Tag Archive | shame

Really? I’m Not Worthy of Your Compassion

Jan28

372945_heartshaped_hands“Teacher,” they said to Jesus, “this woman was caught in the act of adultery. The law of Moses says to stone her. What do you say?” They were trying to trap him into saying something they could use against him, but Jesus stooped down and wrote in the dust with his finger. They kept demanding an answer, so he stood up again and said, “All right, but let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!” John 8: 4-8 NLT

One of my favorite visual interpretations of Jesus is in a scene from the movie The Passion of the Christ. The scene is in flashback and it is representative of the story in the Bible where people are going to stone a woman who has been caught in the act of adultery (John 8: 8-11). In the story, once Jesus tells the crowd of people ready to stone the woman, “let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone!” (v. 7), they all begin to walk away. The Passion movie interprets this story in the Bible as the “woman” being Mary Magdelene. As the crowd ready to stone her begins to walk away, you see them in the background all dropping their stones. The woman, is face down on the ground with a look of shame and defeat, reaching for the feet of Jesus. As Jesus reaches his hand down to her to help her up and she reaches out to him and looks up to him as if to say, really? I’m not worthy of your compassion. Jesus reaches out lovingly and compassionately to this woman who is filled with guilt and shame for what she has done, and faced with condemnation by the people that surrounded her. Whether or not you believe that Jesus is the Son of God, there was a man who once walked this earth named Jesus and his life was all about love, peace, and compassion.

***

Last Friday night I was riding home on the train when this a man got on at one of the stops and began to speak. He said,

Excuse me everybody…

Usually when a person gets on the train and says that, I know what’s coming next. Living in Chicago you become used to the countless “homeless people marketing campaigns.” It’s hard to decipher who is really in need and who is trying to scam you. As soon as the young man began to speak, I grabbed a tighter hold to my purse and stared intensely out the window. I shrunk down in my seat. I was in a bad mood and I didn’t want to listen to this person begging for money. The man went on to say…

I know you all don’t wanna hear what I have to say, but I’m just tired of being homeless and I know you all don’t want to listen to me, but I’m just trying to do better for myself right now.

At this point, I was still not trying not to listen…besides, its usually the same old story anyway. He went on to say…

My father is an alcoholic and he beat me and threw me out the house. I’ve been living on the street since then. He told me I was nothing. I just need some help. Any help you can give me so I can get something to eat. I’m not gonna use it for crack or liquor. I stayed in a shelter and you don’t know what goes on there. I’m just asking for some help, anything.

Bingo. I was at full attention now. The guy got my attention (or perhaps it was God who got my attention) when he expressed our level of connection…my father is an alcoholic. I began to think…my father was an alcoholic…but he never told me I was nothing, he never beat me, and he never threw me out the house. I’m so blessed. Then the man, (who although I hadn’t yet seen his face, I was convinced he was most likely a young man from the sound of his voice), went on to say…

My father told me I was nothing. And I am nothing, I know I’m nothing, I’m nobody. I’m nothing.

He kept repeating I’m nothing over and over again. I was almost in tears. No one else said anything. They probably thought he was lying. And maybe he was. But if he was lying, that was not about me. I was being prompted to show this man compassion.

I had just got paid that day and just so happened to have some cash on me. I took a chance and took a 5 dollar bill out of my wallet and walked toward the man, who, as I looked at him now, I realized he couldn’t have been more than 18 years old, if that. His face was pale and dirty. He looked like he had been through a lot, but his eyes were young and innocent. I looked him in the eyes and I told him,

First of all I want to tell you that you are someone. You are someone because God loves you.

I had no idea where these words were coming from. I’m not the type of person that goes up to people I don’t know telling them about God’s love. I can write it, but evangelism is just not my thing. He looked at me with eyes filled with pain, as if he were saying, really? I’m not worthy of your compassion. The words he actually spoke broke my heart,

Thank you ma’am, but sometimes I feel like God hates me.

Again, not knowing where the words were coming from, I told him,

No matter what has happened, what you have done, God loves you because He created you.

He looked at me with this puzzled look, as if he was about to cry. I gave him the 5 dollars and told him to take care of himself. When the train got to the next stop, he looked at me and said thank you ma’am and got off. Probably on to the next hustle…

Now could the guy have been lying? Sure. Was I putting myself in danger by opening my wallet on the train? You bet. Did the guy take my money and use it for drugs or alcohol? Probably. I have given money to people on the street before. But this was different. I couldn’t ignore this prompting from God. There was a level of connection to his story and the grace I have been given, I couldn’t deny this man compassion. I realized that it wasn’t about him, it was about my connection to his story and the ability to share in the human experience.

I’m not telling this story to give myself a pat on the back for giving, but only to demonstrate that everyone is deserving of compassion, even those who fall face down on the ground.

Stuck in the Middle…In-Between

Aug7

Greetings fellow bloggers, writing fans, and readers!
(That made me feel important) :)

It’s the 7th day of August, and I haven’t even checked in with a topic for this month. That’s because I don’t have one! I have a couple of ideas, but I have been super busy in these first few days of August. Last Sunday I participated in an event that I will never forget. I decided to get baptized as an adult. Fully submerged in water. I wanted the chance to outwardly express my love for my Higher Power (as I define Him through Jesus Christ) as an adult because when we are baptized as children, we don’t get to make that choice. It was an amazing experience that I will write an essay about very soon. It was freeing and symbolic of washing away the shame of the mistakes from the past, and the promise of forgiveness in the future. I was very blessed to be able to take part in it.

Last Saturday I celebrated my 36th birthday, which if you read my essay about last year’s birthday, you know that my birthday is always a bit emotional for me. I had planned to spend the day alone, but was lucky enough to have my BFF (best friend forever) in town and I spent time with her and her family. It was nice. The birthday emotions were still there. But I tried to feel all of the emotions, the good and the not so good. There were tears and laughter, joy and pain, and I tried to be present for it all.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am very grateful to be another year older (although I think I may start fibbing about my age…did I already tell you I was 36? Oooops, I meant 31, haha), but I still feel so “in-between.” As I reflected on being another year older, I began to have those famous “conflicting feelings” moments that I am prone to have, when I read a Melody Beattie affirmation (what would I do without that woman?):

“Sometimes, to get from where we are to where we are going, we have to be willing to be in-between. One of the hardest parts of recovery is the concept of letting go of what is old and familiar, of what we don’t want, and being willing to stand with our hands empty while we wait for God to fill them.”

I’m like, well what do you know?! That’s my issue with this year’s birthday. I feel so “in-between.” And it’s not one of those in-betweens that’s a block away. I feel like I’m in the in-between that goes on for infinity!

There is so much that is undone, so much that has yet to be accomplished. And of course, being a codependent, I focus on that instead of what has been done and what has been accomplished.

So I’ve decided for this month to be “in-between” for a topic. I will post random stuff. Well, maybe not random, but I will not focus on a particular topic, unless that’s the way my mind takes me. Perhaps I will even talk about being “in-between.” Or perhaps not. Whatever I talk about, I know that it’s all on the path to somewhere…somewhere good.

Cheers!

The Shrink Who Killed Gazoo

Jun27

Hello everyone!

My latest essay, “The Shrink Who Killed Gazoo,” has just been published! Please visit r.kv.r.y. quarterly literary journal to read my piece as well as to read the pieces of other authors on the site. It is truly an awesome journal. Anyway, the link to my essay is below.

Enjoy! :-)

Michele

The Shrink Who Killed Gazoo.

Father’s Day Amends

Jun17

Me, my mom, and my dad

“Sometimes we hurt the people we love the most, and that’s more than words to a song.” -Melody Beattie (Codependent No More Workbook)

Side note: For some reason I’ve been in a Melody Beattie mood lately. I truly love this woman’s insight.

Step 9 of 12 step recovery suggests that we make amends. Specifically, the step says,

Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

In step 8, we make a list of the people we have harmed from whatever issue we are facing, whether it be alcoholism, codependency, etc. In step 9, we take action to make amends. It’s clear that making amends to anyone that we have harmed or done wrong in the past is for the “amender” and not the “amendee.” It allows us to begin again with a clean slate. It enables us to release the guilt and shame from past behaviors. It allows us to be free to live in the future.

That all sounds really beautiful. But for me, I stayed stuck on step 9 for a long time. I had made the list of people to make amends to. Then I learned about the different ways to make amends. There’s a living amends where we change our negative behavior into positive behavior in response to the harm we’ve done. We can write a letter, or if we feel safe and our intentions are pure, we can sit down with the person and make direct amends to the person we have harmed…face to face.

After I made my amends list, I decided as of right now, the only person I wanted to make a direct amends to was my mom. I won’t go into detail about what I was making amends for, but after months and months of being stagnant about making the amends, I labeled myself as a coward. But in reality, I was just waiting until the time was right.

About a week ago over coffee and brunch one afternoon, I made the direct amends to my mom. Surprisingly, for the most part, her response was very affirming. But even if it wasn’t, that would not be about me. I was making the amends so that I could be free.

And it was very freeing…

I began to think about another person on my amends list. My Dad. Especially with Father’s Day approaching, I have been thinking about him a lot. My dad died about 9 years ago, so I’m obviously unable to make a direct amends to him. But I chose to write a letter. And I felt like sharing it here:

Dear Dad,

I miss you. A lot. You would probably find it interesting to know that I am currently working several 12 step programs to recover from various emotional issues. I sometimes think of my own recovery as an extension of the recovery from alcoholism that you never got a chance to experience. A part of my recovery program requires me to make amends to those that I have harmed. You are on my list. As well as mom. I already made amends to mom (which you know how difficult that must have been for me!) and I want to make amends to you. I have no doubt that you loved me. But I’m not sure if you knew how much I loved you, specifically when I became an adult. I was so busy running away from my childhood, that I distanced myself from you. I blamed you for a lot of my own unhappiness. As a child and as an adult, I didn’t fully comprehend that you had a disease. Until now.

I felt being close to you in adulthood would be too painful. I felt your sickness (both alcoholism and what you went through before you died) was too much of a bother. After all, I had a life to live. There were times when I would come by the house and all you wanted from me was a pop or a glass of iced tea, and I would ignore you or say no. Sometimes you may have even wanted to talk, but I didn’t want to talk to you. I don’t even know why I did those things. Perhaps I was angry at you for being an alcoholic. Perhaps I was angry at you then for becoming sick from years of drinking. But regardless, I am very sorry for my behavior and any harm that I may have caused.

I think about you and dream about you a lot. I feel your presence more frequently, especially now that I am living in the house that you worked so hard to provide for us.

I hope you have seen my grandma (your mom) and I hope that your spirit is free…

I love you, always…

Your daughter,

Michele

Happy Father’s Day

Let’s Take a Fun Inventory! It’s Good Practice

Jun15

“Practice having fun until fun becomes fun.” – Melody Beattie

For some reason, I had been struggling with what to write on the topic of fun. Perhaps it’s because I often struggle with letting go and having fun in my own life. So this post will be as much for me as it will be for those who read it. For awhile, I couldn’t figure out what angle to take with the “fun” topic. That is until my Higher Power led me to the Melody Beattie affirmation above:

Practice having fun until it becomes fun.

I realize that having fun (just like with joy and happiness) means different things to different people. Our interests differ as much as our personalities differ. What’s “fun” to me may seem strange to you. But the important thing is that we identify our interests and hobbies and that we define what fun means to us. Once we identify “our fun,” it is then important to put it into practice.

In 12 step recovery, the 4th step tells us to “make a fearless and moral inventory of ourselves.” In summary, it is a written exercise that tells the story of our lives based upon the challenge we face.  I think that for those of us that are “fun challenged,” this may be a good idea to put into practice specifically for the topic of fun. Let’s all take a “fun inventory.” It may be helpful to write down the things you enjoy doing, things you have enjoyed in the past, things you feel shame about having fun doing, and things you want to do for fun in the future. Once you complete your fun inventory, don’t be afraid to share it with others.

I think doing something like this and sharing it with others will accomplish two things. First, it lets people know more about your interests. And second, if a person knows your interests, this may uncover a connection and encourage another to take part in your fun as well.

I have slowly been transitioning into sharing the things that I find fun with others. In my early adult life, I spent much of my time doing “fun things” alone because I thought (or assumed) the fun things I liked were bizarre and weird to others.  Specifically others in my peer and cultural group.

But of course we all know what happens when we assume.

Last year around this time, I wanted to go see the Disney Nature movie, African Cats. I had saw its predecessor, Oceans in the theater by myself. I took a chance and asked a friend of mine if she wanted to come with me and bring along her two kids. She said yes. We had a lovely time.

I’m a fan of all kinds of music. I specifically love rock, and am a fan of several rock bands. A few years ago, there was one of my favorite rock groups coming into town. I figured no one would want to go with me. A black girl going to a rock concert? I took a chance and asked a friend of mine to go (she is also black). She said yes. Ever since then, we try and go to at least one rock concert a year. And we never coward down even though we’re normally the only “brown people” in the crowd.

I happened to see that the musical Cats was coming to Chicago last month. I had always wanted to see it. I know that you have to be a special kind of person to sit through a musical. I had planned to go by myself. But before I bought the ticket, I decided to put it out there to others that I was going, and would anyone like to go with me? I didn’t expect to get a response. But I did. One of my recovery friends said she would love to go. We went and had an amazing time.

These are my own personal examples of “fun and connection.” This may not seem difficult to those who are naturally social, are extroverts, or who often “fit in” to social norms. But for those of us that are loners and have spent a lot of time in emotional isolation, this kind of connection is huge.

***

So now that we have inventoried our fun things and shared them with others, it’s time to put it all in to practice.

But why should I have to practice having fun? Shouldn’t that come naturally? Shouldn’t I automatically want to have fun?

Not necessarily…

Have you ever been in the midst of a “fun” activity where your mind is so full of anxiety that your focus is only on your problems?

Do you feel guilt when you’re having fun?

When you go on vacation, do you bring your work with you, either mentally or physically?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, my personal opinion is that you are fun challenged. You need to practice having fun.

When our lives have been mostly serious…

When a chunk of our life has been about addiction, recovery, and emotional or physical pain…

When we become workaholics or compulsive debtors, and all we do is work to feel self worth or make enough money to cover our debts, or debt to feel important…

When all we know how to do is take care of others, as opposed to ourselves…

When we have gone through many of the things I have listed above and more…we don’t always know how to have fun. So we need practice.

Practice makes perfect. This is just a saying, and considering I don’t believe in perfectionism, let’s revise…

Practice makes “better.”

Practicing having fun makes us much better at it.

Having fun and connecting with others at the same time is an essential part of living a joyful life.

A side note. It takes courage to reach out and share your interests with others. It takes super-courage to ask others to share in those interests with you. Sometimes people will say no….for whatever reason. They’re busy, not interested, or there’s a better offer. Whatever.

I’m not going to tell you not to take it personally because that is advice that I can hardly take myself. But I will say, if someone turns you down to share in your fun…do it anyway, even if you have to do it alone.

After all, having fun by yourself is better than having no fun at all…

It’s good practice.

Confessions of a Major Depressive – Hope Through Depression Part 3

May21

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when dreams come true, there is life and joy (Proverbs 13:12 NLT).

;

A heart without hope is ripe for depression. Hope lifts us up; depression drags us down (Touch Points of Hope, 2003, p. 97).

In my last post, I mentioned how on Christmas Eve 2010, I had hit one of the worst emotional bottoms of my life. I made it through the night, only to have to take my mom to the hospital the next day and spend Christmas Day in the hospital with her. My mom spent about two weeks in the hospital and then another several weeks in a rehabilitation center for intense physical therapy. In total, my mom spent about a month away from home. In the meantime, I was all over the place. I was caring for her, going back and forth to the hospital and rehab center, talking with doctors, social workers, trying to maintain things in the house, etc. I had to get the house ready for my mom to return home. I also was working a part time job and trying to do school work. I got into a horrible fight during this time with one of my nieces. For some reason during this time, I was getting sick every other month. I had a sinus infection and cough that would go away and then come right back. My body and mind had no time to deal with the emotional rock bottom I had hit on Christmas Eve. There was too much to do. Too many things to take care of.

Little did I know, my own body and mind were “shutting down.”

At the end of January 2011, my mom returned home. In the beginning, there were a lot of things I had to do for her because she had to get herself used to being back home after being gone for so long. But once I got her home and got her settled, the adrenaline that had built up for the past month, that had most likely been saving my life began to wear off. I was walking around like a zombie. Finally, one morning, I woke up and literally felt nothing. I felt numb. I felt as if nothing in the world would make me happy. I thought about the things I usually enjoyed, reading a book, laughter, petting my Samson kitty, watching the fish in the fish tank, and none of it sounded appealing. I couldn’t even feel God with me. Tears fell from my eyes as I literally felt like I was null and void.

Little did I know that I was being transformed. I was being forced to face my pain. And I knew something needed to change that would allow me to do it.

I had to get my brain back on the right track, so that I could face my demons. My counselor suggested I talk to my primary care physician. My primary care prescribed an antidepressant medication that wasn’t working and suggested I see a psychiatrist. I couldn’t afford to see a psychiatrist. But I had an idea. Maybe there was a depression research study somewhere that I could be a part of. I would look into that later. First I had to do something for mom. The day of my “numb, null and void” moment, I went to pick up a prescription for my mom, and when I returned home there was a commercial playing on television about a depression research study.

I was taking care of my mom. God was taking care of me.

It had an easy number to remember. I immediately called and made an appointment. The problem with research studies when they are testing medications is that they are usually double blind studies, so I could be a person that gets a placebo. I didn’t care. It was worth the risk.

Several days later I went to the research center. I had to answer a bunch of intake questions and then I met with the doctor who was leading the study. He was very nice. But it turns out that I didn’t qualify for the study because I was still seeing a counselor. Participants in this particular study could not be going through psychotherapy. I was devastated. I was done. I was never going to feel better. They gave me $20 for my time and I walked out of the office feeling hopeless and feeling that I would never get better.

As I walked toward the parking garage of the facility, my phone rang. I usually have my phone on silent, but for some reason it was on vibrate, so I knew it was ringing. It was the intake lady from the research center. She said,

“Michele, are you still here? If so, the doctor would like to see you.”

I’m thinking did I forget to sign something? I turned around, went back to the office and sat down with the doctor. He told me there was something about me that he just wanted to help. He told me,

“You are too smart of a person to think there is no hope for depression.”

The doctor prescribed me with a new medicine in a completely different class that I’ve never taken before. He told me that he would treat me for free for 3 months and then continue to treat me based on whatever I could pay.

“But your level of treatment will not change based on what you can or cannot pay.”

In this I knew that I was truly blessed and that God is real.

I was completely shocked at this doctor’s kindness. I began taking the new meds and I eventually began to notice a difference. This is how I came to the acceptance that depression is an illness. Before taking the medication, I wanted to kill myself. After taking the medication, I wanted to live. This is not something that can show up on an X-ray or lab test. It’s just something that is.

I want to point out something very important. In my case, medication is only a part of the process. But it was the medication that was able to help me get myself to a better place in order to be able to receive the other types of healing, such as my psychotherapy and 12-step recovery work, inner child work, spiritual work, etc. In my experience, the brain has to be capable of receiving affirmations, positive thinking, and all that other good stuff. If your brain is sick, no amount of self improvement, self-help stuff will work. In my case, the medication gave my brain the stability it needed that allowed me to believe and hope again.

This is not a post about the benefits of antidepressants. It is a post for hope. Your way may be through yoga and meditation, natural healing, talk therapy, or something else. Your way may not involve meds. The key is to find a treatment that works for you and your beliefs, your body and your mind. But I want to let everyone know that there is hope through depression. I don’t have it all figured out and it’s still a daily battle for me. But I am more equipped now than ever before to face that battle with courage, clarity, and hope. I hope that you can do the same.

Blessings in your journey…

Michele ♥

Disclaimer: I am not a health professional. These posts are stories of my own experiences and battle with clinical depression. If you feel that you may be suffering from clinical depression, please contact your physician. Click here for resources that can help you. If you have thoughts of harming yourself or others, please call 911 immediately.

There is No Shame in Hope

May10

It is relatively impossible for me to talk about hope without talking about spirituality. Because in my opinion, if there is no faith source, how can there be genuine hope? What is there to have hope in?

If everything that surrounds me that I can experience with my five senses has failed me, it is natural to lose hope. If a lover leaves, a friend betrays, my job bullies me, or my finances don’t show up, I may lose hope in those things. Those things are “of this world.” But if my hope is in something greater than myself, I can maintain that hope even when everything else has failed…even when maintaining hope doesn’t make any sense. As I am writing this, a Bible verse that I have often tried to understand comes to mind:

Romans 5:3-5

New International Version (NIV)

3 Not only so, but we[a] also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5 And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

I used to wonder how in the world could hope “put us to shame?” But now I understand. When we have been rejected or failed over and over again and still keep trying…when everyone is saying to face “reality” and we continue to believe in miracles…and when all the critics tell us to give up hope…but we don’t…

And we stand up for our hope and proclaim it loudly…

IT WILL HAPPEN FOR ME!

There could be shame in this because some people may think we’re crazy.

***

The night before my father passed away, a nice young doctor came in to his hospital room to check on his vitals, etc. My mom and I were visiting my dad, who had been in the hospital for about a week after having had heart failure. We really hadn’t understood what was going on with him, until this doctor, after examining my dad, turned to us and began to have an honest conversation with us about his condition.

As my mom touched my dad’s hand she said,

“He’s so cold. Why does he feel so cold?”

The doctor replied,

“His body is shutting down. There is not much else we can do for him now.”

There was no hope for him to live. My dad died the next evening.

I think when we lose hope…when we get disappointment after disappointment, rejection after rejection, failure after failure…

We get cold…

And we shut down…

Our challenge is to stay warm and to stay open. As long as we’re alive, we not only have a second chance, but a nine hundred and thirty second chance and beyond. Because if we stop hoping, all that we hope for may soon pass away.

The Origins of Perfection

Apr28

The Origins of Perfection. That sounds like a book title. Perhaps it would be a good title for the book I one day hope to write. I’ve often wondered where my attitude of perfectionism comes from. I think we all have it to some extent, but for some of us, it defines who we are, what we do, and how we think. We let the need to be perfect take over our lives and this prevents us from being who we really are.

In addition to not being much of a housekeeper, I’m not much of an interior decorator either. I can put my clothes and makeup together, but figuring out how to match up curtains with furniture, or dish towels and kitchen rugs makes no sense to me. When I go to other people’s homes everything seems to match up…perfectly. Even the pictures on the walls. When I had my own apartment, the decorations in my house were all over the place. For example, my living room wall was decorated on one side with a portrait of a flute, on another wall, I had a big portrait of black people playing jazz, on another wall, I had a big picture of the most beautiful tigers. In my bedroom, I had a big framed poster of the characters from The Lord of the Rings movies, and on another wall was a picture of the Chicago White Sox emblem.

You get my drift. These things had no synchronicity, but they expressed me. If you knew me well, these expressions of me made sense. If you didn’t know me well, or were just getting to know me, all of this may have been confusing to you if you visited my place. The question is, am I okay with another person’s uncomfortable feelings in response to me being me? Should I strive to be someone else’s version of perfect?

It all depends. I may seem okay on the outside, but internally, I am calling myself names: weird, freak, not normal, strange…

Imperfect.

***

When I became an adult (which sometimes I feel was only a few minutes ago, haha), I began to take a subtle look at the affects of growing up in an alcoholic home. I learned from various reading that usually, adult children of alcoholics tend to be perfectionists. But why?

It wasn’t until I began my most recent self awareness journey, which includes spirituality, therapy, 12 step recovery, and an abundance of new life changing literature, that I realized an overarching theme when it comes to perfection…SHAME.

“…shame loves perfectionists–it’s so easy to keep us quiet.” -Brene Brown

In this quote from her book, The Gifts of Imperfection, Brene Brown is talking about “truth-telling” and owning our story, no matter how messy it is. It’s part of the reason why I am so honest about so much stuff on my blog.

“Perfectionism is a response to a shame-based and controlling home. The child mistakenly believes that she can avoid being shamed if she is perfect in her thinking and acting…expectations are continually raised in these kinds of homes. Shame or the feeling that we have failed our parents seems to occur no matter what we do.” -Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA)

One of my goals this year is to let go of shame. I didn’t even know that shame was an issue for me until last year. Guilt was always my culprit, and I had begun to recognize my guilty feelings. Shame was really sneaky. It had always been there, but I thought that it was an issue for other people. But once I realized shame was an issue, I immediately began to take the steps to let go of it.

“Guilt and shame are not useful as a way of life.” -Melody Beattie

I am trying not to be a prisoner of shame, which enables me to feed on this need to be perfect. Because without shame, there would be no concept of perfectionism…at least on the human level. We all have ways in which we can improve or enhance ourselves. But we must accept the way things are in the present before any true change can take place.

When I start to fill my head with shame and begin the struggle for perfection, it’s usually helpful for me to remember how my Samson kitty sees me (except when he’s mad at me for not giving him more Fancy Feast) with complete love and no judgment.

Or better yet, remember how your Higher Power sees you…as imperfectly perfect.

There is good and bad, and that is good. There is perfect and imperfection, and that is perfect. -TAO SHAN

Sources

  • Beattie, Melody (2009). Codependent No More (Kindle Location 1841). BookMobile. Kindle Edition.
  • Brown, Brene (2010). The Gifts of Imperfection (p. 39). BookMobile. Kindle Edition.

Lover Man (Oh Where Can You Be?) – Abandoned By a Lover Part 1

Mar9

We met on an uncharacteristically warm day in early October for dinner at an Indian restaurant. He was quirky, witty, and cute…totally my type. We had a delightful, insightful conversation over Chicken Shawarma, rice, vegetables, and wine. I laughed, he laughed, we asked questions of each other, we listened to one another. He told me I was beautiful. He told me he wasn’t looking for perfection. I was relieved. He was saying all the right things. I got more comfortable as the night went on. We finished dinner. What to do now?

Since it was such a beautiful evening, he asked if I would like to take a walk by the lake. “Sure,” I said. It was a beautiful night, and I didn’t want it to end. We walked along the lakefront and shared more stories of our lives. He held my hand and gave me a sloppy, but sweet kiss on the lips.

He drove me home and before I got out of the car, he asked me “if this was good,” as he quickly pointed back and forth between him and me. I said “yes, absolutely.” He gave me a slightly less sloppy, but longer kiss, and I got out of his car and went into the house. It was 2am. That first date had lasted six hours.

First mistake.

“Take it slow. No five-hour dates. Less frequent and shorter dates will slow down the addictive love process and allow you to assess whether this is a good guy who is truly interested in being with you (Kirschner, 2009).”

I had hoped he would call. And he did. We began an intense relationship that never got completely sexual, although there was a lot of touching, hugging, and kissing. I wanted to move things slow with that. He told me he respected that, so I didn’t feel pressure. We had more great dates and a few wonderful conversations on the phone. I started to become emotionally vulnerable with him. I shared parts of “my story” with him that I only share with those closest to me. I told my friends that I had met a great guy. I even told my mom. I was so excited and happy. Was it finally my time?

Well…there were some “pink flags.”

As time went on, he stopped “initiating” contact with me. I would always be the one who would send a text first to see how he was doing. He was responsive at first, but soon he didn’t respond as much or as quickly, saying that he was really busy with work or with his kids. I didn’t want it to seem like I wasn’t being flexible, so I accepted it. Then there were just “texts.” Texting was the main way he communicated with me. We probably talked on the phone once a week. Although texting can be convenient and fun, it’s not the main way that I want to communicate with someone I’m dating. But again, I didn’t want it to seem like I was inflexible.

When the communication became inconsistent, he became more distant. That fed into all of my insecurities. He seemed to be “busy” all the time. He had kids and a demanding job, so I wanted to show him that I could hang in there with him. I wanted to show him that I was independent and that I wasn’t really needy. But at the same time, I didn’t want to let go. I didn’t want to be abandoned.

I eventually asked him one night if he wanted me to back off for awhile. It would hurt, but I would understand. His answer to that question was “no.”

He lied.

After that, he never initiated another text and they were rarely returned. Finally, the calls, texts stopped. Smoke signals weren’t returned either.

I finally got the hint. But I was devastated. I had lost something that I felt had so much potential. And it only lasted two months.

And there in a nutshell is my shame. There is so much embarrassment that I have over the fact that I’m still grieving over this relationship that hardly began.

“If we can find someone who has earned the right to hear our story, we need to tell it. Shame loses power when it is spoken (Brown, 2010).

After a week of being ignored, needing closure I sent him a text that said, “hey, I guess you have changed your mind about me, I’m just needing closure, thanks.” I was shocked when I got a response. His response was “yes, but I would like to talk to you about it, but I can’t now, I’m ‘busy’ at work, I can call you this weekend.”

That was four months ago. That call never came.

So there were two issues here. First, the common heartbreak feelings of not being good enough, what could I have done differently, etc. And second, my abandonment issues were activated.

“When ‘the One’ turns out to be a jerk, when you are sitting there alone in your apartment feeling frustrated, rejected, or abandoned, your love sickness can set in. Why? Your brain is in a state of love-drug withdrawal (Kirschner, 2009).”

So my question to you is where do you think I made the mistakes here? Where was the lesson? Well, when I was freshly going through the heartbreak, through my tears, there was a resounding I LEARNED NOTHING FROM ALL OF THIS OTHER THAN THE FACT THAT MEN, LOVE AND DATING SUCKS! If this is what it’s all about, I want no part of romantic love! I was nothing but beautiful and loving to this man, I showed my true self to him and all he did was throw it away, and left me abandoned, and I don’t even know why!!

But now that I have calmed down (a little) and with the help of my Higher Power, my amazing therapist, the 12 steps, friends and recovery friends, lots of self development literature, and my mama, I am beginning to learn some of the lessons. These lessons I will share in part 2 on Monday. But in the meantime, feel free to weigh in on the ways that you think I can do things differently in the future. (But be gentle). :)

Sources

  • Brown, B. (2010). The gifts of imperfection: Let go of who you think you’re supposed to be and embrace who you are. Center City, MN: Hazelden.
  • Kirschner, D. (2009). Love in 90 days: the essential guide to finding your own true love. Center Street: NY.

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Validate Me

Oct15

I’ve been working lately on not needing so much external validation. When I do not get the support that I think I should, I’m working on supporting myself. Or at least I try to find a healthy way to give myself the support and encouragement I need. The validation needs to come from within me.

I am realizing that there is an enormous amount of guilt and shame that I carry around with me on a daily basis. I am trying to break free of that, but it gets activated through certain triggers. I am becoming more aware of what those triggers are.

My problem is that when I’m excited about something, I want to share it with others. Perhaps its because I want them to be excited with me. Maybe its because I’ve had so many bad things happen, that when something good happens, I just want others to know about it. Or it could be that I don’t fully believe in myself, in what I’m doing, so I seek external validation from others, specifically those that are close to me.

But telling other people about good things that are going on is normal right?

I guess it’s normal if the motivation behind it is not guilt and shame. I know that sounds weird, but when I do things that make me happy, or things that take up my time, but don’t make me any money, like writing, music, or school, there is a certain amount of guilt I carry…I think I should be doing something more fiscally productive. And then there is shame for thinking that I’m just wrong for doing what I’m doing.