| Topic: |
Sociology > Depression |
| User: |
"Nina" |
| Date: |
16 Jun 2004 07:54:38 PM |
| Object: |
my mother, me, my life |
My mother defines herself by her relationships with other people. She
does this, in some ways, at huge cost to herself. And she's a control
freak, in the most literal of senses. Everything has to be her way,
done her way, solved her way. For years, I would never tell her
anything about my life, because she would instantly go off into a
litany of ways in which I could fix things, do things better. Yes,
she was trying to be helpful, but it's really annoying. And, a few
days ago, I actually asked for her help with something that was very
important to me, and about which she's probably the best person to
ask... and for a while, she was terrific. And then, same thing, 50
obvious suggestions, etc.
In many ways, her life has been very sad... or pathetic, depending on
how you look at it. Both, I suppose. She stayed married to my father
for most of her life, even though he was the last thing that she
needed, and she probably did it for a lot of the same reasons that
I've stayed in this marriage. Insecurity. Fear. Lack of
self-confidence. Misguided feelings of responsibility. Things like
that. She cared for her father for the last years of his life, and he
was a loathsome man, particularly at the end, when the flashes of
sweetness were gone and there was only the hypercritical viciousness
left. And then she met... or met again... someone she'd known a long
time ago, and she divorced my father at long last (thus making a lot
of the rationale for my childhood a bitter farce) and married him.
About 2 years later, he had a stroke, and she's cared for him ever
since. Ironic and sad, very sad.
I said to her, a few years ago, all you do is care for other people.
You are wasting what is left of your life. You need to care for
yourself. And she said something like, but this is what I like to do.
And I saw myself in that then, and I see myself in it still, and
that's what troubles me. Because, while there's part of that which is
fine, there's another part that's deeply sick. It's the part of me
that doesn't know how to exist without other people and their
affirmation, their validation, of my existence. The part of me that
responds to any shards of attention and affection... all the while not
knowing really what to do with them (and that's my father in me). The
part of me that, as Michael correctly observes, will do anything, put
up with anything, to get those scraps, to feel needed and loved and as
if I matter.
It's not that I don't see these things. I know them; I've known some
of them for a very long time, and, like all things, they're not so
severe as they once were. But, oh, yes, they're still there, and I
don't have the remotest idea how to change them. And they need
changing, because when you're looking for that validation from
outside, nothing is ever enough.
Like my mother, who will ask you 50 times if a present was
appreciated. Who will climb all over you like a puppy (not
literally!) in her eagerness to please, to be helpful, to be wanted,
to be needed. I know where she got this, too... from growing up with
a parent who was hypercritical and emotionally distant, who used love
as a weapon, and gave it and took it away according to whim. From the
same place that I got these things, distilled into two parents who
were in some ways very different and in some ways, exactly the same.
I see the path, I understand the reasons, I know how I got here. What
I don't know is how to get somewhere else.
Nina
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| User: "johnm" |
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| Title: Re: my mother, me, my life |
18 Jun 2004 12:29:55 PM |
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Hi Nina. I think lots of people share
some of your experience with your
mom and dad. What you might try is
patting yourself on the back for the
things you accomplish, no matter how
small (or large). Doing that once for
yourself is worth hearing it 1000 times
from someone else.
=======================
=
I see the path, I understand the
reasons, I know how I got here. What
I don't know is how to get
somewhere else.
Nina
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| User: "Nina" |
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| Title: Re: my mother, me, my life |
18 Jun 2004 02:32:13 PM |
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On Fri, 18 Jun 2004 17:29:55 GMT, johnm <scoobyru@optonline.net>
wrote:
Hi Nina. I think lots of people share
some of your experience with your
mom and dad. What you might try is
patting yourself on the back for the
things you accomplish, no matter how
small (or large). Doing that once for
yourself is worth hearing it 1000 times
from someone else.
Yes... well, my head knows that, after many years of practice.
Something still seems to go really wrong on the way to my heart. I'm
hoping that one of these days, that will be different.
Nina
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| User: "|||| || | ||||| ||||||||" |
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| Title: Re: my mother, me, my life |
17 Jun 2004 01:58:52 AM |
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On Wed, 16 Jun 2004 20:54:38 -0400, Nina <ninaNOSPAM@economika.net> wrote:
Like my mother, who will ask you 50 times if a present was
appreciated. Who will climb all over you like a puppy (not
literally!) in her eagerness to please, to be helpful, to be wanted,
to be needed. I know where she got this, too... from growing up with
a parent who was hypercritical and emotionally distant, who used love
as a weapon, and gave it and took it away according to whim. From the
same place that I got these things, distilled into two parents who
were in some ways very different and in some ways, exactly the same.
I see the path, I understand the reasons, I know how I got here. What
I don't know is how to get somewhere else.
It's not that you don't know what to do to get elsewhere, it's that it's very
difficult swimming against established forces that want to keep you where
you've always been.
All I have to do is stop trying, and within minutes I can be what I was
supposed to be. I can be that product that my patients and their environment
created. I can be an operator, a manipulator, an emotional dealer like my
mother. I could be an unpredictable rage ridden psychopath like my father.
And what's hard to accept is: it feels right, it feels soooo good to cause
suffering in others, to see them crawl. It's a wonderful feeling watching
someone you love flounder as you retract the love you have for them; see them
gasp for air. It feels good to be a *****, to have ultimate control. It
feels so right to do to others what my parents did to me, and all I have to
do is stop trying.
The kid in me is like the kid in you. We kids grew up on the receiving end of
their abject lessons in how to be screwed up. We could so easily allow it to
pass-on through, and do to others what they did to us. But we don't. We don't
because we're smart enough to realise that something is wrong. We're smart
enough to take time out to think about what we're doing and how we can set
about changes.
Unfortunately life isn't a computer program, we just can't erase the old and
upload a new alternative. We have to labouriously nibble away at the old
chunk by chunk, like redecorating Texas, slowly removing and changing the
decor until we arrive at something we can live with :)
You do what you do because it's all you know. The first thing you need to do
is realise that what you're doing isn't necessarily the worst thing in the
world. Secondly you need to see it as something that can be changed. It
doesn't require a massive life threatening operation to change. All it needs
is to begin to recognise what's going on, and that in itself is a huge step
in the right direction. Secondly you need to take it easy upon yourself. You
are not your mother anymore than I am my father. I am not my parents because
I have made that choice to be different to them. Sometimes I'll find myself
being my mother or father. At first I couldn't live with such stigma, I
almost wanted to shoot myself rather than be like them. But these days I'll
shrug my shoulders and say to myself "it's bound to happen now and again. Is
this something I need to look at, or can I just let it go and live with it?".
I guess the more you think about what you need, the less inclined you are to
hold onto those things that give you a sense of worth.
What do I know, I've only been awake 5 minutes and I haven't had a coffee or
done anything else. I'm off to get dressed before the builders catch me
naked.
arf arf arf
Mxxx
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| User: "Nina" |
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| Title: Re: my mother, me, my life |
17 Jun 2004 02:47:06 PM |
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On Thu, 17 Jun 2004 07:58:52 +0100, "|||| || | ||||| ||||||||"
<bahcod@yahoo.com> wrote:
On Wed, 16 Jun 2004 20:54:38 -0400, Nina <ninaNOSPAM@economika.net> wrote:
I see the path, I understand the reasons, I know how I got here. What
I don't know is how to get somewhere else.
It's not that you don't know what to do to get elsewhere, it's that it's very
difficult swimming against established forces that want to keep you where
you've always been.
It is both of these things. It's true that the force of the past is
strong, the pull of habit, of doing what you've always done. But the
other part is, HOW do you do something different?
In a weird way, it's like things like quitting smoking. It's been
nearly a year now since I quit smoking, and sometimes, like today,
that longing comes over me just as strongly as if it was yesterday.
And if I want to not smoke, the bottom line is, I cannot have
cigarettes, and the truth of the matter is, longing aside, I don't
really want them. But the pull of habit is strong, and I couldn't
beat it by just saying, I will not do this. That didn't do much,
because that's just setting your will against a big tide, and
eventually, the waves will knock you down. I had to do it
differently; I had to learn to think about myself differently and
about what I did. I had to choose, and I had to back it up with
actions. In some ways, that wasn't so hard (ha) because I'd done it
before. I knew how to make myself quit smoking, if I just wanted it
enough, just like I know how to make myself lose weight, if I just
want to enough.
But I sit here with this aloneness and sadness, and I do this late at
night, too... and I think, I have to want something else; I have to do
something else, I have to not need these things that I can't have. I
have to find a different way of getting what I need, of giving it to
myself. And I cannot for the life of me figure out how to do it,
where to start, what the method is.
I feel overwhelmed, between the things in my that genuinely need
repairing and the things that, perhaps, can be left alone, but are
still troublesome. It's a little like just being in this house... I
can't sit still, can't relax, because there is so much that needs to
be done, but at the same time, I have no idea where to start.
You do what you do because it's all you know. The first thing you need to do
is realise that what you're doing isn't necessarily the worst thing in the
world. Secondly you need to see it as something that can be changed. It
doesn't require a massive life threatening operation to change. All it needs
is to begin to recognise what's going on, and that in itself is a huge step
in the right direction. Secondly you need to take it easy upon yourself. You
are not your mother anymore than I am my father. I am not my parents because
I have made that choice to be different to them. Sometimes I'll find myself
being my mother or father. At first I couldn't live with such stigma, I
almost wanted to shoot myself rather than be like them. But these days I'll
shrug my shoulders and say to myself "it's bound to happen now and again. Is
this something I need to look at, or can I just let it go and live with it?".
I guess the more you think about what you need, the less inclined you are to
hold onto those things that give you a sense of worth.
I hear what you're saying, and you're right, with this and so many
other things. But I can't seem to internalize it, not yet.
Nina
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| User: "Bev Thornton" |
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| Title: Re: my mother, me, my life |
17 Jun 2004 06:56:25 PM |
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Nina wrote:
It is both of these things. It's true that the force of the past is
strong, the pull of habit, of doing what you've always done. But the
other part is, HOW do you do something different?
I do it by paying attention to what is happening and that creates gaps, like
when some behaviour is noticed, there is a space, a moment of awareness,
and right there will can come in with a decision to do an alternative
behaviour instead.
--
<http://buddhanet.net><http://gadenrelief.org><http://www.peacebrigades.org>
<http://dharmanet.org><http://icrc.org><http://icbl.org><http://www.msf.org>
<http://ecohimal.org><http://rawa.org><http://bushmeat.net><http://seva.org>
<http://www.whalewatch.org><http://act.greenpeace.org><http://greenparty.ca>
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| User: "lyssa" |
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| Title: Re: my mother, me, my life |
16 Jun 2004 11:15:05 PM |
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x-no-archive: yes
"Nina" <ninaNOSPAM@economika.net> wrote in message
news:e8p1d014q6b6e07480jh9ilntcrrfp4o8o@4ax.com...
My mother defines herself by her relationships with other people. She
does this, in some ways, at huge cost to herself. And she's a control
freak, in the most literal of senses. Everything has to be her way,
done her way, solved her way. For years, I would never tell her
anything about my life, because she would instantly go off into a
litany of ways in which I could fix things, do things better. Yes,
she was trying to be helpful, but it's really annoying. And, a few
days ago, I actually asked for her help with something that was very
important to me, and about which she's probably the best person to
ask... and for a while, she was terrific. And then, same thing, 50
obvious suggestions, etc.
In many ways, her life has been very sad... or pathetic, depending on
how you look at it. Both, I suppose. She stayed married to my father
for most of her life, even though he was the last thing that she
needed, and she probably did it for a lot of the same reasons that
I've stayed in this marriage. Insecurity. Fear. Lack of
self-confidence. Misguided feelings of responsibility. Things like
that. She cared for her father for the last years of his life, and he
was a loathsome man, particularly at the end, when the flashes of
sweetness were gone and there was only the hypercritical viciousness
left. And then she met... or met again... someone she'd known a long
time ago, and she divorced my father at long last (thus making a lot
of the rationale for my childhood a bitter farce) and married him.
About 2 years later, he had a stroke, and she's cared for him ever
since. Ironic and sad, very sad.
I said to her, a few years ago, all you do is care for other people.
You are wasting what is left of your life. You need to care for
yourself. And she said something like, but this is what I like to do.
And I saw myself in that then, and I see myself in it still, and
that's what troubles me. Because, while there's part of that which is
fine, there's another part that's deeply sick. It's the part of me
that doesn't know how to exist without other people and their
affirmation, their validation, of my existence. The part of me that
responds to any shards of attention and affection... all the while not
knowing really what to do with them (and that's my father in me). The
part of me that, as Michael correctly observes, will do anything, put
up with anything, to get those scraps, to feel needed and loved and as
if I matter.
It's not that I don't see these things. I know them; I've known some
of them for a very long time, and, like all things, they're not so
severe as they once were. But, oh, yes, they're still there, and I
don't have the remotest idea how to change them. And they need
changing, because when you're looking for that validation from
outside, nothing is ever enough.
Like my mother, who will ask you 50 times if a present was
appreciated. Who will climb all over you like a puppy (not
literally!) in her eagerness to please, to be helpful, to be wanted,
to be needed. I know where she got this, too... from growing up with
a parent who was hypercritical and emotionally distant, who used love
as a weapon, and gave it and took it away according to whim. From the
same place that I got these things, distilled into two parents who
were in some ways very different and in some ways, exactly the same.
I see the path, I understand the reasons, I know how I got here. What
I don't know is how to get somewhere else.
i've nothing constructive to add, but i'm glad you shared this
some is too close for comfort
peace be with you, nina
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| User: "Marybeth" |
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| Title: Re: my mother, me, my life |
19 Jun 2004 12:16:44 PM |
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x-no-archive:yes
I've been wanting to respond to this but I needed to think and take my time to
respond.
Nina wrote:
nd she probably did it for a lot of the same reasons that
I've stayed in this marriage. Insecurity. Fear. Lack of
self-confidence. Misguided feelings of responsibility. Things like
that.
Pretty common, sadly. I relate. there's the upbringing with you and I suppose
this is true even more so for those of us who were told we wouldn't make it on
our own(or made to think that way), we weren't good enough, we needed that
other person. And then add to that, the spouse is secure (maybe not
emotionally, but financially) and feels "safe" to us. Throw in a kid or three
and you feel stuck and wrong to leave.
She cared for her father for the last years of his life, and he
was a loathsome man, particularly at the end, when the flashes of
sweetness were gone and there was only the hypercritical viciousness
left.
Perhaps love? Obligation? Dementia, alzheimer's, etc. Can make someone ugly at
times but we stay because "we should". Sometimes it's out of love, a caregiver
mentality, what will other people say?
About 2 years later, he had a stroke, and she's cared for him ever
since. Ironic and sad, very sad.
See above.
And I saw myself in that then, and I see myself in it still, and
that's what troubles me. Because, while there's part of that which is
fine, there's another part that's deeply sick.
Is it really though? Or are those people who caring is a part of their
personality? And is it really sick or wrong to reach out to others, to want to
help others. I don't know. I am in the human services field and find so many
rewards in it.
It's the part of me
that doesn't know how to exist without other people and their
affirmation, their validation, of my existence. The part of me that
responds to any shards of attention and affection... all the while not
knowing really what to do with them (and that's my father in me).
But Nina, doesn't everyone want attention and affection? Why do you feel wrong
about accepting it or wanting it? Like it is bad to want this? I don't really
know anyone who wants no-one, doesn't want affection, recognition, attention or
someone to share life's little things with. Is it really your father in you or
is it the human being in you?
The
part of me that, as Michael correctly observes, will do anything, put
up with anything, to get those scraps, to feel needed and loved and as
if I matter.
That's more of a neediness, and maybe being in a wrong relationship makes you
feel more needy because you aren't getting what you want or need. You are
giving more than receiving. I know that no matter what was going on in my first
marriage, it wasn't enough. I would do anything, put up with anything to get
those scraps, to feel loved and needed. But I couldn't, because it simply
wasn't there. I didn't want to face that. So I pretended and would reduce
myself to get what I couldn't. And when it was over, like you, I moved on. And
***** that was scary as all hell. You probably remember that I didn't do well
with it at all. But God if I only knew what would be the result of it later. If
I only could have gotten a glimpse of my future. Of truly being in a loving
relationship and just how drastically it would change my life, myself, my self
image and self respect. I don't scrape anymore for those scraps. I don't have
to, and it really, really, really shouldn't be like that. It's something I, and
perhaps you, just got used to and thought it was "the way it is". But it isn't.
It's not that I don't see these things. I know them; I've known some
of them for a very long time, and, like all things, they're not so
severe as they once were.
But, oh, yes, they're still there, and I
don't have the remotest idea how to change them.
Who says you have to change them? Maybe they will change with self growth, with
re-establishing your own life, which will happen once you've left. It may not
be easy, especially at first, you may even question yourself more. *****, I know
(or feel it with all I am) that you will look back and say "What took me so
long. Wow, I never ever knew I had such inner strength". And everything changes
when you feel like that. You already took the first step.
And they need
changing, because when you're looking for that validation from
outside, nothing is ever enough.
Like I just said. That inner strength and self respect changes everything.
There is nothing like knowing you can make it on your own. It's what opens up
to a new and better relationship with someone else. That confidence. And with
me, it opened up more than a positive relationship with someone else. It opened
up a new sense of individuality, or wanting to better myself, of expanding my
horizons and bettering my future.
I see the path, I understand the reasons, I know how I got here. What
I don't know is how to get somewhere else.
Yes you do. It's all inside. You took a step. Now put the other foot in front
of that one. You'll be surprised. And the rewards are amazing Nina.
The very best luck to you. You can do this.
Mary Beth
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| User: "Nina" |
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| Title: Re: my mother, me, my life |
20 Jun 2004 10:58:12 AM |
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On 19 Jun 2004 17:16:44 GMT, terrymce@aol.com500 (Marybeth) wrote:
x-no-archive:yes
I've been wanting to respond to this but I needed to think and take my time to
respond.
Me too. This stuff is hard.
Nina wrote:
nd she probably did it for a lot of the same reasons that
I've stayed in this marriage. Insecurity. Fear. Lack of
self-confidence. Misguided feelings of responsibility. Things like
that.
Pretty common, sadly. I relate. there's the upbringing with you and I suppose
this is true even more so for those of us who were told we wouldn't make it on
our own(or made to think that way), we weren't good enough, we needed that
other person. And then add to that, the spouse is secure (maybe not
emotionally, but financially) and feels "safe" to us. Throw in a kid or three
and you feel stuck and wrong to leave.
I have a VERY hard time feeling certain about what I've decided, and
that's true whether you're talking about something like this or
something trivial like choice of restaurant. I absolutely hate this
in myself, and I don't really understand it. Michael said, the other
day, that it is because I have no self confidence, and at the time, I
shrugged and basically thought that he was wrong. But I've turned
that over in my head a lot since then, and I wonder if he might be
right. That, and growing up in a very hypercritical environment, in
which I was taught that being "wrong" is a horrible and loathsome
thing.
And I saw myself in that then, and I see myself in it still, and
that's what troubles me. Because, while there's part of that which is
fine, there's another part that's deeply sick.
Is it really though? Or are those people who caring is a part of their
personality? And is it really sick or wrong to reach out to others, to want to
help others. I don't know. I am in the human services field and find so many
rewards in it.
<snipped my bit of it>
But Nina, doesn't everyone want attention and affection? Why do you feel wrong
about accepting it or wanting it? Like it is bad to want this? I don't really
know anyone who wants no-one, doesn't want affection, recognition, attention or
someone to share life's little things with. Is it really your father in you or
is it the human being in you?
It's the father part of me that craves these things and yet shies away
from them. That's a whole additional ugly can of worms.
This is the hard thing about this... about both of the things that you
say above... there's a part of the craving for love and attention and
validation and all of that stuff that is normal. That is terrific.
That is part of the joy of life. But when it becomes something more
than that... when you need it to feel like a person... then it's sick
(not the right word really, but you get the idea). But you can't just
quit. And it's very hard to become healthy about these things,
without feeding the addiction.
It's a bit, to me, like the difference between food disorders and
quitting smoking (and I'm sure that there are people who will disagree
about this, but this is the way it is for me, and besides, it's an
illustration). While it was incredibly hard for me to quit smoking
(and it's even harder to stay quit, in a way), when you get right down
to it, you don't have to have cigarettes. You quit smoking by not
smoking. But losing weight is harder. You can't quit food, cold
turkey. So if you have problems with food, you have to try to cure
the addiction while still practicing it, if that makes sense. And
this seems to me to be a lot like that. I would never, ever, want to
be someone who didn't care about other people, who didn't want and
need other people (although sometimes I do think it would be simpler).
But I dip my toe in the pool, and the next thing I know, I'm over my
head, and there's nothing of me left.
The
part of me that, as Michael correctly observes, will do anything, put
up with anything, to get those scraps, to feel needed and loved and as
if I matter.
That's more of a neediness, and maybe being in a wrong relationship makes you
feel more needy because you aren't getting what you want or need. You are
giving more than receiving. I know that no matter what was going on in my first
marriage, it wasn't enough. I would do anything, put up with anything to get
those scraps, to feel loved and needed. But I couldn't, because it simply
wasn't there. I didn't want to face that. So I pretended and would reduce
myself to get what I couldn't. And when it was over, like you, I moved on. And
***** that was scary as all hell. You probably remember that I didn't do well
with it at all. But God if I only knew what would be the result of it later. If
I only could have gotten a glimpse of my future. Of truly being in a loving
relationship and just how drastically it would change my life, myself, my self
image and self respect. I don't scrape anymore for those scraps. I don't have
to, and it really, really, really shouldn't be like that. It's something I, and
perhaps you, just got used to and thought it was "the way it is". But it isn't.
I always say, and it's partly joking and it's partly dead serious,
that I'd be a lot happier if life came with a rulebook. Something
that said, this is what is reasonable to expect. This is what you are
entitled to. Because I don't know, not really. And so I've done
exactly what you say above, reduced what I expected, took whatever I
could get. I wonder sometimes if I'll ever be able to achieve some
kind of healthy balance with this, because I've spent so long being so
screwed up about it.
I think that the ultimate symptom of this has been the result of the
new openness between me and my husband... since we actually started
talking about divorce, things have been far better, really. I think
this is because there are no expectations and no elephant in the
middle of the room. And it's been such a relief to talk to him, and
it's like getting my friend back, really terrific in a way. We have
spent all our lives together, and so... well, there's lots of shared
history. And then I think, oh, I must be wrong about this divorce,
look, someone is being nice to me, throwing me some scraps of what I
need, I'd better take that. And something in my head gets all
confused. I saw that so clearly yesterday evening, both what I was
doing and how incredibly wrong it was... the fact of the matter is,
he is perhaps the nicest guy in the world, but the least capable of
giving me what I need, and although I will always love him, I will
never again love him in a romantic, marital partnership sort of way.
It's completely impossible. But I get terribly confused, at least
briefly, by anything that looks like attention and caring.
But, too, on the positive side, I see that in a way, the more that I
receive, the less I need. That is, these days, since things have
stabilized and solidified with Michael, and since some of my own
things have gotten better, every little thing doesn't rock my
foundations. I get enough of what I need on a sufficiently regular
basis to not feel like I'm starving, usually. So I can see the hunger
for what it is, rather than a raging, uncontrollable thing. Food
analogies again, probably appropriate.
It's not that I don't see these things. I know them; I've known some
of them for a very long time, and, like all things, they're not so
severe as they once were.
But, oh, yes, they're still there, and I
don't have the remotest idea how to change them.
Who says you have to change them? Maybe they will change with self growth, with
re-establishing your own life, which will happen once you've left. It may not
be easy, especially at first, you may even question yourself more. *****, I know
(or feel it with all I am) that you will look back and say "What took me so
long. Wow, I never ever knew I had such inner strength". And everything changes
when you feel like that. You already took the first step.
I do have to change them, though. I have to change them because they
make me deeply unhappy. It's just hard to say which way the causality
runs... whether this need is a symptom of something deeper (probably)
or the reverse. So I try to move toward something else, but I don't
know where to go, how to get there.
And they need
changing, because when you're looking for that validation from
outside, nothing is ever enough.
Like I just said. That inner strength and self respect changes everything.
There is nothing like knowing you can make it on your own. It's what opens up
to a new and better relationship with someone else. That confidence. And with
me, it opened up more than a positive relationship with someone else. It opened
up a new sense of individuality, or wanting to better myself, of expanding my
horizons and bettering my future.
I see the path, I understand the reasons, I know how I got here. What
I don't know is how to get somewhere else.
Yes you do. It's all inside. You took a step. Now put the other foot in front
of that one. You'll be surprised. And the rewards are amazing Nina.
The very best luck to you. You can do this.
I hope so. I hate feeling like this, especially when it creeps up and
takes over, as it is this morning.
I suspect that Michael's right, and what you're saying is much the
same... that it's about confidence. Not, as I sometimes think, about
courage... that's something else. I have courage by the ton, but
that's not facing your inner demons, it's stomping down the lid of
their box and soldiering on. They're still there, lurking.
I don't know. All of this is really hard, and it makes my head hurt,
and I feel like I'm stumbling in the dark. I want desperately to talk
about it, but talking about it seems like part of the problem, like I
should have to find the answers for myself if they're to mean
anything. That's probably wrong, too.
I feel like I'm trying to built a house on quicksand.
Nina
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