Progress

So my Therapist tells me that my sensitivity, the breadth and depth of the emotions I feel is part of my personality. The fact that I feel things deeply is who I am, and that is not going to change no matter how much therapy I undergo.

Some, those who exist in a very limited range of emotions, may think that what I feel extends beyond the limits of control,  but I have never crossed the lines into impulsive or reckless behaviour, and I have never, not since I started taking anti depressants three years ago, sunk into despair enough to withdraw from the world.  If I were to draw you a diagram of the range of emotions I feel, I think it would be almost twice as wide and with twice as much oscillation than that of the average person.

But because I am different from the norm, I shouldn't have to apologize to anyone for it. And no one has the right to tell me that I have to change how I am to fit into their idea of what they think is the proper way to behave, or tell me that I am not being responsible if I give myself permission to feel the way I do or express those feelings.  I feel things deeply and this is part of who I am; it is my nature, and basically what you see is what you get. I will never again let anyone tell me that there is something wrong with me because I am different from them...

But having said that, I have felt many strong emotions because my thoughts have mislead me, and  I have been so preoccupied with always telling the truth, I didn't take the time to consider how very subjective my truth can be, to the point where it actually becomes a falsehood.

 Grant it, I do realize that we all see things though our own eyes, and all truths are to a certain degree, subjective, but what I didn't realize was how profoundly my past could colour how I interpret the world around me. So for a very long time I've been reacting to these misleading stories of mine as if they were the truth and that I had no other choice but to tell it.

I can best describe the discontinuity between what is real, and the stories I've been telling myself, by describing something that happened last week:   A friend of mine is recovering from an operation. She is experiencing a lot of pain and so her stress tolerance is  low. After a misunderstanding between her and I, and a confrontation with another, she told me that it was all too much for her and that she was going to take a break from being online.  I agreed that it was a good idea; I didn't like seeing her stressed like that when she should be resting and healing, and I didn't like it that I was partly to blame.  So I told her that she should take care of herself, and that I would use the time to practice becoming aware of when it was that I start thinking that she (or any friend) is not communicating with me because she (or they), want to back out of our friendship. (If you have been reading my blog, and I'm not sure anyone really has, except maybe a bunch of bots in Russia, you'll know that I've been seeing a Therapist because I've been having a problem with maintaining close friendships, and it became quite obvious to me that my reactions to what I falsely see as signs that those I love are leaving me, is the reason for this.)

So like I was saying, I was happy to let my friend disappear out of my awareness for a time, knowing that she was doing so because it was something she needed to do. I was completely aware that her  reasons for this were because of her low tolerance to stress, and that it was a good idea for her to be calm and quiet so that she could concentrate on her recovery, and I agreed whole-heartedly, wanting nothing more than for her to get well and strong again.  But not more then twenty minutes had passed since I had talked to her about it, that I started thinking that I wasn't good enough to be in her life. ... If I was,  she would want to remain in contact with me because doing so would help her through this difficult time. ... Not twenty minutes, and the doubt inside of me started to eat away at my understanding and resolve to be a good friend.

The idea that I wasn't good enough didn't come from her; she didn't say a word to imply it.  And it really didn't come from me either; it came from my past. My father had planted that thought into me, programmed me with idea that I wasn't worthy of his attention, that I was contemptible, that I was too deep, too much, too stupid, something to be scorned and laughed at, not loved...  (breathe...) ... and so whenever I up the ante in a friendship, I start believing that those I've come to care about will think these things of me, and I see the signs of this subjective truth every time there's an ebb in a close friendship, every time the connection is stretched, every time I am left alone.

The change over from rational, understanding adult, to anxious and self-absorbed child has in the past happened so quickly, so seamlessly, that I've been unaware of the change. Usually the story continues with my feeling so shameful of my unworthiness that the only way I can cope with it is to defend myself against the person who I think is seeing me as unworthy - the friend who I think is trying to back away. (flight or fight response) I'd stew on it for what seems like a very long time, (in reality only a few short hours, or a three quarters of a day at the most) and then confront them with their insult, rejection, disrespect, - however it is that I am interpreting it at the time.  And they, unaware of the story that's been playing out in my head, are confused and hurt by my accusations. They object, and I immediately come back into my adult self,  and in turn, I feel shameful that I treated them so terribly, adding yet another layer to my unworthiness.

But this time, because I've been talking for a couple of weeks to my Therapist about these alternate realities and because I am now seeing them for the false truths that they really are, I caught the moment where the change over from rational understanding adult to anxious child was about to occur, and I stopped it from happening.  I admit, there was a bit of a back and forth, a struggle to determine who was going to drive the bus, but ultimately, the adult won.

My Therapist thought this was wonderful news, but I need it to somehow become part of my reality outside of his office for it to be real.  ... I told my partner, but I don't think she's into this psychology stuff enough to realize how big of a moment this is. The fact that I was able to stop that old tape from playing again gives me hope that I will be able to control this thing that I do, and once and for all, get my fathers voice out of my head!

I need to share this achievement with someone, and for some reason writing it down makes it more concrete for me.  ... Whoever you are, and if you are anyone at all, thank you for reading. I really appreciate thinking that I have someone to share this good news with.