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?

Naked and Timeless

Sandro Botticelli's Venus

There are certain things I'm used to wearing every day.  Bra, panties, something or other on top of said undergarments.  And a watch.

But I only have one watch.  I don't want more than one watch.  I have a nice plain, silver-colored Timex watch with a round face and numbers.  Not Roman numerals, not kitty faces or little sparking gemstones or some other BS. 

I love my watch.

But last week, the battery died, and I took off my watch because the 1:10 it displayed was too confusing to me.

I felt naked.

I repeatedly checked the white mark on my wrist, but no matter how many times I looked, three blond hairs and a freckle did not offer me significant information.

I figured it would be no big deal - there's a jeweler right in the building where I work.  Take the watch down, get the battery replaced, no problem.

Except, when I got to the jewelers, they had a note on the door: "Taking an extended weekend - be in on Thursday."

I could have gone elsewhere, but that seemed silly.  I could wait a day, right?  So I went back during my lunch on Thursday and... they didn't have the right replacement battery in stock.  "We should have it by Saturday," the guy tells me.  And they're closed on Mondays.

So, I got my watch back on Tuesday. Naked no more.

I can be clueless about a lot of things, but obviously, the universe was trying to teach me a lesson about being mindful and in the moment.  So, that's what I worked on last weekend.

Instead of living by the clock, I lived by me.

I slept as late as I needed.  Did my yoga when I felt ready to stretch.  Ate when I felt hungry.  Worked on my writing and blogs when the spirit moved me.  Read (lots!) and did chores and played with the cat as it felt right to me, not when it was "the right time."

Walked a bag of books and some old sweaters around the corner to donate to Goodwill.  Unleashed a Sex Bomb in the tub.  All in all, I was able to savor and enjoy everything I did.

I can't always do this - this weekend I have an "event" to attend, and I need to make sure I am there on time.  Work, I also need to be there within shooting distance of the time they expect me, though there is no big deal if I am either a little late or a little early, most days.


I'm so glad my watch stopped.

Have you ever taken a weekend (or longer) "off the clock"?

What did you do - or not do - that made it special?

I Want To Be On A Death Panel



Photo by artist Richard Heeks

Because after all, we're all going to die anyway.

I know, that thought makes most of us uncomfortable.  We don't know, after all, what's on The Other Side, and that's kinda scary.  Some people believe in Heaven (and Hell), some people who believe in reincarnation, some people believe in nirvana, some people believe in being gods on other planets or any number of intriguing possibilities.  And some believe that one is just gone, the consciousness dissolved into nothingness.

But despite any number of fascinating stories from people who were clinically pronounced dead and "came back"  (but were they really, truly dead?) we don't know.

What we do know, for a fact, is we're not getting out of this place alive.

Many of us live like there's an actual, physical Reaper, and if we keep running/busy/active enough, we'll be able to avoid death.  Like he's a bill collector or something.  ("Pull down the shades, turn off the light and the TV, we'll pretend we're not home.")


OCPDrs carry it to extremes, but many people are so worried about what could happen in the future, what terrible thing is lurking around the corner, about protecting against every possible calamity, they fail to enjoy any of the wonderful things that are all around them, every minute of every day.  They're too busy finding green baby galoshes - because it might rain, sometime, in Southern California, and the baby's feet might get wet, and then he might get sick, and then he might die.

They're not so much Pro-Life, as they are Anti-Death.

We have to accept that we are going to die, and we have to accept that people we love are going to die.  That pain and loss are part of the admission price to this crazy Carnival called Life.  We can deny it, we can act like martyrs, and refuse to enjoy the Carnival - as if not enjoying life will entitle us to get more of it.  Hunh?

We can fight to be Cleopatra (Queen of Denial), and live like we have all the time in the world, but we don't.  We need to think about what's on our personal Bucket Lists, our dreams, and work on making them happen.  Is your dream to see the Grand Canyon?  Eat a hot dog on Coney Island?  Watch a taping of The Price Is Right?

Like Captain Picard would say on Star Trek: TNG, "Make it so."

And as far as the death panel thing, yep, there's a whooooole bunch of people I'd pull the plug on.  I don't believe, if one is extremely ill and/or 90+ years old, or in a persistent vegetative state, that it benefits anyone to take extreme measures to keep that person "alive."  (Okay, maybe the hospitals which are making a buck benefit from the care of said "person.") 

I believe that the soul has departed long before, but let's say, just for the point of argument, that it hasn't.  Let's say that the soul and spirit is still in that poor battered shell of a human body, unable to move, wipe itself, or communicate.

Could there be any worse torture than to be trapped there helplessly for weeks, months, years, not able to get out or let people know you're still in there?  To have to watch and listen to hours on end of daytime television programming?  (Whether your preference is Fox or MSN, you know they're gonna have it tuned to the other channel.)  To perhaps be in constant pain, either severe or low-grade, but nobody does anything about it because they don't know about it, and they think there is no pain?

I truly wouldn't wish such a fate on my worst enemy, and I have promised to come back and haunt anyone who does that to me.  (And not in a nice, Casper-the-Friendly-Ghost way.)  If we want to be kind and loving, we should let the person go, allow him or her to move on to...  whatever happens next.  Unless, of course, we know for a fact that the person we are "saving" would want us to fight for every breath.  I know some people in that horrible situation, knowing it's not a kind choice, but it's what their loved one wanted, so they are reluctantly carrying out those wishes.  (I'm so sorry!)

We've come a long way, in terms of preserving the physical bodies of those who would have died, 150, even 50 years ago, but that isn't always a good thing.  As a society, I think we need to reconsider what we often do to people in the last months of their lives, all in the name of "saving" them.  Saving them for what?  More torture? 

Just because we can hook somebody up to any number of modern gizmos and keep the heart beating and the lungs artificially pumped full of air and run a tube down somebody's throat to drip nutrients, doesn't mean we should.  Is an all-out battle to "buy" someone an extra two months of extreme pain, in a hospital, away from the comfort of family and pets and loved ones, always worth it?  (One friend recounted to me at her father's death, she counted - and then recounted, because she was sure she must have made a mistake - 187 tubes and wires running into his body.  187!!)

Newsweek had an interesting article recently on The Myth of Aging Gracefully.  Because of denial, we think we'll be one of the ones who's hardy, running marathons and making love into our nineties, and then drop instantly dead of a convenient heart attack or stroke, but it doesn't always work that way.

There is a 50–50 chance that anyone who survives to blow out 85 candles will endure years of significant mental or physical disability. The risk of Alzheimer’s disease doubles in every five-year period over 65. Furthermore, two thirds of Americans older than 85 are women, who usually become poorer as they age. Many won’t die at home, with the best care money can buy, as Sargent Shriver did in January, but in a Medicaid-funded nursing facility after their life savings have been exhausted.

What about living with gusto and passion?  What about accepting that death comes one to a customer, sooner or later, and making peace with that concept?  Telling loved ones every time you talk to them, that you love them, and treating them with love and kindness now? 


Image via Karen's Whimsy

For myself, I have my own Advance Medical Directive all filled out - copies with my sisters, doctor, and one in the glove compartment of my car.  Not to mention my threat to haunt people.  Your choices may be different from mine, but if you don't already have your AMD filled out, do it now.  No more excuses, no more waiting, no more "I'll do it when I have time," as if you know for sure you''ll have that time.

Cleopatra, Queen of Denial, didn't come to a very nice end, after all.

What are your thoughts on life, and death? 
What are you doing to live your life fully now?

Click a Reactions button, or leave a comment, below.