Perfectionist, Planner, Pleaser, Pretender: The Masks that Misrepresent Me

I had the great fortune to spend last week at a convention focused on recovery. I wrote the following during a writing workshop. I didn't share it until last night, when I was asked to post this on THL. Perhaps I undervalued the insight that I had. If that is the case, I will consider my pattern of minimizing my thoughts and experiences, as it is always my wish to share whatever HP has given me for not only my learning but for others’.

“Dear Recovery Family,

I am once again honored to be your delegate and to witness such amazing recovery and to have the opportunity for my own growth and healing. This recovery experience is like none other and I so wish you were here with me. As you know, I am here as a delegate, an attendee, and serving on the Convention Committee. I have been planning for, working on, and in anticipation of this weekend since leaving the Convention last May.

What has become surprisingly apparent to me at this year’s Convention is that the agenda I had is far different than what my Higher Power has in mind. I say this a lot – my service work is my recovery work. This is especially evident this weekend.

The perfectionist in me has really been at odds with the recovery me. The planner in me has had to take a back seat to the unexpected needs of convention work. The pleaser in me has had to let go of others’ thoughts; it’s none of my business what they think anyway. The pretender in me has had to give way to authenticity and vulnerability.

And this is all VERY, VERY, good! The perfectionist, planner, pleaser, and pretender are parts of me that hide who I am. The real Sara, the authentic me, is imperfectly perfect! She knows that it is progress not perfection and that doing her best, giving her best – this is enough! Recovery Sara knows that whatever plans she has doesn't really matter;  it is Higher Power’s agenda that matters. Humble Sara knows that she is accepted, worthy, and loved by God. She can be pleasing without needing to be approved by others. And the healthy, whole Sara no longer hides behind her insecurities or her attempts to overachieve. She is free to be who God has made her to be.”

As I type and reflect this morning, I am once again humbled by the ways that I’m gently course corrected. I have had some challenges re-entering into my daily life, post-convention. Those same masks want to reappear, and yet there are more masks that have surfaced. I face a new powerlessness: living alone. There are new physical and emotional challenges that I’m dealing with. The mask that I put on is pitier. This really didn't strike a chord in me until writing this post. The pity is for myself to add insult to injury, and this  mask is in direct competition with the overcomer in me. I fight wanting to hide behind the circumstances and pain. That is not who I am, though. I have proven to myself over and over again that I come to my own rescue even as I lean in and own my behaviors. I use the recovery tools that I have, and I will continue down The Healing Lane. This is the real Sara; the one who doesn't need masks, embraces life, and knows her worthiness while humbly asking God to lift her shortcomings. I like her, by the way. 

Open Door to Vulnerability

Sometime early this morning I recall feeling the coolness of the morning breeze, hearing the sounds of the wildlife, and smelling the fragrant scent of jasmine.  I had a quite a surprise when I awoke to find the door from my bedroom to the backyard ajar. My initial reaction was, “how did that happen and how long has it been open?”  My deduction is that the wind blew it open, or that mastermind feline Macie managed to open it. She manages to open another door to the patio regularly. My mind didn't rest on how the door was opened because my feelings became much more apparent: I felt extremely vulnerable. I would not be your outdoorsy type nor comfortable with various outdoor critters making their way into my home. Nor do I allow any other kind of unwelcomed critters into my bedroom.

This vulnerability has triggered something in me that has prompted my desire to write today.  I recognize that this feeling has surfaced in the last few days because I recently learned that I will – for the FIRST time – be living all alone this summer. I have shared my residence with at least one family member or roommate my entire life. I have never, ever lived alone.  

Living alone for many, I realize, is a welcomed - perhaps even needed - respite from an otherwise hectic and packed lifestyle. I have many friends that describe their solitude with such richness and warmth and endearment. I look at them in amazement and some disbelief. It is only in the last year that I can embrace solitude for its gift. But I can seek solitude in a number of ways; I don’t need to live alone to experience that. In contrast to solitude, loneliness brings up feelings that are not soul enriching. I have been addressing my loneliness for some time. The intensity of the loneliness has lessened as well as the duration of those intense feelings. 

Another concern of mine is responsibility. I must fully recognize that I will go through an adjustment. I’m not very good at routines and the thought of remembering to take out the trash to the garbage container and then take the bins to the curb is slightly unsettling. Add to this the watering of the plants – inside and out – and the daily maintenance of the animals; the pool and the mail; and the overall well-being of the house. I recognize my shortcomings and know that this lack of taking responsibility and being a good caretaker (in this sense, it really is care-taking!) are on my list. I have some anxiety about my really taking on this responsibility.  I also know I have an opportunity to show myself my fully functioning adult behavior capabilities and I believe I will rise to the occasion.

Now back to feeling vulnerable. I believe this is what is the crux of the matter to my living alone for the first time in my nearly 50 years. The security, safety, and shared responsibility will no longer be resting on my having someone living with me. It is now solely on me to provide for my own security and well-being. The image that comes to mind is a child, cold and alone, in the wilderness.  Whew! That speaks vulnerability to me. The gift in expressing my feelings and exposing my thoughts is that I can now examine them. I can validate my vulnerability and acknowledge my truth, but also choose where I want to go with this information.

The truth is that I am a very capable adult. I have resources to do and hire what I need to do to care for my surroundings. I may have a bit of a challenge to get into the groove of things, but I am a responsible adult and I will care and tend to my needs. I am not a child alone in the wilderness even if there is a part of me that feels that way. The helplessness, uncertainty, confusion…not knowing what to do, if anything…all point to feelings of vulnerability that this morning’s open door exposed. What I have been reading and learning about vulnerability is that as uncomfortable as it may feel, just embrace whatever the circumstance is by daring greatly (see the quote by Theodore Roosevelt used by Brené Brown). By continuing to “show up” in my own life, I am becoming the person I envision myself to be. I am merely entering a new scenic path along my journey. It is where I find myself and what I call The Healing Lane.

Lean in and Own It

    I have found such deep healing in the love and acceptance of knowing my God loves me - flaws and failures, quirks and smirks, whether I’m happy or sad, grouchy or glad.  There is a comfort and peace these recent months; more than I have ever known.  Yet, the last couple of weeks I have felt the return of some of the less pleasant feelings. This has been troubling and challenging because I am wrestling with a returned intensity of loneliness. I acknowledge that in struggling with these feelings, I am again finding myself wanting to minimize them and dismiss them as unjustified and unwarranted. Fortunately, these many months of therapy have brought gifts of awareness and there is a more compassionate me to be less critical of myself when these feelings surface.

    Having said that, I can also identify that I am susceptible to addictive behaviors since the unrest and discomfort prompt those feelings of pain to the level of wanting to escape and medicate. I know well enough that acting out in my compulsive behaviors or numbing away my feelings will only delay what I need to face. My commitment level to my healing is much greater than that; no – the Sara of recent years is “lean in and own it”. That’s just how I bend these days; I do not want to return to the numb Sara.

    So let’s lean in and find out what I need to own. What is it about this loneliness that is so difficult? I begin with asking myself when is the pain the worst? The bewitching hour is when I go to bed; I simply want to share my life with someone, and I don’t like sleeping alone.  The intellect of that statement is simple enough; I believe by design we are programmed to want to connect. I can see that loneliness is part of accepting my present circumstances. What has been particularly difficult is the intensity of these feelings, though.  They can be rather unpleasant.

    I am all too familiar with gripping pain. I remember feeling a deep, into-my-core, kind of pain when I was married. This was perhaps the worst of the worst since I was physically next to someone whom I loved, to whom I had made vows of lasting love and commitment, and who I wanted desperately to love me. Yet, there I was – devastated in the bitter loneliness of rejection. That kind of loneliness is truly debilitating. My medicating and escaping were understandable, albeit so very unhealthy.

    The loneliness that I am feeling of late is not the same thankfully. I am not rejected and I am aware that I am by myself, yet I am not alone.  Rather, this loneliness has some residue of an early time from my childhood. What I recall from my days as a young girl growing up in my family of origin is that I knew I was loved; that I was aware that I had a very good life because my parents provided for me and took care of my (physical) needs. I had such compassion for those I perceived as less fortunate than I, especially those existing on such minimal provision. I wanted to be grateful for what I had been given. I suppose I learned at an early age to minimize my needs because I didn't feel that I was particularly worthy of having it “better” than someone else.   

     There is a certain type of loneliness in that kind of thinking because I couldn't share those feelings deep inside me. To do so would expose something very shameful in me – that having such emotional needs was to be greedy, needy, demanding, and ungrateful.  I think what I wanted was the kind of attention of being seen and appreciated for in my complexity as a person, not merely for the compliant child who did for others.  There was a sense that because I had been given more than most children, to voice any additional need was to be ungrateful. I hadn't done anything particularly worthy of what I had been given so asking for more than what I was given would have been audacious, and that was very unacceptable. In fact to express it would have been shameful.

     Back to today’s loneliness: what does all this have to do with my recent feelings (I’m leaning in; I’m willing to own it, but it doesn't always make sense to me.)  I suppose I’m back to the issue of asking for more. Do I get to voice my needs, because I’m feeling very undeserving and unentitled. Yet, if asked…I want more.  I see that more is available and I want the fullness that I see is available. Wanting that exposes some guilt and shame (again?! They seem to reappear over and over, don’t they?) because I think it says that I am ungrateful.  I know that I have come far in my healing; that I have awareness and acceptance.  I have worked through so many issues, I have overcome a lot of my harmful and unhealthy behaviors. There is this sense that my gratitude for this should suffice.  I am truly grateful. These feelings of wanting more expose how young Sara related to her world. As an adult I get to define my needs and set about getting them met.  There is no guilt or shame in that, and to my surprise, by my releasing those, I also feel less lonely.   In fact, I feel empowered by my adult awareness, and realize that only my opinion on what is enough matters. There is nothing lonely in that, but I alone get to make that call!