What do you say to yourself about your limitations or what you think you can achieve?
Partly that I wish I had wasted less time in my earlier years drinking, when I might have been accomplishing something, and now I'm short on time, and that means I feel that every moment is precious now and it's a bit too hard to feel this way, b/c now I feel the loss of time more acutely, so that makes it even harder to be relaxed about having the ability to do something worthwhile with my life. I think I also wish I'd been stronger in this relationship, strong enough to resist the drinking, that wasn't a major part of my life before. I think sometimes I may have tiny twinges of resentment at A for this.
I also think that while I have a highly skilled mind, it's a bit like a complicated machine that I never fully learned to best operate. And I blame that on a substandard education, and a lack of appropriate support and guidance. And I wonder if I can catch up. I definitely feel that even if brains remain plastic throughout life, I don't have the same advantages a young person has, and I have all these difficult habits to break around how I use my brain. And anxiety that makes things hard, too.
I think that in theory I could really accomplish almost anything, if I had enough time. I think that I am especially capable of doing something great and interesting, but I would definitely have to (1) stay focused and (2) have enough time. I feel that the interest in psychology, esp. developmental and social psychology, are now proving to be sustained interests I will not lose, but without a clear path to follow, I could end up not going deep enough to make any real difference for anyone, anywhere, and just die with a ton of knowledge I never put to use, and that seems like it would be a real shame. But it's not the only shame. It will also feel like a shame if I don't get to do all of the many other things I'm so interested in. So how do I find a way to split my time between all my interests such that I feel fulfilled in all of these things? I don't want to stop learning about woodworking, sewing, painting, sculpting, or give up the color project, or fail to be an amazing unschooling parent, and find time for play in my life, and singing, and writing fun little musicals together as a family, and everything I care about. But at a certain point it can feel like I'm too scattered. And then I can come back to the old, "if only I had more time" and then the remorse kicks back in.
What do you you say to yourself about how others see you?
I honestly don't know much about how others see me. I think some people see me as being hyper and spastic, and I tell myself this is from my anxiety and twitchiness in some cases, and from my excitability and manic energy in others.
Some people see me as too much. That I offer too much intensity, too many words, just too much. I am starting to tell myself this is because I'm different from most other people, and most people just don't understand me and can't handle it b/c their brains are not like mine and it doesn't make sense and it's exhausting and overwhelming for them.
But mostly I don't think most people think much about me at all. I can think to myself a lot, if only people knew how much cool stuff I do, how much I'm capable of, all the things I think, how much I care, all the things I invent and create, if only people knew me for all that I am, maybe people would think I'm worth a closer look. But then sometimes I don't think people do really want to know someone like me. I mean, I was thinking about how I am drawn to folks like this, and so I guess I would just expect others to be drawn to me, but this doesn't seem to make people feel drawn to me. Why not? Again, they're just different. They're not enthralled by all the things, the way I feel lucky to have found connections to people like (podcast host) and (research advisor) and (V's mom).
I think I'm circling in on this idea that I shouldn't expect everyone, or even the majority of people, to like or be drawn to me, but that I have to expect that it'll only be certain types of people, and that's okay b/c those are the people I will like best anyhow.
What do you say to yourself about finding love?
I will interpret this question as meaning friendship and community. I tell myself it's hard. It is exhausting when you have such a strong reaction to rejection, to continuously try, and fail, and have to try again. It's just harder for me than it would be for many people. And therefore it's a steeper climb to make happen. And I can't pretend it won't be hard. It just will be. And that doesn't mean it isn't worth doing. But I believe when we finally move, we will find community, together, as a family. It must happen. I can't live without community anymore. It's not okay. The new city will work better for finding it because any friends we meet will actually be near enough to one another to be able to actually feel like community. And the smaller-town vibe will make it easier to feel like you can reach out and connect. I feel a good feeling that it will happen.
What do you say to yourself about your appearance?
I don't actually say much to myself about my appearance. I feel a little down about my extra weight sometimes and don't like how that extra weight feels weighing me down a lot more than I don't like how it looks, but I also, still, don't like how it looks, and so I can catch glimpses in the mirror that are disappointing. But I also like to think, yeah, but my baby so treasures my body, how can I not see it that way? My arms are the ones that hold her and lift her up with glee and rock her. My shoulders, chest, and breast are the ones that cradle her and make her feel she has a safe place to snuggle. My legs are the ones that sway as I hold her, that carry our combined weight around, that allow me to squat down and get to her eye level. My face is the face that she treasures, that she most wants to see light up with pleasure at her existence. How can I not see that my self is her treasure? And knowing that, how can I not see my body with a lot more tenderness? I mean, that's all there. But I still wish I felt less sick, less tired, less heavy, and that I looked more fit and spry, the way I was most of the time since 2013 until somewhat recently.
What do you say to yourself about your quality of parenting?
I say to myself that I am doing so much better than most people, and that I need to cut myself more slack, but then I also really feel that my job as a parent is very profoundly important that I also don't want to cut myself so much slack that I'm not honest about the ways that my shortcomings and trauma are having a negative impact on her, or the ways in which I fail to meet her needs. I don't think it's especially productive to just sit around making excuses or comparing ourselves favorably to the subset of folks out there who happen to be doing worse than us. Like, in what way does that help us accomplish our very real goal of being the kind of parents we want to be? So I really just try to find an honest understanding of my parenting, without being too hard on myself as I do so. I try to remember that the neurosequential model (Bruce Perry's thing) should probably tell me that if I don't get it "right" at first, she doesn't have to wait and get it in therapy one day, but we can keep growing together and I can help her get some of the previously unmet needs met as time goes on. And so hope isn't lost. And if I'm the one who failed her, but I am also the one who is there for her as I help her progress past that, and if I model forgiveness and grace, then she'll learn these things, too, and she won't hold grudges, and she'll be a whole person, not a broken person. I want to believe this. But maybe my mom did, too. So more than anything I want to be honest with myself about what my parenting is really like, what my weaknesses are, and what I need to do differently.
What do you say to yourself when you've made mistakes?
This question is far too non-specific to be easy to answer in the context of the way I'm attempting to do this exercise, which is in one sitting, in a short period of time. So I think I need to narrow it down. Maybe what I say to myself when I get angry or yell or scold or shame my baby, especially when I notice it right away? Well, honestly it usually means I am far too busy trying to repair and co-regulate and bring E back to a state of comfort. I am more focused on meeting her needs (now greater due to my missteps) than I am focused on myself. But then a bit later, it can be very easy to say to myself, gahhh, how can I have such good intentions and still not meet those intentions? And I can think to myself, okay, it was just this once, and I'm going to do better about that. But then the next time I do, I can think, yeah, but I said that last time, and here I am again. And then I think, yeah, something needs to change in me, or the behavior won't improve, and I'll keep repeating this. Or, maybe, maybe this is just inevitable with my trauma history, like, maybe this is the best I can do. And maybe I will have to make peace with that. Because I am just one link in a chain, in a sense, and what came before me is all part of me, and unless I am going to believe that it was wrong to have a child, then I have to believe that it must be okay to choose to continue giving birth to babies with our imperfect pasts, with the chains going back into all our past trauma that can follow us. And it's not my fault where I come from. But I also don't want to fail to take the kind of responsibility that will help me feel that I have done all I can. So I also don't want to be too fatalistic.
What do you say to yourself when you let someone down or someone lets you down?
Interesting that this question is worded as one or the other. I guess I think that me letting someone down is similar enough to the previous question that I don't need to try answering that part of it, but can instead think about when someone else lets me down...
I think that in many cases, I can think that people just don't care enough. I can hold people to really high standards, some of which are unrealistic. Like when I expect A to remember details and then she just doesn't, and I'm like, why did you [xyz]?!! And she's like, I just forgot, geez. And I'm annoyed b/c I'm like, if she really cared, wouldn't she have made an effort to do it right? But maybe even doing her best, it still isn't at the level I would have done it b/c memory is one of my strengths but not so much hers. So I can sometimes just not have enough information to really understand why with other people, or sometimes even with A. And sometimes honestly, the inconvenience, the challenge, or the hurt, of being let down, can sort of dominate the reaction, more so than the things I'm "telling" myself. But when I'm not being juvenile or triggered, then I usually have to admit that I think people have let me down through no fault of their own. I guess because at a certain point, it's hard to believe anyone is ever at fault, since the more I come to know about psychology, the more I do believe people are doing the best they can. Maybe not always at the things others want them to, and so competing needs and desires don't make this clear. But it's not like I think people are rotten to each other unless they're having a hard time.
What do you say to yourself about the bad things that might have happened to you in your life that you don't want anyone else to know about?
I don't have a lot of bad things that have happened to me that I don't want anyone else to know about. I feel that I have enough righteous indignation about having been wronged that I feel pretty comfortable telling people about them if they're interested. It's complicated, of course, but since I loathe small talk, I often want and prefer to talk about very real and serious stuff, and that means that if it loops back to past hardships of mine, that's cool, too. I feel that I am also pretty good at talking about my experiences going through hardships in a way that doesn't make people feel too on edge or uncomfortable, b/c I think that I understand pretty well when it's too much to share, and really felt that Brene Brown speaks the truth about how disclosure and vulnerability are not the same thing. I am more likely to explain to someone, to whom it is relevant, that I experienced ostracism and am therefore sensitive to rejection. If they are interested, I can elaborate. I don't feel that it's necessary to get into such detail that it brings me back in such a way that I'm brought to tears over it, and it's rare that anything steers me to do such a thing, except, for instance, with A, because we're in the kind of relationship where it's appropriate to do so. So, I guess I'm thinking to myself, umm, if I'm talking about something to anyone, I'm doing it at the appropriate level of sharing, and not over-sharing, and that means that with people with whom I do not have trust or intimacy, who haven't earned the right to my vulnerability, those folks I'm not going to share, but it's not out of a fear. It's more that I think there is a time and a place, and you can vicariously traumatize others, too, so I mean, you really have to have an intuitive sense for when those times are. And yeah, I feel open to sharing in more times and places and with more people than many people do. I think it's because I think it's great to be honest and also try to destigmatize mental health issues and help others remember that their trauma isn't their fault and stuff like that. But that's not the same as sharing at wrong times, and so I guess I don't really see the times that I choose not to share as coming from me not wanting other people to know so much as it comes from me having a bit of sense about the right times/contexts to share.
Okay, not sure why I went with proper capitalization, since it can slow me down, but next time I think I will consciously avoid it so as to keep my pace even quicker. But this took me roughly 50 min to write all of this. The goal was a quick journaling session, not to be as thorough as possible. Because then I would still be typing on the first question.
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