My hiatus is over and I’m back and feeling ready to write! I know because the “feelings journal” I’ve been keeping for the therapist is turning into way more words than pictures. When I hit a full-page of just writing – I knew I had to start posting again.
Again – this shit is cheap therapy and you guys are the best therapists there are.
Speaking of therapy (nice segue don’t you think) I adore my new therapist and I think the combination of me being really ready to do the work and him being a good fit for me is my ticket to a little peace of mind. The key to it all will, of course, be whether or not I can be brutally honest with him AND myself.
Time will tell.
For now however, I wanted to share an “ah-ha” moment I had the other day because…well…it rocked my psyche. For reals yo. Like most alcoholics, I have that little voice in my head that is constantly telling me I’m not good enough. Couple that with depression that brings on its own version of self deprecation and it’s no wonder when I look in the mirror I really don’t like what I see…let alone love.
So I’m talking through this when Joe uses a tug of war analogy. He says that it feels to him like my “monster” is on the other side of the rope and that I’m constantly trying to “beat” it and win the tug of war. I pull and pull and sometimes I get ahead and sometimes the monster gets ahead but the bottom line is no one ever wins. He said, “Have you ever tried to put down the rope?”
I stopped, shut my face and just stared at him for what seemed like 10 solid minutes but was probably more like 10 solid seconds. Then I said, “But that feels like quitting…or failure.” (This would be the part in a TV show where the soulful music plays and we fade to commercial on a shot of my face. I do have a flair for the dramatic don’t you think?)
Anyway, we chatted a little longer, he gave me some homework and I left. And ever since I haven’t been able to get that conversation out of my mind.
Put down the rope.
Just put down the rope.
The bottom line is that this whole tug of war thing is actually a fight with myself. A version of me on one side of the rope and a different version on the other side. There are no winners or losers. Either way I win and lose.
Well when you put it that way I look like a fucking idiot if I don’t put down the damn rope.
THEN I started thinking about the version of me on the other side of the tug of war pit. The first visual that popped into my head was a four-year old version of me. A version with ratty hair and a dirty face and filthy clothes. A little girl who no one cares for or loves.
This little girl has never been cared for properly and has never been taught to express herself correctly. As such, when she’s upset, or frightened, lonely or feeling too much she says things like, “You’re ugly!” “You’re fat!” “I hate you!” “No fair!” And all of those other things four-year olds say when they are trying to tell you how they feel but don’t have the words.
Because they are four. Because they are me…at four…who never progressed beyond that because no one taught me HOW to process those emotions in a healthy way. So I stuffed them down and that little girl got angrier and more frustrated and no matter how I tried to externally soothe her (food, alcohol, shopping, chocolate) she remained in there waiting till the time she could start her temper tantrum once again.
A 49 year temper tantrum.
Fighting her never worked. It just left me exhausted and unhappy. Arguing with her never worked. It just left me confused. (Have you ever tried to reason with or argue with a four-year old? Yeah.) So why not try something new?
This past week I’ve been practicing putting down the rope. I’ve been meditating on loving this child of mine. For now just walking with her hand in mine, building a relationship and establishing trust. It feels wonderful. I’m letting my caring side take over and treating her the way I’d treat any four-year old. With compassion and kindness.
Now THAT’s progress people.