Broken Windows

Posted on by stilllearning2b
Broken windows theory
Broken windows theory (Photo credit: Roel Wijnants)

I need to fix my broken windows.

Not literal windows, luckily, since it’s been snowing for the past two days in Atlanta, but metaphorical windows. The types of fractured panes that, if you subscribe to the broken window theory, will lead to greater calamity if left unrepaired. Unlike the criminological perspective of the original theory, I am not concerned about increased vandalism or an uptick of violent crime in my actual or figurative home, but I am concerned about a cascade effect if I don’t make the minor repairs now.

Brock and I currently reside in a rental home. We selected the home because we love the location and the space and price suits our needs. However, the state of the house is a bit…rough. It’s been a rental for many years with no major updates or repairs. The floors are poorly laid. The nails and screws form connect-the-dots pictures on the walls. None of the interior doors lock and none of the fixtures match and none of them work particularly well, either. Apart from painting a few rooms upon moving in 16 months ago, we have not put much effort into the home, not wanting to waste time or money on a temporary stay. Even with those restrictions, we still settled in to some degree, hung pictures on the walls and curtains on the windows.

We plan to buy a house next winterish (for those of you unfamiliar with the season, it begins in October and continues until the last of the sweaters are put away). I’m ready. I’ve lived in temporary housing for the past 4 years after owning a home for the previous 10. I’m tired of feeling unmoored. I want to put down roots and put down new floors.

In my old life, my physical space was very important to me. My stress levels and ability to relax were directly tied in to my surroundings. My ex was helpful with this. He graciously helped me redo my office between work commitments when I was desperate for a change of scenery after completing my master’s degree. In my new life, I have had to learn to be content despite my surroundings. I’ve lived in a spare bedroom in a home with a young kid and lots of clutter. I moved into Brock’s space for a time and had to carve out my niche in a bachelor’s domain. And now, I am in this rental, with all its marks of tenants past.

It’s been 16 months. A picture has fallen off my office wall. It now sits in a corner awaiting a new nail that I have yet to hammer in. My cork wall tiles have been leaping off like lemmings and, now that I’ve tired of trying to convince them not to jump, rest stacked in a pile on my printer. I have a jacket that lives on the floor of the guest room closet because I never transferred any hangers to that room.

These are details. Unimportant in many ways. But they are also broken windows.

This is my home. It’s not permanent (is anything?) but it is home for now. If I ignore these minor fixes, I am allowing myself to not be present in my current environment. I am making do and making plans, rather than being in my surroundings. If I allow myself to agree that these details don’t matter, what will not matter next?

I’m not going to go Martha Stewart on my house (after all, I do see perfection in my chipped plates!), but I am going to take a few moments over spring break to restore the wall hangings and transfer a few hangers. Although I am looking forward to purchasing a home, I am not going to let myself live in the home of next winterish while I am still in the present season. So I will fix those broken windows and appreciate their view. Even through the torn screens:)

Walking a Marriage

Posted on by stilllearning2b

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Walking Tiger is pure joy. There is an ease in the connection, a trusted bond evident in the matched rhythms of human and dog. The leash is loose in my hand and the worries loose in my mind. We move forward together, sharing the experience in our unique ways (he spends much more time with his nose to the ground and leg to the sky than I do:)!). We walk in parallel, the journey strengthening our connection and our trust.

It wasn’t always this way with Tiger. First, mutual trust had to be established. He needed to know that I was a competent guide and I needed to believe that he wouldn’t snap or bolt when given freedoms. We needed to learn the other’s rhythms and patterns. I’ll admit that Tiger was easier to train than I was – I let my fears have too much power for a time. But with time and practice (and lots of patience on Tiger’s part!), I learned to relax and enjoy the walk.

The skills and strategies I learned at the end of Tiger’s leash have also helped me in my relationship. Through the leash, I learned how to trust myself and another. I trained my mind to relax and my grip to loosen. I learned to enjoy the walk rather than fear what might lay around the next corner.

I learned that when I use too much restraint with Tiger, when I pull back out of fear, my reaction only transfers the negative energy to him and gives it power. Pulling back too tightly only causes him to want to pull against me. On the other hand, if I trust in him, he responds in kind, staying by my side instead of straining to get ahead. When I trust him, he acts trustworthy. The leash now acts as only a reminder of the bond, not as a restraint. Relationships are no different – try too hard to hold someone back and they will fight to be free. Trust them and allow them to choose to be by your side.

When I first started walking Tiger, I tried to avoid other dogs. I knew he was friendly, but I was not confident enough in myself to handle him (he does weigh almost as much as me!). As my confidence grew, I stopped giving passing dogs such a wide berth. Time and time again, Tiger proved himself as he either gave a friendly greeting or ignored the other canines, depending upon the situation and my intent. When I am wary, his body language reflects my distrust and warns the other dog away. Now, even when loose and aggressive dogs follow us, he (and I!) remain calm and confident. The partners in a marriage should not be afraid to encounter others either. If you treat everything as a threat, it will respond in kind.

As I have become more comfortable with Tiger, our world together has expanded and enriched. He would not be the dog he is, nor would we have the bond we do, if he remained locked in the security of the house. By exploring together, we have grown together. Relationships need room to breath, spaces to explore and adventures to look forward to. If they spend every day trapped inside, they will become as lazy as an old dog.

One of my favorite habits that Brock and I established early on was taking frequent walks together, often with Tiger sandwiched between us. Those walks formed the backbone of our relationship as we explored and bonded, talked and listened, building trust and finding connections. This is our time together to take pleasure in the fellowship and enjoy the walk.

I have Tiger to thank for my lessons in walking a dog. And now I am ready to apply them to walking a marriage:)

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Fear of Commitment?

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Fear & Anticipation

Are you afraid of commitment? Have you been in a relationship with someone who experiences trepidation at the thought of pledging devotion? We tend to think of people who shy away from commitment as being immature or unwilling to make sacrifices. Maybe you use it as an excuse yourself to keep others at arm’s length. Perhaps you generate the term dismissively as a reason to end a budding relationship, stating it as an embedded character flaw.

But what if we are thinking about the fear of commitment all wrong?

What if the true fear is not one of committing and promising to keep, but one of losing? The fear of commitment hides other fears behind its legs. Do you recognize any of these?

Fear of Losing Self

When we commit – to another person, to a career, to children, or even to a lease, we are bonding ourselves to something for a length of time. We can become afraid that we will begin to melt into our commitments, our edges becoming soft and the delineation unclear. Perhaps you fear being swallowed whole by that which you pledged. We all know people who become their jobs or who seem to lose sight of themselves in a marriage. It’s a scary thought to lose yourself. However, it is not inevitable. Be clear who you are. Know your nonnegotiables and your truths and hold to them.

Fear of Losing Freedom

There can be an inverse relationship between commitments and freedom. The more obligations you have to others, the less you can act without regard. Freedom is certainly precious, but it can also be misunderstood. Sometimes we think we want to live in a boundary-less world, but in reality, we tend to want flexible and known limitations. Complete freedom comes with a sense of disconnection and loneliness. We are not that different than the teenager who tests the boundaries, looking for the “no” that tells them they are loved and cared about.

Fear of Failing

When we promise something, we are putting pressure on ourselves to step up and make it work. There is always that doubting voice in the back of our minds that says, “What if I screw up?” There is always a risk of failing. In fact, in many ways, failing is inevitable. It is one of our greatest (and, yes, harshest) teachers but only if we allow it to be. If you try, you might fail. If you don’t try, you certainly will.

Fear of Losing Love

The other losses can apply to any kind of commitment; this one applies to relationships. When we allow ourselves to realize what we have, and to promise to remain faithful to it, we then become aware of the magnitude of its potential loss. The only way to be sure that you will never lose love, is to never allow yourself to taste it. It may be effective, but it is a hell of a tradeoff. This one hit me recently.

So next time you find yourself or another afraid of commitment, look at what may be hiding behind. What are you afraid of losing?

 

Igniting the Conversation

Posted on by stilllearning2b

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Relationship trauma will do strange things to you. With my ex, I was never timid about initiating a conversation about a potentially difficult topic. I would even wake him up so that we could talk before I went off to work if I didn’t want to carry the burden and fear of the issue all day. Of course, it was easy to “talk” with him about difficult things; he would lay on the affection and soothe me with his words. Yeah, he sure knew how to rock me back to sleep.

Now, post divorce, my communication style has changed. I am more tentative; I tend to hold things in too long, rolling them around in my mind (and often letting them gain steam) before letting them out. Brock’s communication style has contributed to this tendency. He generally starts off by talking at, not with, and then settles into a place where he is receptive and able to listen. I’ve seen this enough to know to ignore the first minute or two, but it doesn’t make it any easier for me to take the plunge.

Enter the talking candles.

After one conversation that I initiated well after I should have, Brock came up with an idea. He pulled two candles – one white and one blue – from the living room and set them on a small table in the dining room.

“These are the talking candles,” he began. “When you need to talk about something, set the white candle on the kitchen island. I’ll do the same with the blue.” He demonstrated this as he talked.

“When we see the other’s candle, we must make that conversation a priority.”

It was brilliant.

We haven’t used the candles much, but they have certainly helped to change the communication dynamics between us for the better. By setting out the candle, it gives the sign that a conversation needs to happen. The other person then has notice and can approach with the right frame of mind. We are less likely to talk while one or both of us is still decompressing from the day and the start-up is much more gentle. I am more willing to be assertive and not as defensive. He is more likely to listen from the beginning and to be more empathetic.

When we are aware of patterns, we can begin to change them. And that is a conversation worth igniting.

 

Of Teddy Bears and Security Systems

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Teddy Bear

For most of my married life, I felt secure. I had a husband that I trusted. I owned a home and had been at the same job for many years. I felt comfortable in my life; I trusted that change, if desired, would come from intention. It was predictable and I liked that. If you had asked me where I would have been five years down the road, I would have answered without hesitation.

That feeling of security and blind trust is what allowed me to become complacent. Too comfortable. I was petrified of losing that feeling of security. I was very conservative in my decisions, choosing to avoid risk whenever possible.

I lost all semblance of security when he left. Everything was in question; nothing was sure. I didn’t have time to let it scare me. I simply had to survive. I was operating at the base level of Maslow’s hierarchy: eating, sleeping and breathing were my priorities.

I started tiptoeing back into life. I branched out but much was still unknown. I could not even imagine where I would be five years hence. And I was okay with that.

At some point I realized that the security that I had held so dear was an illusion, the equivalent of a child clutching a stuffed bear to ward off the dangers in the night.

I had outgrown the need for the illusion of security. I realized that the house, the job, the marriage could disappear.  There were no guarantees in mortgages and marriage certificates. They could be pulled from my hands just as easily as that stuffed bear, leaving me to face the night alone.

I had an experience that highlighted my changing views of security during my Match Madness phase. I dated one man for several weeks. He had money. I mean, real money. After only a few weeks, he mentioned the idea of me moving in, leaving my job and becoming basically a kept woman. I was repulsed by the idea but fascinated by my response. At that point, I had put in my resignation at my job and had no idea where I was going to live or how I was going to make money. I was facing the very real debts from my ex and had not yet received innocent spouse relief from the IRS. In other words, being kept should have been a temptation.

But it wasn’t. It felt like a prison.

I realized that the illusion of security works to hold us in, using our fears as restraints. I would have been bound to him by the fear of being penniless, not out of mutual respect and love. It went both ways. He was accustomed to using his bank account to hold women; he never had to work on relationship skills since he assumed that his wallet would do it for him. He was scared by the thought of a relationship without that hold.

Security looks different for me now. I don’t look for it externally, rather my security comes from trusting myself and knowing that I can make it through regardless of what happens. By next year, I will again have a marriage certificate, a mortgage and a secure job. But now I won’t be looking at them for comfort and assurance; that will come from within. I no longer clutch onto the metaphorical stuffed bears, but nor do I refuse to hold them.