Fear of being abandoned
Fear of being smothered
It's an odd fact that these two rear their ugly heads simultaneously in a relationship as our "other half" mentality takes over and convinces us that we're incomplete without a partner. The "first half," our original self, pushes back and demands autonomy, independence, and control of our destiny.
Being split down the middle while battling these "selves" gets easier as we age BUT it's annoying. Women from both sides of the camp ponder the possibilities and stress about a final answer.
I've found that discussing this topic with women is as fulfilling as arguing the Democrat/Republican perspective, religion, or any number of divisive issues. No one's situation fits the black and white answer that society demands. Instead, we're as stretched as a used band-aid losing our "sticky" with each argument and experience.
BALANCE has never been more important than in midlife as we embark upon acrimonious paths and battles raged between and among the sexes.
The totality of our peace depends upon finding a sweet spot with someone who is open to the "two selves" struggling to find acceptance with oneself as well as with another.
Saturday, June 7, 2014
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Precipice
I'm not proud of my cowardly feelings when looking at future's edge. Truth be told, I just can't paint a pretty picture of my pure and simple fright.
"Jump into the unknown, step forward with the pain, embrace the mystery...." I've chanted those mantras time and again to get past my cowardice. It worked but it still doesn't mean I liked abandoning security. I'm not even sure why I keep pushing myself to be uncomfortable. Maybe I'm aware that one aspect of my being has not been pushed enough and finally...finally, I'm ready to approach the edge and challenge my pock-marked brain to exercise its intellect once again.
At life's midpoint, I'm happy with my physical prowess. I am sure in my ability to continue my path to lifetime fitness. Emotionally, my development is on a great trajectory for growth and maturity. With the aging of my parents and children, I'm positive that I will be tested but I'm comfortable with asking for help and I'm secure with the relationships I have in place to help me handle life's unexpected dramas.
Physical. Emotional. Mental. That final piece of the triad has gone untested for so long that I fear it has atrophied to an unrecoverable point. My mental acuity has taken the hardest hit from my monster, MS.
I have to explore the unknown aspects of my ravaged brain. A neurological psychologist helped me with the baseline 3 years ago or should I say he dropped the "brain bomb" in my lap.
Black holes. Some of my lesions turned into what the MRI techs call black holes which simply means that NOTHING shows up on the scan. It's lost...forever.
"But you look so good." "I can't believe you have it!" "Oh, yours isn't so bad." "I forget things too. No big deal."
Black holes. I grieve for them. I wonder what part of my memory/knowledge disappeared and I'm frustrated that I can't know what I do not know. . . .
My limbs are intact. I'm mobile. I'm lucid. I am ABLE rather than being DISabled.
Yet I grieve at having black holes and feel guilty for the grief.
Grief. Guilt. Fright. I'm tired of hosting them on a daily basis in my back room psyche. Exorcising these demons means I must exercise my brain and face my deficits. Scary place...grey matter with black holes.
But into its depths I must go and find the release valve.
#fearlessMS
"Jump into the unknown, step forward with the pain, embrace the mystery...." I've chanted those mantras time and again to get past my cowardice. It worked but it still doesn't mean I liked abandoning security. I'm not even sure why I keep pushing myself to be uncomfortable. Maybe I'm aware that one aspect of my being has not been pushed enough and finally...finally, I'm ready to approach the edge and challenge my pock-marked brain to exercise its intellect once again.
At life's midpoint, I'm happy with my physical prowess. I am sure in my ability to continue my path to lifetime fitness. Emotionally, my development is on a great trajectory for growth and maturity. With the aging of my parents and children, I'm positive that I will be tested but I'm comfortable with asking for help and I'm secure with the relationships I have in place to help me handle life's unexpected dramas.
Physical. Emotional. Mental. That final piece of the triad has gone untested for so long that I fear it has atrophied to an unrecoverable point. My mental acuity has taken the hardest hit from my monster, MS.
I have to explore the unknown aspects of my ravaged brain. A neurological psychologist helped me with the baseline 3 years ago or should I say he dropped the "brain bomb" in my lap.
Black holes. Some of my lesions turned into what the MRI techs call black holes which simply means that NOTHING shows up on the scan. It's lost...forever.
"But you look so good." "I can't believe you have it!" "Oh, yours isn't so bad." "I forget things too. No big deal."
Black holes. I grieve for them. I wonder what part of my memory/knowledge disappeared and I'm frustrated that I can't know what I do not know. . . .
My limbs are intact. I'm mobile. I'm lucid. I am ABLE rather than being DISabled.
Yet I grieve at having black holes and feel guilty for the grief.
Grief. Guilt. Fright. I'm tired of hosting them on a daily basis in my back room psyche. Exorcising these demons means I must exercise my brain and face my deficits. Scary place...grey matter with black holes.
But into its depths I must go and find the release valve.
#fearlessMS
Monday, June 2, 2014
Whole Spirit
Passive aggressive...temper tantrums...detached from their own personal truths....
It's a hard thing to face. I went out with these men and had great affection for them and DID NOT listen to that inner voice that said CAUTION.
And the CAUTION sign wasn't about the kind of men they chose to be but about the kind of woman I was choosing to be...simply by being with them.
I was choosing to indulge their relationship "ideal" versus my own. By letting my own worthiness fall to the wayside, I fell victim to my lack of confidence. I fell victim to my own perceived inadequacies and I didn't stand firm in my convictions.
But each fall has subsequently been shorter, less painful and the healing came faster until no healing was required at all. Instead, I accepted my mistake, forgot about flagellation, and moved away and forward.
Facing the sunshine means not caring about my shadow anymore; it also means facing the storms and believing that I will emerge as a whole spirit.
I can be whole in spirit although my psyche became a bit tattered over the last decade. All those less than perfect parts of me can integrate now because I have learned that I can heal and those scars...they're just growth...not failure.
Whole
Spirit
Me
It's a hard thing to face. I went out with these men and had great affection for them and DID NOT listen to that inner voice that said CAUTION.
And the CAUTION sign wasn't about the kind of men they chose to be but about the kind of woman I was choosing to be...simply by being with them.
I was choosing to indulge their relationship "ideal" versus my own. By letting my own worthiness fall to the wayside, I fell victim to my lack of confidence. I fell victim to my own perceived inadequacies and I didn't stand firm in my convictions.
But each fall has subsequently been shorter, less painful and the healing came faster until no healing was required at all. Instead, I accepted my mistake, forgot about flagellation, and moved away and forward.
Facing the sunshine means not caring about my shadow anymore; it also means facing the storms and believing that I will emerge as a whole spirit.
I can be whole in spirit although my psyche became a bit tattered over the last decade. All those less than perfect parts of me can integrate now because I have learned that I can heal and those scars...they're just growth...not failure.
Whole
Spirit
Me
Friday, May 30, 2014
When do I get my body back postpartum?
My "mothering" skin is sloughing off faster each day.
The newly exposed ME is as appealing as a newborn...cute and ugly simultaneously.
When I think of how I'm growing, I think of the classic sci-fi icons of huge headed creatures with flailing limbs. Askew in body, brain expanding, and heart beating strongly as strength returns to all aspects of my being...I am an adult infant!
Surprise! It's a girl! And she's filled with EGO. It's all about me, me, me! ha ha
And that is the real surprise. My own progeny are moving on and I feel so greedy. I like throwing my arms wide open to the world and I like exposing this new skin of mine to the sun and I when I hug someone, it's just me to hug.
Therein lies the dilemma. For all the fun that greediness provides, I'm not made to hug myself solely. As sure as I am about who I am becoming, I am also sure that nurturing another/others is the main puzzle piece to my happiness.
I shall not lie fallow as a seed without food to grow. The egg is filled yolk and white for a reason....
The newly exposed ME is as appealing as a newborn...cute and ugly simultaneously.
When I think of how I'm growing, I think of the classic sci-fi icons of huge headed creatures with flailing limbs. Askew in body, brain expanding, and heart beating strongly as strength returns to all aspects of my being...I am an adult infant!
Surprise! It's a girl! And she's filled with EGO. It's all about me, me, me! ha ha
And that is the real surprise. My own progeny are moving on and I feel so greedy. I like throwing my arms wide open to the world and I like exposing this new skin of mine to the sun and I when I hug someone, it's just me to hug.
Therein lies the dilemma. For all the fun that greediness provides, I'm not made to hug myself solely. As sure as I am about who I am becoming, I am also sure that nurturing another/others is the main puzzle piece to my happiness.
I shall not lie fallow as a seed without food to grow. The egg is filled yolk and white for a reason....
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Life Force Transcendence
Maya Angelou's passing hurts.
Her writing and speaking evoked strong responses within me...hurtful and hopeful in the same heartbeat.
When walking us to the edge of a deep emotional well, she held our hand as we looked into the deep abyss of fears, hopes, and dreams.
I felt safe and loved within her words...darkness tinged with light...light tinged with the possibility of a storm....
Following her lead is an intoxicating possibility. All of our musings come from an autobiographical stance and she made the sharing of oneself wholly holy.
Maya
Her writing and speaking evoked strong responses within me...hurtful and hopeful in the same heartbeat.
When walking us to the edge of a deep emotional well, she held our hand as we looked into the deep abyss of fears, hopes, and dreams.
I felt safe and loved within her words...darkness tinged with light...light tinged with the possibility of a storm....
Following her lead is an intoxicating possibility. All of our musings come from an autobiographical stance and she made the sharing of oneself wholly holy.
Maya
Afternoon Nirvana
Checking over my shoulder
Wondering how I got here
Asking if it's too good to be true
Questioning my questions
Bemoaning my moans
Provoking, evoking a feeling or two
Resisting temptation
Tempting my patience
Patiently waiting for words to come through
Afternoon nirvana
Rainstorm protection
A something I've wanted and waited to do
Monday, May 26, 2014
Revisit
Looking at the titles of blog posts that were never completed: Quiet Anger, Doormat
I'm going with the positive summation that I did not complete these posts because I REFUSED to be addicted to my sad stories. In the social competition of "who's had it the worst," I think I could hold my own with the retelling of my suffering and I'm sure I could garner the sympathy of listeners with my heartfelt angst, but it's a poisonous addiction...the retelling of sadness.
After long term analysis, progressive therapists are finally embracing the concept that the dead horse of pain doesn't need to be beaten constantly for peace. It's important to note that the masses instinctively know this...we have holidays (Memorial Day) set aside for pain acknowledgement. We can't function effectively if we continue a cycle of painful memories.
The anniversaries of my previous life become easier to face; sharp stabbing memories become duller as I force them to remain on the periphery of my being. On this Memorial Day, I acknowledge their existence and pay homage to their lessons but I DELETE their ongoing influence. I live by exiting the swirling eddy of pain and instead embark upon a tributary taking me to a much larger pool of potential...a still deep water that gives me peace and tranquility and freedom to appreciate how far I have floated away from white rushing waters of pain....
I'm going with the positive summation that I did not complete these posts because I REFUSED to be addicted to my sad stories. In the social competition of "who's had it the worst," I think I could hold my own with the retelling of my suffering and I'm sure I could garner the sympathy of listeners with my heartfelt angst, but it's a poisonous addiction...the retelling of sadness.
After long term analysis, progressive therapists are finally embracing the concept that the dead horse of pain doesn't need to be beaten constantly for peace. It's important to note that the masses instinctively know this...we have holidays (Memorial Day) set aside for pain acknowledgement. We can't function effectively if we continue a cycle of painful memories.
The anniversaries of my previous life become easier to face; sharp stabbing memories become duller as I force them to remain on the periphery of my being. On this Memorial Day, I acknowledge their existence and pay homage to their lessons but I DELETE their ongoing influence. I live by exiting the swirling eddy of pain and instead embark upon a tributary taking me to a much larger pool of potential...a still deep water that gives me peace and tranquility and freedom to appreciate how far I have floated away from white rushing waters of pain....
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