Being Selfish

My life coach gave me an assignment of being selfish. She said I should ask myself during all situations "How do I feel right now? Do I still want to be here?" and then make choices from only what I want and not what others might think or feel. Daunting task for me. This isn't simply uncomfortable for me but an entirely new skill. I have to actively, as in reminders on my calendar, be aware, ask questions and be brave. Though I have made decisions entirely for me over the past few years this has a new level that is terrifying to explore.

I've spoken previously about how I process slowly but beyond that are situations where I don't even see that how I was treated was awful until someone close to me points it out. I was detailing a situation to a friend today where someone made a statement that hurt me. She was appalled at what was said and how she would have been livid at this person. Yet I wasn't mad at all. What started as hurt moved onto shame. The words became a cut down for me where I didn't question if it was valid and true. I thanked her for being honest with me and observed why someone who doesn't really know me could take me down like that. 

Brené Brown could detail this much better than I (and if you don't know who Brené Brown is, please go read everything she's ever written right now), but I think the reason random opinions can pummel me is that deep down I believe they are correct. If someone walked up mocking and laughing at me because they thought I was a purple alien it would mean nothing to me. They could berate me to no end and it wouldn't have an effect. I know that is not who I am so their thoughts about it are ridiculous. It's the best manipulators that know how to figure out where your fears are and use that to knock the wind out of you. 

Words are important to me so that's also why someone using them to tear me down cut so deeply. I'm thoughtful about what I say to others. I work hard to make sure my words don't hurt. There is always a level of shock for me when others casually and cruelly say things that hurt me. Now of course it would be absurd for me to imply I've never hurt another with what I've said. Though I will say that I likely was calculated and this was my form of retaliation for an injury I believe was done to me. This is rare though as I usually internalize and don't speak. Hurt people, hurt people.

Becoming assertive and confident are wonderful qualities if you notice what's happening and act on it. "Being in your own energy and unaffected by others' energy is a superpower." So this is the goal: selfishly (or rather with all the self care) observe how others make me feel, look at their words through the lens of what it means and does to me, no more letting things go for the sake of peace or being liked.

It's embarrassing to be this age and still working through these things. It feels like something I should have achieved decades ago. Yet here I am pushing through the discomfort and awful feelings to become the person I know I truly am.

Slow Processing

I picked him up around 5:30pm to go to dinner. He was acting annoying, thought he was funny when he was teasing me though I'd asked him to stop, saying the same thing over and over. It's now a year and a half later and I'm just realizing he was wasted. It didn't occur to me that someone would already be drunk before dusk on a Tuesday. So how many other times was he obliterated and I didn't get it? My entire experience is now being looked at through a new lens.

I don't process things immediately and especially when a person does something that doesn't make reasonable sense in my mind. I freeze as my brain tries to compute and piece together insane behavior. In a personality test for work many years ago one statement about me stood out "She doesn't understand why everyone doesn't see the world the way she does.". Yep. I have had friends kindly explain to me in so many situations "this person is lying to you". I know people lie. Of course I've lied. Yet I frequently can't comprehend it when someone is looking me in the eye and being untruthful. 

During a deep discussion with a friend I revealed some horrific things said to me during my life. She said, "I have never in all my life had anyone speak to me that way." "What was your reply?" I never replied. When someone shreds me in some way I go into a mini shock. It starts with shame and feelings of worthlessness and then takes a day or longer before I can fully remember what they said and figure out if it holds any weight.

I hate the freeze. I know it's there as a form of self protection but it feels so weak. I find it wildly interesting that I don't freeze when it comes to friends. Say anything bad to my friend and I go straight to annihilation mode. But not for myself. 

I've had many situations in life where I was gaslit. When you've had repeated instances in gaslighting situations you find you question what you've heard and what you know is true. My current attempt to override this is through writing. I have what I call my "intuition book" where I write what  I believe is happening then go back later to affirm if I was correct. I'm nearly always correct and can also see where I got something wrong and the reason why I didn't see that fully. 

The core issues here are self trust and self worth. When you have enough belief in yourself then others words no longer matter (Although do we really believe this?). Lets at least say when you are grounded in who you are then it makes it harder for people to destroy you.

I may always be a slow processor. Perhaps this is nature's way of balancing my quick wit and charm. (Yes, I'm grasping but stay with me here.) And we know there will always be shitty, lying, asshole people. Taking a deep breath and hoping just maybe I can finally say, "You can't talk to me that way." and not taking way too much time to process it through.

Walking each other home

An old friend contacted me recently and after the basic pleasantries she revealed she's had 4 DUIs and will be going to court. I tried to listen more than talk as I know how much I hate when I share something painful and deep and the other person feels they must advise and give commentary. With this instance, as with so many in life, there isn't a cute little cliché saying to throw at the person and stop the uncomfortableness. Can't say everything will be OK at least at the present time. But these are the moments. The life moments where our presence is everything. I asked what she needed and she said, "Hold my hand at my sentencing?". I said, "Absolutely. Say when and where." We haven't seen each other in 5 or 6 years but I'm driving to hold her hand tomorrow.

I know some people care only for their own happiness, for good things to happen for their family, and "thoughts and prayers" to the rest of us, but I want more for my life. I'd like to believe we all want our lives to have meaning yet watching the actions and words of others, especially over these last few years, I see a selfishness that borders on evil in my opinion. I want a life of significance. I want it to matter. Even if all I do is help a single soul, I want to know I did the right thing.

So what is our purpose? It's too big a question for me to answer for all humanity so I can only speak for myself. I believe my core purpose, that I chose for myself, is to be there for others. Being there for others might mean being inconvenienced when another is hurting and going to them. Being there might mean revealing my shame so that someone else finds freedom to share their truth. Being there could mean speaking out for the marginalized. Being there may even mean showing up for myself with firm boundaries as an example of a person who was torn apart and rose from the ashes. 

Am I achieving this? Yes, but poorly. There were 2 deaths in coworker's lives and I haven't sent cards because I'm struggling with what I want to be the perfect words. Sometimes I run out of words to say and I don't know what to do next. I know I give too much advice though I hate when others do it. I'm a human wresting with my own fears, issues and imperfections.

Ram Dass said, "We're all just walking each other home.". Though agnostic and cynical about all things after life, this one resonates. At my funeral I want it said that I cheered for others and not that I made snarky remarks to feel I was better than anyone. (I say this as someone who makes a shit ton of snarky remarks.) I want to be the person who allows herself embarrassment and humiliation so that the person in isolation sees they aren't the only one it happened to.

I'm going to die soon. So are you. Lets walk each other home.

How do I use this suffering?

Today is one of those days of extreme pain where I truly feel like I was beaten with a bat from head to toe. Sometimes I'll even look in the mirror at my skin expecting to see bruising as the agony is so bad. I'll take a hot bath, pop some muscle relaxers, do some yoga, and get it to a manageable level to where I can function. But it's never gone. To live in continual pain changes you as you live in fear that one day it's going to be so bad you won't survive it. 

Thich Nhat Hanh says, "The art of happiness is also the art of knowing how to suffer well. If we know how to use our suffering, we can transform it and suffer much less."

How do I use this suffering? I'd like to believe in sharing my experience I educate and bring understanding about what it's like to live with a chronic pain condition. I hope I show that it's OK to be resilient while still giving space to say I really hate how this feels and what it does to my life. Though I feel the deeper question is how do I use this suffering for my own transformation.

I vacillate between considering this only a physical condition I must manage and exploring if this is a manifestation of trauma. I feel it's both. 

On a random Facebook meme I saw this "Maybe you're not healing because you're trying to be who you were before the trauma, that person doesn't exist anymore, cause there's a new you trying to be born. Breathe life into that person." This resonates deeply. Speaking to a friend this morning we both spoke about who we once were, and though we can talk about those people (ourselves), they no longer exist. 

I do actively work at becoming someone new daily. I suppose the pain keeps me focused and aware as to stop trying would only make the anguish greater. My suffering gives me a level of understanding when I see another in pain that goes beyond empathy and compassion. 

Perhaps healing doesn't mean no longer hurting but instead accepting it and still being happy.

Do I care what you think?

Do I care what you think? Yeah, of course I do but not about everything. So where is the line drawn on what is true to me, that I do for me, and the things where your opinion can get to me? And how do I bridge that gap between what I want and your acceptance?

My decorating style, which isn't what you'd call classic, is something I had to hold back while I was married. I knew the ideas I had would never be accepted and I was also trying to "do things right" (whatever that means). It took me at least 2 years in my place to get it through my head that I owned it and my opinion was the only one that mattered. I first painted my kitchen red, my bedroom pink and my living room yellow. I started adding art that I loved by artists whose work I followed and not merely mass produced things to fill the space. I now look around my space and I smile without a single care if anyone else would like it. It's fully mine.

I know I'm funny. Now will you like my humor? Possibly. Will you think I go too far? Likely. Yet it's one of those things that even if a comedienne I greatly admire were to tell me "You're not very funny" it would hurt but it wouldn't break me or stop me. I might not ever make it to a main stage but I know I can be pretty hysterical.

My aesthetic is something I'm still growing into. I walk a fine line between the quirky things I like to wear and still working in a corporate setting. I like a little of everything and perhaps my style is what I want in the moment. My ex boyfriend tried to cut me down saying the pink in my hair made me look like Bozo the clown. Though critiques and putdowns can generally hurt me that didn't, because I love my fun hair colors and it's not an area anyone can slam me for. 

And then there's the rest of life...

I'm mostly happy with my writing and I see where it can get better. Yet there are so many fears: Am I using commas correctly? Did I end with a preposition? Am I descriptive enough? Or worse yet....am I saying the same shit over and over? It wouldn't take much to take me out.

When I was a child I was in ballet and my dream was to be a ballerina. I did well in class and had a healthy self esteem about it. As my parents were divorcing I was practicing in the living room one day when my mother came in and started watching me. She said, with disdain and a laugh, "What are you doing!?". I said I was practicing. Her tone became more animated, "For what!?". "To be a ballerina." She let out a hoot and said, "You'll never be a ballerina...you're too short." I quit the next day.

Recently I was at an open jam night for people to come play with a band and have some fun. Many are currently in bands, or have been so in the past, and admittedly my only real experience was choir and being a karaoke MC at bars. I expressed to a lady at the table that I'd participated at other places but felt intimidated by this crowd. She started to encourage me when another person interjected and said I shouldn't as there was another that was unequivocally better than me. I fully agreed but hung my head. The lady then came back saying, "Or she can just go do what she wants and have fun!". I nodded a thank you to her but I was already beaten by then.

"You're way too much!" Now this is one I've heard all my life. I have moments where I can be told this and I laugh and think "Nope...you wish you were as much as me!" and others where I cower and shrink and wonder "Why can't I just tone it the fuck down?". 

I saw this on a friend's post today and it gives me hope that one day nothing will cause me to crumble...

I have been told "never" so many times in my life.

I would never be a successful entrepreneur.

I would never be a good mom.

I would never be a good partner.

I would never have money.

I would never be loved all the way through.

The greatest pleasure in my life, is proving all of those "never's" wrong.

What is my story?

 "Writing is a truth serum, one that is not always easy to drink. This is why people often choose to remain 'one day I will write' seekers- they can avoid the actual moment when they find what they are looking for. Because speaking our truths requires us to deal with many different challenges, including our discomfort with vulnerability, our fear of failure, the very real consequences of finally speaking our truths. Writing, like any form of revealing self-expression, calls us to the next stages of awakening. It's seldom just pen to paper. It's far bloodier than that. It changes our lives. It calls us to grow. It transforms our consciousness. No wonder we retreat. No wonder we can't stop..." ~ Jeff Brown

While taking a step back from the goal of publishing, and pondering what exactly I want to say, I've had to ask "What is my story?". For a long time I thought it was my Evangelical upbringing and the way it fucks with your head even after you are out of it. I knew the horrors that occurred after my parents divorce would make for sordid reading. There is something I've alluded to but haven't shared which was my shame in my marriage, where I felt the embarrassment would kill me were I to let everyone know, but I felt it my duty to reveal it and help someone else. As I deliberated this with a friend she said, "I don't think that's your story." It's not? Well what is my story?

A new friend posted part of his story in a private group I'm in and gave me permission to share it. He talked about how Evangelical purity culture deeply damages so many and bravely shared what it did to him. This is what I aspire to. And though I'm mostly (sort of) beyond a lot of the shame, I can't get over that I'll be perceived in a way I can't control. So many times I'll post a piece and see a comment that for me is completely out of left field, and I think "How in hell did they get that from what I wrote?!". Yet how often in life has someone said to you, "Oh I get it!" and you think "Oh no you don't!". It's in bringing up Evangelical culture where I find that most people in an attempt to connect say they understand when you can't unless you've lived it. I remind myself frequently of a favorite quote, "I stopped explaining myself when I realized other people only understand from their level of perception." 

I'm also asking if this story, whatever I tell and wherever it goes, is worthy of sharing? Another middle aged woman talks about a ton of sad shit. Boo hoo hoo. Is this even needed? I believe it is. Doubtful that it would be a New York Times best seller, or even published, but I know without a doubt that someone needs to hear it. I know to the core of my being there is another soul that needs to know they weren't the only one. I feel with all of me there is someone pleading to a silent deity for another to show them some light. 

I say these things to let them out of me where they fester and try to take me down. I reveal my secrets, my insecurities, and my terror, as this is my therapy. I bleed all over the page to lessen the pain for a moment. I want my life to have purpose, and if that purpose is nothing more than to extend a hand on the journey with my words then that is enough to go on.

The Dating Event

When I got divorced I decided I wanted a big life. I wanted my own choices. I wanted to see the world and try anything that appealed to me before I die. I set myself up financially so I could live comfortably but on the lower end of what I could afford so I'd be able to do all the experiences I wanted. It's coming up on 4 years since I made that decision and I see how I allowed the lives of others around me to influence my choices. It's back to being all about me. A selfishness I've never allowed myself.

One of my better qualities is that I'm fairly fearless about trying new things. My desire to say I did it overrides any trepidation. After a year of working from home in a pandemic I have been antsy to get out. On an impulse I joined an "activities group" (I'm avoiding naming them as I own that my experience may be quite different than others). I saw there was an event coming up called "Love is Blind" based off the reality TV show where couples speed date but can't see each other. The premise being that you take away the external of how someone looks and connect with them before seeing them. Why not? So I joined the 40's - 50's group with curiosity but not really big expectations. 

The participants were from all over the country so the timing of it made it a bit late for me...starting at 8:30pm. Yes, there was a time I wasn't even going out until then but I do like earlier in my old age. They said to make sure you look good for the big reveal. I'd gone out to dinner with a friend before it started and by the time I got home, a few wines in, I no longer cared. I slapped on a fresh coat of lipstick and called it good. As we all got on a Zoom call people had cameras on (they should be off) and were asking what I felt were ridiculous questions because hasn't everyone been using nothing but Zoom for a year? Apparently not, so I let the host answer them while I tried to calm my breathing. She would group you with one person for 25 minutes, then another for 25, and on the 3rd round you could request to get back with one of the first two or get a new person. A few people didn't show up so this meant there were going to be some groupings of 3. I was listening to voices and what was being said and made notes of men I could tell immediately would be wrong for me. As I waited my list grew. 

So I get put in my first breakout room with match number 1. He was on my list of "hell no" but I played along. He starts speaking in the most monotone boring voice and shares that he's 68 and a Mormon. I'm not sure if it would have been possible to place me with anyone farther from what I want. I let him speak as I really didn't care to share anything about myself. He says he lives near Chicago but doesn't like to go into the city. I love downtown Chicago. He expands on this saying he's old fashioned but divorced his wife years ago because she was bipolar and spent $500,000. He then goes on to say that he'd never live with someone because his church would excommunicate him. At this point I'm on well on the way to drunk and couldn't hold back anymore. I said, "So how does your church condone your divorce, which wasn't biblical since there wasn't adultery yet would excommunicate you for living with someone?". He mumbled about having to do what leadership says and I asked him if this allowed for individual thought. He was becoming uncomfortable and talked about how his church has a prophet that interprets scripture for them. I asked, "And why do you believe her interpretation is correct?". He's hating me at this point and says we should talk about something else. I was looking at the clock waiting for this one to end.

Back in the main group and as the host is rematching us the conversation is irritating. One person says that we shouldn't talk about politics, religion or sex. I spoke up and said, "That's ridiculous and exactly what I'm going to talk about to find out who you are.". Another says we should ask if anyone in our family has mental illness and then she starts cackling about it. I went to get a refill as I couldn't take much more. I come back to her saying it again as she feels this is pretty funny. "Ask about mental illness...ha ha ha....ask if they have it." I replied, "You will after this event.". We get put in our 2nd match breakout and the guy says, "Habla español?”. I say no. He says it again. I say no once more.  Then he laughs and says he's kidding. I'm about to bash my face into my monitor at this point. I ask how old he is and he feels I shouldn't have asked that. I don't care and ask again. He reveals he's 33. I ask why he's in this group and he doesn't have an explanation. I then ask, "Who did you vote for?". He says I'm very forward and I agree and tell him to answer the question. Well he's Russian and not a citizen but doesn't think Trump was so bad. I go into a mini tirade on my feelings and he says, "You don't love America.". I'm looking all over the screen for how to leave this grouping entirely when another guy pops in. He's 40, friendly and we have a nice discussion about racial injustice while Russian guy sits there. 

So we're now at the point where you can request to again be placed with who you were matched with prior, no thanks, or get someone new. As the matching takes place the commentary in the group takes another turn into pure idiocy. I'm wondering if maybe you are purposefully placed with awful people so the third one ends up looking great by comparison. I get placed in a breakout room with a guy and another woman. The woman monopolized the conversation talking about hiking with her group and how she hasn't done much with the pandemic happening. She bored me to tears so I switched the topic to vaccines and spouted off on my soapbox until the time was almost up.

So now it's the reveal time. Without question there is no one for me but I'm now curious as to what people look like. Each and every one looked pretty much exactly as I thought they would. I stayed silent as I looked at each one and waited for my moment to leave. The host says that if you want to connect with someone you can private message your contact information in the chat. The 33 year old messages me his number and says to text him. That's a hard no.

Did I lose 2 1/2 hours of my life with that? Maybe not as I'm sitting here in the sun, a light breeze blowing in, some birds chirping, with my cat by my side and I'm oh so content being completely alone right now.