Suit Up and Show Up

Yesterday in a texting chat with my dear friend in another state I found myself referencing the common phrase “suit up and show up”. Suiting up can take various forms and although I haven't put oodles of thought into this, ir is worth some reflection.  Sometimes I show up in my business suit: prepared, confident, content. It’s really great to be able to show up feeling and looking great (metaphorically at least,). I"m saying to myself and others that I’ve done the work to be confident, prepared, and content. There is  still work to be done, but I draw on the many resources available to me much as a professional does at work. I wear my business suit far less often than my other suits; it is really nice to see that suit in my closet and to know I do wear it. 

Most often, I show up in my sweatsuit -- not to be in contrast to the business suit, as in lazy. Rather, this is my active, knowing-that-I-have-quite-a-lot-of-work-to-do outfit: my workout gear. There might be some real grit required – blood, sweat, and tears kind of stuff.  I wear this suit most often because I am such a fighter. I strive to get to the heart of the matter and to do the things I need to do to get through whatever is holding me back. I have come to accept what has been told to me about me: I"m a bit of an "all in" kind of person. (I hear the theme to “Rocky” playing.) There is something empowering about the sweatsuit that speaks to recovery.  And just because it is a sweatsuit doesn't mean it isn't stylish or that I don't have on some complimentary jewelry. 

The third is the birthday suit. In this case, the suiting up is actually taking off the pretension, the blinders, and/or the masks. It is getting real. Dreams of me at school or work naked come to mind. This is my vulnerability suit. The one that requires me to risk and to dare greatly. Much like the sweatsuit, birthday suit wearing requires a different mindset.  I'm stretched to the nines because I’m exposed to the world and everyone can see my flaws. It asks for a bit of tenacity and courage as well. I'm thinking that the sweatsuit helps get me to be able to risk taking off my masks. Recovery has required a great deal of vulnerability that is for sure. I’m getting more and more accepting of this truth, and in it, the exposure while wearing this suit.

As I write this, I’m recalling the innocence of an infant and hence the connection to the birthday suit. Debra has been referring to the ego-centric nature of a child. Every need has to be met by the child’s caregiver. Needs that go unmet during childhood I’ve recently learned are “narcissistic wounds”. I haven't cared for that term as it stirs feelings of discomfort around being selfish, self-centered, and needy. Many of us learned at an early age that those are not traits to have. I know that by age four that this belief was well ingrained in me: do not be selfish. This is an interesting topic for me of late because I’m pretty certain that my parents’ intention was to instill a sense of “otherness” in me. Indeed, I learned that sharing was a necessary social rule, as well as consideration of others in general. It is a great trait and I believe in fact that I am a generous, compassionate, and empathetic person. Yet, here I am dealing with issues around this topic and the mere thought of being called "selfish" is gut-wrenching.

What I’m learning, however, is that selfishness as I perceived it also included “neediness” which translated as wanting attention, or perhaps, just to be noticed and cared for more directly and with affection. Neediness therefore in my young mind  (and I'm thinking in my adult mind, too) was "appearing to have a need but really just wanting attention". Neediness is one of the worst traits one can have: a core belief that has perhaps driven much of my actions without my awareness. Needing and wanting attention were simply the needs of a child who wanted to be heard and seen. She wanted to feel important. Pretty standard stuff.

My needs were met, certainly. That is, what I perceived as real needs: food, shelter, clothing, tending to broken bones. There were others, such as those my brothers each had at this time in my life. One was nearly failing school and the other was being bullied. I certainly understood my parents' tending to those issues. I perhaps needed a hug; along with the knowledge of how to ask for it. Seems simple. Why the hell does it take my getting back into my birthday suit to get it figured out? Not sure…but I’m willing to do what it takes to figure it out (sweatsuit?). I am learning how to identify my feelings and the needs associated with those feelings, and then tend to them. As I do, or when that need is met perhaps by another, those narcissistic wounds get healed. That is my understanding anyway, and I’ve been experiencing a bit of that recently. The term is also sounding less bothersome. I'm grasping with greater understanding that children - including me as a child - are by nature needy. It isn't about blame or my folks' parenting even. It is about a need that is still showing up today that once identified, I can tend to as a healthy adult. 

I remain on my Healing Lane, continuing on this path of recovery and learning life’s lessons along the way. I do love this life of discovery and learning to make choices that produce greater happiness.  I’ve come to see the gifts with each step and to recognize that I am growing and changing. That I do suit up, which sometimes involves a bit of just taking it all in. It feels like that today. 

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.

It is All About Showing Up

Many of my posts have been my tooting the horn in favor of being authentic and showing up – essentially stepping into the arena, daring greatly – for oneself. It is a lesson I repeat over and over; it requires courage each and every time. And every time, there is a benefit. For me, it is the opportunity to learn about myself -- sometimes by observing my actions, at other times by another’s reflecting back to me their observations. Sometimes it is just healing. I've faced a fear and conquered it by staring it in the face. There is always a pay-off, though.

The key to showing up is believing in the value of the risk. Showing up means that I don’t medicate, numb, go small, or become self-righteous, transfer, or deflect. It is staying present and allowing the feelings to be expressed. When I show up, sometimes it is in small ways – which are significant indeed – perhaps by staying present when I want to hide or medicate through food or TV. Usually when I talk about showing up, I refer to really stepping into the arena to be as authentic as I know to be. For me, that means being completely honest with whatever is going on with me while not retreating into some form of avoidance. It is often painful. After all, if it was easy there wouldn't be fear, and without fear, there lacks the element of courage. Showing up is intentional.

This topic is heavy on my mind today because it directly speaks to my self-worth. To show up is to be seen, or make myself known. It puts me in a place of potential rejection – one of my chief fears. Showing up is about loving me enough to deal with the tough stuff. Showing up is having trust and hope in the outcome – that I am strong enough to handle even the worst case scenario. For instance, if I share my feelings and thoughts with someone and they do reject those gestures, I do not have to be rejected. I am still of value and worth whether that person affirms it or not.

In dealing with my various forms of compulsivity, I have needed to own up to what feelings I am trying to avoid. A lot of times, heck it seems most of the time, I don’t even have a clue. It takes some detective work. And that in and of itself is showing up! When that sense of discomfort strikes, my reaction is to stuff it (literally with food), go smoke a cigarette, watch tv (mindlessly), become numb in some fashion or what I have discovered lately, to get a high found in the feel-good talk of a relationship (real or imaged). Are any of my behaviors “off the chart”? I really don’t think so.  Erma calls me a high-functioning addict; I acknowledge that. The problem then is that I’m not happy with this behavior; I'm still powerless over the addiction and then my life becomes unmanageable. I have the choice to let this cycle continue in my life, or to do something different. To do different - the context is toward healthy behavior - is to show up. 

I have tasted the sweetness of being authentic and being seen. I like it very much and it is where I find joy because I can have relationships where honesty, openness, and acceptance are the norm. I don’t like the feeling of avoidance. It promotes the self-loathing that I am trying to overcome. Showing up, on the other hand, promotes my self-worth. I am telling myself that no matter what, I am here for myself; I believe in myself, I accept myself and I love myself. This is self-esteem. And that is definitely cruising with my hair down, smile bright and wide, waving hello as I accelerate in The Healing Lane!

Choose Wisely

My recovery week in review…Monday I mustered the courage to face my love addiction by going to a twelve step meeting (followed by an emotional reaction), Tuesday was the airing of the story on EMDR (a lot of compliments for my "daring greatly" efforts), Wednesday was final divorce mediation (good work in getting this done finally, but painful nevertheless), Thursday brought group therapy, step study, a twelve step meeting (let’s just say it was quite a day), Friday was yet another twelve step meeting.  I have exhibited  a lot of vulnerability this week. Perhaps tonight I’m feeling the effects of that. Brené Brown refers to it as the “vulnerability hangover.”  It seems to becoming standard requirement for me these days.  The main point of this for me, is that I am showing up for myself. I am taking risks, showing courage, and heading full-on toward healing and wholeness.

I ask myself, what will that look like anyway? What does wholeness mean? Will I know it when I get there? Do I ever get there? I know for certain that I’m not there now. I still feel broken. I still feel shame for many things, but tonight I am most aware of the feeling of shame for having emotional needs, of asking for those needs to be met, heck, for even wanting to have those needs met. I acknowledge that it sounds absurd, but when I honestly assess my beliefs, there they are, horrifically staring at me; it sounds rather pathetic actually. I say this because I would never deny that my son needs to be loved, to be held, to be cherished. He most certainly has emotional needs, and as his mother I did my best to meet them when he was in my care. Why then, do I feel guilty and shameful for having those same needs? Yes, there is some work still. Old tapes are the worst, aren’t they? They become so ingrained within that it is work to get them changed, or more appropriately to create new ones.

Erma and I talked about the notion of stopping such tapes. Then she suggested that we hit the play button of the NEW tapes. What I think is the best metaphor is to hit the “skip” button. I can’t really help or control that the track of negative beliefs begin, but I can decide whether I will allow it to play in its entirety or to hit the repeat track over and over. Recovery has taught me that I have choices including what to do about my thoughts. I can combat this negativity with some commitment. Those thoughts can be rather sneaky, and I sometimes find myself having entertained a whole series of negative thoughts before my awareness kicks in that I have been in that zone for awhile. The gentle and loving thing I want to do is simply shift my thinking from harm to love. Whew! Easier said than done! This is one reason I write…to put to paper my intentions, to go from wishful to willful. It is not merely about wishing to be different but the willingness and intention to make things different. I choose to shift my unhealthy thoughts to affirming, positive ones.

Ultimately, I see that I have a choice on what to do about my compulsive behaviors. I am still challenged by the thought of being powerless in this addiction (step one) but I do have a choice as to whether I look at this love addiction or just deny/minimize its effects. I choose to seek healing by attending twelve step meetings; it is intentional, difficult; and doable. I see my choice to be a part of the EMDR story and my intention to share my experience so that others may benefit as well.  It was my choice to go to mediation for my divorce, to be considerate and caring through the process and most definitely to not be vengeful, resentful, or harmful. Most notably, I see it is my intention to keep showing up for myself; to see myself beyond the current situation, the current pain and exhaustion from battling the unhealthy thoughts and behaviors. One of the best gifts of twelve step programs is seeing the sober living of those who have gone before me and to see the joy and peace in them.   

The therapy work I have done this past year has really paid off. I continue down The Healing Lane with those tools and the awareness which are invaluable to me as I renew my intention of recovery. I choose health; I choose healing; I choose living and giving. Yes, I shall simply “skip” the  shame tape that keeps wanting to play in its entirety and move to playing the “I am worthy, loveable, and precious” track.  I can hit repeat on that one.

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.