I want so badly to finish this project and be done with it. I want to stop thinking about my divorce and sadness and addiction and pain. My forehead itches to be done.
But I can't quit yet.
And I can't write this.
I'm totally stuck.
June Carter is singing on my speakers and I'm thinking of the 12th step. Having had a spiritual awakening as a result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to others, and to practice these principles in all areas of our lives. I'm thinking of the promises: No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others.
it helps others to share stories.
it hurts sometimes to revisit the past.
i know i will be done with this when i publish my book.
"Take breaks," said my instructor, "when it gets too hard."
But eventually the breaks have to end. There are deadlines. There is the need to be done.
Letters sit like bricks on my shoulders.
I don't know why I'm sharing this. It's not really a blog, more of a personal entry. Word documents scare me. It feels more comfortable to type in a small box. To post on a blog. Less permanent. Less threatening. There are only a handful of people who have this address. It feels safe and dark. Like a place I can confess that it's sometimes hard to write.
A confessional, says the lapsed-Catholic-girl. Duh.
It's just that I get bored of the trauma. I'm tired of telling the story. The only place it feels right to say it is out loud is at a COSA meeting or with friends. It feels current and important. In writing, it's feeling stale and repetitive. Like I've said this all before. Like saying it one more time is crossing the threshold, like forcing myself to eat everything on my plate, even the lima beans, and wanting to hide it all in a napkin or under the lip of my plate.
It's just that today I feel like I'm stuck in a small space with myself and I'm not really sure I like who I'm dealing with.
I don't know what it is that I'm scared of. I think it's that I made mistakes. I did things poorly. I didn't always communicate my needs like I needed to. That I sometimes end sentences with prepositions. That I snore when I'm sick. That I'm not perfect. That this chapter in my past was ugly and painful and messy and inappropriate and shameful and secretive. That I was weak and confused and sometimes at fault.
And this is step four. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.
My problem, and I think my ex shared this problem, is that I so readily see the flaws. And it sends me into a rabbit hole. I fixate on the things I do poorly in life. I regret the bumps and nicks and chide myself for inadequacies.
I don't always do this.
Most of the time I realize there are two sides to the coin. I am compassionate, which is wonderful and amazing, but sometimes I am too compassionate and I sacrifice my own needs for others, which is troublesome. I am assertive about my needs, which is great, but sometimes I don't communicate that well- I explode or demand. I can't monitor the volume dial as well as I'd like.
I share my flaws with others, which makes me feel vulnerable, like an alien. Like a loner. I'm too exposed. I get hurt this way. I open myself up while others are building walls, storing ammunition, and plotting strategies.
Saying I have codependent tendencies. This feels like a strength in my COSA meetings. Outside of them, though, this feels like an admission to being a crazy bitch who will forever be trapped in bad relationships. My brain knows that's not true, but I am not Melody Beattie, I am not impervious to thoughts of my peers. I told a friend my therapist told me to buy a book called "Codependent No More" and she burst into laughter.
i feel insecure about saying it.
But the thing is-- most women I know have codependent tendencies. Especially those who would never admit it and who would judge the women who did. AND, to be honest, most "codependent tendencies" are actually quite amazing qualities-- to be compassionate, to care about others, to want to help, to put others before yourself... If you think about it, Jesus was probably the most codependent person in the world. Ghandi. Mother Theresa. Great people are codependent.
But, the problem, and I would suggest these great people never saw the problem, is that we cannot let other people's needs overwhelm our own. To be truly great is to be vigilant about one's self (no offense to Jesus, Ghandi, and Mother Theresa). But if you are staying focused on improving yourself, on taking care of yourself, your interactions with others cannot help but improve. You become more available by taking more time for yourself. You become a better partner by being honest about your own needs. You're a better lover when you say what you like, what you need, and what feels good, not when you pretend, you fake, or you do what does not feel right. When you set boundaries, you may lose people at first, but the people you later attract love you for your strength and feed off of that energy. You can still be compassionate, but you begin by being compassionate for yourself.
My biggest example of this is when I went through my divorce. I COULD NOT be available to my students every day. I called in sick more often than I'd like to admit (in order to deal with divorce issues, to grieve, to vomit, etc.). BUT, I was MORE PRESENT that year when I was dealing with my students. When I was in school I could give more of myself to my students and when I couldn't take it, I called in sick. It was the worst year of my life, but a turning point in my career as a teacher. Since then I think I've gotten even better, but it was the first year where I finally felt like I got it-- I got what it meant to be a great teacher.
And it was nothing I learned while getting my Master's.
To conclude--
Is there a conclusion? Is there a way to wrap up this messy essay of a post?
I don't know.
I don't know what will happen with my work. How it will turn out. If I'll be able to write the final chapters I need.
I don't know how it will all come together.
But at least I wrote. And I shared this with you. Whoever you are. My dear friends listening to me talk in the dark.
THANK YOU. xo
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