I ... am ... enough

I was reading in Brené Brown's book, Daring Greatly, today during a few moments of self-care time, when I realized that it had been a long time since I had made time for structured self-care! Lately, I have been so frantic about doing what I do (wife, mother, employee, boss, daughter, sister and student) and doing it well in all areas, (what does it matter that I only get three to five hours of sleep a night? right?) that I didn't realize I was once more heading down the path toward co-dependency, or as I have been calling it, "doormat-itis." Or being "Champion of the Underdog."

I had been focusing way too much on what folks expected of me and on the standards others had placed upon me (which I was trying to live up to) that I had lost sight of who I was. Again. WOW that's a slippery slope!! I realized this as I was in the process of unfriending someone on Facebook who had given me yet one more standard or expectation to live up to, one which I do not agree with, and who then proceeded to attack me about some choices I had made, which this person didn't agree with. The person had listened to other people's version of things, and convinced themselves that I was in error and just needed to see the "truth" ... but... and just as I trailed off there, I caught myself spiraling down into the abyss of self-protection, crusading, and other self-defeating thinking. I was taking on too much, and I was taking things in my loved ones' circumstances way too personally because I was the white knight, the defender, the rescuer, the protective "Mama bear" who would defend her own. It was killing me.

Photo "Young Lady Holding Umbrella" by
imagerymajestic at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

 As I was pondering this while reading Ms. Brown's book, I came across this statement and it rocked me back on my heels! 

"We have to believe we are enough in order to say, 'Enough!' " (pp. 144-145). 

 My umbrella of self-care, my affirmations from when I was in therapy, my learning to let go, ... I had forgotten it all - and this "enough!" statement brought me back to those hard-learned lessons and made me remember three very important things: (1) I am worthy of love and belonging (as Brené Brown says), (2) helping someone is a great and noble cause, but when it comes at the expense of my own mental health, I have invested too much of myself, and (3) when I catch myself slipping back into those old patterns, it is time to remember where and what my boundaries are, and to live within them.  This reminds me that others have boundaries as well, and (as hard as it is for me to accept) other people don't have to like me or agree with everything I do in order for me to like myself. I had done all I could do in this circumstance I mentioned, and whether someone agreed with my actions or my beliefs or my choices was irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was that I was following my conscience and that I have remained true to myself. The rest is of no consequence. 

Am I going to apologize? Am I going to re-friend this person? No. I didn't do anything against my conscience, and others' opinions of my choices are not my concern. I don't need to surround myself with people who can find nothing better to do than criticize someone else over something that is none of their business. That puts them (in their minds) in a position of superiority over me, and then I try to assert my superiority, and so on and so forth. I am not playing those games anymore. Will this person ever change their mind? Probably not. But again, that is not my concern. They are going to think what they are going to think, and nothing I say or do will change that. 

I need to be courageous about this lifestyle of letting go, because all of my life, I was hammered into thinking that what other people thought of me mattered, and I became a chameleon and by the end of it, I didn't even know who I was anymore. I have been slipping back into that mind-set. I am going to stop now. I am done with being afraid. I am tired of putting on the junkyard dog mask to hide that fear.  

What I am going to do is follow something that a co-worker's sister made for her. She has some writing, white on black, on a little sign on her bookshelf - two little words in beautiful script writing - "Just Breathe." It reminds me to breathe deeply. And in that breath, I remind myself that I am enough. That I am worthy. That I am loved. That I am all of these things and more besides. That I need to let go of my need for approval. That I need to let go of the need to prove that I am right. That I remember to let go.  

What a relief. Maybe tonight, for the first time in weeks, I will be able to sleep through the night without nightmares or anxious thoughts waking me up. I sure hope so...

A Safe Place to Be

Recently, I marked four years in recovery. The day came and went, and all day that day I thought about how my life had changed in those four years. 

Tonight, I sat in a recovery room among friends - one where I hadn't been for far too long. When I walked in, I recognized a couple of people, and their faces (and mine) lit up when we saw each other. A grin, a wave, and a feeling of being loved, of those that were there being glad that I was there. I had not attended this group last week because of last-minute things, and had promised then that I would be at this Tuesday's meeting. 

And, even though there was another event that came up - I kept my promise to go and celebrate my recovery - to surprise those who were in attendance (only one other person was in the know) by accepting my four-year medallion. Amid the spontaneous applause and the hugs and handshakes came a feeling of true friendship, true fellowship.

Belonging.

The outpouring of love and happiness was palpable. These people had seen me at my worst. They'd seen me through some tough times, and they'd watched me grow. Now they were here around me to offer their congratulations and support for this new lifestyle I was living, a lifestyle that many of my former acquaintances - and even some family members - were less than thrilled about.  

My eyes brimmed up with gratitude. 

"Happy Family" courtesy of
photostock at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I stayed while the discussion opened up and folks talked about one thing and another, encouraging growth by sharing their experience, strength, and hope with each other. There's nothing complicated about it. A recovery group - if if follows the principles of the 12 steps - is a safe place to be. You are free to really be yourself, to have fears, doubts, and triumphs: there is no judgment, there is no advice, and there are no agendas. Just acceptance. 

After I left the meeting room, I had another meeting to go to for a drama our church is putting on.  This one took place in a totally different atmosphere, but again, when I walked through the door, I was recognized by several in attendance; the nods and smiles, the waves and even a few hugs - as the meeting progressed - gave me that same sense of being loved, valued. The atmosphere (as I mentioned) was far more busy because everyone was milling around trying to find out what their role was going to be, but I felt like I was part of the group, not apart from it. 

That sense of belonging, of acceptance, was worth a great deal to me. It still is.

The theme song from a popular sitcom years ago is running through my head right now and has been ever since those two experiences. The last line of the theme song goes, "You wanna go where people know that people are all the same; you wanna go where everybody knows your name." (Where everybody knows your name - Cheers) 

That safe place to be ... is priceless. Everyone needs it; not everyone finds it. 

There may be folks who might take that for granted because - well, I don't know - because they're outgoing and because the social thing is easy for them. It's quite another for someone like me (introverted, socially awkward) to find such a place of safety. To find it in more than one place - well, that's unheard of. 

One might even consider it a miracle.  This "one" sure does.

First Things First: Are They?

Priorities: everyone has them.

Family. Work. Friends. Money. Leisure. And oh yes, God. And somewhere in there ... me?  It's one thing to have priorities, another thing to put them in the right order - and a whole different ball of wax to be true to them.

It's really worth the extra time it takes to list them out and put them in order - not necessarily on paper, although if that helps, why not? 

Priorities wheel found at
Women on the Fence

However, the exercise doesn't end there. It's not enough for me to say that this or that is most important (or SHOULD be - I hate the word "should" ... just saying), A followed by B, C, D and E. It's useful to examine, for starters, how much time I spend on the things I say are priorities, and find out whether some things need to be adjusted in my daily schedule. 

There are core priorities that I'd call "anchors" - these aren't just a matter of how much time I spend on them, in the sense of compartments in my life that don't touch each other, but rather, how they affect my decisions in every facet of life. They consist of core relationships: with God, with myself, and the outflow of those things: principles, beliefs, and character. 

If those things are in place, a lot of the guesswork involved in figuring out how to spend my time or what I should do next ... just fades away.  

It's not a perfect world

Nevertheless, it isn't a perfect world. Things change. Unexpected events happen: money troubles creep in, relationships begin ... or end, someone important to me moves away, another friend just moves onto a different path, someone else's social or political agenda affects mine, and my carefully-laid foundations can get shaken. I get hurt. I doubt myself. I doubt God. I question my ability to know what He wants; I question His love and care for me. I am unsure about my place in the world.  I become suspicious of others' motives.

Life has a way of throwing tantrums: circumstances scream at me in such a way that the peripheral things - the things that don't matter so much, the urgent things - tend to take center stage for a while. I lose touch with - or flat-out deny - what I'm feeling. Or why. (Big mistake!)  Before I know it, the priorities have started to shift, and I'm not exactly sure what's happened. All I know is that I feel uncomfortable, as if something is not quite right. Stress builds; unhappiness niggles at me, tugs at my sleeve. I get fatigued. If I ignore that, the discontent grows stronger, and I feel like I'm dragging myself around. Everything becomes an effort - even things I enjoy doing. Little things people say or do to me become huge - even things they don't say or do. I begin to perceive that I'm being attacked or persecuted ... when in fact, no such thing is happening. (A colleague told me once, "It's not like these people are laying awake at night trying to figure out ways to deliberately ruin your day." That helped me get some perspective.) 

When I step back and look at what I've allowed to take the spotlight, that's when it makes sense. That's why it's crucial for me to not just do the mental exercise of setting priorities once; I need to do it on a regular basis to make sure that the things that need to be at the center of my life are actually staying there, or if they've been upstaged by things that could have waited their turn ... instead of slowly (yet just as rudely as if it happened quickly) bumping to the front of the line.

If I allow that to happen, my spiritual and mental unrest will have physical consequences eventually. My body will become unwell - and it will force me to "lie down in green pastures." I will get sick, that is. The physical symptoms of stress will come to the fore: headaches, stomach troubles, joint aches, even a lowering of the immune system so that I succumb to some sort of virus. On the flat of my back, a lot of priorities become so clear - and I begin to get them straight and live in gratitude again. 

There was a time when I had to be laid flat out in bed every time, in order for me to pay attention to what really mattered. I can't say that never happens now - just that it's not as often. I guess life has beaten me down enough times for me to be able to catch the warning signs more quickly than before. Or maybe I'm growing spiritually ... stranger things have happened!   ;)

Who knew?

What I do know is that since I gave my will and my life over to Him all over again (approximately March/April 2009), I've noticed a difference - albeit slow, but a difference nonetheless. 

 Perhaps He took me at my word.