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I am trying to break another rule this week, that of exercise. I am still recovering from being hit by a car but the mental process of recovery and the physical one is still somewhat estranged. Theoretically, I know my body needs rest but then, perversely, my clever mind conjures up all sorts of reasons to say that physical rest should be limited. You need to exercise, it says. It is an old rule from the days when regular and strenuous exercise was the antidote to feeling vulnerable, and the metaphoric bar that prevented me from dissolving into nothingness. And while it is true that exercise is beneficial – builds strength and flexibility among other things – when accompanied by extreme beliefs, it can be detrimental rather than health giving.
My desire to exercise at this time is a perfect example of my codependent parts trying to wrest control of the show. They do this most often when I feel fearful and unsafe. When I feel that way it scares them, reminding them of times when the vulnerability of youth was a liability. Being hit by a car profoundly scared me. Although immediately after the event I felt my power through expression, at the moment of impact I felt power-less and threatened. No matter what I did or said at that moment was moot: I was going to be hit whether I liked it or not. It was a symbolic replay of times past.
As a child, with many imagined and real fears, I developed rituals to feel safe. My usual one was to touch things. I touched the bus as it moved away from the curb and the vase in the dining room; the walls as I passed byand my face as I sat. Sometimes just once, other times there was a rhythm needing to be followed. It felt uncomfortable if I didn’t touch things, like something bad would happen. As I grew older this and other rituals morphed into rules of living: rules around eating, exercise, sleeping and housekeeping. As long as I kept to the rules, I would be safe. I would have denied this, of course, stating most fervently that it was all about good nutrition, health and life skills. But, on an unconscious level, as long as I kept to my rules, I had the illusion of safety – I was forestalling bad events.
The truth is that no matter how “safe” or controlled one’s environment is, we cannot truly feel safe until we feel it within. Our codependent parts love rules because they lack trust in that internal safety. They believe safety can only come from external sources. Even people who hold others at bay — isolating to keep safe — are still referencing the other: I am only safe because I keep others away. Safety is about finding a balance in life: trusting ourselves and learning who, outside ourselves, to trust and how to trust them.
When I was hit by the car, the foundation of my internal safety cracked. It threw me off balance, both literally and metaphorically, and I resorted back to rules in an attempt to reestablish equilibrium. I exercised before my body was ready and strained weakened muscles; I isolated, limiting contact with friends who could have supported my healing. As my fears subsided, however, I was able to listen to both my internal sources (my body) and trusted external sources (friends) who could see what was happening. The light came on and the irony of my rules was once more revealed: the illusory safety net of childhood was hurting rather than helping.
So, this week, I continue my recovery. I do so with more self compassion and patience, one broken rule at a time.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Rules (part one)
I am having trouble writing this week’s blog. Great ideas come forth only to stop when they reach my fingertips, empty. So, I’ve decided to break my unspoken rule of writing one entry per week. I am just not going to do it. It’s a little scary for me because rules have played a large role in my life. Too much so in fact, for while rules can enhance one’s experience they have generally limited mine. I’ve made rules about exercise, eating, sleeping, housekeeping, hair washing (yes, hair washing); meditating, reading … you name it, all in the effort to enforce some control over my life.
Somewhere, not so deep inside, is a feeling that if I stick to a rule or ritual, nothing will go wrong. I will be safe. In fact, it’s more magical thinking than anything. I probably inherited that from my mom, a woman bound by superstition. She had these beautiful hand carved stone elephants from India given to her when she was a young woman in the 1940’s. Thirty years later after a string of bad luck, she gave them away. She had heard somewhere that carved elephants with their trunks pointing down (or was it up?) were bad luck. As she couldn’t remember the exact rule, she decided to be safe and give them away regardless. Sally Ann inherited its own magic that day.
When I made the rule about writing one blog entry a week, I saw it as a commitment to the writing process, which is good. However, commitments and rules are two different things and when the former turns into the latter, it becomes an albatross rather than a healthy challenge. Moreover, there is a fear just beneath the surface, that if I break my commitment there will be dire consequences.
And what will happen if I don’t write? My worst fear is that I will give in to being lazy; that I will never achieve anything and that I am indeed a failure. Whew! What a rule, thank god I at least wrote a little bit.
With irony fully intact, I am not writing this week … so there!
Somewhere, not so deep inside, is a feeling that if I stick to a rule or ritual, nothing will go wrong. I will be safe. In fact, it’s more magical thinking than anything. I probably inherited that from my mom, a woman bound by superstition. She had these beautiful hand carved stone elephants from India given to her when she was a young woman in the 1940’s. Thirty years later after a string of bad luck, she gave them away. She had heard somewhere that carved elephants with their trunks pointing down (or was it up?) were bad luck. As she couldn’t remember the exact rule, she decided to be safe and give them away regardless. Sally Ann inherited its own magic that day.
When I made the rule about writing one blog entry a week, I saw it as a commitment to the writing process, which is good. However, commitments and rules are two different things and when the former turns into the latter, it becomes an albatross rather than a healthy challenge. Moreover, there is a fear just beneath the surface, that if I break my commitment there will be dire consequences.
And what will happen if I don’t write? My worst fear is that I will give in to being lazy; that I will never achieve anything and that I am indeed a failure. Whew! What a rule, thank god I at least wrote a little bit.
With irony fully intact, I am not writing this week … so there!
Friday, January 15, 2010
Atonement
Mark Twain said that “truth is stranger than fiction…”. What reads as contrived in a novel is often the stuff of real life, and so it seems with me. My last blog started exploring the relationship between boundaries and codependence. Well, as if to highlight my exploration, a few days ago I underwent an extreme boundary violation – I was hit by a car. And not only did I survive relatively unscathed but learned a valuable lesson: It is never too late for the disrespected boundaries of youth to be atoned.
It was early evening, rainy and very dark when I stepped across a narrow one way street. The street is adjacent to the main drag where I live. But on a Sunday night in what I like to think of as BC’s elder enclave, not many people are up and about, let alone on the main road. I was half way across when it happened.
As the car bore down– I saw it a split second before it hit – rage poured through me. It wasn’t towards the driver but this unfeeling, automaton that had no respect for my boundaries, a force that was too big, too powerful to stop. Upon impact I flew in the air, landing on my rear. I was furious.
I immediately got up, letting my “attacker” know how I felt about it. The rage boiled over and I yelled: “I am so angry”. I don’t how many times I repeated it or the variations I used, I only know that I scared the witnesses with my adrenalin powered fury. The outrage was soon replaced by terror as I sat with the shaken driver, tears running down both our cheeks.
As a child, my boundaries were disrespected. Without proper role modeling, I was vague on what was mine and what belonged to another. As an adult this confusion manifested in various ways: I let others guide me with little or no self reflection; it was difficult to hold confidences; and I did not understand self containment nor have respect for my body. I grew up rigid in some areas: exercise and food discipline to the point of ill-heath; and vague in others. I was the epitome of codependence in that I did not know who I was, and held all my value in the reflection of those around me.
Over the years I have worked hard on creating appropriate and healthy boundaries and in reassuring my young internal parts that I am no longer defenseless. When I was hit, witnesses say I flew. In retrospect, I’d like to think I jumped. I reacted as I couldn’t do as a child and did the best I could to remove myself from the situation. Moreover, I got up immediately and fought back verbally, another impossibility of childhood. It was incredibly empowering to embody the feeling of action against injustice, to feel my voice sing out how angry I was. It was the anger of a child finally able to express. It was the anger of atonement.
It was early evening, rainy and very dark when I stepped across a narrow one way street. The street is adjacent to the main drag where I live. But on a Sunday night in what I like to think of as BC’s elder enclave, not many people are up and about, let alone on the main road. I was half way across when it happened.
As the car bore down– I saw it a split second before it hit – rage poured through me. It wasn’t towards the driver but this unfeeling, automaton that had no respect for my boundaries, a force that was too big, too powerful to stop. Upon impact I flew in the air, landing on my rear. I was furious.
I immediately got up, letting my “attacker” know how I felt about it. The rage boiled over and I yelled: “I am so angry”. I don’t how many times I repeated it or the variations I used, I only know that I scared the witnesses with my adrenalin powered fury. The outrage was soon replaced by terror as I sat with the shaken driver, tears running down both our cheeks.
As a child, my boundaries were disrespected. Without proper role modeling, I was vague on what was mine and what belonged to another. As an adult this confusion manifested in various ways: I let others guide me with little or no self reflection; it was difficult to hold confidences; and I did not understand self containment nor have respect for my body. I grew up rigid in some areas: exercise and food discipline to the point of ill-heath; and vague in others. I was the epitome of codependence in that I did not know who I was, and held all my value in the reflection of those around me.
Over the years I have worked hard on creating appropriate and healthy boundaries and in reassuring my young internal parts that I am no longer defenseless. When I was hit, witnesses say I flew. In retrospect, I’d like to think I jumped. I reacted as I couldn’t do as a child and did the best I could to remove myself from the situation. Moreover, I got up immediately and fought back verbally, another impossibility of childhood. It was incredibly empowering to embody the feeling of action against injustice, to feel my voice sing out how angry I was. It was the anger of a child finally able to express. It was the anger of atonement.
Friday, January 8, 2010
Horses, Boundaries and Dr. Suess
I am sitting here contemplating the relationship between codependence and horses. My friend, Carla Webb, is an Equine Guided Development™ facilitator and I am wondering how we can combine our talents to create a Creative Codependence™ à la horse workshop. It shouldn’t be too hard actually, horses are excellent teachers about boundaries and what does Charles Whitfield say about boundaries? "Co-dependence cannot develop without distortions in personal boundaries and a person cannot recover from any disorder, including co-dependence, without forming healthy boundaries." Well, guess I need wonder no more.
I visited Carla at her farm last August to get a better feel of the horses before my colleague, Heather Faris, and I taught The Essence of ARC class at her farm. Then to we were combining horses with the subject matter… energy and mindfulness. I described the outcome of that meeting in my article Making the Invisible, Visible. Here is an excerpt from that experience:
In the next exercise,… [I wanted to see] how sensitive [the horses] were to changes in my energy field. I chose Babs, a beautiful, small in stature, Palamino. Standing in the centre, I grounded deeply and expanded my energy field while she cruised the inside perimeter of the round pen. Babs’ ears (the horse’s radar) constantly orientated towards me despite distractions from other horses, people sounds from afar and general life on the farm. I then called in my energy, pulling it down, deep within the earth, inviting her to approach me. When the invitation proved irresistible she walked the five meters towards me stopping about a body length away. Directly in front of me, I continued to pull in my energy, inviting her to come closer. She did not come forth. I ended the exercise and in talking with Carla was reminded that when horses respect you, they respect your boundaries. I wanted to argue the point stating that regardless of Bab’s respect for me, I had been inviting her to come closer. Then it hit me – the invisible had become visible. The defensive energetic boundary I had used for years to feel safe by keeping people away; the same boundary I had worked for years to be more flexible and conscious, was still yielding some power. In making that defence visible, Babs had opened up a door that I had not known was still closed.
Boundaries come in all forms: strong ones, rigid ones, vague and non-existent ones. Or, as Dr. Suess might say: short ones, fat ones, blue ones, red ones… or is that just fishes? Anyway, my point is, because horses are so sensitive to our inner states they also tend to fish out our boundaries, finding out where we really stand.
Case in point: In my first meeting with May, a rather “I’m here, whether you like it or not” kinda gal, I mean mare, she started rubbing her two-foot long nose against my body. It felt kind of nice, like a cat pushing against one’s leg wanting attention. The gesture went immediately to my soft spot and I went, ahhh, she likes me. Not so, said Carla, trashing my fantasy. “She is treating you like a fence post, her nose is itchy. Moreover, she knows you are not a fence post and this is her way of telling you who’s boss.” Oh, I said.
We quickly remedied the situation by having me push her away when she tried it again. By physically stating my boundaries, I told May that not only was I not a fence post but that my space was to be respected. May responded immediately – she stopped doing it. If I had been half-hearted about it her response would not have been so favorable, she would have kept pushing my boundaries. And there’s one of the beauties of working with horses: these 1000lb, long, tall and wide, enormously big, four legged animals respond to our assertions for space. They respect our boundaries if we respect our own need for them.
I visited Carla at her farm last August to get a better feel of the horses before my colleague, Heather Faris, and I taught The Essence of ARC class at her farm. Then to we were combining horses with the subject matter… energy and mindfulness. I described the outcome of that meeting in my article Making the Invisible, Visible. Here is an excerpt from that experience:
In the next exercise,… [I wanted to see] how sensitive [the horses] were to changes in my energy field. I chose Babs, a beautiful, small in stature, Palamino. Standing in the centre, I grounded deeply and expanded my energy field while she cruised the inside perimeter of the round pen. Babs’ ears (the horse’s radar) constantly orientated towards me despite distractions from other horses, people sounds from afar and general life on the farm. I then called in my energy, pulling it down, deep within the earth, inviting her to approach me. When the invitation proved irresistible she walked the five meters towards me stopping about a body length away. Directly in front of me, I continued to pull in my energy, inviting her to come closer. She did not come forth. I ended the exercise and in talking with Carla was reminded that when horses respect you, they respect your boundaries. I wanted to argue the point stating that regardless of Bab’s respect for me, I had been inviting her to come closer. Then it hit me – the invisible had become visible. The defensive energetic boundary I had used for years to feel safe by keeping people away; the same boundary I had worked for years to be more flexible and conscious, was still yielding some power. In making that defence visible, Babs had opened up a door that I had not known was still closed.
Boundaries come in all forms: strong ones, rigid ones, vague and non-existent ones. Or, as Dr. Suess might say: short ones, fat ones, blue ones, red ones… or is that just fishes? Anyway, my point is, because horses are so sensitive to our inner states they also tend to fish out our boundaries, finding out where we really stand.
Case in point: In my first meeting with May, a rather “I’m here, whether you like it or not” kinda gal, I mean mare, she started rubbing her two-foot long nose against my body. It felt kind of nice, like a cat pushing against one’s leg wanting attention. The gesture went immediately to my soft spot and I went, ahhh, she likes me. Not so, said Carla, trashing my fantasy. “She is treating you like a fence post, her nose is itchy. Moreover, she knows you are not a fence post and this is her way of telling you who’s boss.” Oh, I said.
We quickly remedied the situation by having me push her away when she tried it again. By physically stating my boundaries, I told May that not only was I not a fence post but that my space was to be respected. May responded immediately – she stopped doing it. If I had been half-hearted about it her response would not have been so favorable, she would have kept pushing my boundaries. And there’s one of the beauties of working with horses: these 1000lb, long, tall and wide, enormously big, four legged animals respond to our assertions for space. They respect our boundaries if we respect our own need for them.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Christmas
I had a lovely Christmas with family. Every year I do (well, at least the more recent ones) and each year its always a surprise. It usually unfolds as follows: I do fine as the season approaches but then, a few days before the Big Day, I start feeling melancholy. Anxiety creeps around the corner and then downright fear barges in. A part of me shouts: I don’t want to go. I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to spend time with loved ones, just leave me alone. And, while I have my reasons, its strange how every year I go through the same thing with the same conclusion: its quite okay to be with family for an extended period of time. I guess I need a few more Christmases under my belt to satisfy my disbelieving parts.
In retrospect, I think one of the main reasons Christmas started being okay for me was because I started taking better care of myself especially during the holidays. Unfortunately, I have to admit it wasn’t by design. As all great ideas seem to germinate, it was by accident. It happened about six years ago on Christmas Eve. As per usual I was dreading the season and the concomitant family obligations when my nose started to tickle. I was cleaning a friend’s house (taking in some extra cash) when this warning bell rang. I carried on, scrubbing the toilet and bathroom tiles but as the day progressed, so did the symptoms. By late afternoon on the bus ride home, the dreaded post nasal drip had begun. Christmas Eve was looking dreary. So, talking to my private “chauffer” – no one else was on the bus – I whined about my oncoming cold. He suggested I go home, take a hot bath and drink some hot honey lemon tea. “You want to be well for tomorrow, don’t you?” I grunted. A good Christmas Eve meant spending time alone with a trashy romance, a bottle of red and some delightful food, sweet and savory. Tea and hot baths had no place in this girl’s plans. Nevertheless we playfully argued the merits of each until we reached my stop. I gathered my belongings and, lowering myself down the stairs, felt suddenly quite old, decrepit and sick. I turned to say goodbye and admit he has won the argument when I collided with his parting words: “Don’t forget now, tea and honey. Have a nice Christmas!” My reaction was visceral. “NO! Forget that, I am having wine.” His words had startled me out of my downtrodden mindset. If I was going to take care of myself that night, I was going to Take Care of My Self at that Moment in Time and not for my family who expected to see me the next day.
And so I did. Between bouts of sneezing and nose blowing, I toasted my life, my desires and my dreams with wine, dined on delightful food and read to my heart’s content. The next day I was sicker than a dog but felt tremendous. I called in sick to the family and spent the rest of Christmas day resting, finishing up the wine and reading more trash. It was great.
Now I am not going to conclude that wine and rich foods are ideal ways of self care but it is worthy to know that not only did I have a great day but the family dinner went on schedule. I was missed but there was no great calamity. Moreover, it taught me that I don’t have to get sick to take care of myself – I can take care of my needs with conscious awareness. And so I do. I attend (and enjoy) family celebrations but only after I have taken care of my own needs, whatever they may be: quiet time, a good book, wine and good food, or a walk in the woods … whatever. Consequently I am happier and much able to deal with the standard and not so standard issues that haunt any return to the roost.
May your New Year be sparkling with lots of light and laughter!
In retrospect, I think one of the main reasons Christmas started being okay for me was because I started taking better care of myself especially during the holidays. Unfortunately, I have to admit it wasn’t by design. As all great ideas seem to germinate, it was by accident. It happened about six years ago on Christmas Eve. As per usual I was dreading the season and the concomitant family obligations when my nose started to tickle. I was cleaning a friend’s house (taking in some extra cash) when this warning bell rang. I carried on, scrubbing the toilet and bathroom tiles but as the day progressed, so did the symptoms. By late afternoon on the bus ride home, the dreaded post nasal drip had begun. Christmas Eve was looking dreary. So, talking to my private “chauffer” – no one else was on the bus – I whined about my oncoming cold. He suggested I go home, take a hot bath and drink some hot honey lemon tea. “You want to be well for tomorrow, don’t you?” I grunted. A good Christmas Eve meant spending time alone with a trashy romance, a bottle of red and some delightful food, sweet and savory. Tea and hot baths had no place in this girl’s plans. Nevertheless we playfully argued the merits of each until we reached my stop. I gathered my belongings and, lowering myself down the stairs, felt suddenly quite old, decrepit and sick. I turned to say goodbye and admit he has won the argument when I collided with his parting words: “Don’t forget now, tea and honey. Have a nice Christmas!” My reaction was visceral. “NO! Forget that, I am having wine.” His words had startled me out of my downtrodden mindset. If I was going to take care of myself that night, I was going to Take Care of My Self at that Moment in Time and not for my family who expected to see me the next day.
And so I did. Between bouts of sneezing and nose blowing, I toasted my life, my desires and my dreams with wine, dined on delightful food and read to my heart’s content. The next day I was sicker than a dog but felt tremendous. I called in sick to the family and spent the rest of Christmas day resting, finishing up the wine and reading more trash. It was great.
Now I am not going to conclude that wine and rich foods are ideal ways of self care but it is worthy to know that not only did I have a great day but the family dinner went on schedule. I was missed but there was no great calamity. Moreover, it taught me that I don’t have to get sick to take care of myself – I can take care of my needs with conscious awareness. And so I do. I attend (and enjoy) family celebrations but only after I have taken care of my own needs, whatever they may be: quiet time, a good book, wine and good food, or a walk in the woods … whatever. Consequently I am happier and much able to deal with the standard and not so standard issues that haunt any return to the roost.
May your New Year be sparkling with lots of light and laughter!
Monday, December 21, 2009
Climate Change
When I read about the Copenhagen talks on climate change I am not only reminded of the trouble we are in but of my favorite topic, codependence. Take Prime Minster Harper’s most recent comment on reducing carbon emissions: “If the Americans don’t act, it will severely limit our ability to act. But if the Americans do act, it is essential that we act in concert with them.” Okay, omitting the fact that we are economically tied with our southern neighbour and its important to forge agreements, when did we forgo our independence? When did we start basing our actions on the policy of another? Well, probably too long ago but my point is that with climate change a codependent policy like that is only a hindrance.
Codependency is about searching for self value, love and acceptance in another rather than from within. It is using others as a guiding force rather than trusting our internal leadership. It is also as entrenched in our institutions as it is in human behaviour. As within; so without: if we allow our codependent parts to lead us, we will no doubt allow our codependent institutions to act accordingly. Canada and other countries are too focused in looking for others to make things better when the ability to act can only come from within.
The good news is that a multitude of cities, the internal parts of countries, are doing just that. As reported by the Globe and Mail (Dec 5) cities as diverse as Mumbai and Edmonton are improving their track record on environmental issues. Mumbai is overhauling its lighting system and Edmonton is “on track to divert 90% of residential waste from landfills by 2011”. Mexico City restricts driving within city limits while promoting public transit and Seattle, whose “electricity production leaves virtually no carbon footprint” has committed itself to the original Kyoto agreement leading more than 1000 US cities with the same pledge.
So let us follow our municipalities’ lead and be the leader for our own codependent parts. Let us teach these parts that most of the answers lie within and that if we could only acknowledge how resourceful and creative we are, we would be in a much healthier place. Let us reduce our own energy consumption at home, drive less and take transit more; turn off lights and use a clothes line; take our cloth bags to shop and wrap presents in used wrapping or newspaper and, above all, reduce first; recycle second. Moreover, let us listen to the words of the late and great anthropologist, Margaret Mead: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
Codependency is about searching for self value, love and acceptance in another rather than from within. It is using others as a guiding force rather than trusting our internal leadership. It is also as entrenched in our institutions as it is in human behaviour. As within; so without: if we allow our codependent parts to lead us, we will no doubt allow our codependent institutions to act accordingly. Canada and other countries are too focused in looking for others to make things better when the ability to act can only come from within.
The good news is that a multitude of cities, the internal parts of countries, are doing just that. As reported by the Globe and Mail (Dec 5) cities as diverse as Mumbai and Edmonton are improving their track record on environmental issues. Mumbai is overhauling its lighting system and Edmonton is “on track to divert 90% of residential waste from landfills by 2011”. Mexico City restricts driving within city limits while promoting public transit and Seattle, whose “electricity production leaves virtually no carbon footprint” has committed itself to the original Kyoto agreement leading more than 1000 US cities with the same pledge.
So let us follow our municipalities’ lead and be the leader for our own codependent parts. Let us teach these parts that most of the answers lie within and that if we could only acknowledge how resourceful and creative we are, we would be in a much healthier place. Let us reduce our own energy consumption at home, drive less and take transit more; turn off lights and use a clothes line; take our cloth bags to shop and wrap presents in used wrapping or newspaper and, above all, reduce first; recycle second. Moreover, let us listen to the words of the late and great anthropologist, Margaret Mead: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
Friday, December 18, 2009
Self Care
My body is telling me to rest today. It actually started its whispering campaign yesterday morning, slyly tickling my ears as I woke before dawn. It is the voice that warns of forced rest – illness – if not adhered to so I listened, agreed and half-heartedly promised I would rest the rest of the day after, that is, my morning hike. And so today, I wake up and the whispers are louder, irritating my throat with their incessant whines. Rest, they say, rest. I hear them, agree once more but still ponder how much I can do within the confines of “rest”.
I am fortunate in that I work from home. Moreover, I have no clients today so rest could be easy but then again, there is my volunteer job tonight… I really should go. They count on me, don’t they? I am well enough to go, truly, I am only tired, that’s all. But then that voice comes back, gnawing my lower back … shouldn’t you rest? Do you really want to get sick?
Although I am much better than I was a few years back, the temptation to ignore my body and follow the dictates of my mind is ingrained in my persona. The desire to push through, stagger on, blindly go where I will is a default philosophy that has, in fact, served me well. Sort of. I have done miraculous things on nothing but sheer will. A few years ago I was an avid hiker, runner, energy worker and wannabe vegan (you just eat veggies, yes?). I was also on the verge of emotional, physical and spiritual burnout because I wasn’t quite in touch with my body as I professed to be. I was so out of touch or shall I say, my willful parts were so strong that I completed a two-day solo hiking trip on what I later found to be minimal blood levels of B12 and iron. Hmmm… and I just thought it was normal to be so lightheaded and tired.
It is amazing what we do when our body screams no but our mind says yes. We eat food to which we have an intolerance; help friends move house when our back gives us trouble; and stay out all night when we have to work the next day. We are gluttons for punishment, or at least that is how our body must feel at times. Take today, for example. Why would I make myself go to work when my body says no? It is not so much that it is my mind who is taking charge but my codependent parts. And, as a person with a whack of recovering codependent parts, let me count the reasons why I should work today.
They need me
One of my more classic codependent responses: they need me. Uh huh. Need me for what? As soon as I start thinking myself indispensable, I am in trouble. I am feeding into the codependent parts that base my value on the needs of others. The only person that truly needs me in the full sense of the word is myself. I need me to listen to my body’s cry for rest, and to take time and space when I need it. I need me to be there for myself. And the ironic thing is that the better I take care of my needs, the more I can be there for others.
What will the staff think?
Yes, well, important as their opinions are, what others think of me is not always relevant. Once again, if I guide my actions on the basis of another’s beliefs I am falling into codependent territory. If another chooses to believe that I am a slacker for taking care of my health needs, then it is more about them than me – or rather their codependent parts that are unwilling to be self compassionate when they themselves need rest. I would rather have the staff think that I am a person who takes good self care rather than a martyr who comes to work and makes everyone else sick.
Which segues nicely into this one…
If I get sick they will see how dedicated I am
I love this one, the martyr in me sings out in praise at such a statement. I will sacrifice myself for the good of the cause! Jo(Ann) of ARC is my name and I suffer gladly for your sake. You gotta love it (and me). For that is what my codependent parts believe: I will only be loved, accepted, wanted and/or respected if I do for others. The truth, however, is that people generally dislike working alongside martyrs as they tend to promote such feelings as irritation and anger with some, and guilt and shame with others. What my codependent parts do not realize is that the more I take care of, love and accept myself, the more people will be attracted to me out of respect. They will see me as someone who will not drain them of energy but be capable of a healthy and fulfilling relationship. Moreover, in terms of dedication to my career or work, dedication, like love, respect and compassion, always begins with self. If I dedicate myself to a balanced and healthy lifestyle, my path, what ever that may be, will flourish regardless of any sick days I take.
I am such a wimp if I stay home
Being sick, tired and not up to snuff is the antithesis for what I have too long considered the goal of a strong and self sufficient lifestyle. To show my vulnerable side is to show weakness and to be weak is scary for my codependent parts. Growing up in a family that ridiculed signs of vulnerability I hid my vulnerable parts behind a façade of strength. While that protected me to some degree, it also hid my authenticity. My true self is a composite of all my parts: tired, strong, weak, sick, sad, happy, angry and so on. To be truly strong is to embrace the whole kit and caboodle.
And finally, I need the money
While this didn’t apply to me in this situation, it is true that we all need money and missing work can put a dent on finances. But how many times have I gone to work tired and on the verge of being sick only to have to stay home twice as long with a nasty cold or flu because I didn’t take care of myself on that one day? And how many other people have I infected with a virus because I needed the money? And was I really knocking on financial disaster or was there another reason I went to work?
So, instead of going to work tonight I stayed inside, had a hot bath and cup of tea ….and wrote this article. In other words, I gently reeducated my codependent parts that life doesn’t just go on when I practice good self care but travels on in a healthier and happier way for all involved.
I am fortunate in that I work from home. Moreover, I have no clients today so rest could be easy but then again, there is my volunteer job tonight… I really should go. They count on me, don’t they? I am well enough to go, truly, I am only tired, that’s all. But then that voice comes back, gnawing my lower back … shouldn’t you rest? Do you really want to get sick?
Although I am much better than I was a few years back, the temptation to ignore my body and follow the dictates of my mind is ingrained in my persona. The desire to push through, stagger on, blindly go where I will is a default philosophy that has, in fact, served me well. Sort of. I have done miraculous things on nothing but sheer will. A few years ago I was an avid hiker, runner, energy worker and wannabe vegan (you just eat veggies, yes?). I was also on the verge of emotional, physical and spiritual burnout because I wasn’t quite in touch with my body as I professed to be. I was so out of touch or shall I say, my willful parts were so strong that I completed a two-day solo hiking trip on what I later found to be minimal blood levels of B12 and iron. Hmmm… and I just thought it was normal to be so lightheaded and tired.
It is amazing what we do when our body screams no but our mind says yes. We eat food to which we have an intolerance; help friends move house when our back gives us trouble; and stay out all night when we have to work the next day. We are gluttons for punishment, or at least that is how our body must feel at times. Take today, for example. Why would I make myself go to work when my body says no? It is not so much that it is my mind who is taking charge but my codependent parts. And, as a person with a whack of recovering codependent parts, let me count the reasons why I should work today.
They need me
One of my more classic codependent responses: they need me. Uh huh. Need me for what? As soon as I start thinking myself indispensable, I am in trouble. I am feeding into the codependent parts that base my value on the needs of others. The only person that truly needs me in the full sense of the word is myself. I need me to listen to my body’s cry for rest, and to take time and space when I need it. I need me to be there for myself. And the ironic thing is that the better I take care of my needs, the more I can be there for others.
What will the staff think?
Yes, well, important as their opinions are, what others think of me is not always relevant. Once again, if I guide my actions on the basis of another’s beliefs I am falling into codependent territory. If another chooses to believe that I am a slacker for taking care of my health needs, then it is more about them than me – or rather their codependent parts that are unwilling to be self compassionate when they themselves need rest. I would rather have the staff think that I am a person who takes good self care rather than a martyr who comes to work and makes everyone else sick.
Which segues nicely into this one…
If I get sick they will see how dedicated I am
I love this one, the martyr in me sings out in praise at such a statement. I will sacrifice myself for the good of the cause! Jo(Ann) of ARC is my name and I suffer gladly for your sake. You gotta love it (and me). For that is what my codependent parts believe: I will only be loved, accepted, wanted and/or respected if I do for others. The truth, however, is that people generally dislike working alongside martyrs as they tend to promote such feelings as irritation and anger with some, and guilt and shame with others. What my codependent parts do not realize is that the more I take care of, love and accept myself, the more people will be attracted to me out of respect. They will see me as someone who will not drain them of energy but be capable of a healthy and fulfilling relationship. Moreover, in terms of dedication to my career or work, dedication, like love, respect and compassion, always begins with self. If I dedicate myself to a balanced and healthy lifestyle, my path, what ever that may be, will flourish regardless of any sick days I take.
I am such a wimp if I stay home
Being sick, tired and not up to snuff is the antithesis for what I have too long considered the goal of a strong and self sufficient lifestyle. To show my vulnerable side is to show weakness and to be weak is scary for my codependent parts. Growing up in a family that ridiculed signs of vulnerability I hid my vulnerable parts behind a façade of strength. While that protected me to some degree, it also hid my authenticity. My true self is a composite of all my parts: tired, strong, weak, sick, sad, happy, angry and so on. To be truly strong is to embrace the whole kit and caboodle.
And finally, I need the money
While this didn’t apply to me in this situation, it is true that we all need money and missing work can put a dent on finances. But how many times have I gone to work tired and on the verge of being sick only to have to stay home twice as long with a nasty cold or flu because I didn’t take care of myself on that one day? And how many other people have I infected with a virus because I needed the money? And was I really knocking on financial disaster or was there another reason I went to work?
So, instead of going to work tonight I stayed inside, had a hot bath and cup of tea ….and wrote this article. In other words, I gently reeducated my codependent parts that life doesn’t just go on when I practice good self care but travels on in a healthier and happier way for all involved.
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