I had something of a wake-up call in the last couple of weeks, a landing back on Planet Earth with a painful thud that shook me to my core.
It came in the framework of my relationship, as these things often do, and even though it wasn't THAT serious by general standards, it certainly felt like it was to me.
This was largely because I was badly triggered and reminded of traumatic events from the past, and for several days I struggled to reconnect with myself and the present. The pain was just so overwhelming.
My boyfriend, who I assure you is a lovely chap, revealed he was getting a visit from his ex that very weekend, and that this visit had been arranged several months previously. He had also seriously disappointed her by not telling her he was in a new relationship until two weeks before the visit - which is still more notice that I got about the whole mess.
Anyway, I assumed the worst: I thought he had lied to both of us, kept his options open for as long as possible and had pretty much deceived me throughout our relationship. I always liked that he is still friends with most, if not all of his exes - it reflects well on all parties in my opinion, and I wish I could say the same about myself.
But in this instance, I could not help but think he had betrayed me and lied to me. I had trusted him, which had been tough -- he is my first serious relationship after I separated from my husband -- and after everything that happened to me in the past, the abuse and humiliation, I was in shock that I could let myself be fooled again. I was so upset I became physically ill and started taking sedatives for the first time in several months.
However, with much effort and some degree of good faith, I still managed to keep open my heart and my ears to listen to him, and I began to see his side. He had agreed to her visit when our relationship looked uncertain, then felt unable to tell me and unable to cancel on her. He said it was a mistake he would not repeat, and he apologised. He said for the first time that he loved me, and that he had no interest in rekindling a relationship with her, that he was no longer attracted to her and felt we were much more compatible.
It all made sense and I could tell he was being honest - at least when he was right in front of me. My paranoia, fear and sadness was just through the roof, especially when we were not together. But I quickly got the sense I had to work through this, that at the end everything would be fine.
We had some moments where our communication was bad -- he was freaked out by my pretty hysterical reaction, and I was angry at his attempts to shut me down.
But he ended up opening his heart too, and we really talked. I told him all my fears and resentments, and he listened. He was kind and accepting. I began to trust him again but I still hurt, and it wouldn't go away. I began to see that my expectations, my needs are not realistic.
Of course he messed up, there is no question of that -- but I also expected him NEVER to betray my trust or hurt me, never to keep secrets, as if he was not a changing, living and breathing human being, but a stone. This is what it was like in my marriage. We were so rigid inside, safety was the priority at all times. I could see now that I had just projected a similarly "safe" construct onto this relationship. But he had never agreed to this -- in fact it wasn't even real.
I was not as safe as I thought, and what is more this safety is an illusion. Because it is achievable only at considerable cost, and actually this endangers your very core as a human being. With my husband I felt "safe" but I had to close down parts of myself, my sexuality, my imagination, my own darkness. I had to limit my interaction with the world, with men, but also with my friends: I could no longer be honest with them, I could not betray the man who kept me safe, who kept my reality together.
This is an important discovery. My whole recovery has been to do with becoming free, and letting others be free, and yet here, blindly, I had repeated my old pattern.
It hurts to have to let it go, it is depressing. I want to be a little girl who can seek refuge in a strong man's lap, someone who will protect and nurture me. But I also want to be a grown up, a sexy, strong woman, who doesn't need anyone but who chooses her partners and is in control of herself and her life.
Why am I so profoundly split? To some extent I have bridged this gap since I left my husband, which has been very healing. But I still have to work on it, and not let either side take over, either in the open or stealthily. I guess what happened here is that the little girl managed to assert herself, and impose her needs on my reality.
I am grateful to be with a good man who I can talk to, who doesn't judge me for all this weird stuff.
Happy Sunday.
Rosamunde
It came in the framework of my relationship, as these things often do, and even though it wasn't THAT serious by general standards, it certainly felt like it was to me.
This was largely because I was badly triggered and reminded of traumatic events from the past, and for several days I struggled to reconnect with myself and the present. The pain was just so overwhelming.
My boyfriend, who I assure you is a lovely chap, revealed he was getting a visit from his ex that very weekend, and that this visit had been arranged several months previously. He had also seriously disappointed her by not telling her he was in a new relationship until two weeks before the visit - which is still more notice that I got about the whole mess.
Anyway, I assumed the worst: I thought he had lied to both of us, kept his options open for as long as possible and had pretty much deceived me throughout our relationship. I always liked that he is still friends with most, if not all of his exes - it reflects well on all parties in my opinion, and I wish I could say the same about myself.
But in this instance, I could not help but think he had betrayed me and lied to me. I had trusted him, which had been tough -- he is my first serious relationship after I separated from my husband -- and after everything that happened to me in the past, the abuse and humiliation, I was in shock that I could let myself be fooled again. I was so upset I became physically ill and started taking sedatives for the first time in several months.
However, with much effort and some degree of good faith, I still managed to keep open my heart and my ears to listen to him, and I began to see his side. He had agreed to her visit when our relationship looked uncertain, then felt unable to tell me and unable to cancel on her. He said it was a mistake he would not repeat, and he apologised. He said for the first time that he loved me, and that he had no interest in rekindling a relationship with her, that he was no longer attracted to her and felt we were much more compatible.
It all made sense and I could tell he was being honest - at least when he was right in front of me. My paranoia, fear and sadness was just through the roof, especially when we were not together. But I quickly got the sense I had to work through this, that at the end everything would be fine.
We had some moments where our communication was bad -- he was freaked out by my pretty hysterical reaction, and I was angry at his attempts to shut me down.
But he ended up opening his heart too, and we really talked. I told him all my fears and resentments, and he listened. He was kind and accepting. I began to trust him again but I still hurt, and it wouldn't go away. I began to see that my expectations, my needs are not realistic.
Of course he messed up, there is no question of that -- but I also expected him NEVER to betray my trust or hurt me, never to keep secrets, as if he was not a changing, living and breathing human being, but a stone. This is what it was like in my marriage. We were so rigid inside, safety was the priority at all times. I could see now that I had just projected a similarly "safe" construct onto this relationship. But he had never agreed to this -- in fact it wasn't even real.
I was not as safe as I thought, and what is more this safety is an illusion. Because it is achievable only at considerable cost, and actually this endangers your very core as a human being. With my husband I felt "safe" but I had to close down parts of myself, my sexuality, my imagination, my own darkness. I had to limit my interaction with the world, with men, but also with my friends: I could no longer be honest with them, I could not betray the man who kept me safe, who kept my reality together.
This is an important discovery. My whole recovery has been to do with becoming free, and letting others be free, and yet here, blindly, I had repeated my old pattern.
It hurts to have to let it go, it is depressing. I want to be a little girl who can seek refuge in a strong man's lap, someone who will protect and nurture me. But I also want to be a grown up, a sexy, strong woman, who doesn't need anyone but who chooses her partners and is in control of herself and her life.
Why am I so profoundly split? To some extent I have bridged this gap since I left my husband, which has been very healing. But I still have to work on it, and not let either side take over, either in the open or stealthily. I guess what happened here is that the little girl managed to assert herself, and impose her needs on my reality.
I am grateful to be with a good man who I can talk to, who doesn't judge me for all this weird stuff.
Happy Sunday.
Rosamunde
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