Take Me As I Am

Therapy isn't always about hashing out drama that has happened during my week.  In fact it's almost never that.  More often than not it's just talking about little things throughout the week that provide a window into bigger things and sometimes 'material' for therapy appears when I least expect it.  For example, last Saturday morning I was at my trainer's wrapping up a session (we train out of his home gym) and rather than driving over to my regular gym I was hoping he wouldn't mind if I stayed after and run on his treadmill.  He told me he had breakfast plans, which was totally reasonable (it was Saturday after all and just because he extends the courtesy to me to stay and use his cardio equipment on occasion I certainly don't expect him to do it all the time). Yet I was surprised to find I had to struggle not to feel upset about it. 

I realized at the time that it didn't make a lot of rational sense but I couldn't help but feel really disappointed, like he was letting me down somehow.  The following Tuesday in therapy I told P about the incident, not because of anything to do with the story itself but because of the strong emotion it had brought up for me.  I knew it was a feeling I'd noticed before (and often) and so I felt that it warranted some attention.  

After talking it out with P I realized that the feeling of being let down seems to present itself most often when it comes to my relationships with the males in my life.  With females (sisters, friends, etc) the feeling I associate more strongly with is one of being left out.  Regardless, it all seemed to point back to one central emotional theme of feeling alone. In order to try and get to the bottom of it, P encouraged me to pay close attention to the times when I feel this way.  She also asked me to think a little bit about my family relationships, especially from when I was young.  P cautioned me not to over-analyze it (I have a tendency to be an over-analyzer…) and said that she suspected it probably actually stems from something very simple.

So over the past week I began thinking about my childhood.  I'm the second youngest of 5 children and as anyone who grew up with siblings knows there are plenty of opportunities for choosing sides or pitting one person against another which could easily account for my notions of feeling left out.  (Interestingly, looking back on my life I realize I've continued to recreate these same patterns, feeling left out among a trio of friends or finding myself a fifth wheel tagging along with two couples.  It's no wonder I find myself in these types of situations - I've literally been the fifth wheel all my life!) When it came to my brothers and sisters, it seemed like we all spent time vying for one another's attention or plotting against one another at some point.  Yet we definitely had our share of fun and togetherness too.  I tried to reason it from a logical standpoint: I grew up in a house of 7 people with no shortage of siblings to play with, so why on earth did I feel so alone?

 Also on my mind throughout the week were some concerns I had surrounding my new blog.  Trying to find my niche amongst the healthy living blog world, I had found myself over-analyzing a lot of my recent posts (see? I told you..).  I had been worried that I was losing my focus or straying too far from my original intent and wondering whether I might be trying too hard to fit in or to be something that I'm not.  At times I noticed a tendency to try and produce what I thought other people would want to read rather than just letting it be a reflection of myself.

  I had been reading advice and tips from other bloggers and one idea that kept coming up was how the best blogs seem to be the ones where the writer simply shows who they are.  Deep down I already knew this to be true but for some reason it still made me feel a little uneasy.  I spent some time talking to P about my blog and my desire for it to come from me and to be authentic.  The way I explained it to her was that I feel like there is this other side that I'm trying to reach where some of the more experienced bloggers already are where they've been doing it long enough to realize that they're happiest and most successful just being themselves. 

I know that I want my writing to show people who I am and to come from an authentic place but I also can't help feeling like I'm taking a giant leap of faith to trust that I will get to the other side and be ok. P threw me a curve ball by asking me what exactly it was about putting myself out there that I was afraid of and I realized what it was right at that moment: a fear of not being accepted as I am.  What if the authentic version of me just won't do?

I wondered how I came up with this idea of the real me not being good enough and how it might relate to my family situation.  In my family (as is probably the case with a lot of families) we aren't always comfortable talking to one another about serious things and there are times we tiptoe around one another's feelings rather than just addressing issues directly and I think sometimes it creates a lack of emotional intimacy.  Because this was likely the case growing up, I think there may have been times I didn't feel connected to anyone in a genuine way (perhaps part of the reason I felt alone at times).  We all long for genuine interaction and perhaps this is part of what was lacking for me.  

I'm not saying that my family was dysfunctional, in fact I feel we were far from that, but P explained that the perfect family doesn't exist and all families have less than healthy forms of communication at times that can often lead to these types of feelings.  It might be as simple as being dismissed with a joke when you're trying to be taken seriously or a distracted parent failing to acknowledge you at a time you were feeling hurt.  It's inevitable that these types of miscommunications at an early age leave you questioning yourself, whether you were right or wrong to have felt or behaved a certain way.  What it boils down to is that every family has its own issues and early family interactions can have a cumulative effect in shaping the way that you view yourself and the world.  For me, I believe it has played into a fear of not being accepted at face value.

The good news is that these notions we have of ourselves can be changed.  It's actually very thrilling for me to realize that by breaking down these long held beliefs (or even recognizing that they exist first place) it's allowing me to unleash my full potential.  I'm excited for my blog to develop and grow as an extension of me, not someone I'm trying to be.  For perhaps the first time in my life I feel ready to really show myself to the world and I can't wait for the world to see who I am. 

-k

My Love Story: A Modern Day Fairy Tale

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, I was in love…

In reality it was just a little over a year ago, I was dating a guy I'd been friends with in high school after we'd reconnected on Facebook.  I was approaching the last year of my twenties and had notions of settling down on my mind.  He was about to ask me to move across the country so that we could be together.  It was romantic and exciting and all very new for me.  And we were in love.  Two star-crossed lovers it seemed separated by miles and circumstance.  Never before really believing I could find a relationship that would last, I finally felt like everything in my life was falling into place. I finally had someone I could lean on and rely on, who would always care for me. I had finally found my knight in shining armor and my happy ending at last was underway.  

The night before I turned 29 he had wished me happy birthday telling me he hoped it would be my best year ever.  And I believed that it would be.  Perhaps it was a well thought out sentiment or maybe it's just one of those things you say to someone on their birthday but either way he turned out to be right.  But not for the reason I thought, and not for any reason that had anything to do with him.  Ultimately, our relationship would unravel before I turned 30 but his words turned out to be almost prophetic.  Somewhat ironically, it was the end of my relationship with him (a rather low point in my life) that prompted me to turn to therapy which has turned out to be the one of the greatest experiences I've ever had. So in a sense he was right, it was my best year. 

When our relationship ended I struggled to find meaning in it all.  It was difficult for me to reconcile the idea that something I'd believed in so strongly could just be over.  It's kind of like being a child and believing in fairy tales. You become enchanted by tales of charming princes and fairy godmothers and happily ever after and then one day you grow up and realize they're just stories and suddenly all of the magic is gone.  

Finding meaning in our relationship is something I still struggle with and I've discussed it with P on a few occasions.  According to her, the desire to find meaning in things is natural, it's how people find peace with uncertainty (much in the way that religion provides a sense of security for many people).  It becomes problematic when you focus so much on finding meaning that you lose sight of the experience altogether.  Take those childhood fairy tales for example.  When I was young those stories provided a source of imagination, they encouraged me to dream and taught me to believe in love and in happy endings.  Real life doesn't always unfold like a fairy tale but those early stories of triumph and prevail give us something to aspire for and maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.

Thinking back on my relationship, I realize that he too encouraged me to dream.  He believed in me when I didn't necessarily believe in myself.  Perhaps because we had been friends at a young age, he actually reawakened a little bit of the child inside of me.  He helped me rediscover a part of myself that I'd long forgotten and helped me to bring a sense of fun and adventure back into my life during a time that I was probably much too focused and serious.  He reminded me to slow down and take care of myself at a time when I was pushing myself way too hard.  He helped me believe in love again at a time when I thought I no longer could. 

Perhaps because my relationship with him helped me to recognize all of these things I equated him with the experience but I'm beginning to realize that they're actually two separate entities. Even though we're no longer together and I can't take him with me I am able to hold onto the experience and what I gained from it.  Even now I realize that its during times when I'm stressed or sad or feeling more vulnerable that I want to reach out for him.  Almost instinctively, I want to turn to him to have someone to talk to or to lean on but I'm also starting to find that I can fulfill that need for myself.  Kind of like a child who reaches for their blanket when they're frightened and then one day realizes it's not so scary out there any more.  There's a certain security in believing in happily ever after.  I'm starting to establish that sense of security by learning to believe in myself.

P has told me that building more security on my own will allow me to make better decisions when it comes future relationships.  To think about that is really kind of empowering.  Instead of waiting for my knight in shining armor to rescue me it's almost like I'm becoming the heroine of my own story.  It's not that I've given up on love, I just no longer want to feel the need to be rescued.  I'm creating my own modern day fairy tale in a sense.  Now that's not to say if a tall dark and handsome stranger rides by on a horse I won't look, but if he arrives on foot I think that will be equally fine with me.

The End :)

-k