Picking a board

[steelwork]

I've been hanging around Detaching for over a year. Am I detached? No. I'm still in so much pain, 2 years after I came crashing down to earth. Do I think of him? Every day. I cry every day, practically. I know he's effed up. I know I'm effed up. I miss him. I feel a huge hole. I'm in agony thinking of him continuing on with life without me. And yet I'm aware that he was one in a long parade of people whose inner lives I valued way above my own.

I remember entire conversations, I see his face and hear his voice. Not to be crude, but he's still front and center in my erotic fantasies. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is damaged goods and I have not spoken to him in almost 2 years and I don't know how I would handle it if he suddenly contacted me. But at a certain point I got... .bored with the detaching board. It was a broken record. So where do I go? Here, I guess.

[heartandwhole]

Hey steelwork,

I'm sorry to hear that you are still hurting. Sometimes it takes a long time—too long for our mental and emotional comfort. I can understand your feelings here about where to go for support and what kind of support you need right now. The Detaching Board can sound like a broken record sometimes, and it's good to take a break when that happens—I can definitely relate. I wonder if that boredom with Detaching is a signal to you that something is stuck?

Is there a belief or cycle of thoughts that might be repeatedly dragging you down? What do you think could help?

You are in the right place for looking at what in you is trying to be expressed and where you might be holding on to something that isn't serving anymore.

Have you checked out the Coping and Healing board? Sometimes we discover, or at least suspect, that BPD has been a factor in our family dynamics. If you think that's the case for you, it might be helpful to post on the appropriate board.

No matter where you post, members will listen, and help you dig in if you are ready. 

heartandwhole

[Lucky Jim]

Hey steelwork, Like h&w, I would suggest that everyone heals in his/her own time.  It seems like you're still hanging onto something that is tough for you to let go of.  What do you think that is?  You relate that you're eff'd up.  So what?  You're human.  Maybe you are beating yourself up for some reason?  Do you think you deserved to be treated poorly?  Ideally we reach a point of indifference toward our BPD Ex, or at least I did, which was a signal for me that healing had occurred.

LuckyJim

[steelwork]

Thanks, you guys.

There's so much to say, it's hard to know where to start. What am I holding onto? I don't know that I'm consciously holding onto anything. I feel like I have all the information I need to stick a fork in that relationship. Even if he showed up today, roses in hand, and apologized for everything, he's shown me who he is, and that person is not a safe person for me to be in a relationship with. On the other hand, I've felt for a long time that he was a dream--a dream of a perfect love, and a reward for a hard life. What I'm having a hard time giving up on is the idea that it was all true. But this is old, repetitive, boring stuff. I know all the answers to that nonsense, and I've told myself all of them already, x1,000.

Lucky Jim: no, I'm not indifferent. Honestly, I don't think it's in me to ever be indifferent to someone who played an important part in my life. I just don't think that's a realistic goal for me.

I see a therapist three times a week. We don't actually spend all that much time talking about my ex. Believe it or not, I have 2-3 other active relationships that are at least as problematic for me, though the sorrow I have over them has a different quality. Today I told her I feel like this one is an open wound, even two years later. I made note that I had a lot of sadness this weekend over it, and I think that was partly a result of some developments in a different relationship which is right now actively undergoing some changes. That's another old bf, that relationship. It's such a long story. We have not been together for over a decade, but until a few months ago he was still living in a house I owned. I sold it in October, which was his idea--he said, in fact, that he thought living there was holding him back. So I sold it, so we could separate our affairs more completely. But it's of course not that simple. That one, that ex, is very mentally ill, in fact. If you wanted to tape a diagnosis to his forehead, it would look more like schizotypal personality disorder. He gets very paranoid when he's under stress, and lately he's convinced himself that I'm trying to ruin him. Then he changes his mind, but it might or might not last. Now, this is a person I love deeply. I saved his life once, a few years after we broke up, and he told me afterwards that this was when he decided I wasn't out to get him. After all we'd been through, he had been convinced all the time that I was ultimately malevolent, apparently, even while he relied on me almost totally. Oh never mind--that's too complicated. The point is, now that we have disentangled our practical lives, I'm faced with the pain of really letting him stand on his own feet and the likelihood that it will be a disaster. It's as though he were an astronaut, and he's left the capsule, and now he's getting ready to cut the lead and drift into deep space.

And I guess it made me feel again the pain of the breakup with my uBPDex.

Which is to say: abandonment. I feel abandoned.

I had a very strange upbringing, see. I don't know where to start with that. I think sometimes that my sadness is a big lake. There are various tributaries filling it, but it's all the same water once it's in there.

I asked my T today, how can I begin to close this wound? I have been working so hard for two years. She suggested that it might stop hurting so much as I address some of the other relationships [the other tributaries filling the lake of sorrow].

Sorry to ramble. I just really don't know where to start or stop.

[Lucky Jim]

Which is to say: abandonment. I feel abandoned.

Well, there you go.  That was honest.  Perhaps that's what you're hanging onto?

No, I'm not suggesting you should or need to feel indifferent towards your Ex; rather, just saying that it was a point when I felt more or less healed.

Let me ask you a question (or two): Do you feel whole and complete just the way you are, or do you feel like you need to add something to be whole again?  Can you love and accept yourself just as you are?  Are you looking your self-worth from the outside, rather than from within?

Maybe these questions will help to focus your thinking.

LJ

[steelwork]

Hey, thanks for engaging me with these questions. I will try to answer them honestly.

Do you feel whole and complete just the way you are, or do you feel like you need to add something to be whole again?  

You say "again"--I think you mean to ask about how I would feel restored to what I was before the r/s ended? Is that it? I feel like I can't even think of myself in terms of wholeness. I am me, the me I've always been. Adding to or subtracting from that isn't something I can really wrap my brain around. I would like to be different in some ways, but mainly those have to do with practical matters. I wish I could support myself better, for example. But I truly don't think my r/s was about "completing" myself in any way. It was more about being seen and heard and recognized for the whole person I am.

Can you love and accept yourself just as you are?  Are you looking your self-worth from the outside, rather than from within?

I have a hard time accepting and loving myself. On the other hand, I am also skeptical of outside opinions, if that makes any sense.

[heartandwhole]

Steelwork,

Great engagement here, and I realize that it can be exhausting to go there. 

I like the idea of examining some of those tributaries and how they connect to the "lake of sadness." I have another question for you: how would it feel to embrace that lake of sadness? To allow it to be with you, not as a daily experience, hopefully, but as a part of your humanness. Not trying to stop it, just letting it be part of the landscape that is you—for now.

I know the prevailing advice is to get rid of things that hurt; to heal old wounds, etc. If that is working, I'm all for it. My experience so far has been that going directly into the hurt, feeling it, embracing that pain with compassion has helped. That can be done for the rest of my life, if needed, whenever the hurt comes up. Because I'm pretty sure it will again, and I'm open to being wrong about that.

heartandwhole

[steelwork]

Steelwork,

Great engagement here, and I realize that it can be exhausting to go there. 

Thanks. Maybe I needed to hear that acknowledgement: that it's exhausting. I do okay much of the time and keep pressing on. It's almost like, in therapy, I want to be told what I'm doing wrong so I can change, but apparently I'm not doing anything wrong--or at least not any more than anyone else. It seems like she sees a lot of external forces at play where I want to see internal ones, because those would be something I had some sort of dominion over, whereas the external ones are pretty much out of my hands.

She seems to be gently encouraging a disengagement from certain people and situations--a release of an idea of steadfastness and loyalty to some people who just keep causing me pain. It's familiar stuff, a lot of it. My mother, for example. I've come to accept that there can't be positive engagement with her about the past. Repeated attempts on my part have only caused me more pain. She would have to open herself up, expose herself in ways she's not able or willing to do. She's only getting older and crazier, and she's shown me that she's willing to hurt me to protect herself from the truth of what happened. That's a blind alley. So I'm left with this parting of ways that is really not on the surface--only within me, unacknowledged by her. A one-sided goodbye to the idea of a loving relationship with my parent--really, to the idea of ever having had one. It's, as with my uBPDex, a goodbye to a dream of a kind of love that didn't ever really exist.

I like the idea of examining some of those tributaries and how they connect to the "lake of sadness."

Here are a few: my mother moved away when I was 10, across the border to another country, leaving with me with my father and one of my brothers. (My other siblings had gone away--one to college, one to live with an uncle.) I'd never lived without my mother, so I asked to move up there and join her 6 months later. It was a very difficult situation on a variety of fronts, and I didn't actually live with her after I was 12--I kind of removed myself from her care and went to live with other relatives. She refers to this as the time that I abandoned her.

Then I moved back in with my father to start high school. He'd been sick, but we thought he'd beaten it (cancer). It came back, and my older siblings all came back to nurse him. This was the first time in my memory I'd lived with all my siblings! We presided over my father's slow, inexorable decline, all of us taking on nursing duties as we were able, and then he died just before my 15th birthday.

That gets us to 15. More stuff kept happening, but maybe that's enough for now.

I have another question for you: how would it feel to embrace that lake of sadness? To allow it to be with you, not as a daily experience, hopefully, but as a part of your humanness. Not trying to stop it, just letting it be part of the landscape that is you—for now.

As maybe you'll understand, there's never been much choice for me. It's always been with me, as part of my humanness. The break with D, and a few coincidental other things, made the pain suddenly so much more acute, and that was when I had to take it on. I was drowning (to stay with the lake metaphor). It really felt like a choice of total crack-up or total commitment to getting well. That actually did involve a lot of "embracing of pain," and a lot of giving up on the idea that I'd caused it. But the pain is still there, and yes, it's exhausting.

Thanks for listening.

[Lucky Jim]

I truly don't think my r/s was about "completing" myself in any way. It was more about being seen and heard and recognized for the whole person I am.

Hey Steelwork, To me, it sounds like you are looking for your value and self-worth from the outside, from being "seen and heard and recognized."  The goal, I suggest, is to source your value and worth from the inside.  You relate that:

I have a hard time accepting and loving myself.

That's an honest reply.  Yet learning to love and accept yourself is the starting point, I submit, for finding your value and worth from within.  You're human.  We all are.  Suggest you embrace your imperfections as expressions of your individuality.  If you can learn to love and accept yourself, just the way you are, you may find that you will refuse to allow yourself to participate in self-destructive patterns of behavior, which may bring a newfound sense of self-esteem.  Worth a try?  Does this make sense?

LuckyJim

[steelwork]

Hi Lucky Jim,

I appreciate your response. But I have to say that the desire to be seen and heard are pretty normal things that I don't believe signal an unhealthy reliance on external sources of self-worth. If you disagree, maybe you could explain?

As to your advice: "learn to love yourself "-- well, that's of course the goal, but it isn't as simple as that.

[Lucky Jim]

Hey Steelwork,

Well, I never said that learning to love oneself is easy!

Sure, seeking to be seen and heard is pretty normal.  Yet I doubt you would feel "a huge hole" and be "in agony" if something else wasn't going on.  Food for thought?

LJ

[steelwork]

Did you read my responses above?

[Lucky Jim]

Perhaps I missed something?  If so, let me know how I can help.  LJ

[steelwork]

Perhaps I missed something?  If so, let me know how I can help.  LJ

Oh, the reason I asked is that you said you doubted I'd be feeling the way I am if something else wasn't going on... .but I wrote at length about some of the other things that were going on, so I was wondering if you had not realized that was what I was saying.

I feel like maybe we're talking past each other. You started by saying that "Ideally we reach a point of indifference toward our BPD Ex, or at least I did, which was a signal for me that healing had occurred." I said I didn't think that was a realistic goal for me (and actually it's also not a desirable goal for me), to which you replied, "I'm not suggesting you should or need to feel indifferent towards your Ex."

Then you said, "To me, it sounds like you are looking for your value and self-worth from the outside, from being "seen and heard and recognized." And I replied that I didn't think the desire to be seen and heard signaled an unhealthy reliance on external sources of self-worth. You said that, sure, those things were pretty normal. So I guess that also makes me feel like we're not really communicating. And being told that I need to learn to love myself? Well, I guess I feel like that goes without saying, and that's why I'm going to therapy three times a week.

Look--it's okay! I know how it feels to want to have answers when maybe there are none. People who are very depressed are some of the most irritating, frustrating people, and I'm no exception. I don't really know why I posted about this stuff here--what I was looking for. I guess, like I said, because my issues go beyond "detaching" from my ex, I thought I'd try posting somewhere else. Maybe just, you know, to feel heard.

I found an illustrated story recently that I made when I was in 2nd grade. It's got a pretty nice picture of a cat, with part of a person off to one side. Here is the story:

"Once ther was a cat her owner didint like her he only want her to cath mice she liked mice and

Ferget it"

In other words, I've always been like this! Haha.

[BorisAcusio]

I've been hanging around Detaching for over a year. Am I detached? No. I'm still in so much pain, 2 years after I came crashing down to earth. Do I think of him? Every day. I cry every day, practically. I know he's effed up. I know I'm effed up. I miss him. I feel a huge hole. I'm in agony thinking of him continuing on with life without me. And yet I'm aware that he was one in a long parade of people whose inner lives I valued way above my own.

I can relate to that, steelwork. It's been 25 months for me, and in some way, still missing her. We may need a board for those who suffer from prolonged/complicated grief.

[steelwork]

It's been 25 months for me, and in some way, still missing her. We may need a board for those who suffer from prolonged/complicated grief.

Hi BorisAcusio,

Thanks for this. Yes, I think complicated grief is an issue. I looked into that about a year ago, I remember, and it seemed to describe the situation. I guess sometimes they treat it with therapies developed for PTSD.

What's going on with you? Feel like talking about it?

[heartandwhole]

She seems to be gently encouraging a disengagement from certain people and situations--a release of an idea of steadfastness and loyalty to some people who just keep causing me pain. It's familiar stuff, a lot of it. My mother, for example. I've come to accept that there can't be positive engagement with her about the past. Repeated attempts on my part have only caused me more pain. She would have to open herself up, expose herself in ways she's not able or willing to do. She's only getting older and crazier, and she's shown me that she's willing to hurt me to protect herself from the truth of what happened. That's a blind alley. So I'm left with this parting of ways that is really not on the surface--only within me, unacknowledged by her. A one-sided goodbye to the idea of a loving relationship with my parent--really, to the idea of ever having had one. It's, as with my uBPDex, a goodbye to a dream of a kind of love that didn't ever really exist.

I think I understand what you are saying here, and it feels sad. I think we humans have a great need to try "make things right" and/or to unconsciously relive things from our past as a way to have another shot at the outcome we so needed/wanted. It has certainly been the case in my life, and it seems sometimes that my learning is very slow... .especially with familial relationships.

Here are a few: my mother moved away when I was 10, across the border to another country, leaving with me with my father and one of my brothers. (My other siblings had gone away--one to college, one to live with an uncle.) I'd never lived without my mother, so I asked to move up there and join her 6 months later. It was a very difficult situation on a variety of fronts, and I didn't actually live with her after I was 12--I kind of removed myself from her care and went to live with other relatives. She refers to this as the time that I abandoned her.

Then I moved back in with my father to start high school. He'd been sick, but we thought he'd beaten it (cancer). It came back, and my older siblings all came back to nurse him. This was the first time in my memory I'd lived with all my siblings! We presided over my father's slow, inexorable decline, all of us taking on nursing duties as we were able, and then he died just before my 15th birthday.

That gets us to 15. More stuff kept happening, but maybe that's enough for now.

Ouch. Steelwork, that is a lot of loss to go through so young. I'm sorry. That must have been so hard for you.  

As maybe you'll understand, there's never been much choice for me. It's always been with me, as part of my humanness. The break with D, and a few coincidental other things, made the pain suddenly so much more acute, and that was when I had to take it on. I was drowning (to stay with the lake metaphor). It really felt like a choice of total crack-up or total commitment to getting well. That actually did involve a lot of "embracing of pain," and a lot of giving up on the idea that I'd caused it. But the pain is still there, and yes, it's exhausting.

I hear that, and it resonates with me. I'm glad that you have a therapist as guide through this "lake," as it sounds like a significant part of your inner experiences. And taking on too much at once can be unhelpful.

Have you done any bodywork related to this depression/grief? If so, do you/did you find it helpful?

I'm going to borrow a type of question that my therapist used to ask me, which I at first had trouble with, but ultimately found helpful:

What would recovery from/healing of this pain look like for you, steelwork?

I think you are on the right board here to explore these issues. Keep sharing as you are moved to. It helps us readers, too.

heartandwhole

[VitaminC]

I found an illustrated story recently that I made when I was in 2nd grade. It's got a pretty nice picture of a cat, with part of a person off to one side. Here is the story:

"Once ther was a cat her owner didint like her he only want her to cath mice she liked mice and

Ferget it"

In other words, I've always been like this! Haha.

That's a good story, steelwork. It's the "Ferget it" that makes me laugh ruefully. Somedays I am that cat. I have a story, a bunch of them; I could tell you how it feels to be expected to catch mice, what it's like to like mice and in what complicated ways I like them, what it's like to have my owner not like me, and also what it's like to climb trees and hide in grass and what kinds of things I see and smell and hear.  Lots of things. Some days I know I have all these stories and more and think somebody will surely hear the poetic sensibility in my telling of them, or the wry humour, or the clever references and want to listen to the end and even ask me questions about those things.  Other days I think people listen in very partial ways and with so many of their own filters, with so many of their own echoes, that my own story can only be told in my own head to myself. Ferget it.

Oh, to be seen and heard is the most beautiful and powerful thing of all. I wonder if this is generally true, or only for those of us that somehow missed that in our childhood? Is it a general condition of humanity and at the core of all our artistic and scientific endeavors, or is it (just) some kind of PTSD?  I don't even like this question ... .

I wanted to say that I'm hearing you, steelwork, and wanted to thank you for your thoughtful thoughts here. As  heartandwhole pointed out, when someone bravely shows themselves it is an opportunity for us all to listen quietly, respect that bravery and searching, and learn. It behooves us to do those things, I would go so far as to say. Being seen and heard; I think it can happen and does sometimes.  Here's one of these for you (and me):    

I'm glad that dear  heartandwhole pointed out that it can take such a long time to learn, or re-learn, things. I feel that every so often, I am back to the strapped together planks of wood I made in my childhood and floating at the center of my own lake. I look around and think, oh no, not here again, my feet are wet, dammit, the shore is far away again. I made the raft a long time ago, but the tinder is soggy and gives me splinters in my backside and I cannot believe that I get washed up on it again and again. I am always surprised to find myself there. Is it like that for you?

What about the bodywork that heart mentions? I'm curious about it too.

I have nothing useful to say, but had to say something because it helped me to read your thoughts. 

[steelwork]

Thank you for your responses. I've taken a while to think about them, and I guess just took some time out to have a cold.

Have you done any bodywork related to this depression/grief? If so, do you/did you find it helpful?

What do you mean by bodywork?

I've done some meditating. I had a good practice going for a few months, but I let it drop off. I think I'll start again, starting this evening. What it seemed good for was anchoring me in the present, away from the pull of the past. That maybe helps with the urge you talked about, to try to repair things or make them right. (And yes, that is hard to move past with family members, because there they are, right in front of you, and it's hard to resist taking one more crack at straightening things out.)

I'm going to borrow a type of question that my therapist used to ask me, which I at first had trouble with, but ultimately found helpful:

What would recovery from/healing of this pain look like for you, steelwork?

I think it would be a more general optimism, an ability to feel happiness about the things that are objectively good in my life. An ability to let go of past hurts, or at least to see them in the balance of good and bad and in-between that is life for every living thing.

I have a hard time with decisions. That's been a major stumbling block for me my whole life. I have a hard time finding stability for myself. Recovery or healing would look like stability, I think.

[steelwork]

And to you, VitaminC:

Thanks so much for your playful, thoughtful, personal response, which made me laugh in the right way.

Oh, to be seen and heard is the most beautiful and powerful thing of all. I wonder if this is generally true, or only for those of us that somehow missed that in our childhood? Is it a general condition of humanity and at the core of all our artistic and scientific endeavors, or is it (just) some kind of PTSD?  I don't even like this question ... .

I think it's really interesting that you ask the question even while not liking it. I relate. I am going to venture a guess that the tension between asking the q and not liking it is a function of "minimizing," which is something that's common to people who had neglect or emotional abuse in their past. There is always a voice saying, "something hurt me, but I don't have a black eye like that other person, so what am I complaining about?"

I don't know what your upbringing was like, but maybe that resonates?

Someone on the boards turned me on to a bunch of essays written by a psychologist named Richard Grossman who has a lot to say about being the child of narcissists. He talks about how some children adapt by shrinking their "voices" down--their needs, demands, etc.,--and becoming what he calls "little voices". Here's one essay:

www.voicelessness.com/littlevoices.html

I'd be interested to hear your thoughts.

Also, VitaminC, do you write? I'm a writer. I came to it relatively late in life. I didn't start writing until I was in my early 40s, even though for decades people had been encouraging me. It was very hard to find the gumption to take up space on the page. It's still hard--much harder for me than for a lot of writers I know. And it's humbling to learn that, once you put your writing out there in the world, you really stop owning it. People have interpreted my stories and essays back to me in such surprising ways. That is really the echo, the contrail of the writing process, and it's a much a part of the creation as the act of putting words to paper.

[heartandwhole]

Thank you for your responses. I've taken a while to think about them, and I guess just took some time out to have a cold.

Hope you are feeling better today.

What do you mean by bodywork?

Either stuff you do on your own, or that people do with you, e.g., yoga, massage, Tai Chi, Rolfing, etc. I found Rolfing to be helpful after my breakup. It helped me feel where I was stuck, where patterns of protection were becoming rigid in my body. The fight/flight response during my relationship did a number on the muscles of my lower pelvic/back region.

I'm a big fan of meditating, too, although I don't spend massive amounts of time doing it. I find even short sessions done frequently are having a beneficial effect.

I have a hard time with decisions. That's been a major stumbling block for me my whole life.

I can relate! Where do you think it comes from? I think for me it's about not wanting to be limited, because choosing one path means the other options are off the table. Fear of commitment 101, I guess.  

I have a hard time finding stability for myself. Recovery or healing would look like stability, I think.

Makes a ton of sense. Especially considering the experiences you've had. I think exploring what that means for you, and how you can touch that (within yourself) is a very worthwhile effort to make. I imagine you and your therapist are working in that direction.

heartandwhole

[VitaminC]

Thanks so much for your playful, thoughtful, personal response, which made me laugh in the right way.

Was it the splinters in the backside from the raft? I agree that splinters can be funny; less so if it is your own backside they are in. It will be a little while yet before AI creative writing software has progressed to adding those kinds of details to a metaphor. Ha, that's +1 for the humans - so far anyway. 

I am going to venture a guess that the tension between asking the q and not liking it is a function of "minimizing," which is something that's common to people who had neglect or emotional abuse in their past.

Questions are my specialty, ask anyone. I sometimes weary of my questions, however, because there never seem to be any good enough answers. No, that's not correct. There are too many answers and none of those is essentially and completely true - all can be further explored and the presuppositions they are based upon further uncovered until the end of time itself.  I am sure that somewhere there is a test that will reveal that asking endless questions in the pursuit of intellectual edification but also 'truth', is a function of some kind of unresolved trauma.

There is something to the "minimizing" that you mention. It stands to reason that this would be one of the effects and one of the ways it might play out. I think with reference to that particular question, though, it's as much a question about human nature as it is about my own fear and my own desire. A desire for the uniqueness of our foibles to not be reducible to something medical. And a fear that underneath it all, we are no more than the sum of our parts.

Thanks for the link to the Richard Grossman site. For me the most interesting part was: "Yet, the under-entitlement of "little voices" and over-entitlement of narcissists are both methods of adapting to the same phenomenon:  childhood "voicelessness."   Interestingly,  the same voice-depriving family can produce "little voices" and "narcissists."  Why is this so?  Genetic factors probably play the biggest role."  I do feel like giving this a little more consideration.

Thank you for asking me my thoughts on this. That's both generous and considerate of you.  This is your thread - I'd like to know yours 

[VitaminC]

Just decided to go back over your thread, because I felt we got a bit side-tracked as you generously engaged me about my own ways of thinking about stuff.

These parts below really stood out for me:

Thanks. Maybe I needed to hear that acknowledgement: that it's exhausting. I do okay much of the time and keep pressing on. It's almost like, in therapy, I want to be told what I'm doing wrong so I can change, but apparently I'm not doing anything wrong--or at least not any more than anyone else.

A one-sided goodbye to the idea of a loving relationship with my parent--really, to the idea of ever having had one. It's, as with my uBPDex, a goodbye to a dream of a kind of love that didn't ever really exist.

That actually did involve a lot of "embracing of pain," and a lot of giving up on the idea that I'd caused it. But the pain is still there, and yes, it's exhausting.

Where are we with this?  

Embracing the pain or going through it, as it's often referred to, is not something I am particularly good at. I try but with mixed results. Sometimes it just leaves me feeling a bit stuck.

 andwhole suggested body work. I like the idea of rolfing. Shall we both give it a go and report back?

It's the one-sided good-byes that really break my heart. We have to leave others inside ourselves. Of course we do this kind of thing all the time, but when the other is deep in us, it seems like murder, to me. Murder of the dream is murder of a little part of me where that precious dream lives preciously in preciousness. To speak of murder in this context is almost as overwrought and Wuthering Heights as it is to speak of preciousness. But I mean both.

So what we do, then, is to examine more closely, kind of forensically, what that dream consists of and where exactly, in us, it lives. And why it's so deeply entrenched. That's interesting work, for a while. It's fun, at times, and debilitating at other times. Where are we with that part of the work?

Just some thoughts, steelwork, on the eve of the eve of Christmas. Which I hope is a peaceful and magical one for you.  

[steelwork]

Just decided to go back over your thread, because I felt we got a bit side-tracked as you generously engaged me about my own ways of thinking about stuff.

Thread = yours, mine, ours.

I don't see rolfing in my future. Sounds painful! But I definitely need to get back to body-tiring physical exercise, instead of what I've defaulted to, which is miles of daily walking.

Embracing the pain or going through it, as it's often referred to, is not something I am particularly good at. I try but with mixed results. Sometimes it just leaves me feeling a bit stuck.

Yeah--I mean, not so much stuck, as I feel like a book of leviticus in human form. I'm really pretty depressed right now because of a big professional setback that's out of my hands. I'm just waiting for some kind of better news, which is all I can do right now, because of how my profession works. It leaves me with space to contemplate all my serial failures. I feel like a failure most of the time. I have a little more insight now into what has held me back, and a little more compassion for myself. But it's just been a lot for the last, say, five years. People are avoiding me, because they know it's always something. So I'm trying to not share my bad news when it comes (which is regularly), but it leaves a lot of gaps in the conversation.

I'll be spending the next few days with my family, including my mother. After few years of really difficult relations, and some efforts on my part to get to the bottom of things--like, long-standing things--I've thrown in the towel, which means that the status of our relations is entirely dependent on her mood. At Thanksgiving, she was sweet. It could turn (i.e. she could turn on me at a family gathering, as has a few times in the last couple of years), but I do feel more prepared. I get now that she's not playing with a full deck.

So what we do, then, is to examine more closely, kind of forensically, what that dream consists of and where exactly, in us, it lives. And why it's so deeply entrenched. That's interesting work, for a while. It's fun, at times, and debilitating at other times. Where are we with that part of the work?

With Mom (and long-deceased Dad): the dream was something like: not having to earn my spot in the family over and over. I was chasing them all through my childhood. They are no longer there to be caught. I always thought they were magical, each in their own way. They kind of were; all the people around me thought so, too.

With D: well, he made me feel like an essential, biological being. He put me ecstatically in my body while also delighting in my mind. He was (at times) lightness and energy, a relief, a salve, a reward. He had also experienced several aspects of my very disparate lives--random strands of my history that usually no one person understands. He was beautiful. He needed me, but he seemed like a grownup, too. I don't know. It was a dream. Those never make complete sense once you're awake.

Merry Christmas to you, and Happy {Hanukkah, New Year, Humphrey Bogart's birthday}