Fire in the Sandbox!

Sometimes, we have to look at things from a different angle to get a solution.  For about a year, I have been treating a skin condition with everything I could find – cortisone, tea tree oil, blue goop and avoiding all lotions, creams and oils.  Things would seem to get better and then BAM! It comes back with a vengeance and spreads even further. 

I knew the cause of my condition, but I wanted an outward fix for an inward condition……let me just repeat that for myself to hear…..I wanted an outward fix for an inward condition.  Well, I am nothing if not consistent….  How many times have I told myself, if it wasn’t for x..y..and of course Z, I would not have behaved that way.  If he wouldn’t JKL then I wouldn’t LMN….what a load of KaKa!!  I want to fix all of the outward manifestations of an inside problem…..but I really don’t want to examine the actual inside. 

To rid myself of my condition, I have to eliminate all US wines, cut down on other wine, limit cheese, bread, and sugar—oh and drink a nasty concoction involving Apple Cider Vinegar.  Um….yeah…..see my reluctance???  But……my condition worsened until I had to do something and I am seeing great, amazing progress!!  I had to readjust my inside to get a true outside fix. 

After my X’s affair, the deacons of my church strongly suggested that I install software on his computer to keep him off certain sites and to monitor his behavior.  I told them in no uncertain terms that I was his wife, not his nanny---they said I was a fool.  Well…maybe….but I don’t think so. 

Prior to the discovery of the affair, we (read Becky) had a system of boundaries and checks and balances—that just meant that my X and my friend had created elaborate ways to get around them.  I had come to realize that my X’s behavior was between him and God—why should I control him??  Letting go of controlling his outward behavior allowed me to retain my dignity in a difficult situation.  It was not my fault…..I could not fix it…it wasn’t mine to fix.  The affair was an outward manifestation of an inward condition…no band-aid in the world would fix it. 

The Man has a wonderful saying—that when we fight, it’s simply our dysfunctions colliding.  My dysfunction butts up against his…doesn’t politely say excuse me…..and his butts right back.  We’re like two kids in the sand box emotionally pushing each other back into our own space.  I pick up a handful of sand, throw it in his eyes, and he exclaims, “that wasn’t fair!”  He finds kitty poop and smudges it on my favorite shirt….and it’s ON! 

What he says is accurate, however, the word dysfunction makes me feel broken….unusable….defective.  The actual definition of the prefix Dys is:  diseased, abnormal and faulty.  Dysfunction is so overused and has such a negative connation that it’s difficult to accept my behavior as a dysfunction….I am a Princess….I do not DYS-function!!!  (Of course, this has nothing to do with my tendency to avoid things….look the other way…you see nothing….) During my run today, I decided that there is a better word for me:  Mis-function.  I am not functioning the way I am supposed to….I have misfired. 

Many of my Mis-functions are actually a result of my strengths….which I think is pretty common…..

Affectionate can mis-function to become smothering

Problem solving can mis-function to become blaming

Detail oriented can mis-function to become critical

Protective can mis-function to become controlling

Passionate can mis-function to become bat s**t crazy!

To grow emotionally, I must look at my mis-fires, my mis-functions and discover what is going on inwardly that creates the outward behavior.  I have to get better at expressing my emotions—not my frustrations, not my list of gripes, but those feelings that press the FIRE button at a moment’s notice. 

But, just like my initial attempt to “heal” my skin condition, I typically want to fix the outside…(read:  everyone else).  But for true emotional healing, one must first look to the inside and the outside will follow. 

Welcome to the Rockies!

Sometimes I just blow it! I make a mountain out of a molehill…..sometimes a whole mountain range….Welcome to the Rockies, folks….it’s tough drivin from here on out! I judge my reactions and wonder if I have absolutely lost my mind. Why can’t I get it together and act a little more…..mature and grown up?? I don’t mean for things to fly south…to escalate into an argument the size of Mt. Everest…it’s just that things seem to take a life of their own like Mr. Toad’s wild ride…once you are on…it’s on.

Sometimes, I think I am the only one who does this - who gets her feelings hurt and withdraws and hides to pout and nurse my feelings. After a while, I look around and nobody’s noticing that I am pouting….as a matter of fact, they are quite happy to enjoy their day. DON’T THEY SEE THAT I AM TRYING TO MAKE A STATEMENT?? Don’t they see that I am hurt? How can this be? I am the princess of all that. I mull over every single reason for this oversight….and…..BINGO…..I’ve got it…..they just don’t care. Well FINE, I don’t care either….as a matter of fact…..I am going to not care more than them….I am going to not care 10 times the amount they don’t care….as a matter of fact….to prove how much I don’t care I am going to sit right beside them, shake my foot and not say a word to them……or maybe a curt fine every once in a while. Just stare straight ahead - eyes locked on the tv, the road, my coffee cup…..see how much I don’t care.

Am I like 14?? Holy cow, Becky!!! I have gone from feelings hurt to “you don’t care” to “I don’t care” in 0.6 seconds. The only place to go from there is the Rockies….the fight….the wedge driven between two people. Have I not learned anything in the last 5 years….or in the 16 years I was married?? It doesn’t work.

The problem lies in that I desperately want to be liked….to be adored….to be cherished, respected, loved, cared for. I want everyone to like me….the mailman, the paperboy, my neighbors, my friends…..The Man’s children and….well…even his X. I walk into a room full of strangers and a momentary fear grips me…..will I be accepted? Will they judge me for talking too loud, too much…not enough? Will my words be respected or seen as trivial? Will they want me to come back? Worry…worry ….worry…worry!!!

The question is, though, is my sensitivity something I need to change or something I need to manage? Sometimes I want to cut the nerve endings to my feelings so they won’t get tramped on…..but then again, those deep rooted feelings are what allow me to love, to forgive, to understand…to see beauty and feel it down to my toes. Maybe I just don’t need to be in another relationship……maybe a committed relationship is exactly where I need to be….. the uncertainty makes me want to sprout wings and fly….fly far away…fly to Tahiti, lie in a hammock and drink a mai tai under the Pacific sun.

I don’t know the answers…but I do know that I hate it when I blow it!!! I hate it mostly because when I do….sometimes I hurt those I care about and cause their hearts to ask the same questions I am asking now. Love is patient….love keeps no record of wrongs….love always hopes, always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. It is kind, doesn’t look for evil and is not proud. Love never fails….even when I do.

The Impact of Words

Words….I just love words. I love the “feel” of some words…the image they project, the feelings they inspire, and even just the sound of them. I definitely have favorites….ones I use incessantly. There are also words I dislike, words that make me cringe inside, that hurt my feelings. Sometimes I think we forget the power that resides in words - - we forget how they affect those around us and even how they affect ourselves.

I am trying to get back into the habit of running. For me, running is just that - a habit. If I keep my momentum, I will run every day without much thought to it. If I start to blow it off…..it’s harder to lace up my Rykas and step outside the door. It’s important to me to keep on track - when I run, my clothes fit better and I am a more confident and stronger person. I got out of the habit of running during the recovery of my partial hysterectomy a year and a half ago. I tried to pick back up the habit last spring, but there were days where my insides jiggled too much, I would have pain, would freak out and stop (yes, I am a closet hypochondriac). I tried to pick the habit up last summer but I was too busy. I tried to pick up the habit last fall, but the weather did not cooperate and so on and so forth……hence……I gained 15 pounds and my clothes are a bit….well….tight.

Running is more of a mental exercise for me than anything else. I get bored….or more telling…I simply get mentally tired of running. I will tell myself, “don’t stop - don’t stop- DON’T STOP” and the second the words go through my brain, I stop. Recently, I have changed my mantra - I tell myself, “Go Becky…..just go!!” This changes things for me mentally. The power of a proactive word for me is incredible! Telling myself to “do” something instead of “don’t” do it pushes me to do the right thing.

Proactive words work for children as well. When I would tell my son not to have a “tone” when he spoke to me, a tense discussion ensued about whether or not he actually had a tone. However, when I requested that he speak to me respectfully, his tone would change. The words, “Don’t be late” changed to “remember to be on time.” Our relationship improved dramatically.

Words can do damage. When I’m angry, I sometimes say things I don’t mean. The next day, I’ve forgotten them because…..well….I didn’t mean them…so they were of no lasting consequence to me. However, my words of anger take root in the person on the receiving end. Those words become part of the hurtful “tape” that plays in their head. By flinging my words carelessly, I have caused another person to hurt…not just upon receipt…but over and over again.

When I am the recipient of hurtful words, more often than not, the old Becky arrives on the scene….batten down the hatches…..drop the sail….circle the wagons…..don’t be vulnerable….don’t care….focus on something else…..all because of a few words…..a few….little….bitty words. Words are powerful things.

The Argument Hangover

I wake up slowly…….my head hurts…I ask my self, “what did I just do??” and groan while throwing the covers up over my head. “What did I say??” “What must he think of me??” Regret sets in…….lots and lots of regret. I check my text messages on my phone and review my words……those angry hurtful words…. What now?? I need caffeine….. and maybe even a trip to Tahiti.

My phone lights up……a text message from The Man with lots of x’s and o’s. He is so good to me….. but then again….he said hurtful things too….. how do I respond?? Do I wait……make him sweat it out….that way I can be a little less sorry…..because he will be more sorry.... I send a couple of x’s and o’s his way (but a few less than his)…. and try to find a way to get back to square one.

We talk our argument through…..make up…hug…and remind each other how much we care. Why is it then, while sitting on the couch next to him that I still feel ucky…..and empty? Things feel unresolved….weird…..awkward… Is it a red flag? Does it mean we aren’t meant for each other?? I get all introspective and examine the feelings in the depth of my heart. No - - it’s just the Argument Hangover.

Hangover?? From an argument?? Really?? Of course. Over the last few weeks, I have given much thought to those days following our heated arguments (yes, I know - it’s a shocker that The Man and I fight…..but you get two passionate and opinionated people in the same room….and sometimes….there are fireworks). There seems to consistently be a period of time after such debates that is just downright uncomfortable. I have labeled these times the Argument Hangover.

Sometimes I feel a fight coming on - - it’s somehow, “in the air.” We are both a little edgy….a baby bit defensive…..the wind changes a bit and I know that “it’s on!” Adrenaline flows through my veins quicker than a shot of moonshine…..my inhibitions are lowered…..as I suddenly feel the need to slam a door……to bang around pots and pans….to sigh and huff around. Words flow too freely….stories get exaggerated….I start forgetting what I just said and begin to incessantly repeat myself. Am I drunk?? No…… at least not on alcohol…..but drunk on my emotions….my feelings….my need to be “right.” And then……afterwards…..regret sets in. Thoughts of, “I know better…” and “I’m too old for this…” permeate my brain…… my head hurts from all the tears I cried and I’m ready to jump on Orbitz and book my one way ticket to Mexico.

I put my head on The Man’s shoulder and he asks me if there is anything I still want to talk about. I shake my head and sigh…..”no, not really.” He asks, “is it just the argument hangover?” I nod my head…..he puts his arms around me…kisses my cheek and we snuggle on the couch and let the ickiness pass…..and I know that eventually, everything will be okay.