Loving the wounded ... bearing witness with courage

It is a raging kind of agony to encounter the wounds others have left in a life I consider precious. I don't know what to do or say ... perhaps there is nothing I can do or say.

And when the response to my offer of connection is a firm request to stay away (even though I am treasured) and leave their pain alone; saying that it is enough to value me at a distance loving others and they desire nothing more than to be left behind their walls?

I feel like a traitor to accept that limitation. And yet, given the wounds so easily seen, to ignore this request would only be another act of disrespect in a long line of betrayal.

I want to storm into the past and find the weapons that drove my friend into the darkness. I want to fling the words and actions aside before they strike and tell the blind fools who couldn't see the treasure to open up their eyes.

It is all I can do to honor the suffering of others by seeing it clearly, especially when there is nothing I can do to change the story. It is a constant, ragged scream of agony that leaves me feeling torn, weak, and useless. It would be easier to ignore destruction and pretend not to see. Not only in beloved friends, but the myriad of others in similar circumstances....

Easier ... but then I would be part of the darkness as well.

When I have the chance, I will reach out.... Though I cannot heal the world on my own, I can at least be different than those who unthinkingly or consciously destroy. And if I find a way ... I will live a healing life!

I will!

Oh, I hope I can find the strength ...

Inside my own heart I contain the capacity to wound others.
By my own actions I could cause such injury that it lasts a lifetime.

When I see the consequences of such disregard in others, I am driven to turn upon my own tendency toward fear, separation, and judgement and raise a guard against such tragedy with love, connection, and acceptance. Can I protect even the few I am capable of reaching? I don't know.

I will at least do this much.

I will choose to allow the light to rule my life, though I risk suffering under the grinding attack of darkness to do so.

Beneath that vast footprint, I will find the discarded treasures.

If there is only a single drop of beauty left in this world, then that is what I will cherish.

I will search and find hope in the darkest places.

If this is all I can do, then I will invest the best of my ability in loving well.

I hope, someday, if I am ever invited into my friend's injured heart ... that I will not cause further harm.

Yesterday I realized WHY I need to admit my depression and ask friends for help ...

Over the years, deep channels of belief in my lack of worth grew in my mind. Long-standing patterns of thought that ruled without much challenge, because I really was treated like I was worthless for many years.  

I don't always know when I'm being swept away by that pattern of self-hatred, because the thoughts are so familiar that they don't feel like lies to me. 

1. I often project that old pattern of self-hate on someone else, even friends, and believe they are the ones who think this way of me.

2. I believe I deserve to be disliked, and feel the need to apologize to my friends for giving them reasons to want to pull away. Even though I'm usually the only one who thinks this in the first place.

3. I respond with fear and over-react to normal changes in interaction, since my friends are sometimes busy and have social lives. Even though these friendships and activities are things I 100% support and encourage, because I love seeing my friends succeed and find happiness.

At some point over the past years, I realized it helps to contact my friends when I get into this state, instead of assuming it will burden them, though I hadn't clearly defined why ... other than noticing they do cheer me up somehow. 

Now ***CONTACT FRIENDS!!!*** is the first thing on my to-do list .... when I admit I'm actually depressed and not "merely having a bad day." And that contact has to specifically admit that I'm slipping into depression. 

If I hide it, I don't find the help I need. 

-also-

If I don't trust/believe them, I won't benefit, either.

I need both honesty and trust to gain anything from connecting to my friends. I used to sabotage their help by saying, "You don't know!" or thinking "You must be saying this just to be nice!" ... I treated them like liars and fools instead of the trustworthy and kind people I knew they were. Incredibly, they stuck it out till I learned to believe them.

Today I'm writing out the realization I came to yesterday, sorted out in a series of conversations, starting while I was still completely blind to the fact that I was lying to myself. There's a reason why I need to contact others ... and a reason why it helps if they're good friends or at least positive and kind people. 

I still don't know what set me off this time. 

Emotionally, I'm always unstable at this time of month, but I usually don't end up in a blind depression anymore. (Now that I think about it, that's a huge success! There was a time when I couldn't expect even one good day in a month, and now I'm concerned when I slip into the darkness for a few hours.)

It took me nearly all day to admit I couldn't handle it by myself, though. 

I kept telling myself it was only natural to feel so disappointed over a series of unexpected events, starting with missing a long-wished-for, real-life meeting with my internet friend (Slim) because my car wouldn't start.... Nick was busy this past week, so our communications were less transparent.... I've had more interaction than usual with X and even though it was positive or neutral in tone, I'm always on the edge of a breakdown when we have to connect. 

-

The first revelation arrived during an incredible phone conversation with Seung Chan Lim (Slim) while he waited for his plane. He presents a beautiful and easily understandable perspective on building an honest connection with others in his book, Realizing Empathy. At one point he said, "At the end of my presentations, I always end up saying, 'I hope this was helpful,' and then I wonder if that's a bad thing. Do I really need to ask them? Shouldn't I just feel confident?"

Even as I told him that I think it's a mark of strength to know you need affirmation and encouragement, and to have the courage to ask for it, I realized that this is one of the reasons I need to talk to friends when I'm depressed. I would never have learned to see myself differently without them handing me a different view in a direct challenge to the negative thoughts I communicated to them. 

There might come a day when Slim no longer feels the need to ask, after building a strong foundation of positive responses. And it is wise to choose to build that foundation. He might never reach a level of confidence that frees him to be even bolder with his message without gathering evidence that proves it has value to others, also. And what he has to say is something people need, desperately, to hear. Every bit of courage he gathers will enable him to share that gift with others even more. 

We are social creatures and it is obvious that everything we do affects others. Since we can't read minds, it's good to ask and learn instead of assuming we can project an accurate assessment of their thoughts. We do not know unless we ask and receive honest feedback. And seeing the truth in others takes empathy. 

-

Next in my process of revelation, take a look at what happened when I guessed at what Nick was thinking during yesterday's depression. I'm not the only one. Society trains us to think negatively first, I think. Nearly everyone I've ever interacted with has a tendency to do this to some extent, especially artists and people who see differently than the social norm. 

Here are a few sections from the email I wrote Mica when I finally realized it was time to ask for help. Then I'll explain the contrast in perspective that soon followed.

I'm so lonely right now. Nick is difficult to connect with, and I think he's overwhelmed because I feel it so much when he's busy and can't talk. I'm on my period, which makes the feeling so much stronger. I hate this. Why can't I be okay with being so far away from him? 

I went on like this for several paragraphs, then:

I'm afraid. I'm afraid. I don't like being alone, and I wonder if I will be. If I'm too intense for Nick, then who could handle it? 

Note how I say, "I think he's overwhelmed," and "I'm too intense for Nick." <-- THAT, right there, is projecting my thoughts onto Nick.

Nick isn't like that. My relationship with X, however, was very much like this. Since I was caught up in my emotional residue from the past, I couldn't see that I wasn't thinking about Nick's thoughts at all. This feeling overwhelmed me in spite of the fact that we had really good conversations earlier in the day and over the past few days.

In other words, I was in the middle of an emotional landmine. Nick wasn't the cause of my feelings. And I had no clue ... at all ... that I wasn't seeing clearly. I really believed Nick must be secretly thinking these thoughts even though:

1. Nick doesn't think I'm too intense at all, and really appreciates how I think and explain things to the point where he always thanks me for it.

2. If he's overwhelmed or feeling pressured by anything I say or do, then he talks it through with me and doesn't ever keep his feelings a secret or just start avoiding me without explanation.

Finally, late last night, after posting that I was slipping into depression to a small group of good friends, and writing the email detailing my feelings to Mica ... I realized I should talk to Nick, too, and give him a chance to tell me what he really thinks.

This is the message I wrote for Mica after that phone conversation.

so you don't worry ... Nick called as soon as he left the party and we talked. He took my fears and proved they weren't worth worrying about, just like that. (By being himself.) Accepted me as I am, and made me feel safe again. He said, "We're not just best friends. It's something more, but there isn't a definition for it." He also told me that wild horses couldn't drag him away ... LOL so amazing, dear. How can I so easily forget how deeply he accepts and loves me? 

Feeling lonely was real. But the fear that came out of the loneliness was just the past blinding me, and not Nick at all. I just needed to see it, and it was there all the time. Thankfully he doesn't mind reminding me.

I still think there's something wrong with me, not to see through the lies I tell myself when I'm depressed. I wonder why I can't get out of it by myself. And yet, it's amazing to realize that a huge reason I need my friends is because they see differently than I do.

When I need an alternate perspective ... especially when I'm caught up in an emotional landmine ... my friends can snap me out of it just like that. Just because they see from a different perspective. Because they actually know what they are thinking and are capable of correcting my false impressions like Nick did in our call last night.

-

Also .... because they can take my negative perspective on an actual disappointment:

"Slim and I couldn't visit, after all, just because of my stupid car. All he had time for was to drive up to my door, give me a hug, and drive back to the airport. Ugh ... I missed out!"

And change it to a positive realization:

"Wow! It's so cool that he thought it was important enough to meet you that he took the time to drive over and actually stop by for a minute, even though he was worried he'd be late for his flight!"

You know ... I'm not disappointed anymore, because when you look at it that way, I was given an incredible gift yesterday. And Slim and I got to have a insightful, empathetic, and honest conversation on the phone. I hope it's the first of many.

-

I'm so grateful for the people who see things differently than I do.

I'm thankful for my friends, who have taught me to trust them.

It's such a relief to know that when I'm lying to myself, my friends can tell me the truth.

And when I'm blind to the good things in life, they can help remove the distortions so I can see beauty again.

It's really amazingly simple, isn't it? And it works every single time, even though I STILL think it couldn't possibly help ... every single time. Heh!

Learning to accept "You're Beautiful"

For some reason it's the sweet old lady who told me I have a cute butt at the laundromat all those years ago who stands out in my mind even today as the one who gave me the most exceptional compliment. Perhaps it was the incongruity of the moment.

Why is it that everyone who compliments me gets labeled "creepy" in my mind?... even sweet little old ladies.

As a teen I felt certain I was plain. Not ugly. Not lovely. Just ... invisible and sometimes gross or annoying. Boys didn't notice me much. The explanation seemed obvious.

At first X called me beautiful like it made him look better, too. Wandering hands as proof of his words. Yet he worried constantly about how I was letting myself go, pointed out I shouldn't eat certain snacks or gain weight, complained about my preference not to wear makeup, fought to put me in "sexier outfits" ... so I'd look closer to his ideal.

He was always pushing for change.

My overall impression was that he felt I needed fixing to be presentable, and in the end his compliments couldn't reach me through the scars of everything else he thought of me.  I was unacceptable to him, and at some point I came to believe than anyone who gave me a compliment must have ulterior motives.

I sometimes wonder if the elderly church ladies noticed when I tensed up under their comments. "You're so pretty!" "You look so good in that outfit!"

"Why don't they compliment something more intrinsically who I am?" I used to sigh.

I couldn't take them seriously as anything other than nice people offering social flattery. But it turns out I have a hard time accepting compliments on my thoughts or actions, too. I still freeze up when Nick compliments me on an insight or thanks me for help, even though I know without a doubt that he's 100% sincere. 

I feel like explaining or apologizing for somehow misrepresenting myself as having value.  It took a lot of work to learn to simply say "thank you" and even longer to realize people are sincere.

So when my new friend D recently told me straight out, "You are objectively beautiful....You could be a model." I felt that internal shield blaze up under the challenge of his words. He became a suspicious person before my eyes. It took a moment to quell that sudden push-back, and I took the easy way out by reminding myself he's an artist.  Artist's are allowed to have good imaginations, right?... and to see value where others do not.... 

I'm still learning to make space for the things I struggle to believe by repeating the new story people live out for me. It takes time and experience to replace the ingrained, habitual thought pattern. I have to consciously take compliments out of the spam folder in my mind, dust them off, and recognize them as serious input. 

Do I trust D?... I don't know him well enough to do so without hesitation.

However, I'm not going to learn whether he is trustworthy by tagging him "suspicious" over a simple compliment. I've learned it's better to give people space to be who they are, and to recognize their complexity as innate. He has many friends, and I think part of that is because he informs people when he appreciates something about them. 

I'm actually more worried about being rejected for who I am.... If I link D to this blog what will he think of me? His response won't change what I'm learning from our interaction now, though ...

I wonder why it even feels important. I told Ree the other day that maybe this is what bothers me....

WHY?

Why on earth does this self-awareness that is only a value-less comparison to air-brushed ideals prevent me from interacting with people without those thoughts intruding? It would be good to feel comfortable with my body like I am with my clothing style.... Only in this case, I have what I was given from birth. I don't want my kids to see themselves this way. I want to demonstrate a better path.

The only thing I can change is my perspective.

I became confident in social situations by acting confident and learning I can pull it off.

I made friends by trusting and caring first, until I found those who would not betray me. 

This is one of the reasons I choose to model for friends's art and take self-portraits. If I put myself out there in a place where my view might be challenged, I can see myself through other eyes.

I like what my friends see ... so eventually, I may find a new perspective through the art they make and the words they speak.

Until then ... I'll keep wondering and over-thinking it, because that is what happens between not-knowing and knowing ... and KNOWING. I suppose it's a sign of growth that I'm even willing to challenge this long-held view of myself. 

I model for Miha from time to time.... (because she's my best friend, and I trust her.) She has been working to gradually erode my resistance. D's compliments have taken their place as external confirmation of her words.

Maybe I will see myself as art someday ... or maybe it has already started. 

He doesn't say what I expect him to say ...

"It's not that I don't want you to pay me," I told him.

"Just don't tell me you're paying me ahead of time, and then I don't mind if you give me whatever you think it's worth after I'm done, since I'd do this to help you anyway."

Nick fell silent for a moment and the phone-line hissed as he exhaled. "I can't figure you out. Why can't I just tell you I'll pay you to help me as my manager?... Might have to sleep on this one and talk about it tomorrow." 

As he pondered over his dilemma, I tried to figure out why he was so confused. Why is it so difficult to understand that I'm actually de-motivated by money,... by official transactions of any kind, really? 

Of course, being my perspective, it naturally makes sense to me ... or, at least, it did until I asked myself why I think this way. 

Is there a difference in how I would invest my effort between me volunteering to help him out with paperwork and calls and him asking me to do these things for pay? 

Wouldn't I be doing the same work for the same reasons, with the bonus of a financial reward? 

It's not like him paying me actually makes me less willing to help, does it?

I don't mind him paying me after the fact, so why can't I accept the agreement?

I don't remember what Nick finally said that made me realize what was going on, but it suddenly clicked in my head. Sure, this way of thinking is normal for me. I've been doing it for years, in all sorts of situations. It's one of the reasons I don't have a regular income ... aside from the state of my health. 

But it isn't necessarily normal to think this way. (Really?)

I have been actively avoiding any official responsibility for helping Nick, while putting in as much effort as I would if I were working for him. I do the same when I help any of my friends with their businesses.

This mentality is actually one of the emotional landmines I've been running into for a longer time than I can remember. 

It doesn't come with panic attacks and nightmares, but rather such a subtle effect that I've been looking at my resistance to "promised pay" until after I've completed my "volunteered work" for years without understanding that it's even a problem. 

It's easy to disguise this landmine as spontaneous generosity, since I do enjoy helping people. I've explained it that way for years. Most people look at me funny, then shrug and go along with it. They don't care if they're paying me for work I've already completed, since they intended to pay me all along. 

However, if my "enjoyment of helping" was the full story, then I wouldn't struggle to keep working when people pay me in advance or ask me to be officially in charge of something. I wouldn't feel so overwhelmed at the mere idea of responsibility. 

...

X (and I) supported ourselves with an online business for several years, early in our marriage. He called it his business, but all the less glamorous aspects gradually became my responsibility, since he had no intention of putting in the time for them and I was conveniently available to help for free. 

I had struggled with housework from the beginning, and two toddlers overwhelmed me further (especially since his mother had apparently been capable of having small children while maintaining gleaming glass and chrome furniture. You can imagine how the comparisons went from there.) 

I often dropped into a fog of timeless incomprehension that I have now learned is a symptom of complete emotional overload that would have set off emergency alarms with anyone trained in psychology.

However, building the business was interesting, and I offered to help early on. I enjoyed the article writing, site design, e-book construction, copy editing, etc. At first I was glad to supplement his efforts, because for once he was grateful for me. Even if he was upset about a mess around the house, he would be pleased with my help on the websites because he hadn't expected it of me, and my help was valuable to him. 

Then the workload grew heavier and heavier. I began to struggle to keep up as X gave me long lists of things to write, research, build, edit, confirm, and on and on. 

His anger about the state of the apartment continued, even when he knew I was spending long hours working on "his business" ... yet he continued to leave those chores to me as well. If X stepped in to help it was with the expectation that I would then maintain the area he cleaned to his standards, in return for his grand gesture of assisting the hopeless. 

His gratitude for my unexpected help with the business quickly became a long list of expectations, and then demands I couldn't fulfill because I didn't know how. When he didn't make as much money as expected or when something went wrong, X raged at me, sometimes for weeks. Some things came up again and again for years. 

Every failure and inability became a weapon against me, and I believed I deserved it. Eventually my health degraded to the point where I couldn't even try to help. Even though he still blamed me for failing him, I felt relieved. I was suffering anyway, but at least then it was for something I hadn't even tried to do, not for doing my best and still not being enough. 

...

Last night as I spoke on the phone with Nick, he asked a question that suddenly made me remember those years and years of effort. As I did my best to explain those experiences to him, he surprised me by getting it ... even before I completely understood why I was remembering those times just then.

"Oh, I've been accidentally triggering those feelings, haven't I?" His voice was so gentle that I almost cried. "I could sense something was off in your hesitation, and I think that's it."

Even now, as I type, my eyes fill with tears at the memory of that moment. 

"It's okay." He continued. "You just need practice." 

My mind immediately progressed to how I would learn to be confident enough about helping him that I wouldn't feel overwhelmed by any task. I would keep trying!

What he said next was completely unexpected. "Just tell me 'No' as much as you want...."

"What?" I couldn't have heard him right. 

He continued quietly, "I have a hard time saying 'No' sometimes, too, but it helps to practice." 

I couldn't figure out what to say to that. Why would I tell him "no" when I want to help? 

"I'll just ask you to explain how to do it until I feel confident," I suggested.

"Hmm ... that's fine, too. But I want you to say 'NO' as an experiment. Find opportunities to say it, and see how I respond." He sounded so calm--so accepting--that I could hardly believe this was a real conversation. "You can tell me you don't want to do anything, and I'll understand. Tell me 'No!' until you really believe that it's okay and feel comfortable saying it." 

I'm still realizing the implications of his words.

He didn't say what I expect him to say! 

"You can do it!" 

"Keep trying!"

"I'll help you learn how!"

Instead, he told me I could stop any time. 

...

In contrast, I realized again that what I expect of men ... of people in general ... is really, truly awful. 

Inevitably selfish expectations first. 

Demands. 

Anger. 

I insist on being spontaneous in giving my time and effort because I don't ever want anyone to stand over me, expecting I do more than I thought I was offering to do, yelling, angry, upset because I haven't done it right or didn't finish in time. 

I don't want to disappoint anyone, because that disappointment calls up the old pain.

It's easier to make sure nobody depends on me for anything.

...

The truth is, I really don't HAVE TO do anything? 

I can change my mind, stop, say "no" ... and life will go on. I'm still trying to understand how this realization could change my world. Nick is probably going to have to remind me a lot, until it sinks in. 

It's okay to take responsibility for helping someone and to still say "no more" if it becomes too much. 

It's okay to set limits even when I'm officially being paid to manage online communications. 

It's okay to ask for help. 

It's okay not to understand how to do something and even to choose not to learn how if I don't want to. 

It's okay to say, "I can't do this." 

It's okay to be overwhelmed. 

It's okay to be Nick's "official manager" and it won't prevent us from being friends. 

I can act from generosity even if I'm being paid.... or, at least, that is what I think I'm discovering. 

...

Just the thought of having someone depend on me makes me so terrified that I want to run and hide. 

I have a commission right now that I want to complete. It's an interesting project. And I haven't started,... because it is a commission ... so I'm afraid there are expectations I won't meet.

The worst that can possibly happen is she'll say it's not for her and then I won't ask her to pay for it. She is definitely not going to be angry. Why would that thought stop me? I do this type of thing for free all the time.

I think I'll go play with that project now. It should be fun. 

Let's see if I can get past this fear. 

I can't offer a healthy romantic relationship right now ... and it's okay

It took me years to believe in friendship. Years to really learn to live that exchange of meaning and presence that turns strangers into the people who transform your life so much that you have no idea who you'd be without them. And I desperately need friendship right now.

There is this THING that happens when I start wondering, "Might we be together? Could I give him that additional level of love that is generally reserved for one special person?"

Basically, I turn into a panic-stricken, raving lunatic.

I imagine horrible things about men who are gentle and honorable.

First Hawk.

Now Nick.

These kind men can seem to be monsters, cloaked in darkness. Ravening liars just waiting for a chance to stand back and laugh over my broken heart. Angry. Bitter. Annoyed at the person I am. Resentful of me for thinking of them, for asking to know them, for wanting to talk with them.

Of course it is all lies.

Every common sense observation of their interactions with me makes it obvious that these things aren't true. Unlike the gaslighting and emotional manipulations that characterized X, they consistently prove themselves to be kind, respectful, loving, genuine, honest ... yet my emotions just don't respond to common sense. The reality is drowned out by the bitter voices of my past, spewing poison into my mind.

I don't believe myself when I tell the truth. I can't shout loud enough on my own to fight those thoughts. My only defense is to ask for truth from the person himself, and my other friends also.

I hang on tight to the man I saw before all the craziness took over, and choose not to let go until my mind grows clear again.--Sounds like a fairy tale or something.

This is why it's a good thing I figured out friendship first. We were transparent as we built our relationship, and because we are friends above all, I can hang onto those realities no matter what.

Without the friendship, there wouldn't be a relationship anymore. I would self-destruct over every little thing, and no matter how compassionate Nick might be, he can't fix me from the inside. He can only help me heal myself. We need the friendship to handle this transition in my emotions as I process the "what might we be to each other?" questions.

Nick is capable of keeping up with me through this insanity in a way Hawk wasn't. And that's amazing to me. He invites me to call, to panic, to text ... to tell him my confused imaginings and question his intentions. He worries that he might not be available when he's busy, and that waiting to hear back from him might hurt me.

I hoped to find the kind of relationship in Hawk that Nick offers as naturally as breathing.

It wasn't in Hawk to do more than be patient with me, and I'm well aware of the fact that my request for more wasn't fair to him at all. You can't ask people to act out of character. Now that I'm not wanting more than friendship from him, I see him for who he is again. No more imagining he hates me. Our friendship was always good and solid.

I still don't understand why I kept feeling so fearful when I was the one burdening Hawk with all the weight of my hopes, and he was the one who had every right to feel pressured even though we didn't talk about my feelings much. He hasn't brought it up again since we established who we are to each other clearly. Have I mentioned he's a kind man?

I find this humorous, in a way. This transition is just too unexpected. Nick? Really?

Now it's all the same emotional junk pouring out, only this time there is plenty of room to talk it through.

It is so obviously my own problem (and understandable given my history of verbally abusive relationships, from teachers to X) and it's good to know these emotional landmines have nothing to do with the individual I'm looking at.

There was a time when even new friends triggered these responses. I'm amazed to realize it doesn't happen anymore. I've grown! Wow...

I don't know what Nick and I will become. We're friends. We love each other. And this is enough, for now. I don't want to make big decisions while I'm still psycho-girl, and Nick agrees that we have all the time in the world to find out what the future holds. We share the belief that it is more important to remain friends--no matter what happens--than to somehow force our relationship into one structure or another that might not fit us.

I just hope the other side of this process leaves me capable of offering a healthy romantic relationship to someone, because I really don't like the frustrations caused by this crazy, fearful, sick person who takes over sometimes. I'd like her to become at least healthy and loving ... even if she's still crazy.

For me, crazy might be normal.

Gifting the future to each other

I call life a weaving, a story, a song ...

Or maybe a mystery because lives merge and separate, leaving marks and strands of presence that alter the future by their existence.

Sometimes I notice more than others.

There are people who shine bright to me for who they are. I don't know why it is only some, because everyone has that quality of an incredible and unique presence.

There it is. The limit.

I only clearly see a few people, as do we all, but among the many connections we form the possibility to know everyone and share the experience of it. The network of relationship.

In a way, I am made of the strands of other lives, woven in my experience of time. A nexus of the people I've met or read or encountered in others. And it is valid to meet the father in the son, the daughter in the mother, the teacher in the student, and the myth within reality, as it becomes a part of experience shared.

I contain the essence of so many individuals and, in addition, a portion others shared with them to make us capable of connecting in that way. This is all I offer ... the moving stream of connection between us, the weaving of lives.

We are always gifting each other the future, if we only look into each others eyes and notice the transition in every act, intention, and word.

My intent....
My hope is to notice the gifts while making the future brighter for all who pass through my life.

How?

Well, that is the living question, isn't it?

How to Win Against Fear in Your Mind

Friday night was more difficult than I expected. 

I always think of myself as someone who is used to separation. I'm good at thoroughly enjoying time close to a friend, and then still being thankful when we are separate again. Only the truth seems to be that I learned to detach at some point, and now that I'm opening my heart completely to people again, I'm not so good at this whole "being apart again" thing. 

I spent the day fighting spectral voices that were whispering lies about Nick's character and thoughts.

I know this creature from the days when I was trapped in depression. At the time I was bound to it and believed everything it said. I had to expose and silence it in order to become strong, and my friends helped me win by supplying me with an abundance of truth to shield myself from the lies. 

It's not dead yet, though. I still hear it whispering in the back of my mind most days, whining for attention, hoping I'll give it enough space to creep out and cloud my mind. Usually quoting my friends at it will keep it in check. But when I'm chemically depressed. When my emotions drop for good reasons, such as grief over a friend leaving after a visit, then the specter comes out in full force to take advantage of the situation. 
Below is a clarified version of the email I wrote Nick after calling him Saturday morning.

The minute I heard his voice, I felt healed and unafraid, but I would have struggled longer if I hadn't called him.

It was humorous to me how difficult it was to fight back against the mental image of him as being reluctantly dragged into relationship with me by some super-power I don't even have, and how quickly that idea vanished the moment I heard his voice.

I don't need to know why it works in order to realize this is a useful way to fight.  

-
It's funny the way my mind plays tricks with the past, Nick. The incredible friend you actually are ... and the vague "person-who-really-hates-me-even-when-they're-nice" projected by my head tend to mix me up when I'm feeling down. 
My emotions pull out the caricature because it's most familiar, and ... oh, that terrifying voice speaks loudly in the darkness. I vividly remember being alone and bound to the creature, believing every lie it told. I spent most of the night telling the truth to hold it off. 
I have a sudden mental image of holding my own against a cloaked specter, battling with words, truth against lies.
I won the fight, but it still wounded me. And that is why I needed to hear your voice ... to make my win feel tangible against the battle-wounds of fighting the past. I am not so strong as to stand on my own, and that's okay because you stand with me even when I can't see or feel your presence. 
I'm thankful for your willingness to supply me with confirmation of the truth and stick with me even when my fight doesn't make sense ... after all, you know only the reality of your genuine friendship and not the poisonous lies hidden in my mind.
-
Because I know I'm not the only one who faces these moments, it seems helpful to point out how I fight the specter that attempts to lock me down so I won't rely on my friends or find reassurance. (Basically, it would have won if I had chosen to cut myself off from the people who love me. I've been through that re-cycling negative-cycle, and it's no fun.)

1. My friends and I speak to each other with complete transparency. This is vital! 
   - It is the friends who are consistently open with me who give me the best weapons. Their love equips me.
   - Collecting words from people who "might be lying" because I don't know them well just isn't as effective.
   - Back when civil friendships were all I had, it took a lot more people saying the same thing to create a useful counter-attack, and it was harder to fight.
2. I contact my friends immediately when I find my emotions are becoming unstable.
   - If I can, I let them know ahead of time that I'll probably be struggling, and why. That way, they'll check in on me if I get caught up in the lies.
   - I keep reaching out until I connect with someone, even if it isn't someone from my core group of friends.
3. I tell the truth about the situation both to my friends and myself. 
   - The problem usually isn't what just happened. It's usually something that happened a long time ago, and I'm feeling the emotions from back then, also.
   - I let them know this so they aren't trying to solve something that isn't the real cause.
   - I tell them what I need to hear. I'm the only one who knows what the specter is saying to me, so I have to let them know what words to supply to fight it. I can either tell them what I'm hearing inside so they can correct it, or say, "Can you please remind me of what you said about ... "
   - They give me truth because they are truthful people. This is why #1 is so important.
4. I make sure they know it's not their problem, even though I'm trusting them to help me fight it. 
   - For example, Nick couldn't help going back to California. My agonizing reaction had nothing to do with his actions, even though his leaving triggered the specter.
   - I made sure he knew that I didn't believe the lies that rose up, and that I knew it was just an old recording from the past playing over again like an opportunistic ghost.
   - Once he understood this, he knew just what to say to help me re-write the scene so it couldn't possibly end the way my mind was attempting to write it.
   - He broke the cycle with me.
5. I keep their positive responses and support up front in my mind. 
   - We can only focus on so much. Our brains are limited in their capacity to process information.
   - So when I have a choice between two subjects of thought, I choose the one that leads to a healthy balance in my emotions. (And it is completely legitimate to distract myself with a comedy if I just need some time to balance out, naturally.)
   - Even if I can't completely silence the negative perspectives and lies right away, when they have less room they die out a lot faster. And now I have a history of proof that they do die, eventually, no matter how my blood chemistry and situation might set me up for depression.
   - It's good to know that time is a part of the battle. 

Now I know "this, too, shall pass" and have some patience with myself when it seems to take forever. Thankfully, my friends are patient, too.

I realized I was safe, and ...

“Thank you for being you,” I say, resting my head against Nick’s shoulder because he is here and warm and real. It is simple gratitude for his visit that overwhelms me in that moment. I sometimes wonder if we've really only known each other less than a year.

I hold him closer, knowing he will soon be on a plane heading home ...

and I am safe!

I was safe while clinging to a man I'm not dating. I was more than safe … I healed in his presence. Nick helped me so much this past week! I can’t thank him enough.

He helped me process a few of my concerns regarding men, and we dug up some new realities to consider in the face of all my theories. I can only develop my ideas in actual practice.… Until real action and choices come along, I remain unstable. Nick gave me the freedom to really face my fears and ideas, and a safe place to cry and talk about it.

The past came up a lot. I’ll be writing more about what I learned from our time together, but I wanted to share something amazing about him, first.

I spent a lot of time with Nick. With family and friends. Curled up on the couch. Walking around town. In restaurants. Shopping. Standing in line. Snuggled together while we talked through an entire, precious night.

I kept feeling like I was missing something important.

Something was unusual, but what? (Everything was unusual for me, really.) I have never been so comfortable with a man … ever. I thought it might explain that odd feeling. Then, after writing everything out for Mica and Ree, I finally realized what it was that I kept bracing for.

We spent so much time together and hugged and snuggled and talked for hours and hours … and there was physical attraction there, too … but …

I want you to notice how amazing this is.

not once did he grope me!

In contrast:

I remember the first date with X. It is vivid because he shocked me by groping my leg. I nearly fell off my chair in surprise, and he laughed at me. After that the groping escalated and continued whenever X felt like it, until the day I moved out. 

Though there were times when he wouldn't touch me, there was never a time when I felt safe from the possibility, and a simple “no” wasn't a preventative.

With Nick touch was a simple honesty without pushing even to the edge of private areas. Even when we kissed, there was no invasion based on an assumption that permission for one form of contact must include access to everything. My clothes remained entirely in place the whole time.

No wonder I felt safe. He wasn't waiting around for a chance to sneak more than I was ready for. He just appreciated me right where I am for who I am.

Everything between us was a gift because we expected nothing more from each other than the friendship we had already constructed and gifted to each other. There were no demands, and if one of us hoped for something or wanted something we simply talked it through. When we had different levels of interest, we stopped at the lower level.

Apparently I believed men
(1) always have such urges and
(2) can’t resist them when given an opportunity
because I’m still amazed, even as I write this.

It is a relief to know that this respect of personal boundaries is a real possibility.

Maybe success is simply loving people well.

I was talking to Nick the other night about that painful feeling when you realize a relationship isn't capable of handling a certain type of closeness,... not because you don't want it to,... but simply because the best we can offer is friendship ... or even distance, sometimes.

He's on the other end of a similar experience to what I've been facing, since he had to reject someone's request for a closer relationship because they damage each other when they're too close. And that isn't easy, either.

It's really rare for anyone to clearly say that love isn't about being in "the closest possible relationship" but about making sure both of you are healthy, strong, or at least healing within the relationship. 

Love cares more about how the quality and types of interaction affect each other than it does about some external construct of the way love ought to play out. 

How do you know when the best relationship you can offer someone is friendship?

See, Hawk and I had this discussion. 

I was waiting, you know ... for him to think about it and decide if he might be interested in adding another level to our relationship. I knew his answer was encoded in our communications already ... the "it's not going to happen" was implied. But for some reason I really needed to hear him say it. 

Did I say this directly? No. Maybe I should have. Next time I might face down the fear of having someone say, "I can't accept more from you, really." 

But he figured out what I needed and told me clearly and firmly, "What I feel toward you isn't romantic."

He appreciated what I offered, though, and didn't reject the love ... simply one of the ways love might have played out. I told him that I would instead love him as a friend and support him that way, and he accepted. 

It was inspiring to feel free to offer what he is capable of accepting from me. Friendship is a gift. I don't know. I often think we need a better term for caring deeply about someone for unselfish mutual benefit, because "love" is such a corrupt term and friendship has such a casual connotation for most people.

I have a choice, now, between three kinds of "love." 

I can "love" him for my own benefit. (Not really love, in my opinion.)

I can love him for HIS benefit.

or 

I can love him with a love that is for everyone, equally, and that love extends to encompass both his life and my own ... because we are both connecting points within networks of relationship ... and ...

who we are to each other affects everyone we touch.

This is very, very important, and true for everyone from family and friends to life-partners. 

Culturally,... we tend to tie more on top ... the love plus the romance ... the love plus the expectation of ... well ... it could be any benefit we see as intrinsic to love, however we categorize the term. 

Love isn't the part we add to the relationship that looks at how the other can serve oneself, but rather it looks to create a healthy place for both.

I made a graphic out of my examples:  Feel free to share.

I had this same choice with X.

I gave him everything in the black lines, and only learned how to live the second kind of love toward him by recognizing how the first kind twisted everything in life, especially our relationship. 

It was better for him, for both of us, for everyone ... to be apart. When a relationship is not only mutually destructive, but also a negative influence on family and friendships, then it's time to consider what it is you think you're building. 

By the time I learned to love him well, the best way to love him was to leave ... because anything else would have been a wide-spread lie. Because that corrosion of relationship isn't love ... it's an unfulfilled expectation that is wearing the label "love." Our reality was his abuse and my acceptance of that treatment from him, along with the influence that relationship had on everyone. Not love. 

If I had latched on to the idea of Hawk and I together ...or  if Nick had tried to stay with the girl ... it would have been based on those same destructive mental patterns. I don't think we're alone in this, either. 

Real love exists by facing the full reality of a situation and finding the unique pathway that offers what is best for everyone. Or ... at least ... to the best of our ability. (Sometimes we are not our own ideal of ourselves, and admitting this is difficult.) People must be free to be who they are, where they are in life. That is the only way to have anything honest or real, even if this sometimes means the most honest and real act is to leave each other to more beneficial relationships. 

I read a small portion of the letter I wrote (from my conversation with  Hawk) to Nick. And Nick said, "I feel like you wrote that to me, because that is how you handle our relationship, too. You could say that to any of your friends, I think." 

It's true. 

Love. Real love ... is something you can give anyone. 

It's not about romance or marriage or ... that feeling of being "in love" ... it's the core of caring for and about someone. Now that I realize this, it won't be as difficult to admit and allow love,... or at least not the real kind. Expectations will always be painful to work through, I think.

Shouldn't it be normal to love?
Isn't love the best foundation for any type of interaction between people?
I'd like to figure out how to live that way with everyone. 

I'm so thankful for friends who help me figure this out. (and not "just for Thanksgiving")

-----

I'm linking up with the Faith Barista community again, for the topic:
Share a reflection or story about your journey walking through the Thanksgiving season.
Click through for more stories.

Who am I?

I ask myself, "Who am I?"

--impossible question! I wander, awaiting the answer that will crystallize existence and freeze it into a form that I can keep in my pocket and know completely.

How large is my pocket? 

Time moves forward, and everything changes with every breath. Life cannot be held, only observed. And I am merely present, aware, prepared to see. This motion is ... in fact ... the answer. I snag on life, and that is how I notice where I am

I exist, but I am not the one in front of my eyes, and if I try to look it is not myself but a fragmented shadow of every angry voice I've ever heard, hissing and whispering accusations. Sifting the shadow from the mirror is impossible, improbable, difficult. I am trapped by the past when I look within.

It is best to open my eyes and simply be ... who this is ... where this is ... not swallowed up in an idea of me that is no longer present. Maybe it isn't merely this form or these ideas and interpretations ... maybe I am this experience of living?

I ask my friends, "Who am I?"

--and they reflect my presence in a myriad of mirrored gazes, warped and smooth, shadowed and bright. They struggle and live and rejoice and grieve and lean and hold and speak and whisper and wrap in silence.

They darken their answer with words too pleasant to believe, so I close my eyes before they arrive. Still, I cannot see myself, only an effect (a ripple of passage left in time) of God at work, I think.... Because they smile and say how grateful they are, though I know they are the gift to me. 

From which direction does this light come? 

They do not know the beauty I see in them. When I tell them who they are, they do not believe. They scoff and wonder at the blindness in my eyes. 

We are the same. 

"How difficult can it be to accept the reflection I offer?" they say. 

Here--hold this understanding with a sense of the absurd--I cannot tell them what I won't allow them to tell me. We both lean forward with the same irritation, that our meanings are emptied by unbelief. 

"Thank you for being who you are," we say.

And it is important for them to know, to believe, to understand. The words come back again and again.

So, now I believe their impossibly lovely reflection. What else can I do, if I would request the same of them? 

"You are a gift, my treasure, my friend. I learn from you ... because of who you are."

Only God can make sense of that reality ... and he is everywhere, breathing the existence of friendship into our spirits. We weave the vapor of his intentional presence into our tangible lives through time and everyone we meet ... when we are aware enough to see. A friend within all friends, beyond knowing.

I ask God, "Who am I?"

--and he answers, "I love you. I am with you. Fear not." 

And while that wasn't the question, it becomes all the answer I need.

I am the one God loves. 

----

This article is written in response to the writing prompt at:

Click through to read a variety of perspectives on the topic -->

Emotional Landmines - What to do

It has taken me three days to write up my emotional response to a single phrase during a conversation with Hawk last Tuesday evening. I'm shocked at how deep and irrational my thoughts were at the time. It feels miraculous that I kept enough sanity to shield him from the explosion.

You see, he is busy, very busy, with his life and work and local friendships. I knew he was making time in his schedule to talk with me, but I had no idea how much pressing business he was pushing aside to open space for our conversations. As he told me of all the tension he's been under, I suddenly realized I hadn't valued our calls nearly enough.

Along with that realization came the trigger thoughts that have been lurking ever since we agreed on active friendship. "What if I'm too much trouble? Am I a burden? Maybe he hates the fact that I want to talk to him! Maybe he just doesn't know how to turn me down."

One thought slipped through, into the conversation. "Oh, I hope I'm not part of that pressure." I knew very well that making space for me would be an added tension, especially since he's been far more busy than usual. Obviously it would be another element to that whole collection of "things to do." But, no. I had to say it.

And because he promised to be honest with me about everything ... he said, "Well, sometimes."

My heart dropped. I wanted to cry because it hurt so much, and at the same time I was so grateful, and thrilled that he had taken time for me in spite of it all. And it was the increase in gratitude that I communicated ... which is amazing, in retrospect. It was the only worthwhile response I had to that phrase for the rest of the evening.

Our conversation was pleasant and full. He had a cough, but wouldn't get off the phone even though I offered to wait and talk when his throat healed. There were so many beautiful topics and realizations, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.

But the moment I hung up the phone, the fear that his voice had pushed aside snatched me in a strangling grip. I'm not sure what I did for the next hour or so, though I could hardly stay still. My mind was completely wrapped in how to free Hawk from the burden he had inadvertently stumbled into by accepting my friendship.

Could I stop loving him?
Should I never text or call again?
Maybe an explanation would help him realize I hadn't meant to hurt him.
Maybe I'll never be able to fix this horrible situation.
Will he ever forgive me?
Who do I think I am, loving anyone!
Don't I know that love from me isn't a gift, but a burden?
Why would I think anyone could tolerate me?
I should just let him know I won't bother him anymore.

Shaking, I logged into facebook and saw Ree was online. "Want to help me regain my sanity?" I typed, hoping she'd help me figure out how to phrase the email to apologize.

After a quick summary of the pressure he'd been under, what I had said, his comment, and an overview of my emotional response after the call ended, she sweetly said, "Forgive me if it sounds like I'm not being serious, but you are so cute .... I'm serious. YOU ARE ADORABLE," which was so complete an improbable and unreal response to my confession that I had to laugh at the shock of clarity it brought.

"This is normal," she continued, "You're overcompensating. You're supposed to go through all this."

Suddenly I was able to remember how excited he had gotten when I mentioned I would soon have a *guest post published. And the rest of our conversation came flooding back through the sudden gap in my angst, restoring perspective. As we talked, I remembered more and more of the positive interactions Hawk and I have shared.

I felt sane again. I couldn't figure out why I had reacted the way I did. It was so totally out of proportion to that small comment. Why?

A similar incident last spring during a visit with another friend triggered a series of painful incidents. It took me several days to realize that my fade into an alternate reality at the time had resulted from the latent fears still lurking from my relationship with my ex. I acted in a way that was completely out of character, and it scared me to lose so much of myself without even realizing it, unable to see anything but the fear.

Ever since, I've been desperately hoping to catch myself before inflicting damage on anyone, again. This time I hadn't acted on the emotional possibilities, all of which would have definitely harmed our friendship and possibly hurt Hawk as well.

The next evening Mica and I had a chance to talk it over. She was angry at Hawk for not sensing how much damage he would cause, as I'd known she would be. Her anger gave me a chance to explore all the reasonable explanations why he had said it. Since Hawk has only seen me being strong in this area, how could he know how much it would hurt me? In fact, I'm purposely not telling him about this particular landmine, because I don't want to give him a reason not to be honest.

Mica agreed that the emotional landmine came from my experiences with my ex, also, and forgave Hawk for being human. She's very protective of my heart, since she was my safe place to explore what I was learning from my marriage before I finally buried the stinking skeleton of the relationship and let it rest in peace.

I learned something important from this. I have an insane terror of being a burden. (This is what comes of being treated as a burden for 17 years. Even on my best days I was always in debt to my ex for something.)

If I must have emotional landmines, at least I've begun to learn a few helpful techniques for managing them this time around.

1. Remember to be grateful. 
   If I had responded out of fear, our conversation would have ended very badly. But because I remembered to thank him we were able to have an enjoyable conversation that helped me to snap out of the emotional explosion later that evening.
2. Don't act on terror-induced plans.
   NOT doing anything right away was a good move. Once I stabilized, I realized there was nothing to do because there was no problem beyond my emotional instability. But if there had been a problem, I'd have come up with a far better solution after the storm. My ideas were terrible!
   (Please note, I am in a safe place. If you or a loved one are EVER threatened physically or have been trapped in long-term, emotionally abusive environment, please do follow a 'crazy' plan to get away and get out. Fear's adrenaline rush can take you past those internal barriers that would keep you caged otherwise. It's best, if you think you might need an escape plan, to start making one now even if you think you'll never have the courage to follow through.)
3. Contact a trusted friend.
   Ree knew the history and context of our relationship. She knows what I've been through, and she accepts me no matter what. She also appreciates the clear descriptions I've given of Hawk's character, so she wasn't going to let me turn him into a monster just because I hate myself sometimes.
4. Look at the conversation from the opposing perspective.
   (To the best of your ability.)
   Mica helped me think of less destructive reasons for his words that fit him better. Of course, I can't know for sure unless I ask him, but I trust what I know of his character. No matter what, I have to keep his own life-story, words, and actions in mind. He isn't my ex and he doesn't deserve to inherit a full dose of misapplied fear and mistrust. 

Will these action points work in other situations? I don't know. I'm still figuring this out myself.

*edited later to add the link

3 skills for discovering friendship

Meeting anyone for the first time has always been a bit nerve-wracking for me.

It's difficult to figure out the expected norms, since I grew up as a third culture kid, so I used to withdraw completely in fear of making a mistake ... which was a mistake in itself. I can't read social situations very well. But I've learned I can be myself and honestly apologize if I make a mistake, and usually things work out in the end.

I gradually learned a few simple guidelines that help keep me sane. They're also useful for figuring out what sort of friendship is possible.

1. Go in trying to find out if they are "my sort of person." (Be yourself without apologizing!)

• There is a myth out there that it's possible to be liked by everybody, and far too many of us spend all our time trying to read situations and fulfill expectations instead of being ourselves. Give it up, please! How on earth can I know if I like you when you're trying so hard not to offend that I can't know who you are? You don't need to bring out the elements that seem certain to cause irritation, but certainly you have many interests and at least one will be useful for conversation.
• If you need someone to tell you it's okay to be you, then take my word for it. You'll be much happier if you find the people who like you for who you are right now. I certainly am. There are a lot of people who don't like me now ... but most of them don't bother to think about me. My friends, on the other hand, like me very much and think of me. (I wouldn't be who I am today without them, either.)
• This skill allows you to know if this person is capable of being civil. That's about it. But you'll want to practice it regularly because the rare kindred spirit makes it worth every moment of civil, social conversation.

2. Try to draw out the true personality of the person in front of you. (Be transparent first.)

• Being yourself frees other people to be themselves also. You might be surprised at the amazing character you find in them. Identify a character trait that makes you happy in everyone you meet and thank them for that quality if you have a chance. (This will help you make friends, too. People like to be appreciated. Just make sure you're being honest.)
• Tell the truth about your thoughts, feelings, preferences, etc. The truth is always more compelling than a lie. And give others the same freedom by asking questions. You don't have to agree with their answers, but if they are free to discuss their honest thoughts, you may find that you're not as different as you thought. Or you may even be on the same page.
• This skill helps you to find the people who will challenge your thinking so you can see the world from a new perspective, as well as those you can support and encourage and who might do the same for you. 

3. Find out if you can communicate or see each other regularly. (Become friends.)

• I've made a fool of myself a few times over this one by assuming I could take the full weight of being the one who makes all the effort. Becoming friends only works if both sides actively choose to be part of the process and have room in their lives. As much as we may appreciate someone, life does what it does. Don't make huge promises and then feel guilty when you can't fulfill them, and don't judge others for this either.  It happens.
• Do make the effort to plan to get to know each other if you're of the same mind. Become pen-pals, phone, meet up for a mutual hobby, or always take time for a chat if you happen to be in the same social circle. Accept that it might not last and appreciate what connection you do have.
• This skill helps you discover if a friendship is meant to grow. If not, you will eventually realize that the time is not now. You can leave the invitation open for a more convenient season of life ... and look forward to chance meetings. Knowing a variety of people is valuable for personal growth, so don't feel like it was a waste if it was only for a short while.

You can only control your own actions and responses. This is why I call being yourself a skill that can build friendship. You can't control their response and it's not worth the effort to try. People will naturally want to befriend you if they appreciate you in return. If not, you have a billion possibilities available to you. Get to know them!

I remember when it was horribly difficult to even talk to someone who seemed interesting, never mind asking to be friends. I still freeze up with complete strangers. It's easier to be introduced or to start with something in common after listening to them talk in a group setting.

Giving others mental permission to dislike me frees me from shyness and fear. Once I've faced the worst and accepted it, I can push past that dread and take a chance that it won't turn out that way. In my experience, we usually have a pleasant conversation and I walk away wondering why I was so nervous.

In fact, I make a practice of declaring to all my new most-hoped-for friends that they should feel free to turn me down rudely, if necessary, since I intend to treat them as good friends and that means they'll be hearing from me frequently.

None of them has tried to escape yet ... and they're my best friends now. *grin* It took me a long time to believe this ... but they never wanted to run away in the first place, as proven by the fact that they give me equal connection in response to my offer to them.

If they become busy it is obvious, but they always reconnect eventually. As should be expected, life-changes have altered our communication frequency many times. (Come to think of it, one of them is due for an "are you alive?" email soon.)

In the end, the connection of friendship isn't always so much about frequency or expectations, but about the depth of transparency and respect we have for each other. No matter what, both sides in the friendship know that the full depth of our relationship is always accessible whenever we interact, whether that is every day or a couple times a year.

Deconstructing a friendship myth

The idea of friendship was a huge obstacle for me a few years ago. 

I wholeheartedly believed that those who called me 'friend' must pay a terrible sacrifice through the burden of knowing me, and that all of them secretly regretted the social niceties that required them to pretend to like me. I treated the whole idea of friendship like a myth that could never really apply to me.

It wasn't their fault. Many did genuinely appreciate me, but their demonstrations couldn't get through the lies I was being told about myself every day by the person closest to me ... and my own defeated thoughts.

As a result, I tended to desperately cling to anyone who was kind, then pushed them away in an effort to protect myself from the inevitable rejection. My primary concern was not to get hurt, even though I couldn't avoid the constant attack of my own mind.

When I finally learned to accept that some people are capable of loving me, and that kind people aren't liars, I began to evaluate the friendships I'd had all along in an attempt to understand why I hadn't recognized them.

1. My idea of "what friendship is" was ... impossible. (I thought a friend would be someone who always wanted to be with me, who always wanted to do the same things, who thought like me, who would never leave me.... Basically my ideal best friend was in the mirror.)
2. There are different kinds of friendship and I was trying to make them all look the same.
3. I thought only one friend would be enough for all my friendship needs.

As I studied and read and experimented, I slowly learned how limiting these ideas had been. I had created a box that most friendships couldn't fit, and I was blind to anything outside. In the end, I purposely shattered my own myth and am now slowly replacing it with the truth of experience. 

I see myself mimicking a scientist while studying my relationships.  I have a lot of theories, and every day I test their validity so I can learn the truth. I hope to value people for who they actually are, just as I want to be valued for who I am. In order to do that I have to see them clearly ... and permit them to see the real me.

1. Anyone can be a friend, even if only for the short time when you meet. If you help and learn from each other, and treat each other with respect then it is friendship.
2. Friendship has many types, from casual and light to the deep and meaningful conversations between two open souls. All have value.
3. Multiple friendships can complement each other to create a mosaic of friendship that supports every area of your life, where none could individually cover everything.
4. Friends can hurt you and still remain friends. They often try to help without knowing how and, while it doesn't make the hurt less painful, you can still appreciate their intentions. A good friend will accept advice on how to handle the situation better next time. They will also tell you their perspective on the truth so you can think about it from two perspectives instead of just your own.
5. The various friendships your friends maintain help to make them who they are. You benefit, too, when they have a strong connection with other people. A good friend intends to strengthen others' friendships, also, not just their own.
6. Friendships may come and go, brighten and fade. These effects are the normal results of travel, growth, and life changes. Change is inevitable. The friends who pull away make room for new friendships and experiences in your life. You cannot lose the link you developed by knowing each other. It is always part of you, even when it fades to a silver line of hope to someday connect again.
7. Connections always involve risk, especially in a world where masked identity is expected and tolerated. Remember you have a social mask ingrained in you, too, and even if you don't remove it entirely with someone new, remember to lift it just a little and consciously let them glimpse the real you. They might do the same in response.

There are more lessons I've been learning, but I'll leave it here since this could get really long. Next time I'll tell you about the filters I use to discover the quality of a friendship.

How to deal with past pain ... now

Nobody can take the burden of being "the one who heals" the other.

Some try.

During my marriage I often thought of myself as the healer ... the restorer ... the savior ...  of everyone, really,... and it tore me to pieces. I accepted accusations of failure even though I really didn't have the resources to handle the abuse, the demands, the constant drain.

Who knows why I thought I should have that strength. I was very religious, so in a way, I felt the ability to be enough for other's expectations and needs must be an inherent characteristic of good people. I wanted to be good so I tried to act the role. I thought it was my responsibility to fix everything, for others first and myself ... never.

It wasn't.

I was trying to be the sea when I was merely a channel somewhat capable of transporting water. And that, only as long as I hadn't been blocked by damage to my structure.  The blockage and damage were significant. We were in the same place of need, and I was trying to have enough for everyone. I needed a healer myself.

With Hawk the relationship is very different. I'm not trying to fix him, though it will be nice if he heals within our friendship. What I am doing is consciously allowing myself to heal because he very conveniently stumbles into my wounds and alerts me to their presence. And I'm being honest with him about that process whenever it arises between us.

He doesn't even have to try. Just living his independent life is enough to trigger my wounds at this point. When I want to cling and feel sad because he's not right there taking care of me, I realize how easy it is to be dependent ... to put the burden of my healing on another.

It's not his job!

Even if we were dating it would be wrong of me to expect that level of over-protection from him. So I don't expect it. I did let him know that I consciously choose not to demand anything of him, even if I might react emotionally at times and then realize later the full spectrum of what I was expecting and need to apologize.

He is still healing, himself, after all.

We both have our own first-aid kits, and it so happens that we each have some items (healing practices and attitudes) that the other doesn't. We can share that knowledge and insight with each other, and so heal a little faster. I can learn from him whether he triggers my hurt or my joy. And I'm so thankful that he is a gentle person, because he doesn't make things worse as a general rule. In fact, he is very encouraging.

I'm used to being told where I ought to be by far too many people, and have been surprised at how accepting he is of  "where I actually stand."

Because I'm already wounded I will be easily hurt by Hawk. I already know this, so hopefully it won't surprise me too much. Even doctors cause pain as they attempt to understand the extent of the damage, and as they actively assist in healing there is often further pain.

Pain is necessary information. It lets me know where problems are, and often whether I've found a solution specific to the problem. I  remain aware of my needs and path to healing by asking these kinds of questions.

• Why does this hurt me?
• Has he actually done something purposefully to hurt me, or is he just dealing with his own stuff?
• Is my current pain only because of what just happened, or is it bringing up older wounds that haven't been dealt with?
• Do I need to let him know how I feel about this, or is this feeling so disconnected from what he did that it is better to face the past before I overreact?
• Have I acknowledged that past hurt and faced the damage it did to me?
• Do I need to forgive anyone? (This isn't for their sake, but for mine. Hanging onto the past wounds me physically as well as emotionally. A bitter or fearful attitude affects my body by preventing me from resting, preventing my body from healing naturally, and by triggering unneeded emergency chemical communications through my system to further burn out my nerves and cells.)
• How could I respond differently to this situation?
• Am I believing any lies as a result of the wound?
• What could I change in the way I deal with this that might change how it affects me?

Then I tell myself.

"I can't control what others do, but I'm always in charge of how I respond. How can I turn this into a story that will help me (and others) heal without trying to control anyone other than myself?"

And then, I move toward living that story. Or at least I do on good days.... This is why I need healthy friendships to help me keep balance. It isn't a quick ... or easy process. I often face the same lie again and again, each time sneaking up in a slightly different disguise.

"Everyone who is nice to me is lying," is one lie I've had to battle for years.

I still fight with it as I deal with Hawk ... because he is very kind to me. *laugh* I view that kindness with a suspicion he doesn't deserve.

But I'm learning to tell the truth instead of the lie when I hear it in my head.

"There are people who pretend to be nice just to deceive or get what they want, so it's okay to stay alert and identify individual patterns. BUT for the most part people who are kind actually mean it, and it is healthier for me to take their word for it."

As a result, I remain open enough to discover new friends, which is worth a few painful moments now and then.

Honesty and Restraint - becoming friends

This post is excerpted from my journal, edited, and back-dated to the day of writing.

What Hawk said last night, during our discussion of how much phone time we will have and what limits are best so he won’t feel pressured has sent me off on an analysis of how I view relationships in general, and what defines the difference between friendship, dating, engagement, marriage, etc.

I find this ironic since, last year, I was at first entirely certain I’d never be interested in any man ever again, and then (after the shock of realization that I was attracted to Hawk) determined to force him out of my head … which didn't work so well.

(Ree took the brunt of that flood of ranting about how unfair it is that I should fall in love ... and survived rather well -- even if she did laugh at me like the true friend she is.)

Hawk's comment, as best I can remember was, “If we were dating I’d understand talking every day, but since we’re friends I think a couple times a week is enough.”

I haven’t thought about dating yet … what with believing it couldn't happen and all. According to his measure of relationship as I understand it thus far, I’m linked to several of my friends at a frequency level that would make him feel nervous.

Which makes sense, since for him I’m a new discovery. He hasn't been thinking about me since last November ... like I've been thinking about him. He can have all the time he needs, since I took plenty myself … and STILL need more … How can he be both terrifying AND so very reassuring. Augh!

I’m prepared to adjust to his feedback, whatever it may be. I need that reality from him, too. That is what I hoped to learn from when I connected in the first place. If I must be attracted to someone, at least he is choosing to be honest while befriending me.

But the fact is, I’m always adjusting to the other person’s level of comfort in every friendship. So the reality isn't “I speak to all my friends every day,” but rather, “Sometimes we end up speaking every day for long periods of time, and other times I don’t hear from them for weeks or months, until I remind them that I’m beginning to be concerned about whether they’re still alive.” It probably does average out to “a couple times a week” sometimes even for my closest friends.

I know I can only maintain so many relationships at frequent, deep connection.

The weaker connections are naturally pressed out by the stronger, and they weave together, time-wise, in a way I sincerely believe is orchestrated. Somehow I always seem to have time when it’s really important, and so far if two friends need me at the same time I've either been able to manage going back and forth between them or there is someone else they can rely on instead.

Other times, I’m left feeling a bit disconnected when … aaaallll... my friends seem to be busy elsewhere. But I’m okay with being alone, too. Sometimes I purposefully keep the various social sites closed because I need silence and time to think … like today.

Because Hawk is uncomfortable with daily interaction right now, then that is where we are. And because I understand why … to some extent, at least … I’m fine with that.

I want the best for him, even if it means … losing him. I don’t want to think about not being friends with him right now. It makes me sad, since we just started.

But I will be very happy to hear from him … any time … just like I am with Mica, Ree, Bri, Nic,.... etc. Hawk could wake me up at 3am with a call like Nic did in his crisis and I’d be thrilled, even if I miss my sleep, because it would demonstrate that he trusts me and that trust is more important to me than my rest. (I’m not quite that patient with my kids … familiarity? Well, they have me all day, every day.)

Most of all, I accept his limits because those limits prove he trusts me with where he is. He was pretty honest about his usual strategy of avoidance when he feels overwhelmed, and that it was hard for him to be straightforward. He chose to imitate my transparency and trusted me to see his vulnerability through my disappointment.

So yeah, I'm feeling disappointed, but also ... thankful that this is real. Friendship is way more than I ever thought would happen between us.

Now that I’m left with the realization that it’s possible for me to love again, I guess it’s time to analyse what I think about relationships. What would qualify someone as date-able? Hmm...