Quelling the voices

I love my life. Sometimes the events really suck, but this new life that I'm building since I got into recovery is scads better than the one I started to leave behind when I finally admitted that I needed help. 

Occasionally though, voices from my old self rise up and accuse me. At least it's in my old self's voice - though I'm inclined to believe it comes from another quarter that's more sinister. Be that as it may, the voices do come in and tend to mess up my thoughts, make me sour and sometimes even bitter, and I experience a good deal of discontent as a result. Peace leaves. The waters of turmoil start to come to a boil.

It's the discontent that usually alerts me to the fact that something has gone awry. When I step back and take stock, usually I find that it's a voice or two from my prior lifestyle that has crept in unawares and wreaked havoc in my thinking. My focus has shifted; I am no longer living life from the inside out, but from the outside in... allowing what others say and do - and even what they might think or believe (and it doesn't even have to be about me; I'll MAKE it about me) - to get the better of me. 

Inner statements like, "They like her better than they like me" or "What did he mean by that?" or "How dare she imply that I would think / do that?" or "How come I am always the one to give and give some more and this other person just sucks me dry?" rob me of precious joy. 

Thanks to nuttakit for this photo,
"Barbed Wire" which I got at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

When I finally realize that the focus has shifted from maintaining my center to reinforcing the barbed wire fence in an attempt at self-preservation, that's when I need to quell the voices, the ones that accuse me, the ones that tell me I'm no good, that I'm not worth anyone's time or effort, that nobody will ever like me for ME, only for what I can DO for them. 

I start with the basics of recovery. Being responsible for my own actions but nobody else's. Letting go of the need to control what someone says, does, or thinks. Setting boundaries that prohibit others from controlling what I say, do, or think. Reminding myself that I have just as much right to exist and to occupy space as the next person does; and so do they. 

Then, the truth about the situations I've been struggling with becomes clear. I can return to enjoying my life; the voices fade into the background. The thoughts and opinions of others about me, or of others about other people as compared to me, or even of others about my choices or my beliefs, matter less and less the closer I get to my center - the part of me that is key, that makes me who I am. 

I know the voices are likely to return. I've accepted that. I can only hope that the length of time that it takes for me to realize that they've returned, gets less and less as time goes on. 

In the meantime, I can enjoy each day as it comes.

Clearing the decks

A couple of days ago at work, I started gearing up for a two-week vacation that is coming up at the end of August.  I figured it would take me about two weeks to get rid of a few niggling (and time-consuming) things that I've been putting off doing and which have slowly been piling up.  Not so much work-related things (although there IS enough of that to keep me busy too!) but just little papers I never filed, notes I took at meetings and never put away, clutter I allowed to build up (okay, six empty water bottles is too many ... and how many used post-it notes can one person produce??), and general organizing, filing, and getting rid of waste and inefficiency. 

Found this photo HERE

So the last few days I've been setting a little time aside to 'clear the decks.'  I don't want to leave anything behind, sitting, waiting for my return, when it could be done before I leave. 

Two weeks doesn't sound like a long time but it can mean the world of difference for someone waiting for a decision I could make, that may bring them some much-needed cash.  So one of my goals is to finish every file that is still sitting on my desk, and then only bring one file at a time to my desk after that. Another is to be able to see at least half of my non-computer-related desk surface.  

I've made some changes to how I do things which have improved my ability to find what I want when I want it. 

The whole time I have been doing these things, I've felt guilty for "not working" ... until I reminded myself that by taking this extra time to streamline my work station and to make things easily accessible (and get rid of the non-essentials) I'm actually going to be able to work faster and better in the long run.  

And it's starting to pay off.  

Don't get me wrong.  I'm never going to be the kind of person who has absolutely NO clutter on her desk ... or in her house.  My husband and kids will testify to that!!  I've always believed that a spotlessly clean desk (or house, or garage) is a sign of a sick mind, perhaps even obsessed with control and domination.  But too much disarray can also clutter the healthy mind ... and the last few weeks, I was starting to feel hemmed in! (Which, if you know me and my high tolerance of the 'slob factor', is SAYING something...) 

And it seems that while the mess has been accumulating, my inner mess has as well. When I started clearing the decks ... I felt something resonate inside and the desire is growing - exponentially - to set my own spiritual house in order. Again.

Funny how that happens.  

Here we go again.  :D

Out of the mire

I had an experience today that was a little challenging.

I'll not go into details but it was a touch upsetting because someone misunderstood my motives and went behind my back to someone else instead of coming to me.  In trying to understand what went wrong and what I could have done differently, I did learn some lessons about human behavior and also about how insidious my desire to please people (or should I say "people-please" as a verb) really is.  

I'm learning - and relearning - and relearning - that I am a distinct person from others, and others are separate from me.  I don't HAVE to feel bad (or glad, or sad) because they feel that way.  I shouldn't expect them to feel a certain way just because I do.  I keep relearning it because ... well, it's new to me and I need practice.

This separate-ness is a hard lesson for someone whose whole life revolved around having everyone approve of me, and not making anybody mad, and wanting desperately for someone to give two hoots about me - to the point of changing myself into what I thought they wanted ... just to be accepted.  And not letting people know (out of fear they'd reject me) that they'd crossed a line. 

The truth is, I lived in an amorphous liquid mass, a pool of mire in which my identity was tied up in everyone else's - and I assumed that everyone else's identity was tied up in mine.  

In some cases it was more than in others, and I believed that that state of being - that miry homogenous existence - was called love.  

It isn't love.  It's dysfunction.  It's unhealthy: a collective consciousness in which I become swallowed up in the wishes and thoughts of others and no longer have an individuality of my own.  It's - well, for Star Trek TNG and Voyager fans, it's the Borg!  

I am a unique person, created with God-given gifts and talents.  So is this person, and that one, and all of them individually.  Learning that they exist apart from me (although our lives may touch each other in some way) has been so freeing for me.  And it is equally liberating every time I relearn it too... because it's when I start to slip back into that black, oily mire in which nothing is distinctive and it all melds together - that the lesson of detachment is the strongest and most life-giving.  It helps me to take responsibility for my own actions, and allow other people to take responsibility for theirs.  It takes the burden off me that was never intended to be there, and allows me to respond instead of react, to have compassion and confidence rather than cringing at what someone else might think. 

And that's a big deal.

Change in Plan

It's a glorious day. The weather couldn't be better, especially here, especially for this time of year. Hubby and I had planned to spend some time together this afternoon while the kids went and did something else together.

But the plans fell through; one child assumed the other would like to do something specific and it didn't work out that way - yet tickets had already been purchased.  My husband - gallant man that he is, agreed to use that non-refundable ticket.  Which leaves me without my planned (and anticipated) afternoon with just him.

Even a couple of years ago, that change in plan would have been way too much for me to take. I am naturally the kind of person that has to have things planned out several days in advance and things have to follow a certain pre-set itinerary; deviation from that normally sends me into a tailspin.

But I've been learning much about acceptance, about unhooking from what I want and focusing on WHY things happen (in other words, the purpose for a particular activity) and on WHAT is really important.  So while I was disappointed at not being able to spend that particular time with my spouse, I was able to unhook and understand that our daughter spending some time with her dad was going to pay dividends long into the future, and that one of the errands that my husband and I  were going to do together as a couple (and it had to be done during that exact time period) could almost as easily be done by me.  Not as much fun, but there you go.  I realized that no one person actually stayed up late and schemed over how to mess up Judy's day.  The plan just changed, that's all.

And I didn't get freaked out (read: afraid) or angry.  That amazes me.  

Someone I consider very wise said once, "Don't let a bad moment turn into a bad day."  That saying has come to my rescue many more times than I thought possible - and I expect it will in the future, too.  

A lot of my time has been spent lately in the negative spiral thinking pattern I mentioned briefly above (the plotting-to-wreck-Judy's-day thing) - not actually consciously thinking it of course, but half-expecting people to treat me like that because I felt that I had this thick black cloud over my head with lightning and rain coming down from it.  But most people don't actually do that (and if they do, that's THEIR problem!) - my life isn't cursed, and people can like me for who and what I am.  Allowing myself to unclench, to loosen up, to breathe, to relax and enjoy the moments as they come without fretting about what's going to hit me next, and without punishing myself for what's past, has been a valuable skill in the last few weeks especially.  Plus, it's helped me (after a bit of a bumpy start) to begin to cope with some pretty major changes in some parts of my life.  

A change in plan doesn't mean that things have to come to a screeching halt or even go backward.  It just means a bend in the road - even though I can't see what's ahead, I know Someone's passed this way before and knows the way.  And I'll be okay.  

:D

The Hardest One to Forgive

I thought I was finished my list of people I had to forgive, people who hurt me.

In His usual gentle but persistent way, God brought me back to the list. "You forgot someone."

Forgot - who? I wondered.

"YOU."

Uh-ohhhhh. This was going to be a rough one. One of my favorite exercises was self-punishment. Even in front of people I would make disparaging comments about myself, my size, my looks, my habits. I didn't know how to take a compliment. "Oh this old thing? I paid $2.95 for it at Repeats." Or worse yet, I'd spiritualize my self-deprecation when someone complimented my singing voice - I'd totally take the wind out of their sails and slap their compliment in the face by saying, "Well, praise the Lord." (I've since learned to smile brightly and say "Thank you!" and mean it.)

I had taken to putting myself last. Always. Go to the department store, get something for everyone else but nothing for me. I didn't deserve anything. It wasn't like I didn't have the money either. It was that I just wanted to get in the store and out of it before someone noticed me. Time after time I would duck into an aisle to get out of someone's way, feeling like they were breathing down my neck, or wanting to get past me but couldn't because I was so fat. I remember going once to this one store, finding only something that I liked and wanted, but nothing on anyone else's wish list. So instead of making someone else stand behind me at the checkout just for my stuff, I put the thing back where I got it and walked out of the store.

I thought I was this horrible person because I acted the way I did toward people who mattered to me. Had to be right ALL the time. Had to win EVERY argument. Had to show off how much I knew. Had to make sure that my story of suffering was worse than anyone else's. If they had a cut on their knee I would show them the scar I had on mine from the 13 stitches I had when I was two years old...that kind of thing. Had to judge everyone's words, actions, beliefs, thoughts. My temper tantrums - well, the kids just avoided getting me angry because nobody wanted to be around that. My freak-fests: snooping around the house looking for secret stash, crawling around the bushes and under the deck outside, rummaging through all the cubby holes in the trunk of the car, under the seat.

Everything I did was fear-based. Even the fits of temper. Fear of rejection, fear of abandonment, fear of anger. Fear of being wrong. Fear of being seen as stupid.

But as I looked at the things I did to hurt myself before getting into recovery, and then after I got into recovery, to sabotage it, I realized that I had never forgiven myself for having to go through what I did, for having to do what I felt I had to do to survive my childhood (I say survive, not go through; I was never allowed to be a child). I blamed myself for my own abuse. Huh. The sense of shame was hidden by several layers of "That didn't hurt" and "I'm warning you - don't corner me" - but it ran deep. It was very closely tied to that frightened, lonely little girl I talked about in "Beautiful" - the one who didn't at all believe she was worth anything.

My counselor explained to me that guilt and shame are two different things and that the first can be good while the second never is.

Guilt is feeling bad for what we've DONE. Shame is feeling bad for who we ARE.

It took a few weeks of constant digging and bringing to the surface all the ways I was hurting myself. I kept trying to wriggle away from it. Sometimes these self-defeating behaviors and attitudes resurface - they are that deeply ingrained. However, they are better than they were. I'm constantly learning of new ways to let go of the lies I was told, the lies I told myself after having been told them so long I believed them.

And I keep telling that little girl that she is something really very special, that she has a great purpose in life and she is only beginning to tap her potential. It's slow, but she's starting to believe me. One day at a time, she is starting to stop hiding in the closet.

At least now, if I see something I like in a store, and I want to get it, and I have the cash, I can allow myself that luxury.

It's a start.

Shoulds and Oughtas - Who am I - Really?

I come from a musical family. Music is a large part of what I do, how I think, what speaks to me when nothing else can. When I watched Disney's Mulan for the first time, I identified with her so very much when she came back home after a disastrous experience trying to conform to family and society expectations.

Here she is, singing that song as it appears in the movie:

The girl had spent her entire life trying to please someone else. I could understand that. I could understand not knowing who the person was that I saw in the mirror in the morning. And I had no clue how to find out who that person was, or why nobody seemed to like her. In fact, I was afraid to find out. I thought that if I knew who she was, I wouldn't like her either.

God used my obsession with other people, my compulsion to "fix" them, to bring me further and further down the path of frustration until I had to admit that I needed help to cope. I thought I was getting help so that I could fix my husband and my children, so they would change and I would THEN be happy.

But God had other plans. He usually does. By my second counseling session I was confronted with the idea that it was I who needed help. Not my addicted husband. Not my out-of-control kids. ME. My counselor looked at me at the end of that session and said, "Judy, I think that in trying to live your life for other people, in trying to rescue them, fix them, have some sort of influence over them, along the way somewhere you've lost yourself."

I burst into tears. "I don't even know who that person is." The words gurgled from my lips past a tight throat.

He handed me a tissue. "That's what I'm here for."

Since that time, I have discovered who I am. Surprisingly, I found out that I was starting to like, even admire, this person. (Who knew?)

And the more I got to know myself, the more I recognized the same lost-ness in others that I once had, that driven-ness to have an impact on my loved ones, on my world. "Gotta." "S'posta." "Should." "Oughta." "Must." "Hafta."

Living like that was so stressful. It wasted so much energy. And what's worse, the more I obsessed about what I should be doing or how others should be behaving, the more I pinged around trying to "help" (in other words, MAKE) people understand what they were doing to themselves, the worse things got. My efforts were having the opposite result from what I wanted. I gave in to temptation - more times than I can count. I lost my temper, I manipulated, I threatened, I threw guilt trip fits. My husband drank more, and my children resented me more, and openly rejected the God I believed in.

Something was wrong and I couldn't figure out what it was. I felt nobody would listen to me. I was right. But I didn't know how to GET them to listen... until I realized that what I was stressing so much about ... didn't matter. God was more interested in getting ME to listen to HIM. He had some amazing things in store for me and He did whatever it took to get me to the place where I was sitting across from this particular counselor and spilling my guts.

He - and I truly believe he was used by God to teach me this - introduced me to the power of admitting TO MYSELF that I was powerless over others, and that in trying to exert power over them, my life was a mess.

That was the first step on the road to healing.