Anchors and Leashes

[Family Court Strategies: When Your Partner Has BPD OR NPD Traits.]

A few months ago I was talking to a woman about relationships, specifically how they often had one partner who was much more grounded than the other. She was took the airy role; I believe she spoke in terms of the zodiac and air signs compared to earth signs. I am of the grounded variety, and don’t use astrology to explain my world or my relationships. I said something about being an anchor for my wife.

She looked mildly disturbed at the concept, and immediately corrected me. “Kite string.” And then she pantomimed the motion of feeding out a bit of string as you would do when letting the kite fly higher. I didn’t like the correction much at the time, but wanted a pleasant conversation instead of a argument, so I didn’t say anything at the time. Months later, I don't recall the pleasant conversation after this at all.

I remember this part, and I think of a cartoon convict’s ball and chain shackled to an ankle as her image of an anchor, and imagine what I would say to explain what an anchor means to me.

I’m a sailor, and have anchored my sailboat many times. I use this sort of anchor as a trusted tool for my own protection. When I want to stop my boat for the night, I need a way to keep it from drifting up on the rocks, onto the mud, or into another boat. I set my anchor firmly into the seabed, and then tie off the anchor chain at the right length on my boat. It keeps me from drifting very far from the place where I put the anchor. I’m the one who chooses where to put the anchor. I’m also the one who ties the chain off at the distance I choose. I am making myself safe this way. When I’m ready to move again, I haul in he chain, raise the anchor, and enjoy my full freedom of movement.

I learned another use of the word anchor, from my teacher on a mindfulness meditation retreat five years ago. When meditating, your mind wanders. My teacher explained how you bring your mind back to your anchor, when it drifts away someplace else. She explained that there are many things you can use as an anchor in your meditation, and that there are three classic ones which are easiest to use as you try to achieve mindfulness: Your breath, sounds, and physical sensations. She also explained that one of those three is the easiest entry point for most people. All prior meditation instruction I recall were to focus on your breathing, perhaps focusing on it going in and out at your diaphragm, or at the tip of your nose.

My teacher said that she found focusing on the sounds around her was the way she found easiest .

On that retreat, I found that I did best focusing on physical sensations. After sitting for a while, I would notice my sense of heaviness and stillness, particularly in my hands. I came to notice how there was a typical sequence of these sensations over the normal 45 minute sitting meditation sessions. I also found other sensations that I was able to anchor on.

I had signed up for this retreat because I was going through a very emotionally difficult time, and I found myself crying during many of these sessions. I started to notice an exquisite symphony of physical sensations around this. Sometimes the tears were coming fast. They ran down my cheeks, fast and furious. It was almost a continuous stream. I felt their heat compared to the cooler room. I followed the warmth running down my face. Other times the tears slowed down. Those tears felt cool, even cold. The first one finding its path would tickle incredibly as it sloowly found its way, and it took an effort not to wipe it away to get rid of the itch. When my nose ran it sometimes got so full that I had to either blow my nose or open my mouth and breath that way. (All while trying to maintain silence so as not to disturb the people sitting near me on this same retreat.) These sensations became familiar anchors to me during that retreat.

Coming back to the comparison of an anchor to a kite string. I choose the anchor. The kite flies at the whim of the wind, limited by the string. The kite leaves it up to fate and others whether it will end up in Charlie Brown’s kite-eating tree or flying free. The boat sitting at anchor is moving at the whims of the wind and current, limited by its anchor rode. The result is very different because the boat is on the controlling end of that line.

Back to that retreat, and my emotional difficulties at the time. They involved my wife, who was taking a solo road trip. She and been really pushing HARD for time apart from me, and I had resisted. I said that I had two anchors in my life at the time: Her and our boat. I said that I didn’t want to be cast adrift from both of them at the same time. So while she was doing this road trip, I resumed boat projects.

Here comes the next metaphor. My wife spoke of going “off leash” on this trip, somewhat before and also after when she wrote about it. A leash is like the kite string, but more obvious. The purpose of a leash is for the owner to control the dog on the other end of the leash. Think about the sort of kinky situations where one person puts a collar and a leash on another.

Today while I was meditating I found myself unable to stay with my anchor very well. I had drifted off to the very same place I went during yesterday’s meditation. I was writing this story in my head. Rather than fighting it two days in a row, I stopped my meditation early to write this. It is obviously important to me. I think this next part is why:

My wife went way off leash again a couple months ago. One of the biggest issues from the time I mentioned five years ago came up again, and I was badly hurt again. I know that she was desperate and hurting too. I suspect she also feels the similarities.

I’m doing something different this time. Now I see how putting a leash on somebody and holding on to keep them from getting “out of control” is harmful to the people on either end of the leash. I no longer want it that way. By letting go, I free myself. By letting go, I avoid harming the person on the other end. I think I was afraid of where she would run to last time, so I only let her off for a little while, then put the leash back on.

She’s in a weird place today. As if she’s trying to pull against the leash but getting no resistance. Then she switches directions and tugs another direction. And gets no resistance that way either. It seems like she’s running as fast as she can, but not getting anywhere because she has no idea which direction to go.

It isn’t comfortable to watch her do this. She’s very clearly hurting, and she’s very clearly not choosing to do something that will give her relief. I worry that she will hurt herself this way, at least emotionally. I worry that she will get stuck running. I love her very much, and I want to see her happy and thriving.

I only know of two ways. I know the leash too well to try that again. All I can do is let go.

I hope she finds her own anchor.

[Grey Kitty]

A few months ago I was talking to a woman about relationships, specifically how they often had one partner who was much more grounded than the other. She was took the airy role; I believe she spoke in terms of the zodiac and air signs compared to earth signs. I am of the grounded variety, and don’t use astrology to explain my world or my relationships. I said something about being an anchor for my wife.

She looked mildly disturbed at the concept, and immediately corrected me. “Kite string.” And then she pantomimed the motion of feeding out a bit of string as you would do when letting the kite fly higher. I didn’t like the correction much at the time, but wanted a pleasant conversation instead of a argument, so I didn’t say anything at the time. Months later, I don't recall the pleasant conversation after this at all.

I remember this part, and I think of a cartoon convict’s ball and chain shackled to an ankle as her image of an anchor, and imagine what I would say to explain what an anchor means to me.

I’m a sailor, and have anchored my sailboat many times. I use this sort of anchor as a trusted tool for my own protection. When I want to stop my boat for the night, I need a way to keep it from drifting up on the rocks, onto the mud, or into another boat. I set my anchor firmly into the seabed, and then tie off the anchor chain at the right length on my boat. It keeps me from drifting very far from the place where I put the anchor. I’m the one who chooses where to put the anchor. I’m also the one who ties the chain off at the distance I choose. I am making myself safe this way. When I’m ready to move again, I haul in he chain, raise the anchor, and enjoy my full freedom of movement.

I learned another use of the word anchor, from my teacher on a mindfulness meditation retreat five years ago. When meditating, your mind wanders. My teacher explained how you bring your mind back to your anchor, when it drifts away someplace else. She explained that there are many things you can use as an anchor in your meditation, and that there are three classic ones which are easiest to use as you try to achieve mindfulness: Your breath, sounds, and physical sensations. She also explained that one of those three is the easiest entry point for most people. All prior meditation instruction I recall were to focus on your breathing, perhaps focusing on it going in and out at your diaphragm, or at the tip of your nose.

My teacher said that she found focusing on the sounds around her was the way she found easiest .

On that retreat, I found that I did best focusing on physical sensations. After sitting for a while, I would notice my sense of heaviness and stillness, particularly in my hands. I came to notice how there was a typical sequence of these sensations over the normal 45 minute sitting meditation sessions. I also found other sensations that I was able to anchor on.

I had signed up for this retreat because I was going through a very emotionally difficult time, and I found myself crying during many of these sessions. I started to notice an exquisite symphony of physical sensations around this. Sometimes the tears were coming fast. They ran down my cheeks, fast and furious. It was almost a continuous stream. I felt their heat compared to the cooler room. I followed the warmth running down my face. Other times the tears slowed down. Those tears felt cool, even cold. The first one finding its path would tickle incredibly as it sloowly found its way, and it took an effort not to wipe it away to get rid of the itch. When my nose ran it sometimes got so full that I had to either blow my nose or open my mouth and breath that way. (All while trying to maintain silence so as not to disturb the people sitting near me on this same retreat.) These sensations became familiar anchors to me during that retreat.

Coming back to the comparison of an anchor to a kite string. I choose the anchor. The kite flies at the whim of the wind, limited by the string. The kite leaves it up to fate and others whether it will end up in Charlie Brown’s kite-eating tree or flying free. The boat sitting at anchor is moving at the whims of the wind and current, limited by its anchor rode. The result is very different because the boat is on the controlling end of that line.

Back to that retreat, and my emotional difficulties at the time. They involved my wife, who was taking a solo road trip. She and been really pushing HARD for time apart from me, and I had resisted. I said that I had two anchors in my life at the time: Her and our boat. I said that I didn’t want to be cast adrift from both of them at the same time. So while she was doing this road trip, I resumed boat projects.

Here comes the next metaphor. My wife spoke of going “off leash” on this trip, somewhat before and also after when she wrote about it. A leash is like the kite string, but more obvious. The purpose of a leash is for the owner to control the dog on the other end of the leash. Think about the sort of kinky situations where one person puts a collar and a leash on another.

Today while I was meditating I found myself unable to stay with my anchor very well. I had drifted off to the very same place I went during yesterday’s meditation. I was writing this story in my head. Rather than fighting it two days in a row, I stopped my meditation early to write this. It is obviously important to me. I think this next part is why:

My wife went way off leash again a couple months ago. One of the biggest issues from the time I mentioned five years ago came up again, and I was badly hurt again. I know that she was desperate and hurting too. I suspect she also feels the similarities.

I’m doing something different this time. Now I see how putting a leash on somebody and holding on to keep them from getting “out of control” is harmful to the people on either end of the leash. I no longer want it that way. By letting go, I free myself. By letting go, I avoid harming the person on the other end. I think I was afraid of where she would run to last time, so I only let her off for a little while, then put the leash back on.

She’s in a weird place today. As if she’s trying to pull against the leash but getting no resistance. Then she switches directions and tugs another direction. And gets no resistance that way either. It seems like she’s running as fast as she can, but not getting anywhere because she has no idea which direction to go.

It isn’t comfortable to watch her do this. She’s very clearly hurting, and she’s very clearly not choosing to do something that will give her relief. I worry that she will hurt herself this way, at least emotionally. I worry that she will get stuck running. I love her very much, and I want to see her happy and thriving.

I only know of two ways. I know the leash too well to try that again. All I can do is let go.

I hope she finds her own anchor.

[Pingo]

Interesting comparison Grey Kitty.  I've been reading books on attachment theory and can't help but see the anchor as a 'secure attachment' vs. a leash as an 'anxious insecure attachment'.  Good metaphor.  And especially how you describe the anchor as a way to feel safe vs. the leash being controlling. 

Referring to an anchor in meditation, I have a very difficult time using my breath as my anchor. Probably because I have lung problems and my breath is really affected by my anxiety and I breath shallow.  I actually can only breath deeply if I'm laying down or exercising.  But recently I tried using sound as an anchor (I read this in a book) and it is very helpful.  I taught this to my son who also has anxiety and after one minute of listening to the sounds from closest to farthest he said 'well, that just changed my life!'... .he's 10!  I thought this was so insightful for him to come out with such a statement!

[Lucky Jim]

Hey Grey Kitty,

You describe yourself as an anchor (or a ball and chain) for your W, yet also state that she is your anchor (along with your boat).  Your W, on the other hand, apparently describes you as keeping her on a leash, from which she seeks to go "off leash" from time to time.  Yet you like to think of yourself as an anchor for your W.  Have I got this straight?  The metaphors are a little confusing.

Why the need for symbolic anchors and leashes?  Boats need anchors, but people don't.  Pets need leashes, but people don't.

Maybe you could imagine a r/s in which you and your W operate without anchors and leashes?

LuckyJim

[Grey Kitty]

Looking back at it, this was more philosophical musings than anything to really go far with. I had fun with the metaphors.

Lucky Jim, you are right... .using a person as an anchor is way too close to putting them on a leash.