A Letter to My Younger Self (Blog #921)

1 Comment

Dear fifteen-year-old me,

I know you may not recognize me, but I’m you at the age of thirty-nine. I know, we’re old now–all grown up–but we still look pretty good if you ask me. Especially considering all the beer and chocolate cake we’ve had in the last twenty-four years. But I digress. I’m writing because I’ve been thinking about you all evening. This afternoon I saw my chiropractor, and he suggested that the reason I have so many physical problems (sinus infections, tight shoulders, headaches) around my throat (fifth chakra) area is because the throat is where we speak our truth. And–apparently–that’s difficult for me to do.

Now, granted, speaking my truth is easier than it used to be. Certainly it’s easier than when I was your age, and that’s one of the things I’d like to (truthfully) discuss with you. Another thing my chiropractor suggested was that my fear of speaking up was directly related to my survival instinct (first chakra). For example, over the years I’ve worked with or for a number of people–hell, I’ve dated a number of people–to whom I really wanted say, “Fuck you and this noise. I’m out of here.” That was my truth. But because I perceived that I needed their love, money, or approval (or all three), I zipped my lips and stayed. I believe my body has paid the price for this–in stress, upset stomaches, and tensions headaches, among other things.

I’m sorry, body.

Where you come in is that I know all of this people pleasing in order to survive business started when we were a teenager. Probably younger. Things always begin sooner than you think they do. Regardless, looking back I can see that this pattern of behavior was firmly in place when we were in junior high. Dad had just been arrested, tried, convicted, and sent to prison, and Mom was sick. Consequently, you had a lot on your shoulders. A lot. Because you loved your family, you were trying to help them. At the same time, you were working your ass off in school, trying to be the best student. All this while suppressing your sexuality and–more often than not–your authentic responses.

In case I’ve never said it, I’d like to recognize that it was all really too much for us. We did a wonderful job, the best we could, but we could have just as easily cracked up because it was too much for a teenager to gracefully manage. I think the only reason it worked is because our body bore the burden, stored the stress and shoved-down emotions in a thousand little places.

I guess I’d like to talk about those shoved-down emotions. All the anger you felt at the situation and some of the people involved. All the frustration because, despite your best efforts, life didn’t improve. All the disappointment. The lost hope. These emotions haven’t gone anywhere.

I know that I’m a real hard-ass with us most of the time (thirty-nine years). I know that I more than imply that our best isn’t good enough. I say, “If only we were better, these bad things wouldn’t be happening.” But I’d like to say now that I’m really impressed with how you handled everything. I know you did the best you could, and–honestly–it was really fucking great, more than good enough. Looking back I wish we could have said no and hell-no, but I realize the only reason we couldn’t is because no one taught us how. Plus, our saying yes to everyone else instead of ourselves was a matter of survival. Shoving our emotions down was what we had to do in order to get by.

The good news is that it worked. All these years later, we’re still here. Thankfully, we’ve learned a lot along the way. With some good help and support (it does exist), we’ve learned to express our emotions more often, to speak our truth more often. Is it still a challenge? Yes. Perhaps it always will be. We can’t all be Julia Sugarbaker. But things are so much better than they used to be.

Going back to my being a hard-ass, I know that I put a lot of pressure on us to be perfect. Like, if we’re going to speak up for ourselves, we have to do it perfectly–in every situation, anytime someone crosses a boundary. And whereas I think speaking up for ourselves is important, I think it’s even more important for us to speak up TO ourselves. For us to be honest with us about what’s going on inside. Like, I’m angry. I’m discouraged. I’m overwhelmed.

Earlier tonight I really looked at a picture of you. I didn’t rush by it like I usually do or barely glance at it because it was during our awkward phase. No, I really looked at us. And you know what I realized? We weren’t that awkward. We were pretty hot for a teenager. More than that, we were strong. We had everything we needed to get by in life, even if it didn’t feel like it at the time. Anyway. What I really want you to know is that no matter how many years go by, I’m always here for you. Despite all the times I’ve tried to either ignore or intellectualize what we went through, I’m willing to listen–to your anger, your fear, your sadness, your joy. Whatever wants to come up, I’m willing to feel it now. I believe this can only be healing. For you, for me, for us.

Sweetheart, I love you,

Thirty-nine-year-old us

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

Our burdens are lighter when we share them.

"

Reverse, NEUTRAL, Drive (Blog #859)

Leave a comment

Two nights ago I threw up everything I’d eaten for the previous week. It was nasty. Thankfully, I haven’t thrown up since. I have, however, been dragging ass. Yesterday I spent all day in bed. Today, by the grace of God, I only spent half the day in bed. My energy is noticeably better–I took a shower today!–but it’s still not fabulous. This evening I taught a dance lesson and thought, I think I’m perking up, then I came home and promptly merged my ass with the couch. Ugh. You just can’t heal any faster than you do.

Ain’t that the truth, Ruth?

Normally when I’m sick I’m pretty impatient. I want to heal NOW. And whereas, of course, I’d like to feel better on the lickety-split, I’ve noticed this time around that I’ve been able to let things unfold at their own pace. I keep thinking of how for two hours Sunday night I felt nauseated and then how–all of a sudden–I was on the bathroom floor vomiting. It was so fast, so violent. My point is that my body was clearly ON IT, working swiftly to remove whatever was bothering us. Y’all, I’ve given my body a lot of crap over the years, and yet right there on the cold tile I had all this proof that my body was on my side. Clearly my immune system is like one of those muscle-y bouncers at da club. It’s ready to throw any offending party out on its rear.

Like, get the hell out. And stay out.

Now, do I wish that I’d thrown up Sunday night and felt better immediately? Of course. But in truth, I have felt better–progressively better. And when you consider that my body was just poisoned or otherwise invaded–and that in throwing out the bad guys my stomach also had to throw out some good guys–it makes sense that it would take a few days for things to regain their balance. Even if it takes a week, what’s the big deal? Few things in life can’t wait a week.

This perspective, that my body is actually on my side and constantly working to help me, helps make the healing process more bearable. Recently I heard that when things aren’t going well in your life, it may be because you’re in a time of transition. When I’m teaching dance I often compare a series of three steps to “reverse, neutral, and drive,” meaning the first step goes back, the second step stays in place, and the third step goes forward. My point in teaching it this way is to emphasize that each step is important–even the neutral one that doesn’t “go” anywhere. Anyway, lately I’ve been thinking about how important the neutral phases in our lives are.

I’ll explain.

A while back I had a confrontation that wasn’t fun for me. And although it wasn’t fun, it felt good to not bite my tongue. It felt good to be honest and let the chips fall where they may, where they needed to. When I discussed this confrontation with my therapist she said, “I imagine there will come a day when you’ll be negotiating a business deal, and this skill of speaking your truth and standing your ground will come in handy. So just think of this as practice.”

I’ve gotten a lot of mileage out of this advice, the idea that although my current circumstances aren’t glamorous, they may be preparing me for something better down the line. Lately I’ve been reminded of the adage, “If you want the things in your life to change, you have to be willing to change the things in you life.” To me this means that if you want your life to be different, YOU have to be willing to be different. Of course, like healing, personal change doesn’t happen overnight. It’s something that comes in stages. The future you is something you grow into a little bit here, a little bit there.

Recently I blogged about changing patterns, and this is basically what I’m talking about tonight. Applied to my example about confronting someone, you could say that I USED to have a pattern of letting myself be walked on like a door mat (reverse), but that for the last few years I’ve been 1) letting that pattern die out and 2) letting a new pattern develop–speaking up for my damn self (neutral)–so that I’ll be better able to navigate the rest of my life (forward). Y’all, my therapist is probably the most outspoken and confrontational person I know, but she says she used to be quiet as a church mouse. Well, shit, she didn’t just wake up loud and boisterous one day. She had to work at it. She too had to go through a neutral phase.

More and more, I’m appreciating the neutral phase, the transitional phase, the healing phase. I think when you realize there’s a point to it, it’s easier to sit with, patiently. When you remodel and redecorate a room, you have to let the paint dry before you hang the curtains. Otherwise you’ll have a damn mess. Likewise, when you want an entirely different life, you have to let your old one (your old patterns) dry up first. I mean, what would happen if you were a people pleaser and all of a sudden inherited a bunch of money? That’s right–goodbye money. Why? Because your pocketbook changed but YOU didn’t. So if it feels like you’re stuck and not going anywhere–good. Chances are you’re being given a chance to change, to learn something new, to heal. Take heart. Be patient. Your time is coming.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"

In this moment, we are all okay.

"

On Rip Van Winkle (Blog #820)

Leave a comment

I’ve said before that I sometimes have dreams of yelling at people. Saying, “Fuck you, Nancy!” and things like that. Well, I also have daytime fantasies of telling people off, courtroom-type dramas in which I either replay a situation that happened weeks or years ago or imagine a future circumstance in which I get to tell someone to “Go to hell, Harry!” I don’t know if you do this sort of thing, but it’s fun. At the same time, it’s exhausting, since it’s like the past is never over, the future never safe.

It’s like you’re never–what’s the word?–free.

When I’ve talked to my therapist about these fantasies, we’ve agreed it’s because I’ve spent so much of my life not saying what I really feel. By trying to be everyone’s friend and get everybody to like me I’ve essentially created an imbalance. That’s what the dreams and fantasies are about, evening things out, since, really, I’m neither Mr. Nice Guy or Mr. Asshole. I’m somewhere in between I’m Fine and I’m Pissed Off As All Get Out.

We all are.

Because the pissed-off part of me refuses to go away on its own, I’ve been working on speaking up when I’m angry. Not because it’s fun or pleasant, but because, in my experience, every part of me deserves to be heard and–here’s something–staying silent doesn’t work. Well, it works if you want to make other people happy instead of yourself and–consequently–create a lot of internal anxiety, nervousness, tension, and stress. Not to mention a stomach ulcer and inauthentic relationships. Biting your tongue is great for these things. However, having tried people pleasing, biting my tongue, and being “nice” for decades and realizing (finally) that they can’t give me what I want (personal freedom, inner peace, and happiness), I’m trying something novel–honesty.

A couple examples.

Lately I’ve been posting my blogs to my Instagram account, and after I posted yesterday’s blog, someone I don’t even know, a mental health worker in Texas, commented, “Love this! Mental health is so important! Check out my profile if you’d like; I’m all about giving people the tools they need in order to get to be where they want to be!” Well, this immediately pissed me off, and not just because they used an exclamation point at the end of every sentence. I kept thinking of a business friend of mine who always says, “Build a relationship with me before you try to sell me something.” Anyway, two years ago I would have brushed the whole thing off thinking, What if I upset this person? What’s it even matter? But as I’ve said before, our emotions show up for a reason, and if we don’t listen to and honor them, we’re going to pay the price.

So I responded: “Thank you, and I agree. Also, my comments section is for conversation and isn’t intended as a billboard for total strangers to use. #boundaries”

Immediately, I felt better. And whereas part of me wondered if I ruined this person’s evening, the majority of me didn’t care. Because they showed up on my turf and started it. If they had a bad evening, they did that. Plus, and this is an important point, I wasn’t a total dick. In other words, although my pissed-off fantasies often involve name-calling and violence (and if yours don’t, you’re not being honest with yourself), I didn’t demean this person as a human or “fight dirty.” Instead, I firmly said, “I’m not okay with what you did there.”

Along similar lines, tonight my Dad and I went to Waffle House, and our waiter was, in my opinion, a little too friendly. I don’t know, I like space when I eat, and this fella was up in our grill, dancing and singing around our table. Then when he brought our ticket and Dad said he couldn’t read the small print and I said I’d help him, the waiter stood there watching and eventually said, “Are you gonna make him wait?” To which I replied, “Well, I’m waiting for to walk away.” (He did.) Why did I say this? For one thing, because I didn’t want to discuss money and this guy’s tip in front of him. For another, it was the plain, simple truth–I WAS waiting for him to walk away.

A while back I ran into someone with whom I’d had a bit of a falling out. In my mind the whole situation was a big damn deal, but, really, things were just awkward. In this respect, the running into each other was a good thing because it forced a changed in my perspective. Also, it gave me a chance to be honest. That is, when the falling out was eventually brought up by the other person, I got real serious and said, “We can talk about that if you’d like.” In response, they said, “Oh, it’s no big deal. Water under the bridge.” And whereas I was thankful they didn’t call me a bastard or throw their drink on me, I had a hard time believing it truly wasn’t a big deal, or at least a little deal. If that had been the case, they wouldn’t have brought it up.

My therapist says that most of us live our lives unconsciously. This means we’re not truly aware of our thoughts, feelings, and emotions, and THIS means we’re not truly in touch with our own behavior. Consequently, we say things like “it’s fine” and “water under the bridge” even if we don’t mean it. (Here I’m speaking from my personal experience, as I grant that I can’t know what was true for the person I mentioned above.) We play nice and bite our tongues, then wonder why our stomach hurts or why we dream about throwing things. The truth slips out in sarcastic comments and passive aggressive statements.

Remember the story of Rip Van Winkle? I read it tonight, and it’s about an unhappy, passive, “hen-pecked” husband who’d rather attend to anyone’s business but his own who falls asleep for decades. When he wakes up, his entire world has changed. There are new shops in town, his wife is dead. He’s absolutely elated–he’s finally free. Again, this is about living unconsciously versus consciously. When you’re unconscious, you “go along to get along,” you put everyone else first. When you’re conscious, you’re free, free to be yourself, whatever that looks like–happy, elated, somber, pissed-off.

Freedom is worth all the effort.

Sometimes my therapist shares helpful examples from her personal life, and recently she told me that she was involved in some difficult circumstances that required her being honest. And whereas my experience of her is that she LOVES confrontation (because she’s told me this before), she said that lately it’s been challenging. Because sometimes life is hard and doesn’t let up. “Would it be easier to roll over or let things slide?” she said. “Of course it would. But I did that for years, and I’m not going back to sleep.” Both then and now, this statement–I’m not going back to sleep–brings tears to my eyes. Because as difficult as it is to speak up, advocate for myself, and have difficult conversations, the consequences of staying silent are worse. I’ve been asleep, and it’s hell. And not that I claim to be fully awake, but, if like Rip Van Winkle, it takes me twenty years (or twenty lifetimes) to fully wake up, so be it. Having tasted freedom, I know freedom is worth all the effort.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

"No one's story should end on the ground."