Becoming Again

Featured

The Wise Mind

“What mind do you use to drive the way you live?”

The first time I was asked this I didn’t even have to hesitate. I immediately said Logical. I was proud to know that I was reasonable and rational. Life was black and white and I could be confident in myself to make the right decisions. I’d been like this for as long as I could remember and it’s the only thing that made sense. I had control of my life, played by the rules, and judged anyone who didn’t live the same way. I could have empathy, but I didn’t really respect anyone that didn’t guide their lives using logic in all things.

In my estimation, Emotional minded folks were weak. Sad. Pathetic. They made poor choices. They depended on others for their self worth and cried at everything. Their happiness or sadness was the indicator of how they should live their lives. It was like they lived their lives on a whim. Barf.

“The Wise mind is where you want to be, you know.”

I’m pretty sure I laughed in my counselor’s face and probably told her to fuck off.

It’s been a couple years since I’ve been introduced to the concept of the Wise mind and I’m not gonna lie… I mostly use my Wise mind these days and my life is so much happier.

Living in my Wise mind allows me to validate all the pieces of myself so I can make the choices that are best for me. (Did you hear that? Not right or wrong… good or bad… BEST FOR ME. Crazy.) What kind of life do I want to lead? Right?? Sound familiar? It should. Embracing the concept of my Wise mind has allowed me to stop, take a breath, weigh my pros and cons, accept whatever feelings I’ve got going on, and decide what’s best for me at any given point. Does it support my values and beliefs?

Unexpectedly to me, it’s also allowed me to, by in large, stop judging and controlling. I couldn’t have done the work on those things without using my Wise mind as a reminder. After a while, it’s just become automatic. When I am talking to other people, I hear their judgement and criticism. My stomach gets tight. My adrenaline starts rushing. Their need to control a situation (even if they don’t recognize that’s what is happening) or see things as empirically right or wrong starts a trauma response in me. Funny how that shit works, huh?

When we feel the feels, knowing they will ebb and flow…

When we stop looking at life as good/bad, or right/wrong…When we realize that what is best for me in a particular situation isn’t necessarily what’s best for someone else with a different point of view or experiences…

This is how we plant the seeds of healing. This is what I was looking for with The Tail that I knew I wouldn’t find. This was the beginning of me becoming the me I’d always wanted to be. This is when I realized I was really going to become again…

Anyway, this is part of a type of therapy called DBT. My counselor took this approach because I have been diagnosed with PTSD from a couple of devastating situations and have fought anxiety and eating disorders my whole life. We coupled it with the concepts used in 12 step programs, to help with the co-dependency that was also a factor in play. In my case, we replaced the words alcoholic or addict with narcissist. The approach is the same.

I think this simple chart works for most people, in most situations.

Listen, this one is fucking hard. It’s taken a lot of practice and some days I still fail. I know I’m better for it though. You can put in the work. It’s not easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is and the prize is something you can’t afford to lose. You. Your life. Your happiness. Your sanity. You can do this.

You Did What?

They say not to make any major life changes when you’re going through difficult times. I am here to say, “Fuck.That.Shit.” This is the time to feel all the feels and throw other people’s expectations and opinions away. If there’s something you’ve always wanted but never did, now is the time to do it.

As it turns out, I didn’t realize how deep my co-dependency reached or how it held me back from being the me I wanted to be. I wanted to live my values, I was tired of hiding parts of me while hoping people would love me. If I could just meet all of their expectations, they’d have to love me. If I try a little harder. If I did a little better. If I didn’t do the things they talked bad about, or the things they looked down on. But here I was, alone despite it all. I failed. My best wasn’t good enough so fuck it. If all of that shit I did wasn’t going to get me what I wanted, then what did I have to lose?

I faced a fear and did something I had wanted for as long as I could remember.

“So you got some tattoos, huh?” Chad said.

“Yeah. I got some tattoos, Chad.”

I knew Chad and my mom were going to have some opinions, but I’d been tossing this joy tattoo around since high school. It was time. The little bit of pain, proving to myself I could overcome it and my fear of needles. I wanted it where I would see it all the time. Where if I was having a hard time I could look down at a discreet reminder, in my own handwriting, of who I am and how I want to live my life.

Rise? I mean, Joy is my middle name. That was obvious, but rise? Katy Perry. For fucking real. Rise changed my life. I listened to that song on repeat and cried my eyes out. It wasn’t sad tears. It was fuck all ya’ll tears. It was ya’ll don’t know me tears. It was just watch me, bitches tears. It was ya’ll don’t know what you woke up tears. It was ya’ll forgot who I am tears.

This was the beginning. It infused my soul with the strength and belief in myself that I had lost somewhere along the way. It was a start. I had/have a long way to go, but this is where I knew that if I could face this fear of not only the pain, but the judgement and criticism, that I could do anything.

I’ve done some other cool stuff since then. A bigger tattoo to remind me of my dad and grandma. A re-piercing of an old one I had removed because that’s not something that a Mom/wife should have. Drinking beer out of the can/bottle (seriously, that was a thing I couldn’t do without being made fun of). I took belly dancing classes. I started golf lessons. I’ll go to dinner alone. I’ll stop by my favorite brewery on my own after work. I started inviting people to come out with me. I go to the movie theater alone (seriously, I was the only female watching a Marvel movie alone at a late night Friday night showing). There have been so many amazing experiences I’ve had because I got the best case of the fuck-its when Chad said he was leaving. (Thanks, bud!)

Doesn’t all that shit seem normal? Like I should’ve been doing it all along? But I couldn’t. I had created a world that revolved around my family and trying to keep Chad happy… to make my parents proud… and I was fucking miserable. I didn’t even recognize myself.

It’s easy for us to get wrapped up in maintaining appearances. We all want to be accepted and loved. Sometimes we cross a line into unhealthy territory when we’re so desperate to feel that security. Listen, I understand. I do. But the thing is, we aren’t living a life. Not a life that is ours, anyway. And we deserve to live a full, happy, authentic life of our own. Now is the time to do the big things. We only have right now, so it’s time to make the most of it. There’s nothing more to wait for.

I’d love to hear what you’ve done to find yourself! What do you want to do? And if it’s planned, what are you doing to do to make sure it happens?? Go listen to some Katy Perry and make a list. Be sure to include wild dreams and realistic; easy to build from things. If I can do this shit, I know we all can.

Therapy v1.5

Man, this is such a waste of time! I don’t need to be here. I can figure it out on my own.

I started therapy on a Thursday, the day after the previously discussed text message. His name was Mike. He had a salt and pepper braided tail half way down his back. You know, a tail… like it was fucking 1989. 😑

I’d been to therapy before, after my dad died. (Yes, my dad died of brain cancer a few years ago… but we’ll eventually get to those details. I told you my life is story worthy.) Aaaaaanyway… Previously, therapy felt like I was sitting and bitching to someone sort of annoyed to be listening… except I was fortunate enough to be paying them to be annoyed. What a great deal!! As you might imagine, it wasn’t terribly helpful. But here I was, sitting in a little, stinky AF , makeshift office, with Mike and his tail. Shit had hit the fan, I had no idea or hope on how to save my marriage. Maybe if I told him my story that he would have some magical wisdom for me. Do A, B, and C and your marriage will be happier and stronger than ever. It would be like those books, but in real life.

I told you I was in bad shape… I remember feeling so weak and pathetic. Other people got through this just fine on their own. Why couldn’t I? Chad seemed happy when he was doing anything else other than interacting with me… fucker.

I sat in the stinky room with The Tail while he filled out some paperwork. I was trying not to cry and wondering how this was going to go. He asked me to tell him what happened to bring me in and I lost it. I told the whole burrito/text story. I told him about all the extra stressors. I told him that I had become so lonely and resentful that I was behaving in a negative way and couldn’t see the light. I had said things that, while true, were mean. He just listened and didn’t say much. Sure shit, I was going to be sitting here bitching to someone for an hour, spinning my wheels, not feeling any better, just like before. Perfect.

The session ended with, “Kristan, for full disclosure I have a session scheduled with your husband on Monday afternoon. If he would like to see someone else, that is understandable. If he would like to keep the appointment, it may be beneficial for the both of you to see the same, independent third party so we have a full picture of how to move forward to fill both of your needs.” Or some shit like that. I mean, that was what I got out of it.

I called Chad (his name isn’t Chad, and sorry to all the Chad’s out there, but it’s a pretty generic white guy name) on the way home and told him what The Tail had mentioned about his appointment on Monday. He said he thought it would be good to have the same therapist, who is a male, work with both of us independently. It could really be beneficial. **At this point, I started thinking about him telling me Monday was the soonest they had time available, but I got in less than 24 from making contact.**

FWD to Monday evening. Chad says he went to therapy and didn’t really like The Tail. He had decided he was going to look for someone else.

FWD to Thursday and my second therapy session. This is where it gets fun. “Kristan, I won’t be seeing Chad again. I didn’t interject or ask questions, I just let him talk to hear where he is and what he is looking for. It was very clear to me that he is not someone I’m willing to continue working with, especially because I already have met you and was able to get to know you a little already. Things didn’t match up and I don’t think I can overcome that. I have given him names of other counselors in the area. I felt sick during the session. I’ve never met someone like him. I’m so sorry.”

Well, well, well, Mr. I Didn’t Really Like Him So I Decided To See Someone Else… someone smelled your bullshit and rejected you so of course there needed to be an elaborate story of why you were in control of this choice. Nobody puts Baby in the corner!

I fell for another lie. I totally believed that shit, AGAIN.

I had a few more sessions with The Tail. I didn’t make any progress. I was spinning my wheels. Garbage. What garbage. I was just recounting every little shit thing that pissed me off over the previous week. It felt like I was just adding fuel to my fire of growing anger and anxiety. The more Chad and I sat across from each other in the living room, or he sat down to eat the dinner I made, or when he breathed I got irrationally upset.

I literally sent this meme to a couple of friends in those first few weeks.

The Tail was a nice guy, but not great at his job. I asked around to find someone else that would be a better match. I felt guilty. He had picked me over Chad. He believed me. I was discarding him. I knew that my health was more important than hurting The Tail’s feelings by moving on. I wasn’t getting better. I needed to be able to get through a day without crying. I needed to eat food. Somehow, things were just getting worse and I had to pull my shit together. I have these kids who need me. I couldn’t let them down.

We can’t live our lives to please other people. We can’t shy away from asking for the help we desperately need because some people might think it makes us weak or crazy. We can’t stop because it gets hard.

Reaching out when we need help is SO FUCKING IMPORTANT! The Tail wasn’t the one for me, but I knew I wanted to be a better person. I needed to become someone I could love and be proud of, even if it meant that I was alone.

Therapy v1.5 was a failure for working on me and for a hot second I thought maybe this really was just the way I was… but I did learn something from The Tail. I set my first boundary when I decided to move on even though I felt like I was letting someone down. I also had my first affirmation that I wasn’t crazy and that it was totally possible that Chad had been lying to and manipulating me for our whole relationship while I believed lies and half truths.

I never lose. Either I win or I learn. — Someone more eloquent than me.

I accepted the challenge to rise back up when I realized that the rest of my life depended on it. My kids were counting on me. So what that things didn’t work out with The Tail? It didn’t mean that I couldn’t find someone that could meet my needs and help me live to my values and beliefs. If I needed heart surgery and already had a neurologist, I sure as fuck wouldn’t let him do the procedure. Therapy isn’t any different. “I tried and it didn’t help. I’m not doing that again,” isn’t an acceptable answer.

Who is depending on you? Who are you, really? What kind of person do you want to be? What are the beliefs and values you would like to live by? Have you asked these questions yet and how many were you able to answer?

How the hell did I get here?

Life is what happens when the best laid plans are thrown a curve ball.

The details will all spill out in time, but my high level introduction goes something like, “I’m Kristan. I’m an unexpectedly single mom raising 3 kids. I was a stay at home mom until my ex decided to leave, so now I’m a full time working mom. I’m the oldest of 5 kids from a pretty dysfunctional home, just learning at 37 how that impacted every part of me and how to live my best life. The worst things have always made me stronger. Come at me, bro.”

How’s that for an intro? Why in the hell are you still reading? Don’t worry, I got you… it’s going to be a ride. I’ve always been told that I should write a book on how crazy shit has been around me and I just give the “Hah… yeah, well…”

You’re probably here because you’re in a shit spot. Someone hurt you. It’s probably someone you really love, huh? You’re probably desperate to change them, to save what you thought your life was going to look like… SURPRISE! I was there. Googling how to save the relationships I thought I couldn’t live without on my phone, in bed, barely able to open my puffy, cried out eyes. I was willing to do anything, give away every ounce of dignity to hold things together. I didn’t find too much in the way of support or hope, and I feel like I’m a pretty good google-er.

When I did find information, it was always some bullshit Bustle article about what to say/do to get your man back. Buy this book for $75 and I’ll email you once a month with some douchey tagline that’ll actually stunt your healing and make you feel like a failure…. and I can even make it auto-renew for you! I mean… I considered it. For real. How fucked up is that? Really fucked up… but at the time it totally seemed reasonable. I bet you were looking at some of those click bait sites that popped up on your Facebook feed, weren’t ya? It’s all good. We all go through some shit. I feel you.

I forgot to mention, I’m pretty real and say a lot of swear words. If that’s not for you, that’s cool… feel free to move on. If you’re still here, grab a beer (or mixy, or a glass of wine) and hang out for a while. We’ll laugh, we’ll cry, we’ll talk about all the real shit and in the end we’ll become the people we were always meant to be when we were kids, before we laid those plans. We get to become again. Thanks, curve ball. You brought this bad bitch back and I’m bringing ya’ll with me.

Well, that was weird.

I think he forgot a burrito for lunch. I’m pretty sure it was a burrito. Anyway, he definitely forgot something in the house as we were navigating through the garage to our cars. He had a full day of work and I think I was only working until 2:30 so we took separate cars that day. As he walked past me, running back in to get said “burrito” I had anticipated a quick kiss on the cheek, but that didn’t happen. I waited until he was walking back out to the garage and gave quick, “Hey, no kiss? What the heck?” sort of comment. I got a sigh and a quick peck on the cheek and off he went. It was fucking weird.

In my co-dependent, insecure brain, I kept running the garage interaction through my mind. Totally obsessing. Finally I decided I needed to send a quick text just to touch base and make sure he was doing ok – he seemed so “off” that morning. Something wasn’t right and I was going to be the one to fix it. Obviously. Duh. That’s what good wives do. I can control this situation, I’ve got this.

The return text was something to the effect of, “I’m starting therapy on Monday, it’s the earliest they could get me in. I have some stuff I need to work through. I need some space.”

He told me he didn’t know. I told him I was going to start therapy too because if his stuff was affecting our relationship, then I obviously played a part in the problem. I wanted to work on myself to be a better partner. I went immediately into crisis mode.

“You can never let me just have one thing, can you?”

Seriously, guys. Holy shit. Me going to therapy is taking something away from him? Am I making whatever shady shit is going on worse by working on myself too?

Anyway, that garbage went on for a month or so. I cried a lot. My friends told me I didn’t know what he was thinking and he was probably just processing some childhood stuff now that we had recently moved away from his family. I should give him space and not worry. Meanwhile, he was sleeping in the guest room and was out until midnight and sometimes later with “friends from work” going “biking and grabbing dinner after” while I was home with the kids, saying nothing, so he had his space to figure whatever it was out and things wouldn’t be as bad as I was afraid they might be.

I convinced myself that everything leading up to this was because we had a lot of upheaval in the year and every relationship has it’s ups and downs. We moved. He started a new job. With his encouragement, I started working. All the kids were finally in school. I had a hysterectomy. That’s a lot of stuff. Things would settle down when the kids went back to school in the fall and things would go back to the insecure, resentful status quo we had come to accept. Yes, things hadn’t been good for several months leading up to this, but I could justify all of it. Things leading up to our move had been better than ever. We were a team, firing on all cylinders. This was a low point, but we’d get back to a high point soon.

Nope. It was the “Big D”…. and not the good kind.

Anyway, the day after he told me he was filing for divorce, a friend busted him with an employee of his that he had recently promoted. Ha. Yeah, ok. He said he “was probably in love” with her and the feelings were “definitely not appropriate given the working relationship” but he didn’t cheat and “she’s just a really good friend who listens to and supports” him. AND I FELL FOR THAT SHIT!

The take away here is that I am smart and it blindsided me. I thought that I knew where he was and who he was with because I believed the things he told me. He is BELIEVABLE and I loved him and I wanted to believe what he said was true. He smiled and said all the right things. How could this happen? Things get hard sometimes, but marriages don’t just abruptly end without talking and therapy and trying to make it work together.

Let me be crystal clear. There was NOTHING I could have done at this point, even though at the time I would have given anything to prevent it from happening. Nothing I did or said would’ve mattered. Nothing we do or say can change the way another person behaves or feels. We could be the perfect spouse/child/parent/friend and they will still do what they will… because it’s not about us. It’s about them and their own shit – it just sucks that sometimes it boils over and fucks with other people… like you and me.

In another post I’ll get into the therapy aspect, because it’s big. And I’ll probably talk about it until my fingers fall off, but I felt like I needed to get a brief understanding of how this went down, from my perspective, to know that I get you. It’s purpose isn’t to trash anyone, just to share how it happened to me, because I know that when I was in the throes of it, hearing how others felt in these early days gave me a strange sense of relief. I know how it feels to have an inkling, but to convince yourself you’re crazy because that’s what you’ve been told for the last however-many years by people like this. I get the pain, the bargaining, the begging… I do. And I’m sorry you do too. Believe me, and I’m sure it sounds like bullshit right now (because it felt like it when people said it to me), but it does get better. I promise. Stick with me, kid. We’ve got this.

Anyway, that’s how a burrito and a text ended up being the beginning of the end of my marriage… at least in my mind. Weird, huh?