What Is Your “I’m Not Enough” Telling You?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

“Why wasn’t I enough for him?”

I posed this question to my journal soon after discovering that my then-husband had obtained a new wife.

 

“What does she have that I don’t?”

I asked of the page, not expecting an answer.

 

“How could he do this to someone he loved?”

The words perforated the page like his actions pierced my heart.

 

“He threw me away like so much garbage!”

My tears fell on the page, causing the words to bleed down the paper.

 

I felt worthless, discarded. I wore this self-image like a corset, hidden from public view yet restricting my movements nonetheless.

I rationalized that if I had been a good enough wife, he would not have secured another. I believed that if I had only been a better partner, he would not have left. Even while publicly blaming him, I secretly blamed myself. Convinced that I was not enough.

My “I’m not enough” taunted me when I faced my fear of going downhill, telling me that I would fall. It threatened that I would never find someone to love me. It followed me into dating, acting surprised when anyone was interested in a second date.

I carried this feeling into my second marriage, determined for a time to be a “perfect” wife. And fearful that when I fell short of this impossible goal, I was risking abandonment again.

My now-husband picked up on this underlying anxiety and reassured me that I was enough. Imperfections and all.

But it still took time for me to really believe it.

And even though it’s largely gone in the context of my marriage, it still haunts me at other times.

It still whispers every time I press the “publish” button, apprehensive about the reactions. I have to work to quiet it when I face criticism. And I still have to tell it to shut up when it tries to take everything personally and assume the responsibility for everybody’s happiness.

The voice isn’t so loud now, but it still exists. It drives me to achieve, which would be good if it didn’t have the aura of fear around it. It encourages me to always strive to be better, do better. I have to constantly work to find that balance between believing that I AM enough and that I can always be more.

When you’re rejected by someone you value, it’s not easy to separate yourself from their actions. It’s hard to trust that you ARE enough.

In the beginning, I felt like I needed to prove my worth TO my ex (even though he was out of the picture). It had a, “I’ll show him” motivation behind it.

And then one day I realized that I was allowing a person of questionable character to determine my worth, which is pretty much like letting a known embezzler set the market price of gold.

If I didn’t value his opinion about anything else, why would I let him decide that I was not enough?

I felt pretty silly.

And so I stopped trying to prove to him that I was worthy.

But I still felt a need to prove it to myself. That little voice of insecurity still pushing through like a pessimistic parrot on my shoulder.

So that’s where I am now – working to let go of that residual feeling of not being enough.

Recognizing the voice for what it is – a lie based on fear.

And learning to trust that I. Am. Enough.

 

Do you ever have the feeling that you’re not enough? What does that voice try to tell you?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Letting Go of the Fear of Abandonment 

Posted on by stilllearning2b
fear of abandonment

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The Power of “Me Too”

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I recently responded to a woman over at Divorce Force. She had just discovered that for 30 of the 34 years she spent with her husband, he had another family. Her post is brief, the details sparse. But I’m confident that one of the many overwhelming emotions she is feeling right now is that of being alone in this experience.

I’m confident because I remember feeling the same. Convinced that there was nobody else who could possibly relate to the shock of sudden abandonment and the crazy making aspects of divorcing someone who made his own reality.

And then I found some message boards. A few articles. A book. And those words all whispered, “Me too.”

“My husband left me a note on the counter and I never heard from him again.”

“My wife simply didn’t come home from work. I found out later that she moved in with her boyfriend that same day.”

“My ex husband  fabricated all of the documents that were submitted to the courts. It’s all lies.”

“My ex wife falsely accused me of being abusive. Now the judge looks at me like I’m the bad one.”

As I read these entries, I felt sorry for those that had endured. And I also felt some relief. Some companionship. Some sense that I had found my tribe.

All because of the power of “me too.”

“Me too” doesn’t try to compete for the greatest pain trophy. It doesn’t try upstage the circumstances or tell a better story. It doesn’t engage in a game of tug of war, attempting to direct all of the energy to one side. “Me too” doesn’t claim to understand all of what another is feeling or to insinuate that the paths are the same.

What “me too” does is tell you that you’re not alone in your experience. That others have been in a similar place and can empathize with how you are feeling. “Me too” provides hope as you learn that others who are doing okay now were once not okay. When you hear the words, “me too,” you know you have a compassionate and nonjudgmental ear where you can feel safe and understood.

If you’re feeling alone, seek your tribe and find peace among those who whisper, “me too.” And once you’ve been there and through the other side, be brave enough to remember your own struggles, share your own “me too” and then just be there and listen.

 

 

Ghost Busters: Breaking Through the Pain of Abandonment

Posted on by stilllearning2b
abandonment

If the top charts on iTunes are any indication, I’m not alone in my new obsession with the broadcast, Missing Richard Simmons. If you had told me that I would ever be counting down the hours until I could hear the next installment of a reality drama involving the over-the-top weight loss guru, I would have looked at you with confusion and maybe even a little irritation. I’ve always thought he was a great person with amazing compassion and an insatiable drive to help people. But frankly, his approach was always a bit too much for me and would usually prompt me to look away.

Until he went missing. All of sudden, I am this drive to understand him. To know that he’s okay and to delve into the possible reasons for his sudden and complete disappearance, not only from the public eye but also from most of his friends and family.

Unlike me, I didn’t analyze my obsession. I just fed it.

Until another podcast crossed my feed – Haunted by Ghosting on Dear Sugar radio. This pod focused on two letter writers who felt they had been ghosted, one by a friend and another, a lover. And as Cheryl and Steve dug into the particular effects of being ghosted, it finally clicked.

The reason for the national obsession with Missing Richard Simmons is the same powerful drive to understand “why” when we’ve been ghosted on a personal level.

Because the cruel truth about ghosting is that it may be the easy way out for the one doing the leaving, but the results of the abrupt and ambiguous ending haunt the one who is left for a very long time.

One of the strongest and most immediate drives following a ghosting is the overwhelming need to know. Our brains detest a mystery and so they desperately try to solve the puzzle. The first impulse is usually thinking that something terrible befell the person, that the disappearance was the result of an accident or a tragedy rather than some conscious decision to act.

I experienced this in a major way when my ex pulled a ghosting test-run of sorts. I thought he was on a business trip to Brazil (and desperately ill from food poisoning). The reality, as revealed after the final ghosting occurred, was that he was on a honeymoon with his soon-to-be bride. When he failed to respond to any calls or messages for days,  I went into a panic, calling hospitals, airlines, the embassy and his boss. It was the latter that finally got his attention (and his ire). In all that time and effort, it never even crossed my mind that his vanishing act was deliberate.

Once the initial explorations into foul play or unforeseen catastrophe fail to pan out, the mind begins to turn inward. “What did I do to cause them to suddenly leave?” “Am I so bad, so unlovable, that they couldn’t bear to stay around me?”

Ghosting is rejection of the most brutal form, the childhood game of silence played out to its most sadistic end. It’s one thing to be yelled at. It’s another entirely to be ignored. As though you’re not even worth the effort of speaking a word.

And then that’s followed by the secondary rejection of self-blame, the turning away from ourselves, often causing even more damage than the initial ghosting. If we’re not careful, shame begins to grow in that dark and tear-dampened environment, telling us that not only are we unlovable, but that we must be kept hidden.

The cruel irony is that shame is one of the primary driving forces behind the act of ghosting. The disgrace the ghoster feels coupled with a distinct lack of courage builds into an irrational anxiety and the decision to step out instead of stepping up. To make an about face instead of facing the difficult truth.

Their choice to disappear speaks volumes about them and a mere phrase about you. In don Miguel Ruiz’ masterpiece, The Four Agreements, he explores our tendency to interpret the actions of others as a personal affront. The reality, he argues, is that they are in their bubble and you, in yours.

I found comfort in the phrase, “collateral damage” when I was emerging from my shame-filled hidey hole after abandonment. I opened myself to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t disappear because of me.

For a long time, I believed that I needed him to face me. To face what he had. I wanted the satisfaction of seeing him uncomfortable but, more than anything, I sought closure. I thought if I could just hear from his own lips why he left, I could move on. I thought that if he said he was sorry, that the pain would fade.

I was wrong. I was expecting the one who hurt me to be the one to heal me. A desperate fool’s mission.

I never did speak to him. I never heard an apology or an explanation. Yet I no longer internalize the rejection. I’ve gone full circle, now again thinking that something was wrong with him when he didn’t respond. Only instead of an accident, it was depression. Or addiction. Or shame spiraling out of control. Or anxiety about his professional future. Or fear about his health.

Or…

And that’s the thing about ghosting – the person is gone, the pain eventually fades but the questions, they will always remain. It’s up to the one left behind to learn to live with the uncertainty instead of allowing it to haunt one’s days.

As for Richard Simmons, maybe the final episode next week will lead to some answers about why he disappeared. And maybe it won’t. Not all mysteries are meant to be solved.

 

6 Things I Would Have Done If I Had Known Divorce Was Coming

Posted on by stilllearning2b
done known divorce coming

As I was slicing up a head of red cabbage this past weekend, I had a sudden craving for cabbage slaw. And not just any slaw, but the one my former mother in law used to make (and I used to devour).

Which made me realize that there were certain things I would have done towards the end if I known that my marriage was heading for a (by that time, inevitable) cliff:

1 – I would ask my mother in law for that cabbage recipe. And I would take her out to lunch to get it. And while there, I would thank her for being so kind to me, especially when I had such a rough year during my first term in college. And I would give her a letter to read when she was feeling timid or overwhelmed filled with words of empowerment and encouragement.

2 – I would have backed up our entire iTunes library onto CDs. I lost most of my music with my husband; the password to the account was changed and I no longer had access. It’s still such a tease when I go to play a favorite artist or album only to realize that it is among the lost songs. My dad gifted me some Amazon cards years ago that I used to replace the most important music. That was nice:)

3 – I would have talked to my then-husband’s friends. Two in particular. I would have let them know that I was concerned about him (assuming that I knew enough to be) and asked them to a) call him out on his BS and b) be there for him. He needed a support system. Instead of building it, he systematically disassembled it.

4 – I would have researched divorce laws in my state, especially as it relates to fault vs no fault. Because I really handled that poorly because of a lack of knowledge combined with panic. It’s a deadly combination. And I also would have asked friends for attorney recommendations; it’s not a time when you want to rely on Google.

5 – I would have said goodbye to him at the airport with the knowledge that it really was goodbye. I would have said a little more. Held on a minute longer.

6 – I would have posted the following on my bathroom mirror, on my computer, in my car and basically everywhere I would see it:

Everything is going to be okay. Breathe it. Believe it. And live it.

 

How about you? If you could do some things differently in those final weeks of your marriage, what would you change?