Love is huge topic that spans every other issue that we have discussed so far, and ones we have not touched yet. But for our purposes — to talk about our next steps in healing from traumatic relationships — we have to narrow it down.
This article will discuss the most basic and important element of love — how we love ourselves. We will look at how we our relationships with ourselves are changing. And how that is affecting what other people mean to us
What we think of ourselves
Years ago, when I was involved with a New Age bookstore, I ran into lots of programs that taught positive affirmations. That is, repeating phrases about how lovable we are, how successful we are, how loved we are by the universe, as a form of self-hypnosis. The idea was that we would eventually believe it. And believing it would change our lives.
Unfortunately, many of us only succeeded in making ourselves feel guilty about not believing it. So, as the next best thing, we tried to pretend that we really believed it. And we basically became like those silly pseudo-Buddhists of the earlier hippie days whose languid pronouncements of “it’s all cool, man” was a paper-thin veneer on their angry or fearful rejection of everything that made them the tiniest bit uncomfortable.
For me, the concept of “loving yourself” had a psychobabble flavor. Another fad for people who were looking for short-cuts to higher consciousness. Or maybe this concept was too large, too grand for me.
And why? Because there was too much not to love about myself. Occasionally, somewhere between a second and third glass of wine, I was comfortable with myself. But in the sober light of day, evaluating both the interior of my mind and the evidence of my life, I could write long lists of where I fell short. I didn’t even know what loving myself would feel like But as a start, it would help if I weren’t so anxious all the time. If the anxiety didn’t make me so disorganized. If I could actually plan something and follow without getting distracted with worrying about whether I was going to get distracted and follow through. Sigh.
So you can imagine how I reacted when the occasional character showed up who 1) told me how wonderful I was, 2) told me how he knew how to sort out my messes, 3) talked about his vision of a better life (that he already knew how to do), and 4) raved about his luck at finding someone (me) who fit so perfectly into his perfect plans for this perfect life. I’d think that maybe I was wrong about being such a mess. Maybe the people I’d met before hadn’t been perceptive enough to see this wonderfulness in me. Maybe I wasn’t perceptive enough either, and he was so much smarter. Maybe God had finally decided to send me the long-deferred trophy for trying hard.
And then, because I wasn’t impressed with myself or my life, I would start throwing things away. He didn’t like the way I dressed? No problem. He didn’t like the way I worked? No problem. He thought I should worry more about him than myself? No problem. And then finally, when I realized that nothing I could ever do would be enough, and that the whole relationship was new evidence of my failure to choose well, I would leave behind whatever I had with him, and re-enter the increasingly familiar grind of starting over.
Depressing, isn’t it? A particularly dark view of my history of serial monogamy, and one that explains my periodic descents into depression as I struggled to forgive myself for yet another disaster. But there is a nugget of illuminating truth here that I didn’t grasp until my last relationship with the sociopath.
Here it is. I didn’t believe that my life was my “real” life. Or that I was who I “really” was. Who I was and the way I lived were just interim conditions, until I got to the real thing. The life where I accomplished what I was really capable of. The “me” that was always emotionally balanced, lucid, focused, able to handle all of life’s details. All this imaginary stuff was the waiting reality. And in the meantime, I was living in a kind of purgatory. (For those of you who weren’t brought up Catholic, that is a temporary hell where we burn off minor sins before finally being allowed into heaven.).
in healing, I realized that the sociopath and I had this thing in common. He was never living the life he deserved. All this relentless focus of his was about his drive to put the puzzle pieces together — fame, wealth, universal admiration, all the “merit badges” of his travel and his expensive hobbies to present a smooth and plausible front — so he could airdrop into the “real” life that was waiting for him. The humiliations he had to endure now — including stooping to deal with my unsatisfactory self — were just necessary evils to be discarded and forgotten, except for an amusing story or two of his life on the street, once the lost prince found his way back to the palace.
I used to find his pretensions and ambitions childish. Until I realized that we were alike in this. I wasn’t trying to work my way back to the throne room. But otherwise we were the same. I looked down at who I was and what I did. I was prepared to give up almost anything to become who I was supposed to be. With the sociopath, that turned out to include my business, my family, my friends, my homes, my money, my mental health.
In fact the reason I got involved with him at all, as well as my other significant relationships, is that I saw them as chances to transform my life. To make it something else entirely. The good news is that I’ve lived an interesting life. The bad news is that, though all of this, I never was able to finish anything, hold onto anything. I had lots of funny-tragic stories. That was my life equity. Otherwise, I was the poster child for unfulfilled potential.
Which — surprise! — accurately reflected what I thought of myself.
Getting real
Taped on the wall next to my bathroom mirror is a page from the 2005 Zen daily calendar. The quote on it from Chogyam Trungpa reads, “No one can turn you completely upside down and inside out. You must accept yourself as you are, instead of you as would like to be, which means giving up self-deception and wishful thinking.”
The paper is yellowed and wavy from shower fog, marked with stains from flying drops of coffee, makeup and toothpaste. I took it down today to copy it for this article and then put it back where it was. It might look a little trashy to a visitor, but to me it’s a jewel placed in the perfect setting, right next to where I look at myself in the mirror every day of my life.
That little quote commemorates my belated recognition. This is me. This is my life.
I don’t have to value it all highly. I can look at any part of it and decide that it’s not useful anymore, or that I love it dearly. But everything that I own, everything I have accomplished (and that’s a lot, even though it wasn’t exactly what I hoped), all my experience, the relationships and memories, the responsibilities, the plans, all the things I think about, is me and my life. What is real right now is what is real.
It wasn’t just about what was objectively real, but it was also about how I saw it. The mental lenses which caused me to see things in a particular way. Like the lens that is fearful about throwing things away, in case all the stores are closed or I run out of money or I need that thing to trade with terrorists for my life. Or the lens that remembers when I was wrong about people, and never gets quite enough information to feel safe. These are me too. If I think I’m stupid or disorganized or have bad judgment, these thoughts are me too. All of these things are who I am.
There are a lot of pivotal moments in our healing, but for me, this idea shifted the ground under my feet. I had spent my entire life rejecting the very reality I lived with, as well as living with the self-questioning insecurity of feeling like an unfinished, inadequate person. This insight told me that I was finished, as far as I went. I didn’t need to be perfect to be real. What I was and what I had done had meaning. I was here, alive, having lived through so much, having struggled so hard to find my way. And the big trophy didn’t need to be coming from anywhere outside myself. I was the trophy. This life, imperfect as it was, was the trophy.
There wasn’t a speck of unrealistic thinking in this. It wasn’t grandiose. It didn’t change the fact that I was still in the middle of healing. My life was messy, and I was still trying to figure out how to be the person I wanted to be. But the big change was that it did not diminish me. I wasn’t beating myself up. I could stop being vulnerable to other people beating me up, because I secretly agreed with them. It opened a new view of my life. Instead of an arid moonscape of failure-craters, it was a rich green story of learning and survival. Some of my worst chapters — the big tragedies and huge failures — began to look different when I thought about how they brought me to here and now. It began to look okay.
Who do we love?
I can see by the word count of this article that we will need at least one more before we talk about loving other people. Something about what taking care of our well-loved selves really means. We need to get clear about that before we even think about another intimate relationship. But maybe we can conclude this one by talking a little bit about what we love in ourselves. And how that relates to unresolved trauma.
One of the most difficult and painful experiences that I can imagine is what happened to Jewish people in Europe during World War II. Survivors of the Holocaust lost family members and endured inhuman treatment in concentration camps. The challenges these people faced individually and as a community to heal, extract some positive meaning from these experiences and to move forward toward confident and creative lives are beyond anything I can imagine.
Just knowing about this — as well as the challenges of other people who face long-term cruelty and desperate living conditions — has sometimes helped me keep my personal challenges in perspective. As well as helping me understand things I might not otherwise understand about international politics, as well as the emotional states and concerns of people I meet. Sometimes there is not enough time in a lifetime, or even several generations, to work through complete healing.
And this is something we may have to accept in ourselves. As long as we are still living with the consequences of trauma that has not been fully transformed into learning that that increases our emotional freedom, compassion and conscious power to act, our values are going to be shaped by the progress we have made, as far as it has gone. And those values are going to have an impact on how we see ourselves and others. That is especially true if we still perceive ourselves as victims.
We may see other people around us who seem happier, more peaceful, able to do things that are beyond us right now, and we may be tempted to be envious or bitter about our lot or afraid that we are less than them. But this is not the truth. The truth is that we’re midstream in a great learning process. And wherever we are speaks of personal triumph to survive and learn more how to navigate this world.
Meanwhile, we are entitled to appreciation and gratitude for the great work of our bodies, minds, emotional systems and spiritual depths that brought us to where we are today. We can feel pride — not grandiosity, but the dignity of self-respect — in what we have accomplished. By the evidence of our lives, we are not nothing. Far from it. Each of us can look in the mirror and see someone of substance and value.
In learning to accept ourselves, we sometimes have to make peace with things about ourselves that are not perfect. And in doing this, we walk a fine line. We don’t want to deny where we fall short of what we’d like to be, things we’re still working on. But we can also see in our shortcomings the recognition of our true potential. Here are some suggestions for doing that.
If we are grieving, it is because of our blessed capacity to embrace life and take risks. If we are confused, it is because we value meaning and order. If we are angry, it is because we have a backbone of will and belief. If we are lonely, it is because we feel our deep connection with the world, but are still seeking where and how. If we feel despair, it is because we have a deep capacity for faith and hope. If we are depressed, we are in the midst of a great transition of belief. We may not see though it all yet. But the more it pains us, the more we know we are in the active process of learning.
All of this honorable. All of this is reason to respect ourselves.
Where self-love leads us
And if we can’t find any other reason to love ourselves, or if we are unsure that we can love ourselves and still be good people, the ultimate reason is that it is better for the world if we do. If we are patient and understanding with ourselves, if we believe in our potential, if we allow ourselves the dignity of self-respect even though we’re not perfect, it alters the most important lens by which we see the world. If we respect ourselves, we acknowledge that living through our growing-up and the dramas of life’s challenges is the universal story of life. It enables us to see that everything and everyone else is living through their own stories, and, for that reason, may deserve respect as well.
For trauma survivors, this is a touchy concept. If we have endured trauma at the hands of people whose life dramas create hurt and loss for other people, respect might sound like a ridiculous idea. Especially when our survival depends on clearly separating our interests from the interests of people who would harm us. However, if I were in the jungle with hungry lions around, I believe I would have better chance of survival if I respected what they are, than writing them off as evil.
Respect is a form of seeing, an even higher level of observation than the trusting of patterns that we discussed in the last article. It is a way of seeing that often provides us with more information than emotional reactions or judgments. Respect is not admiration or involvement. It is recognition that another being exists in his or her own world, facing private challenges, working with personal resources or lack of them. It helps us face reality more squarely, while maintaining the distance that respect implies. That is, observing from behind our own boundaries and seeing other people as separate from us. Respect helps us see larger patterns of life, making us more aware how we might be affected, whether or not we are actively involved.
Some people have a natural understanding of respect. But for others — especially if we grew up in Drama Triangle environments of victims and rescuers — it is something we have to learn. My Buddhist friend, when I begged him to help me warn off my ex’s latest girlfriend, told me an old saying “Nothing is more dangerous than interfering with other people’s dreams.” He was telling me to respect other people’s paths, to detach myself from what is none of my business and can not change.
Respect acknowledges our differences, while bringing us closer to actually understanding. It helps us recognize the emotional foundations of other people’s behavior or the type of energy they spread, without having to judge it any further than whether it is good for us. So that we can make easier and better choices about where we invest our energy. Respecting the different realities of other lives can even refine our feelings, enabling us to react more accurately. Like appreciating a flower growing in a landfill. Or being touched by the fleeting generosity of someone we know is virtually incapable of sharing. To experience love, awe, gratitude in smaller increments, and also disgust, frustration and grief in ways that we feel sharply but keep in perspective.
All of this makes us more solid with ourselves. Able to choose what is best for us, what matches who we are. This is how self-acceptance, self-love and self-respect are connected to personal power. Not accumulating power over other people, but being more aware and focused on how our actions affect our lives and the world around us.
In this work, we are moving farther from the struggles of early healing, deeper into the realm of accepting reality as “what is,” a relatively neutral position, that only works if we feel fully empowered to act on our own behalf. In the next article, to prepare a little more for love, we will talk more about power and emotional freedom.
Namaste. The deeply respectful spirit in me salutes with awe the flowering spirit in you.
Kathy
What a fantastic article kathleen.
I really needed to read this and the subsequent comments today.
Thank you so much.
‘I had spent my entire life rejecting the very reality I lived with, as well as living with the self-questioning insecurity of feeling like an unfinished, inadequate person.’ That really resonates. I think this is how I ‘live’, if you can call it that… of course there are factors, but… what kind of existance is this?
I have a very good friend, my best friend infact, we were once lovers until we turned into brother and sister. He and I have had some wonderful times and conversations over the years and we talk often on the blower and spend time together. I remember early on in our friendship when I discovered that despite his 1st degree in fine art his incredible talent as a photo realist painter and photographer of beautiful ‘moments’ he chose to work for very little as a teaching assistant and had no wish to do anything ‘grander’ , asking him why he didnt want to make ‘more’ of himself or have any ‘ambition'(blimey was I missing the point). He has many times since tried to explain to me that although he of course has the usual sadnesses and occasional lonlinesses as everyone else, he is conent with the here and now, with his ‘little’ life, finding beauty in the moments, and doesnt expend much energy on worrying about what he hasnt ‘done’ or ‘got’ or what he ‘ought’ to be.
I have to add – (unlike the self proclaimed personal Jesus that was the s/p creeazoid) He is not walking around in some blissed out state, he is not lazy, not arrogant, grandiose or selfish, just for the most part content with his here and now.
It is a quality in him that I am amazed by, that I am in love with, that I understand the power of, but have not yet developed properly within myself.
I know where it ‘lives’ and it IS within me, because I glimse it (when watch stars with my son, walk in fairy woods and other such places.lol!) I want to find my way closer to that place, live in it on a more full time basis and no longer in my personal purgatory ‘waiting’ for heaven to appear over the next big hill!
I know I am a bit of scatty waffler sometimes – but this is really powerful and timely stuff here for me today. Thank you, thank you once again LF-ers!:)x
blueskies, I’m so glad you found this at the right time for you.
I love the story of your friend. He sounds like someone I’d like to have as a friend. The fact that you two connect so well means a lot about you. I think you have that heaven inside of you, just waiting for you to clear the path. That’s what the business of healing really is, I think.
You made me laugh calling yourself “a scatty waffler sometimes.” Me too. I think one of my life challenges is to find the beauty in that.
Namaste.
Kathy
Kathleen: The zen calendar says (in part) “You must accept yourself as you are, instead of as you would like to be, which means giving up self-deception and wishful thinking.”
Is accepting yourself the same as loving yourself?
What if the person (ok, it’s me) sees herself as ugly… but others see her as pretty, or sees herself as fat… when others see someone with a nice figure?
I can TRY to not let myself be taken advantage of, maybe I finally faced the fear of rejection/abandonment, so I don’t have to fall prey to their every whim.
I don’t want it to be a self fulfilling prophesy that I never meet someone else because I think I’m too old and ugly. How do I get out of that? I want to put positive thoughts out to the universe, so I’ll get positive results back. Suitors aren’t exactly beating a path to my door.
shabbychic,
That’s a great question. I think that the answer is that you have to accept yourself to love yourself. Acceptance comes first.
And sometimes that may involve some judgment, because we’ve been trained to think that way. We’re either beautiful or a slob. We’re either successful or lazy. We either whatever our list of “good things” are or we’re scum.
I know that one of my big attractions to my ex was that he was so cool. He really was. He had cool down pat. And, of course, he was very concerned about how I looked and acted if I was going to be with him, so he pushed me to make a lot of changes in some things. My hair, my glasses, my clothes, some of the language that I used. He also introduced me to a lot of music, film and books that I wasn’t so aware of (because he was 20 years younger then me and recently out of college).
But he was also very critical. Of my age, my weight, my work, my expectations of him, etc.
So after I got rid of him, because he was the worst person I’d ever met in terms of personal involvement, I still was carrying that influence. I liked the things about me that he liked or that he had changed, and I hated the things about me that he criticized. Everytime I looked in the mirror, I saw myself through his eyes, and measured how I looked by how he would see me.
When I got to this business of accepting myself, the first wave of it was just getting honest about what I was. My age, my weight, how I worked, the messiness of my life, that fact that I was not cool like him. All the things I was scared of and had been resisting. I just took a deep breath, and said, okay, all this is true. And for a while, to tell the truth, I probably thought a lot worse of myself than was absolutely true.
But I did it for a reason. I wanted to get free of his influence and be honest with myself. To stop trying to be someone I wasn’t. When people said nice thing to me that didn’t match my kind of negative-realistic view of myself, I said “thank you” but thought “yeah right.” And a few close friends, who knew what was going on, suggested that my view of myself at that time was more related to my life-long undervaluing of myself, than any objective truth. So I stored that away for later consideration, but continued to try to be ruthlessly honest about my shortcomings.
This phase didn’t last forever. Because when I stopped trying to see myself as other people saw me, and started just to see myself as I am, a kind of magical thing started to happen. I began to discover this new person in the mirror. And this is really hard to explain, but instead of seeing this superficial view of me that either did or didn’t match up to a whole lot of ideas I picked up in the world about what was good or attractive, I began to see this real person. Who wasn’t good or bad, attractive or ugly, young or old, but just real.
I could see my changing moods, the way my thoughts showed in my eyes, whether I was tired or upbeat, how healthy I was or wasn’t. And even that sounds like judgment, but it was it was just observation, friendly observation. I was getting to know myself and how I looked without matching myself up with anything else.
And that awareness was part of my deciding not only to just be myself but to allow myself to be who I wanted to be, whatever that was, depending on the day, the mood, the stresses, the satisfactions. I began to think about what I wore in terms of whether it pleased me, as well as what it communicated about me. I started thinking about what I was saying to people in terms of how it made me feel, as well as what I got back from them. And I started working on authenticity, instead of structuring myself around what people thought about me.
I know this a really long answer, and I’m not sure if it’s helpful. But maybe this will be. One of the things I discovered relatively quickly is that my relationships really got better. People were more attracted to me and more interested. I think it was because I wasn’t so stiff and careful, and because I start showing them who I am. The humor. The way I think. I became more spontaneous. In some ways more challenging, especially when I met someone who was trying to manipulate me.
And people responded. Of course, there were people who didn’t like me. There are always people who don’t like us. And the more comfortable and confident we get, the more we threaten certain people, as well as clarify our differences with people who are very rigid in terms of what they like or accept.
But you know, as one of my therapists once said, if they don’t like you when you’re pretending to be something else, they probably won’t like you when you’re not. So you might as well be honest about who you really are.
All that said, we may have to “try” a little, if we want to fit in with a certain group or if we’re trying to communicate with someone that we’re attracted to them. I know that I dress differently if I’m going out on a date with someone I have romantic or sexual interest in, than I do with someone who is a buddy. But I think that, too, is just a form of self-expression, being who I really am.
So, chic, I guess the end of this story is a few things. First, you are beautiful. Period. Second, accepting yourself may require you to get over some ideas that you have about what’s acceptable, but in the end, that acceptance will lead you to a kind of self love that makes you more attractive than looking like a model. And third, anyone who doesn’t accept you the way you are, especially in personal relationships, is someone who doesn’t “get” you.
If you’re really getting out in the world, and nobody gets you, then you may have to try to figure out what you’re doing that’s confusing them. But I don’t think that’s going to happen. Usually authentic people who are happy with themselves attract the same type of person. And that’s what you want.
If you need to do some positive visualizations, maybe that might be good subjecti matter. Imagining how that might be to be that kind person. And imagining what it might be like to spend some time with another one.
The really good people like you for yourself.
Namaste, chic.
Kathy
Thank you for answering! 🙂 “my view of myself at that time was more related to my life-long undervaluing of myself, than any objective truth”… I’ve ALWAYS undervalued myself, that’s how I let myself get stomped all over like a doormat. I’ll print out your answer and read it several times so it all sinks in (into my thick skull).
“…but in the end, that acceptance will lead you to a kind of self love that makes you more attractive than looking like a model.” Ha! I’d rather look like a model… LOL
Here’s an experiment I’ve been doing: every morning, I look at myself in the mirror — short and round — and I think of something funny until I laugh. It’s amazing: I watch myself become beautiful! Not “model” beautiful, but there’s really a profound change. I can see warmth and acceptance on my face, and how my eyes light up — and I carry that out into the world with me — which is getting interesting, because I’m in job search, and I’m scared.
I’m beginning to experience what Kathy described: I can see myself quite clearly now; just me, without making all those comparisons to flawless women in the adverts, about 7 feet tall and not a hint of a wrinkle. I let that go, and see me, just where I am as I am, and that’s a very good thing. I’m thankful, for instance, that everything still works, and I can do yoga and walk miles. I pay special attention to things I find that I enjoy; it wasn’t so long ago that I couldn’t list my preferences, cause even my likes were catered to pleasing others first. Not any longer.
I would really enjoy meeting a great guy, absolutely — but I’m so glad I finally met myself first! The peace and acceptance that I longed for and thought would come from another person was waiting for me all along, but I had to learn to recognize to it first. It’s with me, more and more frequently these days. I had to begin to take in that I’m worthy of love and attention, especially my own.
Dearest Kathleen,your response to Kindheart on 1st July, could have been written for me, so I thank you! Im just beginning to realise that my Mum,[whom I adored} was a N. and an emotional manipulater. I was never allowed to get to know my dad, as he was HER daddy figure, so I always thought of him as cold and distant until he was quite old, and I realised he hadnt been given a chance to get close to me.My two brothers, now 68 nad 66, dont talk to me now either. The live in U.K, and Ive lived in Australia since 1973. I flew to UK in 1992 to visit with Mum,,83, who was in a very good old peoples home. My dad had died six weeks earlier. I wasnt able to go to his funeral, but sent a lovely poem about him Id written. I asked my brothers to read it at his funeral, they both refused,{I found out later.} On my flight to see Mum, she died when I was on the plane. So, I only got to see her in her coffin. When I arrived at Roberts home,{I was taken there by Bill, my younger brother}he insisted I go through Mums jewelery box, before Id even taken my coat off. It was December, and cold. I said,”Couldnt I just have a cup of tea first?’ I was still in shock about my Mums death, very shocked and sad. “No, he said,”Well do it now”. This truly was HELL. there I was, tears streaming down my face, and they were all laughing and joking as if I didnt exist!After a while, Robert took me into a back room, and left me there, like a pariah.No one came near me for half an hour. Finally Rob came in,”can I get you anything?” he said. “A hug would be nice!’ I said. he stood there like a ram rod and let me hug him, then kind of peeled me off, and said”I hope your not going to behave in this ridiculous way at the funeral!” Like what?” I said,”Crying, and making a fool of yourself!” It was beyond belief.I wasnt even allowed to cry for my own Mum. Id travelled all the way from Sydney, Australia. His wife, a hard faced B–tch took me the next day to see Mums body at the funeral parlour. All the way home in the car, she regaled me with stories of how my Dad tried to kick Mum, and she had to dodge his feet. {He had dementia by then}. “I really dont want to hear this!” I said. When I got back to Sydney, I wrote to Rob, saying how hurt Id been at his treatment of me. I havent heard from him from that day to this, since Dec. 1992. My other brother took his part, slagging me off for my “daft” letter.so, thats my charming family! Thank god for david, my new Iranian adult “kids”, and my few good friends, and not forgetting all you great and inspiring people on LF! Maia.XX {geminigirl}
Oh Mia – This is the kind of treatment I get from my lot:( It always seems to be when there is a low point and when most would hope to be enveloped in the loving bosom of their family that they circle and ‘go in for the kill’. I am working on ways to emotionally detach from them, its not easy, but I will never be hurt again by their abuse or lack of love, no longer expect or want anything from them. I really feel for you.I am so glad you have a wonderful David and your wonderful new adult kids:)xxx
Kathleen and Chic (I dont like the ‘shabby’ part, IMHO it doesnt fit you and what I’ve seen of your wonderful spirit in your writing here!x;) your last few posts:- more ace, powerful, super- useful stuff :)x
geminigirl,
Has it ever occurred to you that there’s distribution of labor in your family, and you get to carry the feelings?
So you look “daft” to them, because they deny their feelings. And they seem like mean-spirited or robot-cold people to you, because they refuse to relate to you on a feeling level and act superior because you have feelings at all. You getting your feelings hurt is just part of this dance.
I figured this out with my ex-S, some time after the relationship ended. That I was his emotional mule. I did all the feeling for both of us. Including the tears he couldn’t shed.
If this sounds right to you, here’s what you do. You just stop playing. Have your feelings. Recognize they’re emotional cripples. Say whatever you want to say them, but if it includes feelings, figure they’re going to react defensively and try to make you look wrong. If you want, point out the fact that it’s their problem that they don’t have normal human feelings. (But if you do, figure they’re going to argue with you, and tell you that you’re emotionally out of control.) But otherwise, just ignore anything they have to say on the topic. Because they’re going to do anything they have to do to keep you in the position of carrying the family feelings, so they can continue to avoid feeling that pain.
And perhaps, it might be a good idea for you to think about what this distribution of labor has done to you. While everyone else’s is clanking around with their stiff upper lips, with emotional spectrums basically limited to feeling superior, feeling angry, laughing at other people, feeling aggrieved, taking care of themselves, you’re the one who’s feeling the rest of it — the empathy, the sorrow, the feelings of helplessness, the concern and wish to help. And you’re feeling it alone in this family, and trying to hold up the “right” of it, while everyone else denies these feelings exist. Labeling you in ways that reinforce the whole dichotomy, and that give you little opportunity to exercise their side of the spectrum.
Do you understand how it can magnify these feelings in you, and discourage you from being more assertive and able to take care of yourself?
That’s how triangulaton works. People can make themselves feel better, or more bonded, by pointing fingers at a third-party and calling the third-party wrong. It’s a classic technique in dysfunctional families, and there’s usually a scapegoat child to help them avoid thinking about their own dysfunction.
You can’t change these people, but you can resign from the role. Just like you did with your daughters. And go ahead and develop the other side of you, the part that can feel anger clearly, that can laugh at the ridiculous behavior around you, and can take care of yourself.
A balanced personality can move easily from the empathetic to the self-interested on a second-by-second basis. Our first responsibility is to ourselves, as is everyone. You want to take care of things at that self-interested level, so you have the extra resources to spare for the risks and investments required to enjoy the good feelings that go with being empathetic. But keep your priorities in order.
It sounds like this family has trained you to be soft and giving without thinking of yourself. It’s not selfish to take care of yourself. It is the only way you can ultimately be generous. (Unless you intend to bleed out all your resources as a “good” person, in hopes that some other good person who has some resources left will eventually show up and rescue you. A recipe for attracting new sociopaths into your life.)
So back to the family. You can stop participating in all this. Recognize that the family game is to make you the emotional one, and them right. Recognize that they don’t have to feel anything as long as they can make you do the emotional work. And just cut them off, until or unless they start being able to communicate on a feeling level. And meanwhile, take care of yourself.
You’ve taken a huge step in the last month. It’s a first step in creating the life you want. It shows you what you can do in terms of protecting and taking care of yourself. But it won’t be the last one. These experiences that feel sociopathic are messages from your survival system that you have more business that you need to take care of. You deserve to be happy and to have people around you that appreciate you for who you are AND behave fairly, honorably and responsibly.
Namaste and love —
Kathy