Using writing, and meditation, and ice cream, and reading, and dreams,

and a whole lot of other tools to rediscover who I am,

after six years living with a man with OCPD.

Sunday, February 9, 2014

Olympic Twizzles vs. OCPD

Figure Skating Queen YUNA KIM
Figure Skating Queen YUNA KIM
(Photo credit: { QUEEN YUNA })
As I write this, I'm enjoying the 2014 Winter Olympics.

Years ago, I fell in love with figure skating and ice dancing. I attended actual in-person ice shows. Watched the Nationals on TV, and every bit of the Olympics for these sports. Bought videotapes so I could watch performances over and over again.

I admired all the other Winter Olympic sports, too, from short track racing to ski jumping and moguls, even the weird stuff like the biathlon, because doesn't everyone need to ski, then target shoot?

I'm reflecting now, about the very first Olympics I remember watching as a child. At some point, as I watched the Opening Ceremonies, as I watched the tears roll down the face of the athletes from other countries on the medal platforms when their national anthems were played, I realized that they loved their native countries as much as I loved the USA.

Up to that point, I always "knew" that the best country in the world to live in was the USA, and I felt a kind of smug compassion for all those unfortunate people in inferior countries who couldn't also be Americans.

Suddenly I was faced with the idea that were people who believed that they lived in the best country in the world  (however mistaken they might be).

And I realized that my perspective was just that: MY perspective.

One that others didn't always share.

Four years ago when the last Winter Olympics were held, I was still "with" my OCPD ex. As I was for the 2006 Winter Olympics.

It's okay that my ex didn't love ice dancing.

I fell in love, some years after their incredible performance, with Torvill and Dean. I always loved (and never felt competent at) dancing, in any form. But the two of them left me breathless.

But ice dancing, and in second place in my heart, all the other artistic ice sports: individual female and male competition pairs figure skating, I couldn't get enough of.

I "got" that he didn't want to watch it, 24/7, as would have made me happy.

The problem was, he wouldn't let me watch any of it.

When I wanted to enjoy these programs, something always came up. sex; he "wasn't in the mood" for it right now; he had something else he wanted to watch (like a "Cops" rerun he could've watched any time).

It was like Alice at the Mad Tea Party: Jam yesterday, jam tomorrow, but never jam today.

When I pressed to watch ice dancing, or figure skating, on "our" TV via the cable I was paying for, that never happened.

Because, not knowing any better, I initially gave in... Certainly he was more important to me than watching some sports program on TV. Even one I loved. Even though I put up with and tried hard to love the NASCAR races that he loved, and it seemed only fair that he would try to like something I loved, or at least, to tolerate it.

Cropped transparent version of Image:Olympic f...
Cropped transparent version of Image:Olympic flag.svg (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I'm happy, now, watching these competitions. And I'm sad.

I still think ice dancing and figure skating are breathtaking and beautiful, and I love watching them. But I am sad, too, thinking of my ex.

I don't know why my ex couldn't "let me" enjoy something I loved. Did he feel that he was robbed of something, was he jealous? Was it demand resistance - because he knew he "owed it to me" to be as tolerant as I was of his love for NASCAR, did that unspoken expectation get in the way? Did he have some secret ice skating trauma he never shared with me?

Ashley Wagner skated her short program to Pink Floyd's Shine On, You Crazy Diamond. He loves Pink Floyd... you'd think it wouldn't be that far a stretch for him, for anyone who loves music, to appreciate an artistic interpretation of some of his favorite music.

But it was.

OCPD, its rigidity, control issues, and demand resistance, means those who suffer from it - and their loved ones - miss out of so many of the pleasurable things in life, because they are not on the list, not permitted, too frivolous...

And in other news...

My sister is in the middle of her chemotherapy. Although my brother-in-law has been diagnosed as being in end-stage liver disease (in addition to his stroke), we hope he'll be discharged this week. Family well-being has occupied much of my time and energy, but this blog is NOT abandoned.

Thanks for for love and support.

Your thoughts?

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