schrödinger's journal

[schrödinger's cat]

I had a dream tonight. I was cooking for a whole bunch of people, and it just didn't work as I wanted it to. I was running this way and that way to fetch things, I was always busybusybusy. I was doing all the work, completely on my own. I'd never done it before and I didn't even know where everything was. When I was done, I ended up with only half the food I'd set out to cook - and someone tried some and dropped still more of it, which I then began to pick up.

It's made me think about my role in relationships. My mother was parentalized at a young age, and she often assumes a "helper" role. She's actually very good at that: she comes across as wise and steady, strong and kind, someone you want to have on your side. The flipside of this is, she's absolutely crap at accepting help or showing herself weak. We're not really close. We can't be. After all, her way of relating to people is to distance herself if they get too close, and (since she's a widow) who's closer than a daughter? She has a much easier time being close to my cousins, or to strangers, because those don't depend on her so much, they all have their own sets of parents, and most of them have supportive brothers or sisters they're close to.

And obviously, that's what I learned. It's funny. I have this steady, strong, competent persona - but that's just how people are in my house. I learned this like a language. It's an advantage sometimes, but I have such a hard time showing myself weak. It's like, if I do that, people will walk away. I'm beginning to realize that this is because - well, that's what would truly have happened in my house. If I want to talk about the time my father was gravely ill (which he was for the first 20 years of my life), my mother and brother say: "It was hard, but it's made us stronger." They're saying it in this resolute way that's clearly a conversation stopper. The only possible way of being is strong and competent enough to never truly need anyone's help.

This way of being made me less able to relate to people. It made me less able to relate to myself. It's also a very efficient road to burnout. And it makes me less motivated to do anything, because there's always this element of compulsion and pressure behind it.

So I've begun to practice this - allowing myself to be not fully competent/strong/independent. It's less a change of attitude, more like overcoming habits. I'm calling it 'alignment', because I needed a short buzzword I could memorize. 'Remembering-how-to-figure-out-how-I-actually-feel-and-then-working-to-behave-accordingly' is a tad bit unwieldy. So now, I'm sometimes doing the UNTHINKABLE and, if I'm feeling tired, I actually walk a little more slowly. I know! Shocking! Or, when I've been writing non-stop for two or three hours to the point where nothing more will come, it's perfectly okay to simply stop writing.

So maybe that's something I can do today - some recovery-related work that's easy and not triggering - simply just starting a list of all the possible less-than-strong states of mind there are, and then ways to behave accordingly. Things like "feel sad --> look sad (instead of pressuring myself to smile)". That's why I like the word alignment so much. It reminds me that this isn't about self-indulgence or weakness, it's about finding out where I'm truly at, and then bringing everything else into alignment with it. It's then easier to remember that fully aligned things are usually a lot stronger. Even in situations where it's best to keep a lid on things, I can always do something - even if it's just allowing myself to be a little quieter than usual.

[keepfighting]

Allowing yourself to be less than perfect is a great way to be kind and loving towards yourself. Good going! 

Here's a link to a poster that illustrates (some of) your good intentions, hope you'll like it:

http://www.phdcomics.com/comics/archive.php?comicid=1595

[schrödinger's cat]

That's sweet, thank you. The girl version would probably include: "before leaving the house, remember to take your tiara and your favourite sword" and "if something depresses you, find a warm place and a good story".

[Kizzie]

"It's funny. I have this steady, strong, competent persona - but that's just how people are in my house. I learned this like a language. It's an advantage sometimes, but I have such a hard time showing myself weak. It's like, if I do that, people will walk away."

Your post really resonated with me Cat, especially the notion of not wanting anyone to see me as weak.  It started me thinking about how we define what being "weak" is. In my case it is a lack of control which makes me feel very vulnerable to abuse, rejection, ridicule, and of being made to feel small.  In your case it seeems to be about about asking for help, of needing something from others -- is that about right? 

I guess my point in this noodling kind of post is that we both have gotten tangled up in others' versions of what is weak, internalized them as you suggest and now it is time to find out what it is we think and feel, you're so right about that.  When we sense someone is struggling do we attack, reject, ridicule, walk away? No.  So I guess the thing to work on as your post so nicely highlights is that we really do need to "treat ourselves as we would treat others." Simple, yet elegant and powerful.

Tks for sharing your thoughts about your recovery Cat (and by the way, we will not walk away from you). 

   

[schrödinger's cat]

Thanks, Kizzie.    It's already been a huge help to even have this forum. It's made me feel less weak. If you constantly read story after story where people wind up with similar symptoms after being traumatized in a certain way, then it's getting reaaaally hard to see this as a character fault. It's simply an injury. So when my inner critic pipes up with its constant song of "you're being weak", I point at OOTS and go: "hah, what about that? They aren't weak, so I'm not either."

Yes, my "weak" is about needing anything from others. I can remember telling my mother once that I was lonely, and she pursed her lips and said: "You shouldn't make yourself so dependent upon other people." She's very self-contained. - Another thing that feels "weak" is if I ever have a problem I don't know how to solve. The only permissible attitude is one that's resolute and can-do. It's not the worst attitude to adopt - but given that I've got CPTSD (=MANY problems I couldn't solve), all this meant I ceased being me. I started being someone artificial.

My mother and brother were here a few days ago. It went well, thanks to Medium Chill and never, ever talking about my personal concerns. I found myself slipping into my old persona again. I talked in a deeper and slightly louder voice, I put on a show of resolutely competent homemaking to keep myself safe from comments, and I avoided - well, any of what my FOO would call ditzie hippie touchy-feely psychobabble. The contrast to what I'm truly like was sobering.

Silver lining: at least now I have a real me I can then slip away from.

But what a sobering thing to experience: 'my family and I get along, provided I cease being me.'     

[keepfighting]

My mother and brother were here a few days ago. It went well, thanks to Medium Chill and never, ever talking about my personal concerns. I found myself slipping into my old persona again. I talked in a deeper and slightly louder voice, I put on a show of resolutely competent homemaking to keep myself safe from comments, and I avoided - well, any of what my FOO would call ditzie hippie touchy-feely psychobabble. The contrast to what I'm truly like was sobering.

But what a sobering thing to experience: 'my family and I get along, provided I cease being me.' 

That is so sad. No wonder you learned to be self sufficient - there was no one else to rely on. 

If it's any consolation: You are definitely not alone in experiencing this! Those words could have been written by me. Only I've started being a little more true to myself lately - babysteps - but I feel I owe it to myself. I bet the few friends who know the 'real me' would still have trouble recognizing that person when I go into FOO sister modus...

Well, enjoy being able to be yourself again now and 'psychobabble' away ...  . I like reading your posts. 

[schrödinger's cat]

Thanks. This has made me feel a lot better about things.     Here's to our true selves!     Knowing that I'm not alone does actually make a HUGE difference. First of all, it makes it A WHOLE LOT easier to remind myself that this isn't me, it's simply just my having CPTSD. Secondly, the kindness and company do me good. It's something that used to torture me - this suspicion that everyone was like my FOO, all the time, everywhere, without any exceptions at all. Urgh. That was chilling. And also, having CPTSD isolates you. So this is a good thing, finding others who feel like that.

Glad to hear about your baby steps towards the real you.    It's slow work, that, at least for me. I used to wonder if I was making any kind of progress at all. So in this way, that visit was illuminating. I was just so happy when my FOO was gone and I could switch back over to being me. It felt like coming home. So, maybe discovering who we truly are is a bit like creating a home for ourselves within ourselves? Slow going, but so worth our while.

[Kizzie]

If you constantly read story after story where people wind up with similar symptoms after being traumatized in a certain way, then it's getting reaaaally hard to see this as a character fault. It's simply an injury. So when my inner critic pipes up with its constant song of "you're being weak", I point at OOTS and go: "hah, what about that? They aren't weak, so I'm not either."

                  

[somnambulist]

 

So many things about this thread are quickly becoming tools in my toolbox now - thank you schrödinger's cat!  I like the adjustment metaphor, especially how you broke it out into "feel said, so look sad" kind of terms to help ground it in body consciousness, and I really LOVE the points you and Kizzie made about reflecting on perceived weaknesses / character traits in ourselves as just injuries to an otherwise strong person.  I think you and so many others in this forum show lots of strength all the time, there's a lot of growth happening here.

If you constantly read story after story where people wind up with similar symptoms after being traumatized in a certain way, then it's getting reaaaally hard to see this as a character fault. It's simply an injury. So when my inner critic pipes up with its constant song of "you're being weak", I point at OOTS and go: "hah, what about that? They aren't weak, so I'm not either."

I'll take a page out of Kizzie's playbook and say

[somnambulist]

Are you familiar with Brené Brown?  She has some interesting talks on the power of vulnerability, processing shame and guilt.  I like this one - she's lighthearted and funny but covers this topic so impressively and authentically:

http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_on_vulnerability

Some excerpts:
"And to me, the hard part of the one thing that keeps us out of connection is our fear that we're not worthy of connection, was something that, personally and professionally, I felt like I needed to understand better. So what I did is I took all of the interviews where I saw worthiness, where I saw people living that way, and just looked at those."

"And so here's what I found. What they had in common was a sense of courage. And I want to separate courage and bravery for you for a minute. Courage, the original definition of courage, when it first came into the English language -- it's from the Latin word cor, meaning heart -- and the original definition was to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart. And so these folks had, very simply, the courage to be imperfect. They had the compassion to be kind to themselves first and then to others, because, as it turns out, we can't practice compassion with other people if we can't treat ourselves kindly. And the last was they had connection, and -- this was the hard part -- as a result of authenticity, they were willing to let go of who they thought they should be in order to be who they were, which you have to absolutely do that for connection."

"The other thing that they had in common was this: They fully embraced vulnerability. They believed that what made them vulnerable made them beautiful. They didn't talk about vulnerability being comfortable, nor did they really talk about it being excruciating -- as I had heard it earlier in the shame interviewing. They just talked about it being necessary. They talked about the willingness to say, "I love you" first, the willingness to do something where there are no guarantees, the willingness to breathe through waiting for the doctor to call after your mammogram. They're willing to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out. They thought this was fundamental."


"And it did, and it didn't. And it took about a year. And you know how there are people that, when they realize that vulnerability and tenderness are important, that they surrender and walk into it. A: that's not me, and B: I don't even hang out with people like that. (Laughter) For me, it was a yearlong street fight. It was a slugfest. Vulnerability pushed, I pushed back. I lost the fight, but probably won my life back."


"The problem is -- and I learned this from the research -- that you cannot selectively numb emotion. You can't say, here's the bad stuff. Here's vulnerability, here's grief, here's shame, here's fear, here's disappointment. I don't want to feel these. I'm going to have a couple of beers and a banana nut muffin. (Laughter) I don't want to feel these. And I know that's knowing laughter. I hack into your lives for a living. God. (Laughter) You can't numb those hard feelings without numbing the other affects, our emotions. You cannot selectively numb. So when we numb those, we numb joy, we numb gratitude, we numb happiness.  And then we are miserable, and we are looking for purpose and meaning, and then we feel vulnerable, so then we have a couple of beers and a banana nut muffin. And it becomes this dangerous cycle."

[schrödinger's cat]

Thanks for taking the time to excerpt this. She's making some excellent points.

I'd actually looked for that speech. I found it a few months ago and had started listening to it, but then my internet browser decided to swallow all the tabs I'd kept open, and it took this link with it. It was such a pity, because I'd only listened to enough to realize this was a good speech. I kept hoping I'd find it again somewhere, and here it is!  Thanks, Somnambulist.

It's absolutely what happened to me. I guess it happened to several of us. We numb our terror, our loneliness, our negative feelings, and unwittingly, we numb everything about ourselves. I've been numb the past few years. I couldn't feel anything. No: worry still worked. For some reason, worry always works. I'm still only starting to move out of it. It's such slow going, but absolutely worth it. I'd rather have the bad memories than the numbness.

(That's actually something I'm having to remind myself often. "Feelings are GOOD. Grief is GOOD. No more denial. Say yes to grief." Bleargh.)

[globetrotter]

Brene Brown!
That is probably my most favorite TED talk, ever.
I have watched it a few times. For so many years I equated "Vulnerability" with weakness, but now I know it is a strength, and a goal.
Slamming down the wall to let others in requires it.

[schrödinger's cat]

For so many years I equated "Vulnerability" with weakness, but now I know it is a strength, and a goal.

Same here. Somnambulist is right, she describes this really well.

My family saw vulnerability as a weakness. Still does. Showing myself vulnerable with them is a bad idea.

[Sandals]

cat - i get so much of what you have written. totally, 100%. all the way from your mask, to the need to be competent and capable, to searching for and acting on your authentic self. i hear you.

My T turned me on to Brene Brown. She also has a great Ted talk on Shame that is lesser know than the Vulnerability one, but more impactful (imo). Here's the link: http://www.ted.com/talks/brene_brown_listening_to_shame

Shame is an unspoken epidemic, the secret behind many forms of broken behavior. Brené Brown, whose earlier talk on vulnerability became a viral hit, explores what can happen when people confront their shame head-on.

I think about shame often, esp. when I get angry or be on the verge of getting angry with my kids. So much of it is tied to shame and just being able to explore it is amazing.

[schrödinger's cat]

Thanks, Sandals, I'll go have a look at that.