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. 

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.

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.