In therapy on Saturday morning, (I am so blessed that he can meet with me then and as I am essentially the only patient he has all day and we meet at 8:00 he often lets me run over clear until 9:15… God Bless him!) my therapist and I discussed one of the big frustrations in my life. People’s expectations of me. Specifically expectations of me at camp, but also people’s expectations of me over time. It was rather enlightening to me. These were some of the memories that I had.
Not being allowed to do more than give my father a brief hug and kiss when he returned from deployment. Excess was to be saved for home. On the ship PDA was to be kept to a minimum. So even thought I had missed his terribly over the past six-seven months, I had to wait, patiently, quietly and lady-like until we got Dad home before any fuss or outpouring of emotions were allowed.
Mom always told me that I should ignore those that teased me. I couldn’t really do that, but I could pretend I was. My thought was that if they won by getting a reaction out of me, but I saved my reaction till I got home, then their victory was hollow as they did not know it existed. Therefore I was very surprised on day when I made an off hand comment about someone’s hurtful comment and she answered, shocked, “I had no idea it bothered you, you never acted like it did. I’m sorry.”
A good friend from college, MP, saying something about my inability to take care of myself. I answered that I had taken care of myself, my Dad and my brother for some time, just fine thank-you. He responded, “Yeah, we know. But none of us can figure out how you must have done it, because you are always such a mess now.”
The guys at camp always expecting me to fix things for them, bail them out, be the leader, but when I suggest something they don’t like I get told how emotional and hormonal I am.
No one cared or understood why I didn’t want to walk the half mile back to my building alone, in the dark, at 2AM, with no flashlight. “Camp is the safest place on earth!” They laughed, unaware of my tears in the darkness.
A different group of boys at camp, valiantly insulating and protecting me from the awful attentions of a man I consider a sexual predator. These boys were only 17, but they stayed with me until he left, and when one of them tried to hug me after it was over, I panicked and decked him (I couldn’t see him, and thought I was being attacked); yet he apologized to me. For the first time I really did feel like Camp was the safest place on earth.
When a co-worker lost her job this past week, everyone came to find me to go talk to her, find out what was wrong and comfort her. She’s a good friend and I am glad I could help and be there fore her, but why do I always have to be the clean-up crew? Why did they all assume and not do it themselves if they were so worried…?
The point of all these were, I see now that I have two very different sides. There is a very strong, capable and verbal part of me that takes charge, fixes problems and takes care of others. There is also a part of me that is very vulnerable, sensitive and wants desperately to be cherished. Not taken care of, per say, but valued, specifically as a woman. Most people pick the definition of me that is most convenient to them at the time. When they need someone to fix it, they want that half, but when I am a problem or inconvenience, they label me as the second and then disregard me.
“They” is not everyone by the way, not even most, but it is many of the prevalent people in my life right now.
Then there is the issue of explaining to myself who I am. Which of these two am I? My therapist is helping me to see that I am both. Further, there doesn’t even have to be an issue of sides, so much as facets, of which I have many. This is not so much a black and white thing, I am strong and sensitive in turns, one or the other, but more that I am a blended, grey, total.
The reality is people will always choose the perception of least resistance in a given situation until they get to know you, mature in how they perceive others or simply recognize that most people are shades of grey…
This weekend, I accepted both of the reflections in the mirror. I’m not going to fight them anymore.
1 comment:
very interesting ... it's amazing how much of that (emotions, not details) I could have written! Wow!
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