Tuesday, May 22, 2018

Something You Never Thought I'd Say: Give Up Hope (On a Bad Relationship)

As a therapist, in some ways my business is hope.  I see the potential in situations and people, potential for change, potential for solutions.  I realize it is not only a large part of the work I do, but it is possibly part of my wiring, so in that way, it might one of the drivers that brought me to this work in the first place.  I am a hopeful person and I am a champion of hope.   It's fun too, when someone comes into my office and doesn't feel particularly hopeful, but something clicks when we are talking and they can see the potential for what their life might look like and maybe the feeling that getting where they want to be, personally, while it might be somewhat painful,  we can sometimes have a lighter touch and even a little fun too while we get there.

So perhaps for someone like me in particular, a tough life lesson has been that sometimes we must give up hope.  Not on ourselves, but in certain relationships in our lives.  I had an old boyfriend for whom this kind of thing was easy - "Fool me once, shame on you" he often said (not to me, but about folks in general).  "Fool me twice, shame on me."  It wasn't hard for him to know his rule and limit with other people.  It wasn't fuzzy for him.

So many others of us find it excruciatingly painful to 'give up on' or walk away from a relationship - even if it's proven hurtful or even abusive over years and years of time.  I see this with adult children and parents who have been cruel and ignorant.  I see this with marriages and partnerships that are abusive.  I see this with 'friendships' that are backstabbing or undermining and I see this with sibling relationships that can be sneaky and mean.  Or some permutation of all of those things.

A question I've asked myself is, "why?"  Why can some people know their own limits and walk away and why is it so difficult for others?  What are the personality traits or beliefs that keep us stuck with people (who might say differently, if asked) but who would probably push us under the water if the boat capsized, simply to stay afloat themselves?

To paint it in very broad strokes, I think people who stay 'hopeful' in hopeless relationships struggle with two main issues:  

1) Not enough self-esteem, OR
2) TOO much confidence

And despite this difference, they have one big thing in common

An Overdeveloped Sense of Responsibility

People who don't have enough self-esteem take on responsibility in this way:  "It's probably my fault that this relationship is bad.  If only I were more perfect, more understanding, didn't lose my temper, were more supportive, etc, etc, this relationship would be feel the way it's supposed to.  Maybe I deserve this kind of relationship.  Maybe this is how all relationships are.  Maybe this is the best I can do."  This person also may believe that their mother or spouse or brother could have an adverse effect on others and uses their sense of responsibility to 'protect' other people.  For example, "If Mom berates me, at least she's not berating my younger brother."  Or, if Wife is going to be so unpredictable, at least I'm here for the kids and can manage it from the inside."  People who don't have enough self esteem are hopeful in their own way, but hopeful mostly that they themselves will make some change and be 'better' or 'more worthy' in ways that will automatically make the other person kind, attentive, listening, and cooperative.

In psychology, there is an idea called 'repetition compulsion.'  It basically says that our primary caregivers may have messed up in some ways that wounded us.  Our psyche carries a compulsion to repeat the pattern of 'hurt' in order to fix it, heal it, make it better, but what we so often do is just repeat the hurtful parts without the healing.  This is something I  think about with 'hopeful' clients in hurtful relationships - particularly when I see that in their core they do not feel worthy.

People with too much confidence have the underlying belief, "I can change this situation, because I am just that caring, tenacious, strong or clever."  For example, if I am seeing the Overly Confident spouse, I hear this person saying every other time I see them, "I think it's better this week." There is always some solution or 'new' way they've tried communicating, asking, or interacting with their spouse and they are hopeful they have finally been heard and understood and their spouse is finally on board with kindness and partnership.  Often after this hopeful week, they come back in discouraged the next time - the new solution they tried worked for a little while, but the same old mistreatment crept back in again.

OR, the Overly Confident Person tells me, "I have a new approach.  I am just going to focus on my self care and my well being and less on theirs.  Things feel better this week."

Now, these are both resilient characteristics and healthy things to try.  Working on varied ways to communicate.  Figuring out your partner's Love Language and trying that.  Trying softer approaches or more direct approaches.  All of that is great!  The first 50 times.  But Overly Confident people in bad relationships can think of thousands of permutations and try all of them.  Also, great to focus on self care.  But if your partner is truly selfish or your friend is generally mean or your dad is most often blaming and cruel, self-care while in the relationship will be a mechanism for coping, but perhaps not a step toward thriving.

If you find yourself falling into one of these categories (low self-esteem/overly developed self-confidence) and find yourself in long term unhealthy and hurtful relationships, you may also find you have core beliefs that make you overly responsible.  In fact, as I was writing this, I remembered advice I was given at a young age that profoundly impacted me in a mostly negative way - "Never burn any bridges, because once you do, it's too hard to build them again."  On the outside, that would seem like sage advice, but for me, the way that hooked into my personality, I felt that holding people accountable was burning a bridge.  That creating boundaries was burning a bridge.  That confronting someone I loved who was hurtful could burn a bridge.   I internalized that as "The health of relationships is my responsibility and I should protect relationships from conflict."

Some other deep beliefs that might influence people to take on more than their share of responsibility in relationships are:
1) This person is in my family and you never turn your back on family
2) If I don't keep helping or being there for this person, they might die
3) Men just don't understand these things
4) Women are too emotional, so I have to be the strong, logical one
5) The other person is really too weak or wounded or addicted or in pain in some way, so it's right that this feels imbalanced.
6) I made the commitment, I have to stick to it

If you find yourself having any of these core beliefs when you think about a relationship, you might benefit from looking up information about co-dependence.  Taking on the full responsibility for the health of a relationship is co-dependent.

So, to go back to the beginning, here is what I am proposing.  If you find yourself resonating with what I wrote above,  I think it's time to give up hope.  Yep.  I said it.  Give up that hope, put it down and walk away.

Ok, I know it's not that easy and what I really mean is this:

How would it feel to really internalize and accept the information that you have in front of you:  Nothing that you do or don't do is going to make this relationship any different.  This IS the relationship.

Now that you've accepted reality, what would it mean to let there be space in that relationship with your mom or your friend or your boyfriend?  Could you imagine not working so hard to make things better or peaceful or satisfying for you in the context of that other person?   Maybe you don't have to cut them off, maybe you just need to not call and check in on that person so much.  Maybe you need to say 'no' to some of that person's unreasonable demands.  Maybe you could spend that energy on relationships where there is a healthy balance of give and take.  And if you need to cut that person off and it feels really scary, maybe you remind yourself that life doesn't need to be dramatic with grand statements like, "I'm never speaking with you again!"  You can make these changes and shifts in any way that feels like you are being true to you.

I heard an interview on Krista Tippett's excellent podcast, OnBeing recently.  She interviewed the poet, Nikki Giovanni, who spoke about having a dad who wasn't so great.  She said (to paraphrase), "I learned from him that the quality of the love depends on the quality of the love-er."  This seems like an important thing to remember.

When I say, "Give up hope,"  of course, I am being tongue in cheek.  Keep hope in and for yourself, your wisdom and choices.  Stop listening to your brain and heart and instead, listen to the deep gut instinct, the intuition,  I believe each of us has.  There is more friendship, love, and connection for you out there - relationships where you don't carry all the responsibility and you don't need hope, because the love is present and alive and in action.





Wednesday, May 2, 2018

Race and Religion: This Isn't a Liberal Arts Class, but I am Trying to Learn Here

We don't tend to hear very much from people who are unsure anymore.  Who don't sound and look like they know exactly what they are doing. I suspect we mostly hear from people who are faking their certainty or are too certain for their own good.  Sometimes I get worried that I get into this lecturing mode in my writing too.  Which doesn't really reflect me, because I  connect most deeply with reading, listening to and watching stories about people who are unsure and are finding their way.  So today, I am going to write a little bit about a place I am finding my way.

I think this is going to be a blog about my spiritual path and how it relates to racism.  Let's get started and see where this goes.

I don't know how to talk about racism.  I don't feel like an expert or academic when it comes to race or ending racism.  I do have a gut feeling that the degradation of human beings by other human beings is a cancer on the whole of humanity.  I do know that I was in an emotionally abusive relationship and I see many parallels between the way that relationship functioned and the way white people and people of color function together here in the United States.  I do believe - again this is a gut instinct, an intuition - that healing race relations is integral to healing the world and the earth.  It is part of us, right here, right now, trying to leave the world a healthier, more whole and beautiful place than when we got here.  

Two weeks ago at the Unitarian Universalist church I attend, a guest speaker gave the sermon for Earth Day.  Reverend Daniel Gould, from Missouri Faith Voices, spoke about the joy that is being a member of this human family and our love and care for our Earth, our home, and as he said, "She is groaning."  She needs our love and attention and we must  join together for that mission.  As an African American minister, he was welcomed in particular.  Our mostly white church strives toward social justice and racial equity, but the congregation does not look very diverse.  I noticed a couple of other newer faces in the crowd that day, also people of color - friends of this minister who had come to listen to and support him.

If you read my blog regularly, you know that since my divorce, I've been re-examining my church home.  I've wondered if I would find something deeper for me in a church that might be more 'traditional' in theology.  I have a minister friend who buzzes in my ear that knowing God particularly through the Bible is an important, disciplined part of really knowing God.  (I have a drill sergeant part of my personality that believes that discipline is like really important.  But I also think that part of my personality can get out of balance.  How confusing!)

At any rate, as part of that process, I have been to a variety of churches, including a few mostly African American church services.  During the time I worked in hospice, I also attended several funerals at black churches in North St. Louis City and County.  To me, there is often a different poetry in the sermons I hear in churches with black ministers.  I like that poetry.  It makes me want to cry with joy and understanding.  Is that weird?  I can't describe it fully.  That is a poetry I heard two Sunday's ago from Rev. Gould.  To write this blog, I Googled 'African American religious oratory style' and found many articles explaining the tradition and style.  Here's one The Front Porch Blog

So this week I felt energized about things happening at my church and instead of dabbling in another church's service, I went back to my usual.  I sat in the back row and sat alone, having come in kind of late.  I noticed one black lady sitting on the left aisle several rows ahead of me.  She sat alone.  I was sitting alone too.  Many thoughts went through my mind - I thought about what it must feel like to her to be one of only two or three people of color in this room.  I considered my desire to just sit alone at church and soak in a message.  I wondered what brought her here.  I thought that if I go sit by her, maybe she'll think I'm weird or overeager.  I reflected on the spiritual practice of welcome.  I thought mostly that my greatest wish for my church home (aside from being endowed with millions of dollars) in the past four years has been that we can be in fellowship with people of color, so that our Sunday mornings reflect the healing through friendship and relationship that I feel is key to healing racism.

So I moved my seat.  I sat down by this lady I didn't know.  And we extended the hand of fellowship at that time of the service.  But, after the service I made myself overcome that little shyness that I have (believe it or not, I have shyness sometimes), and I asked her about herself.  I shared that I'd been on a spiritual check-in since my divorce a little while ago.  She shared that she was on that some journey - she'd been divorced a year ago and was checking out new churches and seeing what was the best fit for her.  She'd been one of the ladies I saw sitting in the congregation on Earth Day to support her friend, Rev. Gould.  We talked about places we'd visited and we talked about fellowship, and we talked about some of our own questions and thoughts about race and religion.  Don't get me wrong - it's wasn't super deep, but it was a connection.  And I really regret not getting her number, because I bet we would have fun visiting churches together.

Growing up in St. Louis, we never talked too much about race in my family other than to say racism was wrong and my mother in particular gave us many messages about empathy.  Imagining what it would be like to get on a bus in St. Louis City when it was still dark and being 'bussed' through an hour of traffic to get to a white school far from your neighborhood and home.

There are other parts of my background that maybe factor in to why and how this just feels, by intuition, like these two things are intertwined in my life.  Maybe it's that I went to college in the South.  Maybe it's poetry.  Maybe it's a knowing of personal injustice from my own life experiences.  Maybe it's being a social worker.  Maybe it's something beyond what I can know with my brain and see and feel.

I'm just going with it.

I've been reading books and seeing movies and listening to podcasts written by African American artists.  Recently I've read The Hate U Give and I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings and next on my list is Their Eyes Were Watching God.  I saw Get Out and Black Panther in the past month or two.   I am sharing this, not to say, "I am doing something so right," but I am a person who believes in the power of stories and I hope that by reading stories from a different perspective, I can more deeply understand another person or people's perspective.

At this moment, I don't have a big life lesson to share with you about all of this.  This is a snapshot of something I am doing.  I don't have answers to either how to end racism or where my church exploration or spiritual searching will end up.

I am sharing this in part to 'practice what I preach'  (maybe I should have been a minister?) - meaning in this case that it's ok to not know exactly what I'm doing and I would like to encourage you to explore places in your life that you are leaning, but you don't know exactly what you're doing either.

When I don't know exactly what I'm doing, I check in with myself in a couple of ways...I ask myself if my gut instinct or intuition is leading me in a certain direction or to take a 'next step.'  I also talk with people I respect and care about to check in.  I think I'm a pretty good communicator, so I try to communicate honestly where I'm at.  I try to be open to what happens next, where the next step leads me.

Maybe writing this is a step - maybe it inches me closer to something I don't even know what it is yet. 

Maybe it's time to shut up now.  There's so much talking in this world.  The next step I know is trying to listen.