Unspoken

A year ago today, my world got rocked. 

No, I don't mean in the way that someone made my day or anything like that. I mean, it was rocked. It was hit by rocks, knocked off its moorings, blindsided, and so much so that for weeks, even months, I was unsure of anything anymore. 

I have thought about the experience often since then, painful as it is to do so, and all I can figure out is that I was a victim of - or more likely a participant in - a miscommunication that destroyed a promising friendship. And it all came down to expectations. UNSPOKEN expectations. 

You see, I had planned to stay a few weeks with this person while I was out of town. I was willing to pay for the cost of the groceries I would be using, and I was so grateful for their generosity in offering me a place to stay at less than I would have paid for regular accommodations. 

But, well in advance, every time I would mention or even ask what this person expected to receive, that person changed the subject.   They preferred to joke around - and I could take so much of that ... and then it became so much that I had to just make an excuse and go do something else. And this was before I even got there.

We should have talked. We should have talked about EVERYTHING. 

This person's idea of friendly banter was teasing. I hate teasing. Teasing was always malicious when I was growing up, and I grew to detest it. So when this person started doing this, laughing at me, twitting me about my height and telling me to keep up, and making fun of my Maritime expressions, it didn't feel like friendly banter to me. It felt like criticism at best and persecution at worst. 

So one evening this was happening and I started to react. And I reacted badly. And I said things that were, in fact, malicious. And this person was hurt. That was the first mistake... unspoken expectations. Not talking about what things meant to us, where the boundaries were. 

That night before bed, I apologized for losing my cool and then proceeded to explain where I had been coming from. All this person heard was someone who pretended to apologize and then justified her position. Resentment grew, unknown to me. I thought things would be better. But they weren't. They got cold. Real cold. Real quick. The teasing stopped, but it was replaced by stony silence. And I assumed that the person just needed time to recover. But that wasn't it at all. The individual had made a judgement of me and my motivations based on that person's upbringing ... and not mine.

You see, this person was brought up in a home where if you screwed up, you apologized without excuses, you took all of the blame for everything, and then you moved on, letting everyone be the way they were beforehand.  In my upbringing, nobody ever apologized that way; if there were apologies at all, they happened in the midst of people trying to understand why the other person did what they did. So to this person, my apology (which would have been accepted with open arms in my own family) was suspect, and not to be trusted.

But there was something else, too.  There were other unspoken expectations, and rather than talk about them, this person never even considered that I might come from a different perspective. It had to do with the rules surrounding house guests. In this person's home, everyone - even guests - pulled their weight, and nothing was free. The unspoken rule was that you cleaned up your own mess, you paid your way, and you did it without being asked and without expecting any thanks. To do any less was just plain rude and selfish.

Photo "Girls Looking At Each Other" by Stuart Miles.
Courtesy of www.freedigitalphotos.net

I, on the other hand, grew up in a home where, whenever anyone came to visit, they would offer to help out, and my mom would shoo them away from the kitchen and say, "No, you are guests here. You don't need to do that." If they offered money, it was, "Keep your money. Your money is no good here." So I had the unspoken expectation that hosts waited on guests hand and foot. And if a guest insisted on helping, they were profusely thanked (unlike the family members, who never received a thank you, not. even. once. ... but I digress.) If I (as their daughter) tried to do something on my own, my help was not appreciated, and I was often criticized for not doing it right. So I learned to only help when I was given explicit instructions, because to do otherwise would invite parental anger.

So, back to a year ago.  It only took a few days of staying with this person after the initial misunderstanding when things really fell apart. I was not feeling well, for various reasons, but yet the task of carrying this person's things fell to me and I was never thanked. Not. even. once.  I felt as though I was treated like a slave.  All the while, I felt hesitant to do things like wash dishes and put them away, and I was keenly aware that this was someone else's kitchen and not mine. I didn't feel free to move around, and I was kind of scared of the dishwasher - had never used one of the more modern ones, and wasn't even sure how it opened, or where to put things in it. So I stayed away.  

So of course, this person thought I was an ingrate.  

I didn't know how to pay for things; at the grocery store, they would whip out their bank card before I could even speak - and all the time, resentment built on both sides. 

Each of us felt put-upon. So when the blow-up happened, it happened BIG. 

I won't go into the gory details, but when this person finally confronted me, three days later, there was a list of things that took 20 minutes to deliver... and I was not used to confrontation. I apologized; my apology was not accepted and the person accused me of justifying my behavior because I mentioned not knowing how to help and not knowing what the rules were. I paid the person twice what they had already spent on me in groceries. I did not receive any kind of comment or even a statement that it was too much.

Unspoken expectations.

That evening and the next morning, I tried to chip in and show that I was trying to follow the rules this person had laid out, but it was too late. The cold shoulder persisted. I no longer felt welcome. I was on the verge of tears the whole time - partly because of the experience and partly from lack of sleep. Finally, when they left to do something with their family, I arranged to move out and pay strangers to live elsewhere, like I should have done in the beginning. 

The relationship never recovered.  It took a long time for me to recover from the experience. I was not used to not being believed, not used to essentially being called a lazy, selfish liar, even though those words were never used exactly. It rankled that this person could feel this way about me. And to this day, the memory of how things happened and thoughts about what I could have done differently plague me. And all I can figure out from all of it is that if we had just talked about things without judging each other - if we had just listened to each other without making assumptions - our friendship might have survived.

How to make bad things worse

"I see you're looking better than you were a couple of days ago. I wanted to stop by and tell you."

You should have stopped there.

I should have let you stop there. I was vulnerable and needed to talk to someone I trusted, not this perfect stranger to me. In the whole time I've known you, we've only had one conversation - a year ago.

"Thanks. I was struggling earlier this week, things have really been stressful. Thinking I'd be much better off if I just wasn't here."

Bad choice of words - she will think you mean something more than what you're saying. What I'm thinking of is stress leave, not "checking out." Oh what's the difference anyway. I just want her to go away. I wish she would just go away. I'm tired, I want to go home and get out of this awful place.

[condensed version of the repeated 10-minute tirade that followed] "Oh my God, Judy. You need help. You need to get help right now. I mean, call your doctor first thing Monday morning. I'm serious, get him to prescribe some antidepressants. I mean it! and I'm checking up on you on Monday to see if you've called him." 

Back-pedal. Let her know that is really not what you meant. AT ALL. 

Photo "Portrait of
Pointing Male" by
imagerymajestic at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

"Look, I would never commit suicide. Really. But I understand how some people can think that way."

Oops, I recognize that look. Oh crap, she's getting on her white horse and going to save the day. No-o, that's that LAST thing I want. All I want to do is get away from here, to go home, for her to shut up and leave me alone.

"No, that's way too close to the line. You've GOT to get some help. Talk to a therapist, are you seeing someone? you have to see someone." 

Oh great, now she's ordering me around!!! Why doesn't she just go away? Can't she see how stressed out she's making me? How can I get out of this? Maybe a little humour?

[By this time my head is in my hands as she rants on and on about how she was depressed and how she got help and that I need to do the same.] 

"So," I joke, "if I kill myself, THEN will you leave me alone?" 

This attempt at humour only adds fuel to the fire. Her reaction only shows how little she knows me. More and more she convinces herself that I'm in imminent danger and that she has to "save" me. Will she NEVER shut up?? 

[Finally I decide to be straight with her because beating around the bush isn't helping! I hate confrontation, but she's backing me into a corner. And when I am backed into a corner, I go on the offensive.] My voice raises; it is clipped and stern. "Listen. You are treating me like I'm two years old, like you have to be my savior or something. It's making me very uncomfortable, and I want you to stop this, and leave me alone."

She doesn't leave me alone. She goes on the defensive for a while, then turns around and attacks again, same pushy attitude, same ordering me around, same heavy-handed control stuff as before.

And she promises (sounds like she threatens) to check in with me on Monday. Which makes me not want to go there on Monday. Or any other day, if she was going to be there in my face all the time.  As a matter of fact, I hadn't started to consider suicide - even in jest (and it WAS only in jest) - until she started ranting about it. And now I was fantasizing about how many ways I could force her to shut her mouth!

You see ... how much better it might have been for her to say, "You look better today, you looked ill earlier in the week." and for me to say, "Thanks, I do feel a bit better," (which I DID until she started jumping down my throat) and left it at that. But no-o. My guard was down - I was tired - and discouraged - and vulnerable.

And what she actually said to me had the exact opposite effect than the one she wanted. Instead of giving me someone to talk to, she made me not want to talk to her about anything, because she'd only try to control my life and my thinking. Instead of making me feel like I was supported, she made me feel like I was being attacked, assaulted, and harassed. Instead of me knowing that I was cared for, I ended up feeling like now I was going to be her "special little project" and that I'd never be out from under her microscope. 

She may indeed have "meant well"... but her attitude and her actions were way over the top, and more of a hindrance to any help I might have been considering. I felt like someone who complained of a sniffle, suddenly being forced to go to the hospital and hooked up to an IV and a respirator.

Overkill. There's a reason they call it that. It's what makes bad things way worse. 

In or Out

For the last few days, I've been having a discussion with a friend about personality types. This friend claims, "I used to be an introvert," as if it was something negative, and then goes on to say that life-changing [positive] events turned him into an extrovert. His definition of introverts bothered me, because he described himself (as a "former introvert") as anti-social, painfully shy, people-hating, and other equally unbecoming adjectives. 

Upon further probing, I discovered that he had been repressed as a child and was not allowed to express his friendliness and caring by his overbearing and punitive father. He therefore became withdrawn and didn't seek out interactions with others. When he was finally away from his birth family, he had a spiritual experience that tore away the fetters and allowed what I believe was his true personality to shine forth.

I have been trying to tell this friend that introversion is not what he describes at all. Not every introvert is socially awkward or phobic. Not every introvert is antisocial or hates people. Not every introvert is shy. (He still uses those adjectives interchangeably with introverted.)

In fact, these qualities are probably quite well shared among both major personality types, just expressed in a different way. For example, a lot of extroverts are quite insecure on the inside - but instead of withdrawing, they tend to put on a smiling, brave face and often overcompensate by being extra-driven, extra-talkative, and/or extra-friendly.

Photo "Teenage Girls Gossiping" by
Ambro at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Most statistics will tell you that the introvert and extrovert population is just about evenly split. I tend to believe that the introvert population is under-reported (in other words, that there are many more introverts around than there are extroverts) because most introverts KNOW that they are introverts whereas most extroverts have no idea that they are extroverts, and they are therefore more likely to take a "personality types" questionnaire to find out what their type is. I can't count the number of times someone has said to me right before those ever-popular Myers-Briggs or Jungian exercises, "What major personality type do YOU think I am? I just can't figure it out..." Invariably that person is an extrovert (and not just borderline either. Extremely so!!)

Here is the ONLY basic difference between introverts and extroverts: where does the person get his or her energy? 

That's it. That's the whole difference. 

Extroverts are energized by being around other people; they need others like every animal needs oxygen to survive. Their orientation is "Out." Without social interaction, they become irritable, moody, sometimes depressed. Introverts are energized by being alone OR in the company of one (or at the most two) close and trusted friends. Their orientation is "In." Without their daily dose of quiet time, they become just as irritable, and can become depressed or morose. 

No one type is better than the other. That is not what is commonly believed, however. By both "sides."

That is the illusion - that is the misconception passed along by the media and by those with power over others. In fact, many times those with power over others are extroverts. Their extroverted nature naturally predisposes them to rise in popularity and they often find favor in the eyes of those who are looking to promote from within.  And many extroverts, unfortunately, see introverted people as a threat.  Introverted people see the impulsive nature of the extrovert as a dangerous thing, and want to put on the brakes when they see things starting to spiral out of control. In typical reactionary style, they see the extrovert as the threat.

There are many reasons for this. 

An introverted person's tendency to think, to ponder detail, to look at all sides, and to be cautious can be seen by extroverts as being "a wet blanket." His need for quiet time can be seen as being a "party pooper." His reticence to speak up at meetings (a common thing among introverts) can be mistaken for a lack of interest or involvement. 

An extroverted person's tendency to speak out with new ideas - to "think out loud" so to speak, can be seen by an introverted person as brash and controlling. The introvert can view the extrovert's constant socializing as scatterbrained or even lazy in a "grasshopper versus ant" way. 

Each group considers itself to be "In" and the other group "Out" - we versus they, dividing walls getting thicker and thicker. Bullying is common between the two groups. So is manipulation. 

It's so sad. So unnecessary. So junior high school.

In actual fact, the conversation that the extrovert has with himself out loud when facing a decision is the same conversation that the introvert has within himself. It's just that the introvert prefers to be right the first time he dares open his mouth, not wanting to appear "dumb." The extrovert sees that hesitancy as 'not being a team player' and often jumps to another topic - or gets obvious and repeatedly asks for a response - when there's no feedback (extroverts LOVE feedback. Instant and continuous feedback.) Introverts usually don't give feedback until they've processed the entire ball of wax, and many times their reaction is better "felt" than "telt." In other words, a statement or an idea can impact an introvert deeply without a word being spoken in response. It doesn't mean that the introvert is any less affected by it. He's just pondering the implications.

The extrovert, on the other hand, likes to 'bounce ideas' off others and in so doing, help to clarify his thinking; it never crosses his mind that the first thing out of his mouth is going to be the final result. Introverts see that as insincere and shallow. But it isn't. It's just the way extroverts process the world around them. It's just different. Not worse, not superior. Not inferior. Different. An extrovert's mentality is that if he likes something, then everyone likes it. So when he says, "Come on, it'll be fun," he really means it will be fun for him, and since everyone is just like him, everyone will think it's fun. He can't understand why it wouldn't be. So to an introvert, his encouragements to engage in whatever activity it is, appear to be just so much bullying (- and, don't get me wrong, when it turns into insistence in spite of protests, it IS bullying -) when usually what is the case is that it's a way for him to share his excitement and enthusiasm. 

I lived with an extreme extrovert for nearly 21 years. She was the only extrovert in our household, and I can say from experience that she felt insecure, out of place, unaccepted, and "strange" or "defective" in our house just as much as an introvert raised by extroverts would feel. But there was nothing strange or defective about her. She was just different. We came to appreciate her energy, her zest for life, her zany antics when things just got "too quiet." And she in turn came to appreciate our steadiness, our depth of feeling, and our analytical abilities when she faced a decision she really didn't know how to work through on her own. 

And there is one more thing that I must mention. Just because a person is an extrovert or an introvert doesn't mean that he or she doesn't have some of the qualities of the opposite at the exact same time. People are incredibly complex beings, and no two personalities are exactly alike. People are who they are ... and that's a good thing. It means endless variety, endless challenge, endless adventure to life. To dismiss one or the other or say that it is wrong or somehow defective or sick, is to deny one of the most important things we humans value about our humanity: individuality. If everyone were the same, it would be an unbelievably boring existence, wouldn't it?

How about putting aside excluding or judging others on the basis of our differences and leaving it "Out" of the picture, where it belongs??  How about adopting the idea that we're ALL, every one of us, in the "In" group - - all of us, no exclusions?? How about that?? 

Because after all, we're all "In" this together....

Lessons Learned and Face Red

It started when the Shift key on my laptop wouldn't work on the left-hand side half the time. It was annoying, but I figured my computer was getting older and it was past the warranty period, so I'd have to find a work-around. I did. 

So it started happening more often. O...kay... Fine, use the workaround all the time. 

Apparently this is a common problem,
spilling coffee on your laptop. I wouldn't recommend it.

Then one day I spilled coffee on the keyboard. 

I tried to clean it up - but - it was too late. About an hour later my beloved MacBook Pro started freaking out. The J key started repeating when I wasn't even touching it - just jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj across any window in which I put my cursor! And my P key stopped working. 

Finally I bit the bullet and decided to go to a local repair shop dedicated to MacIntosh computers. It had been highly recommended. "Can you do the repair here?" I asked. I didn't want it to take forever by sending the machine back to the manufacturer to have it repaired. 

"No problem," came the response. "It's a simple cleaning job. But we have to let it air dry after we clean it, so it will take 3 days." Wellllll... okay, I wanted it done right. So I agreed. They cleaned it, put it back together, turned it on, and it was still not working. "Oh, the casing is warped. It's Unibody construction (one-piece), so we'll have to send away for one. It will cost $400 after all is said and done." 

Hmmmm. Well, it's still way cheaper than a new MacBook. Okay.

Hubby gallantly stepped in and told me I could use his computer (Windows-based) while I was waiting. I was grateful, but it meant that I had to use his machine while sitting in his chair because it was set up a certain way... and his chair was hard on my back. Not to mention - it's Windows. My Mac had spoiled me; I freely admitted it.

So fine... I could spend less time online. We had to take turns anyway, right?

Then Hurricane Sandy put a crimp in delivery schedules for the Unibody, and I had to wait two weeks longer than I would have liked. GrrrUMP. This was really hard to swallow. Days upon days of calling in. Not here yet. Next Tuesday. Friday. No, first of next week.

The casing came in a few days ago, and they put it together and turned it on for a diagnostic. Today. (Keep in mind that I took the computer in there three and a half weeks ago.) This time it wouldn't even stay on for more than a minute. More checking - and then they said that the logic board (also known as the motherboard - the main circuit to which all the other components are attached and communicate with each other) was fried. 

Funny, I thought. All that was wrong when I took it in ... was the J key repeated, the P didn't work and the left Shift key was on the fritz. 

They suggested getting a new machine; the only thing working on the old one was the hard drive. So there'd be the initial repair bill, plus the cost of a new MacBook which - straw breaking the camel's back - they'd have to order in. That would take a week.

I asked if I could have my computer back. Well, it's in pieces, it would take another 2 days to put back together.  Hmm. Finally I said, "I want my hard drive back. Can you manage to at least give me that?" 

After that, I went to the shop where I originally bought the MacBook. I bought a Windows-based computer ... thinking that if a Mac would only last 3 years, I was better off getting a lower-cost computer with top-of-the-line virus protection than getting a new Mac. Even as much as it pained me to resort to Windows again; I'd been spoiled. 

I bought the computer and paid for it and the extended warranty plus a cooling fan to prevent it from heating up too much (my debit card said ouch), and arranged for it to be loaded up with Firefox and Skype, and set up the way I wanted for pickup tomorrow. Then, out of curiosity, (albeit morbid curiosity) I asked them if they still had information on the warranty for the original MacBook - the laptop which was at that moment laying in pieces at the not-to-be-trusted repair shop across town. 

They looked it up for me - they found it in their records.  There was a year left on my extended warranty.

Oh crap. Crap, Crap, and more Crap. Wa-ay too late now - but I wish I'd known that a month ago!! 

I should have taken it to them in the first place. 

I am SO embarrassed. 

There's no way out but to admit it. Einstein was right when he said that only two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity, and he wasn't too sure about the former.

I screwed up. Big time.

Lessons learned from all this: 

(1)   Never assume the "warranty has run out by now." CHECK.
(2)   Know when your warranty runs out, and get your machine repaired where you got it, just in case. Keep warranty and repair records in a place that is separate from your computer's hard drive - because if your computer stops working, you'll want to be able to get at the information.(3)   Never, NEVER leave anything liquid on the same surface where you keep your computer. If you have to eat soup, or drink coffee or cola or whatever when you are at your computer, make sure that:

• you set the liquid container down on a separate surface than the one on which you keep your computer, 
• you don't hover the liquid above the keyboard (i.e., turn your head to one side to drink, or push away from the computer to eat your soup!), and 
• that the surface you set your drink/liquid on is solid and doesn't allow for spillage and inadvertent dripping on the machine. 

Life lessons learned: 

(1)  No matter how bad you think things are, they can always get worse.
(2)  Life does go on - and it gets more expensive. Live with it.
(3)  Don't take yourself or your possessions too seriously. 
(4)  Sometimes you just have to cut your losses, face the music and take your lumps. Life hands you innumerable opportunities to make a royal chump of yourself. Learn to roll with the punches ... and know that it's okay to be human.

People can relate to it, for one thing.

Saddle Sores

Sometimes, getting along with people is hard.

Put another way, the intricacies of interpersonal relationships are such that they can turn into a mine-field more than a healing zone. 

Whether at home, work, church, school, or elsewhere, the potential for misunderstandings and power-plays (and everything in between) is huge because people are human - and humans make mistakes. Humans also like to be right, and will do anything to convince themselves that they are right. Even if it means manipulating the situation in such a way that the other person looks wrong - or stupid.

I was bemoaning such a relationship last night as I tried to get to sleep - and sleep would not come. The more I thought about a particular sequence of events, the worse I felt. The feeling of being betrayed, irritated, used, taken for granted (even possibly taken for a fool), and ... ridden - was tangible. This morning, as I tried to make sense of it all, tried to identify what was wrong, I listed my feelings as if they were physical symptoms ... and because I have a background in equitation, suddenly it became clear to me.

I have saddle sores. You know - the kind that horses get. Only mine are emotional.

To test my theory, I went to Google found an article on saddle sores, what they are, what causes them and how to prevent them. It's as I thought. Saddle sores are tender, raw spots on a horse's back or sides that happen when there is repetitive rubbing against the hair follicles. They usually happen where the equipment (like the saddle and/or the girth, or the strap that holds the saddle on the horse) comes into contact with the horse. 

Friction causes saddle sores. It doesn't have to be a whole lot of friction, just a few millimeters is all it takes, but it's the repetitive nature of it over a prolonged period of time, back and forth, over and over, that causes the hair follicles under the saddle to become inflamed and tender, and it can lead to infection, and sometimes even dead tissue - which (after removal) means that the hair never grows there again. And did I mention that saddle sores HURT? Think blister. Think abscess.

Ouch. A horse with a saddle sore can't be ridden for a long time, until the sore is healed completely. That can mean weeks of treatment. 

What am I getting at? Well, the author of the article says that there are several underlying causes of the irritation that leads to saddle sores and other similar sores that appear under the bridle or other riding or harness equipment. These main causes are: 

• the way the individual horse is built - this can't be changed, but allowances can be made for it;
• the riding equipment that's used: saddle and bridle, especially if these things are unclean. A dirty saddle or bridle is stiff and crusty, doesn't bend with the horse's movements, and rubs the hair and skin raw; and
• how well the rider rides - this can be changed!

Now. Here's where my mind started kicking in; here's the analogy part. Think of the following symbolism (if you haven't already figured it out):

• the horse is the one feeling "ridden" or "used" - in this case, me;
• the saddle and bridle (also called the "tack") is the rules and regulations, the organizational framework in which I and the other person/people involved operate; and
• the rider is the other individual (in essence, the one who is "riding" me). This is the person who has some sort of power or control over me, whether by delegated authority or by function.

Photo "Horseman On Horse" courtesy of dan at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Treating saddle sores is far more unpleasant for everyone than preventing them from happening in the first place. It takes a little extra care, but the time investment is well worth it. It makes the relationship far more enjoyable - in the horse world and in the human world!

In particular, as I review the three main causes for saddle sores (the individual makeup or quirks of the one being ridden, the flexibility of the rules and regulations under which everyone operates, and the skill of the rider), might I suggest the following applications for preventing the emotional effects of being "ridden?"

• Judicious use of padding - Saddles come in standard sizes; horses don't. Good riders know that a great saddle pad, if used properly, can help prevent saddle sores from happening. If the horse has physical quirks, such as bony shoulders for example, adjusting the pad before putting the saddle on the horse can prevent that extra pressure from bearing down on the horse's back. In the same way, knowing where someone is sensitive and making allowances for those things can help prevent the rules - and the one holding the reins - from rubbing him or her the wrong way.
• Making sure the rules are fitted to the person - The equipment has to fit the horse properly in order to be effective. There are guidelines to use to make the bridle fit comfortably so the horse isn't in pain all the time, things to remember to make sure the girth doesn't pinch, or the front of the saddle doesn't bear down on the bony part of the shoulders. If you need to awl another hole through a strap to make it fit right, then that's what has to happen. If you need to get someone a special piece of equipment to make his or her life/job/ministry/schoolwork better while still staying within the boundaries of decorum and being considerate of others involved, then that's an investment that needs to be considered seriously.
  
• Keeping the rules from becoming rigid and inflexible - Good riders know the importance of cleaning their tack after every use - at least wiping off the saliva, sweat and dirt with a damp sponge or cloth - and regularly cleaning the saddle and bridle with saddle soap, a sponge and a little water to keep the leather supple, to prevent it from getting brittle and rough. Rough leather rubs against the animal and causes saddle sores faster. In the human application, a good rule of thumb here is "people before things."  Consistently refusing to listen to someone who has a need and a right to be heard and appreciated in a meaningful way, can drive a person to the wrenching decision point of wanting to permanently end the relationship.
• Being open to instruction - Bad riding: continual bump-bump-bumping on top of the horse, yanking at the reins, or flopping the legs around, can cause more friction and more quickly irritate the places where the tack comes in contact with the horse (not to mention irritating the horse itself!); it can also damage the equipment and not make it last as long. This can be fixed if the rider is willing to take lessons and listen to someone who knows more, to benefit from the experience of an expert. In the same way, it's important for the person at the controls to have an extremely rare quality: the capacity to be teachable. Being teachable increases flexibility and benefits both parties; it improves the relationship and helps it last longer and be more enjoyable for all concerned. 

Like all analogies, this one has its limitations, but I think I've drawn enough comparisons to at least provide food for thought. 

Creep

Of course it happens slowly. It can't happen any other way. 

If it happened quickly ... we'd notice. But over time, little things creep in and we give just a little to make room for them. It could be saying yes to too many projects, or letting the housework pile up, or taking on just one more extra-curricular activity for the kids, or buying just one more trinket. 

But one leads to two, and two leads to more - whether items, hours, or days. And before long, we look around and wonder how it all happened.

It's creep. Sly, seemingly innocent concessions we make. 

I do this more often than I care to admit. I get overwhelmed and wonder how it all happened, when "all I was trying to do was..." And so it goes. I want to be seen as a nice person (hm, sounds like fear of rejection to me), so instead of saying "No" when someone asks me to do something I would just as soon not do, I say "Yes" ... instead of setting that boundary.  Boundaries are hard. Enforcing them is harder. So I give in. Even if giving in is bad for me. 

Got this drawing HERE

After a while, I become obsessed and driven by what this one and that one wants, and the stress builds - and I start getting burnt out. The alarm bells start to ring. Eventually, if I ignore them, I get resentful of the people I'm trying to help. And the bells get louder.

The alarm bells didn't always ring for me though. I just wondered why I was so tired and unhappy all the time; after all, if people would only show a little appreciation, I'd be fine. Right?
Wrong. 
When I first started to embrace a lifestyle of looking after myself as one of the people with whom I was in a relationship (there's a thought!) and healing from past hurts, I'd catch myself doing this, spreading myself too thinly for others' benefit (or so I thought). I used to berate myself that it took me longer than what I thought was healthy, to realize I was doing it. The cycle would be three-quarters of the way through before I would figure out what was happening, and stop. As time went on, though, I noticed that I was catching myself sooner and sooner. And I was practicing my new behaviors of saying how I feel instead of stuffing it down inside somewhere. Not every time, but more times.

This is progress. This is not perfection. 
Thank God perfection is not my goal anymore; it used to be. I can give myself permission to fail. Not that I try to fail, but if I do, it's okay. I guess I accepted the notion that the only perfect One who ever walked this earth got nailed to a cross - and I'm not Him.

What a relief.

This lifestyle - this one day at a time, first things first, let go and let God philosophy on which it's based - is actually pretty good. I'm generally happy most of the time. Oh, I get flustered over things that occur, the weather, circumstances, just like everyone else, but I don't beat myself up about not being able to do it all and be superwoman any more. 

Well, not much. ;)

And that creep phenomenon? Thankfully, it doesn't get as far as it once did. 

The Road to Forgiveness

I want to say at the outset that forgiveness is not, repeat NOT, a one-time decision.  You don't wake up one day and say, "I think I'll forgive ____ for hurting me."  It just doesn't happen.  If someone has told you it happens, that person was lying to you - and probably lying to him or her self. 

No.  Forgiveness is a PROCESS.  I've said it before on this blog and I'll say it again because it bears repeating. 

I'll also say (again) that forgiveness is NOT:
- making excuses for the person,
- saying "there's nothing to forgive,"
- ignoring the problem, or 
- medicating your feelings with whatever makes you (temporarily) feel good.

The process of which forgiveness is a vital part, is as different from one person to another as their personalities.  The length of time it takes is as varied as a day to a lifetime. But even though the journey is different for each person, it always goes through certain stages (the length of which depends on the severity of the wrong committed and whether or not it was a one-time thing):
- hurt (the initial emotional response);
- anger (the God-given protective response);
- grief (releasing what you have lost - what the offender took from you or poisoned);
- acceptance (of the offender's part and of your own);
- forgiveness (letting go of your right to punish the offender); and
- healing (moving on).

Link for this photo is HERE

This cycle can be repeated with the same person for the same offense (especially if the hurt is deep or has taken place over a long time) - or a new hurt can piggyback onto an older one and start the process all over again. It doesn't mean that the person in the forgiveness process has failed.  

A person does not need to feel guilty for having feelings that are normal and healthy to have, while going through this process.  It is what it is WHILE it is, and God is in charge of the process.  (Or did I forget to mention that at the outset?) 

It's humanly impossible to forgive a deep or long-standing hurt. In human strength, well, you can never do it by yourself.  Other human friends can help, but the process is supernatural in nature and as such, requires divine help. 

It takes as long as it takes. 

And it is not, nor should it ever be, equated with walking back into an abusive situation just because you've "forgiven."  You can forgive without being foolish. Certain people are just plain poison.  Forgiveness won't change them; in fact, they'll take advantage of you if they can, and will try to convince you that "forgive and forget" is in the Bible somewhere.  It isn't.  The only One who forgets (and that, by choice) is God.  It is not a human trait.  One day, after we've shed our earthly bodies, all tears will be wiped away from our eyes - - but until then, it will be impossible to forget the deep hurts.  It doesn't mean that we've not forgiven.  That's not what forgiveness is.  

Forgiveness - when you get there and not before - is a releasing of your right to expect the other person to repay you for whatever it is he or she took from you, whether that was self-respect, trust, possessions, innocence, or whatever. One thing that helped me come to this place toward my abusers was a statement that a speaker came out with in one of her talks: "The moment that person took whatever it is from you, it flew away, never to return.  That person can NEVER give that back to you because he or she doesn't have it anymore.  It's gone.  So you have a choice now.  You can hold onto something that doesn't exist anymore - or you can let it go." 

The alternative is what one dear old recovering alcoholic said once: "Not forgiving is like drinking poison and hoping the other person will die."

All it takes is a willingness to begin the healing process, and a simple request made to God to walk you through it.  

The pain drain

Ever noticed that things that you would normally not mind seem to bother you more when you're in pain?

I have.  I've been in pain - not severe, but pretty much constant - for the last few months now.  Just when I think I'm getting ahead and can do more, it hits again and I'm down for the count - and the simplest, stupidest things can set it off.  Like turning to look at something by twisting around instead of moving my feet. (OW!  ... Grr.)  

And the pain (as I was saying in my opening) wears at you.  Even when other things take your attention and you forget the pain is there, one move and it reminds you that it has you. You become more irritable, less patient.  Your tolerance for everyday annoyances becomes practically non-existent.  At least mine does.  

And that can lead to some pretty stinking thinking.  Negativity.  Snappishness.  Resentments.  Or acute (and by that I don't mean clinical) depression.  

Those things creep up behind you when you've been strong (or tried to be strong) for a long time, and they grab you by the throat, sometimes through the most innocent of circumstances.  It takes a lot of acceptance and courage to let it go and to trust God when there seems to be no end in sight.  Especially when the feeling that you're being targeted, singled out, and attacked seems so overwhelmingly real.  

It's precisely BECAUSE the pain is always there, like a slow leak in your gas tank...  that when the ups and downs of life happen (as they do to everyone) they seem to require more of you or leave you running on empty.  

And you feel guilty for taking time so often to fill up, to look after your own needs instead of everyone else's. So you don't ... and the cycle starts all over again.  

I can't stress it enough.  Self-care is so very important.  You are the only you that you have, and if you're not at 100%, guess what. You're going to need rest, recharging, refueling more often.  There's no shame in admitting that you need rest, help, quiet, a hot bath, a walk (or a saunter, or a waddle in my case) in the park, a movie, a night out, or whatever it is that rejuvenates you. 

It's not a luxury.  It's an essential.

It's essential because you're you.  Okay, if you want other reasons, it's also because you can't give away what you don't have... so if others are depending on you (for whatever reason) you won't have the resources to help them if you're not looking after yourself. 

I've put myself in last place for so long that the habit is really hard to break. You know the habit I mean.  Put the food on everyone else's plate first (after all, it's polite.) Put everyone else's schedule first and fit your stuff in (if at all) at the end when you're spent from looking after their comings and goings. Spend money on everyone else at the store but not you; after all, there's no money left to spend, right? 

Carving out time for yourself is HARD.  It feels awkward.  You feel kind of guilty, ashamed of even admitting that you have needs, let alone taking steps toward meeting them.  That's the old messages of manipulation from your childhood creeping in, things you heard at school, from relatives, in church.  Silencing those voices is difficult and at first, they will be loud.  Very loud.  Attune your internal sensors to pick up the wistful whispers from your inner child, the one that always had to wait, always got the leftovers, always was overlooked. 

It doesn't mean that you're selfish.  It means that you have your priorities in the right order.  Your relationship with God. Then your relationship with YOU. THEN your relationship with others.  

And one more thing.  (This was tough for me, and it still is.)  Embrace the word "No."

I think that tonight, I need to spend some time with a few close friends in an accepting atmosphere, and I know just where to find that.  :D

Hurting people

Hurting people do hurt people.

Sometimes they mean to.  Sometimes they intend to inflict harm to make themselves feel better.  Not often... but sometimes. 

Sometimes they don't mean to.  They live their lives, they do what they do.  And their choices hurt us. It happens.  

Sometimes they try not to hurt us, because they know what it feels like to be hurt, and they don't want that for us.  And in trying not to... in hiding the truth from us ... they hurt us MORE than if they'd been honest.  Especially if they profess to love us.

What happens when people hurt us, for whatever reason?  How do we handle it? 

I know I don't handle it stoically.  I don't like being hurt.  But I've learned that it's okay to say that I've been hurt if that's how I feel, no matter how difficult it is. And it IS difficult.  every.  time.  

There was a time when I would "stuff it" down inside of me - hide my feelings and not show it if my sanity depended on it.  Trouble is, it did.  I drove myself deep into depression and spiraling into confusion by holding it in, year after year. It got so I didn't know how I felt anymore; everything was such a jumble of baggage from stuff I held in years ago, mixed with guilt and shame.  When I learned that it was more important to feel what I felt WHEN I felt it, for my own emotional health, I started to get in touch with what I was feeling, and didn't allow things to build up to explosive force.  Expressing things instead of holding back - within reason, of course - allowed me to discharge psychological energy in safe ways rather than overreacting after getting all pent-up.  

Allowing myself to express emotions validates what I feel - and helps me get to forgiveness faster.  It just does.  Forgiveness is a process and it starts with acknowledging that a wrong has been committed - whether intentionally or not - and knowing that it is okay to be upset when dealing with it.  

There are many more stages in that process, but a healthy start is knowing that it's okay to feel hurt.  There need be no shame in it.  We wouldn't blame ourselves for feeling pain when physically hurt; why would we blame ourselves when someone hurts us emotionally?

Fact is, getting hurt by others is probably going to happen a lot more than I'd like.  But at least I have the tools now to deal with it.

Time to heal

Time to heal.

It is, isn't it?  Years and years of gray living. Going through the motions, day in and day out.  Trying to do your best, and always coming up short, getting the opposite of what you tried to accomplish in your loved ones' lives.  Feeling ignored, rejected, unappreciated.  It wears away at the spirit, in spite of your best efforts to stave it off - leaving a deep root of resentment and bitterness.  But you live in denial.  You tell people how wonderful life is, how grateful you are. Inside you wonder if this is all there is.  

I know.  I was there.  And for me, it was high time to heal.  I'd been sick long enough - caught in a trap of my own making.  For, you see, my desire to control, to influence my loved ones, only made them resentful against me, caused them to resist my best efforts.  I'd push, they'd push back harder. Every time.  I'd give and give some more; they'd take and expect more. I'd give it - and they'd use me and I'd resent them more.  Like I said: a trap.  

It was time to heal.  

But once I had reached out for help, I learned something important.

It takes time to heal.

I couldn't expect a divine "Zap" - a miraculous Zeus-like thunderbolt - no matter how hard I prayed for an instant miracle.  Not that it doesn't happen; it does. Sometimes.  But this was one time it wasn't going to happen.  Not this kind.  

There's a major principle of healing that holds true not only in the physical but in the emotional and spiritual as well.  The deeper and more long-lasting the wound, the longer it takes to heal.  

The wounds were far deeper than I was willing to admit at first.  I didn't even think the problem was in me; I thought it was with everyone else.  If they'd only do things my way!!  If they only knew how much I cared!! 

I never stopped to figure out WHY I cared.  WHY I wanted to have that much influence.  Once I admitted that the problem was not in them, but in me, the pieces started to come together.  And I started to heal.  From the inside out.

And it took time.  The majority of the healing (although it's always ongoing) took place in the first year, and only with the help of someone who'd been through the process before and who was willing to walk me through it.  It took complete honesty, openness, and willingness to commit to the process, in order for that same process to only take a year and not five - or ten.  

While I was going through it, I wanted SO. VERY. MUCH to skip to the end, to not have to go through the difficult, painful process of cutting away the diseased parts of me and starting to get better. 

Messily.  And slowly.  Too slowly for my liking. 

But it happened.  Little by little - mistakes and all - it happened.  Thanks to the strength and help of God, and the assistance of a wonderful counselor, as well as the fellowship of people who accepted me as I was - plus a whole lot of determination to not hide from myself, it happened.  

And now, three and a half years later - I can honestly say that it was well worth it.

Isn't it time to heal? 

And the problem is...?

Someone asked me a question today that set me back on my heels.  

Just what's so wrong about codependency?  After all, isn't being unselfish and giving, helping and rescuing people from their sad state, putting others' needs ahead of your own, isn't that encouraged? the Christian thing to do? the right thing to do?  

Wow.  You know, I might have asked that same question up until 3 years ago.  I would have felt perfectly justified in asking just what the big deal was.  If I even knew there was a big deal.  It was just the accepted thing to do: looking after others to the exclusion of myself, being the guardian of my family, holding up the standard of holiness.  

I lived in denial.  I only saw what I wanted to see: I only saw what would make me the hero, the victim, the only one who was right.  Until, that is, I was shown that the way I was living was isolating me, driving away the people I cared about, placing a burden on my soul that wasn't meant to be there, and leaving me resentful and bitter.

Image source (via Google):
http://www.nofenders.net/2010/05/
its-not-my-fault-honest.html

My version of Christianity more closely resembled codependency (see my page on what that is, above) than faith in God.  I didn't trust God to look after me or to look after my loved ones.  

Oh, I SAID I did.  But in practice, I didn't.  I behaved like it was my responsibility how other people turned out, that I was their protector, their rescuer, their conscience, their watchdog.  In essence, I had taken on the role of God in the lives of those I cared about.  That is a burden that no human was designed to carry!! I was exhausted : emotionally, spiritually, mentally, financially, physically. And I was so incredibly lonely: a state which, truth be told, I had created by my obsession with being right, with being needed, with being in charge. Fear was a way of life for me.  Like Job at the beginning of his story, when he sacrificed animals to God every day in case his children sinned that day, I was so afraid that my husband or kids would mess up that I would go out of my way to protect them and would assume that they were GOING to mess up.  I spied on them, jumped on every little thing they did that went against what I wanted for them, over-reacted when they dared question me or my beliefs, ... at the end of the day, they were either too scared of me to confide in me, or they had just tuned me out, saying that Mom was going all Christianazi on them again.  

The single biggest revelation I had when, overwhelmed by the circumstances, I first asked for help - which I only did so that I could figure out how to make my husband stop drinking and my kids to stop treating me like I was some sort of ogre - was that I might have the problem, not them.  That I actually might BE the problem.  

It was quite an epiphany for me when I realized that the way I had been acting was not the right way - that all my attempts at rescuing, controlling, manipulating, intimidating, and care-taking had created the reactions I was seeing in my loved ones.  It was a hard truth to face.  My life was totally about them, enmeshed in their lives, their reactions, their opinions.  I felt responsible for their bad choices.  Every decision they made - "good" or "bad" - was automatically a reflection on my abilities as a wife, mother, Christian.  I had lost myself, a sense of who I was ... if I ever even had it in the first place.  

That was when I reached, as people in recovery say, "my bottom."  I finally realized that what I'd been doing was insanity - doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results - and it was causing the very problem from which I was suffering.  I'm so glad that God placed the people in my path to be able to walk me out of that dark and rocky ravine.  People who helped me let go of my iron-fisted grip on other people's lives.  People who helped me to discover who I was, who accepted me, who loved me, who were patient with me. 

My relationships changed.  I had damaged the people I loved... SO much!!  Slowly I learned who I was, who they were.  Slowly I realized that it was okay that I was me and that they were them, that it was okay for them to be different from me.  Such basic concepts I had missed - they were new to me.  And as I learned them, and this made a change in the way I viewed myself and the people in my life, that heavy self-imposed burden of 'being God' for them, just slipped away from me. 

Peace has replaced perfectionism. Serenity has replaced suspicion. I can still very easily slip back into that old fearful and obsessive mind-set at times.  But I am able to catch myself at it, and when I do, I can more easily unhook from it and let go.  It's not perfect - but that's not my goal.  My goal is progress.

I know that God was in charge of this whole thing: He was the One who sent those people who walked with me as I put one foot in front of the other and stepped further and further into the light.  And to Him - and to them - I will always be thankful.

GIGO

GIGO  -  Garbage In, Garbage Out.  It's a computer saying, meaning that if you program a computer wrong, all that you get back is wrong.  I used to say this all the time to my kids when they were growing up, referring to the multitude of mindless kids' shows on TV which glorified mediocrity, applauded insolence, and condoned lying.  

Of course I overdid it, but that's another story.  

I was reminded of the principle of GIGO tonight.  I'd been somewhere talking to someone and our circumstances were not going according to plan and we had to wait for someone else.  I felt irritated, insulted by the people who were inconveniencing us when they knew we would be there at a certain time.  I started railing inside at these people, looking for someone to blame, looking to attribute motive to what these folks were doing, rather than take the incident at face value: they were delayed.  In the meantime, someone came in wearing a scented product.  Oh, this was just ducky.  Now a headache on top of it.

Once allowed to continue by this other group, the light blue funk I was in started to deepen in hue, especially since our own time was cut short, and then afterward, someone else assumed that we would do something we had neither the time nor the inclination to do; yet, we found ourselves agreeing to do it.  Then the requester found another person who was willing to do it instead. Instead of feeling grateful, I soon found myself talking about this person to someone else - none too flatteringly - and as I walked away from the whole encounter and got into the car, I felt disappointed, soiled, slimy inside.  Looking at my behavior the previous 2 hours it wasn't hard to see why.  

MY plans had been infringed upon.  MY space had been crowded.  MY position in the scheme of things had been supplanted.

It was all about me.  And then I realized that I'd been feeding garbage to my spirit, allowing it to snarf up a big pile of ego-led nonsense.  No wonder I soon felt like yesterday's trash.  

As we stopped at a local dairy bar for a small treat, we talked about something good, something uplifting.  I could feel my spirit getting lighter, more buoyant.  Finally I could see clearly to know what my problem had been.  As soon as I identified it out loud to my 'sundae date', there was an immediate sense of "rightness" that came over me.  Like Someone inside said, "Yeah....that's it."  And I could let the resentment go and focus on the positive instead of the negative.  As soon as I did, even the headache started to leave, all on its own.  

Well - sort of on its own.  I think it had Help. 

Blee-doop

Once in a while I hear a little chirp every so often, coming from another room.  Blee-doop.  Five minutes later, blee-doop.

Graphic "Low Battery" courtesy of
David Castillo at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

My cell phone is asking me to feed it.  I try not to let it get that hungry but sometimes I forget...and it tells me what it needs.  If I ignore it, the battery loses its charge altogether and the sound stops.  That isn't a good thing especially if the phone isn't where I usually keep it! But all I need to do is plug the charger in for a few hours and it soaks up energy like a little sponge, making the phone usable again.


I guess I get like that too.  Battery low.  

I get used too much, take on too much - or go too long without doing things that replenish my energy - and I start blee-dooping at people.  Any people but especially those who are closest to me.  Usually in a very annoying fashion.  This means I get all selfish, self-centred, and nasty with people...unthinking, uncaring.  It happens.  When I catch myself doing it (or occasionally, when a good friend calls me on it) it's never a pleasant experience - but it does alert me to the fact that I have been putting myself out too much and not taking anything in to recharge my batteries.

And occasionally, like today, my batteries get recharged without me having to make the time to do it.  People's sleep schedules were such that I was able to spend some quality time with my hubby before anyone else got up.  We got some shopping done before the stores got crowded.  It was nice - it was leisurely.  And when we did run some errands with one of our crew, it was short and we could spend some more time just relaxing for what seems like the first time in weeks. 

Nobody is like the Energizer Bunny.  We all need recharging.  Some more often than others, perhaps.

Different things drain me:

• I spend time with more than 4 people at a time or even one other person when I feel like I must be on my guard.
• I feel pressured into doing something I don't want to do, and judged when I say no.  Or ... I give in and say yes, and then resent every minute as well as the person who guilted me into it.
• I shop when the department or grocery stores are busy.  (Bad move...my skin starts to crawl and my fuse gets shorter...)



Photo "Blurred People Walking On The Street"
by surasakiStock at www.freedigitalphotos.net

• Or I am around people who are fighting with each other - voices raised, doors slammed, etc.

Blee-doop.

• I go to a gathering - whether church, a team meeting, or whatever - where I feel like nothing is being accomplished and I'm just going through the motions.
• I go without nourishing my spirit (listening to music, reading and meditating on Scripture and my recovery readings).
• Or I let people walk all over me - and don't stand up for what I want, and resentment builds up in me.

Blee-doop.

It doesn't take very long to recharge, just the decision to allow recharging to happen and making time for it if need be.  Thank God for earphones, Youtube, and unexpected quiet moments throughout the day.  Thank God for the beauty of nature.  Thank God for the ability to go for a walk if I need to do that.  Such things feed my soul.  That's what today has been like so far.

And if it changes - I can always go for a walk later - or go visit with some friends in a place where I feel safe and at home.  

That sounds like a plan.