have to do with that???? The ONLY place I'd found other people who knew what I was talking about, was here. River and her Self in Exile... Gaining Strength... Certain Hope... m'dears Hopsy, and tt and FW and...................
So all that stuff was floating around, settling, and being digested in my thoughts when my mom called this week. And the crash of the wine bottle was meant to get MY attention - my unconscious self was waving her hand in the air, hoping the teacher would call on her! She knew the answer!!! And yet, it still took days for this to simplify itself into something that a.) is coherent and b.) is so simple I can't shoot holes in it.
What is Hannibal Lector CREEPY about all this... is how my mom is replaying exactly the same script on poor niece, that she played on me. Niece is in a damned if you, damned if don't, double-bind feedback loop between her mom and grandma, because G'ma has decided Mom is devil spawn and the only thing standing between Niece and total ruination is G'ma. At the same time, G'ma has engineered this particular line in the sand - by "assuming" a parental role - traipsing right across that boundary and denying mom's authority... then accusing her of being irresponsible. Just like she did with my dad, my aunt, my neighbor Ruth - and myself in the middle. Gonna just tack this post-it up on the board and come back to it in a minute.
So, the social science post-it... a few of the studies referred to were analyzing teenagers responses to "intervention" style attempts to keep kids from getting into trouble. Basic findings are, that any time you throw "at risk" kids into situations with other "bad kids"... they begin to identify with that group, attribute those characteristics to themselves.... to BELONG. Even the "Scared Straight" program backfires with a lot of kids - their kid-logic goes something like this: Jeez... if they went to all this effort to scare the SH&* out me... I really MUST be a bad kid.
OH - HELLO... past memory of smoking & hanging out in cars with older kids during that summer of '69 (I was 12 and had mom's permission - go figure). When the "price" for hanging out with them - being allowed to tag along - required smoking and trying to look older than I was, so I wouldn't drag down their "cool" factor. This was the summer - a few months after - the horrible, horrible events happened. This was during my mom's "whisper campaign" telling me what I thought, what I felt... that she knew me better than I knew myself.
This was AFTER I did cut myself... became banned at Ruths'... after the rape, near-death experience, dissociation, the flat out disbelief on my mother's part that any of that happened to me... her assault on my ability to determine reality by telling doctor after doctor that there must be some physical, medical reason for my symptoms... the rediculous things she made up... the pregnancy/abortion... the lies... to everyone about me... and TO ME... Hell, no, I wasn't thinking well at all!! What 12 yr old could work that Twilight Zone plot out and explain it to herself in a way that resulted in the understanding that it wasn't her fault; a PARENT needs to be accountable/responsible...
Sure Mom; nothing's ever that bad....... </sarcasm>
But I wasn't trying to kill myself. I was trying to get HER out of my head and find ME again. Which of course, was the huge taboo... it was how she controlled me... and of COURSE - I was angry; outraged in every logical, rational and moral way I could be outraged that she would do such a thing to me... and then tell me it was for my own good.
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Kids say things like "I hate you" and "I might as well kill myself"... when they aren't allowed the basic human right of owning their own feelings. That fundamental boundary... of being a separate person. They are ANGRY in the extreme because this is a life/death situation... their own survival is at stake... their identity, independence, and ability to determine their own "reality" and truth is at stake.
When there is no other way to express that anger and will to survive... then the kid often (not always) takes it out on him/herself**. And what did my mom whisper to me??? One of the things, was that I didn't have to kill myself... it wasn't that bad... she did what she did for my own good... and so that one understanding of a specific event/memory got twisted (see social science post-it) into self-harm. It was OK for her to be angry - but no one else was allowed to be; especially ME.
My mom's exact words when she found out I was smoking were: "Well, it could be worse".
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What a predicament, huh? In my case, it caused a sort of functional split between my conscious "self" and my unconscious self. Schizo is one way of describing it... because I simply was NOT able to have any impact on persuading my unconscious self to sign on to changes that would benefit me, in any way shape or form. Rewards backfired... bribes backfired... rules backfired... data tracking... it ALL failed. I was literally going in two directions at once. In so many respects, my unconscious self was just like a feral cat... and clearly, it was also "voiceless". Voiceless in the respect that I couldn't "hear" it; couldn't hear myself screaming in agony or anger or frustration or need. Those emotions were the part of me that I had to hide; even from myself... because body-language can so easily convey an emotion... and my emotions - when not completely dictated & approved by Nmom - initiated the rage-campaigns and her guilt-trips and... well, you know all the hijinks, right? Flat out, it wasn't safe... to be me.
When I can get back into my Kindle and get the references again, I'll post the names of the various techniques suggested for "fixing" this condition. Essentially, a person "rewrites" their inner narrative. You know, pencil & paper really worked for me. The eye-hand coordination kicked in with the mind-body connection... and after many pages, I found my own peculiar "stream of consciousness" again. At that point, I was able to do the same here.... typing. I knew something was churning up lately; I've been having a lot of trouble typing... something was interfering (more than normal) with both the letters and the words that "fell out" of my fingers. I suspect that it's this exercise - repeated ad nauseum - that's slowly been decreasing the separation between my conscious self and unconscious self. So that we can - most of the time now - speak with one voice, we're going in the same direction... the goals are the same.
The other thing that happens with this constant re-write of one's personal story or narrative... is that with each successive rewrite one gains just a bit more distance from the old, toxically poisonous memories of the emotionally abusive experience. It becomes less emotionally stimulating - old hat, a dry dusty fact just like the fact than once I wore 10-button landlubber bell bottoms that dragged on the ground. There is a lot less "reliving"; "re-experiencing"... because, I guess, the unconscious self is finally given the space to process those emotions about those experiences... in safety, acknowledgement, self-validation, and empathetic understanding. It becomes possible to let that collection of experiences fade away... into the past... not forgotten, but no longer a relevant feature of the present state of being "me".
Essentially - loving the feral cat unconscious self patiently - until it loses or gives up it's misguided (though understandable under those circumstances!) "need" to express itself - to be - through self-harm.
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OK - the writing exercise is called the Pennebaker Writing Exercise. Here's a link to an explanation of this & related "therapies" on Wikipedia:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Writing_therapy
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Much as I feel that Freudian theories "fit' me... well, pavlov, too... there is this strong Jungian influence, especially in the paths I'm treading in the healing process. The dreams I mentioned a few months ago are back; in full force. I've been sleeping longer hours - and the last hour or so is quite deep - so that upon waking, it takes me a good long time to return from the light-years away distance I've been travelling & dreaming - living my "other" life. I believe, this is some of what I experienced as a child also - my deepest, most restful, most dreamy sleep was right before waking. So, I'd be incoherent for quite a while (tt - you'll maybe find this a parallel) and it was clear, that my mom thought I was weird, being bad on purpose, or there was something seriously wrong with me that I didn't just jump out of bed 100% conscious and ready to go. Back then, it didn't help that I'd been up most of the night - with anxiety, racing thoughts, fear-spirals, nightmares, hypervigilance. And of course: my mom simply didn't see or understand this as anything except misbehaving. For a woman who believed, without a shred of doubt that she was always right - she could be so, plain, garden-variety, ignorant.
My latest dream was about my Dad. And it carried the emotional message that he was also responsible for the danger I suddenly found myself in, so long ago. It also... oddly... carried the message that as cruel and N and nasty as his behavior could be at times... that behavior wasn't what we call or define as: abusive. His employees - that I've come to know - have been telling me the same things, here and there.
A long time ago, before therapy, I realized that there was one significant way that my Dad and I were very much alike. He also reacted strongly to the treatment he received at the hands of his mom. This woman frightened me as a child; I hated being anywhere near her. Being sent to her house, for overnights, I always wondered why I was being punished and for what. I wonder, if he ever realized the connection between his wacko mom... and the woman he married?
Now that I am at a distance from the memories and reliving them, of my mom... and thanks to Sally's links... it seems pretty clear that my initial, amateur diagnosis of my mom was pretty damn close: BPD. At the time, I was checking off the list of symptoms that were clearly ringing "bells" for me, back then... my T pushed me away from analyzing my mom, in the interest of working on "me". Now, I'm kinda wondering if perhaps, my grandma - my Dad's mom - didn't fit that criteria, also. She was a bit infamous, for "torturing" and being mean (or outliving) - all 7 of her husbands.
I wonder... if the reason my mom yelled "abuse" at the top of her lungs, over & over... trying to brainwash my bro & I, about how evil my dad was; in conjunction with her self-soothing rationalization of why she stayed married to him, 14 years - "for you kids"; I wonder if perhaps this isn't the dead-giveaway about her psyche and mental health. When you're hypervigilant and stay awake "until Daddy gets home" (so you feel safe enough to sleep)... you also hear how Mom started all the fights and how awful her verbal abuse was. And... when my Dad was finally driven away - because he really was out of patience trying to figure out what she wanted... how to satisfy her... and to save his own ego -- that was when she was at her worst and craziest and scariest.
I haven't seen projection come up much, in explanations of BPD. But I can understand that if she feels that she herself is nothing, no one... she would be insanely jealous (and critical) of people who do have a sense of self... and emotions... and free will... and the ability to set boundaries; say NO. And she would have a primal fear of that emptiness within... and would unconsciously, completely un-self-aware... try to convince herself; and others... that they are the same way. And wholeheartedly believe that people with a more solid self.... are evil. Making fun of her. Out to get her. Responsible for everything bad (she creates &) experiences.
Gotta go. Don't know where this is going yet.
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Eventually, if I babble ENOUGH, the words finally fall out of my mouth... it helps if I'm paying attention and actually HEAR them.
My post-it notes this month need to say:
WHAT DO I NEED RIGHT NOW? and
WHEN IS IT MY TURN TO BE TAKEN CARE OF??
That's it; that's all I need to be thinking about and trying to answer here. Everything else is just blathering, babbling, opinion, and polishing turds... or refining/reframing/rewriting my story, if you prefer. Yep... this is self-centered, self-absorbed and N, in our shorthand of talking about how people "are". And that is what I've been saying all along: people need egos or the mack-truck of life (and other people) is going turn one into roadkill.
Add to that, the fact I was never allowed and taught not to expect those questions to be heard - much less taken seriously or needs met... yeah. So that's why I feel like I'm a big baby right now. A big ole baby that wants it's mommy (a NICE mommy, if I'm allowed to choose). But we don't get to choose, do we? No guarantees in life, really.
So, what to do? Obviously, I'm still not "built" to live my life in flaming, taking, me-me-me N-fashion. Heck, I didn't even want to clutter up the main board with trying to get to these two existential questions... people are dealing with real issues and mine don't seem all that important or urgent in the scheme of things. I'm just polishing turds... or like my T said, on our last visit: I'm looking for the "universal mother"... sigh.... archetypes don't manifest in a consistent fashion in reality; they're really not much more solid than a lot of my theories.
One theory I've had about this "need to be taken care of", is that if one genuinely takes care of someone else; cares for someone else... one will receive equal to what's been given. In practice, in reality... I've found that it's a lot more like the statistics of whether toast falls butter side up/down more often... it matters what height the toast is dropped from. You take your chances... and lots of other (known/unknown) variables can affect the results.
The other thing, is that I seem to have a very definite definition of what I mean - in emotional terms - about "being taken care of". A feeling that doesn't translate into the words, thoughts that describe it... I can't make a list of what this phrase consists of. But I'm fairly certain that the only thing standing in the way of feeling that feeling - is something about me. Perception maybe. Distraction from normal life stuff that takes up attention, time, energy. Habitual ways of understanding things, perhaps.
The other thing I'm cognizant of, is that when we ask - in prayer, or of the universe in general, for things we need or want... we have to release the outcome of the "asking". The answer can be and often is in a different form than we anticipated and we don't get to choose ahead of time off some life-menu of answer entrees. One has to be careful what one wishes for.
A while back, I was hit over the head with a direct communique from my unconscious self - a dream in which I told my T I was ready to "finish" now. I thought I knew what that was going to consist of - what finishing required and what was required of me. And I was wrong again. Silly left brain conscious-self! "Finishing" is simply getting to these two post-it note questions and then every day, trying to answer those questions. Figure out what I mean by "being taken care of" through what I do now, later today, tomorrow...
Every day, the answers will be different. That's fine with me; keeps things interesting. Some days I'll forget to try to answer the questions; some days I'll be more or less successful. That's just fine. At least it matters, right? To me. It doesn't have to matter to anyone else.
Art work is the same way - each piece is one of a kind. Even prints can differ quite a bit from the proof stage, to the 100th pull. Spontaneous serendipity, accident, paying attention and changing direction or intent... is all part of the creative force.
A whole bunch of tiny, little, successive, but individual "present moments"... linked together by two questions and the search for answers. A search that isn't possible with "navel gazing" or talking things out or even dialogue; rather one that happens doing lots of different kinds of other things and paying attention when the answers show up.
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Again, I don't know where to put this... but it's something that's come up again:
There are things that I believe about myself: that I can/can't do certain things well... it's only based on how I felt on the receiving end of cruel criticism, being the butt of jokes, and humiliation... i.e., not having anyone else believe in me and allowing me to try... and find my own style, voice, or expression through trying and practice. At one point in my tai chi classes, I realized it was still possible for me to regain the strength and stamina (and body shape) of my younger self, if I continued working at it. To be really good at this, even... maybe even teach. Who wouldn't be motivated by seeing this?? And I ran away from that as fast as I could - it was so far out of the safe zone of what was "allowed" me - and so far in the danger zone because to get there, I had to perform the solo forms with people watching, grading, judging me... and don't ya know? When I attempted the first step to get there, I went totally blank early on and didn't even finish the form so that I wouldn't throw the other student performing with me, off. I knew the order of the postures, as well as the teachers. It wasn't even the focus of my attention anymore; I was more concerned about the individual refinements and the areas I always had trouble with, because of a weak ankle. But that was what I messed up. In a ranking exam.
What really freaked me out in that moment, was a mental image that appeared in my mind's eye: of some little impish demon jumping up & down and laughing at me telling me: "SEE, I told you you wouldn't be able to do it". Hard to believe, that all these years later, that the kind of emotional abuse we experienced as kids can still have such a direct impact on us in our presents, isn't it? Limiting us, and ruining the things we enjoy even. Because that's what I think this visual/audial imaginary mental moment was: a concretized amalgam of all the awful things that had been said to me... the feelings I had because of it... that I wasn't supposed to feel, because anger and self-survival was part of my feelings, too.
I use a lot of military and war metaphors and analogies, or did. I was locked in a battle within myself... what I wanted to do (even if I didn't do it well, or "right") and that hypercritical, humiliating, degrading collection of monikers, teasing, and descriptions of me that came directly from my mom and indirectly (less so now) from my brother. It comes up now, because my bro is at again in his pass-aggress way, I guess. And I just want to stand back from it all and look at this in the "big picture"... in context... and try to see whether there is any enemy at all... why on earth I'm letting it limit me now...
So yeah - all that crap came my direction and I dared not respond in kind because of the level of punishment for being a "smart-ass", "too big for my britches", not knowing my place... that left me probably more helpless and defensiveless than when I was struggling to shift the gun the gun in the rapist's hand. I wasn't allowed to dream my dreams, believe in myself and pursue what I really wanted - because it wasn't what Mother wanted me to do... or she projected out her fears: women won't be taken seriously as engineers, girls aren't good at math, there are no women scientists (Marie Curie, notwithstanding... her denial used the premise that Mde Curie was "special" and I wasn't). And there was a flip side to that 45 recording - a B side - too: that message was that all men would only take me seriously barefoot & pregnant (or in the process of being that way)... but that I was supposed to free myself from that (while stripping me of the means to do so???) Classic mixed message.
But the real question under this: is WHY did I let myself be so helpless in the face of those "imperative" messages that were so obviously F'd up? Well, OK - there is the issue that I wasn't allowed to self-determine myself - at least not without humongous battles; not allowed boundaries... not allowed to determine "reality" the way I wanted to -- that part of myself I had to keep hidden and safe from detection or bear the awful "judgement" of my mother... because only she knew the "right" way to view these things (hence my intense dislike for political correctness)... and to belong, to be acceptable and a part of that insane FOO-circus... [edit in: SELF? WHY would you want to belong to something so sick, perverse, dysfunctional and mean???]
oh yeah.
Because the backup message was that - by myself, I couldn't do anything "right". And of course, this is the subtext in my bro's comments about me, as well.
And when this role in the dynamic made me angry -- of course the fingers pointed my direction with the labels: over-sensitive, meltdown, fussing over nothing, get over it...
This is the old sewer smell I've been noticing in my feelings, ever since I've been encouraging my bro talk to me on business topics. This came back full force, when it was clear he was in his "other" personality -- practically an "alter" -- in the questions he posed in our last call. This is also the "early warning system" klaxon that I haven't been able to turn off since that phone call... what I called the "sucking vacumn" of enticement back into the sic FOO games I mentioned in someone's thread... and I haven't been able to let it go. I've been letting it cast it's gloom all over my mood as I go about finishing up my holiday gifts... and wow - it's nice to be able to see that bro (and mom too) are going out of their way to keep the family tradition of ruining Christmas alive... because it's a real stretch to find something to beat up Amber with, these days.
I will not pick up the phone... I will not pick up the phone... I will not pick up the phone... I will not pick up the phone. Leave a message at the beep.
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Maybe this'll wind up in the "Things Mama never taught me" thread.
Hubs & I spent Christmas by ourselves. Started out lovely and the potential for fun lurked... I reached out to and heard back from all the kids. Gave the dog his box of paper to shred and toys. But: things progressed quicly to silence and separation as we made a huge brunch together. Hubs took a long time while some goofy Christmas movie played... and I kinda bounced around, looking for something "fun" to do by myself, until it was time to start preparing dinner.
I had visions of a cozy, snuggly, day with hubs. Was really looking forward to it. Was willing to do my part to suggest this and be open and play... and yet the opportunity simply evaporated. We just didn't interact with each other... sigh.
This morning, I saw a news blurb that reported that money was spent to study and "prove" that children of emotional disturbed moms are twice as likely to be obese. Well, DUH! I'm not sure why someone thinks it's so important to re-study what people already know - is plain old common sense - instead of working on solutions to overcome these things. Finding what works for people, to let go... the hurts and disappointments; real deep grief... and move on. Yeah, we're all different... and speak different emotional languages... and that puzzle needs to be de-coded first, before proposing solutions. Kinda like learning a computer programming language, before being able to see where the glitches are and how to improve the application. But there's no need for a study, to determine when something simply "doesn't work", is broken, or gets stuck -- that is apparent to almost everyone.
Lately, there's been a lot of really good posts here on the board. It's so much easier, sometimes, to "see" things - realize what I'm doing to myself - when I see someone else doing the same, or close to the same thing or struggling to find their way through the same kind of thing. This wouldn't happen if we weren't able to open ourselves wide. To put all the yuck out there... and hope someone else can come along with ideas, suggestions, what works for them. Things to try. I've also learned how to use my 3-D experiences, to the same end... as a learning experience. To see what I haven't been seeing before. To try to figure out this weird thing of being me... and fix her.
One of the things I know I need to do now... is figure out how to ask for what I need. Not just the simple: Honey, can you take that tray out of the oven? But the other one, the BIG ONE... Hey, honey... I need to spend some time feeling close to someone, cared for, loved... do you have time for me? Because I need to feel like I belong, I'm not alone, and I know you need this too... How the hell does one ask this without reducing it to a transaction - I'll trade you a kiss for hugs?? without it turning into an all-out orgy instead? Where is the cruise-control button? Where we could just comfortably putter along together, cuddly... instead of flooring it and redlining the engine? I get overwhelmed pretty easily; scared off. I want out of the car. Who's making the rules about which speed we're going? Who's driving?
Where is that place, where we both speak the same romantic, loving emotional programming language and practice answering the other's needs? We used to know where it was... but since "boundaries" came into my collection of concepts... it seems we don't. Sometimes I feel I'm not "right"... I need to fix something about me... and I know hubs misunderstands me sometimes or gives up because he's afraid he's already done something "wrong" and doesn't want to make any worse. SIGH. Maybe I'm just missing the obvious again... and this is all something incredibly, stupidly, simple. Why do we spend so much time negotiating the parent-child trap in trying to care about and take care of each other??? Why are relationships so friggin' difficult for children of PDs or Ns????
What little pieces of human interaction were we not taught -- that everyone else seems to know and take for granted, like some secret club??
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Connection. What is this, really?
Messages about ourselves... what we're told about us as children, we hold as "facts"... until someone shows us without a doubt that it's not really true.
This month's post-its.
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So I woke up early, from a post-apocalyptic survivor dream. Making a list of collective "resources" on my green steno pad [the "great organizer" at work - LOL!]... insisting that people and family groups have their own private space... boundaries ... even in a make-shift shelter [individuality within a crowd?].
And when my brain started to whirr into it's normal mode: a nugget of insight - it was essential to my mom's survival to make me just as miserable as she was; if not me - then someone; anyone else - nothing of what I suffered in relationship with her was about me... nothing personal... it was all about her and her struggle to breathe, by pushing someone else underwater.
That would explain my reluctance to be open and close with other people in 3-D... scared about trusting, now wouldn't it? What comes after explanation? Letting go or digesting it and letting nature do it's compost thing? And then what? I mean, if it had been anyone else doing this, except my mother... I never would've bought into it. Why on earth did I make an exception for her, besides the fact that I was still a kid and essentially powerless... plus she'd trashed my credibility with her cover-up stories...
The whole "tickling the amygdala" topic came up in the context of what I consider to be a false premise, in conversation with my hair-wizard. If not completely false... it's not a complete statement of what I know to be "reality". He stated as a flat fact, that people process new sensory input... thoughts... information... automatically negatively; as a threat first - unless one then engaged the cortex and higher functioning analysis in the brain. That it was a GIVEN, the way humans are built... we don't have any choice about this... and without silly exercises to train ourselves differently, will continue to first evaluate all data for threat-level before seeing it any differently. I have indeed read this in the literature - both serious and "popular" - of neuroscience.
BUT - in that particular moment - I wrinkled my nose; I squirmed in the chair; cocked my head sideways... the inner Twiggy was waving her hand in the air again... she wanted to know if it was possible to do both at once - to assign both positive and negative (threat) value at the same time. He said Nope. And I said... when you're driving down the road enjoying the scenery it's still possible to dodge the potholes and react in time, if someone stops short in front of you. It IS possible for the brain to do both simultaneously and to not be controlled by either false security or paranoid anxiety.
I didn't tell him, that it's possible for my brain, at least. Not that it always works perfectly, mind you... just that I have experienced this enough, to know how to "get there", when I need to. And maybe I need to "get there" a lot more of the time, than I do...
I think that ability to connect to the positive - while still being cognizant of "threat" and able to plan for avoiding or minimizing or neutralizing it... is what is known in the art world and tai chi... as "flow"... the "zone".
It's a different kind of perception. I wonder if... it's the same thing as "attunement" in relationships?
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Nice thing about post-its... one can quickly "toss" them, replace them...
Instead of "connection"... "belonging"
Instead of "messages"... "self-determination"
I think these might be two points on a continuum... and we're forever somewhere in between, with a few, clear focused moments (as needed) at each end. It's the "as needed" I didn't realize was something that people go through their whole lives. That we don't determine who we are... establish our identity just once and that's it, till the end of time... it's not a phase we go through, like puberty or menopause... then it's over. (Is menopause ever over???)
I didn't know I could spend time on self-determination and still belong... and that in belonging, I actually ran into, discovered, tripped over and "got to know"... who I am. I thought I had to go away, find a cave, far from everyone... no sound, no interference, no "others"... to know me, apart from "me in context" or "me in a role". [Only part of that was believing that the self I'd find was so ugly, it wasn't fit for human consumption... the other part was process; I thought that was the only process that would insure that "I" would be uninfluenced by anyone else.]
It's the yin/yang symbol again... that point where there is one black molecule left... before it becomes the white part; the black dot surrounded by and held within the white. No gray; at all. There is no "there"... because it's constantly in flux or motion... same thing with belonging/self-determination... and where the boundaries are just lines in the sand; not walls or fences... where we are becoming at the same time we're letting go...
Self-determination. Determining my Self... yes... I'm seeing a lot of that going on right now. It feels like confusion, because of all the choices (I think)... but it's more like a sieve, with specific sized holes... and I'm shaking those choices and only certain ones fall through or remain...
tink! pingggggg.... rattle... clatter... blllttttthhhhhhsplat.
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Oh!!!! Ohh!!! I think I've found the "key"... the last f'ng piece of the puzzle!!!!
But I don't know for sure yet... the research, pondering, seeing how I "fit" into the concept and how the concepts "fit" my roadblock... I have all that work to do with this, first, I guess.
The "what the hell effect"... or if you'd rather: "counter regulatory effect"... so totally applies to me. And, I've discovered that there is discussion of this adult "symptom"... in folks with lingering primary attachment issues. (and how interesting IS it, that I'm back to Allan Schore and his work, again???)
And since it's become damn clear to me in the course of all my previous work... the link between the two, for me... and even how it affects my relationship with hubs... and why I'm still having trouble transitioning from a "no schedule... no structure... nothing external imposed on me total freedom experience (which I so totally needed - my cocoon - and the letting the dust settle phase) and feeling "guilty" about that phase, for no rational reason...
the "odd" thing is that I know that part of me "knows" all about this connection and the resulting cause/effect that I haven't been able to alter. It's odd that I have this non-rational understanding of it... and feel compelled - survival-oriented mechanism - to make it conscious... rational...first... before "trying it all out"... being able to trust, accept and commit to "fixing" it. But odd or not... that's what I feel I have to do.
The "what the hell" rationalization - bar the door Katie, I'm eating that whole bag of chips because it's supposed to make me "feel" better - excuse or idea that's tied to whether I care for myself or indulge in what I know is self-harming... all of that is tied to the "I don't matter" problem in my FOO. I figured out that I do matter to my SELF... and that was a good first step... but I've been standing on that step, looking around, totally head up my butt confused about what comes NEXT. Well, OK - I do have a list. And that list keeps getting longer, the longer I stand around going "duh.... what do I need?"
The big link between this rationalization and attachment theory... is basic human needs: food, emotional nurturing, protection/safety, and "regulation"... i.e., self-choice & control of behavior. I was constantly denied my real needs, from my mom... and constantly pushed to a "substitute"... a pacifier... that couldn't possibly satisfy the real need and that solidified into my "chasing" of those substitutes as my real need sat there - still unfulfilled and growing. And it was totally taboo to have the needs, when I was the one in the role of taking care of mom's needs instead.
OK. That much I know before research. NOW... I'm off to work & read & discuss & ponder... experiment!! :)
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Post-It to SELF:
It's not just eating the wrong thing that triggers the "what-the-hell" effect in dieters. Eating more than other people can create the same feelings of shame, and lead to eating even more (or binging later in private). Any setback can create the same downward spiral. In one not-so-nice study, Polivy and Herman rigged a scale to make dieters think they had gained five pounds. The dieters felt depressed, guilty, and disappointed with themselves—but instead of resolving to lose the weight, they promptly turned to food to fix those feelings.
Dieters aren't the only ones susceptible to the "what-the-hell" effect. The cycle can happen with any willpower challenge. It's been observed in smokers trying to quit, alcoholics trying to stay sober, shoppers trying to stick to a budget, and even child molesters trying to control their sexual impulses.
Crucially, it's not the first giving in that guarantees the bigger relapse. It's the feelings of shame, guilt, loss of control, and loss of hope that follow the relapse. Once you're stuck in the cycle, it can seem like there is no way out except to keep going. This leads to even bigger willpower failures and more misery as you then berate yourself (again) for giving in (again). But the thing you're turning to for comfort can't stop the cycle, because it only generates more feelings of shame.
What's the solution? As I've written about many times on this blog, self-compassion is far more effective and motivating than self-criticism and shame.
From Psychology Today; Kelly McGonigal
HMMM. What about shame because of loss of self-control? Like anger unleashed as rage?
Connect the dots, Amber...
Next day edit:
it is possible to connect the dots incorrectly. All emotions I expressed were subject to shaming of one sort or another - often disguised as teasing, poking fun, etc. The level & consistency of the invalidation campaign that was sent my way... and not just in that SHTF year... is what I need to focus on. I was much more acceptable - tho' never good enough - when parenting my mom & bro... more dots. No win situations; double binds... impact on self-efficacy... what I believe myself capable of doing vs hopelessness & learned helplessness...
reading....
breathing....
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HUH... wait a minute...
doesn't:
But the thing you're turning to for comfort can't stop the cycle, because it only generates more feelings of shame.
Doesn't this accurately describe my relationship with mom & bro???
Good thing I've got a lot of wall space and lots of tape, in case the post-its get moved around alot and aren't sticky anymore.
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Cleaning up the "post-its" to keep my focus and concentration... with some significance added:
Invalidation:
creates this dumb belief that I don't matter... that effort is meaningless (hopelessness; helplessness; futility)... so why try in the first place? This is also handing "other people" the power to make that judgement, when I can always (can't be taken away either) make the decision that I matter to myself.
What the Hell Effect:
already f'd that up... in for a penny in for a pound... might as well keep on doing this... and see if anyone notices; stops me; cares enough to try to persuade me otherwise. Already "shameful"... and the funny thing about shame is that a lot of it feels about the same as a little; it's all miserably bad. Sets up self-perpetuating cycle... the "chip on the shoulder" effect
Ego Depletion:
New concept for me. Sounds a lot like having one's boundaries kicked in, trampled, run over & left for dead... with a twist. That twist is that one isn't able to sustain mattering to oneself (see what the hell effect) - because of (and I don't know if this is for real or not... but in my case there are supporting connections)... because of a lack of glucose to fuel the brain. How to tell if this is the case? One way, that I'm reading about, is that the intensity of experienced emotions increases...
... and that's something that makes me say "huh". In other words, emotional distortion... loss of perspective, I guess, in extreme cases. Over-reacting?? to a normal, little run of the mill difficulty... and feeling as though it's the "last straw that breaks the camel's back"?? All because of low blood sugar...
so skipping breakfast - or lunch - is not a good thing. Eating 5 times a day - smaller meals supplemented with healthy snacks - might work better for me, that feasting on carbs for energy. Physical "well-being" translating into emotional self-regulation... and balance. Same with sleep deprivation. Been reading that if one sleeps poorly, all kinds of normal processes get out of balance and the body uses energy when one is supposed to be recharging - waking up this hungry hormone grehlin (sounds like a gargoyle, doesn't it?) It's one of a pair of hormones that tell the brain when one is hungry or full... this pair works together to self-regulate appetite... and how they function can easily be thrown out of wack, if one eats late right before going to bed... skips meals... or otherwise interrupts or exaggerates the body's preferred glucose range.
The other kinds of things that have been found to cause ego depletion is - believe it or not - making too many decisions. Or being faced with lots of choices. My guess is that we can throw "multitasking" into that basket, too. And having too many kinds of things to "do"... too many different kinds of things - and that number probably always changes from person to person and level of well-being, too. And I wonder, purely speculatively... if that could also be extended to the type of "exhaustion" that I experience because of "too much clutter"??
So, I don't need to be stringing yarn from these concepts back to childhood experiences and my experience of poor parenting, at this point. Maybe later a little connecting will be necessary. After all the connecting I've already done, I'm still here with the same old dysfunctional habits and still looking for that blast of "AHA" - that thing I still don't know or that mama didn't teach me - to be able to START moving on... and START to make changes.
This author actually explains what's been wrong with my approach and planning techniques... where I set myself up to fail (or give up without really starting). He shows why "the to-do list" only feeds into the dysfunction... and explains that where I've always gone wrong in the past... is on:
Next Action
instead of saying what it is I need to do next... I'll put that item down on my list, as the result I need to get to next - sans instructions/reminders of HOW I'm going to do it. WHEN. Specifically - in detail. That's the mistake I make.
As in: drink cup of tea... that's the result
If I instead remind myself: boil water at 10 am... 2:30 pm... make tea....
Then I don't need to make any decisions - choices - and I don't use that brain glucose energy in the process of changing my habit or taking care of myself. After a few days or a week or two... I don't need the note anymore, either and I TRUST myself to remember; it's automatic... and I don't have the connection between making that change and ego depletion/exhaustion either.
This is at least one piece of usefulness that I think makes sense to me, since some of my attempts to "change" myself have created the most intense discomfort for me... I overwhelm myself and easily give up and return to the "bad habit comfort zone". Yet I absolutely positively do well in a changing situation - travel, coping with unusual circumstances, those "have to" situations where everyone is making it up as they go along. Change is positively stimulating for me; not a negative. Yet there's a lot more outside of my control in the latter scenario... whereas everything in the former should be (but definitely isn't yet) completely under my control.
That concept of "fixing feelings" by taking in something from outside myself - is highly questionable. I know it came from a delusional person... and I don't consciously believe it's "true" or valid. And YET... that is exactly what I'm doing or attempting to do. Nimwit.
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OK... I think I almost understand the concepts from this book on "Willpower".
From the moment I am conscious of my body in the morning, till I leave it for dreamland at night... I'm making choices - this or that, what do I feel like, what do I need in this present moment, what do I want to do today (how come I don't decide what I want to feel like each day? hmmm; digression)...
All of those choices and decisions - even picking/choosing my words here - use ENERGY... this heretofore unknowable mysterious "willpower" and discipline that I've always been told I don't have. (That's crap; this will explain why...) ENERGY relies on GLUCOSE... that sugary glop in our bodies that is out of balance in diabetics... that runners need to push through to the end of the marathon... the stuff, that when you stop being physically active... turns to fat. Using lots of energy - even in mental processes - depletes our energy stores... what the author calls EGO DEPLETION. In this case, ego simply means one's core strength of concentrated "selfness"; i.e, "will" - the ability to choose, decide... SELF-REGULATE my self... you know, "control" myself.
I've observed this in myself and how I react to hubs' love for indefatigable shopping excursions. Even a grocery store run can stretch out to 3-4 hours with him; he thrives on the choices, options, noise, people, and just loves to satisfy some little immediate "want" with a treat... I usually take a list of things we're out of, at home - but that's it. We stand in front of food and try to decide what we're going to eat that evening. By the time we get home, unload the bags and let the dog out - I still haven't eaten that day. It could be 2-3 pm.... and I'm so drained that all I want is my newspaper (which is a signal to him to leave me alone) and some instant junk food... which I mindlessly eat... while I mindlessly read... until I get to the editorials. By then, I can at least "care" about things again. I eat... until my blood sugar balances a bit again... and I can feel like my normal "self" -- not a total zombie. And of course, I've stuffed my stomach... and am in absolutely no frame of mind (or will) to get up and make dinner a couple of hours later.
I no longer have meltdowns in Walmart, like I used to from sensory overload. But, I haven't really appreciated that hubs' main source of entertainment - shopping (yes, he considers this "doing things" with me) - is wearing me out, using up the limited amount of energy I have each day... to make the changes I want. It's the style of his shopping, that does it - I've called it hunting/gathering in the past - and that's just about as good as it gets. Like a bee, he'll want to buzz through the aisles... OH, what's this?... How do you pronounce "quinoa"?... I haven't seen this in years (so he buys 5)... which is why it takes so long to get through the grocery store.
My shopping style, is that I USED to preplan meals... and my list included all the staples/main ingredients I was low on and all the special items I needed, organized by dish... then I "go get" and "get out". I let him convince me that I was being "grumpy" and a "stick in the mud" for not being able to have fun shopping, like he does. The list meant that I didn't have to use so much energy trying to remember everything I needed... I had fewer decisions to make in the gathering process... I could even estimate about how much my bill would be (very roughly) when I checked out. This was a skill I developed when I lived 50 miles from the grocery store. If I didn't have juniper berries when I got home - I sure wasn't getting any at the local convenience store!
And I lead, what I call "reconnaissance missions". That's where I'll just walk through a store looking at things. I may not even want anything, or have a purchase in mind - I just want to see what they've got. Sometimes, I'll find a gem... most of the time, I walk out of the store without buying a thing... I actually get more energy from that kind of shopping, than hubs' kind. I get excited about possibilities, designing, making a new space - a new atmosphere - somewhere at home. Or new wardrobe (altho' it's rare these days I find anything in the stores that I like; much less looks decent on me)... Sales clerks hate me, until they get to know what I'm doing - because if they leave me alone long enough or just wave bye-bye and wait - I'll definitely show up later with a complete list of the items that I'm sure I want.
Believe it or not - this isn't a digression from the Willpower topic. Because, if I start thinking about all the pieces of the puzzle of physical/mental energy, ego depletion, and "what the hell" effect... from the starting point of self-regulation... turn the picture sideways... then all of a sudden a bunch of things start to go pop! fizz! Bingo... in my head.
Part 1 of this - is "how I am". Part 2 - is a sketchy plan (so far) for putting that knowledge to work to make the changes I want to make. And this time, I feel a whole lot more hopeful about implementing it and reaching those goals. I know exactly what went wrong with previous applications of popular techniques - because they were wrong for me. CBT has a reputation problem; an image problem, I think. It creates this exaggerated expectation that if you say, keep track of every smoke you have... you'll magically smoke less. What isn't explained well... what isn't made clear in those instructions... is the "self-regulation" part, nor the physical component. THAT'S where my self-sabotage comes from... from low-blood sugar... when I'll say What the Hell... and over-do... because of my "habit" learned in childhood... of not eating; it's a need and mom can't be bothered... it's not important/I'm not important... so I have no self-regulation resources to meet temptation... to set limits... to even know when I'm full, at dinner.
Self-regulation is a complete mystery to someone who's been "regulated" by an overbearing, dominating, always right yet contradictory, mentally ill or even simply PD parent. You've been told how to act, what to say, how to feel... for so long... by someone outside of yourself... you don't even know that you have wants and needs; you'll deny having any wants and pretend needs don't exist. And then, in my case - when I was too young, about 13 - my mom went completely "hands-off" neglectful. I made my own curfews... parented her & my bro... I had to make up all my own rules for myself... figure it all out - what's "socially acceptable" mean??... by myself.
So outwardly - I've been pegged as having no self-control or discipline in my behavior. What I find fascinating is the equal amount of self-control and discipline I have, inwardly - of suppressing my Self, my emotions, my sense of identity, likes/dislikes - for the FOO Party Line. I can definitely "endure". To be a "good little soldier" playing my part in that soap opera... meant denying my Self. I had to do all the work on self-discovery, definition, creation... before any of the CBT changes could even be useful (and not backfire) on me. In a way, this is the advanced class on boundaries, too.
You know, timing is everything... and there really are prerequisites... a certain "order" to this work; skipping chapters or trying to jump to the end... doesn't really gain one anything. OH... and doing this work, is even more evidence for my store of "willpower", "self-regulation", and "self-control"... because as painful as it is... I haven't walked away (ok, maybe procrastinated...) from the specific tasks. Before I get babbling too far... I'm going to need to define Part 2 - design that implementation plan... and spit out the bit that I've learned:
Yes, I've always had a high degree of self-control -- but I was applying it to the wrong things and there wasn't enough energy left to address or stamina to sustain any of the things I wanted to change.
Shut up now, Amber... go read some more, think, digest...
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All these years... I have been trying to find the words to SAY... what I know about myself... and why I go through all kinds of gyrations, put myself through hell, trying to make simple lifestyle changes... what the difference is between ME and thousands of other people... and I've probably spewed out a million words here, over the years... more in my journals... and lo & behold:
Kay said it.
I should ask for more things: childless time to exercise, etc. But I worry hubby will think me selfish. Maybe my inner child is still always worried she's selfish. NM told me that every five minutes for most of my childhood. I know that was projection, but my IC doesn't.
I bolded those two statements, because I heard this too... and sometimes there was the variation of being told I had no self-control, no discipline, no willpower... somewhere here, I wrote someone that I'd realized part of my "problem" was that I was TOO controlled; regulated; editing... and while talking to hubs the other day, he said that being over-controlled still resulted in the same end result as having no self-control... and Kay's statement about her own situation explains exactly why.
There has to be time to digest this now. Observe. Let it settle. And deal with my own lingering Twiggy-fear.
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Yay. My new book was downloaded to my Kindle. "Coming Apart: the State of White America, 1960-2010".
Since I "came apart" during those years and am looking for clues on putting myself back together, it made sense to investigate someone's view of the "era-times-whatever" I lived through/in. I'm expecting the stage-set, the cultural subtexts, the challenges to the established cultural values... i.e., the CONTEXT of that era to have a little something to do with my personal story. It's not as if Twigs lived in a bubble, completely separated from things like Vietnam, Star Trek, NOW, and civil rights... despite my mom's ostrich attempts to isolate us/me. In some ways, the counterculture absolutely saved me... gave me the best possible place to "hide" despite all the pitfalls associated with it - and there were some pretty nasty ones.
And the basic subject of the book, is CULTURAL inequality (as opposed to just income equality). This is something I'm currently experiencing - and not overly comfortable with. Having been a "worker bee" all my life... and jaggedy-rough around my edges... I feel like I don't really fit in or belong... in the culture that exists on the other side. It's not that anyone is nasty to me; excluding me... more that I keep hesitating and pulling back... not sure I even want to know what it's all about. Me judging them, in other words... not always intentionally... but I can't help noticing things. I mean, the psychiatrist's office at the entrance to our community always has a full parking lot. As I've gotten to know a few people... I've seen/felt/intuited some great sadness in some people... along with the garden-variety life crap that comes up for people, at different times in their lives. And I've noticed that I actually feel different when I'm around "normal people" -- the local worker bees, that is. Way more relaxed... comfortable... trusting... and open. There are fewer minefields... fewer "politically correct" rules about conversation, being, etc... fewer layers of insulation between people.
So, I'm trying to choose a path... find my place... here. Not in any rush to do so either. And I think Twigs would like it, if I spend a little time considering whether it's possible to have a foot in both cultures... or if that's kinda been one of the "problems" I've been juggling, trying to resolve for myself... all along.
The hubs issue is receding to a dull roar. We've always been able to talk - and we're talking. Trying to figure out who "us" is now... along with how much "us" time vs individual time doing different things... is good for us. I shouldn't have worried - he's always had my back - and while this is gonna be bumpy, at the end of the day neither of us is going anywhere. I did find, that a lot of the difficulty is my own susceptibility to be pulled, lured, into whatever is hubs' momentary attention-fixation... in other words, boundaries. He doesn't do this on purpose... it's part of him and his way of meeting his own needs... and I'm trying to teach him, that only I can fix this... he only needs to be aware of it -- and it's not his fault.
Gonna go read this book and digest it... over & out!
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Very long book. Lots of statistics - which at least the author doesn't claim are 100% accurate; that's different.
2/3 of the book is just the statistics, analysis... author making his case for "why it matters" - thoroughly. The picture he paints of how much and what exactly has changed in the US; well... it's kinda bleak. ESPECIALLY when you take that picture and set it right next to individual stories - our stories - because we exist within that picture... the landscape. That background "landscape" is really important to the context (and challenges) in our personal stories... and maybe more than that. Maybe there's an explanation in this particular study that explains some other things that have jumped up in my struggle-awareness lately... fingers crossed. We'll see. I have a lot more reading to do, even though I'm almost to the notes, credits, and appendices.
And I'm starting to question some of his assumptions about the 60s beginning data point he's using (because of my personal experience). Double-checking what I *think* I know from experience... against what the data shows.
It is giving me yet another way to understand my own story... within that landscape - background - context of society/life around me. Takes awhile for all the ahas... association-connections... and ideas to get processed in my head into the beginning of a pattern... (some times there is no pattern)... and then for me to fully digest what I think the significance is.
OH: and maybe it's premature... but lately I've been able get a couple more changes started - things on my list of goals. Micro-changes, really... nothing to brag about... but have been able to "remember" and follow through and start the repetition process... for the "new" habits I've chosen to replace the "old" habits.
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I had a weird observation this morning. It's the coldest it's been all winter here and windy too. My wake-up routine involves going out with coffee to smoke, regardless of the weather. I have the world's ugliest, rattiest, but warm robe that is my "security blanket"... so even for the short moments I'm outside, I'm freezing this morning. Had to put gloves on... and I rolled down the cuff on the left sleeve. It was some time, before I "remembered" to roll down the right one.
The thought: oh, my right hand automatically knows to take care of the left hand, but not vice versa...
is connected to the neuroscientific knowledge that the left hemisphere of the brain controls the right hand, etc.
Looks like I need to keep strengthening my right-brain stuff... or at least adjust my center of balance/awareness more to the right again. Balance things out...
which makes sense, since the work I've been doing with my self lately has all been left-brain planned & initiated. There are some inherent weaknesses with that source of motivation, too. Like my intuitive belief that the nasty critical voice comes from my LBrain. It seems to be a cruel dictator, assured of it's superiority sometimes... rationality rules all, that kind of thing. Rigid, inflexible, humorless, and capriciously without empathy... for the REST of my SELF.
The rest of my Self has a message for that nasty part of my Lbrain: go take a flying leap at a rolling doughnut.
The only reason that part of my brain retains all the mom-crap and spits it back out at me, is because of how clearly, in detail, and intensely Rbrain was aware and felt the forbidden emotions in response to the mom-crap, the first go-round. Rbrain "remembers" better than Lbrain... no matter how pompous and in control Lbrain thinks it is. It is still just the "Monkey Mind".
Rbrain doesn't have a context for being in charge, in how my brain functions, except in extremely emotional circumstances. But it's really the better "processing" part of my brain for what I've set as my goals. It needs more latitude of "action". I wonder what that will be?
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PHEW.
We've been busy around here the past few days... getting caught up with stuff we both have procrastinated over. My reading kinda went by the way side... the neuro book is a bit dull so far; partly because the beginning is going over the same stuff I've read previously. Just getting up off the couch took 3 lbs off my weight, I've found exercises to help ease the residual pain in my ankle & to help strengthen it and bought myself orthopedic flipflops for spring to try to avoid re-injuring myself. I can still do other exercises that don't require one-legged balance. I'm not always eating breakfast - and not always eating "healthy" - but I'm being a bit more mindful, and I'm fine with that microprogress for now.
I called a "vacation" yesterday afternoon... hubs is wiped out... I've been cranky... it's time to do something "fun" before the weather gets ugly Sat-Sun-Mon again. Have some major maintenance projects around the house scheduled to begin next week, that I postponed for 2 years.
I've been meaning to get around to saying something here about my ability to be a chameleon; to be a "shape shifter" of sorts... to camoflauge myself into whatever situation I find myself. I learned to be really good at this, when I was around my mother. It was a survival skill - and also part of the deal of being a parentified kid. Because I was mirroring/marking HER... I wasn't being me. Because I was always at her beck & call... meeting her needs... I wasn't learning to know my own, nor learn to give those needs (at least) the same weight and importance as hers. Worse - I came to simply accept that this transaction of give, give, give without expecting a return - was par for the course for all relationships. So I unconsciously "trained" people around me to expect this from me. It was what I had to give in "trade" for "belonging".
Other people aren't happy or overly comfortable when I shake things up and start having needs and expectations... the status quo is getting changed. But it's not my job to make people comfortable or happy at 100% expense to myself. If I want it to be MY TURN, I can - and am - starting to insist on that.
Something I wrote on Ales' thread about Estranged Parents needs expanding on. That's the idea of giving myself permission to live the rest of my life, guilt free about my mom. I know I felt it was "sad - bad - a tragedy - a personal issue - a loss" to finally accept that I wasn't going to ever have the kind of mom that I've tried to be for my girls; that I've experienced with other people even. But it really wasn't my fault... I bent over backwards and threw myself under the bus... to try gain that little bit of approval, affection, concern in return for all I did for her. For whatever reason - she couldn't be open to this; she was barricaded behind some wall and wasn't letting anyone in. And if you did get in - or needed something - you nearly always paid dearly for it.
And of course, I learned to be this way from her - because that was her attachment style. But I don't have to be this way; I can just be me instead. I also don't have to fear - and rely on my old defenses developed during that relationship - that other people are going to be selfish, always emotionally taking, or unpredictably cruel as my mom. That wasn't "normal" human behavior. I failed at "fixing" it or even modifying it - but not because of lack of effort. That failure really wasn't my fault.
I only felt guilty... because that's what I was trained to feel, when I "let mom down" by not meeting her needs. There are some things, that adult people need to be responsible for doing themselves, you know? Including the moms in our heads.
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More thoughts on that "attachment" dysfunction.
Without the basic boundary of self - in other words, ME and YOU as two separate beings - it's rather difficult to have a relationship, the way "relationship" is usually defined and as it exists in the "bigger world". Instead, there's sort of a dependency feedback loop that is CALLED relationship, but isn't because there is no positive validation of the "other person" as being separate, different, and "not me". There is no nourishment from mom to child... because "mom" sees child as an extension of herself - and not a separate person. Child's "purpose in life" (or self) is then only existing to nurture mom... instead of the natural order of things.
Go NC with mom - and there's a hole. That hole is simply the validation & evidence that we are separate people and that we are lovable and that we are important, valuable participants in the family unit; we belong. It can be filled with lots of things... but there is also a sense of desperation; urgency... and well, one perhaps doesn't make the wisest choices because one is afraid there will never be another chance - JUMP! There is also self-disgust... self-distrust... and self-confusion because self-worth has been trained into us, in that environment, to be based on the success of fulfilling mom's enmeshment/dependency needs. And then OH... the guilt... because we weren't loyal... or we put ourselves first... or cared for ourselves like adults do. We self-condemn because, well - how "bad" is it to hate and disown our parents so much? How f'd up are we that we go to those to lengths... just to feel safe and comfortable in our own skins... to feel "me"... instead of "her"? Yet that is what we must do, to individuate, to separate from mom, to survive as individuals. Whole, autonomous, competent & confident individuals.
So we live our lives craving connection - deep, caring, compassionate connection. And we have a primal fear of it simultaneously. Because of what happened with Mom. We don't know any better... until someone with a lot of patience can get through our fear and begin teaching us how to connect with others in healthier ways. It's a struggle, a battle too. I'd guess that a lot of us who grew up with mom-attachments like this became strong and self-sufficient; seriously hard-headed, invincible warriors. But that strength and ability to go it alone... is still starving us of that emotional connection/nourishment we need. Instinctively, we sense something missing.
The fear we have causes us to misinterpret other people - what they say; what they do. At the same time, we are also excruciatingly, agonizingly self-conscious. Each word, each feeling, each thought carries the high risk that we'll "betray ourselves" as being separate, different... and so every moment, every breath becomes hyper-important in that it would show that we believe ourselves autonomous from other people and that this completely negates the possibility - opportunity - to pursue that emotional connection. Talk about stress! This is why we don't "play" - each moment of life is centered on that battle to survive as "us"... sans "mom". It's a life/death situation.
That level of attention to ourselves - self-consciousness in the negative sense; different from self-awareness - insidiously sucks dry our energy, motivation, our life force. It is, in a sense, a very slow death by emotional quicksand.
I think one of things "Mama never taught us" is how to relax - to simply be - our Selves... safe in our individual self... secure in our boundaries... so that it is possible to enjoy, appreciate the real moments of being alive. To relax in confidence that "who we are" is just fine the "way we are"... and assimilate the knowledge that everything we say, do, feel and think... isn't under the microscopic analytical interrogation spotlight of all other people. We were "targets" and dumping grounds and emotional punching bags for our moms - but other people are too busy with their own thoughts & feelings & attention spans to turn that kind of critical, judgemental, gotcha spotlight on us.
We don't risk opening ourselves up to that kind of attack on our self, by opening ourselves up to other people. What we don't know is that their - and our boundaries - prevent that kind of risk from being real. There are lots more kinds of people in the world than Ns and victims. Our old primal fear colors our interpretation of other people -- most likely, unfairly -- and contributes to our own self-sabotage.
When I say "we"... "our"... it just a way for me generalize what I clearly recognize in myself and the echoes of it that I've noticed in other people. I mean "people"... and more particularly, people who grew up with any kind of mom that was a clear threat to our own mental/emotional health.
The storms that ravaged the midwest are here on the coast this weekend. Lots of rain; no storms - the energy was probably released on the mountains before it got here. Yesterday afternoon, our house was mobbed with red wing blackbirds and robins by the hundreds or thousands... as if they arrived "ahead of the storm". The blackbirds will stay for about a week before they move on and are a sign of spring. The robins generally sneak in, one or two at a time; I've not seen such huge flocks of them like this before. But they're on a mission! Darting and zooming and only stopping long enough to look for worms. They're probably just resting on their way north and west.
I wouldn't even have noticed, if I wasn't starting to relax in my own skin. That old fear/self-consciousness creates a type of tunnel-vision, too. It makes us blind to a lot of the fun, good, mysteriously delightful things that are around us each and every day... and that includes the people we have contact with, too.
Happy spring & bunny season!
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It dawned on me this morning:
The REASON that I have trouble feeling comfortable in my own skin, many times...
is precisely because I wasn't allowed to, as a kid. I was trained to be so "other oriented", I always thought about others first.
And it is also connected to great shame about myself... so I self-isolate... often rejecting those overtures to connect, to just hang out and get to know people.
That's connected to my rediculous feeling that people won't like me (and the silly reason is: because I don't know them, I don't know how to take care of them properly). I also misinterpret other people a lot of times.
These are the basic programming steps in a feedback loop... but there are places where I can push, pull, rewrite, and cajole myself out of it.
Other people have no idea this is the crap in my head. So they're also uncomfortable. I must "stop it".
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AH - it's spring and time for FOO-Follies again. The vultures returning to roost, etc. My bro had a minor heart attack and will be fine... but Mom's gearing up to upstage him and steal back all the attention again.
I've discovered that I can feel quite comfortable and competent and relaxed when I have a clear-cut role to serve the needs of others, or talk one on one with people... but I never had a chance to develop a social persona. The small talk, remembering names & faces stuff - all comes from my "work personality" - that Cinderella high-tech, lemme look at that & see if I can fix it... but being "just me" in a social situation??? That is waaaaay more difficult and uncomfortable for me. Sorta like an actor who's always in character and is highly self-conscious about who he really is. So, I'm still trying to blend into the wallpaper at social events... or as awkward as a fish out of water. But how can I be camoflauged - hiding in plain sight - and have any fun? Hmmm.
I'm wondering if I'm allowed to not LIKE social events and still find connections?? Where you only hear snippets of conversation, egos are crashing up against each other - the oneupsmanship and snide, catty girl-games... or the dirty looks as I hang out with guys because they talk about more things that interest me??? And in the back of my mind I'm hearing my inner professor: well - you never could trust your mom and your dad always saw "you"; a separate person... he made you feel safe when he could end-around your mom. It makes sense... even if you think it's a limitation. You're not wacky... you're just who you are.
SIGH.
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So: today is 44 years to the day of Twiggy's first experience of what happens when the SHTF. Hell of an anniversary. I'm celebrating by surrounding myself with people... letting down my guard... letting people into my safe "space"... letting them set the agendas, the rules... and going with the flow while setting some limits for myself (to take care of myself).
All this time, I've had an absurd phobia of handguns... so in a couple weeks a kindly old gent (who's fully trained & certified) will attempt to teach me basic safety and basic shooting skills. I don't have the same fear of long guns; I was attacked with a handgun. Go figure. The phobia was the same one that made me reluctant to work on push-hands in tai chi... I was terrified that I would hurt someone. And yet I was fine... and my teacher wanted me to begin saber... which moves on to the sword form. Yes, they use real blades. I did try fan - because I falsely assumed a fan wouldn't be lethal. I did warn the instructor I'd had an unfortunate incident happen many years ago. I will also warn him F2F that I suffered PTSD, because of it. I do believe that most of that has evaporated... still... that wariness, fear is still right there uncomfortably close enough to touch.
I figure, if I haven't developed an aggressively violent streak in 44 years - both not knowing & knowing what happened to me - then I'm probably not going to all of a sudden become Rambo and go off the deep end now. So this is a safe way to conquer that last fear... take back a bit of what was taken from me by force... and move past that whole episode. And maybe... I'm seeing signs now... maybe I'm also getting past that tendency to hurt myself, too. The plus side of this - the extra gravy, if you will - is I might also start to feel confident that if I'm ever shot at again... I'll be able to shoot back.
Many, many thanks to "Certain Hope" - Carolyn - for clearing up my misunderstanding of the scripture and the societal inhibition of violence. It's taken me years after that, for it feel comfortable... I can now feel we ARE allowed violence to defend ourselves in life/death situations. "Turn the other cheek" won't save your life... but it's useful in so many other situations; it's the right thing in those situations. Obviously, no adult ever explained that to Twiggy and I went through life thinking I was bad, for defending myself... for all the aftermath that followed... and felt I deserved whatever awful things my mom insisted on in her attempts to deny the reality of what I experienced. I will do my best to keep Twiggy from being a victim - to that degree - again... and hopefully I'll never have to go that extreme.
I felt I was "bad" for being a survivor... in a thousand different ways, surviving enmeshment, the Cinderella syndrome, parentification, the domestic violence, the 60's (my least favorite era)... and for saving my own life. I surely didn't deserve the self-imposed punishment of this misunderstanding, for 44 years. It was what it was - and I think I'm finally going to be able to let it go by confronting the fear hands-on, in a structured, safe environment. Took me 3-4 months or longer to make up my mind to even sign up for the class! LOL... it's a big deal for me.
My company this weekend begins to show up in an hour or so; I'll be AWOL here - though my guess is a lot of 'em will sleep in and I'll still be able to check in briefly - over the weekend.
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Ah. Fear. The way fear manifests inside of us... and gets all tangled up on the way through our brain on the voyage to being able to say and know someone will hear: I'm scared. It's funny-odd how we never really talked directly about fear in therapy. Yet each session was a gentle opening and straightening the kinks out in that pathway... until there was an experience of being with a person to whom I could trust to hear me and care that: I am/was afraid...
Fear is the primal reason I had for not trusting my own self, I think. And that broken trust was at the core of my self-care, habit change, communication issues with hubs even... difficulties; obstacles. Pardon my "french" - but I was a fucking long way from OK, no matter what I said just to get my Nmom to leave me alone. And it came out in all these self-sabotaging... self-harm... ways. And it even, in some cases became part of "who I am"... because the fear can create a "taboo", an "I can't", or even an "I'm bad if I _________." I learned early on to not trust my parents to take care of me -- not even the basics -- because the war they were in with each other was all-consuming... other people weren't like them, but I had no reason to trust them either - to really mean what they said, or promised.... and so the opportunity to "learn by example" ... to internalize that into a general characteristic about myself ("I can be trusted; I can trust myself") turned into some convoluted, double-bind-like, bugaboo. On the one hand, because I was an insatiable reader, I learned that trustworthiness was held as a positive virtue. I saw it over & over & over in popular media as well. The cavalry ALWAYS rode in to save the day; it would be possible to "go on" even after the worst possible experiences... but I didn't experience much of that, growing up. And poor Twiggy's SHTF day... was the absolute "end" of a lot of things. It simply wasn't possible to go on from that point, and in fact it went downhill from there - in reality.
44 years later:
I've finally gotten something of Twiggy - and what she lost - back. And the "poison arrow" that dripped fear in my sense of self for so long has proved the explanation of "FEAR" that I learned from a tai chi master, correct. He turned it into an acronym: "Fantasized Experience Appearing Real". It always made sense - intellectually. But it took a long time for that to slowly work through my brain's twisted mess into how I felt.
My T explained, in the process of prepping me to continue healing on my own, that the most difficult thing to resolve, or let go, or get past, would be the dissociation I experienced during the rape/assault. Because of those gaps in my memory - my mom was successful in planting the fear-button (for control) that she could use as she liked in me. To the point that I even questioned what bits of memory were REAL versus my mom's blanket denial that any of it was real. I was more successful at piecing together a chronology; documenting facts; than I'd initially hoped. It didn't do a damn thing to budge the old fear that my mom planted - that like some programmed time-bomb - I could "go off" and not remember later on, what I'd done.
Along with the fear, was her prohibition of any and all expressions of anger - except for herself. No one else was entitled to that. And to this day, she firmly believes in the "way of the victim" - that this is always and in every circumstance complying with the biblical admonition to "turn the other cheek" and to eschew completely - violence. Violence was defined in the extreme - as anyone's beliefs or wishes that contradicted hers, too. "I don't like you" = violence. She completely knew that I disagreed with her, before I was silenced and turned inward. I believed that it wasn't fair to only draft young men - there was absolutely nothing about women that would get in the way of women being good soldiers. I didn't believe that it was fair, to give them a pass - being they could bear children. Kinda need men around to complete that process and protect the vulnerable ones, ya know since they are physically stronger, in general, ya know? (not that I personally wanted to experience combat and could fully understand why any woman wouldn't; but they COULD and did in Switzerland, Isreal...) That was her absolute hate of all men, showing - peeking out from her holier than thou hem and her belief that all women, everywhere were powerless victims of the evil men and crazy, powerful, independent women too.
To stop dancing around - my mom believed that I was capable of great violence; even murder because the first part of Twiggy's SHTF day. Because there were sequential details that I just didn't have anywhere in my memory... I had no "proof" to refute her "big lie" of denial about what happened. I had no "body" to prove that I'd been attacked, raped, shot at during the struggle... and the brass casings I found later were easy to claim as my Dad's. He didn't own a gun of that caliber and he definitely didn't shoot that near the house. And I was afraid - because of the inability to remember absolutely what happened as jerk-rapist and me, the skinny 12 yr old, struggled over where he was pointing the gun - when it went off. So, all these years, I've been afraid of the WHAT IF... what if my mom was right? what if there is some awful thing inside me that can be unleashed in a life/death situation? did that make me as bad as any other murderer? SIGH. I was a pretty difficult teenager, having to deal with that - all stuffed into my sub and un-conscious. And I really didn't do myself any favors after that, either. It's no wonder that anxiety attacks I had were severe enough to get me referred to a T, huh?
Last installment, I mentioned my phobia of handguns. It was so severe, that even some movies would get the old adrenalin going pretty good... and the only thing that helped was pausing the movie and smoking... to help it level out. My dear sweet gentle hubby has quite the collection of guns, being a southern good ole boy. 12 years of marriage and he kept them locked up and never went shooting -- because of me. He's a damn good shot and really enjoys target shooting. He recently took a class and impressed the instructor/expert marksman with the level of his skills. Yesterday, it was my turn to take a class - the Basic Handgun orientation. When asked why I signed up, the closest I could get to the truth was that I wanted to make sure I was safe around hubs' guns -- that I wouldn't do something stupid out of ignorance; that if we needed to defend ourselves I could back him up -- reliably. The truth was I was trying to detect if there was anything valid to the old fear my mom planted in me... I imagined freezing up; dropping the gun; waving it around - loaded - like an idiot and taken off the line. I didn't sleep well, either. All of hubs' encouraging and instructive comments that morning almost brought on a full-fledged anxiety attack, so he quickly changed the subject when I asked him to.
But I was well-prepared for the class anyway. Over-compensation has been my way of coping with fear. I read a lot of stuff, started to learn how guns are designed and engineered - how they work. I asked as many "dumb" questions as I could. And as it turned out, I was the only student in this class. Just me and a certified instructor. So we got to the point, where it was time to lock & load. The gun jammed on the first shot. Hubs had warned me this particular gun had to be held firmly, the slide pulled quickly and with intention - and it took a lot of strength that I don't have that much of, in my hands and wrists. But we sorted that out, loaded the bullet and I actually hit the target on the first shot. (I do know how to aim.) Everything I'd learned in tai chi was also very, very helpful. My verbal response after that shot was that it really was loud. DUH... but inside, my response was: IT DIDN'T HAPPEN. Whatever crazy, what-if stuff I was afraid of... didn't happen. I followed instructions, kept shooting, tried his gun... and almost all my shots went into the paper plate, with a couple bullseyes. (at 15 ft... I'm not sure I see well enough to aim larger distances) It was 40 degrees with the wind chill - and the wind was 20-30 mph - so I only shot a dozen rounds before we were both ready to call it a day. Instructor said I shot better than some of the people in hubs' class (and they're supposedly more experienced). I told him in short, nutshell version about why I was afraid of handguns. And his wince was enough to tell me, that it's not the first time he's heard things like that. But he said several times, that I had the right attitude about learning. I guess he gets a lot of big-ego cowboys who talk better than they can shoot.
On the way home, I had a big stupid grin on my face. I'd confronted my fear - in a safe controlled environment and the big life-long fear that I was some closet, violent, crazy wacko was forever and F I N A L L Y GONE. I wish I'd been ready to do this years ago, but it's only been in the last few months that I felt I was ready. I even second-guessed it a couple times... and finally decided that I could stop at any point. I could shoot 1 and stop. I could even pay for the class and say I'd changed my mind. I gave myself every conceivable permission to back out, if I needed to. I needed that to "commit" to pulling the trigger that first time. It definitely got easier and even potentially (if I continue shooting) fun, after the first one. Target practice suits my perfectionistic bent... and since my ankle injury means I won't be able to run away in a dangerous situation and even limits what I can do in the tai chi form... and shooting requires that kind of meditative, proprieceptive, "in the flow" concentration... I might just continue. We'll see. I don't "have to"... but I'm no longer afraid of my own ignorance... or of becoming some awful person... simply because I know how to shoot a gun. I don't freak out anymore at the sight of one.
Finally confronting that one, sort of core fear about myself... feels like a complete new lease on life. Like a whole bunch of the other things I've been working on over the years... just got a coat of final polish. No self-limitations; no self-doubts; no "I can't"... no "I can't trust myself" anymore. I might've been ready sooner than 44 years after the fact; but I can accept that it took this long... all these other steps first. That's OK. It's finally over now.