Someone reminded me recently of an object lesson I saw showing that holding or cupping sand allowed a person to retain more in his or her grasp than gripping the same amount of sand in tightly clenched fists. It just pours through the openings between the fingers.
The principle is that the tighter you hold onto something, the more control of it you lose; conversely, the more loosely you hold onto it, the greater your capacity to hold it.
It applies in life, possessions, money, ... and other people.
This was a picture of what my life was. I had a tight-fisted, obsessive white-knuckle grip on everything and everyone in my "sphere of influence." Especially everyone.
My poor kids. I was compelled to control every last thing they did, said, thought, believed, watched, listened to, ... all the ways they spent their time, everything. Everything was fear-based. I was so afraid they would reject the lifestyle that I wanted for them, the God I believed in.
Rules, frustration, anger, punishment, nothing worked.
As I gripped tighter and tighter, their resentment grew and grew. And I ended up creating the very thing that I feared the most. They wouldn't talk to me anymore; they knew I would freak out. They embraced different beliefs from me. They talked to their father, opened up to him. He acted as a go-between; they rarely spoke to me directly. I seethed in jealousy, frustration, anger, and self-pity. I really thought they hated me. I couldn't figure out why.
I did the same thing with my husband. My insistence on being his conscience - on being everyone's conscience because obviously they didn't see life the way I did - led me to be suspicious, accusatory, and quite frankly, never satisfied. My expectations were of near perfection. I was always ranting about something or other - even his closeness with the kids. I accused him of the most terrible things; my accusations were completely unfounded. He withdrew, pulled away from me, dove further into addiction, and lied to me about it so that I wouldn't jump all over him.
I felt alone - WAS alone - in every way that was important to me. I'd forgotten what happiness was, it had been so long.
When my desperation drove me to seek help in therapy, and I learned the concept of letting go (the books call it "detachment in love") I remember for a time physically having to take a step back from a conversation that was going awry, and assuming the "I surrender" position: hands in the air. It reminded me to "unhook" - to let people be who they were.
In my mind, I had to literally give them permission to be separate entities, not carbon copies of me. I had to decide what was more important - being right, or being happy. Having a relationship, or having control. That was the beginning. That was the end of my old lifestyle and the beginning of a new one.
SomeOne opened a door. It took a while before I found it - but it was opened at least. I'm so glad someone - someone with skin on - was willing to sit with me and help me work through the issues I had that were keeping me in slavery to fear. I believe God set that up when I cried out to Him with all my heart, because within a month this person was brought into my path.
I'm not going to kid. It was a long process and I wanted it to be a "quick zap." No dice. I had to go THROUGH the process, not skip to the end.
I had spent a lifetime accumulating these compulsions, and it was going to take a while to expunge them from my life.
Slowly though, I learned to let go of my unrealistic expectations. I learned to "look for yes" with my kids, to remind myself that they had a right to their own feelings and to their own thoughts. I gave up the burden of feeling responsible for their choices, as though they were a direct rejection of me and my beliefs. I had been carrying the weight of their responsibility for so very long that I had lost myself in the process.
When I started to detach from the people in my life - which doesn't mean I cared less, just that I let them be who they were and accepted them that way - I started to enjoy them more, to cut them more breaks, to lighten up, and to concentrate on looking after myself.
Eventually I was able to apologize to them (and mean it) and back it up by treating them differently. They were blown away by the change. They still are, I'm told.
Including my husband. As he entered recovery from his addiction, that amazement grew and we found that we could share lessons learned on our respective journeys. The stress from feeling like I had to be his conscience, his guardian, his protector, his watchdog - subsided as I learned to release my grip on controlling every last minute.
I started to enjoy life, to feel a bit more comfortable in my own skin.
Best of all, I got my husband back. I am so very grateful. I missed him so terribly. He's more content; I'm more content. And my kids started to open up to me again as I gave them the space they needed to be themselves, even if that differed from what I thought or believed.
Today, we lead such different lives. It's not perfect by any means. But we get along so much better, we talk, we laugh - we're a family and each knows that the other loves him or her. The lessons of acceptance I've learned have translated to other areas in my life and my stress level has vastly reduced. We're happier. I'M happier.
I can't explain how letting go works; I just know it works.
The principle is that the tighter you hold onto something, the more control of it you lose; conversely, the more loosely you hold onto it, the greater your capacity to hold it.
It applies in life, possessions, money, ... and other people.
This was a picture of what my life was. I had a tight-fisted, obsessive white-knuckle grip on everything and everyone in my "sphere of influence." Especially everyone.
My poor kids. I was compelled to control every last thing they did, said, thought, believed, watched, listened to, ... all the ways they spent their time, everything. Everything was fear-based. I was so afraid they would reject the lifestyle that I wanted for them, the God I believed in.
Rules, frustration, anger, punishment, nothing worked.
As I gripped tighter and tighter, their resentment grew and grew. And I ended up creating the very thing that I feared the most. They wouldn't talk to me anymore; they knew I would freak out. They embraced different beliefs from me. They talked to their father, opened up to him. He acted as a go-between; they rarely spoke to me directly. I seethed in jealousy, frustration, anger, and self-pity. I really thought they hated me. I couldn't figure out why.
I did the same thing with my husband. My insistence on being his conscience - on being everyone's conscience because obviously they didn't see life the way I did - led me to be suspicious, accusatory, and quite frankly, never satisfied. My expectations were of near perfection. I was always ranting about something or other - even his closeness with the kids. I accused him of the most terrible things; my accusations were completely unfounded. He withdrew, pulled away from me, dove further into addiction, and lied to me about it so that I wouldn't jump all over him.
I felt alone - WAS alone - in every way that was important to me. I'd forgotten what happiness was, it had been so long.
When my desperation drove me to seek help in therapy, and I learned the concept of letting go (the books call it "detachment in love") I remember for a time physically having to take a step back from a conversation that was going awry, and assuming the "I surrender" position: hands in the air. It reminded me to "unhook" - to let people be who they were.
In my mind, I had to literally give them permission to be separate entities, not carbon copies of me. I had to decide what was more important - being right, or being happy. Having a relationship, or having control. That was the beginning. That was the end of my old lifestyle and the beginning of a new one.
SomeOne opened a door. It took a while before I found it - but it was opened at least. I'm so glad someone - someone with skin on - was willing to sit with me and help me work through the issues I had that were keeping me in slavery to fear. I believe God set that up when I cried out to Him with all my heart, because within a month this person was brought into my path.
I'm not going to kid. It was a long process and I wanted it to be a "quick zap." No dice. I had to go THROUGH the process, not skip to the end.
I had spent a lifetime accumulating these compulsions, and it was going to take a while to expunge them from my life.
Slowly though, I learned to let go of my unrealistic expectations. I learned to "look for yes" with my kids, to remind myself that they had a right to their own feelings and to their own thoughts. I gave up the burden of feeling responsible for their choices, as though they were a direct rejection of me and my beliefs. I had been carrying the weight of their responsibility for so very long that I had lost myself in the process.
When I started to detach from the people in my life - which doesn't mean I cared less, just that I let them be who they were and accepted them that way - I started to enjoy them more, to cut them more breaks, to lighten up, and to concentrate on looking after myself.
Eventually I was able to apologize to them (and mean it) and back it up by treating them differently. They were blown away by the change. They still are, I'm told.
Including my husband. As he entered recovery from his addiction, that amazement grew and we found that we could share lessons learned on our respective journeys. The stress from feeling like I had to be his conscience, his guardian, his protector, his watchdog - subsided as I learned to release my grip on controlling every last minute.
I started to enjoy life, to feel a bit more comfortable in my own skin.
Best of all, I got my husband back. I am so very grateful. I missed him so terribly. He's more content; I'm more content. And my kids started to open up to me again as I gave them the space they needed to be themselves, even if that differed from what I thought or believed.
Today, we lead such different lives. It's not perfect by any means. But we get along so much better, we talk, we laugh - we're a family and each knows that the other loves him or her. The lessons of acceptance I've learned have translated to other areas in my life and my stress level has vastly reduced. We're happier. I'M happier.
I can't explain how letting go works; I just know it works.
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