I Want You to Want Me

Posted on by stilllearning2b

My kids this year are great – happy, funny and generous. Unfortunately, they’re also generous with their germs. Thursday night, those lovely little bugs finally got the best of me and led to a feverish Friday on the couch. My mind was too scrambled to focus on a book, so I ended up reading through the thousands of posts backlogged on my Feedly reader. And, as so often happens on the internets, one click led to another and another.

Until I ended up here on Penelope Trunk’s blog (possible trigger warning – domestic violence).

I’ve subscribed to her blog for years through my RSS reader, but only read the occasional post. I thought she was all about business and start-ups.

She’s not.

The post in question made me very uncomfortable. In it, she displays a picture with a bruise on her hip and tells an accompanying story about her husband shoving her into the bedpost. She is writing from a hotel room with her two kids, where she has sought refuge for the night.

But she doesn’t want to leave him. In fact, she claims in another post that domestic violence is a question of boundaries and that the abused can alter the dynamic alone. Like with so many inflammatory statements, there is a sliver of truth. There are patterns that tend to be in play that lead someone into an abusive relationship. And those (usually childhood) issues have to be addressed for that person to be in a healthy relationship. But, and here’s where my view differs, the first boundary that has to be enforced is getting away from the abuser. And then work on yourself. Get safe first (and get your kids safe) and then get healthy.

Her last sentence in the bruise post seemed to explain it all:

“That’s why I can’t leave. I want someone to miss me.”

Ah, now that’s a sentiment I think we all can understand in some form.

It’s human nature to want to be wanted. From being an early pick for the kickball game in elementary school to being tagged on Facebook from a friend, we all get a little thrill when we are chosen and feel the sting of rejection when we are not.

It’s natural. We’ve evolved to thrive in a community and, at the most basic evolutionary level, those that are not included are less likely to thrive as they struggle alone on the outskirts.

But as is so often the case, a basic drive can also go haywire. We can be so focused on being wanted that we ignore our basic safety and our own boundaries and beliefs. We can twist ourselves into parodies, subvert our true nature or ignore red flags just to save our spot as a chosen one.

The pain of rejection is real. And it is powerful.

But sometimes the pain incurred by avoiding rejection may be even worse.

Especially when you’re rejecting yourself in hopes of being accepted and desired by another.

 

We all want to be wanted.

But don’t compromise yourself just to be picked.

And make sure you’re wanted for who you are.

Because who you are is enough.

I’d pick you for my team any day:)

 

 

Character Assassination

Posted on by stilllearning2b
character assassination

I didn’t like reading how many of you relate to being gaslighted. It’s one of those areas that I know for me is still tender. There is much un-probed because it hurts too much to counter often-good memories with the knowledge of the duplicity and lies. And I finally realized that the daunting task of separating the strands of truth from the pot of lies is pointless. Even though I now know otherwise, I have chosen to find comfort in the fact that it was real enough to me at the time and that’s all that matters.

But that only works with the personal gaslighting, the stories told to me to keep me placid and distracted.

 

It doesn’t work with the external assault. The character assassination that carried nefarious seeds far and wide. That requires a different approach.

 

For much of our time in Atlanta, my then-husband and I were estranged from his parents by his choice. Over the years, we had many families “adopt” us for holidays and get-togethers, but one always stood out. The husband-wife owners of my husband’s company welcomed us into their family. We were at Christmas and birthdays. The kids and grandkids accepted us.  We knew them as friends as well as employers. I loved the time with them and always appreciated the inclusion.

A few months before he left, my then-husband took a job with another company. It made the relationship with the family a little strange but we still kept in touch.

In the immediate aftermath of his abandonment, I did not think of them. Until a few days in when I found a note from the wife on my mailbox with instructions to call.

I picked up the phone expecting to hear shock and horror – the emotions expressed by everyone else I knew when they tried to digest the news. Instead, I got a more distant and guarded message. Condolences mixed with a dash of “well, what did you expect?”

I was shocked. Almost speechless. I asked what she meant. And heard about stories that my then-husband told at work. Tales of my cheating exploits, complete with a vivid story of walking in on me in his office with a man. Claims of staying late at work to avoid me and my wrath.

He painted a picture of a horrible wife, a victimized husband and a marriage in peril.

This from the man that kissed me tenderly every night.

This from the man who knew where I was at all times because I was rarely anywhere but work, school or home.

This from the man that couldn’t keep his hands off me and bemoaned when work kept him away.

For years, I thought this family was my family.

But they never even knew me.

Because my monthly or so visits could never compete with his daily fictions.

I was too confused and surprised on the phone that day to try to defend myself. Defeated and wounded, I simply hung up after muttering something in response to her request to keep her in the loop and ask for help if I needed it.

I never did call her back.

And I never will.

 

There are so many tears that come from this. I’m horrified that he was intentionally darkening my character for years. It’s hard not to wonder for how long. I’m embarrassed that people thought I was unfaithful and shrewish. And I’m sad that I lost these friends and others, as I chose to simply cut off those he had access to rather than to try to vindicate myself against his stories. Although I was tempted to send them a copy of his mugshot:)

He was telling them stories to cover his tracks. He was creating a fiction in his mind to defend his actions, both past and future. Perhaps he was desperate to see himself as the good guy so that he could temper any guilt. I’ll never know.

Much like I chose to walk away and cut my losses from the financial deception, I made the decision to leave those friendships behind. Some damage is too great to repair.

 

So, what’s the lesson in all this?

I know I first started to trust Brock when he actually encouraged me to have time around his friends without him there. It made me realize how my ex carefully negotiated my encounters with his friends.

I know I’ve had to let go of the concern of what people may believe about me and focus on what I know about me.

I know that realizing how my ex lived one way with me and another with others helped me realize that he was not the man I loved.

And I know that I’ve made many, many new friends who know me. The real me.

And that in the end, the only character he assassinated was his own.

 

An Open Letter to Extroverts: What the Introverts in Your Life Want You to Know

Posted on by stilllearning2b
introvert

I’m not an extrovert, but I play one in real life.

Most people would probably be shocked to discover than I am a true introvert – that  social situations and crowds exhaust me and I seek balance by being alone. After all, I have chosen to be a teacher. I am outspoken in meetings and not shy to speak in front of a group. On top of that, I have intentionally cultivated a large group of friends and I enjoy spending time with them and having them in my space. I have developed countless online relationships and enjoy time with my online family. Surprisingly, I can be loud. I rarely slow down. And I once rocked a shirt that said, “Sweet Talker in Action” as a kid because I never shut up.

photo-42

But behind all of that is a woman who feels most at home in her office, a “safe” space of solitude. A woman who would be more comfortable in solitary confinement than in a cell with multiple roommates (not that I ever intend to try out either!). I need my alone time in order to be the public me. In a way, I put on an act every day. It’s still me, but it’s the “on” me. It’s the real me with a booster rocket of extroversion. And if I play the role too long, the tank runs dry.

I was looking for a concise article that would explain characteristics of introverts for my very extroverted husband after feeling overwhelmed by the demands of the beginning of the school year.

I drew a blank.

So I decided to write it instead.

Not all of these characteristics will apply to every introvert. After all, that is simply one label and we are all represented by more than a single word. But I think many introverts will recognize themselves here and I hope that extroverts will find some compassion and understanding for their more reserved brethren.

Dear Extroverts,

I envy you sometimes. The way you seem at ease in a crowd. How you seem to know how to initiate and carry on a conversation with no apparent effort. When I’m at the periphery of a crowd, I see you in its center, pulling energy from those around you, like some kind of emotional fusion reactor. And I’m jealous as I feel my own energy waning as the event progresses.

But then, when I’m tucked away in a quiet nook or nose-deep in my latest book, I’m at ease with myself and pleased with my nature. You see, it’s not always easy living as an introvert in an extrovert’s world. We must learn to adapt. To play-act. Or run the risk of being overlooked.

There are more of us out here then you may imagine (usually thought to be somewhere between 25-33% of the population). Some, at the extreme, are obvious – they rarely talk, have a few select friends and work at jobs where the interactions are minimal. But the rest of us? We can be found anywhere – in classrooms and boardrooms, in media and marketing and even in your own home. You see, we’re good at blending in. But sometimes we pay a price.

The following characteristics can help you identify and support the introverts in your life:

1) Shyness and Introversion Are Not the Same

I used to be shy. Painfully so. But that’s a learned response and can be changed. Introversion is a character trait found in shy and more outgoing people. You can learn to work with it but it is a fundamental piece of who you are. Many introverts have no problem approaching new people. And then they will retreat to recharge.

2) Introverts Are Not Always Quiet

The stereotypical introvert is quiet. Bookish. Reserved. Yes, that person is probably an introvert but they are not the only ones. Although I prefer to express my ideas in writing, I frequently find I am the leader and spokesperson for groups. I talk fast and often. I gravitate towards heavy metal and intensity in my activities. Only those close to me know about my need for quiet and solitude. Introversion isn’t worn on my sleeve; it’s carried inside.

Continue to read the rest.

Pages: 1 2 3

I Reject Your Reality and Substitute My Own

Posted on by stilllearning2b
gaslighting

In my ex husband’s mind, why tell the truth when you can invent it? Why yell when instead you can quietly manipulate through gaslighting?

In all of the pain after my ex husband left, there is one pain that stands out as more acute than the rest. After being arrested for bigamy and bailing out of jail, my ex decided to overdose on sleeping pills. It appeared to be a sincere suicide attempt, but he made sure to cover his bases in case he survived.

He composed and emailed a suicide letter to both his new wife and to my mom. I read that email while sitting outside the DA’s office waiting to meet the victim advocate. He was recovering in the ICU.

I felt reality slipping away as I processed the words that distorted the world I knew. In the letter, he speaks of me being “impossible to live with” and “negative.” He talks about my irresponsible spending habits and how I “just had to have my way” and he “couldn’t tell me no.”  Our last trip together – that he initiated, planned and executed – was recast as my demand for a vacation. He spoke of my insistence on building a deck when he counseled that we couldn’t afford it. He tells my mom that she “would love [the other wife]” and that he hopes they get to meet.

His words hit like a punch to an unguarded gut. I spent hours dissecting them, talking them over with each of my parents in turn. I knew they weren’t true but they still caused me to doubt. I feared that others (including my mom) might think his words were genuine. It felt like a vicious, spiteful attack on my character. And it wasn’t even factual.

He was rejecting reality and substituting his own.

He was gaslighting – using deception and manipulation to cast himself as the sane and balanced one and to make me look unstable and vile.

And it wasn’t his first time.

He was a master at creating and convincing others of his own reality. And, as trusting of him as I was, I was easy to convince. When you’re being gaslighted and you are unaware of the sleight of mind tricks being applied, you feel crazy as you begin to doubt your own perceptions and conclusions. It’s disorienting as the friction between what you see and you’re told you see don’t quite line up, almost like the view through 3D glasses when you turn away from the screen.

For months, I hated that letter. Every reading caused me to feel ill, like I’d swallowed something that needed to be purged. I shared it only with my parents and the close friend I lived with that year, finding comfort in their assurances that his words were mere deflection and trickery.

But still I wondered.

You see, he had trained me well. I still struggled not to believe his words over my own memories.

I struggled, that is, until I rejected his reality and found my own.

I picked apart each of his claims and refuted them one by one with physical evidence:

I spend too much? Then why do I read library books while he spent over a hundred dollars a month on Kindle downloads as evidenced by the checking account registry. And why do I drive the old, paid for car (that I still have!) while he insisted on buying a new one that came complete with a $500 monthly payment. I made a list of his possessions vs mine. It wasn’t even a contest.

I demanded the vacation? I unearthed an email sent to my work address where he proposed the cruise and described its details.

I insisted upon the deck? I found a trail of emails that covered everything from the summer school income I earned being used to pay for the costs to his enthusiastic sharing of his deck designs.

As for me being difficult and negative, that was harder to disprove. But the fact that I had many friends offer to take me in that year told a different story. I bolstered their offers with the hundreds of notes I had received from students over the years, praising my passion and positivity.

And as for my mom wanting to meet the other wife? Well, that was just plain funny.

Eventually, the letter lost its sting as I saw it for what it really was – an attempt to save his image by destroying mine. I wavered over whether to include the letter in the book. I was afraid I would be seen as the hateful woman he described. I decided to include it, even at the risk of his words being believed by people who did not know me. I knew that many of the readers would relate to being controlled by lies and I wanted to share a rare physical manifestation of gaslighting. Because the most painful part of gaslighting and what makes it so effective is that the evidence usually disappears like smoke in the wind, leaving you with only doubts and questions.

Gaslighting is a subtle yet relentless abuse. It’s one person using power and manipulation to control another. The damage is hidden and persistent, the worm of uncertainty taking up residence and calling everything into question. The effects linger as memories collide with new understanding, the deceptions fighting for dominance over the truth.

Gaslighting is often paired with physical abuse or addiction, the repainting of reality used to keep the partner calm and in place. It is a favored tool of narcissists and sociopaths. Those that are adept at its use tend to be charismatic and intelligent, lending a believability to their assertions. It is deliberate and cruel and can be immensely damaging.

Recovering from gaslighting takes time. Even recognizing that you were gaslighted takes time.

No one should have the power to create your reality other than you.

And your trust in another should never be greater than your trust in yourself.

Gaslighting thrives on doubt.

Starve it by believing in yourself.

Why I Refuse to Call My Husband a Narcissist

Character Assassination

Covert Abuse

Drained

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I’ve always known I was introvert.  My “safe” space has always been a quiet nook with a book.  I recharge through time in nature and carefully plan downtimes between social events.

I’ve always known I was an introvert.

But I’ve just now made a connection.

 

The beginning of the school year is hard on everyone – parents, students and teachers. But I’ve always seemed to find it more difficult than some. Yes, my feet are tired at the end of the long days and my voice cracks from overuse.

But I also inevitably feel drained for the duration of August.

Fragile and bit raw.

Now, sure, I’m not sleeping enough and overwork is a given at the beginning of the year.

But there’s more to it than that.

I have 120 new people that fill my days, filing into my room in groups of 30 every 54 minutes. I have dozens of new coworkers to get to know and hundreds of parents with whom to work. I have no moments of solitude once I enter the school, simply times of noisy and less noisy. In front of the class, I’m animated. Acting a role for the sake of connection and the lesson. In the halls, I act and interact.

I’m good at all of this – the teaching, the managing, the multi-tasking.

But it comes at an expense.

Because for any introvert, being social takes energy.

And navigating new social situations requires even more.

 

Looking around my classroom on Friday, I could see the effects of the sustained efforts on my students that seem to be of an introverted nature. Like me, they were drained from the energy required to be in an always-on environment. Like me, their nervous systems were on overload and were demanding some quiet and alone time.

 

I just made this connection between August and exhaustion yesterday while teaching. This morning, I tried (emphasis on tried) to explain it to my very extroverted husband. He just didn’t get it. He wants to be able to fix things and gets frustrated when it’s not an easy fix and, even worse, one he can’t understand.

Like always, I’ll adjust and learn to find the balance in an extroverted world. But for now, I’m just reminding myself that August doesn’t last forever and I will be recharged again soon.

But first, it’s time for some Motley Crue tonight! Hey, no one ever said that introverts can’t be headbangers:)