I have been watching YOU, because Shultz (sad this isn't her name anymore...) recommended it, and as I texted her at 12:30 am (1:30 am her time) I find it to be "obnoxiously relatable." Not the killing part. But the rest. The human mind is funny.
"This belongs"
((Radical Compassion by Tara Brach))
Part of the book I am reading and using to meditate, asks the person to seek out the feeling (get out of the thoughts) and then attend to the feeling, saying things like "this belongs" so that you aren't judging yourself and distracting from the healing. Typical mix of buddhism, body work and western psychology. The type of shit I read all the time. But it's important to make a practice of it... and so I did and began to cry, "this belongs," and suddenly so much more capacity to feel.
My intentions were good. They were loving. They were oriented in trying to meet a need I saw in you, and one in me. I heard your heart song, and knew it, and knew you knew mine. "...oh..." that subtle attunement that suddenly feels like a hammer blow. I had hoped by attending to yours, you'd have the capacity to attend to mine. Maybe it doesn't work that way. Maybe, the secret is that we all have to attend to our own, remind ourselves we are lovable, belong, have a place, are worthy, are acceptable in our full selves. I couldn't be what you NEEDED me to be, and you couldn't be what I NEEDED you to be. The desperation was palpable. I saw the little ways you were holding yourself back and judged. You saw mine. We rejected each other and by doing so, ourselves. We pulled back. Acted out. The cycle repeats. This is karmic attachment after all.
Underneath though, or rather, more directly on the surface of life, I fell in love, experienced more than I have in a long time, found places of myself I hadn't known, depths I'd not encountered, shallows I'd been afraid to admit. I spent so much time just loving the feeling of your presence that the world felt bitter without it. I watched myself bypass my own boundaries, talk myself off the ledge of safety and fear, choose the flame of life, get burned, and all in the desire for growth, for healing, or maybe just for the longed for feeling of comfort. It was real, but I let it become the only reality, compromise the rest of me for it, addictive. And then it was gone. And I have been fiending ever since.
What was it I wanted and could not express? Oh isn't that the melody?
Love me, accept me, understand me without me having to ask, wrap me up in your hugs, cherish my accomplishments and my mistakes, challenge me to grow by seeing the next step, offer the boost, so that I don't have to be afraid anymore, don't have to second guess my every move, word, thought. Assure me I am not wrong for my desires, and that you trust my choices, and can forgive me easily when I stumble. See me for my whole self, encourage me to expand, to express, to speak through the megaphone again and again. To dance. To laugh. To leap across the gaps and discomforts. Hold my hand when I am in it. Pull me back when I am lost. Inspire me to move forward. Not just the good stuff either, see me for my wrongs and hold me accountable with loving embrace. Love me fully. Be present with me, and by doing so, allow me to open up and be... to just be everything I am.
Voiceless. We were both left voiceless, acting out, wishing the other would attend to us, fulfill us, inspire us, know us so completely and meet our needs without us having to ask.
And when I did ask? Defensiveness. Rejection. Projection.
I need to remind myself it's projection, a defense mechanism, not a judgment. Throwing it back in my face. Treating me the exact way you've been feeling, ashamed, alone, guilty, too hurt to open up. Leave me with the feeling of abandonment. Blame me for stonewalling, because the truth is that as much as I was talking, I still wasn't meeting your need, so it didn't matter. Accuse me of using you. Because you wanted me to be enough, but I couldn't be, so it felt like you were using me. I wasn't enough to fill the hole, so you were reminded just how big the hole was, and rather than face it, blame me for not trying hard enough... just like you feel all the time. Not enough. Not acceptable. Not understood. Not loved. Not comforted. Not connected. Not enough.
What does that little one need? Inside you're afraid it won't come. And it's true, it always has been, it must always be... So then why try? Reject them all before they reject you. They'll never understand. Never be what you need them to be.
This is what I understood to be true about you, and about me. But no matter what I did to try to connect and show you, and no matter what you did to try to connect and show me, it wasn't enough to assure either of us.
Our song is a lonely song. I know it is shared by all of humanity, but our desperation... ohhh.
and it's ok. It's real. It is as it is. It's just....
I was talking about my dad, and my Therapist stopped me, he said what is that "...oh..." asked me to write about the feeling that is the most.
STOP in the moment, that moment that it hits you, that you need the other person to reassure, but they are unavailable. So you stop breathing, try to disarm the reflex to tighten, to hide, to shrink, try to swallow all your hopes with the sticky saliva, and extend your heart to them instead. Your stomach is knotted, your heart is aching, your voice caught in your throat, but you force through it, try to reassure them its ok that they are disappointing you, even disemboweling you - though they haven't guessed it yet. You know you would feel guilty, so you assuage their guilt preemptively, try to assure them they are still worthy of your love, and why?
Because the "...oh" is the moment before heartbreak, a half second to save yourself, armor up, before you collapse. It's a half second before the impending doom, a recognition so real, that there isn't a choice. It's not rejection though it feels like it is, its not abandonment though it feels like it is, its the recognition that the other person will not choose you, no matter how easy you make it, maybe they can't (but of course you can't reconcile that in the moment). All you know is that you're not enough to be attended to, so take all the remaining energy you have and give it to them. It's a different type of projection, the same defense mechanism to avoid heartbreak, only disguised as caring. And you tell yourself its just this one time... but it becomes every time (or it feels that way). It becomes a pattern, of stopping the moment at the "oh" and instead of feeling the pain, turning it around and saying "You must be hurting quite a lot to do that to me, so let me extend my love back, even as it tears me into two, because you are worthy, and I need you to recognize that so that you'll assure me I am..."
Disguised as caring, because there isn't enough left. Not really. I can't hold on to who I thought I was, and who I thought you were, so I'd rather pretend (this is a child's defense mechanism after all). Pretend like I am good and lovable by giving to you, reminding you of who I believe you are(assuming you must need the reminder), so that I don't have to feel what must be true if...
because the moment is deafening. Steals all the magic from the space. No longer a universe of infinite abundance, the bomb has gone off, there is no safety left, and it has sucked all the oxygen away and left me dizzy struggling to stand in place. There is only fear. Scarcity. Limits. Starvation. Here, you have it. The fact that you didn't offer it to me must mean I don't deserve it as much. Let my eyes and silenced voice ask the question, am I at least deserving of your crumbs?
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