Queen for a Day

Doesn't everyone want to be treated like a Queen (or a King)? At least for one day.

There used to be a extremely sadistic TV show on that premise: women would come on the show and compete in telling a sob story - from Wikipedia:

Often the request was for medical care or therapeutic equipment to help a chronically ill child, but sometimes it was as simple as the need for a hearing aid, a new washing machine, or a refrigerator. Many women broke down sobbing as they described their plights, and Bailey was always quick to comfort them and offer a clean white handkerchief to dry their eyes.

The harsher the circumstances under which the contestant labored, the likelier the studio audience was to ring the applause meter's highest level. The winner, to the musical accompaniment of "Pomp and Circumstance", would be draped in a sable-trimmed red velvet robe, given a glittering jeweled crown to wear, placed on a velvet-upholstered throne, and handed a dozen long-stemmed roses to hold as she wept, often uncontrollably, while her list of prizes was announced.

Not only were they milking the misery of the "winner" for all it was worth, imagine being one of the losing contestants who'd put it all out there, but not "enough" to garner the highest on the "applause-o-meter."

An easier way to score a crown was eating a particular brand of margarine.

I begged my mom to buy that brand, because I coveted one of those beautiful crowns so much, and though my mother told me it was a trick on TV, she caved in and bought it once, so I could find out for myself.

The disappointment was almost as bitter as the margarine.

Anyway, if anyone deserved to be treated like a Queen, it was my mother, but she would never go on a radio or television show to whine about her life.

Mom and her younger brother

She was the oldest of four, and the target of much nit-picking by my (suspected OCPD) grandmother. She signed up for the Coast Guard and served with honor during WWII.

Afterward, on the rebound from a prior relationship, she met and married my father. Also a WWII veteran, smart, and charming as all get out when he wanted to be.

Probably NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorder).  They had three daughters, me being the "bonus baby." Not long after that, breast cancer came along.  In those days, the way it worked was, you found a lump, they put you under and sliced you up. You found out if it was serious when you woke up, depending on how much of your body they'd carved away.

In Mom's case, pretty serious. They took her breast, the underlying chest muscles, the lymph nodes, and some of the muscles from under her arm.

Yet she would still smile at everyone.

I believe in the picture, below, she was still recovering from the surgery, because she had to wear those loose-fitting muumuus for some weeks (months?) afterward.

It was Mother's Day

I thought she should be treated like Queen for a Day. It was my idea, but my sisters joined in helping me make a "crown" out of, I think, a brown grocery bag, which I decorated with crayon and tinsel from our Christmas decorations stash. We put her on the "throne" with a fancy goblet of possibly wine, possibly fruit juice. Am not sure if the cushion under her arm was to add the royal touch or because she physically needed it in her recovery.

Prematurely silver hair ran in the family.
The glasses and the silver hair make her look old, at first glance,
but she was only mid-forties here.

I thought - I still think - she was absolutely beautiful, and I was so proud of her, so happy to have her as my mom. She was, in fact, the Best Mom in the World, though some silly people didn't realize that.  And I am still proud of her, and a little of myself, that I did make the effort to let her know how special she was to me.

And yet.

I cannot but think, now, that if only she had made a few different choices... Mom was my model for self-sacrificing relationships, for being sweet and kind and loving to everyone. No one had a bad word to say about her - not at her memorial service, five years later, after the cancer recurred, nor in the years that followed.  My sisters' husbands, who knew her in the years before she died, loved her to pieces. Who adores their mother-in-law?

I have come to believe that putting everyone else first, all the time, and allowing others to treat us badly, can, in fact, make us sick. Sick to death, even.

Doormats wear out.

My mother was a product of her time and her culture, and possibly even the influence of an OCPD mother. She followed all the rules of being nice, being polite, taking care of everyone but herself.  She was loved, yes, but only on rare occasion was she the one being pampered and taken care of.

Today is her birthday, and I'm missing her, of course. But I am also thinking that it would please her tremendously to know that I have learned from my own mistakes, and from her life.

There's a formula now, that we should put  51% of our efforts to ourselves, and no more than 49% to everyone else in our lives, added together. I can't help but think, if my mom had done that, she might have lived past my 10th birthday, and my life  - many lives - would have benefited tremendously for her continued presence in it.

Loving someone is never a mistake. But neglecting our own hearts, souls, dreams, and bodies, in the name of love, can kill us. Figuratively, or literally.

Do you believe in giving up everything for love?

Have you learned to save nurturing for yourself?

Do you have any life lessons from a loved one who's passed on?

What Now, Brown Cow?

Now that we've finished Too Perfect, what's up next?

For me, perhaps, a bit of a break for a few weeks. Since the death of my beautiful friend Sidney in October, I have not only been struggling with grief and emotional pain, but also with severe physical pain.  Recently, after various exams, x-rays, MRI's,and other tests, I've been diagnosed with "frozen shoulder."

Fire shoulder might be a better description, of the way it feels. The treatment includes a cortisone shot (got it) and physical therapy. I'm also getting aquatic therapy, and it is improving, if more slowly than I might wish.

Note to self - there is a reason they tell you to pull the belt on the flotation belt tightly. Because it bugs when the thing rides up to just under your armpits.

It is also recommended that I stay away from the keyboard, as much as possible. So, while I'm not abandoning this blog, I may take some time off (or, depending on whether the Muse is jabbing me in the back, I may not).

As far as upcoming book reviews and discussion, the book that got the most votes in our survey was Lundy Bancroft's Why Does He Do That? Inside the Minds of Angry & Controlling Men.

From the Book Description:

"He doesn't mean to hurt me-he just loses control."
"He can be sweet and gentle."
"He's scared me a few times, but he never hurts the children-he's a great father."
"He's had a really hard life..."

Women in abusive relationships tell themselves these things every day. Now they can see inside the minds of angry and controlling men-and change their own lives. In this groundbreaking book, a counselor shows how to improve, survive, or leave an abusive relationship, with:

€ The early warning signs
€ Nine abusive personality types
€ How to tell if an abuser can change, is changing, or ever will
€ The role of drugs and alcohol
€ What can be fixed, and what can't
€ How to leave a relationship safely

Please, buy your own copy of the book  - put a book cover on it, if you must for your own safety, and tell your husband you're reading 50 Shades of Grey.  Get it on an e-reader.  If reading is difficult for you, get the audio version. Check it out from your library.  (Did you know you can also get e-books from the library?)

Let's read and discuss it together. I would also add - even if your angry and controlling person is female, there are many, many insights in this book that will be valuable to you.

Now off to make sure I have my towel and swimsuit. Hoo-boy, I am very grateful the water therapy ain't being videotaped, because I look like a dying whale thrashing around in the pool.

Too Perfect Tuesdays - Epilogue

This post concludes with the Epilogue.

This series has looked 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.

Epilogue

Habit is habit, and not to be flung out of the window, but coaxed downstairs a step at a time.   ~Mark Twain
In summary, the obsessive personality style is a system of many normal traits, all aiming toward a common goal: safety and security via alertness, reason, and mastery. In rational and flexible doses, obsessive traits usually favor not only survival, but success and admiration, as well.

The downside is that you can have too much of a good thing. You are bound for serious difficulties if your obsessive qualities serve not the simple goals of wise, competent, and enjoyable living, but an unrelenting need for fail-safe protection against the vulnerability inherent in being human. <snip>

<snip> The single most important step is one you can take right now: acknowledge that the source of much of your unhappiness may not be your boss, the state of the economy, your spouse's shortcomings, but something within you! Acknowledge that the main obstacles to feeling fulfilled in your relationships, work, or leisure (if you have any) may be such things as your perfectionism, workaholism, rigidity, and other overdeveloped obsessive characteristics.

<snip> ...please understand that this book [nor this blog] is not a substitute for therapy with a competent professional. <snip> With or without professional assistance, your most important means to progress will be, quite simply, sustained hard work. But then that's your strong suit, isn't it?

***

Is it difficult to find a therapist who understands OCPD/Anankastic Personality Disorder? Yes. Many, many mental health professionals have never even heard of such a beastie, or confuse it with OCD.  Here's one true story:

My DH was diagnosed by a neuro-psychiatrist. He had extensive bloodwork, CT scan, several days of urine collection, significant assessment type "tests", and even his mother had to respond to a lot of questions about what he was like as a child. Even with all of that, he was diagnosed with OCD. It wasn't until I joined his yearly psychiatrist visits that I raised the issue of OCPD and the doctor concurred.  

It seems very difficult to determine OCPD unless someone close to the patient (in his inner circle) is able to answer many questions regarding the treatment they receive and observe on a daily basis. My experience has been that DH thinks he is wonderful and would never consider himself an arrogant, nasty, obnoxious person (at times) with underlying anger with almost constant anxiety and intermittent depression.

An obsession with creating and enforcing order,
and being RIGHT, is more about OCPD than OCD.

It's frustrating, trying to find a professional who can help you, who understands that OCPD is not OCD, but it is worth the effort.  Even if the mental health professional doesn't know or understand the condition, yet, it is still possible that s/he may have some effective strategies that make life a little easier.  For the partner or child of an affected person - go, go go!

Now this? OCD all the way, baybee.

I think counseling saved my life, certainly my sanity, during a time when I was losing it.  I don't mean to denigrate the efforts of friends and family - they are invaluable as a support system.

Yet sometimes there are things we don't want to tell them, out of fear/shame, or just not wanting our (perhaps dysfunctional) family all up in our business.  We might tell less than is helpful - because we don't want to be judged and scolded, or because we don't want them to hate our partner.  Likewise our friends.  If our situation is so painful, they don't "get" why we don't leave.  Or they offer suggestions that might work  - when both people are "normal." Things like "Just be patient," or "Go ahead and let him/her have his way," which Does Not Work when one partner in the relationship is dysfunctional.

They also tend to take our side, whereas a good mental professional will call us on our sh-t - and sometimes, we need a neutral referee to tell us, "You blew it there." To help us through the exercises we need to become healthier in our interactions.

Let me reiterate - just because we might have an OCPD partner/parent/child/co-worker, does not mean that WE don't have our own hot messes that need attention.  So good therapy is essential for getting our own house(s) in order.

But if you are one of those people who is constantly irritated by an effed-up world that never does things The Right Way or up to your (extremely high and admirable) standards, if you believe your way of thinking is (always) a gift and you are surrounded by stupid, lazy people, you would be well served by seeking therapy with as open a mind as you can manage.

None of us have to live with constant emotional pain. Discomfort, sometimes, sure. Pain, no.

You deserve better. Go get it.

Your thoughts?