Stay "Cool"!

There are few concepts that have impacted me as greatly as the "ScreamFree" approach to human interaction. (“Screaming” refers to any unproductive way that a person may emotionally react to a situation, typically out of fear and self-preservation.) I first read this book years ago while I was gasping for breath in an unhealthy marriage. It did not, ultimately, "save" that marriage - we ended up getting a divorce. But I'm not entirely convinced that remaining in a miserable and unhealthy union was the goal of the lesson (and accompanying therapy) anyway. What it did actually end up doing was save ME.

It helped me discover who I was and who I wanted to become. It helped me determine what is important to me and how to own those things. Most importantly, it helped me learn to take full responsibility for myself and zero responsibility for another - not his thoughts, not his feelings, not his actions. I couldn't control him, and he couldn’t control me. (This universal approach applies to every human in my life. And yours.) I can't make excuses like, "He made me so mad that I...", because I realized that I'm the only one in control of me, and I fully own that responsibility. I also stopped feeling pressure to "keep him happy," because I realized that his attitude was not dependent upon me. As I boldly took back ownership of my adulthood, I simultaneously resigned the responsibility of maintaining his control and maturity on his behalf.

To you, these concepts may either seem like common sense or completely foreign. But I tell ya, when I was first introduced to the Scream Free approach in 2010, it was nothing short of revolutionary. I had a complete paradigm shift regarding relationship dynamics with every person I interacted with. It was so freeing! The book quite literally changed my life... (Obviously, I highly recommend it. There’s much more to it than I can expound upon here.)

In the years since then, the principles have sunk deeper into my psyche, shaping my entire worldview. When I eventually felt ready to enter into a new partnership, I insisted that the foundation of the relationship must be Scream Free. Thankfully, my new boyfriend was on board from the get go. He, too, was seeking a mature, healthy relationship and was eager to achieve that however possible. He read this book and internalized the concepts from the very beginning, and the terms and phrases have become so basic to our communication style that it’s sometimes hard to remember they originated from these pages.

All of this background led to my extreme excitement to meet the author, Hal Runkel, at a free speaking engagement yesterday. I had the chance to personally share with him how meaningful the material is to me and of how profoundly it has impacted my life. And we, as a couple, were able to express to him how thankful we are for the opportunity to embark on a new, healthy relationship with one another, atop these principles. He, in turn, autographed our copy of the book, and encouraged us to forever keep our “cool,” even when life gets complicated and we feel the urge to "scream.”

I’m so proud of who I’ve independently grown into, and I’m thrilled to be coupling that independent strength with a person who CHOOSES (but doesn’t NEED) to stand by my side on top of a very firm Scream Free foundation. 

Solo Sunsets Are Still Beautiful

I often journal for my own personal benefit. I sit down with my laptop and ramble a stream of consciousness while I process through my thoughts and emotions with little coherence. I don’t originally intend for it to ever be made public, so I’m not composing it in a particularly literary form. However, sometimes I wonder if there are other people who share similar thoughts. In an effort to cultivate an environment of transparency and openness, I’ve decided to share this particular entry to publicly acknowledge my "not so pretty" side, and to also open the doors of communication to anyone else who may be able to relate. 

So a fair warning: in addition to being somewhat incoherent and rambling, it’s also kind of a pity party that doesn’t end with a big call to action of encouragement and hope. Sorry. But let’s be honest; a lot of my daily contemplations don’t always end with optimism. Again: that’s the realness exposed from my personal journal entries... I hope you don't mind. And I hope you're able to follow the trail of thought. Welcome to the inside of my head. :)

If you experience something, but don’t have anyone to share it with, is it still real?

The obvious answer is, of course, yes. But then why does it feel so lonely to watch a sunset by myself? I’m compelled to share it with someone. I want to take pictures and send them to my friends or post them online. I want to share the experience with someone else. I want another person to somehow validate the experience itself, as well as my existence within that experience.

That doesn’t make sense. I know better. I know I’m a whole human being all on my own. I want to rely on God, alone, to validate my self-worth. I shouldn’t depend on another human to authenticate my thoughts, feelings, or experiences as genuine.

I know it all in my head. But it still sucks to live my life solo a lot of the time.

I miss it. I miss having a person to share my everyday with. The mundane. The silly. The nobody-cares-but-you. The big and the little. I miss giving and receiving continuous updates of days and feelings and life in general. Things happen, now, and no one knows. Unless I decide to post it on social media like the attention seeking, insecure person that I really am, but don’t want to acknowledge. Or unless I randomly text a friend out of the blue. But when it comes down to it, nobody cares. Nobody is interested. Nobody is wondering how my day went or what I had for dinner. Nobody is curious of how I spend my time or how various trivial situations are going.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I know that many people care about me as a person. They care about my well being, health, and happiness. If I ever volunteer a story to a person in my life, they’re generally interested in what I have to say. But it’s just not the same. It’s not the same as a text in the middle of the afternoon asking how my day is going. Or ending the night by asking for a recap of all of the mundane details of my day. Or following up to see how a meeting went or time with friends or even a basic lawn mow. It’s not necessarily that people don’t care about these things; it’s more that there’s no person in my life (besides my awesome mama) who even knows about the minutiae of my daily grind. There’s no one so deeply involved in my every day that I can even share those kinds of details with.

I miss it. I miss having a person who is genuinely interested in my life. And even more, a person who is equally vested in that life. A person who sincerely has something to gain or lose based on the outcome of decisions and circumstances. And I miss being involved in someone else’s world and being welcomed and invited to invest my attention and energy into them. 

I miss the "good mornings" and the "good nights."

It’s hard sometimes, and it’s oftentimes lonely. I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to be an obnoxious friend or a needy person in general, but I can’t deny how nice it would be to have a constant companion in my life. And as much as I adore my dog, I’d prefer a companion who has actual thoughts I can hear and literal words with which to discuss things, not to mention hands to hold and arms to envelope me as I collapse into an open and comfortable embrace.

I hesitate to say all this. I don’t want to appear desperate. I don’t want to pretend like I’m not complete on my own. I know better. I know I’m a whole person all by myself, and I don’t need any other person to complete me in any way. I don’t want to come off as pitiful or perpetuate the false idea that a person isn’t complete without a partner. I actually feel very strongly about defending independence and individuality. I’ll preach about it on a rather high horse to anyone who will listen to me. But today, on a boring Saturday of too much Netflix and a mute sunset, I’m sad. I’m just sad.

Somehow it all feels so worthless.

I know that’s not true... I contradict every emotion I have with logic and intellect. In my head, I know that life still has meaning and purpose even without anyone around to witness it. But tonight, it just doesn’t feel that way.

What does that mean? Does that mean I have more to work on in myself? Does that mean, even more, that I shouldn’t pursue any sort of relationship, because I’m not yet content on my own? Or does that mean that I’m finally starting to be ready to pursue one, because the longing is beginning to steadily grow?

  

For a couple of weeks, I tasted it again. I liked this guy, and we spent quite a bit of time together and talked nonstop from morning's alarm to light's out. A true relationship between us wasn't possible due to various complications of time and space beyond any control of our own, so it had to end sooner rather than later. Which means our above-average friendship and extreme involvement in each other’s daily lives could only last a fortnight, before we had to be wise about the situation and consciously resist investing in something that could never truly amount to anything substantial. Sometimes, being responsible is simply the worst.

But what it did do was remind me of how much I miss it. And how great it really can be to share my constant life with someone. And, boy, do I ever miss it. And wow, can it really be great.

Was it a good thing to have that quick experience of emotional intimacy? Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know. It sure did feel great while it lasted. But it also uncovered some truths that I was kind of happy to leave hidden away. I had rather convinced myself that I was fine on my own and didn’t ever need to share my life with another person again. I believed I didn’t miss it or want it. But I was wrong. On both accounts.

So after only two weeks of having someone involved in the intricacies of my world, here I am again trying to readjust to life alone. How did I get so accustomed to a companion so quickly? It took no time at all to fit right back into that wonderful dynamic. It was so nice and natural and comforting and fun. It had taken me months to learn how to be on my own, and only a couple quick days of constant texting to relish in the companionship again. It makes me so nervous.

And now here I am. Watching the sunset alone and not sending a photo to anyone. 

So did the sunset still happen?

Of course it did. Obviously. But why does it feel so much cheaper, somehow, because nobody else experienced it with me. That doesn’t even make sense. Ugh.

Remembering the New Now

When someone's life changes drastically in any way, it can oftentimes be hard to remember that it’s no longer the same as it always was before. This can be the case for any number of major life changes. A move, or the loss of a loved one, or the ending of a relationship...

We've grown so accustomed to life functioning in a certain manner, that even when the loss literally occupies a majority of our thoughts, it can still be easy to forget that circumstances have changed at all.

When my husband left me, rare were the moments that weren't consumed by his absence and all of the emotions that came along with it. However, I would still catch myself forgetting, somehow, that he was no longer around. No longer in my house. No longer part of my life.

I would still want to text him at random times to see how his day was going. I would still look forward to telling him about something that happened at work. I’d still type out an email to share the link of an article I knew he'd enjoy. I’d still roll over at night reaching for his presence in the darkness. It was as if these things were instinctively occurring without any mental effort of my own, and there seemed to be nothing I could do to prevent them.

I remember going to the grocery store for the first time by myself and trying to decide what I should buy for just me. How much milk would I drink on my own? How much deli meat would I eat in a week? Then I strolled down the cereal aisle and got excited when I saw that his favorite brand was on sale. I reached for it, pleased to get a good deal, and then realized that I’d no longer be needing to buy that specific cereal, because he would never again be eating breakfast with me for the rest of my life. My hand hung in mid-stretch while I re-remembered. (And then I broke down and sobbed in the cereal aisle of Publix for this brand new loss, because feelings are real, and they need to be felt. #embracingauthenticity)

Isn’t that weird? Even though the entire grocery trip was focused on my New Now, I still forgot that this specific detail of the Old Way was no longer my reality. 

Has this ever happened to you? Have you still looked forward to spending lunch with a coworker even though you no longer work with that person? Have you still turned left at that intersection toward your old house, even though you moved weeks prior? Have you still anticipated your pet’s welcome home when you walked in the door, even though you sadly had to put him to sleep months before? Have you still wanted to call your grandmother on her birthday, even though she passed away years ago? Have you anxiously anticipated a Friday night relaxing at home with the one you love, even though that one no longer loves you?

Every time something like this happens to me, I’m surprised by the forgetting and then heartbroken again by the sudden re-remembering. It’s like I have to relive the devastation over and over anew. And, quite frankly, that sucks.

Early on, my therapist consoled me by describing our lives together as a giant tapestry, and explaining that I’d have to approach each stitch one-by-one to remove his intertwinement and then resew my single threads into a new pattern. The new design couldn't be embroidered until I had approached each, individual stitch and handled it distinctly.

Even though I've known on a broad scale that everything is different, I still have had to encounter each unique experience to deliberately replace the old with the new. Again, this sucks. And it's not anything I can prepare for. I can't preemptively handle a stitch ahead of time. I have to just wait until it naturally comes along, and I never really know when that will happen.

Sometimes, enough time passes that I think I’ve finally accepted and realized it all fully. But then, out of nowhere, March Madness begins, and I have to resist the urge to ask him how his bracket is doing. (Or a variety of other unanticipated situations.) Generally, when these lapses in memory occur, I chastise myself into believing that I should be over it by now, and what in the world is my problem? 

However, I’m trying to extend a little grace to myself in this regard. I need to be patient with my recovery from such a tragic life loss and readjusting to my New Now. It takes time. More than a dozen years together can’t be replaced in just a few months. It’s going to take a while to cultivate and embrace the New Now.

Recently, after I had gotten more than a little irritated with myself about how long this process of unraveling and reweaving is taking me, my therapist offered reassurance by explaining that it’s an actual physiological phenomenon to adjust to change. In very layman’s terms: My brain has had over a decade to literally build grooves for common pathways of thought, and it will continue to take the path of least resistance unless forced otherwise. Every time I fall back on my instinct to think the way I did when we were together, it’s simply because that’s how my brain has been trained to act over the years. It’s not because I’m weak, stupid, or naïve. So, likewise, every time I’m in a position to respond the way I had grown used to in the past, I have to literally stop my brain from relying on those well-worn trenches and consciously make an effort to create new paths. It’s hard work, you guys.

In light of this, I’m trying to give myself a break. When I’m attempting to combat neurological synapses that are incredibly solid from years and years of reinforcement, I can’t expect them to be overcome in a short while with comparatively weak connections and shallow grooves.

That’s a relief.

Maybe I’m not crazy. 

Maybe you’re not either.

Maybe it just takes a while to adjust to any major life change. Maybe it takes a lot of effort to retrain our brains to fully function in the New Now and completely accept that the Old Way is no longer applicable. Maybe that’s why they say "time heals all wounds," because time to encounter all of these experiences is exactly what is required to reprogram our brains to embrace the New Now.

Maybe we’re just humans doing our best.

And maybe we’re not alone in the struggle.

Feel your feelings

Feelings are weird. They’re these constantly present inanimate objects that we continually interact with, whether or not we actually acknowledge them.

Contrary to some popular beliefs, feelings are real. Sometimes we try to give them the cold shoulder in hopes that they’ll get the hint and kindly disappear. Or we politely yet firmly shoo them away into the closet under the stairs out of sight and out of mind. Most often, however, we struggle to outsmart them with logic and explain to them why they don’t make sense and are therefore invalid. But that doesn’t make them any less real.

Feelings aren’t meant to be ignored, shoved away, or chastised. Feelings are meant to be felt. So why don’t we?

In our hearts, we’ll pretend like the sincere emotions we’re feeling aren't accurate. We’ll tell ourselves that we don’t have the right to be sad, because other people have it much worse, so we need to suck it up and just be grateful already. Or that we don’t deserve to be pleased, because we’re just a crappy piece of crap, so why would we think we could feel joy? We each have all kinds of unique baggage we've collected over our lifetime that goes into our handling of our emotions.

Feelings are scary and hard, and we want to avoid them. All of these emotions are small indicators of who we really are, and self-reflection and -evaluation is difficult, y’all. We peek into the dusty storage unit and see all of the broken pieces hiding just behind the feelings, and we close the door tight, too afraid to dive into the mess.

Furthermore, feelings are complicated. Many times I have felt two conflicting emotions simultaneously. I’ve been contently alone and desperately lonely in the same morning. I have been genuinely happy for my ex and terribly sad for myself at the exact same moment. I’ve been sincerely relieved by a change and unbearably heartbroken by the same loss. Does one negate the other? Absolutely not. But, I’m telling you, it’s complicated.  

Many times my head and my heart don’t align. I’ve known and fully believed all of the thoughtful, honest things that any friend would say to cheer me up, but still been devastated, nonetheless. My head knows “it’s better this way,” “God has a plan,” “you’ll be stronger in the end,” etc, but that doesn’t make the emotional pain of the moment any less agonizing. So it gets confusing.

In general, I’m a crier. It’s my physical response to the majority of emotions, both positive and negative. If I’m truly feeling anything at all, my tear ducts are a dead giveaway. However, even understanding that this is my primary method of processing emotions, many times I’ve acted as if crying is a privilege I simply can’t afford. I lecture my heart, saying I need to “pull myself together” and move on, rather than embracing the authenticity of the moment.

I’ve gotten very creative at distracting myself from the true emotions happening inside me. Maybe you have, too. I’ll stay busy in a variety of awesome ways by packing my schedule full of activities and great time with friends. I’ll dive into work, or escape into a different reality through books, tv, and movies. I keep thinking that eventually the feelings will get the hint that I don’t have time for them nor need them, so they’ll just discreetly take their knapsack and head back home.

Some of my emotions have been so intense, I’m completely convinced that if I actually “go there” and allow myself to feel them wholly, I’ll never be able to come back. Once the flood gates are opened, I’ll surely drown in the heavy undercurrent of the crushing waves.  I've convinced myself to ignore the true emotion and maintain the superficial happiness, because if I alternatively embrace the sadness, I’ll never be cheerful again. Like it’s an unwanted house guest that won’t ever leave after it’s been invited through my door.

Irrational but true. 

Luckily, however, that has never happened to me. Just because a feeling is felt, doesn’t mean it must become permanent or monopolize my life forever. Feelings may change from moment to moment or coexist with other feelings of equal or varying intensity. I don't have to be so afraid of their dominance.

I promise, if you can work up the courage to open the locked door and peer into the darkness to examine and become acquainted with one of the emotions you've tucked away, you won’t get trapped in there, too. Instead, you can become friends with it, appreciating its value for what it is. Nothing more; nothing less. You’ll no longer fear inviting it to join you in the future, because you’ll have acquired a mutual understanding with this emotion that it isn't a guest who will never leave. It can come visit when you need it, perform its necessary task, then go back home into the feelings room with the wide open floor plan and unlocked door.

It takes courage to interact with our emotions. It takes a great deal of strength to embrace them and own them and give them space to exist. Crying, instead of a weakness, is one of the bravest things we can do.

Not all feelings are accurate depictions of reality. (Just because you feel unlovable, doesn’t mean that you are unlovable.) But all feelings are real. Regardless of whether or not they are true, the feeling itself is always authentic. They may not be what's expected. They may not be what someone else would feel. But they are your's, and they are real, and they are valid. Don’t let anyone try to talk you out of them. Nobody else can know what they are or tell you what they should be. Only you can feel your feelings. But you’ve got to actually feel them, whatever they are. Go on. You can do it.

It takes time to sit in emotion. It takes determination to explore it. It takes courage to discover the underlying mess. It takes wisdom to decide where to put it and how often to revisit it. 

But it’s worth it.

Once you realize your true feelings, you don’t have to share them with anybody else (although, I certainly suggest it), but please, for your own benefit, at least share them with yourself. Learn them. Know them. Grow acquainted with them. They aren’t as scary as we think they are, and they aren't bullies trying to take over and ruin our lives. Feelings are part of who we are. They’re our core. So go ahead, work up the courage to feel your feelings and get to know yourself. You won’t regret it. And I'm so proud of you.

Writers gotta write

I'm a writer. 

It's who I am. It's what I do. It's a large part of my life, whether I like it or not. I can't avoid it. Nor, I'm learning, should I. It's the best way for me to process my world and to better understand my own thoughts, feelings, and emotions. It serves as my most effective form of therapy other than actual therapy, which is obviously the best therapy.

I've spent the last several months trying to ignore my urge to write. I've suppressed the desire and especially avoided starting this new blog. Even though I knew I would always contribute to another virtual home and claimed this particular web address six months ago in preparation for "some day," I was overwhelmed and debilitated by the prospect of starting over. 

But, then again, I've relatively successfully started over in nearly every other aspect of my life within the past year, so why not my blog, too? I want to woman up and put my strength and courage to work in this area, as well.

Despite my knowing that the purpose of this blog would be primarily for my own personal benefit, I am still aware that other people might eventually have the opportunity to read it, too, and I have felt like the opening post needs to be perfect. I've put all kinds of pressure on myself to be positive yet honest; succinct yet encompassing. I wanted to present a thorough introduction to what this little corner in the cyber world would ultimately be and achieve before it was made public, but I'm still not even sure of that myself.

Besides, it's incredibly scary for me to open my heart and soul up to the world-at-large. As a general rule, I'm a relatively raw human being. I purposefully strive to achieve transparent authenticity in my life, but when I do that in front of a potentially large audience, I'm exposing my vulnerabilities to be judged, critiqued, and remarked upon. That's frightening. What if people don't like what they read? What if people don't like who they see? What if people are offended or annoyed or irritated? What if people take the most sensitive parts of me and don't handle them with care? What if I reveal truths about myself that are overwhelming? 

What if I'm too much? 

What if I'm not enough? 

What if I have already, literally, expressed the crux of all of my insecurities in this very first post? Am I ready for that? Are you ready for that? For the past year, I know I haven't been. And to be honest, I'm not 100% positive that I am now, either. But it's time. It's finally time. 

It's time that I climb out from behind my own shadow of fear and into the light to clearly examine myself and discover who I am. And for me, I do that through writing. I don't know who I thought I was kidding all these months trying to not express myself in written word. It certainly wasn't my mother, therapist, or closest friends who have never stopped urging me to blog or at least journal again.

So, here goes. I'm declaring right now that I will (strive to) not care how this blog is received. I am fully aware that my self-worth is not dependent upon any other person's acceptance or rejection of me. I can't control how a reader will respond to what I'll write, whether internally or expressed. And that's okay. I am who I am, and I'm finally ready to share that person, despite my fears.

I can't make any promises of what this blog will become. I can't make any predictions of what the posts will primarily consist of. I can't provide any expectations of what you might or might not see lining this web page. All I know is that it will be real; it will be me; and it will be.