Tag Archives: stronger

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.


Reformation

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted and there are far too many reasons to explain why.  Ultimately, I am finding that blogging is getting harder instead of easier.  I realized that while I started this blog as an attempt to try and explore myself and write my own story, that instead I ended up writing the story of my marriage.  Which, I will never understand, has been easier.  The story of my bipolar marriage is not a fun one to tell, I struggle every day with what my love for my husband means and what his love for me means.  I struggle with the concept of a soul mate… whether mine really does exist out there.  I struggle with the lack of solid support in my life, I struggle with strength of self.  I struggle with the idea that I have settled for a life less than what I imagined it should be.  A very good friend remarked that having an oppressive marriage feels at times like your life is being stolen away from you, day by day, hour by hour.  I’ve felt that way.

But.

In the beginning of my blog journey, I wanted to to explore myself.  I wanted to tell my stories.  I didn’t want to harp and hound my marital circumstances.  I don’t think they will change, regardless of what drastic measures do or do not happen.  I don’t think my marriage is ever going to change.  I think this is the life I chose for myself and am still choosing to live in for the moment and so that I need to make the most of it.  I don’t mean this quite as cliche as it sounds.  It just is.  I’ve not accepted inexcusable behavior, nor will I fight for myself any less.  I am a different, stronger person than I was when I met my husband and that is irreversible.

For now, I need to stop focusing on what I can’t change.  I need to focus on what I can change.  The blog was titled “the colors of me” because I wanted to tell my stories.  I have so many stories to tell.  Telling them will no doubt bring me closer to myself.  I need to be there, I need to understand what makes my heart beat before I go blaming someone else for not making it beat stronger.  My strength needs to come from within.

I have come a long way in my search for understanding.  I’m still young and I have a long life ahead of me.  I also have a past that is filled with family secrets, denial, shame, fear, hypocrisy, tragedy, and abuse.  I need to write these stories down.  I’ve told them… many times… to many friends and therapists.  I don’t think I’ve ever told them to myself… so I’m going to make a promise to myself to start telling myself these stories in an effort to get to know myself through them.  They are ugly stories, but they are necessary truths that I must embrace.


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…

 


Courage and Cravings

“Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.”
― Maya Angelou

Blogging can be lonely as hell.  So can marriage.  Let me tell you, I don’t know what keeps me writing or fighting sometimes.  Is it courage?  Or insanity?  What makes me so scared to start saving money and making this divorce happen?  What makes me believe that there could still be hope?  I feel these days like I’m slowly coming apart at the seams despite my incredible determination not to.  I believe it’s just exhaustion… shear exhaustion.  Exhaustion from years of trying to explain myself and the problems to my husband.  Years.  YEARS.
“Most of the important things in the world have been accomplished by people who have kept on trying when there seemed to be no hope at all.” ― Dale Carnegie

“Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.”
― Mary Anne Radmacher

“Things don’t go wrong and break your heart so you can become bitter and give up. They happen to break you down and build you up so you can be all that you were intended to be.”
― Samuel Johnson

He is trying.  I can tell.  In the last few days there have been some signs of a fundamental change.  I know it will not happen over night.  The only problem with it is that it is so incredibly late.  I want to feel grateful and relieved and “back to normal.”  I want to crave him… but I don’t.

The only thing I crave these days are my dreams.  I’ve been having recurring dreams of the one that got away; rather, the one that almost was.  The one that was my best friend.  The one that wouldn’t leave the room unless he knew that I felt at least better… until I felt understood and heard.  The one that could hug me and make the world disappear.  In my dreams, he’s been doing that.  He’s been hugging me, and I’ve finally been able to feel his intimate touch and his lips against mine.  It has been my saving grace in the middle of the night… compensation for the lack of affection and security I feel with my husband.  A good friend told me that he is showing up in my life to remind me that it is possible for me to be loved that way – that it’s out there.  Of course, I spend a lot of time (too much time?) imagining that he sometimes dreams of me as well… that he wonders if he made the right choice.  I wonder if he thinks about me and longs to know what it would’ve been like to grow and travel the world with me.  It seems like he’s living the life I was meant to live, somehow.  Whatever the reason he has come back into my life, even if only fantastically, I am so grateful for it.  I am grateful for those dreams that feel so real I wake up feeling comforted and loved.


Epiphany

“I’ve been making a list of the things they don’t teach you at school. They don’t teach you how to love somebody. They don’t teach you how to be famous. They don’t teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don’t teach you how to walk away from someone you don’t love any longer. They don’t teach you how to know what’s going on in someone else’s mind. They don’t teach you what to say to someone who’s dying. They don’t teach you anything worth knowing.”  – Neil Gaiman

It’s no secret why this struck me.  I’m fairly passionate about education and in particular the list of things that we aren’t taught.  This quote stayed with me through the night last night.  I also thought about it on the way to work this morning while listening to my Adele cd, given to me by my husband.  I thought of my imaginary life… the one that I’d have lived if my college sweetheart had chosen me.  I thought of the post he wrote on his most recent anniversary to his wife.  “These have been the best years of my life.”

I don’t think I feel any differently.  The years I’ve spent with my husband have been the best years of my life.  I think it is possible to say such a thing, and still imagine better years.  I thought at this point in my life things would be more defined.  Thanks to my friend Walt Disney, I really believed that love and marriage and even friendship was pretty cut and dry.  You care, you love, you marry, you’re happy.  Life isn’t that simple.  I’d like to start this new year off with a mission to accept the grey areas in my life.  I think it may help my marriage.  I want to be okay with wondering how my life would’ve been “if only” because the more life I live, the more I realize that nothing is as it seems.  Nothing.

I have thus decided that this grey sea I swim in is not all that bad, and certainly not abnormal.  I think I’ll start embracing the unknown parts of myself with this new understanding.  Am I head over heals in love with my life and happy and 100% sure about every area of my life?  Is anyone?  I think my latest “key to life” revelation is that life is a series of in-between moments and it’s up to us to make the best of them.

Happy New Year!


Fears.

I have decided to list them.  So I can get over them.  It is high time I kick this blog in the ass.

#1.  People will judge me and label be as an unappreciative, close minded person and wife.  (I am not, by the way.)

#2.  I will be wrong sometimes, and I will sound like a fool.  (I will, and it will be fine)

#3.  People will think I am crazy.  (Hard when you’ve been told in many ways by the people closest to you that you are… when you clearly aren’t.  And, by clearly, I mean… well you’ll find out)

#4.  My marriage will survive this and I will regret things I’ll say in this blog.  (I don’t believe in the cliche that you should never say anything you’ll regret.  That’s bullshit.  We say things we regret all the time.)

#5.  My marriage won’t survive and this blog will haunt me!  (I am easily haunted)

#6.  My marriage will remain stagnant and I will be writing this blog for the rest of my life.  (No…. I WON’T.)

#7.  No one will read it.  (So what?  It’s for me, not for you… well… that’s not true the entire thing started b/c I know there are plenty of angry bitches out there just like me!)

#8.  I will get stronger.  (The stronger I get, the more sense life makes.  The more sense life makes, the more happiness I know I can have… the more I know I can have… the more I want.)

#9.  I will look like a coward who just can’t leave.  (He really is a wonderful man.  I am just utterly unsatisfied and unwilling to accept his lack of interest in growing with me.  I just want to be loved in little ways and big ways and all the time.  I want to feel loved.)

#10.  I fear that I am truly 50% of the problem.  I know I am part of the problem, but I’m wildly convinced that after all my therapy and self-help, I must only be 20% of the problem now.  That 30% cost me a pretty penny.  And, they really are quite pretty when you really look or photograph them.  😉

That is enough fear.  Time to write.