7/10/2006
Did you ever notice how much easier it is to reach 'in' than it is to reach 'out'? I'm talking about how difficult a task it is to let someone help you. I'm pretty sure I inherited my mother's strong will to take care of myself. I've spent so many years saying, "I don't need anyone to take care of me," that most of me actually believes it. I've often told people, "I'll just do it myself," as I angrily stomp off into the other room resenting the fact completely. Maybe it comes from being disappointed too often so I've learned this coping mechanism where I just refuse help all together and then the only person I have left to blame if something goes wrong is myself. It can be a simple task like sweeping the floor or emptying the dishwasher....instead of asking ten times I end up just doing it myself to avoid controversy. I've found that even when the task is a bigger one, like healing an old scar, I much rather just learn to deal with the pain than to open up to someone else and let them figure out a way to help me. Maybe it's that I believe there really isn't a way to help, pain exists and no matter how much you 'work on it' there's always going to be some remnant of it left behind. A perfect example is how Christine gave me some numbers to call for Alanon and no matter how much I really want to pick up the phone and dial, I've found an excuse every single day since I opened the email not to call. I want to call, I want to heal, I want to feel better - but it's the feeling worse first that scares the hell out of me. I've spent so many years carefully dressing my wounds so they blend in with the rest of me, that the thought of ripping off the band-aid and exposing the scar that lies beneath sends shivers down my spine. I remember how it felt after I had my heart broken...one of the many many times that clutter my history...I knew that before I felt better I'd feel worse. When you come to that point where it's finally possible to let go of someone or something it's almost like losing them or it all over again. We hold on to the pain of the loss and it becomes our comfort tool, without the pain we're forced to look ahead and that's scary in itself. So I'm here or there in that 'catch 22'. I want to feel better but part of me thinks feeling better will be too much work so maybe I'll just stay this way...it's worked for me this long right?
I know some days it seems like I've come so far and if I give myself the credit I know I deserve I can admit it's true...the miles I've traveled could get me across the US a few thousand times. But still here I am, in this place. I guess pain is like an onion...you peel away the layers to get to the edible part but layer after layer - as tears sting your eyes, you realize you still are not there yet and there's just another layer beneath waiting to be revealed. I've always hated onions.
Posts
Look at the onion as a new adventure, you never know what you will find on the layer underneath. Sometimes you have to peel away the bad layers to get to the good ones.
Deep breath and an attempt to capture it again!
Okay, better now.
Doing a thing, anything, alone has been my mode of operation for most of my life. At a very early age I learned disappointment. I learned that if I wanted something bad enough, I had to do it myself and I did. Too many promises were made, then broken for me to learn to trust. And with everything I did alone, I put another brick in my wall.
Consequently, I've never been truly able to open myself to anyone, at times not even myself. As I work alone at whatever 'it' may be a nasty tape runs through my head filled with icky words..."useless, unworthy, unlovable, lonely, forever, stupid..." you get my drift, not fun to listen to, and eventually it became the music of my life.
Your onion analogy is great. I know about wanting to avoid pain, we all do. Yet, I'm realizing that if working through pain will get me to happiness, then I'm there. I intend to die the happiest person I can be.
Thank you for posting these thoughts today. I'm learning I'm not alone...neither are you. Your resistance to going to al-Anon is the same as mine to going to AA. We can do this thing. We are not alone.
**Hugs and Helping Hands**
You deserve to let that wounded skin breathe and heal so you can be whole and present for you, your hubby, Alice, and the lil one to be.
Listen to your song on here... be easy to yourself, you got me in your corner if you need a little help. Come into the light . . . be the one you are born to be!