Too Perfect Tuesdays - Two Month Reclamation - Conclusion

This post continues with the conclusion of A Two Month Leisure Reclamation Program from Chapter Nine.

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.

A TWO-MONTH LEISURE RECLAMATION PROGRAM (conclusion)
As you put the [previous] suggestions into practice, expect resistance to come from both within and without. "Workaholism is the most socially acceptable of the addictions because it is so socially productive," write Schaef and Fassel. "Many people have responded to our description of workaholism with statements like, 'It is not the same as alcoholics, who destroy themselves and their loved ones; workaholics are productive members of the society.' We have to realize that for some organizations and for some people, destroying one's life and loved ones is acceptable if one produces something useful in the society."

Image via CrunchBase

If you think the steps I have described might help you, don't put off starting them! More than one patient has said, "You're right. All this work is ruining my life. And I'm going to do something about it - next month." Or "as soon as I finish this assignment." Or "just as soon as I can get my nest egg together."

Many people toil for years to achieve a "comfortable" future, only to wind up with a few years of retirement in which either they or their spouses are in poor health. They get to do only a fraction of the things they had looked forward to doing, and they feel bitter disappointment.

Finding the appropriate balance between work and the rest of your life may never be easy for you. But it's imperative to try. I like to remember the man who remarked that he had never heard of anyone on his deathbed saying, "My only regret is that I didn't work more."  You too are unlikely to die with such a regret. But if work dominates your life, will you be let with other, worse forms of remorse - over children that you never really knew, or intimate bonds that you sacrificed on the altar of overtime, a lifetime full of roses that you never stopped to smell?

***

I keep going back to Steve Jobs, and the stories about how he cooperated with Walter Isaacson on his biography because he wanted his family, especially his children, to know who he was.

You really think his kids thought, "Well, I didn't ever get to see much of my father, but half the world got to have cool iPhones, so I'm happy to take one for the team"? Think they're grateful to be learning all about their father from a book?

People can always find a reason excuse not to put aside their workaholic habits just yet.  Destroying your family and relationships through excessive work and make-work, such as never-ending housecleaning projects, is still destroying your family and relationships. Stop hiding behind work and start living and loving.

Have you put off addressing your workaholism?
Ever lost someone because you always chose
work over leisure?

Your thoughts?

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?

A-Z: Rescuer Syndrome - Put Away the Spandex, It's Not A Good Look

When we love somebody, when we see them hurting, we want to make things better for them. Whatever we can do, we're gonna do it, not holding back or setting limits, and that's a good thing, right?

Bzzzt! Actually, no.

When we do for others what they are perfectly capable of doing for themselves, we are casting them as Victims, and ourselves as Rescuers.

Not, actually, helpful or healthy. Not even if the others have a mental disorder or addiction; not even if they are a child, should we wrap our entire lives around other people.

Remember Dirty Dancing?   "Lock your frame, lock your frame; this is my dance space, this is your dance space."  It's crucial, both for ourselves, and for others, we remember where we end and "the other" begins.

via Wikimedia Commons

From Out of the Fog:

Examples of Fixers & Rescuers:

• A fiance whose future spouse explodes in a fit of rage, but who chooses to go ahead with the wedding thinking "I can change him/er after the wedding"

• A husband in an abusive relationship who decides to "love her through the pain"

• An abused wife who decides not to seek out professional help, preferring to "try harder to work on herself".

• A partner in a relationship who tries to keep the peace through making everything "perfect" for their partner at home.

• A parent with a personality-disordered child who seeks solutions by being a better parent.

• A child of a personality-disordered parent who tries to win their favor through academic performance

There's two problems with the above scenarios.

#1 - It never, ever works. (Oh, sometimes it does, for a few minutes.) But in the long run, after the wedding, he is even more explosive; no matter how much love the husband demonstrates, he doesn't move his wife past her pain; no matter how hard she works the abused wife can't keep from provoking her husband; the 'better parent approach' still doesn't soothe or heal the child; and the straight A  student will have his/her efforts taken for granted, and chided for an A- or a B+.

#2 - By taking another's person's problems onto ourselves, by trying to "fix" them through our efforts, we deprive them of the opportunity to solve their own problems. Yep, they might not do them exactly the way would. Yep, they might fail.  But when we fix/help/rescue others constantly, the message we are sending is, "I don't think you are smart enough/strong enough/resourceful enough to do this on your own. So let me just do it for you."


From Relationship Rescue: Exploring the Dynamics Behind Being a Rescuer

Rescuing is a core dynamic found in most relationships.

A rescuer is some who takes responsibility for fulfilling the needs of others in an attempt to feel valuable.

Whether conscious of it not, a rescuer believes that by taking care of others, their own needs will be met.

However, the irony is that instead, rescuers end up feeling more insecure, taken for granted, unappreciated, unfulfilled and ultimately worn out.

RESCUERS CHECKLIST
Completing this checklist can help you become aware of ways you may be rescuing people without realizing it.
1. Is it hard for you to take time for yourself and have fun?
2. Do you supply words for someone else when she/he hesitates?
3. Do you set limits for yourself that you exceed?
4. Do you believe you are responsible for making (keeping) someone else happy?
5. Do you like to lend a shoulder for someone else to "cry" on?
6. Do you believe that the other person is not sufficiently grateful for your help?
7. Do you take care of someone else more than you take care of yourself?
8. Do you find yourself interrupting when someone else is talking?
9. Do you watch for clues for ways to be helpful to someone else?
10. Do you make excuses, open or mentally, for another person?
11. Do you do more than your share, that is, work harder than someone else does?
12. When someone else is unsure or uncomfortable about doing something, do you do it for him or her?
13. Do you NOT do things you would like because someone else wouldn't like your doing so?
14. Do you find yourself thinking that you really know what is best for someone else?
15. Do you think someone else would have grave difficulty getting along without you?
16. Do you use the word "we" and then find you don't have the other person's consent?
17. Do you stop yourself by thinking someone will feel badly if you say or do something?
18. Is it hard for you NOT to respond to anyone who seems to be hurting or needing help?
19. Do you find yourself being resented when you were only trying to be helpful?
20. Do you find yourself giving advice that is not welcome or accepted?
(Instructions: Record 5 points for each YES and 0 points for NO! If you have 10 or more points, you may be a Rescuer. That is, a CO-DEPENDENT)

(I'm not sure I agree 100% with the scoring system, above - I think, for example, that #17 can be healthy or taken to extremes, depending on the circumstances. Likewise #18, wanting to help isn't necessarily bad, especially if we're talking about a child, as long as we resist that urge to take it over and do it for him/her. But it is easy enough to see where the questions are going, and what the pattern might be.)

I would like to think of myself as a co-dependent in recovery. I felt so terrible for my poor, (probably) mentally ill boyfriend that I made a ton of excuses for him. My heart ached for him (still does) and I did everything I could to Save Him from the ravages of his disease. In the end, he wasn't one bit mentally, physically, or emotionally healthier, and I was a burned out wreck.

Cover via AmazonSince then, I've found Charles Whitfield's book Boundaries and Relationships a helpful resource, as well as Melody Beattie's Codependent No More! Also found much help in in a very old book, Manuel J. Smith's When I Say No, I Feel Guilty.

If you are co-dependent, therapy may be a good step for you, to help you to break the old patterns. AlaNon or Co-Dependents Anonymous meetings may also be helpful.

Being a Rescuer or Co-Dependent came about because we care about people so very much - and that feeling in itself is very admirable. But our behavior may be harming the people we love, with the very acts we intend to help them. If we are parents, we are modeling unhealthy behavior. If we are partnered with an emotionally unhealthy partner, we are adding to the toxic dynamic.

Remember, always put on your own oxygen mask, first. 

My A-Z theme is Issues related to Mental Health or Mental Illness.

Are you now (or have you ever been) a Rescuer?

Do you know Rescuers - and can you see how unhealthy it is?

How did you get past this (if you have)

Related articles

• The DailyOm: Acknowledging Our Pain (jhaines6.wordpress.com)
• Victim, Persecutor and Rescuer Syndrome In My Marriage (myrecoverypathblog.wordpress.com)
• Best Intentions (timkla.wordpress.com)
• 'Co-dependent No-more'? Or maybe Star Wars? (matthewkelleherbpd.wordpress.com)

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?

Of Puppies, Of Floating Volkswagens, and Litterboxes

The Riddle Mother has been giving me a better work-out, these past few weeks, than the toughest boot-camp personal trainer.  Last night/this morning, my dreams featured puppies, a litterbox desperately in need of being changed (methinks the Real World is intruding a bit, there) and a seawater moat surrounding a house, in which there were half-submerged Volkswagens.

from Kid Stradivarius at Flickr

The man (not sure if he was a lover/husband, brother, or father/god figure, he was simply a man) was pushing the Volkwagen (beetles, like I used to own) into the moat, in an attempt to keep people from reaching the house.  Paradoxically, they formed a kind of floating bridge, two vehicles wide, that enabled people to reach the house.

He argued with me, as I prepared to add my own favorite bug to an empty space among the ones already there, "It'll sink, you know."

"I know," I said, "but for now, it'll help me get across."  So I pushed my car in, where it bobbed in the water, then by walking across on hoods and bumpers, I was able to reach the house.

Inside the house, we (a bunch of indistinct people & children) were cleaning up the litterbox, various animal (guinea pig?  hamster?  bird?) cages, and I was blowing up air mattresses to make it more comfortable for everyone to sleep.  Someone was passing around puppies - darling, velvety little puppies with warm soft fur and eager little tails.

When next I went outside, my own bug had sunk - I got the impression "the bottom" was several hundred feet down, and several of the other cars were low in the water.  But somehow there had formed a solid earth connection , a built-in drawbridge, from the house to the yard with the moat simply circling the sides of it now.

Exhibit A.  Yes, it did try to kill me.

I know that some of this dream was sparked by recent e-mail conversations with Thalia of Tetanus Burger, whom I hope to feature here as a guest interview soon.  Her father was OCPD - and a hoarder of automobiles and auto parts.  Specifically, Volkswagens.  Although, as I mentioned, I owned a couple of Beetles myself, and loved them.  (Well, I loved the second one.  The first one was cursed and tried to kill me a couple of times.)


I know it's significant that the cars were trying to cover/protect from an abyss, and at the same time, were both a barrier to reaching the house, and a bridge to it.

Cars can symbolize one's body and identity; they can also symbolize (obviously) something that carries one from one place to another.  It's true that my physical health/fitness hasn't been at the top of my priority list, but I don't think the dream was suggesting it's a good idea to sink it to the bottom of the ocean.

Houses also symbolize the self, life, body - so a dirty house is a sign that sorting out needs to be done. In dream symbology, a man has to do with the masculine energies, power, force, initiation, the focus to make things happen in the world.

Here's what I think my dream means - feel free to chime in with other ideas.  With this blog, and in other areas, I have been using my thoughts, experiences, and coping mechanisms (my bug) and those from lots of other people (the other cars), to build a piecemeal bridge and reconnect with my inner self.  Sadly, it's in a bit of disarray, but nothing that can't be quickly cleaned up.


The second part of the dream is easy - once all the garbage was taken away, there was room for the puppies; puppies representing, according to my dream interpret book, "your most innocent, cute, cuddly, and playful self.  You are realizing how lovable you are, and perhaps you are discovering how lovable someone else is."

from Gore Fiendus at Flickr
FYI, It's National Adopt-A-Shelter Dog Month.  Just Sayin'.

Some (not all) of my friends have suggested I am wasting my time and energies with this OCPD blog.  That I should do what many other exes do, and simply move on with my life.

My gut instinct, and my dream, are telling me I still have some bridges to build and things to learn, (and litterboxes to clean), but on the other side will be much playfulness and joy.

I think that while I do need to be mindful that this blog, and the book I hope to write on the subject someday don't take over my life (they're a big piece, but it's not the biggest piece), it's still not only important to other people, but to my own emotional and spiritual growth.

Thoughts?  Ideas?  Alternate dream interpretations?

As always, your comments mean much to me.

P.S. - In addition to our continuing Too Perfect Tuesdays, I'm guesting on The Garden Gate this Monday.  Please stop by!

Standing The Critic in a Corner Reserving Safe Space for The Creator

Stand-Up Comedy
Follow the link to get your own copy

Is there anything better to do on a long road trip than tune in to some comedy?

I had this audiobook I've been trying to find the time to listen to.  I had 700 miles of Interstate 5 to burn, so I had the time.

So what does stand-up comedy possibly have to do with perfectionism gone wild?

In Chapter 6, one of the areas is how a joke can be expanded and vastly improved by using other points of view.  For somebody who is battling OCPD, these exercises in how to really imagine oneself into the skin of another person could be a great tool for developing empathy.

But it's Chapter 7 that I found most fascinating, for those with OCPD and those who love them.  It's about the rehearsal process.

Yes, boys and girls, comedians don't just leap onto the stage and start telling a bunch of jokes they've memorized.  They rehearse.  Jokes are performed, not simply regurgitated - and the way they are performed determined whether people laugh, or sit there, unamused.

Okay - so what does this have to do with Perfectionism?

Greg goes into wonderful detail breaking apart The Creator and The Critic. 

For example, while practicing his material, a comic may allow The Critic to interject a constant stream of negative comments through internal self-talk.  It usually goes like this:

Creator: This guys goes into a confessional.  He says to the minister...

Critic: That was terrible, it's not a minister, it's a priest.  What's wrong with you?  You're so stupid.  It's a priest.  Now, try it again.

Creator: This guy grows...

Critic: What the hell are you doing?  Take it from the top.

Creator: This guy goes into a confessional.

Critic: You didn't pay your bills today.  You're going to get late charges added on to them.  Why did you stop?  You idiot.  Do it again.

Sound familiar yet?

Greg has many wonderful suggestions on how to encourage The Creator, which is the lively, fun spirit that the audience wants to hear, and still save a place for The Critic, who will sharpen the performance and make it better.

Yes, The Critic is not simply a mean a$$hole, but somebody who is vital to the process for any creative person.

Part of the process is to rehearse with our body in two physically separate locations.  When it's The Creator's turn to let fly and rehearse, it happens in THIS room or spot - and The Critic isn't even permitted within eyesight of The Creator.

Then when it's time to fine-tune, we walk to a different room, or at least a different location in the room,  and then The Critic can offer suggestions, point out weaknesses, etc.  It sounds a little nutty, but by creating two different physical locations for two different mental activities, over time the brain truly does recognize what to do in spot A, and what to do in spot B.

The Critic is only allowed to talk/interrupt when s/he is in The Critic Space.  And that's where I think these concepts could be very helpful to those dealing with OCPD, who have a constant stream of negative comments running either inside their heads, or coming out of their mouths.

Again, The Critic is only allowed to say his piece when our body is physically is in his corner.  (Or whoever else we want to put him.)

The thing is, The Critic is a necessary part of the psyche.  The Critic is not the enemy (though sometimes she feels like it).  In The Creative Fire audio series, Clarissa Pinkola Estes also talks about visualizing The Critic, allowing him a space to be.  To even interview him and ask him what he is thinking.

We can't bury important parts of ourselves, like The Critic.  Some people will set as a goal, "I'm not going to be critical, ever again."  Really?

How's that working out for ya?  

It doesn't work, and often leads to The Critic breaking free and running amok.  What works is finding a role for him, and allowing him his rightful place, listening to him, but not letting him take over everything.

When with my OCPD ex, I tried to enforce a rule (to which he'd agreed) of no arguing allowed in the bedroom.  All arguments and nit-picking, like the cats, were to be left outside the threshold.  Mostly, I was successful, but occasionally he would break the rule.

Not having a safe refuge from The Critic in my old household was a big factor in me getting a new one.  Now I just have to learn to give my own, inner Critic the space to say what she needs me to hear, without letting her rule the roost.

What do you think about The Creator and The Critic?

Have you tried reserving a space for The Critic - and a safe place where she is banned?

It's Just A Flesh Wound (Or Is It?)

One of the things that happened to me, after I found out about OCPD, is I was filled with an overwhelming feeling of love and compassion for my poor, unaware OCPD boyfriend.

He couldn't help himself.  He had a disorder.

Therefore, I "shouldn't" feel hurt when he said something or did something cruel or controlling.  Just get on with business, like this guy.

Except that telling ourselves it doesn't hurt, pretending "it's just a flesh wound" doesn't actually help make it feel better.  When somebody cuts off one of our arms, it's gonna bleed.

We need to recognize that living with somebody who calls us names, takes over our space via hoarding or going through our pockets, tries to micromanage everything right down to where and how we eliminate our bowels (see Crazy Rules for how some with OCPD have attempted to control this down to bathrooms used and toilet paper consumption)... it's not going to leave us unscathed.

When we tell ourselves, "I know s/he has a disorder, I shouldn't feel bad," it's like we're kicking ourselves when we're down.  First we feel badly because a train in the form of our disordered loved one has just run us over.  Likely, unintentionally, and if they are aware and actively battling their OCPD, they may even feel sorry about it, but we have just been run over by a train. It is crazythink on our part to say, "it's just a flesh wound" and to pile guilt on ourselves because it hurts.

It's okay to feel the pain.  It's okay to let the disordered person in your life know that s/he has hurt you, just like you'd yell, "Ow!" in the theater if some clumsy person tramped on your toes.  It's okay to take a break - go for a walk, see a movie, spend the night in a hotel, or even take a longer separation, if the pain is too intense to cope for a little while.  

It is more than okay, it is vital to take good physical and emotional care of ourselves (whether we're in an OCPD relationship or not.)  See a good therapist who can help nudge us back on track when we are becoming unbalanced and crawling with fleas.

Even now, over a year since I moved out, many months since I ended the romantic relationship that continued afterwards, I am still only beginning to understand how deeply damaging it was to my spirit to live with Debbie Downer.  (It's funny as a SNL skit, horrible to live with.)  I have my life and my joy back, and yes, I have pain, too, as I allow myself to feel all the things I stuffed down inside.

I'm not suggesting - if you live with such a person - that you leave.  Only you can decide if you should leave, or stay, and if you do decide to leave, when the right time would be.

But you need to take care of you.  Be as kind and loving and patient to yourself as you would be to a friend going through what you are.  Don't beat up on yourself for not feeling "the right way."

Let yourself be in the moment.  Feel what you need to feel, without trying to talk yourself out of it, smother it, swallow it down with food (unless it's Haagen Daz, that doesn't count), or otherwise rush the uncomfortable or painful emotion out of the room.  Let it pull up a chair and stay for a while, let yourself learn the lesson it is there to share with you.

Do you have an experience of letting yourself be with emotional pain?

Please share any tips, below.

Birthdays, Glee, and the Amazing Technicolor Roses

My sister sent me these roses for my birthday.
Yes, they're real.

I celebrated a milestone birthday last week, and my thoughts are more scattered than usual, but I am feeling a quiet sort of contentment and happiness, with a tinge of sadness.

Birthdays are usually a mixed bag of emotion for me, because my birthday is also the anniversary of my mother's death from breast cancer.

Last year at this time, I turned the age my mother was when she died.  This year, I surpassed it.

Last year, I was in mental and emotional agony over the fact that my OCPD boyfriend, who I dearly loved (and still do love) was willing to let me leave, rather than get help for his mental and physical illnesses.  This year, I have (mostly) accepted that it is not and never was my job to "fix" him.

Last year, because the "shared" garage was devoted to non-operational vehicles and his hoard, most of the personal belongings that were meaningful to me were in boxes; said boxes were in a storage facility miles away, and filthy with dust.  So anytime I wanted to read a book, work on a craft project, etc. it meant arduous effort.  This year, my grandmother's china is proudly on display, my books are on bookshelves all around me, and my craft projects... well, I've worked on them a little.

No clue how it's done - they are NOT painted.

Last year, one of my hurts was that every time I tried to write, I was confronted with jealousy and interference from my boyfriend.  This year, I have written something almost every day.  Some of it even on my novel!

Last year, social events were few and far between, and always iffy when it came to b-f's attendance.  At least half of the time, he would plead ill health at the last minute and try to emotionally manipulate me into feeling bad if I went without him.  (Like when my writer friends held a dinner for me, to celebrate my getting a literary agent.)

Although I learned not to sucker into the guilt-tripping several years ago, it was still inconvenient and embarrassing having to show up at events without my partner.  Then again, when he did go, I was always on tenterhooks as to whether he would get obnoxiously drunk and pick a fight or otherwise melt down and make a scene.

This year, my social life is my own, and the only person who can embarrass me in public is me.

Last night I attended what was basically Glee live.  Burroughs and Burbank High Schools (which inspired Glee)  show choirs put on a combined show as a fund-raiser for Burbank schools arts programs.  I went with old and new friends, and it was much fun.


I didn't go planning to record, but the performances were such fun I decided to capture just a tiny taste.  They're selling DVDs of the show, too, which I just may have to buy.

This started out with the Day-O, Banana boat song, and segued into this:


Ex-boyfriend was such a snob about what "we" watched or what we did.  He felt he had refined tastes and liked nature programs, PBS, and dramas, but wasn't above his Two-and-A-Half Men, Cops, and Rehab (that's a reality show set in some Las Vegas chi-chi bar.)  The TV was on 24/7, and he felt insulted if I chose to sit and read rather than watch TV with him.

He would have had to be dragged to a show like this - although he would have loved it, had he gone and not done a last-minute bail.   The kids (and these are actual high school kids performing, not professionals) were really good.

There's so much that my ex refused to see, try, places to go, friendships to be open to...  I am so happy not to be living in his crazy cage any more.

I feel like my life is moving forward. I'm still digging out of debt - the security deposit, higher rent, furniture purchases, etc., all went on plastic, but I don't regret a dime of it (except when the statements come.)

I wish he'd have been willing to move forward too, but he was too afraid.  And after six years begging, reasoning, bargaining, and threatening,  all the while his behavior continued to get worse and more abusive, there was nothing else I could do but move on, without him.

Still, I feel sad for leaving him behind.

Your thoughts?

Put On Your Own Oxygen Mask, First

If we've traveled on a plane... pretty much ever, we've heard the drill, about "When traveling with a small child, or person who needs assistance, put on your own oxygen mask first, before assisting the other person."

And of course, that makes sense.  If we are dead cold passed out, then who's going to put the oxygen mask on little Jimmy or Grandma?

Yet when it comes to a dysfunctional relationship, our instinct is to do the exact opposite.  We go into therapy, either with or without our partner, and tell the therapist, "S/he's broken.  Fix her/him!"  (Or, teach me how to fix her/him.)

What do they do?  They tell us we have to work on ourselves first.

What?!?

We may spend a lot of time explaining to said therapist just how screwed up our partner is.  Session after session.  Finally, it seems like they "get" it.

And they return, gently, firmly, to "You have to work on changing yourself."

One of the things that happens in a dysfunctional relationship is our sense of reality gets distorted.  We need to learn to build - or rebuild - healthy boundaries.  We need to rediscover our own truths, instead of bending ourselves into pretzels trying to please or accommodate the disordered person, and coming to believe their truths.  Sometimes we have internalized what we have heard from disordered parents, lovers, spouses, bosses, etc., so long that it feels like this is who we are.

Example:

He calls me a fat slob, so I must be one.
She says I'm selfish to want to go out with my friends once a week, so I must be selfish.
He swears and gets upset when my friends call in the evening, so maybe it is intrusive of them.
She says it's lazy of me to want to sleep late on Saturday morning after a 60 hour workweek instead of getting up to weed the garden at seven a.m.
He says we wouldn't fight if I didn't argue with him about everything.

Hey, maybe I am a fat slob.  And maybe that's total BS.  Just because someone says something to us, just because it happens to zing us in a spot where we feel vulnerable, doesn't mean it's true.

We need to relearn what's reality and what's crazythink - like the idea that the order in which one carries groceries into the house is a matter of life or death. 

The only way we can do that is by emotionally taking a step back,  Stop trying to "fix" or "understand" or empathize with our partner.  We cannot do their emotional homework for them, we can only do our own.  Deal with our own issues, become reacquainted with how we think, feel, want... that's putting on our own oxygen mask.

Then, once we have some "oxygen," we can better figure out what we want to do next.  Maybe we will find a better way of living with our partner even if s/he makes no changes at all.

Maybe the changes we make in our own attitudes and ways of dealing with life will make our partner so uncomfortable (or so impressed) that s/he will be willing to work on fixing him or herself.

Maybe we will decide to end the relationship.

Maybe we will try one thing, for a limited period of time, and then another.

I'd already started this blog post, and one of my chat friends posted this, which was so in line with where I was gong that I asked to borrow it. 

Our joint therapist would point out to my ex (the ocpd partner) that his perspective did not change my truth. It was an interesting way to phrase it. He called it denying my truth. It was his rewriting of reality to ease his anxiety by increasing mind. It was so confusing and exhausting.

My divorce attorney gave me several good analogies that I still think of:

She said, if he set your hair on fire and then told you that he didn't, your hair would still be burnt off.

She also said he can call you a giraffe but that doesn't mean you are one and your neck won't get any longer.

from Martin Pettitt at Flickr

The whole point being that we have to heal ourselves and then trust our own strength. This is not an easy task. I resigned the marriage rather than continue to do this 24/7 but I have learned what I need to do for my children's sake.

1 - We are strong or we would never have been their partners.

2 - We are kind, but must remember to be kind to ourselves first.(Remember to place your oxygen mask on first before securing children and others - from pre-flight instructions - OCPD are always crashing so don't go down without your mask)

3 - We are adept at interpersonal communication or we could never learn to speak OCPD.

4 - We are not mind readers and the harder we try the more we will fail - which will be our fault. Do not try!!!!!!!!!

5 - I have learned to pretend that what is being asked of me was asked of another. Such as a solid married couple you know or a sibling that you are close to..... or would you want your child to be treated this way. If the answer is no, then it is not acceptable to you either.

What lessons have you learned about putting on your own oxygen mask?

10 Rules For Being Human from No Busy Signal

I've been fighting bronchitis this past month, and something about coughing and gasping for breath has made it tough on my brain to come up with new ideas. It keeps whining at me, "More oxygen needed" or some other lame excuse.

Luckily, there are plenty of other good ideas out there I can steal borrow. Here's a fabulous post from No Busy Signal which I stumbled upon a few weeks ago in my delirium.


Ten Rules for Being Human


by Cherie Carter-Scott

1.	You will receive a body. You may like it or hate it, but it’s yours to keep for the entire period.
2.	You will learn lessons. You are enrolled in a full-time informal school called, “life.”
3.	There are no mistakes, only lessons. Growth is a process of trial, error, and experimentation. The “failed” experiments are as much a part of the process as the experiments that ultimately “work.”
4.	Lessons are repeated until they are learned. A lesson will be presented to you in various forms until you have learned it. When you have learned it, you can go on to the next lesson.
5.	Learning lessons does not end. There’s no part of life that doesn’t contain its lessons. If you’re alive, that means there are still lessons to be learned.
6.	“There” is no better a place than “here.” When your “there” has become a “here”, you will simply obtain another “there” that will again look better than “here.”
7.	Other people are merely mirrors of you. You cannot love or hate something about another person unless it reflects to you something you love or hate about yourself.
8.	What you make of your life is up to you. You have all the tools and resources you need. What you do with them is up to you. The choice is yours.
9.	Your answers lie within you. The answers to life’s questions lie within you. All you need to do is look, listen, and trust.
10.	You will forget all this.

I'm not sure I agree with all of these, but many of them rang true true TRUE to me.

 #1 - Yep, I got the body I got, and though I might be body-envious of a dainty little ballerina-type, even if I could starve myself thin, there's no way I can starve myself dainty.  So, might as well learn to love & take care of the body I've got.

#4 - I do see that there are patterns, or lessons that keep getting presented to me.  I might as well suck it up and learn 'em, because the avoidance thing did not work out for me.

from LOLCats

#7 - I'm not sure that other people are always mirrors.  However, I have noticed that others are most impatient with the flaws of others that they themselves possess.  (I've noticed it myself doing this sometimes - which means either I don't do it as often, or, more likely, that I don't catch myself doing it as often as I do.)

#10 - What was that again?

Did these life rules ring any bells for you?

What struck you the most - or least - true?

Please share in the comments, below.

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?

Going Off Script

From The Oatmeal's Why I'd Rather
Get Punched in the Testicles
Than Call Customer Service

So I got a new computer.  Joy! 

Except that there were the inevitable bobbles, for which I had to contact.... Customer Service.  <you can cue the Jaws theme music here.>

When I moved away from OCPD ex b-f in June, I switched from DSL internet connection to cable, and due to who knows why, my ISP had to assign me a new username and passcode for my new connection.  I should have written it down, but I had a lot on my mind then, and anyway, I'd picked an easy name and passcode, because I knew I would remember it...

You knew I wouldn't, right?

So I decided that, instead of calling in to my ISP helpline, and trying to verbally communicate with "Muffy" and "Jeff" and "Ashleigh," whose thick Indian accents have almost driven me to eating my own head in the past, I would try to resolve it via chat on my work 'puter during my morning break.  I got "Rocky" and "Juliet," instead.

I'm not unsympathetic to Rocky and Juliet.  (Or even Muffy and Jeff.)  They work long hours, don't earn a lot of money, and are working in an unfamiliar language.  Plus, many of the people they're trying to help are idiots.  (I might even count myself as one of those idiots.)  I'm sure I would do much worse as a Customer Service Rep if I was trying to communicate in their language.  I don't want to be nasty to Rocky & Juliet.

I just wish communications felt a little less like Rocky & Bullwinkle.

So I'm typing away, but Rocky is intent on going through the full script.  He's not listening to what I'm saying (or in this case, typing.)

ME: Hi, I have a new home computer, I need to find out my online log-in name for my cable connection, so that I can log in.

ROCKY: Congratulations on your new computer.  We can certainly help you with this.  For help with your cable connection, you will have to contact your local cable company.

ME: There's nothing wrong with my cable, it was working fine with my old computer.  I just need the username, which I forgot, so that I can get online with the new computer.

ROCKY: Are you chatting from your new computer?

ME <taking a deep breath>: NO, I can't get online from my new computer.  I need the username which logs me onto the cable connection.

ROCKY: Let me direct you to the site which gives you the steps to get online.

ME: Thank you, see that first step?  Login with your username.  You guys set me up with a new username in June, but I don't remember what it is.  I just need the username for the account, and possibly a password reset.

ROCKY: Are you online from your new computer now?

ME: No, I CAN'T GET ONLINE FROM MY NEW COMPUTER.  Look, just give me the CS to call, I'll call later from home.  (Meanwhile, I have scrolled through My Account and finally located the mystery username - it's my usual username, plus the number 1.  Genius!)

I get off chat with Rocky, try fruitlessly to log in or reset the passcodes myself to that username e-mail account, and eventually "Juliet" does a passcode reset for me.  When I get home later that evening, voila!  All better.

But this reminded me soooo much of a discussion on one of my "boards" about those with OCPD and their scripts.  Sometimes it feels like we are trying to have a discussion, and the other person isn't so much listening and responding to us, but stuck in a groove.  Like they're onstage, and are trying to feed us a cue.  And they're going to keep tossing it to us, regardless of what we say back to them. 

Which leads to fights and bad feelings all around.

Some OCPDrs themselves have described this seeking for the "right" answer, the right response.  They may not know exactly what they wanted to hear back, but they knew they weren't getting it, so they felt obligated to press on, until they heard - whatever it was - that they needed to hear.  This was unlikely, depending on how long the interaction had gone on, to be a true reflection of their partner's feeling or thoughts, but it was the right answer.

Here's what one frustrated partner joked:

I have told my DW rather than having a pointless discussion she should prepare a script in advance. She'd give me a copy. She'd read her lines. I'd read my lines. I'd know when I'm allowed to speak and when I'm not. She'd hear exactly what she wants to hear. We could even use the same scripts over and over. I'd know when it was going to end. We could both be happy.

Has this ever happened to you?

Frequently, I would begin speaking. DW would anticipate that I was about to say X. She would cut me off and start responding to X. I would tell her I was not going to say X; I was going to say Y. She would then insist that I was lying. We would then get into a ridiculous argument about what I would have said had she not interrupted.

I have been there, done that.  And <hanging my head in shame> have done my share of interrupting others as well, though I've never gotten into arguments about what somebody else would have said.

Maybe we need to take a bit of advice from Patsy.


So how does one deal with someone who won't "Stop, look and listen"?

One tactic is to walk away and start ignoring the person.  They'll ask why.  Answer: "It seemed you were not interested in a conversation, but a monologue.  Since my participation is not required, I thought I'd keep myself occupied while you finished up."  (It's important if you take this approach, to keep your tone neutral and pleasant - no heavy sarcasm in your tone, please.)

Another is to yell at them to Quit Interrupting!

Another is to simply not answer at all, unless asked why.  Then give the same answer (my participation seemed unnecessary.)

You can buy your own sock monkey puppet at
Colonial Candle

I thought about trying a sock puppet, myself.  Talk to the monkey!

Theoretically, you could talk to the Rambler during a moment of lucidity, like I did, and say, "You know, sometimes one of us might be talking, maybe when we've had a bit too much to drink, or are really excited about something, and we kind of talk right over the other person, and don't listen very well.  How about we agree on a signal so the other person realizes they're doing it?  A code word, holding up a hand or something...?" 

I thought, by making it neutral, by saying this is something we both do, something we both should be allowed to halt, that he would agree.  And he did.

Agree, that is.

In practice... it didn't work so well.  Often his mouth was like the Aerosmith song, "Train keep a-rollin', all night long."  But not in a good way.

I don't think there is any one approach that will work with everyone, all the time, because we are all individuals, and so are the people who, uhmmm, have their scripts.

For myself, I'm going to try to work on the bad habit of interrupting others in my own conversations.  To be aware that if what I have to say is that important, the opportunity to say it will arise again, and if it doesn't... maybe what I had to say wasn't that important, after all.

To realize that every moment does not have to be filled with noise, to babble words just for the sake of filling the empty pauses.  Silences are meaningful, and often, beautiful and essential parts of listening.

To breathe more.  To smile more.  To hold up a hand or walk away if others interrupt me.

What are you going to do to improve the quality of your conversations?

Leave a comment, below.

Addicted to Love? A Valentine for the Other Single Folks

This Valentines' weekend, though I know I should not should not should NOT contact my ex b-f right now, when I'm feeling vulnerable, and yes, struggling a bit with being alone in a world seemingly full of lovers, I am pondering how I ever got so mixed up about A Crazy Little Thing Called Love.  I've come to the conclusion that I can blame much of it on all the crazy little songs about love.


Listen to popular music.  I mean, really listen.  To the lyrics we often sing along to, without paying attention, but which sink deep down into our subconscious, and confuse the issue when we try to actually have a relationship.

 A lot of them aren't about love at all, of course, but about sex.  Robert Palmer's Addicted to Love?




From Sura Nualpradid at
FreeDigitalImages



Your heart sweats, your body shakes
Another kiss is what it takes

You can't sleep, you can't eat
There's no doubt, you're in deep
Your throat is tight, you can't breathe
Another kiss is all you need

Songs tell us (Love is Like A) Heatwave, or brings Fever (when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight...)  Don't these all make it sound like another side effect of "love" calls for a major dose of penicillin and a formal notice from the Center for Disease Control to all one's previous partners?

This one was a favorite...  and then I paid better attention to the lyrics.

Now that we've grown up it seems
You just keep ignoring me.
I'll find you anywhere you go,
I'll follow you high and low.
You can't escape this love of mine anytime.
Well, I'll sneak up behind you,
Be careful where I find you.
Apple peaches pumpkin pie,
Soon your love will be all mine.
Then I'm gonna take you home,
Marry you so you won't roam.

This sweet, bubbly little ditty is about finding one's childhood love, and whether she's now interested in a love relationship or not, stalking her until she gives in, and then trapping her via marriage.  Ain't that just sooo cute!  Not!  Then there's the stalker's classic, The Police's Every Breath You Take which is really, really creepy if you sit down and listen to it.

Come on, What's Love Got To Do with that?

But there are plenty of songs about people in healthy relationships... aren't there? 

I know you wanna leave me,
but I refuse to let you go
If I have to beg and plead for your sympathy,
I don't mind coz' you mean that much to me
Ain't too proud to beg, sweet darlin
Please don't leave me girl, don't you go
Ain't to proud to plead, baby, baby
Please don't leave me, girl, don't you go

Okay, we've got some serious self-esteem and boundary issues going on in the Temptations' Ain't Too Proud to Beg, but...  yeeeah.  How many, many songs and movies, teach us that if we simply hang in there, patiently dogging the object of our affections, s/he will eventually become exhausted fending us off, give in, and love us back?

From CakeWrecks - "for the Co-dependent"
"When your boyfriend starts crying, you'll know it's only because
he's so happy."

Modern stuff isn't that bad, right?  Those were the Dark Ages, romantically speaking; since then men and women have learned to treat each other better!  How about some Matchbox 20?

I wanna push you around, well I will, I will
I wanna push you down, well I will, I will
I wanna take you for granted, I wanna take you for granted
Well I will

Next! 

For those who loved an OCPDr (aka, a control freak) Linkin Park's Numb pretty much tells the tale of how exhausting it feels to be pressured by someone you love to be "what you want me to be," to be constantly criticized for making mistakes:

I'm tired of being what you want me to be
Feeling so faithless lost under the surface
Don't know what you're expecting of me
Put under the pressure of walking in your shoes
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)

I've become so numb I can't feel you there
Become so tired so much more aware
I'm becoming this all I want to do
Is be more like me and be less like you

Can't you see that you're smothering me
Holding too tightly afraid to lose control
Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
And every second I waste is more than I can take

Like some people use prayer to tell God what He should be doing (the Slacker!) there are many angry songs lecturing the other party on exactly how he or she totally screwed things up.  Take the whining about the house being dark and pots being cold in Santana's Evil Ways, because the woman actually has friends and outside interests, instead of being chained to the stove, cooking dinner for her man.  The nerve!  (I love that song, actually, great guitar solo; I've simply rewritten the lyrics in my head so when I hear it I'm less tempted to strangle the nearest male with my suddenly superfluous bra strap.)

There are very few songs about a mature, healthy love relationship.  I've never heard a song celebrating that messy front row seat, watching one's wife push a baby's ginormous head out of her vagina.  Probably because the fathers are a) passed out cold; b) manfully suppressing the urge to hurl chunks, or c) thanking God on their knees they will never, ever have to do this themselves.  In any event, the thought of whipping out a guitar and working out some chords  right then - not happening.   

The nitty gritty of everyday life and familiarity with one's partner, for the most part, gets left out of love songs.  Female songwriters don't write about the way their hubby of umpteen years gets more proficient at the butt trumpet every day.

from The Eight Phases of Dating from The Oatmeal

Although there is Brad Paisley's generous offer to check his girlfriend for Ticks.  Now there's romance for ya!

Love songs are mostly yearning songs (because the not-yet-well-known object of one's affection is still pure, perfect, and embodies everything one could ever hope to find,) or "player" songs, or we've-broken-up-but-I-still-miss-you, even if I am out partying and hitting on other women, like Smokey Robinson's The Tracks of My Tears.  Or bitter, don't-let-the-doorknob-hit-you-in-the-ass-on-your-way-out break-up songs (my current personal favorites) like Fleetwood Mac's Go Your Own Way, or Dokken's Just Walk Away

I'm not saying loving relationships aren't out there - and beautiful songs about them.

This is what love should be about, IMO.  Perfect love casts out fear.  Love makes you stronger, more confident.  Makes you feel alive and aware of the environment around you, like the children playing outside (though I still think the children in masks theme was a bit weird.)   Love makes you feel more connected, not just to your lover, but to yourself, to Heaven and the Divine, to joy.  Whatever happened in her life after this, during this time Belinda radiated joy.  I felt like I could almost scoop it off her in cupfuls.

from Karen's Whimsy

This, of course, is the bait, the reason we all get lured in, the glorious way we feel upon falling in love.  Just because in most cases, it dims a bit, or even vanishes altogether, doesn't mean it wasn't real and amazing while it lasted.  (Sorry, I tried being cynical - at heart I'm a sappy romantic after all!)

I did fall in love with my exb-f, and I did feel like this, in the beginning.  I'm truly sorry it didn't last, sorry that his OCPD, Mr. Hyde-ish behaviors emerged with such a vengeance that in the end, I felt more Numb.  I'm not foolish enough to go back, in the vain hope that this time, the story will have a different ending.

But I don't regret having those feelings, not for a moment, and I look forward, someday, to feeling them again with somebody who does not have a mental disorder.  And in the meantime... I'll just have to be good to my girlfriend.

Have you ever felt confused by the messages about
dysfunctional love in pop music?

What's your favorite love (or break-up) song?