Tag Archives: Hope

Speak.

I love my new therapist. For those of you who are in therapy, I highly suggest switching therapists at least every 3 years. A lot of growth and discovery can happen in three years when you’re committed but after that time, it is necessary to have someone else’s strategies, if for no other reason than to shake you out of your comfort zone. I have reluctantly changed therapists three times (and by therapists, I mean the 3 good ones I’ve had). This time, I took a year off and then finally realized that it was time to bite the bullet and “start over.” That is why it took me so long to see someone else – I just could not bear the thought of rehashing my entire life for someone new. I even thought it may be unhealthy for me to do so. Not so! She has an entirely new approach and expertise in areas I didn’t even realize would be relevant for me, such as post traumatic stress. I’ve learned extremely valuable lessons from each of my therapists – but there’s something different about the one I have now. She questions me, which means she’s really listening. She challenges my thinking, which means she’s not afraid to call me on my shit – who doesn’t need to be called on their shit!? NO ONE. The most important thing she has done so far, though, is to validate me in very specific and important ways.

I have come to a place where I tell “my story” as if I’m reading from a script to anyone who will listen. I almost don’t even thing about the events of my life, I just explain them and then ask, “Why am I not over it?” I didn’t have my records transferred to my new therapist because I wanted to start anew, and this was a wise choice. As I am explaining matter-of-factly the huge decision my parents made when I was 15 that I’ve always said forever changed my life, she stopped me and reminded me, “You realize that a decision means they had a choice, don’t you?” My immediate response was “Well, they didn’t really have a choice… my dad would have lost his job if…” She stopped me. “What may or may not have happened with your dad’s job is part of what they had to weigh when making the decision. But regardless of the factors that played into their decision, it was still a choice.” I was somewhat speechless and shocked that I’d never actually believed it was, which had allowed me to pity them and feel guilty for being angry at their decision for so many years. I had to think about it for a few weeks before I could make sense of it. And it seems so simple, doesn’t it?

I started to realize how often my parents, and my entire family for that matter, present scenarios to me as if another choice other than the one they are choosing is just not possible. In fact, every one of these circumstances absolutely do involve the option of a more respectful, less hurtful choice. So, I started to ponder the concept of choice in general. This realization has freed me in a way 200 more therapy sessions of hearing myself talk never ever could have. I’ve told that particular story my therapist heard at least 20 times to various people in my life, therapists and friends alike. Every time I have presented it as a tough situation for my parents in which they had no other choice. Just changing the beginning of the story will now change the way I tell the rest of it. This particular epiphany is quite monumental.

Since I have decided that this new therapy journey I’ve just embarked upon will be the one that heals me apart from my family as well, I have been pushing myself to challenge my self-talk. And, what do you know? I do it too. I make decisions and remain in circumstances as if another choice is simply not an option. “I hate my job but I can’t do anything about it because I have to stay here so my husband has the freedom to change jobs as he wishes because he’s hated his job longer than I have and our benefits are with my job.” Now, it may seem noble of me to make that decision. But I’ve been making that decision A LOT, practically for our entire marriage. I just figured out part of the reason I have such resentment for my husband – because of CHOICES that I have made. It is a choice for me to stay in my job. I have potential that far outreach my day-to-day “duties” and yet I accept that doing anything but collecting that paycheck and those benefits is “impossible.” It’s not impossible. The resentment plays in when I don’t see my husband actively applying himself to looking for a new job as I feel he should. So, he doesn’t spend every waking hour looking for a new job – the longer he spends procrastinating the longer I have to stay in my job, and you see how the tension in my house remains fairly high. What I really need to do is to make a different choice.

A wise friend once told me that taking care of yourself is the most important thing you can do, because if you don’t do that, you can’t take care of anyone else. I used to think that was selfish way of thinking – and the reason I felt that was a selfish way to think is in part because I have been surrounded by people who did not take care of themselves my entire life. I was also taught that any attempt to take care of self was, in fact, selfish. I am still being taught that looking out for myself is selfish.

And, here we arrive at the title of this post. This weekend, my parents were to come to town – for their usual 24 hour visit. The details of what occurred aren’t really relevant. My parents made another hurtful and extremely selfish decision. Considering many recent events in my and my sister’s lives, we were both extra bothered by this decision. My sister has always been the peace maker and regardless of how upset she is, she will never stand up and say why. I usually don’t either, but I’ve been closer and closer to the end of my rope in the last two years and I finally couldn’t take it any more. I refuse to enable their behavior, and that is a choice that I’ve been making for my entire life now – mostly subconsciously but now that I realize there are other choices, I’m going to start making them. I called my mother and explained to her that her decision had caused unnecessary confusion, energy, and hurt. I was respectful, calm, and very direct. I am not normally direct. 10 minutes after I got of the phone with my mom, my dad called. I let it go to voicemail because I knew exactly what had happened in the last 10 minutes. My mom called my dad and told him that I was mean. My dad called me to “punish” me. His voicemail essentially said that he didn’t like my “attitude” and that I could call him if I wanted to discuss the situation. Let’s be clear… by “discuss” he meant lecture. I was not interested in being lectured, so I made a choice to save myself the pain that would have come from taking his verbal abuse in that moment. The voicemail was enough.

So, blogger friends, this is a giant step in the right direction for me. I like this study on the power of choice. I like the perspective it’s given me. The realization that my parents have had a choice in how they treated me and still treat me gives me the freedom to take back the power of my own choices. And I choose not to sit by and let their choices affect my daily life any longer. It will be and has been a long journey, but I am getting there. The first step was today, when I made the choice to SPEAK. And I think I’ll be doing that much more often.

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Truth is heavy.


Begin

“This is how to clear the polluted river.  If you’re scared, scared to fail, I say begin already, fail if you must, pick yourself up, start again.  If you fail again, you fail.  So what?  Begin again.  It is not the failure that holds us back but the reluctance to begin over again that causes us to stagnate.  If you’re scared, so what?  If you’re afraid something’s going to leap out and bite you, then for heaven’s sake, get it over with already.  Let your fear leap out and bite you so you can get it over with and go on.  You will get over it.  The fear will pass.  In this case, it is better if you meet it head-on, feel it, and get it over with, than to keep using it to avoid cleaning up the river.”  Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph.D. from her book Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype

I think this may be my theme lately.  We’ve had a couple good days.  I had a weekend away and it was extremely freeing and cleansing for me in so many ways.  I have finally realized how crucial girl time is, how crucial validation of self is to any relationship.  I am falling more and more in love with myself every day.  I forgive myself now, much more quickly than I have in the past.  I recognize my fears, acknowledge them, and become determined to overcome them.  In my mind, I can accomplish everything I want to accomplish.  I can go back to school, I can improve my career, I can write a novel (or at least an article), I can savor my friendships, I can make a difference, I can save my marriage.  Sigh.  In my mind, I can do everything and anything I put my mind to.  In reality, I restrict myself with the excuse of time.

Writing this blog has truly helped me grow.  I think it’s even helped my marriage in some small way because rather than holding in all of my frustrations and unleashing them in unproductive ways, I’m able to remain calm and constructive during “discussions” these days.  But it takes time, and I find that sometimes I resent the time it takes.  I know that it is necessary for me now and that it is also good practice for one ultimate goal of mine, which is to write a novel.  I am still going to continue to write, and to try and write more often.  It can be difficult for many reasons to find time to do this, but on days like today, when somehow after 4 full days of hope and seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, it disappears almost entirely, I need to reach out.

A good friend recommended the book referenced above to me to remind me that I am loved… this was one part of the section that jumped out at me because the fear of what is to come can be so crippling.  I am almost afraid of my own strength these days.  I’m so much stronger now than I ever have been that even though things can be going much better one minute, the walls I’ve built around myself and the boundaries I’ve set remain so firmly in place that once they are crossed I revert back into my shell.  This morning, my husband denied that he yelled at me when he all but screamed at me yesterday for no good reason.  As soon as he said, “When did I yell at you?”  I simply looked at him and said, “Are you sure that’s what you want to go with?”  No response.  “This conversation if over, then,” I said.  Because, what’s the point in continuing a conversation with someone who cannot own their own behavior?  There isn’t.  And I don’t have the strength to do it anymore.  Even though we’d shared two very good days together and I can tell he is clearly trying, I just can’t back down this time.  I do have guilt that I should give him a break due to his depression, but at the same time I am afraid that I am using his depression as an excuse for this pattern of behavior and  therefore, it’s really only going to hurt me and him if I let him continue in it.

I’m at a loss again.  I am glad for the reprieve I had and the passage above truly helps me put things into perspective.  It’s the reminder I need, on a daily basis, that trying again and again at my marriage doesn’t make me weak.  It also reminds me that if I do ultimately end this marriage, that although it will feel like I have failed, I will survive the feeling of failure.  I will make it, no matter what happens.  I will clean up my river…

 


“I’ll do anything.”

I’ve been waiting to hear these words for quite a long time.  Writing my last post was pretty important for me.  I needed to release all of that tension and call it like it is, if you will.  Since then, things did get better for a few days and then, of course they went back to what has become our “normal.”  I never remember what argument triggers it because it’s not the argument, it’s the communication pattern we’re stuck in.  We ended up having another talk about the state of things, which started out cordial and ended in tears.  I said the same things I’ve said a million times, again.  I don’t know why I keep repeating myself.  I think it is because I feel so stuck that it only makes sense to keep trying.  Perhaps… perhaps I’m just a good example of insanity!  I walked away from the conversation when he started to get extremely aggravated that I brought up counseling again.  He is adamant that he will not go and has been since I’ve known him.  This has always been a problem of pride also tied in large part to his culture.  Of course, I know that in general, men have a hard time with it.  I finally told him that we should just call it like it is and accept that things can’t change because we both aren’t committed 100% to doing whatever it takes.  I told him that I would clean out the guest room and move my things and we’d just be as friendly and accepting of each other as we could be until our financial situation changed enough for us to separate.

I went to the guest room and ripped it apart.  I put my favorite pictures in it, I removed things that had been driving me crazy since we moved here; I bought myself a new comforter.  I made it my haven.  It is my haven… I walk into it and I feel relaxed and comforted by my artwork on the walls, my intention in the air.  It’s my space and I have needed a space that is mine for quite some time.  Of course, there is more I want to do and it’s depressing how much I’ve been sleeping here, but that was the plan.  It’s depressing because that evening as I was preparing dinner, he approached me and finally said the words I’ve needed to hear for so long.  He put his arm around me and said, “Honey, I don’t want you to leave, I don’t want us to separate.  I want to be married to you for the rest of my life.  I’ll do anything.”  Again, tears.  I really hate my tears these days.  I told him, “Anything?  I don’t think you mean that.  What is ‘anything’ to you?”  He proceeded to tell me he’d take me on dates and try and bring some romance back, pay closer attention to me, etc.  I did tell him that was one thing I thought would help us earlier, but that isn’t all.  Maybe I should’ve been happy with that.  But my heart is so hard and I have so much anger built up in me, and resentment that I could not just fold and tell him, “Okay, I’ve waited so long to hear you say that…”  It just isn’t that simple anymore.  Nonetheless, we ended up having a good couple of days again, until the next argument when we started from zero again.

I guess I still have a bit of hope because he seems to respond and listen better since I made the solid decision to sleep in the guest room when I need to.  He doesn’t understand and still repeats the same things, but not as often.  He still says that I think counseling will fix everything, but it won’t because I’ve been wanting to leave him for years.  I can’t really go into everything he told me because I am exhausted.  I am sick of being so exhausted.  I get up in the mornings and muster every bit of strength I can to let the sadness drip out of me so I can get through my work day productively.  I am taking care of myself by exercising and keeping up with my doctors.  I know how important this is and I take pride in doing it and knowing that.

Last night, my son was going to sleep and was particularly clingy.  He did not want me to put him down and he clutched my neck and seemed to be somewhat scared and insecure.  I was pretty sad last night and I think he could pick up on that.  I’ve had enough training in child development to know that he is already affected by all of this.  And it kills me.  I promised myself I would never put him or keep him in this kind of tension.  It is not fair to him.  I pointed this out to my husband this morning – maybe he heard it, maybe not.  But this is one of the reasons I have to do whatever I have to do to bring back peace in my heart.  I owe that to my son.  He does not deserve to already feel that he has to comfort me.  I asked him, “Do you want mommy to rock you a little bit longer?”  He has just started to appropriately answer, “Yes” like a big boy.  “Yeah,” he said.  It broke my heart and comforted me at the same time.  We rocked for about 5 minutes and then he went right to sleep, secure again.

And, so did I.  In my “new” bed, under my new comforter.  Life is strange and hard, but I’ll make it through this.  I know I will.  Thanks for reading.