Too Perfect Tuesdays - Chap 10 - Foster Your Own Self-Esteem & Independence

Be a dragon - fiercely guarding your independence.

This post continues with Living With the Obsessive: 6 - Foster Your Own Self-Esteem and Independence from Chapter Ten.

This series looks at a small snippet of The book on the Perfectionist Personality, aka The Obsessive Compulsive disordered Personality, aka OCPD, each week. Please follow along, leave your comments, engage more on the FaceBook website... whatever your heart calls you to do.

When Being in Control Gets Out of Control by Allan E. Mallinger, M.D. and Jeanette DeWyze was published by Random House in 1992.  If   you believe you are dealing with OCPD or someone who is "Too Perfect," whether that's you or a loved one, please buy a copy of the book and read it for additional insights that will not all be covered in these excerpts.

6 - Foster Your Own Self-Esteem and Independence

Many obsessives hate to be dependent upon anything or anyone; they equate dependency with vulnerability. Unconsciously they feel that allowing their lives to revolve around another person would leave them open to utter devastation - should the other person turn against them, for example, or stop loving them, or even die. As a result, most don't let themselves depend too heavily even upon their closest friends and lovers.

<snip> For one thing, if you've made yourself completely dependent upon him, the obsessive may feel that you've imposed on him the frightening or burdensome responsibility of being absolutely indispensable to your emotional well-being. Given his need for a sense of options and freedom, this may both frighten and anger him.

<snip>Another aspect of being emotionally dependent on a relationship is that your sense of worth comes to rely upon feedback from the other person. Even minor variations in that feedback may cause your self-esteem and sense of security to plunge or soar. You're really setting yourself up for emotional turbulence if you rely too heavily upon approval or praise from some obsessives, because they aren't particularly good at expressing these things. Remember: their style of perception is to notice and be bothered by what's not right with things. And their need to guard their emotions may make it hard for them to show positive feelings or appreciation.

Cross the bridge, if you dare!

<snip> Start by trying to rediscover who you are - who you were before you met the other person. Work on developing separate interests and then pursue them vigorously, just as you would have if you had not become involved at this time. Strive to become a whole person, independent of any relationship.

As you struggle to establish your separate self, feelings of anxiety and insecurity may assail you. You may feel empty or isolated at first. You may worry that you are jeopardizing the relationship by not paying it enough attention. Fight these feelings!  Try to act as if you felt strong and safe. Don't let the other person get the idea that your happiness or security depends entirely upon reassurance from him or her. More important, don't you accept that notion as unalterable true, because it isn't.

What is true is that at some point your friend or lover could decide to end the relationship, and you have no control over that. Throughout this book, I've discussed self-defeating aspects of the obsessive's need for complete control. The same dynamic applies to you. The more you attempt to mold your relationship, the more vigilantly you watch over it, the more likely you are to poison it. In some respects, the commitment-fearing obsessive is like a cat: most likely to remain close to you when you're absorbed in your own interests and to scoot away when you embrace it too vigorously.

Learn to accept the fact that any relationship could end. Find a way to resign yourself to that possibility. It's true that it would be extremely painful, but in the vast majority of cases, that pain is temporary. Don't think for a moment that you couldn't get through it. You could. And just as you have before, you would eventually find happiness with someone else.

***

The reflection enhances the bridge,
but the bridge exists, even if there was no reflection.
You are the bridge, not the reflection.

Strive to become a whole person, independent of any relationship.  To me, this is the key sentence of the entire book, for partners, children, siblings, and co-workers of a Perfectionist Personality.  (Though you need to read the entire book to "get" the full picture of why obsessives behave as they do, and why hoovering and being enmeshed doesn't make things better, but instead is gasoline on the fire.)

No matter how much time, energy, and effort you pour into a relationship, you yourself can't fix it. What you can do is make things better for yourself, rediscover who you are.

Maybe you liked to paint, or bake bread, or carve wood, and were dissuaded, over time, because your partner was dismayed by the mess. Reclaim that hobby.  Maybe you used to meet once a week with friends to discuss reading or writing, and gave it up because you were tired of coming home to World War Three. (I know I did.)  Put it back on your schedule. Maybe you love exploring local museums and gardens - get a friend, or go on your own, if your partner hates that kind of thing.

 It will be hard.  You will get blowback, Your partner may pout, throw tantrums, or try to sabotage your efforts to reclaim your soul. Do it anyway. 

look at the variety of color in these roses!

 Eventually they may see that no matter what they say or do, you're going to go for coffee with your girlfriends on Thursday nights, or spend Saturday mornings working on your classic car - whatever YOUR "thing" is, as long as you still leave time for family activities (don't go overboard and spend all your time on you), they have no grounds to complain.  They will probably complain anyway, and it will be hard, and you will feel exhausted at first, but over time, you will feel the abandoned garden of your life sprouting roses again.

Remember not to JADE: Justify, Argue, Defend or Explain. It is enough to tell your partner, "Honey, I've decided to rejoin my Sunday night writers' group, starting this weekend. I'll be leaving at 6:30 on those nights and home around 10:30."

"Why? "
"Because I want to."
"But we usually spend Sunday nights watching TV. I guess you don't love me anymore, if you don't want to spend any time together.  And how will you ever be ready for work on Monday morning when you're out partying with your friends till late Sunday night?"
"Hon? Love you, done talking about this."
"But-"
"Done. Talking."

A real Wisteria Lane.

Did I mention it will be hard? The enmeshment probably happened slowly, gradually, and now it is as deep-rooted as ivy that has choked off every inch of the garden.  You might not feel like you know who "you" are, anymore, but whatever roles you fill: daughter, sister, aunt, mother, wife, friend, co-worker - you are MORE than that. You need to tap down to the root of you, water and fertilize it.

As mentioned in Too Perfect, if you depend upon a person who's hard-wired to notice flaws, to notice and compliment all your good qualities, you are doomed to disappointment. You must find a way to fill yourself up, separate and apart from your interactions with that person, no matter who s/he is or how long your relationship has lasted (if it's a parent, it's been your whole life).

If you reclaim you, your relationship may survive; it may improve, or it may end. But if your relationship is built upon you killing and sacrificing everything you love to do, everything that feeds your soul and makes you feel good about yourself, then are "you" really in that relationship, anyway?

Your thoughts?All photos, except for the Too Perfect book link, were taken by the author
at Pasadena's Huntington Gardens.

Sorry I Dropped the Ball

Some of you may have noticed I haven't posted anything lately besides the Too Perfect discussions - and I've even dropped the ball on a couple of those.

May I get emotionally naked and honest with you?  (Stand clear, my Spanx may ricochet.)

Every year I have a really hard time emotionally as the anniversary of 9-11 approaches, and in the aftermath.  I think it's depression, albeit with a small "d."

via Wikipedia

It's something that hit a lot of Americans very hard, even people who aren't Americans. A lot of people died, much rage and loss and tragedy unfolded in front us, in real time on the TV screen.

But, it's been 11 years. I did not lose a loved one; I never worked in the Towers (though one summer I lived not too far from them). I decided to deconstruct it and figure out WTF is going on, that this anniversary should plunge me into a blue funk, any more than other painful anniversaries.  Even though I avoid, as much as possible, the media coverage and History Channel specials.

When 9-11-2001 happened, I was working at a job that once had been okay/good, a mommy track job, but my boss had been growing erratic and weird (alcoholic, perhaps) and it had certainly become a Hostile Work Environment. (I was fired/laid off in May 2002.) When 9-11 happened, I'd been in love with a married man for roughly a year.

Yeah, I know, that sounds horrible. Well, when I started seeing him, *I* wasn't looking for anything serious. And he'd been separated and living apart from the wife for over 7 years.  They had two kids together, so they weren't divorcing for insurance reasons, at least that was the official story. Anyway, I truly didn't feel like I was poaching, at the time I started dating this man.  She had kicked him out, and he told me, for the first 2-3 years he was devastated, and wanted to reconcile, and after that, he began to truly enjoy his freedom.

We had a lovely time together, even took a long weekend together, and yes, had amazing sex. Like, after 10 20 enough sex partners who were up to the job, as it were, sex had never been that good with anyone else, ever. (Part of me still wonders if I attached more emotional meaning to our relationship because the chemistry between us was so incredible. And I'm still not sure.)

I continued to see other men, and let Married Guy know I was seeing other guys. Realistically, I was head over snatch in love with the guy, and I'm pretty sure he knew it; I was just trying, fruitlessly, to keep some emotional distance.

BUT... during the months leading up to 9-11, it seems that wifey experienced a change of heart and wanted to reconcile, and they did have those two kids together... I tried to hang back - I wanted him to choose me because he loved me, not because I was pressuring him.

So, when 9-11 happened, he and I did a fair amount of emailing back and forth (this was before texting, 'member?). I wanted nothing so much as to feel his arms around me. But, I was super-understanding, and offered, before he even asked, that of course he needed to go be with his kids and his estranged wife.  Brave and self-sacrificing, that was me.

Or, did I push him away? I may never know. But, eventually I met up (again) with my OCPD now-ex boyfriend, and he seemed... available. So I broke up with Married Guy, finally, and fully committed myself to OCPDman.  Our first 9-11 anniversary, together, OCPDman held me tight, told me he loved me.

But once we moved in together, it seemed the more I needed him, the farther away he pushed me, emotionally. We would watch the anniversary news recaps of 9-11, all those people in the offices and planes, knowing/fearing they were about to die, calling their husbands and wives and parents and leaving a last message of love. I wanted somebody to love, too.

I had somebody, who, on paper, I could love, and who loved me. But it sure didn't feel that way when he wouldn't hold me, when he told me he thought I was fat, stupid, sloppy.... the list went on and on.

This last month was the third 9-11 since I've moved out from OCPD ex. And right now, when that anniversary rolls around, in addition to the pain and horror of watching those towers come down, I am reliving the hurt/pain of being pushed away by not one, but two men. Men I deeply loved.

Maybe it feels different to them, but that's what it feels like to me.

My parents are dead, my siblings have their own partners, even my offspring has a partner. I got nobody.

Maybe, someday, I will once again have somebody to love. I admit, I looked up Married Guy on FaceBook and Twitter all too recently, read his wife's blog (yep, they're still together, if unhappily) and she still sounds like a bitter, blame-everybody-but-herself, probably personality-disordered bitch. I never understood his loyalty to her, before, but after almost six years of living with a a personality-disordered person, I totally "get" how that relationship can twist one up, inside, sap all one's strength and willpower.

I was SO tempted to try to contact him, to show him the way out. To Rescue him.

But, I did hold back. That is not my job, now - that was never my job. And I realize that I need to figure out how to be happy on my own. Even without somebody to Rescue. Even on emotionally challenging anniversaries like 9-11. Even if [gulp!] that means I am alone [add alone-alone-alone reverb here] for the rest of my life.

And I'm not that old, dammit!

Sundaes (Photo credit: On the White Line)

My partner, if/when I have one, needs to be the cherry on top of the sundae, not the sundae. I need to be the sundae, myself. (No nuts, please. Not figuratively, and not in real life.)

I "get it," intellectually. But oh, it is so hard to move that knowledge from head to heart.

I am getting to the point, now, where I want someone to hold, to kiss, to be with... and it would be SO easy so slot an ex into that role, rather than hold out for someone new.

I am, however, resolved to hold out for the real thing. There's a reason why all the relationships with my various exes didn't work - why go there again?  I am clinging to the memory of my aunt, who married a widowed man at age 59 and enjoyed more than 25 years together.  If she could find true love at age 59, there's hope for everyone, IMO.

And if it's not true love - for now, at least, I'd rather be alone than accept a cheap substitute.

Your thoughts?

Fighting to BE in the Moment

swimming pool (Photo credit: freefotouk)

So my new (two years now!) apartment has a swimming pool. And the weather is finally warm enough for me to get into it on a regular basis.

So why can't I just swim and enjoy it?

I find I am having a lot of trouble, these days, to keep the pool simply as an activity of fun and/or relaxation, rather than turning it into a chore.

Swimming is good exercise, we all know that, and I need to get in more exercise. So I am swimming laps, and I enjoy swimming laps, but I am trying not to let that become a chore. To have it become, "You must swim XX many laps."

I am trying to enjoy the texture and temperature of the cool water as my arms and legs move (ungracefully, but nobody's watching) through the water, the feel of it flowing through and around my fingers and toes, the faint smell of chlorine, the the shimmer of the water, the warmth of the sun on my face and back.

And that's another thing. The pool isn't heated, and like many apartments in SoCal, it's in an unnatural canyon. Between the shadow of the buildings on the east, and the ones on the west, the pool only gets direct sunlight for perhaps 5-6 hours each day, even in July, and the temps can drop as much as 30 degrees at night. So the water temperature tends to stay cool, even on days when the temperature reaches the 80's or 90's.

This means, since I am not a fan of the cold, I like to lie out long enough to get heated up, before getting into the water.  (Yes, I always use sunscreen. No, not always all over - later on I generally find a spot or three that I managed to miss.)

I lie out, get warm, or hot even, get in the pool and swim some laps till I am tired and/or cold, then repeat.

Can I simply lie in the sun, enjoy the rays sinking into my body with their vitamin D, slowly turning my skin from its natural corpselike white color to a faintly tan color?

No, I feel I have to do something, even when I am lying out. The other day I took pages with me for a speech I am rehearsing. Generally I take a book. Because otherwise how can I justify slicing out 1 1/2 to 3 hours, in the middle of a perfectly good day, when I could be writing/organizing/houseworking or Doing Something Productive?

Yeah, do ya think maybe I should learn something from these posts on workaholics? Yes, I have many Important Events coming up, that demand research and preparation.

And yet, it is still okay to set aside time for pure relaxation. Not just okay, but necessary. To kick back and tell that monkey mind just to hush.

I'm going to try to get in the pool a few evenings a week, plus at least one day this coming weekend,  when I will just BE poolside, and in the water.  Just to enjoy the water, and the sun, and the palm trees rustling in the wind.

I may take a book, if I am reading one that I enjoy, or I may not.

What do you do to beat back the "productive" vibe?

Your thoughts?

Too Perfect Tuesday - Chap 7 - Rumination: A Bitter Aftertaste

Tom Spetter

This post continues with Rumination: A Bitter  from Chapter Seven.

This series looks at a small snippet of The book on the Perfectionist Personality, aka The Obsessive Compulsive disordered Personality, aka OCPD, each week. Please follow along, leave your comments, engage more on he FaceBook website... whatever your heart calls you to do.

Too Perfect, When Being in Control Gets Out of Control by Allan E. Mallinger, M.D. and Jeanette DeWyze was published by Random House in 1992.  If you believe you are dealing with OCPD or someone who is "Too Perfect," whether that's you or a loved one, please buy a copy of the book and read it for additional insights that will not all be covered in these excerpts.

Rumination: A Bitter Aftertaste

A slightly different - but equally painful - thought pattern is known as rumination: chronic or repetitive unproductive thinking about some past event or experience.  You can ruminate about your own or someone else's errors or transgressions.

<snip> Kenneth, a forty-year old research physicist, became so upset about a used car he had uncharacteristically bought on impulse that he grew depressed, ultimately becoming convinced he would never sleep well as long as he owned it.  Though it worked perfectly, Kenneth went over every inch of the car looking for flaws and worrying about what he would do if it malfunctioned.  He suffered most, however, from his racking regret over having made the purchase at all.  He had always sneered at buyers of used cars; whatever could have prompted him to buy one himself?  Kenneth dwelt on his "bad decision" so intensely he felt exhausted and unable to concentrate on his work.

<snip> As with pathological worry, pathological rumination goes beyond the normal, expectable regrets or anger over unfortunate occurrences.  And just as worry is an hypertrophy of some normal level of alertness and concern, rumination is a much-exaggerated variant of the healthy ability to remember damaging or unpleasant experiences well enough to avoid repeating them.

***

My ex used to do this, frequently - revisit the bad memories or incidents. Re-enact them out loud, even.  The weird thing (to me) is that each and every time, the hurt/pain/anger level tended to increase with each replay.  He would relive the time his sister said XYZ to him and how terrible it was and how terrible she was.  He also played our fights on "repeat" and those would become distorted as well; he would get upset about what he remembered (wrongly) that I had said or done.

I think the key, above, is the word unproductive.  Of course we need to revisit what's happened, until we find some peace and/or humor in a situation.  I tend to avoid seafood, but several years back, I ate several crab cakes at ABC Restaurant, at the company party.  I subsequently spent the night puking my guts out in front of my bosses and co-workers.

Did I just get a bad one or two?  Am I allergic to them?  Who knows.

Reality: I can't change any of it.  Humiliating?  Sure.  On the other hand,  I've learned:

• Don't ever eat crab cakes at ABC restaurant again.
• Don't ever eat crab cakes at a work function again.
• The people I work with, several years later, have forgotten all about it (unless reminded). Even by the very next week, I'm pretty sure they had moved on to other things.  *I* am rarely thinking, for the most part, about them and their personal issues; I've got my own stuff to deal with.  Why would they obsess about mine?

I could also beat myself up about my hybrid car - the newer models have better batteries, get better gas mileage, etc.  If I had waited another year or two, I could have bought a much better car.

On the other hand, if I'd waited, the wheels probably would have fallen off my old car; it was getting pretty tired.  And I might have hit one of those periods where everyone wants to buy a hybrid and the prices went sky high.

There's truth that sometimes we do have to visit or revisit some ugly experiences - being raped or molested, for instance.  It can be like lancing a boil:  painful, ugly, messy, but in the end, a great relief.

But if you keep going over and over and over something from the past, and it's only making you feel worse - please consider getting some help.

Do you get stuck revisiting painful thoughts or memories?
Your thoughts?

How the Buddha Girl Got Cracked

As I was decorating my new apartment last year, I saw a photo of this small Buddha woman/girl in one of my many catalogs and fell in love with her. (FYI, I was once the catalog queen of the West Coast, though I have cut down substantially) She radiated peace, tranquility, compassion. I decided I must have her, that she would help me keep focused on being Zen, letting go, breathing.

Eventually, as things settled down, I decided she belonged in my bathroom. Bought a couple of white floating shelves - but she didn't look good on a white shelf. Bought a dark shelf, and gave the white ones to a friend.

She looked awesome.

But... she's fairly substantial, weighing about four pounds. And I live in SoCal. Earthquake country.

So of course, the next project was finding museum wax to secure her on the shelf, in case of earthquake, so she wouldn't come flying off the shelf and brain me in the head as I was seated on my white porcelain meditating spot. Should said earthquake occur while I was *ahem* Taking Care of Business.

Done. Now, here's where the fleas come in. *scratching*   I could have put a single daub of museum wax on the bottom center, and she would probably have been just fine. But, being accustomed to OCPD-think, I decided to place three daubs of museum wax under her, one at each corner, and really press her down on the shelf, hard. Better overdoing than doing just enough, right?

Photo via mksystem at Flickr
Fleas, or just a good healthy scratch?

Buddha Girl was fine for one night, then she cracked.

At first I was really distraught.  Thought about throwing her away, and getting a new, uncracked one.  or perhaps using wood stain (or my cheap and easy go-to, colored markers) to minimize the appearance of said crack.

Then I realized, Buddha Girl is even better now.  She's my reminder that overdoing doesn't always work out for the best.  A reminder to check for fleas.  A reminder that sometimes flawed and cracked is better than perfect.

Now I look at her (several times a day, depending on my water consumption) and smile.

She's cracked and flawed.  I'm cracked and flawed.

And we're both perfect, just the way we are.

Do you have a talisman, picture, or some reminder 
that being flawed is perfectly okay?

Your thoughts?

Damn the Hankies, Full Speed Ahead! Practicing Grief

Recently I realized I will probably be grieving someone or something, every day for the rest of my life. This makes me sound like some kind of Victorian novel heroine, swathed in black, sobbing melodramatically into my lace-edged hanky.

Uh, no.  One of the ways I decided to express grief over a recent loss was getting a tattoo.  Ain't it pretty?

 My getting a tat horrified my more conservative friends, who didn't feel this was The Right Way to grieve this particular loss.  (Or any losses, actually.)

There really isn't a wrong way to grieve - as long as we allow ourselves to grieve.  Grief is something people resist talking about, or even thinking about.  We treat grief like a bowel movement - it's gross and stinky and most people would prefer pretending they never have to deal with it.

Yet it's something we don't want to bottle up inside, because it'll make us ill.  We don't necessarily have to let it rip at the Thanksgiving dinner table, but sooner or later, it's going to come out.  In some form, or another.

There are many more things to grieve than the loss of a loved one, rough though that is.

When good things happen, we grieve, too.  Take graduating from college.  People assume, yippee, all that hard work behind you, you're done, you should be happy!!  And you probably are.

And yet... there will be friends you've become accustomed to seeing every day, that you may not see for a long time - possibly never again.  Certainly not on a daily basis.  You won't have the structure you're accustomed to: this class, that class, coffee over at this place, party over at that one.  There may be places at your college where you felt especially happy or comfortable: the library, the track, the dorm, a particular classroom.  You may be scared about the future: getting a job, finding somewhere to live, paying off your student loans.  You are losing the identity you've had for XX many years, as a college student.

Is it any wonder that many people graduate from college and find themselves in a blue funk?  I'm not bagging on college - college is a great thing, but if young people are not taught to expect grief as well as joy and relief upon graduating, they may be confused and unready to cope with the very mixed emotions they may experience.

There are all kinds of happy events, that also mean the loss of the person/identity/lifestyle we had before: marriage, promotions, the birth of a child, the publication of our first novel.  If we want to cope with life's joys, we need to learn about grief.

Of course, there are all the extremely crappy events of life we need to grieve, too: death of loved ones, getting laid off or fired from work, loss of friendships, divorce or break-up of relationships.

And if we are in a relationship with a mentally ill or disordered person, we need to grieve the fact that the relationship will never be "normal."

From Elisabeth Kübler-Ross & David Kessler - On Grief and Grieving - about the five stages of grief:

They were never meant to help tuck messy emotions into neat packages.  They are responses to loss that many people have, but there is not a typical response to loss, as there is no typical loss.  Our grief is as individual as our lives.

The five stages - denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance - are part of the framework that makes up our learning to live with the one we lost.  They are tools to help us frame and identify what we may be feeling.  But they are not stops on some linear timeline in grief.  Not everyone goes through all of them or goes in a prescribed order.

I think the point above is vital, and one that many people don't realize.  They think, okay, grief, first you feel A, then B, then C, and after you go through all five stages, you're done, fini!  Like taking the train on the California coast: start in Los Angeles, travel north to Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo, Salinas, San Jose, and end in San Francisco/Oakland.

We may experience grief in a linear fashion - and we may not.  We may bounce all around, get stuck in one place, never feel another. 

Another way of looking at the stages/areas of grief.

One thing is certain - we never truly get off the train.  I lost my mother to breast cancer many years ago.  Mostly, I am at the stage where I feel acceptance/resignation about her death, but even though it has been decades, there are still times when I feel angry, when I don't want to believe it (denial), where I play the what if game (bargaining), or when I am truly, deeply sad (depression).

We get into trouble over grief because we try to stuff it down.  We tell ourselves, "I shouldn't be feeling this, because..." [it's been so long, I should be happy, I don't have time to grieve]

Instead, we should give ourselves permission to grieve, to simply be with our feelings, instead of  trying to change them into something else.  To educate ourselves about grief and fear and all the stinky, unpleasant feelings, and let them have their time and space in our lives, too.

Transformation will happen... in its own time.  You can't rush a caterpillar into becoming a butterfly.

Here's a very abbreviated version of the five stages/areas of grief:

Denial - Because we are overwhelmed, because our mind may not be ready to process it, we may literally deny that the death or loss may be so.  We may play little mind games and pretend everything is just fine.  That we are fine, not hurting, we are great!

Anger - We may be angry at the person who died/left or at ourselves, for not being to control the situation or prevent it from happening.  We may blame others (doctors) who failed to prevent the death or who misdiagnosed the illness.  We may be angry at God or however we perceive the Divine.

Bargaining - So many Hollywood movies allow the main character to go back in time and the person won't have died or left after all, but real life doesn't work that way. Kübler-Ross refers to Guilt as bargaining's companion.  If we can only figure out what went wrong, we can prevent it from happening again.  This is very tempting, especially for those with OCPD, but the scary truth is, death and loss and unexpected things happen to everyone, no matter how fit or prepared we are, no matter what precautions we take.

Depression - Recently someone told my sister, that after she experienced the loss of her baby seven weeks after his birth, that the pain was so intense she wouldn't have been able to breathe, if her body hadn't done it automatically.  Sometimes "things" keep a person going - a memorial service to plan, children to care for, and when those tasks are accomplished, the grief and pain knock a person down and sit on our chests like a sumo wrestler.  We feel like not only can we not get up, but that we will never, ever be able to, and we don't want to.

There is such a critter as clinical depression, which may include a biological/hormonal imbalance in our bodies that truly needs medical intervention.  While we should not dismiss the concern of loved ones who express that we are "too depressed," or that our mourning has gone on "too long," we need to allow ourselves time and space to experience depression.  When in doubt, always consult appropriate psychiatric and medical professionals.

Acceptance/Resignation - this does not mean that we "feel okay" that our loved one is gone.  It does mean that we are learning to live with the new reality.  This is how it is, our world does not include the physical presence of this person, or these things.  We must negotiate a new life without him/her.

As I grieve two recent losses to death (my father and my grandbaby-to-be, for whom I got the tattoo), the loss of my relationship with my ex, due to his untreated OCPD, the old (but still painful, at times) loss of my mother, and the loss of other beloved people, relationships, identities, and dreams, I invite you to join me on this journey, and to share your own.


Recommended books on Loss and Grief:

Elisabeth Kübler-Ross & David Kessler - On Grief and Grieving
Elisabeth Kübler-Ross - On Death and Dying
Therese A. Rando - How To Go On Living When Someone You Love Dies
Ted Menten - Gentle Closings - How To Sat Goodbye To Someone You Love

Got more books to recommend?

Please share in the comments, below.

The Use and Misuse of Anger



from BarbaraWilliams2010 at Flickr


Sometimes we trick ourselves into believing a lot of bullshit.

For example, the idea that anger is a "bad" emotion.  That "nice" people (especially nice girls) don't get good and angry sometimes.  That we should always forgive people, even when they continue to do or say hurtful things to us, over and over again.

How's that workin' out for you? 

It sure didn't work for me.

Jules over at Big Girl Bombshell is hosting his month's Self-Discovery series, and her word is ANGER.

At first, I thought, anger?  Not something light and fluffy, kittens and rainbows and lemony-fresh thoughts?  Then I realized I was once again buying into the myth that anger is a bad thing. 

Can anger be abused?  Absolutely.  I know people for whom anger is their go-to emotion.  Seems like they always keep a pot o' rage simmering on the stove, and the smallest slight, misunderstanding, or disagreement gets hoarded and tossed in the pot, a scalding weapon ready to throw in the face of their Significant Others in future arguments.  "Yes, but remember in 1998 when you said I looked stupid in my Leprechaun costume and striped stockings?"

For those AngryMen and AngryWomen, anger may have become addictive.  Anger is certainly a "safer" emotion than acknowledging fear, doubt, uncertainty.  It can be used as a weapon to control loved ones, whether it's the bitter cold, ice queen treatment (my ex was a pro at the Silent but Stomping manner), or the typical volcanic eruption that everyone in the family tiptoes around, fearful lest anything set it off.



from Wikimedia Commons


People also stuff anger down, with food (this would be me), sex, shopping, exercise, work...  I don't know how many times I would not allow myself to feel angry at something, and then later... Many days, weeks, months, pounds later - someone would do something that made me legitimately angry - say, took a parking spot, and smiled and flipped me the bird while doing so, and I would inwardly boil for hours about it.

Well.  The reason something as minor as a pilfered parking spot could make me furious for hours is all that bottled up anger.  I've come to realize that sooner of later, I'm going to have to experience all my deferred emotions: anger, sorrow, loneliness, fear...  Like a credit card, eventually everything that hasn't been paid or felt will come due.  With interest.

When it came to my OCPD ex, I had to finally get good and angry about the way he treated me.  Yes, maybe he's mentally disordered, maybe he couldn't help it, but dammit, I did not deserve to be treated that way.  By anybody.

Righteous anger is an essential part of motivating ourselves to make changes in ourselves, in our homes, in our world.

I'm learning (oh, so slowly!) to be more mindful, in the moment.  To try to let myself breathe and figure out what I'm feeling.  Am I feeling angry?  Is it real anger, or is it fear-in-drag (like when a child dashes across the street, almost getting hit by a car, and his parent swats his bottom)?

Okay, I'm feeling angry.  Why am I feeling angry?  Am I feeling anger in proportion to the offense, or am I dragging a lot of old baggage into it?

Now, what do I want to do with my anger?  This is where a lot of people blow it, literally.  What we do with our anger is a CHOICE, and there are always many choices.  We can scream at a loved one, or a stranger.  We can punch a hole in a wall, kick the cat, go for a swim, write a nasty letter, eat an entire cheesecake, take a deep breath and explain to the person why their suggestion is unacceptable, and offer an alternative, or try dozens of other things. 

from http://www.icanhascheezburger.com/

If we scream at a loved one, and try to excuse it, later, "I couldn't help it, you made me so angry," we're into Bullshit Territory again.  It's possible that their actions or speech did, indeed, make us feel angry, but screaming was our choice.  Possibly even the best choice for that particular situation, but we are lying to ourselves if we tell ourselves we couldn't have done anything but scream.

If we feel that someone is continually taking advantage of us in some way, getting angry is fine, but then we have choices.  Always borrowing the car without permission?  We make sure that person no longer has access to the keys.  We may, in fact, have to end a job, a marriage, or a friendship once we begin acknowledging our anger; or our anger may enable truly meaningful changes to take place.

I'm glad I'm learning how to sit with my anger.

How about you?  Got a lesson learned about anger?

Bowling for Babies

So, after a life where everything I wanted to do was on the back burner, I am fighting not to put everything on the front burner, all at the same time. 


Chicago Public Library
I don't know what the cornice is supposed to be, nor do I
quite "get" the button-like things.  However, it's a
LIBRARY, therefore, it is AWESOME.

 Anonymous suggested on Wolf Woman or Hungry Hungry Hippo that I create a vision board, and since I take every comment quite seriously (please don't advise me to go jump off a bridge, 'kay?), that idea took over my brain this past week or so.

So, in between things I had to do - like, oh, paying work, washing a load of undies - I've been planning my vision board.  I looked up and cut out headers from the Los Angeles Times Book Section, and the New York Times Book Section,  in that special Gothic font they use, since I hope to be listed there someday.  I printed out a picture I'd taken of the Chicago Public Library with its cool cornices.

I printed out pictures of great places I've been to which I'd like to return someday like Zion National Park, the Grand Canyon, the Library of Congress (stunning, beautiful, breathtaking) in Washington, DC, the Sierra Mountains of California and the Milwaukee Lakeside Art Museum and south-central Pennsylvania where I spent my teen years.  I printed out pictures from my visit to Queen Califia's Magic Circle in Escondido, where, if you're not already high (I wasn't), you'll feel like you're tripping on psychotropic drugs.

Queen Califia's Magic Circle Garden
Escondido, California



La Sagrada Familia via Wikimedia Commons
Under construction since 1862


I printed out pictures of places I haven't yet been but really want to go, The Tower of London and Hever Castle (where Anne Boleyn grew up) and The Alhambra and Stonehenge and Versailles.  I printed out a picture of La Sagrada Familia for my vision board, because if ever there's an emblem of "Dream Big," it's La Sagrada Familia, still under under construction after more than 100 years, like a medieval church.) 

I printed out pictures about mindfulness and body image, including one of ME and this wonderful set of sculptures from the Getty.

This is NOT me - just one of a billion other skinny girls.  I put the
picture of ME and these sculptures at the middle of my vision board.  Around
them I wrote, "Changing Woman" (from the Native American tradition)
Learn to Love.... the Skin I'm in
Every Size has its beauty... Every shape has a function
Right now I am beautiful

And I printed a jillion pictures of BABIES.  I dream of babies, a lot.  A Witch's Book of Dreams, which I bought following a recommendation from my as-yet-unmet friend Thalia, says that "Baby" represents "giving birth to an infant can represent a new aspect of oneself, a brand new idea, or a creative project.  A Divine Child or Wonder Baby, one who walks and talks, is an archetypal image signifying the birth of the divine within us, the new son/sun of hope emerging.  Very positive."

So, I printed pictures of babies for my vision board.  I printed pictures of babies crawling, up stairs and hills.  Of toddlers hugging each other, giggling, chortling with glee.  I printed pictures of a toddler leading on his younger sister, thinking "Original Release + Sequel."  I printed a picture of myself, about 3-4 years old, sticking out my tongue for the camera.  Of a young girl in a skirt made of rainbow colored scarves.  Of babies white, African, Asian.  Of identical twins (one of my favs) in t-shirts bearing the legends "Copy" (on one shirt) and "Paste" (on the other.)

And I had a lot of fun doing this, but, if you haven't done the math yet, totally ran out of space on my vision board.   When I stopped at the store after work on Friday in the pouring rain, to buy (what seemed then) a huge piece of foam board, I was naively thinking, "Well, I guess I can cut this in half."

I didn't need to cut it in half.   I could have done 20 vision boards, and not had enough space for all the picture I had printed, for all the things I still want to write down and print on it.

I did the cutting and pasting all day yesterday, putting aside an uncountable number of pictures that there was simply no room for, and then, last night, I did dream about babies.  About needing to feed my babies.  About trying to keep track of all my babies (a hint, perhaps, that I'm becoming overextended?)

And I dreamed about bowling. 


I dreamt about trying to bowl, and that I kept getting stopped by.. something.  I would get ready to bowl and I was interfering with somebody else.  I got placed into my own lane and the power was off, or the pin-setter didn't work.  Everybody that I had been trying to bowl with was long since finished, and it would have been real easy to say, "Okay, I quit, this isn't happening for me today," yet for some unknown reason, I was determined to battle on.  I went to bowl and the holes in my ball were too small - it wasn't my ball at all - or the finger holes were too big.  I went to the service window to try to get my ball and they were still working on cleaning it.

I checked a Witch's Book of Dreams, but there were no answers there.  Apparently, either witches don't bowl (and here I was, about to send in my check and membership application!)  Or, at least, they don't generally dream of bowling.  My Dreamer's Dictionary for the 21st Century did offer a clue:

Dreams of bowling symbolize focus and concentration on a goal.  <aha!  like, perhaps, my much-neglected novel?!>  They may suggest that you will strike it rich if you engage in life and get out of your rut.

Well, I am not sure I want to "strike it rich."  I would like to be able to earn enough from my writing to quit my day job, and buy a nice house (although my solo apartment is ten times better than living with nitpicking OCPD ex-b-f.) 


So, there!  to life, expectations, and
dirty undies!


But obviously, my subconscious was trying to send me a message, so, for the first part of the day (after yoga and breakfast, of course) I worked on my much-neglected novel.  I rewrote the first chapter to add more Heart, per The Editor Devil.  And the 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th.

I feel good about the work I did on the novel.  And on the vision board.  And on my dirty undies.

Even if I have left much undone, I have also made much progress.  How about you?

The Progress of Boundary Betty

I hope it means progress when you can read something, laugh, and hang your head sheepishly and think, OMG, I could have written this!

From Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert 

Moreover, I have boundary issues with men.  Or maybe that's not fair to say.  To have issues with boundaries, one must have boundaries in the first place, right?  But I disappear into the person I love.  I am the permeable membrane.  If I love you, you can have everything.  You can have my time, my devotion, my ass, my money, my family, my dog, my dog's money, my dog's time - everything.  If I love you, I will carry for you all your pain, I will assume for you all your debts (in every definition of the word), I will protect you from your own insecurity, I will project upon you all sorts of good qualities that you have never actually cultivated in yourself and I will buy Christmas presents for your entire family.  I will give you the sun and the rain, and if they are not available, I will give you a sun check and a rain check.  I will give you all this and more, until I get so exhausted and depleted that the only way I can recover my energy is by becoming infatuated with someone else.

She wrote this as an explanation as to why she chose to be celibate in Italy, of all places.  Where rampant sensuality vibrates off every fountain and marble edifice - and you can't turn around in Italy without bumping your nose (or other body part) on an edifice of some sort.

from Flickr Creative Commons
by xinem

Still, it makes perfect sense to me, as I have also embarked on a year of none.  Or nun, however you want to look at it.

Because I know for a fact, I'm too f#&ked up to even think about another relationship right now.  I'm working on my boundaries, and in some places they're pretty good, and in others they're better than they used to be, and in others... well, if they were a stone wall, a dachshund with a limp could hop over without scraping his belly.

Every self-help book and site and guru says: You need to learn to love yourself.

I get it.  In theory.  In practice... well... I'm taking baby steps.

I'm learning about intuitive eating, and not punishing myself with diets anymore.

I'm working on understanding my own "permeable membrane" issues when it comes to men, and "normal" boundary issues when it comes to family, friends, and co-workers.  Realizing I don't have to figuratively throw myself on the train tracks every time, in order for people to like me.

I can set limits for what I am and am not willing to do for someone, and that doesn't make me a bad person.  


Photo from Wikimedia Commons



Of course, to set limits, that means I have to explore what my own thoughts and feelings are.  This means a fair amount of solitude and reading and meditation, which is just not real do-able when one is involved with a new lover (or even an old one.)

I'm trying to be kind and patient with myself.  That means goals, but not harsh ones.  I'm doing things I enjoy, but also do stuff I have to, like household cleaning.  Because I truly can't take as much delight in my wonderful own apartment with all my favorite things around me, if I am up to my ankles in cat hair.  (Mind you, the things I have left out of place, the dirty dishes I have occasionally left in the sink, would curl OCPD ex-bf's hair.  He-he-he.)



Speaking of OCPD, I did create a list for self-help (do I need Frontline for my fleas?):

1. Figure out there's a problem.
2. Research how to deal with it.
3. Implement a solution - and if one doesn't work, tweak it or try something else, or a combination of things.  (Hey, if a combo plate works in a Mexican restaurant, why not in my head?)  
4. Practice the solution over and over until it becomes habit.

The one thing that throws me is, seems like there is so much to work on.  And I can't just do 1-2 things, compartmentalized and completed separately, before moving on to the next "thing."  I need to integrate mindful eating and better boundaries and learning my limits and a whole bunch of other things, because I need to become a whole, integrated person.

Or at least, a person on her way to becoming a whole, integrated person.  Not thinking I will ever reach the finish line and be done, in this lifetime.

What goals are on your combo plate?

And how are your boundaries today, hmmm?

Leave a Comment or Reaction and let me know.

Wolf Woman or Hungry Hungry Hippo?

There's such a difference between knowing something in your head and feeling it in your heart. 

I know that my ex b-f had distorted thinking - about a lot of things, but particularly about food, diet, exercise, body image.  When last I saw him, he was obsessing over being "fat," having put on a few extra pounds around his middle, though at over 6' tall and 160 pounds, no one would accuse him of being overweight.

He would talk with longing in his voice for his teenage days, when he'd gotten down to 95 pounds.  (Of course, he was living off speed and cigarettes then, and it landed him in the hospital, but still...)  Not in the beginning, but after I moved in with him, he made constant derogatory comments about anyone he saw who was overweight - whether he saw them while we were driving, on TV, etc. ( if never to the actual face of an overweight person who happened to be friend or family.)  They were disgusting, they had no self-control (this from someone who would drink to passing out), they looked revolting, all fat people should be shot...

Mind you, when we met, this is how we looked as a couple. 

from Nighthawk News

I was in a "very big girl" stage, and while that didn't matter to him at all during the "honeymoon" period, when we were courting, before that ended I had begun dieting and stepped up my exercising - for me, not for him - and he was very pleased. 

Of course, it wasn't enough.  I got down to within five pounds of my high school weight, and while he would join in the praise around others who would tell me how great I looked, in private, he'd tell me I would look great - if I lost another 10-15 pounds.

Well.  And then his OCPD began rampaging in full about 101 different things, and I became stressed, depressed.  I stopped exercising as much, because he was so jealous of the time it took away from "us," I stopped being as careful about what I ate.  He rationed my food and rode me constantly, at home, about what I should or shouldn't "pig out" on, and I began binging at work during the day.

No surprise, the weight began creeping back up.  I haven't yet regained all that I had lost, over that two years I worked so hard to lose it; but I've regained a lot of it.  And I hate it.  I hate the way my body looks and the way my clothes don't fit and the fact I had to buy another pair of "fat" jeans today because my thunder thighs are about to bust out the sidewalls of my other fat jeans.




I gave myself permission (mentally if not emotionally,) to gain a little weight since the split, but I think now...  part of me didn't think it would really happen.  At first I gobbled up all kinds of "forbidden foods," a natural reaction, I knew (mentally!) to being starved of them/for them for the years I lived with ex b-f.  Like in the story told by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, a wolf that has been starved in the winter will go on a rampage when spring comes.

I figured once I got used to the fact that I could eat these foods, any time I wanted, and nobody was going to take them away from me, my cravings for them would stop, as Geneen Roth said, and for the most part that's happened.

So I'm trying to be kind to myself and I'm trying to be patient.  I've been learning about mindful eating and taking baby steps towards putting it into practice, the past few months.  



from Master Isolated Images at FreeDigitalPhotos

  I still am enjoying foods I wasn't "allowed" to have, then, but not in huge amounts.  I am not binging at work any more.  I am learning to recognize when I am approaching fullness and stopping then, not eating to the point of being overfull.  I am eating lots of broccoli and salads - because I actually enjoy them, and because I feel good about giving my body foods that are healthy for it.  I'm drinking lots of water and very little (though still some) soda.  I'm still doing regular exercise.  (Though I could be doing more - one can always be doing more exercise - I'm not doing less.)  I'm learning to recognize the pull of emotional hunger and to sit and breathe and acknowledge my feelings, instead of stuffing them down with food.

I know, calorie-wise, even if I'm not counting calories or points or carbs, I'm giving my body less of 'em.

So why am I still gaining weight?!?  I know, in my head, that I am taking the right approach.  I know, from bitter experience, that "regular" diets don't work, long-term.  Been there, done that, got the T-shirts - sized XL to L to M, and back again.  Twice.

But I'm scared.  I think I had this unrealistic vision in my mind, that I would start my baby steps of mindful eating, and as a reward, the Skinny Fairy would come bonk me on the head and I'd magically wake one morning, twenty pounds thinner overnight.  And I still hear my ex b-f's voice inside my head, telling me I'm a disgusting fat pig.

I don't want to be patient with myself.  I want results right now!!  And I want all those horrible, negative messages that I've introjected into my brain, from ex b-f, from magazines, from pop culture, to STFU already.

<Sigh.>  I'm just gonna have to do this the long, hard way, aren't I?  One positive affirmation, one baby step, one STFU to the negative messages, at a time.

Have you ever had to struggle with an issue like this?  Where you knew something, in your head, but it wasn't making it down into your heart where you really felt like you believed it? 

Tell me how you did it (please!) in the comments.

VD with the G-F

So, I was anticipating a rough VD, since it was my first since breaking up with OCPD bf.  And it was rough, in spots, but I tried to be pro-active and not let myself sink into too much unhealthy reminiscing and nostalgia.

Reality is, Valentines' Day with him was no great shakes.  I think once he cut roses from the garden and put them in a vase on the table for me.  He never, ever, sent flowers to me at work, and many years didn't even bother with a card.  More than a wee bit Demand-Resistant to the whole idea of making a fuss over his loved one for a "Hallmark Holiday."

So... I bought my own rose for my desk at work, and am still enjoying it.  (Though I did move it away from that corner where I could too easily knock it onto the floor.  In case that worried you.)

And I decided to get Carried Away a bit for the G-F, with all kinds of good-smelling stuff I wasn't "allowed" to use due to ex b-f's complaints about cologne and scented lotion.  And duckies.  The pink one even lights up! (For those of you thinking I'm both bi and moving waaaaay too fast - I found that while I feel somewhat uncomfortable treating myself well, I can manage it if I treat myself in the third person, like my own girlfriend.)

So, some new stinkum from Bath & Body works, plus I cashed in a gift card and showered g-f in Luscious Kisses from Victoria's Secret.

Over the weekend I knocked out a few chores that had been hanging over my head, which made me feel happy and relieved.  And which gave me permission to enjoy myself, though I'm trying to get past the silly notion that pleasure should be earned.

Worked on eating mindfully.  I fixed girlfriend some of our favorite meals, but tried to focus on appropriate sized portions, and stopping when/before being full, trying to tune into learning how to listen to the body, instead of just eating, eating, eating, because food is sitting there.  And trying to include lots of salad, green veggies, and healthy choices. 

Also bought Valentines' chocolate for her, all her favorites, though a small box.  We haven't inhaled them all yet, but are eating them 1-2 per night, totally savoring and enjoying each and every bite.

This mindful eating business is hard work, and I'm such a beginner, but I trust it's the right way to go in the long term.

Spent a fair amount of time with my favorite dysfunctional couple, Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII.  Their story is one I've been magnetically drawn to for most of my life.  Talk about an object lesson in 1) Passionate love doesn't always last forever, and 2) It's not usually healthy for a woman to lose her head over a man.

Theories abound on What Went Wrong.  Did either Anne or Henry have a Personality Disorder?  Because things went downhill pretty fast once the "chase" was over and they were officially married.  Much like what happens when a "non" moves in with a person with a PD.  Or were one or both of them simply drunk with power?

Certainly Anne exhibited some wild mood swings.  She was also pregnant and miscarrying during much of that time, and that in itself could account for her being so "highly strung."   Plus just a smidge of pressure from being surrounded all the time by people who hated her guts, and constant demands from those who wanted to use her to further their own interests.  We think about Diana, Princess of Wales, and how she was constantly hounded by paparazzi, but old-time royalty had people around them all the time.  Even the privies weren't private.

from Wikipedia Commons

One interesting novel, Threads by Nell Gavin, takes on the story as woven into a theory of reincarnation.  The idea is that people choose to be reborn into different families to work out unresolved karmic issues, and that Henry, Anne and Katherine had been married, siblings, parents and children in previous lifetimes.  I especially liked the section where Anne was an Egyptian whore, Katherine her young daughter, and Henry a transvestite man-whore who befriended them because he longed for children of his own.

This would explain a lot about 15th and 16th century men's fashion.

Watched some flicks - Carrie Fisher's entertaining Wishful Drinking, and Disney's Tinkerbell which I'd been wanting to see forever, because my favorite artist Loreena McKennitt had done most of the music and the narration.  As the intro ballad wafted me into the story, that's when I did my VD weeping - not sure if it was because I felt so moved by Loreena's gorgeous voice, or a little bit of sadness over ex b-f. 

Although ex b-f also really enjoys her music, and always claimed a love of animation, he was never willing to watch this movie with me, because...   because.  Who knows why? 

Every time I go down that rabbit hole of trying to make sense of the nonsensical, I simply get more lost.  When someone has a mental disorder, things don't make logical sense.   Yet those of us who love them may keep churning past actions or conversations in our minds, thinking we'll hit on some magical insight and we'll really "get" why they think and act the way they do.

I will never be able to understand his distorted thinking, and that's okay.  I don't have to.  I just need to figure out the way I think, and make healthy choices for me.

What healthy choices have you been making for you?

Tell me about it in the comments.