Poopy evening...aka In which I wish I could love people for who they are and not based on my raw needs

Oy, what a disastrous evening. I arranged for a babysitter so I could go out with Red Flag Guy after a busy weekend with the kids. I was kind of in a yucky mood.  We hadn't seen each other over the weekend because RFG went out and partied with friends on Friday (cigars, whiskey, steak), and then did a golf thing all day on Saturday. Also, we spoke late Saturday night, but then I had to call him to confirm the time half an hour before we were supposed to meet. So...I had a little too much wine at dinner, and I ended up expressing myself a lot. The bad part was when I admitted I had googled his ex- girlfriend. Why did I google her?  To learn more about RFG.  I told him that all women do that, and my Goddess friend Suzanne confirmed it. But he was really bothered by it.  So, I started feeling really, really bad. And then, in Safeway, I saw him joking around with some woman, and that upset me. He saw it and called me on it. And then when I asked if he wanted to come in, he said no.

So...I feel like SUCH crap. I can't sleep.  This is about me, obviously. I wish I could be an adult, rather than trying to use people to fill the emptiness that I think is inside me. I mean I like RFG, independent of all that. I enjoy spending time with him. I don't like that he "turns on a dime," as he says. I'm scared of that. You're always vulnerable, though, in any relationship. How do you live with that?  

My friend Kathi says that RFG's behavior evokes responses like mine. She says that he doesn't provide what I need, and I shouldn't blame myself for that. And, WTH, he called me on noticing his flirting?

But, I want, I need to be with someone. I'm so so so tired.  I'm so so exhausted of juggling it all. I'm so so tired of being alone. I want some comfort, I want someone to be there for me. I'm tired of searching, of trying to piece something together, of trying to do it all. It's so damn scary, when you have a glimpse of life as it I'd.  How am I ever going to retire?  How am I going to pay for my kids' college?  How could I have made the mistake of marrying such a deadbeat, messed up guy?  Can I ever trust myself again?  Could I ever trust myself in the past?  When will I EVER be able to do that handstand?

I don't think googling an ex-girlfriend is that bad, although I know it resonates with RFG's issues. As for the flirting thing, it bothers me...at this point, that's how it is.  I don't know what else to say.  I've been pretty open about my "issues," except for the "filling the emptiness" thing and the "oh so tired" riff above.  Those things are heavy.  It's best not to put them on anyone, although I shared a bit of my financial concerns with RFG tonight.  

I don't know...I like him and would like to continue to see him.  But maybe I've crossed some kind of line.  I wish I were tanned, rested, and ready, as it were.  I wish I were smooth and articulate and able to know and clearly state my boundaries. I wish I could do that handstand, or at least a shoulder stand.  I wish RFG would call or text, and I know, I know, with every fiber of my now-slightly-more-educated womanly being that I should under no circumstances reach out to him. I wish I could be chill about it, but -- hey -- I'm a drama chick.

It was just a messed up evening. It will pass, inshallah.  I need to learn how to articulate what's bothering me, both to myself and others.

Argh..I'm going to pay some bills.

More soon...

Let It Go

I feel like there are things I cling to that keep me from moving forward.  I cling to them out of comfort and out of fear of the unknown.  I’m afraid that if I let go, I would fly out into nothingness, as if these unhealthy patterns and beliefs are the gravity field anchoring me to a planet that I’ve already outgrown.

And they’re mostly thoughts and beliefs, although they’re some behaviors as well.  One that comes to mind is CG, who I blogged about in the past.  He’s the one who pissed off to Sunnyvale, and who no longer has an account on OKCupid.  I last saw him about a year ago, or maybe a teeny bit less.  I last talked to him last June.  Why on God’s green earth am I still thinking about him?  And why in the name of all that’s holy do I sometimes get a pleasant frisson when I do so? 

I think it must be because I’m stuck on something he represented to me.  I’ve blogged before about how I’ve always had this thing for foreign guys, and how at a certain point, Latin guys came to seem as a perfect mix of American and other.  I wonder sometimes if the reason I don’t think I’ll be attracted to someone from my tribe–whatever the hell my tribe is anyway…certainly not the daughters of Israel or Hadassah–is that it enables me to be unavailable.  (Let's save the what-is-my-tribe discussion for another time.  Some Latin guy may indeed be part of my tribe, but I'm talking about my long-time pattern of dating guys from other cultures.)

And I feel comfortable being unavailable, because if I were available I’d REALLY have to be out there.  I mean, I’m proud of myself for being able to go out salsa dancing and have good clean fun.  It’s exciting and sexy, even though none of that stuff ever happens.  But I do think that deep down, I’m scared as all hell about opening myself up to someone who’s actually available. 

It’s much riskier, for one thing.  But what’s even scarier is the idea that – God forbid – I could turn into my mother.  I know this is really Norman Bates-esque, but I honestly feel a sense of revulsion when I think about it.  I love my mother dearly–see earlier posts–but I can’t be her.  So, she’s something else that I have to let go.  I have to let go of the idea that I can EVER win at my parents’ game, which is basically boy-meets-ethnically-appropriate-girl/boy-and-girl-appropriately-fall-in-love /girl-takes-care-of-boy-and-anticipates-his-every-move-and-mood/boy-takes-care-of-girl-financially/boy’s-wishes-and-dreams-becomes-girls’-wishes-and-dreams/boy-and-girl-make-perfect-family/boy-and-girl-live-happily-and-effortlessly-ever-after-with-the-appropriate-inside-jokes-and-“aren’t we cute”-image.

And then I think, this is ridiculous.  Why can’t I let this all go?  I’m 48, for fuck’s sake, and why can’t I move past the notion that to be in a committed relationship means self-abnegation?  I mean, there are zillions of so-called happy couples all over the place, right?  I suppose my parents’ pattern was impressed into me at a very young age.  My brother messed up his first marriage, and in his second he and his spouse have all of the annoying and smug inside joke stuff that my parents’ had.  It’s incredibly annoying to me.  Why can’t I get away from my mother’s voice in my head?   (Not I know that sounds REALLY weird, but I do think I’m an aural learner and I’m very sensitive to voices.) 

So, I cling to unhealthy patterns, afraid to let go out of fear of abandonment, but also out of fear of smothering/drowning myself.  It’s a Catch-22, so given these fears, perhaps it’s rational to date emotionally unavailable men.  RFG said as much to me during our trip to Miami, when he told me that he doesn’t fall in love.  And I said, I don’t know what love is, or what love’s go to do with it.  But then, I feel like I want connection, I want a partner.  I feel like I’m missing something, which is what I’ve always felt.  By that, I don’t mean that I’m missing the object of my affections, but rather that I’m missing the ability or the inclination to let myself love without holding back.  Well, I love my kids, of course, but I’m thinking here of love for a partner.  I can care about people–I care about RFG–but what does love mean?  People say if you have to ask, you’re not in love, but I think that’s circular logic bullshit.  I want to love, and, of course, be loved, whatever it may mean. And love may be an act, rather than a state of mind.

I wish I could get out of this effing story in my head that I outlined above, the one that my parents supposedly lived.  I wish I could just let go of the hold they had on me, or at least of the pattern that was imprinted on me.  Because at this point, it’s really me that’s clinging on to these dysfunctional ideas and feelings with painfully stiff and frozen curled fingers, since my parents are no longer here. Well, my mom is here, but she’s alone now.

I need to release my fingers and fall and tumble and somersault and twist and swan and glide on out among the stars.

Finding the Off-Ramp from the Anxiety Superhighway

I was having a crisis today.  Well, actually, I’m still kind of having it.  But, thanks to my Awesome Aunt in Ohio, I’m working through it.  It’s actually a case of my anxiety turbine engine spinning into hyperdrive, so that I get closer and closer to a freak-out meltdown.  And it was really over something so small, but it clearly links to patterns learned and internalized in my childhood (insight thanks to Awesome Aunt).

So, my Takoma Park Goddess friend asked on her single mom listserv how many of us wanted to go salsa dancing tonight.  Since I have the kids, I told her no, but then I decided to go anyway because I feel like I’ve been neglecting my girlfriend building. Later, when I spoke to RFG, I had to tell him that I couldn’t see him – not that we had anything planned -- because I was going dancing with Takoma Park Goddess.  He was okay about it, and immediately started thinking of making other plans. The situation triggered my anxiety, and I began to freak out a little.  I said to him that maybe I should spend time with him anyway, and I asked him if he wanted to come over later.  He said he was already thinking of calling his buddies, and we should touch base later.  As a second step to my freak-out, I began to blame myself.  My thoughts went kind of like this – Oh my God, I’ve rejected him, and he’s going to reject me, and it will be all my fault.  Now I miss him, I miss him so much, and he won’t commit to seeing my today or tomorrow (when he has a date with his golf buddies, which will last well into the evening).  We left it that we would check in with each other later. 

In all honestly, I’m feeling a little nervous about meeting Takoma Park Goddess at a place I’ve never been before, where they’re just starting a salsa evening (tonight is the first night), and I’m not sure what the crowd is like.  I hope my friend arrives before me.  But my main thing is that I have this horrible sinking feeling – one that’s 99.9% not based in reality – that I’ve messed up irreparably, and it’s all my fault.  And I’ll be abandoned, and I’ll deserve it, and I’ll never find anyone, and I’ll be alone for the rest of my life, because it will never work out, and that’s what I deserve.  So – whew! – the anxiety turbines are whirling at top speed, and their high-pitched whine is blotting everything else out. And it really has very little to do with the guy in question.

But, luckily, I was able to reach out to my Awesome Aunt, and – knowing my family history – we talked about how excluded I felt in my family of origin, and how we all walked on eggshells around my dad, how I was subconsciously blamed for others’ feelings, and about how my anxiety was a rational response to protect myself by anticipating how my dad would feel.  It led me to develop beliefs about how I’m supposed to be responsible for others’ feelings and actions, and how having my own wishes and desires is asking for too much and imposing on others, and it will only lead to a downfall that I will deserve.  Pretty intense stuff.  None of this was ever stated, but I certainly felt it and continue to feel it.

But my aunt counseled me that when these anxious thoughts rise up, I can envision an off-ramp from them.  I can envision myself speeding along mindlessly on a well-traveled superhighway, as I’ve done countless, countless times before.  And I can picture myself jerking the car out of the well-worn ruts and selecting an exit.  I can picture a different route, one that offers calming and affirming sights, a route that is somewhat slower and requires more intent on my part.  Thinking about the route can give me a good feeling and empower me, and it can be grounded in thoughts about good things like Fire Island and salsa dancing.

By doing this, I can release patterns that no longer serve me.  And I can realize that, in all truth, what I’m doing tonight is no different from RFG’s numerous golfing evenings. 

And now, post-weekend, I can look back and see that I did have a good time on Friday night (although there really weren’t many people there who actually knew how to salsa dance), and that I ended up seeing RFG on Saturday night after the kids were asleep.  I still have some issues with how things are going between RFG and me, but that’s fodder for another posting. 

The main challenge for me here is to identify and let go of unhealthy childhood patterns. And to wonder how they got entrenched in the first place.  I mean, what the hell?  Thinking about how Awesome Aunt pointed out my strengths and how I’m a catch to many people, I need to ask myself, why on earth do I feel like such crap over how I was treated more than 40 years ago?  Why do I deserve that?  I don’t think that any of my friends would deserve that, and I should view myself in the same way I view my friends, right?  So, I can remove myself from this high-intensity, high-speed, high-pitched spinning.  I can find an off-ramp and move away from the unhealthy spinning with its toxic products (and just slow down…).  I can envision a new healthy place where I can take reality day by day, in a positive empowered way. 

Happy

So, this is a #firstworldproblems kind of post. In even saying that, I'm belittling my feelings, but it is what it is. The truth is, I'm having a great time. I'm blessed with wonderful, spirited kids. I have a decent house and a good job. I'm going out and having fun. I've had exciting travel experiences in my life. I'm enjoying dating an interesting guy who's been nice to me.

So, why do I wake up some mornings, more than most, and feel a sense of dread and general crappiness?  I move forward and take steps to feel better, and then I do. But the echo of the dread and crappiness doesn't go away, and it leaves me wondering why and what I can do about it.

And the very first thing I think of, as alluded to in my first sentence, is that I have no right to feel this way.  There are so many people in the world, so many women, in truly crap situations. Who am I to think or feel anything negative, given the advantages that I have and that everyone around me has had. But I think that's a cop-out.  I need to step up, to acknowledge and meet these feelings face to face, as it were. It's only by facing them directly that I can put them into their proper perspective.  That much is clear.

For my birthday this year, I wished to have intent.  What did I mean by that?  I wished to make decisions with a clear intention, and ideally with a healthy end in mind.  I want to move away from taking actions and making decisions based on fear.  I want to release my fears, stop grinding metal, and ease down.  And I can do it.  I know I can.  It's just this darn muscle memory in my mind, as well as some unhealthy habits that I can take steps to alter.

What do I mean by muscle memory? When I say muscle memory, I mean it's like a knee jerk reaction to blame myself, to feel bad, to apologize, to grab onto something -- a man, for example -- that can make me feel like I have value. If I dig deeper into the dread and general crappiness, I find that it's aimed at me. It's a feeling of crappiness about myself, and a feeling of dread that I'm going to do something wrong, that it will be all my fault, and that I will feel even crappier and everyone will know.  In that way, it's kind of a fear of fear. And, while it may have internal logic, it's certainly not rational.

When I think rationally and systematically about my life, I'm amazed at all that I've done.  I try to look at myself objectively, as if I were looking at my awesome friend Suzanne or some other SMILF.  I look at myself and say, wow, she's a strong person.  She's done a lot of things, and many of them required courage.  She's a loving, caring person. She has a hell of a lot to offer. She's well-equipped to deal with bullshit, to have her own back, to make healthy decisions, to step up to whatever she wants to do.  She knows.  She has value, as does everyone, actually.  So....WHY DO I HAVE TO KEEP BEATING ALL OF THIS INTO MY HEAD OVER AND OVER AND OVER??? (Sorry for the all caps....sometimes they're incredibly appropriate.)

I don't know. Well, I have some ideas, of course. To expand a little bit on the memory part of muscle memory, certainly in my childhood I came away with the idea that as a girl, as a woman, you're nothing if you're not part of a couple.  And that clearly came from my parents, who, in their own loving way, shut everyone else out. The irony is that now that my dad is gone, my mom--who I blame, fairly or unfairly, about my misguided beliefs in this area--is not part of a couple anymore and she feels totally fine about herself.  From my vantage point, she appears to feel like the world owes her, and her job is to get people to give her what she deserves.

(Now, I know that's TOTALLY unfair. My mom struggles with anxiety and feelings of inadequacy, and she deals with them in her own, 1950s-embedded way. Any negative feelings I may have towards her related to that come from childhood patterns that were probably unconscious on her part.  But, still, family members can push your buttons, even if you have the best intentions and love them dearly.)   

But, to get back to my point, if my mom, who holds the primary blame for this dysfunctional muscle memory, doesn't think she's somehow inadequate on her own, why the heck should I be thinking that about myself?  Why can't I commence avec moi?  I've written before about how I want to throw myself into someone, to dive into a relationship and lose myself so I'll be okay.  In reality, I'm here in my life. I'm living, I'm raising my kids, I'm being a friend, I'm trying to be nice and help others, I'm learning and I'm working.  But in my heart, or maybe in some part of my psyche that some wacko like Freud identified 100 years ago, there's a crack that leads to a chasm of bereftness. And I'm so scared of that chasm, and how it will drive people away, and how it means I'm not okay.

I know, as I've written before, that facing something scary, that naming it, that walking through it can diminish the thing and the feelings until they shrink to their actual size.  And because I'm the mother of 2 little girls, I feel I have a right to post an uplifting video (even if someone could easily call this move cheesy).

 And I think I know what I can do, what I need to do, to feel and to be happy and healthy.  Some of those things I may not be ready to do.  For example, there are some unhealthy things in my relationship with RFG, but I can only work through them in the appropriate time.  There's no jumping ahead there...things will happen as they're supposed to. (Another question is why I can't simply stop worrying and enjoy our time together, but that's probably a topic for another posting.) And there are many things I can do now.  I can write, as I've done this morning.  I can love my kids and take steps to feel appreciative.  I can soak in nature and beauty.  I can treat myself well, with sleep, hot showers, exercise, flattering (but non-pricey) clothes, a noncluttered environment.  I can own my story and speak my feelings.  I can step up and do my work.  It's clear, I've done it, I'm doing it, and I will continue to do it.

And I wonder if, ever, one day, I won't have to use that exasperated, allcaps, boldface scream in my brain to remind myself that I'M OKAY and IT'S ALL GOOD.  When can I stop being Al Franken as Stuart Smalley and use my own internal mirror, in an unconscious way so I don't even know I'm doing it?  Maybe this is just how it is, and I should be grateful that I can do all these things.  Maybe it's a matter of building new muscle memory, over time, in the same way that I'm committed to getting physical exercise on a regular basis.  I suppose faith, however that's defined, comes into play here as well.  And I do have faith in myself, even if I forget that sometimes.  Here's to throwing myself into it, in a healthy way, for myself!

Single Moms Need Bob the Builder

 Last April, the awesome blogger Wealthy Single Mama wrote a much-viewed post entitled, “Single MomsNeed Alpha Males.”  The post totally resonated with me, since I’m not ashamed to admit that, hell yeah, I want an alpha male on an ongoing basis.  In fact, it gives me a little frisson of naughtiness, to admit openly that despite the fact that I’m an Ivy League grad from the 80s--who spent hours in dorm rooms and dining halls discussing feminism, whether men should hold doors, and who should do the housework--at this point in my life I really want a man who has good throwdown.  It’s kind of like the smugness you feel about being a little politically incorrect, like you’re being bad and just a wee bit shocking.  As I think about the whole alpha male thing, it makes me start humming this Julie Brown song from the 80s, notwithstanding the fact that I find education and intelligence to be necessary characteristics for the guys I date.  In fact, the “throwdown” dimension totally doesn’t negate higher degrees, as I can picture those aggressive MBA guys and hedge fund traders from SATC.  

But I digress…So, yes, it’s a no brainer that I now seem to like men who could be characterized as strong leaders on some dimensions, or even as bad boys, even if I know it’s not always the wisest thing to do.

But what surprised me is how much it also gives me a thrill to be with Bob the Builder (or in some cases, Handy Manny, heh heh heh).  As a single mom, I take on every role in the household.  I’m CEO, COO, CFO, and CTO, as well as Counselor in Chief.  I’m Chief Planner and Strategist, Spokesperson, Head Organizer, and Educational Coordinator.  I’m a Tutor,  Personal Shopper, Equipment Manager, and Party Planner, as well as being a Laundress, Housekeeper, Manual Laborer, and Yard Worker.  And all the while I’m trying to raise physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually healthy kids with high-enough self-esteem who don’t get into too much trouble and will eventually be able to support themselves, possibly help me in my old age, and maybe even get college scholarships.  Yes, it may be challenging and stimulating, but it’s also exhausting and overwhelming.   It takes a lot of time, juggling, research, coordination, and trial and error.  It’s stressful, and I get sick of it at times.  

 So, when someone I’m dating is handy around the house, and I get to sit by and be the little woman while he flexes his muscles putting up shelves, I’m more than grateful.  If he brings his own tools to the house, even better.  I can watch and learn, and be glad that I didn’t attempt to do whatever it was that needs being done on my own.

My son’s first daycare provider, Martha, was a single mom.  I remember when she finally got together with, and in fact married, a guy who had those skills.  He said he was going to teach her how to redo the floors in her house.  They came to our house for dinner once, and I remember how her husband measured a wall for us and how Martha just sat by and watched, with a view towards learning, but also with respect.  That resonates with me now, because I recognize that look.  It’s a look that reflects a feeling of, thank God, I can step down.  I don’t have to be alpha for this one instance.  I can immerse myself in being a learner, in not being the one who takes chances or risks (and if you mess up something in your house, believe me, it’s going to cost you).  I can be a simpering, doe-eyed creature from the 1950s, wearing a circle skirt and a sorority pin.  I can be responsive instead of being the decisionmaker.  I can let go.  I don’t have to lean in.  Holy fucking Christ, thank God almighty.

So, the guy I’ve been dating, Red Flag Guy, is a self-declared MacGyver at this stuff.  So far he has hooked me up to broadcast tv, fixed my dishwasher (which my handyman had said was kaput), brought over and installed a new refrigerator, installed and hooked up my new stove (which he found for me in the first place), inspired me to buy new pillows, and changed my old toilet seat. A friend of mine observed that this is RFG’s love language, that he shows his caring by doing acts of service rather than by declaring his undying love, calling himself my boyfriend, or even hinting at anything that’s more than what we have now.  That’s okay with me for now (and, as they say in Blade Runner, we never know how long we have).  It’s not ideal, but I have a great time with him, and he’s smart, fun, and nice to me.  See exhibit A:

 

And the Hagerstown Hunk (I’m no longer calling him by the more insulting nickname I had previously and meanly bestowed on him) installed shelves in my daughters’ room.  And Neighbor Boy, who most definitely was not alpha, helped me paint my tv room and removed a door for me when I had to get a freezer through it.

I honestly don’t know how to express my gratitude to my current guy, except for just expressing it, buying him dinner sometimes, and taking other obvious measures.  It’s more than just a stove or a dishwasher or broadcast tv (which was huge, in the absence of cost-prohibitive cable and just before the Superbowl).  It’s someone taking on the responsibility for one concrete task in one facet of my turbocharged life.  It’s someone, in fact, taking care of me for a discrete project for a limited amount of time.  And it feels awesome.

So, is this whole shebang anti-feminist or somehow politically incorrect?  I would say a) it is what it is, and b) who cares?  I’m no longer sequestered in an ivory tower, on the cusp of adulthood, discussing what-ifs while eating pupu platter and salad bar tofu and expecting to marry a well-degreed and appropriately earning granola guy.  I’m happily living life in the real world, with real people around me.  I’m overwhelmed, and I need to triage.  If someone steps in to help me, all the better.  The issue of who pays for what is trickier, and I would feel a little funny about a guy who paid all the time (although for the first couple of dates he should certainly pay).  In this case, I’m happy to let someone step in and help me, with the idea that he feels good about doing it too.  And hopefully I’m reciprocating in some way, even if it’s just by gracing him with my charming, eye-pleasing, and unique company.

So, people, can we accept and even enjoy this kind of assistance without feeling like we’re betraying some ultimately superficial code of womanhood?  Yes, we can!

In which I hit bottom...maybe

If this were Victorian times, I would say I'm having another one of my spells. I wish I could cast spells.  I've been so so down these past couple of days (especially today), and I know it's all about issues I'm working through, which impact my thoughts and feelings regarding the guy I've been dating, Red Flag Guy.  

He's just a guy, see, a guy with red flags that I've detailed before. And I've probably chosen him in part due to those red flags, because I'm still working on myself and am feeling kind of scared of something too healthy. But I'm starting, in the deeply grooved pathways of my brain, to want to lose myself in him. It's nothing new.  It's a way to fill the emptiness. But it doesn't feel healthy to me.

And he's just a guy, granted a guy with whom I'm pretty compatible and who can be sweet.  He's a guy with red flags that make me worry that he'll be picking up women wherever he goes. If a friend of mine expressed these concerns, I'd say to lay down the line.  But I don't think he's done anything. My concerns are really that he'll stop paying attention to me.

Because loving attention was what I didn't get from my parents. And I have a hole in my heart or my soul and I'm unhealthily looking for a guy to fill it. I tried to do it in the past with food. When my kids were babies, they filled it.  There are lots of ways I've tried to fill it. And when I try to fill it with a guy -- involuntarily, it seems -- it blows up in my face. And I'm so so SO afraid of that happening. I'm scared it will become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Today, the only that helped with my feelings of pain, fear, and self-blame was walking around my work neighborhood, past courts, museums, restaurants, Oyamel, Gallery Place, all around like I was walking a labyrinth.  Walking through pain, walking through fear and dread.  Each step moving me forward, stepping through my fears and having them dissipate like smoke.  Realizing that if I move forward deliberately and directly, my feelings shrink down to the size of a bathtub

 or a bucket

or a thimble.

And they'll come back, in the circular way that feelings do, and I'll try to remember to walk through them again. Move toward anxiety. Own my story. Trust that things are happening at appropriate times.  I don't know...it's easy to write.  I have to take the point of view that whatever happens, I can trust myself to respond appropriately. And it's not all about me. I need to relinquish control.  I need to watch and learn. After all, guys have their own impetus and internal calculus, much like Martian rubber bands.

Jeez, a girl can go crazy thinking about all this...But it's important to process it. And it helps to write about it.Things will all be okay. Fall into the plan.

Taking Inventory

I'm feeling kind of down, despite having fun times, so I thought it was time to take inventory of things in my life.  That way, maybe I can figure out some traps and unhealthy magicalness (my own word) in my thinking.

I'm going to start with Red Flag Guy, even though I know I SHOULD start with the kids or work or money or something else important.  That's because somehow I grew up with the idea that your "relationship" should be the center of your life.  And, well, it probably should, but I've been raised with rules that make me want to grab onto and cling to any relationship like a life buoy, no matter how unhealthy.

 And I know I've written in here, as recently as the last posting that your relationship with yourself is the most important one in your life, and that if you don't strengthen and value that, you won't be able to have a healthy relationship with anyone else.  I wrote it, and I almost believe it.  Well, my brain almost believes it.  My heart is still clinging to that unhealthy, insubstantial, lifesaving buoy with the ripped rope that is unlikely to help me survive in rough seas.  So, I ask myself, how do you move forward?  How do you move forward when you KNOW what the right thing is, but you don't know how to get there?

Natalie of Baggage Reclaim writes that, "Fundamentally, self-esteem comes down to treating and regarding yourself as a person of value." I'm sure she has stuff in her blog about how to do that, but it's not an easy process. I do like how she talks about "treating yourself," and not just "regarding yourself."  It's always easier for me to change my behavior than to change my thoughts and feelings.  It's still a challenge, however, since what it means to treat yourself as a person of value is up in the air.

In any case, on to INVENTORY ITEM # 1:  My current dating situation.  Well, I'm having a great time.  It's lots of fun.  There's a good physical connection, he's smart, we enjoy some of the same things, and I'm not bored (which says a lot).  He's actually been reliable, and the fact that this surprises me shows me how I made some bad choices in the past.  He's also been nice and even compassionate with me (ditto about what my surprise about this shows).  He definitely has some emotional intelligence, and there are different ways I can learn from him. 

However, and here comes the down side, he still comes across as someone who really really really has enjoyed and will continue to enjoy the company of women.  He's very social and flirts easily, and this -- of course -- threatens me a bit.  Maybe it shouldn't, since he hasn't given me any reason to worry.  When I asked him if he was going to be seeing any women down in Florida when he went there for a business trip, he got upset that I would ask that, and told me it had been an issue in his marriage. Our SOP on this issue is that if one of us has a thing with someone else, we'll tell the other person. I'm not about to have any kind of thing or fling with anyone. That's not my SOP. It worries me a bit that it may be RFG's, even though he now denies it. In any case, it's something I kind of worry about.  And maybe the bottom line for that is that I have to see how things evolve. As long as he continues to pay attention to me and treat me well, I can only assume that things are okay.

RFG has asked if I'm afraid of falling for him, and I've said yes. I said I'm afraid of risk, but I know it can't be avoided in life. You're at risk every moment of every day, and you at least have to do some kind of risk assessment to determine if the risk is worth it.  I would say in this case, it is.  And Natalie has all kinds of advice for this too, like being sure you have your own back.  I guess I'm afraid that I'm going to let myself be treated badly and then feel stupid about it afterwards. So, maybe I'm really afraid of myself, and whether I'll be there for me.

Another issue I'm facing is that I feel like I'm so scared, I can't access what I want (in the sense of accessing files on a computer).  I'm so scared that I don't live by my values, because I don't even know what to ask for.  It's been RFG who has initiated these "check in with the relationship" talks, not me. If it were up to me, I'd be deep inside my head, peering out with frightened eyes and trying to figure out how to keep clinging to the false rescue that relationships represent to me.  To get all psychological on your a$$, it's like my inner child is messing with me, trying to fill that endless, empty space that's all need need need.  It's refreshing to have these talks with RFG, but I still feel at a loss that I can't even define.

For example, today RFG asked if I was becoming attached to him, and I said I was. When he asked why, I said this was how things happened, that we're compatible and we're spending time together and we're having sex, so of course I'm getting attached to him. Now I'm second-guessing myself, and I'm thinking that I should have said something about RFG's personality or something more personal than what I said. And then I kick myself for second guessing myself. So, it's like I'm caught in this unhealthy spiral of feeling like I don't know what to do in a relationship, that I'm not healthy enough, and then judging myself harshly for whatever I do. The truth is, I'm learning a lot and I think I'm doing okay with this one. I'm owning my story, as Brene Brown says we need to do. I'm trying not to make RFG the focus of my life, since I have so much more going on and he's just a guy, for Pete's sake.

But then I second guess myself again. Do I mask my feelings for RFG because I'm scared?  Or am I over the top with my feelings because of the unhealthy patterns I've inherited from my parents?  I dont' eff-ing know.  The bottom line, I suppose, is to just enjoy, and leave all this thinking behind.  I can picture these thoughts locked into a university classroom, with desks, blackboards, and windows.  Fly out of there, leave them behind, and let things happen.  Because that's how things do tend to work for me.  I rarely get anywhere by just thinking.

What can I say now?  I like RFG.  I enjoy spending time with him.  I'm learning from him and from our time together.  And I'm scared he's going to screw me over.  And the likelihood is, one of us will probably screw the other one over in some way.  That's just how it works, most of the time. You can live in the now, you can commit to each other somehow, but what's going to happen will happen. Our control over it is limited. But that most definitely doesn't mean it's not worth it. Far from it. Far from it, indeed.

So, as I complete my Inventory Step 1 (and there aren't going to be any more steps tonight....kids gotta eat), I do feel a bit better for thinking this through.  It's true that the left-brained activity of writing helps crystallize those wacky overwhelming right-brained, limbic and reptilian feelings that threaten to flood and overwhelm. It's good to get them down on paper, trapped like an insect in amber, so they can eventually stop wriggling furiously and be put to rest, for now.

And how do I work on treating myself and regarding myself as a person of value?  How do I build my self-esteem?  One thing is to keep asking myself if I'm living according to my values. Another thing is to ask how I would treat a friend or what I would advise a friend in this situation. And finally, interacting with people who are good for me and who help me to ask and answer these questions.

Ay yi yi, so much to work on.  Time to eat and rest.  More soon!