So before I do anything to fancy up my new blog space, I want to get out what brought me here in the first place. I had a diary throughout my teens and 20s, and was right there creating a log-in with the birth of the blogosphere. First Diaryland, to LiveJournal, WordPress, MySpace, Tumblr, and Blogger (a few times). I wrote throughout my late 20's and early 30's with, what was considered at the time to be, a decent audience of friends and family. I had regular feedback and a bit of skill at it. Something happened around the time I gave birth... maybe a lot of things happened... post partum anxiety, guilt, an insecurity unlike anything I'd experienced in the past. And zero time to focus on me. Somewhere in all of that I lost my voice. Or, my voice on paper (er... word format) at least. By the time I had the desire back, blogs had really taken off and become a thing. And I felt what I did before didn't have the same value it once had, even for myself (this feeling will make a comeback later in this entry). I've started several blogs and writing projects throughout the last few years, but nothing I continued with any consistency. The desire to write again has always stayed just below the surface, but the action of actually doing it brought me anxiety for a reason I haven't quite put my finger on.
Tonight I am overriding that anxiety. I am sitting at our new (for us) iMac, where I had to search, old lady style, for the power button and USB drive in preparation for this. The catalyst was my not unrecent emotional breakdown, followed up by a mini version this week running into tonight. I came here to hash that out and to leave a reminder of my personal discovery. It's not going to be an eloquent transition from this intro into that because I'm new at this. So that said, here it is...
For many years, and up to a few hours ago, I've been struggling on-and-off with intense feelings of insecurity and low self-worth. But it was a weird version of those things because, by nature, I'm a fairly confident person. If I had to put a finger on what my actual insecurities are it would be difficult. I speak up when I have something to say and, as Chris mentioned last night, I'm pretty frank about it. On the one hand (I'm a Libra, so there's always more than one hand), I'm secure with how I feel about things. I trust my intuition implicitly and rarely question the choices I make. I have no real regrets that I can name. So this ongoing struggle with insecurity was somewhat baffling and DEFINITELY frustrating.
But tonight, TONIGHT!, I made the connection. First, I often struggle with vulnerability hangovers. I'm out with friends or meet new people, and in my desire to connect I overshare. I overshare my shit, I want to overshare your shit, I want to relate, advise, solve and connect. This doesn't always work out as I intend. And sometimes, more often lately, I wake up with a vulnerability hangover. My therapist, Rebecca, says it can be due to sharing with an unsecured connection. Someone I don't completely trust to be sharing this shit with in the first place. Which is why I wake up and kick myself the next day. She's right, of course, but I couldn't understand at the time the bigger relevance to that issue.
Until this week. Chris and I started the week with a situation. He was going to do something, I mentioned joining him and didn't receive the reaction I expected. In the process, my feelings were hurt. The situation is actually much more layered, but I'm adhering to the KISS* philosophy as much as possible for this entry. Regardless, my feelings were hurt and I felt my self worth plummet. Shortly after, I met some friends for drinks. I shared some stuff, as I usually do with this particular group, and even though their reactions were not negative, I came home with a helluva vulnerability hangover. It left me moody and disconnected and Chris asked me about it. And that stirred up a hornets nest of reactions.
In keeping with KISS*, I basically told him I was feeling insecure and my self worth was moving to a serious low. He tried to intellectualize it which left me frustrated. My frustration kicked off HIS issues of inadequacy and he got hyped up. His hyping up hyped ME up, causing me to feel even more insecure. This is marriage, where your issues kick off their issues creating a continuum of issues. But we haven't stayed together, through thick and thin, for 17 years because we suck at this. No, we work as partners to hash this shit out. Sometimes it takes a few hours, or days, or months, or even sometimes years - but we work hard on working it out.
Tonight as we, much more calmly and with 24 hours of introspection and perspective, talked it out I had an epiphany. I'm not actually insecure. I question my value. And for me there is a significant difference. I am secure in who I am. As I told Chris, I feel like each and every one of us were given an equal start to life. We all have gifts, talents, specializations. You may not be one of the lucky ones who tap into it, or they may not necessarily be useful for every day life, or as Rebecca puts it, "skillful" to your life experience, but we were all created equal. I am secure in that. I am confident that I am a kind, giving, funny, smart, independent, adventurous, responsible, insightful and highly intuitive woman. I don't question that shit at all. BUT, I do question the value in it. Specifically, the value those that I care about see in it.
Unfortunately, not everyone I love and care about value the characteristics I value most about myself. I've spent a lot of time and money in therapy trying to deal with that realization. Will likely continue to for years to come. But that's the truth of it - or, again, as Rebecca might say, "MY" truth of it, not necessarily THE true of it. And so on rough days, when I feel my self worth crash, it is because I've lost sight of my value. Some deep existential shit, but there it is. Connected to this is the oversharing and inevitable vulnerability hangovers I mentioned earlier. I overshare because I've been searching for validation so much lately. I don't feel I get it much these days. Perhaps, as Chris and Rebecca have suggested, even when I do get it, I'm unable to see or accept it. It's a perpetual loop.
Last night as I was trying to explain my pain to Chris, before things got overhyped, I attempted a metaphoric approach. I explained that I feel like black licorice. Some people really like me. But probably not the majority. Those who like me really like me. Those who don't really don't. Nobody much wavers on their feelings for me. And poor, sad me just wants to be red licorice. Actually, that's not at all true. I feel that black licorice is way cooler than red licorice could ever be. Edgy even. But there are days when I just want to be loved like red licorice. Honestly, I want to totally not give a shit what people think of me ON ALL THE DAYS. But I've never succeeded in not giving a shit for more than a couple of hours, and almost never without the help of drugs or alcohol. Thus is my biggest burden in life.
Chris and I successfully worked this one out - and by that I mean he understood me as I began to understand myself. And, because he is an amazing husband, he researched black licorice and discovered all kinds of handy facts. Like black licorice is an actual root. Its properties can act as an expectorant, have a laxative effect and cause heart problems. Oddly, I can identify with that. But more importantly I was touched he went to such lengths to identify with how I was feeling. And really, isn't that what we want most from our people? To be seen, understood and valued by those we love? How and when did that get to be so fucking complicated?
*KEEP IT SIMPLE STUPID
