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!

Loneliness, Being Alone, Isolation, Withdrawal, Solitude…NOT the Same Thing!

It seems like the last few months I have been on hyper-speed. It has been a bit of work to maintain lane control while so many things have been surfacing, yet there have been monumental breakthroughs. This last weekend, though, an amazing thing happened. The Lane took a turn and unbeknownst to me, a whole new scene appeared and I got to witness such magnificent beauty! The Healing Lane offered absolutely breathtaking views. The views were from within, and they were of me.

I decided to recognize my one year anniversary of being in recovery and the many efforts I've made by attending a workshop. I gave myself this reward. I went to Scottsdale to the Franciscan Renewal Center to be a participant in REAC²H (Restoring Embodied Awareness, Compassion, Connection, and Hope) which is a workshop on mindfulness led by Dr. Jon Caldwell. It was one of those times when God was at work orchestrating what I needed because it couldn't have been a better fit for me right now. I couldn't have scripted it better if I was in charge.

Let me first provide a context. Just a few weeks ago I was struggling with my compulsive urges – wanting to eat, smoke, drink, and spend – and was frustrated with myself. Debra suggested that I spend some time alone allowing myself to “just be”.  Let the thoughts come in, thoughts go out. Feelings in, feelings out. No food, drink, music, journal, or other distraction was to accompany my solitude. Me. Just be with me. She had noted my anxiety about being alone and wondered if I had really allowed myself to feel the loneliness. Her talking about it brought on anxiety. Not a loner. Never have been. So she recommended 10 minutes in a comfortable chair. She acknowledged that I might not make 10 minutes at first. I referred to this exercise as “the loneliness exercise”. I had forgotten that she spoke of mindfulness. My mind had been hijacked with the thought of being alone.

That night I moved right into the assignment, ready to face this fear of feeling and being alone. I settled into my patio chair, noting the time of 8:30pm, My thoughts began... “I’m good to go. Not bad…oh, look at the beautiful mountain. And isn't it rather serene out here…but awfully quiet. And alone. Oh, so alone.” The tears start to flow, increasing in intensity and amount. After a bit of that, I think, that should possibly do it. So I check the time: 8:31pm. I exaggerate not. That is being uncomfortable with myself, and that has been present for most parts of my life. I persevered for three more cycles of the being ok, crying, and then comforting. I did survive for 10 minutes, but I did not enjoy that exercise even those the awareness of this was a gift in itself. That experience was just a little over a month ago.

This past weekend I spent a lot of alone time. I stayed at the Renewal Center by myself. No TV, by the way. I went to a movie with myself. I also learned mindful meditation and the gift of solitude. I found that I can show myself some compassion. I discovered that I am not only ok with myself but that I am actually becoming comfortable in my own skin! On the last day, I wrote “I feel like I have found a new friend in myself.” I put this kind of transformation in the miracle department. That void I have wanted to fill isn't so empty. The me I’d been avoiding is now being welcomed…by me!

I suppose in a lot of ways, this is what I've been seeking all year. I’m not only showing fully function adult behavior but I’m learning my own worthiness and lovability. This change that had been in the works recently hadn't been quite recognized since I’d been so accustomed to my disdain for my failures, my body, and the thoughts that seemed to betray me. However, there were signs…the day before I left for the workshop I had written, “I feel like a bud ready to blossom.” God was indeed at work. That alone was a huge breakthrough! I have not only bloomed, but I can smell the fragrance of the blossom and see that it is beautiful. Now that is some recovery! I can hardly believe I’m even writing this, which is a good reason for me to do just that.

I've contemplated whether I should share this. It seems a little over-the-top and a departure from my usual sharing. I thought on this some more, including the reasons why I write this blog (for insight, reflection, and to chronicle my recovery journey). I endeavor to be authentic and genuine. This posting requires my being just as vulnerable, to dare greatly, and to feel just as deeply as I do when it is raw pain, guilt, shame, or anger. In some ways, I feel even more vulnerable because there seems to be an expectation about sharing the victories and the high notes. Perhaps it has been my exposure to the cynicism of those who are judgmental of those in healthy and happy spaces.  That cynicism, however, I can finally say is not about me. This blog is about me, The Healing Lane, and my journey, which has been a true joy ride this past week.