We All Feel That Way Sometimes

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I have a…thing coming up that requires that I be coiffed and groomed. Those are not skills I possess. I mean, I shower and all but I am more wash n go than Barbie.

I decided that it was time to invest in some makeup that is designed to look good under lights and on film. And, I do mean invest. Those few small bottles cost more than the groceries for the week. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Not only is the world of the fancy makeup a foreign one to me, I am actually afraid of it. I couldn’t fathom walking into the store without prior knowledge. I needed a Rosetta Stone class of sorts so that I could at least speak a few words of beauty. So, as with all burning questions in the social media age, I started my query on Facebook.

My friends came through with lots of suggestions. Many of them even called makeup “fun.” Who are these women?:)

So yesterday, I steeled myself and walked, head held low, into Sephora, the land of all that is beauty. I immediately felt like an intruder, unwelcome. Even the men had on more makeup than me. I walked through the aisles of sparkles and spackles until I found the product I had decided upon.

And then I was a bit stuck. There were 25(!) shades to choose from. And I was starting from scratch. I looked around for an open assistant, but they were all occupied, many helping girls the age of my students.

And then one approached me. She smiled. Was friendly. Was well-groomed but not perfect. I liked her. She led me over to a station where they use a small computer/camera to take a picture of your skin for color matching purposes. I found this oddly comforting; it reminded me of buying paint at Home Depot, a familiar endeavor.

Once matched, I collected my product and inquired about application techniques. Bless this woman, she wasn’t trying to sell. She actually encouraged me to try hand application first and return for a brush if I felt like I needed it. Unfortunately (to my wallet at least), I decided that I needed it after hearing the pros and cons.

And then stupid me inquired about concealer. Which led to another tub of goo and yet another brush. By this point, I had a small basket of product. I no longer looked like a tourist. But I still felt like one.

When the cashier asked if I had a loyalty card, I actually laughed and explained a bit about my general beauty attitude and my discomfort in the store. A male employee (with the best eyebrows I’ve ever seen) smiled and quipped, “That’s how I feel in the gym which is why I’m so skinny.”

I could have kissed him.

Not only did he relate, but the example he gave was where I feel most at home. We joked for a minute about him helping me with makeup and me helping him with pull ups.

We all feel that way sometimes, like interlopers. Pariahs on the outskirts of the group. But that separation and discomfort is in our heads, not reality. We all have areas where we are more comfortable and we can use those times to reach out to those who appear to be struggling.

I wished him luck on his workouts and exchanged a spirited fist bump before leaving the store. This time, with my head held high.

Related: Say Stress to the Dress

Bookends

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I rarely think or write about my parent’s divorce. It feels like ancient history and, for the most part, I never viewed it as a defining moment in my life.

But I may have been wrong.

As I dig down into the roots of some of my thought patterns, it seems like the fallout from their divorce is the soil from which they sprouted.

Damn.

My parents, at least from my perspective, had a good divorce. Or at least as good as a divorce can be. I was insulated from as much of it as possible. There were no court battles, custody and child support agreements were made and followed. They both refrained from talking badly about the other and both made huge efforts to put my needs first.

They did pretty much everything right. Which is probably why I handled the transition well and don’t recall feeling undue stress.

But even when done well, change changes you.

We soon went from a family of three to a mom-daughter pair. I knew she was stressed and I didn’t want to add to that burden. I knew money was limited and I didn’t want to spend. I knew she had an abundance of responsibility and I didn’t want to contribute to the load.

Additionally, their divorce left me a bit like a chick pushed out of the nest a little too soon. And even though they picked me right back up, the knowledge of that unforgiving ground was impossible to forget.

Some kids go a little wild when their parents split, looking for attention and release.

I went the other way.

I became responsible.

I became perfectionistic.

I became self-reliant.

I took it upon myself to become my own parent. I watched my grades carefully and gave myself talks when I didn’t perform up to my potential. I carefully considered consequences and often held back for fear of negative outcomes.

I assumed the role of clock-watcher. Drill sergeant. Task master. If you wanted it done, I was your gal.

I took “I can do it myself” to whole new levels.

This was not an assigned role; it was self-appointed. It was my way of feeling like I had some control in my life.

Taking responsibility is a good thing. But I took it too far, assuming other’s burdens as well as my own.

Self-reliance is a positive trait. But I used it as a way to avoid feeling vulnerable.

It was my armor. My shield. My assurance.

And it was never really tested until my divorce.

And that was the first time I couldn’t do it myself.

I had to learn to release control. I had to learn how to accept help.

And I had no choice but to be vulnerable.

It’s wild – I learned self-reliance from my parent’s divorce and how to accept help from my own split.

It’s amazing how often life’s experiences will circle around again, healing old wounds and reteaching lessons. Each parallel event offering wisdom and yet threatening wounds. It can be tempting to desire a life without these difficult episodes, to dream of smooth days and comfortable nights. But I see these events differently. They are what bring meaning and purpose and perspective to our lives. They challenge us and teach us. They shape us.

Bookended tutorials supporting the life in between.

I wonder what lesson will circle around next? I just hope this one doesn’t come with a side of divorce. I’ve had enough of that!:)

 

 

Imperfection

Posted on by stilllearning2b

imperfections

Lost and Found

Posted on by stilllearning2b

Something about the new year puts me (and I’m sure many others) in a reflective mood. Four years ago, I was just starting to awaken from the life-of-the-living-dead state that was my norm during the divorce. At that time, I was feeling the great losses in my life and I had not yet truly begun to build my new life. Now, I can see the bigger picture of what was lost and now has been found.

Lost – My Memory

The divorce was a blow to my synapses. I was shocked to find that my usual sharp memory was faded and fuzzy, even about recent events. I struggled to remember facts from the months before the divorce and I found that I had difficulty forming new memories. I misplaced things, couldn’t keep students straight and didn’t retain books or movies. As a corollary, I suddenly found that I stumbled my way through more difficult math problems that used to be simple.

Found – Patience and Empathy

I’ve never been one known for patience, especially when I have to repeat myself. When my memory was faulty, I gained more empathy and patience for others around me who also had trouble remembering things, regardless of the cause. Even now that my memory is pretty much back to normal (except for a few months that are still a mixture of hyper-real flashes and vague confusion), I still remember what it was like to be confused and unable to retain information.

Lost – My Sense of Security

I lost my security in a literal sense; I had less than nothing to my name once he left. But, even worse, I lost the feeling of security. I had been living with a man that I thought had my back, financially and otherwise. All of a sudden, that backup was gone and I felt very vulnerable and scared, often a paycheck away from disaster.

Found – Confidence in My Earning Potential

In my former life, I used to bring in extra money through tutoring and through selling lesson plans. I did okay, but there was a definite ceiling to those activities. After he left, I had to revise my view of myself and I learned that those limits were self-imposed. I’m still working on building my nest egg, but I am much more confident in my ability to make it happen.

Lost – My Hair

I faced the trifecta of tress troubles with the divorce. I first noticed that my hair was falling out in handfuls. For the first time, I had to buy a hair trap for the shower drain. To make matters worse, my hair pretty much stopped growing. In fact, it only started again about two years ago, which means I now have a bunch of 2″-3″ long pieces interspersed with the longer strands. And then, just to be extra cruel, my first gray hairs appeared within weeks of him leaving. Could be a coincidence, especially because supposedly stress does not cause gray hair, but I’m not so sure.

Found – Peace in Aging

I may not allow the gray to show, but having my hair defy me at 32 actually gave me some peace with the whole aging process. I developed a relaxed attitude about the whole thing. And now, when the wrinkles are showing or the gray is peeking out around the temples, I just see it as a sign of a life lived.

Lost – My Appetite

Some people overeat when they are stressed. I’ve always been the opposite; my digestive tract shuts down completely. As a result, I lost over 20 lbs in those first few weeks, which led to a cardiac arrhythmia and came close to putting me in the hospital. I lived with my friend and her sick and premature infant that year. We joked that her job was to fatten up both of us. It took a couple years, but I finally put the pounds back on.

Found – An Appreciation For Food

I used to see food only as a neccessity. Now, I see it as nourishment on many levels. I had many people help me to eat that first year and now I like to feed others. I have come to enjoy the ritual and symbolism of food as well as the preparation and nutrition.

Lost – My Sex Drive

My body felt leaden, dead and my mind was completely oblivious to members of the opposite sex. I remember being scared that it was gone for good, as though it was something I could only feel with my ex. It seemed like a cruel joke to be single and have no interest in mingling. Luckily, as I eventually learned, that was not the case.

Found – Comfort in Being

Without the distraction of men those first several months, I spent a lot of time alone. I learned to be comfortable with myself, by myself. I discovered that I didn’t always have to be doing something; I could simply be.

Lost – My Home

We had a home that we had purchased ten years prior. We had spent countless hours creating the home we wanted, from a new kitchen to a dream deck. In addition, I had a one acre garden that was my passion.

Found – Peace With Imperfection

I used to be a classic perfectionist, always wanting things to be just so. With the loss of the home and my nomadic and limited living quarters for the next few years, I learned to give up on the idea that things need to be perfect. Now, I can find perfection in a chipped plate:)

This list could continue forever. I lost so many things, from my husband, to my home and even my beloved dogs. My possessions were gone. My iTunes library was erased. I lost the family I had with my in laws and the shared history with my ex.

I lost so much, but I found even more. I credit that with two things that I refused to lose in the divorce – my sense of humor and my hope that things could get better. And with those two things, anything is possible:)

 

 

 

Lies, Damned Lies and Intent

Posted on by stilllearning2b

I got into a discussion with Recovering WS the other day (you can read the exchange in the comment section of this post) that got me thinking about lies and the motivation behind them. The law distinguishes between murder committed with intent and killings that are unintentional collateral damage to another act. Should we do the same with deception? Does it matter if the lie was intended to protect (either self or others)? Does that make it less morally egregious than a mistruth that is crafted as a piercing barb?

“I always say the truth is best even when we find it unpleasant. Any rat in a sewer can lie. It’s how rats are. It’s what makes them rats. But a human doesn’t run and hide in dark places, because he’s something more. Lying is the most personal act of cowardice there is.”
― Nancy Farmer, The House of the Scorpion

We all lie. To ourselves and to others. We all are guilty of rewriting facts to fill in missing pieces or to alter reality. (See Lose Your Illusion.) But we don’t all lie in the same ways. With the same intent.

Lie to Self

This is probably the most frequent of all the mistruths. Many of these are not even conscious; our brains act to fill in missing information, making assumptions in the process. Or the fallibility of memory covered up with fiction. Others develop over time as we replace more accurate memories with more desired ones, details changing with the years. Some of these are more intentional, lies told to protect the image that we carry of ourselves or of our world.

“The visionary lies to himself, the liar only to others.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche

Many of these lies to self are harmless. It doesn’t really matter if the fish you caught grows a little longer with each recall or that you see yourself as the best player on the neighborhood basketball team. But these lies can also cause harm, such as when you discount the number of drinks you’ve consumed or conveniently forget to tally up the calories from your dinner date’s plate. Often these lies come from a desire – almost need – to correct cognitive dissonance, a disconnect between our beliefs and incoming evidence. We reconcile the two by altering the truth.

“When the sky’s falling, I take shelter under bullshit.”
― Scott Lynch, The Republic of Thieves

The stories we tell ourselves create our realities. And when those stories are anchored in falsehoods, our realities aren’t too real. And that can become a problem. Check out Self Deception to read more.

“Lying to ourselves is more deeply ingrained than lying to others.”
― Fyodor Dostoyevsky

The lies we tell ourselves are not all bad. Check out this interesting piece on how editing your life story can aide the healing process. That is basically what I did with my former life by writing and sharing the story. Since the pen is in my hands, I can chose to shape and interpret the past in a way that helps me. Self deception? Probably. But at least it has let me find peace and forgiveness.

Self deception is inescapable, yet its negative incarnation can be limited. Be aware of areas in your life that frighten you and instead of turning a blind eye, look directly at them. That is where your lies to self most likely reside. Trust that you can handle the truth and then face it.

Lie to Protect Self

This is often the first lie perfected by the child, the “I don’t know who ate the cookie!” defense. It can often be an extension of the lies we tell ourselves, as we try to project the image we desire. These are lies born of fear – fear that we will be punished, fear that we will not be loved and accepted, fear that we will be judged. And fear is limiting. These are the lies that shelter the ego, that build a fortress around the broken heart, that form a protective shield around our vulnerable core. Being honest risks the very real threat of being rejected. But lying means that your true self is never really accepted. And, taken to the extreme, it means your true self may be buried beneath an ever-gowing pile of falsehoods.

“Over time, any deception destroys intimacy, and without intimacy couples cannot have true and lasting love.”
― Bonnie Eaker Weil, Financial Infidelity: Seven Steps to Conquering the #1 Relationship Wrecker

Lie to Protect Others

When you do this, even with noble intentions, you are choosing someone else’s truth for them. Whether telling them that they look good in that dress or withholding information that you deem them unable to handle, you have appointed yourself the gatekeeper of their reality. In many ways, this is the lie born of the ego, assuming that you are in the superior position.

“The worst part was that I had things I wanted to tell my mother, too many to count, but none of them would go down so easy. She’d been through too much, between my siters-I could not add to the weight. So instead, I did my best to balance it out, bit by bit, word by word, story by story, even if none of them were true.”
― Sarah Dessen, Just Listen

Lie to Distract and Cover

This is the preferred language of the addict, although it is my no means limited to those battling addiction. Much like a magician on a stage, these lies are designed to turn the attention away from the action, whether that be a visit to the bar or the arms of another. These are lies born of desperation, deceptions that become increasingly necessary in order to carry out covert actions. The recipients of these lies were not the intended targets but they often become collateral damage.

“When a man is penalized for honesty he learns to lie.”
― Criss Jami, Salomé: In Every Inch In Every Mile

Lie to Harm

This is the one I struggle with understanding. I know this happens. I know there are people that wish to hurt others. But I cannot comprehend the motivation. These lies would be the murder 1 of falsehoods, deliberate and malevolent in intent from the outset.

When I received the text that ended my marriage, I learned that I had been living within a mirage. At first, I saw my ex as the deliberate and vicious creator of that facade. I believed his deceptions were designed to kill. Now? I no longer feel that way. I think he lied to protect me, wanting to shield me from his employment and financial troubles. I believe he lied to cover his ever-growing addiction. I think he lied to avoid detection and the ensuing consequences. I think he lied to himself about the severity of the problems, telling himself that he could still climb out of the deepening hole.

“When people cheat in any arena, they diminish themselves-they threaten their own self-esteem and their relationships with others by undermining the trust they have in their ability to succeed and in their ability to be true.”
― Cheryl Hughes

And, as for myself, I think I was only too happy to believe those lies since the truth was too ugly to bear. I allowed him to create my reality, handing over the reigns of my perceptions.

Once I altered my view of his deceptions, I softened towards him. It let me see him as broken rather than evil. It helped me see myself as collateral damage rather than a victim. Of course, the crazy part? Maybe I’m just lying to myself about his intentions because it fits in better with my reality.

We need falsifications to make the past inhabitable.”
― Frans Kellendonk, Het Complete Werk

Lying is like any another behavior – the more you do it, the more you do it. It becomes a habit. You become fluent in its language, speaking it with ease and little forethought. Lies feed upon fear and doubt and can hold us prisoner if we do not notice the bindings in time. It’s impossible to never be subject to fiction; our brains are wired to tell stories. Just be careful of the stories you tell, both to yourself and to others. Make them tales that you can be proud of.

A lie may take care of the present, but it has no future.  ~Author Unknown

And, in the spirit of Gilda Radner, that’s the truth:)

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