Post-therapy wrap-up
Therapy (on the phone) was really helpful today. I gained some nice new understanding of:
(1) how badly some of my parts want to reach out to others with authenticity, a touch of vulnerability and needs
(2) the protector part that jumps in the way of the above coming to fruition. the people-pleasing impulsive talking part who betrays all the vulnerability, the emotion, the “true” me in an effort to keep the whole system safe
(3)the reinforcement that the protector part receives each time I welcome into my life the types of people who will replicate the patterns of my youth.
What I’m left with is this: I want to do it differently this time. I want to figure out first how to distinguish those people who are NOT like my family of origin and who are safe to be me around and then how to let those people in a bit. The first part is crucial to remember because I definitely have “good therapy” parts who think that experiencing my emotions and being vulnerable is the end goal of therapy. But what’s the point if I finally get to that place with people who mistreat me again? No, I have to figure out before hand if my parts feel safe. B. says it’s just a process of being aware of what parts are most “in the living room” when I spend time with people. Examining what comes up when I’m with them. Awareness is not something I’ve been cultivating a lot of lately. I’ve been busy and distracted and ungrounded. Kayaking and yoga are top priorities for the week. Maybe listen to a guided meditation. Best of intentions…we’ll see how it works out.
And then it occurred to me
**warning: my space bar is reallyfeeling sticky and not cooperating. apologies.
Iwas putteringalong inthis newlife prettywell with a hefty doseof avoidance ofthe whole “relationship” challengesthatI face.Laughingly callingmyself a “trainwreck in relationships” (self-deprecating humor issuch a thin veilfor self-consciousnessorself-loathing). I wasenjoying my “single time” – afirst forme. I hadn’t joined a monestary and enjoyed eye candy as much asthenext girlbut I’djust put the wholethought ofdating onthe back burner.
Untilthis weekend.When Iwent tothe beachtovisit mychilhood bestfriend, her baby and her husband. She informed me that another girlfriend wouldbethere but I hadno idea untilI approachedherhusband atthebeachupon arrivalto give him a bighug that also joining us would be a guy thatIhave known through mutualfriends foreverandwho I hooked up with last December (J wasin the picture butwe hadn’teven kissedyet).So I almost swallowed my tongue whenC. turned aroundnext to my friend’s husband – shirtlessand holding a fishingpole. Gulp. “oh hey, what’s up?” That soundedcasual, right?
Fast forwardthrough aday of group activiteies and anevening of sexual tension and multiple drinksand finally some extendedalone time and conversationsaboutboth ofus having been engaged- and what thehellhappened last December (Imay have un-friended him on Facebook afterour encounter) (andavoided histexts)(andignoredhisphone call)- and where are you sleeping tonight and suddenly the bedroomdoor is closedandsex.sex happened.multipletimes. and itwas reallyquitegood.granted I’mout of practice and there’s always the initial awkwardnessandthe what do youlike andno, what do youlike and the getting usedto someone’s faces and noises.But Iwasbeaming whenIdrove away the next day afterasweetgoodbye kissandre-exchange ofnumbers (funny,I don’tremember deletinghimfrommy phone).
And the beaminglastedapproximately 3/4 of a mile of my 4 hour drive home. The rest was consumed withcrazy brain:
-would he make a good father
-whatifI got pregnant andwe had to get married
-howlong would Ihave to date him beforehe’d propose
-wouldI move to raleigh for thisguy?
-wouldhe move to charlotte?
-whatdoeshe do for christmas?
-whatwould meetinghisfamily be like?
-would my brother likehim?
-whatsortof house wouldwe live in together?
-whowouldgive me away at the wedding
And so on….soembarrassing toactuallytype those things ontothescreenasthey are indeed a reflection of how insanely obsessive and,well,crazy I get whena man enters mylife (even for 24 hours).
Ihad therapy on the phone withB. againtoday (didthatlast Tuesday as wellbecause I’veyetto find a therapisthere that willwork forme) and whilethe partsthatwe worked with are not theprimary players in this “anchoryourselfto a man asfast asyou can-craziness”, afterwordIhada moment ofrevelation. After spending the bulk of thesession working with a very young, very bruised andhurt andskittish childpartwho wants someonetocomfortherbut is terrified of it,I realizedhow fucking terrified I am of love. Loveisn’t something that canbetrusted.I loved my ownparentsandthey hurtthe fuck out of me.I often wonder now if I would bea happier healthier person if I hadn’t had my father in my life because of the boatload of hurt hegave me for years and years.So afterlookingat this partwhodesperately wants love butfeels that love is what hurther I wondered…
What ifallthe obsessive thoughts and the planning far far into the future and pushing things fasterthan they are ready to go…what if it’s a protective mechanism to avoid actually falling inlove. Love = hurt.Lonliness = hurt. Therefore,find a way to not be lonely while also not feeling real (dangerous, terrifying, powerful) love.
Just a thought. But it resonated.
transference? confusion of my subconscious?
I’m not good at endings. Or perhaps I’m too good at them, I’m not sure which. Metaphorically speaking, I sneak out the back door and slam it shut behind me. No turning back. No tears. No group hugs and exchanges of phone numbers and emails. Done. This is exactly how relationships end for me. Over it. “Next!”
But for one. A boyfriend in graduate school…B. The relationship was 14 months in duration, the breakup recovery was at least 4. I kept calling him and getting drunk and crying over him. I was just really sad and missed B to an extent unfamiliar to me then and now. We keep in touch now – just superficial correspondence through modern technologies – facebook and gmail chat. And while I realize that he is the only ex in my history that I still feel attracted to (he has a damn good profile picture, people!) I hadn’t thought much of it. Until tonight.
I got an update that he had added a picture to his FB account (word to the wise – unfriend your exes on facebook. just do it.). Of course I clicked. In a flash I was staring at a 3×5 of him and his “new” girlfriend (they’ve been together at least a year and live together – facts which before tonight didn’t seem to bother me). But there I sat – transfixed on his tortoise shell glasses* and beaming grin – complete with perfect teeth. and hair. Arm wrapped around a beaming brunette with perfect makeup. and cleavage. tasteful cleavage that makes my little breasts ache with envy. and matching perfect teeth (god their kids are going to be gorgeous). And tears welled up. That hurt was there again as if it never left.
But wait. Aren’t I supposed to be crying over J? The man I was slated to marry? The one who until January I lived with? What’s going on? Why is my head so confused? What does it all mean (I mean, aside from the whole don’t be FB friends with exes part)?
*who the hell thought tortoise shell glasses could be sexy?!
Friends
What does a Saturday spent with female friends mean to me? It means that Sunday can be spent sewing, cooking, working out, cleaning all without even for one second feeling lonely. I’m not so needy that I can’t bear to be alone for an hour. In fact, my mom reportedly gets confused because I send mixed messages of enjoying alone-time but hating to be alone. It’s true. I guess this does sound confusing.
I guess I need solid friendships in which I really feel known and valued in order for alone time to feel tolerable – even enjoyable. So rather than feeling like today was a sad pathetic exercise in tolerating excruciating emptiness and solitude – it was more like a treat. I got to spend the day doing whatever I wanted and relax my social muscles after a big day yesterday. Quality time with good women friends is so nourishing to me. I’m still figuring out why friendships are hard for me and romantic relationships jump in the way so frequently.
Learning how to be single
My family members would tell you that I have always hated to be alone. As a young child I was terrified of being alone, particularly outside. Playing alone in the yard, I felt exposed and vulnerable – a target for “bad guys”. I would beg my mom or brother to play with me and if they wouldn’t I’d tag along, annoyingly, in whatever they were doing. I perceived myself to be an unwanted nuisance but that feeling was far more tolerable than playing alone. My dad often came to my rescue and took me on his endless, manic errands (in search of “the perfect golf club” or “this particular brand of antique lampshade). His narcissistic personality made him my perfect companion – all he wanted was for me to be at his side, talking to him about his latest passion and joining him in his important quests. And here I am 20 years later feeling desperately in need of someone to tag along with or to join as a sidekick in adventures.
I think that pattern of the past and the fear that drove it has led me down the road of serial monogomy. And finally, finally I’m single. And I don’t know how to do it. It’s an underdeveloped skill. I know it may seem silly. I’m nearly 28 years old and I don’t know how to be single. I hate it. I really hate it. I burst into tears in therapy Thursday just talking about how fucking uncomfortable I am when not in a relationship. There’s that whole enormous emotional piece of feeling non-existent, feeling empty, feeling unloveable, feeling shit-your-pants terrified. But then there’s the day to day piece – what to do with all this time?! Of course, my eating disorder suggests many time and energy consuming activities (the gym is open for 8 hours tomorrow, ya know).
But I have other plans. Like taking my Sam dog to the dog park. And sipping one of the new overpriced tea lattes at Starbucks while chewing through 30 pages of a good book. Taking a sewing class all afternoon today. Getting tipsy on a bottle of good red wine (good means > $6.99) while watching the Sex and the City movie. Napping on a snowy Friday afternoon. Making a collage first thing in the morning.
At this point these endeavors feel largely driven by the need to be distracted from my loneliness and discomfort. They fall under the category of “keeping busy”. But I don’t think they always will. I hope with time that I’ll live my day to day life in the ways that I want to, just for me. Until then, I’ll keep on finding ways to keep busy AND healthy.
Observations, Part 2
Alright, picking up where I left off – - -
So my friend has a theory (one which every day I’m subscribing to with exponentially more enthusiasm) – that it takes a year to get to know someone. That nothing really speeds up that process. And to that end, she has decided not to “rush things” with her boyfriend. She spent hours and hours (and money) fixing up her apartment this summer – her first place without roommates. She was excited and proud and has maintained this independent residence despite spending most nights at her boyfriend’s house and despite his inclination to have her move in sooner rather than later. I was so amazed and impressed by her independence and her sticking with her “take it slow” plan. She indicates an intention to move in with him in May – they will have been together nearly a year but in our girl-to-girl conversations she sounds mindful of the fact that she doesn’t fully know him yet and so can’t “be sure” quite yet. Scratch the needle off the edge of the record – my how her tone changed in front of him. She invited me to his house for tea and while showing me the place referred to “our bed”, “our neighbor” and “her roommates”. So I’m stuck wondering – which is really how she’s feeling? Likely a mixture of both. But I was admittedly disappointed to observe her doing what I perceived as a similar pattern to me. She sounds one step ahead of herself. Always thinking about the next – the meet the parents, the holiday together, the move-in, the engagement. There’s always some “next-step”, one level up on the commitment ladder. And I hate the recent realization that I am obsessed with the next step and negligent of the one I’m on. I never even pause to consider whether the next step is appropriate or if the timing is right. I just want to be on it. And I admired what I believed to be the more prudent course my friend was taking. Now I’m just confused about what course she’s taking and what step she wants to be on…but one thing’s for sure, her boyfriend sounds like he’s subscribing to my plan (or, at least, what will hopefully be my plan of the past….breaking the cycle is the new plan).
Observations perhaps indicative of insight
Spent a bit of time last night with a good friend over at her boyfriend’s house (I don’t know boyfriend well but they’ve been together 6 months and it seems about time I become acquainted with him).
I noticed a few things about their relationship that I don’t believe I ever would have before. Now a note before I continue: these observations are not intended to be judgemental of my friend or critical of her relationship, merely reflections that I perhaps have a bit more insight about MYSELF in relationship to men. So, read on…
I have admired (especially in light of my recent relationship…well, mess) this friend’s sense of independence. She’s gone on some dates but has always been pretty firm about “what she’s looking for” and has appeared completely at peace with her single life until that comes along. She has a really strong network of friends, is career-driven and fills her free time with hobbies, lectures, mentoring a teen and general community activism. She alluded to a “quarrel” she and boyfriend had about their together-time (or perceived lack thereof) this week. The facts (as I know them): she requested 1 “night off” to stay at her own apartment mid-week, she arrived home late in the evenings most other nights after dance class, yoga or a weekly Friday dinner date with her closest friend. Reportedly he was miffed that they didn’t spend much time together this week and felt a little “abandoned” (p.s. I hate that word).
It got me thinking about how in the long-term course of any relationship, there will be weeks where partners don’t have enough time or energy to devote to each other. It would be easy for my friend (perhaps easier if she was more like me) to infer that it was her duty to scale back her activities and be at home more with him. But at what point does the responsibility become his to become a little more resilient to those weeks when she’s busy? To not interpret it as abandonment and to not feel resentful. Obviously it is a compromise and ideally they’d probably identify some times in the upcoming week or two to really spend some quality time together. But their scenario made me really contemplate what my reaction would have been instinctively, and then perhaps what it should be. I’m unearthing a lot of new theories about “needs” in relationship. Beginning to realize that a good and healthy relationship is not one in which all your needs are met. It doesn’t exist. A good and healthy relationship is one in which your needs are heard and respected in such a way that they are stirred up in the pot of factors that influence decisions. A respected need is not always 100% met, rather it may sway a compromise or impact the way in which your partner acts the next time. Perhaps my friend doesn’t have to give up African dance on Thursday nights – but she can give an extra kiss before leaving the house, reassuring her partner that she will be home in a few hours for some cocoa and snuggling on the couch. There, I found it, the GRAY! Not all or nothing black or white.
My other observation will have to come in Part 2 of this post as I’m running low on time.
When is it EVER appropriate…
…to email your ex-girlfriend an article about women with Borderline Personality Disorder in relationships. Really?! Dangerous territory to start slapping DSM-IV labels on each others, in my humble opinion. And if you do cross the line of inappropriateness, don’t fucking cloak it with concern and benevolence – in hopes that I won’t put anyone else through the horrors of being in a relationship with someone as hopelessly diagnosable as myself.
You know, supressing anger and redirecting it toward myself has been an issue in therapy that I haven’t felt much progress in. Well, pat me on the back and give me a sticker – I AM FURIOUS. And not in “classic symptom of BPD” way – FUCKING FURIOUS FOR GOOD REASON.
Contract, Relax, Contract, Relax
All I wanted to do was eat my dinner in peace. In a little refuge far far away from the voices that whisper about how excessive and wholly unnecessary my evening meal is. Respite from the inner argument about whether or not I had “earned” a quarter of a dollop of sour cream on my baked potato. Let this meal move passively through the digestive system uninterrupted. Take a bath after and feel warm and content on this snowy day. Admittedly a lofty goal, seemingly unacheivable, but I was quite proud of my aspirations.
Then J had to go talking about how he felt light-headed and sick because he didn’t eat all day (restrict/binge is his normal eating pattern – he’ll head off to work with a towering travel mug of diesel fuel coffee and a pack of smokes and coast through his day on adrenaline, come home and devour an entire pizza in just under 29 seconds, pat his bloated belly and smile easily). But sometimes this plan backfires, leaving him sluggish and dizzy. I’m sure that in some way this conversation was viewed in his head as a way to connect, to relate. But of course it was, instead, triggering. As my fork delivered that quarter-dollop of sour cream topped potato to my mouth he rambled, “Eating is different for me than it is for you. It’s an annoyance and a bother. I wish I could just take a pill and never eat again.” Somehow in the two feet of airspace between his mouth and my ear it got twisted into “I don’t like to eat and have such restraint. You, on the other hand, LOVE eating. I mean, really relish it and indulge in it far too frequently. You might as well bathe in a tub of sour cream and eat your way out – you love eating so much.”
All I said was, “Honey, can we change the subject?”
Thus began a prolonged discussion (mainly him talking, calmly venting) about my eating disorder and its effect on our relationship. Among the predictable topics (recurring themes) that arose: to medicate or not to medicate, how it’s unfair, how he doesn’t know how not to enable while at the same time not policing, that he felt like he has to walk on eggshells, that it seems to sudden a change, that he doesn’t understand. Let’s just say he’s got very valid points and there wasn’t much argument or response from me. I just listened. I’ve heard it all before – whether from a past boyfriend, a family member, a friend.
It was a somewhat productive conversation – even if the only functional outcome was that he felt like he’d gotten some things off his chest and been heard. I’m not sure what I got out of it, other than the very loud part of me (whose voice sounds startlingly like my mother’s) scoffing, “See, this is why I always tell you not to try to speak up and protect yourself.” I know that’s just a part with its agenda making all sorts of unhelpful noise in my head. But it speaks to the truth that all I was trying to do was advocate for myself – try to impose some sanctity around my one meal of the day. Trying to protect myself from triggers during a vulnerable hour of my day. Not sure I feel encouraged to attempt that stunt again any time soon.
In other news, the hospital called me yesterday about the second job I had applied for there (ahem, only three weeks after I submitted the application). I spoke with the woman a bit about the position and agreed that the best way to learn more is to speak to the OT and observe. I feel curious yet unpressured about it – something bordering on apathetic. But somehow that feels like a much healthier place to come from when it comes to a job. I worked myself up into a frenzy of nerves and imagined pressure about the other positions and the whole process over the last month. I was mapping out driving routes for the daily commute to jobs I hadn’t even interviewed for. Laying awake at night wondering what my desk would look like for positions I knew nothing about. And it was detrimental to my sleep, health and well-being.
At least in my experience, things in my life crop up at odd times for a reason. So I’m playing along with this one. I’ll investigate – not dive-in head first – but cautiously learn more about this position and feel some time and space to think about it, me , the timing of it all. We’ll wait and see. And as cliche’ed as that sounds (and boy, does it!), it feels like a bit of progress to be able to have that outlook.
